#and at our first meeting instead of subjecting us to the awkwardness of introducing ourselves one by one

[seaofreverie]

We should normalize bringing these sort of "small talk ideas" cards to meetings with other people so that it's possible to avoid the awkwardness of not knowing what to talk about to kick things off or if it's considered normal to talk about this specific thing and AUGHGHFCG all this stuff.

[fanmoose12]

"Soo," Hange wrapped her arm around her brother Mike, sitting down next to him. "What is awaiting for us this fine evening? What kind of guests do you smell?"

Mike grinned at her, before closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale, his nostrils flaring with the movement.

"I smell..." he did another inhale. "I smell a bunch of rich men, who aren't nearly as rich as they think."

"Typical for such balls," Hange huffed. "What else do you smell?"

"A dozen of girls, who are desperate to find a rich husband."

"What else?"

"A couple of men and women, who genuinely came here to find themselves a true love."

Hange snickered. "…What else?"

“I smell… I smell someone utterly gorgeous. Tall, blond, with one hell of a jawline and a pair of the bluest eyes I've ever seen."

Hange looked up at her brother, his description was way too accurate, even Mike's nose wasn't that sharp. And sure, his eyes weren’t closed anymore and instead focused on the center of the room, where stood a man, who fitted Mike's description perfectly. He was incredibly handsome, there was no denying that, but Hange was more curious about his short, black-haired companion.

She nudged Mike in his side. "What about his friend?"

Mike spared him no more than a single look. "He's arrogant, selfish little man."

"Mm," Hange cocked her head to the side. Mike certainly seemed to be right. The man was scowling so fiercely at every one, who dared to approach him, that Hange began to wonder why did he bother to attend the ball in the first place. She continued to watch him, her sharp eyes boring into him, when suddenly he turned around.

Their eyes met.

Hange's heart skipped a beat. She felt a blush spread across her cheeks. She raised a hand, giving him a little wave. The man narrowed his eyes, his gaze emanating even more annoyance than his face. He plucked his lips in disgust, as he noticed that Hange was wearing a man’s clothes, instead of a dress.

She hastily looked away. If he looked at her for a second longer, she was sure her heart would jump out of her chest.

"Let's go and introduce ourselves," Mike said, getting to his feet.

Hange pulled him back. "Sit down," she hissed. "Moblit is going to be here soon. He'll tell us about those mysterious newcomers, I'm sure."

"Mysterious?" Mike grinned. "So they've managed to grip your interest too?"

"I'm not nearly as interested in them as you seem to be," Hange retorted. "But I haven't seen them around here, and that's certainly... intriguing."

Oh, that man was intriguing alright. But Hange wasn't ready to come face to face with him just yet.

Thankfully, a couple of minutes later, Moblit did enter the huge ballroom. Hange waved at him with a smile, beckoning her friend to come closer.

“We’ve been waiting for you!” she exclaimed, dragging him down to sit next to her. As soon as he did so, Hange wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She sighed in content. Sitting between Mike and Moblit, two men she cared about most in the world, she felt warm and safe. “So!” she clasped her hands. “Tell us all the juicy gossip!”

Moblit chuckled, scratching his neck. “I don’t really know anything worth your interest…”

“C’mon!” Hange urged. “You always know that kind of stuff. So spill it out!”

“Well, Rico Brzenska just returned from her trip to Scotland….”

“Oooh, little adorable Rico?” Hange gave her brother a mischievous look. “You remember her, don’t you, Mike? Remember, when you’ve danced with her during last year’s ball and you stepped on her f—”

“Don’t remind me,” Mike shuddered. “I thought that glare of hers would kill me.”

Hange laughed, throwing her head back. Mike rolled his eyes, playfully smacking her arm.

“I don’t wish to hear about Rico or others boring neighbors,” he said to Moblit. “Better tell us about them,” he pointed at the two mysterious men from before. “Do you know anything about them? Especially the handsome blonde?”

“The angry shorty, too!” Hange added, pointedly ignoring a curious look from Mike.

“Oh, that’s Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman. I’ve heard that Mr. Smith recently rented Netherfield and Mr. Ackerman came to visit him.”

“Netherfield?” Mike’s eyebrows shot up. “So he’s rich.”

“He is,” Moblit nodded. “And Mr. Ackerman is even richer.”

“That shorty is wealthy?” Hange gasped.

“He may be short,” Moblit agreed. “But the pile of riches he owns is most definitely not.”

Hange whistled lowly, glancing at Mr. Ackerman again. He was still standing next to Mr. Smith, who was talking to some young lady. His stiff posture spoke volumes about his awkwardness. Hange snickered in her sleeve.

“Alright, we’ve heard enough,” Mike announced, grabbing Hange by the hand. “Let’s go and introduce ourselves.”

Whatever protest Hange had was promptly ignored, as her brother started to pull her upwards. Before he dragged her away, though, she reached out and swiftly ruffled Moblit’s hair, promising to get to him later.

 ***

When they came to stand in front of Mr. Ackerman and Mr. Smith, Hange had to admit – up close, Mr. Smith was even more handsome. His blue eyes shined even more brightly and his soft smile would have made even a gal like Hange swoon.

If she managed to look away, of course, from his short companion.

Standing so close to her, Mr. Ackerman looked much more annoyed. However, Hange couldn’t help but notice that he too wasn’t that bad looking. One could even call him handsome, if he would stop scowling so much.

“G-good evening, sirs!” Mike exclaimed way too loudly.

Hange gave her brother a critical look. And as she did so, she barely managed to conceive her laughter. She had never seen Mike so nervous – the poor man was sweating and blushing at the same time! As a good and caring sister, Hange had to step in and save at least some of his dignity.

