#and I will have to do it again tomorrow! I have more asl homework!

[bookwyrminspiration]

Hello, Quill! I have come back in a personal way to say hello and to try and catch up a bit.

How are you? I know you took a 3 hour test in Spanish. What was it for? Did you do well?

I hope that you know that I also enjoy Sotam, and that I believe there is a criminal lack of content for them. In fact, I might write a fanfic myself about them.

In other news, I have made a fun comparison between my gender and a platypus. It’s not a dragon, but I think it is funny.

Hope you are doing well, ⚙️

Hello to you, too! I promise I'm not ignoring your other asks, all my asks got but on the back burner while I did irl things. but I hope you're doing well, too!

I am. existing. I've just got multiple atypical things this week that all happened to be really close together, and I'll get through it but it's certainly going to be something. One of those things was that 3 hour Spanish test yesterday (it was apparently only supposed to be 2 hours max, but I had some tech issues and also am not fluent and also haven't taken a spanish class in over a year so. I was a little slow). It was a biliteracy test, to see if my language proficiency is enough to give me a bilingual seal on my diploma. No clue what the scoring is or how I did, so I guess we'll find out at some unspecified point in the future!

But you're right, there is a criminal lack of all forms of sotam--I may be biased because Tam is my favorite character, but he and Sophie together are such a fun dynamic! In any regard! I love writing them and hope to do more at some point (though I promise i haven't forgotten all the dialogue prompts!). If you write a fanfic about them, I'd love to read it! Though if you posted it and let me know that could mess up your anonymity...hmm. Well that comes first, but just know I would read it if I could if it existed :)

Congrats on the platypus gender! that's certainly an unusual descriptor, which of course means I adore it. love oddities and nonconformities and contradictions and otherwise nonsensical things like that, and playtpus compared gender I think fits in with all those. it's always interesting trying to explain gender and how it applies to you (if it does), so I'm glad you're got a fun one you like!

Wishing you a peaceful morning/night/whatever time it is for you :)

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[valewright67]

Are you okay?

Hello.

I'm a little stressed?

It's kinda stupid, honestly.

I start school on Monday, right? And it's my first year in college, I'm doing deaf studies and interpreting for ASL. I thought it would be good to learn asl, since I struggle to hear anyways.

Also, my therapist thinks I have autism? We're not gonna try to get a diagnoses, because that could very well be upwards of 5k, and I don't have that to throw around, yknow? But he strongly suspects, and I don't know what to do about that.

I have classes Monday and Wednesday in person, plus homework. Tuesday is my allotted online day, PLUS the one day with a flexible schedule I'll have to run any errands I may need to do. Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I'm WORKING, 8 to 4. After that is any other homework I need to get done, plus all my household chores, and maybe some smaller errands, like shopping.

On top of that, my partner just like. Doesn't respond? We had plans today and tomorrow we made a couple weeks ago and I was trying to confirm and it's been EIGHT HOURS, and no response. I try to be patient, but this is a regular thing. I get he stays up most of the night and sleeps the day away, but it's 8:15 pm and NOTHING. He finally responds at 8:30 saying his phone is on the fritz and he got around it by connecting his number to his laptop. Which I can understand but I was half ready for HOURS. He couldn't have checked in earlier??

I'm not gonna HAVE any time off, I'm not gonna HAVE a day. And that in off itself stresses me out! Between school and work and homework and errands and chores, I'm either going to have time for sleep or a personal time. I can alternate between those well enough, I'm 18, almost 19, and I've got enough stamina to give up on sleep a couple nights a week. I won't be especially energetic, but I'll be able to function.

And I've been trying so hard to just WRITE, because I'm RUNNING OUT OF TIME. I've got ideas, LOADS of ideas, I'm up to the BRIM with them! And I'm not gonna have any time to write, this is my last chance, but I just CANT?

And you've sent me asks, I've seen them, I've thought about them, ive got stories, and then they just rot in my inbox, because I can't even START them. And do you know how many blurbs and thoughts and COMPLETELY FORMED STORIES I just need to actually WRITE? Like the Tristan reblog, do you know how much I want to add to that, but I can't pump anything out? I've got this great idea for the "by the way your best friends your mother" reveal. And I've got a big bro zel au I'm so PROUD of, and I want to share it with @demonprincezeldris but I've only got one section written, which I submitted WEEKS AGO AND WAS RESPONDED TO ALREADY. It was supposed to be a three part, and I've got the whole plot there, spent ages muling it over and hammering out every detail.

Then there's what I've got on A03. Did you know there's someone who thought I stopped writing Vorago because I didn't like their idea? That's not it at all! I LOVED their idea! But I couldn't even respond to their COMMENT, because what do I say?? "No, I stopped writing after you gave me this idea because I'm paralyzed staring at Google docs." And it was months ago, anyways! And I've got a bunch of others there that people want more of!

And I just. Can't. Write. No matter how hard I try. What I actually manage to force out is jilted and cringy and awful, and I will absolutely not publish that. It's almost worse than my WATTPAD ERA!

Almost. Those were dark days.

Im just so frustrated, because I'm OUT OF TIME, and I. Did. NOTHING. I'm not gonna have any time to write, even if I can, I'm not gonna have any time for a social life - that I barely had anyways - im not gonna have time for myself, im barely gonna have time to SLEEP. I feel like wasted what I had left.

Is this what it feels like to be an adult? I don't like it. I wanna be a kid again.

[asteriismos]

hold on - jacob barber

warning(s) : eighteen! jacob barber, smut, thigh riding ( kinda ), swearing, 

authors note : ahhhhhHHHHHH goodnight streaks this is kind of dirty asl goodbye. I felt like the ending was a bit rushed but um whats new

words : 3.1k

request :

42. “You make a sound and it’s game over." 43. "Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times." 52. "You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad." And 54. "c’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working." With Jacob barber 👀

I just need some rough jacob b. and jacob t. smut

AHHHH! JACOB BARBER SMUT PLEASE

“you’re annoying.”

“oh shut up, you love me.”

jacob laughed, shaking his head as he opened the door to his house. you two had just gotten back from school, which wasn’t all that exciting today in the long run. graduation was coming up and there really was only tests coming up as the year finally wrapped up all together. school was always a bore, and since you didn’t have many classes with your boyfriend, it sucked. 

you walked in after him, closing the door and kicking off your shoes. no one was home, laurie and andy were still at their day jobs and wouldn’t be back for a couple hours. it was typical for you to come over to jacob’s house after school to hang out with him before you were expected back at your house for dinner, or whenever you decided to actually come back home. andy always joked with you that the barber house was like your second home. 

in a way, it was. you were always here with jacob. 

both of you walked up the stairs to his room, setting your bags on his bed. he plopped down into one of his bean bag chairs and you sat in the middle of his bed, grabbing your bag and pulling out the study review guide that had been given to you earlier today. 

“we have to work on this for the history test tomorrow,” you said to him, giving him a knowing glance that you knew he was going to start playing his video games. jacob didn’t like homework, rarely even did it, yet he would still get good grades on his papers and tests. but you on the other hand, you liked to do all the work given to you whenever you could. it was typical for you to finish all your homework and him messing around during your supposed ‘study time.’

he turned to you once he turned the tv on, grabbing his controller and leaning back in his seat, “you can do it babe. i don’t think i need to study for this one.”

“you say that every time,” you said teasingly. 

“and am i ever wrong?”

you puffed out air and shook your head, watching him begin a round of his first person shooter game that he loved so much. you turned your attention back to the lengthy packet in your hands, reaching for a pencil and beginning to fill out the questions and facts. 

an hour passed back and you were now on page five, putting information from the textbook that laid next to you. you were under the covers of his bed, relishing in the overwhelming jacob smell that you loved so much. you liked his bed. it smelled like him, was nice and springy, comfortable . . . your mind trailed off when you looked over at your boyfriend.

jacob’s eyes were still locked on his tv, back faced to you so he couldn’t see you obviously staring at him. your eyes trailed to his hands on the controllers, long fingers pressing and sliding against the buttons. his hair was disheveled from his other hand running through it once in a while when it fell in his eyes. 

he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because suddenly he was turning around to look at you, grinning when he saw you checking him out. jacob opened his arms and his hands motioned in a ‘come here’ kind of way. “c’mere, you can sit on my lap while i play,” he said to you. damn, was he good at reading your mind. he always knew what you were thinking about. maybe it was because you two have been together for so long, almost three years.

you pushed the papers off of you and got off his bed, coming into his arms and letting them guide you right down onto his lap. from there you got situated so you were sitting horizontally on him, one of your arms wrapping around his neck and the other pulling out your phone. his chin rested on your shoulder, still focused on his game. 

you idly scrolled through your phone, feeling the heat inside of you start to intensify as you thought about how you’re sitting on your boyfriends lap. taking a leap of courage, you squirmed a little bit, rubbing right against him. you heard his breath hitch in his throat, thus making you smirk. jacob sighed out, trying to go back to his game. 

but you wanted him to focus on you instead of that stupid game. so, you turned to face him and pressed your lips onto his. he protested for a second, but melted into the rather heated kiss. your teeth grazed his bottom lip, biting onto it and snapping it back as you pulled away. his dark eyes were almost burning into yours, a look of anger, but also that familiar look of lust he always got when you guys got heated. 

“you made me die, y/n,” he whined, pushing your face away and motioning to the screen which showed a ‘round over’ sign in the middle of it. you just giggled, putting your hand on his cheek so that his eyes looked back into your own. 

“you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad,” you whispered to him, kissing at his jaw and running your tongue against that one spot you know he was sensitive in. he groaned out, his hands momentarily coming to rub at your sides. though, he pulled away from your grasp ( as much as he could with you still in his lap ) and started pressing the buttons against his controller once again. “jacob,” you said in that sweet voice you only had when you wanted something from him. in this case, all you wanted was him. “please?” 

jacob glanced at you for a moment, a grin forming on his face. he shook his head. “i don’t know. i don’t think girls who make me die in my game should be given anything,” he teased, knowing that he was driving you insane by not touching you. in retaliation to his words, you grinded your ass against him again, his eyes closing for a moment in pleasure. 

