#high school english class but this is her take on reading a poetry book from a guy she likes watching on TV for nearly a decade'

[letsgetrowdy43]

My sweet boy ☆—

Request: 🐞Warren gets his first girlfriend and Honey gets emotional cause her baby is growing up.

Picture this!! Warren x Black Cat character

Au Masterlist!!

Growing up Warren was always a shy boy. He was popular in the sense that he was extremely talented in his sport, the one that his father and uncles were also stars in, and the one that had news outlets buzzing about him and the generational talent they claimed him to be. But no news article or tabloid would ever capture just how humble and timid he was.

So when Warren Hughes eventually brought home a girl, everyone within the Hughes' family and friends was shocked.

The girl in question was Marissa, who happened to be so far away from Warren's usual world, but she was perfect for him. She held little to no knowledge about the hockey world, which was something Warren almost preferred, no pressure, no expectation, just her poetry books and detective fiction. Her mother was a professor at UBC, head of the English facility, specializing in nineteenth-century literature, leading Marissa to her love of Poe's work. And she, well she was just some literature junkie who craved a fiction-like love. which she received from one of the purest hearts in her lifetime.

Marissa had always been the pinnacle of his desires, he'd be lying if he said that he hadn't pined after her for the better half of middle school and high school. Something about her awkwardly blunt demeanour, and warm smile made him forget his name, made him forget the entire English language in fact.

Warren asked her out in their shared bio class, his face a very cute shade of pink as he stuttered about wanting to take her out for coffee. Her eyes went wide at his invitation, she was weird, she was deliberately known as the weird girl in their graduating class so to Marissa she was either living a dream or he was trying to set her up for some sick joke.

If you had told her within the next month she would've fallen absolutely head over heels for him, she would've said that you were lying, but it was true. Warren Hughes, the infamous hockey himbo, was the easiest person to fall in love with. In the span of the first month, she had met his family, kissed him at the fair, and somehow convinced him to try reading classics.

He prom-proposed to her in April of that year, nothing spectacular just a bouquet of tulips and a few shared kisses as they drove around the coast of Vancouver in her mom's car. Warren was her passenger Princess, and she was the keeper of his heart, it was perfect in the ways that they were total opposites but so right for each other all at the same time. It was like from pen to paper, and then to real life, a portrayal of the purest fictional love.

Honey loved Marissa, she was always respectful, and a pleasant guest in the house, but most importantly she had brought a little more love into Warren's life. It had been his draft year, and just like most boys who have the spotlight turned on them, Warren was seemingly losing a sense of his being within the media and the articles. But Marissa changed that, and Honey quite literally loved her for that.

The woman stood in the living room, tears in her eyes as she fixed her son's tie, “it's almost as if you do this for every game day,” she teased as her hands flattened out the collar of his dress shirt. “I said I could do it, just want it to be perfect,” he mumbled as she smiled, her hands cupping her son's face as she scrunched up his face. "for my health, please stop growing," she said, voice growing weaker as the tears started, Quinn and Hayden came into the room, all dressed up and ready for the picture portion of the night.

"When did Marissa's family say that they would be here?" Quinn asked as Honey found her at her husband's side, trying to dry her tears as she watched her once baby fix his styled hair. He looked down at his phone, "They should be here any minute," he shrugged before a quiet knock on the door made him freeze, cheeks blazing red as the anxiety of prom night kicked in.

Honey opened the door with a beaming smile, "perfect timing!" she said pulling Marissa's mother into a hug as she ushered the young girl's family into the house.

Marissa looked beautiful, there were far better words to put just how good she looked, but Warren couldn't think of a single one. She wore a pale yellow dress, lace and tool decorating the skirt and shaping her hips, showing just enough cleavage to seem modest but still teasing what she had. Her hair fell so perfectly just above her shoulder, bangs styled the usual way but were accentuated with the metal headband she wore, little stars forming a crown on her head as she smiled at her boyfriend whose face lit up like a candle.

"Hi," she whispered from the other side of the door frame, Warren's body blocking her from entering the house, stuck in an anxious trance that made her stomach roll with nerves, "you okay?" He shook his head, riding himself off the dazed expression and smiling shyly, "You look perfect," he mumbled making her smirk. "Don't look so bad yourself handsome," she said with some more confidence, raising up on her tiptoes to press and gloss-covered kiss to his cheek, making his face blush a much deeper red.

He took her by the hand and led her into the living room where the two families waited for them. A gasp left Honey's lips as she saw them both, tears in her eyes as she watched Warren spin the girl around, his cheeks rosy and face broken out into a grin as his girlfriend hugged herself closer to his side. The two of them grew anxious under their families' stares as both dads tried to hurry up the picture taking process and getting 'the show on the road, so they could be early for the grand march portion of the night.

"Quinn," Honey whispered through her smile, "look how happy our baby is, let him have a moment," she said quietly before pressing a kiss to her husband's cheek. "Remember when we were that young," he grinned thinking back to their prom when Honey spent months being mad at him. Even though they weren't together at the time, he'd promised to take her to prom if neither of them were in relationships, the time came and he never asked, just assuming they were going together. She spent weeks mad that he had forgotten about her, until the night before when he asked what time she wanted to be picked up. "Yeah when you forgot to ask me to prom," she laughed as his lips formed a straight line. "I wasn't the brightest," he shrugged making his wife laugh, thinking about the very couple-looking prom photos that hung in her living room for years, constant teasing from their sibling about how in love they looked even with the lack of established relationship.

They took photos out by the trees in their front yards, tiny pink petals blossoming on the branches as each family took photos with their respective child and then the two of them taking photos together. Honey held it together for all of her photos and broke the moment Warren dipped Marissa as she placed a kiss on his cheek for a photo.

Her hand covered her mouth to muffle her cries as she leaned against Quinn, "thought you said you weren't gonna cry, only during the grad ceremony," the man mused as she nudged Quinn's side. "Shut up, our baby is grown and in love, I hate it," she sniffed, "remember when took him home from the hospital and our moms were gushing over how much he looked like you? I miss him being that small," she whispered as Quinn laughed and wrapped his arm around her, hugging her into his side as she wiped the tears. "I do too, but now he's a whole person, and we helped shape him into that person" he grinned as Warren shook Marissa's father's hand, and was pulled into a hug by her mother, "and I'd say we did a pretty good job."

Warren placed a kiss on Marissa's cheek as she went to talk to her family and Warren went to his. "Is it okay if I drive my truck to the school, therefore we don't have to rely on you guys to pick us up?" Honey nodded and looked at Quinn. "You're not drinking if you drive?" "Of course not," he shrugged, "We don't know if we are even going to the grad party but if we do and I drive I won't drink, and if I want to I will call one of you," Quinn smiled and nodded as he squeezed his son's shoulder. "Deal, now go have fun," he approved with a grin as Warren ran into the house to grab his keys.

Quinn grinned at Honey, "I'd say we did an amazing job," he bragged causing Honey to cry even more. "Please stop talking Q," she groaned as she led the way to their car, saying their goodbyes to Marissa's family as they got into the van. They watched as Warren opened the passenger side door for the young girl who blushed at his actions, got into his car and drove off in the direction of the school.

Honey couldn't stop the growing, it was inevitable, but she could join along for the ride, watching as her son turned from one of the sweetest boys into a caring man.

-

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[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 21 | Lyn-ding A Hand

Chapter Twenty-One | Lyn-ding A Hand

The summer came and went and, before he knew it, Parker was a sophomore in high school as a thirteen year old boy.

The fallout with Selina had almost no affect on the overall friend group except for Spencer, who decided to stay with the friend group despite his twin sister’s pouting. Spencer said that his sister was just trying to be nosey and that while she did have a massive crush on Parker, he knew because she wouldn’t shut up about it, it was only part of her motivation to ask Parker to be her boyfriend.

Her curiosity got the better of her and it divided some of the friends for a short time while their versions of the event circulated.

