#but after i started seventh grade the fifth and sixth grade became their own class

[callofdudes]

I would love to read your Headcanons about König’s childhood from your POV 👀

I've been thinking about this a lot, so I'll give it a go.

König's childhood headcanons!

König's childhood wasn't the most lavish. He had an older sibling who when he was eight was legal to move out. This was the start of König's social anxiety. He wasn't used to not having his sibling (male or female I'm not sure at this point). But König lost his only friend who moved out with their friends and moved across town.

König often tried to visit but couldn't understand why he wasn't allowed to visit after his parents found out said sibling wasn't making the best of decisions and didn't approve of their spouse. This discouraged König a lot in his younger years.

After his sibling moved out König started going to public school. He was previously homeschooled but with both parents working and no one at home to teach him in his online classes he was moved out into the world.

König had no prior experience with making friends. So for third grade he was in public and most of the kids already had lots of friends. Being the third grade most of the kids had been going since kindergarten and already had their groups. (And third graders are petty)

König was pretty much alienated because he was thrown into this big environment with no prior experience. Everyone knew everyone's else's names and had friends and groups and playground rules. Everyone knee their teachers. Everyone except König.

Through third to fifth grade König was the quiet kid who sat in the corner. He was afraid to join any after school groups in fear of not making friends.

Both of his parents worked so he'd get up on his own, make his own lunch and go to school. And when he left he'd come home to an empty house. He was used to being alone. He spent time in his room with nothing but his video games and soon his parents became to involved in work to spend time with him.

This increased his anxiety even more.

When König was eleven he found out why his parents were so caught up in work. They weren't getting along and working out a divorce over the last year.

König was devasted. When the divorce came into effect his parents stopped attempting to hide their new distain for each other and families took sides.

König developed severe anxiety over this time. Spending one week with his mother and one week with his father. They would openly bash each other in front of family and his aunt's and uncles would tell him things about his other parent that hurt him. He didn't know who to trust and who to love. Going to school like this closed him off. He couldn't handle juggling his family affairs and trying to make friends.

In sixth grade König had a huge growth spurt. He was already fairly tall at 5'7 but midway through he grew to be 5'10.

All the kids made fun of him. This lengthy, tall, sixth grader. They called him mountain boy and asked him what the weather was like. He has trouble playing dodgeball because he was so much bigger than the others. The person he'd been catching feelings for also mocked him.

This drove him into a hole of emotions.

Eventually he did make a friend. In seventh grade he became friends with a fellow student. His first friend in many years. He was kind to König and by the time seventh grade came König had leveled out to be 6'1.

The kids bullied him a lot, but his new friend invited him to basketball tryouts. And König was happy. He was nervous and embarrassed despite being a very athletic kid. He loved sports and activities. And despite how nervous he was, he made the team!! He was so incredibly happy. He spent the next two years like that.

He played on the basketball team and became close with a tight nit group of students. He played against other schools and was starting to feel free again. He distracted himself from the divorce with his new friends.

And then the custody battle was settled. His mother had fought for full custody of König and had won rather easily despite her being no better than his father.

She took the money and moved them to Germany to live with relatives. König was devasted.

He had to start an entirely new life for ninth grade. A new school, a new social system, nowhere to hide.

König was incredibly insecure about his height and when school started he stuck out like a sore thumb. He started wearing a mask to try and hide. Everyone knew his name but they couldn't see his face.

And then he met you. You were kind the moment you met him. You could tell he was shy and from the way he hid you could tell he wasn't wanting to be noticed. You'd introduced yourself and just slowly started to filter into his life.

König was nice. When you saw him sitting alone you went over to sit with him. He avoided eye contact and his leg bounced rapidly, knee gently hitting the table.

"Hey, I know I introduced myself earlier but I was wondering if I could sit with you?" König doesn't say anything and keep his head down. You keep your distance but are nice to him. König takes a while to warm up to you but when he does you two become the best of friends.

And it happened over Social class.

The two of you were paired up to write a report on military history. König had only gotten into the idea of the military in the last couple years but you were invested. König brought you over to his house for the project. Everything was good until his mother and her new boyfriend started to tease him about you coming over.

König was so embarrassed that he forgot about you and ran up to his room. You grabbed your back and came after him. "Hey, it's ok. Don't listen to that."

König and you worked on your war project and König learned so much. You taught him about more than WW1 and WW2. He was enraptured and that was when he finally clicked with you.

You started hanging out with him every day at lunch and going over to each other's houses. You expressed your thoughts on signing up for the military and König also pondered the thought.

Eventually his mother went off into her own world with her boyfriend. And König couldn't handle it. Her new boyfriend always scolded him for crying and his overly sensitive emotions. She would take his side when he yelled at König until he went numb.

König was no longer open to you and pushed every sorry feeling he had down to seem tough. He got another growth spurt and by 11th grade he was 6'6.

He started working out after school when he wasn't hanging out with you. His now stepfather encouraged him to work out and push his emotions away. It hurt you. To see the kid who could break down in front of you and tell you about what was happening best himself up when he felt like he was going to cry.

He started to hate himself.

He wore black face paint and a black medical mask to hide his face, no longer happy with it. He became so self conscious and stuck he didn't know what to do.

"König you know I'm here for you, whenever you need something you can come to me."

König spends a lot of his off school time at your house and often sleeps over. he'd rather stay up late in your room eating popcorn and playing videogames than dealing with family drama.

You made him feel safe and secure. You helped him escape from the dark world and he could be himself around you.

Your parents were nice and they welcomed him over and treated him like a son. They fed him breakfast in the morning and made both your lunches in the morning when he slept over on school nights.

König stuck to his word. He told his mother he was signing up and wouldn't be attending 12th grade. His family discouraged this move and it almost threw him off until you encouraged it. If he wanted to do it you'd be all there for him. So he enlisted and after training was enrolled.

When he was sixteen He'd decided he'd had enough. He couldn't live the way he was living. One day at school the two of you were talking when König brought up enlisting. "I want to join the military." "Oh? Once you get out of school I think you'd be great at that, when do you want to join?" "Next year, when I eligible." "Oh. Well that's cool."

A year later you enrolled and were also enlisted. You were lucky enough to join the same squadron as König where he was promoted to sergeant a year later. You almost didn't remember him considering his new name and the hood covering his face. He recognized you and came up to you. And you know the rest.

I hope you like it, I threw in some of the readers POV but it was majority outside, I hope you guys don't mind. Bye!!

[bamboo72498]

Head Up, Eyes With Pride

@domaystic Day 14: Parade Fandom: Castle (my FLM universe) Word Count: 814 Rating: G [][]

Kate tucks her hair behind her ear again as the breeze blows it across her face. She cheers with the crowd as another parade float passes them, watching as McKenna and Wyatt dash out with the other kids nearby to gather up the candy being tossed to them. 

“Mommy! Look! I got some!” Wyatt cheers, scampering through their line of camp chairs to get to his mom.

“I see, bubby! That’s awesome!” Alexis encourages, peering into the bag her son holds out to her. “Go sit with sissy and try and get some more.”

Kate helps her grandson back to his spot in his own child-sized camp chair next to his sister when a familiar black and gold banner appearing down the street catches her attention. 

“Guys! Get ready, here they come!” Kate calls, getting their family’s attention. 

Her kids’ middle school marching band comes towards them, marching in as perfect formation as a bunch of seventh and eighth graders can be. Their matching yellow ‘Eastlake Secondary School Marching Hornets’ shirts and jeans pale in comparison to the uniforms of the high schools that had come before them in the parade, but it’s good enough. 

Kate’s heart quickens with excitement and pride as they pause in front of them. She easily finds Miyana - in front with her dance class who had been recruited to be the Colorguard - waving her honeycomb patterned flag in matching choreography with the girls around her, a wide smile plastered on her face. Kate chuckles as Mia mouths the counts to her dance (a hard habit for the girl to break). 

She scans down the brass line, recognizing kids she’d seen around school and other band concerts and lands at the large drumline diving the band in half. 

The row of quad drums quickly tapping out the beats to their cadence. 

The row of bass drums and cymbals struggling to play quietly enough to not drown out the other drummers. 

And in the center of it all: the line of snare drums. Six of them are standing with their drums clipped to the harness hung around their shoulders. The seventh is seated in a wheelchair being pushed by another band parent, her drum resting on her lap as she skillfully plays the ending of their cadence and then holds her sticks in proper ‘rest’ position. Their little Nemo who had had to campaign to even be allowed to do band in fifth grade; their director not having faith in her abilities to keep up - only seeing her disability and not the determined and passionate girl in front of him. 

After surviving that year and graduating to middle school, band took a complete 180. With a new director who had complete faith in her, Finn thrived. She became percussion section leader in her spring semester of sixth grade and has kept it every semester since. Even now, during their marching season, she’s drumline section leader. 

Band is her safe place. One of the few place where she can keep up with everyone and no one treat her differently because of her CP. 

The pause in the music allows Kate to turn and look at her family; all of them have wide smiles on their faces as they cheer on the kids. McKenna and Wyatt shout as they wave to their aunts and uncle, hopping to get their attention. 

A moment later, Finn counts the drumline off and starts the roll off. Kate can hear a smattering of “Up!” as the band put their instruments to their mouths and starts to play. It’s a medley of theme songs for the different armed forces; fitting for the Veteran’s Day parade they are at.

The parade moves on, and Kate quickly spots Liam towards the back with his fellow saxophone players. She watches him skip for a beat, getting back in step with everyone. Soon enough, the band’s music fades as they continue through the parade route. 

“Wow! They were good,” Alexis comments. “Definitely better than last year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kate laughs, recalling the memory of last year’s disaster of a parade. This time was significantly better. 

“Hey, Kate!” Castle calls to her over the heads of his mom and her dad. “What was it their teacher called the way they march? There was two of them and they do that specific one.” She sees the way his brow is scrunched, his brain working hard to remember the word. 

“The style they use is called ‘roll stepping’ the other is ‘corps style’,” she says. It had been drilled into her from both her kids and their director; how could she forget?

“Yes! That’s it,” Castle smile. “Roll stepping,” he repeats to the stranger next to him as they continue their conversation.

Kate goes back to watching the parade, her grandkids racing for more candy, enjoying the fall sunshine and light breeze in the air.

[itsamarlfox]

I am the oldest child in my family among my siblings and closest cousins. I was my parents learning curve. The first of firsts. Boldly going where no child had gone before. I was the one who was supposed to be an example to my siblings. But who was I supposed to look up to?

I spent my first year entering middle school wishing I had an older brother. I imagined him as kind and supportive, someone who would protect me when I was scared. I'm 24 now and when I think about that now I realize why I felt that way. I had been homeschooled during elementary school, and returned to public school in fifth grade. Going into sixth was only my second year in public school after the isolation of homeschooling and I had a lot of social learning to do. I felt entirely unprepared on how to deal with the intricacies of pre-teen friendships. I would later learn that I am autistic, and eventually gain a better understanding of how being raised in the church had affected me socially and mentally. So I created this character in my head- I think his name was Mathew- to help me learn how to navigate this new world. I imagined him comforting me when I would cry or when I was scared. He had his own social bubble that gave me insight into how to have friends. He was never mean or cruel to me despite the kind of brothers I had seen on movies and TV. He made me feel safe.

By seventh grade I had mostly forgotten about Mathew. I started finding my own friends in choir and art class and English. I became known as the art kid. The one who doodled in the margins of her notes and impressed teachers with her projects featuring paintings or drawing related to the lessons. I learned what the nerdy kids were and decided that's where I fit. For the most part at least. This wasn't the end of my struggles with school or my social life or the fear of growing up without someone to guide me but I think it was a big part of who I became in highschool and beyond. I'm not the same person as that girl in sixth grade who dreamed of horses and read books like there was no tomorrow, who wished so desperately to feel less alone, but she is me and those coping mechanisms I found all on my own in a big scary world helped me get to where I am now.

[arctic-hands]

I grew up attending a knock-off Montessori from first to eighth grade that billed itself as an advanced and alternative method school that would allow kids grow at their own pace (ha! says the disabled kid) but in freshman world history both I and a girl from said knock-off Montessori didn't know the answer to something and my teacher flat out asked if we were from that school and gleefully said in front of the entire class that every student he's had from my school was at least a year behind everyone else, so you can understand why I'm flustered about my education

Regular public school has a bad reputation but goddamn did Discovery fuck us all over

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff X Reader Hogwarts AU Oneshot

Hey everyone! As WandaVision has me completely in love with Wanda Maximoff, I've managed to write a little Harry Potter-inspired oneshot. 

Ready on AO3 too

Gif is not mine.

It was an understatement to say that you were late. Running through the now-empty corridors of the castle, you hid behind a pillar when you thought you heard the voice of the Ravenclaw's snitch monitor nearby, but you let out a sigh of relief when you noticed that it was only ghosts chattering away during their wanderings.

You ran toward the transfiguration room, believing that if you were lucky, you would be able to sneak behind the cages to the last empty chair and pretend that you hadn't missed almost half of the first class. You believed that Tony Stark would have been the inconvenience knowing all that he usually is, and that Professor Minerva would not have noticed your absence.

When you finally reached the classroom, you wiped some sweat from your forehead as you leaned against the wall, trying to look out the window. You noticed that almost all the students were writing something in their notebooks, and you tried not to think too much about the importance of that content, ignoring the feeling that it was the kind of thing that would be on the final exams.

You raised your hand toward the doorknob slowly, thinking of the best way to open the door without making too much noise, but then someone turned the lock on the other side, and you almost fell back in surprise as you saw the door open.

- I'm glad you decided to join us, Miss Y/L/N. - said Professor Minerva sternly.

You felt your knees tremble with fear at the intensity of her gaze, and your cheeks heat up when you hear giggles coming from inside the room.

- I'm sorry, professor. I didn't hear the alarm clock. - You said, looking at the floor. Minerva let out an exclamation of disapproval and let you into the room.

- I will debilitate five points of your house, for this, miss. Don't let this happen again. - She said simply, and you entered.

When you sat in the back of the room, in one of the few empty chairs, you did your best to avoid all the curious and judgmental glances your classmates threw at you. Only when Professor Minerva walked back between the tables you looked around the room, your gaze locking on the one person who could completely take your attention away.

Wanda Maximoff was a student of the same year as yours, being part of the Slytherin house. You could say that you had a friendly relationship, because you knew the same people, and especially, you were very good friends with Pietro, her twin brother. You couldn't precisely define the nature of your relationship with Wanda however. In your first two years at Hogwarts you sat together on the train, and during the breaks, almost exclusively due to the company of Steve Rogers, who was a mutual friend and a year older, who used to act like the older brother of several people. When Steve graduated, Pietro became the only bond that justified your socializing with Wanda, but even though they were brothers they didn't hang out all the time, especially after Wanda started dating a Ravenclaw boy named Vis, who you didn't like, and Pietro started dating, well, several people.

The thing was that you never developed a friendship with Wanda, purely because she made you nervous enough that you couldn't engage in conversation with her without being around other people. You were a complete mess around her, notable only to your best friend, Natasha, who was happy to torment you for your longtime crush on the witch. During the third and fourth year, you considered confessing to Wanda how you felt, but like a bucket of cold water, Vis came along. He was a nice guy, and smart, and you were in the same chess club. But all the niceness completely disappeared when you watched Vis invite Wanda to the winter ball. The whole dynamic of your relationship with Wanda has changed since she started dating the young ravenclaw. You tried to suppress your feelings as much as possible, and you were constantly irritated and clumsy in the presence of Vis, who seemed to be always clinging to Wanda, so you started avoiding both of them. If Wanda interpreted that your sudden hostility was because you didn't like her, she didn't speak up, and just began to respect the distance you put between you two.

You were in this almost hostile territory for all of fifth grade and sixth grade, until you invited Jessica Jones to be your date to Professor Stark's Christmas party during seventh grade, which set off a series of interesting events in your life.

First the Starks threw the best Christmas parties, and although Tony Stark was annoying and overbearing, he was your long-time friend, and he was very happy to invite all his friends to his father's party, Professor Howard Stark, who taught Magic Mechanics. You weren't even in Professor Stark's class, but you were happy to hear that he organized a party for everyone who stayed at the castle during the vacation period, and many students skipped their way home just to attend, since Howard's parties were famous in school.

And then you invited your friend Jessica Jones, someone you had a lot of fun with, but wasn't really romantic at all. In fact, you dared her to take you to the party, because she wouldn't admit the open crush she had on her colleague Trish Walker, a very pretty blonde girl who seemed to be the only person who could get around Jessica's temper. You were happy to tease Jessica all night about her crush, until the brunette took too much fruity punch and finally built up the courage to talk to Trish, leaving you laughing at your desk as you watched her trip over her own feet as she led the blonde out of the room.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you imagined it was Natasha, finally finding you in the midst of so many people, but the vision that hit you took your breath away.

You knew that Wanda Maximoff was beautiful. It was a fact that you grumbled against your pillow in irritation when you saw her kissing Vis on the cheek during breaks between classes. And then you saw her, her hair arranged in a high bun, her face powdered with makeup that made her even more beautiful, and her long eyelashes flashing at you through emerald orbs. Damn those eyes. There was a lot to take in in the figure in front of you. Her stupidly beautiful face, her lips slightly stained with lipstick because she had a habit of biting them when nervous, or her partially exposed collarbone from the cut of her blouse. You thought you had forgotten how to breathe.

- Hey. - Wanda greeted you with a lopsided smile. You blinked a few times.

- H-hi Wanda! - you replied after being silent for a moment. You looked away quickly. - Nice party, right?

- I think. - She replied and you noticed the two empty glasses in her hand. You abruptly adjusted your posture, your cheeks flushing slightly, to step back and excuse Wanda so she could fill the glasses with fruit punch. Of course, she was only talking to you because you were in front of the drinks table, preventing her from getting something for herself and Vis.

- Here, sorry about that. - You apologized after moving completely away from the drinking table, Wanda blinked slightly in confusion, and seemed to remember that she was carrying the glasses only at that moment.

- Oh, yeah, right. - she grumbled as she approached the bucket of ponge. - Just gonna grab something for me and Vis.

- Yeah, I figure that. - You replied harshly, looking down at your own shoes.

Wanda raised her eyebrows at your aggressiveness, and she ventured to ask.

- Do you have any problem with Vis? - said the sorceress, now holding the two full glasses in both hands. You rolled your eyes impatiently, which seemed to irritate her.

What difference does that make? - You replied feeling jealousy fill your chest - We are not friends so what I think doesn't really matter.

You regretted the aggressiveness of your words the moment you said them, and you felt even worse when you looked into Wanda's tearful eyes. But you didn't have time to apologize, because the girl just turned her back on you, going back in the same direction she had come from.

Honestly, you wanted to dig a hole in the ground and disappear. Or maybe bang your head against the wall, believing that your only natural talent was to ruin exactly every conversation you had with Wanda. You thought it best to try to find your date, to say goodbye before heading back to the communal room, so you walked in the opposite direction of Wanda.

You searched for Jessica for several minutes. The girl seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth, and then as you strolled down the empty third floor corridors you found her in a compromising position to say the least.

Feeling your cheeks getting very hot, you watched with a mixture of embarrassment, surprise, and horror as your longtime friend knelt down, her head tucked between the spread legs of Trish Walker who was clutching her skirt with one hand as she threw her head against the wall, her eyes closed. For merlin sake. You stumbled backwards, your eyes wide. They were too distracted to notice you, and it took only a sobbing groan from Trish to break your shock. You turned around quickly, shaking your head to try to push the images from your mind.

As you walked down the halls of the third floor, intending to go back to the party and drink as much smuggled alcohol as you could find to erase the image of Trish and Jessica fucking, you bumped into someone.

Wanda's lipstick was much more smudged than before, and her shirt was slightly wrinkled. And then you knew immediately what she was doing in that hallway. Frowning at her, you noticed that she looked embarrassed at having bumped into someone, but you didn't let her speak, rushing to let out an impatient exclamation and leaning against the wall.

- Good Merlin, everyone decided to have sex today. - You sighed, closing your eyes, but opened them the same second the recent images hit you back, watching Wanda stare at you in confusion. She seemed to hesitate between walking away and talking to you, but you were glad when she turned her body in your direction.

- Who's having sex? - she asked with a mixture of curiosity and concern on her face. You let out a low laugh, and let your body slide against the wall until you sat down on the floor. Wanda copied your movement on the opposite wall, and you were facing each other, both sitting in the empty hallway.

- I just saw first hand two colleagues fucking in the hallway. - You grumbled, not saying you had seen your friends. You weren't the type to spread rumors. - I think I'm traumatized for life.

Wanda fought back a smile, clearly still upset with you for the discussion earlier. You swallowed hard, knowing that you had your chance to apologize now.

- That sucks. - Wanda said simply, and you stared at her.

It took a few seconds, but you finally spoke:

- I'm sorry about earlier. I was just being mean, for no reason apparently.

The girl seemed surprised, but then she gave you a short smile. You began to play with your shoelaces when you were silent for a moment.

- I wasn't having sex. - Wanda whispered so softly that you blinked a few times to make sure you heard something. You looked at her in confusion, but she looked away, her cheeks slightly pink. - Vis asked if he could take me to my room, I didn't feel like partying after our discussion. - She explained, still not looking at you. - He said he wanted to give me a proper goodnight kiss.

You felt your stomach drop. Swallowing all your jealousy, you let out a grumble, signaling that you understood what Wanda had said. You looked back down at your own sneakers, and couldn't notice the witch analyzing every micro-expression on your face, her heart beating uncompensated at the confession.

- I didn't want to kiss him like that. - She said at last, and feeling her gaze on you, you reciprocated.

Although you tried to hold it in, you couldn't help but let a shy smile slip between your lips. You looked away again, biting your lips to keep from smiling at the sorceress's newly confessed words.

You were silent for a moment again, and feeling that you finally had a chance to talk to Wanda, about anything, you decided to stick to the subject. Letting your spontaneity guide your speech, you found yourself asking:

- Did you ever want to kiss someone like that?

Wanda looked surprised, and slightly embarrassed judging by the slight blush on her cheeks. You hurried to explain the reason for the question, not wanting the girl to feel pressured to answer.

- I just mean like, how people are sure of that? - You said, and suddenly your anxieties and fears were all on edge and you found yourself sharing about it. - It’s just I've never done anything like that. I was never able to tell for sure if i wanted to kiss someone or if i was just doing because it was what everyone was expecting.

The sorceress seemed to absorb your words carefully. She rested her face on her knees as she looked at you intently.

