#and also practice some things from my art class yesterday

[nedsseveredhead]

havnt drawn this old fuck in forever asdfg

[tinytennisskirt]

Rumours

Art x Fem!Reader

Summary: You hate hookup culture, so your roommate Tashi sets you up with her boyfriend’s best friend. A nasty rumour interferes with the date and confusion ensues, but there’s still time to fix things so the night isn’t a complete waste. It can still be cute and romantic.

Warnings: written in my notes app and unedited- miscommunication trope, mentions of sex and certain foreplay, one kiss.

So you’d managed to find yourself scheduled for a date with Art Donaldson, college tennis player. It was of course, the work of your best friend and roommate Tashi Duncan. She’d set it all up- all it took was one night of margaritas and sitting upside down on your bed, feet up against the wall, saying, “I’m kind of tired of being alone. I want to do things, I want to go on dates and I want to fall in love and out of it without the pressure for make out and hookup culture. It’s so tiring to sit here night after night.”

And Tashi was immediately on it. She whipped out her phone and was texting someone and you didn’t hear about it until the next day, sober. She’d set you up for a date with one of her friends. You weren’t involved in her passion for tennis and you were relatively new to this place, so you hadn’t met Art before. But he sounded nice enough. Tashi described him as a bit taller than her, but she stood at 5’10, so that meant he had to be around 6ft. Blonde, curly-ish waves and big ears. You’d chuckled a little at that.

Tashi didn’t warn you about anything, she was excited and set the date up for 7pm. Art would swing by your dorm and come get you and you’d go for dinner, practically a blind date. Or a vision-impaired date.

You carried out your class of the day, excited. Tashi said she’d lay out your perfect outfit while you were in classes after she got back from tennis with Patrick. You’d met Patrick, of course, he was over quite a bit. He was best friends with Art, you knew that much. It was funny he was never around.

When your partner for an assignment, Mary, who was one of your class friends- asked why you looked so eager to get out of class, you apologized. She laughed, “It’s okay, we are already ahead on the project, you’re allowed to slack a little.” You apologized again.

“I promise I’m invested,” you chuckled. “I have a date tonight is all. I haven’t been on a date in… forever.”

Mary tilted her head with intrigue, “Oooh, where to?”

“Some restaurant called The Bistro?” You answered. “Apparently it’s not much of a Bistro and just a nice place to eat and get a drink.”

“I love it there! They have great garlic bread but I don’t recommend for a first date,” she laughed and shut the book you two were annotating. You smiled. “Who with? Is it the cute barista guy from the campus coffee shop who was totally eyeing you yesterday? Please say it is.”

You shook your head, “You know my roommate Tashi? She set me up with one of her tennis friends- Art Donaldson?” You noticed Mary’s smile fall. No. What? “What is it?” You pressed immediately.

Mary shook her head, “I’m sure it’s fine. I just know you- that’s all.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that I know you hate hookup culture with a passion. I know you. And I also know things about Art… he has a reputation.” She cringed away like you were going to explode. You weren’t. You found the anticipation in your stomach was fading slowly.

“Oh…”

“But it’s just a rumour… I’ve heard from a few girls he’s only good for sex.” She waved her hands around like mad. “It could be totally a lie but I’ve heard it from… quite a few girls. Too many. Just be aware.”

You clicked your tongue. It figured. “Thank you. I had no idea.”

Mary apologized to you and gave you the rest of her energy drink because she felt so bad about breaking it to you- which you both laughed about. It was a bit funny, but the idea of going out with someone sex-oriented was something that you weren’t interested in. You weren’t about that- After being used in that way before you promised you wouldn’t put yourself in that position again. But rumours were rumours.

Despite everything, a date was a date. You’d get free dinner out of it, hopefully. Maybe. And you could always call Tashi to come get you. You went back to the dorm and Tashi had laid out something velvety and pretty for you with a small sweater and some black heels. She’d done well. You did your hair and makeup nicely and the clock continued to tick as you thought this over. Did you really want this?

The knock on the door snapped you out of you staring yourself down in the mirror. The time to contemplate was up and it was too late. You could just… not answer the door? Maybe he’d go away after a bit. But you were hungry and ramen compared to restaurant food did not seem so appealing. You hated what you were doing with every fibre of your being, but you opened the door with a smile.

He stood there in a sweater and nice pants, hair blonder than you’d imagined, and a toothy grin on his face. He looked sweet. That was your first impression. You didn’t notice the way his jaw went slack a little the moment you opened the door because as pretty as Art imagined you’d be, you were prettier.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied, extending his hand. “I’m Art. You must be y/n.” It wasn’t often anyone asked to shake your hand like this. You shook it gently. “Tashi told me a lot about you but I didn’t know you’d be so…” he stopped himself and smiled at his feet. “I am too forward already.”

“You’re doing fine,” I smiled. I tried to put my prejudice aside. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you as well.”

He smiled a crooked smile. Almost like a smirk, but I hoped it wasn’t a smirk. You could like a crooked smile a whole lot better. The two of you made introductions and began to walk through the dorm and outside. “I’ve been having car trouble lately. The back seats are a bit of a mess, it’s where my put the parts I’m working on.” He said before opening the passenger side door for you. He was nice. Sweet even. You didn’t mind the backseat was a mess.

“Thank you,” you said, slipping into the car. The car smelled like a mix of cinnamon and apples and a bit like a car, but good enough. The conversation on the way there consisted of talking about music. He liked the same stuff you did, apparent by the amount of cds he had in his glovebox. He was funny, too. You liked that. He was cracking jokes effortlessly and looked at you a bit much for someone who was driving but eventually you got there and sat down and ordered.

“So what’s tennis like?” You asked, folding your hands on the table. “A question from an outsider.”

“Competitive,” he replied. “But I’ve been at it since I was a kid, me and Patrick- you’ve met Patrick, which now I come to think he has mentioned you as well- me and Patrick went to the same tennis academy.”

You nodded, “So it’s been your life.”

He smiled, taking a sip of his drink, “Yeah. I’d say I’m pretty good but I would like an outsiders perspective, you know.” He smiled even wider and it only got more crooked. You smiled back. He was inviting you to watch him play. “What’s your thing? Your life?” He asked.

You grinned, “Maybe writing. Or reading? It’s boring, but-“

“It’s not boring,” Art interrupted. “I like reading in my downtime. I just finished The Turn of The Screw.”

“For fun?”

“For fun,” he laughed. He had a nice laugh and a smooth voice. Mary’s voice echoed around your head, repeating the ghosts of his past. He was almost too good to be true. He read for fun? A sports-oriented man who read for fun? You leaned on your fist. He looked you in the eyes, trying to read you, almost angling his head as if it would help him see into your mind. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” you nodded, smiling a little bit embarrassedly. But you straightened your posture out. “You read for fun as a boy in college, it’s rare. I like it.”

He looked down at his plate, almost sheepishly. You didn’t know he was hiding the flush in his cheeks that went from ear to ear. The conversation carried on and he was still sweet. The food arrived and you talked about school and life before it and you were really beginning to see past the rumours.

Near the end of dinner you used the washroom quickly. You fixed up your blush and powder. He was nice. He was really nice and really sweet and he was full of compliments in subtle ways, about the small things. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what Mary had said. Who was to say that-

Your thoughts met an abrupt end as a girl in the bathroom of the restaurant tapped your arm. She was tall, thin, with hair like red velvet. You nstantly recognized her from my first class of the day, she was a girl who raised her hand often. “Hey!” She greeted me, wrapping slender arms around your neck in a hug you weren’t expecting. She smelled strongly of whiskey. Oh…

“Hi…” you said warily, patting her on the back as she pulled away. “How are you?”

She smiled a drunken smile. “I’m good! But I have to tell you something- I saw who you’re out with and I just wanted to come and warn you- he’s a player and I heard he’s only in the game for a fuck.” She giggled but shushed herself immediately after and leaned against the wall.

The pit feeling in your stomach made it churn. Things were really going well with Art, you were fractions away from letting it all go. He read for fun, for fucks sake. You bit your lip- “How do you know?” You asked. It wasn’t as if a drunk girl would give a great answer but maybe enough of one.

She pointed at you, “A friend of a friend went out with him… steak I think. And he was all nice-“ she hiccuped. You braced yourself. Art was still out there… maybe. Why couldn’t things just be easy? You felt the fight or flight kick in. “But after he expected his dick sucked or whatever-“

Your stomach dropped again. Fuck! Why couldn’t men be nicer? Easier? More full of love and not lust. You stood in this bathroom believing in a drunk redhead and you hated it. You pulled out your phone and wanted to call Tashi. But this was Tashi’s friend so suspicions that he was a boy who used women and it just felt wrong. You sighed a deep, long sigh. “He expected it?”

“Yeah! He was all pushy.” She said. “Anyways I gotta go, just had to tell you.”

“Wait-“

She stumbled away. You inhaled again, so deep you ran out of capacity. You were not the kind of girl who valued men like that or kept them around. Was it so hard to just be loved and cherished? For fucks sake, fucks sake! You were gripping the edge of the sink so hard, your knuckles were white. He was so cute, he really was. Blonde curls, crooked smile, the way he spoke and he was so charming.

You walked out of the bathroom and back to the table, Art smiled as you sat back down. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “I was thinking of getting dessert… do you want to share or… I’m happy to get you one for yourself.”

You pressed your tongue to your cheek, “Art… I think I’m going to cut our night short.” You started, looking down, away from him. It was a bit too late, you’d seen his face fall, his smile slip away into softly opened lips.

“Oh,” he nodded, pulling out his wallet. You stopped him too quickly, nearly putting a hand on his and immediately yanking your hand back.

“No-“ you said. “I’ll pay, I’m sorry I wasted your time.” Anything to get away from someone whose rumours had followed you to the restaurant. There was a time

He shook his head, “It’s okay, really. I-uh…”He shook his head again. You hated the feeling in your stomach as it rose and fell again and again. “I’m sorry.” He said.

You wondered why. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” The rumours were too much. He raised his hand for the bill. “I’m just… I…” you found yourself unable to lie and say you felt sick. He looked at you, eyes meeting eyes with nothing else to look at but how blue they were, with a bit of brown on the left eye. But he wasn’t company you wanted to keep. “I’m sorry.” And you paid with your card when the waiter came. He looked away from you and you messaged Tashi to come get you.

He stood with you outside, the wind tousled your hair. You looked over at him looking out over the parking lot bathed in purple light from the restaurant sign. You looked away. He looked over at you, but you didn’t see it until he took a deep breath. “Was it something I said?” He asked. You looked at him, not turning your body, but your head. “I’m sorry for asking, I know how it sounds, but part of me isn’t going to let this go unless I know if it was my fault.”

You looked at your feet in your pretty shoes. “It wasn’t anything you said,” you replied. The silence amongst the nearby whoosh of traffic was unbearable. Your eyes met. You hated being terrified of being used- girls like Tashi embraced it for the experience but you were tired. And maybe if you were more naive or not so set on a high standard then you wouldn’t be leaving before dessert. You wished you weren’t terrified of it. And you wished you were tired. Art nodded. More silence.

What an awkward first date. You wished you hadn’t left the dorm in the first place. The wind moved his hair around. His hands stayed in his pockets. “Should have let me pay,” he chuckled quietly. “I have to go back to my dorm to tell Patrick not only did I fuck up a date with a pretty girl but she paid too. You know you’d be saving me from him if you stayed? You know him…”

His little attempts at bringing levity made you smile and you hated it. “I’m sorry,” was all you said. It felt like all you could say. He smiled a bit back at you. Tashi pulled up in her jeep and you waved at him. He waved back. A silent goodbye.

The door wasn’t even closed and Tashi was speaking, “Why? What did he do?”

You didn’t know she’d be unhappy. “I heard things about him? A girl pulled me aside in the bathroom to warn me- I was told a few things about him today and it threw me off, I can’t-“

“Art is the sweetest guy I know, you couldn’t even finish your meal? I get that you know what you want but I went out of my way to try and get you what you wanted and… I’m so sorry but that’s not right. What you did. You could have stuck it out.” She spoke a mile a minute.

“I heard he’s only in it for sex!” You said, defending yourself. You and Tashi didn’t fight, you had to voice it or else she wouldn’t understand.

“What?”

“Mary told me- and then the redhead girl from my morning class at the restaurant told me-“

“Mary Sinclair?” Tashi said. “Call her right now.”

“Hm?” Her words were whizzing out of her mouth and they were sharp. She was genuinely never like this with you. She was only like this when she knew she was in the right.

“Call Mary Sinclair,” she repeated. She started driving away. “I’m sorry I’m yelling- please.” You listened because Tashi was so firm.

“Hey,” Mary started when she picked up. “How was your date?”

Tashi grabbed the phone from you- “Hey Mary, this is Tashi. Just calling to ask- You said something about Art Donaldson?”

She stuttered on the other line. You narrowed your eyebrows. This was fast. This was very strange and out of character for how you and Tashi treated each other. Tashi looked over at you, driving with one hand. “Yeah, I mean. I know he sleeps with girls on the first date. And I know he’s a player of sorts- I was only warning- I heard from a friend of a friend.”

“Which Art Donaldson?” Tashi followed up, her tone still strong. Straight to the point. You were honestly afraid she’d crash putting all her effort into the power of her voice.

Mary clicked her tongue, “Tennis player? Tall, wears a lot of sweaters. Brown hair, big nose, kinda long-“ and you perked up. “He’s roommates or… friends with that blonde guy.”

Oh fuck. What did that mean? You had a feeling but you hated what it truly meant. You looked at Tashi, who arched her eyebrow at you. “Who spread those rumours?” She followed up. “I mean- who told you that?”

“I heard them from Tessi,” she replied. You immediately knew who that was. That was bathroom redhead girl. Oh my god. “Why? What’s going on?”

Tashi spoke through her teeth, “Who did she hear them from?”

“Some girl he went out with three months ago. I forget, she’s a friend of Tessi’s I think and her name is… Val?”

“Fuck!” Tashi said aloud. You were caught up in how fast this was unfolding and the moving car and Art. Who was Art? “Thanks Mary!” She hung up and put my phone back in my lap. “I’m sorry, y/n, this is not fair to you or to Art.”

“I’m- what the fuck?”

“They’re talking about Patrick. Someone is confused, they’re talking about Patrick, Val is his ex… before me. She hates his guts, she thinks he played her. He didn’t, he just… wanted me. Someone along the line mistook him for Art, got their names mixed up- you’re right for trusting your gut.”

You just blinked. Tashi veered a little harshly. “Patrick? They think Art is Patrick? Somehow? That’s so- how? They’re so different.”

“I don’t know either- I’m sorry I’m yelling- Patrick is the so-called player, not Art.” And your stomach dropped lower than it had before. And your heart instantly gushed. He was not a dick, he wasn’t a player, he was just everything you hated to like- he was charming, kind, he read for fun, he was complimentative and funny and you had just fucked him over after what was a good date, inner thoughts aside. And he even asked you stay, god he thought he did something wrong. You felt ache in your fingertips.

“Tashi, can we beat Art back?”

Tashi pressed her hand to her forehead, “Boys dorms?”

“Please,” you said. Suddenly it was urgent. The whirlwind picked you up again. Tashi who was already driving a little recklessly turned her jeep onto campus grounds as fast as she could. You feared a little for your life. You had just done something awful to what was the perfect guy and it was all under false notions, your prejudice, your fear of someone being two-faced or fake and not being genuine.

“You can’t get in without a keycard, you have to catch him before he gets in and that’s his car parked right there in the lot,” she veered over to the entrance and saw Art walking down the side of the building. He was sweet and quite perfect and you ruined everything. She could have called Patrick who she knew was hanging out there, she could have helped but there wasn’t another thought in your mind. You ditched your bag in her car and got out of the jeep just to have your ankle immediately bend when your high-heeled feet hit the ground. What a misunderstanding, it burned in your chest and fingertips like an ache. The pain in your ankle was momentary only because you needed to move. You kicked the shoes away and ran, barefoot on the grass, across it to the sidewalk, feet hitting the rough hard ground. You had never felt faster. You didn’t call his name, you didn’t want to make him turn.

You ran and you ran and he was at the door, reaching for his key card. This was a great mistake- this was a crazy mistake. You almost ran into him, you stopped just before and he turned his head, eyes widening a bit. Your curled hair had grown in volume from the wind, your nose was pink, your breaths were heavy and harsh and you were barefoot.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. He met your eyes. You couldn’t catch your breath, your lungs burned and your heart beat a mile a minute. “Art, I’m so sorry.” You pressed your hand to your stomach. “Something happened, some misunderstanding and I- I let it determine how I felt about you and truth is you were lovely but the false information I’d been given overshadowed it and I-“ you huffed. “God, I’m saying I fucked up. Aside from that you were perfect and I really liked talking to you.”

He folded his arms. You immediately felt small. Stupid. “Art, I’m sorry. Someone told me you were a player and I am not- I’m not about that. I don’t like people like that, not for myself. I let someone tell me that was who you were but they were confused and they were talking about Patrick! Tashi told me his ex… spreads rumours.” You breathed out heavily. “I’m so sorry, I really should have asked you about it or something. Or even asked the girls who told me. They were confused and they didn’t even know it. I was scared that you were some dick like the others but you’re not. And I’m sorry. And you’re letting me ramble and honestly it’s fine because I could just talk about how sorry I am forever.”

“She does spread rumours like that but Patrick… he couldn’t be me,” Art said. He said it with a straight face, but what he said was a little funny. I smiled. And I wanted him to smile too. “I liked talking to you too. I thought it was going really well, honestly.”

“I was just scared, I promise. I believed it. I believed it to keep myself safe and I’m baring my insecurities in the open right now with little to no filter- just- I didn’t get the feeling you were like that whatsoever, but I was told…”

He nodded, “I know. I’m sorry someone told you that, but it’s definitely not me.” He kept his arms folded. The ache manifested into your whole chest. You’d been such a dick. You hurt someone kind because of a rumour. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your face flushed hot. Scalding. You must have turned entirely pink. “I really- I just wanted to tell you I was sorry and why and what happened before you went inside. I am really sorry, Art. It was really a lovely night things aside. I am frankly mortified and upset I acted the way I did and I just… I wanted you to know how sorry I am.” You expressed, your hands gesturing all the important parts. He kept his lips straight. You felt judged. I guess that’s how he felt. “Look, I’m going to go. I really didn’t mean to make you feel like you did something wrong. It wasn’t you at all. I’m sorry I completely misjudged you. I’m going to go now, back to my… um… dorm.” Your flush burned your skin. “Thank you for listening.”

“You know you’d be saving me from Patrick if you stayed?” He said. His arms unfolded and his small smile was back. Very small. But there. You clutched your stomach and swallowed hard. Your heart still beat a mile a minute.

“Art-“

“It’s okay. People get mixed up between me and Patrick all the time. And although I didn’t like the no-reason-pay-and-leave, I still like you. I think you’re really sweet and pretty and you just ran across the residence lawn barefoot just to apologize with a million words because you felt that bad. I think that makes up for the judgment. Plus… it makes sense. I heard what Tashi told Patrick about what you’re looking for in a guy, it makes sense that you’d ditch.”

You breathed out hard. “She said she wouldn’t tell…”

“You’re sweet. And you were protecting your peace.” He said. He looked at his feet. “And I get it and I like you.”

“I like you too.” You huffed. “Can we-“

“Start from scratch?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. He smiled a crooked smile and the weight was partially lifted. You still felt awful, but less so. He understood.

He stuck his hand out to you and you shook it. His crooked smile was in full bloom. You blushed. “Art. Not Patrick.” He said.

“Y/n,” you replied. “Do you want to get out of here? This is me asking you out. Again.” You clarified. He laughed a little.

“Yeah I’d be honoured, but I pick the spot… again.” He agreed. You nodded. And nobody spoke for a moment, you just smiled. And his blue eyes weren’t so down-looking. “Do you need shoes?”

“Depends on where we’re going…” you said. “Thank you though. For understanding.”

“You’re too pretty for me to care about what some other girl said about someone else,” he said. “You don’t need shoes, come on.”

And you walked off together, starting up some new unrelated conversation. He took you to play tennis, he kicked your ass but you were also barefoot and in a dress. You ended up laughing hysterically and he was everything you wanted and more. And the events of a few hours ago faded out like nothing. It became a thing of the past and all you both knew now was badly swung tennis rackets and bare feet on the court, laughter, harmony. And it was nearly 2am when he walked you back to your dorm. He carried your shoes that you found by the sidewalk.

“That was fun,” you said outside your door. “Thank you again for forgiving me.”

“Thank you for running across residence to apologize,” he replied. You smiled. So did he. “Don’t let anyone mix me up again? I’m going to talk to someone about that…”

You laughed, “I’ll fix it for sure.”

“Thank you.” He put his hands in his pocket then immediately took them out. “I want to see you again.”

“I’d like that,” you answered. Your eyes met properly. “Very much.”

“Me too,” he said. “And you looked beautiful tonight. Even with your hair all messed up.” You’d been whining about it on the court. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Or I guess today.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said. His eyes fell downward. You could tell he stared at your lips. Despite all you stood for, tonight was enough to warrant it. You grinned in the silence and he matched it with his smirk-like smile. And it was mutual, the kiss. Both of you leaned in, meeting in the middle. Soft. Easy. Simple. And quick. Just his hand on your cheek, pushing your hair behind your ear before pulling away. “Goodnight.” You said. Your body felt warm.

