#and especially with this subject where i am already struggling with just the material

[katelynnwrites]

i have this awful feeling of overwhelming anxiety and i literally can’t deal with it anymore

[bonefall]

Reply Round-Up: Sausage and Story Beats

In this reply I respond to various questions that have been popping up about minor things in the Bonefall Rewrite, including some clan culture tidbits and general narrative direction

I’m replying to @halogenwarrior, I hope you're cool with me paraphrasing your exact questions and comments. I’m also breaking this up into two sections, one for Rewrite stuff and the next for Clan Culture things

Bonefall Rewrite

Leafpool being mistreated by StarClan is interesting, the motivations of the Three and Squirrelflight are better off for removing StarClan forcing them to do things, but is there a way to keep that struggle for Leafpool? (Reply to this post)

I’m keeping it in mind, but I haven’t thought of anything yet. It’s especially difficult because Leafpool is also unable to ‘drag‘ Jaypaw into the medcat role thanks to Longtail jumping in to train him as a warrior, so there’s very little opportunity to show StarClan sending Leafpool mixed messages.

But on top of it, I’m not sure I want StarClan to just do things that are bad for the sake of doing things that are bad. I’m quite fond of how I’ve fixed their malicious incompetence and made them much less horrible. I can’t figure out a goal that would make them bully Leafpool; in my Rewrite, they do not want the Three and are generally terrified of them. I’d rather have StarClan be consistent than force conflict in where it no longer is.

But, I’m thinking about it.

The title of Bonefall Bluestar’s Prophecy

Right now it’s Bluestar’s Friends because I think that title is delightfully cute in contrast to how the book is about Blue’s friend group forming, falling apart, her being subject to a terrible fate, the death of so much of her family, etc. But I can pitch some other titles and go with the most popular one

I’d like for each redux to have a new title to reflect how it’s different; so other titles could be

Bluestar’s Fate: Emphasizing the StarClan trial that frames the book

Bluestar’s Purpose: Pointing out how Goosefeather has foreseen her destiny and how Bluestar breaks predestination with her actions

Bluestar’s Flower: Referencing thistles as well as forget-me-nots

Bluestar’s Friends: Her friend group is the biggest change about this redux

Will every reduxed arc of the Rewrite have 6 books?

It’s not a hard rule, but it seems to be happening that way. Bonefall TPB perfectly fits into the 6 books of the original arc. Bonefall AVoS will probably be 5. At first I figured Bonefall OotS would be 4, but the more the Dark Forest Trainees get buffed up, the more it seems like 6 books may happen anyway.

TL;DR I just do what feels right but based on how much material I’m adapting, it’s looking like it’ll fall into place as 6-ish books an arc anyway.

Thornclaw and Brightheart Adoption; The Distinctive Tabby Queen

I’m not fully committed to Thornclaw and Brightheart being not biologically the children of Frostfur yet, but I am leaning towards it because everyone seems to find it to be a really interesting idea

If they were found and retrieved from the ShadowClan nursery...

Bluestar and ThunderClan would make some kind of effort to reunite them with their parents, but months go by and they are not found. Their mother may be a dead WindClan queen, or stolen from a rogue, but the trail goes cold and they’re already bonded to their mother Snowfur.

If they were the children of the Distinctive Tabby Queen...

It’s true that it would present a problem to the family tree, since I already had to wiggle and squeeze to fix the tree as it was...

But I could bump Speckletail out of the Tawny/Rain family like I was already considering, and put Distinctive Tabby there instead... she could even be the sister of Darkstripe and a child of Dappletail, Cricketkit.

To the tree it wouldn’t matter because the parentage of Bright and Thorn would get swapped to Frost/Lion for all intents and purposes (adoptions in the BF Rewrite only count towards the adoptive parents), but genetically it could mean Thorn and Bright could qualify for getting great hair.

Cricket would either invoke the Queen’s Rights, or I could simply have it that their sire was Lionheart anyway. As for her full name, Cricketleg or Cricketclaw would be good titles.

Or I could just keep the Frostfour as Frostlion kits biologically and split the litter.

That is the simplest option.

Clan Culture

Aaaand here’s the section for some misc logistical questions

How do Clan Cats make sausage casings?

Hog hunting is very rare because wild boars in England are themselves are both rare AND extremely dangerous (I am, in fact, going to be largely replacing deadly badger and fox encounters with hogs). But it isn’t impossible to hunt them, either. The Tribe would be able to kill them, along with sheep and deer, on a regular basis.

(I would like to make an entry on hog hunting, one day, basing it off medieval boar hunts)

But sausage cases can be made out of any intestine, actually. Humans just tend to use the tracts of goats, cattle, and pigs because that’s a good size for a human and those are the animals we hunt.

Clan cats can use geese, ducks, deer fawns, hares, rabbits, even rats. I’m also trying to find if it’s possible to use the intestines of large carp and salmon, but I can’t find the information I need with a simple search and would have to dig deeper.

I’ll do a ShadowClan Sausage entry for Warrior Bites at some point

Do you plan to use more cat-specific diseases?

Yes! I actually want to limit the Color Coughs to legitimately deadly outbreaks. It’s too casually used, I would like it to be associated with serious, encroaching dread.

Specific ear infections, allergies, and food poisonings should be more common imo, especially for sickness outbreaks that are narratively just supposed to be unpleasant, not deadly. I’m still working on specifics, though... a lot of the most common cat ailments are just, not the sorts of things I would like to include in the story for comfort reasons (UTIs for example)

[jonfarreporter]

Little-known “Sidekick” Vivian Vance takes center stage in one-woman play

Not to be confused with a book and a movie by the same title, the one-woman play “Sidekicked” is an unexpected tour de force of actress Vivian Vance of “I Love Lucy” TV show fame.

The Sonoma Arts Live production at the Sonoma Community Center on Sunday, February 12 was well-received by an almost full-house audience, as noted by The Sonoma Valley Sun. Very few people know much of Vance outside of the beloved classic TV show that initially aired from 1951 to 1957.

The 90-minute play was written entirely by imagination. Playwright Kim Powers utilized facts known about Vance who was born in 1909 in a small town in Kansas and died at age 70 in 1979 in Belvedere, (Marin County) California.

After the show, when asked where he got the material for such an intensely personal story, Powers responded saying. “I remember years ago reading about Vivian being in analysis, and immediately got the idea for the play,” he said.

Yet, he admitted. “I Just sat on it for years without doing anything, and then I finally began doing a ton of research that turned into the play.”

Powers had to search extensively. Because, there is no direct memoir from Vance or the psychoanalyst she saw for years while portraying Ethel Mertz, Lucy’s landlady/neighbor, friend and of course, “sidekick.”

While it is known that Vance and actor William Frawley didn’t get along, little else is known about the overall TV show production. The play opens in Vance’s dressing room as she is preparing for the very last episode of the subsequent “Lucy & Desi Comedy Hour” is scheduled to air/be taped in 1960.

Vance speaks to the audience as if her psychoanalyst is in the room and she ponders as to whether or not she should take up the offer to portray Ethel in a spin-off called “Fred & Ethel.”

As Powers noted. “Vivian wrote a memoir, but it never got published. I’ve read that there are copies of the manuscript floating around, but I’ve never been able to track it down,” he added. “And the shrink has never revealed anything about their work together.”

Despite a few moments when it’s not exactly clear what Vance’s show business career history was before “I Love Lucy,” the play does spotlight pivotal moments. It was while she was in a play called “The Voice of The Turtle” that her life unraveled.

As Powers explained. “Out of the all the research, I invented the framing device of her calling the psychoanalyst to this last night of filming the last episode.”

“All the details Vivian reveals within are true — the spinoff, the other pilot she did, her early family life and her relationship with Lucy, and especially the breakdown,” said Powers.

“But, he insisted, I put them in the form of a sort of therapy situation. (It always nagged at me that naturally the shrink would already know most of this from prior sessions, and I didn’t want her to keep saying ‘Remember when I told you about…’ etc. — so…) Vivian really is just talking to the audience — and it still works really well,” said Powers.

The entire monologue is about Vance’s inner-struggle. Her early life, her strained relationship with her disapproving mother, her failed marriages and the nervous breakdown.

Vance had a nervous breakdown apparently caused by her overseas experience on a USO tour in 1944–45. There is no reference to it on Wikipedia. And, exact details are not entirely clear in the play. But as noted in the play and other sources like Television Haven, her breakdown was a turning point.

Each subject in monologue is riveting and the audience at the SCC auditorium that afternoon we’re genuinely interested and impacted by Libby Oberlin’s portrayal of Vance.

“Libby owned the part” said longtime Sonoma resident and realtor Nada Rathbart. “I could relate to the play, even though I wasn’t as familiar with the TV show, because I am originally from Yugoslavia, (Eastern Europe). “Yet, I could understand her strained relationship with her mother and her mother’s lack of understanding and support for what Vivian Vance wanted to do and be.”

“My mother’s generation was from a different time and expectations for women then were very different than what women today can aim for and achieve,” Rathbart said.

And as for references to the impact a nervous breakdown had upon Vance’s life, “I can relate to that too,” said Rathbart. “I’m a survivor of war,” added Rathbart. “So, I can understand that, especially as Vivian was inadvertently exposed to combat and conflict while on tour with the USO in WWII.”

Rathbart experienced directly the collapse of communism in Eastern Europe, which then led to the breakup of Yugoslavia in the early 1990s, resulting in the Yugoslav Wars. “It was horrible said Rathbart. And, it’s taken me considerable time and effort to recover.”

Reflecting a bit more Rathbart said. “So, I can understand why Vivian became vulnerable after her USO tour. War and experiencing violence is devastating.”

“Add in the stress of relationships and her ambition to establish a life for herself on her own, takes up a lot of work and energy. I can relate to that very well,” said Rathbart.

This is another element in the play that Powers does reflect upon in his writing. The choices Vance made to live the life she wanted to live. Vance’s choices were unconventional for the time. If women of more than a century ago stepped outside of conventional roles, it was a cause for alarm if not scandal. Especially someone like Vance born in Cherryvale, Kansas. It’s a quiet town of less than 3,000 people. Her strict and very religious mother couldn’t imagine Vance being anything more than a wife and mother.

“It’s always the rejection by a mother or father that causes a lot of pain and frustration for someone eager to live an independent and interesting life on their own,” said Jude Cameron.

Like Rathbart and many other Sonoma residents, Cameron enjoys and takes an interest in the arts; especially locally-like the experience she had helping with Studio 35. Cameron wanted to know more about Vance because as she said. “‘I Love Lucy’ was a show that everyone watched when I was growing up.” And besides, added Cameron, “Vivian came from a small town like I did.”

(Cameron is from a small town in upstate New York and like Vance, Cameron noted that there wasn’t many opportunities there, especially for women who wanted more out of life than marriage and children).

Pleased with the production and the positive response it has received thus far Sonoma Arts Live creative director Jamie Love said. “Far, far beyond what lovers of the ‘I Love Lucy’ TV Show knew I was intrigued and wanted to know more about Vivian beyond the halo of curls and apron.”

“I wanted to find out the real story about this little-known and multifaceted Vivian,” said Love.

Amid the laughs there’s many subtle poignant moments in the play, which Oberlin does well as the audience’s reaction indicated frequently.

“It was really the breakdown that fascinated me, said Powers, and in some ways I wrote the play just to get to that moment of reliving it.”

Even though Powers had difficulties in finding Vance’s alleged memoir, he succeeded in getting to the heart of a determined and talented woman. The play’s culmination is a testament to that fact.

“Vivian is coming to a decision in her own head (about the future) said Powers, and just saying the words aloud.”

Directed by Michael Ross, “Sidekicked” continues at the Sonoma Community Center auditorium until February 19.

For tickets and more information visit the Sonoma Arts Live website.

[illustratorintheprocess]

FMP Part 1: Disseminating Rsearch

The Brief:

I thought it was about time I got into the nitty gritty of what we were actually briefed for.

The Final Major Project (or FMP) for year 3 is worth 60 credits. To pit this into perspective, the Minor Project earlier this year was only worth 20 credits while the 10k word Dissertation was 40 credits. This means the FMP needs me to put as much effort in it as I did with the other two projects combined. Pretty wild.

We are free to chose whatever subject we want to base our project on but there is some guidance still. Some check marks along the was we need to hit. This is where the FMP is split into 3 "mini briefs", 1.) Disseminating Research, 2.) Viable Practice, 3.) Portfolio or Viable Practice #2 or simply FMP (I've seen it called a lot of things). We are the first year where they split the FMP into 3 mini briefs and it was intended for us to have an easier time to steadily work through the project at a good pace without neglecting any important parts (like research) of it. However, from what I have heard from other students everyone is struggling with the mini briefs, especially the first one, and it is adding a lot more stress to an already stressful time because everyone seems to have fallen behind.

The outcome of the FMP will also be showcased in the UAL graduates exhibit in June, which is kind of cool but you know...PRESSURE.

Now to 1.) Disseminating Research and how I intend to deal with it:

I would like to print a research zine in A5 format with maybe 15 pages that would be printed digitally and simply saddle stitched together. Printing it digitally is new for me because I have become very proficient in offset litho and relief print in the past 2 years but barely touched a modern printer for my work. Still it would have to be printed digitally to save time and nerves. I'm a little anxious about preparing the files correctly in InDesign for the job but it's not like that's ever without hiccups for me anyway. Saddle stitching just makes sense for a zine that size. You don't bust out the coptic binding for 15 pages. As much as I would like to do that. Regarding the colours of the zine I am unsure and it is making me nervous. I like to work in black but was told to try and incorporate more colours in my work so I was thinking red and purple maybe? Maybe I could print on coloured paper with black and red ink? I'd have to ask the Digital Printing Team about that. [Mental note made to ask them next time I'm at lcc]

Now the contents of the zine is a different story. It will have to be a lot of 1st hand research, which means my sketches and process drawings as well as mindmaps maybe. Secondary research might be easier accumulated but it would have to be cited which adds a whole new headache to the thing. + there should probably be some written text in there where I reflect on my conclusions from the research, how it helped me or how I used it. The research itself would have to be on specific Cryptids in my case. I would have to explain terminology and what a Cryptid even is and then go into detail with certain Cryptids. Then there has to research of material and processes to produce the final outcome. What paper I use and why, maybe? To be honest, including the technical research part in this feels kind of weird and unnatural but hey, whatever.

So this is how I plan to deal with the 1.) Disseminating Research Mini Brief. Let's hope it all goes to plan.

[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.3

Summary: Penny goes to Walter's loft, so he could help her out with some school assignments

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Walter and I agreed that he would pick me up from the train station nearby and when I near the vacant parking lot, I can already see him waiting in his truck. He holds up his hand, a sign that he saw me too and I hurry towards the enormous vehicle. I barely see trucks this large here in New York, making me assume he actually brought this with him from Minnesota. Maybe he even moved here with this thing, the trunk stuffed with his belongings.

Though I highly believe this man actually didn’t bring a lot of stuff with him. He doesn’t seem like the type to be very materialistic.

When I open the door, I can’t possibly hide my smile.

Of course I thought about this for awhile (it’s all I thought about the entire class) and debated whether or not this would be a good idea. While this is definitely not a great idea, it doesn’t feel weird or scary. I mean, my mom certainly wouldn’t approve of this and I think my dad would have a stroke if he found out what I was doing.

Is this how people get murdered? Am I too naive?

I don’t think so. I trust Walter. He is a nice man and I’ve been with him alone in his office two times now. That wasn’t scary, he isn’t giving me bad vibes.

Going to his loft shouldn’t be that much different.

‘How were your classes, Penny?’ Walter asks.

A scoff leaves my lips. ‘It was horrid,’ I mumble, placing my backpack in-between my legs. ‘Professor Carter really likes hearing himself speak.’

‘That,’ he says, starting his car, ‘is true. I hate that guy.’

I chuckle. ‘Hate is such a strong word,’ I tell him. ‘I’d like to say he is simply hard to like.’

Walter smiles. ‘Of course.’

I fumble my thumbs as they are placed on my lap, taking in a breath. I’m really nervous, which is completely unnecessary. I feel safe around Walter, I feel noticed around him. It’s nice being noticed, especially by someone like Walter.

‘I didn’t know if you want something,’ Walter says, ‘so I got you some chocolate and cookies. If you don’t like that, please tell me. I can make a small detour to the grocery store.’

‘No, chocolate and cookies are perfect.’ I run my fingers through my hair, as Walter soars over the roads. His driving style fits him perfectly. He is impatient, quick and breaks abruptly, instead of slowly, a complete one eighty compared to my driving style. ‘You’re not gonna kill me, right?’

Walter starts to laugh and it’s the first time I actually see him putting his guard completely down. His eyes are smaller, the little crowfeet appear near them. ‘Of course not. I would lose my only student with sense.’

I lean back against the seat, as I watch how we get deeper into the city. I’m usually never in this part of town. I look to the side, admiring Walter’s beautifully sculptured face. The beard kinda hides it, but I know that his face is close to perfection.

‘You’re staring,’ he says, his eyes not once leaving the road.

Oh dear, I totally am. How incredibly rude of me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I quickly apologize.

‘It’s not a problem. Kinda cute actually.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You always stare in class,’ he says. ‘When things get a little gore, you start to blink really fast, you scrunch up your nose and try to stare at your fingers, but you don’t want to be rude and miss something, so you look up again. Only this time you’re squinting and you make a pretty poor attempt of hiding your disgust.’

‘Wow,’ I chuckle. ‘That’s specific.’

‘Noticing the smallest details is important in my line of work. Tell me what I do during class.’

I swallow as I try to think about everything he does in class. ‘You never look at people when you call out their name. It usually takes around a second or two, before you tear your gaze away from whatever you’re looking at. You are quite insulting when it comes to stupid answers.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You either scoff or roll your eyes,’ I note. ‘Besides, you always look bored, even when someone makes a good point.’

‘That’s because I am,’ he retorts.

‘Teaching really isn’t your thing, is it?’

He snickers. ‘Oh no. You could say I hate it with a passion. But if I do this, I could one day maybe work in the force again. It’s just a little in between jobs.’

‘You miss it, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ he answers. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever missed something that much.’

‘You miss Minnesota?’

He shakes his head. ‘I mean, a little of course, but New York is great too.’