- Not even with Jessica? Or Bucky? - Wanda asked and you just nodded.  

- I had a lot of fun with Bucky, I really did. He was sweet and funny, and really cute. - You began to explain, while imitating Wanda's position, leaning your head on the arm above your knee. - But then we got to the Yule Ball together and everyone around us were making out and he just said we should try that too. And I was angry because… - You shook your head slightly to stop yourself from confessing exactly why you were upset that night. - Well, things i guess. I just know that in one second we were dancing and then he asked me if we could kiss and I didn’t want to let him down so I said yes.

- Was that your first kiss? - Wanda asked curiously.

- Not really. - You grumbled. - My first kiss was kind of a shitty situation. I was 9, This girl from muggles school locked me in an empty room and said she was going to show me how her father charmed women. She forced a kiss while I was too shocked to react.

- I’m sorry. - Wanda said sincerely, and you just shrugged.

- It 's okay. I guess she liked me but she had too much trauma to show that in a healthy way. - You said looking at Wanda, who frowned, disagreeing.

- This does not justify her behavior. - She retorted and you just bit your lips.

- You’re probably right. - You grumbled, and looked away from her quickly, building up the courage to confess again. - After Bucky, I thought that maybe I only liked girls and that’s why the kiss felt weird. But then Helen Cho kissed me on New Year.

- Wait, what? - Wanda suddenly exclaimed, and you looked at her curiously. Ashamed of her own reaction, Wanda looked away. - Sorry, I didn't know about this. - You let out a short laugh.

- Well, it was holiday break. I went to Steve’s in New Year. His family had a small reunion and Cho was invited.

- Oh, I remember this. - Wanda said. - My brother and I went back to Sokovia that year, so we couldn’t join the meeting.

- Well, you missed my big kiss, miss Maximoff. - You joked but Wanda didn't smile, an expression you couldn't quite decipher. You decided it was best to keep telling your story. - Anyway, Helen is a real flirt. She joked about not having anyone to kiss at midnight and it took her two drinks to ask me. I’m pretty sure it was only after Thor said no to her.

Wanda laughed softly, attentive to your monologue.

- I said yes because I wanted to be sure that I only liked girls. - You confessed, shaking your shoulders slightly. - I talked to Nat about this and she said the only way to be sure was if i felt that kissing girls was just naturally better than kissing  boys, and I just went for it.

- And? - Wanda asked curiously.

- The fucking same. - You confessed, letting out a sad sigh. - I just felt I was doing because everyone else was doing and I could really feel a connection to her. I simply didn’t like her, you know? Like, everyone describes these butterflies and nervousness, and I thought I was feeling it too. But then I realized that I was just anxious about it being a new experience, and being in public. I wasn't nervous about the person I was kissing, it was just too frustrating.

- Is different with Jessica isn’t it? - Wanda asked after a moment, you raised your eyebrow at the almost hurt expression she had on her face, but she looked away from you quickly.

- Yes, but not because of what you’re thinking. - You said. - I’m not in love with her, you know. Things are way less complicated than that.

A short smile escaped Wanda's lips at her confession, but she did not interrupt you.

- We have a lot of things in common. Especially personality traits. - You explained, smoothing yourself better against the wall. - We become friends quite easily. And for some reason I always thought she was hot.

Wanda's gaze fell from yours immediately, but you didn't notice the sad posture she assumed.

- What I mean is, I was attracted to her after we became friends. Then I realized that it was supposed to be like this. I like to have emotional bonds before intimacy affection. - You explained. - She was my first enjoyable kiss, I guess. We kissed a couple times on truth or dare games, but eventually we both realized that even though we had chemistry, we didn’t work as a couple. Manly because we aren’t in love with each other.

- I thought you two were dating. - Wanda suddenly confessed, the same indecipherable expression on her face as before. You looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

- I never really dated anyone, Wanda. - You explained. - I guess that’s the real reason on why i was so chocked to find people having sex on a corridor.

Wanda let out a short laugh, and you tried not to blush so much at the sound.

- Anyone would be surprised. Virgin or not. - She said, looking at you tenderly.

You fell into a comfortable silence again. You began to play with the button on your costume, before you felt Wanda's foot tap against yours. She had stretched out her legs, and slowly, both her feet touched the soles of yours. You smiled at her.

- I would like it if we were friends. - she confessed in a whisper.

You shook your head, smiling at her with amusement and affection.

- Who said we weren't friends? - You retorted, and a smile filled the other girl's face.

Before either of you could say anything else, noises of footsteps and voices could be heard in the hallway around the corner from where you were sitting. You exchanged a complicit look with Wanda, and you crawled side by side to the edge of the wall, to hear what seemed to be an argument.

Bruce Banner and Tony Stark were arguing about something in that hallway. They seemed slightly intoxicated judging by the slurred words and unbalanced postures, but the distance and the loud party noise made it impossible for you and Wanda to hear exactly what they were arguing about. They stood like that for a few seconds, until suddenly, Tony pushed Bruce against the corridor wall, and the two of them locked into a passionate kiss.

Your jaw dropped in shock, and before you could even process what had just happened, you watched in horror as Bruce took charge of the kiss, pushing Tony against the wall only to kneel in front of the other boy, beginning to unbuckle Tony's belt. You let out an exclamation and before you could make any more noise, Wanda pulled you back into the hallway, one hand covering your mouth as she laughed at your expressions.

- Okay, I admit, that was traumatic. - She said between short bursts of laughter, removing the hand covering her mouth. You laughed breathlessly, extremely aware of the other girl's proximity.

- I'm starting to think someone put sex potion to the punch. - You tried to joke, but then Wanda realized how close you were and stopped smiling.

- That would be a problem. - she whispered. - I had two cups of that.

You swallowed hard, using all your willpower to keep your gaze on Wanda's eyes, even though your brain commanded you to look at her lips.

- Is that making you feel horny too? - You answer in the same tone and then you watch Wanda stare unashamedly at your mouth. You feel a strange tingling sensation at the tip of your stomach and try to ignore the uneven beating of your heart.

But the moment is completely broken when you hear a loud groaning noise, which did not come from any of you. You shake your head, and as you realize exactly where it is coming from you cover your face with both hands.

- Merlin, what the hell was that. - You grumble and rush to cover your ears as the noises continue. Wanda starts to laugh.

- I think that's our clue to leave. - She comments, and it takes a moment for you to realize that she has moved away, already standing up and away from you.

She reaches out to help you up, and you ignore the butterflies in your stomach when she keeps holding your hand as you run down the hall in the opposite direction from where you were standing.

Concentrating too much on the feel of Wanda's hand in yours, you don't realize where she is leading you until you are almost there. You give her a gentle tug on her hand to stop her, and Wanda looks at you curiously.

- Why are you taking me to the common room? - you question curiously, slightly disappointed that the evening was coming to an end.

- Because it's quite late. - she says as if it were obvious, and you raise an eyebrow. - I need to check on Pietro before going to bed, but that does not mean I can't take you to the dorm.

- What a gentlewoman, you turn out to be, Miss Maximoff. - you joked, and Wanda laughed lightly.

You started walking again next. When you finally reached the entrance to the common room, you turned to Wanda, and found her already looking at you.

- Here we are. - You said softly.

- Here we are. - she replied in the same tone.

A moment passed with just the two of you smiling at each other, until you laughed and looked away, nervousness taking over your body.

- I will see you at class tomorrow, Wanda. - You finally said, letting go of her hands. Wanda seemed to consider something and then she moved closer to you, making you hold your breath.

- Goodnight, Y/N. - She whispered before depositing a long kiss on your cheek. You inhaled her perfume, closing your eyes for a brief moment before she pulled away.

You must have been blushing a lot, and you thought it best to hide your embarrassment, looking away from Wanda quickly and mumbling a awkward "Goodnight. You didn't notice, but Wanda smiled fondly at the shy mess you had become. She waited until you entered the common room before turning around.

It has been three weeks since you spent Christmas Eve with Wanda. When you woke up after that night, you knew that there was something different between you two. Some kind of intimacy that wasn't there before. And you had no idea how to deal with it. Now, every time you saw each other, you exchanged accomplice glances, but neither of you took the first action to get closer. Always surrounded by friends, you didn't have much time alone. And with the start of the final exams, you were feeling overwhelmed

And then you agreed to have a drink with Nat at the Three Broomsticks, to take your mind off the tests for a while, only to witness Vis asking Wanda to be his girlfriend during a date at the same place you were. Of course you had to arrive right then and there. Feeling Wanda's and Nat's eyes focused on you, you just held back your tears and left the bar, being accompanied by your clearly concerned friend.

Heartbreak isn't exactly a plausible and acceptable justification for missing class, so you thought it best just to tell Minerva that you hadn't heard the alarm clock.

When you raised your eyes to Wanda that morning, you felt your stomach sink when she had that same complicit look in her eyes accompanied by a slight smile. But you didn't smile back, and not wanting to deal with her worried expression, you just focused on your transfiguration lesson.

It didn't take long for the class to end, since you had missed almost half of it. But you had to stay a little longer to hear Professor Minerva's sermon.

Since you only had the classes for the subjects you wanted to get your N.E.W.T., your schedule was comfortably empty during the seventh grade. The vast majority of the time had to be spent studying if you wanted to get decent grades on the tests, but you allowed yourself to rest this morning, feeling emotionally tired.

You noted that you had three free periods before the next class, and decided to spend one in the kitchens, confident that the elves would cheer you up a bit since the creatures were extremely adorable.

Leaving the room, you observed the empty corridor around you. Your time getting scolded by Professor Minerva clearly made it possible for all the other students to go to their respective classes. You noticed a small group of students playing explosive snap in the middle yard, but you didn't feel like joining in the fun.

Knowing that you still had plenty of free time, you decided to leave your heavy materials in the common room before going to the kitchen, so you changed your route for the moment.

It was only when you reached a particularly isolated area in a corridor that you almost tripped over your own feet. Wanda was standing in front of you, a serious expression on her face.

- I was waiting for you. - She said holding the bag tightly on her shoulders.

- Is there anything you want to talk about? - You asked impatiently. Wanda pressed her lips together

- Why are you being like this? - She questioned with frowning eyebrows, a hurt expression that made you feel a tightening in your stomach.. - Did I did something?

You were so tired of this game. Then you just exploded.

- You know what Wanda, why don’t you go back to your boyfriend and leave me alone! - You shouted impatiently, frightening Wanda who took a step backwards.. - I’m tired of this game we’re playing. I only get hurt from it.

Not waiting for Wanda to answer, you went around her and started walking. You heard her call you, and ask you to wait, but you didn't obey, holding back tears as you walked.

- Please, listen to me. - She pleaded one last time, and you stopped walking. Taking a deep breath, you turned around..

- What? - Your voice trembled a little, the emotion you were hiding escaping in your speech.

Wanda shifted the weight between her feet, lowering her head slightly with reddened cheeks. You imagined that she was embarrassed by the intensity of your gaze, that she was feeling guilty.

- I’m not dating Vis. - She stated lightly. You looked at her with confusion.

- I saw you two at…

- I know. - She cut you off by looking at you as she clasped her hands together, a shy smile escaping her lips. - I told him that i couldn’t date him. Not when I like someone else.

Great. There was someone else. You let out an exclamation of dissatisfaction.

- Look, it’s nice that you’re sharing your love life with me but i don’t see how this is relevant right now…

- I’m talking about you. - Wanda says looking at you.

- W-what? - You ask confused, feeling your cheeks heat up, your heart racing. Wanda looks as nervous as you do as she approaches.

- You’re the person I’m in love with. - Wanda confesses, her gaze intense on you. You find it hard to breathe now.

- Oh. - That seems to be the only thing you can say, no coherent thought forming at Wanda's proximity. She brought her hands up to your neck and pressed your foreheads together

- It 's okay if I kiss you? - She asked in a low tone, you felt your stomach turn with anxiety.

- I would like that. - You say finally, before you feel Wanda's lips against yours.

It's soft. Just the touch of your lips, and you don't move your hands, still not believing that this is really happening. You think you have something you need to say, so you sigh against Wanda's mouth, and she pulls away a bit, her hands trembling against your neck.

- I'm in love with you too, Wanda. - You whisper and kiss her again, feeling her smile against your mouth.

This time it's even better. Your mouths meet and you kiss her firmly, while bringing your hands to her waist. And then just the touch of your lips is not enough, and you run your tongue over Wanda's lower lip, asking for passage. You think she doesn't understand the request because of her lack of reaction, but the next second she bites your lip gently, drawing a gasp from you. When her tongue brushes against yours, you squeeze her waist, delighting in Wanda's taste. So fucking good, you think as your tongues wrestle together. When you slow the kiss, wanting to savor Wanda calmly, she moves her hands up into your hair, trailing her fingers down the back of your neck. Leaving the kiss as slow as possible, you smile against the kiss as you hear her sigh into your mouth. You always liked to tease after all.

You run one hand up her back, over her neck, pressing her against you as your tongue lingers on hers. You both gasp, and then the rhythm of the kiss changes. You let out a low moan as you feel Wanda pull your hair lightly as she increases the intensity of the kiss. Your hand that was on her waist comes down, and you grab her ass, squeezing and consequently earning a groan from Wanda. The feeling of having her against you is driving you wild, and your stomach is doing somersaults while your heart is racing.

As you pull your mouths apart to catch your breath, Wanda starts running kisses down your jaw to your neck, making your whole body shiver. You smile breathlessly, and feel your legs weaken. Realizing that you need a support to stand, you kiss her hard as you push her gently against the nearest wall.

The position certainly awakens something primal in both of you, the kiss intensifies as Wanda's leg curls against yours, and she pulls your body against hers so that you press her against the wall, something you do without opposition. Your hand squeezes her ass again, and she moans against your mouth.

- Fuck. - You sigh as you feel Wanda bite your lip again, your eyes opening slightly to face the fully dilated pupils staring at you maliciously.

You kiss again, Wanda letting her hands roam down your back, the sensation giving you goosebumps. You moan as you feel her fingers enter your burning skin through your shirt.

- For Merlin Sake! - a voice exclaims in surprise and you both stumble out of the kiss in shock.

It takes a moment for you to clear your own thoughts, everything in your body tingling with the feel of Wanda on your skin. You feel your cheeks heat up sharply as you face the one who interrupted you.

- You guys are so lucky it wasn't a teacher to find you like that. - Nat announced, pointing at the two of you, her tone was serious but her eyes showed amusement. She would surely tease you about this in the future.

- I… We - You tried to formulate a coherent sentence, but in the mix of shame and excitement you were in, you couldn't think of anything.

- It 's okay, love birds. - Nat joked, spreading her hands to push you and Wanda by the shoulders towards the courtyard. - You can continue your make out session somewhere else. I don’t recommend the school corridors, especially when you could get caught by Professor Fury.

- Right. - Wanda grumbles and you just nod in agreement

- The bell is about to ring, so I suggest you two find somewhere more quiet to be. - Nat says - I suggest the empty halls from the seventh floor. Or maybe, you know, a bed in any of the dorms.

You think you have blushed even more at the suggestion, but before you can say anything, Wanda stops walking, and you notice that she is as red as you are.

- Actually I have potions now. - She says, looking at Nat quickly, before her gaze focuses on you. She smiles slightly, and moves closer, making you hold your breath. - I see you at lunch, okay? - She speaks tenderly, placing a short kiss on your lips. You close your eyes at the sensation and think that she has gone too fast. Then Wanda nods to Nat and leaves, leaving you with a silly smile on your lips. The bell rings almost in the next instant and the noise wakes you up from your current state.

- Okay, since we both have free periods now, you're telling me everything. - Nat says, grabbing you by the arm as you walk back down the hall.

You laughed uncomfortably, feeling your face heat up. Taking a deep breath, you ignored Nat's excited expression, preparing to tell her how exactly you ended up in that situation.

[marawritingstuff]

SUNSHINE

Finally, I would like to thank my fellow classmates.  I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you.

Valedictorian speech written.   Come on, Amelia, no sleeping.   Time to write the memoriam.   Everybody would have completely forgotten about Sunshine, aka Jennifer, if those idiots stopped talking about weird stuff.

On this day as the Class of 2008 celebrates our graduation, our Sunshine isn’t here.   Jennifer Halloway sadly took her life seven months ago.  

Couldn’t someone else give this speech? Heaven knows, we weren’t friends. Sunshine didn’t have any friends. I didn’t even know her!  Well, maybe a little bit.

Sunshine always lit up a room with her distinctive style.  She brought laughter wherever she went.

My first encounter with Sunshine occurred the first day of fifth grade.  Jennifer stumbled through the homeroom door dressed in a jumper that was falling apart at the seams with a sun patch centered slightly below her large breasts.  The tall, overweight girl, with a haircut that even a discount barber wouldn’t admit to, clutched her books closely to her chest.  As a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” sprang from the mouths of a group of students near the back, a storm of spitballs flew through the air.  Sunshine didn’t even look up amid the commotion but headed to a corner desk at the far side of the classroom. A wave of sympathy overcame me, and I began to get up to greet her, only to be met by Susie, my best friend’s hand. I looked at my friends.  Some were laughing while others had wrinkled up their faces as if Sunshine had a communicable disease that could be passed through the air by her mere presence.  There is not much I can say now.  Then I was a ten-year-old girl who wanted to be liked so I wrote off Sunshine’s life, joining in my friends’ laughter and jeers that would last for nearly seven more years.

Her intelligence and compassion did not go unnoticed by teachers and fellow students.

Sunshine remained on the periphery of my universe.   We were both smart, extremely smart.  Advanced placement classes cluttered our schedules; at least for a while, but she lacked the social graces to stay amongst the “gifted.”  Group projects were the new fad in education.   My peers pretended to let Sunshine be part of the group during class, but everyone knew the real discussions, work, and fun happened afterschool. Nobody ever told her where the meetups were happening.  When it came to the division of work, the group inevitably responded: Jennifer refused to help.    Some of the teachers would try to elicit a defense from Sunshine, but she remained silent.   I guess she never got over the fear instilled in her in elementary school.  Supposedly, she told on some bullies for calling her “Cabbage Patch Kid” and they slammed her in the mud and kicked her bad.  Of course, there were some teachers who were just as ruthless as the students.  I heard Ms. Reardon, the sixth-grade science teacher, tell her that despite her intelligence, social problems meant that she would never succeed in life and Mr. Pearson, the seventh-grade English teacher, said someone as poor as her shouldn’t have hope. I wish I could say that I acted differently, that I tried to include her, but I didn’t. By the time we reached high school, the group project grades had dropped her out of my academic circle.   However, the continued bullying kept Sunshine burning bright in my orbit.

Jennifer’s grace was an example to us all.

The whole cheerleading squad threw me a welcome party the day before my freshman year began.  They even brought me the cutest outfit and a junior offered me a ride. At 7: 15 a.m., she pulled into the driveway in her clunker.   Fifteen minutes later we screeched into the parking lot, just as the buses were pulling in.  The unmistakable sound filled my ears.  “You Are My Sunshine.”   Mud balls flew knocking Jennifer from the stairs of the bus onto the concrete.   She pulled herself up dredging her splattered sunshine jumpsuit with her.  As she stepped through the entrance doors, Sunshine disappeared from my mind again.

Though she wasn’t one of the more outgoing students, she was beloved by everyone.

That first year our paths didn’t cross much as our classes were clearly different now and extra-curricular activities weren’t her thing.  At times, I would hear calls of “fatso”, “creepy”, and “not so little Orphan Annie” coming from the halls, and witness Sunshine being thrown into lockers.  At lunch she sat alone, while some kids threw food at her and most...okay, all…of us just sneered.   Gossip went around that her grandmother, her sole living relative, got cancer and the water in her house was turned off.      Her hygiene suffered, ostracizing her even more.  One morning I really had to pee, so reluctantly ran to the gross bathroom on the first floor. That giant jumpsuit was in a sink with Sunshine scrubbing it with a bar of soap. Laughter exploded from me.  She just stood there scrubbing…I am sorry I did that now.

I, for one, enjoyed Jennifer’s contributions in the classroom.

A language class was required for all students and, unfortunately, I lacked any skills in this area, so this meant mixing with all the other sophomores. As I walked into class, I noticed the name cards carefully placed on the desks. Señora Amelia Brantley.  Cute.  Assigned Seating.  I scanned the desks.  Señora Jennifer Halloway right next to Señor Harry Hankel, the quarterback, who later became captain of the football team, a notorious bully. Everyone thought Harry would make it to the NFL someday bringing fame, and money, to our school. Thus, his pranks were largely ignored, especially by the popular teachers, like Ms. Garcia. Throughout the semester, every time Ms. Garcia turned her back, he would take hold of Sunshine’s desk and throw it into the wall leaving her reeling. Ms. Garcia refused to discipline Harry, instead admonishing Sunshine for moving her seat.  The worst day came on Cinco De Mayo.   There was a buffet of Mexican delights contributed by the students and Ms. Garcia.  A decorated piñata hung from the ceiling.  At the end of class, Ms. Garcia had us start a Conga line.   When Sunshine tried to join in, no one would touch her back.  They called her a dirty pig and made oinking sounds. Rather than discipline the class, Ms. Garcia simply broke up the line and we went back to the Cinco De Mayo feast. Sunshine went to the back corner of the room, sat down on the floor, and for the first time ever, I saw her cry.   That was the beginning of the end, even though I neither knew nor took any steps to stop it.

She was the picture-perfect student.

To be honest, SAT’s, college applications, and maintaining my 4.0 kept me too busy after that to think much about Sunshine.  I jumped on the chance to assist with developing the year-book pictures, not only since it would add another line to my Ivy League applications, but also because I loved watching the blobs slowly transform into images of happy people.  Cheerleaders forming pyramids.  Football players making touchdowns.  Even Susie’s mug, now a beautiful young lady, smiling at the Junior Fall Dance.    After school one day, I stirred the solution as the last picture appeared.  My arm grew limp as the picture came in focus. Sunshine was sitting in the corner of the gym at a pep-rally, all alone, grasping her knees.  She looked so miserable, like a puppy that had been hit too many times.   Gently, I moved the image towards the trash when the Senior Editor came in and stopped me, laughing and pronouncing that this would be a highlight. I didn’t say anything.   The centerfold of the yearbook was Sunshine’s picture with the caption, “You are the light of our school.”

As we are here to celebrate our own accomplishments, I know the Senior Class wishes they could throw Jennifer a ceremony that could honor her alone.