He grinned, a little bit of a twinkle in his eye. “Goodnight.”

Rumours were just that- rumours. And they’d gone to die, at least for you and Art. You took off your makeup, got into your Panama’s, completely debriefing with Tashi as you did. She had been trying to get to the bottom of it since she got back, it turned out. There was going to be nothing in the way anymore, all pre-conceived notions thrown out the window.

You smiled as you fell asleep with the promise of being called tomorrow. Nothing else mattered.

[maybeimamuppet]

OKAY MUPPETS IT IS TIIIIME FOR EZZYS OPINION HOUR

i saw the mean girls movie yesterday and i have THOUGHTS. spoilers below the cut but general thoughts up here

1. is it objectively not a super great movie? yes

2. is it my new favorite movie? yes

3. will i defend this movie tooth and nail from people who don’t like it just bc it’s a musical or bc they’re a 2004 purist? YES

4. did this movie make me feel so many conflicting emotions back to back i have now had a tummyache for 24 hours? YESSS

5. will i ever, ever, EVER IN MY LIFE forgive tina fey for the ending? no.

alright babes welcome to below the elementary school gym class parachute

last spoiler warning!!

these aren’t all in order and are most definitely not all the thoughts i had bc i have the memory storage of a flea and once an experience is over it is GONE FROM MY HEAD so this is the list of thoughts i struggled to put together when i got home lmao

overall thoughts:

it felt very gimmicky. the stage production felt gimmicky too but in a fun way, this was gimmicky in a way that kinda gave me a touch of the ick

it did not feel to me very much like a cohesive movie. it felt like browsing ig or tiktok and just seeing a hodgepodge of scenes stuck together. which is a cool idea but idk how well it worked in practice and i also don’t know if it was intentional.

this is not the word i’m looking for but in terms of personality they absolutely whitewashed all of the characters and i really don’t care for that. the visuals and the casting were so immaculate but in terms of personality they just made them all taste like unsweetened corn flakes.

i’m biased and didn’t care for most of the tweaks they made to the songs individually BUT i think they blended with each other more cohesively than they do in the stage production so that was cool. and i am able to understand why they made them more pop-esque than theatre-y it’s just not my personal vibe

it all felt very emma watson’s beauty and the beast. like. not deserving of much hate but also just not as good. it has its time and place but i still just. the changes they made were too much for me. that being said i am gonna be the #1 viewer whenever it’s released to streaming platforms was not kidding when i said this is a new favorite movie

the whole like. tiktok and iphone camera thing was an interesting??? idea. i really liked it for cautionary tale but the rest. i think it was a better idea than the way they executed it.

i miss do this thing!! i wish they had done like a mashup with it and the stupid with love reprise but i wasn’t mad at the reprise so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

fourth wall break was real cringe!!

thoughts abt cady:

angourie is so cute!!!!!!! she has the perfect look for cady. her costumes were kinda yikes but physically she’s mwah chefs kiss perfection

cady is so viscerally autistic in this version and it is DELIGHTFUL

but again i feel like they took so much from her. in the show she’s this overexcited little bubbly (autistic again but still) thing and she’s naive and then it’s revealed she’s conniving and manipulative and has this serious dark streak in her. in the movie it felt like she was just. awkward and then straight to conniving and manipulative. it was interesting but i miss my little jumping bean i wish they had given her some more spice

this movie has turned me into a cadina shipper of THE HIGHEST ORDER i’m already writing a fic for them and i call diiiiibs nobody else do it i write slow /j

i honestly really liked what ifs. i didn’t enjoy it as much as it roars but i think for the screen and for angourie’s voice it was a better fit. and i think it blended better with the new versions of the songs than it roars would have. not mad at it and the staging of it was really cool

cady being the one with a single parent is so interesting to me!! idk why they did that but i think it’s interesting. makes me wonder what happened to her dad but also go mom!!! women in stem!!!

her relationship with the art freaks was so???? weird??? it seemed like damian was the only one who really wanted all of them to be friends. i love this version of janis and damian together but when they were with cady it was all just so BLAND. it didn’t really feel like she and janis were friends at all which is what’s supposed to make the betrayal sting so much

whatever they were aiming for with someone gets hurt they missed hard bc holy cadina batman that shits gay dude BUT THE STAGING WAS SO COOL with everyone like frozen and then they all kick back in all crazy with the music it was great

janis thoughts:

THEY FUCKING RUINED HEEEEEEEER

AULI’I WAS SO PERFECT SHE WAS SO CUTE AND HER OUTFITS ARE SO COOL BUT THEY JUST TOOK AWAY ALL OF HER PERSONALITY

janis is supposed to be spunky and angry and hurt and vengeful and quirky and out there and firey and she’s meant to HAVE GRIT GOTDANGIT but again she just felt so whitewashed. like here’s a vaguely leftist lesbian in ripped jeans and cool eyeshadow that’s janis right?? LIKE NO IT IS NOT

i’d rather be me, while it had a little less vocal oomph behind it than the stage show, was as transcendent as i hoped for and i got chills multiple times. also the comedic timing of the bus was immaculate and the sound it made made me cackle

i can’t tell how i feel about the new middle school incident. i think it takes so much of the pain out of it for janis which is meant to be her main motivator. she was not supposed to be KICKED OUT she was PULLED OUT but i do kind of like that they clearly made it where regina kissed a girl and liked it and freaked out and that was the catalyst for everything

i do not ship this version of cadnis and that to me is unforgivable. they have sooo little chemistry as friends let alone lovers i just can’t stand it. janis doesn’t ever even seem like she wants cady around. it seems so much like they took away what makes janis janis just to turn her into another catalyst for regina and cady’s stories

apex predator was fun!! i honestly like it being janis and damian singing it better than janis and cady i think it works better as a warning and stuff! and also the band in the tree made me laugh so hard. i’m glad cady had them as her tour guides but again that’s all it felt like they were to each other and i miss them being a little posse

REVENGE PARTYYYYYYUH. i thought the staging was really fucking weird?? like all the pastels and shit didn’t really fit i would’ve much preferred it to start like that and then have blood dripping down the walls or something when they’re talking ABOUT PEOPLES HEADS ON SPIKES. but musically it was my favorite of everything!! i’m so happy they put the original verse back i almost screamed out loud in the theater when i heard it!!!!!

i never thought i would say this but i wish they had not canonically made her a lesbian. i will never forgive tina fey for having her end up with that random girl. no shade to the girl, she’s gorgeous and i’m glad we got some on screen, good, healthy queer rep. but in my eyes that is absolutely just a cop out because they know people wanted her to end up with cady or regina. they’re spitting on us and saying “here have your fucking lesbian and enjoy it this is what you get” and expect us to be happy with it. i get so angry every time i think about it and it honestly kind of ruined the whole thing for me. i would rather she have ended up with kevin g again. or like. honestly damian romantically would’ve made more sense in a twisted fucked up way. i just absolutely hate how they handled that.

damian thoughts:

HE! WAS! PERFECT! i am a grey henson stan first and a human being second but by golly he might be my new favorite. comedic timing on point and the fact we barely get to hear him sing is a FELONY. he was delightful and i love him also we love black queer rep!!! fuck yeah!!!! his bit with the fan before id rather be me. sent me into the dang stratosphere i love him so much

ALSO HIS DATE AT RHE END WE LOVE THESTRE BOYYYYY!!! ugh so cute i love

regina thoughts:

HOW DID THEY MAKE HER SUCH A COWARD???? HOW DO YOU TAKE A CHARACTER WITH SO MUCH POWER AND FUCK HER UP THIS BAD???

again everything that’s a core tenet of her personality was removed. i wasn’t afraid of her which is a CRIME bc renee on broadway’s regina was TERRIFYING. she just felt like one of those girls that every hs has like 7 of. they’re a dime a dozen, they’re rich and hot shit and they know it but you don’t care what they do because you know they’ll be divorced and broke and probably fat at your 10 year reunion. it’s giving peaked in high school and not queen bee which is really sad honestly

it made cady seem so much more evil tho?? like regina seemed. hurt. and cady was still so gung ho about taking her down. and it made janis seem much more manipulative too. i don’t care for either of those things

her costumes were so weird??? half that shit regina would not touch with a ten foot pole but it’s renee and she would and she’s hot so i do not care. also this isn’t a criticism but her halloween costume was giving gargoyle more than angel lol

plastics thoughts:

gretchen again felt really reductive. she was all anxiety. not that gretchen isn’t that onstage but it just felt like that was her entire personality. but bebe was adorable and i loved what’s wrong with me she did a great job

avantika was DELIGHTFUL. i loved her so much more than i was expecting to she was the only one where i never had a moment like “i am watching people acting in a movie they are repeating written lines” it felt much more like fluid with her. 10/10 beautifully done to her

aaron thoughts:

HOW DID THEY MAKE HIM MORE BORING????? MY GOD

he was already the most redundant character in the whole goddamn thing and they somehow made him even more useless. he could’ve been removed from the movie entirely and it would’ve changed NOTHING. he is white bread if he was a spice he’d be flour. didn’t think it was possible to make him more that but by golly they did it

HOW DID HE AND CADY END UP TOGETHER HE HAS THE CHEMISTRY OF A BRICK WALL. she has so much more romantic fire and chemistry with regina this is some of the most comphet shit i’ve ever seen. it’s giving wicked levels of comphet like gooooddamn.

misc. thoughts:

THAT LINDSAY LOHAN CAMEO HAD ME OUTBOF MY SEAT I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING BUT IT WAS AMAZING also that “i don’t know your life” was mwah

MS NORBURY SND MR DUVALLLL WERE SO CUUUUUTE i squealed ngl i love them

overall like 7/10 good movie i’m angry about a whole bunch but this is also amazing i’m so glad we got this new content and i am definitely hyperfixating on it now. so not that different from my stage show opinions lol

[myers-meadow]

Severus Snape and his assistant: More than the sum of ingredients (ch. 1)

Title: More than the sum of ingredients

Chapter title: Introduction

Pairing: Severus Snape x his assistant, my female OC.

Summary: The start of a new year: fresh and bright! And this year, students are allowed to practice potions in the classrooms after hours - to great joy of many studious witches and wizards. To help Snape cope with the added workload, Dumbledore hires an assistant for him. Soon there will be more brewing than just potions.

Wordcount: 1341

Warnings: nothing for this chapter. This story will have it all: angst, fluff, and especially smut ^^. There will be warnings for future chapters, of course. This is probably not canon timeline wise.

Divider by delishlydelightfuldividers

For Hermoine, the new schoolyear started off ripe with promise. She was determined to excel once again, and with a new, hopefully better, Defence Against the Dark Arts professor – things were looking up. And as a cherry on top, during the first Potions class, professor Snape announced that he now had an assistant.

“Professor Dumbledore and I have come to an agreement,” he said it like it disgusted him, “to allow students to use this classroom outside of classes, to practice potions for the final exam. To make this go smoothly, I have appointed an assistant.”

Murmurs started in the back of the class. He swiftly ended those with a sharp stare.

“Groups of maximum four students can schedule a timeslot with her. Use of ingredients also goes through her. I strongly urge you to make use of this opportunity, since some of you seem to forget you need an Outstanding in this class to succeed in your O.W.L.s. Only the best can take Advanced Potions classes next year. Class dismissed.”

The word spread fast. Hermoine wasn’t the only hopeful student wanting to make use of this new opportunity and the timeslots filled up fast in the first week (as long as it didn’t clash with quidditch practice). What spread even faster, was that the new assistant was a cold-hearted and impatient young woman, named miss Medea Pimpelmees, and was almost as bad as Snape. The buzzing enthusiasm to improve Potion grades faded quick.

For Snape, it was easy to refer to her, so he didn’t have to deal with students himself, but for the students it was a puzzle. She was never at the place they expected her to be, so finding her was the first obstacle. Then there was hoping she was in a good enough mood to let them write their name on the sheet – at times it laid prominently on the desk while she simply said she didn’t have the parchment with her and they’d better come back another time.

After that step was completed, and it was time for brewing, she guarded the ingredients closely. When you needed something from the stores, there was a chance she’d give you something else, purely to mess with you. “Should’ve paid more attention and you’d know what horklump juice looks like,” was all she’d say, barely hiding the meanness on her face.

“Miss Pimpelmees, it says here we need wormwood, but there’s not any left,” said Neville, steeling himself, looking down at his feet in front of the desk where the new assistant sat.

She glanced up at him, “Wormwood? I could’ve sworn I refilled the vials yesterday.”

Standing up, she pulled Neville’s hand towards her, almost yanking the poor boy over her desk, to examine the empty vial, then went to the shelf to look for the rest of the supply.

“There really is none,” she muttered. “I’ll have to bring this up with Professor Snape. Thank you Neville. If it isn’t too late for your schedule, you may practice another potion. Amortentia doesn’t have wormwood as one of its ingredients.”

“But miss, what about the group after ours?” asked Neville.

She waved him off. “They’ll just have to wait. And I will have to search for the wormwood thief.” The venom in her voice returned at the mention of the thief.

Once back at his table, Neville barely sat down before Harry and Ron leaned towards him.

“What’s gotten into her? She hates us.”

“Do you think it’s some sort of trick? That she’s secretly telling Snape?” said Ron.

“I think she likes Neville,” Hermoine said, already cleaning up the remains of their failed wormwood-less potion.

And so it became that when a group had to put their name down on the list, or had to ask for specific ingredients, they sent Neville.

“Please, just this once?” begged a fifth year Hufflepuff. “I’ll do your Charms homework for the rest of the week!”

“You said that last time,” said Neville, begrudgingly. It did sound lovely to be able to go to Hogsmeade during the weekend with less homework to be done. “I can’t promise anything.”

“Thank you so much, Neville!” and they ran off with a bright smile.

“Why won’t you let us make Amortentia?” asked Draco, during one of the sessions he booked with Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy. The golden trio and Neville sat at the other end of the classroom. The way Draco seized up the new assistant, it was clear he looked to play a prank, ready to push and prod until getting a reaction. 

Not looking up from her book, she said: “I hardly think a guy like you should need it, do you?”

Satisfied with the answer, Draco looked at the other table, wearing a triumphant smile.

“A Wit-Sharpening Potion might prove useful instead,” she said, which wiped the smirk off his face. The snickers at the Gryffindor table were silenced similarly quickly by a sharp glare. The mess they left for her to clean up, however, had her cursing them out at the end of the lesson.

“Neville,” she called out, before anyone had a chance to leave the room. Of course they expected him to have to stay behind to clean it, even though Draco caused the mess. The group was used to such favouritism from the Potion's professor, so it wasn't at all surprising. He was met with grins from the Slytherins, and pitied looks from his friends, but he obediently trudged over to her desk.

“Yes?” he gulped, focussing on anything but the frown on her face.

“You need to negotiate with your peers. When they’re trying to get you to do something, you should say; ‘you do both Charms homework and History of Magic, then we have a deal’. Understood?”

Surprised, the boy nodded.

“Good. Leave.”

That night, professor Snape sat at his desk, grading essays, as his assistant, Medea, noted down which supplies needed restocking.

His low voice shook her from her thoughts. “I’ve received some complaints today.”

She just hummed, leaning the ledger against the shelf to make a note to order more wormwood.

“It was Draco. He said you insulted his intelligence.”

“And complimented his romantic prowess.”

Unbothered by the interruption, Snape continued: “By suggesting which potions he would or wouldn’t do well to brew.”

“I suppose so, yes,” was all she said, finally putting the paper down and walking to his desk. “If you want me to go easier on your Slytherins, I’ll keep it in mind, although I prefer to treat them like everybody else.”

Snape stared up at her for a moment. It all seemed too easy: she was quick to yield to him, despite that spark in her eyes. There was no ‘Malfoy deserved it’, nothing of the sort. No apologies either. He knew she was still testing him, seeing how far she could go before pissing him off. His demeaner invited that challenge. She wanted to see what made him angry, what he cared about, what he would do if she crossed a line.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, eventually.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, looking him over once again, and walked to his side of the desk, until she was right next to him. With a rough movement, she opened the top drawer – it was often stuck – and got out a few sheets of parchment to write the orders on, to send them in the morning.

This close, Snape caught her scent. The potions of the day had clung to her, hiding her natural smell. A woman… She smelled like woman, like metal, something heady, and an amber and honey perfume. He hated her. He hated Dumbledore for assigning him an assistant.

Sometimes at the end of his classes, before she’d come to clean, he mixed up items in his storeroom on purpose. Her frustration at the mess outweighed his annoyance that it kept her around him longer in the evening – and he’d tell himself that as he fell asleep with images of her before his eyes.

[kurtmustdie]

Second entry, Previous | Next

Sketchbook dump because I’m hhwhwhwhwhwhww tired from school

Some of these are from today some are from a week ago lesgo

1st one: a little practice 2-page spread I did a week or so ago so I could get used to drawing hobies hair (I’ve just been struggling with drawing hair a little in general recently idk what’s been going on) but uhhh yeah :) I’m pretty happy with it, I like the one highlighted in yellow on the left page (ignore the foo fighters sticker I got a cd that day so I kept the label for some reason, also my brother gave me that sticker real neat, also the page is so smudged omfg 😭)

2nd: (did this one and the rest today in my online classes because I was bored 🥱) inspired by a post I saw going in depth about Miguel’s personality (go read it, I reblogged it yesterday!!!) he is so kenough this might be my favorite drawing I’ve ever done with him :3 also ace Miguel is canon I’m Sony trust me guys

3rd: random dragon I drew and just made an OC. No they will probably not get any lore. They just exist. Hold your applause /j

4th: warriors au doodles!! Mostly some lore related stuff so I’ll go from left to right with some lil’ tidbits and facts

- the top drawing on the left page is of Reclusebite (Miguel) and his littermate, Dusty (Gabriel, Miguel’s canon brother from the comics that I hear are really bad so I refuse to read them). I don’t think I’ll ever really include Dusty in anything since idk much abt him but I think he’s quite the silly guy. Probably misses his brother because he went on to go start a little kitty club.

- the drawing under that is just a kind of like.. filler thing?? I like the idea of warriors having more than one apprentice for some reason so I liked the idea of Reclusestar having to mentor both Spikepaw (Hobie Brown) and Nightpaw (catified Spider-Man OC, he doesn’t do much storywise.). I think it’s funny. They probably bother him a lot but he still doesn’t care enough to be mad, just annoyed and disappointed sometimes.

- the right page is just spiderdad content because it is canon in this au hehehe,, I like my Brightsky (Peter B Parker) design a lot hes silly and kinda reminds me of fanon harestar designs.

Anyway that’s it I’m gonna post some digital art + headcanons sometimes soon hopefully :)

[thefinalcinderella]

Tsurune Book 3 Chapter 3 - The Song of Naru (Part 1)

Things that happened in this chapter

- Yotube drama

- Mustaches

Watch Ooku guys!

Glossary here

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. Nakiryuu means “crying dragon” and it’s a common motif in Buddhist temples 

2. I don’t know what this means. I think it’s some kind of Japanese wordplay that flew over my head

3. Oogiri is “a form of comedy that focuses on improvisation by providing a funny answer on the spot for a question or thematic topic”

Previous | Next

Haneina High School’s Asahina was eating an onigiri.

He had spread out a picnic blanket in the courtyard during the bright afternoon and was eating lunch. Next to him, Eddie was stuffing his cheeks with triangular onigiris. Before studying abroad, he had learned of the existence of onigiri after watching a Japanese historical drama, and now he was captivated by them. Every day he thought about what to use for the filling, and today’s filling was kiwi fruit.

When Asahina was on a school trip in elementary school, he saw that only his onigiris were cylindrical while everyone else’s were triangle-shaped and thought, Huh? Why am I the only one who’s different? He asked his mother about it after he returned home, and she told him that she was from Kansai and that onigiri had always been made like this back home. Apparently, it was easier to pack in a lunch box.

There was an unpleasant scraping sound, and Asahina stopped eating.

“Ow, I bit the inside of my mouth.”

“If you bite the inside of your mouth, that is your body’s way of informing you that you are eating too much and it doesn’t wish to eat anymore.”

“Really?”

A quick internet search revealed that when the body was in poor condition, such as fatigue or poor physical condition, it was difficult to control jaw movement well. It said to get plenty of rest and get in shape. It had a point. Last night, he had been too focused on video editing and didn’t get enough sleep. Eating too much—he did have second helpings of Wan-Nyan cheese curry at the place he visited yesterday.

The Haneina second-year Asahina You and American exchange student Eddie Fox were Yotubers who ran the channel “Yumihiki Douji” together, and they were well-received. The standard orange kyudo uniform was Haneina’s color. They also had customized orange bows and arrows, all of which were uniquely theirs.

Anyways, it was “aesthetic.” Rather than kyudo that emphasizes spirituality, they aimed for kyudo that people could enjoy watching.

On today’s practice, Asahina wore a pongee kimono as he drew his bow. When he learned that the kyudo wear he usually wore was training wear and that people wore kimono in formal occasions, he started to collect kimonos. It was said that patterns weren’t allowed and solid colors were OK, but finding those were difficult. Kimonos were expensive, so most of them were recycled items, and washable polyester materials were tried as well.