‘Are you married? Or do you have someone?’ I ask.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I haven’t met her yet,’ he says. ‘Besides, I’m picky. You got a boyfriend?’

I can’t even stop my laughter. ‘No, of course not,’ I answer. ‘There is no one that likes me anyways.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he says in a pretty harsh tone. ‘You’re a lovely girl and any guy would be lucky to have you as their girlfriend.’

My cheeks burn up. ‘You think so?’

‘I know so, Penny. Let me tell you this: you are amazing, smart and the guy you end up with is gonna be one lucky man, since you’re probably out of his league anyway.’

He really thinks so?

Walter parks his car in the parking garage underneath the apartment building and he tells me to wait, as he gets out. He walks around the truck and opens the door for me.

‘I can open my own door, you know?’

‘I know,’ he chuckles, gesturing to hand over my bag. ‘But I couldn’t do it back at the station, so humor me for a second, okay?’

‘Of course.’ I grab his hand and he helps me out the car. Together we walk towards the elevator and I nervously roll my ankle, as we wait for the elevator to arrive at the right floor.

It abruptly stops and we walk out towards his door. He pushes it open, telling me to go in first.

His loft meets up to the expectations I had. Boring. Nearly empty. Only decorated with the necessities. ‘Right,’ I say. ‘This is exactly what I thought it would be.’

Walter hangs his coat over the back of the chair. ‘Is that so?’

I let the material of my own jacket slide off my shoulders. ‘Mhm, you have very little taste.’

‘I’d like to call it minimalistic,’ he retorts, as he takes my jacket from me hands. He tells me to sit and relax, while he makes us some tea.

I carefully take place on his couch, looking around me. Thankfully he removed all the eventual crime scene photos, files or anything related to the gory side of police work.

‘Here you go.’

‘Thank you,’ I say to Walter as he sits next to me, placing the tea on the coffee table. The couch cushion I’m sitting on, slightly dips to the right as he takes place. I have to tighten all my non existent muscles to not slide towards him, however I am not very strong, nor fit, so I bump against his side. ‘Sorry,’ I say.

‘It’s okay. Tell me, what are subjects that you struggle with.’

‘Everything,’ I admit.

He smiles. ‘Then I shall help you with everything.’

✎ ✎ ✎

My brain hurts from all the things Walter says to me and the way he answers all my questions. It’s so sweet and considerate of him to literally minimize everything to a level I could understand it. I take off my glasses as I rub my eyes. Walter has placed his arm on the armrest, our bodies closer than I’ve ever been to someone who I thought was attractive.

‘This isn’t working,’ Walter says, when it’s obvious I’m not registering anything anymore. ‘You need a break.’ He places my laptop and papers on the coffee table and stands up. He ushers me to follow him and I nearly run after him, since he’s taking such large strides.

‘Where are we going?’

He slides open the doors that lead to a little balcony. It’s just as boring as the rest of his place, but the view on the other hand is absolutely lovely. I walk towards the balustrade, holding the cold metal as I look over the city.

‘Wow,’ I say, ‘this is so beautiful.’

He smiles as he stands next to me. ‘It sure is.’

‘I’ve never saw the city like this,’ I say.

‘Where you’re from originally?’

‘Maryland,’ I answer. ‘But New York is really fun as well. Maybe even more so, if I’m being honest.’

‘I’ve never been there,’ Walter says, placing his underarms on the balustrade, so we’re around the same height. He looks to the side, at the same time the wind blows. He chuckles, when strands of my hair slap him across the face.

‘Sorry,’ I smile, as I try to contain the wild hairs.

He holds out his hand, pushing back a strand behind my ear. ‘That’s okay, Penny. You like it out here?’

‘Yes, I really do. It’s nice to take a bit of a breather. I’m sorry I am not really getting it.’

‘No, don’t be silly,’ he says, ‘you’re doing great. It’s my teaching skills that are lacking.’

I bite my lip as I take in his entire face. He is so close, just like he was back in the living room. He placed his arm on the backrest of the couch, his body so close near mine, that I could smell his lovely cologne.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he softly admits, almost as if he doesn’t want me to hear.

‘Oh,’ I whisper, slightly taken aback, ‘really?’

‘Really. You have your phone with you?’

I pull it out of my back pocket. ‘Yes, why?’

‘Allow me to memorize this moment for you.’

It’s a slightly odd request, but I give him the phone and he takes a few pictures of me. For some reason, I don’t feel awkward. Usually I take pictures by myself or I let my mom take one, but that’s only the case when she wants to make a picture for her friends to show me off.

With Walter behind the camera, I’m relaxed and not so nervous.

Which is strange. I keep forgetting he is my professor. With his head, he nods me over and I look over his arm to the phone screen. ‘They look good,’ I say.

‘Not just good,’ he says. ‘You look amazing.’

He hands me back my phone and at the same time, a slightly cold breeze causes me to tense up and shiver a bit. ‘You cold?’

‘A little,’ I admit.

‘Wait here.’

Walter walks back inside, leaving me be for a little while. I look over the city. The cars, the different type of houses. Dogs barking, young kids laughing and just people having fun in general.

‘Here you go,’ Walter says, ‘I got you a sweater and some tea.’

I look over my shoulder, to see him placing two steaming mugs of tea on the tiny table and indeed a thick sweater (one of his own) in his hands. ‘You’re really going out of your way for me,’ I admit. ‘That’s nice.’

He frowns. ‘No one’s ever gone out of their way for you before?’

I shake my head.

‘Let me be the first then.’ He actually helps me into the sweater and gently pulls out my hairs from the sweater.

I take place on the slightly uncomfortable chair. It’s a bit windy, but not unpleasant. Especially not when I’m wearing a sweater this warm.

‘What are you thinking?’ I ask Walter.

He shrugs. ‘Just something crossed my mind, but I don’t want to intrude.’

‘You could never. If someone is intruding, then it’s totally me. I mean, I literally am at your place, because school’s too hard for me. Seriously, you can ask me anything you want.’

‘When did you find out you were placed at the church?’

I wrap my fingers around my mug and say: ‘My mom always said that I was a special delivery from the stork. I knew I was adopted, but I never thought more of it. My parents were simply my parents, even though they didn’t look like me. One day a kid in my class thought it was stupid I had white parents, when I clearly wasn’t, I realized it maybe was a bit weird. So I asked them about it and they told me the entire story.’

‘Must’ve been hard,’ Walter says.

I shrug. ‘Kinda.’

‘Does it bother you to this day? In your day to day life?’

These are very intense questions. He really does want to get to know me better, right? ‘You kinda carry it with you all the time,’ I say. ‘Oh no, I’m gonna cry.’ I blink my eyes fast, as I try to redirect both my feelings and his attention. ‘This is stupid, I’m sorry.’

‘No, no, no,’ he says, in such a soft and caring tone, that it almost makes me cry a little more. When was the last time someone was this caring about me outside my family? ‘Don’t apologize for your feelings.’

It just doesn’t match. His uninterested appearance versus this hidden caring nature of his. He leans forward and places his hand on my knee. A simple gesture, enough however to stop my heart from working. ‘I’ll try,’ I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks. ‘I promise.’

✎ ✎ ✎

After the well needed break, I was in the right mindset and managed to get a lot of work done. Turns out: I’m not stupid, I’m just a bit slow from time to time. Having someone that helps me, gives me a better understanding of it all.

‘You know,’ I say, as I pack my stuff in my bag, ‘your hair is quite dry and frizzy.’

‘Is it?’ Walter asks with a chuckle. ‘You have some nerves, young lady, to tell me my hair is frizzy after I helped you out.’

‘Just want to give you a bit of advice in return,’ I snicker.

‘Well, since you want to go to cosmetology school so badly, you tell me next week what products I need to use and I’ll be your test subject, how about that?’

He wants to see me again? Or does he mean after school? Or simply through texts?

‘Really?’

‘Of course, Penny.’

‘Thank you again for helping me out,’ I say. ‘I know this isn’t exactly in your job description.’

‘I’m happy to help, if it’s in my job description or not.’ He grabs my coat and helps me in it. ‘You want a lift?’

I shake my head. ‘It’s still light outside and I can go by bus. I need to do some groceries anyway.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I am sure,’ I say. ‘Really, it’s not a big deal.’

‘Just share your location with me, okay? I want to make sure you’re back safe.’

Walter is such a caring and loving man, though he tries to hide it underneath all that grumpiness.

‘Okay, will do,’ I say, after I put on my shoes. I place my bag on the floor, grab my phone and start sharing my location with him for the next four hours. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask him, when I push my phone in my back pocket and the two of us lock eyes.

‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘I just really got to know you. That was nice.’

I smile. ‘It totally was,’ I say. ‘I’d like to get to know you a bit more next time.’

Next time? I’m really suggesting a next time?

Walter barely responds to it, only a small cocking of his eyebrow. ‘Next time,’ he says. ‘You’ll get to know plenty about me.’ He takes a step forward, only for me to be able to smell his cologne. Gosh, what does one say right now?

While I’m contemplating the best topics, Walter seemed to have no issue coming up with something. ‘You’re staring again,’ he notes.

‘No, I’m not,’ I say to him, way too quickly. ‘Okay, maybe I was.’

You have to ask me again later on how exactly, but somehow my back is pressed against the wall. Walter places his hand on my cheek, his calloused thumb brushing over my parted lips. I don’t know where to look, but my gaze stops at his kissable looking lips.

His body is pressed against mine and two slow seconds passes before I feel his lips on mine.

What is this? Is he truly kissing me? I can’t believe this. My first kiss. I hold onto his thick sweater, my fingers wrapping tightly on the fabric, almost solely because my knees start to wobble like crazy. It’s the first time I felt someone’s lips on mine. Someone’s beard scratching my chin. Never before did I feel someone’s tongue carefully over my bottom lip. He cages me in between his thick arms. He is so much more overpowering, dominant, but boy, is it a role that suits him so well.

Much to my dismay, he pulls back to flash me a tiny smile. ‘I’ve been thinking about doing this for quite some time now today.’

‘Why?’ I ask him.

He smiles. ‘Just because,’ he says.

‘Well, I’ve been thinking about it too,’ I whisper.

‘What stopped you from doing it?’

‘You’re my professor, Walter.’

He nods. ‘I know. That should’ve stopped me,’ he admits.

‘No, no,’ I say, placing my hands on both sides of his face. ‘Don’t let it stop you. Please don’t.’ It sounds slightly needy, but I can’t help it. It’s the first time in my entire life I feel this alive. With his understanding, I notice finally the ability for me to figure out who I am as a person. However, those words stay close to my heart. I bite my bottom lip and he interprets it as an invitation and I’m so thankful he does.

The kiss is less soft than the previous one, far more intense. I don’t want to stop kissing him. His lips part from mine, evading his way to my nape to press wet kisses on the delicate skin. My fingers run through his hair. ‘Walter,’ I say and he looks up. I always notice the shift in gazes when he is with me. So much softer, gentle and caring than he is in class or with others. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Sure about what?’

‘Me?’

A crooked smile appears on his lips. ‘I’ve never been so sure.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Once I got home, realization truly hit. I just kissed my professor.

Was it smart? No.

Will I do it again? Probably.

Oh my, I’m falling for him, aren’t I? I had this insanely goofy grin on my face as I sat in the bus, did my groceries and went to my dorm. I bet I looked like a moron, but I couldn’t help myself. Walter’s lips on mine felt so good.

Those lips will be all I am going to think about. I take off my coat, only to realize I’m still wearing his sweater. It smells like him, his wonderful cologne.

I’m this deep in thoughts and little dreams, that I yelp when I hear a text coming in.

Walter: You’re home safe, right?

Oh, that’s right. I was sharing my location with him.

Me: Yes, I just walked in

Walter: Did you lock your door?

Me: Yes

Walter: Okay good

Me: Thanks for your help btw

Walter: Of course, not a problem

Me: I think I’m gonna go get ready for bed

Walter: Alright, princess

Walter: Good night

✎ ✎ ✎

[prome-th3us]

Some Runes readings and how to create Runes

Now that we're done with the meanings, let's talk about some Runes' extractions. I will talk about some if the traditional ways of reading them and then I will tell you my personal way of doing so: I really encourage you to find your own way once you're familiar with the traditional readings, because it will give you a better connection with the Runes and it will help you figure out what they want to say.

Before getting into the topic, I want to tell you something more about the meanings. Don't rely only on the "straight"/" Reversed " Meanings, but rely on what the Rune represents: what kind of success will you achieve? What kind of protection do you need? Some of them have basically the same meanings, but they are telling you something different. Let's have an example. ᛏ means "success", but the one achieved after fights and troubles, while ᛊ also means "success" but the one that a seed achieves thanks to the sun. That's what I mean.

One rune

Think about a question (it should be precise, it will make everything easier), then grab one Rune and gently throw it in front of you and see if it's straight or reversed. This is useful when in comes to a quick question like: how will be my day? Should I do this?

Basic oracle

After thinking about your question, grab a variable number of Runes and gently throw them in front of you. You will see some Runes facing upward and others downward: ignore those and concentrate only on the upward ones and if it's straight or reversed.

Nornir' oracle

It's very simple: throw three Runes sequentially:

The first one is the past and what we can't change (Urdh, the Norn of past)

The second one is the present situation (Verdandi, the Norn of present)

The third one is showing how will be the future looking at how the energies are shaping it rn (Skuld, the Norn of future)

If a Rune is facing downward, just turn it as you will do with a book's page. If you want more details, you can throw other Runes for an insight.

Oracle of the nine Runes

It goes in the same way as I will explain in the next paragraph, but there are some differences:

If a Rune is far away from the others/it's outside of your "mind scheme" ( I explain this in the next paragraph), it can be ignored or it can be more important than the others, it's your choice

The Runes near the centre are more important and personal, the others are more general

My way

Now let's see how I read them: as I said, it's a personal view and you can find it wrong, I'm not saying that this is the only correct way.

I have a scheme in my mind, depending on the question i'm asking:

If it's a question that needs an insight on the future, like "Should I go out with him/her?" Then I'm looking at the influence parts (past with influence, present with influence and so on); if the question is about me or someone I love, like "what's happening? Why am I feeling this way? What can I do?" Then I want to understand what's going on inside myself and if i'm conditioned by other people (inside/outside parts).

If a Rune is following one of the arrows, than it means that I should pay attention to it, but it depends on the shape of the extraction. Anyway usually I go for this:

Above the other Runes: this Rune is influencing the others/my path is leading in this way

Under the other Runes: this rune is kind of "bullied" by the others, I need to find more space in my life for it/ that's the origin of the problem.

Now the extraction. I don't do readings that much so when I do, I want a complete insight of the situation, so I go for 9 Runes. Think about your question, grab them and gently throw them in front of you. You will have some upright Runes which represent the present situation; leave the others for now cause they reprents the outcome. This is an example:

Now let's see where the Runes are pointing, leaving the unknown one for now.

We can see a lot of connection here:

ᛟ/ᛚ are pointing to each other

ᛜ is pointing at ᚺ

ᛗ is pointing at ᛏ

ᛏ is in the middle, so it's a central topic

Then we have three other possibilities:

ᛒ is watching over ᛜ,ᚺ,ᛚ

ᛒ and ᛉ represents two opposite aspects

ᛟ is watching over ᛜ,ᛚ,ᚺ (but I wouldn't say that, it's clear that it's connected to ᛚ)

I like the add a little more spice to the readings, this time nothing like that happened but let's just complete what can happen:

When two Runes form a cross touching each other, than they are opposite aspects of the same thing

When two or more Runes touch eachother without forming a cross, than they complete each other. They represent different aspects of the same thing and together they will give you a complete insight of it.

Let's give an example, with the question "how will this academic year go? Will I achieve my academic goals? Did I make the right choice?"

Let's start with ᛏ: success in every aspect, but after fights and struggle. It's reversed, so probably I will fail some exams and rn i'm struggling with studies or other things.

ᛟ/ᛚ᛬ Othala is reversed, so it means something like a loss of harmony in my family/clan, the loss of security that it gives. But we also have Laguz: there will be a growth, an hard one, but if we keep an eye on it should be fine. It can mean that probably my parents aren't happy with my academic choices, but this shouldn't affect what I decide because it's helping my growth: the water (Laguz) can be stirred sometimes and it can be difficult swimming through, but it will become placid again.

ᛜ/ᚺ᛬ Ingwaz is straight while Hagalaz us reversed, so we have the counterpart of Berkana and the destructive power of the hail. It can mean that we are definitely ready for a change (our college studies for example), but we should remember that changes never come without the destruction of something that was already here: we may face tests but it's what we have to do to become who we want to be.

ᛗ/ᛏ᛬ Mannaz pointing to Tiwaz is reminding us that it's ok to fail, that I am a human and this means that I have positive and negative qualities. I may be struggle and I may feel like shit for that, but i'm human and I'm not perfect, but I will get through it. Reversed means that I can't see a way out and that I have to rely on myself to find it.

ᛒ/ᛉ᛬ Berkana is straight, so we are talking about fertility. Algiz is reversed, so it's like a warning. Basically they can be saying that it's a time of personal growth and "mental fertility" as well so I did the right choice, but I shouldn't let my guard down and I remember to protect myself, both mentally and physically.

Now let's move to the future outcome:

(don't mind the position of the runes I just noticed that it's different, relay on the last pic sorry)

So the last one is ᛈ , and ᛜ/ᚺ is pointing at it.

Perth means "box", something in which you can put something else, but it's original meaning is unknown. If we take this, it can mean that our changes and our path, which we already see may be hard, once we got ok with that, it will lead to the knowledge of our faith. This means that it doesn't really matter what subjects we are studying, but the reason why we decided to do so: we can't know where this is leading but we will soon understand if it was the right choice or if we should completely change our path.

Sorry but I struggled a little with doing a reading for this question lmao, I really just grabbed nine runes without asking anything so I tried my best

How to make runes

I'm not gonna spend a lot of time on this topic, because everyone has a different way of making and preparing them.

You will see plenty of rituals on how to do so but they can be pretty difficult to do, especially if you don't have the time or possibility to be seen doing so. Here are some methods:

When I first approached to Runes I really didn't like the energy that the ones from the store had, so I made them in a quick way. I found 24 rocks, I washed them into a river with the intent of making them bond with life/reality (water is a symbol of life), then I went home and with a marker I wrote them on the rocks. Super quick and super simple. Then I slept with Them under my pillow for a week, to bond with them.