“please?” you begged again, putting your hands on his shoulders so you were straddling him. still, he shook his head, grabbing you by the waist and once again making you sit on his lap horizontally. you fake pouted, not making eye contact with him by scrolling through your twitter feed idly. you could sense his grin on his face while he started another game. 

he leaned to your ear, you could feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear as he said, “just let me finish this level and i swear i’ll go down on you until you cum at least three times.” it was blunt, as if he was saying the most normal thing ever. you shivered, breathing getting a little erratic while you tried to squeeze your thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure that was building up in between them. he saw that you were struggling to wait, and as much as he wanted to see you squirm, he knew that he would not be able to finish this level if you were sitting in his lap pouting. “come here,” he said, patting his right thigh. he extended his leg out.

you maneuvered your way to his thigh, your legs on either side of it, looking up at him with questionable eyes. he laughed, “I'm sure you can figure out what to do with my thigh, babe.”

oh.

now you knew what he meant. 

testing the waters, you idly rolled your hips against his jean fabric, groaning at the sensation and friction of it. his eyes glanced at you for a moment, shifting a tiny bit in his seat and then going back to playing his game. you grinded against him again, finding a steady slow pace to repeat the action over and over again. 

despite his obvious lack of touching you, his thigh was proving to actually help a little bit with the time he spent playing. 

you leaned over and kissed his neck, after all, he didn’t say that you couldn’t mess with him while he played. jacob breathed out, your teeth grazing against his jugular and sucking a tiny purple mark against his porcelain skin.

a few minutes went by, you had now discarded your shirt and continued to ride his thigh, close enough to the point where you were moaning more and more with each roll of your hips. you could tell he was starting to get a little impatient with himself, fingers tapping at the buttons with more force than a few minutes ago. 

finally you heard the familiar sound of jacob going to the home screen of his console. he put a hand on your bare side while he leaned across you to grabe the tv remote, pressing the off button. in a swift movement, he was grabbing you by the hips, wrapping your legs around his waist and standing up, walking over to the bed with you in his arms and laying you against the soft fabric of his comforter. 

“you are needy, aren’t you?” he asked with a low chuckle, standing up for a moment to move all of the bags and papers off the bed so you two would have more room. jacob moved again so he was in between your legs that hung off the bed. you were only in your bra and pants, hair splayed out like a halo above your head. 

he thought that you looked beautiful. 

you nodded your head, leaning up and starting to unbuckle his jeans for him, getting as far as to pulling the zipper down when he swatted your hands away he tutted, grabbing your arms and setting them down on each side of you. 

“no touching, i promised you something if you were a good girl. and you were a good girl, letting me finish my game,” his hand traced shapes on your thighs, going up and pulling off your black leggings you were wearing. you were seething with anticipation as he didn’t touch you where you desperately wanted him. and he was still fully clothed while you were only in your undergarments. 

“you always look so gorgeous during history class. with your hair coming up in that messy bun,” he went on, his fingertips tracing lines across the skin right above your panty line. “just makes me want to go under the desk and have you fall apart above me.” 

you moaned out, pulling his wrist to get him to go faster. to finally touch you. “jacob, please, stop teasing,” you begged. he smirked, cocking his head to the side. 

“I guess so,” he complied, pulling off your underwear. you were now exposed in front of him, the cold air from his room brushing up against you, giving you goosebumps. he ducked his head down, coming down to his knees so he was eye level in between your legs. you looked down at him, his eyes piercing into your own. his hot breath against you was driving you absolutely insane. “what do you want, babe?”

you had to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes. he knew what you wanted. he just wanted to hear you beg for it. “jacob,” you wimpered out. he felt himself harden, hearing his name slip past your pretty pink lips breathlessly. 

he gave in, he couldn’t keep himself away anymore. jacob’s hands gripped your thighs, keeping them from pushing together. he licked a long stripe up your clit, giving you that instant gratification that you had waited for. your hands came to card through his hair, some tufts of it in your palms and were pulled on softly. you tried your best to keep his face there so that he couldn’t pull away. 

that same feeling of pressure was back, your pleasure starting from where it had left off from when you were on his thigh. he attched his lips to your clit, teeth grazing against you for a moment and sucking harshly. jacob pulled away with a little pop and one of his hands came to insert one long finger into you.

your head was thrown back against his bed, eyes screwed shut while he worked his way on you. you could feel your high sneak up on you, blushing madly because of how fast he was going to make you cum.

“you’re going to cum, i know it,” he muttered, tongue attaching to you again and finger pumping in and out. that was enough to tip you over the edge, your hands pulling at his hair probably enough to almost hurt him. jacob didn’t let up, after all, he still promised you at least two more orgasms since you were such a good girl. 

the overstimulation caused you to sob out when he pushed a second finger into you, his pace ever so relentless. he didn’t care that you were still sensitive, he would eat you out until you were a sobbing mess if he wanted to. when you got the energy to look down at him, his eyes were still on you, watching your muscles contract and your back arch whenever his fingers would graze that one spot inside you. 

you lifted your hips against his face, feeling your second orgasm of today hit. “ride it out, let me hear you princess,” he said, stalling inside you momentarily to watch you come apart. 

tears were falling down your cheeks and he noticed, coming up for just a moment to wipe them away with his thumb. he kissed your forehead, going back down in between your legs. 

it wouldn’t be the first time that jacob overstimulated you. this usually happened when both of you were so horny that you couldn’t stay away from each other. you would go at it again and again until you two physically could not anymore, or until someone was back at the house and could hear both of you. 

you were lucky that one of the other barbers weren’t home yet, because you were basically screaming out in pleasure now while jacob worked at you. he knew what exactly made you tick, what would have you falling apart with almost just a snap of his fingers. 

because of such overstimulation, you were now cumming again. he pulled away from you, licking you off of his fingers. jacob’s hands then came to your sides, rubbing them as you calmed down. your legs twitched, unable to squeeze together because he was still in between them. you opened your eyes and looked up at him, seeing him straining against his jeans. you wanted to return the favor, but you knew your legs would be like jello if you tried to kneel in front of him. 

you motioned to him in his pants, cocking an eyebrow. “well, are you going to fuck me or what?” 

he looked suprised that you wanted to go again, especially since he could see the tiredness in your eyes. “you sure?” he asked you, squeezing your thigh. you nodded eagerly. 

“use me,” you said, which was enough to make him groan out lowly and walk to his dresser. opening the top drawer and going under a few of the folded shirts in there, he pulled out the packet of condoms you knew he hid from his parents. it was probably pretty obvious that you two were sexually active with each other, but it would still be embarrassing for one of them to find his stash of condoms that he always kept in supply. 

jacob came back in between your legs, pulling off his shirt and throwing it to the side. he pushed down his pants and boxers, sliding the condom onto him and positioning himself right in front of your entrance. 

he looked up at you again for confirmation, to which you nodded again, leaning up to give him a swift kiss on the lips. he unclasped your bra and you pulled the straps off your arms so each of you were equally all the way naked. he pushed into you, gripping onto your hip bones and pulling you closer to him. 

jacob bottomed out, giving you one last look in your eyes for confirmation before pulling out and pushing back in again. you grabbed at his shoulders, his body coming fully on top of yours and you kissed his lips, getting lost in the kiss so that the minor discomfort would go away. 

he kissed you back, one hand coming to grab your face and the other staying at your hips, keeping him steady.

from downstairs you heard the door open, which made you two pull away from each other with wide eyes. one of his parents was home. 

fuck.

“you make a sound and it’s game over,” he whispered, his pace getting faster while he tried to get both of you off. his hand came and messed with your clit in between your bodies, your mouth was on his shoulder, moaning into his skin. you tried to keep quiet as much as you could. 

his movements were starting you falter and you knew he was close. you met your hips with him and clenched, cumming around him. that was enough to make him come undone too, his breathing erratic while he stopped all together. you two sat there silent, breathing coming back down to normal. he pulled out of you and threw the condom in the trashcan by his desk. he laid next to you, trying to catch his breath as much as he could. 

“Jacob! can you come down and help with these groceries?”

it was laurie. you heard the thump of grocery bags hitting the floor downstairs in the entryway. 

“oh! is y/n here? is she staying for dinner?” 

jacob stood up and quickly got his clothes back on, handing you yours and running his hands through his hair a few times to get it back to its usual state. you sat up and pulled your clothes on slowly, watching him about to walk out of the room. 

but before he did, he came over and kissed you again. you could still taste yourself on his lips. he pulled away and said, “stay for dinner, please? we can actually work on stuff now.”

you laughed, punching him in the chest teasingly and nodding. “sure, i’ll stay.” 

he smiled that goofy classic jacob barber smile and kissed your forehead, turning to run down the stairs to help his mom.

[nursemasten]

FAYE EVERWOOD MASTEN is a mutant with the ability of REPLICATION. they’ve been in new york for TWENTY-ONE YEARS where they spend most of their time as A NURSE FOR THE XAVIER INSTITUTE. when i think of them, i think of RED LIPSTICK, LEARNING HOW TO DO HER OWN MANICURES, THROWING HER HAIR INTO A MESSY BUN WHILE RUNNING LATE, ALWAYS TRYING TO SAVE THE BEES, MEDICAL GLOVES, TOO SWEET TO EVER BE MEAN. 

「 𝙿𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚃 」

「 𝚃𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝙾𝙽𝙴 」

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙸𝙲𝚂 —

NAME: Faye Everwood Masten ALIAS: Multitask NICKNAMES: Nurse Masten AFFILIATION: Xavier’s Institute BIRTHDAY: March 6th ZODIAC: Pisces AGE: Twenty-one SPECIES: Mutant POWER: Replication CLASSIFICATION: Alpha SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic OCCUPATION: Nurse LANGUAGES KNOWN: English, ASL, Filipino RESIDENCE: Xavier’s Institute

HEIGHT: 5’3” BODY TYPE: Slender, Toned EYE COLOR: Brown HAIR COLOR: Brunette POSITIVE TRAITS: Kind-hearted, gentle, resilient, hard-working, honest, reliable, loyal, patient, intelligent, polite, trustworthy, warm, punctual, adventurous, imaginative, fashionable, ambitious NEGATIVE TRAITS: Oversensitive, curious, anxious, naive, indecisive, spoiled, superstitious, perfectionist, verbose, gullible, passive, tense, timid, profligate BAD HABITS: Duplicating spontaneously when stressed

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺𝚂𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚈 —

Isolation hasn’t always been the norm. Faye was born into a wealthy family — the only daughter and also the youngest child to a politician and an accountant. Curiosity always let itself be known after she learned to walk. This often meant chasing after one of her older brothers around the house, but usually it would be River since they were closer in age to each other. She would plop down next to him, wanting to be included in whatever it was that he was doing. Maybe this was the beginning of their close relationship. Never saw one without the other, did you?

Her childhood would become filled with stories of princesses being guarded in castles and knights fighting off dragons. Often you could see Faye dragging blankets and pillows to bring those kingdoms to life. Hours are spent playing with the grand creations until dinner time. The mess left behind to be visited again later.

Lessons were taught at home, never attending public school like the other children. Which never impacted her work ethic, always striving to study just as much — some might argue that she spends too much time with her books. Whether it was part of her homework or just leisure, getting lost in a sea of words is a perfect time to spend an evening. Maybe in another life being a writer could have been in the cards but destiny has something else in mind. The fun and whimsical nature that surrounded these younger years don’t last, no matter how much you wish for them to.