Their videos were almost completely ignored as soon as they were uploaded, and after a while they were filled with comments like “their shooting form is terrible,” “they’re so bad,” “that hairstyle is so ugly,” and “you’re disrespecting kyudo.” But since it was for class, they updated every week, and positive comments like “I look forward to it every week” and “Same same. I learned so much from them.” As they took in the opinions and feedback of the viewers, their archery skills also improved. Recently, their collaboration project with a channel about Japan became trending.

One day, someone wrote in the comment section, “I started kyudo because I admired Zen in the Art of Archery. Can everyone in Japan do what Awa-sensei did?” It was a request from a foreign viewer.

Shooting a target in the dark.

Two arrows were shot in the dark. The first one pierced the center of the target, and the second one split the first one down the middle, the shaft halved in order to reach the center. This was a superhuman feat. Asahina had also heard this story from his grandfather when he was young, and it remained somewhere in the back of his mind. He would love to attempt it. Even if he didn’t hit the center, he would probably hit the target at least.

The results were terrible. He couldn’t see the target at all after turning off the lights in the target area. They tried lighting mosquito repelling incense, but they only produced faint white trails of smoke and he couldn’t find his aim. When they went to pick up the arrows, they found that the arrows had avoided the targets and pierced the azuchi at an angle, or landed right in front of them. It looked like a battlefield. Now he knew how much he usually relied on his eyesight.

He had considered trying again during daytime, but it was no use in the first place. If you could aim and hit, then you’d already hit. The shape of the bow, which had existed since the beginning of time, had changed, and despite the difference in materials, it had reached a point where it couldn’t be changed anymore. And now it had reached the present. The Japanese bow, which had been imbued with the lives of generations of bow makers, was a tool that even the wisdom of mankind couldn’t yet control.

That was why the bow chose the wielder. What should one do to be chosen?

Asahina gave a big stretch.

“Haa, ‘don’t do today what you can do tomorrow.’ Tomorrow is fine, so let’s think about it tomorrow.”

“’Tis a Turkish proverb. This humble one takes it to mean, ‘Do it today because you may not be able to do it tomorrow,’” Eddie said.

“Really?”

Can’t be helped. They were going to stay at the kyudojo until nighttime today as well.

He heard the gathering bell. He listened to the nostalgic sound that tinted the sky an azure color.

He heard the gathering bell. He listened to the nostalgic sound that tinted the sky an azure color.

On that day, Asahina and Eddie were at the temple gate.

The two walked along the cobblestone path to the main hall. Two dragons were painted on the ceiling of this temple, and when they clapped their hands in prayer right below them, there was an echo like the roaring of dragons. They were called nakiryuu. (1) In fact, the two of them met in this nakiryuu room, and moreover, it was in a dream.  Their conversation went something like, “It’s been a while. When was it, a few hundred years ago?” “Well then, shall we go all out?” When they actually met each other at school, they were both silent, wondering if this was a continuation of the dream.

There was a fellow second-year of the Haneina kyudo club standing in the temple.

“You guys really like the nakiryuu room, don’t you,” the fierce-looking Matsuda said.

“I guess so,” Asahina answered.

“I don’t really know what the dragon’s expression is like, but the resonating sound when you clap your hands together feels good.”

Matsuda was poor-sighted. He couldn’t see the outlines of things very well, but he had a great ability to sense the presence and feelings of people. He could tell that Asahina and Eddie had an unusual relationship, but he thought that it was something that must not be mentioned. He liked watching their red and gold hair sway, so he quietly stayed by their side. The three of them chatted with each other a lot, and right now Matsuda was putting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He felt an unfounded sense of security that these two sun-colored people would never treat him like a freak or exclude him.

On the other hand, the fourth member of Haneina’s kyudo club, Kanuma, was a man who went at his own pace and didn’t care about anything. He was obsessed with haikus, and when he started thinking about them, he often got lost in his own world and froze in the middle of conversations. Incidentally, his haiku skills were mediocre.

Even right now, he was muttering to the temple wall.

“Maybe a line about dragons? It’s even more difficult if the motif is mundane.”

“Kanuma, have you composed a poem? I’d like to collaborate with you on a haiku and kyudo project for the next Yumihiki Douji video,” Asahina asked. “Yeah,” Kanuma answered.

“Kanuma, I want to ride the dragon on the ceiling. Can you help me?” Matsuda asked, and was answered with “Yeah.” No matter what was said to him, he only answered, “Yeah.” Eddie threw in the towel. “This is hopeless.”

There was another person glued to the wall. More precisely, a boy was staring at the patterns on the wall.

Igarashi had a nickname: the Gardening Prince. He grew various plants, took precious care of them, and drew them. His bows and arrows were decorated with a profusion of flower drawings, and at competitions, the people of other schools let out gasps of admiration when they saw his bow and arrows.

After imprinting the pattern on the wall into his eyes, he looked at Asahina.

“I saw the last Yumihiki Douji. There was another comment from ‘that guy.’ Is everything alright?”

“Oh, you’re talking about ‘Tetsi’ right?”

“They write complaints in other people’s comment section every time. Isn’t that like going into other people’s houses and renting a room?”

As their views increased, someone calling themselves “Seigi no Tetsui” would write things like, “Kyudo is a traditional Japanese martial art” and “What kind of kyudoka would have red or blond hair? If you’re Japanese, dye your hair black like a Japanese.”

Eddie waved his own blond ponytail at Matsuda.

“My blond hair is my natural hair, and I am not Japanese, but American, so how about that?”

“It’s an old trick to throw in mistakes on purpose to get people to bite, isn’t it? Don’t get lured in.”

“As you say. I shall ignore it.”

Kanuma, who they thought wasn’t listening, turned around, gave a thumbs-up and grinned.

The Yotube channel “Yumihiki Douji” was Asahina and Eddie’s channel, but it was actually run by the six of them: Matsuda, Kanuma, Igarashi, and Coach Tsuchiya.  

When the five exited the temple gate, they heard the laughter of elementary schoolers on their way home from school.

It happened at the end of the holidays.

A protest was posted on several channels set up by Haneina students with the title “Attention Haneina High School.” The writer was Tetsi, or “Seigi no Tetsui.”

Your school is making students selfish and egotistical in the name of freedom. Since children are immature beings, adults should firmly admonish them to follow the rules of the world. Someone who isn’t disciplined in that way would commit foolish acts later in life. The behavior of the kyudo club is especially unbearable to watch. Kyudo uniforms are white. This should be stopped immediately. They are a disgrace to kyudoka—.

Because the school was named, a staff meeting was held.

The principal said, “Our school’s educational philosophy is to ‘cultivate people with reading comprehension and communication skills.’ Listen carefully, think for yourself, and share your opinions. Communicate calmly with people who have different opinions. Videos are the place to practice these things. First, Tsuchiya-sensei will show the students an example. I shall take responsibility. Do it to the best of your ability.”

The next day, Coach Tsuchiya stood in front of a camera.

“To everyone who watches this channel, thank you for your continued support. My name is Tsuchiya Ena, a teacher at Haneina High School, as well as the coach for the kyudo club. Recently, we received the following comment. As a faculty member, I sincerely apologize for my poor choice of words. From now on, I would like to choose my words more carefully. Regarding kyudo uniforms, in accordance with competition rules, we wear white during tournaments and only colored clothing during practice. We appreciate your understanding.”

The next day, a new video channel was opened. The owner was Tetsi. There was a black sheet covering their entire body, and they were wearing a Noh mask. Their voice was also modified.

“It’s one thing if you’re university students, but it’s deplorable for high school students to wear orange. It’s a lax mindset. There’s something you should do before worrying about your clothes. You should study harder. Are you going to destroy the traditions that kyudoka have cultivated over centuries?”

After this, Yumihiki Douji and Tetsi continued to post responses to each other’s videos.

――There is no basis for claiming that the students in our club aren’t diligent in their studies. The school will not publish data that only extracts the grades of some students. That is your delusion. Also, there is no reason why this is acceptable for university students but not for high school students. The white kyudo wear we wear for competitions is practice wear, and kimono is worn on formal occasions. By wearing kimono on a daily basis, the students are trained to avoid careless blunders in formal situations.

――Who does this young woman think she is? What kind of university did you go to? Don’t tell me you’re from an F-ranked school. A school that would hire such a bottom-of-the-barrel girl is clearly not worth anything. What a stupid school. There’s no point in talking to you. Get me the principal.

――The university you graduated from has nothing to do with your kyudo ability. In the past, there apparently used to be a section on the examination form where you must fill in your last place of education, but this has already been eliminated. The precept of our school is “learning from the past.” We visit the old to learn the new. You can’t break the mold if you don’t know it. We respect the teachings of our predecessors.

――Where’s the respect? You should respect your elders. I’m senior to you.

――I said the old, but predecessors aren’t necessarily older people, and just because someone is older does not mean they are superior. It’s just a way to honor a person’s achievements.

The videos were clipped and spread widely, and a controversy arose as to what color kyudo gi should be.

“It should be white.” “No, green should be OK as well.” “White, black, and navy blue are fine, but fluorescents are going too far, aren’t they? It’s too bright for the eyes.” “What color should I buy if it’s not white? Can I dye it lavender or something?” “Who’s this Tsucchi? Can the coach be my girlfriend?” “At my school, if you buy a different color, you’ll have to buy a new one, but I don’t have the money.” “I’m in the table tennis club, but I get more motivated when I chose a gi that stood out.” “The length of the sleeves is just right for kyudo gi, aren’t they?” “Tsucchi and Tetsi together make Tsutecchi.” “My dad’s Chicchi.” “The bow’s micchi is kewacchi.” (2)

It was a flood of words that was pretty much just an oogiri. (3)

Asahina raised his hands.

“Hey, Tsucchi, let’s stop responding to Tetsi, okay? This is taking over the channel. Our channel name is Yumihiki Douji, right? The adults are butting in too much.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just got so mad when my adorable students got criticized.”

One day, Tetsi’s disguise got peeled off.

They wrote, “You guys should just shoot your bows quietly.”

Their comment section became a huge mess.

“It’s not ‘shooting a bow,’ it’s ‘drawing a bow.’ Saying you’re shooting a bow means you’re making a bow. If you’re an archer, that should have been the first thing they taught you.” “You’ve never referred to their shooting forms at all, have you? Maybe you don’t know the Eight Stages of Shooting at all? You’re not an archer at all, are you, Tetsi?”

The identification people showed up and very easily found Tetsi’s identity. Tetsi was a female office worker, a classmate of Tsucchi’s from the same university, and had zero kyudo experience. An hour later, all her videos were deleted, and Tetsi’s account was gone.

She was just an outsider who was stirring things up by using words she heard somewhere to provoke them. The flood that had been blocked by the dam continued to flow, and all the talk about what the color of kyudo gi should be got lost somewhere in the middle. Just what was all that fuss about?

The pair returned to normal operations.

“Hello, this is Asahina of ‘Yumihiki Douji.’”

“This humble one is called Eddie.”

“She, or rather, Coach Tsuchiya is working hard as a teacher, her main job. It’s encouraging, so if you like, please give her a high rating.”

The Kazemai High School kyudo club was continuing to work hard at practice today.

After the training camp, when everyone put on their hakama, there was a feeling of “this is what an archer is,” and they felt somewhat proud.

Tommy-sensei was holding a box. He pulled out small kasumi-mato from within. They were handmade by him, and the frame was made from the cores of duct tape.

“Now then, everyone, let’s use these mini targets today. For those who hit the target, I will give them a present along with this mini target.”

Tommy-sensei pointed to Masa-san, who was wearing a silver mustache. He was holding five “fake mustaches” in different colors.

Masa-san stroked the ends of his outward-curling mustache.

“If you put this on, you’ll become an archer like Tommy-sensei.”

Hanazawa, Shiragiku, and Seo clasped their fingers in a prayer-like pose.

“I would just love to have the pink mustache. I shall do my best.”

“I guess I’d go for the light blue.”

“Black is classic. No, white might be fine too.”

The girls were excited for some reason and were choosing the color of their mustaches.

The mini targets really did look small once they were placed on the azuchi and the archers stood at the shooting line. They were smaller than the kinmato used for celebrations.

The first-years were standing in front of the targets. Nanao quickly put on his headband and was ready to go.

“I have to give it a try, don’t I? I’ll shoot through your heart!”

Several girls fainted in the stands.

While they were waiting for their turn, Keyaki and Kanbayashi were chatting. It was about the recent video incident.

“I’m glad that Asahina and Eddie from ‘Yumihiki Douji’ have recovered from this. I was thinking of unsubscribing if it became a channel for watching Tsucchi,” Keyaki said.

“If someone asked me what color I want my gi to be next time, I’ll go with white if possible. White is safe and effortless,” Kanbayashi said.

“I heard that most of the girls in the Kirisaki kyudo club were navy blue hakama in the summer. I thought that they were required to wear navy blue gi, but I was told that they run on a merit system and have no specific rules on what to wear.”

“I don’t think people who want to stand out in the first place would choose kyudo as their club activity. Archers gravitate towards the world of wabi-sabi and mania than dazzling luxury… It’s more that we prefer the austere and understated.”

While they were talking, arrows were being shot one after another, but without success. They were allowed to shoot the mini targets as many times as they wanted to within the time they were given, so everyone was going through their arrows.

In the fourth round, a beginner first-year successfully hit the target. Cheers erupted, and when the round was finished, everyone rushed forwards. They took back the mini target with the arrow in it and handed it to the person who shot it. They were moved to tears.

Time was up when each person had finished shooting up to four arrows.

In the end, only the first-year, Ryouhei, and Shiragiku were able to successfully hit the mini targets, while all the others were disappointed.

Kaito silently pulled out his arrows. His two arrows had pierced the azuchi around the mini target, as though avoiding it.

“If it had been the usual target, I would have landed all my arrows. To think I didn’t land a single hit…my training’s not enough.”

After returning from retrieving his arrows, Nanao took off his headband.

“Even when everyone didn’t hit the mini target, they’re closer to the center than usual. It’s strange.”

“So does that mean it’s possible to hit an arrow in the center if you’re conscious of it?”

Next to him, Seiya smiled daringly.

“But you’ll never become a master if you keep aiming and hitting at the target. You haven’t trained enough, have you.”

“Gaah, this is just full of contradictions.”

Minato was looking at the upper right, as though he was thinking about something.

“It’s like you’re looking, but you aren’t looking, and it’s like you’re not looking, but you are in fact looking. In kyudo and zazen, you don’t stare at a single point, but vaguely look with half-open eyes.”

Hearing that, Ryouhei approached Minato and Seiya from behind.

“I learned that in kendo. If you don’t focus on a single point and vaguely look at the whole body, you can quickly sense your opponent’s movements before anyone else. Basically, they’re telling you to not get caught up in the information coming in through your eyes.”

Masa-san was standing behind all of them.

“You guys noticed something important. Kendo and kyudo are both martial arts, so they have a lot in common. Takuan Osho left behind the phrase ‘kenzen ichinyo,’ where ichinyo means the state of being one. In English, it’s explained as ‘The sword and zen are one.’”

Keyakia and Kanbayashi had both stopped cleaning and were leaning forward to listening. Himuro was of course unmoving.

“First of all, you have to get used to it. As you gain experience, you accumulate data, and your body learns trends and countermoves. The ultimate goal is to be able to draw a bow in the same way no matter when, where, or under what circumstances. Well, I also had a tough time getting there as well.”

Keyaki became at a loss upon hearing that.

“If even Masa-san says it’s difficult, I wonder when I’ll be able to do it.”

“Don’t rush, don’t rush. Miyamoto Musashi also wrote in the Book of Five Rings, ‘See to it that you temper yourself with one thousand days of practice, and refine yourself with ten thousand days of training.’ Have you learned the essence of ‘No-Look Shooting’ of the Kazemai-ryuu? Now, take these as a souvenir.”

Tommy-sensei prepared slightly smaller mustaches as participation prizes. They were handed out when practice was over, and everyone wore them on the way home.

The next day, people started calling the kyudo club, the “Mustache Club.”

Tsucchi, a.k.a. Haneina High School faculty member Tsuchiya Ena, was being followed by a suspicious person.

The suspicious person was dressed in baggy clothing, and wearing a mask and a hat pulled deeply over their face. She had been followed by people in the past, but this one seemed particularly persistent. They followed her to work and back home every day.

“Tsucchi, shouldn’t you tell the police about this soon?” Asahina said.

“It is as Asahina said,” Eddie said.

“Mm, thank you. But some people get mad when you involve the police, so I’ll observe the situation for a few more days. Maybe they’ll get tired of it soon.”

“We understand, but if anything should happen, please notify us immediately.”

It happened on her day off.

When she finished shopping and passed through the crowd, she sensed someone following her. When she increased her speed, they got even closer and she could hear their heavy breathing behind her. It made her feel so sick that she finally couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Hey, who are you? Are you Tetsi? Stop this. If you have something to say, show your face!”

Suddenly, the suspicious person attacked her. She quickly got onto the defensive and dodged, but since she was wearing heels that day, her feet got caught on the unevenness of the ground, causing her to stumble.

Crap, she thought, covering her face, but no impact came. When she slowly opened one eye, she saw a man catching the fist of her attacker.

The tall man spoke.

“I know you’re following this person. I’m willing to go to the police with this.”

The wrist he grabbed was thin—the suspicious person was a young woman.

The woman threw out her back and prostrated herself on the ground.

She was screaming.

“I’ve cancelled my phone, but I’ve still been getting a lot of phone calls at work, and the girls I used to be friendly with won’t even talk to me anymore, so there’s no place for me anymore! My life is all messed up because of that woman!”

“This is called reaping what you sow, and in Buddhism, it’s called karmic justice. However, the reaction to a single karma is only once, and it isn’t a chain reaction.”

Tetsi slammed her hat and mask to the ground. She looked just like an ordinary woman, so she didn’t look like the type to write such coarse words. Her hands tore at her hair.

“But, isn’t it unfair!? In university, I tried to talk to Tsucchi, but I got ignored, you know!? She was active in kyudo, everyone makes a fuss over her on Yotube for being a beautiful woman, and she can say whatever she wants to say! Even though we’re the same age, she’s the only one who ever got help, and I got left alone because I’m not cute! After rewriting it over and over and sending it to the planning committee, they rejected it, saying that it was ‘a proposal that was too womanly. Do it again.’ Does that mean I can’t be trusted without a title!?”

She started talking to herself.

Aah, this is such a pain. I don’t remember being approached by her. I worked hard at kyudo, and I have nothing to do with her not doing well at work. Either get back at your boss or quit. Just as Tsucchi was thinking that, the man bent down.

“I don’t know about other men, but all women look beautiful to me. Please raise your head.”

Tetsi looked up as instructed. The man continued.

“You don’t need to change your appearance or title. Just stop belittling yourself. You don’t have to beat anyone to live.”

“…Are you a Buddhist priest? Your head isn’t shaved, so maybe you’re wearing a wig? Ah, I’m so sorry!”

“…How about using that imagination to change jobs to become a screenwriter?”

What’s with this skit?

Don’t tell me that this is some kind of hidden camera prank?

While Tsucchi was thinking this, the man picked up the fallen bag and hat and handed them to Tetsi. He looked as though he was about withdraw at any moment.

“Please wait! Just who are you?”

The man turned around. “I’m just a Shinto priest passing by. You’re Ena-senpai, huh. It’s a good name. I’m rooting for you.”

That was all he said before he quickly left.

Tetsi also said “I’m sorry” and left, leaving Tsucchi all alone.

Oi oi, isn’t he too much of a smooth talker?

Not a Buddhist priest, but Shinto? How incredibly shady.

She could still understand where Tetsi was coming from. That was because Tsucchi also had similar experiences, such as being made fun of because “she’s just a woman,” being sexually harassed and groped on the train. She had the appearance of a woman but was a middle-aged man on the inside, so she just beat them all up. In addition, she was called “Ena-senpai.” Not many people called her that.

She searched her past memories and came across a person with a similar face.

When she was a third year in high school, the start of the awards ceremony was delayed. It was said that the name of the archer who won the kyudo boys’ competition, the one who hit with all his arrows, was different. Because he had used his old name when he entered, so he took part in the tournament under that name. It was dealt with without issue, although it appeared to have been pointed out from within.

She remembered that remarkable ochi. In another tournament, when Tsucchi was about to have her arm grabbed by her male junior, the taller boy made a loud sound that scared off the younger boy.

After that, she thought that the reason why she couldn’t find his name in the student tournaments was because his last name had changed, but she never saw his face at the venues. The remarkable ochi had disappeared.

If she remembered correctly, his name was difficult to read.

His name was—.

As Tsucchi picked up her phone, thunder sounded in the distance.

Previous | Next

[187days]

Day Fifty-Two

So I did the Chad1000 workout yesterday for Veterans Day, which meant going up the stairs to my classroom today was UTTERLY TERRIBLE.