Use a little branch. Just cut it in little pieces and wrote the notes on it with a natural ink or if you can it, use a pyrography.

You can make them using the clay that you buy at a store. If you want to color Them, try using natural colors if you can.

You can buy them of course, but be careful with the energies that they have. I did find a store which has perfect runes, but I've been having mine for ages and I really don't feel like changing them.

Someday you will feel the need to cleanse them. This is what I do:

Full moon. Leave them outside for one night (I prefer on the ground, like dirt/rocks) and if they still need a cleanse or more energy, leave them for the day as well

Smoke cleanse/blowing air on them

If it's a material that goes in water, wash them

Pass them throw a flame for a fire cleanse

Then I sleep with them for some nights again, just to be sure.

And that's all for this beginner-friendly introduction to the Runes! There's still a whole world to say about them, but I will get into it in the future, for now here you can access to the whole grimoire I made and if you have any question, feel free to jump into my DMs or to make a question from my profile. I hope it helped you and that you got some interest in this amazing form of divination.

Blessed be 🌑

[delimeful]

as the fabric starts to fray

donation drive commission for @hazelriver74 with the prompt: dukexiety and glitching powers! thank you so much for your patience, and i hope you enjoy! :)

warnings: violence, fights, mild body horror, involuntary drug use, remus being himself and saying gross stuff, profanity, borderline panic attack

-

Virgil always knew when Remus made his way into a fight by the dramatics alone. 

No matter where the brawl was going down, no matter how many people were involved, there was always enough space for him to make a scene. If there was any doubt that he was related to Princey, that alone would have eliminated it. Not that Princey would be happy to hear that.

So when the bank windows exploded into glass grit and a flash grenade trailing disgusting-smelling smoke landed between Virgil and the seriously-outclassed robbers, he wasn’t as concerned as he probably should have been. 

Sure, Remus-- “The Duke” was a self-identified villain, and sure, Virgil had shifted to the more legal side of the super scene these days, but it was a recent thing. He was a vigilante, not a narc, and that meant that he didn’t particularly care what Remus called himself so long as the guy wasn’t seriously hurting anyone. 

Plus, it was hilarious to see how thoroughly he could frustrate Princey just by existing.

“Having a party and you didn’t invite me?” Remus called, strutting through the smoke in shoes that appeared to have literal knife-heels, ones that scraped unpleasantly against the stone with each step.

Virgil kept himself focused on the robbers, because he hadn’t gotten close enough to get all the guns from them and there were still civilians behind him. Remus better have made the smoke non-toxic this time; not everyone could make a gas mask from shadows like him. “Pretty pathetic party if you ask me. These guys didn’t even bring any fun toys.” 

Remus clicked his tongue, ignoring the weapons pointed his way. “Well, maybe I’ll show them how a real robbery looks, hm? Better cover those innocent civvie eyes, Shade!” 

Virgil immediately snapped an opaque dome into existence over the hostages, just in time for Remus to make his move. 

“Here’s my favorite party trick,” he hollered, ignoring the gunshots as he charged forwards with melting skin and too-many limbs. “It’s the one where I make your kneecaps disappear!” 

Virgil rolled his eyes as Remus employed his usual level of ‘creativity’ to the fight. Good thing he was already well accustomed to cheesy supervillain lines in his lines of work, both past and current.

Still, he kept a sharp eye as he worked to pry the weapons from the ones on the outskirts of the skirmish. While it was sort of hard to look at Remus right now, and he generally didn’t kill, the villain could get a little… sloppy. He ended up having to shadowpatch a few of the would-be robbers’ more grievous wounds, just in case. 

The fight was over quickly, and Virgil smacked Remus on the shoulder, grimacing at the wrongness of his shifting flesh. “Don’t think I didn’t catch what you said about robbing the bank. This place is a community fund, and it’s not insured. Go rob somewhere that deserves it, won’t you?” 

Remus snarled with too many teeth, and Virgil hissed back, smacking him again like he was a finicky car engine. It did the trick, and the villain started looking distinctly less Lovecraftian. 

“You never let me have any fun,” he complained, waving his hand about as it slowly stopped resembling a medieval mace. “You’re almost as bad as the goody-two shoes trio.” 

… He probably shouldn’t be so offended at the comparison, since he was technically working with the heroes now, but. “Am not.” 

Remus threw his head back as he cackled at Virgil’s expense, but before the vigilante could retaliate, a flash of movement caught his eye. 

One of the still-conscious opponents was glaring from the ground, something strange and glowing in his hands, pointed directly at Remus. Virgil’s sense of danger went haywire, and he forced his body to shift forward, rather than away. He shoved Remus, hard, and moved just slow enough to catch the projectile in his own thigh. 

He swore loudly on principle, but whatever it was actually didn’t hurt beyond a stinging impact. He pulled it out: a canister dart with colorful feathers.

“What the hell was in it?” he muttered to himself, and then got an answer in the form of the shield dome dissolving into thick, purple smoke. 

This time, he swore loudly with feeling. 

“Shadowman, what’s going on?” Remus asked, but Virgil didn’t have time to play games anymore. He reached out and drew the smoke towards himself before it could settle on the civilians, shuddering as it settled into his arms and dyed them the mottled color of a bruise. 

He swallowed down the rising terror with the ease of long practice, but Remus was still too close for comfort. Really, when he was like this, everyone in the lobby was too close for comfort. He was feeling a distinct lack of comfort at the moment.

“Don’t wait up,” he muttered, failing to keep the strain from his tone. He immediately ducked out one of the blown out windows, because now was not the time to worry about what was and was not a door. 

Now was a time to get as far away from human contact as possible. 

Because the world hated him, he only got three blocks away before Remus tried to tackle him at full speed. Emphasis on ‘tried’, because Virgil’s ‘spidey-sense’ nearly puppeteered him out of the way, even more high-strung than normal. “I told you to-- why?” 

“I must really be losing my touch if I seem like the kind of person who takes orders,” Remus said, hand on a hip as he recovered from his failed lunge. “Especially after you just took a bullet for me like some swooning damsel. Is my bro rubbing off on you or something?”

Virgil, who could feel his headache getting stronger by the minute, forewent words entirely in favor of a very rude gesture that had absolutely no effect. “Look, I’m not playing coy here. Whatever was in that dart was bad news, you need to leave, now--” 

He hurriedly smacked a hand over his mouth, but it was too late to take back the warped double-tone of his words. Remus, despite all his actions, was not an idiot, and his eyes flicked between Virgil’s face and his arms before widening with realization.

“No fuckin’ way,” he said, advancing a step closer. Virgil shifted a leg back. “You-- Paranoia? You’re alive?” 

“Paranoia’s dead,” Virgil snarled, even as his voice refused to cooperate, even as his shadows began to pull themselves away from his skin and materialize as a particular villain’s signature fog. He clutched at his head, gritting his teeth as he struggled to keep the fog from spreading. “Fuck, I thought I was done feeling out of control of my own goddamn powers.” 

Remus seemed to notice Virgil’s posture, the disbelieving half-smile dropping off his face in favor of something like concern. “Woah, easy, emo. I’m not gonna rat you out, but you do look a little pathetic and in need of help. Hey, you’re a boring normie now, can’t you just call the cavalry?” 

“No!” More fog dripped off of him at the mere thought of interacting with the heroes like this. He’d ‘killed’ his old identity for a reason; he didn’t ever want to subject them to that. 

“Fine, fine! Yeesh, and people call me dramatic,” Remus said, his hands held up in a gesture of non-aggression. “If you won’t call them, then you can hide out at my place until we figure out how to deal with your little leaking problem.” 

Virgil grimaced at the description, and then shook his head. “It’s too dangerous-- Hey!”

His voice cracked embarrassingly as Remus stepped forwards, caught his arm, and slung it over his shoulders in one fluid gesture. The fear fog swirled around him like thick and burning smoke, but he barely even blinked.

“Dangerous, schmangerous,” Remus said, and tugged him towards the next back alley turn. “This is weak shit; Vigilante-You is much scarier, what with all that control and precision.” He fanned himself with one hand, grinning mockingly. “It’s enough to give me goosebumps.” 

Virgil punched his shoulder, shaking his head, but Remus really didn’t seem affected, and he could already feel his shadows becoming more manageable as he calmed down. “Fine, but you asked for it. No complaining when I make your hideout feel like the twilight zone.” 

Remus cackled again as he led the way. “Shade, you underestimate my appreciation for freaky shit. If you spookify my place, I’m going to be ecstatic.” 

[katie-writes24]

Say It Don’t Spray It

Pairing: John Laurens x reader

Warnings: Language, alcohol, suggestive material, FUCK TON OF ANGST KIDS, kinda sad, John doesn’t know when to shut up :,)

Part 2

Request: hey! my request was a laurens x reader where they're frenemies, n one day they get into this huge fight that stems from nothing, angst angst angst, and then he comes to her house to apologize. they simultaneously realize they have feelings for one another, and fluff fluff fluff...idek know after that lol - @notebookgirl30

Okay....WAYYYY OVERDUE I TOTALLY APOLOGIZE! Ngl this was a bit of a struggle to write because I just wanted to get a good feel of their “relationship/friendship” but I think I got it. Maybe? But I built a bigger storyline than expected so there’ll be a part 2. But yeah, hope you enjoy! Thank you @tinywhim for the title (you’re a real one, you don’t even know). Let me know if you want to be tagged! Leave me some feedback PLEASE!! And yeah! Enjoy!

“Has anyone ever told you you’re super boring?”

Y/N scoffed, “I’ve always loved your compliments, Angelica.”

She rolled her eyes, giving her coworker an exaggerated look. “You have nothing better to do on a Friday night. Normal people go out, and party and have fun! It’s the weekend, Y/N, you don’t have to worry about anything!”

That was an overstatement. Y/N actually did have lots to do, like finish her report and pay her bills and visit her parents and do actual adult things. Her partying days were over in college, and she knew that nothing good could come from a night surrounded by all of Angelica’s friends, some who happen to be their coworkers.

This was different though, in a way. Yes, it was Angelica’s birthday, but she was never good at social interaction, especially not at a club. These days she’ll go out with the Schuyler’s for a couple of drinks and go home and call it a day. That was enough for her, and she was okay with it. She was perfectly fine with her own friends telling her how she’s a buzzkill when it comes to partying. She was fine with not putting herself out there to guys because she didn’t think it was necessary right now.

She was comfortable at this point in her life, and she wasn’t going to ruin that over a drunken night at the club.

“Aren’t you two like best friends? You’re gonna miss your best friend’s birthday party?” Y/N turned to find John tutting in mock disapproval, swaying slightly on his chair.

“Will you butt out?” Y/N glared hard but it didn’t have the proper effect when he only laughed.

That’s the other problem. John is going to be there, which could only mean chaos. She’s been to enough office parties over the last two years to notice that he can’t hold his liquor and is incredibly loud. Not only were his obnoxious traits an issue, but there was something about him that got under her skin, not totally in a good way.

Eliza would never make her forget her little crush that sparked at the beginning of her job, when John was always nice to her and would give her this blinding smile. That sailed long ago, but apparently, a drunken night full of shared secrets was enough for the Schuyler to remember. Now, maybe there were some things that Y/N could pick out to prove to herself that he was an actual decent human being, but the John Laurens that had been sitting beside her for years was still John Laurens.

“I’m sitting three feet away from you,” He gestured at their desks that were only separated by a couple of inches. “I can literally hear everything you’re saying.”

“And he’s right!” Angelica reached over her desk and grabbed her hand. “It wouldn’t feel right if you weren’t there. Please, Y/N, it’s just a couple of hours. I promise if you really get uncomfortable you can leave, but I know you won’t because it is going to be amazing!”

Rolling her eyes yet again, Y/N did feel a little guilty. Angelica has always been there for her, through all the ups and downs, she’s been her biggest support system. It wouldn’t be fair to not celebrate her birthday with her.

“Fine,” Angelica practically squealed at her grumble. “But don’t count on me as your designated driver, because I might really dip out if it gets too rowdy for me.”

“Might as well not go then. Put me and Alex together, pshhh, you’ll be walking out the door as soon as you step in.” John winked, like he just knew how to get Y/N fired up and ready to argue back. Angelica knew too, as she pulled her hands toward her again, gaining her attention.

“Ignore him, I swear we will all have a good time! Plus, who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone there.”

She looked hopeful, almost as if this was her intention all along. But Y/N knew better, no matter how many times Angelica tried to set her up, she wouldn’t invite her somewhere only to be mislead and be set on a blind date.

“I am not interested, I am perfectly capable of finding someone on my own, if I choose.” She made sure to point out the last part so her friend would drop the subject.

“I’m just saying,” Angelica put her hands in up in defense, but still had that knowing look on her face like she didn’t believe her. Y/N sighed and got up from her chair, heading towards the break room for another coffee.

Upon entering, she noticed Thomas was already by the coffee machine, pouring his own cup. He looked up and raised a brow. “Long day?”

“And it’s only getting started,” Y/N rubbed a hand over her face and motioned towards the machine. “Are you done hogging that now?”

“Woah, woah, what did I do to be treated with such attitude?” Thomas chuckled and grabbed a cup for her.

“Sorry, I’m just...kind of stressed, not really looking forward to the weekend?”

“You mean Angelica’s party?” Thomas handed the cup over to her, nodding at her thanks and watched her add cream into the liquid.

“Yes, actually. I’m not really good at parties, I think they’re too exciting for me. Go on, say it, I’m a boring buzzkill.” It’s not like she’s ever heard anything different before when trying to explain how she’d rather stay at home and unwind while reading a book or watching tv and just relaxing, instead of being surrounded by sweaty bodies and drinking till she grows numb.

“Now why are you putting words in my mouth? I was actually going to say I agree with you.” Y/N looked up in shock, not believing that Thomas Jefferson was one to refuse a party invitation.

“Really? You don’t like parties?”

“Not that I don’t like them, sometimes they grow old. It’s the same scene over and over again and I’d rather switch it up a bit, change the location, you know?” He had a small smile on his face, looking like he was fonding over some memory.

“You’re right, it must be so hard being invited to parties all the time!” Y/N smirked as he gasped dramatically in mock offense. It only lead to them giggling to each other, only stopping when someone else cleared their throat from the doorway.

Y/N found John standing, his usual smile gone and replaced with a frown and furrowed brows. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no, I was just leaving actually,” Thomas made way to the exit before hesitating, turning back to look at Y/N. “I’ll see you at the party, Y/N.”

She waved shyly, watching him walk away. It was comforting talking to Thomas, in a way. They didn’t do it very often, but when they did Y/N felt relaxed.