Regardless, summer made for some great movie nights for the group of childhood friends and all of them managed to find time to see Parker virtually. There were large gaps of time where Parker wouldn’t hear from anyone, but that was okay.

The incident with Selina made Parker feel a bit more reserved and protective of himself, specifically about his condition. More time was dedicated to writing and studying late in the evenings because of it. The fallout initially left a bit of a hole in Parker’s chest, but it was something Parker felt himself getting over quickly.

Selina always had a flare for the dramatic and now was no exception.

Parker also knew that the frustration of people not knowing about his condition and keeping it a secret would take its toll on him. It made him feel lonely and guarded, which combined during the new school year as Parker being a lot more quiet than he was in his previous grades.

Some of his friends did ask why he was reluctant and if he felt comfortable with sharing more, but Parker quickly shut all of it down and retracted into himself.

That is… until it came time to partner up in one of his English literature classes.

Parker had hoped that he might be left to his own devices and write a story on his own, but there was an even number of students in the class which dashed his hopes. Parker sighed and leaned back in his chair. If he knew the general pattern, he would be writing the entire story alone along with the report and someone else would get a piece of the grade he earned.

As his teacher read off the names of his fellow classmates, Parker heard his name called along with the name of a girl he had become acquainted with last year because of her writing. They had actually been at the same middle school as well and even shared a few classes now that Parker thought about it. They had never officially met, but that didn’t stop him from knowing her name.

Lyndsie Sullivan.

She was a bit of a quiet, pensive girl, but her poetry was absolutely flawless. It reflected a spunky, upbeat kind of girl who was mature far beyond her years. Parker didn’t need to be an adult to tell that Lyndsie was well spoken and knew exactly what she wanted and was willing to wait or do whatever was necessary to have it.

She also had a subtle boldness about her. During a few instances where one of the other students was being picked on, it was Lyndsie who helped come to that student’s aid. There was a subtle intimidation that loomed behind her bright green eyes, and she knew it.

So, when Parker heard his name paired with hers, Parker felt a mild sense of unease settle over him. There was something about her that, when they had class discussion together, that made Parker feel like Lyndsie could see right through the camera.

Still, this was just for class. He wasn’t going to talk to her outside of class. They were meant to talk for assignments and that was all.

Lyndsie came over to her new desk in front of Parker’s camera that was set up in class and smiled politely as she organized all of her books and notes on the desk.

“Hey, Parker. It’s nice to meet you finally,” smiled Lyndsie. “I think we’ve had a few classes together last year and in middle school, but we’ve just been ships passing in the night.” Parker looked into her eyes and saw a bright spark of creativity blooming in those green eyes of hers.

He smiled back politely, readjusting his tie and nodded. “Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. It’s nice to meet you too Lyndsie.”

“Lyn, please,” emphasized Lyndsie as she began tying her thick brown hair into a low bun. “Don’t get me wrong. I like my name, but I let my friends go by my nickname.” Parker snorted in amusement.

“Are we friends?” he asked. Lyn smiled and leaned forward on the desk, resting her chin onto the palm of her propped up hand.

“I think so. We have each other’s names and we’ve had a few classes together. We just need to find out our favorite colors and we’re basically besties,” grinned Lyn. “Unless you’re not comfortable with that and prefer to be strictly professional; but where’s the fun in that?”

Parker felt his cheeks getting a bit warm. Something about her features and her easygoing personality suddenly made him remember those nervous butterflies he felt when he and Selina talked all those months ago and, instantly, he felt himself wanting to retract. The last time he was asked his favorite color was when Selina went into that random rant about how boyfriends and girlfriends told each other things, and Parker didn’t want a repeat performance.

“Um… well… we’re at school and it’s supposed to be more professional,” stated Parker. Lyn sighed before shrugging her shoulders and snagging what looked like a fountain pen from her desk.

“Fair enough, Mr. Silverstein. Now, onto the assignment. We don’t have a lot of time in class to finish discussing what our story is going to be about, and I don’t want to have to work extra after school on something we could’ve knocked out right here and now,” stated Lyn as she began making notes at the top of the page.

Her go get em attitude was something Parker wasn’t familiar with from his fellow students. Many of them took their education seriously, yes; however, it was usually Parker who had to bring the conversation back on track. Rarely did they delve immediately into the assignment.

It was also odd that Lyn didn’t ask anything about his condition. Parker’s experience was that ninety-nine percent of people, when one-on-one, would ask him at least something about why he was behind the camera at home and not in class.

Not her.

It was, in a word, refreshing, and soon Parker found himself enthralled in their conversation about what kind of story they were going to create for their literature course.

“So, part of the rubric says that we have to do extensive research in the area of our choosing. It must be ‘historically accurate’ within reason for a fantasy novel. So, to me, this could mean a lot of things, and I can send an email regarding it, but I’m thinking that we need to find something we’re both interested in that could potentially involve a lot of research.

“We also need to cite our sources for whatever we choose, which will be fun. So, what do you want to do some research on? What do we want our story to be about?” asked Lyn as she tore her eyes away from the screen and onto Parker.

Parker, whose eyes were mostly scanning the rubric, glanced over to catch her eyes again. A shiver crawled down his spine as he glanced back at the digital checklist their story needed to achieve.

“Well, I know what I would want to do, but it’s not for everyone,” muttered Parker as an idea was already formulating in his mind.

“Oh? Let’s hear it. No bad ideas, relatively speaking,” stated Lyn.

Parker bit his lip and glimpsed his space poster in the corner of his study room. He sighed and thought there was no harm in suggesting it. It was an idea he had already, but he planned on this being part of an independent series he would publish on his own.

“Well… okay… hear me out…” started Parker before taking a breath before the plunge. “I’m really into space and satellites and everything. Could we do some kind of space adventure?” Lyn hummed contemplatively before nodding slowly.

“I… think we could do something with that. I don’t know much about space. Would this be about some kind of technology AI thing that finds a civilization? Or is it like Star Trek where you’ve got a captain of a ship and they go exploring around?”

“Um… maybe a mix of the two? I was just thinking about topics in general,” said Parker, surprised that Lyn was so easily convinced. Lyn hummed again and scribbled something into her notebook.

Passively, she remarked, “Personally, I’m kind of into pirates and all of that. Hey! If you’re not totally sold on a futuristic era, do you want to do a little combination of the two ideas? We have precedence with that one show ‘Firefly.’ Have you ever seen it?”

Parker had actually seen the show recently, but he didn’t see the very end of it because he had just started it.

“You want to do space pirate cowboys?” asked Parker, finding the idea amusing and alluring at the same time.

“Something like that. ‘Firefly’ mixed with a touch of ‘Treasure Planet’ and all of a sudden we have a hit. What do you think? Originality points and all that. Plus, we can each do research and break up the work if we want. I don’t know. What are your thoughts?” asked Lyn.

Parker thought about her proposition and already his mind was coming up with a bunch of fun ideas. He could see a crew of space pirates going around breaking all of the rules on different planets but also helping everyone. A kind of Robin Hood like character came to mind, and Parker found himself not opposed to the concept.

“Alright,” he said finally, noticing that Lyn had torn her eyes away from her writing to look up at him. “Sure. Let’s try it out.”

A beaming smile from Lyn suddenly made Parker’s cheeks very warm all of a sudden, making him look away from the camera as he quickly tapped away on his keyboard and shared his screen as a document.

It took only ten minutes for the two of them to come up with a solid concept for a story.

Together, they decided that the Galactic Federation, the overall ruling governmental body of the Interstellar Collective, had been corrupted by career politicians who had forgotten what it was like to scrape up a living. As a result, piracy and black markets blossomed in the oddest places – and space was no exception.

Captain Orion Zane, a charismatic leader with a true heart of gold, decided he wouldn’t stand for the injustice. He and a group of eleven others ran a ship that they collectively named “Karma” to intercept convoy ships and break up blockades of oppressive spaceships.