THIRTEEN YEARS OLD — Everything changes so suddenly. The oldest Masten child turned out to be human. Faye sometimes refers to him as the ‘golden one’ since it felt like there was a standard in place to try living up to his accomplishments. Meanwhile, River grew a pair of beautiful wings, revealing himself to be a Mutant. The tension could easily be felt within these four wall and the spaces were starting to get smaller with each day. Eyes always looking at Faye, whispering in wonder about if she’ll be normal or not. It hardly seemed fair to judge those who are different. She decided to love everyone and not allow herself to be influenced by anything her father preaches.

The sun begins to set — another day winding down. However, the night would be a long one. There was an important exam tomorrow, and doing well in school has always been important for Faye. She was perhaps too studious. She has an eidetic memory or what people might refer to as photographic memory instead. She was the kid reading every page of her lessons more than once and writing her notes with care. The pressure to keep getting good grades could be felt, not wanting to feel the disappointment in the room if she were to fail. Faye is smart but the worries are always there. Expectations. Expectations. Expectations.

All the stress caused her Mutant abilities to manifest for the first time, not realizing it happened at all until turning around to see a perfect duplicate of herself standing before her. It was like looking into a mirror.

“How about I quiz you on the information that might be on the test?” The voice is her own, offering to help her study. It was the weirdest situation and the confusion settling in started to overwhelm the poor girl. The duplicate was only trying to help, frowning while looking at the original who’s clearly in distress. Neither of them knew what to do so Faye just screamed. She screamed so loud it woke up almost everyone. Her parents came racing down the hallway, swinging the door open with a force that echoed into the room. The notebook is dropped from the copy’s hands.

“What —“ Her father doesn’t finish the thought, staring at his his daughter as if he were mortified. Another one of his children turned out to be a Mutant and he hoped this wouldn’t have happened. “Make it go away.” It was an order, not a question, but Faye started tearing up because she doesn’t know how.

“I can’t, daddy!” She tried to argue softly, shifting her gaze to look at the duplicate standing at her side — appearing to look just as upset.

Life can change in just an instant. Her father pinches the bridge of his nose and moves to leave the bedroom. “Get rid of it by morning and then we’ll talk about this.” Coldness filled the room,  already feeling the impact of how their relationship will never be the same. Her mother stays behind, trying to comfort her daughter and the copy before going to try talking some sense into Christopher.

Studying is forgotten, going to sleep instead — hoping that everything would be different in the morning. The clone is still there, reorganizing the closet as a means of remaining busy. Faye isn’t afraid of this newfound ability, no, the fear resides in what will change after she goes downstairs. It’s not a welcomed sight when the duplicate is still there, Faye failing to deliver on what was asked of her. This is the first real moment the disappointment is felt, pulled into her father’s office before making it to the dining room. Breakfast would certainly wait.

“I told you to get rid of it.”

“I don’t know how!”

“You’ll stay indoors until it’s gone. Nobody can find out about this. Do you understand?”

The following days were spent secluded, only the company of her duplicate until finally beginning to dissipate. Faye didn’t know how she created one in the first place but maybe everything would go back to normal again?

It doesn’t.

Faye accompanies her family to a political dinner, never her favorite kind of gatherings, but faking a smile could do wonders. It was only a few hours and then she could go home — this is what she kept reminding herself the whole evening. However, someone brought Mutant affairs up into conversation and Faye had to excuse herself to the bathroom. This feeling can’t be explained, as if her body was telling her that another duplicate would be created right there if she didn’t get out.

The replication occurs when highly stressed spontaneously or at will when she learns to control the ability. However, at such an early point in her life, there wasn’t any experience of mastering the replication process yet. She decided to hide out in here but her absence was noted from her parents and Christopher eventually came looking.

“This can’t keep happening. What if someone saw you?”

Faye is sent to Xavier’s shortly after, wanting to protect his public image. This hurt more than anything but despite everything that happened? She’ll always have River.

She’ll quickly grow tired of hiding but it’s nice not having to worry about it at the institute. She quickly learns to embrace her abilities, and how useful having duplicates of yourself can be. Make a copy, of a copy, of a copy, of a copy. Each one reading a different medical book. What else is a thirteen-year-old going to do when you’re not allowed to venture outside? She re-asborbs them to retain all the information they memorized. It’s how she quickly became a nurse for the institute at such a young age, essentially skipping many grades by having her duplicates share the studying. There’s no one better or more knowledgable, really. The work distracts Faye from all the pain that comes from the torn relationship with her father. She also genuinely enjoys taking care of others so there’s no better role for her at Xavier’s.

[notalwaysthevillian]

Parent Trapped

Warnings: Feeling stupid

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Remile, platonic LAMP

Word Count: ~2.5k

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Masterlist

Chapter 5: The F

After their sleepover, the tight knit group of friends grew even closer.

But they still didn’t tell each other everything. None of them knew that Patton was starting to struggle with his grades. He had an A in ASL, but his other grades were slowly starting to slip.

“Is there something going on at home?” Mrs. Calypso asked after she’d pulled him aside after school one day. “If it’s about the move, that’s okay. Transitioning to a new place can take a long time.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” Patton said, eyes glued to the ground as he struggled not to cry. “I just...I’m not understanding.”

“Why don’t you talk to Principal Sanders?” She asked, crouching just enough to see Patton’s eyes. “He can get you a tutor.”

Patton shoved his glasses up in his hair so he could wipe his eyes. “I don’t need a tutor.”

“If you want, I can try to explain a few concepts after school tomorrow.” She offered. “Think about it, okay?”

As soon as Mrs. Calypso was gone, Virgil rushed over. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Patton said, voice trembling ever so slightly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Virgil opened his arms and Patton dove into them, squeezing him tightly. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before Patton blurted out, “I’m not doing very well in class. I don’t understand what the teachers are talking about half the time and it’s hard for me to learn from just the Powerpoints.”

“Maybe I can help?” Virgil asked, waving at their dad as he pulled up.

“We can try.”

Once they’d gotten home and had a quick snack, the two of them jumped into their homework. Virgil did his best to explain the concepts, but Patton wasn’t understanding them at all. Emile jumped in to help as well, but he just made it worse.

“I don’t get it!” Patton shoved back from the kitchen table, darting up to his room and closing the door.

Emile and Virgil could hear his sobs carry down the stairs.

Neither of them saw Patton again until the next morning when he came downstairs for breakfast. He looked a little more like Virgil this morning with the dark circles under his eyes. Virgil covered them with black eyeshadow so he could call it fashion, but Patton didn’t seem to care.

“Pat, are you okay?” Virgil asked, handing his brother a plate.

Patton took the plate, setting it off to the side. “I’m not hungry.”

“Just take some food with you then, in case you get hungry later.” Emile started packing up some tupperware.

Patton nodded, the usual pep in his step completely gone. By the time they arrived at school, he had a fake smile on his face.

“Bye.”

“Have a good day!” Emile called, just getting the sentence out of his mouth before Patton’s door closed.

Virgil scrambled to catch up to Patton, who was heading straight for his locker. “I can talk to Mrs. Calypso if you want.”

“She already offered to help.” Unzipping his backpack, Patton started placing books in his locker. “I’m gonna take her up on it and stay after school. Is that okay?”

“Pat, it’s fine.” Virgil bumped their shoulders together. “I’m going straight home anyway.”

Giving his twin a nod, Patton headed off to class. Virgil put the rest of his stuff in his locker, jumping when someone practically appeared next to him.

“What’s wrong with Patton?” Ted asked as he leaned against the lockers. “He just seems...off.”

“Bad day.”

“Gotcha.” A few kids down the hall called Ted’s name. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll let my mom know that Patton’s having a hard time. She’ll be over later with muffins or something.”

“Thanks, man.”

“No prob. Besides, what are neighbors for if not to be nosy?”

Ted left to be with his friends. Virgil grabbed what he needed, before heading to science. He debated talking to Mrs. Calypso about Patton’s problem, but he knew that Patton would want to talk to her himself.

Instead, he took his seat next to Logan and pulled out their homework.

“I saw you arrive this morning.” Logan tapped his pencil on the table. “Patton looked upset.”

“There’s a whole thing.” Virgil started scribbling down a few notes on the board. “If he wants to tell you about it at lunch he can.”

Virgil was beyond thankful that Logan let the matter drop. Part of it was due to the fact that the bell rang and class started, but Logan seemed like the type to let things be. He could only hope that Roman was the same way.

He quickly found out at lunch that he was wrong.

“Pat, are you okay?” Roman asked the second he sat down, making Virgil and Logan exchange looks. “You looked really upset this morning.”

Patton seemed to sense that Virgil was about to fix Roman with a glare. He waved Virgil down, shaking his head. “I’ve just been...struggling a bit. Academically.”

Logan’s eyes snapped up. “I could assist you if you’d like.”

“Lo, that’s nice but I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to ask.” Logan stuck a bookmark in his book and set it down. “We’re friends. Why wouldn’t I want to help you achieve academic prowess?”

“Have you been reading the dictionary again?”

There was a thunk as Logan kicked his brother under the table. “I can help you tonight if you want.”

“Sure!”

Virgil was a little more than relieved to see a little of Patton’s pep return. “I thought you were staying after with Mrs. Calypso?”

Patton shrugged, twirling some pasta around his fork. “I think I’d understand it more coming from a fellow student. But I’ll let her know before I head to gym.”

When the final bell had rung, Patton headed outside, looking for Logan. His red hair stood out like a beacon in the sea of students rushing to head home.

“Where’s Roman?”

“Heading to a friend’s house.” Logan toward the line of cars. “My dad’s here.”

Mr. Sanders waved from his convertible, shades on his face. The boys jumped in the car, buckling up immediately.

Patton just stopped himself from letting out a shriek as Mr. Sanders peeled off from the line of cars, earning a few honks in the process. He ignored them, stretching one arm above his head.

“How was school?” He asked, sounding too nonchalant for someone who was weaving their way through traffic.

“I received an A on my paper for English.”

“Knew you would.” Though he couldn’t see Mr. Sanders’s eyes, he could feel the gaze moving to him. “Pat? What about you?”

“Okay, I guess.” Patton ran a finger along his seatbelt. “My ASL teacher says I’ve been improving a lot.”

Remy smiled at Patton in the mirror. “That’s great! Gotta celebrate the little accomplishments as much as the big ones.”

They got home much faster than they should’ve, heading in through the garage. Remy left them to their devices, heading into the living room.

Logan headed to the fridge immediately, pulling out some apples and a fruit dip. “Snack first. It’s harder to do homework if you’re hungry. I did a small study on that, using Roman as a subject.”

“Did he know you were doing that?” Patton grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and started spooning some dip onto a couple paper plates.

“...no.”

“Logan!”

“It was a small experiment!”

Patton shook his head, giving him what everyone had dubbed his ‘Dad Look’. “Consent is important for a lot of things. One thing being experiments.”