“We’ve heard you’re our new neighbors!” she smiled brightly. Mr. Smith smiled back. Mr. Ackerman did not. “I’m Hange Zoe and this is my brother, Mike,” she pointed at him and her eyes didn’t miss the way Mr. Smith’s smile widened ever so slightly, as he gazed at Mike.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Mr. Smith took Hange’s palm in his to plant a small kiss there. Then, he grabbed Mike’s large hand and gave it a firm handshake, that lasted only a little too long. “My name is Erwin Smith and this is my friend, Levi Ackerman.”

Mr. Ackerman said nothing for a long moment. Hange started to feel a little awkward, and she was definitely not alone in this, as Mr. Smith discreetly elbowed Mr. Ackerman in the side, mumbling something that sounded a lot like ‘For the love of god, be nice”.

“Why aren’t you wearing a dress?” he asked finally, regarding Hange with cold gaze.

“Oh my, please, forgive him—” Mr. Smith hastily tried to apologize, simultaneously giving Mr. Ackerman a disappointing look.

“I take no offence,” Hange waved him off. “I get that question a lot, actually, and the answer, I’m afraid, is fairly simple – I don’t like them.”

“But everyone else wears them,” Mr. Ackerman crossed hands on his chest.

“I’m not everyone else,” Hange noted with a grin.

Mr. Ackerman didn’t seem satisfied with her answer, as he rolled his eyes, huffing in annoyance.

“I’m afraid, Levi isn’t a very sociable person,” Mr. Smith said with a tight smile. “It’s just a flaw of his character, do not take it personally.”

“You’re staying at Netherfield, right?” Hange swiftly changed the topic. “I’ve heard that it has one of the most extensive libraries in our country.”

“It’s true,” Mr. Smith nodded with a smile that told Hange just how much he was grateful for a change of subject. “The library is simply gorgeous, I honestly can’t stay away from it.”

“Ah, I envy you,” Hange sighed dreamily.

“Hange enjoys reading,” Mike joined the conversation. He didn’t sound as awkward as before. Hange reached to his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “You can’t imagine how hard it is to drag her away from her books.”

“That’s a feeling I’m most familiar with,” Mr. Smith chuckled. “And if you share my passion for knowledge, please feel free to visit my library whenever you wish. Of course,” he looked at Mike. “My invitation extends to you as well.”

“You’re very kind,” Mike answered, his voice sounding higher than usual. Hange hid her grin. Gosh, her brother had it bad.

“Would you like to dance?” Mr. Smith asked, extending his hand to Mike.

“With a pleasure,” he agreed, taking Mr. Smith’s arm in his and leading him to join the crowd of dancers.

And also leaving Hange alone with Mr. Ackerman. He was still staring at her, his glare not lessening.

“So,” she began, feeling more than a little awkward. “Do you dance, Mr. Ackerman?”

“Not if I can help it,” he answered curtly.

Oh Jesus, Hange thought. He really wasn’t going to make it easier for her. For the first time in her life, Hange didn’t know what to retort. She looked around the ballroom, trying to find Moblit’s face in the mass of dancing guests. As soon as she spotted him, she hurried to join his side, feeling immensely relieved that he didn’t find some pretty girl to dance with. Hange was lucky that Nifa was on her trip in London and couldn’t attend the ball. It would be hard to converse with Moblit, if she was there.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” he asked, as Hange approached him.

“I just don’t feel like it,” she said, taking him by the hand and leading Moblit into a more secluded area.

 ***

They were sitting behind the benches, talking about nothing, when Hange saw Mr. Smith and Mr. Ackerman walking side by side.

Against her better judgment, she strained her ears, listening intently.

“It’s a beautiful evening, is it not, Levi?” Mr. Smith asked with a dreamy smile.

“It is not,” came Mr. Ackerman’s reply.

“Ah, Mike is really handsome, is he not?” Mr. Smith continued, evidently used to his friend’s attitude.

“If you say so.”

“His sister is very pretty, as well. You should have asked her to a dance.”

“Pretty?” Mr. Ackerman huffed. “She is barely tolerable. And not handsome enough to tempt me.”

Hange felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment. She knew she wasn’t the fairest of the fair and she was more than okay with it her whole life. But for some reason, those words struck some cord inside her.

“Don’t listen to him,” Moblit whispered, squeezing her hand in his. “And count your blessings. If he liked you, you’d have to look at his sour face for the whole evening.”

“Just the thought of it terrifies me!” Hange chuckled, smiling gratefully at Moblit. “I wouldn’t have danced with him, even if he was richer than a king himself!”

After that little accident, Hange and Moblit returned to the ball. They danced and laughed with other guests. Hange was enjoying herself immensely.

However, every time she stopped and looked around, she saw that Mr. Ackerman’s cold eyes were following her every move. She was always quick to look away. His intense and yet unreadable gaze unnerved and confused her.

 ***

“Your dancing skills are very impressive,” Mr. Smith told Mike after their second dance had ended.

“Thank you,” Mike mumbled, hiding his burning face behind his hair.

“If you think his dancing is impressive,” Hange cut in, always ready to tease her dear brother. “Then you should have read his poetry. That is most certainly impressive.”

“Hange,” Mike whispered lowly, both as a warning and a plea.

“You write poetry?” Mr. Smith asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“It happened only once—”

“When we were younger,” Hange grinned crookedly, cutting Mike off. “There was this girl Mike fancied. She seemed to fancy him back, and so he decided to write her a poem, as a way of confessing his feelings.”

“Did it work?”

“Oh, it worked just fine,” Hange couldn’t keep in her giggles. “Mike’s poem was so good, that girl never spoke to him again. I’m afraid that my brother once again proved the power of poetry in driving away love.”