The announcement of class ended their creative flow, but Lyn offered her number and Discord username if Parker wanted to add her as a friend and talk more about the story later. In the meantime, she would start investigating the definition of “pirate,” marine laws that would apply in international waters as well as space, and weapons that traditional pirates used to see what they could futurize.

“Okay. Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll talk to you later Parker. I mean… Mr. Silverstein,” said Lyn.

“Bye, Lyn. Oh… sorry… Ms. Sullivan,” said Parker before exiting to the lobby and preparing for his next class.

For whatever reason, Parker suddenly found himself completely distracted for the rest of the day. He was researching space during math and history, and when he wasn’t doing that he was thinking about the way Lyn looked at him over the screen.

Every time he thought about her, everything in him tingled and made him almost uncomfortably warm. What was almost alarming was that Parker liked this feeling. Just thinking about her dark green eyes flicking up from her paper made him shiver.

Class continued as normal, and Parker found himself eagerly awaiting his English class just to talk to Lyn again. He even dared to add her on Discord so the two of them could talk after school ended. Their conversation were primarily about their collective story, but the conversation would often drift to other topics by the end of the evening when they had to go finish work or eat dinner.

Parker liked talking to Lyn. There was something about her that drew him in regardless of topic. What made it better was that they were similarly aligned in how they thought class should be conducted, what they thought about different elements of life, and even their favorite activities which were numerous and all over the place.

She was a fascinating person to talk to, and Parker realized later that his face would ache from how much he was smiling.

It wasn’t until dinner nearly four weeks later that Parker found himself snapped out of his stupor when his mom asked how he was feeling and if there was anything wrong.

“Your cheeks are so pink. You’re not running a fever, are you?” she noticed as she dished out a bit of fish, greens, and rice into a small dish for Parker.

“Oh um… well… I was just thinking,” said Parker.

“Thinking? About what?” asked his mom. Parker took the dish and sat down at his place on the table while his mom fixed herself a plate.

“Well… we got new partners today for English class and… well… she’s… really nice…” said Parker. The gleam in his mom’s eyes was undeniable as she sat down at the table and smiled knowingly.

“Oh? She?” prompted his mom. Parker felt his cheeks blushing harder than ever. He knew he must look as red as a cherry tomato as he quickly blessed his food and began eating.

“Y-yeah,” he said as he shoveled a part of rice into his mouth.

“Really? What’s her name?” asked his mom. Parker knew he was busted at this point. It wasn’t like he was keeping a lot of secrets from his mom, but he also didn’t mention his adventure into the walls or the breakup with Selina.

He licked his lips and kept his eyes averted ever so slightly, wondering why he was feeling suddenly shy about talking to his mom, as he said, “Lyn. Technically, it’s Lyndsie Sullivan, but she likes her friends to call her Lyn.”

Amanda smiled as she brought her cup up to her lips and took a drink. Parker unknowingly had been talking a lot about Lyn recently, but the context was usually class and how good she was at pretty much everything. Amanda suspected Parker might be developing his first real crush, but actually hearing it was both exciting and worrisome.

Amanda worried about when this day would happen. She wanted her son to develop feelings for someone in his own time, but she also knew the complications of his size when talking to someone who was much bigger than he was. There were so many factors when developing a crush and getting into a relationship, and Parker’s size was one of those factors; though he didn’t really know it yet.

It wasn’t something that would come up in normal conversation. Plus, there were complications when it came to how tall Parker was.

It pained Amanda to no end, but a worry she had was that Parker wouldn’t find someone his size who he would like.

Now wasn’t the time to talk about that – or maybe it was.

She would have to read some of her parenting books later to see how to talk about these topics with Parker later tonight.

In the meantime, she decided to celebrate his feelings and encourage him. These feelings were natural after all.

“Well, Lyn sounds like a wonderful girl,” remarked Amanda. At this, Parker’s eyes changed. His mom swore she saw what she could only describe as “dream eyes” as Parker thought about his friend.

“Yeah, she’s great. She’s into photography and showed me some of her stuff. It’s really awesome. She does these cool perspective shots of flowers and all sorts of other things. I need to show you some of the things she sent over Discord,” said Parker, a bit too eagerly as he suddenly realized and went back to eating, cheeks bright scarlet.

“Yeah?” asked Amanda, hoping to prompt further reaction from her son. Sadly, Parker only elaborated a little as they finished their meal together. Parker was in a bit of a hurry because, according to him, he had an important assignment he needed to finish before the end of the night, but Amanda suspected that Parker simply wanted to get online and see if Lyn was online and available to chat.

He excused himself from the table hurriedly and vanished back to his room, jogging to cross the floor and taking the stairs two at a time to make it back to his space.

Amanda cleaned up after dinner, conflicting emotions swirling inside her. It was only a matter of time before Parker started asking the hard questions about why he couldn’t go see Lyn in person.