But, once I got there, the day was fine. Mr. N came to chat about department head things since we both have Block 1 prep, then I graded the current events write-ups my students had turned in on Friday. The turn-in rate in one of my sections of Global Studies was really low, and their turn-in rate has been trending down for a while because they're getting distracted and not using their time efficiently. So I brought it up at the beginning of class, suggested things they could do to improve, and warned them that that I need to see improvements by Thanksgiving or I'm assigning seats again when they get back from that break. I was specific, too; I told them what their average turn-in rate is currently, and how much I want it to increase in that time frame.

We'll see what happens.

The lesson today was a good one about Buddhism. We watched a video about the day int he life of a Buddhist monk, which generated a ton of conversation. Then I did some old school board notes- it's been a while since I did those- comparing and contrasting Buddhism with Hinduism. The eightfold path came up a lot in those notes, so we finished class by reading an article together about each part of the path. That generated some more discussion, observations about Buddhism's influence on Star Wars, and me proving humans can't actually multi-task with another one of my Buddhist-inspired martial arts tricks.

In APGOV, my students did some argument FRQ practice. Some of them nailed it right away, but a lot of them struggled, at first, because they hadn't committed the necessary information to memory and weren't sure how to do it. So we paused, I had them go back to their notes- rather than flipping through the foundational documents themselves, which is what a lot of them had been doing- so they could see these documents' main ideas in clear, concise form. Then I discussed how to memorize main ideas (Fed 10 = factions, Fed 51 = separation of powers, Article II = powers of the presidency, and so on), brain dump that stuff onto the page with the FRQ prompt, and then begin writing from there. That helped a lot. I also went back over the rubric because one of the boys asked me to, and I think that was helpful, too. We wrapped up class with an assignment reviewing checks and balances, which they all did quite well on, so that's good.

I spent a few minutes after the bell getting set up for tomorrow, then headed down to the cafeteria for a faculty meeting. I was sitting with my usual Cacophonous friends, but then I spotted our newly hired machine tech teacher, Mr. O, who was a student in my class during my very first year of teaching. So, of course, I went over to say hi. We chatted about how he's doing so far- he just started last week when quarter 2 started- and about how young I was when I was his teacher (a good decade younger than he is now), and some other stuff. That was cool. I've had former students become my colleagues in the district before, but none from so early on in my teaching career.

The meeting itself was short. The Principal gave a few shout-outs, reminded us of procedures for an upcoming fire drill, and we discussed the upcoming "phone-free Fridays" that will serve as practice for a full bell-to-bell cell phone ban that will be implemented next semester. The thinking is we can get students used to the expectation, iron out any issues that arise (like... do a ton of students end up in the main office to use the phone), and so on so that the policy change goes smoothly when it happens.

[emerulynn]

hi!! i saw a post where u mentioned u go to wdka, im also applying for illustration and im super nervous. whats the worst thing about the school? or do you have any tips for the portfolio?

oh shit sorry I haven’t been checking my asks, but I think yesterday or Friday was the Open Day, idk if you could’ve gone bc that would also help but I hope my rlly late answers help as well 😭

Hmmm the worst thing about the school and I’m gonna be honest here is how it sometimes feels like some of the assignments aren’t helping me all that much?? Like wdka’s concept of illustration is broad, it’s less than just drawing and more of visual storytelling through any medium. So sometimes I find myself struggling with an assignment that doesn’t involve drawing and pushed way out of my comfort zone.

I think it gets better now that I’m in my second year tho because I know how to navigate things better and also learn how to put a bit more balance on personal work and assignments. You just have to get through the Practices and Second big assignment in first year Illustration tbh, that’s the point where most people dropped out 😭 The most useful thing in the school is the facilities, teachers (ask for suggestions or networking opportunities from teachers you think have the same career path/vision as you) and ofc your peers, sometimes classes. Also if you don’t feel like you align with illustration that much you can always switch majors after the first term without having to repeat the year.

Note that I might also be harsh about the academy bc I’m paying international fees which is like 10x the tuition EU students have to pay.

As for the portfolio, they love to see you explore and experiment with different mediums and methods of art-making, so include photography, clay, mixed media work if you have them. If you don’t, don’t worry because my portfolio barely has any range, that was their critique for me after receiving my portfolio too since I mostly drew digitally and only included some analog drawings and photos. but i got in heyy

Another thing is make your portfolio easy to navigate ofc, you don’t have to go over the top with the design, just write concise texts of your work and make it not look confusing. Number your works and number the pages.

That’s it I think they love versatility that’s the main takeaway. Good luck and hope this helped!!

[picklesthenonbeanary]

As I said yesterday I’m gonna do an art dump today! It’s definitely not all I have drawn while I’ve been gone but it’s a good portion of it. Some of it is just practice and all of it is fan art

btw non of these characters are mine! (exept one but that was a gift and besides the point)

The first one is of a character that was created by a friend of mine, his name is jorban and he is just a lil guy. I like to draw him in different hats. There’s also my jorbsona (me as a jorb) and some eye practice drawings (definitely not fanart of a character… totally (cough cough Paris from the dummy’s dummy cough cough I used to practice drawing his eyes sometimes, did it a lot more in previous years(they are very good for paracticing ok, a fun shape with lots of character to them))) then there’s Holly fanart cuz obviously im just a lil freak like that and then the bill fanart. Oh the bill fanart… he’s like the only thing I draw in English class so no one can blame me for this! Might need to start drawing my object head oc again at this rate, even out what I draw in that class a bit. The last one is just some eye practice drawings I did trying to replicate cutlers eyes, I think I nailed the worried look tbh. anyway, imagine reading my ramble, would be crazy. could post some of my other art i did of cutler (was doing gymnastic studies) but i think i want to turn on into a digital peice so that might be a bit if i even remember to lol

i have the need to draw atleast one peice of fanart of every one of my more favorite comics (its a desently long list tho so idk, i've got time(probably))

edit: sorry for the bad lighting, took the bill pictures during/after gym so there wasn't any good lighting avaliable. they are still disiferable tho i hope

[starqueensthings]

Summary: yesterday's events on the combat base are forgotten amidst a turbulent morning, until a surprise at work single-handedly ensures forgetting anything about that place, or that person, would be near impossible. Rating/WC: all chapters are rated 16+ for mature themes unless stated otherwise. 6508 words. WARNINGS: none really... allusions of anxiety but nothing potent. Some suggestive language. A/N: This chapter is a little more dialogue heavy than some of the others... hopefully y'all are okay with that. My brain also did that thing with those perfectionist tendencies and made me read it so many times looking for errors that words just simply arent words anymore. If you see typos, passive verbs, or run on sentences... no you don't. OH ALSO, DONT FORGET FLIMSI MEANS PAPER. I am starting to sprinkle in a lot more Star Wars jargon! PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED BELOW FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

FOREWORD | MASTER | NEXT | PREV | AO3

(1) “ Is this the long overdue engagement brunch you’ve been promising me for weeks? Or is it the galaxy’s most extravagant bribe?”   

That sharp intonation rang around the confines of those empty kitchen corners; the abandoned holopad awaiting attention atop that stone counter suddenly ignited amid an effort to alert that deserted room of an incoming written transmission, though its song and dance remained both unheard and unseen by its preoccupied owner still hidden two rooms over. Bent double in the lingering humidity of that tiny refresher whilst careless motions from toweled hands laboriously attempted to towel dry that impossibly thick mane of ebony hair, June sang loudly in tandem to the song issuing from the radio perched impetuously beside the sink, hips bobbing with a sense of near-awkward confidence, the nature of her back aching stoop utterly robbing those movements of the restraint and grace she typically offered the art of dance.  

Morning showers were largely atypical for someone whose work schedule demanded they rouse amidst the earliest hours of each aborning rotation— a time unknown to most; a reverently ephemeral gap between the dark and incipient dawn, when even the most practiced of night owls submitted to the need for repose and burrowed themselves securely into their beds; it remained Coruscant’s (and it’s egregious overpopulation’s) only hope of witnessing something that even bore slight resemblance to serenity, as the moon offered the sky one last farewell kiss before its radiant counterpart stretched its arms upward from below the horizon.  

No. Typically, a dozen hours spent confined in the frigidity of the hospital’s many operating rooms saw June near-desperately seeking the reinvigorating ablution of a hot shower upon her return home in the evening, granting the rest of her apartment only a momentary glance to affirm its regularity before leaping urgently into the sanctity of that steaming, tiled temple. But every eighth Benduday saw her routine inverted and the otherwise implacable anarchy of the Surgical Floor brought to a screeching halt, as all droids bearing the subclassification of ‘Medical Assist Personnel’ were required to adhere to the mandatory maintenance policy, including: circuitry inspection, processor recalibration, servo lubrication, and databank encryption. And due to the nature of the sophisticated machinery of which the hospital housed, and the innovative array of medical intervention it was subsequently able to provide whilst accompanied by those invaluable, artificially-intelligent companions, the temporary shutdown mandated that all surgeries, not categorized as Class-A Urgent, were deferred until the process reached completion. 

Despite having participated in this necessary interruption countless times, June continued to find that shift in routine quite irksome; the chance to amble around her apartment completely unhurried felt less like the rare opportunity for a languid morning, and more like she was being subjected to a timeout of which she’d done nothing to warrant, eyes darting impatiently toward the wall chrono near-regularly to gauge just how much time she’d managed to waste amidst the myriad of inconsequential tasks utterly failing to keep her occupied. And though that abeyance granted her the unfathomable privilege of actually sipping her morning caf and cherishing its flavour atop her tongue (instead of the hasty, throat scalding gulps she typically took before dashing from the kitchen), that unwelcome stillness walked hand-in-hand with the promise of an overactive mind perpetually threatening to resurface malignant past experiences in that complete void of distraction… her most valuable tool.  

Chest heaving neath the sheer exertion of pulling scrub pants up thighs still partially damp and tumid from that hot shower, she trod breathlessly into the kitchen and tossed her lunch bag atop the counter beside the stove. From the pantry in the corner, she extracted: the last of her favorite peanut granola bars, a packet of assorted fruit flavoured gummy snacks (shamelessly intended for juvenile consumption, though June had long-since proven to wholly lack the mental fortitude required to leave the store without them), and a foil-topped, styrofoam cup of dehydrated instant-noodles, all of which she threw pell-mell into that insulated tote without even a glance. 

(2) “Okay, but real talk... Are the strudels fair game? Because the one with sprinkles has been begging me to eat it for the last twenty mins and my willpower is fading fast.” 

A shrill chirp from across the kitchen purloined her attention as she reached to collect a clean fork from the drawer at her hip and drop it carelessly atop that pitiful troupe of snacks, the screen of that abandoned device strobing anew with another desperate attempt to inform its owner of her continued negligence. 

“What in Maker’s name…” June mumbled under her breath, brows furrowing neath a potent perplexity as she studied the pair of enigmatic messages she’d unknowingly snubbed. Brunch? Strudels? Sprinkles?   

The once-intentional grip around her beloved holo loosened as she spun back to face the refrigerator, wrist drooping as her focus shifted, narrowed eyes quickly locating the flimsi calendar affixed onto that gleaming appliance by a pair of decorative, faux leaf magnets. Yet, with each second her gaze danced upon those thirty-five blank squares, her mind whirred atop a frantic need to try and remember some lost premise – a strudel-worthy engagement of which she’d likely agreed to participate, but had wholly forgotten to jot down whilst in jumping the hurdles of Challa’s newly bequeathed educational directive. Perhaps one of the nurses was celebrating a birthday? Possibly today marked an anniversary of sorts? An acquaintance from another floor celebrating tenure, or retirement? A student, graduating? Or could it be that the surgical department had managed to notch yet another stupendous milestone into their belts, and the President had been kind enough to reward each of the staff with a sprinkle-covered pastry? 

The thought alone was enough to tug her from that torpor, a dubious snort escaping her nose as she placed her holopad back on the counter and zipped her lunchbag closed; the day the surgical staff was granted a token of appreciation for their unremitting dedication and hard work, would be the same day every Bantha in the galaxy suddenly sprouted wings and forewent gravity to voyage through hyperspace with the Purrgil. 

“Welp,” she grunted. “Whatever this shindig is, here’s hoping it’s not a potluck because I am not sharing my gummies.”

She delayed her departure only long enough to run some organic seed oil through the ends of her hair and hastily braid those unruly locks into a rope, draping it over her shoulder in an effort to prevent the dreaded “skyway tangles”; a label her good friend Alda has once adorned to the abhorrent series of knots that inevitably formed in one’s hair after a trip through the blustering skylanes overhead. 

Barely a minute later saw June emerging from the lobby of her building, doors clunking shut behind her and a sigh of content leaving her lips as she crossed the grounds of the apartment complex toward the parking lot where her speeder slumbered in the void of its call to action. Bearing witness to the way the sun bathed every corner of that stone walkway in its midday effulgence was yet another infrequent privilege allotted by the suspension of her routine, as noon hour typically saw her stooped over a gurney in one of the many, frigid operating rooms. But the breeze had yet to assimilate that spring sun’s inherent warmth, and whizzing through that skyway grid, high above the various peaks and gables of Coruscant's tallest roofs and highest towers, had a series of relentless shivers rolling down her spine, hands beginning to tremble atop those handlebars as she eagerly directed her bike toward the hangar door where hospital staff housed their vehicles for the duration of their shift. 

A trooper clad in a kit of white and scarlett stood to greet her as she approached that viridescent rayshield, appearing from his hidden perch behind the tinted windows of the security booth of which he took refuge in the absence of intrusion, that shiny and unmarred plastoid creaking as he sunk into one hip and folded his arms over that red, painted chest. 

"Slept in, didja doc?” he asked as she slowed to a halt in front of him, the vocoder in that familiar bucket utterly failing to conceal the teasing lilt in his voice. 

“Slept in?” June snorted while reaching to extract her ID card from the pocket on her thigh, near-instantly noting the white crown decal circling the dome of his red helmet. “Me? Come on, King. You oughta know me better than that by now. I wouldn’t know sleep if it danced naked in front of me.”

Though his eyes remained perfectly veiled by the opacity of that dark visor, there was no mistaking the way that trooper intentionally and infuriatingly spurned the extension of her offering as she held her clearance card outward, her lips instantly pursing upon watching those armour-clad arms tighten the entanglement atop his chest in a motion of uninhibited obstinance.   

“And what if I danced naked in front of you?” 

She hesitated for only a breath before a contentious groan escaped her lips, posture slumping amid a swelling impatience she simply could not corral as that question spilled from his lips bathed in the promise that he would not permit her to exit this exchange without suffering yet another round of his relentless advances. 

“What then, hmm?”

“Well first I’d vomit,” June snarked, response free from of the reticence that teaching on the base had begun to imbue in her, hand now vigorously shaking the card between her fingers neath a desperate attempt to attune his focus away from this imminent, noisome standoff and back toward the task of which he remained honour-bound to complete. “Then I’d probably throttle you to within an inch of your life for subjecting me to such cruel and unusual torture without cause, or have you forgotten my response from the last time we broached this particular subject?” 

“Can’t blame a guy for being persistent, can ya?” he attested, shoulders shifting briefly toward his concealed ears while he continued to ignore her increasingly frenetic motions. 

“No,” she grumbled, reinvigorating the violent flap of her hand between them, eyes departing the smirk hidden behind that bucket to affix themselves on the little plastoid card amid a silent plea that he save the unpleasant repartee and simply do his job . “But I can blame a guy for making me late–” 

“Then make this quick. Agree to a date.” 

“I don’t have time to socialize, King," June groused atop a heavy sigh. “Now or later, so can you just scan the card please?”

“Just one date, doc. That’s all I need to convince y–”

“No. It was no last time, and it’ll be no next time. Now scan the dam–”

“Hmph... someone’s feeling extra feisty today,” he cooed following a deep, throaty chuckle, tipping forward to within inches of her scowling expression and wholly rebuking the way she rapped the edge of her ID against his vambrace. “Lucky for you, I’m into the bratty attitu–”  

“Scan the kriffing card, King.”

Her hissed demand elicited nothing from that coy trooper but a small snort, arms slowly unfurling and head shaking neath an amusement of which she would never share. 

“You know, I would,” he purred, sightlessly snatching the wriggling card and turning it over in those gloved hands, fingers trailing tauntingly around its perimeter, “If I thought it would accomplish anything. This is an access card for the combat base… It’s not going to do you any good at GRMF."  

Her stomach plummeted, gaze darting frantically toward that glossy duraplas square between his kevlar-clad digits, dread surging through her veins at first sight of that white Republic cog emblem only partially hidden neath his fingertips. 

“Kriff.” 

“So how about that date?” King probed again, flicking that now useless ID into her lap and securing those arms atop his chest again. “Any more appealing now that I can save you a trip home?”

“I don’t live that far,” she snarled at him. 

“Suit yourself,” he sang atop a sigh of feigned remorse. "See you in half an hour, minimum . That midday Coruscant traffic can get pretty clogged, so here’s hoping you’re not pressed for time or anything. Being a doctor and all, I’m sure time is of no concern–”

“You're nauseating, you know that?” she grumbled under her breath, only-barely containing the potent need to tip her head back and groan to the sky about her own shameful negligence. “Would it be enough to say I’ll consider it?” 

“I’ll take what I can get.” Though his expression remained concealed by the goading shield of that red and white bucket, the snicker that rattled through the vocoder was bathed in a disturbing sense of success, and its sound forced her to near-instantly swallow back a sudden guttural heave.

June wasted no time engaging the throttle and surging forward the moment that humming green barrier disintegrated upon the prod of a button somewhere atop his on-person control system, and she offered him nothing more than a transient glare before rounding the first corner in that overladen speeder lot. 

By the time she neared the dueling pair of sliding doors acting a vestibule for the surgical floor, Jacoba’s pair of arcane messages had long since-vanished from her awareness. Instead, every stride into and out of those clanging and chiming elevators saw her fighting to repress the sickening blend of embarrassment and revulsion still simmering in her gut. It wasn’t until she stuck her nose into the staff room to ensure an absolutely vital pot of caf sat gurgling on the counter, did she remember the expectation of some party . But that austere room remained as prosaic and unassuming as ever; a myriad of lunch containers battled to occupy the limited square footage in that shared fridge as they always did, a vast collection of mugs had convened in the sink awaiting the bath they so desperately needed (a task that, rightfully, June should have initiated, as at least half had been soiled and stained by her inveterate caf addiction). Yet, any semblance of celebration remained absent; not a balloon to be blown, not a streamer to be seen, not a noise maker to be found.

“Hm,” she grunted, shoving a hand into the depths of that fridge amid an attempt to ensure those promised, sprinkle-covered-strudels weren’t simply concealed behind several bulky lunch bags. Though, aside from a sandwich whose bread had either been baked with blue milk, or had been abandoned to the callous corners of that shelf for so long that it had grown a particularly fuzzy layer of mold, there was nothing of peculiarity.

“Meh, whatever,” she mumbled to herself as she departed for the open ward, vowing to forgo this mystifying investigation and simply address that duo of ciphered messages when she reached her office.  

The ward itself entirely juxtaposed the bustle of the hospital’s several dozen other floors; as to not completely paralyze that symbiotic metacommunity, each ward adhered to a certified rotation that dictated what day of which week their allotted droid personnel received the temporary reset mandate. Since Lumi was required to comply with the strict policy, June did not bother pausing at the droid station to rouse him, instead veering around the gargantuan welcome desk toward the hidden hall that housed their office spaces. 

But barely a trio of steps passed underfoot down the secluded corridor before that once-placated confusion flared anew. Her always clutter-free desktop coming into focus only short strides down that quiet hall, that gleaming table now wholly replete with an odd arrangement of, what appeared to be …packages, and it was a collection of which she never would have permitted to belitter that cherished space for any longer than necessary. 

“What the–” she queried upon nearing the threshold, lips falling apart and brows contracting as those blue eyes scanned the unheralded assortment heaped in front of her. 

Five. Five oversized, kraft takeout boxes lay in a ceremonious crescent arrangement atop that white surface, their lids erected to expertly expose their myriad of delectable contents. Scones, muffins, biscuits, strudels, cookies, tarts, several different fruit and nut spreads; an entire bakery enclosed in that collection of containers. 

June had never seen such an appetizing display in her entire life, especially not arranged so decorously atop her desk, and her mouth began to water upon first sight of what appeared to be a perfectly baked cheddar tea biscuit nestled delicately in the corner of the middle box. Yet, it was not the exuberant display sending her nostrils aflare and a euphoric sigh from those gaping lips, but the unfamiliar, yet, glorious aromatics of a flavored caf, its enamoring perfume emanating from a spout-adorned takeout box just behind that scrumptious abundance. Flanked between a tall stack of emerald green, disposable cups and pile of matching flimsi napkins, a rolling pillar steam danced through from a small exhaust hole in that kraft container, filling that cramped corners of that office space with an intoxicating redolence of which she’d never known.

“Pastries?” June whispered, frozen atop that threshold. 

“Yes, I ate the strudel!” Jacoba needlessly admitted the moment June appeared, evidence of her transgressions still apparent by the powdered sugar lingering in the crevasses of her dark lips. “I couldn't help myself!”

“What is all this?” June asked her friend, the handles of both her lunch bag and her purse slipping down her forearm as she gestured toward the obscure feast in front of her. 

“You tell me,” Jac answered with a shrug. “What are we celebrating? Or, if it's a bribe, what do you want?” 