Lost in her thoughts, a cough startled her and she realized she was standing in John’s way. Y/N stepped to the side, muttering an apology and thinking how Friday night might not be so bad.

~~~

It’s not that Y/N doubted that Angelica would not settle for less than a full out, top quality club. But she didn’t think that it would include a private floor, filled with a bunch of people that Y/N didn’t know. Luckily, she spotted the birthday girl herself from across the room.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Angelica screamed over the music that was blasting from the floor below. She was well passed tipsy already, but she knew that Angelica would want to sober up before the night was over. She was never one to purposefully forget her birthday. “Come on, let’s get you a drink!”

She pulled her over towards the overcrowded bar, pushing passed drunks and couples dancing, Y/N even got stumbled into and turned to find a familiar head of curls.

“Watch it, Laurens!” The glare sent his way was enough to make him sheepishly smile.

“My bad,” John walked off towards a booth in the corner, surrounded by a few other men, one who she had recognized as a friend of Thomas.

A shot was shoved into her hand and soon enough, so were two more. Once a proper drink was in her hold, Angelica invited her to a game of pool with her sisters. 

Somehow, Y/N got surrounded by a bunch of people that she didn’t know. Angelica had been dragged over by a short man, which meant Y/N was dragged as well. It was the booth full of John’s friends, and they had made their impression, that was for sure.

“Ah, and who do we have here?” Thomas’s friend came over and smiled, making Angelica smirk and push his chest.

“Laf, this is Y/N,” Even though they had never met before, Lafayette beamed at the mention of her name.

“So, this is the famous Y/N we have heard so much about, heh?” He grinned devilishly, like he knew something that she didn’t. It was strange, what would Angelica have said about her?

“Nice to meet you,” Y/N stuck out her hand politely.

“Oh please, the pleasure is all mine, cherie!” He took her hand and placed a gentle kiss in her knuckles. She giggled at his performance, looking to see if anyone else was buying the act. But when she looked around to see if anyone else knew something, she only saw John glaring at his friend while sipping on his drink.

Her coworker’s odd behavior was enough for her to move herself to the bar, ordering another drink for herself. As the bartender handed her the cup, he told her that it was already paid for, pointing her in the direction to a man across the room. He was cute, and if the look in his eye told her anything, it was the words Angelica had said.

You don’t have to worry about anything.

Maybe you’ll meet someone.

Perhaps she was right.

She was tired of everyone telling her how boring she was.

Y/N found herself dancing with the guy, not bothering to learn his name and more focused on her hips moving with his. The lips on her neck gave her a rush, like she was finally doing something fun and risky.

His hands were pulling at the hem of her dress when she was jolted forward. The guy had bumped into her hard, and when she turned around she found out it wasn’t the guys fault, but John’s.

“What the hell man?” The guy got up in his face. Y/N couldn’t really hear what they were saying, but it looked like it was something threatening. Laf, the short man and another one of John’s friends appeared, trying to pull him back and tell him to just leave it alone. John wasn’t having it, took to pushing the guy hard once more.

It was a giant commotion that got security involved, and Y/N was over it. She ran out of the club, tears brimming her eyes as she thought about what exactly just happened.

John always had to ruin the night. John always had a problem with her.

John also stopped her from calling a cab, grabbing her hand just as she reached the sidewalk and calling her name.

“What the fuck, John? What the hell was that for?” Y/N screamed, wide eyed and wondering why when she was finally having a good time, he had to fuck it up.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry! I just- I couldn’t let him-”

“Couldn’t let him what? Touch me? Dance with me? Why? How does that have anything to do with you, John?” Nothing was connecting, there was never a time she could recall where John cared about her love life.

“He was an asshole anyways, alright? Was he really all that to you? Okay, if anything I was helping you!” If he could actually believe that, John was growing angry, too. He had no right to be, but his kept spitting out words that only made Y/N fill with rage.

“What did I ever do to you? Why? Why do you have such a problem with me?” While furious was an understatement, she seemed to be more confused as to why John got involved anyways. She was finally inching out of her shell and he just had to give her a reason to want to never leave her apartment again. 

“I don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. I’m drunk, I’m-I didn’t mean to do that, I just-”

“Just what?” While John was stumbling with his words, she knew better. “Being drunk is not an excuse against your actions!”

"I was just trying to make a point! He was all over you, I thought you were uncomfortable!” He narrowed his eyes, and he’d grown more angry than regretful only a few seconds before.

“Well, I wasn’t! I am a grown woman, John, I’m allowed to have fun and meet guys! I was having a good time until you had to ruin it!” 

“Jesus- I was just looking out for you! It’s not my fault you’re such a whore-”

The world seemed to stop as the two screaming voices died instantly at the sharp sound of the hit. John locked his jaw before he lifted his hand to rub his cheek. When he finally lifted his eyes, he saw Y/N pursing her lips in pure rage, a single tear streak ran down her cheek. She looked so small, fragile in a way that made him want to wrap her in his arms and promise that he would make sure that nothing ever hurt her.

He had already proven that he could never do such a thing. 

“Fuck you, John.” Y/N whispered and turned, leaving him standing alone, full of regret. 

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Laurens taglist: @alievans007 @etjt1821 @dontblinkumightmiss @hj-creates

[izlaria]

Someone you like (part 6)

This is the final chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform.

Special thanks to @rueitae for betaing this chapter and to @onlysilvy for being a darling this whole time. Your support means everything. Also, sorry, Rue, I have no self-control.

Summary: Lance falls in love with Pidge on two different occasions. They eventually figure it out.

25 and 23 years old

The end of Lance’s first year as an MFE fighter saw him standing in front of Pidge’s room, wringing his hands. Anxiety clawed at his chest, but he had made up his mind to finally confess his feelings. With the anniversary of Allura’s death fast approaching – it was only two months away –, both Keith and Hunk had advised him to either spill his guts soon or wait for the new year. Lance had taken this to heart.

His work in the Garrison didn’t put him in direct contact with Pidge, but the two of them always made up excuses to see each other after hours. They would spend evenings in his apartment, playing video games or watching movies, or they would go over to Shiro’s for a round of Monsters and Mana, enjoying how excited Curtis got over the storylines.

Most of the time, Lance felt like they were already a couple, with how much they bantered. Even Veronica assured him that they were insufferable. So, every day it got harder for Lance to control his instinct to pull Pidge to him and kiss her, to finally let her know how much Lance wanted her in his life, forever.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Before Lance could make up his mind to knock, the door slid open to reveal Romelle. She stood there with a hand on her hip, her blonde hair pinned in a bun at the top of her head.

“You do realize there’s a sensor on the door?” There was laughter in her voice. “And a camera. I’ve been staring at your distressed face for almost five minutes.” Alarm must have flashed through his expression, because she snorted. “Don’t worry, she’s not here right now.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Romelle,” he said with little-to-no enthusiasm. The girl continued to grin at his misery, stepping aside so Lance could walk into the room. “When did you even get here?”

She moved to the bed, where several books were scattered around, and plopped back against the pile of pillows. Around the room, machinery parts and clothing pieces battled for the floorspace. It was an aspect of Pidge that never changed, the organized chaos of her room that no doubt reflected that brilliant mind of hers.

“Keith stopped by Altea to pick me up. Hunk wanted me to bring some produce from that quadrant, because Colleen’s last harvest was apparently jeopardized by a flood a junior botanist caused.” Romelle shrugged. “Katie didn’t know the specifics.”

Her use of Pidge’s given name no longer surprised Lance. People around the Garrison usually referred to the Holts by their titles, since their ranks within the organization demanded a certain level of reverence, but many of their colleagues from the war still called her Katie. Especially those who spent their time with Sam and Colleen, like Romelle.

“Have you seen Hunk and Matt yet?” Lance took a seat on the couch. It was old and gray, but comfortable enough. He and Shiro had dragged it into Pidge’s dorm after one too many nights of eating dinner on the floor.

The blonde shook her head. “Hunk and Shay are grabbing me for lunch and Matt is busy with his girlfriend.” She leaned against the headboard and, although her posture remained relaxed, the look in her eyes spoke of mischief. “Katie said I could chill –” she made quotation marks with her hands – “here while I waited, but if I’m interrupting something…”

Lance gave a spastic wave of his arms that probably did nothing to deny her suspicions. It was just his luck that Romelle was there again. She’d already witnessed his struggle when asking Allura out and now she could see right through him.

“Interrupting?” He forced a laugh. “Nah! It’s fine! Always good to see a friendly face!”

Romelle didn’t have the skill to emulate Pidge’s unimpressed look, but being best friends with Matt had certainly helped her get close to it. However, she also didn’t seem invested enough in his drama to pry, going back to digging through the books.

“I’m sure it was not 

 face you had hoped to see,” she commented nonchalantly, still looking down at the different covers. “Alas, it is what it is. Katie is in a meeting, so you might as well keep me company.”

Lance frowned at her, but chose not to follow through with the subject. “What are those books for?”

“It turns out that an education based around the teachings of a megalomaniac prince did not actually cover as much astrology as I had hoped.” Romelle looked down at her palms. There was an edge to her smile that Lance was sad to recognize as self-deprecation. “Hunk helps with what he can, but Matt and Katie are the real connoisseurs, apparently, so they gave me some material from when they were younger.” She heaved a sigh. “It’s a lot.”

“I’m really proud of you.” Lance smiled at her, a little awkward. “Allura would be, too.”

“What? Where did that come from?” Romelle made a face at him, but she was smiling as well. “I am simply trying to do my best. There is a lot I don’t know.”

“Yeah, but you’ve done your best since I met you and it’s always been enough.” Lance shrugged, shifting his gaze to the whiteboard that hung over Pidge’s bed. The equations there meant nothing to him. “Without you, we wouldn’t have been able to stop Lotor or Honerva. Besides, the Holts are very selective of the people they like. They don’t just take on hopeless cases.”

Romelle blew out a breath. Their eyes met tentatively, as they were both embarrassed by the situation. “You know, it is surprisingly easy to forget that you are a good person.”

“I’ve been told,” he deadpanned, much to the Altean’s amusement.

“Look, I do not need you to cheer me up. I appreciate it, but you can keep your compliments for Katie, who we both know would enjoy them more.” Even as she said this, it was clear that Romelle felt a little better. She picked up one of the books. “If you want to help, just quiz me on chapter ten.”

Lance got up from the couch to accept the book, grinning when he recognized the title. “Hey, I know this one!” He sat back down and flipped to the table of contents. “Yeah, I had to read this for a summer course I took when I was fourteen. That’s when I met Hunk,” he added for Romelle’s benefit.

“Hm, funny, that one is Matt’s.” She kneeled on the bed to look at the cover. “And there was one of Katie’s ribbons in it, so I believe she also read it.”

“One of her ribbons?” Lance frowned at her in curiosity. He had never seen Pidge carry ribbons around, but what would have been a ridiculous image in their teen years was now utterly charming. It was lovely to find out these small details about her.

“Yes. She used them to mark the pages when younger. There, there!” Romelle pointed to the book until Lance reached a page where a green ribbon laid across the words. She grinned. “Isn’t it adorable?”

It was.

At the same time, it reminded him of the difficulties Pidge had undergone during middle school and how she had only had Matt and her parents to rely on. Had she read her brother’s book as a way to escape the words of her colleagues? Or had she loved space so fiercely even then that her time of leisure was spent going through Matt’s training material?

“Do you think this is when their little feud over color-coding started?” Romelle broke him out of these thoughts. She had opened another one of the books and was flipping through the pages absent-mindedly. “I swear to the moons of Cobturg, if I have to listen to their arguments about this one more time, I–”

There was a beep and the door to the room opened once more, shutting Romelle up at once. Pidge took a second to look them over, before dropping her purse down at the coffee table.

“Why do you look so guilty?” She narrowed her eyes at Romelle, who let out a noise of protest, as if to say ‘Who? Me?’.

Lance went to her rescue. “She was telling me about the ribbons you used to collect.” He held up the green fabric, grinning. “Who would have thought? Our Pidge Gunderson was actually a normal, little girl once.”

Her hair was short again. It looked different, though, more put-together than the hairstyle she had used during their time in space. He supposed her responsibilities in the Garrison demanded a more polished appearance, but he kind of missed the disarray.

She looked very pretty like this. In fact, the overall effect of her wide-legged slacks, light-blue blouse, the hair and the boots left him feeling a little dazed.

Pidge rolled her eyes and made a grab for the ribbon, but Lance stood up and pulled it out of reach. She almost lost her balance from his sudden movement, putting a knee up on the couch to keep in place.

“Did you really come in here just to test my patience?” she asked, still standing in front of him.

Lance clicked his tongue playfully. “Nothing makes me happier than seeing you blush in anger.” He waved the ribbon around, smirking. “You make a beautiful tomato.”

“She’s more of a strawberry, really,” Romelle pointed out from her perch on the bed. She gestured towards her face. “It’s the little dots.”

“Those are called freckles.” Pidge pushed away from the couch and towards the Altean. “You were supposed to be studying, not ganging up with Lance to bother me.”

Romelle’s face dropped into an impressively effective look of anguish. “But it’s boring to study by myself.” She grabbed Pidge’s hands, swinging their arms lightly. “You promised I could do your hair before I left!”

Pidge glanced at him over her shoulder. Whether it was because she thought Lance might help her or simply because she was mortified by the idea of doing something so girly in front of him, he couldn’t tell. Before he could intervene, however, there was another beep from the door, then a knock.

“That must be Hunk,” Pidge declared, jumping away from Romelle.

The blonde rolled her eyes, but slid out of the bed and opened a small panel on the wall, where a screen was hidden. From behind her, Lance could see Hunk and Shay talking on the video feed.

“Saved by the bell,” he heard Pidge mutter under her breath.

“Aw, come on, Pidgeon.” Lance aimed a shit-eating grin at her, knowing it was easier to taunt her into things than to simply ask. “Now I want to see you looking all primped up!”

The girl did not back down. She puffed up her chest, lips set into a line, and turned to face him fully. “You’re supposed to be on my side here!” Then, in a lower voice, “I don’t want to set miss excitable over there loose with a brush!”

“I will have you know –” Romelle waggled a finger in the air – “that everyone in our crew thinks very highly of my styling skills. Is it not true?”

She whipped around to prod at her two teammates, who had just been let into the room. Hunk looked doubtful, but Shay nodded her head solemnly.

“Her hair is widely regarded as the most luscious and well-kept of our ship,” Shay declared with all the straight-faced earnestness that could be expected from a rock-person.

“She and Hunk are the only ones who have hair!” Pidge threw her hands up in frustration.

Lance felt himself chuckle. He barely ever got to see the interactions between this group. During his time at the farm, the only occasion when he saw everyone together was on the day they celebrated the end of the war. It hurt a little to think of all the events he’d lost while in Cuba or on his travels.

“How much harm can she really do?” He approached Pidge and ran a hand through her hair, letting the ends curl around his fingers. “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”

Pidge eyed him carefully and, though her countenance betrayed nothing, Lance was sure he’d felt her shudder at his touch.

“My hair is too short to do more than stubby ponytails,” she continued her objections. “It would be far from beautiful.”

“I don’t know…” He gave her a wink and, this time, red flooded her cheeks. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing anyone could do to make you not beautiful.”

“I changed my mind.” The interruption froze him in place, hand still on the nape of Pidge’s neck. “Get me out of here,” Romelle said to the other two, ignoring the glare Lance sent her way. “Before I scream.”

Hunk choked out a laugh. “Elle, you haven’t seen the worst of it.”

Lance pulled his hand back quickly. He hadn’t meant to act so impulsively, not in front of their friends at least. The only excuse he could find was that their antics had filled him to the brim with affection and now it spilled out, untamed.

“Don’t you three have a lunch to get to?” Pidge pushed her glasses up, moving away from Lance and further into the room. She stopped by her bedside table and fiddled with a tablet that had been lying there.

Surprisingly, Romelle let her avoidance pass without comment. She gave Pidge a long look, before voicing her agreement. “I’m taking these two to that coffeeshop you and I go from time to time.” There was something strangely emphatic about how she was speaking. “They have a new dessert I want Hunk to try and replicate.”

Pidge tensed, still not looking up from the tablet. “You mean the one we discovered with Allura.”

Lance and Hunk shared a look of confusion and dread. From the way Romelle’s expression twisted, it didn’t seem like that kind of despondency was what she had been trying to evoke. And Shay, bless her heart, appeared to be at a loss and kept shifting her gaze between the four of them, waiting for an explanation.

“Should we go, then?” she asked, uncertain. Romelle gave a quick nod and turned her face away from them. The frown she sported appeared out-of-place in the usually bright Altean.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Pidge had sat down on her bed and her eyes zeroed in on Romelle. “We can talk more then.”

The two girls nodded at each other.

As they traded goodbyes, Hunk sidled up to Lance, giving him an all-enveloping hug. They had talked earlier that morning, but Lance’s impending confession put him out-of-sorts. It was a nice hug, another aspect of the Garrison life that he’d missed: his friend, the support he gave, his unyielding belief on the people he loved.

Hunk held him in the hug for a second. “Don’t let her get away, dude.” They separated, but his friend kept going. “Not like this.”

And then he and Shay were gone.

Romelle stopped at the door. She turned to give Lance a considering look. “You mentioned Allura earlier. Wherever she may be, she would have wanted nothing but your happiness.” Her eyes shifted to something behind him and Lance could almost feel Pidge’s uneasiness at the stare. “That goes for the both of you.”

The door closed behind her, leaving those last words to hang in the air.

“Will you tell me what that was about?” Lance crossed the room to sit by Pidge. He poked her knee until she looked up at him.

“Can I pretend that it was just Romelle being Romelle?” Her eyes were sad as she said this. He almost gave in, but his worry spoke louder than his sympathy.

“I might not know her as you do, but I doubt Romelle would say anything to hurt you.” He grimaced. “Not intentionally.”

“Intentional or not, I just think she’s meddling where she’s not wanted.” The sharpness in her voice made Lance flinch.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I am sick of people acting like they know what’s best for me.” Pidge wrapped her arms around herself. It was such an uncharacteristic gesture for her that Lance wasn’t sure what to say. “I am happy. Who is she to doubt that?”

“Your friend?” he offered, keeping his voice soft.

Pidge normally handled obstacles with a bull-headedness that most feared. She and Romelle had this in common, the fierceness that had sent them travelling through the galaxies to ensure justice was made for their families. His friend couldn’t see the hypocrisy in her claim that the Altean was being meddlesome when Pidge’s own curiosity had often led her to intrude on other people’s matters.

She was a very private person and almost completely indifferent to gossip, true, but she went above and beyond for what did spark her interest.

“Romelle being my friend gives her the right to question my judgement?” Pidge sent him a fulminating look, before turning her eyes away.

“A little.” Lance chuckled to himself, despite receiving an elbow to the side for his answer. “C’mon, don’t act as if you guys didn’t question my actions after the war!”

“Aren’t our circumstances a little different?” Her voice was dry as the Arizona desert. “It’s not like I’m burying myself in work or something. I just…” She forced out a breath. “I’m satisfied with my life. I have friends and my family is safe and I’m respected in the Garrison. What more does she want from me?”