Unlike my freshman year, I walked through the school doors on the first day of my senior year with confidence and pride; head of the cheerleading squad, member of the student council, editor of the yearbook and a shoo-in for valedictorian.   Frankly, this was just a distraction from the wait on the responses of the Ivy League schools. December was the traditional month that early applicants received an acceptance…or rejection. August. September, November, were all a blur.

December 12th, I arrived home and opened my inbox:

NEW MAIL

HARVARD:   APPLICATION STATUS

SUSIE:    SPECIAL CEREMONY FOR SUNSHINE, DAWN

Clicking the attachment of the first message, my hands shook uncomfortably. The Harvard Crest sat cleanly at the top of the letterhead.  My eyes scanned the document.

“Congratulations.  You have been accepted into the incoming Class of the Fall Semester of 2008.”

The next few hours were a haze.  Screams and tears.  My mother hugging me.   Calling Susie.  It all seems like a huge mess of emotions now.   Later that night, Susie called to remind me that she was picking me up at 6:00 a.m. for the ceremony.  The excitement of the day had overwhelmed me.  I assumed it was another award for one of the teachers.  The second e-mail remained on my computer unopened as I dreamed of Harvard crimson sweatshirts.

The alarm rang all too soon, I threw on a hoodie and my Northface winter jacket and lumbered down to Susie’s car.  The window made a perfectly good pillow and blocked out most of her jabbering. Later, I learned that Susie was explaining that Sunshine’s grandmother had been missing for a few days.  One of the idiots from the football team called Sunshine impersonating the police luring her to the flagpole in front of the school, our destination, with a promise of information regarding her grandmother.  If I had only listened to Susie.  Or opened the e-mail.  Or done…anything.  

Susie screeched to a stop a few blocks from the school where several other cars loaded with seniors had assembled.  I struggled from the car, joining a group of twenty-five in a steady creep.  As we came over the hill, I could see Sunshine standing beside the flagpole in her old, scantly patched coat, shivering in the cold.  She kicked the snow around her, weakly mouthing, “where are you Grandma.”  The group pounced on her. Harry Hankel seized her by the arms forcing her to face the flagpole.  From under the snow, two other blindsiders began to pull ropes causing a pair of bloomers and a bra to ascend. The sunshine patches left no doubt of the owner, though I had no idea where the mob had obtained her private items.  The group broke out into a chorus of “You are My Sunshine” as they blasted her with ice balls, several striking her square in her mouth causing teeth to be knocked fully out.   Seconds seemed liked hours until someone opened the front doors of the school.   Everyone scattered.   I stood there for a second watching Sunshine lie there on the ground.  Blood dripped from her mouth staining the snow. Susie pulled me by the arm, and I turned away.  This would be my last view of Sunshine.

I wish I had a chance to know her more personally.

The incident occurred one week before the holiday break.  Sunshine didn’t make an appearance in school that week.     Holiday cheer soon made me forget the horrible event as my family overwhelmed me with gifts of Harvard paraphernalia: sweatshirts, mugs, anything you could imagine.   When I finally stepped back on the grounds of the school, I shivered. My eyes turned up to the flagpole resting on a shadowy image of one of Sunshine’s patches waving.    Susie dismissed it as an illusion due to stress.  Only a few hours into class, the principal called us all for an assembly in the auditorium.   Despite my heavy sweater, I hugged myself tightly trying to keep warm.  Mr. Lumbre, our principal, stepped on the stage, but I could barely see him despite all the theater lights.  A shadow seemed to be engulfing him.  

“Jennifer Halloway took her own life on New Year’s Day.  She is survived by her grandmother.  Funeral arrangements will be announced.  Grief counselors will be made available in the main office.  School is dismissed for the day to allow time for mourning and processing.”

The senior class sat still. I don’t know what they were feeling, all I know is no one said a word.

We really didn’t have the opportunity to say a proper good-bye.  However, even after she was gone, Jennifer still seemed to be with us somehow.

No sunshine came through the clouds the day they put her in the ground.  Only her grandmother and the church pastor watched as the casket descended into the earth.  I sat in Susie’s car staring.  I read in the newspaper that Sunshine had shot herself with her grandfather’s old gun. Her grandmother, finally recovering from a bout of dementia, returned to find her in the garage a few days later. Some of the other seniors said they were going to come to the funeral.  Susie backed out but let me take the car.   Only the hearse and the pastor’s beat up Chevy kept me company in the cemetery parking lot.  I couldn’t bring myself to get out and drove away in perceived silence, though I thought I heard the faint sound of Nat King Cole’s “When Shadow’s Fall.”

The grief counselors only stayed a few days as no one sought their services. Sunshine never left.   No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, every morning the sunshine shadow enveloped me as I crossed under the flagpole.  As the temperatures rose outside the school, they fell within.  The furnace was replaced, but the temperature didn’t rise a degree. They tore apart the ductwork, vents, and changed all the thermostats.   Nothing worked.   Soon things…well…they started getting scary. Senior girls were randomly being thrown into lockers.  Books flew from students’ arms.  The darkness and “When Shadow’s Fall” were everywhere. Most of the students, and staff, for that matter, were unfamiliar with the song.  My grandmother adored Nat King Cole.   Though I used to love hearing that smooth baritone, I shivered as it creeped from every Ipod, car stereo, and even the PA system.  No other music has been heard in the school since Sunshine’s death.  

I walked into a biology class one day on a mission to deliver notices of the upcoming teacher and student council cooperative meeting.  There sat Harry Hankel snoring away as a film on protozoa projected over him. I stared at him and sighed, sick of the whole damn school. To my shock, an invisible force picked up his desk and relentlessly banged him back and forth into the wall.   I saw nothing touch him but some in the class maintain that a sunshine shaped shadow passed over the film screen before the accident.  Harry’s dreams, and the school’s dreams, were over.  The doctors were unable to repair the damage in his right leg.  He will never play football again.

We wish she could have partaken in the many happy activities of Senior year that are captured forever in our memories.

The final grade announcements confirmed my valedictorian status.  I wanted to drop it all and drive off to Massachusetts, never to look back.  However, the yearbook distribution had to be done.  On the penultimate day of school for the seniors, I walked into the student council office and watched my junior editor sliding receipts into each book. She abruptly stopped, something seeming to catch her eye.  Flipping open the book, she let out a shriek and bolted from the office.  Drifting over to her workplace, the pages of the yearbook flipped back in the constant cool breeze that pervaded the office. I covered my mouth in horror, looking down at the faces, or lack of faces, of the senior class.  Susie should have been smiling back at me.  Instead, there was a black spot in the shape of a sunshine. Book after book, page after page, the same.  Black blotches smeared out any faces of seniors.  Slumping down in a chair, I began to cry.  I wasn’t sure then, or even now, who or what I was crying about. Was it for our lost happy year? Was it for the loss of my hard work? Or was it finally for Sunshine?

We are all sorry for the tragedy that befell Jennifer.  I can only hope that Sunshine can find the peace she was seeking.  Goodbye Jennifer.  

There will be no yearbooks to sign this year.  Mr. Lumbre cancelled the prom.  No one objected.  Soon there will be parents wishing many of us well as we head off to our respective colleges and universities.   The question is will Sunshine be with us?  Will she stay at the school?  I don’t know the answer to that.   I do know that she is here now as I type these words, shivering, in the dark, a sunshine shaped shadow looming over me.

I…am…. sorry….

[azure-firecracker]

Annleigh+Clark childhood headcanons?

YOU MEAN THE INNOCENT LOVEBIRDS WHO DESERVED BETTER?!?!

Right so Kate says they’ve been together for Six years. That means they started dating in 6th Grade (a bit young, but I can roll with it), but I have a sneaking suspicion that they knew each other long before that...

- So their families were family friends going back generations because they’ve both lived in the same town forever. So Annleigh and Clark first met when they were really, really little.

-Baby Clark was afraid of dogs, and Baby Annleigh was super curious, so he would follow her everywhere and then pull her away when they got near a dog because he was A L W A Y S protective of her.

-When they started going to school, they were inseparable, and I mean sharing mats at nap time inseparable.

-When they got to Kindergarten they started drifting apart because of the nearly inevitable gender barriers placed in us from a very young age by society.

-But they still got together after school nearly every day to run around and draw and play.

-Seven-year-old Clark had a HUGE crush on her, and did that first grade thing where he proposed to her on the playground.

-She’d already started going to church and learning what to do and what not to do (in a manner of speaking, I’m an atheist, don’t know what I’m talking about), but she was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to get married at seven, so she said no.

-They got mad at each other about it, and Annleigh held her grudge FOREVER. Meanwhile, Clark couldn’t get over her.

-In second grade, he kept her pencils every time she dropped them and drew little hearts on them.

-In third grade, he wrote her love poems that he kept buried in his desk.

-In fourth grade, when she had a solo line in their class play about the Civil War, he was so busy watching her that he forgot to say his own line.

-By fifth grade, both their friends would mercilessly tease them (in the fifth grade way) about Clark’s obvious crush. Annleigh spent the whole year in denial, but she was finally able to admit that she liked him, too.

-So in sixth grade, they were in the same class, and spent half the year awkwardly working on group projects and mutually pining for one another, until Clark got up the courage to ask her to the Valentines Day Dance.

-She said yes, and asked him out after the dance.

-They went on their first date, ice skating, just a week later. Ice skating soon became one of their “special things.”

-By the end of sixth grade, they were a full-fledged couple, but they took it slow, and spent all of seventh grade holding hands, going to dances, and being cute.

-They had their first kiss just before eighth grade, at a pre-school party on the beach. They were chatting and avoiding the chaos when Annleigh took Clark further down to a private little cove and kissed him.

-In eighth grade, they also played the romantic leads in the school musical (it was Oklahoma).

-They are the school’s poster couple, but only because they’re just so damn sweet!

And there you go! The history of Annleigh and Clark!

[percyscourt]

To All The Girls I've Loved Before / Percy Jackson AU

based more on the film version than the novel

Percy Jackson is a 16 year-old hopeless romantic with stormy eyes, a mischevious smile, and jet black hair that spills all over his eyes. He falls and hard, usually liking people for a long time. Instead of telling his crushes, though, he instead writes each a letter- letters he never even thinks once about sending. Each letter is addressed to each of his five (5) main crushes, equipped with why, when, and how he fell for each of them

letter #1: annabeth chase. annabeth chase was percy's first kiss back at a party in seventh grade. it was only for a second, due to a game of spin the bottle, but it was as if the world lit up to percy. in the letter, he reveals that even though annabeth was dating his then-bestfriend, Luke Castellan, percy continued to secretly like her for the rest of seventh grade and most of eighth. the one thing percy loved the most about annabeth was also the one he hated the most; everybody liked her, and it was impossible for him not to fall for her. in his eyes and the eyes of most, she was perfect.

letter #2: rachel elizabeth dare. rachel elizabeth dare was the first person percy liked after getting over his crush on annabeth. it all started on a rainy day when they had to put up the PE's gym bats. rachel was the only one who ever called percy PJ, and he secretly loved it. he also wished he had a nickname for her. their time together was short-lived though, because rachel moved away at the start of the summer after eighth grade. after she left, percy wrote the letter admitting that he wished something had happened between them, even saying he wish she never left.

letter #3: thalia grace. thalia grace was percy's date to homecoming in ninth grade. in his letter, he admitted that he fell for thalia due to her grace- no pun intended- and witty comments all while they danced. percy admitted the crush lasted a little while, and grew even bigger from their english class presentations because thalia just seemed so confident. he ended the letter with a question, what kind of boys did thalia like? was he one of them?

letter #4: calypso from camp. calypso and percy went to the same camp the summer after eighth grade. this romance was very short-lived and percy never even learned her last name. he started liking her after she showed him how to make a shell necklace during arts-and-crafts, but when camp ended, he wrote the letter then sort of forgot about her.

letter #5: silena beauregard. percy actually wrote on two different occasions for silena. after silena moved in the neighborhood when percy was going into sixth and she was going into seventh, her, percy, and percy's older brother, Charles "charlie", all became friends very quickly. the first part of the letter was written when charlie and silena started dating when percy was in ninth grade. percy admitted in the letter that he wished that him and silena got more alone time, despite her relationship with his brother. due to respect for his brother, though he never finished the letter. that is, until charlie broke up with silena right before leaving for college. percy finished the letter on another page, stating how the breakup made him realize that he still had unresolved feelings for silena left over. though again, he said nothing could ever happen between them because of charlie.

it was september of percy's high school junior year when the letters get out. charlie's away at college, leaving percy and tyson alone to fight amongst themselves. after a particularly bad fight, tyson sent out all the letters while percy was asleep.

the next monday, percy was running laps outside at pe when was approached by a very confused annabeth clutching her letter. percy, being as graceful as he is, fainted. when he woke up, not only was annabeth staring down at him, still confused, but silena was also walking towards him, her own letter in hand. so, he did the only thing he could think of- he reached for annabeth and kissed her. annabeth seemed surprised but still kissed him back, and the kiss lasted for what seemed like minutes to percy. when they finally broke apart silena is nowhere in sight. almost as quickly as percy kissed annabeth, he runs.

he runs all the way into school where he runs into thalia grace. "percy! thank gosh!" it takes all of percy's willpower to stop himself from fainting when he sees that thalia also is holding her letter. "uh, you know i'm aromantic, right? i mean, you're sweet, and i totally had fun at homecoming, but i don't-" percy's face turns a bright shade of red. "yeah, yeah, of course. it was a long time ago anyway. uh, can we talk later?" as soon as thalia nods, percy heads to his locker and leaves school, running like the devil was chasing him (percy put off taking his driving test due to the fact that his extreme ADHD made it really hard to concentrate on the road, so he mostly ran everywhere)

when he got home, he ran to his closet to see that all the letters had been sent. one good thing- his letter to calypso had been mailed back, as he didn't know her address. bad thing? everybody else's had sent, and he didn't know how to do damage control.

a little after his mother and brother got home, percy still was trying to figure out how the letters had gotten out. he was tearing apart his room for the fifth time when his mom called up to him; "Percy! Silena's here! Looks like she really wants to talk to you!" percy, of course, instead, hopped down the stairs of the fire escape and headed to his favorite diner, the Big House Diner

when he got there, he immediately asked for his regular order and waited. since he was too busy looking out the window, he didn't realize that somebody had sat down next to him. "Hey, Jackson." percy looked over to see annabeth not even three feet away from his spot at the bar. the waitress came over, asked for annabeth's order, and then left. in attempt to make things less awkward, percy asked annabeth what she was doing there. she was quiet for a while before admitting she had asked Tyson where she could find Percy. "Look, I just wanna be super clear." percy realized annabeth was trying to turn him down and quickly spoke up, "Annabeth, I'm not trying to date you."

after annabeth still kept going, percy explained the letters and then admitted he had only kissed annabeth because he saw silena coming. when annabeth just looked at him confused, percy told her how his brother was no longer dating silena but it would be super awkward if silena believed percy still liked her. "Wait, so. I'm not the only girl that got a letter? Damn, Jackson, you're a player"

Annabeth kept asking who percy sent the letters to, and he ended up telling her about all of them. Just as percy was about to leave, annabeth stopped him. "Did you...walk here?" moments later, percy was getting a ride home in annabeth's jeep. annabeth drove him home but neither of them said anything for awhile. finally, annabeth asked percy what he was going to do about silena, to which percy admitted he had no clue, but that he maybe still liked silena.

before percy got into his house, annabeth had gotten out of the car to stop him. "What if you didn't tell her? What if we let people think we were actually together?" annabeth explained how when luke heard about the kiss, he went ballistic, and how he'd want to get back together soon enough if he thought percy and annabeth were a thing. annabeth left him to think about her proposition, and percy was up almost all night thinking about it

the next day during free period, percy and annabeth met up on the outside benches. "first, if we're doing this, we need rules." "seriously, Jackson?" "Lists help me focus my thoughts."

Percy and Annabeth's rules: 'Annabeth will play with Percy's hair' 'Percy has to read at least one of Annabeth's favorite books' Annabeth has to watch Finding Nemo with Percy, because it's a classic' 'Annabeth will write Percy notes everday' Both people can never tell anybody the relationship is fake' 'Percy has to come to Annabeth's lacrosse games. And the parties.' Annabeth has to drive Percy and Tyson to school' 'Annabeth and Percy have to have better nicknames for each other than just their last names'

"You like the beach, right?" "Yeah, why?" "Then I'll call you Seaweed Brain." "I wish you wouldn't....Wise Girl"

And lastly, 'Percy must go on the school ski trip with me' Percy agreed, secretly thinking to himself that since it was three months away, they probably wouldn't still be doing this. but instead of saying that, he said, "Okay. Deal." both signed, then shook on it for extra measure

the next day, october 1st, their contract was put into motion. percy woke up, got ready for school, and sure enough, when he and tyson walked out of their house, there annabeth was, waiting to drive them in her jeep

as soon as they got into the car, annabeth turned to talk to tyson. "hey, little Percy, what's that?" "it's our mom's famous blue breakfast smoothie. and my name- thanks for asking- is Tyson. Ty to my friends. So, you can call me Tyson." Annabeth smiled, turned to Percy and said, "He's got spunk. I like him." tyson pretended not to hear but percy could tell he was pleased based on his small smile. he wasted no time, though, and immediately asked why the heck annabeth was driving them. "Well, I'm your brother's girlfriend." this response from annabeth came so suddenly that percy almost spit out all of his smoothie. "Can I try some of that, Tyson?" 'Sure' "Oh wow, that is really good. If I drive you guys to school again, will you get me another one of those?" "If you keep driving us to school, you can call me Ty."

as soon as percy and annabeth walked into school, percy knew that people knew. for one thing, when annabeth and percy walked to class together, people started saying his name, started noticing him. "Hey, Percy!" was like a chorus all around him- even from the principal, Mr. D- who had only ever called Percy "Peter" before

when percy and annabeth walked into lunch, annabeth threw her head back in a laugh, brought it down in between percy's shoulder and head, then reached up and played with his hair. she reached into her back pocket and pulled out a note. "This is for you." Annabeth reached up to kiss Percy's cheek and whispered in his ear a quiet "Good job" before breaking away from him, giving Percy a good view of Luke Castellan. And by good, Percy meant horrible. Luke managed to look equal parts bored and murderous at the same time, and Percy quickly made his way to the cafeteria for some water

right before he got into the doorway, percy was suddenly pulled back. "This Chase thing is fucking insane, Perc!" it was Grover Underwood, Percy's best friend since the beginning of middle school. grover never really talked to anybody at school, but instead preferred hanging out with college kids. he was probably the last person that percy thought would be excited over this. the rest of the day percy got equal reactions from everybody else, not to mention a lot of comments and compliments from random girls

when he got home, percy realized he hadn't called charlie or answered his calls in almost a week. it took him maybe two hours after getting home to work up the courage to call him. "Finally. I feel like we haven't talked in forever, so... lay everything on me." percy debated on how to start, before finally settling on first talking about literally anything and anybody else besides him, silena, or annabeth. "Mom and I are making her famous blue cookies for Ty's bake sale." "Bro, cookies? Nah, nah, you've got to do brownies. They're easier." percy was about to argue when charlie started on a different topic.

"So have you heard from Silena recently?"

of course, in regular percy fashion, he started rambling. "Silena? who? oh, like our neighbor? her? uh, well, no, we don't....I mean I- I'm going to go make the cookies. See ya!" quicker than charlie could reply bye, percy hung up.

he was in the middle of getting out ingredients when his doorbell rang. it was annabeth. "Did you not read my note? We're going to Clarisse's party tonight." percy opened his mouth just as his mom walked through the door. "Annabeth Chase? Oh, my, you grew up so beautifully! You're so tall now!" Sally Jackson pulled Annabeth into a quick, yet strong hug in welcoming. all it took was annabeth to mention the party for sally to not only tell percy he was going, but that she would bake the cookies for him, and that he couldn't be home before ten but also not after one. "Of course, no drugs! Other than that, please have fun."

before he knew it, percy found him and annabeth standing outside of Clarisse La Rue's house. just as Percy reached to pull his sweatshirt hood over his head, annabeth slapped his hand away. "what're you doing? your hair looks so much better when you don't have that hood over it. give it to me." after taking his sweatshirt, annabeth put it on herself. she took his phone, took a picture of herself, then set it as his lockscreen. for the finishing effect, she looped his arm around her shoulders and let him lead the way inside.

walking into the party was just as school had been; annabeth introduced percy to her friends, people said hi to him, etc. it took only about five minutes for luke to spot him, and when he did, he invited percy to sit. percy sat down on the couch where luke and the Stoll brothers were sitting together. "So, what's going on with you and Annie?" percy didn't even open his mouth before Connor and Travis were bombarding him with questions of how, when, everything. "Shut up, guys. It's not like they're ever gonna do anything. Annabeth has only been with me and...I bet Percy's never even kissed a girl before."

apparently he didn't care about percy's reaction, because luke suddenly left, and his spot was replaced by annabeth, holding a cup for both herself and percy. "Let's take a picture together- for my phone." percy stared at her dumbly for maybe ten seconds trying to figure out what to do. he finally settled on one of the most cliché poses he saw on insta- he kissed her cheek.

annabeth left to go talk to her team and suddenly percy was alone. just as fast as he was alone, he wasn't. suddenly thalia grace was there. "I guess your letter worked, huh? Don't worry, your secret's safe with me"

while percy and thalia talked, annabeth went to the bathroom. in perfect character, luke followed her in, and immediately started talking. "So Jackson, eh? That's cute. Oh! Is this his sweatshirt? Do you mind? It's chilly." Luke took the sweatshirt from where Annabeth had set it on the counter, but instead of wearing it, he tied it around his neck like a polo scarf. of course, annabeth asked for it back. "No, I think I'll keep it for awhile, okay Annie?"

annabeth found percy, and after saying goodbye to thalia, they headed over to the Big House Diner. as soon as they got there, annabeth praised and praised percy for his "excellence performance in making luke jealous." percy shrugged, but he could feel heat rising on his face. to add on to that heat, annabeth started talking about when they were kids. "you've always had better style than Luke, and i think it made him jealous. better hair, too." of course, all through dinner, annabeth's phone was blowing up- with texts from luke. "So you guys still talk, then?" percy knew how he sounded- jealous- but annabeth didn't comment on his tone. "Sometimes. Hey, don't judge!" "Don't call him tonight."

they spent the rest of the night talking about the love letters, why percy hadn't had a girlfriend yet, why annabeth was still hung up on luke, etc. after dinner, annabeth drove percy home, reminding him to be ready the next morning for school. percy got ready for bed after responding to Annabeth's new instagram post of them, but stayed awake for a long time. when he finally did fall asleep, he went to bed with a smile on his face

by november, they had the fake dating thing down pact. percy would eat with annabeth's lacrosse team at lunch and bring them some of his mom's baked goods, percy and annabeth would call each other nicknames, etc. percy had to admit it was a nice change of pace, but he still caught himself feeling a little bit lost sometimes. especially when he started noticing silena staring across the cafeteria at him everyday

it was maybe the fifth week of percy and annabeth's relationship when silena showed up at percy's door wanting to talk. "I can't believe you're dating Annabeth." percy let silena rant about this "unlikely relationship" before cutting her off to ask if there was anything else. "Did you mean everything...in the letter?" "I don't know, okay? It was a long time ago." "So what am I supposed to do? I'm not going to tell Charlie or anything; he doesn't even talk to me anymore. Gosh, are we not even friends anymore Percy?" "I'm sorry, Silena. We can't talk right now."

percy forced himself to stop thinking about silena, and instead put all his effort into his relationship with annabeth. the only problem? percy was worried about the endgame. his mom and tyson were both so attached to annabeth at that point that percy couldn't imagine how they'd react when their thing stopped. it wasn't just his family he was worried about, either. he had had multiple family dinners at the Chase house, and he found that he actually enjoyed them

not only were their families getting closer, percy realized that so were he and annabeth. sometimes when they talked, their relationship seemed so scarily real that he couldn't breathe. they would talk about how percy's dad had passed away, how annabeth had run away from home and had an absent mother, everything.

percy, instead of talking to annabeth, turned to silena instead. he talked about how he felt himself falling for annabeth, for real, and silena listened to everything he had to say without any input. of course, annabeth hated the fact they still talked, maybe just as much as percy hated seeing luke and annabeth talk

Percy became so worried that he was falling for annabeth that all he wanted to do was call the whole thing off. "You know, maybe we should just call it." "Not before the ski trip, Seaweed Brain!" "Fine. I'll go. But only if Grover comes with."