“I thought the poetry is the tool that strengthened one’s love, not destroyed it,” Mr. Ackerman intervened. The bored expression on his face didn’t disappear, yet his eyes looked into Hange’s with utmost graveness.

“If we are talking about powerful, lasting feeling, then you are most certainly right, Mr. Ackerman,” Hange answered, her glasses glittering in a bright candlelight. “But if it is just a poor inclination, then a bad sonnet will most certainly eliminate any affection.”

“And what do you suggest to encourage affection?” He made a face at the last word, showing Hange just how uncomfortable he was with personal feelings. This new knowledge didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

Hange’s grin turned into a smug smirk, as she looked Mr. Ackerman up and down. “Dancing. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.”

The way Mr. Ackerman’s eyes slightly widened because of her words was the best thing that happened to Hange this evening. She turned around, feeling giddy and cheerful.

‘Take that, annoying shorty,’ she thought, as she made her way through the crowd.

[xbeautifulunseenx]

The NYADA Vegans Club

Summary: A cute guy catches Blaine’s eye and draws him to a meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club. Except Blaine is very, definitely not a vegan.

Read on AO3

"This meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club is now in session!"

Blaine jumped as the sound of a gavel hitting wood cracked through the air. The NYADA Vegans Club? Had he heard that right?

When he had followed that hot freshman guy into the room, he'd hoped it would be a meeting for something much more in line with his interests. He couldn't honestly sit through a meeting of a club that actively promoted not eating cheese for a guy he knew nothing about. Could he?

"I see many new faces this year, so let's go around and introduce ourselves. I'm Jay, the president of the NYADA Vegans. I've been a vegan for six years. And you?" Jay gestured to where Blaine stood half in and half out the doorway. "Will you be joining us?"

Blaine saw the hot guy give a small laugh at his expense as he tried to decide whether he was coming or going.

Coming, he decided upon making eye contact with his new crush.

"I'm Blaine and being vegan is something I've dedicated my life to."

He didn't know where the lie came from, but there was no taking it back once it was out. He watched as the guy's friend —a cute, small, brunette — poked his arm and made no secret of winking pointedly in Blaine's direction.

Introductions continued around the room until Blaine learned that the hot guy was named Kurt, a baby vegan of just 6 months, and his friend was named Rachel, a fellow lifelong vegan.

Blaine hadn't given much consideration to what might happen at a vegan club meeting, so he couldn't say he was surprised when anti-animal product PSAs began playing on a large screen in the room. Shortly after the videos ended, they were instructed to break, and when the meeting resumed, they would be writing letters to local restaurants encouraging the use of more vegan products.

With the excuse of wanting to stretch his legs, Blaine walked over to where Kurt and Rachel were helping themselves to cups of almond milk and dairy-free cookies.

"There he is!" he heard Rachel whisper loudly to Kurt. "Say hi!"

"Oh my god, Rachel, way to be discreet. Hi," Kurt said, extending his hand toward Blaine. "I'm Kurt, and this is Rachel, who has yet to master the art of subtlety."

Kurt's hand felt warm and perfect in his. "Blaine."

"We remember. The lifelong vegan. Impressive."

"Yeah," Blaine said, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the lie. "Thanks. So are you two freshmen? I think I recognize you from orientation."

"Oh phew," Kurt pretended to wipe his brow. "I thought I recognized you from orientation, too, but I didn't want to be the first creep to admit it."

Blaine blushed and looked at his feet, trying to figure out how to run from the room and never see Kurt again without looking like too much of a loser.

"Relax, Blaine." Kurt laughed and put a reassuring hand on his bare forearm. "I was kidding."

"Oh thank god, I thought I was going to have to switch schools."

They all laughed at Blaine's dramatics and continued on with a light conversation. Blaine was thrilled to notice that Kurt's eyes lingered on him as they spoke, and that he laughed the loudest at Blaine's jokes.

They chatted through the letter writing activity and stayed long past the end of the meeting, discussing their histories with show choir and their favorite musicals and what their upcoming college career could hold in store.

When they finally parted to go home to apartments on opposite sides of the city, Blaine couldn't deny that following Kurt into that meeting was the best dumb choice he'd ever made.

Blaine went back for the next meeting, and then the next. The subject matter may have been less than stimulating, but the scenery was gorgeous and the conversation wasn't bad either. He and Kurt were having a great time getting to know each other, but neither came right out and flirted openly or made plans outside of Vegan Club. Instead, they sent each other looks with dopey smiles on their faces when they thought nobody was paying attention, and blushed bashfully when they were caught.

When it became clear that neither of them would be making any moves, Rachel took it upon herself to intervene. She invited Blaine over for a five course vegan meal at her and Kurt's loft, and he accepted immediately.

While Blaine saw the merits of vegan products, and had even thoroughly enjoyed some of the snacks offered at Vegan Club, he couldn't say he was looking forward to an entirely vegan meal. But he was one to try anything, and since Kurt — who somehow got more attractive every time they saw each other — was involved, he would definitely be trying Rachel's feast.

"Blaine's here!" he heard Rachel yell from the other side of the door. He tightened his already too-tight grasp on the wine he'd had his roommate buy for him and waited for someone to answer his knock.

The heavy door slid open, and Blaine couldn't decide if he should stare at Kurt or the apartment. Kurt, as usual, won out.

"You look amazing," he said as he pulled a surprised, but flattered, Kurt into a hug.

"Thank you, so do you."

"Your apartment is incredible," Blaine gushed, looking around. "It's giving me chic RENT vibes."

"Kurt decorated most of it," Rachel told him from her spot by the stove. She lifted the spoon she was holding. "Broccoli vegan cheddar soup! Are you ready to eat?"

It turned out that vegan cheddar was not exactly Blaine's preferred cheese. And that meatless meatloaf wasn't his preferred entrée. There was a little hope for the vegan strawberry cheesecake. At least, it looked mouthwatering.