Lance just looked at her. In many ways, Pidge was right. She was still very young, despite having lived through so much, and there would be time for adventures or romance or whatever Romelle had wanted for her.

Still, the notion caused something to ache in his chest. He wanted Romelle’s words to be about him.

Since his return, many of their colleagues had insinuated that there was something more between him and Pidge, and Lance had allowed it. He loved her sincerely, but he’d spent the past year swallowing flirtatious remarks, afraid to scare her off. The rumors about them had seemed like a good way to put the idea into Pidge’s head, even as she grew more and more upset with the comments.

“She mentioned the coffeeshop because she wanted to remind me of a conversation we had when we first went there,” Pidge confessed as the silence stretched between them. “About something I wanted all those years ago.”

“What was it?” Lance frowned at her.

“Nothing that matters. I couldn’t have it then and I can’t have it now.” She didn’t look away from him, this time, and their locked gazes sent electricity down Lance’s spine. There was a heaviness in her eyes that made them look dark, even in the well-lit room.

Lance reached for her hand, pulling her arm away from her middle and onto his lap. He played with her fingers; the ribbon lied forgotten over his thigh.

“Pidgeon, I’ve never known you to give up on what you want.” He smiled at her, feeling a wave of fondness shoot through him. Her hand twisted in his grip, as if she’d meant to close it into a fist.

“I thought I was over it,” Pidge whispered, more to herself than to him.

Lance worked his jaw, hoping he hadn’t misinterpreted the look she was giving him. He could swear her eyes had lowered to his mouth for a fraction of a second. It made his whole body feel hot, like a burning star had settled in his chest and turned the blood in his veins into pure heat.

The implication was not lost in him. Had Pidge liked him back then? Had that affection survived the years of his self-imposed isolation?

“I think –” he started, eyes unable to leave her face – “that some things are worth the wait.” And then, without breaking eye contact, Lance lifted Pidge’s hand to his mouth and kissed her pulse.

The reaction was instantaneous. Color rushed up her complexion, an uneven redness that Lance had taunted her about in their younger years and that now seemed disproportionally attractive. In this bubble of heat they created, Lance felt he could see her brilliance clearer than ever.

Pidge was beautiful, not only because of how she looked, but because of who she was.

Because he was looking so closely, Lance could tell the exact moment her bewilderment dwindled. Her eyes hardened, her mouth curved down.

“Can you not?” she snapped, shaking away his grip to stand up.

“Not what?” Lance stared at her back as fear welled up inside him.

“Not stand so close. Not touch me like that.” Pidge waved her arms around as she spoke. “Not get my hopes up when I know you don’t mean it.”

“How could you possibly think I don’t mean it?” It was his turn to sound indignant.

“Because you’re loverboy Lance! You go after these bombshell women, with their long limbs and their poise…” She struggled to finish her thought, groaning. “I don’t want to be another one of your conquests!”

“Is that what you really think of me?” He felt angry at the possibility. This was Pidge, someone who should know Lance better than the average, Voltron-show-watching acquaintance. She knew he hadn’t really gone into relationships in the past few years, still healing from Allura’s death.

“I don’t know what to think.” She stopped moving, letting her arms hang at her sides. Despite the defeat in her stance, when Pidge looked at him, there was pride in how she held her chin. “I know who I am. I am intelligent and brave and reliable. But I’m not nice,” she said the word with a hint of repulse, “or patient or charming.”

“Of course I know that!” Lance had to hold back a grimace. That hadn’t come out quite right. “But you wanna know what else you are?” He didn’t wait for a response. “You’re the girl who always called me out on my bullshit. The one who has saved my ass more times than I can count, who helped me study for my piloting exams.” He lowered his tone, calming down a little. “You’re the girl who came to meet me at the farm every month to bring all the games I had missed in the US.”

Pidge still didn’t look completely convinced, but she didn’t dodge him when Lance approached.

“The releases always came out late in Varadero,” she interjected with a frown.

He laughed at her excuse. “You came because you wanted to make sure I was okay. Then, after I was done wallowing, you were the one who flew out to meet me in Greece and Korea and Chile.” He took her hand, feeling more confident. “And every time we met up, it was like my body relaxed. Ah,” he acted out, “I’m finally here. With my best friend.”

“That’s just it, Lance. I’m your friend.” Pidge studied his expression with furrowed brows. “You may be feeling – I don’t know! Moved by how close we’ve gotten?” She shook her head. “But I was in love with you for three years before I could accept that you’d only ever have eyes for Allura.”

“We’ve talked about this, Katie.” He kept his grasp on her hand, even as Pidge tried to move away. She had grown uncomfortable with his use of her name. “I did love Allura, but she’s gone. I deserve to go after what I want, too.”

“And what you want is me?” she sounded unconvinced.

“How can you be so smart and still so dense?” Lance threw his head back in frustration. “Everyone sees it. Hunk, Shiro, even Keith!” He sighed. “Even Romelle. Today, she wasn’t making fun of you or scolding you or whatever that exceptional and traumatized brain of yours came up with.” Lance had to hold up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “Romelle was trying to encourage me.”

Pidge stood there and, although she was quiet, her eyes remained sharp. Lance feared that he’d gone too far, but he knew rationally that Pidge had already exposed all she had to say and that it was up to him to erase her doubts.

He raised his unoccupied hand to cup her cheek. Pidge’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “How can you be so sure that we will be fine after this?”

Lance leaned down to press a kiss against her eyelashes, then her cheeks, then the corner of her mouth. He heard her inhale sharply and hold the breath. Feeling her reactions to him right under his palm was a kind of inebriation he’d never experienced before.

“I know,” Lance let his lips drag against her skin, “because I’ve committed myself to seeing you happy.” He put some space between them so that he could look into her eyes. The flushed vibrancy of Pidge’s complexion made an image that stupefied him. “Even if that means I turn away right now.”

Her hands snaked up his chest to rest on Lance’s neck, pulling him down. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he couldn’t resist asking, a smile tugging at his lips. Pidge rolled her eyes but didn’t push away when Lance rested his forehead against hers.

“Don’t go.” She was the one to kiss the corner of his mouth, now. “Stay.”

They met in the middle.

Lance felt her hands curl into the collar of his shirt as they kissed, her lips pushing softly against his. The touch was unbearably tender, starting a tingle that ran up and down his back. In return, he used the hand that wasn’t on her cheek to hold Pidge against him. He drew circles on the fabric of her blouse, thankful that it was fine enough to feel the give of her skin underneath.

Pidge’s lips moved slowly on his, drawing out the sensation of that first contact. It was Lance who could no longer curb his want and he licked into her mouth, once, twice, until she was chasing his tongue with her own. Pidge sighed into the kiss, dragging a hand down over his chest.

He’d had kisses before – soft and passionate and frenzied and meaningless –, but the feel of Pidge’s body against him and the affection Lance held for her had ignited a spark inside of him that spread heat all over. It was the star, back again, now that there were no more secrets between them.

His smile broke the kiss and they parted, panting.

“So…” Lance let both of his hands rest on her waist. The smugness that grew within him must have shown in his expression, because Pidge looked immediately on guard. “When did you fall for me?” He traced a line down her back with his thumb. “I’m pretty sure I heard something about liking me for three years.”

Pidge pushed at his chest, walking him backwards. “Not telling.”

“Can’t I convince you?” He was trying to go for seductive, but the girl merely laughed.

“Don’t you have more pressing matters to focus on?” She continued to move them until Lance’s legs hit the edge of the bed. He blinked down at her.

“Think you can distract me?” He shot her a smirk. Despite the more sensual undertone it carried, challenges weren’t new between them. It comforted Lance that their dynamics had adjusted so easily to this new aspect of their relationship.

Pidge gave a final push, making him sit down on the bed. He had to brace himself against the mattress.

“I’m sure I can think of something,” she said, sarcasm thick on her voice. And then she climbed into Lance’s lap, a knee on each side of his thighs.

He felt his throat go dry and swallowed instinctively. The new position put her mouth just a little higher than his, making Lance tilt his head back to capture her lips.

“You know…” His voice came out strangled. “I always did like the way you think.”

When Pidge leaned over him, the feel of her hips lowering on his almost made him choke. A more conscious part of his brain was not surprised by her boldness, but it did nothing to calm his stammering heart.

“Just shut up, loverboy,” she muttered against his lips, even as their smiles made it difficult to really get into the kiss. Laughter bubbled up in him and Lance continued to kiss Pidge as her own giggles erupted. There was joy in her mouth and in his chest and in every point of contact between them.

--

“Oh, I’d forgotten about this.” Lance picked up the green piece of fabric that peaked out from behind a metal plaque.

Pidge glanced up at him, but her attention quickly shifted back to the code she’d been working on.

“Mom left a bunch of books for Romelle here. I think that’s where the ribbons are coming from.”

Lance smiled. He loved how casually they’d fallen into their relationship. As a young boy, he’d fantasized about girlfriends who fawned over him and his accomplishments, but, after so many years as an intergalactic authority, he had learned to appreciate how domestic they had become.

On moments like this, when it was just the two of them behind a closed door, each preoccupied with their own responsibilities, it was their friendship that he valued the most.

“They’re cute,” he exclaimed happily.

Pidge gave him a look of suspicion. “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m serious!” Lance squirmed on the bed until he sidled up to her. “My first love also liked ribbons. It’s one of the things I remember the most about her, the green ribbon in her hair.”

“Are you comparing me to your first girlfriend?” Pidge sounded completely done with him and Lance couldn’t really blame her. “Even I know that’s a no-no in a relationship.”

“I’m not comparing anything!” He waved his hands defensively.

Pidge knocked their shoulders together in teasing. They’d only been together for two weeks, but Lance doubted he would ever see her truly jealous, not due to his mindless chatter at least. She and Hunk had told him that Pidge had shown signs of jealousy during their time in the Castle, but Lance couldn’t recall them for the life of him.

It was endlessly frustrating.

“You’re lucky I like you.” Pidge lifted his arm and put it around her, burying into Lance’s side.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” He ran his fingers up and down her skin, feeling the goosebumps that formed at his touch. “Fate was kind when it put you in my life.”

Lance dipped down to nibble at her ear, then trailed kisses over the column of her neck. Pidge giggled in his arms, ticklish and embarrassed at her reactions.

“Down, boy.” She pressed a finger to his nose, pushing him back a bit. He pouted at her, trying to entice Pidge into another kiss. “Are you gonna be this tacky every time I say something sarcastic?”

“For as long as you keep finding it attractive,” he retorted. Lance knew he was being conceited, but he couldn’t help it. There was no ego-boost quite like the sounds his girlfriend made when she was underneath him in one of their beds, mouths and hands fervent in their paths.

In a quick movement, he’d captured the tip of her finger between his teeth, biting playfully. It sent Pidge into a bout of laughter, which had her pushing Lance’s face away as he continued to pepper kisses on her palms, her arms, anywhere he could reach.

“You’re so freaking silly, sometimes!” Pidge draped her legs across his, locking him in place. “Why are you trying to catch my attention, anyway?”

Lance leaned back against the headboard, putting his hands on her calves. She was still in her pajamas; an oversized t-shirt and blue shorts that reached mid-thigh. It was more skin than Pidge normally showed, just another sign of how comfortable she was with him.

“I’m a little bored.” He scrunched up his nose, knowing that wasn’t a reason Pidge would accept. She tried to kick him on the arm, but Lance held on. “Hey! I’m done with the flight plans and you’ve been on your laptop since I got here! I’ve been good!”

“You just tried to make out with me,” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I was being good and now I want attention,” Lance corrected shamelessly.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him, but closed her laptop and settled it next to them on the bed. She scooted a bit closer, until she was sitting on Lance’s lap with her arms around his neck.

“So quiet,” she taunted. One of her nails scraped just underneath his ear, making Lance groan. “And sensitive.”

“You’re a little devil.” He dropped his head on her shoulder.

“I finally found a way to shut you up.” Pidge’s carefree laughter rang right in his ear. Since their days as students, it never failed to bring him a sense of accomplishment. No one could distract Pidge quite like him. “I’ll use it how I see fit.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his nape.

Disgruntled, Lance straightened his posture and caught her lips more firmly, tracing the roof of her mouth with his tongue. Pidge responded with no hesitance and her hands dug into his shoulders to hold him in.

Despite the ease with which they fit, this was as far as Lance had tried to go. Kisses and small touches and gasps that left his entire body burning. Although Pidge had gone on a few dates while he was away, Lance was achingly aware that she was still somewhat inexperienced.

More than that, he knew two weeks could not erase insecurities that were born from years watching him flirt with other girls. He felt ashamed of how crass he might have been in front of Pidge, but he had been young and stupid and copying behaviors from men he’d once admired.

He was thankful for his teammates. Lance knew he was a better man for having known Shiro’s integrity and Hunk’s warmth and Keith’s honesty. Coran had shown him there was pride in being genuine. Allura had taught him about the reality of love. Most of all, he was thankful for Pidge and how she’d kept him in line.

They parted slowly, and Lance surged forward one last time to give a peck to Pidge’s lips. She smiled in amusement.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” She ran her fingers through his hair. “We don’t have to be at Shiro’s until dinner.”

Lance checked his watch. They still had a few hours, but he wanted to get something to eat before then. He’d come into Pidge’s room at noon to find she had just woken up, and his girlfriend had refused to go out before she made some progress on a program for Chip. She’d devoured a bag of chips while she worked, but that was not real food.

“We should grab a late lunch somewhere.” Lance disentangled himself from Pidge, much to her discontentment. “And then I need to get you some fruit or granola bars or something for this room.”

“If I need anything, I usually go to the cafeteria or one of the vending machines.” She shrugged, but accepted the hand Lance offered to pull her up.

“And you have the audacity to question my eating habits.” He sent her a sidelong glare.

“You might be able to cook, but it doesn’t count when the only thing you actually prepare is pasta.” Pidge continued to rifle through the clothes on the floor. Then, not finding anything she wanted, she moved to the wardrobe. “Before entering your pantry, I had only ever seen so much tomato sauce on supermarket shelves.”

Lance wanted to defend himself, but Pidge chose this moment to take the edge of her t-shirt and pull it out. It left her in only a bra and shorts, a sight that Lance couldn’t look away from. Her breasts were small but proportional to her petite frame and her skin was even fairer over her chest, ribs and stomach. The overall effect had Lance choking on air.

Pidge laughed as she pulled a dress over her head.

“That was on purpose!” Lance accused, once he’d found his voice.

“You wouldn’t take off my shirt yesterday, so I thought I would give you a taste, then leave you hanging. See how you like it.” She went to look herself over in the bathroom mirror.

“I was being a gentleman!” He puffed out his cheeks. Pidge loved to make things difficult for him, didn’t she?

“Lance, I love you.” She momentarily turned away from her reflection to look at him. “I have trusted you with my life and my heart. Do you really think I don’t trust you with my body?”

When Pidge said things like that, it always sounded completely logical, but relationships weren’t something one could rationalize their way through.

Lance went to stand behind her, resting his hands on the line where her grey dress flared out. Pidge looked very sensible and very beautiful in the high neckline, with how it left her arms exposed.

“I think I want you to believe how much I love you,” he answered, turning her around, “before we do anything you haven’t done yet.”

Her amber eyes were narrowed as she looked at him, but Lance didn’t back down. She eventually heaved a sigh and he could tell he’d won the argument.

“I can’t believe I’m dating a sap.”

“Hey, you knew who I was before!” Lance let her walk past him and back to the bed. “You signed up for this, Pidgeon!”

“Are you ready to go?” She pulled on her sneakers, glaring at him half-heartedly. At her side, Lance caught sight of the green ribbon again.

“Sure, but I think you’re missing something.” At Pidge’s look of confusion, he marched up to her and picked up the ribbon, waving it in the air.

“Really?” she deadpanned at him.

Lance chuckled, already gathering her hair with the fabric. “I just want to see how it looks.” He tied a bow on top of Pidge’s head, snickering. “That really is adorable.”

She frowned up at him and raised a hand to feel what he’d done, then groaned.

“That’s not how I used to wear it!” Pidge protested, already fumbling with the style until the fabric slipped down her short hair.

“Show me, then.” Lance propped his chin on his hand.

Pidge huffed, but laid the ribbon across her hair like a headband, tying a knot on one side and letting the excess fabric hang loose. “There!” she stated with a flourish. “Much less childish.”

“Huh.” Lance stared at her in puzzlement. “That’s… Huh.”

“Does it look that bad?” She patted at her hair. “I haven’t done this since I was thirteen.”

“No!” His answer was hurried. “It just… looks exactly how Italian girl wore it.”

Pidge blinked at him. “Italian girl?”

“My first love. I think I told you about her.” He couldn’t really shake the familiarity of the green ribbon against her reddish-brown hair. “We met in this Space Camp I went to in Miami. Ronie had a research position there and she dragged me along.”

“You’re talking about the Bouman Aeronautics Research Institute.”

Now it was just getting freaky. Pidge, too, looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Yeah…” Lance scratched the back of his neck. “How do you know that?”

“Because my father was a lecturer and Matt was also in the research program.” She sounded just as bewildered as he was. “You’re Spanish boy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment. Now that they were talking about it, Lance could see the similarities that he’d missed so far. It was no wonder he’d always liked Pidge’s eyes; he could still remember how they shone in the sunlight.

“Are you actually Italian girl?” He sat down, still in shock.

“I cannot believe that we’ve known each other this whole time.” Pidge threw her head back, laughing. He soon joined her. The situation was just ridiculous.

“And you didn’t want me to believe in fate.” Lance grinned at her. Pidge still wore the green ribbon in her hair and the color contrasted nicely against her features. Maybe it was because he still remembered how she had been as Italian girl, but the image made him feel unexpectedly soft.

“Oh good grief,” she exclaimed suddenly, eyes wide, “I’m the reason you believe in fate!” He burst out laughing again while Pidge swatted at his arm. “It’s not funny! It’s actually awful!”

“Well,” Lance said once he was able to control himself, “at least you can stop thinking you’re not my type. I fell for you twice!”

“You fell for a pretty girl in a dress that you met when you were a child.” Pidge snorted, standing up to grab her purse. Lance clutched her hand with gentle fingers and stopped her from turning away.

“I fell for a smart girl who helped me realize my worth. Twice.” He winked. “Though it certainly didn’t hurt that she was pretty.”

Pidge shook her head disapprovingly, but still leaned down to kiss him, lips moving in a tempting pace against his. When she pulled back, Lance tried to follow.

He felt dazed by their discovery, but not completely blind-sighted. Pidge had always intrigued him, even right at the start. It had taken time for Lance to recognize the feelings he developed for her, like it had with Italian girl, and then he was already in the middle of it, too into her to stop himself from acting stupid.

It might have been the quintessence stored in him or just wishful thinking, but he thought Allura, too, would be cheering for them.

Pidge pulled at his hand until Lance stood up. She looked a bit red, a bit breathless.

“We’ll finish this later, you Casanova.” And she sealed the promise with another kiss.

[reviseandreview]

Things I wish I already knew going to University

Here are some reminders to myself. Hopefully, they are also helpful to some freshmen or anyone who's curious:

1. University is not school.