Percy asked Grover, assuming he would say no, then almost killed him when he answered yes. percy spent the weeks leading up to the trip split between packing and worrying. on the way there, he sat with grover and slept the entire time. when they got there, he not so subtlety ignored and evaded annabeth's attempts to hang out together. him and grover ended up rooming together, and when grover went out, percy invited thalia over to their room to talk. he told her all about annabeth, the letters, the fake relationship, the maybe real feelings, everything. of course, thalia told him to do something, anything. "She obviously likes you, you know."

before he could talk himself out of it, percy had put on a jersey over his boxes. he headed down to the hot tub where thalia said annabeth would probably be waiting. sure enough, when percy got there, annabeth was all alone. "Now you want to hang out? I wanted to sit next to you on the bus Percy, and you ignored me, you know." it took percy a solid two minutes to realize what annabeth was trying to get at. before he could second guess it, he was in the hot tub, and then he was only an inch away from annabeth's face. and then they were kissing. and then percy slipped, dragging annabeth under with him. but they were still kissing, and all percy could think was that this had to be the best underwater kiss of all time

after the hot tub, percy walked annabeth back to her room and they kissed goodnight. for the rest of the ski trip, they were like this- affectionate, happy, and real. the morning they were leaving, percy, as always, was late- the very last on the bus. when he finally got on the bus, it erupted in cheers. "Jackson, you dog!" people reached over to slap his back and shoulders as he made his way to sit by annabeth. he thought about asking annabeth about it, but no sooner than he sat down had she started using his shoulder as a pillow, so he decided to forget about it.

when they got back to school, luke stopped percy before he could leave. "It's so cool that you came on the ski trip, you know? Almost as cool as how understanding you are about Annie and I's friendship. Like, a lot of boys would be a little mad that their girlfriend slept in another guy's room, but you're just really mature I guess. Oh! And it's sweet how you're okay with Annie still giving me gifts, like this sweatshirt here. Anyway, have a great break, Jackson."

when Annabeth came over to drive percy home, he told her he'd rather walk instead. he headed home in the fifty degree weather, and had only been walking a minute before he broke into a full sprint. when percy got home, he was so distracted that he didn't see tyson in the living room. as always, tyson tackled him before he could even say hi. then, just as he broke away, suddenly charlie was there, hugging both of them. it was so good to have both his brothers there with him that percy almost forgot about annabeth. almost.

it was an hour before dinner when annabeth showed up, voice loud and eyes watering. "Nothing happened between me and Luke that night, okay? We have history, he was sad, I helped him, but nothing happened Percy."

percy could barely listen and had barely gotten a word in when a third voice stepped in. "Maybe you should leave, Annabeth." Silena stood next to Percy, back straight and protective. "This is why you want to break up? Not because of Luke and I, but her? Are you seriously in love with this...Kardashian wannabe?!" suddenly, there was a fourth voice. "You're in love with Silena?" "Charlie, c'mon man, wait! Both of you need to leave. Now" "You were never second best, Percy. I promise."

just as percy went to go talk to charlie, his phone rang. somebody had sent him a video- of him and annabeth in the hot tub. 'It's always the geeky guys that try to act hard, isn't it?' percy threw his phone and stayed in his room for almost two days straight. when he finally left, he went down the hall to charlie's room.

"I'm so stupid" percy and charlie talked about everything, the letters, the video, silena, annabeth; and by the third hour of talking, percy and charlie were no longer fighting, just catching up

"Let's not have anymore secrets between the Jackson brothers now, okay?" Tyson said as soon as he saw they had made up. "That includes me. I sent the letters, okay? I'm sorry." Percy smiled for only a minute before moving to attack Tyson with Charlie's punching glove. "If I can forgive you for writing Silena a letter, don't you think you can forgive Ty for sending them?" he hated it, but Percy couldn't argue with that logic, and he forgave tyson fast.

fast forward to new year's, and percy still hadn't talked to annabeth. instead, he spent most days at the community indoor pool, all day. it got so bad that one time his mom picked him up an hour earlier than usual. "Come on, let's go for a drive, alright?" after percy got dressed in sweats, his mom took him to the Big House. "Your father and I used to dance here, you know, using the jukebox." percy stayed quiet; his mother never talked about his father anymore, not ever since he was confirmed dead at sea. his mom used this silence to her advantage and continued to talking, but switched to a different topic. "Seeing you with Annabeth was really...good. For all of us, I think. You guys seem to really like each other."

when percy got back to school, the video had been taken down. of course, there was a photo on his locker of them. 'Told her not to trust him. I bet he slipped her something. She would never get into a hottub with him out of her own free-will.' while percy stared at the message, grover ripped it down, and suddenly annabeth was there, screaming. "Hey! It was my choice to get in that hottub. If you want to shame, shame me, but leave Percy out of it, because he didn't do anything wrong to me, okay? He's probably the nicest guy here and you're all just asshats that can't see it"

after her speech, annabeth headed over to percy. "I'm sorry." "I've got to talk to somebody else, first, Annabeth." Percy looked all around school until he found who he was looking for. "Seriously, Luke? What the hell's your problem, man?" "You, Percy. You have been since you kissed my girlfriend in seventh grade. You broke the bro code first, remember?" percy couldn't believe that luke cared about that kiss, maybe more so than percy had when he wrote annabeth her letter. percy suddenly wasn't mad at luke, he was....sorry? for him. he couldn't explain it, but it didn't seem worth fighting over anymore. percy stepped back from luke and let him leave.

after school, percy invited silena over. "You were the first girl I ever truly liked, but I didn't realize until you started dating Charlie. But, over time...that feeling faded away. And, I guess, I'm trying to say...I miss you. But not in a romantic qay, just as a best friend." "Well, duh! I miss my best friend too, Perc. Obviously, I'm not a big fan of your little miss perfect, but I like how she stood up for you. It takes a lot for girls to stand up in that way, especially since that video could wreck a future scholarship for her. maybe you should tell her you miss her" "What if it isn't as real to her as it is to me?"

percy and silena sat in silence for a while before tyson came downstairs with a cookie jar. it was the one percy tried to throw away- the one full of annabeth's notes to him. percy spent the next twenty minutes reading all the letters before he made up his mind.

percy got in his mom's car, drove all the way to school, and rushed across the field. annabeth, fresh off practice, stood in the middle, watching percy come to her. "I drove here." "Really?" "Yep. Okay, bye now." "Wait, Percy, wait. what's in your hand?" percy turned to leave, but annabeth grabbed his wrist. "Read me the letter, Percy."

percy opened the letter and closed it almost immediately, looking into annabeth's eyes instead. "I need you to know that I like you, Annabeth Chase, and not in a fake way." percy held his breath and got ready to hear bad news. instead, annabeth said, "Well, I'm in love with you, Seaweed Brain. Now, are you going to break my heart, or are you going to kiss me?"

"I'm never letting go of you again, you know that, Wise Girl?" "I know."

they kissed, and percy couldn't help but be happy that the letters had gotten out. after all, he knew that him and annabeth probably wouldn't be together without them.

[mrae71]

School’s Out

One thing people didn’t know about my father was that he was an awesome story teller.  According to his tales, he lived quite a life.  I’m not sure how much he told was fact or fiction; I call it fiction presented as fact.  I am currently compiling his stories into a book, and here’s one of them:

School’s Out

                Rudy stared eagerly at the clock, watching the seconds, then minutes tick by as the school year came to a close.  The classroom was like a furnace, not only holding in heat, but seeming to also take it in through the open windows.  He waited eagerly as his teacher, Mrs. Winlock, passed out the year-end reports one by one.

              After handing them all out, she sat down at her desk and said those final, long awaited words to her class of fifth, sixth and seventh graders, “thank you class, see you next year!”  With that the children let out a collective whoop as they quickly gathered their things and left the drudgery of books and assignments behind them.  Except Rudy. He sat quietly perplexed; he hadn’t received a home report.

              “Reuben,” Mrs. Winlock said softly, “stay behind please, I’d like to speak with you.”

              Rudy remained in his seat and nodded.  He liked Mrs. Winlock, she was kind and patient. She came from one of the town’s most prominent and wealthy families, living in a huge Victorian home on acres of land.  She even had servants.  He had heard adults saying that her family used to own slaves, but he never dared ask about it.  First, he was eavesdropping on what was supposed to be a conversation between his aunt and his grandmother, a conversation that he was sternly ordered to see himself away from.  And secondly, even at 11, he knew it would be rude to bring up such a delicate matter.

              Mrs. Winlock waited for the room to empty and then approached the child, envelope in hand.  She sat on the desk beside him and began gently, “first, Reuben,” she always addressed him by his proper name, “I wanted to know, would you like to work for me again this summer?”

              Rudy smiled widely, nodding his head.  He had worked for her all last summer, and enjoyed it ever much, tending the gardens, cutting grass, piling wood, mending fences, tending animals, and generally doing anything that needed doing.  He only worked through the week, leaving his weekends free to fish or play ball and she always invited him inside for a tasty lunch.  “Yes, ma’am, I’d like that.”

              The teacher smiled warmly, “good,” she patted his arm, “I can do $5 a week, plus, just like last year, you’re free to take home some of the produce, fruit, etc. that we won’t require, does that suit you?”

              He nodded eagerly, $5 was a full 50 cents over and above his weekly wage the year before, and the work wasn’t all that hard.

              Mrs. Winlock shoved the few greyish-brown strands of hair that hung from her neat bun behind her ear and took a deep breath before handing Rudy his home report.  She wished more than anything that she could rip it up, call it a huge mistake and welcome the boy as a sixth-grade student the coming fall.  But that wasn’t going to happen.  He simply hadn’t achieved the necessary outcomes to warrant promotion.

              It wasn’t for lack of trying.  Not on her part, and not on his.  Sure, Rudy was like most boys, more interested in what was going on outside than what was happening at the front of the classroom, but he was always quiet, attentive enough and eager to please.  The truth was, Mrs. Winlock, even with over 30 years as a teacher, had no idea what the disconnect was.  Rudy wasn’t stupid, not by a long shot.  He wasn’t one of the many children she’d seen in her career that were just simply slower than most to comprehend.  In fact, she found the young lad very quick to pick things up, especially if he were shown it.

              She remembered the time her husband, a fairly feeble man for 54 after having had a fairly severe stroke which left him with limited mobility on his right side, went outside and showed Rudy just how to prune the tomato plants, cutting the shooters to allow the blossoming vines more room to grow.  He only needed one quick lesson, which was more than the teacher could say for herself. In fact, her husband, Ned, forbade her from ever touching the tomato plants after more than once having hacked them half to death.

              She couldn’t put her finger on it, if she could have, she’d have fixed it, but somehow, whatever she was doing in the classroom wasn’t getting through to the bright-eyed child.  It was as if whatever his mind responded to had nothing to do with classroom teaching and while he was able to slide by with marginally acceptable results until now, as the work became more complex, she saw him fall further and further behind.

              She had thought about doing the charitable thing and pushing him through, reasoning that perhaps the confidence boost would propel the boy to work harder but decided against it.  She knew of other teachers who had done so and if she were honest, she had done it a time or two herself, but the circumstances were different. She normally reserved such mercy for those students who had a track record of turning in good performances and then suddenly, usually due to some issue at home, sometimes something as simple as plain old hunger, had fallen behind.  The fact was Rudy was falling further and further behind with every grade and to advance him to the next grade would serve no one, not the class, not herself and not Rudy.  “Please take this home directly,” she said firmly, handing him the envelope, “do not open it, I want your mother to read it first, do you understand?”

              Rudy nodded.  He knew what it said anyway.  The entire year had been a long series of F’s and “please try agains”.  It didn’t take any sort of eminent scholar to see the writing on the schoolhouse wall.  “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Winlock, I will.”

              The teacher chocked back her tears and turned her head momentarily to compose herself.  She didn’t want Rudy to see her upset.  She didn’t want to upset him.  She cared a great deal for the lad.  In fact, she could readily admit to herself, and to her husband, that he was the favourite of all her students, ever. She imagined had she been able to bear a child, he’d have been much like Rudy, strikingly handsome, tall and wiry, strong as a small ox.  He was hard working and wanted only to please those around him.  He had a surprisingly soft heart that most people didn’t take the time to see.  He seemed to take very well to and to protect the younger children just coming into school and she had caught him more than once cradling or singing to a calf or a lamb in her barn.

She’d spent five years watching him grow and blossom, fight and struggle and she knew about his homelife.  Woodstock wasn’t a big town and talk got around.  She knew the black eyes and bruises he often sported came from the hand of his father after downing more than his share of whiskey.

              She didn’t know Reuben Senior as a younger man but had heard the stories.  He was once just like his son, sweet, tender hearted but with a steel exterior.  He had somehow managed to lie his way into military service in 1916, stating his age as 18 rather than 16 in order to do his part for the country and as the story goes, he came back from the First World War alive, but forever changed.  But that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back she knew.  He came back more aggressive for sure and made a name for himself as quite a good boxer.  But years later, when young Rudy was just a baby, he and Thea lost a child, baby Grace. Mrs. Winlock was given to understand that the 10-month-old was a perfectly healthy infant until suddenly falling ill and passing away some five or six days later.  It seemed Reuben senior never recovered from the loss and his aggression quickly turned to red hot anger and the occasional drink with the guys turned into binge drinking to the point of blackout.

              Rudy, she knew got the brunt of his father’s aggression and she worried for the child, wondering what this home report would bring.  Sober, he seemed a decent enough sort, she’d spoken to him several times and he was quick witted, but quiet, almost charming.  However, fueled by drink, he often sought his oldest son out and took out his frustrations on him.  It was as though the child, who was in fact, visually, the very picture of his father thirty years prior, represented all the unfulfilled hopes, plans, and dreams he had that never worked out.  What better way to address what you see as your shortcomings than to beat up on your younger self?  Well, except for the fact, he was beating on his son.  She shook her head, trying to make the awful thought disappear, “Reuben, please, promise me, you’ll take this directly to your mother, she begged, sounding a little more desperate than she had intended.

              Rudy agreed and was dismissed.  He walked outside into the late-June heat and found the school yard empty.  He walked toward home, just far enough to get out of sight.  He darted behind a group of trees and opened the envelope. He scanned it furiously, not wanting to be caught.  He skipped over the individual subject reports to get to the bottom line, “I regret to inform that Reuben has not met the necessary requirements to be promoted and will be required to repeat fifth grade.”  His heart sank and he sat down behind the tree and cried, his head in his knees.  He knew it was coming, but he hoped, naively, as children do, that maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay, but there it was in print.  He mourned the defeat, dried his tears and after a few moments, stood up and walked home, knowing exactly what he would do.

              When he arrived home, he saw his mother surrounded by many of his siblings, all basking in her praise.  Of course, Althea was front and centre, basking in her triumph. Having jut turned 13 the month before, she was quickly taking on the bearing of a young woman.  She was slender, curvy and had a pretty face which boys were starting to notice.  However, she had very little time for local boys or their nonsense.  She had plans, plans to become a teacher and later a wife and mother.  She was to spend her summer minding Dr. and Mrs. Baldwin’s eight children and taking in sewing in her free time. She was to be paid $3 a week, but she kept some for herself.  He didn’t understand all the ins and outs of it, but his mother explained that young women needed pocket money for important things, things only women understood.  He imagined it had something to do with dresses or maybe lipstick. She, of course, received glowing marks, and finished top of the seventh-grade class.

              Enid stood right behind her sister, jumping up and down, eagerly awaiting her turn at praise. She was a tiny wisp of a girl, but her personality loomed larger than life.  She did reasonably well this year. Her home reports going forward always read the same, “Enid is capable of exceptional work when she puts her mind to it,” and this year was no exception.  She was a bright girl, there was no doubt, but she had a streak in her, a fierce independence that often bordered on defiance and troubled their mother. The girl was intent on doing things her way.  She wasn’t unruly or disobedient, but had something not often seen in little girls of the time, a sense that she wasn’t supposed to conform to the world, but that in fact it was the other way about, the world should conform to her.  Their grandmother politely called her a “spirited child.”

              Then there was Bobby, he managed to get through second grade unscathed although his teacher opined that “further effort will be required to be successful in coming years.”

              And finally, David, the impish first-grader, complete with a toothless grin.  Sharp as a tack, but inattentive and mischievous.  He was the first to peer out the window at anyone or anything that happened by.  He was also the first first-grader to put a dead frog on Mrs. Mullins’ chair back in October.  He denied it vehemently, but his guilty giggles gave him away.  His older brother Bobby saved him from his father’s beating, claiming responsibility for the prank, something he often did.  In any event, despite his lack of attention and his tendency toward pranks, he got through with better than average grades.

              Rudy lowered his head and when the crowd dispersed, having received an adequate amount of praise, approached his mother, cleared his throat and handed her his home report, “Mrs. Winlock says for you to read this,” his face reddened with shame.  The idea of disappointing his mother killed him.  He knew she worked so hard, especially now, with so many children. There was him, Althea, Enid, Bobby, David, Jimmy, Johnny, and now, baby Francine, just six months old.  She was a pretty baby and from what he could see, fairly well behaved.  She didn’t fuss a lot.  That made eight kids, and he had heard whispers that another may be on the way, but that hadn’t been confirmed.  He kind of hoped not, the house was a tight squeeze as it was, the boys, Bobby, David, Jimmy, and himself, shared one room while the babies, Johnny and Francine shared another.  Althea, who had previously enjoyed the enviable position of having her own room had recently been forced to suffer the indignity of sharing with Enid.  Rudy was sure she hated that, but in true Althea fashion, she accepted the assignment as her duty to the family and said nothing about it.

              Thea turned to her children, still milling about in the living room as Rudy stood beside her, “you all get on outside,” she ordered, “I want to have a talk with Rudy.”

              “But Mama,” Enid whined, “it’s hot.”

              Thea stared hard at the children, her plump brown face set in that way that let them know she meant business, “then go swimming, but scoot, I’ll not tell you a second time.”

              The kids scrambled out the door as their mother told them and Thea turned to her eldest son, “let’s see this, then.”  She knew what was inside.  She gingerly opened the envelope and read it as tear began to stream down her son’s face again.

              Rudy buried his face in her ample bosom, sobbing, “I’m sorry Mama, I’m sorry!”

              She cradled the child gently then took his face in her hands, wiping his tears, “it’s okay, Rudy, I knew it was coming, you’ll just try harder next year.”  She didn’t know why, but she had known for some time that her eldest son struggled with schoolwork.

              Rudy snuffed the snot back from his nose and stood straight, “I’m not going back, ma’am,” he declared, “I’m going to work.”

              Thea looked at the child in disbelief, “you’re 11, what do you think you’ll work at?”

              “I’ll be 12 come January,” he explained, “I’ll do just like Daddy, I’ll join the army, fight in the war, just like him!”

              Fear welled up in his mother.  Thea knew well what war did to her husband and she also knew her son was just impulsive enough to try such a thing, although she also knew he had no chance, even at 12, looking young for his age, of being accepted into any army, it was time for a strong message.  She softly slapped his face with the back of her hand, “you will do no such thing!” she exclaimed, “and I’ll hear no more talk of any army, do you understand?”

              Rudy began to cry again, the slap didn’t hurt physically, she barely touched him.  But his pride hurt desperately.  He nodded in submission, “yes, Mama, I understand.”  Then he added, “but I could continue for a while at Mrs. Winlock’s till after apple season, that’ll take me into October, then I can go work in the woods.” He had it all figured out in his mind and in his young mind, it seemed to be the only reasonable choice.

              Thea softened, “Go on outside and play,” she told him, “I know you’re disappointed, we’ll talk about this nearer the school year, okay?”  She had no intention of allowing him to quit school.

              Rudy agreed, quietly set in his intention never to return to the classroom.

              The summer went quickly and soon it was time to get ready to return to school.  Thea and Reuben took their eldest son aside to see how he was feeling about repeating fifth grade.

              Rudy stood straight and tall, as tall as an 11-year-old could and informed his parents of his intentions, “I’m not going.”

              Thea, now confirmed to be expecting, yet again, shook her head, “Reuben, don’t start,” she warned.

              The child continued, steel-faced in his opposition, “no, Mama, I’m not going back,” he explained, “Mrs. Winlock says I can stay on ‘till at least October, then I got some work with old man Hawthorne lined up, and I also got a bit over at the general store, only a few hours here and there, but it’ll do us.”

              Thea’s heart sank, “Rudy, you’re a boy, you need your schooling.”  She was devastated, it was hard enough in 1941 to be a black man, but to be a black man with next to no education, the thought terrified her.  She always wanted better for her kids.  She wanted them to achieve, to have the opportunities she and their father never had, to be seen as they were, equal members of the human race.