“You’re right.” Logan scraped a few apple slices onto Patton’s plate. “I’ll inform him about any future experiments that involve him.”

“And?”

“And I’ll let him know about the past experiments I’ve used him for.” Logan swirled an apple in the fruit dip before taking a bite. “This dip is so freaking good.”

“I’ve got a homemade one that tastes even better.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “You’re making that next time you come over.”

“Deal.” Patton reached into his backpack, pulling out his science textbook. “So I just can’t understand the nervous system or how the brain works.”

Taking their plates, Logan tossed them in the garbage. “Let’s get to work.”

The two of them worked hard for the next hour.

Unfortunately, Patton still wasn’t understanding, and Logan was starting to get frustrated.

“It’s simple, really.” Logan said at the end of another long explanation.

Patton bit his lip. “I still don’t get it.”

“Why don’t we take a break?” 

Logan did his best to not let his frustration show, but Patton could see it clear as day.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked on the words. Logan looked at him, eyes wide. Before he could say anything, the front door opened and Roman entered.

“Oh, hey Pa- what’s wrong?”

Tears slipped out of Patton’s eyes. “I don’t get what we’re doing still, and I know Logan’s frustrated that he can’t help me, and I just...I don’t wanna fail.”

“I could show you how I figured it out.”

Logan face palmed. “How did I not think of that before? You and Roman are much more like minded. I’m sure he’ll be able to explain everything in a way that makes sense to you.”

Seeing how apprehensive was, Roman swooped in next to him. “Let me try at least? And if you don’t get it, I’ll come with you to talk to Mrs. Calypso.”

“Okay.”

Roman was a much more suitable teacher to Patton than Logan had been. He knew that while Logan and Virgil tended to think more logically, he and Patton thought more creatively.

“The dendrites?” Roman asked an hour later, quizzing Patton on what he’d learned.

Patton wiggled his fingers, remembering what Roman had told him. “Branches of the nerve cells. They give messages to the cell body.”

“Correct!”

After writing down the answer on his worksheet, Patton grinned at Roman. “Thank you so much!”

“There’s the smile we know and love.” Roman smiled back, suddenly finding himself with an armful of Patton. “You staying for dinner?”

“I could, let me text my dad.”

“No worries, he already said it was okay.” Mr. Sanders said as he walked into the kitchen. “We’re making sandwiches tonight, but I have peanut butter and jelly if you’d prefer that.”

“I’m good with whatever.”

Patton gathered his schoolwork. He put it away while the Sanders started pulling various ingredients out of the fridge. There was crinkling as Roman popped open a bag of chips.

“Where’s your brother tonight?” Mr. Sanders asked, slicing open some rolls.

“At home with dad.”

Mr. Sanders pulled out his phone. “Emile! Why don’t you come over and have dinner with us again. We’ve already got a third of your family anyway. We’re having club sandwiches.”

Patton couldn’t make out what his dad was saying on the other end, but it must’ve been agreement.

“They’ll be here in just a little bit.” Mr. Sanders slid his phone back into his pocket. “Pat, are you good at slicing?”

“I’ll do it!” Roman said quickly, taking the knife from his dad.

“Roman, that was rude.”

Patton laughed. “Roman’s seen me in gym class. It’s probably safer that he does it.”

“You’ve gotten a lot better though.” Roman effortly sliced through the tomato as he spoke. “When you first got here, you were...not hopeless but it took some work.And now you’re one of the best in the class. A little hard work goes a long way.”

“Well, I think this calls for a celebration.” Remy said.

The Sanders boys snapped their heads up. “Sundaes?!”

“Sundaes.”

A cheer rang out from everyone, including Patton. He didn’t know what was so special about sundaes, but he loved ice cream.

It wasn’t long before Emile was over with Virgil in tow. Or rather, Virgil with Emile in tow. Virgil ran straight into the house, talking to Roman about a new Disney movie that had been announced in the last hour.

Emile was a little slower, still unsure about Remy.

“You know, Roman helped Patton figure out what was troubling him.” Remy said as he came over to help Emile with his jacket.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Emile handed over his jacket, lining up his shoes in the hall. “Patton fretted over that all night. Virgil and I did our best to help.”

“So you were hanging over their shoulders?”

Emile sighed. “Remy -”

“Please, let me explain.” Receiving a nod from Emile, Remy continued. “I know that you’re more of a hover-y parent and I’m more of a give them space parent. I think we have a lot to learn from each other. One example being that you should’ve let them try to figure it out on their own. Patton probably felt a lot of pressure to figure it out knowing that you were in the room.”

Emile opened his mouth to respond before closing it with a click.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes.” Emile ran a hand through his hair. “And you’re right about us learning from each other. Though that goes both ways.”

“Yes, sir.” Remy teased before they both headed back into the kitchen.

The boys grabbed their food and headed to the living room, sitting around the coffee table.

“About time our dads got along.” Roman said, taking a huge bite of his sandwich.

Patton nodded. “All of us are different, but we figured it out.”

“Ya.” Getting a look from Logan, Roman swallowed his food before he continued. “Virgil and I are super opposite. If you hadn’t played mediator at first Pat, we probably would’ve been fighting this whole time.”

Virgil nodded. “True that.”

Remy leaned out of the kitchen, peeking in on the boys. “I’m glad they found each other. For a while I was worried that Logan was never going to have any friends besides Roman.”

“Virgil said that Logan is a big help.” Emile leaned against the counter. “He told me that Logan did a bunch of research on anxiety disorders so that he knew what to do if Virgil had an attack.”

“Oh yeah, he was letting me and Roman know what to do too. Kid’s a natural born teacher.”

Emile crunched down on a chip. “You listened?”

“Hey! I know I seem like an asshole, but that’s only sometimes.” Remy grabbed a few glasses out of the cupboard. “Want anything?”

“Water’s fine.”

The ice clinked into their cups. “I figured if your kid is going to be over a lot that I should know what to do too. In case he stays back when Roman wants to head to the park or something.”

“That’s...really nice of you.” Emile took his glass. “Thanks. A lot of parents in our old PTA didn’t seem to care that Virgil had anxiety.”

There was a flash of anger in Remy’s eyes. “Well that’s shitty of them.”

“Yeah.” Emile excused the swearing this one time. “It is.”

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

Can you write a fic about Cyrus being deaf and TJ tries hard to learn sign language just for him and Libby is there to help them.

This was a nice prompt! And I love having my girl, Libby, in it!

(A/N: I’m not taking any prompt requests at the moment as I am putting all my energy and inspiration to finishing the remaining ones in my inbox. Thank you for your understanding!)

…….

T.J. swallowed the nervous lump in his throat before forcing his legs forward, heading for the lone picnic table where a cute brunette sat, doing his homework. With a shaky hand, he tapped the boy’s shoulder.

Cyrus turned his head and lit up when he saw him, lifting a hand to say “hello”. T.J. returned the wave and gestured to the empty seat next to the boy.

Cyrus nodded and scooted over to give him room.

As soon as he was settled, one of the first things T.J. took out of his bag was a pad of paper and a pen. He quickly scribbled on it and showed it to Cyrus.

“How are you?”

Cyrus placed the tips of his hand to his chin before extending it. 

“Good.” He pointed at T.J. “You”

T.J. mirrored his sign from earlier before going back to his pad of paper and scribbling.

“I have a question for you.”

Cyrus read it and nodded, allowing him to continue.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Smiling, Cyrus nodded then signed, “Why?”

T.J. wrote one thing on the pad of paper: “Lunch with me?”

Cyrus enthusiastically nodded his head and T.J. resisted the urge to jump up and dance in celebration.

Tomorrow was a big day. He had his work cut out for him but he was sure he could do this.

……

“Why can’t I get this?!” T.J. practically screamed.

Across from him, Libby flashed him a sympathetic look. She was Cyrus’ friend who was also in T.J.’s math class and she had been helping him learn ASL for two weeks now. T.J. felt bad sometimes that he could only communicate with her via writing or texting but she could read lips pretty well so it really helped.

“It’s okay,” she spoke out loud, which she rarely did but he appreciated all the same. “Try again.”

Another thing was that she was really patient with him.

Sighing to himself, he nodded at her.

She picked up a flashcard and showed it to him. It took him a second but he moved his hands to, hopefully, the right sign. Libby nodded and picked up another one.

This went on for another half hour and T.J. stumbled a few times, signing the wrong thing or unable to remember the sign for a phrase or word.

He had less than 24 hours to learn his whole speech to Cyrus and he felt wholly unprepared. Plus, he wanted to at least hold a conversation with the boy without having to resort to paper or his phone. He preferred looking at Cyrus when talking to him.

At the end of their lesson, T.J. sighed. He was still feeling unconfident. How could he think he could do this? Cyrus would be so disappointed. Cyrus would never say “yes” to him if he couldn’t even talk to him.

Libby tapped his arm to get his attention. She made a few a signs and he scrunched his brows to interpret what she was saying.

“You will be okay.”

He smiled at her. “Thank you,” he said out loud while signing.

She nodded and spoke again, “He will appreciate it. I promise.”

Giving him a quick hug, she bid him goodbye and was on her way. To T.J.’s knowledge, she had a date with Jonah but took the time to meet up with him. He would get her a present one of these days. Maybe some new craft supplies.

But, for now, he had to go home and study some more.

…….

Time with Cyrus was always pretty quiet. But, it wasn’t a dead silence. More of a comfortable one.

Cyrus rarely spoke, but he loved to laugh. Little chuckles and giggles when something amused him – and something always was. T.J. loved to hear it.

Ten minutes into their lunch, T.J. was able to have a decent conversation with him about the weather, current events, and even the price of hot lunch. 

Admittedly, he struggled a little but Cyrus was understanding and never made a face when T.J. had to resort to paper when he couldn’t remember a sign.

So, lunch went well.

“Want to go for a walk?” T.J. asked while signing.

Cyrus nodded.

They walked side-by-side in silence, the back of T.J.’s hand brushing Cyrus’. He had been tempted many times to take that hand in his own and intertwine their fingers. But, he wasn’t sure how Cyrus would react.

What if he pulled his hand away?

A nudge on his shoulder broke through his thoughts.

Cyrus signed, “What’s wrong? You look sad.”

He made a sad face and T.J. couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute it was.

“I’m not,” T.J. said before realizing that he wasn’t signing.

Gently placing a hand on Cyrus’ arm, he made him stop walking. The boy flashed him a questioning look.

Taking a deep breath, T.J. began to sign and talk at the same time.

“I need to tell you something,” he began.

Cyrus signed, “Okay.”

T.J. took a deep breath again before his hands moved in unsure but determined signs.

“When I first met you, I thought you were rude because you didn’t reply to my ‘hello’.”

Cyrus frowned at that.

“They told me later on that it was because you couldn’t hear me. You didn’t see me. So you didn’t hear me.”