You can't shilly-shally around, take your sweet time and expect to just roll with it. Trust me, you will be in for a rude awakening. Find a goddamn studying method early in and stick with it. Flashcards and quizlets, whatever works for you. The deadlines and exams will draw closer faster than you think they will.

2. Your profs are not decoration.

Ask. Questions. Seriously. And go to office hours if you have any particular problem to resolve. Make use of that time. A lot of them will actually be thankful anyone is showing up. Against popular belief, professors indeed do make a mental note of a lot of their students. Don't be one of those 20 people standing infront of their office for the first time a week before the exam.

3. Get as much work as possible done until noon.

It's 12 and you have already studied for three and a half hours? Amazing. Look, I know, I am not a morning person either. But at least try it out. Get your sleep schedule in check. It will feel so much better than to procrastinate until evening and then you HAVE to do it anyway.

4. If you can explain it, you have understood it.

Done studying? Bet you're not. Try explaining yourself the material loudly like teaching it to a clueless person. Or get yourself a study buddy and explain your subjects to each other. It's even better if you don't have the same majors. If you are able to explain the topic and have the other person understand it, you actually know the topic. If not, you now know where the shoe pinches. It's also great practice!

5. You may feel a bit lonely at first.

Okay, I don't want to scare anyone. I did find a lot of friends. Especially at first, everyone is your friend. Because everyone is scared of missing the boat and feeling left out. There will be so many people around you. Still – or maybe that's the reason – you will probably feel a bit lonely at first. I want to tell you that this is normal. It’s because everyone is still a stranger to you and maybe you've just moved out! Maybe you are far away from home for the very first time. I’ve struggled with this. That's fine! Everything will be fine. You will feel at home eventually.

I hope everyone is doing well. Take care! :)

[baby-blossoms]

Cold Eyes

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 3,983

Summary/Request: “hey sorry if this is too specify but could you do a dean x reader where she grew up in a really abusive household and had an older brother but she couldn't deal with it anymore so she ran away when she was 15 and she somehow became a hunter and is now dating dean (he doesn't know about her past) but she runs into her brother while on a hunt and she starts having flashbacks so sam and dean get super protective and pull her away from him and she tells them about her past and it's like insanely fluffy”

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! This story deals with triggering material revolving around child ab*se. Ab*sive Father, Cussing, Alcoholism, Blasphemy (taking the Lord's name in vain.) ((Apologies to those I offended, I’ve gotten a few messages about this)) Mentions of high anxiety and panic attacks. All around, if you are triggered easily, I would not recommend this story for you. 

**** BELOW THE CUT IS POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING MATERIAL ****

      “Y/N, if you leave this house, you better hope I never fucking see you again!” 

       You flinched as your father slammed his fists against your bedroom door, trying to push it open. A barricade of practically anything you could possibly push in front of it was currently the only thing keeping you safe. You had finally had enough. Your father drank alcohol like water and used you as a punching bag. Your brother took his anger at your father out on you, and God knows where your mother was half the time. No fifteen year old should have to go through any of it. Your yearning for escape had finally overpowered your fear of your father, and you were frantically shoving anything you could think of needing into a duffel bag before he could manage to get past your haphazard barricade. 

      “Trust me, I promise we’ll never be anywhere near each other again.” 

You said, knowing full well your father couldn’t hear you over his own drunken screams of outrage. 

      Yanking your window open, you kicked out the screen, climbed out of it, and ran like hell. The promise you made to your father that night was one you planned on keeping for the rest of your life. 

       You ran down your street, but it never seemed to end, only growing longer with every step you took. Turning to look behind you, you saw your father coming closer to you by the second, his hand raised, ready to hurt you more than he ever did before. He caught you, and you kicked and struggled as hard as you could, trying desperately to escape his grasp. His eyes were just as you remembered, they lacked any shred of empathy, humanity even. Other children grew up fearing the boogeyman, you were terrified of your own father and his cold eyes. 

      “Y/N!” 

His voice sounded wrong, too deep, too gravely. 

       “Y/N?”

Your eyes shot open to Dean hovering above you, his eyebrows knit in concern. You held back a heavy sigh of relief. 

      “Baby, you kicked the hell out of me. Are you okay?”

You checked the clock next to your crappy hotel bed. Six in the morning. Your dreams liked to torment you with memories of your childhood, especially the night you escaped that godforsaken house. You had run for your life, and your father never caught up to you, but your brain liked to play the lovely ‘what if you didn’t escape, though?’ game. 

        “I’m sorry, hun. Jus’ go back to sleep…” 

       Dean stared at you for a moment, then giving you a soft kiss before collapsing back onto the bed to gain some much-needed rest. You knew you weren’t going back to sleep. Sleep never came easy to you, but it was ten times more elusive after a nightmare about your childhood. 

      You sighed in annoyance at your own brain for weaving such cruel dreams into your night. Deciding to get some coffee, you got ready for the day as quietly as possible, tiptoeing around the boys as if they were sleeping bears, which they practically were. The town you were in was too close to your “home” town. You knew it was unlikely you’d see your father, he rarely left the house unless he needed to earn some money or burn it all on beer again. Either way, there was a constant dread in your stomach the moment Dean pulled Baby into the janky little town.

---

      “Hey, I got coffee!” you said as you entered the room once more. Sam was already pouring over something on the laptop. Dean sat staring blankly at one of his knives, most likely examining it for any imperfections as he had nothing better to do at the moment.

       “Y/N, I could kiss you.” 

Sam sighed out thoughtlessly, plucking a cup out of the drink carrier you held.

       “Sure, if you wanna get throat-punched.” 

Dean replied without hesitation. You chuckled, placing the other two drinks on the bedside table next to the bed you and Dean shared. 

       “Sorry Sammy,” you said with a smile, “I don’t like long hair.” 

       Sam glanced back to you with a raised eyebrow, a shit-eating grin lighting up his features,

       “So,” he replied, “you’re saying if I cut my hair…?” 

Dean grumbled and pulled you onto the bed with him. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. 

       “Watch yourself, Sam.”

You stated simply, giggling at his face of repulsion when Dean pulled you against his chest and started kissing up and down your neck. 

       “On that note, let’s be ready for this case. We’ve definitely got at least two, maybe three vampires picking off people in pairs.

       You groaned in annoyance, vampires were so tedious. Dean laughed silently against you, knowing your hatred for the blood-suckers. You hummed softly and turned to face him, bringing him into a soft kiss that became more heated with every second. He smiled against your lips and moaned lightly, pressing you even tighter against him. 

      “Jesus, I am still in the room!”

Sam said, his voice practically screaming his discomfort. You and Dean separated. Dean sighed, letting his head fall back against his pillow.

      “Ya mind not being in the room then, Sammy?”

You suppressed a laugh at the annoyed look Sam shot Dean’s way before quickly collecting his gear and heading out of the room. The moment the hotel door closed, Dean didn’t hesitate to pull you against him once more. 

----

      Dean led you toward the library. Nightfall was approaching and you needed to regroup before the vampires had a chance to strike again. Sam sat at a table toward the back of the library, fully engulfed in whatever article he had was typing on his laptop. Dean glanced toward you, a wide mischievous smile stretching across his lips. You shook your head and simply watched as Dean stalked quietly toward Sam.

        “Dude, I could hear you from a mile away.” 

        Sam said, and Dean huffed in frustration that Sam had ruined his fun. You approached the boys, already uncomfortable with the thought of being stuck in a library. You weren’t necessarily in a reading mood, and it wasn’t like you needed to research vampires. They were what threw you into the hunting life. A piece of shit vampire had seen a young vulnerable looking girl obviously traveling alone, fortunately Bobby had happened to be in just the right place at the right time. He took you in and taught you everything you knew. He never questioned why you used to flinch harder at him raising a hand too fast than at a full grown werewolf snapping its jaws at your face. You were always grateful for him treating you like his own till the day he died. Bobby was a saint to you, more of a father than your own had ever been.

        Obviously you came in contact with the Winchesters, having been with Bobby all those years. Dean had taken quite an infatuation with you, and Sammy had a small crush, but he respected Dean’s feelings too much to do anything about it. You missed Bobby, but once he was gone, there was no point in you staying at his house anymore. You finally gave into your feelings for Dean and took to the road with the boys. Now here you were, only miles from the very place you started. Miles from the place you vowed to never come back to.

       “Baby, you okay?” 

       You jumped slightly at Dean’s question, you had fully zoned out thinking about your past. You nodded, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling in your stomach. Something felt off. 

      “Y/n, seriously, what’s up?”

 Dean questioned once more, his eyebrows were now knit in concern. You had never told Dean about your childhood. Every time that topic came to life, you quickly changed the subject or gave vague answers. You didn’t want him to pity you for the family you were born into. You didn’t want your shitty past to affect your future, and you didn’t know how Dean would react. At this point in your relationship, you weren’t sure it was even smart to tell him about it. 

     “I guess I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, after all.” 

      Dean didn’t look satisfied with your answer whatsoever, and he went to further question you, but you swiftly took a seat next to Sam. Sam glanced at you, offered a small smile, and continued typing away. 

     “So what are we dealing with here, Sammy?”

You asked, leaning back into the padded chair. It smelled funny. You frowned, choosing to instead sit on the edge of the chair. You could handle blood, guts, and all the other things that came with hunting, but publicly used furniture like this was where you drew the line. God knows how long it had been since the chairs had been properly cleaned. By the smell that oozed off of them, clearly the cleaning had not been recent.

     “Well,” Sam said, pausing for a moment to finish up whatever he was typing out, “It shouldn’t be too bad. It’s two vampires terrorizing towns all over the state. Looks like a couple, honestly.” 

      You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Murdering innocent people and draining their blood. How romantic. You looked to Dean, going to make a sarcastic comment, but he was already staring you down. Clearly he was not ready to let go of your brief conversation. Sighing, you turned back to Sam. He looked between you and Dean awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension between the two of you. 

      “Uh,” Sam looked about ready to sink into his chair. “Well… anyway… I hacked into a security camera around where the last two bodies were found. Here.” 

       He spun the laptop toward you, and you squinted at the terrible quality video. The male vampire ate like an absolute pig, he practically tore his victim to shreds, splattering blood everywhere. The female was surprisingly neat and well mannered for a vampire devouring the blood of its victim. Disgust overtook your features as you watched them practically eat each other’s faces as well once they were done feeding. Kissing with blood smeared all over Dean’s face was not your number one romantic fantasy if you were being honest. 

     “Okay, well enough of that.” you cringed at the disgusting display of affection, spinning the laptop away from you. “Should be easy. The woman is my worry, they’re always harder to get. Male vampires love to run right into a fight, the girl will probably strategize before she attacks.” 

      Sam nodded in agreement. Not all male vampires ran straight into the attack, but most did. You expected nothing less from this one, especially watching the hyper-aggressive way he ate. 

      “Who knows, Y/n, maybe he’s smarter than you think.” 

Dean grunted. You shrugged. Maybe. 

     “We can never be too safe. Just don’t underestimate either of them.” 

You responded. 

    “Yeah, maybe they’re hiding something. Doesn’t it suck when people hide things from you?”

Dean quipped back. You narrowed your eyes at him. He was being petty now. Sure, you could see how not telling him everything might upset him, but you hated when people were petty. 

     “Okay, well when you’re done acting like a high-schooler, I’ll be preparing for the hunt.”

     You stood from your smelly library chair, and quickly made your way back to the streets. Practically slamming the doors open, you didn’t even know where you were going, but you didn’t want to be anywhere near that library and its god awful smelling seats. 

    Your thoughts were interrupted when you abruptly ran into seemingly the only other person out on the streets that night. You withheld an angry exclamation, it was your own fault for not paying attention to where you were going, but god it was infuriating either way.

    “Oh sorry.” 

You began, your next words dying in your throat when you made eye contact with the man you had run into. He had your father’s eyes. They lacked any emotion, they were cold. You felt a wave of nausea in your stomach, and practically jumped away from him. 

    “Y/N?” 

    Your stomach twisted. You felt the blood leave your face, and considered pretending not to know who the hell he was talking about. You never wanted to see him again either. The situation you were put in prevented you both from ever becoming as close as siblings should have, let alone nearly as close as Sam and Dean. Your brother, Danny, only got worse as time went by. He seemed to lose all empathy as the two of you grew older.

---

    You sat in your bedroom, reading the latest book in your vast collection. They felt like the only way you could escape your reality at that point. Your father refused to give you any form of technology, and wouldn’t allow you to watch television with him in the living room. You were only provided with books he approved of, or ones you managed to sneak in under his nose when he passed out on the living room couch. The book you were reading at the time was a perfect example of one you weren’t supposed to be reading. Anything revolving around traveling the world, or freedom of thought and speech, your father hated. 

     Anything that might give you any semblance of hope outside of that house was absolutely forbidden. He constantly reminded you that he owned you, that you weren’t even allowed to think a certain way unless he said you could. As you grew older, even being forced into homeschooling, you obviously formed your own thoughts, opinions, and personality. You never expressed any of these things to him, but rage started to build within you, buried under your fear for him. 

     “What are you doing?” 

     You jumped, slamming the book shut and shoving it under your pillow. Your brother stood at your bedroom door, eyeing you in suspicion. 

     “Nothing, Danny. What do you want?” 

Danny scoffed, slowly stalking toward you. You cringed with every step he took closer to you and your smuggled book. You knew this wouldn’t end well. Your brother would snitch if it meant his skin was saved from a beating. It was almost as if your father had a daily tally going. Whoever did the most wrong, or annoyed him the most would be punished every night. You felt as if yours were always more severe than Danny’s. Danny rarely ever got punished anyway, he made sure of that. 

    “I want to know what you’re reading.” 

He replied.

    “Danny, stop it!” 

    You cried out, trying to stop him as he quickly lunged for the book under your pillow. He held it up, a victorious smile painting his lips. His eyebrows knit in anger as he read the description of your book. His glare toward you shifted to pure anxiety when his eyes darted to your bedroom door. You tensed. You knew what that look of fear meant. Father was awake. 

     “What the fuck are you two making so much noise for? What are you doing Danny?”

Danny shook his head quickly, holding up the book for your father to see while he quickly explained,

    “It’s Y/n’s! I caught her reading this stuff, I was just telling her to get rid of it.”

    Fear shot straight to your heart, and you stared at your lap, trying to keep yourself from shaking. Every step your father took closer to that book was a step closer to your next punishment. You understood Danny throwing you under the bus this time, but still resented him for it. 

   “What the fuck is this bullshit, Y/n? I didn’t say you could read this propaganda!”

You let out a small cry when he grabbed your chin so harshly you knew it would bruise. Forcing you to look at him, he sneered, 

    “Going behind my back and reading shit like this under my fucking roof? You’re in for it this time, little girl.”

    He hit the side of your head so hard with the book, you became dizzy for a moment, and your hearing was muffled. At least you could only hear him screaming at you through one ear. That was only the start of what he had planned for you. He made Danny watch everything he did to you. Danny didn’t show an ounce of emotion the entire time. His eyes bore into yours. They were cold and unapologetic. Better you than him, right? That was the day you realized Danny had your father’s cold eyes.

---

   “Y/n?”

   You snapped out of your worst memory with Danny, feeling like you really might throw up, scream, run, cry, or punch him. 

   “No.” 

You stated, moving to walk past him. He grabbed your arm, so hard you knew it would bruise. You felt as if your lungs were collapsing in on themselves. You felt trapped. You felt like that fifteen year old girl again, helpless to everything going on around her. Isolated, terrified, and wanting nothing more than to run. 

   “Y/n, I know it’s you. You have dad’s eyes.” 

You tore your arm from his grasp, feeling as though your heart had stopped beating the moment you heard him utter those words. Those disgusting words.

   “Don’t you ever compare me to him! Don’t you dare say I look anything like that fucking monster!” 

   Danny took a step toward you, and you matched him with a step back. 

   “Y/n, dad would love to see you.” 

You stared at your brother, appalled. 

   “So he can beat me again? Call me worthless? So he can fucking torture me while you watch?”

Danny shook his head, grabbing your shoulders, 

   “Y/n, it's been years. We’re still your family.”

You laughed at him, pain lacing your voice as you practically screamed,

   “I will never consider either of you my family! You did nothing, Danny! He beat me, and you just watched! You stood there and fucking watched as he beat me! You just wanted to save your own ass. You never cared when we were children, neither of you did, so don’t you dare act like you care now!” 

   Danny’s eyes betrayed his apologetic expression. He had no intent on letting you go without a fight.

Click. 

   “Get the fuck away from her, you piece of shit.”

Your eyes started watering in pure relief at the sound of Dean’s voice. You were shaking, too many traumatic and repressed memories were slamming through you like a tornado. Danny’s grip on you loosened in surprise, just enough to let you pull back and jab him in the throat.

   “Mother fucker!”

Danny wheezed out, stumbling backward and falling on his ass. 

   You didn’t think, you bolted. You sprinted as hard and fast as you could straight to the hotel, not once looking back. 

----

   You sat in the hotel bathtub, trying to choke back sobs. Trying as hard as you could to stop yourself from having a panic attack. You knew something felt off earlier. It was your gut telling you to get the hell out of that town. A knock on the door almost sent you into a full panic until you saw it was Dean. You were terrified of the thought of Danny tracking you down and dragging you kicking and screaming back to your worst nightmare. The sight of Dean calmed you slightly, but you were still on the brink hyperventilating. 

   “Baby…” 

   Dean took a few tentative steps toward the bathtub, silently gauging whether or not it was okay for him to be near you, let alone touch you after what happened with your brother. You squeezed your eyes shut, drawing shaking breaths in and out, trying more than anything to keep it together. 

  “Do you want me here?” 

   He asked after a moment. You nodded your head in affirmation. Dean stepped into the bathtub, struggling to sit comfortably in it. It was comical how small his larger stature made the tub look. You let out a raspy laugh, and Dean smiled softly at you. He slowly and gently guided you to lay on top of him, your head resting on his chest. 

   You laid there in silence for almost an hour. Dean didn’t try to pry anything out of you, he simply rubbed your back and ran his fingers through your hair. He didn’t even need to speak to calm you down. Eventually your breathing came easily again, and you finally whispered,

  “How much did you hear?”

Dean sighed, his voice nothing but factual as he responded, 

  “Everything.”

You nodded. 

  “My dad… he was worse than any monster we’ve ever hunted. He hurt me in more ways than I thought possible.” 

You finally adjusted to look Dean in the eyes. They didn’t hold any pity, just sorrow.

  “You don't have to…”

You cut him off quickly,