              Reuben Senior spoke up, “woman,” he said, “we both know the boy ain’t much for the books,” he took a big gulp from his mug, “if he don’t wanna go, maybe we shouldn’t make him.”  Another gulp and he turned to his son and poked him hard in the chest, “but if you ain’t in no kinda school,” he warned, “you’re payin’ room and board!”

              The boy agreed, “of course Daddy,” he said breathlessly, “Mama can have all the money, just like always.”  He always turned over his entire weekly earnings to his mother for household expenses, often refusing her pleas that he take something, even a quarter for himself.  He added, expanding in his long-term plan, “anyway, it’s only ‘till I can get into the army and go into the war like you did, Daddy.”

              His father panicked in his whiskey fueled haze as memories of World War 1 trenches came flooding back faster than he could process them.  The gun fire, the filth, the rain and mud, the slop they passed off as food, and to top it off, the way black solders like him were treated like simple cannon fodder, pushed out to the front lines, never recognized for anything more than boots on the ground, it was all more than he could bear.  He didn’t want his son going through that.  Rage filled him, rage at every white superior that called him boy. Rage at every German that shot in his direction.  Rage at the impetuous, unwitting brat in front of him who had no real idea about the harsh realities of the world.  Before he knew it, his hand was up and he smacked the boy, hard, across the face, knocking him across the room and onto his ass, screaming, “shut up, boy, shut up!”

              Thea jumped between them, begging her husband to stop.

              Enraged and seeing nothing but the life his son would have if he chose the military, he shoved his wife out of the way, sending her into the stove.

              Young Rudy rose to his feet staring his father in the face for the first time in his life, cocked back his fist and punched his father in the jaw with all his might.  It was enough to send the man, now in his early forties and suffering more and more from his war wounds, not to mention the whiskey, stumbling.  “Never hit Mama again,” Rudy screamed, “never, or I will knock you out!”

              Thea took a seat, trying not to cry in front of her son.  Reuben Senior composed himself and looked at his son with a hard, critical eye.  He both loved and hated the child now.  He loved his resolve and strength.  He hated his resolve and strength.  He mostly hated that the boy had shown him up.

              Rudy knew nothing would ever be the same. He knew he couldn’t strike his father and expect to live in his home.  He looked at him and said in an apologetic tone, “Daddy, if I can collect my things, I think it’s best I go to Grannie’s.”

              Thea protested, but her husband overruled her, agreeing with his son.  The house was crowded as it was, and it gave him a quick opportunity to save at least a little dignity.  He agreed with the boy and said sharply, “you got 10 minutes and then I’ll kick you out by the ass!”

[the-magic-lava-lamp]

The ‘I hate Tony Stark’ Club

Chapter 3 

Summary: Bucky & Steve, childhood best friends, have been living together for a while now after being separated at the end of high-school. Together again, they’ve been maneuvering through their twenties. And through new relationships when Steve found his way to Tony Stark, another old classmate.  

While making some changes to his room, Bucky discovers a box of middle school memories. The old photos are hilarious but the real amazing finds are the old notebooks he and Steve used to pass around during class.

It’s time they rediscover being the founding members of the good ol’ ‘I hate Tony Stark’ club during their sixth grade year.

Ships: Stony, Sambucky

Word Count: 3,394

“I’d say this is going really well...” 

“Bucky, we haven’t talked in thirty minutes.” 

Sam leaned back into the couch and let his arms cross over him while his ‘friend’ stared helplessly at the television. After swapping stories for a good half-hour...things slowed down. The thing was, Sam wouldn’t be exaggerating if he said Bucky had serious issues with small-talk. The guy shut himself off after a few stories and retracted back into the reclusive person Sam was used to. 

Though it was nowhere near as bad as it was at the beginning of their ‘friendship’. When Bucky waltzed back into Steve’s life, Sam had been willing to start a new friendship. Steve had talked about his other best friend several times and Bucky genuinely seemed great. But when they met...things kinda fell apart. The two of them just didn’t click in the way Steve had so earnestly hoped for. Bickering and long silences became the way they communicated for a good long while. 

But the thing was, Sam liked Bucky from the beginning. The guy was just about one of the weirdest people he had ever met and he was deeply amused by it. And he obviously had issues with meeting new people and making friends so Bucky bickered. And Sam bickered back. A lot. It seemed to make them both a bit more comfortable, in an odd way and it just became their thing at some point.

               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun was shining into the cafe, bringing in comfortable warm light and Sam had his hand wrapped around the hottest cup of coffee in the world. He eased himself down onto his usual seat and allowed himself to relax as he waited for Steve though the moment he was having now was so good that he wouldn’t even mind waiting for him. 

The wait turned out to be just over the two hour mark not that Sam really noticed. He was too busy watching the sun-spots that were reflecting on the coffee-house walls and dodging every work or real life issue that popped into his brain now & then. 

Steve rushed in with that apologetic look that was always so startlingly sincere and genuine. Sam held up his hand and was about to tell him not not to worry before his friend launched into where he’d been. 

“Sam, you’ll never believe who I ran into-!” He didn’t leave guessing time, Sam noticed with amusement. “Bucky Barnes! You know my old best friend? Haven’t seen the guy since what...? The middle of the summer after we graduated High School.” He chuckled, out of breath from running over. 

“That’s great, man. It’s always nice to find these people again.” Sam grinned and tried not to think about his old best friend who would never step back into his life again, that was literally impossible. 

“So much has happened to him, Sam-” He waved his hands and pulled out a metal chair from the closest table. “He-he, um...” 

“Spit it out, Steve.” He gently slapped his arm with a grin. 

“Well, I’ve told you. After we graduated Bucky was talking all about taking the year off to travel and I was going to school so...we lost touch. But Buck’s tellin’ me all about what he’d been doing.” Steve’s eyes were wide and full of wonder. Sam felt like he knew what the man was feeling. 

“Bucky never ended up going to school. But, man. He’s been everywhere, Sam. He was living in his van for like two years just traveling and doing odd jobs. It sounds....amazing. He’s seen so much.” Steve was so obviously jealous. Being a top-of-the-line good kid his whole life sure had it’s set-backs. Sam had seen the adventurous side of his best friend get repressed several times in College. 

“-He got in a car accident a few years back...lost his left arm.” Steve rolled his lips together and looked a tad bit pained. “Think he’s at the point where he can laugh about it but...I can tell that he’s different.” 

“Well...” Sam finally got some words in. “I’m having a bit of information overload, Steve.” He chuckled. “But, I’m real glad you saw him again. I’d love to meet him sometime-” 

“That’d be awesome.” Steve’s smile got impossibly wider when it returned. “Because, I invited him for coffee today, well right now actually. You’re gonna love him, really.” Steve reassured, eyes locked on the doors and Sam rolled his eyes because this was all so purely Steve. 

“Of course you did.” He chuckled but found that he didn’t mind. Steve was far too eager and happy about all this for him to be annoyed. He laid his arm across the back of the couch and turned his own expression to the door when a man their age strolled in. His hair was long and dark, eerily covering much of his face as he walked inside. The look was peak ‘Skipped school to travel and live in my van’. It was as if a living stereotype walked inside. Sam would laugh if he knew the guy better. 

“Hey, Buck. I’m gonna get us some coffee. This is the guy I was telling you about. Y’know, the weak runner?” Steve through Sam a wink and smacked his shoulder gently as he started off towards the counter. 

Bucky let out a long breath before plopping himself down on the cushion next to Sam with something of a smirk. “So, you’re Steve’s new friend, Sam?” Emphasis on the ‘new’ Sam noticed. 

“Yeah. That’d be me. Sam Wilson.” He stuck out his hand to which Bucky observed solemnly before shaking. 

“Bucky Barnes. Steve’s best friend.” 

The guy edged that out with a smirk. 

‘Oh, man’ Sam really liked the guy. That was such a dick move. He licked his lips and nodded. “Best, huh?” 

Bucky nodded, taking a bite out of the pastry Sam had ordered for Steve, curse that dude’s killer sweet tooth. It irritated Sam just the slightest bit. It’d been sitting on that tiny plate right where Steve would’ve sat had Bucky not shoved his way there. He had to have known who that chocolate croissant was for if he claimed to know Steve as well as he did. 

Sam crossed his right leg over his left and threw his arm over the back of the couch. “I think he may have traded up...” He shrugged as if he were indifferent to the idea but threw on a smirk. Bucky quirked his brow in return, like he hadn’t been suspecting a comment back. Sam turned back and gave a once over before nodding again. “Oh yeah, he definitely did.” 

His tone wasn’t serious, rather it was teasing. 

Bucky thought it over for a few seconds before the corner of his mouth quirked and he loosened up. “Can’t compete with the history we got, pal. But it’s cute that you think so.” 

He wrinkled his nose and took another bite of Steve’s food just as the blonde’s voice ordered just a bit behind them at the counter. Another shot of irritation crawled through Sam’s body. 

“I don’t know about that.” He grinned, picking a loose thread off his jeans. That was his favorite kind of teasing. He was so specifically good at sounding like he just knew he was right no matter what the other person said. Mostly, because that’s what he usually thought. But even when he couldn't care less about the topic at hand, he could still recreate that tone. Flawlessly confident in himself and whatever the hell it was he was talking about. The kind of tone that was made for people like...Bucky apparently. 

Because Bucky huffed, like a child pretending he wasn’t bothered but was actually really irritate and bad at masking it. 

But Hell, he didn’t start it and he was just playing the game Bucky began. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and rolled his lips together, it was 100% an attempt to keep himself from smiling. 

Sam did no such thing in return. He just allowed a grin to spread over his face, raised his mug in mock cheer and sipped. 

Bucky opened his mouth but was stopped when Steve sat down in the nearby chair, his eager boy-scout smile back on his face.

               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam’s flirting just slowly trailed in after their bickering. He couldn’t help it, Bucky was really attractive and he got all bashful about it. But Sam never had a reason to suspect that Bucky wasn’t straight. So the flirting was more like a joke. He was ok doing it just for laughs and it usually went right over the guy’s head anyway. But finding out he’s been gay this whole time....freaked Sam out in all kinds of ways. 

“We don’t like each other very much, do we?” Bucky asked, looking almost nervous. 

Sam let out a small breath before pulling his usual move. He threw his arm over the back of the couch and crossed one leg over the other. It always gained something in conversations. One thing always being a comfortable closeness. Bucky shifted a little in his seat. “You know I like you, man. I wouldn’t put up with you if I didn’t. Plus, I say nice things about you all the time.” He smiled and Bucky looked amused. 

“You do, don’t you?” He chuckled with a small roll of his eyes. 

“Wasn’t sure about you for the longest time though.” 

Bucky’s face fell fast after that comment. “Yeah...” He sighed. “I’ve been told that I’m intimidating and have a lack of social skills.” 

“Who told ya that?” He teased. 

“Fifth grade teacher, Seventh grade English teacher, High-school counselor, Steve sometimes but in a nice way.” He chuckled but it looked a little pained. “Couple more.” He shrugged and Sam looked to the sixth grade notebooks still on the counter. 

“Hey, at least you don’t growl anymore.” 

Bucky laughed. “Didn’t exactly give you a nice welcome when we met, huh?” His hand scratched under his chin as he remembered it. “Kinda started the basis for the relationship, didn’t I?” His expression was regretful as he recalled all their bickering and fighting. 

Sam shook his head. “Nah, man. I-um...” He searched for the right words while he tried to wave the idiots concern away. “I thought it was really funny. You claiming Steve like a kid with his favorite toy....was pretty amusing.” He chuckled. 

“You were such a little shit. I decided I liked you like the minute you spoke to me.” He snapped his fingers. Bucky looked at him with skepticism. “Maybe we didn’t click in the way Steve wanted but...” He gestured between them. “We clicked like this. And I like that about us.” He shrugged once more. 

Bucky widened his eyes but tried to conceal it by rubbing the pad of his thumb against his nose. “Me too.” 

Sam nodded. 

Bucky nodded.

And things went quiet again. Still just as awkward as before. 

“You know that I do like you, right?” Bucky suddenly turned, he seemed embarrassed about his question but Sam could tell it was important to him. 

“Yeah, Buck. I know that.” He patted his arm gently. 

“I did from the beginning. I just...” He trailed off, eyes falling on the notebooks again. “I grew up with Steve and only Steve as my friend. And I-” He bit his lip. “I just wanted to make sure that I was as important to him as he was to me.” He frowned. 

Sam nodded, knowing Tony could probably use these words right about now too. 

“So I...-I used to push other people away from Steve and from me. Guess it’s really hard to grow out of.” He sighed, rubbing his hands down his face. Sam knew Bucky was regretting ever opening his mouth. 

He gently took Bucky’s wrist and pulled one of his hands away from his face. 

“C’mon, Greasy. Let’s give Steve some space. We’ll go get some drinks. Just you and me, What do you say?” 

Bucky peeked his eye out and pursed his lips. “You’ll pay?” 

Sam physically felt his body sigh with adoration for the confusing man. He simply nodded and hooked their hands together to pull him up. 

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“Why are you calling me, I’m literally in the bathroom?” Bucky muttered on the other end of the phone while Sam sipped at his drink for the 100th time. He took vulnerable glimpses at the people around him and decided it made him far too uncomfortable. He cupped the phone against his cheek. “Cause you’ve been in there for a good fifteen minutes. Was it the fries?” He made a quick shot.  There was a huff on the other side. “No. It’s just...nothing. I’ll be out soon.”

Sam didn’t like the way his voice sounded so he started to stand and planted his eyes on the Men’s Room door. But slowly...and not ready to go barging in on a dude he didn’t actually know that well. “This whole situation really is bothering you, huh?” 

Bucky’s end remained silent for a few seconds. “It’s not just that...-I don’t know how to explain it. Just come in, last stall by the wall.” He huffed again like the whole conversation irritated him but Sam recognized the symptom. 

He shoved the door open and hung up his phone. The bathroom was empty and by the time the heavy door closed...dead quiet besides the muffled music from the other room. 

He shuffled over and stood at the dingy gray stall. The tiny click followed and gifted him the sight of an overwhelmed looking Bucky sitting cross-legged on the closed toilet seat. “Hey, sweetheart.” He tossed a cocky little grin and tried not to let his face show a hint of emotion. 

“Hey, champ.” Sam smiled back and leaned on the side of the stall-frame. “What’s something that’s gonna ease this for you? You don’t have to tell me the reason-” His genuine sweet tone was interrupted by a panicked Bucky. 

“The song that was playing in the bar before I went in here...it-uh...was playing when I got into my accident.” Bucky gestured to his left arm and Sam nodded. 

“Radio or CD?” Sam asked lightly. 

Bucky smiled at the floor, for once in his life someone wasn’t pushing too hard at the attack part of the anxiety. Which he couldn’t blame people for, considering it can be scary. But Sam was going with a different angle which Bucky appreciated. “CD.”

Sam hummed with delight and earned another grin from the man on the toilet. “Always good to start a friendship with a guy with great music taste.” Sam reached out his hand for a second time that day and pulled Bucky up and out into the space of the bathroom.  

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I can’t even listen to that song without-” He gestured to himself only to have Sam shake his head. 

“It’s just a song, Buck.” He shrugged. “The world is full of millions of others just as good or better.” Sam leaned back on the sink behind him. “And I’m thinkin’ you and I share a few more, considering you’re into the oldies apparently.” 

Bucky chuckled. “I’m sorry this is how your night ended up. Usually I go to Steve when this happens but I thought he needed some space.” He looked up with earnest guilt again which Sam hoped would leave him soon. “But you’re good, kid.” He put on an exaggerated New York accent and shoved him lightly. 

Sam opened the door for the both of them. “I’m glad I could help, buddy.”

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of moving dishware was doing a number on one,Tony Stark, as he sat at his kitchen counter with his chin in his palm. The glaze over his eyes was nothing short of unsettling and it thinly veiled the straight stare he had on the wall in front of him. 

Behind him, Rhodey stood with a plain blue dish-towel swung over his shoulder like an old-fashioned house-wife. But no dishes were going to get done if Tony was in one of his deep moods. And the pile would just end up bothering his friend for the whole time he stayed. 

“Are you remembering to breathe over there?” Rhodey gently asked over his shoulder and felt a little smile grow when Tony gave an exaggerated gasp. He turned fiercely and whipped the towel away as he took the seat across from his best friend. “So you compared it to-?”

“Pissing at a rest-stop, yeah.” Tony rolled his eyes, freeing them from their creepy still-frame. “Is it too much to ask for? A relationship that goes well for me?” He stood and started pacing, a sure sign of stress in him. 

“Hey, at least this one wasn’t all your fault.” Rhodey gently smiled and enjoyed the way a funny little sense of relief filled Tony’s face. The guy could sure take a punch on himself like a champ...which was what made this situation disturbingly serious. 

Rhodey could see the earnest hurt in Tony’s face. 

“I don’t even want to look at him, Rhodes.” He seemed to completely deflate with that sentiment which was a worrying sign. Rhodey nodded and ushered Tony over to sit with him on the living-room couch. “Steve...was perfect on paper but-”

He cut himself off and basically fell right next to Rhodey with puppy-dog eyes. 

“You want my opinion on this?” Rhodey guessed, knowing that off course he was right. Tony nodded. “You never listen to me.” 

“That’s not true, Honey-Bear.” Tony gently pinched him. “I just...I’m at a loss, ok? Part of me is pissed but the other is...sympathetic?” He shrugged and looked off so Rhodey put his arm around the back of the couch. 

“You’re on a break. That was a good decision, Tony.” He rolled his lips together and gave a tiny grin. “It’s gonna hurt-”

“Sometimes the pissing burns.” Tony smirked and playfully smirked when Rhodey slapped his arm. 

“Get off that juvenile crap, Tony.” He shook his head, half-serious and half-joking with him. “This is your relationship. Real life, man.” 

Tony bit the inside of his cheek. “The guy was kinda my friend in high-school, Rhodes. And he never opened his mouth and told me ‘Hey, you know that gay rumor? I started that. I’m sorry.’” The dilemma was clear in just the man’s posture.

“To be fair-” He spoke slowly, sure he was on treacherous water. “Steve was like eleven when he spread the rumor. How was he to know how serious it was or that it would follow you to high-school?” Rhodey tried to be impartial.  

“He didn’t. I know I shouldn’t fixate on that.” Tony pursed his lips. “But the fact is...that rumor really effected my coming-out experience. I fucking hated myself for many reasons back then, honestly. But, it would have been nice not to have been conditioned to think of my sexuality as a reason for being bullied to hell.” 

Rhodey gently nodded and thought on it for a minute or two. “Ok. I’ll tell you what I think.” He decided and felt a rush of sentiment for their friendship when Tony looked at him with pure trust. “I get the whole, he was just a kid and didn’t know thing.” He nodded, more to himself. “But, from what you told me and from what I know about Steve, he doesn’t seem to realize how big of a deal this is for you.” 

Tony nodded, and rested his elbow on the back of the couch. 

“So...he hurt you. How do you want to move on from this, Tony?” He shook his best friends arm. “That’s the important question.” 

Tony processed the information for a quiet...hour or two while Rhodey stayed by his side. 

The air was shockingly quiet for a man who usually spent the hours of his inner-turmoil with his mouth running & running. Rhodey would be disturbed if he didn’t just feel massive subconscious annoyance directed at one Steve Rogers. How could he help it? He would always be a bit over-protective of Tony. Just the same as Tony was overprotective of him. 

The friends sighed in sync, astonishingly, and gave each other tiny smirks that read of anxiety & knowledge. 

[siriusblacktothefuture]

Peter Pettigrew head canons

First year he showed up and was just an absolute squish of a boy

Met Remus on the train. He decided to stick with him because when faced with some mild bullying, Remus Sass Master Lupin put a few little first year pricks in their place

Panicked being sorted, but begged not to be in Slytherin; he knew he wouldn't survive the bullying

"You have the potential for great courage, though you're a coward at heart... Perhaps you'll grow out of it.... hmmm, yes, better put you in GRYFFINDOR!"

Met James and Sirius in the hall on the way to their common room, kinda fell in love

"Remus, don't those boys seem cool?" "They seem like trouble, Peter"

He didn't know how to talk to them for the first week they dormed together; he was so nervous about messing up his first interaction, when either James or Sirius walked into the room, he would drop everything in his hands

"What's that kids deal?" "He thinks you're cool, makes him nervous"

Of course, once they heard this and both got a huge ego boost, James and Sirius made it their goal to bring their biggest fan on an adventure

Peter, it turned out, wasn't just a fanboy, but something of a die hard fan

Quickly he started throwing himself on any sword needed for the boys to get away with whatever they wanted

It put a lot of pressure on him

Remus noticed, and asked James and Sirius to be more mindful of him on their adventures; the trio became more equal afterwards

Out of thanks, Peter invited Remus along to help with a prank, and honestly, Peter was just so pudgy, cute, and sweet, how could he say no?

They became the Marauders after that

Wrote to all three boys daily over the summer, however, he sent his owl out with multiple letters at once. He didn't want the bird to die from exhaustion, and the several letters were written to be "paced out for each day of the week"

Peter in second year was the one who figured out Remus was a werewolf unintentionally

"What else could it be, James? His parents ask him to go home, and he comes back with scars. They just randomly make him go once a month-" "Well every full moon" "...what?" "It's not random, he leaves during full moons.... wait.... his scars..... GUYS"

Thought James fashion sense was on point and tried out fuzzy vests and high collared shirts with him

He wasn't the one to come up with the plan to become animagi, but he helped

He. Wasn't. Stupid.

He figured out the truth of Sirius' home life before anyone else. He knew he'd never be able to help him (they were close but Sirius needed his brother, James), so he started leaving clues out for James to find and put the pieces together

He was extremely observant and intuitive with his magic

However his grades were shit starting in third year

Peter prioritized friends and pranks over homework and studying (very much the opposite of Remus) but had the capacity for it in extreme situations

"Tests make me nervous, so if I don't study, I don't panic about them" "Pete that's not how that works, mate; you passed out during your last exam"

Third year started being known for the Gryffindor quidditch team's number one fan; would scream the loudest when James scored and did basically anything

Gave the best pep talks

James was emotionally the mom friend, but Peter was the Over Prepared Mini Van Stuffed Just In Case Mom Friend™

And I mean this boy charmed his pockets to expand and hold entire kitchen raid amounts of food

"If only we had a pocket knif-" "Which size?"