Cyrus chuckled and nodded. “I remember,” he signed.

T.J. swallowed and kept going before he forgot anything else. 

“When we actually talked for the first time and got to know you, I realized that you’re fun to be with and you have a lot of cool stories and you’re just so… kind… and amazing. You’re one of my best friends.”

Cyrus’ cheeks turned red and he briefly looked down at the ground.

T.J. waited until he lifted his head to continue looking at him. To continue hearing him out.

T.J.’s hands shook as he continued. “What I’m trying to say is that… I like you. A lot.”

Silence.

Cyrus didn’t sign anything, only continued to look at T.J.

The blonde couldn’t help but wondered if maybe he signed it wrong or said something else and that Cyrus didn’t actually understand anything he said.

Finally, Cyrus raised his hands and began to speak, Your signing has gotten better.

Now, it was T.J. who blushed. “I asked Libby to teach me,” he signed. “I’m not… perfect at it yet. But… I wanted to be able to talk to you in your own language. I wanted to tell you that I like you in the way that you know.”

Cyrus smiled. “Thank you.”

When he didn’t sign anything else, T.J. began to get nervous.

“Um… so… you don’t have to like me back or anything-,” he paused when Cyrus shook his head, waving his hands frantically.

The boy took a deep breath and, taking T.J.’s hand, he opened his mouth to speak, “I like you too, T.J.”

Hearing Cyrus’ voice say the words out loud made T.J.’s heart race as joy bubbled inside him. Letting out the breath he had been holding, he pulled the other boy to him and wrapped him in a hug. Cyrus happily returned it, squeezing the taller boy’s middle as he did so.

His emotions were all mixture of joy, relief, some nervousness, and just pure adoration for the boy in his arms.

Cyrus liked him back. He had a chance. And he swore to always make him happy.

Regretfully, he had to pull away to sign his next words. 

“I want to learn more,” he said, his hands shaky and unsure. “I want to keep studying and learning how to talk to you so that one day, I can talk to you all the way without using paper.”

Cyrus’ eyes sparkled. “I’ll help you,” he signed and spoke. 

Then, he went on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss to T.J.’s cheek.

T.J.’s heart fluttered and he slipped a hand into Cyrus’, linking their fingers together. Side-by-side, they continued on their walk.

It was silent but the way Cyrus tightened his hold and the occasional kisses that T.J. pressed to Cyrus’ head spoke volumes.

[bat-besties]

On Impossibility - 5

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3    Chapter 4    Chapter 6   Chapter 7   Chapter 8  Chapter 9

A popular!Logan and loser!Roman high school AU based on @2pointomg’s idea with eventual Prinxiety. 

impossible 

ɪmˈpɒsɪb(ə)l

adjective

·       not able to occur, exist, or be done.

Eg. It is impossible to fund both the sports and drama programmes with the school’s limited budget.

·       very difficult to deal with.

Eg. The situation which Logan Sanders, Student Body President, is in after he convinced the school board to cut the unsuccessful drama programmes is impossible.

·       (of a person) very unreasonable.

Eg. Roman Prince.

To Roman, nothing is impossible. Not following his older brother Patton to acting college, not being a loser taking on the school’s popular Student Body President and definitely not writing and performing an epic school play with no money and six cast and crew members.

Edited by @alpacasarethegreenestanimal, who has an amazing fanfiction on AO3! If you like superheroes, sarcasm and Virgil angst then you'll love this

@toolazytothinkofcreativename

@entitydark

@romanasanders

@barclays-sides

@cashmeredragon

@jughead-is-canonically-aroace

@immacrazyfangirl

@narniasfinestavengingsociopath

@featuredfander

@what-a-catch-joe

@mightaswellenthuseaboutbooks

@candiukas​

@whatamessofwords 

Logan had never been more productive. He was ahead on homework, debate preparation and extra credit work, more invested than ever in running the student council and had recently taken over running the accounts of Elise's band. Cutting out lunchtime as a break had greatly improved his efficiency, which was doubly true when he followed a traditional meal structure of seven or eight meals throughout the day, skipping the need for a proper lunch altogether. His parents had always tried to understand their unique son, so when he explained his new regimen to them they let him take a smaller dinner at his desk as well, providing that he promised them he wouldn’t work himself too hard. Logan wasn’t working hard enough – he taught himself basic ASL and studied Hamlet, watched Bill Nye on his laptop as he read essays on Cicero, then took up jogging every morning before school so he could join the track team. It may seem counter-intuitive, but two weeks on Logan had confirmed the hypothesis that losing Virgil was the best thing which had ever happened to him. 

Virgil leant against Logan's bright red locker, looking as though he was the fulfilment of the collective hopes of Simmons High and had fallen back to sleep. The position was much less comfortable than it looked, and the currents of conversation swirling past him were unnerving, but if he couldn’t see Logan coming then he would be engaged in conversation before he could run away.

There they were – those tapping soles in their regular rhythm cutting across the scuffles and pounding feet of the rest of the student body.

‘Virgil.’ succinct for once in his life, the single word from Logan was both an inquiry and an accusation.

Virgil forced himself to open his eyes slowly. God, Logan looked awful. He had lines under his eyes and his polo shirt had a tiny crease on the shoulder. To the outside eye he seemed fine, but Virgil knew that for Logan this was like rocking up to school in a dressing gown clutching a beer bottle. Why was he like this? Had Elise not checked he was fine after the fight, and had Joan not seen how exhausted he looked, and had the people constantly asking him for help not noticed how overburdened he was? He was with all these damn people the whole time, why hadn’t he asked a single one for help? Virgil hated that he couldn’t stand on his moral high ground when he saw his friend floundering in the waves beneath him.

‘Virgil?’ Logan’s forehead was creased with concern.

'Um, yeah. Well, I was just going to ask you something, but you look really bad man, is everything...Are you okay?’

'I am fine, not that it is any of your concern. What do you want?’

‘Well, I’ve joined Roman’s play thing and we really need money for costumes, so I was wondering if you could, you know find some to, you know, fund it.’

Logan stared at him wide-eyed, ‘Virgil – there is no money. I looked. I don’t know if anyone else but me has realised, but the school has to spend a lot of money ensuring standard of learning is maintained, and its extra-curricular fund is not infinite.’

‘OK, look, man, let’s do this another time, what time were you up last night?’

‘Don’t patronise me, Virgil. Let’s do this right now.’ Logan folded his arms and somehow managed to stand even straighter, ‘I have agreed to help a small group of people from my Spanish class go over verb endings before a pop quiz, and I do not want to keep them waiting.’

‘Fine – what about the debate team trip to New York, could that be made less expensive?’

‘No. And we can’t cancel – all five of us are counting on a national win or at least placing high out of the finalists for college.’

‘Well, the theatre kids need stuff for college too.’

‘I am fully aware of that.’

‘Well, then can we- ‘

‘There is no money!’ Logan quietened his voice after people looked round at his outburst, ‘I have checked, and re-checked, and checked again, and we can run debate, sports teams, bands and choir and assorted student-led societies. Nothing else. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to Spanish.’

‘See you around.’

Something in Logan went slack at that smallest of amicable farewells. Then he drew himself up again. ‘Goodbye.’

Time to wade into the fucking river. ‘Logan, wait.’ The boy turned, ‘Um, we’ve been using lunch to iron out small details to maximise rehearsal time. It’s a good plan – I got it from you.’

Logan smiled a little, ‘Using dead time to work. It does sound like a good plan.’

Virgil cupped a hand at the back of his neck. ‘Would you like to join us? No big deal, just so you’re not sitting alone anymore.’

So, Virgil had noticed him – he had seemed too caught up in stirring up the theatre kids to louder and louder shouts of laughter with his little comments and observations. It was a nice gesture, but when Logan had spent so long as one half of a pair it was hard to be tacked onto Virgil’s new group: all loud, all weird and all on the outskirts of the social structure of the school. Besides, they wouldn’t want him there. He doubted Roman wanted him on the same continent as him, let alone the same lunch table.

‘Sorry, Virgil. I too have been maximising lunchtime efficiency. I – I am glad you at least learnt something from me. Well, I must be going.’

Virgil stood for a moment, watching the crowds rush past him and swallow up Logan. In that moment, he wished he could just let it go, ignore Roman and his crazy dream and Talyn and their beautiful designs trapped on the page, and Dahlia and her corny puns, and Terrence’s dancing, and Valerie’s evil laugh, and Kyle’s love of monologues. He wished he could let go of the memories of green plastic and blood rushing to his head, of the imagined scenario in which he could no longer paint and how much having that taken from him would hurt.

He didn’t want to dramatically run after Logan or tell him he was right and abandon his principles. All he wanted was to be lying on his bed, scrolling through Tumblr and to have Logan flipping through a book on his bedroom floor. Every now and then one would read out something interesting or amusing to the other, mostly they were silent. They might have film music on in the background and there would be a plate of Mint Oreos halfway between them, so that they could both reach. Perhaps later they would brainstorm ideas for Logan’s project, or come up with silly names for emo bands, or watch Cosmos for the fifteenth time and have twin existential crises afterwards. Perhaps they would have dinner with Virgil’s parents and tap Morse code on each other’s chairs beneath the table in one-word inside jokes. Perhaps they would just stay there forever, preserved in the golden afternoon sunlight as though in amber.

The school bell rang shrilly, and Virgil jumped, cursed, and ran to his first lesson.

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

It was ironic, really – Logan working on his Macbook in a comfortable suburban house worrying about money. It wasn’t impacting whether he’d eat or what he could afford to spend his weekend doing. It wasn’t part of his job at all to look at the school’s accounts, but Logan could not just stick to ‘salad bars’ or ‘laptops’. He had gotten this job (twice) to change things, and it had given him power and popularity, so he would do it properly. He had negatively impacted the lives of the theatre kids, and now he had to rectify that. Before, he had decided to follow logic: money for football, track and swimming meant college scholarships for the athletes and prestige for the school, which came at the expense of only fifteen people, and only six of these were really hurt by the decision. But now he would try something different – he couldn’t do the impossible Roman wanted him to, but for Virgil he would try his best to examine what he could do to help the play.

At least he had somewhere to start from: there was no money. How could he get some? Borrowing from a bank wouldn’t work, even if money could be made selling tickets. Fundraising, then. He knew enough by now to know that selling rainbow T-shirts to raise money for theatre may be seen as a slight. Moreover, those free T-shirts were part of a project which would be his legacy to the school which had accepted him: compassion, equality and empathy.  Fine, at $3 each if he could sell 50, then that was $150. It was a start.

He stared out of his window, down the darkening street. Bake sales? Eight people could make a lot of cake, even if two of those had baking skills so disastrous they had vowed to never try having any snacks but Mint Oreos ever again. Logan pushed away his laptop to lie on his bed instead. He closed his eyes. There was a calculus test tomorrow, and he had an essay due in he really should rewrite. However, his priority should be to help the people he was elected to represent.