   “I want you to know everything. I don’t ever want to hide anything from you, Dean.”

Dean nodded, giving you a soft smile. 

   “He would do unspeakable things to me, and make Danny watch. It got to the point Danny would get me into trouble on purpose- to save his own ass. He didn’t care, just as long as it wasn’t him getting the beating.” you paused, taking in a few shaky breaths, “One night he told Danny to hold me down while he punished me for speaking out of line. Even when I screamed and pleaded, Danny just held me down while my father punished me. My brother was long gone, he stared into my eyes, and it was almost as if he couldn’t hear or see me. I was only fifteen.” 

   Dean’s eyes were glossy with tears, you could tell it hurt him to hear, but you felt he deserved to know everything. His voice was thick and raspier than usual as he murmured, 

  “You don’t ever have to worry about him. I made sure he’ll never look for you, let alone touch you, again.”

You could only imagine what Dean and Sam had done with Danny the moment you left. 

   “It was my dad who caused those scars on my stomach. The ones I told you were from a hunt gone wrong. I ran away the night he carved them into me, and I never looked back. After a few days of traveling I was attacked by a vampire. Bobby saved my life. That was the night I consider my life to have actually started. Bobby saved my life in more ways than I could ever explain.” 

   Dean wrapped his arms around you, holding you against him as if the moment he let go you might disappear. 

   “I’m sorry about earlier, baby. I didn’t…”

He trailed off with a sigh. You knew what he meant. He never could’ve imagined it was this that you were hiding from him.

   “No, I’m sorry for keeping it from you for so long, darling. You deserved to know, especially with how long we’ve been together. I was scared it would push you away, or make you look at me differently.” 

   Dean shook his head adamantly.

   “Y/n, I’ll love you no matter what. I knew I wanted to be with you when I saw you smile for the first time. You could try to kill me, and I’d probably still follow you around like a dumbass.”

You laughed, drawing him into a gentle kiss.

   “I love you so much, Dean.”

You whispered. Dean kissed you softly once more, then whispering back,

   “I will love you with everything in me until the day I die… again...” he trailed off for a moment before adding, “I’ll love you even when I’m dead.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

   “I don’t think you’ll ever permanently die anyway, Dean.” 

Dean laughed with you, retorting,

   “I’ll love you every time I get brought back, too.”

[whitehotharlots]

CRT and the sad state of educational politics

If our culture is studied 100 years from now, the predominant theme of the research will be a sense of perplexed revulsion toward how we did nothing to address the climate crisis in spite of having decades of forewarning. If there is a second theme, it will be a profound confusion regarding our immense and unearned sense of self-certainty. A retrospective of the early twenty first century would be titled something like Who the Fuck Did These People Think They Were? 

The latter theme is illustrated in the debacle surrounding a recent slew of municipal and statewide bills that seek to ban the teaching of Critical Race Theory (CRT) in public schools. For the record, I am strongly against these bans. But I’m also self-aware enough to know my opinion matters very little, and therefore realize that an analysis of the discussion surrounding the bills will yield much more worthwhile observations than a simple delimitation of their pros and cons. Regardless of your personal opinion, I hope you’ll humor me.

I am, in some regards, a moral absolutist. But I also realize that abstract morality has very little bearing on material and political realities. In my ideal world, classrooms are free from political meddling. Teachers teach to the best of their ability, presenting students with truths that are confidently unvarnished due to the thorough amount of work that was required to reach them. I don’t cotton any of that socratic bullshit. Students are there to learn, not to engage in weird Gotchas with some perverted elder. The teacher’s job is to teach. The material they teach needs to be subjected to some graspable and standardized mechanism of truth adjudication before it is worthy of being taught. Teaching is not therapy. Teaching is not poetry. Teaching is not love, nor is it religion, nor is it a means of social or political indoctrination. There are plenty of other avenues available to accomplish all of those other things. Teaching is teaching. 

That’s the ideal. But ideals are just ideals. They never come true. The art of teaching, regardless of setting--from overpacked classrooms to face-to-face instruction to curricular design to nationwide pedagogical initiatives--boils down to a teacher’s ability to reconcile the need to convey truths with social and political pressures that are heavily invested in the suppression of truth. 

I have formally studied and practiced education for nearly two decades. In that time, the prevailing political thrust toward education has been a desire to casualize the practice of teaching, to render educators as cheap and fungible as iphones. The thrust takes different shapes depending on the political affiliation of whomever happens to be in charge of the state and federal governments that fund education, but the ultimate desire is always the same. The goal is always to attempt to make teaching rote and algorithmic, something akin to running a google search for How to do math? or What is morality?. The framing is always just windowdressing, empty culture war bullshit. 

Maybe it’s the inescapability of this thrust that’s rendered so many educators so blind to it? We only have nominal political choice, after all. The discourse gets more blinkered and vicious as the stakes decrease. At any rate, this is the undeniable reality, and anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth listening to. 

Non-administrative per-pupil spending as been on a steady decline since George W. Bush was president. Administrative bloat and meddling are becoming as common in k-12 as they are in higher education. The will of parasitic NGOs are implemented as common sense pedagogy without anyone even bothering to ask for any proof that they work. The so-called Education Reform movement is sputtering out due both to its manifest failures and rare, bipartisan backlash. But it will be replaced with something just as idiotic and pernicious. The thrust of causalization will not abate. 

And so what do we decide to do? What’s the next big thing on the education policy horizon? Critical Race Theory. 

Okay, this makes sense. In 2021, a local paper can’t run a news story about a lost cat without explicitly mentioning the race of every human involved and possibly also nodding toward the implied cisnormativity of pet ownership. So it makes sense that this broad rhetorical mandate would come to dominate the transitional period between Bush-Obama Education Reform and whatever bleak future awaits us. The controversy is so perfectly inefficacious that its adoption was inevitable. Because, seriously, it doesn’t matter. Regardless of the outcome of this kerfuffle, no problems will be solved. The real shortcomings of public education will not be addressed. Larger social problems that are typically blamed on public education in spite of having little to do with public education will especially not be addressed. Maybe white kids will have to do struggle sessions in lieu of the Pledge of Allegiance. Maybe black kids will get full credit for drawing the Slayer logo in the part of the test where their geometric proof is supposed to go. Or maybe it won’t happen. Maybe instead these practices will be banned, and in turn liberals will begin to embrace homeschooling, the charter movement will be given new life as a refuge against the terrors of white supremacist behaviors such as, uhh, teaching kids to show their work. Whatever.

Within the context of public education, the outcome will not matter. It cannot matter. There will be broader social impacts, sure. It will continue to drive Democrats more rightward, providing their party’s newly woke corporate wing with progressive-sounding rationales for austerity. But so far as teachers and students are concerned, it won’t matter.

Why do I give a shit about this, then? To put it bluntly, I’m struck by the utter fucking inartfulness of CRT’s proponents. At no point has any advocate of CRT presented a case for their approach to education that was at all concerned with persuading people who aren’t already 100% in their camp. There’s been no demonstration of positive impacts, or even an explanation of how the impacts could hypothetically be positive. In fact, so much as asking for such a rationale is considered proof of racism. Advocates posit an image of existing educational policies that is absolutely fantastical, suggesting that kids never learn about slavery or racism or civil rights. But then... then they don’t even stick with the kayfabe. They’ll say “kids never learn about racism.” In response, people--mostly well-meaning--say “wait, umm, I’m pretty sure they do learn about racism.” The response is “we never said they don’t learn about racism.” You’ll see this shift from one paragraph to the next. It’s insane. Absolutely insane. 

Or take this talk from a pro-CRT workshop in Oregon. The speaker freely admits that proto-CRT leanings like anti-bias education, multiculturalism, and centering race in historical discussions have been the norm since the late 1980s. The speaker admits that these practices have been commonplace for 30+ years, as anyone my age or younger will attest. Then, seconds later, the speaker discusses the results of this shift: it failed. Unequivocally:

We had this huge, huge, huge focus on culturally relevant teaching and research. [ ... ] So you would think that with 40+ years of research and really focusing and a lot of lip service and a lot of policies and, you know, a lot of rhetoric about cultural relevancy and about equity and about anti-bias that we would see trends that are significantly different, [but] that’s not what we’re finding. What we’re finding that you see [is] that some cases, particularly black and brown [students] the results, the academic achievement has either stayed the same and gotten worse.

Translation: here’s this approach to teaching. It’s new and vital but also we’ve been doing it for 40 years. It doesn’t work. But we need to keep doing it. Anyone who is in any way confused by this is a dangerous racist. 

Even in the darkest days of the Bush-era culture war, I never saw such a complete and open disregard for honesty. This isn’t to say that Bush-era conservatives weren’t shit-eating liars. They were. But they had enough savvy to realize that self-righteousness alone is not an effective way of doing politics. You need to at least pretend to be engaging with issues in good faith. 

This is what happens when a movement has its head so far up its own ass that it cannot comprehend the notion of good-faith criticism. These people do not believe that there can exist anyone who shares their basic goals but has concerns that their methods might not work. Their self-certainty is so absolute and unshakeable that they can proffer data demonstrating the complete ineffectiveness of their methods as proof of the necessity of their methods.

For decades, the most effective inoculation against pernicious meddling in education has been to lean upon the ideal form of teaching I described earlier in this post. We claimed that teaching is apolitical and that no one is trying to indoctrinate anybody. Regardless of the abstract impossibility of this claim, it has immense and lasting appeal, and it was upheld by a system of pedagogical standards that allowed teachers to evoke a sense of neutrality. The prevailing thrust in liberal education is to explicitly reject any such notions, and no one--not a single goddamn person--has proffered a convincing replacement for it. We still say, laughably, that we’re eschewing indoctrination. But people aren’t that stupid. If you find it beneath yourself to make your lies digestible, people will be able to tell when you’re lying to them. 

This, my friends, bodes very poorly for the future of education, regardless of whatever happens in the coming months. A movement that cannot articulate its own worth is not one that is long for this world. Teachers themselves are the only force that can resit the slow press toward the eventual elimination of public education, and they have embraced a worldview and comportment style that renders them absolutely unable to mount any worthwhile resistance. 

[vampylovesaliens]

Pariah - p3

-vagabonds

T’chendris-hlau watched, narrowing her pale eyes against the dawning sunlight as she watched the Phantom disappear among the patchy red-tinged clouds. The lingering fume of the ships’ thermal exhaust stung her tongue as she flitted it out briefly to taste the air, making her grumble and shake her head, turning away to go jogging off to where her mother stood, M’tendris’ silhouette statuesque against the brightening horizon as she lingered in meditation. The young Yautja stood silently in her mother’s shadow, waiting to be addressed so as to avoid startling her out of her concentration, though it was a struggle as always. She had questions and childrens’ questions were not easily tempered with patience.

Finally, after what felt like an hour but which really only took a couple more minutes, M’tendris opened her eyes and looked down at her daughter, the child idly tugging at her silvery tresses, not yet long enough to brush her shoulders but getting close. “You are anxious.” She observed mildly, leaning down in order to reach with a hand to gently caress the child’s smooth forehead.

“Why can’t we go with taka?” T’chendris-hlau muttered, hugging against her mother’s leg. “Where does he go?”

“Ah.” M’tendris’ mandibles flexed, a faintly amused but gentle clattering sound in her throat. “He has...work to do. Hunts to go on. It provides us the money we need for our supplies here.”

“Why don’t you go on Hunts with him, tama? You’re mighty!” She looked up, grinning endearingly up at her mother while squeezing against her muscular leg. M’tendris laughed, leaning down to scoop the child up easily and carrying her back toward the hut that sat nearby, quaint and simple, but enough to house them on this small, unassuming world where Yautja were known, but left in peace and given their space, especially when it was just one little family staking a claim to a small and unassuming stretch of land. “I am mighty, my child. But your father and I, we hunt differently. When you are a bit bigger and stronger, you will hunt with me.”

“I wanna hunt nooowww.” T’chendris-hlau complained, and M’tendris rattled at her chidingly. “Don’t whine, child. Hunting is important, whether it be for ritual, for money, or for food. Don’t forget that; it’s not to be taken lightly.”

“Why?” T’chendris-hlau blinked, eyes wide as she regarded her mother’s words with all the intent concentration her young mind could muster, hungry for every lesson she was given whether it was her father teaching her to harness her abilities or her mother teaching her the more ‘normal’ aspects of Yautja life.

M’tendris set the child down on top of a supply crate so she could sit at eye level with the towering adult, rumbling steadily as she gently brushed her claws over her daughter’s short tresses to sort them out smoothly. “Because the Hunt is the core of our people. It is the backbone to who we are, what Paya and the Ancient Ones bred us for. We live by the Hunter’s Code, and we die by it as well.” She leaned forward, gently touching her brow to T’chendris-hlau’s to reassure her as the child fidgeted nervously with that last part.

“Even taka?” She mumbled faintly, blinking again as she met her mother’s eyes, the ghostly-pale green tint of her irises reflecting in the deep fiery orange of her mother’s.

M’tendris chuffed in amusement, her mandibles tapping affectionately against her daughter’s as she leaned back again. “He would argue that he doesn’t. But that is only because he follows the Code differently than most. If you asked him, he would say that Paya and the Ancients have turned their gazes away from him. But he is a silly old man now, my little one.” She chuckled, though as T’chendris-hlau cautiously reached her consciousness out to test the edges of her mother’s mind, she felt a pang of sadness behind her light tone. But she could not investigate further before M’tendris waved a claw dismissively, changing the subject. “You might be able to hunt with me this morning, actually. We will go for the small game, just enough to make our breakfast fresh.”

T’chendris-hlau whooped eagerly as she climbed down, jogging after her mother as she headed for the hut to collect her knife, the ornately-engraved and wickedly jagged edge one that T’chendris-hlau spent a lot of time admiring, though she knew she was never to touch it. “Can I have a knife, tama?”

“Not yet, little one. But soon. You have lessons yet to learn before you can have your own.” M’tendris attached the knife in its sheath to her belt, then waved T’chendris along as they headed away from the little homestead into the fields surrounding them, the meadows beyond filled with thick tufts of grass, the tops beaded with hearty seed pods that made a nice snack, T’chendris-hlau had discovered while playing. Their quarry she knew already; slinky little creatures covered in silky hide, with big digging claws and teeth for grinding down tough roots. They were numerous in these hills, but elusive and shy. T’chendris-hlau often made a game of chasing them, or lying in wait outside their burrows in the hopes of catching one by surprise. They weren’t large, but they were meaty and delicious, a good target for a young Yautja just learning to hunt. So far though she had not been successful.

“Come, look.” M’tendris beckoned her over as she knelt by a tuft of grass. “Someday you may use the tools we have, but the key to becoming a true Hunter is knowing how to hunt even without them. For these creatures, we will make snares.” She cut free a few long strands of fresh grass, pliable but tough, and then picked up some naturally fallen pieces from the ground around them, dried out and stiff. “Sometimes all you need is in one plant.” M’tendris grinned, before carefully demonstrating how to delicately loop the grasses together and how to deftly shred thin fibers from the blades to form a tensile wire of sorts.

After a couple of sloppy attempts to copy, T’chendris-hlau soon had a suitable loop of her own. The two of them crept across the meadow to find the burrows, where she copied her mother carefully in setting the ‘stakes’ down with the loop in place, a fibrous tripwire in place. And to top it off, some of the luscious seed pods from the tops of the grass were scattered as bait. They were a favorite of the burrowing critters, but they seldom got them. Perhaps they didn’t know where they came from, and so never thought to chew the grasses down, instead forced to wait until the pods fell and hope that they weren’t dried husks that had lost their flavor by that time. Then the Yautja hurried away, settling in the shelter of the grassy clumps again to watch the burrows intently. M’tendris raised a claw to her mouth as she looked to her daughter, reminding her to stay quiet. It wasn’t really needed; T’chendris-hlau could barely contain her excitement but she knew well enough that even as casual and simple a Hunt as this was, it still was her first. She would finally be the one to bring the prey home.

Patience was something that her mother and father alike had deeply impressed upon her, but just as it was for any child it was not easy, especially in such an exciting situation. But then she saw movement, curious snufflings at the mouth of the burrows, and then in quick succession a pair of alarmed squeals. M’tendris rose, but she couldn’t even beckon to T’chendris-hlau before the child was dashing across the meadow to see her catch. In each of the three snars a critter writhed, squeaking and wheezing. Two had been caught around the neck and forelimbs, their hindpaws scrabbling desperately. The third had only gotten its hind leg caught, but it was clear that in the panic it had already broken its own leg badly, twisted oddly as it tried to escape. T’chendris-hlau balked a bit, suddenly intimidated, but M’tendris crouched at her side and gave her a gentle nudge. “Don’t falter. When the Hunt begins, you must not let your prey suffer.”

“What do I--” T’chendris-hlau started to ask, before she saw her mother had already moved to the first two creatures, deftly grabbing them and twisting, a short squeak accompanying the snap of their necks before they went limp. The third, the one whose hind leg was the only part caught, continued to squeal and writhe in the dirt while M’tendris looked to her daughter. “Finish what you started, child. This is how the Code works. We are not afraid to kill; the Code teaches us to do it well, and right.”

T’chendris-hlau swallowed nervously, nodding. It was the uncertainty of inexperience which held her back, not a fear of finishing the deed. Seeing the critter suffer was pitiable, that much she understood. She had trapped it, and now it was her duty to end it. She stepped over, fumbling briefly to catch the wriggly creature in one hand to hold it still--a task slightly harder for her smaller claws compared to her mother’s--before taking hold with the other and imitating M’tendris’ movement. She felt the dull pop-crack under her grip, the critter squealing sharply before it went limp save for the restless twitching of its paws. M’tendris purred her approval, able to hold her pair in one hand alone while she reached out with the other to stroke her daughter’s short tress. “Good job, my little one.”

T’chendris-hlau exhaled shakily, the thrill of it finally sinking in as she stood, collecting the leftover snare material as she saw her mother do. They left the seed pods as a compensation of sorts to the other critters living there, a promise that those burrow entries did not always bring death, and they took their fresh kills back to the homestead for processing.

Skinning and gutting the critters was not as thrilling as the actual catching and killing. M’tendris laughed as her daughter squirmed, claws bloodied from a botched attempt to cleanly slice the pelt open that had ended with the critter’s guts spilling into her lap. But finally, the meat had been stripped away and was cooking, filling the hut with the delicious smell, and T’chendris-hlau watched in awe as her mother carefully processed the last critters’ skull. She had stripped it clean, and after dousing it with a chemical that peeled whatever bits of sinew and meat still held on away, she handed it to the child with a proud rumble. “There. Your first trophy. You can show your taka when he returns tonight.”