“We're not celebrating anything. I didn’t order this…” A soft, incredulous chortle escaped June's lips as she absently let her cargo thunk to the floor at her feet, the notion that Jacoba may have legitimately believed her to order such an extensive collection of finely crafted baked goods was near-laughable. 

“You didn’t order this stuff?” Jacoba probed immediately, eyes widening in something near-horror. “As in, did not? Please tell me you’re joking? I’ve already eaten like four pastries.”

“Of course I did not,” June snorted. “Why the kriff would I order 1600 different kinds of muffins, Jacoba?” 

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t done crazier shit, Juniper,” her best friend snarked back at her with a small roll of her eyes. “Remember the cheese fondue fiasco last year?”

“You always have to bring that up, don't you?” 

June eased somewhat apprehensively into that cramped but dazzlingly bright room, hands finding their perch atop her hips and a small sigh leaving her nose as she reached her desk and peered down at the unexpected assembly. “ Hutchie’s ,” she murmured, reaching for the box furthest on the left and trailing her finger along the ornate, gold signature adorning the underside of each lid. “Never heard of it.”

“Me neither,” Jac chimed in, wiping the remnants of that sweet indulgence from her lips with the sleeve of her cardigan. “They make a kriffing mean eclair though.” 

“Well what do we do with it?” June asked, retracting her hand from its yearning hover over the tea biscuit still silently vying for her attention in that dainty, doily swaddle. “Should we try and find who it’s meant for? Probably for the neonatal ward. They're always getting stuff delivered.” 

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Jacoba objected with a small shake of the head. “The delivery guy asked for you by name. Malya said he showed up at the welcome desk looking for a “ Dr. June ”, so she led him here. That’s kinda why I thought eating it would be fin–” 

“Ah. Good morning, girls.” 

June spun at the sudden sound of her boss’s drawling voice, turning to find Challa framed in the doorway with nostrils aflare and chest twitching atop a series of deep, inquisitive sniffs.

“It’s noon, Challa,” Jac corrected him with a smirk, gesturing with a small nod toward the window opposite where that midday radiance continued to flood every corner of the room. 

“So it is,” he assented, offering only a fleeting glance toward the watch strapped to his lissome wrist before his gaze fell upon the flagrant display of food. “Goodness, what an exhibition. It smells delightful. What precisely is the cause for celebration?” 

“Don't know,” June answered with a shrug, having both posed and denied some semblance of that question several times over the course of the last hour and had yet to find even a fragment of an answer. “I was kinda hoping you might, because neither of us were let in on the secret. We have no clue where it came from.” 

“How unusual,” Challa hummed, though his expression offered nothing but insouciance and mild amusement as if such an oversized and mysterious delivery was simply run-of-the-mill. “It bears no connection to me, unfortunately. Though, just as well– I could not procure the wine you requested. Apparently it’s an opulence not offered at local establishments. I did, however, manage to acquire a Cleanser Tube for your apartm–”  

“You did!?” June gasped, jaw falling open. “Seriously? No way! ”

“What!?” Jacoba protested as Challa pulled a single piece of white flimsi from its clamp neath his arm. “She gets a raise and a fancy new washing ma–”

“Contact the comm channel listed to schedule delivery,” Challa advised June as she collected the document, blatantly ignoring the pugnacious outcry from behind the sugar covered desk on the right. “And pay no attention to the fee listed near the bottom; this is a gift courtesy of GRMF, but it’s imperative the hospital’s parsimony remain intact so please keep this between us, June.”

“Of course!” She answered completely void of coherent thought, an ebullience incited by the unexpected ingratiation sending her near leaping on the spot and cradling that sheet of flimsi against her chest as if its top-secret context bore something of extreme high value. “Eeeee! This is so exciting, Challa! Thank you!” 

Something near an affectionate smile topped those thin lips, though he simply raised a hand to politely deflect her tittering gratitude, waiting until she’d expelled the last of her delight before letting the emergence of a darkened tone diminish the merriment in the room. 

“June,” he began neath that characteristic severity. “I am most eager to initiate the continuation of yesterday’s discussion, but there are a couple pressing matters I must first address. When you have a moment, dissect your surgical schedule and assign me as a second surgeon to whichever case you think might offer us the promise of an undisturbed discussion.”  

June offered a nod of understanding, eyes quickly shifting to locate the datapad atop that encumbered desk so she may accede to his request as soon as he departed. Once those magnificent Lekku vanished down the hall, June near-threw herself into the chair behind her desk with an elated sigh, gazing near-glassy eyed down at that flimsi still pinched in her fingers. 

“I hope you know I’ll be doing my laundry exclusively at your place now,” Jac groused from her seat whilst reaffixing her attention to the holocomputer screen currently displaying a particularly nasty looking intracerebral hemorrhage.  

“Yeah right,” June snorted, carefully folding that cherished contract and tucking it into her purse for safe keeping. “You’ve never done laundry a day in your life, first of all. Second, the chances of you breaking my new Cleanser with your atrociously beaded clothes is, unfortunately for you, way too high.” 

“Thechancesofyoubreakingmynewcleanser,” Jacoba mocked in a sickeningly childish voice atop another roll of her dark eyes. 

“Oh whatever… have another snack, Jealous Judy,” June snorted, reaching into the nearest box and extracting what looked and smelled to be a perfectly flakey buttertart, wrapping it in an emerald green napkin and placing it on the desk at her friends elbow next to a steaming cup of that enchanting, flavoured caf. 

“I don’t know exactly what this heavenly nectar is, but I'm about to drink all of it," June advised the room at large moments later, greedily watching that stream of shockingly fragrant, dark liquid pool in the green cup she'd placed in front of her; several deep, slow inhales near-instantly filling what felt like every corner of her being with an aroma so pleasant, she was unlikely to ever forget that intoxicating blended aroma of spiced apple and mild vanilla. 

“You have a keratoplasty in an hour,” Jacoba warned. “Maybe wait to overdose on caf until the jitters won’t permanently blind someone.”

Finally conceding to that herb-infused tea biscuit’s relentless call to be devoured, June ripped off large chunk of that fluffy dough and jammed it eagerly into her mouth, jaw immediately mutinying against the overzealous portion she was now demanding it mash as she reached to extract her work shoes from under the desk, but hardly a breath after she’d lifted her foot to force her toes into that black sneaker, the distressing sound of panicked, laboured breathing met her ears. 

“You okay, Gra’ta?” Jacoba asked as June’s gaze darted upward toward the door where a frantic looking nurse stood stooped in the threshold, one hand desperately seeking stability with a trembling grip on her knee while the other clamped itself atop her heaving chest. 

“Yeah,” Gra’ta near-wheezed, reaching toward her neck to gingerly trail a quivering hand across the first harrowing signs of a dark contusion erupting neath that blue Pantoran skin. “The guy in 11S just had me locked in a chokehold. It took everything Pherto had to get him off me.” 

“What?!” June gasped, black sneaker now forgotten and dangling uselessly in her hand. “Maker, are you okay? Why didn’t you call a code white?” 

“I'm fine,” she answered, though despite attempting to flippantly wave away their continued concern, there was no ignoring the mist forming atop her golden eyes as the need to expel that sudden surge of adrenaline robbed her of the immutable composure she so proudly upheld. “Everything is fine now. He just woke up from a mitral valve replacement, and the–” 

“The post procedure psychosis hit,” Jac finished for her. “Kriff, what is it with cardiac procedures and the idiopathic delirium?” 

“No one knows,” June chimed sombrely, shoving her foot into her shoe and hastily tying a knot in the laces. “But immediate physical therapy and pain control have been proven pivotal in helping it dissipate.” 

“Pherto’s on it,” Gra’ta confirmed atop a heavy sigh. “Listen, I have to run but I was supposed to bring this over a while ago. I found this on the floor behind the welcome desk, June. It’s got your name on it. Malya said it likely fell off one of the boxes that arrived earlier?” 

From the breast pocket of her scrub top, Gra’ta extracted a small dark green card, that familiar gold foiled signet gleaming in the light only briefly before disappearing again as she handed it across the desk. June took it enthusiastically, heart leaping as her fingers closed around the possible answer to this unforeseen strudel mystery. 

“Wait!” she called as Gra’ta heaved one last preparatory sigh and turned to admit herself back into chaos. “Take a snack or two before you go.” 

“Thank you,” the nurse smiled, accepting the stack of donuts June had hastily wrapped in a handful of those emerald napkins before disappearing back into the open ward. 

“She’s having a terrible day,” June near-whimpered upon taking her seat again. “Probably been at work less than an hour and already been strang—”

“Open it open it open it open it,” Jac chanted, interrupting the attempt to commiserate and spinning her chair away from her computer, dark eyes alight with something near a manic curiosity as they affixed themselves on the little card now laying next to that half eaten biscuit.  

Though no bigger than the size of a standard business card, for what that tiny envelope lacked in size, it made up ten fold in beauty. That stunning emerald flimsi, glazed with what appeared to be a graphic rendition of a some sort of leaf, shone radiantly in the sun pouring in from behind its current holder. Yet it wasn’t the detail adorning the little gift that captivated and held the attention of the narrowed blue eyes still gazing eagerly in its direction, nor was it the appearance of that same loopy penmanship, curling it’s way delicately around her name, but the truly marvelous wax seal tasked with keeping those contents private. 

“So ritzy,” she breathed, gently running a finger around the perimeter of that solidified gold before fitting the shredded edge of her thumbnail beneath that sparkly wax button and delicately prying it upward. 

The little card she pulled from its swaddle near-perfectly matched the luxury of its housing, though instead of that remarkably ornate penmanship, the message inside lay beneath a somewhat hurried and disjointed scrawl of which she’d never seen before.  

‘June,

I took you at your word and ordered one of every cheese centered snack they had, plus some other things I thought you’d maybe like. Hopefully something in this bunch manages to brighten your day that way you’ve repeatedly brightened mine. ’  

There was no need for a valediction, no need to see the name of the person who had requested and implemented the delivery of this astonishing  gift. It could only be one. There had only been one capable of doming her cheeks in such earnest, only one of whom could incite such a frenzy in her gut. An uncharacteristic giddiness of which no bite upon that bottom lip could stifle saw her hand darting upward to conceal what she could of that betraying grin, eyes flicking back to where that untidy scrawl had shaped her name.

“Who’s it from?” Jacoba demanded through the muffle of what sounded to be a mouthful of pastry number five. “The suspense is killing me.” 

But, much like the appearance of his lopsided smile, that message had near-instantly robbed June of the ability to form coherent thought beyond the unprecedented glee of which his presence seemed to innately bring her, and she offered her best friend’s curiosity nothing but a cogent silence whilst stealing another moment to reread those scrawled sentiments. 

“I’d much prefer real cheese… nothing woo’s me quite like a snack and a hot caf.” 

“I’ll remember that.”

Her jaw shifted ahead a giggle that she only barely corralled behind pursed lips as the image of that teal-painted captain danced across her mind, amber eyes twinkling, mouth hitched slightly toward one ear as he gazed down at her and uttered that promise with a sincerity she’d foolishly doubted in that moment. 

Heat coursed through her veins toward her cheeks as she banished that image from her mind only long enough to peer sideways at the snack beside her. That glorious caf and cheddar biscuit, his fulfilled promise, now lay long-forgotten, and the suddenly invigorated flap-a-bout in her gut had rendered even the thought of attempting another bite, a task of a near-Herculean quality.

His memory had danced across her awareness several times since their unexpected run-in yesterday, since curiosity and instant recognition had sent him back peddling into both the dead-end corridor where she’d gotten herself stranded and back into her life. And though offering the notion any fragment of affirmation only promised to set her hands atremble, there was no denying that a portion of her had attached itself to the idea of him frighteningly quickly and seemingly without hesitation. There was simply just something . Something about the way his eyes surveyed her so softly yet so knowingly, as if he'd somehow learned everything there was to know about her during the span of those two short encounters, and feared none of it. Something about the way that right side heavy smirk appeared as she spoke, as if he entirely understood the intention behind every word that left her lips— as if he simply knew who she was. 

Yet, despite this precipice bringing with it unheralded feelings of which June had never previously permitted herself to entertain, she could not deny it was near-perfectly matched by an apprehension of which her consciousness would simply not relent, and no sooner had her nerves found themselves drunk on that rush of gratitude and affection, did her stomach begin to twist atop an equi-potent reservation… a warning of which she’d long-trained her mind to issue when circumstance had thrust her into the unknown and unsafe territory of potentially reciprocating male affection. 

Despite her hearts best efforts, erupting into a cadence worthy of war as if every powerful beat thundered to recruit the service of her other organs in the battle against the grievously imminent reproval, that excitement quickly dissipated amongst the ominous breeze of which that red flag fluttered. The fact remained, he was a man, and June had spent her entire adult life meticulously fortifying a mentality that promised to keep herself free of them. Desires must remain at only that. These feelings, as intoxicating and ineffable as they were, threatened to pave a road away from the safety of which she’d long ago crafted, and though the soft shifts of his twinkling gaze atop her features seemed to set her very nerves alight in a way they’d never experienced, every beat of that bounding heart in favour of entertaining this possible connection was a rhythmic step toward a vulnerability she’d once sworn to never experience. 

Her eyes unfocussed upon that tiny card, written sentiments blurred by inattention as she clamped her thumbnail between her teeth and began its absentminded destruction.  

“Oh, are we doing that thing again? Where we just ignore each other? Because a heads up would have been nice…”

“No, sorry Jac,” June mumbled, wrenching her gaze from that scrawl and permitting a heavy sigh to steal from her lips. Swallowing upon the realization that attempting to conceal the surging inner conflict from someone who knew her more thoroughly than anyone else in the galaxy, would prove largely ineffective and likely only invite one of Jacoba’s infamous wraths to ensue, so she simply closed that little card and extended it outward so that her friend may ascertain the details first hand. 

Collecting the abandoned cup of caf from the desk and drumming her fingers anxiously atop its side, she watched Jacoba’s narrowed eyes dance rapidly across that beautiful little verdant momento. 

“But this doesn’t even say who it’s from!” her friend exclaimed angrily a mere second later, flicking the apparently useless flimsi haphazardly onto June’s desk. “How are we supposed to kn—”

“It’s from Howzer,” June interrupted, attempting to ignore the way letting her lips wrap their way around the shape of his name had reawoken the butterflies in her stomach, and though she pulled that biscuit toward her amidst an effort to locate any semblance of distraction, it now looked as unappealing as the sandwich in the staff room. 

“Who? ” Jacoba asked bemusedly, and had that sudden plague of emotional duality not rendered June near-ignorant to everything else, the look of unadulterated confusion atop her best friend’s face would have been near-comical, as Jacoba had long-since deemed herself the Queen of Gossip and rarely donned such an expression. 

“A guy—”

“A GUY?!”

”Shhhh!” June demanded in the wake of Jacoba’s incredulous outburst, both sets of eyes quickly darting toward the door to ensure that sudden incredulous blast hadn’t roused any attention. 

“He's a soldier,” June answered somewhat lamely atop her mind’s failed attempt at elucidating exactly who and what Howzer presently was to her. “He was the patient I cauterized after Challa pulled me off that thoracotomy last month. I ran into him on Base yesterday and... well... he was kinda flirting with me I guess.”

“Flirting? ” Jacoba repeated instantly in hiss. 

June near-cowered under the intensity of her friend’s wide-eyed, disbelieving stare; it seemed whatever explanation Jacoba had expected to hear from her, the notion of a possible love-interest had not at all been on the radar.

“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” Jac sang quietly, “I know I’ve been out of the dating game for a while, but I don’t think he would have sent cookies to someone that slapped him . So– does that mean that you were flirting back?”

Attempting to hide a portion of that shameful truth, June hid behind a long sip of caf before offering a small shrug. “I don't know,” she admitted atop a repressed sigh, fingers continuing their pointless tap atop that cup. “I didn’t tell him to fuck off, so… maybe? I guess? All I said was, if he wanted to woo me, he'd better do it with snacks.”

“Oh, you're open to people wooing you now, are you?”

“I mean, I don't know,” June repeated in little more than a mumble, something near-shame creeping up her throat and threatening to bring that lonesome bite of biscuit with it. She swallowed and dropped her gaze to the lid of the cup in her hand, a tiny shard of shredded thumbnail loitering where she'd unknowingly ripped and tore that keratin apart amidst her torpor. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jacoba cast another furtive glance toward the door, ensuring this increasingly poignant conversation promised to remain entirely unheard by any unwanted ears lingering in that otherwise quiet corridor. 

“June…” 

“Don’t ‘June’ me. I know it’s insane. I’m trying to igno–”  

“It’s not insane at all,” Jacoba argued quietly, “So shut up and listen.” 

With lips pursed against the autonomic urge to snark back at her best friend’s command, June simply placed her nail back between her teeth and shifted her gaze to her knees. 

“You've been… strong… for a long time, June,” Jacoba spoke soberly, leaning her elbows onto her knees and clasping her fingers together. “You've managed to uphold this conviction— this ‘I hate men’ mentality for nearly a decade. I know why and I don’t blame you, but while I know you think that’s what’s been keeping you safe, it’s also kept you alone. You are as stubborn as you are strong and you know that. If you have any sort of feelings for this Hazlan guy—” 

“Howzer.”

“—Howzer, then why not just lean into it a little bit this time? Just see where it goes?”

“Jac—” June stammered, placing her cup back on the desk in front of her and shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I shouldn’t. I can’t… and I don’t even think I’d know what to do if I could. ”  

“You're not proposing to the guy,” Jac shrugged, sitting back in her chair. “You don’t really have to do anything. Just don't shut him down. Let him flirt and see where that takes you. If you get a bad vibe from him, cut him loose. A swallow does not a summer make, June. It's been ten years . One foray into the possibility of a relationship is not going to derail the life you’ve made for yourself. Plus, you did four straight years of self-defense… you could probably break every bone in his body if you felt the need.”

FOREWORD | MASTER | NEXT | PREV | AO3

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator @arctrooper69 @smw-on-kamino @sverdgeir

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

QTA: Queer Teacher Alliance

so, homophobia ft. queer teacher alliance? incredible fic, I have gone back and reread that thing at least five times becuase the comfort is immaculate 👌 anyway, becuase of that, I have returned with another lil request for u to consider! after the whole homophobic argument mess, virgil has to get his class switched, and surprise surprise, his new teacher for that period is one of the other sides! (idk which one, any would be chill) I was thinking a couple little snapshots (maybe a sort of 5+1 deal except I dont know what the +1 would be haha) of v in that class, possibly a little h/c sprinkled in becuase i am a weak man with a primal need for soft things :) thank u very much for considering! I love reading your works, and I geeked out a totally reasonable amount when u answered my last request <333 - vinbee631

Read on Ao3

Warnings: homophobia

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3666

Virgil doesn't really expect much to change

Virgil doesn't really expect much to change. Come on, it's high school, they don't do much to take care of you. He thinks he'll be lucky to get away with that one day of being slightly coddled by his surprisingly accommodating also gay teachers and then it'll be back to grind.

But he gets taken out of all the classes he has with that teacher, Kyle, and Leslie.

He still has all the same teachers, just at different times. It's…honestly?

That would've been enough.

But then this week happens.

It starts off with art class. Mr. Dagenheart's introducing a new unit that's supposed to be about 'identity' or something super vague that's basically just an excuse for people to do whatever they want and bullshit something at the end. Of course there are gonna be some try-hards and people that are actually good at art that are gonna be amazing, but Virgil's just looking to coast through this and not try too hard.

Then come the whispers.

Gossip in high school spreads like wildfire, so it's no surprise that everyone knows why Virgil was transferred out of the other class. Don't get him wrong, some people came up to him and were very much all that was shitty and fucked up and I'm sorry, tell me if anyone else does that and I'll kick their asses, which was nice, but this is still high school and his standards are practically nonexistent after everything.

So when 'identity' gets dropped as the new theme, he's not surprised in the slightest when people start giving him little looks.

Fuck. Is this where I have to embrace my identity as the Gay Kid? Am I expected to make some big thing about how my 'identity' is being gay and all that shit?

I don't even like rainbows that much.

Even so, when everyone splits up and starts brainstorming ideas for what sort of art piece they want to create, Virgil finds himself idly writing the words 'gay' and 'rainbow' down on his piece of paper as he starts randomly sketching something reminiscent of all the actual good pieces of art he's seen.

"Virgil?"

"Oh. Hey, Mr. Dagenheart."

He takes a seat on the stool next to him. "That looks cool."

"Thanks. Totally didn't steal the idea from something sick I saw on Instagram yesterday."

Mr. Dagenheart snorts. The scratch of Virgil's pencil occupies him for a little longer before he silently points to the two words. Virgil glances up to see a silent expression that definitely means are you sure?

Glancing around to make sure no one else is looking at them, he lowers his voice. "Aren't I…supposed to?"

"Supposed to what?" Virgil nods to the words. "No, Virgil. You're not 'supposed' to do anything. If that doesn't feel like you, don't do it. That's the whole point."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. This unit's supposed to be—well, it's supposed to help keep the art budget low—"

Virgil snorts.

"—but no, it's you. Whatever bits of you that you feel comfortable putting into the world and sharing in this classroom. There's no right way or wrong way to do it."

He glances around too and leans a bit closer.

"And there's no one way to be gay, V," he says quietly, "it's okay."