"Kurt made this one," Rachel announced as she set the plates in front of them. "He worked on it all last night, so I'm sure it will be wonderful."

Blaine took a bite and closed his eyes with the overwhelming deliciousness of the cake.

"Wow, Kurt, I've never had a vegan dessert so good. You've got to share the recipe with me!"

Kurt shook his head. "Sorry, secret family recipe."

"Oh well, guess you'll just have to keep making it for me, then," Blaine teased. He stood and headed to the kitchen. "Shall I get the new bottle of wine from the fridge?"

"No!" Kurt said, a little too loudly, pushing back from the table and beating Blaine to the fridge, standing in front of it. "You're our guest. Please sit and I'll get it."

Blaine returned to the table to find Rachel trying her best to hide a laugh, but he didn't ask.

After the dessert plates were cleared, they settled on the couch to watch a movie. At first, Blaine had thought Rachel was acting as Kurt's wingman by asking him to their apartment for dinner and a movie, and that she'd do the classic "I'm going to bed" and slip away to leave the two men alone, but she never did. She stayed the entire movie, curled up on the other side of Kurt. Blaine rested his hand on the couch next to him, inching his way toward where Kurt's hand lay, brushing their fingers together every so often and sending a jolt of excitement though his arm. He wanted to chance putting an arm around Kurt, but with Rachel so close, it would have been awkward.

By the time he hugged the two roommates goodnight and left, Blaine knew he couldn't waste any more time. He was going to ask Kurt out.

———

After enduring another excruciatingly boring Vegan Club meeting, Blaine finally asked Kurt on a date. His heart soared when Kurt said yes without hesitation.

That Saturday evening, Blaine and Kurt met in front of the student center on campus. After overtly admiring each other for a few seconds, Kurt spoke up.

"I'm really glad you had the balls to ask me out. I put on a good show of confidence, but when it comes to boys, that's all it is — a show. If you hadn't asked, we'd probably still be staring at each other all cutesy and pretending we only like each other as friends two years down the road."

"I'm glad too, then. I'm not afraid to make big moves. They almost always backfire on me somehow, but…" he shrugged. "Can't win if you never play the game!"

Kurt gave a laugh-snort. "You're like a walking motivational poster."

"Kurt," Blaine said, looking at him seriously. "You've gotta risk it to get the biscuit."

Their laughter carried them all the way to the restaurant, a small bistro tucked away from most of the nearby foot traffic.

Cozied up in the round, plush booth where they were directed, the waiter interrupted their conversation to take their order.

"I'll have the house salad with balsamic vinaigrette and a cup of the vegan minestrone soup, please," Blaine said, longing for something more substantial, but selecting the only vegan options on the menu.

Kurt gave him a weird look, then ordered for himself. "I would like the filet mignon."

Blaine's smile faltered. "What? Kurt! Are you falling off the wagon?"

"I need to tell you something." Kurt turned to Blaine, their waiter temporarily forgotten. "I am not now, nor have I ever been, vegan. I was only at Vegan Club that night because I promised Rachel I would go with her to the first meeting. Then I couldn't stop going because of...well, you."

Kurt's face looked terrified, like he was worried Blaine might up and leave the date due to his confession. Instead, Blaine laughed.

"Oh, thank god!"

"What?" Kurt seemed confused yet relieved.

"I've never been vegan a day in my life either. I'd noticed you from day one of orientation and I thought you were the cutest guy I'd ever seen. So I followed you into Vegan Club without knowing it was Vegan Club, because I thought you'd be more likely to go out with me if we shared interests."

"Oh my god. You can't be serious." Kurt was wheeze-laughing so hard he collapsed into Blaine's chest. Blaine put his arms around Kurt and pulled him closer before remembering the waiter who was slowly backing away from their table with an amused expression.

"Wait!" Blaine called. "I'd like to change my order to the six cheese pizza, if that's okay."

That only made Kurt lose it even further. "I can't believe this." He settled down enough that he straightened out and looked into Blaine's eyes. "You're perfect."

"You're perfect," Blaine responded.

"And we're perfect together," they sang the Wicked line at the same time.

The magic of the moment led them into a tender first kiss that knocked them sideways until Blaine pulled back just enough to whisper, "That amazing cheesecake you made last week wasn't really vegan, was it?"

[the-mandalorian-clone-lover]

Aces in Space Chapter 5

Happy Ace Week Y’all!!!!!!! 

Ok I am so Excited for this part (I hadn’t planned for it to be during ace week but it actually works perfect!)

Roman is finally getting to go to the support group he told Butch about! I put a reminder of what Butch looks like because I’m also introducing a new character, Hannah, her reference photo is below (one of my real-life model friends, she’s cool:) as well.  Tags: @sunshinepascal​ @rentskenobi​ @maybege​ @obaby-wan​ @princessxkenobi​

I’m going outside to muck about with my lightsaber again, I’ll add the links to the previous chapters tonight :D Enjoy and thanks for reading!!!

Warning for excessive cuteness y’all this gets adorable 

 (Roman at the support group at the local library, brought Butcher along, 2 months dating)

Roman is absolutely certain it’s been years since he sat in the passenger seat. Thankfully, it isn’t Butch’s first time in years driving or he’d be thrilled to get out of the car. As it stands, they’ve been sitting in the parking lot of the local community center (its adjoined to the library) for three minutes and neither of them have moved. It won’t make them late, they got here 26 minutes early out of a panic induced need to be over-prepared, but it doesn’t make the silence any less awkward. Butch had insisted they would look even more out of place in the suits they’re both used to wearing so they’ve somehow ended up in jeans (again) and t-shirts (Butch added a flannel but Roman is convinced it’s to hide his side-arm and not to ward off any chill, the rolling of the sleeves further cements this thought). Roman settled for a band t-shirt that Erica had bought him though he’s never heard their music, and he has a leather jacket but he’s somehow convinced it’ll look like he’s trying too hard if he puts it on.