Drying her hands on a crumpled dish towel, Amanda retreated to her own room to do some research about talking to your children about difficult topics such as puberty, romance, and, most crushing of all, adoption.

~~~^*^*^~~~

“Well, I think we’ve got the chapters outlined well enough. How did your research go by the way? Did you find the original case about space being international waters?” asked Lyn. She was laying on her stomach with her laptop propped up on some pillows and a lap desk as she scribbled and wrote in her notebook. Their conversation had been going on for three hours after dinner, and both of them were obviously starting to droop. Still, neither wanted to be the first to relent and hang up first.

“Yeah, I did actually. It’s actually kind of a combination between two or three different laws if I’m reading everything correctly. One of them is the Outer Space Treaty, the Accords, and the Moon Treaty. There are a bunch of laws and rules to go along with it which I have in the shared document I shared with you,” replied Parker as he stifled a yawn.

“Oh, perfect! I love it when nerds to their work,” teased Lyn as she made a goofy face at the camera.

“Ha ha. I could say the same to you. How much did you have written about pirates in your math class when you were supposed to be paying attention? I know because I checked the document and saw you typing away as soon as we left English,” Parker said, flipping the tables on Lyn.

“Oh! You hush! I passed my test with flying colors, didn’t I?” she shot back. Parker chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah. Like you said. Nerd.”

Lyn rolled her eyes and vanished from view as she stretched before popping back up to the camera. They stared at one another for a minute in silence, each holding the other’s gaze, before bashfully glancing away simultaneously.

It took another minute before Lyn looked back at Parker and cleared her throat, obviously preparing to ask a question. “Um… Parker? Do you… mind if I ask you something?”

The tiredness banished instantly from Parker’s eyes as the question sank in. This was something he usually asked his mom, and she usually replied with “you can ask me anything,” but only now did Parker realize how nerve wracking that question could actually be.

He bit his lip, feeling himself bristle and those precious walls he had slowly lowered begin to raise once more.

“Um… yeah? I mean, I guess. What’s up?” asked Parker. In the back of his mind, a flashback of Selina’s conversation ran right through him. Was Lyn about to ask him if he liked her? Was she going to ask if they wanted to be boyfriend girlfriend only to immediately turn it on him? Was she going to ask about his condition? Would she ask why he wasn’t ever at school? What if she wanted to meet up to write together in person or study together?

His nerves started to make him squirm and sweat. Parker honestly didn’t think it was that noticeable until he saw Lyn’s curious expression.

“You okay?” she asked. “I mean that’s not my question, but you’re acting a bit weird all of a sudden. You can say no, ya goof.”

Parker squirmed again and tried to shake his nerves away.

“Um… no. I mean, I’m okay. It’s just that the question could mean anything, so I’m just preparing for whatever,” mumbled Parker. Lyn eyed him again but shrugged and continued.

“Well, you can always say no or abstain from answering. I hope you know that,” stated Lyn in her usual matter-of-fact tone. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

Parker held his breath as Lyn eyed the camera and watched Parker’s reaction to her question.

“Are you the author of ‘Welcome to My Little Life’?”

The question threw him so off guard that his expression was obviously a dead giveaway. Relief. Curiosity. Excitement. Nervousness.

“Um… yeah. I mean, of course. It’s just a bit of a side project and everything, but I like posting there. It’s a good space for exposure and everything,” Parker replied. The tenseness in his body dissipated and the young teen could once again relax with his friend.

The look on Lyn’s face mirrored his own as she propped herself up closer to the camera, saying, “I knew it! I mean, I thought it was you, but didn’t want to make things weird or bring it up. Dude! I totally follow you for your story about your Dungeons and Dragons character. Tal’el, right?”

Parker had never really met someone who knew about his blog. He’d chatted with his followers like Karl, Zel, and so many others, but never someone he was already friends with.

“No kidding?” asked Parker in a bit of disbelief. “You like it?”

“Dude! Of course! And you’ve liked some of my stuff too. I posted some pictures and you liked them. That’s why I wanted to ask – to see if you knew,” said Lyn. “I’m Lyn_see Photography.”

Parker felt his eyes go wide as he remembered the exact posts Lyn was talking about. The perspectives Lyn took was from the edge of a television stand that showed the depth and vastness of the living room while keeping everything in focus.

“That’s you? Dude! No way! I thought the style looked like yours, but I didn’t know that was you!”

The two of them laughed at the strange coincidence.

“How’d you even manage that perspective?” asked Parker.

“HDR mode. Basically had to take two identical pictures and blend them together,” said Lyn. “I could show you one of these days on my camera. I also had to blend it in Procreate, but it didn’t require a lot of editing which was nice.”

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” agreed Parker, the last of his tension leaving his body.

“Definitely,” grinned Lyn. “If you don’t mind my follow-up question, but you looked tense earlier? What was that all about?”

Parker squirmed again and tried to shrug it off as he contemplated his reply. Bringing it up might pick at the scab that was over the sensitive spot surrounding his whole interaction with Selina and not telling her more about his condition. He didn’t want to lose Lyn as a friend and he wanted to keep his condition close to his chest, but he also wanted to trust Lyn. She was someone who he cared about.

Selina was right about one thing – you tell people you trust.

And Parker felt like he could trust Lyn; at least, he thought he could trust her enough to talk about it a little.

“Well, I mean… I thought you were going to ask about my… condition,” said Parker. He braced himself for whatever Lyn was going to say next and hoped he hadn’t accidentally ruined something good.

“Oh, that makes sense. I mean, I’m sure it’s a sensitive thing for you and everything,” replied Lyn. “Did… someone try and pry?”

Parker felt himself nodding before he even realized he was responding.

“I see. Well, I’m sorry that happened. I mean, I can’t say that I’m not curious, but I wouldn’t go asking questions unless you wanted to talk about something about it. I hope you’d be comfortable enough to talk about it with me if you needed to,” stated Lyn.

Parker couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Was it that easy?

An announcement of curiosity accompanied with an invitation to refuse.

The smile that spread onto Parker’s face stretched from ear to ear as another wave of genuine relief filled him. This was exactly what he hoped Selina would say, and now he was hearing it from Lyn – someone who he cared about very much despite knowing her for such a short time.

“I… yeah… I would feel comfortable with that… you know… if I needed to talk about it and everything,” muttered Parker. Was it warm in the room? Or was it just him? There was a moment where the two of them made eye-contact through the lens of the camera and, for a moment, Parker could have sworn she was right there looking at him.

His entire body felt tingly and excited. It felt like electricity was filling his body, pouring itself over him and making his heart race and pound.

Another minute passed before Lyn cleared her throat and continued their conversation.

“Good. Now, you have to tell me more about your story and where it’s going to go. I swear your updates are so chaotic that it drives me crazy. What’s going to happen with that princess? And is he going to cure the plague going through the community? I have to know!”

Parker laughed and shook his head.

“You know I can’t spoil anything,” Parker teased.

“Oh! Spoil sport! You’re either saying it because you’re cruel and want to torture me or because you don’t know the answer!” accused Lyn, obviously playing in a tone that made Parker’s heart race.

The two of them continued talking for the next hour where, reluctantly, Parker revealed a few details of his story to appease Lyn before the two of them signed off simultaneously, accidentally falling asleep for a moment before startling awake and saying goodnight. Parker crawled into his bed, face hurting from smiling so much, and drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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[wh0refornikolailantsov]

omg hi could you maybe do a high-school au where you're failing English lit and Tolya is assigned as your tutor and you had no idea he was good at English and just mutual crushing vibes over poetry and maybe he's a jock and you go to his games to cheer him on and yeah...

the song could be Miss Americana & the Heartbreak Prince by Taylor Swift

Okay, look. Normally I don't do AU stuff, because, so many reasons, but I looked at this request and thought about it, and then I thought about it out loud and it sent me and bestie spiralling so fast into a whole Shadow and Bone High School AU concept, that I kind of, have to write this. I kind of have to, but it will have a lot (A LOT) of AU background info so hold on tight buddy. It may get to the point where you're asking yourself "what happened to the original plot of the movie," and to that I say... Idk.

Between Classes And The Bell - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Explicit Language. Spoilers for Seasons 1 & 2 And Potential Book Spoilers Implied Throughout. Not Canon Compliant, As AU But Canon Referenced Throughout. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Word Count: 5k+