Virgil looks back down at the piece of paper and slowly erases the word rainbow, but leaves gay.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Mr. Dagenheart nudges him. "What medium do you think you wanna work with this time?"

"…not gonna lie, I'm really tempted by your suggestion of just throwing paint at a wall."

"Now you're speaking my language."

2.

But, sure. Mr. Dagenheart is Mr. Dagenheart. He's an art teacher, he can get away with being…well, himself.

But Mr. Mackenzie? Virgil expects it to be the whole 'we don't talk about this, we don't acknowledge it, we just be professional and don't concern ourselves which such things.'

So when quantum physics rolls around and Virgil's frantically trying to remember the difference between a quark and a lepton, he's really not expecting one of the other students to ask Mr. Mackenzie to make good on a promise.

"Come on, sir, you've been saying you'll explain why classical mechanics is heteronormative since we did constant acceleration!"

Hold up.

What now?

Mr. Mackenzie sighs, adjusting his glasses. "I did promise that, didn't I?"

A general clamor goes up around the classroom and he chuckles, raising his hands for quiet and moving through the presentation until he finds a slide on the double-slit experiment.

"Now," he says, "I cannot take credit for this idea or explanation. It belongs to an incredible person named Amrou al-Kadhi, who is also a drag performer under the name Glamrou."

"Go off."

"Oh, hell yes."

"I didn't have talking about drag queens on my science-class bingo card but I'm not complaining."

Virgil sits up a little more.

"But what the gist of their explanation is this: Newtonian physics—classical mechanics, is very strict and regulated. If I do A, B happens, and so forth. It's why I had you all study those formulae until you were sick of them." He smiles as a general grimace forms. "But once we get to subatomic particles, quantum physics, everything gets thrown out the window. It's why I told you to be prepared for me to make you angry when I explain how everything I just taught you was wrong."

He points to the slide.

"Now, we've just gone over this experiment, yes?"

A general 'yes' and Virgil nods.

"A key component of it is that electrons, which are particles, seem to behave like waves. Light behaves like both a particle and a wave depending on how it's examined. Classical mechanics tells us that it should go through either the left slit or the right slit but sometimes…" He gestures to the picture. "It goes through both, and we don't really understand why."

Something in his face softens.

"What al-Kadhi explains is that as queer people, we are constantly defying these sorts of regimented rules and 'laws,' so to speak. We question and search for answers in a world that doesn't want to make it easy for us to find them. So when you study quantum physics and find that the most fundamental of particles disrupt and disobey all the 'natural laws,' it can be somewhat comforting."

His eyes meet Virgil's for a moment and he almost smiles.

"Besides, I think it's far more interesting that explaining that if you push something off a bridge, it's going to hit the ground very hard."

The class laughs and Virgil laughs too. Huh…nonbinary physics…

"I definitely recommend looking up the video where they talk about it. It's an excellent understanding of a rather complex idea and they articulate it wonderfully."

"You should make that our next homework assignment."

"You know what, maybe I will."

3.

But...sure. Okay. Fine. It's just an explanation or a one-off thing, right? It isn't like they're actually being taught that it's queer, it's just, y'know, a cool way of thinking about it.

History class isn't Virgil's favorite class, but it isn't his least favorite either. Maybe 'cause Mr. Everheart has this way of explaining things that actually makes it seem like one, he understands what he's teaching and two, that he respects you enough as an adult to tell you the truth.

"If you study history, there will be times when you're uncomfortable. There will be times when you're outraged. There will be times where you really don't want to study the things that you're studying," he'd said once, "and if you never have any of those feelings, you probably aren't studying history."

They're talking about recent American history and they get onto the topic of Reagan. Virgil mentally wills himself not to whisper what the fuck every two seconds as they start going through things, and then someone says this:

"Why is everyone so upset about Reagan's presidency? I mean, we survived it, didn't we?"

Mr. Everheart gets quiet. He takes his glasses off and polishes the lenses before putting them back on.

"You're right," he says lowly, "people did survive Reagan's presidency. In fact, most people you hear about survived Reagan's presidency. But what have we repeatedly said about history?"

"It's written by the victors?"

"Yes, but also by the survivors."

He sits up a little more and nods to the syllabus in front of him.

"I was planning to wait until we got there to bring it up, but I suppose we can do a little bit now. How many of you know about the AIDS crisis?" A few hands go up. "How many of you know how bad it was?"

Some of the hands go down.

"How many of you know what AIDS used to be called?"

The two hands that had been raised are lowered slowly. Mr. Everheart hums.

"Who can tell me what AIDS stands for?"

"Uh," says one of them, "it's like, autoimmune deficiency syndrome?"

"Close. Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome. This name came into popular use in 1982 when it was coined by the CDC. It went by a few names before then, but the most widely used—including by government officials and mass media outlets, was GRID. Any ideas as to what that stood for?"

A few people shook their heads. One person raised their hand. "General-Related Immune Deficiency?"

"No. Anyone else?"

When nothing follows, Virgil's grip on his pencil tightens.

"GRID stood for Gay-Related Immune Deficiency."

Shocked noises come from around the room and he holds up his hand.

"And because it mainly affected the queer community, people of color, and other disadvantaged socio-economic groups, almost no one took it seriously. The reason it still has the stigma it does is because of that. So we don't have a lot of that history because the people who would be a part of it, died."

Silence.

"Now, don't get me wrong. There are still people that lived and tell their histories. I encourage you to seek them out. I don't want to sound as if I'm saying that everything was lost, but I want you to think about why we don't hear about it. And why when we say we 'survived' things like Reagan's presidency, it's because the people who did, by and large, weren't at risk from it at all."

4.

By the time he gets to Mr. Prince's class, he's just waiting for it to happen.

One of his favorite things about learning with Mr. Prince is that the man will go on tangents that have absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with whatever he's supposed to be teaching them and then, fifteen minutes later, find some way to link it back to whatever they're studying and it is some kind of witchcraft. He also encourages people to just kind of talk at him when they think they've got something, which means everyone is taking notes from each other as much as they are from him.

But he wasn't exactly expecting it to come up like this.

"So," Mr. Prince says, "The Gay Gatsby—wait."

The whole class explodes into laughter as Mr. Prince pinches the bridge of his nose. Virgil can't help it, he joins in too, watching the shake of his head as he smiles sheepishly at them.

"Freudian Slip?"

"I mean," another student manages, "you're not wrong."

"No, I'm not. Matter of fact—how much time do we have left?"

"Like, ten minutes?"

"That's good enough. We're on schedule." He claps his hands and sits on the desk. "Gatsby: Gay or Not Gay? Discuss."

"Oh my god," Virgil's friend scoffs, "so gay."

"Pink suit? Fancy parties that he personally invites just Nick to? A weird compulsion to be with Daisy even though he obviously doesn't love her anymore?" Someone else throws their hands up. "That's a gay if I've ever seen one."

"Excuse you, this is disaster bisexual erasure and I will not stand for it."

"Also," another friend says, "are we gonna talk about how Nick and Jordan are gay-lesbian solidarity? They're both each other's beards."

"Wait, Nick's gay?"

Mr. Prince sighs. "Okay, honey, if you can give me a heterosexual explanation for whatever that missing scene is with Mr. McKee, I'll give you a 100 right now."

"No, no way, that's the most not-a-sex-scene sex scene I've ever read."

"Also, no straight man talks about another straight man like that."

"Isn't there a line where Jordan says that Nick looks like he's 'having a gay time' and then the next page is all about Gatsby's smile?"

"Putting aside the other use of the word 'gay,' yeah, no, this man is not straight."

"Pink suit, guys, pink. Suit."

"Also Tom hates him for some other reason."

"Wait, hang on." Virgil steeples his fingers in front of him. "Who's seen the movie?"

"Me."

"I have."

"Leonardo De Caprio's in it, of course I've seen it."

"Do you guys remember the scene with the party in New York with Tom and Myrtle and everything? You know that one line that Tom says about knowing Nick likes to watch and remembering that from college?"

"He says what?"

"Wait, wait, is that in the book?"

"No, it's not. They just put that in for the movie. What the f-heck was that all about?"

"Now, now," Mr. Prince says as the class starts to debate what implications that has, "let's cite our sources, shall we? Do we think this clip exists on YouTube?"

"Oh, it totally has to."

"Wait, can we watch it? Hell yes!"

5.

He's staying behind on a Friday again, just to finish up this last part of the art thing he's doing for Mr. Dagenheart, when he looks up to see the rest of them come in.

"Uh. Hi?"

"Virgil, yes, Remus said you'd still be here." Mr. Prince waves. "How's it coming along? It looks great!"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Are you working through lunch?" Mr. Mackenzie tilts his head. "Have you eaten already?"

"Well, no, but Mr. Dagenheart said it was okay if I—"

Of course, then said teacher bursts out of the supply closet and scares the hell out of him.

"You guys brought food, right?"

"It's your week, Re."

"Oh, shit."

"Language!"

"Virgil," Mr. Mackenzie says quietly, "would you mind if we ate in here while you work?"

"Uh, no, that's fine, I don't care. I can, um, I can leave if you—"

"No, no, you're working. We'll try to be as minimally disruptive as possible."

Mr. Prince snorts. "Speak for yourself."

Mr. DeLuca smacks his shoulder and Virgil quickly tries to focus on his work again.

This is fine. This is fine. This is so fine.

"Virgil," Mr. Dagenheart calls, "remember, you can work in here as long as you eat, so chomp, chomp over there, yeah?"

"I remember!"

"Good."

Sure, Virgil thinks as he gets politely mother-henned by his queer teachers into eating lunch and taking a break from his work, this might as well happen. This week's already been so goddamn weird.

+1.

Mr. DeLuca is fucking scary.

He doesn't get mad in the I'm-gonna-be-loud-and-shouty way but he gets really quiet and really serious and cold, like he's gonna rip you apart with just his words and death-stare. And he's currently shredding two of Virgil's classmates over throwing temper tantrums about the homework.

Just shut up. Don't look up. Don't fucking move. Just stare at the numbers. Just look at the numbers.

"I have yet to behold mature and reasonable students," the icy voice says, "what I see are petulant, rude, obnoxious, ill-behaved children."

He's not talking to you. Just shut up and don't move and he won't look at you.

"Now that didn't have to happen in front of all of your friends and peers, but it did. Because you had to make fools of yourselves. Now, I understand that you have some studying to catch up on and all of you—"

Virgil just manages not to flinch.

"—have a test next week. I presume I don't have to tell you that it is mandatory."

A few brave souls whisper 'no, sir,' and there's a faint rustling from people shaking their heads.

"Mm. I suggest you get to it, then. You two—" don't flinch, not you— "will go and speak with Mr. Johnson, and I will join you in half an hour. Virgil?"

What the fuck did I do? Did I do something wrong? Shit, fuck—

"Stay behind for a moment."

A few of his friends shoot him pitying looks as they flee from the classroom. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, sitting up straight as he puts away all of his math stuff. He's frantically running through his head of anything he could've done wrong—maybe his grades weren't as good as they should be, maybe he made a dumb mistake on the last homework—shit, was he talking too obviously in class? He was just trying to explain a thing—

He jumps when Mr. DeLuca sits down across from him.

"Did Mr. Everheart speak to you this morning?" Virgil nods. "So, you understand that the others are currently in a meeting with the Dean to discuss repercussions for the teacher who encouraged and participated in the homophobic bullying."

He nods again.

"What would you like to see happen?"

What? Excuse him? He doesn't fucking know. He shrugs.

Mr. DeLuca raises an eyebrow. "Conversations do work best when both participants speak."

"Sorry, I, um, I don't know, I—I didn't think anything would happen, so I, um, didn't think about it. Sorry. I don't know."

There's a pause, then he leans forward. "Are you alright, Virgil?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I'm good."

"Don't lie to me."

There's nothing in the world that could've stopped Virgil's flinch at that. He stares down at his hands. Fuck, fuck, what do I say? I can't tell the truth, what the fuck am I supposed to do? He's gonna fucking eviscerate me, he's gonna say I'm being dramatic, I can't—I can't—

The sudden scrape of a chair makes him flinch again, head jerking up to see Mr. DeLuca getting up and walking toward his desk. A hysterical part of Virgil's brain sees his hand flash near the ruler and truly panics, only for him to pick up a tissue box instead. He walks back over and places it on the table before crouching—crouching next to Virgil.

"What's wrong, sweetie," he asks in a soft voice that gives Virgil whiplash, "tell me?"

Don't cry. Don't fucking cry.

"I—I—um, I—"

"You look scared," he says when Virgil can't do anything more than stutter. Virgil nods shamefully. "Yeah? Is that it, you're just scared?"

Not much of a 'just' about it, but yeah.

"What's scaring you?"

Now, this is a trap. He has no idea what the actual fuck he's supposed to say, so he just stares at him. When Mr. DeLuca raises an eyebrow, he gestures feebly around at the classroom.

Confusion flickers across his face until Virgil sees him realize what he's so afraid of.

"Is it me," he asks quietly, "are you scared of me? Because of what just happened?"

Shame burns his face and he nods, trying to hide. Mr. DeLuca makes another one of those confusing soft noises and rests a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Virgil, I didn't mean to scare you. You're not in trouble, I'm not mad at you."

"I-I know." He sniffles and quickly wipes it away. "Sorry, I promise I'm not doing this on purpose. I'm not trying to be dramatic."

"I know, sweetie. It's okay." He nudges the tissue box closer. "If you need to cry, it's okay. Go ahead. Do you want a moment?"

"N-no, you can—you can stay."

And he does, gently rubbing Virgil's shoulder and letting him be a total fucking mess all over his table. It's weird and confusing and so at odds with the scary teacher who just humiliated two students for crying too and he's not gonna question it anymore.

"Listen," he murmurs when Virgil's all done with his meltdown, "I get mad when students throw fits and do things on purpose to try and get their way or draw attention to themselves. I do not get mad when people get upset and need to cry. And if anyone ever gives you a hard time or makes fun of you for needing to cry, you come and you tell me and I'll be scary at them, alright?"

"Okay."

He smiles and ruffles Virgil's hair. "Good. Why don't you and I sit here for a while and calm down, then we can talk?"

"…don't you need to go be scary?"

"You're more important right now. Mr. Johnson's used to handling those two. And, Virgil?"

"Yeah?"

Mr. DeLuca gives him a look. "I am happy to be scary for you if you ever need it."

Virgil frowns. "For me?"

"Yes, Virgil, if anyone ever decides to be an ignorant bigot, I am more than happy to be scary for you."

Okay. So.

Maybe things can get better after all.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[notetaeker]

Goodbye 2022

@peregrination-studies thank u for the tag! I love love planning and reflecting on the year so this was such a fun tag for me to do

What are things you've grown to like this year?

The process honestly. I've always been impatient when it comes to seeing results but over this year I started to appreciate the process of things? I've always been the type to start a project and then work on this project for 3 days until I'm done and by then I'd get so tired of it or be unsatisfied with the result because it doesn't reflect my tireless 3 days worth of work. But nowadays I start projects, put them away, continue it later, and it's been so enjoyable. I take time to fix any small things I would have ignored in the interest of time, start over if necessary. Just you know, processing it slowly. Instead of rushing toward the result, the experience of whatever it is- is the most important. It's still a work in progress but i think this is one of the things that surprised me the most in myself - the fact that I'm even able to do it. Other things I've grown to like: autumn lol and maybe even winter just a teensy bit.

What are things you've learned this year? Oof a lot of things actually. I think I'll make a list from my journal - Every morning I get to decide how to live my life / what I prioritize - Allah will open doors for you from placed you couldn't imagine - But you have to put in some effort and show you're trying - Living is much easier when you accept it instead of fighting it -Surely as the evening comes after a scorching hot day, so too will respite from whatever you're struggling with, it is the law of the world (the mercy of Allah) and all that was only until June asdlkj let me not make this too long lol maybe I'll make a post on stuff I learned this year

What works did you enjoy this year, be it films, books or other art? Books: The Secret Garden, Born a Crime Movies/Anime: Spy x Family, Julie and Julia, Also I watched all the spiderman movies on some random week like a crazy person Other art: sarah burns studio on youtube and her seascape watercolor paintings. They're so simple but also really beautiful

Is there something you're still looking forward to this year? There's only 2 days left! I was looking forward to buying yarn and I got it yesterday, so excited abt that. I'm hoping to go the beach today or tomorrow and see (sea) the ocean so :') excited for that if it happens (its so cold tho who knows). OH ALSO i wanted to bake cookies for my students for the first day of classes back from break and might make those early so that too ! :D

What would you like to see happening next year? SO MUCH omg - 1. Improve my arabic: I enrolled in an Arabic class because I've literally forgotten so many things so excited abt that. I also signed up for some other islamic studies classes b/c there was a discount so hopefully those are fun too! 2. take more notes !!! I keep reading / listening to such good stuff and telling myself I'll write it down when I have more time later and never doing it D: so next year hopefully I fill up a notebook or smth with those 3. Hopefully get comfortable with traveling / visiting places and then do exactly that 4. D: waiting on the result of my interview for a 2023 internship 5. turn some good deed into an unconscious daily practice. Rn I'm thinking sunnah prayers, because I've kind of dropped off from regularly doing them in the last year :( 6. ART. MORE REGULARLY. like i was doing this year :') im pretty pleased with the amt of art i did this year alhamdulillah

Tagging: @wayfaringmuslimah, @gushuwa, @wecandoit, @frenchiepal @humble-boness, @ckmstudies, @juliistudies, @heliops, @museeofmoon, @iwillsurvivecollege, @learnelle, @caffeinatediaries, @caramelcuppaccino

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Ack I'm sorry I was the one who asked about the headcanon about romanceable wizard a while ago, should have been more specific >< I was always wondering how their relationships would change if the farmer was the wizard's apprentice instead of Morgan. Since he's a bachelor in SVE and the farmer is technically going to be with him for a long time during the apprenticeship, will it develop into something romantic? 🫣

Something along those lines sorry my imagination just stopped there

Don't worry, it's alright 😊

And this is a very sweet and romantic idea for such a development of relations. That these two had an affair even before Morgan arrived, so why not. Enjoy the HC, dear anon, and thanks for the ask! 😃

Well, the training with the altar of illusion was brilliantly done by the Farmer. They did the job perfectly on the first try, and showed themselves to be responsible in regards to not to abuse magic. So why not continue with the classes, since the Farmer expresses such delight and curiosity in learning the arcane arts?

Of course, Magnus is not allowed by the rules to teach the Farmer adept-level or higher magic without the approval of the Ministry of Magic, so the basic spells will do the trick.

The Farmer is pleased to frequent the tower now. Given that Magnus is essentially teaching the Farmer out of sheer altruism, the young apprentice wants to repay their teacher in some way. So the Farmer began to bring delicious fruits and vegetables grown by them, ready-made meals and pastries to the tower. Therefore, after the next lesson, they both arrange lunch (it's better than eating frog soup on a permanent basis).

Gems and monster loot will also help in training. In addition, traveling to find the right materials will help the Farmer to practice magic. These are mostly invisibility and teleportation spells (no fireballs!), but still Rasmodius gives them a spare teleportation totem in case something goes wrong. Safety is first.

When learning gets a little boring, they both decide to pause and change the subject. Since the young student of Magnus is a farmer by profession, Magnus talks about his experience in growing magical plants and shares a couple of tricks for proper care of unusual plants. The Farmer, in return, can talk about their progress with Junimo, which will be of great interest to Magnus. It amazes him how they found a common language with these forest creatures much faster than he did.

Over time, Magnus and Farmer's relationship evolved from "student-teacher" to "friend/colleague-friend/self-taught colleague". The Farmer sometimes lightly scolds Magnus for the fact that instead of sleeping at night (like all normal people) he prepared materials and brewed potions, cooks vegetable soup for dinner after class, gives him the void essence and other useful things for learning magic. The Wizard often heals the wounded Farmer after another adventure into the mines, chats with them about exotic plants, tells the story of other civilizations that lived before humans.

Constant displays of care, support, jokes that only the two of them will understand, ringing laughter, a warm smile on their faces, a kiss from the Farmer... Wait, what?

Why... Why is the Farmer kissing him... Why is Magnus kissing them back?!... Okay, this is pretty awkward. Magnus didn't even have time to open his mouth to reply when the Farmer said they loved him. The wizard had mixed feelings and asked the Farmer to let him think about it. The Farmer, confused, still waited for the next meeting in tower. Then, Magnus will apologize for being so strange yesterday and explain that after the occasions that broke his heart twice, he reacted very insecurely to the possibility of a third chance to try his luck on the love front. However, after all the great time they both spent studying magic together, he is ready to try again. Before that, Magnus will ask the Farmer a question: do they really want this? And the Farmer says with full confidence that yes, that they thought about it earlier.

The two most unusual residents of the Stardew Valley begin a new happy life together. After all, there is no stronger magic in the world than the power of love.

[onthevirgeofdestruction]

   Plea for my New Self

Chapter 37: Still with Me

Words: 7,519 Rating: Mature (16+) Warnings: Vampires, Non-graphic blood drinking, entering and breaking (in that order), Dirty Humour.