“It’ll be cold in there boss. Always is” Butch says helpfully, as if he knew the struggle of the other man, though his eyes haven’t left the window since they arrived.

“Yes. Well.” Roman starts, unsure where exactly this sentence is going “I’m, glad, you came along.”

Butch huffs out a laugh, “Well, Ms. Erica is a good one, so if you coming around here helps keep her around, I’ll be along as long as you want me” He finishes smiling at Roman and Roman is certain that he’ll never find anyone as good as Butch as long as he lives, no matter the standard of measure.

“We better get in there.” Butch speaks again helpfully.

“No, no,” Roman starts “best wait till 45, any sooner we might be the first one’s here, and I’d like to avoid that.” Butch shrugs again, conceding the point. He supposes they’ll be facing this either way, sooner or later.

When they do make it in, Roman walks to the desk with every intention of finding out from the librarian where he should be. He’s put on his business air, he can feel it, and it’s a nice change from the panic of the parking lot. He starts in a low tone to avoid startling her “Ma’am?”

Her eyes shoot up and then to his right where no doubt butch is looming, she swallows, then smiles and looks back to Roman. “Yes? Can I help you?”

Choosing to ignore the obvious glance that was directed to Butch (he has every intention of inquiring further into that during the car ride home) he pushes on. “Could you tell us where to find the, well, the support group for Asexuals?” He has to take a breath in-between but decides to be brave about it, using the full title instead of ‘aces’ reminding himself that this is for Erica. Her eyes widen slightly, then flit between the two of them and Roman realizes in a moment how they must look and decides there isn’t anything for it other than to grin and bear it.

“Oh,” she starts, and sounds, almost disappointed? “Yes, down the hall and the room on the right. They should be starting soon.” She indicates with a (rather long) manicured fingernail.

He nods then, giving her a small smile, and starts down the hallway, only getting a few steps in before realizing Butch isn’t following and he hears a small “what’s your name?” from the large man as he turns. The sight shouldn’t be shocking, Butch is a grown man after all, and fully allowed to find people that interest him but he’s become so soft in the moment; leaning over the desk to look deeply into the eyes of the librarian who is now looking short of breath.

“Hannah.” She manages to gasp out and Butch smiles kindly, “I’m Butcher, but I go by Butch pretty often”. He seems to have gotten nervous halfway through and is looking at his feet, but she’s smiling and reaching to cover his laced fingers that are on the desk. “That’s lovely” She says, smiling like Butch was a bouquet of flowers. Butch looks up, slightly shocked, looking at their hands (his dwarf her own to a ridiculous extent Roman notes) before looking back up to her eyes.

“Not as much as you are”

It’s the final nail in the coffin before they both start giggling and Roman is absolutely certain he’s never seen anything so adorable (even as he goes to a support group in order to better understand his girlfriend). Butch stops laughing before she does, pausing to appreciate her (Roman knows that’s what the look on his face is, he looks at Erica like that all the time now himself) before he watches Butch tell her he better get on now. Roman has the decency to act as though he were extremely interested in the shelves to his left- away from them- before he’s rejoined by a Butch who has the softest grin he’s ever seen on his face. As they walk down the hall Roman decides to leave the whole thing till they’re in the car again, if the dopey smile is anything to go by, he won’t be getting much from Butch anyway. He takes a deep breath at the reminder of what they’re both walking into, ignoring the urge to feel ridiculous, and brings out his phone to open the notes app before sliding it into his pocket again. They walk through the door, Butch first, he’d insisted on the drive over that he was still Roman’s bodyguard and would act as such, and find a group of about 15 milling around the room quietly, cake and bottles of water sitting on a table on the far end of the room. Beyond that (and Roman has to suppress the urge to sigh audibly) is a circle of chairs. They’re approached by a smaller blond boy, who greets them with an energy filled “Hello! Are you here for the support group for aces?” he pushes the large rimmed black glasses he wears further up his face as he looks between them and Roman exchanges a glance with Butch before answering

“Yes, is um, is there a protocol to this?”

He blames his nerves for the formality of his response, but the boy seems too thrilled with his presence to be bothered.

“Not at all! We all grab a snack, because cake am I right? And then head to the circle, though, to be honest, most of us couldn’t sit in a chair to save our life.”

Despite his confusion at what he’s sure is a joke the boy is assuming he’s in on, he nods. “We’ll just, help ourselves then.”

The boy nods back at him before freezing and exclaiming “Oh God! I forgot!” his hand shoots out and Roman knows Butcher is already having a conniption at the outburst before the boy finishes “I’m Tom! Jenny says it’s important to tell people my name when I meet them”. His eyes flit behind him as he mentions the other name and a similar looking woman, an older sibling maybe, Roman thinks, smiles affectionately. Roman nods to her then, before bringing his eyes back to the boy, shaking his hand with a “I’m Roman, and this is Butch”. He doesn’t think he needs to add more but the boy’s brow seems to furrow as he shakes Butch’s hand.

“Do, um, are you both Ace?” It’s a timid question but Roman can tell the boy means well, he can also however see the woman, Jenny his mind supplies, making her way over to them quickly.

“I’m so sorry” she says, barely reaching them before apologizing “Tom hasn’t quite learned yet that not everyone wants to say” her hands find the boys shoulders and he turns with a protest “Jenny! I’m almost 22! I’m not a child!”

“Have you said hello to Marie yet?” She changes the subject “I think she brough cookies today”

Almost immediately the boy lights up and is off to explore the new person. Jenny’s eyes go back to Roman, “I’m sorry, he’s on the autism spectrum, I’m still working with him about filters”.