"My expectations are low," Kaz says, tapping his cane against the table as he passes Zoya, a gentle taunt. Zoya purses her perfect lips and taps her pencil against the table, refusing to take the bait. "But they can always go lower, of course."

"You really think this is an argument you'll win, Brekker?" Zoya asks, turning in her seat to look at him. He smiles, eyes darting to make sure there is no teachers to oversee the devilish smirk, and clasps his spare hand over the one holding the cane.

"Never been in a fight I couldn't," he says. Zoya looks ready to explode. And you can understand why, Kaz never loses Debate, and she was just beginning to think she had the upper hand on him, but he had only wanted her to think that.

"I don't think we need to take this so seriously," says another classmate, "we aren't being supervised."

"I think taking things more seriously when unsupervised is essential to a thriving environment," Kaz is mocking Zoya and she knows it. She wants to do something, and if she let her heated nature get the better of her, she might. But she just folds her arms, and takes in a deep breath. As Head Girl she has to be composed, and as Captain of the cheer squad she has long learnt composure. When Zoya breathes it is like even the air is competing for her attention, she is that kind of beautiful. You glance at her and she has her eyes closed, calming herself. She shouldn't let Brekker get under her skin so easily, but Zoya takes everything very seriously, whereas Kaz gives the illusion of caring about school, all the teachers think he is a perfect student, and his grades suggest as much, but it is more of a game to Kaz. But that would go unnoticed by most, after all, no body tends to look too closely at a boy with a cane. But you don't doubt he is probably the most threatening of all of you. You'd heard a rumour once that he was running a blackmail scheme and that's why his grades were perfect without trying. But you knew Kaz was smarter than he cared to display, and you didn't want to put too much stock in rumours. School is so full of them after all.

You get up as the class empties, and you try not to pay close attention to the way Kaz hovers in the room, awaiting it's empty, you cannot tell if he is waiting for someone or waiting for the silence.

Zoya is headed for cheer practice and you are quick to step out of her way, it is best not to get under her feet at the best of times, yet again when she is fuelled with rage from an argument and especially when she is running late at the expense of losing said argument.

You step to the side to let most of the crowd pass, but as the corridors empty you feel yourself getting confused about where you were going. You catch a glimpse of your science partners leather messenger bag, and watercolour eyes and you nod to yourself, science, you're sure you've got a science next... but which one? Probably Chemistry, you'll settle for Chemistry.

"You're getting all turned around again," comes a voice from behind you. You turn and the familiar face of Inej Ghafa, is closer than you expected it to be. Inej is one of The Dregs like Kaz, you hated that name, but High School will be as High School will be and names like that sort of stuck. They called them The Dregs because they were scholarship students who couldn't afford to be in the school without the scholarship, 'Dregs Of Society' as a senior had not so politely explained to you one day when you were fresh in and dumb enough to ask. You nearly jump out of your skin, seeing here so close to you, without sensing her at all. She has a tendency to do that, so light on her feet, petite and so quiet. You have often wondered if the ability to walk unheard came first or if it was something she had learned from being a gymnast. If the acrobatics came naturally and the silence was learned, you're not sure which would be more impressive. Inej is simply a marvel, her scholarship is based on her gym skills and you would never doubt why, you've never seen someone able to preform with such confidence and prowess as her. But more than that, it's her heart you've noticed most, so quiet and yet so endlessly kind.

"Am I?" you ask her. She nods.

"You have English," she tells you, pointing towards the arts block.

"I have Chemistry," you say quickly but Inej shakes her head.

"No you had Chemistry last semester in this time slot on a Thursday," she corrects you, "now you have English."

You pause, but you realise she is right. You don't bother questioning how she knows that, one of the things you were quick to learn about Inej was she seemed to know everything about everyone, it came with the quietness you guessed, that she can hear and learn everything about everyone while no one even notices she's there. You wonder if that's what Kaz sees in keeping her so close, but then again based on the way the boy looks at her, you'd guess that was something else.

You turn to thank her but she has already disappeared from sight.

You're not late but you are cutting it close when you make your way to your seat. Nina, who you know relatively well from the short time you spent in the drama department last year, at her own coaxing, throws you a smile. "Pass this back to the pretty one?" she asks, handing you a note.

You glance over your shoulder and you don't need to ask who she means, you should have guessed. Matthias is looking even less eager to be in this class than you feel, but you don't blame him. For an exchange student Matthias doesn't seem to be thrilled to be here at all, most of the time, except when he is with Nina, which he is every moment he has the opportunity to be.

Every time you hear him speak it is to tell Nina that something she is doing is improper, and where he grew up that would've never been allowed, and yet every time you see him he is staring at her with a look in his eyes that could make you believe in love all on its own.

"Please?" Nina asks, fluttering those long beautiful eyelashes at you. You've never seen anyone say no to Nina Zenik, it might not be at all possible.

"Of course Nina," you tell her and hand the note back. Matthias frowns, and you can see the thoughts bubbling to the surface. He mumbles something about etiquette and respect for educators and then recognises Nina's handwriting and stops his grumbling.

"I think I am winning him over yet," she grins before turning back to the front of class. Nina was studying to be a nurse, but after a particularly rough semester switched carer plans and now intends to be a mortician, most of her bubbliness has come back to her, but it's clearest enough when she has the blonde in her eyeline, he truly brings out the best in her.

You find yourself tuning out most of the lesson, which you know you shouldn't, your Literature teacher is old enough that you feel like you should be able to get away with not paying attention, but you know she sees everything, and you're more than a little convinced everyone is afraid of her. So you're knocked sick immediately when Miss Morozova asks you to stay behind as the class is finishing up. You hope for a moment you might have misheard her, but her cold eyes on you is confirmation that you didn't.

She beckons you to the desk with a flick of her wrist and you approach, wondering what misstep you took, but she just slides your previous paper across the wood at you, and you see your mark and goose bumps spread through your skin. Fuck.

"You're going to fail," she tells you. She has never had a knack for encouragement or being gentle with her students.

"That is not what I had hoped," you admit. She laughs, it's a cold type of laugh, all apathy and disappointment.

"Not about hope child, it's about application and effort, I am not sure if you're missing the point or if you are not trying to see the point at all, either way you're not getting where you need to be," she shuffles a few papers, "so I have assigned you a tutor, hopefully that should fix your shortcomings, if not you will fail this class."

"A tutor?" you ask, the cold feeling just continues to spread through your body. Please not Zoya, please not Zoya. You don't doubt she is good at it, you've seen the turn around of Zoya's tutoring, but she intimidates you if you're honest and you don't think that is optimal for your learning. "Who?"

"Tolya Yul Bataar," she says, not bothering to look at you, "I have already informed him, the rest he will sort out, you're dismissed."

"Tolya?" you ask. You hadn't thought about it, you know he is in the advanced class, but you'd never given it much thought. Always seen the jock first, which isn't surprising, his education likes to focus on his sports, they treat his twin sister Tamar the same. Their skills making your school highest in competitive sports, it makes the school want to focus on their athletics. But you're a little annoyed at yourself for not even thinking about it.

You've thought about Tolya more than enough to have justified thinking about his academics. But the slight crush you've had on the athlete who stands taller than you can reason and with arms you're convinced could move mountains, you have had time to think about him.

You had lunch with his sister once, just the once. Tamar is nowhere near as tall as her brother, with short cropped hair which is a contrast to Tolya's own, but her strength is just like his, even for her size she is fierce and unrelenting. She looks like she could fuck you up, and you know she has the power behind her to back that up, and she would, and is willing to if the need arises. Her girlfriend Nadia had also been present at that lunch and you'd wanted to talk more than you had. Tamar was a type of brave you often wanted to be, unapologetic in her braveness, equal parts bark and bite.

You don't try asking anymore questions, you're pretty eager to get out the classroom that you walk straight into the corridor, not thinking to look around you, and are met by a leaning Tolya, who is rested up against the notice board beside the door. If normally he makes your heart skip a few beats, seeing him waiting for you nearly makes your heart stop. You tell yourself that's a fear response, but you know you're lying. "Tolya," you say breathing a little too heavily.

"I didn't take you for the flunking English type," he smiles at you, "but then again how well do you know a person?"