Virgil glanced at the blow-up bed on the floor with a deep longing. Roman and Patton’s light snoring together was adorable, and she wanted more than anything to be down there with them. But she had shit to do. She was dealing with three classes that had deadlines around the same time at the moment. The Spanish was getting easier the more she got to drink from Roman, but everything required time, even if it was easy. She took English and math what felt like hundreds of times, but that didn’t change the fact that they all had hours of homework.

   The IT project was the dullest task she had in living memory, and she did some boring shit as Samuel. It left her feeling drained and craving some sweet contact from her clan, but she still had her art project and an extra long essay for English. It was better to get this stuff done while her friends were asleep… but also the deadlines had been creeping up on her because she’d been spending so much time with her friends. She didn't have these problems before, damnit.

   To be fair to her past self, she didn’t make many friends as Samuel in college. She largely stayed in her slightly off-campus apartment and worked. There were rock shows she talked to people at, but other than vaguely chatting to classmates that talked to her, she did little socializing during the week. Keeping up with classes was easy, then. Though, she also didn’t have two delicious-smelling Brood passed out to cartoons on an air mattress tempting her into restful bliss her last time around.

   Virgil didn’t take up extra curriculars last time, either. She was taking basically six classes and actually had things to do with her time these days. No sleep or not, she was busy. But if she could just work through tonight, she should have no problem and have nothing but free time and no more anxiety about getting things done on time. Maybe she didn’t have to expend so much effort on this art project that was consuming her time either, but she didn’t like the idea of half-assing projects. Her perfectionist tendencies were tough to fight, even in subjective classes like art. It pushed her to be the best with instruments, but left her second-guessing herself as she drew.

   Theatre wasn’t a big deal, though, despite it falling under the arts. It was supposed to get harder to keep up with closer to the public performance, but she had little to do until then. Virgil’s strength, speed, and ability to move silently made her ‘the perfect stagehand’ according to Kai, and she didn’t have to practice moving props much to get used to it, and they weren’t using full sets in practice yet. They mostly just argued over placement and built sets right now, and you don’t need many sets for the stage adaptation of Arcadia. That… fucking storage room, though.

   No, she knew she couldn’t think about that. She had a project to work on. She’d rather cuddle Pat and Ro on the floor and listen to some music. It was just even worse when she was there yesterday. The complete lack of organization was absolutely driving her up the wall. That outdoor storage would be a nightmare if she had them. She was picking up fallen nails and tools until they kicked her out last time, and she hissed at Elliot on accident. Thomas literally dragged her away as soon as she finished with the spilled items on the workbench. She could almost see herself wandering through inner storage and not being allowed to just pick up the sets and organize them properly. She could move the backdrops all in one place and…

   Fuck. Art. Brood. Finish her art classwork and be with her Brood. She managed to get through this yesterday. It was fine. She could do it. Though her searing hatred for that Mitchell prick was probably why she could focus on not organizing that horrific monstrosity of a backstage after Thomas warned her to stay inside before she hissed at anyone else from her compulsions. Virgil’s eye twitched as she kept working on her class project.

   Roman snorted and rolled closer to Patton on the floor, which was very cute and helped her focus again. Roman’s gift made him an extra toasty treat, and Virgil yearned for it. She loved the heat. Warmth was for the living, maybe, but it didn’t change the fact that she craved it. The heat between them on the air mattress only made lying down with Roman and Patton all the more attractive. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at the loft above her for a moment to clear her head.

   Virgil sat torn between so much right now that it was frustrating. She felt tempted to steal a hot snack from Roman while he slept, too. She needed to be more level-headed, and a bite would help. But she didn’t want to wake him up to ask for consent, or just steal it from him unaware. She only had grave-dirt tasting blood left in the fridge, making her grimace in disgust at the thought. That would just be even more upsetting, since the problem wasn’t an actual lack of blood, just a slight shortage of sanity.

   She tapped her foot and went back to drawing. Art was good. She had a few more days to finish this, technically. But if she got it out of the way, then it’s a different night she can cuddle up with Roman and Patton. Assuming Patton fell asleep to cartoons here again. They assuredly had their own projects that would be due soon. Virgil could get another hotel room next weekend, and she could bury herself tortuously in a king sized bed with tasty-smelling humans. Well, maybe that plan wasn’t smart. Still tempting. Maybe it was like when humans lit candles that smell like cake. It just smelled so soothing and delicious and made her want to bite down on something just to cure the itch in her fangs.

   … Okay, maybe that part probably wasn’t like dessert candles. All of those smelled unappetizing to Virgil, anyway. Well, Deceit found a soybean one that was Earl Grey at the gift shop of the escape room she liked. They were still overpowering while lit, so Virgil just took off the lid near her desk last time and that was plenty. Should she open it up to help? Virgil stared at the candle while she debated her options, worrying her lip.

   She didn’t want to stop smelling the humans. Covering up the scent felt illegal. They smelled extremely and unfairly good. The smell of their blood was only getting stronger as her instincts kicked more into gear, and it was at risk of making her thirsty for real. Virgil stared at them, resting together quietly under the thin top sheet on the air mattress. Alright, she was losing it. She officially wanted to eat her friends in their sleep. She needed some fresh air. Virgil put down her large drawing pad and charcoal on the desk and got up from the chair. She cleaned off the charcoal and looked at the mattress longingly again before stepping out from under the loft.

   Virgil swapped to the ceiling to get past the blow-up bed to access the closet, walking down the wall and opening it up a crack to pull her leather jacket and a pair of boots out. She dressed on the ceiling and dropped silently in front of the door to exit into the hall. The door was old and not perfectly silent, but neither of them even stirred at the tiny creak from the hinge when Virgil opened the door and left.

   The noises of the dorm at this time of night were relatively quieter, but Virgil turned up her music, anyway. She enjoyed listening to them breathe in the dorm, but there were some less than ideal noises in a men’s dorm to hear this time of night as she walked past the doors. The last sound she heard before her music drowned them out sounded like someone desperately sobbing. Mood.

   The stairwell was completely empty, other than a random abandoned water bottle and a blanket two floors up. Maybe someone was having a tiff with their roommate. Or they just wanted privacy. Since most students didn’t go into the stairwell, it was a good place to find some. She made it to the top a little faster than a human should have, just to be safe from students stepping in. The campus never truly went to sleep. Picking the door to the roof access was trying when frustration filled her thoughts, even though by now she knew exactly how to unlock this door.

   As soon as the door opened, Virgil stepped into the night air with a deep, relieving breath. The sky was overcast and the dark night was refreshing. Her fangs still itched to sink into something, but it’s not like a pet store was open in the middle of the night to grab a chew toy. Should she flit out to Deceit’s estate? No, he liked to have more heads-up, normally. She could call, but she did still have projects to get back to. She should stay on campus. Just a little air before she went back into the dorm full of succulent blood bags.

   Fucking yikes, okay, okay. What could Virgil do to occupy her brain that wasn’t thinking about draining her boyfriend? If she turned Roman, she’d stop fantasizing about drinking from him. Hecate, she couldn’t put him through that at school. That would be awful for him. She also knew better than to think about that. The compulsion to turn him was going to catch hold eventually anyway, accidentally encouraging that sooner would just be hell for the both of them. Virgil had access to fresh AB-negative. She wanted to revel in it. Though that fact contributed to her many dilemmas tonight.

   Was Logan awake? Could she get blood from Logan? No, he probably got to bed before midnight. He preferred to wake up early to do homework than to work late. Something about memory retention occurring during sleep cycles that ended in a rant about how vampires made no sense.

   Maybe she should just wake Roman up and ask. She’s not actually thirsty, though. She’s just frustrated about that stupid storage room and school work eating into her cuddle time. Roman needed time and sleep to recover his blood, and Patton was still seeking medical treatment. But Patton also had been slightly more reticent about the idea after Virgil drank from Roman while they watched movies when they weren’t in the same room as Virgil. If Virgil had to guess, it was too embarrassing to share those particular feelings with Roman and Virgil. Not enough that they weren’t willing, but just enough that they hesitated. Still, Patton’s blood would be nice, too…

   This is nonsense. There’s a problem that Virgil can fix. So what if it’s not legal? She didn’t care that she hadn’t gotten permission, and that everyone was going to be confused and possibly mad. They’d appreciate it in the end, probably. She couldn’t take it anymore. Virgil jumped off the top of her dorm to flit over to the lower roof of building G.

   The older stone building’s rooftop access door had a broken lock, so Virgil didn’t even need to pick it. What a delight. She walked in and flipped up to the ceiling, keeping a lookout for cameras or other people breaking in. There were none in the small stairwell access and the building was completely silent, so she dropped through the center of the stairs to the first floor and walked into the hall that led to the theatre.

   Walking in with the intent to rearrange that hellscape of vampire compulsions gave Virgil new life. She jumped over the rows of seats and landed on the stage, walking right to the back room storage door. It was locked, but it was literal easy pickings. There were cameras on the walking path to the outdoor storage, so she couldn’t take things that belonged outside tonight, but she could move them near the back door.

   Virgil relished in shoving things out of the way and started organizing out tall props first, the sounds of furniture clacking and dragging just barely registering over her music. She could organize the backdrops as indoor and outdoor designs and even by time of day, if applicable. This was rapture, glory, heaven to the need that had been gnawing at her for what felt like ages. This freaking mess had been hurting her psyche since she walked into this place and her eyes landed on the pile.

   As she worked, she counted things to help her relax. Virgil even picked up the abandoned inventory clipboard and started checking things off after shifting everything over and getting all the backdrops in one place. She’d have to assume that anything missing from the list was in outdoor storage for her sanity’s sake. For the same reason, she had to add the list with any new items she found. She didn’t bother updating if things needed repair, she just put them somewhere to fix them or tightened whatever was loose while she was at it.

   Most of the furniture-type items were wobbly, but there were plenty of tools about, and Virgil fixed them up quickly. Some of them might have needed another washer or some wood glue, but Virgil’s compulsion was more about the fact that things were out of order, so she didn’t bother with it. If they wanted her to be a carpenter and fix this stuff up, they could ask. Did they know she was a carpenter once? Should she say? They know she has a steady hand and can use power tools, at least.

   Oh, one of the missing plants. Just spotting that was a rush of joy. She hopped out of the center of the chaos to drop it off with the rest of the plants they gathered before. The holy grail will be that missing chair, though. She located a matching early 1900s side table that they could put some décor on, though. Virgil didn’t look forward to listening to them argue about framing and where the best place to put it was, but maybe she can just play rock-paper-scissors with Seth again while they fought. His willingness to distract Virgil from her ire yesterday was helpful.

   Virgil kept working, hours passing easily as she worked out her compulsion. She’d found most of the inventory, plus some. She had to make a whole new sheet of things she found they’d have to input into whatever spreadsheet they had running that the paper version came from. It made her feel better about the missing items, but the missing objects ate at her. She found the missing chair, though, and danced with it on the ceiling before depositing it with the rest of the set.

   A contented sigh escaped her lips as she reveled in her victory, but there was still plenty of work to do, so she didn’t pause long. Virgil jumped back into the fray to make this hell-chamber less soul-haunting. While scooting some fake statues with the other décor elements, she bumped a shelf with a bag of marbles on it, spilling the contents. Virgil hissed angrily and started counting the balls as they rolled away. The bag had a hole in it, and she had to start over twice, tempting her to grind the accursed objects into dust under her boots. She found a decorative bowl to put them in instead, and the plinking sound as the marbles hit the ceramic dish was satisfying enough to calm back down and stop cussing at the glass spheres.

   Virgil’s phone rang without her response while the marbles bounced against each other in the dish. She was positive some got away, and she couldn’t stop herself from hunting for the missing marbles to answer it. It was Roman’s ringtone, which she knew she should answer, but couldn’t pull her eyes off the floor just yet. Virgil hunted down three marbles with an elated cackle and gave the floor a final sweep to make sure she wasn’t missing any. One had rolled a few feet away under a chair, but she found it, ending the count on 48 fucking marbles. Who needs 48 marbles? Are they still playing marbles? … Do they even know how to play marbles?

   Oh, right. Roman. Virgil pulled her cell out of her pocket. Roman was calling her a second time, and Virgil answered it as soon as the screen lit up with his face.

   “Virgil! I was worried when you didn’t answer the first time. Where are you? Did you run off to D’s place for the night?” Roman asked right away, sounding relieved.

   “No, I’m still on campus.” Virgil shook her head and made a note on the inventory that there were 48 marbles. “What are you doing awake?” She followed up after she put the pencil down on the clipboard that rested on the shelf.

   “Because I have class in an hour. Are you okay? You’re normally freakishly accurate about the time.” Roman felt confused enough that Virgil could feel it a few buildings away with her shield up. Virgil looked up at the small window over the back door. Oh, fuck. The sun was up. Virgil patted at her jacket pockets with her free hand desperately. Shit. She didn’t have her sunglasses, and is currently wearing a midi-skirt. Not exactly solar-safe.

   “Uh, no. Do you have time to do me a favour? I need pants and sunglasses brought to building G,” Virgil asked hopefully.

   “If I skip breakfast and eat after class, sure,” Roman hummed, still feeling confused. “Do I want to know why you’re pants-less in the theatre building?”

   “I’m not fucking naked, I’m just not…” Virgil hissed and trailed off. Snapping at him doesn’t help her any. “The outfit I was wearing in the dorm last night isn’t sun-safe,” she explained quietly, berating herself mentally for getting herself in this situation. “Hey, uh, is there any chance the theatre storage room will have visitors? Because I have zero legal explanation for how I got here,” Virgil asked nervously.

   “It might? I don’t go out there outside of club. It has a high ceiling. Just sit up there until I can get dressed and grab you a pair of pants,” Roman suggested, and Virgil bit her lip. But she was almost done. She couldn’t stop now.

   “Uh, that���s smart. Okay. I’ll listen for you, thanks,” Virgil nodded, turning down her music and glancing around. Well. Maybe if she worked faster, she could finish on time?

   “See you soon, my pantsless criminal.” Roman’s exasperation was completely clear in his farewell. Virgil could almost hear Roman roll his eyes as he spoke. Virgil scoffed as the call hung up. She slipped the phone back in her pocket and shifted some busts before hurrying to hunt through the remaining loose goods. It was almost completely sorted out and recorded at this point. She won’t feel better until she finished, though. Virgil picked up the pace, trying her best to get things unbroken into the right category. She was close to done and couldn’t leave it like this.

   When Virgil heard the sound of the outer theatre door opening, she kept moving. She had time, still. Roman had to make it out to the storage room, right? Only another two minutes, she had this.

   “Virgil?” Roman called out, echoing in the empty theatre on the other side of the door. If she left this incomplete, she’d still feel just as batty. “Where are you?” Rang through the theatre. “I feel like I’m about to get murdered in a slasher film, Virgil!” Roman called out, sounding annoyed. He was close to the door, though. She was almost done. There were just a few things. The pile near the door of things that should probably be in outside storage or repaired, she could accept for later. The trash she’d bagged could get handled another time, maybe even by someone else. There were literally two bags. Humans were disgusting sometimes. She just had to finish sorting.

   “Virgil, goddamnit, did you prank me?” Roman shouted out as he slammed the door open. Virgil hissed at Roman and kept sorting. “Jesus, are you okay?” Roman shut the door and stepped in. There was a long pause while Virgil kept sorting as fast as possible. “Or… is that an unfamiliar creature that hisses like a fucking panther in my theatre storage room?” He added nervously. “This is terrifying, Virgil. Please tell me that’s you,” he pleaded, the fear spiking over the shield in his chest.

   “Me!” Virgil shot angrily and jumped over some decorations with a rickety side table to put with the furniture, then bounded immediately back to the tiny unfinished portions.

   “Can I turn on the light?” Roman asked, but Virgil was too focused on the last of the small items she’d piled in a chair earlier to reply, gathering them to shelve. The light clicked on and Virgil’s vision whited out for a moment, causing another hiss to break out of her throat before her eyes adjusted. “What the fuck. You’ve been… organizing the storage all night? Did you get permission to do this?” Roman asked incredulously.

   “No, and if you tell anyone, I’ll gut you!” Virgil growled out, heading back to the pile for another load. Just another armful to put on the shelf.

   “You went a little batty, huh,” Roman hummed, crossing his arms. Virgil scoffed and kept sorting. That didn’t need a response. She gathered them and put them on the proper shelves quickly while Roman tapped his foot. “Come on, come get a drink and run me to that little café for a smoothie, so I don’t pass out in class.” Roman tugged at the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head, along with his cross-body bag. Virgil got a whiff right away and paused what she was doing, too taken by the delectable smell. Shit. She was almost done. Just had to put the chair she was using with the furniture. No. It smelled so good. Fuck. Virgil’s head swam, and there was a loud crack as she fumbled the landing. “Virgil!” Roman shouted, and Virgil cackled back in delight.

   “I finished!” She cheered, her voice cracking, holding her arms in the air next to a toppled cheap dining chair. She partially broke the leg on the landing, but it didn’t matter. The room is now cleared out and organized. The trash bagged and ready to take out along with the set of building tools were near the door. She could fix it later. What’s important is that it’s organized. There were thirty-two empty cans alone. 121 pieces of paper stacked in a pile on the table. Twelve bags of old fast food garbage that Virgil could probably find by the greasy scent alone. Even three separate sets of tools were in the mess, though it seemed someone possibly stole several pieces from each.

   “Virgil, get over here, have some breakfast,” Roman sighed, sounding annoyed.

   “No, I was doing this so that I didn’t steal your blood in the middle of the night!” Virgil objected vehemently, getting up off the floor and dusting off. She still sounded like she’d utterly lost it, despite her victory, and the offer made the horrible discomfort in her fangs worse.

   “Congratulations, it’s no longer midnight! Just bite me, doofus. Your voice keeps breaking, I assume much like your sanity,” Roman huffed and patted his neck with the hand not holding his shirt and bag. Other than exasperation, he didn’t seem unsettled at all. “Drink and carry me to some food while I’m out of it. I don’t want to be late for class,” he demanded shortly. Virgil focused her eyes on him, jumping over and landing right in front of him. He stared Virgil down the whole time, not shaken by the sudden proximity or Virgil’s eyes locked on his neck. Virgil shook out involuntarily, coming back from the compulsion mindset.

   “I, uh, are you sure?” Virgil asked nervously, now that sense was coming back to her. Partially. Roman still smelled like Virgil’s teeth needed to be embedded in him, pronto. She had blown herself out a little with organizing everything anally and could use the drink.

   “Put on the pants and bite me on the way out. We’re running out of time. If I didn’t have class in the building with the café, you’d be screwed. Come on,” Roman tugged Virgil’s braid to pull her closer. Huh. He held up the pants out of his bag, and Virgil slipped them on under her skirt. Did Virgil just have a thing for bossy people or what? Roman shoved the sunglasses on Virgil’s face unceremoniously and hopped up. Virgil caught him in her arms and shrugged, sinking her fangs into Roman’s neck as soon as he settled. His breath hitched as Virgil drank some warm, sweet nectar of the gods. Virgil kicked the door open with her foot and licked Roman’s neck to seal the bite, licking her lips.

   Virgil could understand not wanting any blood on his shirt, but now Roman was out of it and shirtless in the theatre. Now that Virgil wasn’t thirsty, and the theatre was no longer disorganized and setting off her instincts, this seemed incredibly stupid. It looks like they were fucking in the theatre, honestly. Virgil propped up Roman against the wall next to the door and helped him get his shirt back on before slipping Virgil’s hood up and the mask in her jacket being set securely on her face. She slid Roman’s bag over her torso, too, since she wasn’t sure Roman had the wherewithal to keep track of it right now.

   “Hey fireball, on my back,” Virgil urged, squatting down in front of Roman and backing up. Roman giggled and stumbled into place on Virgil’s back, but Virgil had to do most of the work of positioning him. This was the least strange way to carry a guy. Bridal-style would have been kind of sus of defiling someone in building G. Did Roman want Virgil to literally run to the main building? Probably.

   Virgil kicked open the door and jogged towards the main building to get Roman’s iron-heavy smoothie. The good thing about college is running across campus with a blissed out human on your back wasn’t that weird. Virgil leaned back onto her heels and rolled across the concrete hastily on the wheels. Roman wasn’t exaggerating about having to get there fast by where the sun sat in the sky.

   She was thankful he came to serenade her back to sanity with sweet, sweet blood. Also, literally, since Roman was singing his favourite song quietly over Virgil’s shoulder, and he sounded amazing despite no vocal warm-ups and being half-conscious from blood loss and being fucked up on cozy bond feelings. This entire event was embarrassing, and she was glad Roman could bail her out of painful leg boils.

   No one even batted an eye as Virgil purchased the smoothie for the handsome, dazed gentleman on her back. College campuses were just like that sometimes. Virgil held up the cup to Roman’s face, who didn’t notice it until she basically shoved the straw in Roman’s mouth. He took it and started drinking tiredly, gripping at the cross-body strap to stay upright with his other hand.

   “What classroom, love?” Virgil asked softly after Roman managed a proper drink.

   “220B,” Roman sighed contentedly and took another sip. Ah, not too far, then. Virgil headed towards the stairwell to get Roman up to his classroom on time. “What was with… that?” Roman asked softly after a small gasp from trying to drink that thick smoothie.