It’s Butch that cuts in this time “It’s alright, I had a sister who was too, I’ll keep him company”. He walks to the snack table then, leaving a stunned Roman alone with Jenny. As long as he’s known Butcher, he never knew he had a sister, let alone one on the spectrum. He makes a mental note to ask Butcher about that on the car ride too. He turns back to Jenny then and manages a smile.

“I’m uh, well, neither one of us is ace” he sees tension begin to fill her body at that so he rushes on “but my girlfriend is and, I want to better understand the whole thing. Butch is here for moral support.” He jerks his head to indicate the other man in case she hadn’t heard the name and hopes for the best. She does seem to relax at that, eyeing him gently “That’s sweet. Of both of you.” It’s said kindly, and somehow, Roman is already feeling more comfortable about this.

He stays a little longer after they finish to ‘confirm next week with jenny’ give Butch time to get a phone number from his librarian and tells Butch he’ll meet him at the car.

**********************************

Chapter 4 Chapter 3 Chapter 2 Chapter 1

[killingmebtob]

Seven Thursdays // Im Hyunsik

Author: @killingmebtob // Fiq

Title: Seven Thursdays

Characters: Im Hyunsik x Reader

Summary: Seven Thursdays, Seven Coincidences

Author’s Note: Part 2 of Seven Thursdays.

Thursday, 19 October 2017

Perhaps my continued fascination with the park is that it is a good place to observe humanity’s interesting antics. It is one of the few moments where their uninhibited emotions are clear on their faces as they enjoy themselves.

“Maybe I can use that little boy for a character model,” I mumble to myself while scribbling in my notebook.

Satisfied with what I had written, I look up only to see Mr. Stranger approaching my vicinity. He is certainly a good model, my thoughts creep up before I dismiss them.

“Hello again,” he greets as he stands before the bench.

“Hey, and no this seat isn’t taken,” I respond while moving my things away to make room for him. I close my notebook and place it by my side.

Chuckling, he takes off his bag before sitting carefully at his usual space.

“I’ve come prepared today,” I remark, indicating to the hand warmer on my lap.

He gives a small laugh in his low voice and I grin along with him. There is really something about this stranger that lights up the atmosphere around him. He leans back and breathes in deeply as if he is soaking up the atmosphere around him.

“You’re not reading today?” he suddenly asks, breaking the momentary silence.

“Yeah, not today. I’m collecting materials instead.”

“Materials?” His eyes narrow, confused about the term.

I grin while gesturing to the people around us.

“Yeah, materials. Everyone here is a potential subject.”

He nods, finally understanding what I am referring to. He crosses his arms behind his head as he observes his surroundings.

“You’re a writer.”

It is not a question and I just incline my head in return. With a heavy sigh, he tilts his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes. I glance at his calm face, a question lingering at the tip of my tongue.

“Are you a writer too?” I blurt.

With his eyes still close, he smirks and mumbles, “Somewhat, I guess.”

All of a sudden, his phone rings. He sits up, excuses himself as he leaves to take the call. I take the moment to register our conversation, rolling my eyes at his last cryptic response. He comes back soon, an apologetic look on his face.

“I have to go now,” he starts as he takes the bag that he had left on the bench.

I nod in response as I wave him off. As he adjusts the bag on his shoulders, he appears to remember something and starts to dig in his coat pocket. He takes a pair of gloves out before turning to me.

“See you around,” he says clearly as he offers the gloves to me. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

I accept them hesitantly, confusion and questions clear on my face.

“Don’t catch a cold. Thursdays will be boring without you,” he answers, grinning with a mischievous glint in his eyes before walking away.

Leaving me sitting on the bench holding the pair of gloves in my hand and a million questions running through my head.

It takes three Thursdays to talk.

 Thursday, 26 October 2017

On Thursday, I find myself staring at a familiar handsome stranger writing on the bench. This marks our fourth meeting and I still don’t know anything about him, I think dryly. As if he senses my approach, he looks up from his work and his face break into the warmest of smiles as he notices me. He shifts his bag to make space. Wordlessly, I walk up and take my place next to him. Somehow, this is beginning to feel like a routine.

“Thanks for the gloves last week,” I start as I hand them to him.

“No worries, I’m glad you look well,” he responds before returning back to his writing.

Despite it being our fourth meeting, there is something comfortable about meeting him here to the extent that I have started to look forward to Thursdays. A calm silence settles between us as we each turn to our own individual task. Once in a while, I steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye. He does not write much but he plays with his pen a lot by tapping it against the armrest in a constant rhythm. Sometimes he murmurs under his breath and gets ready to write, only to shake his head and continues tapping. I smile to myself, acknowledging that I do enjoy this weird company that we share.

“So, I tried to look you up…” he remarks all of a sudden, pulling me away from my reverie.

I frown at his revelation as I try to recall the instance that we introduce ourselves.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” I counter.

He laughs softly as he points to the notebook on my lap. On the notebook, my name is spelled out clearly in cursive, a grim reminder of that one attempt where I had considered calligraphy as a job switch.

“That’s a little sneaky and creepy actually,” I respond.

Like a defense mechanism, I turn the notebook face down. He laughs louder now and apologises.

“I wanted to ask you last week, but work pulled me away. I’m sorry,” he says, the ghost of a grin flittered across his face.

I tried to maintain my frown but I crack a smile at his embarrassed expression.

“Good thing I’m in a good mood today,” I smirk, turning away from him to focus on the people before me.

“Oh, why so?”

Someone is chatty today. I keep my notebook in my bag before replying to his question.

“My editor gave me the green light to start on a new novel.”

His smile widens as he offers his hand to me. “Congratulations! So what is it going to be about? Another thriller?”