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

Mariana Sanders tried. She tried to tell her son he didn’t have to do everything himself, she tried not to feel hurt when he corrected her grammar or brushed aside her view on science even if she held a chemistry degree, she even tried to take his textbooks away from him when he stayed up at night working until he began to plead with her and she relented. His father was happy to let Logan do what he wanted, provided he seemed happy and in control, but she just wanted to understand what was making him happy and if he needed help staying in control. She stopped outside his bedroom door and knocked softly. ‘Honey?’

‘Vinegar.’ He sounded tired.

She pushed the door open and threw some papers at him.

‘`Sweet Pea' and `Pussy Cat': An Examination of Idiom Use and Marital Satisfaction Over the Life Cycle’’ he read, then smiled up at her. ‘We’re not married.’

‘Same principle.’ She was glad he was lying down, and his school stuff was away on its shelf, ‘Are you going to bed soon?’

‘Soon.’

‘Sleep is incredibly important- ‘

‘I know.’

She sat down on the bed and tugged on his tie. Sighing dramatically, Logan loosened it, then at a look from his mother removed it completely.

‘Everything alright with you?’

‘There’s a lot on. Still, you know me, perfectly in control of it all.’

‘Invite Virgil over tomorrow, you need a break and I miss his confusion whenever I slip an MCR quote into general conversation.’ She rubbed his arm, ‘I’ll get you guys Oreos.’

‘Mmm.’

Mariana frowned. ‘Logan, is everything alright with you and Virgil?’

That look. He had that look and she was knocked back years. ‘How did you lose your new astronomy book?’, ‘Are you sure that everyone is away on your birthday?’ and once, terrifyingly, ‘Where did you get that bruise?’

‘No. Just a slight disagreement, both he and I are men of principles…’

She pulled him into hug, and he broke off. There was a beat before ugly, racking sobs began to shake his body and he clung onto her desperately. ‘There, there.’ She stroked his back.

A single tear wended its way through Logan’s hair, though he was too upset to notice it. Mariana tried to blink it back. She was the mother, and she was meant to sit and be a rock, not break down alongside her son! But – she was upset for him and angry at him, and goddammit she was human too.

Logan couldn’t even think straight. ‘Mom.’ He had soaked the back of her top, ‘Mom.’

‘I’m here, Lo.’ She was crying openly now, ‘Lo, you idiot, I’m here. I’m here.’

[antistudyblr]

answering this ask

When you take on a lot of extracurriculars like I did, stress and pressure is always going to be there. You’re never sure if you’re going to have enough time to get everything done. But here’s a few tips to hopefully lessen that pressure a little bit, and get you on track to getting all your work done as well as your activities.

1. Prioritize

Schoolwork

Figure out which classes you need to do the most studying for. If you’re really good with math but you’re terrible at history, do your Euro readings before you get done with your math homework.

Have a system for figuring out in what order to do your homework:

Sometimes, I would do the assignments I wanted to least (like calculus) before moving on to more fun things.

If I was in the mood to change things up, I would do shorter/easier assignments first to get them out of the way before diving into longer assignments/projects/papers

If there’s another system that works for you, that’s great too! Just have something figured out.

Have a set time you’re going to sit down and start your homework. Usually for me, that was between 7 and 10pm (because I hate myself), but I would recommend getting started as early as possible.

Use due dates to plan things out; obviously, the thing that needs turned in tomorrow needs to be completed before the paper that’s due two weeks from now.

Familiarize yourself with your teacher’s late work policy. I had some super understanding teachers that would give me full credit for assignments turned in two weeks later; other teachers would have failed me immediately. If you have a lot of assignments pressing down on you and you’re on the verge of burnout, knowing what absolutely has to be done and what can wait a few days is an absolute life-saver. Just don’t abuse it and talk to your teachers about it when you do need a few extra days. They’ll appreciate it and your grade will be less likely to be in for a nasty surprise if they decide not to be so forgiving.

Extracurriculars

There are some activities you can’t skip; others that you can. For me: choir, theatre and marching bands were practices I could not skip or I would face the wrath of my directors. Forensics and ASL were things I could miss some weeks or practice on my own. Thus if something had to be missed or I had to be late, I knew what I could miss.

If you have something that overlaps, talk to coaches/directors/leaders/whatever and find out some way to share yourself between activities. If that doesn’t work, find out if you have a club that you can put the work in by yourself.

If that doesn’t work out, you do have to figure out which clubs are most important to you and decide that way which ones you’re willing to sacrifice.

2. Write Things Down

I used a planner for this; other people use bullet journals or Google Calendar. Either way, have all of your activities written down somewhere

My system involved long term assignments (tests, papers, projects) and extracurriculars going on a monthly spread. A weekly spread had my day-to-day tasks with their due dates next to them.

Find something that works for you that you can reference when trying to make plans and look at while trying to do your homework

3. Make Lists and Hold Yourself Accountable

In a similar vein to the above, making to-do lists really helped me out during weeks where I had a lot to do. Just seeing every task laid out in front of me really helped figure out when I had time to get everything done.

However, what really helped me was actually posting my to-do list online (usually on my tumblr). This way, not only was everything laid out in front of me but everyone would know whether or not I got everything I needed to finished. You don’t have to post your list online, but maybe share it with a friend or family member who will check up on you could help keep you on task.

4. Judge What You Have to Do and Make Trade-offs

If you’ve ever studied micro-economics, you’ll know what I mean. Trade-offs are exactly what they sound like; they’re the things you give up in exchange for what you do. Spending a day writing an essay over the weekend means you might be giving up binge-watching Netflix, spending time with your friends and family or studying for other classes.

This goes back to prioritization as well. If you’re going to have to spend all night finishing that essay instead of going to bed on time, you have to decide whether you’d be better off getting it done or getting that extra sleep. It’s a decision that you have to make and it might change on a case-by-case basis.

It might mean that you have to give up an activity or drop a class that proves to be too much. That’s something you have to think about and talk to your parents or counselor about, so they can come up with a game plan to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

5. Use Any Bit of Time You Can Get

There’s a lot of time during the day where you aren’t doing anything that you can (and should) take advantage of if you’re a busy person. If your school day ends at 3:30 and your activity doesn’t start until 4, take that extra half hour to get your English reading started. For example, I used my bus ride to study vocab on Quizlet. Moments like that really add up.

6. It’s Okay to Take the L Sometimes

Sometimes, things get to be too much and that’s okay. It’s okay to take a mental health day from school or skip a practice (that you are able to skip without issues) or turn in a homework assignment late. You sometimes have to give something up to keep you sanity and that isn’t a terrible thing.

Just don’t make a habit out of it and figure out what in your schedule you can adjust to give yourself more time to get everything done.

7. Leave Some Time for Yourself

Sleep is important; so is eating. While you might have to sacrifice some of that (mostly sleep) to get everything done, you also have to take care of yourself. Even if you have to write that into your planner, make sure you take care of yourself, or else you’ll end up struggling with everything else.

Put some time in your schedule for fun things; whether that’s giving yourself an hour every night to read a book for fun or taking a day in a weekend just to do nothing and catch up on your sleep and hang out with friends. Your social needs are important as well.

[thicctransboi]

Sam+Grizz If New Ham had never happened Pt. 3

Friday

A week had passed, and Grizz was figuring out more and more that his fondness of Sam had tuned into a full blown infatuation. He had checked out a book at the library on sign language, only to find out that apparently, BSL and ASL were two totally different things. So, he had resulted to the internet to try to impress Sam a second time. This time it had been much more successful. He also had learned so much about Sam, and he adored every bit of it. Except for the more painful parts.

They sat at Sam’s house, Campbell was supposed to be out for the remainder of the evening. They had long since finished their project, but Grizz kept making excuses to see him. Such as: spelling errors, alternate theories of different meanings of the poems, forgetting his jacket there on ‘accident’.

“When I dream, I still dream with sound. But not new sounds.”

They had gotten on the subject of dreams this evening, it was 11pm and they hadn’t touched their project since 8:30.

“What would be a new sound?” Grizz asked, genuinely curious. His signing, while still rusty, had improved massively. Using finger spelling when he didn’t know a word.

“My voice. I remember how it sounded before. But, I imagine it’s a little deeper now.”

Grizz chuckled at Sam’s dry humor. It endeared him.

“I wish I could hear yours.”

They were sitting side by side on Sam’s bed, and Grizz felt the air was thick all of a sudden. He had looked up a certain sign two days ago after he had the urge the first time, but he was horrified of asking. Scared of rejection.

He found himself glancing at the bed as he spoke quietly, “Can you.. teach me one more phrase in sign language?” He asked hesitantly.

Sam nodded slowly, trying to read Grizz. He had never seen him like this, nervous, fidgety, tears in his eyes.

“How do you say, ‘kiss me’?”

Sam felt his heart skip a beat, pounding relentlessly against his chest.

Grizz hoped he hadn’t said it clearly enough, that fear of rejection quickly swooping in and seeping through him.

But all fear was washed away as Sam leaned in, cupping Grizz’s face in his soft hands gently, his lips hovering over his for a moment before he closed the gap between them. Grizz’s head swam with emotions, yet no coherent thoughts. The feeling of Sam’s lips against his own sent shockwaves through his body as he found himself kissing Sam back. His lips were soft as velvet, his kisses tender and sweet. He tasted of coffee and bubblegum, Grizz tasted of chocolate and marijuana.

The kiss grew deeper, Grizz finding himself getting lost in the feeling as his hand reached up to fold over Sam’s. All of the pint up emotions, the holding back; it had all come to a blissful end.

Sam’s tongue ghosted over Grizz’s bottom lip, causing shivers to run down Grizz’s spine as he allowed his jaw to lax and allow Sam access. He had never imagined letting someone else take control, but he didn’t mind it at all.

Before he knew it, Sam was on top of him, sitting on his lap as he kissed him feverishly. Grizz had to suppress a moan at the friction being created by Sam’s rocking hips; knowing that they weren’t alone in the household. He let his hands travel up Sam’s sides, his fingertips gently grazing over every muscle and curve he could from underneath his shirt. He longed to go further, but he didn’t want to cause Sam to feel pressured. He tried mumbling his name, then he remembered he couldn’t hear him.

Placing a hand on Sam’s chest, he gently pushed him upwards. “Sam, we don’t have to keep going if you’re not ready.” He said, making sure to annunciate.

Sam suddenly looked bashful. “I’ve never.. I’m a virgin.” He said suddenly, signing the words with shaky hands. “I know you’ve had others.”

Grizz felt his heart break. He was right, he had had others. But never another man. Only one other girl had he had sex with, a few he had fooled around with.

“I don’t mind. But, I don’t want to disappoint you or mess up. And I don’t want this to be some sort of joke or experiment to you when it isn’t for me.”