T’chendris-hlau took the skull reverently, admiring the smooth bone and running a claw along the curve of it. Her first trophy; not much of a prey but it was still more than the child had ever earned for herself before. Even when she and her mother settled in to eat their meal she held the skull in one hand, never letting it go. It was her constant companion through the day, until finally as the sun sank the glow of the Phantom’s engines came into view above, the ship coming to land just outside the camp. And by the time her father was descending the ramp with a heavy crate of new supplies hoisted over his shoulder, she was already dashing out to meet him and show off her prize.

When she settled into her bed that night, the pride radiating from her father’s mind into her own was still warming her throughout. Her trophy was perched on the little shelf above her hammock, and she purred to herself happily as she regarded it in the dark, until her eyes could stay open no longer.

[bichlordstories]

7: Daddy bento

“(L/n)-san, before you head off to lunch, I need to see you for a moment.” Sekijiro said.

He could briefly see a bit of a scowl you failed to hide before forcing your frown away. From the first week he got to know you from simply teaching the class, he learned that you were terrible at hiding your true feelings, though sometimes it seemed like you weren’t even trying.

He could tell you had a temper, he even seen you getting rough with the other students, especially that silver haired kid, Tetsutetsu. You weren’t directly going after them, in fact, you never really started things. And to make it worse, Tetsutetsu was coming back to you, losing a bit of his temper himself.

Unlike him, however, you were more of a ticking time bomb.

You didn’t go off out of nowhere, and your motives weren’t very predictable. You waited for the person to finish (usually) before striking. You always had a blank but annoyed expression when hurting the ones that mildly inconvenienced you on purpose. And today was worse.

“Yes?” You said in a rather rude tone, earning a raised eyebrow from the teacher.

“...sir.” You corrected.

“I wanted to address your behavior.” The man said simply before pointing to the chair next to his desk.

You rolled your eyes and reluctantly sat down.

“Before you start, Sekijiro-sensei, I just want to note that they started it first.” You said.

Seikijiro sighed and began rubbing his temples.

“Yes. That is true. But that shouldn’t warrant your behavior, (L/n)-san. You need to have better control of yourself, or your actions may lead to dire consequences in the future.” He said in a stern tone.

You looked to the ground, a deep frown evident on your face.

“(L/n)-san... you have a lot of potential. Your physical abilities are outstanding, you take things very seriously in every single test I have given you, and you’ve only been here for a few weeks. I want to help you become one of the greatest heroes of our time, but I need you to work with me here.” He said, this time in a softer tone.

“...ok.” You said.

He leaned back in his chair with a long exhale before continuing.

“If your behavior continues, I will have to have you do counseling, understood?”

“Yes sir.” You said and got up, ready to leave the classroom before the man stopped you.

“Oh, before you go, you’ll have to do some tutoring as well.”

This caught you off guard, to say the least. Before you could ask him what he meant, he spoke once more.

“Although you are passing, you are barely. Out of everyone here, you have the lowest grades, specifically in math. The other subjects have acceptable grades, but I know you can do better.” He said.

“Meet me after school in class, we’ll discuss more.”

And with that, he dismissed you, finally letting you leave the classroom. You opened the door, wanting nothing more than to eat after losing your egg sandwich that morning before walking head first into somebody’s chest.

At first, you thought it was a tall woman, seeing that your face was met with big tits, until you backed away to find two blonde hairs sticking up like rabbit ears.

“All Might.” You said.

The man flashed you a surprised look, smile crooked and nervous.

“Oh, hello there! I’m just passing by, wanted to talk to your teacher!”

You cocked an eyebrow at the blonde before moving to the side to leave.

“Yeah, he’s in there.” You said with a flat tone.

Once again, you left the blonde man to stand awkwardly in a hallway.

“Class 1A is getting a lot of attention lately.”

“Yeah? What’s so good about them anyway?”

“They must have done something so amazing that it got people’s attention.” Someone whispered in a sarcastic tone.

“Like surviving an attack?” You said out loud, drawing the attention of others, including class 1A, who were being blocked by the large group of students.

This whole day wasn’t going your way at all, first you lost your egg sandwich, and then you had to be forced into tutoring by your homeroom teacher. What especially didn’t improve your mood was the rumors of class 1A.

And now look where those rumors led people. In the middle of the hallway, blocking your path in front of class 1A. You had tutoring to go to, and they were not fucking helping.

“They were attacked by villains. They could have died, their teacher had injuries all over him. The fact that they made it out alive without wounds is a miracle.”

A familiar face turned toward you with a mild scowl.

“That doesn’t give them the right to treat the rest of us like garbage.” Shinsou said.

“When did they say anything? What did they do to insinuate that everyone else was trash.” You said.

A student next to you butted in nervously, rubbing his arm.

“W-well that blonde guy-“

“The blonde guy?” You interrupted.

The student looked at you startled, but you continued.

“What about that girl behind him? Did she say something?”

“Uh-“

“And four eyes? He doesn’t look like one to cuss a storm, hell, he looks like he would faint at the word ‘vagina’.”

The said blue haired teen flustered at the word and was about to scold you before Midoriya grabbed his arm, shaking his head.

“Did anyone else say anything.” You said to the crowd.

Everyone else looked toward each other, some looking down while others looked to Shinsou and the class with guilt.

“No? Just the blonde? I mean, wow, if the blonde is an asshole, that must mean everyone else in this goddamn school are stuck up pricks.” You spat their logic back into their faces, earning some grimaces.

“Let me remind you that they could have died. Their parents could have had the bodies of their children sent home to them. Siblings would have lost a brother or sister. A friend would have had to watch their friend be lowered in their grave. They’re still kids. We all are. So get your heads out of your own asses and move.” You said before shoving through the crowd of embarrassed and ashamed students.

After a whole day of missing breakfast and only getting a few bites of lunch, you were starving, cranky, and all around just not having a good day.

You met your homeroom teacher in class 1B. To say you were embarrassed was an understatement. Although you hid your embarrassment well, you still stood awkwardly in the door. You knew you were the only one getting tutoring out of everyone else.

Why did you have to be so dumb???

“You’re not dumb.”

Shit, you must have said that out loud! Sekijiro-sensei gestured to a seat and stood up from his to approach you.

“People have different ways of learning, and yours isn’t through reading a textbook.” He said.

“I am observant, and I’ve seen you reading textbooks when there’s nothing to do. I’ve seen you struggling to focus as well.”

You looked down at the desk you were sitting in, quietly trying to chip away the edge. Your face twisted into what he could tell was a saddened frown, much different from the usual scowls you gave people. It was obvious that it bothered you to no end that you got almost nothing out of reading. His own expression softened a bit once seeing you crack a bit before sitting down in the seat next to you.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ll admit that I struggled with reading when I was your age. Sometimes I still do have problems today.”

You slowly lifted your head and gave him a side glance. He clearly got your attention that time. Knowing that he was able to connect with you further, he began speaking more before something low and guttural resounded within the room.

You froze immediately and turned your head away from him, clearly embarrassed by your organ angrily rumbling at you for food.

The man paused at this before getting up and walking towards his desk. He grabbed a white container and placed it in front of you before sitting back in the desk next to you. You stared at the bento in front of you and then to your teacher.

“Sekijiro-sensei...?”

“Go ahead and eat, kid. You clearly need it after today.” He said before his eyes widened.

“Unless you’re allergic to certain foods...”

You muttered out a no and looked back down at the bento.

“Go ahead, I already ate lunch, that was for later tonight.” He said.

You still hesitated before opening it, being met with a delightful sight. Grilled fish, fried brown rice with vegetables inside, and other greens. You slowly grabbed the chop sticks and looked back to the man, who nodded at you to eat what was in front of you.

And you did just that. At first, you slowly picked at certain foods inside the bento before eating in a more comfortable pace. Sekijiro could see that you were still tense, afraid almost, but he waved it off in his mind.

“...you’re wife did a good job.” You said after finishing.

“I made that myself actually. I don’t have a wife.”

You looked over at the man with surprised look before covering it up and placing the chopsticks across the bento politely.

“Thank you, sir.”

The man flashed you a smile and said that it was no problem before getting up and grabbing a piece of paper, your failed math assignment, and began going over it with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vlad King is one of the most underrated daddy material in MHA. Seriously. He’s Endeavour if Endeavour was actually a great fucking father (but he ain’t sadly... still love the fire fart, but he excretes small dick energy).

Gotta love blood daddy.

[anna-justice]

When The Party’s Over - Upstead

Summary: It’s New Years Eve and Jay isn’t a big fan of  Hailey’s boyfriend. (Booth vs. Hailey college addition)

Warnings: Physical/Mentioned sexual abuse, swearing…

Requested: No

...

“I think red is your color.” Kim says as Hailey pulls down the hem of the piece of fabric she’s wearing. Hailey shifts uncomfortably in front of the mirror as she looks to Vanessa, who is hiding her laughter with a pillow. “You have to wear that dress, you look amazing.” 

Hailey turns to her side and scoffs at the sight of her barely covered behind. “Kim, I’m not sure that this counts as a dress.” Kim frowns, sighing as she turns to search for the perfect dress for Hailey. 

“I don’t know Hailes, Rony would sure love to see you in it.” Vanessa says.

Hailey throws the now discarded dress at her from across the room, slipping into the next one from Kim. “I’m not sure I care what Rony thinks.” She smooths out the shimmery, dark blue material. “I do know that I like this.” She states, changing the subject. 

“So you are still going to break up with him then?” Kim asks, plopping down on the bed next to Vanessa. 

Hailey pulls her hair over her shoulder and gives herself a once over in the mirror. “Yeah.” She turns back to her friends, “The feelings have faded, I can’t pretend there is something there anymore.” 

“Good for you then.” Vanessa says, jumping up. The girls get themselves together, putting on their shoes and fixing any blemishes. Hailey’s phone buzzes and she smiles down at it. 

Jay: We still on for breakfast tomorrow? 

Hailey quickly types back a reply, but her grin did not go unnoticed. “Jay?” Kim asks, raising an eyebrow. She nods, sticking her phone is her clutch. 

Vanessa sighs, “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees you tonight.” Kim giggles as Hailey swats at Vanessa’s arm. 

Jay had been Hailey’s best friend for years. They met the first day of classes their freshman year, Hailey a Criminal Justice major and Jay still undeclared. They clicked right away. It’s actually how she met Kim, she began dating Jay’s friend Adam and they quickly became friends. Then she met Kevin, who pledged the same frat as Jay and Adam. Vanessa was the last to be added, she met Hailey in Constitutional Law. Hailey loved her friends like family, because they were. That was something they all had in common, they each had a reason for needing the others. And even though Hailey had the most amazing friend group anyone could ask for, none of them were Jay. 

It had always been a running joke between girls that Jay had feelings for Hailey. She of course always dismissed them, especially when she began dating Rony around eight months ago. But to Kim and Vanessa, he only added more fuel to the fire. He and Jay couldn’t stand each other, which was part of the reason that Hailey was ending things, even though she would never admit that to anybody. Hailey hadn’t told Jay that she was planning on breaking up with Rony, and she really wasn’t sure why. She told herself it was because she didn’t want to be influenced by his obvious opinion, but she was even without talking to him about it. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Vanessa says, pulling the door to her and Hailey’s shared apartment open. Hailey grabbed her clutch off her bed and followed them out the door, into the endless party that was Chicago. 

…

Jay grinned at his phone. 

Hailey <3 : For sure, I’ll be ready at 9.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket. He thought back to freshman year when their little tradition started. Hailey had gotten rejected at the annual Alpha Delt New Year’s party by the upperclassmen she was crushing on. She got so drunk that they didn’t even make it to midnight, and she rang in the new year vomiting in the bathroom of Jay’s quad dorm. Instead of letting her wallow the next morning, Jay insisted that they get up and get breakfast. After that they decided to get breakfast after every big party they attended together, especially New Years, as to not let the other one give into their hangover. 

“Man,” Adam says, pulling Jay out of his trance, “This is getting pathetic.” 

Jay collapsed on the couch behind him, pretending to be clueless about Adam’s dig. “What?” 

Adam tosses Jay a beer, “Just tell her already.” He takes a swig of his own, “This whole pining thing is not a good look for you.” 

Jay fakes offense, “Wow Adame, that hurts.” He touches his hand to his chest, Adam chuckles. “And I am not pining. I’m just...silently awaiting the day that she realizes she is in love with me.” Adam gives him a pointed look. “Okay, I’m pining, but what do you care?” 

“I hate seeing my best friend in pain.” Adam says, struggling to keep hold of his somber expression. Before Jay can respond, Adam’s phone dings. “That’s Kevin, we’re late. Come on.” Jay stands, grabbing his jacket and wallets and follows Adam out the door. 

...

Hailey walked in the already crowded frat house and immediately began her search for Rony. Part of her felt bad for ruining his night, but she knew that if she didn’t do it tonight, she never would. She even purposefully didn’t come with him, as to not have to pretend she was happy. The middle of a party was the perfect place, quick and painless, he would probably be drunk and she could easily fade into the crowd. 

After several minutes of wandering around the sea of wasted college students, she found her way back to her friends. Kim and Vanessa held questioning gazes as she approached, but Hailey shook her head. 

Jay noticed the exchange, the way he notices everything Hailey does. “Where’s Rony?” He shouts over the music.

Hailey just shrugs, “No clue.” Jay nods, knowing that his voice would betray him, it wouldn’t be the first time he said something stupid like “good” or “thank God.” 

Thankfully, everyone decides to move on, the clock continues the approach midnight and Hailey is very aware of Rony’s non-existence. She wasn’t upset, more angry. There was no feeling of sadness, she had no feelings for him, but it was odd that she had not seen him the entire night when he insisted that she come in the first place. She would have come anyway, but as of right now, she was present by his invitation. 

Hailey excused herself from the group, saying she was yet again, going to look for Rony. Jay watched her closely, seeing that she looked more aggravated than hurt as she walked away. Hailey made her way to the staircase, ascending slowly as she looked through the crowd below her. She ran over to her “It’s not you, it’s me,” speech in her head as she searched, wanting to get the damn thing over with already. 

Once at the top, she wandered from room to room, finding most of them locked. Smart boys. She thought. When she reached a door that was not locked, she swung it open to reveal a shirtless Rony on top of a girl with very little clothing on. “What the hell Rony?” She yelled, and his head whipped around. 

His eyes looked panicked, “Hailey, baby, it’s not what it looks like.”

Hailey scoffs as the girl slides out from under him, grabbing her abandoned clothes and running for the door. “Wow, what a line. Got anything better?” She spit. 

Rony rushed past her and shut the door, turning to look at her. “I’m so sorry, I lo-”

“We’re done Rony.” 

Hailey attempted to walk around him but he grabbed her arm, “No, please, let’s talk.”

His grip tightened. “Rony that hurts,” she said, ripping her hand away, but he still wouldn’t let her past him. “I was going to end it anyway, there is nothing to ‘talk’ about.” 

“When I say we’re going to talk, we are going to talk.” Hailey was shocked, Rony’s temper had always been bad, but this was a side of him she had never seen. He backed her across the room until her exposed back hit the cold dresser. “You know, you look amazing tonight.” He said, placing his hand on her hip.

Hailey sucked in a breath, “Let me go Rony.” He dug his fingers into her side and Hailey gasped in pain. 

He pressed his weight into her, she was pinned against the dresser, he smiled and brought his face down to hers. “No.” Hailey thrashed, trying to get out of his grip, she tried to scream, but he delivered a harsh blow to her cheek. “Shut up.” She continued to wiggle around, her shouts muffled under his large hand. He grabbed her tight by her arms and slammed her harm against the wall, her head ricocheting off it. 

She tried to call out again, but her head was spinning. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he attached his lips to her neck. Hailey tried to push him off her, but he punched her square in the jaw, sending her flying into the dresser beside her before hitting the ground. She kicked and squirmed as he climbed on top of her, Rony responded by hitting her over and over again. He pressed his leg between her knees to separate them, it was then she began to cry, she felt so helpless, she had no strength left. “Rony, please, don’t…” He pushed her hand over her mouth once more, muffling her final scream. 

Jay kept his eyes trained on the staircase as soon as she disappeared, which he realized was a while ago. Part of him wanted to go find her, but he knew she was probably with Rony somewhere, doing something he didn’t want to see. Jay shuddered at the thought, the possibility itself making him want to punch a wall. 

Finally his curiosity got the best of him, he made his way to the stairs, not bothering to give an explanation to any of his friends. He had a bad feeling, and when it came to Hailey, that was all he needed. 

When he made it to the stairs, he discovered the same thing as Hailey did: locked door after locked door. When he reached the end of the hallway, he heard the sound of muffled screams. Jay threw the door open to find a bloody Hailey with her dress hitched up over her hips underneath Rony. He saw red, he ripped Rony off of her and slammed him into the wall. 

Hailey wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, she could barely see through her teary eyes, but she recognized Jay, who was using Rony as a punching bag. Hailey backed herself up against the opposite wall, trying to slow her breathing, but she couldn’t, she needed him. “Jay…” She whimpered. 

That was all it took to pull Jay out of his rage, he was immediately at her side. He wrapped his arms around her and Hailey held on for dear life. He ran his fingers through her hair as she cried. He had absolutely no idea what to do, he knew he wanted to kill Rony, but that was it. 

Hailey gripped him harder, “He-He was going to,” She said, hiccuping. 

“Shhh, I know.” He said, his heart clenching in his chest. He held her tighter, if that was even possible. “I know.” 

The two sat there for what felt like hours, Jay trying to calm Hailey, which was proving to be ineffective. Some time later, the rest of their friends began to look for them. Adam was the first to find them. He spotted the blood on the carpet, and then on the wall. “What the-Jay?” He yelled, “Holy shit, what happened?” He knelt down next to him. 

Not long after, Kim came running in, “Hailey!” She looked over Hailey, who was now drifting in and out of consciousness. “We need to get her to the hospital now.” Adam nodded and called 911, Jay also told him to call the police, because he was making sure that Rony was going down, for some reason or another. 

The ambulance ride was agonizingly slow, Jay found himself waiting in the ER for hours for an update. A doctor finally came to tell him that she was fine, they suspected bleeding in her brain, but all her scans came back clean. Jay followed him to her room, finding her awake when he got there. “Hailes,” He said, rushing to her side. 

“Hi,” She said sheepishly as he took her hand. 

Jay searched her face, the bruising leaving evidence of the terrible event. “How are you?” 

“Thankful.” She said quickly, “Thank you...For pulling him off me, if you hadn’t-”

Jay saw her eyes fill with tears, “I know, I know.” 

Hailey nodded, “So I guess we are going to have to raincheck on breakfast.” 

Jay chuckled and Hailey cracked a slight smile. Hailey was able to check out the next morning, Jay drove her home, because he sat with her the whole night. Hailey thought back to her conversation with Vanessa earlier that night…

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees you tonight.” Vanessa said.

Hailey stared at Jay, finally seeing what everyone else saw. He had saved her, stayed with her, comforted her. He was like a knight in shining armor. Her gaze met her favorite set of green eyes and in that moment, Hailey Upton knew she was falling for Jay Halstead.

...

A/N: Part 2?