“Nope, I choose to experiment on melodrama instead, with a mix of science fiction,” I reply, secretly amazed that he knows my recent works, even if it had been an online name search.

He considers my response, nodding as if in agreement with my choice of direction.

“So who and what are you? You already know who I am and I think your introduction is way overdue,” I ask, turning to face him fully.

He turns as well, placing his arm on the headrest, a serious look on his face as he contemplates my question.

“Well, I’m a composer and lyricist. But I’m not as big as you.”

I raise an eyebrow at the obvious downplay of his abilities.

“So what have you composed?” I ask, a weak attempt at making him reveal himself.

“Few things here and there,” he replies in a tone that implies he does not want to continue.

Shrugging, I look away from him. Secretive fellow.

Silence blankets us for a moment as I catch a scene in front of me. With a burst of inspiration, I am about to take my notebook when he interrupts me.

“You’re not curious about my name?”

I cock my head at the question, my eyes glued to the family that I picked out.

“I’m just assuming you don’t want me to know,” I state, ignoring his chuckle at that answer.

“So what are you writing now?”

“Hmm… character profiles. The park is a good resource for that,” I answer distractedly as I fix my gaze on the way a mother picks her child up after falling.

“So am I a part of that resource too?”

Pause.

I stop writing, my hand lingering in the air as I consider the implication behind his question. Deciding not to think too much about it, I turn to him to meet his eye and shrug.

“Maybe.”

A moment of uncomfortable silence stretches between us as we both hold each other’s gaze. I remain transfixed, not daring myself to look away from him. At the same time, there is a weird and indescribable look on his face, as if he is holding back from saying something. Fortunately, his alarm beeps and shatters the awkwardness that had settled between us. He looks away first and reaches for his phone. Sighing, he keeps his phone away and starts gathering his things.

“See you,” I say weakly, still uneasy with what had transpired. He nods in reply and turns to walk away. However, he stops and faces me.

“I’m Im Hyunsik by the way, to answer your other question.”

It takes four Thursdays to get to know one another.

[blanchemonjuvent-blog]

Week 18

Monday, February 20th 2017

We started our new week of rehearsals with the very beginning of our performance. After reviewing our Bollywood steps, we needed to decide how we would introduce ourselves/the performance: 9 would thus introduce us all, as 10 and I didn’t want to speak until our first monologues (Mine for example is the Disney singing part, which introduces quite well the persona I will undertake through the whole performance). Still 9 wasn’t very sure about this opening. Nevertheless, she introduced us briefly and then talked about a very embarrassing moment in her life when she genuinely crashed the car of her crush whilst she was trying to impress him. Then we moved to my first section (transition needs to be improved): I’m sitting on the sofa, during a party (no sound in the theatre but rhythm felt through the beating of my foot and my little dancing moves). I then notice a very good-looking (fictional) guy sitting on the other end of the sofa and I try to move towards him little by little. In the end I finally reach him but he suddenly disappears. (Transition? to:) 10’s first section “Dancing with the coat” which has been a bit improved.

 Tuesday, February 21st 2017

Today was our second and last supervised rehearsal with Nickie. We showed her the scenes we rehearsed the day before and once more she was full of good advice:

-10 and I should speak to the audience at the beginning of the performance; indeed it is awkward to leave 9 for the introduction

-The transitions are too weak. We should maybe use cardboards and signs to introduce our sections, or use our bodies (lipstick) or props (veils) already on stage

-9’s storytelling sounds a bit like a stand-up: she could try with a microphone (the microphone can even become a phallic object for next sections)

-We should talk about the theme of love before 9’s story (or maybe there’s no introduction at all?)

-We could play more with the scarves: How can we reuse them? (Can have very different significations and represent totally different objects such as dough…)

-We shouldn’t clutter our scenes with too many objects; furthermore we should use every prop at least twice

-Find an introduction phrase other then: Welcome to our home/flat: Welcome to our NEST!

-This idea leading to another, we could use lots of feathers during the show and use some wordplay with “bird(s)”

-Title?: Love Birds? = Quite open and gives free reign to imagination: Is “Love” a verb or do we refer to “love birds”? Are we these love birds? Etc.

 Thanks to Nickie’s sound advice, our afternoon session was very productive: we reworked the opening scenes and carried on with my different sections, as planned. As I will play around the clichés from films and also use self-mockery (as I am usually quite romantic), I will most of the time appear in short, humorous sections (Disney song, water on my head that represents a pouring rain, slow motion running…). At the end of the rehearsal, we devised some more work for the “Potion scene”: We took turns in adding random ingredients to our potion such as meat and a pinky finger, which was a very funny improvisation!

Wednesday, February 22nd 2017

No space available. Not even in Eliot Hall. We then found a meeting room but it was quite impossible to move within this space. 9 tried to work on her own sections and presented her texts, but this session was eventually not very productive.

 Friday, February 23rd 2017

Time for 10’s parts! We started with her scene about Flings and Rebounds, as we had never rehearsed it before as 10 wanted it to look like a basketball game but we didn’t have any ball. Now we fear that the ball would be too dangerous (most of all regarding the audience), so we thought of using a pillow instead, which wouldn’t have the same effect at all (no loud sound, no dribble), to 10’s disappointment. 10 would also like to make a little movie where she would ask people on the street questions about love. She shared her thoughts and ideas with us and 9 and I were filmed as an example. Finally, we rehearsed the Hip-Hop dance and now we have the whole choreography!

 Saturday, February 24th

After rehearsing our Bollywood dance one more time, we moved onto our group scene in the bathroom. We tried to improvise a discussion about sex but we shifted several times into other subjects. Still we now roughly know what we want to talk about and selected four main subjects that we will develop in the coming days.