You smile, trying to not blush too deeply and give yourself entirely away. "I didn't know I was flunking," you admit.

"That isn't reassuring," he says, but he isn't criticizing you, you know criticism when you see it.

"It wasn't supposed to be."

"I am sure we can fix it up, I am... fond of prose."

You're supposed to be studying Remains by Simon Armitage, but even in his tutoring state, you can tell Tolya is finding the poem just as painful as you are. You don't want to be difficult, you don't mean to be, you're stressed about the fact you're going to flunk English Lit, and you know Tolya wants to help. But this poem is driving your attention elsewhere, and in an attempt to not stare at the large, pretty, tutor doing his best to go through themes with you, you let your eyes wander around the library.

Jesper Fahey, the lean theatre student with the true talent for dramatics in every aspect of his life, right down to the way he is dressed with bejewelled collar pins and matching cufflinks, is leaning over your chemistry partner, giving him that smile you recognise. Jesper has always been a flirt, and he never misses the mark, you've seen him flirt with nearly everyone around, but he only ever gives Wylan those eyes. You'd seen it first the day Wylan has suggested pyrotechnics for one of their next play, the same day Jesper tried to pitch Rocky Horror, they were a strange match, but perfectly matched in their strangeness. You especially liked Wylan, as your partner in the sciences you spent enough time with him to know that he is so smart, the kind of smart that makes your head spin, he could be a scholarship student, but he actually is a Legacy, not that you'd know it by looking at him, or talking to him. He doesn't really talk about his family, and you never pushed, knowing he runs the tech for the drama kids and can make homemade fireworks is a decent amount of know about a person.

"Am I boring you?" Tolya asks, his voice soft.

"No," you chuckle, "but I won't lie Simon Armitage is, maybe to death."

Tolya offers you a chuckle in response. "In honesty, I would like to say there is credit in all poetry, and I think there is, something for everyone, but I am inclined to agree this is no Keats," Tolya concedes.

"Or Wordsworth, or even Larkin," you add. He smiles.

"So you do like poetry?" he asks. You frown.

"Did I leave you with the impression I didn't?" you ask. He tilts his head, and he looks so unreasonably large in that blue library seat that you bite your tongue to not giggle at it.

"I had to read your previous paper to prep," he says, "you made it sound like poetry was the lowest form of art."

"I didn't mean for it to sound like that, maybe that poem," you joke, "but not all poetry."

"So, what poems do you like?" he asks, closing the book.

"What poems do you like, I didn't take you for the type," you give that preconception willingly, hoping to dismiss it quickly, and get his true interests locked into memory in a hope to know him better.

"All muscle and no appreciation for art?" he asks. You shrug.

"I never thought you were only muscle," you say, "you've got height too."

He laughs a little too loud for the library but you're too busy smiling to care. "I like classic poetry, epic prose," he admits.

"Iliad?" you ask. He grins.

"Yeah, Homer is up there," he nods, "also The Cantos."

"Oh is that... Ezra Pound?" you check, genuinely unsure if you're right but the gleam in his eyes tells you that you are before his words do.

You sit for a while, swapping favourites and preferences and you don't hear the sound of the bell ringing, calling you to classes, you just keep listening to Tolya reciting from memory and you think you could listen to that forever.

"I hate to pull you away," comes a voice anyone would recognise. You look up and the resident Lantsov, Nikolai with his puppy grin and sparkling eyes is looking at Tolya, "but you are very late."

Tolya glances at the time, as long in you as you were in him, and gets up a little too quickly. "I lost track of time," he admits.

"I can see that," Nikolai spares you a glance, and smiles back at his friend. Nikolai is charming, charming in all the ways a politician might be without half the deceit and double the bravado. Handsome in the way that he knows he is handsome and leans on it, but doesn't rely on it solely like people as pretty as he often do. But it works for him, and you understand where it comes from. Lantsov is a Legacy student, which gets him a lot of allowances, but his older brother got expelled a few years back and he has been under a lot of pressure to not fuck up like Vasily did. So he goes the extra mile, does the extra work, head boy, and boy scout all in one, just to fix what his brother broke. The new girl Alina is hovering not far behind, Nikolai took a liking to her immediately, she looks lost in this place, she got in on a scholarship for a sport she didn't play and has been trying to juggle everything ever since. But she mostly talks about missing home, she has a boy back at her old school, a boy her heart aches at the absence of. Usually that sort of thing is a lie, but the way she talks about him, you would never doubt, you're not sure of his name, you've heard it once or twice, Hal, Mal maybe, you don't let your mind linger on the thought.

"I have to go, but I promise to meet you here tomorrow?" Tolya asks you, bringing you back to the library and out of your mind.

"I'll be here," you say. You watch the three of them walk away, the twins have been close to Nikolai as long as you've known any of them, thick as thieves and twice as protective of one another. You can admire a friendship like that.

"And the final stanza, ending with that imagery," Tolya is trying so very hard to stay on topic, but you are tapping your fingers across a very old copy of Odyssey and he knows you're trying to pull his attention away, and you know it's working.

"or six-feet-under in desert sand, but near to the knuckle, here and now, his bloody life in my bloody hands," you recite. "I know Tolya, it is ingrained in my mind I promise you."

"If you fail the next essay you won't be stuck with me anymore, you'll be failed," Tolya reminds you.

"I am very aware of my predicament," you straighten up, "fail and well fail, or succeed and be told the tutoring is effective and I must continue to spend these hours with you."

The way you tease him makes him want to forget the studying all together and just keep you in his company for longer, without explanation or reason beyond just wanting you there.

"This is such torture for you, isn't it?" He asks, not meaning a word.

"Not in the slightest," you confess. "My favourite part of the day, and not just because you bring really good snacks."

"I do," he agrees reaching to take a biscuit from the centre of the table. "Are you coming to the game?"

The question strikes you as odd, you have spent weeks with Tolya and you've discussed art and music and poetry at length, but you've avoided talking sports, you thought because he had wanted not to talk about it, but with this question you wonder if maybe you've been negligent in not asking him about that aspect of his life. If you've come across as uninterested in the athletics and dismissive because of it, and that thought fills you with an uncomfortable nervousness.

"I hadn't been planning on," you say slowly, "should I?"

"It's going to be a good game," he says, "a competitive one." You nod, trying to seem more enthusiastic than you're sure how to be about sports. "It's an important game," he admits, "and I would... like to have you there, if you want to come?"

"Are you asking me to come watch your game?" you ask, twiddling your pencil between your fingers. He smiles.

"Yeah, I kind of am," he admits, "is that okay?"

"Yeah," the blush creeps up your neck but has the respect to stay away from your cheeks, weeks alongside Tolya you've had to train yourself to blush more subtly, "I'd like that."

Genya and Nina are both fussing over Zoya in preparation for the game, Genya because she wants to be beautician and it is helpful, Nina because it's her prerogative to get involved wherever she wants to. Seeing Genya and Zoya be so friendly with one another is still a little unnerving, due to a not so friendly rumour about Genya and a teacher Genya had been the subject of a lot of hate from the girls at school. Zoya was among them. But the last year has brought everyone a lot closer, and everyone has become a lot more understanding, and Zoya with the help of Alina went around getting Mr Kirigan fired for his unprofessional behaviour, that which they could prove anyway. Genya weathered the worst of it all, and she never seemed to shake.

"Genya if you do not stop fussing me," Zoya warns her, but it's coming from a softer place than her normal warning tone. Zoya holds a lot of guilt when it comes to Genya, about not defending her, about not believing her, about not protecting her from the rumours.

Even Zoya had her fair share of rumours, the real reason as to why she doesn't date, the way her eyes linger moments too long on a pretty girl in the hallway, but again, you didn't like to put too much stock into rumours.

Genya twirls one of her red tendrils around her hand, trying to keep them off Zoya's long dark hair which she has pulled up into a ponytail. "Can I at least-,"

"No," Zoya says sternly. "David, please come get your girlfriend."

David, the reed thin brunette who rarely understands half of what is going on around him, looks up from the book he is reading, something on geology and metallurgy, to look at Genya who gives him a sweet smile, and he gives her a little wave, not having heard exactly what Zoya said. David and Genya are high school sweethearts, the type that you're not even aware you are rooting for at first, but at some point you realise the happiness of their relationship is the thing you are basing your idea of true love on.

"You're coming tonight right?" Nina asks you, throwing you a look across the room, you hadn't realised she noticed you being there, between trying to keep Genya from trying to colour Zoya's hair and Zoya from trying to kill Genya with a look.