Sam suddenly looked heartbroken. And Grizz felt like he was.

He sighed, sliding out from underneath Sam and sitting in front of him. “Sam, that’s not what this is to me. I promise.” He began, singing a few words here and there. “I’ve never... Ive never been with another guy. But, I can tell that neither of us are ready for this quite yet.”

Sam’s eyes were filled with tears. “Do you not want me?”

Grizz felt his heart shatter at his words. His voice sounded strained and broken. Grizz places a hand on Sam’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “Of course I do, Sam. But I don’t want to rush into anything. Okay?”

Sam’s eyes benighted slightly. “Okay.”

“Hey Sam? Would you want to come to the homecoming game tomorrow? See me play?”

***

Saturday

(Warning: some cursing, derogatory words, and a physical altercation is about to occur. Reader discretion is advised)

Grizz felt more anxious at this moment than he had before any football game. Not because the team they were against was hard to beat, far from it actually. No, it was because he knew Sam was watching. Sam had told him that he had never been to a game before, sports weren’t his thing. But, for Grizz, he had made an exception and drug Becca along with him.

‘Wait, so Grizz asked you to kiss him?’ Becca signed to Sam as they took their seats on the bleachers.

Sam nodded, ‘he asked me how to sign ‘kiss me’ and so I kissed him.’

Becca had took to not speaking along with her signing for this particular conversation, wanting to honor Grizz’s privacy as well as her best friends.

‘I never pegged Grizz to be gay. And then what? He just, left? Or did something happen?’

Sam shuffled slightly in his seat, unsure of what to say.

‘Oh my god! Did you two sleep together?’ Becca was wearing a shit eating grin.

Sam smacked her arm playfully. ‘No! Well, almost. But he stopped it.’

She raised an eyebrow at him and he continued, ‘he said he didn’t want to rush things between us, said he hadn’t been with a guy before and since I was a virgin, he didn’t want either of us to go too far when we weren’t ready.’

Becca smiled, ‘That’s a good sign!’ Sam gave her a questioning look so she continued, ‘If he had just been curious or wanted an expieriemt or something, he would have either had sex with you and left, or stopped it after a few kisses then left. Not stayed and hung out all weekend! He likes you, Sam. Though, now that I think about it, I saw it coming.’

‘What? What are you talking about? You said you never pegged him as gay?’

Becca laughed, ‘Exactly. Gay. I never said I didn’t see him checking you out or looking at you longingly from across the cafeteria. He could be bi. You never know. Now shush! The game is starting.’

Not much to either of their surprise, West Ham had won, 12-0. The crowd cheered, and Sam and Becca quickly escaped to the parking lot to avoid the heavy crowd. Sam decided he’d send Grizz a text to congratulate him before leaving.

To Grizz: Hey! Great job tonight! Me and Becca are headed home, don’t celebrate too hard!

Sent.

Incoming text from Grizz: Hey, Luke’s hosting a party to celebrate at his house. You two should come!

Sam suddenly felt queezy. He had avoided parties for all of high school, always being made a spectacle and left out. But, he wanted to see Grizz and congratulate him in person.

He sighed.

To Grizz: Okay, send me the address and I’ll stop by.

He pleaded with Becca to go with him, in case he had no one to talk to. But, she said she couldn’t due to procrastinated homework, but agreed to drop him off.

**

Sam could feel the pulsating bass from the loud music all the way out on the front patio of Luke’s house. His house was massive, expensive, and way too crowded by the looks of it. Colored lights flashed from inside as he stood there awkwardly. He had the urge to text Becca to turn around and pick him up, but decided against it. Instead texting Grizz

To Grizz: I’m here.

Sent.

Incoming text from Grizz: I’m in the kitchen!

Sam sighed, shoving his pocket into his phone and heading towards the open front door.

Grizz had had two beers since arriving, determined to enjoy the night of their victory. But he was more looking forward to seeing Sam. He wasn’t sure how to react to him though, or how to approach him. It had suddenly occurred to Grizz that only a few people knew about them being partners on this project, let alone anything more than that.

He saw a familiar face in the crowd: Campbell’s. He never understood why Campbell came to the football parties until last year, when he had caught Campbell selling coke to a few freshman. He had always creeped Grizz out and rubbed him the wrong way. But then again, Campbell rubbed everyone the wrong way.

He stood leant against the kitchen island, a beer in hand, waiting for to see if Sam would show. Finally his phone buzzed, and he felt the sudden, yet now familiar, feeling of his heart skipping a beat.

He waited patiently now, watching the front door through the open floor plan kitchen for Sam. When he saw him enter, he felt a smile creep onto his face. But his smile soon faded, noting how horrified and uncomfortable Sam looked, not to mention the stares that were being tossed his way as he entered the house and made his way to the kitchen. Grizz gulped, thankful that the rest of the guys were elsewhere around the house as Sam entered the kitchen.

“Congrats!” Sam spoke, singing along.

Grizz gave him a small smirk, “thanks!” He signed, “I didn’t think you’d come!”

Sam shrugged, “I wanted to congratulate you in person. And, I was curious as to what the fuss was on this whole ‘high school party’ thing was about.”

Grizz chuckled lightly at Sam, “Well, have a drink. There are beers in the fridge.”

He grabbed him one and they stood in silence for awhile. Well, as far as speaking goes. The house was booming with noise. Grizz’s phone was blowing up, upon answering it, he had at least 20 texts from Clarke telling him that there were people who wanted to congratulate him.

He turned to Sam, “I’ll be right back, a few people want to see me. Just one second okay?” He asked, signing what he could along with his words.

Sam nodded and gave him a smile, sipping on his drink. It tasted like shit but he pretended to like it as Becca had advised him to do.

He suddenly felt exposed and alone as Grizz had left him. Without Becca as well, he felt out of place even further. Sam pulled out his phone to text her, telling her that he was indeed alive. But, that might soon change as he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Campbell. He towered over Sam, his head cocked to the side and a dangerous smirk was displayed on his face.

“Funny seeing you here, brother.” Campbell said, not bothering to sign.

Campbell knew how to sign. But he only ever used curse words.

“What do you want, Campbell?” Sam said, signing along. He tried to keep his stance firm and tall, but he knew it wouldn’t last.

Campbell smiled and smacked the solo cup from Sam’s grasp, “Why are you even here, huh fag? Come to check out the football players or something?” He signed the entire scentance.

Sam wiped the splash of beer from his cheek, “fuck off, Campbell. It’s none of your business.”

Campbell chuckled to himself, shoving Sam roughly against the fridge. “I just want a night to myself! Is that too much to ask! There’s a reason I go out, you know. To get away from your disgusting face. Your intolerable presence. Ever since you were born I’ve been forced to loo after your sorry ass. Now you have the nerve to show up on my territory? You’re lucky I don’t-“

His words were cut off by Grizz interjecting, “Campbell! Is there a problem here?”

Sam looked at Grizz, a look that said ‘leave it’. But Grizz was far from leaving it.

“A problem? No, Grizz. Not at all.” Campbell said, turning back to Sam. “Just stay out of my way, huh fag?” He shoved him roughly again.

He tried turning to walk away, but Grizz had seen enough. Yanking Campbell’s arm roughly, Grizz pulled Campbell towards him, “Watch your mouth! You’re not a football player, and I don’t remember anyone inviting you to a single party we’ve ever had. Piss off, now.”

Sam stood there shocked, he could barely make out Grizz’s words, but felt suddenly honored at the protection he was providing him.

“Lighten up, Grizz. I’m just teaching my Fag brother here a lesson, making sure he doesn’t check any of you guys out-“

Campbell’s words were cut off by a harsh punch being flown into his teeth, by none other than Grizz.

“I said watch your fucking mouth!” Grizz shouted, shoving Campbell further away from Sam and himself.

Campbell lunged at Grizz, Sam trying to intervene as he threw punches towards Grizz. But it was futile, two testosterone filled, 6ft tall men hurtling punches at each other was too much for Sam to stop. So he did the only thing he could think of to do, he screamed.

A deaf persons scream, or so he’d been told, is unlike any sound there is. It’s loud and pitchy, often deafening for others. And Sam knew it.

Heads turned, and Grizz stoped for a moment. But that had been a mistake. Campbell hurtled a punch at Grizz, catching him in the eye. Grizz went to attack again, but was stopped when he saw Campbell take out his pocket knife. But Sam’s scream had not only caught Grizz’s attention, it had also caught the whole houses attention. Soon enough, the rest of the guard had got ahold of Campbell, knocking his knife from his hands and holding him back. Luke was holding Grizz back.

“Touch him again and I swear I’ll knock your teeth in!” Grizz screamed, “Don’t you dare ever come into one of my parties and speak to him like that! Ever! Especially not in front of me!”

He thrashed back and fourth in Luke’s hold.

“Oh look!” Campbell yelled, “Sam’s got himself a boyfriend! And he has a fucking topknot!”

The gaurd quickly tossed Campbell to the curb, quite literally. Sam, however, rushed to Grizz’s aid as he sat in a kitchen chair, cradling his eye.

Grizz was breathing heavily as Sam found an ice pac, placing it gently over his swollen eye.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Sam said quietly, crouching down into Grizz’s view.

“For you, yeah I did.”

[lastemeraldrabbit]

4/7/17

Three weeks left of class this semester, and then finals week. Pretty sure I only have to go on Monday and Tuesday that week though. It took me all semester, but I think I finally got the hang of when and how much homework I can handle in a day. This SHOULD be useful in the summer since all of those are online. I can set designated days to read, write, and go onto the discussion boards so I won't fall behind, especially when I go out of state. I am excited to have basically all of May with no responsibility, I can work on extra curricular things and my crafts. I'm gonna try to remember to get an application for volunteer at the equality center, especially if I'm wanting to work worth fellow lgbt+ peers in my near future. Also need to get in touch with old dog trainer coworker and see how to get certified in service dog training, AND ASL interpretor cert.

I tend to think so future forward, I forget I have to take things one day at a time. It's harder on bad days, and even more difficult on worse days, when I can barely focus on one sentence in my textbook. There's been to many days this week that I felt weighed down and I end up getting through the day on autopilot, in a fog. Naps after classes seemed to help significantly, which is good to know, and I hope it can help keep me from completely shutting down in this final stretch of the semester, when I just want to be done and rest.

So far, I have read all that I need to for three of four writing assignments, so now I need to: - write reflection paper - write intensive paper - find article for media paper - write media paper - writing assignment for lifespan - online test for lifespan - review and copy notes for statistics, so I'll no longer be AS behind come Tuesday.

I'm hoping to do at least two of the writing and the online test tomorrow, and then finish up the last two (hopefully it'll only be one, most likely the media paper, ugh) by Saturday night so I can enjoy my friends birthday and get very drunk again.