"Ouch! Got a paper cut!" *pulls out an entire first aid kit in the middle of class*

"Woah, head rush" "Here's a bag of your favorite candy, but also an apple"

In fifth year, when he became a rat, he felt like nothing would have been more fitting

Though he wasn't the most useful for moons, day to day his animagus form was the best

James started just walking him to classes in his pocket

Also in fifth year, him and James went through a disco phase. Sirius was distraught, Remus was beyond amused

The first Marauder to kiss a girl during a game of truth or dare (Sirius was the close second)

In sixth year, he didn't know what to say to Sirius after he got kicked out, so he knit him a blanket, gathered some old pictures, and drew him some new art for his room at the Potters

He tried to stop reading the paper because the news made his stomach churn

After Marlene, one of the toughest girls he knew, was targeted for a muggle born hate crime, he started reading again

He started becoming more verbally affectionate with everyone in the Gryffindor tower, fear of the war making him think about how much time he really had

When asked what he wanted to do as a career after school, his mind went blank

Remus told him he was good with people, but didn't know what that meant

After the Prank and tensions were raised, Peter was the Marauders rock

He played therapist, listening to everyone's side of things, before piecing them back together

Because he might not have thought about himself and his own future, but his whole world was his friends. He would make them okay in any way he knew how

In seventh year he got closer to the seventh year Gryffindor girls when James started dating Lily

Soon they were his family too, and he had never felt so loved and safe at school

They got a radio to listen to music together in the common room, but at night he would listen to the news

Peter wasn't stupid

He knew what was coming, and he knew by the end of the year, he'd have to begin to make some choices

[waywardnerd67]

Our Side of the Story: Chap. 1 - Fangirl Wives

Summary: (Y/N) and Emma agree to be interviewed by a fan writing a book about Supernatural. They tell her how they first met Jensen and Jared. Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Emma Carter (OFC), Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader, Jared x Emma (OFC) Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 2985 A/N: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy! Special Note: This is a work of FICTION and should be enjoyed as such. I mean absolutely no disrespect to the Ackles family as I truly adore and admire them.

(Y/N) Ackles was sitting down with her best friend, Emma Padalecki, to do an interview together. A fan who was writing a book about Supernatural had reached out to their husbands’ managers to set up an interview. (Y/N) and Emma rarely ever did interviews, let alone together, they were both excited to share their stories of meeting their husbands. Emma had picked up her kids to take them all to her in-laws for the day, so the moms were enjoying an afternoon to just be best friends again.

“Are you nervous about this interview?” Emma asked as (Y/N) handed her a bottle of water.

“No, not really. I figure it will mostly be about the boys. You know normal stuff people ask us about.” (Y/N) said letting their dogs out so they would not bother them during the interview.

“Well, at least you and I get to do this together. I hate interviews on my own.” Emma said sitting down at the kitchen island.

(Y/N) chuckled as her phone buzzed. “Ah, speaking of the boys.” (Y/N) answered the Facetime call and saw the gorgeous face of her husband, Jensen Ackles. “Hey pretty boy, how’s filming today?”

Jensen rolled his eyes causing (Y/N) to laugh. “Between Speight being the director and Jared goofing off I’m about done.”

(Y/N) sat next to Emma who looked to Jensen, “Is Jared nearby?” Jensen smiled wickedly and nodded.

Next the girls saw Jared Padalecki’s face come on the screen next to Jensen’s. “Hey baby.”

Emma gave him a stern look. “Don’t ‘hey baby’ me, Jared Padalecki. Stop goofing off and causing a headache for Jensen.” Jared put his head down as Jensen was chuckling.

“Yes ma’am. Isn’t y’all interview soon?” He asked with a pout.

The girls nodded, “Yeah, Rachel should be here soon.” (Y/N) answered.

“Well, I just wanted to call before your interview. Rachel is great and you both will love talking to her. It will be the easiest interview of your lives. We need to get back to filming. I love you, Gorgeous.” Jensen gave her a breathtaking smile

(Y/N) felt her cheeks heat up, “I love you too, Pretty Boy.” They all said goodbye just in time to hear the doorbell.

“You must be Rachel, please come in. I’m (Y/N) and this is Emma.” (Y/N) said as she opened the door.

The young woman in her mid-twenties walked in wide eyed. “It’s nice to meet you both. Thank you for agreeing to this interview for my book.”

Emma showed her into the living room as (Y/N) grabbed a few snacks and drinks for them. Rachel was adorable petite woman with long fiery red hair and ice blue eyes. “Mrs. Ackles your home looks beautiful.”

(Y/N) smiled, “Thank you, but please call us (Y/N) and Emma. No need to be formal we are all a part of the same family.”

Rachel chuckled while nodding. “Okay, I can do that. I only have a couple of questions but one of them will be a lengthy answer or at least it was for Jensen and Jared when they answered it.”

(Y/N) and Emma looked to one another. “Okay then, well let’s get this party started,” Emma said as Rachel set up her phone to record the interview and took out a notebook to take notes.

Rachel sat in a chair next to (Y/N) and Emma on the couch. She pressed record on her phone. “My first question, I just want to know more about your lives before Jensen and Jared and your friendship.” The girls smiled looking to one another.

“I grew up in a divorced family and moved with my mom to a suburb south of St. Louis in the sixth grade. I am the oldest child of three and I never really was close to my family. I met (Y/N) in seventh grade in gym class. We both loved the same band and instantly became friends. (Y/N)’s mom and she became my family.” (Y/N) patted Emma’s knee as she continued. “(Y/N) and I definitely had some rocky moments especially in high school, but it wasn’t until we were roommates in college that we truly became like sisters.”

(Y/N) nodded, “That is so true. Though we did not expect to be married to best friends and living next door to one another with our own kids growing up as friends.” Emma started laughing.

“What about you (Y/N)? What was your family life like?” Rachel asked.

(Y/N) felt slightly bashful talking about her family. “I grew up in the closest thing to a traditional family you could have. There were definitely some dark areas concerning my father which resulted in my depression and self-harming.” (Y/N) rarely talked about her depression unless she was doing something for Jared’s Always Keep Fighting campaign.

“I am the only child for my parents and they divorced when I was a freshman in high school. Emma helped me a lot during that point when we were not arguing over boys.” Emma and Rachel both laughed. “Where high school was a pain, we probably enjoyed college a little too much. We were definitely not angels, but we always took care of each other.”

Rachel adjusted herself in the chair, “What did you both study in college?” she asked.

“Well, I have my B.A. in Digital Media Marketing from Northwestern University and I freelance for many companies when I’m not playing ring leader to three kids or traveling with Jared.” Emma answered taking a drink.

Rachel nodded taking some notes as (Y/N) answered, “I have my M.A. in English Literature from Northwestern University. When I am not doting over our daughter or traveling with Jensen I have been working on a few children’s books and my own novel.”

“How did you both become fans of Supernatural?” Rachel asked as she wrote a few notes down.

“We have always been WB/CW fans. We started watching Gilmore Girls together and I became a huge fan of Jared’s. I started following Jared’s career from there making friends online and even help run a fan website. (Y/N) has been a fan of Jensen’s for a little longer.”

(Y/N) smiled fondly remembering when she first saw him on TV, “Well, I will definitely be showing the age difference between Jensen and I with this. When I was in fifth grade, my mom and I were in a bad car accident. I ended up breaking my leg, arm and collarbone. I was out of school for the rest of the year so while I was at home I would watch daytime tv. I saw Jensen on Days of Our Lives and fell for him instantly. Like Emma I followed Jensen’s career. We would watch Gilmore Girls, Dark Angel, Dawson’s Creek and Smallville together.”

“We would go see Jared’s movies together and the we found out they were starring together in a new show called Supernatural. We were both so excited that they were both on the same show and after seeing the pilot we were both hooked.” Emma chuckled.

Rachel nodded in agreement. “I love that you both are fans even to this day. How does that work now as their wives?”

(Y/N) thought about for a moment before answering. “Really, for me, it’s no different except Jensen is there to make fun of me for fangirling. For the most part I have always viewed Jensen as a normal guy but there are moments when I’ll be watching the show and I will fangirl about him.” Emma nodded in agreement.

The girls took a moment to order some lunch and refill their drinks before Rachel went on with her interview. “My next question is the same one I asked Jensen and Jared. Between the two of them it took over an hour to answer this question.”

(Y/N) and Emma looked at each other in shock. “Oh boy, that scares me.” (Y/N) said as Emma nodded in agreement.

“I want to know how two best friends and fans of Supernatural ended up meeting, dating and marrying the stars of the show. You both are living ever fangirl’s fantasy.” They all laughed for a moment.

“You’re right, this will take a long time to answer. We’ll give it a shot though.” Emma said looking to (Y/N) to start.

Chicago, Illinois – November 2007

“I can’t believe we’re here!” Emma said excitedly. They both started jumping up and down enthusiastically not caring who was staring at them.

“Okay, okay let’s look over the panel schedule again and make sure we don’t miss any. We agree that Supernatural panels are top priority.” Emma nodded in agreement.

They looked over the schedule seeing that the only overlap was a Smallville panel with Michael Rosenbaum overlapped with Jared’s panel. “Damn, well I guess Michael Rosenbaum will have to wait until next year maybe.” (Y/N) said.

Emma shook her head, “You should good to the Rosenbaum panel. It will end before Jensen and Jared’s panel and you can catch the last of Jared’s panel with me. I will try and save you a seat.”

(Y/N) thought about it for a moment. “As long as you are okay with it then okay. Well let’s get this day started.” The girls walked off arm in arm together.

By midafternoon (Y/N) and Emma’s stomachs hurt from laughing so much. Their backpacks were also filled with a ton of merchandise. As Emma went to Jared’s panel, (Y/N) had a few minutes before Michael Rosenbaum’s panel started. She went to a vending machine to grab a bottle of water. When she turned back around she was staring into the brilliant green eyes of Jensen Ackles.

“Holy crap.” She said holding her chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His low, husky voice made her skin heat up.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting anyone behind me.” (Y/N) stepped out of the way so he could get his drink. She stood for a split second before blurting out, “I just want to say that I love your show. You’re an amazing actor.”

Jensen had grabbed a bottle of Coke. “Thank you, I appreciate it. What’s your name?”

(Y/N) smiled up at him, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He gave her his traditional smirk as he took a drink. “Why aren’t you at Jared’s panel right now?”

(Y/N) chuckled lightly, “I’m going to the Michael Rosenbaum panel and then I’m meeting my best friend for you and Jared’s panel. I love Smallville and especially Michael.”

Jensen was now laughing as they walked towards the panel room. (Y/N) noticed a large bald man walking behind them and Jensen had put on a ballcap. (Y/N) chuckled, “You know that doesn’t help any, right? Pretty boy like you gets recognized hat or no hat.”

Jensen looked over at her with a smile, “So, I’m pretty?” (Y/N) blushed slightly but there was something in his tone that made her think he was flirting.

She decided to flirt right back, “Have you seen yourself? Yeah, you’re definitely a pretty boy.”

He chuckled as they stopped in front of the room. “Well, I think this is your room. I hope you enjoy Michael’s panel.”

(Y/N) bit her lower lip, “Would it be okay if I took a picture with you?” she asked.

“Absolutely! Clif, would you take the picture for us?” The tall man following him grabbed (Y/N)’s new iPhone. Jensen pulled her into his arms wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she wrapped hers around his narrow waist. Clif snapped the picture handing the phone back to (Y/N).

“Thank you, one more thing.” Jensen smiled down at her.

(Y/N) went into her bag and pulled out an envelope. “My best friend and I each wrote you and Jared letters if by chance we would happen to meet you. Being that I may never have this chance again I would love for you to have it.”

She handed the letter to him and he gave her the biggest smile that melted her heart. “Thank you, sweetheart. I will definitely read it. If you see Clif here when you’re with your friend, then have her give her letter to him. He’ll make sure Jared gets it.” Jensen pulled her into a hug and she closed her eyes trying to memorize the whole moment.

“Hope you have a great panel, Jensen.” He nodded as he waved goodbye and (Y/N) watched him walk away. She let out the long breath she had been holding and walked into Michael Rosenbaum’s panel.

Emma was able to save (Y/N) a seat. “I have something to show you.” She whispered as she pulled out her phone. She pulled up the picture of her and Jensen and showed Emma who let out a squeak luckily there was a lot of chatter going on that no one heard her except (Y/N).

“You met Jensen Ackles?” (Y/N) nodded.

“I will tell you all about it after their panel.” She said as Emma nodded looking back up at Jared on stage.

The crowd went wild when Jensen came out on stage wearing a Supernatural shirt with Jared’s face all over it. The girls were laughing at their bickering and joking around.

“So, before we take some fan questions, I have a question I would like to answer for a special fan I met a little bit ago.” Jensen said.

(Y/N) looked at Emma who whispered, “You gave him your letter?” she asked as (Y/N) nodded.

Jensen pulled out (Y/N)’s letter to read her question, “I’m not going to point her out because she knows who she is.” She watched as Jensen scanned the crowd. Emma and she were sitting off to the right side of the stage about five rows back. Jensen smiled as he spotted her, and she gave him a little wave.

“She asks, ‘What is my favorite thing about conventions?” he paused for a moment before answering. “We have only done a few, but I have to say it is meeting the fans. I’m a little shy when it comes to meeting new people, but our fans are the best and they always make me feel welcomed. The fan who I met earlier was amazing. She was totally chilled, and we chatted like we were friends. She asked for a picture and gave me this beautiful letter. I was able to give her a hug and thank her for being a fan. It’s those moments that I love the most. Making a true connection with fans.”

(Y/N) was smiling so much her cheeks hurt. He glanced back over to her and winked before they continued onto other fan questions. As the panel ended, the girls were gathering their things when her phone buzzed.

“Weird, it’s a text from a number I don’t know.” Emma looked over her shoulder as she pulled up the message.

“Hey, it’s Jensen. Thanks for leaving your phone number on your letter. Stay behind after the panel and Clif will come by. Talk to you soon.” Emma squealed as she slapped her shoulder.

“Ow, okay let’s wait until we see Clif. He is probably going to come get your letter for Jared. Jensen said he would give it to him.” Emma quickly grabbed the letter from her bag as (Y/N) looked around for Clif. Instead of spotting Clif, she spotted Jensen and Jared walking in with Clif right behind them. Emma had not spotted them yet. “Emma, do not freak out. Okay?” Emma nodded and (Y/N) turned her around slowly.

“Holy crap.” She said as Jensen and Jared started laughing stopping in front of them.

“That’s what she said when we met.” Jensen said pointing to (Y/N).

“We’ve been friends for far too long.” (Y/N) said putting her arm around her stunned friend. “My shocked friend here is Emma.”

Jared stuck out his hand and shook hers. “Hey Emma, how did you like the panels today?”

“I-I loved them. My stomach is still hurting from laughing so much.” Jared and Jensen both chuckled.

“Well, I’m glad we were entertaining. Jensen tells me you have a letter for me and instead of Clif getting it I wanted to come get it myself.” Emma giggled as she handed him her letter. “Thank you, I love fan letters. Hey, you guys want a picture?” Jared asked as Emma nodded eagerly.

(Y/N) went to grab her phone when Jensen stopped her, “We can use mine and I will send it to you.” She nodded and walked back towards the group. She felt Jensen’s hand on the small of her back as they all walked over towards the stage.

They both were pulled into their favorite actor’s arms for the picture. Then Clif took one of Emma and Jared as Jensen stepped aside (Y/N).

“So, now that you have my number you think it would be okay if I texted you again?” he asked as (Y/N) looked up at him a little surprised.

“I supposed so. Do you honestly think I would say no?” She said smirking.

Jensen chuckled, “I never assume, but I’m glad we can talk some more. You’re really…” Jensen was trying to think of the word.

“Crazy? Fanatic?” she said.

He laughed, “No, you’re really cool and interesting. It’s weird, I just feel comfortable around you.”

(Y/N) nodded knowing what he meant, “I feel the same way. Text me anytime, I’m usually up studying anyway.”

Jensen nodded as Clif waved him over. “Looks like I have to go but I will text you soon.”

She threw her arms around his neck hugging him. He held her close putting his face in the crook of her neck. “Have a safe trip back to Vancouver.” She said as he pulled away from her.

“Talk to you later, (Y/N).” He turned walking with Clif and Jared who was waving goodbye to Emma.

“Goodbye Jensen.” She whispered as Emma came over next to her.

“Best day ever, (Y/N).” She smiled nodding excitedly with her.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967 @dwgrl1903 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @spnbaby-67 @time-travel-bouqet @1967-essentialghoul @dean-winchesters-bacon @destielhoneybee @-lovepeacenhope- @destiel745 @carribear31 @srsllydunnodoncare @whimsicalrobots @thisismysecrethappyplace @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @drakelover78 @imascio08 @linnyrero7-blog @pisces-cutie @mannls @the-salty-asian @winchesterprincessbride @xostephanie @assassinofmasyaf @klanceiscannon14 @superromijn

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @simplyn2deep!

Happy holidays to simplyn2deep! I tried to write something that hopefully checks your boxes - fluffy kidfic human AU incoming - and I really hope you'll enjoy it. Thanks for reading!

Read on AO3

*****

Curly Fries & Solo Cups

There was a time in Derek Hale's life where he didn't have any friends.

He had Laura, who gave up her afternoons to run with him in the woods behind their house, climbing big trees together and tripping over cool and soon-to-be collected sticks. He had Cora, who was still too young to go to school and was always excited when his day was done, eager to smash toys and throw rocks at wasps nests with her brother. He had Talia, because he still wasn't too old to be too cool to hang with his mom, and he had his cousins, his aunts, his uncles.

But he didn't have any friends. His family was big and sprawling and he loved them, but it sucked, being the only kid in first grade who had to spend recess alone. It was his own fault, to some degree; he read ahead of his grade and didn't like lacrosse, so while all the other kids ran around with sticks and nets and screamed really loud on the field, Derek would read books that nobody could relate to and played basketball against himself in the gym. Talia would always tell him to take the first step. To introduce himself, to show an interest. To do more than just hide away and cast fleeting glances at Scott and Paige and Jackson and the rest, wishing he was a part of what they had.

But he never did.

Second grade passed, then third, and Derek started to sneak food into the library so he wouldn't have to find a table in the cafeteria. There was a new kid this year, Stiles, who was gangly and loud and annoyed the shit out of him - a word he was told by his mom not to use when he stated this fact over dinner, but was encouraged even harder to keep saying it by Peter - and Derek immediately took to being jealous of him. The new kid slipped into Scott's social circle like he'd been there all along. Sometimes, Derek would watch the two of them screw around during class, feeling his stomach tighten as they laughed and never listened and got yelled at by their teacher.

He liked him. Derek had gotten used to not having any friends, over these past couple of years. He'd been fine with it. That feeling changed, suddenly.

Fourth grade came, and with it, Derek grew a little more distant from his family. Cora had started growing into herself, and it turns out that she's a bit of a handful, which is great, because she takes after their mom, but horrible, because she's going through a phase where she likes to bite. Laura had started dating, which was frankly disgusting, and the less he heard about that, the better - and Peter, who he'd started spending most of his afternoons with, had begun to side with Talia on this whole not being a nerdy, terrible loner anymore thing that she's constantly on his case about. Always telling him to make friends his own age. Always being annoying about it. God.

Stiles kept being funny. Stiles kept making friends. More and more of them. Derek wanted to be his friend, too.

Weeks of deliberation passed, but eventually, Derek watched Stiles try to laugh until milk came out of his nose to see if it worked in real life the way it did in cartoons, and after he nearly choked to death and Scott cried from how hard he was laughing, Derek felt a sweeping sense of courage in his stomach. It was time to do something about all of this.

He asked Coach if they could maybe set up a basketball team for the students his age - just something small, just for people who were interested in playing together, they didn't have to compete with any other schools or anything, don't worry - and, despite the unwieldy and unnecessary insult directed at Greenberg that seemed to come out of nowhere, Coach agreed. More than that, Coach made him captain.

It was less of a real team and more just something to do after school on days when the lacrosse field was being used by the older kids, but that was enough. Those few nights Derek spent waiting for Coach to announce sign ups to his class felt like hell. He was missing out on sleep, too busy staring at the ceiling above his bed until the early hours of the morning, worrying about everything and putting too much stock into this. He'd have imaginary conversations with himself. He would talk to Scott and Stiles and Kira about how to play ball, bragging about the dope shots he never really took. He'd act cocky and kind of obnoxious, but in his head, that was charming. He'd use basketball as a crutch to finally be looked at as more than just that quiet, unfriendly kid who barely spoke two words to people. He'd make friends.

And he did. But not with Scott, and not with Stiles.

Fourth grade passed, and then fifth, and then sixth. Junior high turned out to be pretty great for Derek, who made friends with his teammates and grew into his own. Basketball turned out to be so well received that it became a bit of a rival to the lacrosse team, snowballing into something real with actual games and actual competition. The kids who liked sport in Beacon Hills were becoming actual athletes, who took their sport of choice seriously and built their fledgling identities around it.

Scott and Stiles didn't sign up, but Derek still made friends with the kids who did. That should have been enough. It wasn't, but it should have been.

By seventh grade, Derek's made a name for himself. He's smart and he's funny and he's sociable, and even though he still never really talks to people he doesn't know, he's been to birthday parties and he's actually flirted with a couple of girls, which was exhilarating, if scary. He's happy. Took a while, but he's happy. He eats in the cafeteria, these days. He's starting to think that he's kind of weird for doing it, but he still just - likes watching Stiles, and Stiles is always at his best in the cafeteria.

On Friday, Scott and Stiles are racing to see who can eat the most curly fries the fastest. They're in their lacrosse uniforms even though it's starting to rain, and they'll probably be forced to share the gym with the basketball team if they want to get any practice in this afternoon. Scott's an idiot who filled up on pizza before he challenged Stiles to the race, but that just makes him all the more determined to win. Derek watches the race, still as hooked on the way Stiles laughs now as he was when he was little. Back when he was just shy and lonely and wanted a friend, instead of - whatever this is, now that he's older. Now that he shouldn't feel jealous anymore, seeing as he has a life of his own.

The race is neck and neck, but ultimately, Stiles wins. He crams his face full of deep fried garbage and chokes it all down with the propensity of a starving pelican. Scott contests the win, arguing that he ate more, but Derek knows that's a lie. His feet start moving before he can stop them.

"Stiles won."

Scott and Stiles look up, alarmed, a fry slipping from Stiles' still open mouth and onto his unreasonably messy tray. They both look at him like they know full well who he is - the quiet guy, the basketball guy - and they cast quick glances at each other, communicating silently the way best friends do.