"To the game?" Genya turns her eyes to you and they're glistening with anticipation. "I didn't realise you found your school spirit."

"I was invited," you explain.

"Yeah, by a tree with the muscles of a Saint," Nina quips giving you a wink. "I don't think it's school spirit they've found."

"Tolya?" Genya asks, tone shifting up a pitch with her eagerness.

"Don't say it like that," you say. Genya leans up on her elbows, resting her pretty face over her crossed hands.

"Like what?" she asks.

"Like," you gesture to her in her entirety, "like that, like you think you know something I don't know."

"If your truly flunking Lit, I think we all know something you don't know," Zoya says, "now can we get this show on the road, I cannot and will not be late."

"Ignore her," Nina mouths, "she's just cranky because... well because she is Zoya."

The air is brisk but you don't feel cold as you walk towards the field, you see Brekker underneath the bleachers talking with someone you don't recognise, but you pretend not to see anything.

Wylan has his arms around Jesper's neck in the back of the stands, and he looks less lost and more found. Matthias and Nina are bickering by the food queue about how acceptable sweet toppings are on savoury foods and she is too wrapped up in her fun game of wind up Matthias to see your wave, but you don't mind.

Zoya has corralled the cheerleaders and they're all pretty ready, Alina is staring trying not to get roped into anything as one of the cheerleaders in blue tries to tell her how good cheer is for the spirit.

Nikolai is trying to convince Zoya of something but you're not sure what, but you are at least sure it isn't working.

You are brought out of your people watching by feeling a presence close to your side, you turn your head and Inej is walking in stride. "Tolya is looking for you," she says, and you expect her to disappear into nothing as quickly as she appears, but she doesn't. She is a girl after all, not a ghost.

"When does the game start?" you ask.

"You have time," she assures you. She points south and you follow that guidance, and you see Tamar leaning on the gate, she is talking with some of the other players, and she looks so at home. It would be hard to believe there was a time when Tamar had to argue her way onto the team, given how much she has to offer.

Tamar gets a warning for cursing with enthusiasm and you cannot help but chuckle. If the other team wants a fight, they will definitely find one with her. You're about to ask if someone has seen Tolya when you feel the shadow casting across your shoulder.

"I'll get them back," Tamar is insisting.

"Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much," Tolya quotes, standing beside you. Tamar throws her brother an unamused look.

"Oscar Wilde," you say craning your neck up to look at Tolya. He looks different in his sporting kit, but his hair is still held back the same, and his arms are still exposed to the cold air, just not with rolled up sleeves this time. Looking at him makes you feel cold, and you want to ask him how he isn't.

"You're shivering," he points out.

"I am?" you ask, glancing down at your own body, "I hadn't expected it to be so cold."

"Here," Tolya reaches behind him into a bag and pulls out a jersey, it's for the team and is sporting his number on the back, he hands it to you with one hand. "So you're warm."

You take it slowly, mind racing with the many implications of such a small, kind gesture, and you don't want to jump the gun with this, with him. "Thank you," you manage, slipping the fabric over your shoulders. "I didn't even realise you had one of these."

"Everyone on the team has one," he says.

"No, a jacket," you tease, "you never wear one."

He shrugs. "I don't get cold," he explains, looking around to see how quickly he needs to make his way to the field.

"Then why did you carry it with you?" you ask. The jersey smells like Tolya, from being in his bag you'd guess, and you feel a weight in the side pocket, reaching in you find a small packet of dried mango. You let yourself smile at that.

"I've got to run," he says, "wish me luck?"

"Break a leg," you say, "or is that just something you say for theatre?"

"I'll take it," he says before joining the team.

You'd not given the sports of your school too much thought, but watching Tolya play you must admit you weren't giving the sport aspect much thought even now. You cheer for Tolya, not the game, you're watching Tolya, not the game. If anyone asked you what was happening you're not sure you'd be able to offer more than this name.

If you had any doubts about your schools victory they would have been quickly squashed by the victory cries from Tamar, all fervour and for more expletives than the coach is happy for there to be. She gets a whistle of a warning and a stern look which she just brushes off, letting her brother pull her into a hug.

You are leaning on the fence, which you hadn't noticed until now, with Tolya approaching you. The field is lower set than the stands but Tolya still feels very tall as he gets closer. You can understand why Nina described him as treelike. "Good game," you say. The warmth of his jersey on your skin feeling as secure as that embrace you watched him give Tamar, and it leaves you reaching out for him with eager thoughts and hesitant hands. You tuck them deep into your pockets- his pockets, trying not to give yourself away.

"Thank you," he says, the adrenaline in his smile is dizzying. "Thank you for coming by the way, it means a lot."

"Thank you for inviting me," you say. You want to say more, you want to find the words for this feeling, this gentle buzzing that is sparking between the two of you.

"Ask her you coward," Tamar calls from her place now sat next to Nadia, straddling the bench of a lower section of the bleachers, sharing a milkshake with her girlfriend.

Tolya laughs. "I made a bet with my sister, if we win I had to take that win, and take a risk," he says, and for someone so tall he looks so nervous. "And we won."

"You did," you nod, "quite well I think."

"Really well," he admits, laughter echoing in the spaces between the words.

"So what risk?" you ask, feeling yourself leaning onto your toes, needing to know, feeling your heart pounding in your chest.

"I was wondering if you'd like to see me, outside of school hours?" he asks.

"Like now?" you ask, trying to keep the smile at bay. He tilts his head in a nod.

"Yeah, like now, but maybe more... just us," he says. You feel like you might fall down but you can't help but tease him.

"For studying?" you ask. He can tell you're playing with him.

"No," he says, "not for studying."

"Are you trying to ask me on a date Tolya?"

"I am trying."

"I would like that, I would like that a lot."

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

"For someone who loved words as much as I did, it was amazing how often they failed me."

-- If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio

“Because freedom, I am told, is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.”

-- On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

and as for poetry, i like to talk about "Written in my Dreams by W. C. Williams" by Allen Ginsberg with other people because it's short and rolls over the tongue nicely and i like to come back to it, puts a smile on my face, you know?

i'll also never forget "A Carcass" by Charles Baudelaire from when we read it at school years ago and then again in high school and i have now chosen Les Fleurs du mal as one of the books for my oral school leaving exam, so it's definitely one of those authors i read once and was never able to get out of my head

and last but not least, Louise Glück (may she rest in peace) and her "Theory of Memory" which includes the ending "Right now you are a child holding hands with a fortune-teller. All the rest is hypothesis and dream." and i simply don't have a choice but to love this one

i have so many more favourites, but these are the ones i can think of right now hehe <33

what r ur favourite poems and quotes??

those are brilliant actually

mine are quite, different to what one may think but i like finding meaning in things that other people think are only surface level :

思い出なんか いらん - we don't need memories

this is from the anime haikyuu LMAO which is a fucking volleyball anime and it is the team motto of one of the teams. It is quite honestly my life motto at this point. I used to live in the past, excused people for thing they do now because they were different in the past. they were different in my memories. I was so focused on the past i forgot to enjoy my present. I am done doing that. My memories hold me back. I am tired of it.

"to love and lose and still be kind" - warsan shire

this is pretty self explanatory. i dont think I've had a hard life. but i certainly haven't had an easy one. i have a habit of giving too much of myself to people. I'm working on rectifying that whilst still being kind.

"but i cut people out like tags on my clothing" - conan gray

I LOVE people watching its one of my favourite songs. but this line is really important to me. I've cut the tags off of my clothing for as long as I can remember. ever since i was a kid. I also have a habit of cutting out people the second they break my trust. as easy as cutting off tags from my clothing. I don't think its a good habit or a bad habit. it just. is.

"It's always the ones who are quietest who often have the greatest things to say" - TJ Klune, Wolfsong

This is from one of my favourite books of all time. I was a quiet child for a while. I never got excited for anything and after a while my parents suspected I had childhood depression, we still don't know for sure if I did. It makes a lot of sense though. It took me a while to become confident in my own voice and my own opinions. this quote is really important to me.

"Men don't cry. My daddy taught me that. Men don't cry because they don't have time to cry.

I must not have been a man yet because I cried. I bowed my head and cried." - TJ Klune, Wolfsong

This isn't personal to me in anyway, I just really, really love this part of the book and these two lines in particular.

"I'll be your hands." "I'll be your sanity." - TJ Klune, Ravensong

love has always been something I've read about. but this quote takes the damn cake.