I was added to some dumpster diving groups on fb, and I finally got to go at least for a minute with sis, but sadly there were only boxes. But it was good to know that these nights thats all there is, and not empied or gross yet. I haven't gone in a really long time, at least seven or eight years. It'll be really cool when we actually find good stuff and I can tell my mom about the findings.

As soon as this semester is over I'm gonna feel so relieved. I have a plan to work on the paintings I never really started on, ones I left halfway, and finish ones I just stopped working on because of depression. Same for actually finishing the books I borrowed from Knockout, its been literal years now, plus reading the books I bought for fun and never felt like I have the time to read. I think what will help me do this the most will be cutting back on media use, like watching netflix constantly. I've realized recently that it occupies too much of my energy that could be used for things that could help me. I want to start on embroidery for my 3D portfolio and as an Interesting Thing I Do for application for grad programs reasons. I'd like to have a concentration idea and some concepts for pieces before the semester ends, probably should start with three pieces, and draw those out in May. Also need new strings for guitar, practice ukulele, get flute books from Knockout to practice that as well.

Trying to explore things I like knowing about, it looks so overwhelming written down. But I think I can set it up to where I do little bits of things in a structure so it's not really overwhelming and I'm not trying to be Too Much. There's a lot of other stuff I want to do as well, but I think those will pique my interests more intensively in time. Top of my list of things to do here that also isn't immediate, is getting back into witch studies. Its been too long, and the most I have been doing with this is lazily charging moon water to drink the next day. I feel like it would help me with focusing, gaining motivational energy, think more positively for myself in a way thay bad days leave my presence faster.

this is a novel now

💡

[aleclikewood]

I got tagged in a thingy

A Five Things

Five Things

@banelights​ tagged me and I’ve got some time to kill before Shadowhunters!!

Five things you’ll find in my bag:

My phone

Collection of colorful pens

Wallet

Trash

Bobby pins

Five things in my bedroom:

Twinkle lights!

TV

Candles (sooooo many candles)

More of my colorful pen collection

Way too many pillows for one person

Five things I’ve wanted to do in life:

Travel

See a sea turtle in the wild (I think I’d cry tbh)

Master ASL (I used to study it but got cockblocked by life) 

Have my own place

Live in New York

Five things that made me happy:

Padfoot, my dog

My friends

The kids I work with even if they drive me a little crazy

My camp

Target

Five things I’m currently into:

My hair (I used to hate it but I got this magic hair tool and I think it’s just fab now.)

Snapchat (I kinda hated it until I started school and all my new friends were using it)

Shadowhunters

Tumblr (I was a lurker for a while and wasn’t terribly active)

Wine

Five things on my to-do list: (hahaha you mean the never ending to do list on the back of my phone?)

Answer emails 

Do marketing homework (because seriously school hasn’t even started yet how the fuck do I have homework?!)

Do my project management quiz questions 

Remember where and when my finance class is tomorrow 

Make lunch for the week because real life starts again tomorrow 

Five things people may not know about me:

I’m only confident when it comes to being a snarky ass

I write fic in my head all the time but gave up actually writing fic ages ago

I used to be really athletic and could probably be hella skinny if I got off this damn website

I hate Twilight (I just switched to Freeform and it’s on)

IDK BUT SHADOWHUNTERS IS ABOUT TO COME ON AND I STILL HAVE TO THINK OF 5 PEOPLE TO TAG

Five people I’m tagging:

IDK BECAUSE I DON’T WANNA BE A DICK AND TAG ANYONE RIGHT BEFORE SHADOWHUNTERS LIKE LESS THAN 5 MINUTES FAM!!!

[wellinformedmama-blog]

Wait, what? (Vol. I)

One of the most confusing parts of parenthood is that we have to navigate several professional worlds outside our own to gain access to what our children may need: educational, medical, health, legal... it’s enough to make you go home and crack open a Bota Box.

Here’s a handy primer of jargon and acronyms (we special ed teachers especially LOVE jargon, and I apologize on my people’s behalf). Bookmark this one and remember that language should NEVER be a barrier in your involvement in decision making for your child. An additional rule of thumb: please never be afraid to ask what something means. You don’t look dumb and you aren’t bothering anyone; you sound mature and curious. Promise.

THE WELL INFORMED MAMA’S GLOSSARY, VOL. I (504 – A)

504 Plan: Section 504 is a federal law that prohibits discrimination and provides for accommodations for any documented disability which affects a life function. Sometimes this is a very good idea, indeed; sometimes, it’s a consolation prize when a Team decides against an IEP. It does not have the “specialized instruction required” piece of an IEP. As in: “Johnny’s 504 gives him extended time on assessments because of his processing speed.”

AAC: Augmentative and Alternative Communication – This includes any alternative means to oral communication, namely speech devices (aligning visuals to “speak” from a computer, often handheld) and PECS (picture communication – more to follow on that one for sure). We see this most often in autism and in apraxia. This is a huge topic but please remember that taking away someone’s “talker” (speech device) is the same as covering a speaking person’s mouth with tape. Not OK. As in: “My son used his AAC device to request he stay home from school and watch Octonauts.”

ABA: Applied Behavior Analysis - An evidence based, systematic, frequent therapy that individuals with autism (or anyone who wants to modify behavior or increase communication) may access. The “client” is exposed to programs that build tolerance, add desirable behaviors, or decrease unsafe or nonfunctional behaviors, for example. It’s the only recognized “treatment” for autism and is mandated by law to be covered by insurance (thanks, Autism Speaks). As in: “Sorry I can’t make it to playgroup, we have ABA today. And tomorrow. And the next day.”

ABS: Adaptive Behavior Scale - aka “The Vineland” - This is the assessment your Early Intervention specialist busts out to rank and file your baby; a necessary evil I suppose. They use observation, interaction using specifically mapped out questions/tasks, and talking to mom and dad to score your little one in four “domains” (skill areas): Communication, Daily Living Skills, Socialization, and Motor Skills. As in: “Bobby didn’t qualify for EI this year because her scores on the ABS were typical.”

Accommodations: A change in the way something is presented (presentation, time or setting, response) that does not change the intention of what is being taught. In other words, it changes how we teach, not what we teach. Good accommodations level the playing field and are NOT an advantage. Some are universal (or should be) and some need to be in an IEP or 504 plan. As in: “If these gen ed teachers don’t give Sally her accommodations on her quiz again, I’m going to lose my shit.” 

Advocate: 1. One who does her homework in order to be the voice of someone she loves. 2. Someone we pay when we are too exhausted or enraged to carry on effectively. As in: “That girl advocates like a mother.”

ADHD: Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder – this used to be either ADD or ADHD; now it’s all officially ADHD and then you get a “type” as a bonus prize – hyperactive, inattentive, or combined. In Massachusetts, for example, ADHD is actually listed under health impairment on the IEP as a disability category, and you really want a pediatrician or psychologist to deliver this diagnosis even with school-based testing (more on that later). Kids with ADHD are among my favorite humans: buzzy, busy, dreamy, kinetic, original. They need help. That’s fine, but you’ll often find they’re brilliant, too. As in: “That kid with ADHD in Sally’s class sits on a yoga ball instead of a chair.”

APE: Adapted Physical Education – Adapted or modified PE/gym, including the use of assistive equipment or a different curriculum, so that a student with a gross motor disability or a developmental delay can take PE. There are different levels of qualifications to teach APE and how it all works varies from state to state. I’m learning more about this myself right now. As in: “We may need to put APE in his IEP.”

Apraxia: Apraxia of Speech – This is a disorder in which the brain sends incomplete signals to the mechanical parts of the body that “do the talking.” Apraxia has no bearing on cognitive capacity (intelligence) so always assume competence when interacting with a person with apraxia. Some will move on from apraxia with intensive speech therapy; some will not. Many will end up seeking AAC. As in: “A child with apraxia still has something to say.”

Articulation: aka “artic” – The understandability or clarity of speech. Completely separate from receptive language. May include consonant confusion, dropped syllables, lisps, or mumbling. Many kids with speech delays who learn to speak later than is typical, and kids with frequent ear infections, have artic issues. As in: “Henry’s articulation is a mess, but his vocab is on point.”

ASD: Autism Spectrum Disorder(s) - This the formal name for an autism diagnosis in the official medical handbook DSM-5 (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition), which saw big changes in 2013. (For the record, I take issue with “disorder,” but I’ll get into that later.) It covers a wide range of presentations of autism, a developmental and neurological difference, that used to be differentiated into categories like PDD-NOS (Pervasive Developmental Delay - Not Otherwise Specified in very young children) and Asperger’s (now classified as “high functioning autism” - also problematic, but that’s that). Side note – autistic is not a dirty word or dehumanizing descriptor, and one instance where people-first language is not a must. As in: “My ASD/autistic kiddo ate a vegetable this one time.” Now, importantly, in education, autism does not apply as a disability category if a child’s educational performance is adversely affected primarily because the child has an emotional disturbance, but a mental illness can be co-morbid with autism. (Confused? That’s OK. I got you. Stay tuned.)

ASL: American Sign Language - its own language and culture for a subset of deaf Americans; the signs are also used by some in the nonverbal community to communicate, and sometimes simplified for little ones. Signing in infancy and toddlerhood can help prompt language later on. As in: “Noah signs ‘more’ when we tickle him because he is an adorable baby-god.”

Asperger’s Syndrome: The name for a specific type of autism that medical professionals now call “high functioning autism.” This one is chock full of problematic assumptions about really cool, deeply neurodiverse and aware individuals. Many are verbal, but not all, and many feel challenged by social nuances or other communication demands. It may also encompass sensory sensitivities or executive functioning deficits. Or not. Many proudly call themselves “Aspies” and were diagnosed prior to the 2013 DSM-5 update. As in: “Will Big Bang Theory ever tell us outright if Sheldon has Asperger’s?”

AT: Assistive Technology - Any tool, electronic device or hardware, or any software, that helps a student access learning by removing barriers to access. Assistive tech includes communication devices, speech to text and text to speech programs, word prediction software, simply using a Chromebook to type, using an iPad or other tablet to submit work, audiobooks from Learning Ally, and much more. The possibilities are exciting, and can be a little tricky, too. You can request an AT evaluation from a public school just like any other assessment (tip: say eval and not consult). As in: “Hank’s plan has assistive tech. He needs to turn in his worksheets digitally or no one can read his handwriting.”

Auditory Processing Disorder: FYI, nobody really says “APD,” they say “auditory processing.” May also be called “Central Auditory Processing Disorder,” and then we do frequently use CAPD as an acronym. Anyhoo, this is a hearing issue that affects the way kids experience the world and learn, because it makes processing auditory information very challenging. They can hear, but have trouble telling the difference between sounds. Requires speech therapy and sometimes seeing an audiologist for medical intervention. Can frequently be mislabeled as ADHD. As in: “Billy’s not being fresh; he’s not following the conversation because he has auditory processing disorder.”

To be continued…