Derek feels heat prickle his skin, but he doesn't blush. He doesn't think he does, at least. He just stares at the two of them until they look at him again, jaw set and teeth rigid. He must look angry, or something, because Stiles' eyes keep drifting back to Scott like he's in trouble, or something, and Scott looks seconds away from having an asthma attack. Shit.

"Stiles won," Derek repeats with determination, as if aggressively siding with the kid he's been staring at in silence for half a decade without so much as saying hi to him is a normal thing to do. If he was trying to kickstart the conversation, it doesn't work. Other tables are talking and going about their day and nobody's noticed what's going on, but the cafeteria feels awfully quiet, suddenly.

Stiles looks at Derek. Derek looks at Stiles. They haven't ever made eye contact, before. Derek feels his lungs go tight, so he looks back to Scott.

"Uh, thanks, dude," Scott offers to the silence. Stiles cracks a grin, watery and awkward. Derek keeps staring until he feels like he's a brick wall stopping the two of them from having fun with their... fries, and he ultimately nods, turning on his heel and bailing.

He doesn't talk to Stiles for the rest of the year.

Eighth grade is when things start getting messy. Jackson and Lydia start dating and they both want everybody to know about it. Lydia's parties are killer, but Derek never goes to them, which pisses her off a little, because he's turning into the kind of athlete that everybody thinks is gonna get a scholarship, make state and earn millions. Scott and Stiles never go, either. Derek only knows that by chance, having given up on staring at the two of them from across the room all the time. Stiles started staring back, after all. It's hard not to be embarrassed, once you've been caught.

Derek's in the equipment closet, putting everything away after gym class, when he hears Stiles and Scott through the door.

"Dude, why don't you just ask him?"

That's Scott. Derek holds his breath, his grip tightening on the dodgeball in his hands. He'd accidentally hit Scott pretty hard with this, about twenty minutes ago. He still feels guilty. Coach had laughed pretty hard, at least.

"Oh, yeah. Wow. Genius plan." That's Stiles. Derek's stomach does a flip like he's driving down a steep road. "Hey, big arms. Remember me? I know we've never really talked, except for that one time where I was desperately cramming curly fries down my throat like I was the squirrel from Ice Age and it was the only way to keep them safe for the winter, but. Just curious - are you going to Lydia's party this weekend?"

There are footsteps, and Derek panics, looking at the door and waiting for it to open. It doesn't; there's just a soft, gentle thud as Stiles leans his back against it, sighing under his breath.

"Well... maybe don't start with that, but." There's another small thud when Scott rests against the door, too, right next to Stiles. Derek can see their shadows under the door. "I mean, if that's how you wanna go about this, he lives right by the woods? He probably likes squirrels."

"Super helpful."

Scott laughs, but it's not malicious. It's soft and endeared. Derek can't see it, but Scott nudges Stiles' shoulder with his own, rattling the door a little.

"C'mon, man," Scott says. "Just ask him if he wants to go with you."

Stiles makes a noise that's entirely non-verbal, just this long, frustrated grunt. He's about to say something else when Finstock tells them to stop lazing around and they push themselves off the closet door, heading out. Derek stands still, gripping the dodgeball as tight as he can, waiting until the squeak of their sneakers over wood go quiet before he moves again.

His heart is beating so hard he's surprised they couldn't hear it.

By Friday, Stiles and Scott haven't had any more conversations about Derek within his earshot, but Derek's started watching the two of them again. From the way he falls asleep at his desk with his head hidden behind his history book, Stiles doesn't look like he's too worried about anything, which is kind of annoying to Derek, who has spent the entire week stressing the hell out about why Stiles wants to invite him to Lydia's party. Assuming he's "big arms", that is. There's every possibility that Stiles has made an embarrassment of himself eating horrible, greasy food in front of more than one person he never really talks to. Derek would not be surprised.

But he thinks it's a safe bet to assume that Stiles wants to go to the party with him. Or - wants him to be at the party, in any case. So why hasn't he just... asked?

Stiles gets yelled at in history class and wakes up with a sheet of paper stuck to his face. Math goes horribly, with Derek breaking the lead in his mechanical pencil over and over again from pressing it too hard against his notebook. Stiles sleeps in art class, again. Gym rolls around and Derek camps out by the equipment shed, but Scott and Stiles just go straight to their lockers.

Derek's in a bad mood when he slings his bag over his shoulder and makes a beeline for the bus. Lydia catches him in the hall at the last second.

"Derek Hale," she starts, thoughtful and singsong. She's standing in front of him so she can't leave, Jackson's arm slung around her shoulders like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Jackson's turned into a bit of a jerk this year, but Derek doesn't care enough about him to be offended.

She tells him he simply has to come to her party this weekend, saying something about how being shy and mysterious worked for him when they were younger, but they're seconds away from entering highschool, so it's time to start taking the bull by the horns and getting out there. She asks him if he needs her to set him up with one of her friends, and the sharp furrow of his eyebrows and widening of his eyes is enough for her to take that as a no, and she tells him that all of his friends will be there.

He takes this to mean the basketball team and shrugs, pushing past her and Jackson to head out, until she adds, lilting and happy -

"Stiles and Scott were hoping to see you there."

- and he decides that a party might not be so bad.

Laura helps him pick out his clothes. He didn't want to ask her, at first, but he panicked, and she could tell, and even though he's sick of hearing about the guy she's dating, he still relies on her more than anyone. Peter helps, too, once Derek's dressed. He makes Derek take off the tie and leave the jacket at home, because he says it's a party for children, not a business luncheon between CEOs. Derek's about to say something, but then Peter roughs his hand through Derek's hair to give it some life, and Derek's slapping him away and heading out the door.

The party is... a party. Derek's been to a few, but again, never any like Lydia's. For a team filled with guys that actually have a shot at making it if they keep training their skills into adulthood, the basketball team is still kind of nerdy. Most birthdays go by with a gaggle of thirteen and fourteen year old boys playing lasertag while wishing they were old enough to be playing paintball.

Lydia's party is about as sophisticated as a middle schooler's party can be. There's soda served in red solo cups, there's giggles and whispers about games like spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven that everyone's too weirded out by to actually play, and when Lydia's mom tells them she'll be in the guest house if they need her instead of hovering around and offering people snacks, it feels like they're being given their first real taste of freedom. Life is good for the eighth graders at Beacon Hills.

Derek's nervously rubbing his biceps when he heads inside, looking for someone he knows. He finds Lydia, whose squeal of joy hurts his ears the second it pierces them. She hugs him and starts talking way too fast about way too much, and when she offers him a tour of her house, dragging a sympathetic Allison along with them, he feels like he's being paraded around like some weird guest of honor.

He's shown the garden, the kitchen and the living room before Allison mercifully distracts Lydia by complimenting her dress, and as Allison winks at him and smiles, Derek silently gestures his thanks to her and slips away. He heads out to the pool, already in need of fresh air, and he finds Scott and Stiles sitting on the edge of it, dangling their feet in the water.

Scott sees Derek first and perks up like a puppy, slapping Stiles's arm and telling him to look, pointing at Derek in that way where he either doesn't realize he's being obvious or is too excited to care that he is. Derek feels butterflies in his stomach and immediately heads inside, walking back into the kitchen with his head down and shoulderchecking Greenberg as he goes.

He doesn't know what's wrong with him.

Derek has always been drawn to Stiles. He's funny, he's smart. Everybody loves him. For all the progress Derek has made since he was a little kid, he's still shy and awkward, deep down. Basketball is great, his friends are great, even the suffocating and unnecessary attention he's getting at this stupid party is great, but his formative years were still spent hiding out in the library because he was too afraid of just going up to somebody and saying hello. Without all the bells and whistles, that's all he is. A loner. A loner who has to try really hard not to be one. Abnormal, maybe.

Looking at Stiles makes Derek feel like a little kid again. Like he's afraid of saying hello. That stupid, pointless, small little moment in the cafeteria last year - that inconsequential, irrelevant moment based on Stiles' powerful curly fries-eating skills not getting the recognition it deserved - that moment where they actually, for the first time, talked? It came from nowhere, and it filled him with adrenaline, and he's thought back to it again and again and again every time he's toyed with the idea of just going up to Stiles and saying hello. The excitement he felt, from having Stiles look at him. The eye contact they made. It felt better than anything. He wants that again.

He just wants Stiles to be his friend.

So he takes a breath. He thinks of the work he's put into being sociable, being strong, and he looks back to the pool, and he starts to walk. He swerves away from the door leading outside at the last second, deciding he needs a drink to get through this, and that even though soda isn't booze, it's the closest he's gonna get until he's older and it'll do in a freaking pinch. He throws back a full cup of coke and pours a second, then gets back on track, mouth already dry as he steps outside onto the wet ground.

Beside the pool, Stiles is talking to Greenberg.

Derek watches the two of them for a second, faltering, feeling the wind leave his sails now that his big moment has been interrupted by that dick. Derek suddenly understands Coach's resentment for Greenberg. He bites the inside of his cheek, patiently waiting for them to be done so he can talk to Stiles, really talk to him, like he's been wanting to for years. It's then a thought strikes him - what if Greenberg is big arms? As far as he knows, this is Greenberg's first Lydia Martin party, too, and he's on the lacrosse team with Stiles; if anyone had the opportunity to see Stiles do something stupid and embarrassing, it'd be someone like him.

Derek feels his stomach drop. He stares at Stiles, and Stiles catches his eye, and Derek suddenly feels like coming here was a mistake. He turns around, he walks through the house, and he leaves.

Lydia's voice catches him as he heads out the front door, an inquisitive "Derek?" followed up by an "oh my god, can you stop" from Jackson. Derek ignores them both, walking fast with his drink in his hand, something which ruins the otherwise dramatic atmosphere that typically pairs so well with a guy bailing from a party due to a cliched romantic misunderstanding. He walks, and he walks, and he realizes he's going to have to go back inside and ask Lydia's mom to call Laura for him seeing as he doesn't own his own phone, and that's when Stiles catches up to him.

Derek turns, and Stiles is right behind him, panting hard with his hands on his knees. Way too hard, given how short that run was. He's making these horrible noises with his throat, like his chest has collapsed in on itself and he's having trouble breathing, or something, but when Derek looks at him with concern, Stiles just holds up his hand and tells him to wait.

Taking a sip from his drink, Derek waits. Stiles keeps panting. Derek offers him his drink. Stiles shakes his head, bent over with his hands on his knees. Derek keeps waiting.

"Where are you going?" Stiles finally asks, each word punctuated with a hard wheeze.

"Uh."

Stiles says oh my god, bending even further down, his fingers gripping his jeans as tight as they can. Derek takes another sip of his drink.

"How are you this out of breath? I literally just walked to the end of her driveway."

"Shut up," Stiles wheezes.

"You're on the lacrosse team," Derek says, actually laughing. "How are you this out of shape?"

"Oh my god," Stiles says again.

"It's like you've never used your legs before."

"Can you-- shut up?" Stiles says, pounding his fist against his knee as if it'll make him catch his breath faster. Derek takes another drink and waits.

It takes a bit of time for Stiles to stand up straight, but he does, soon enough, and Derek doesn't say anything. He just arches his eyebrows and presses his lips together like he's trying not to smile, which makes Stiles sarcastically pull a face, almost annoyed. Derek smiles a little wider at that.

"Hey," Derek says, clutching his solo cup close to his chest. He's still not good at forcing himself to smile when he doesn't want to, so he's relieved one is coming to him genuinely.

"Yoooooooo," Stiles says, with the look of horror that could only belong to a boy who has never said yo in his life and doesn't know why he's starting now.

"Ran pretty fast there," Derek says.

"Yyyyeaaaahhhhh."

Derek takes another sip of his drink, but there's none left in his cup. He doesn't want to look like an idiot who takes a sip from an empty cup, though, so he pretends that there's still some soda left, holding the cup up to his lips until a sufficient amount of time has passed. Stiles saw that the cup was empty before he did this, but he doesn't say anything about it.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asks again.

"I was just, uh." Derek drops his arms to his sides, then feels like he's not doing enough with his hands, so he crosses his arms over his chest, instead. It's hard to do while he's holding the solo cup, so there's a bit of a shuffle that looks about as awkward as it feels.

"I was just gonna go home," Derek says, lamely.

"Why?" Stiles asks, a little red.

"I... just... was. Why do you want to know?"

"I don't? I mean." Stiles pales, now, awfully quickly. "Everyone wants to know. Everybody. Scott. Lydia. Not Jackson. Jackson's kind of a dick. Boyd wanted to know, though. Isaac, too. You're friends with them, right?"

"Right," Derek says, staring.

"Right," Stiles says, staring back. The conversation ends.

Stiles dusts his hands off on his shirt, his palms sweaty and his face evening out to its normal pasty complexion. Derek nods like he's listening to a relative spout political diatribes he doesn't agree with, but is too polite to say so. They look at each other until the silence feels like an enemy, and they both need to do something to kill it.

"Do you want to -"

"How long have you -"

"Oh, sorry."

"It's - no, it's..."

This isn't really how Derek thought their first real conversation would go. He throws his head back, looking up at the sky, the moon glowing overhead. He watches the clouds listlessly drift on whatever current is taking control of them, and again, he feels a vice in his stomach and a fear he wants to conquer. Swallowing, Derek looks back at Stiles, who is staring at him with a softness in his eyes, like he was captivated by the way Derek looked in the moonlight. Derek's too amped up to say what he wants to say to notice.

"Look," Derek says, pulling himself together. "Listen," he says, immediately losing his nerve.

Stiles waits. This annoys Derek, who both wants to speak his mind and desperately wants the earth to swallow him whole. He takes a breath.

"I really like you," Derek says, finally, running his fingers through his hair. "I've liked you since - well, not since I first saw you, because I felt like you were stealing my friends. Which is insane, because Scott wasn't ever actually my friend, because we never even talked, but. But I've liked you since... okay, actually, I don't even know if I like you? I just watch you a lot. Which - I know that that sounds sinister, but it's not, not really. I just think about you, and I look at you, and I used to get jealous and annoyed with how easygoing and friendly you are, but now I... okay, I still get jealous and annoyed, but it's..."

Wow, Derek did not prepare for this at all. He opens and closes his mouth, staring at Stiles, and if he were a better man, he'd be able to recover from this and say something charming. Instead, he just stares, and Stiles stares back, and it feels like all they ever do is stare at each other. Derek regrets this. Derek hates this.

"Like..."

Stiles said that. Derek thinks he did, at least. Derek's not really sure what's happening right now.

"Like - like like me? Or..."

Derek keeps staring, and then he realizes what Stiles just asked, and he holds his hands up in horrified surrender.

"What."

"What?"

"What."

"Don't what me," Stiles says, combative. "You're going full romcom on me. This is, like, Notting Hill if everybody in Notting Hill had each suffered from some pretty major headwounds. Multiple major headwounds. Successively."

"What--"

"I'm just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her, said Anna, like a stupid idiot with no friends."

"Excuse me?" Derek stands a little taller, and Stiles waves his hand through the air like he's annoyed with Derek for getting defensive.

"I'm just saying," Stiles rushes, tripping over himself. "I don't know what I'm just saying. But - I - okay."

He drops back down, hands on his knees, taking another few breaths. Derek's starting to get annoyed again. He's not even sure why he's still here, honestly.

"I like you too," Stiles says, standing up straight and trying to put some real punch into the words. "I like like you."

Derek stares. Stiles stares back! Derek's sick of Stiles staring at him like that! His heart's in his throat and his stomach is twisting over itself and he feels like he might pass out, and no matter how many times he opens and closes his mouth, he can't seem to make the right words. Part of him wants to push Stiles in the mud, and he thinks that's because he like likes him, but he can't really make heads or tails of this to know what he's thinking.

He's happy. He's just terrified, and awkward, and Stiles has never even spoken to him before. Well - except for that one time.

"Wait," Derek says. "Wait. We've only spoken once, and it was when I told Scott that you--"

"When you defended my honor, yeah. Curly fries. Very valiant." Stiles takes Derek's cup like he needs a drink, then remembers that it's empty, and he looks at Derek in such a way that Derek realizes Stiles absolutely knew the cup was empty when he pretended to drink from it.

"But that just started it," Stiles says, a little shy. "You were this weird, big, strong dude who just came out of nowhere and knew my name. You were funny and weird and awkward and I started noticing you. The way you play basketball, the way your eyebrows pinch when you read. It's... I don't know."

Stiles shrugs his shoulder, looking for the right word.

"C... ute?"

This time, when Derek feels heat prickle his face, he knows he's blushing. Noticeably, for that matter. He scratches his cheek, red and speechless, and he doesn't really know where to go from here. This hyperactive, insane little asshole likes him, and Derek thinks he likes him back. It's - a lot.

It's a lot.

"Do you want to..." Derek falters. "We don't-- we don't have to. But do you want to go back to the party? With me, I mean.".

Stiles laughs, visibly relieved. He has the air of someone who's been watching someone else, waiting for a chance to speak to them, hoping to connect with them, hoping for something, and getting far more than he ever thought he would get. Derek knows that feeling, because he's got it, too.

"Okay."

He smiles, shy, and he laughs, dragging the heel of his shoe in the ground. They're young, and they're clumsy, and it's too early for this to be anything more than just... something, but it's exciting, and it's thrilling, and Derek feels like it could really be something good. Stiles keeps looking at him like he wants to make a joke, or like he wants to be funny, and Derek keeps trying to pull himself together so he can look cool and collected and mature, but.

They're both just happy. They're happy, and they have somewhere to be. Together.

"Okay," Stiles repeats. "Wait, one thing."

Derek looks up, eyebrows together.

"Can we get you a refill? I'm dying here."

[alecbangkok]

WeLearn & Why I do What I do

When I wrote this, I was trying to figure out my response to people who ask me “What is this WeLearn thing you’re involved with anyway?” and I think I’ll start by describing why I became involved with, and believe in, WeLearn.

To know a little bit about my background is probably necessary to understand my response, so here goes:

When I was in third grade, my parents moved me from my rather traditional (mid-1970’s) elementary school to the Riverside Open School, an experimental public school in my hometown of Schenectady, New York.

I had always been identified as gifted, and placed as such in all of my classes, and things went well in Grades K-2, when I had teachers who were relatively young and dedicated to their students’ growth, and weren’t afraid to try new-ish things (again, for the time) to keep us engaged. However, my first teacher in Third Grade was not of the same mold. She was “old-school,” and didn’t like independent-minded students. We did not get along. Complaining to my parents did her no good. My father was himself a relatively young and dedicated, progressive-minded high school physics teacher in a neighboring district, and my mother was the product of fairly liberal parents herself. Both understood that education was not achieved through obedience and rote memorization, and didn’t appreciate my teacher trying to turn us into little robots. Thankfully, my second-grade teacher was also teaching third grade that year, and my parents were able to get me switched back to her, so that year looked to be salvaged. Still, there was no doubt that fourth grade would bring me into contact with Robot-Lady, which led to my parents exploring alternative options to keep me engaged with my education. That’s when they found Open School, and, after some research, transferred me there.

I was extremely fortunate; my family didn’t have much money (high school teacher father + stay-at-home mom with major health issues = limited resources to say the least) and wouldn’t have been able to afford a private Montessori or Waldorf school. The fact that there was a public school that embraced a similar philosophy and was located in Schenectady, NY, was almost miraculous. That it was a perfect fit for me, even more so. My two and a half years, from the middle of Grade 3 through the end of Grade 5, were far from utopian, but they were wonderful. I still experienced the feeling of “otherness” that I would feel for the rest of my school years, not to mention adulthood, and had to deal with that, but being treated as an individual, rather than a strangely-shaped cog that didn’t fit into the existing machinery according to the instruction manual, meant that I was mostly accepted by both the teachers and the other kids, even if they didn’t understand me sometimes.

Some learning was done at least partially as a class, differentiated for the different levels of understanding, but much of what we did was project-based learning. Keep in mind that this was the mid-to-late 1970s, and both PBL and differentiation are only now beginning to creep into U.S. public school classrooms 40 years later, and you’ll understand just how progressive this school was for its time. Still, not perfect. I didn’t succeed at everything I tried, and my independence still crossed a threshold that sometimes made me a pain in the ass for those around me, but each failure and/or difficulty was treated as an opportunity to learn for the next time. My teachers communicated regularly with my parents, as they did with all parents, who also were part of many activities both in and out of our classrooms, creating a feeling of community. To that extent, my education was very much what it should have been. If only it had continued that way.

Schenectady’s school system divided grades on a Middle School model, meaning that Elementary was K-5, Middle School was 6-8, and High School was 9-12. Open School was an Elementary school, which meant that once Fifth Grade was complete it was time for Middle School, and there was no counterpart to Open School for upper grades. Luckily for me, I would be attending Woodlawn Middle School with all of my friends from my neighborhood, so I wouldn’t be coming in as a stranger without a social structure. I think I handled the division of learning into subjects pretty well, and generally had good teachers in my classes. I was back to being separated out of the pack into the GT group, which had both benefits (learning how to perform a Japanese Tea ceremony, for example) and costs (magnified “otherness” at the same time we all started going through puberty and I began to discover some extra “otherness” that I didn’t quite yet understand). So overall it was a big switch, but not life-shattering. That would happen the following school year.

While I was going through Sixth Grade, my father was granted a sabbatical year from his school district which he used to complete and defend his doctoral dissertation. This resulted in his receiving his Ph.D. in Theoretical Physics, which in turn resulted in his looking for jobs where we could pull ourselves securely into the middle class. Ultimately, the job he found was with a defense contractor in Santa Barbara, California. We were mostly excited about the change and the cross-country road trip, and my dad was especially excited about being able to do interesting research for a living.

We arrived, found a house, and I began school at Goleta Valley Junior High, in a new place, with a new culture in which kids were considerably less sheltered, knowing no one and realizing more clearly than ever that I was far more attracted to the other boys than the girls, which I dared not mention let alone think of. Without the safety net of kids with whom I had been friends for the better part of my lifetime, my “otherness” made me an outlier worthy of notice to the other kids in school. This was not a good thing. I did everything I could to be the same as everyone else (in Junior High School, this is a matter of survival as much as anything else), but there was always something that made me noticeably “other,” and, therefore, a target.