 End of the week! A la semaine prochaine!

Blanche

[zoe-truong]

Alice Books as Guides to College

I’m not going to lie. Reading about how the Alice books were metaphors for college totally bummed me out. Lewis Carroll is quite similar to lots of people nowadays who just want to go back to the easier days of childhood. But, I’d be hard-pressed to say that his Alice books weren’t an excellent representation of the unbelievably marvelous mess that is college. Maybe we can’t relate to the anecdotes and references to his superiors and colleagues at Oxford, but I think we can all find a little Alice in ourselves. More importantly, we all face the predicament of the Caterpillar’s question, “Who are you? (Carroll 34)”

Most of us pretend that we have our shit together when we get to college. Hell, I believe I have my shit together. I laid out my plan: go to UT, graduate with a degree in finance and Plan II, with a minor in MIS and a liberal arts certificate, work for a few years, go to graduate school, and then by some magical powers settle into Wall Street. That’s the plan, but if anyone’s ever been in a group project with strangers or different-minded people, then they’d know things never go exactly as planned. Things get confusing. You think you understood how it all goes, but you could end up like Alice and “[try] to say ‘How doth the little busy bee,’ but it all came different!” (Carroll 35). Just as Alice has the story’s idea generally right, it’s “not quite right, I’m afraid,” (Carroll 37). Things are going to go wrong, and that’s okay. Because it is college. Maybe I will magically end up on Wall Street (hopefully not as a hobo begging corrupt investors for money), but the path may came out different. 

I came into college with expectations, but not about the life. The only things I felt certain were what I would study, but I had no idea how to prepare for the people, the atmosphere, and the independence. I came from a fairy small private school where my graduating class was 83 people (to understand the size better, we were the largest graduating class they’ve ever had). So, going to a university of upwards of 39,000 undergraduate students left me “distraught in the alien world,” where my “development necessitates coping with a series of tests and trials,” (572). Most of the trials were meeting people. I went to numerous ice breaker events, including scavenger hunts, off-campus parties, and ice cream socials. I could guarantee you that I have met many people I neither remember nor have seen again. It was stressful. I’m not introverted necessarily, but I am an awkward potato. It takes me years to find a solid group of friends that I can be comfortable around. In high school, I formed two friend groups senior year, but until then there were none. It’s not that I didn’t relate to anyone, it’s that I related to everyone, but didn’t completely click with any certain group. I could find companionship with a group of students who enjoyed french and art, while I would also find comfort in another group who loved talking about sports. I felt like I was in constant confusion, because I felt like everyone and no one all at once. It’s something I can really relate to as Carroll and his character “[undergo a] type of physical discomfort and identity crisis” (573). Overtime, I just accepted the fact that I will have to deal with this problem. Until I figure out who I am, I can’t even begin to look for people like me. I have definitely got along with people, but something about them made me knew it wasn’t me. No one should have to force themselves to fit a certain identity. “College gives you the opportunity to become a new self. How much you change is up to you, but you will “change several times,” as Alice puts it,” (SCRIPT FOR TEA PARTY 2011). Right now, I’m not sure what self I am. This is the time to try new things. The great part about college is the huge number of organizations and classes. I can take some of the most interesting and different classes and join organizations I’ve had no exposure to. I can test all of those different selves I was in high school, and find the one that works best. It could be by the end of next year or by the end of my final year, but it’s okay because even for Alice, it all ends well. She may be lost in this world, with its weird people and its even weirder rules, but she does wake up eventually. She stumbles, wonders, and learns to tackle all of the trials of Wonderland.

But that’s the future --the endgame-- and I’m still just like the “U. T. student [that] converses with the turtles in the Biology Ponds, falls in, climbs out into a new world, enters a nearby greenhouse of talking plants, a chameleon, and a graduate student who introduces her to a hedge-maze of competing subjects and teachers,” (Lewis Carroll does U.T.) Really the most completely relatable part of that was that with the amount of time I spend at the turtle pond I’ll eventually fall in. However, besides that, it seems something completely possible. Instead of the greenhouse, I could be at McCombs. The talking plants are the many business students learning and growing within the house, going on about the latest financial news or business mergers. The chameleon is the Plan II student blended into the many business students; you don’t know there’s something special about it, because it looks like just any other student there. The graduate student is a peer who is there to help me through the hell that is McCombs, sorting out what makes every different business degree and professor special. It’s a hot mess, but it is so real. Sometimes I do wish it weren’t.

It seems nice to be a kid again. Lewis Carroll certainly wishes it. To dream of the times of innocence and curiosity, where we don’t have to face the truth of the adult world. College students have all lost their innocence. All it takes is a few years of watching the news to hurt that. But, we haven’t all lost our curiosity. I know I felt like Alice when I walked onto campus. I didn’t know who I was or who I would end up being, but I knew that I wanted “to venture into the unknown in life... to venture into [my] soul and deep within [my]heart to find out who [I am],” (579). I was curious about what class would be like. I would sit down at tables of strangers like Alice did at the Hatter’s tea party. Sometimes I felt uncomfortable, but I mostly just felt curious. College is an experience that is nothing like any I’ve known before. In hindsight, the life of a child is a completely envious one. Completely innocent and without worries. But, even though I am sick with a cold, stressed about finishing all of my homework, stressed about having three midterms this week, and stressed about all of my future responsibilities, I don’t wish for the experience of college. I wouldn’t have “experienced different races, different political views, and different religions first hand,” (582). Nothing is as exciting as knowledge. I like learning, because it means that I still have a road ahead of me. With every new piece of information is a new door to an unknown world. This could be world within my universe, or lead me to an alternate universe, where my plans are different. But it’s okay, because in this world and every other world “everything’s curious,” so “I may as well go in at once,” (Carroll 61).