   “Did you know that a long time ago, people would spill a bag of seeds on their doorstep to prevent vampires from coming inside? The legend says that vampires are compelled to count them all out. Do you think that could apply to groups of items that are larger?” Virgil explained, hoping Roman caught the gist while he was out of it. It wasn’t always about counting, though, but it came down to that in more situations than Virgil would have liked. Roman paused for a moment, seeming to process this. Roman hummed and took another sip of smoothie, hopefully understanding.

   “Is that with… all of them?” Roman asked after another long sip of his drink.

   “I would think it affects the higher ones the most,” Virgil turned up the landing in the concrete stairwell. This one had windows, and she had to be careful about hugging the inside of the railing. Virgil should have just taken the cuddle break, probably, instead of losing it and blowing through her last meal by reorganizing a theatre storage. Hindsight is 20/20 and all, but she knew that fucking storage room would make her crack eventually. Torturing her with delicious blood literally right under her fingertips might have also been just as ill-advised in the end.

   “Nature does seem to have a way of balancing things out,” Roman chuckled, sounding a little more cognizant now. Roman mentioned before that after Virgil drank, the telepathy and the bond are intense for a while afterward, but that might have been a question better asked not in a crowd of people and instead in their heads. Virgil was perfectly capable of dodging those kinds of things if anyone was listening, though. Roman probably was too out of it to realize it was out loud, possibly like the lyrics lazily falling from his lips. “So why don’t we rewrite the stars?” Roman sang, kneeing Virgil in the side. “Come on, sing with me,” Roman hissed playfully.

   “No,” Virgil replied flatly.

   “Maybe the world could be ours tonight,” Roman continued on, squeezing around Virgil’s neck. Virgil just glared at Roman in response. “I can revoke blood bank rights, you know,” Roman whispered playfully, humming the next part. Roman took another long sip of smoothie and held out his wrist right in front of Virgil’s nose. Sweet Hecate, this wasn’t fair.

   “You think it’s easy? You think I don’t want to run to you?” Virgil gave in and sang along. Roman belted this song out enough that Virgil already knew them by heart. Roman hummed happily along until Virgil’s singing made Roman slump and Virgil had to catch his smoothie. “Wake up and be alert for this class, Princey,” Virgil compelled him quietly as she pushed through the doorway to the second-floor hall. Roman jumped slightly and shook his head, looking around the hall. “Try not to make me sing when you’s school bag, feeling a little exasperated.

   Virgil deposited Roman on a bench near the classroom door carefully and stepped back to hand off Roman’s school bag, feeling a little exasperated.

   “I should get you to sing me to sleep sometime,” Roman accepted the bag and rubbed his eyes before looking up at Virgil with bright eyes.

   “It also slowly melts your willpower, Ro. Though maybe that’s the only way to get you to sleep,” Virgil leaned down and whispered into Roman’s ear. Roman chuckled and kissed Virgil on the cheek, which made her stand up in surprise, holding her cheek.

   “The best hours to write are after midnight. What can I say?” Roman chuckled, and stood up, adjusting his clothes. He looked around and leaned in to murmur. “Thanks for getting me to class. Is the… uh… store room debacle over?” He asked nervously. “I really didn’t expect to find out you needed pants halfway across campus this morning, and hope it doesn’t happen again.” He pinched at Virgil’s skirt and dropped it. “Though you do have nice legs.”

   “… There’s still the outdoor storage, but maybe I can convince them to let me do that without a… debacle,” Virgil huffed her bangs out of her eyes.

   “Temporarily Batty from prop disorder, then? I knew being a techie suited you. Just wake me up next time.” Roman rubbed Virgil’s arm.

   “Yeah, I think I probably should. At least it’s done, though. Sorry about this.” Virgil rubbed the back of her head through the hoodie awkwardly.

   “I knew what I was signing up for,” Roman smiled and tugged Virgil’s leather jacket, pulling her down to kiss her lips over the mask. “See you after class.” Roman waved and walked towards the classroom door, leaving Virgil flushed and a little dumbfounded. Virgil never specifically said she was going to do something like this, but maybe Roman had already accepted Virgil was a little unstable before he asked her out.

   Well, Roman would need food after class. She opted to return downstairs to the café and pick up a burger that she could keep warm in the toaster oven, so he could eat as soon as he got back. If he buys something, then the leftovers could easily get passed off to one of the other humans, or Roman could eat it later. If you say ‘free food’ and leave it in the dorm floor kitchen, it won’t survive much longer. Virgil once ordered an extra pizza once to test it out, and they devoured the large pizza within eight minutes. It impressed everyone who watched, including Logan. She was half-convinced college kids were black holes that ran on alcohol and junk food.

   Hopefully the rest of the day will be much calmer. She was freshly fed, even if she didn’t drink much, and could probably study with Logan again before IT class as another way to recharge. She just had to finish her art project and write that English and Spanish essay. The Spanish one should go fast, since it was just a paper about hobbies. The hard part was the oral presentation. She had the ‘wrong’ accent for Spanish in the Americas compared to her classmates, but she also just hated oral presentations. Maybe she should just compel her professor to give her an A without presenting. The last time she had to present didn’t go so well. Ugh, she couldn’t do that. Maybe Roman had pointers for her on how to be shamelessly extra.

   —💀—

   Virgil laid against Logan happily, enjoying his bodily warmth. Logan still had to finish his IT project. The database from hell, Virgil had dubbed it, but Logan enjoyed the repetition. He plugged away at it with no issue with one hand, the other around Virgil’s waist. He sat cross-legged on Virgil’s loft, looking proper and put-together as always, with a small smile on his face while he worked.

   Logan asked to not be disturbed as he entered the last set, and Virgil was fine with that. She happily intertwined her fingers with his and stole some tiny whiffs of Logan’s neck while she listened to her music. Watching Roman and Patton cuddle last night made her jealous of the affection, but it was her fault for not joining them. She just had to write an English essay, and she could mess around as much as she liked until the next batch of homework. Though her friends would probably be busy studying for midterms, shortly. Maybe she can convince D to take some time off with her if he was feeling better from the whole stupid hierarchy shit.

   “I’m finished,” Logan declared, and Virgil watched the database compile and save on his laptop screen.

   “Do you think the professor is actually going to review each database, or just look at ones that have the wrong file size?” Virgil asked curiously. “Hey, what’s your file size?” She added after a moment. She didn’t think she did it wrong, but the ever-present anxiety of living, after all. Logan silently went to the folder he saved in, and Virgil looked at the screen. “Cool, mine’s the same,” Virgil nodded and Logan pushed the power button on his laptop to put it into sleep mode.

   “That is likely one of the criteria, but there could still be wrong entries in the right file structure,” Logan mused, putting his laptop to the side and pulling up his hand entwined with Virgil’s, kissing her knuckles. “Thank you for waiting for me,” he added with a small smile.

   “Thanks for sitting with me.” Virgil shifted closer into him, so happy to get to spend time with him like this.

   “Do you just like to utilize my height to be the little spoon?” Logan asked with a playful smile.

   “You’re not that much taller than me,” Virgil scoffed and kissed his knuckles.

   “Humans don’t stop growing until around twenty-five. I still have time to get taller,” Logan proposed, moving slightly to pull Virgil in across his chest.

   “I’ll probably stay on the taller end out of all of us unless Patton starts taking steroids.” Virgil chuckled playfully.

   “Steroids are dangerous with thyroid issues, and they do not affect height,” Logan hummed, looking concerned.

   “Ah, then my position as tall stays secure.” Virgil smirked up at him.

   “I wonder if you are average height where you were born?” Logan examined Virgil curiously.

   “I wouldn’t know. Probably taller if it was one of the many places where malnutrition was a problem.” Virgil looked away to consider it.

   “Would malnourished blood not affect your development?” Logan asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Virgil stared at Logan incredulously for a moment, not understanding what Logan was getting at. “Does blood nutrition not matter?” He asked a followup question.

   “It’s less filling but…” Virgil trailed off. “Oh! I wasn’t… Alphas are born fully grown. I was never taller or shorter. Vampires don’t age. The number is more of a badge of honour than anything tied to our identity. I’ve always looked exactly the same under the glamour other than when blood was hard to come across, and I had some muscle atrophy,” she explained, squeezing Logan’s hand. Now Logan was the one staring at her like she was speaking an alien tongue. Virgil learned that sometimes it took a second for ideas to process for Logan, but she wasn’t sure yet if he needed it reworded. He thought for a moment longer before responding.

   “That makes zero scientific sense,” Logan responded flatly. Virgil was worried she explained it badly, but it seemed alright.

   “It’s magic bullshit, L, sometimes there’s nothing we can do.” Virgil shrugged lightly.

   “I refuse to accept that. We can explain magic like any other natural phenomena. We just have no way to study it,” Logan protested right away.

   “You would have made a great mage in another lifetime. Instead of ruminating over things that are currently not answerable, how about we do something else?” Virgil suggested, putting her other hand over Logan’s holding hers. Sometimes distracting Logan was the best in these situations, or he’d get upset.

   “What did you have in mind?” Logan raised an eyebrow, though he still looked kind of distracted by the news.

   “Either asking me something I can answer or a kiss sounds good to me,” Virgil replied coquettishly, mildly hoping for the latter. Logan’s third degree could be a struggle, even if she was happy to help him feel more comfortable. She also just was enjoying being close to him and wanted to be closer.

   “I indeed have another question,” Logan started, drawing Virgil’s focus. “You said you went ‘extra batty’ this morning. I understand the term is used derogatorily, but I wonder if it might mean something different when you use it,” he hummed, shifting to sit back and hold Virgil in his arms.

   “Oh, you’re right that it’s different. It is still a little derogatorily, if I’m being honest. But when a vampire uses it, we specifically mean in the way that references the longer vampires live, they get more mentally unstable. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to stay controlled in stressful situations. A vampire that’s batty can also be mercurial and difficult, even when nothing stressful is happening.” Virgil looked at Logan’s necklace instead of maintaining eye contact, since Logan’s eyes wandered away while she spoke. She sort of hoped this wouldn’t re-frame anything for Logan. She already told him she could be unstable sometimes, but sometimes presenting information differently could change opinions.

   “How did the usage start?” Logan’s eyes danced across the ceiling, and he pursed his lips mildly as he processed. Virgil was glad he took that information as coolly as everything else, and didn’t seem to be judging her for being a batty mess.

   “To be honest, I don’t know if it was because humans assumed we could all turn into bats, and we thought that was nonsense or if there was something else that happened,” Virgil shrugged, rubbing her thumb across Logan’s knuckles. There were a million possibilities for that one, with no way to answer. The Vampires she knew didn’t exactly track their history to figure out linguistic questions like that.

   “Does anything help the instability?” Logan squeezed Virgil’s hand and looked back down at her. It was good he didn’t get caught up on that, but there was some concern in his face all the same.

   “Feeding, mostly, and Remy said that blood from a Brood helps. It’s easier to focus on other things than hunting and other instincts if I’ve just had a drink. I started my tea habit because the hot water used to trick my brain a bit, actually. When I decided to stop feeding live—that means on people—I… uh…” Virgil trailed off. She probably didn’t need to detail that particular event. Logan leaned back and looked up at the ceiling again, seeming to mull it over.

   “So, metaphorically, drinking blood bolsters your proverbial humanity?” Logan asked, sounding unsure in his words. Thank Hecate he didn’t ask her to follow up on the story she bailed on telling. She hoped the questions were over soon. They seemed to be skirting some particularly uncomfortable territory. Though maybe it was just that much of her existence was uncomfortable from a human lens. Either way, she’d rather be kissing him than talking about wanting to eat him.

   “Ironically, yes,” Virgil laughed a little. She wasn’t sure if she ever thought of it like that.

   “One more follow-up question, and then I would like to kiss you if you’re still amenable,” Logan piped up after a pause with a pondering expression plastered on his face. “You mentioned compulsions and instincts before. What happens if you can’t ‘medicate’ them away with blood?” He always kept that even, inquisitive manner when talking about these things. Virgil absolutely adored that about him.

   “The instincts take over. Resisting the compulsions when they become too strong results in… well… I would burn through blood, panic, and lash out. Then the resulting thirst overrides all my senses, and I’ll go for the first blood source. Nothing good happens after that.” Virgil chewed her lip nervously. It wasn’t a great thing to have to admit, but when it came to the fact that there were times he needed to stay away from her, it was important to be honest.

   “If you are nearing an emergency situation, please let me know before it gets out of hand, then,” Logan stated firmly, with the most emphatic expression Virgil had ever seen on him.

   “That’s the plan, other than to get as far away from you and other humans as possible.” Virgil nodded in agreement, moving to wrap her arms around his neck to kiss him easier. Logan didn’t lean to kiss her, though. Did she kill the mood? Well, the subject wasn’t great in the first place. She couldn’t blame him for that.

   “I meant that you should alert me so that I may help if I am capable, but I appreciate your consideration of my safety,” Logan corrected Virgil with a small smile. She loved his smile, but she was really more taken aback by the suggestion of wanting to be anywhere near her when she couldn’t think straight.

   “Oh,” Virgil breathed, feeling a little confused. “Are you like Patton and have a vampire kink?” She asked incredulously.

   Logan paused, staring at Virgil’s mouth. “I’m sorry, but did you say Patton has a vampire kink?” Logan deadpanned, his eyes shooting to the bunk across the way.

   “Uh,” Virgil stalled. “I would like to apologize to both you and Patton for just blurting that out,” she whispered, blinking a few times. “Any chance that you’ll let me wipe your memory of that particular factoid?” Virgil asked awkwardly, examining Logan’s face for any discomfort.

   “No.” Logan shook his head, but he must have not been that bothered, since he leaned in to kiss Virgil, pulling her in tightly. Virgil sighed in relief as she melted into Logan’s lips.

[forabeatofadrum]

Guys, it is El WooWoo Wednesday and all the others. We know the drill by now. But you know what is big news? It’s February, aka Figuary! Thank you @artsyunderstudy​ for the tag on this fine Figuary day.

(Gonna plug my figure drawing Snowbaz AU The Naked Truth real quick!)

Yesterday I didn’t write anything new to make a fire out of this flame, but instead I spent an hour formatting it. The good thing about textfics is that I do not care for typos etc., but the bad part is the formatting. I should’ve taken the Little Numbers approach, but I also love the occasionally silly usernames.

I am actually a bit stuck on the ending, though. Like... I am so close to finishing it, I can practically taste it, if it were able to taste fics (this would be a fun ask game, as in, what would your fic taste like?)

Have some pining Baz:

I have some general writing thoughts under the tags and cut, so feel free to skip them, but first the weather, and by weather I mean the tags. I started Welcome to Night Vale yesterday after all the #cecilsweep hype, but I actually used this bad joke before.

ANYWAY. Tags! @quizasvivamos @blurglesmurfklaine @coffeegleek @esperantoauthor @otherworldsivelivedin @caramelcoffeeaddict @sillyunicorn @bazzybelle @dragoneggos @raenestee @tectonicduck @nightimedreamersworld @urban-sith @thnxforknowingme @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @takitalks @justgleekout @cerriddwenluna @tea-brigade @ivelovedhimthroughworse @moodandmist @whogaveyoupermission @bookish-bogwitch @confused-bi-queer @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @ionlydrinkhotwater @1908jmd @special-bc-ur-part-of-it @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen​ @cutestkilla ​ @nausikaaa​/@wellbelesbian​​ @facewithoutheart @boyinjeans​ @captain-aralias​ @martsonmars​

Basically I am thinking about how I want to approach writing this year. I like writing. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here yapping about writing, but I have talked plenty about what I have dubbed “my girlboss situation”, which is that I took on so many things last year that I was “girlbossing too close to the sun”, which I need to credit Christina’s fic Thirst Trapped for, which in turn has to credit TikTok. So I am already not doing potenial challenges like the Klaine CC Valentine’s challenge and the Carry On Big Bang, and I am very on the fence about the Klaine Roulette because I want to join but also... no... girlboss situation. But I do want to do something.

I know I have many WIPs and that I also want to finish them, but there is just so much to write and honestly, I don’t mind if it takes a while. That’s why I came up with the whole hospital thing.

So I guess I am doing smaller new things now? I knew I was fucked when I claimed not one, but two prompts at the AU Please! fest, but come on, one was “Dex has the superpower to turn into a lobster”. I might actually drop that one, because I have no idea what to write for it, so ideas are welcome. And the other is a prompt where Jack travels in time and meets his past/future self, and I picked that one in the hope to get me back into my own Zimbits time travel fic. Apart from AU Please! I will do some small things for that new Radio Silence challenge, because if there’s one thing that will break my restraint, it’s a small fandom. If someone takes the effort to make the possibly first challenge for a fandom, then I am 🥹. But I hope that all of these fics will be around 1k. There was, for example, another prompt in AU Please! that I absolutely love, but the story that I saw unraveling in my mind was a big one so *wink wink nudge nudge* if you are a Zimbits writer, please claim the role reversal one so that I can read it.

I don’t really have a point here. I said above the cut that it’s just some musings. It’s on my mind because my 3rd university semester happened and I had an existential crisis at 1:30AM, as you do, about my potential OFFLINE girlboss situation (2 commissions at my queer organisation, master thesis, Chinese classes, art organisation, sidejob, intensive university course... ya... I may have girlbossed too close to the sun here) and I had a moment of “what do I do with my limited free time I do not have time to write if I also want to read and paint and draw and game.”

Look, I know I just wrote a WIP for my SJAEU about how terrible it actually is for Luke to be awake 24/7, but also, he does have more time than I do!

But yeah. Just some musings from a 24 year old having a potential quarter to life crisis. Also, I only recently found out I’ve been misspelling potential for over a decade. I wrote potentional. No idea where the extra o and n came from.

[inkofamethyst]

September 21, 2023

Wednesdays, I think, are going to be the days that suck. Thursdays will also be tough. I start Wednesdays pretty early and have a lot to complete for Thursdays. I suppose Wednesdays will suck significantly less if I do a better job with spacing out my preparations. I should look into that. Thursdays this semester will always just require a lot of stamina.

Today (one of those dreaded Thursdays), I wanted to get another one of those synopses submitted, and I'd mostly finished it yesterday (with significantly less frustration) but didn't have a critique until midday today. I did end up submitting a synopsis that I was somewhat happy with. I took notes during today's discussion on some of the critiques and experimental methods suggested (I learned that the experiment I proposed in my synopsis is currently impossible lol) so I could use them when coming up with ideas for future synopses (I have to write six for this class). I also had a quiz today which I didn't study enough for (took for granted that I'd learned most of the content previously--will not be making that mistake again). I had a meeting with my PI late this afternoon, my first one since the semester began, it went well.

I still find that I'm settling in. Settling back into schoolwork (totally underestimated the difficulty of the quiz I took today (my first quiz in grad school (the part that sucks isn't going to be the grade or even knowing that I could've done better, but that my PI is the prof and there aren't tons of students in the class so I'm def not just a number and he could probably surmise that I didn't do my best on it (in our meeting today he asked what I thought of the quiz and I told him that I prob screwed up a bit and he was basically like "no worries that happens" ugh what a man)))), settling into my space (gotta admit, walls are still pretty barren (it's difficult for me to really think about putting things up because I'm fairly certain that I wouldn't like to live here next year (it's okay but that's really all it is, just okay, and I, naturally, have illusions of grandeur and high-roller living), but I also don't really vibe with the totally blank walls when I spent so much time thinking about my theme,,,, maybe I'll use this space as practice? idk)), settling into this city (still haven't gotten my library cards), settling into my role (gotta email my postdoc tomorrow). Settling, settling, settling, settling.

I met up with those three girls today for a free dinner at an event they were invited to. I'm glad I decided to go to that with them instead of going to the kickoff event for another club. I'm sure the kickoff would've been great and informative, but I'm really trying to put effort into community-building. We went to the nearby art museum for a free event to just kind of hang which was also nice. Might go out tomorrow night, too. Gotta rest up for that.

Currently binging Young Justice, started last Friday, it is very good. Extremely well-written. I watched the first season way way back when it came out originally with my dad, and it went off the air suddenly. It came back with a third season in 2019 which I didn't know about, then a fourth in 2021 which I also didn't know about. There's a very clear shift from the TV-Y7 rating in the first two seasons to the TV-14 rating immediately in S3E1 which was very interesting. I'm hooked for sure, it's a good time. Action-Adventure + Science-Fantasy is totally my favorite entertainment genre. I hope S3 can adequately follow how well S1 and S2 were plotted.

Today I'm thankful for my PI, he's great, he seems like he really does care. I'm also thankful for the free tote bag I got at the art museum tonight. I didn't need another tote. What I want is a tee shirt, honestly. But alas.

One actual negative thing: discovered that my favorite jeans of all time (Hollister High Rise Crop Boyfriend (vintage stretch)) which I purchased four years ago and loved immediately out of the package are developing a hole in the crotch. I've never mended jeans at the crotch before, but I must try to save my baby (perfect relaxed fit at the natural waist, perfect length, perfect button closure, perfect neutral light wash, perfectly big pockets in the front and back, perfectly soft fabric). I love these jeans so much that I haven't bought a single additional pair since. Taking a trip to a fabric store sometime soon to gather my arsenal.

Today was a (net) good day, despite the little annoyances. A long one, but a good one.