Add to this the school itself, which looked like a prison (I could never tell whether the high chain-link fences topped with barbed wire were to keep bad people out or us in), as well as teachers who valued uniformity over interest, and I felt like I was in hell. Honestly, I can remember teachers from all of my K-12 years except for the two years at GVJH. It’s not a matter of positive or negative; they were all so unmemorable that I can’t see more than my Seventh Grade English teacher’s skunk-like hairdo. But I do remember some of my fellow students and how they treated me. Fortunately, I was able to make friends with some of the other nerds, and that provided the partial security of safety in numbers, but even with them I spent a lot of time feeling “other,” and still felt isolated despite my best efforts. This was not helped by my developing severe allergies and asthma, which meant that when I got sick, it was rarely just a cold. I would spend weeks at a time home sick; weeks that were stretched considerably longer than they needed to be as a result of my feelings toward school.

Apart from contempt, familiarity breeds peer groups of a sort, and even if I spent a lot of time feeling “other,” at least I had people I could hang out with by the time high school rolled around. That, plus the acquisition of our first home computer and its included word processor, made things a bit less miserable. Why a word processor? Because it showed me that writing could be accomplished without the physical pain and graphite-smudged fingers us southpaws tend to endure. Once I realized this, I started to enjoy writing and realized I was actually pretty good at it, despite my Tenth-Grade English teacher who thought purple hair made her edgy even though she couldn’t tolerate a lack of servile conformity in her students.

I mention my Tenth-Grade English teacher and her purple mane to illuminate the stifling atmosphere that was high school. Again, with the exception of scattered teachers such as my 11th Grade English teacher Peg Harris, whose passion for writing helped shape my own, it was a lot of assembly-line providers who diminished my passion for learning with every passing period. Band, orchestra, then choir when I’d had it with the clarinet, and Junior Statesmen of America, were the only things that kept me interested. By the time 12th Grade rolled around, and we moved to Virginia, much of my love for learning and creative fire had been stifled by subjugation.

High School in Northern Virginia was a mixed bag. On the bright side, I discovered theater and had a new outlet for self-expression, if only for a short time. I lost weight, made friends relatively easily, and was just happy not to be in SoCal any more. I still felt “other,” but that was kind of drowned out in a school where I was one of roughly 5,000 students. My graduating class was close to 1,000, so I guess people were too wrapped up in their own groups to spend too much time harassing outliers. Either that, or with numbers that large we had someplace to hide. However, Fairfax County Schools took themselves really seriously (I think they were #1 in the country at that point), which in the late ‘80s meant really pushing students hard to achieve the district’s desired outcomes (not necessarily the student's). This, in turn, meant making sure everything and everyone conformed to the standards they felt led to those desired outcomes. NoVA is the home of, among other things, the Pentagon, so as you can imagine conformity was a pretty big deal with so many parents who were current or former career military officers. That meant that I went from a lot of dual-credit college classes with adult students to The Land of Educational Robotics. To give you an idea, when the admissions decisions for the service academies came out, the suicide rate spiked…significantly.

I’m not going to get into college and grad school because this is about my elementary and secondary years and how they relate to WeLearn.

I honestly didn’t think I’d be writing quite so much backstory. I guess there must be some therapeutic value in cataloging all of this educational nonsense…which leads to why I’m involved in WeLearn, as well as what we do that makes me so excited about it.

I don’t want one more student to need to find therapeutic value in cataloging educational nonsense. I want to create a student-centered educational environment, that is process-focused rather than outcome-driven, that educates instead of indoctrinates. I want students who feel “other” to embrace their “otherness” rather than fear the results of it showing, because, to some degree, there’s “otherness” in all of us. Education should be about inspiring discovery; first and foremost the discovery, exploration, and focusing of each student’s passion. At the same time, students need to learn the skills that will make them good human beings: collaboration, an ethical compass, leadership, conceptualization, emotional literacy, and a continued love of learning no matter their chosen subject or field. Maybe a fanatical devotion to the Oxford Comma. It’s a given that we really have no idea what jobs people will be doing twenty years from now - automation and AI have seen to that - so I want students to have the tools to mold an unknowable future.

I think the best way to do that is to build a community of learners, using the best tools, technological and otherwise, that are available to us. Give the community a space where they can explore those tools to learn holistically, to make their passions conflagrations rather than having them snuffed out of existence. Give them what they need to learn how to shape the future rather than be victimized by it. I believe I’ve found a team of visionaries who share what I see for the future, so it’s not just what I want; it’s what we want.

We don’t just want them to be learners; we want them to be WeLearners!

[smokeybrand]

The Fallacy of Education

I think elementary school is necessary to an extent but everything I've ever learned after probably the third grade, was during summer break at the library and then all of the time when my family got a computer. I never really learned anything “new” in a classroom setting, from probably the fourth grade and forward. Sure, it's dope to have someone bounce ideas off but you can do that with anyone. You can do that online. Hell, I DO that online now. SO what the f*ck is the merit of going through the tribulations of “school?” Capitalism. Capitalism is the “merit.” School is designed to break your spirit as a youth and train you to be a drone in the workforce. The structure of how education here in the US has been built, is designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week early on. It's built to make you yearn for holidays and the weekends. It grooms you to raise your hands to ask questions and punishes those who deviate from the assigned tasks. Free thinkers are shunned and the arts are almost always removed in one form or another. Creativity is killed in service to conformity because capitalism needs that in order to function. The second it's removed, the second people questions the status quo, is the second they understand the terrible conditions in which they've been forced to exist. But, if you're not smart enough to ask the right questions, then there is no threat to the current class system.

When i got to fifth grade, i went to a substantially sh*ttier school than before. We move into a worse ghetto than the one I grew up in for he majority of my life and that was reflected in this school's curriculum. These kids were morons. That wasn't there fault, the system had failed them because it was assumed they weren't worth the investment. We'd all end up being thugs and criminals because that was what our zip code dictated. When I got there, I kind of f*cked all of that up. These kids were reading well under their grade, the “smart” one rad at a high school level if I remember but i could read at a college level. Indeed, I was well into checking out Shakespeare and Dante by this point. That was too much for my teacher. He graded on a curve because the kids were so stupid and, after that fist test where everyone failed but me because I got such a high mark, told me flat out that there was nothing he could teach me. I became kind of a TA in that class and never turned in another assignment for the entire year. He just gave me As on everything and apologized profusely for not being able to adequately challenge me. It was difficult to see because I would tell this dude loved teaching and he had an opportunity to rally flex his passion with me but the system in which he had to work wouldn't allow him to do any of that. Because the system, itself, isn't built to educate. Imagine being an educator trapped in that cage? Now imagine being a student trapped in there, too, oblivious to the handicap you've just been saddled with.

When i got to the seventh grade, i was put into remedial courses against my ill. We moved back to my old neighborhood ahead of my sixth grade year so I was able to return to my previous school where it was understood that myself and a handful of others were WAY too smart for our own good. They got us more advanced materials from the surrounding high schools and basically told us to teach ourselves. My then principal drove us over to a separate middle school because it was supposed to have better materials and more advanced courses than the neighborhood one. Our principal and the one in the middle school spoke, we all demonstrated our intelligence, and it was agreed we'd be placed in advanced courses in the coming year. When the new year started, I was not placed in those agreed upon courses. My zip code reflected the ghetto and not the bourgeois neighborhood this new school was in. They assumed i was an idiot, even though i was enrolled specifically for the more challenging curriculum, and dismissed my previous academic accomplishments without a word. My elementary school principal literally drove me over there and introduced me to that school's principal because she wanted to make sure the staff understood that i was wildly intelligent "for my age." Didn't matter. They saw a Meadowview zip and i was put into classes with a bunch of idiots. When i protested, they refused to change my schedule. It didn't take long for most of my teachers to realize I wouldn't be in such pedestrian classes but the administration refused to budge. I was ghetto trash and they didn't want to hear anything else, even if it was coming directly from the teachers in charge of me education. My science teacher literally had us coloring f*cking pictures as work assignments. I refused to do such ridiculous busy work, demanded that he teach me some sh*t and, instead, he suspended me from his class and threatened to fail me.

When i got to high school, i was wildly disillusioned by education and basically coasted my way through. I understood that i could learn more on my own and pushed to be home schooled. The way the that system works is you show up for in-class check-in on Monday and pick up a packet of schoolwork. You complete the school work through the week and turn it the following Monday. No classroom. No teachers. No fuss. All of my credits, and then some, and none of the the everyday baggage. I could excel at my own pace, which we have established far outstripped whatever the f*ck the curriculum is at any given time. Plus, I could return to proper coursework at any time. My plan was to knock out about three years worth of credits that first year and try to get into the off-campus internship with the State. It was called the Regional Occupation Program. I'd be paid to work for the State part time while accumulating proper work experience, and still have time to take some college courses at the local Community College. I'd still be able to come back and participate in all of the social sh*t like dances and games plus, I'd be able to walk the stage with my proper class. I'd be able to challenge myself, build toward my future, and still have that high school experience. But my mom refused. Everything i said here, I said to her, and she still refused. She's a slave to tradition and tradition dictated that i HAD to go to class everyday. The system HAD to be maintained. So i did and, as the years progressed, i went less and less. By senior year, i went just enough to keep the cops of her back and still graduated with a 3.8. I never one applied myself in high school and literally just showed up because cops, gym, and girls. Most days, i left early because f*cking why not? I wasn't learning anything. I wasn't being enriched in anyway. By my senior year, I had two Teacher's Assistant classes, two gym classes, Government and a creative writing course. I never went to that one because it was the last class of the day and Transformers came on halfway through it so I skipped it everyday. In order to pass, I just printed out a novel I wrote when I was in the eighth grade. He gave me an A, even though I was only there in person around thirty percent of the school year. I was writing high school level sh*t when I was thirteen. That's the story of my whole life and it didn't get any better when I got to college.

I thought it was going to get better when i got to college. It did not. I had toured a few campuses around my neighborhood and even sat in on a course or two. I went to a few College Fairs and even got accepted into a couple of HBCs. After a I graduated high school I opted to go to a community college that was near by. I' m poor so I couldn't afford a proper school and the scholarships available to me were all partial. I didn't want to have to split time between working and college so I figured if I got the core courses out of the way early, I could lighten the load and have an Associates to take into a part time gig or something later. I had actually gotten into Stanford and wanted to go but the cost of living was WAY too staunchy so this Community college plan was the best option. I lasted a semester. That sh*t was like going back to high school but i had to pay for it out of pocket. I had dreams of debate and lecture, of challenging a professor who could challenge me in return What I got was more of the uniform apathy that has dogged me my entire education career, only now it was driving me into f*cking debt. I love learning. I love reading. I love thinking. None of that I was even conducive to school here in the states. Often times, it was objectively frowned upon. From kindergarten to literally college, I was always under the gun in that sense. To this day, my curiosity is insatiable and I research everything. I want to know all of the things and the big sh*t like theoretical physics or the math necessary to infer the universe before the big bang, is absolutely tantalizing to me. I was frustrated with the stifling rigidity of school f*cking twenty years ago. I can't even imagine what it's like for kids nowadays.

The education system in the US is f*cking ridiculous. It's not meant to build intelligence or free thinking, it's an assembly line method designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week. It's supposed to get you used to sacrificing the majority of your life in service to capitalism, busting ass just to get to the weekend or next holiday off, because that's how you'll live the rest of your adult life. They're not in the business of education or teaching life skills, they're in the business of manufacturing more cogs for the great machine that is the “economy.” Why the f*ck do I need to know Algebra 2 when I can't do my own taxes? Why the f*ck do we have to spend three weeks studying the Crucible when I don't know how compound interests works? Parents should play a part in this, for sure, but how difficult is that for them to do? They are victims of the same system and have to sacrifice their liberty in order to pay bills, after being bludgeoned with that same aggressive system necessary for them to abandon their hopes. A smart person is a difficult person to manipulate. When people understand, or even have the ability to comprehend, the scales fall from their eyes. We're seeing that now with the “Employment crisis” and how no one wants to go back to being underpaid and overworked after a the Pandemic showed the world for what it was. It's in capitalism's best interests to make sure the masses are smart enough to produce but dumb enough to never understand that they control the means of production. Why do you think everyone wants the kids to "get back into the classroom" when it's obviously easier to "teach" kids over zoom? When it's obvious that they learn more and understand better at home? When entire grade averages have increased considerably, over the entire country, since kids have been studying at home? Because that structure is more important than the learning. Every kid has a phone, computer, or tablet at this point. Internet is everywhere. There's no reason to have in-class learning, especially considering how many f*cking classrooms get shot up around these parts. Especially considering that there are more kids like me thanks to the ready-to-consume inf oration at our fingertips. This one got away from me but i really, really, hate the "education system" here. It's so boorish and archaic, f*cking obsolete, especially in the age of the information, so why go back to that broken system? Because capitalism needs drones not dreamers. It needs conformists, not thinkers. It needs ignorance not education.

[aparecium-hq]

Welcome to Aparecium, Addie! You have been accepted for James Potter. You said you’ve been playing James off and on for a while, and it shows. He’s such a nuanced character and seems to have a lot of great potential. Check out the new member checklist, and jump right in.

Character Basics

Birthday (Age): November 3 2004 ( 23 ) Gender (Pronouns): male ( he/him ) Sexuality: pansexual Blood Status: half-blood Hogwarts House/School: Gryffindor Occupation: Keeper for the Chudley Cannons Faceclaim: Jordan Fisher

Any requested changes? n/a

Biography:

As the first born child of ‘the boy who lived’, the world quickly took interest in everything to do with James’s life from the moment he was born. He was special simply because his parents were famous and everywhere he went people seemed to know who he was. It was overwhelming at times, and a bit scary being so young and having complete strangers knowing your life story, but at home Jamie was just Harry and Ginny’s boy, another one of the Weasley’s spawn that seemed to be half of the British Wizarding population by this point. At home, lost in a sea of far less red heads than one would expect, is where James knew he was truly significant. Sure, it was easy to be overshadowed with his parents so busy and two younger siblings that couldn’t take care of themselves like James could, but Harry and Ginny made it look easy balancing work and a growing family.

James was a curious child, always managing to get into something he shouldn’t, but there were just so many amazing things around him he couldn’t always help himself. He had a need to know everything about everyone and was constantly in trouble for sneaking into his daddy’s office, or trying to see how to work his mummy’s wand. But his daddy would always let him curl up in his lap after being punished and read him any story he liked, so it really wasn’t that horrible.

James had gotten a calendar for his eleventh birthday and counted down every single day until he got to start his first year. He had been listening to stories of best friendships, Quidditch finals, and adventures since he could remember and was more excited to get to Hogwarts than he had ever been in his life. What James had not prepared for, was the unfamiliarity of it all. He had never been in a situation before where he didn’t know at least the majority of the people, and anyone he had not known his parents introduced him to. Now he was supposed to make friends on his own, decide if someone was best friend material or if he should have chosen a different compartment, and interact with people who expected things from him solely because his last name is Potter. The Prophet, professors, various school day quidditch captains, they all expected him to have the best traits of both of his parents and namesakes. It had been a lot to take in at only eleven years old.

At Hogwarts, James wasn’t surrounded by family members who were careful to make sure he was aware it was okay to be his own person. He knew he couldn’t cling to his cousins all the time, and what do you want, James? quickly turned into so much like Harry, or it’s like they knew when they named you. Instead of using his teen years to figure out who he was, James came to the realization he could become the person he was supposed to be, he just needed to try harder. He had never been the best in school, he became distracted too easily and had a hard time keeping up with all the material; but he needed to keep up pretences that he didn’t care about grades, but did well in school without trying so he would never go for help, instead staying up sometimes for 24 hours straight studying until he fell asleep sitting up.

tw: anxiety , panic attacks , and disordered eating One thing that had always captured James’s interest was flying, so when third year rolled around and James still hadn’t managed to make the house Quidditch team, he had gotten sick in the grass by the lake and hadn’t known what to do. His dad was the youngest seeker in over a century, his mum played professionally and he couldn’t even get a spot on the team. Terrified his friends who were now all on the team were going to forget about him, James spent hours from the second he got out of classes until curfew practicing. Whenever he wasn’t in class he was studying all night, then waking up at the earliest hours of the day to get time on the pitch before the teams wanted to use it for their own practice. Stress weighed heavily on him and he would manage to go days without stopping for a meal. With the extra weight off from days of not eating and extra workouts, James was faster, more agile on a broom than he had been and when one of the chasers landed a detention on game day, James was asked to fill in.

When fourth year came around and one more spot opened up on the Gryffindor team, James had shown up to try out for not the chaser position that he had been subbed in and practiced his entire life, but for the keeper spot. Sure people whispered when he got it over three seventh years, ‘ everything always came so easily to James Potter. It wasn’t fair. ‘ He didn’t correct them ( even if it bugged him that all his hard work was overlooked ). Rumors were flying that he decided to try out for keeper that morning and was simply so talented he beat out kids who had been playing the position their whole lives. It was a lot better for his image than admitting the entire previous summer he was out flying every second he wasn’t needed anywhere else.

He definitely hadn’t expected to fall in love with keeper as much as he did. Sure, his Uncle Ron played in school and they had bonded even more over his interest in the position, but the spot felt like it was his to own. He wasn’t being compared to his parents or his grandfather. He could focus on playing, not beating stats of his mother at his age, although his own progress on the house team had become something that drew the attention of quite a few people outside the walls of Hogwarts. A “natural born talent” people had called him.

It was Easter break James’s fifth year, only a few months before he sat his OWLs that Harry and Ginny quickly caught on something was wrong and perhaps he hadn’t been as easy-going the past few years as he had been throughout childhood. The boy they always had to pull out of bed every summer was now up and out the door before even they were and the cabinets holding all James’s favorite snacks seemed constantly full. But they hadn’t thought it was anything more than the stress of teenage years until Ginny walked into James’s room at four in the morning to find him throwing textbooks across the room in the clothes he had been wearing since the day before, sobbing openly. His marks on his practice exams had all been lower than he wanted, and the more times he took the practice tests the worse he did. Of course he hadn’t been the only one in his year struggling with test anxiety, but after days of talking through what was happening ( and his Hogsmede weekends being taken from him the rest of the year and being replaced his parents bringing him to therapy ) he realized it was a lot more than stress over his exams.

It was difficult accepting that maybe James could just do what made him happy; he didn’t even know what that was and wondered if he had forced himself into being this person that was a watered down version of what he thought he wanted. His parents had not even been sure they were going to let him return to Hogwarts for his sixth year, but James managed to convince them with promises of weekly letters home (which quickly turned to bi-weekly, then monthly) and closer eyes on him than necessarily made him comfortable. His final years at school hadn’t magically become perfect, but James had managed to at least make himself aware he was allowed to be true to himself and ask for help when he needed it, even if he didn’t always follow through with the actions.

After finishing school, James had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. He had gotten more OWLs than he ever thought he could ( nine Outstandings and the rest Exceeds Expectations) and did amazing in all the courses he continued onto for NEWTs level, so maybe all of his hard work really did pay off. Still, there were so many things he could do with his education but none of them sounded interesting in the slightest so his first year out of school James worked as a clerk at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, partially for money to start saving for his own flat, and part because it was so stereotypically ‘Weasley grandchild’ to have a job there and he couldn’t help himself when his Uncle George offered him the position.

However after a few months working at the shop James had been approached by a man he had remembered seeing at multiple Quidditch matches over his years at Hogwarts. They had watched James play for years, and wanted to offer him a position on the Ballycastle Bats. Of course his parents had their concerns about James moving so far away, as well as the pressure of playing professional Quidditch, but he couldn’t give up an opportunity to seize his dream job since he was six years old. He had loved his time in Ballycastle, the town had begun to feel like home and James had been upset to learn he has to leave it behind. However, his trade to the Canons had come with a raise too large to pass up on, plus he was equally as excited to be closer to home as well as his family.

Character Questionnaire

How does your character feel about their family?

“I- I don’t think there is anything in the world more important, really. Sure, family isn’t always blood, there is family that you just sort of find, and that’s just as important but family is still my number one priority. I think out of all the similarities people try to force on me and my late grandfather, this is definitely the one thing I’m positive we had to have shared, although I think I get it more from my dad than anyone else. He taught me more about family than anyone. It’s why I’m so excited to move back to England. Even though I haven’t lived here since I was eighteen, home is where your family is.”

How would your character describe their own work ethic? Is that an accurate measure of themself?

“I’ve always liked to run with the stories you hear about me, you know the ones? Potter never even plays the position until he’s fourteen years old and somehow manages to go pro. But how can’t I with my genes? Mum played pro and Dad could have if he wanted I’m sure, I was just born talented. Truth is I tend to overwork myself until I’m sick. I had a great team, and I’m joining another great team that I need to work twice as hard as any of them to be half as good.”

How would a stranger who has just met your character describe them?

“Probably say they always knew I was handsome, but didn’t realize I would be this drop dead gorgeous. Then likely wonder how I manage to even fly a broom with how clumsy I am on the ground, but that’s only because I refuse to wear my glasses half of the time and I can’t see where I’m going. I don’t know really, people always want me to be like my dad. People have always thought they knew who I was before they ever met me, now even more so since they know me for my own accomplishments not Mum or Dads. I’m shorter than they thought I’d be, and quieter.

I’d really like to consider myself more than Harry and Ginny Potter’s kid and I’m working really hard to be that. But they’re the only reason anyone pays any attention to me in the first place, I doubt that scout from the Bats would have ever taken the time to watch me play in school if I wasn’t Ginny Potter’s son. Perhaps I’m good enough to be where I am on my own, but I’m not better than all the other people who worked so much harder than me whose last name isn’t Potter. I don’t know.”

Para Sample

It had been a long day, although lately everyday seemed to feel like a long day. To be fair, James did it to himself; when he got overwhelmed he purposefully put more and more on his plate, refusing to stop as if looking for a way to self-sabotage everything he had going on. His father  had been the only one who could ever talk any sense into him when he got like this but he hadn’t exactly told anyone he was back in England just yet. He had wanted to finalize a place to live, have a plan before he told anyone he was moving back home. He was still playing quidditch  professionally, living his greatest dream since he was a child, but for some reason he still was nervous everyone would see him having to move back home as a failure. He wanted everyone to know he was still doing well before he told any of them he left Ireland. But he had been apartment hunting all day and the fact that his lease was up and he was no closer to finding a new place to live left James exhausted but unwilling to just stop for even a moment.

He looked up at the person next to him only for a moment, passing them a drink before taking a sip of his own before plastering a somewhat plausible grin on his face, faking a weak attempt at a laugh, just hoping they wouldn’t recognize him. If his family found out he was in town because someone posted it online he’d never hear the end of it. “I never would have thought it would be this difficult to find a place to live, I mean Merlin’s beard you’d think I was asking for an entire bloody castle to myself with how few options are available.”