as for poems,

At a Funeral by Dennis Brutus

I analyzed this poem for an English Lit class and the story behind why it was written really stuck with me. It was written after the death of Valencia Majombozi who was shot on the day of her graduation from nursing school. Its a protest poem and it just hits really fucking hard.

Death of a Naturalist by Seamus Heaney

This was the first poem that i ever took inspiration from. I had of course written before, but I really enjoyed Heaney's writing style so it strongly influenced my poem Quietude, which I am planning to submit to the empty inkwell publication...hopefully lol

Identity Card by Mahmoud Darwish

This poem is written as a form of protest poetry as well. Mahmoud Darwish was a Palestinian poet, for those of you who do not know and he wrote this poem about being asked for his identity card by Israeli Officers. Its really, really good.

[itsaninfestation]

📱

Thirteen-year-old Kylee hated sports. She was more of a theatre or slam poetry sort of kid so being dragged to a football game by her dad was akin to torture. Her father did not seem too keen on taking her either, but mom was tired and pregnant, and she needed some much-needed time to herself, so off they went on an eight-hour journey to Illinois to watch her father's high school alma mater play in the finals.

Stupid football. Stupid long drive. Stupid Dunfee High School and their unusually good football team this year.

They arrived at the large stadium over two hours early because her dad was a stickler for time and over-compensated for possible traffic jams on the way, allowing them to be just in time for the tailgating that was happening.

Stupid parking lot party where adults got drunk before football. Kylee snuck off from the partying (not like she really had to try as her father had found some old school friends and was currently three beers in and she was probably the last thing on his mind). She wandered around the other side of the stadium, trying to find an area a little less full of loud, drinking adults.

Instead, she found a bunch of loud teenage boys as they scrambled off the Dunfee school bus, laughing and joking around as they pushed and shoved each other. Kylee slid behind a nearby dumpster, not wanting the catch the eye of their coach, who had begun shouting at some of the rowdier boys. She waited until the noises moved away and died down --presumably now inside -- before she dared to wander out again.

Kylee was pleased to see that the bus was empty. And it was blissfully quiet once again. She walked toward the bus. It was an older, faded yellow school bus with chipping paint and -- Kylee nearly tripped on something on the ground and she fought to regain her balance. She had tripped on a hardcover book; a copy of Atlas Shrugged. With an annoyed huff, she picked it up.

Kylee had never read this book, but her English Professor's mother had a copy of it on her bookshelf that Kylee wasn't allowed to read yet. Had one of the boys dropped it? Kylee made a face: a teenage football player was not the first person she could imagine reading a book meant for adults.

"Excuse me."

Kylee jumped and let out a strangled yelp. She whipped around to see a very large number 10 jersey in her face. Her eyes traveled up to the wearer. The teenager before her was the largest person she had ever seen. It wasn't his height -- which wasn't much taller than her dad -- but the sheer broadness on his shoulders and the impressive bulk of his arms. Kylee was one of the tallest in her seventh-grade class, but next to him, she felt tiny.

She was staring and staring was rude. her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and her mouth went dry, but she managed to reply.

"I…um…you…err…do you know anyone who dropped a book?"

[mfaunlv]

Here They Come!

Meet the Incoming Class

PhD/ Black Mountain Institute Fellows

Krista Diamond (Nonfiction)

Krista Diamond's essays and fiction have appeared in or are forthcoming in The New York Times, Slate, Hazlitt, Longreads, Catapult, Joyland, TriQuarterly, Beloit Fiction Journal, Porter House Review, and elsewhere. Her writing has been supported by Bread Loaf, Tin House, Sundress Academy for the Arts, and the Nevada Arts Council. In 2022, she was writer-in-residence for Desert Companion Magazine for whom she wrote a series of essays about Las Vegas lore. Her essay 'That Girl is Going to Get Herself Killed' was recorded by Oscar-nominated actress Naomie Harris for Curio. Prior to moving to Las Vegas, she worked in the national parks. She has an MFA in fiction from UNLV and is looking forward to continuing her journey at UNLV where she will be happy to offer personalized recommendations about desert hiking and Las Vegas tiki bars.

Arpita Roy (Poetry)

Arpita received her MFA in Poetry from George Mason University, where she was the Thesis Poetry Fellow for 2023-24. She has been awarded Cheuse Center Travel Fellowship and Bread Loaf Katharine Bakeless Nason Award. Her work can be found in Thrush, Psaltery & Lyre, Couplet Poetry and X-Ray. Arpita is from Kolkata, India.

Fiction MFA

Gustavo Alvarenga

Gustavo Alvarenga is a Salvadoran born writer whose cultural background and strong family bonds play heavily into his fiction. He was raised in the suburbs of Northern Virginia but moved to Las Vegas during his sophomore year of high school when his parents relocated for work. He worked as a technician in the telecom industry for over a decade before deciding to switch careers and commit fully to the art of writing. He enjoys board games, hikes with his dog, rainy days, snowboarding, rock climbing, and meeting new people.

Jade Bailey

Jade Bailey grew up in Kansas. After completing a BSc in Anthropology at the University of British Columbia and an MSc in Applied Social Research at Trinity College Dublin, she worked as a social researcher in Dublin, Ireland. She is pursuing her MFA in Creative Writing at UNLV.

Shayla Felix

Shayla Felix (She/her) is a disabled writer born and raised in Seattle Washington. She originally attended Eastern Washington University but later transferred, completing her BA in English with a Creative writing Emphasis at Western Washington University. Most of her writing focuses on hybridity with topics orbiting around Magical realism, feminism, nature, and self-identity. Some of her favorite pieces that she’s written appear in Voidspace_, Quarter After Eight, and Cold Mountain Review. She also hopes to travel to all 50 states one day.

Julia Lu

Julia is a fiction writer currently living in Houston, Texas, where she was born and raised. She studied film production in college. Julia enjoys cooking and baking, taking walks, and picture books. Her favorite season is summer.

Izuchukwu Udokwu

Izuchukwu Onyedibiemma Udokwu is a Nigerian storyteller. His work has appeared on LOLWE, Kalahari Review, AFREADA and others. He was shortlisted for the 2020 K & L Prize. His shortlisted story was published in an anthology of speculative fiction on Africanfuturism, Black Skin No Mask. He lives in Lagos, Nigeria, where he is a fashion designer and an interior designer, and still makes time to read and write stories.

Poetry MFA

Hüseyin Arıkan

Hüseyin Serhat Arıkan is an immigrant and poet from Ankara, Turkey. He earned his BS in Political Science from METU. He's excited to have his second collection, "Firar Folkloru" (The Folklore of Escape) published in Turkey this year. He is a progressive rock enthusiast and he can't manage to maintain a streak in Duolingo.

JM Huck

JM Huck is coming to creative writing with a background in visual art. She studied photography, printmaking and textiles at many schools in New York City, where she lived for eight years. JM spent three years teaching English in Japan, and she grew up a "third culture kid," graduating from an American High School in Italy. She has been placemaking her whole life and is happy to call Nevada her current home. Huck's undergraduate degree is in Economics from Agnes Scott College.

Seth Kleinschmidt

Seth Kleinschmidt is a poet from rural Wisconsin. Hailing from Lorine Niedecker's hometown, he proudly champions the Midwest in his poetry and is currently at work on a collection of sonnets about the Black Hawk War. He graduated with a degree in literary arts from Brown and has worked in the radio industry, both on and off the air, for fifteen years. Seth arrives in Las Vegas from Washington, DC, and in free moments plays soccer, bakes pies, and browses adoptable cats.

Lindsay Loughin

Lindsay Loughin is a nonbinary bipolar poet and essayist born in California and raised everywhere else. At one point a US Marine, and at another a high school marching band instructor, their current boss once said their resume looks like a fake person. They live with their two cats, collect cassette tapes and N64 games, and have a complicated relationship with the Oxford comma.

Non-Fiction MFA

Anesce Dremen

(photograph is courtesy of a collaboration with Balvinder Singh)

Anesce Dremen is a U.S. writer and educator often found with a tea cup in hand, traveling between the U.S., China, and India. A first generation college student and domestic violence survivor, Anesce studied in four cities in China with the support of the Critical Language Scholarship and Gilman Scholarship. She was a 2022-23 Fulbright-Nehru ETA in India. Anesce’s work has been published in Stillhouse Press, Gordon Square Review, SPAN Magazine, Tea Journey, Persephone’s Daughters, The Bombay Literary Magazine, Tiny Spoon, and Shanghai Poetry Lab, among others. Her work can be found at AnesceDremen.com.

Taylor Wright

Taylor Bradley Wright graduated from the University of Iowa with a BA in Playwriting before moving back to Los Angeles and founding a non-profit production company: 48 Hours Theatre. She's written and staged multiple original works, including A Dead Rabbit, One by One, and When the Lights Go Out, and was a 2023 finalist for the Dramatists Guild Foundations National Fellows program for her play, 1976: A Motel. For the past decade, she's been working event logistics, publicity, and talent relations for large-scale events across the country, including the Oscars, The Tennessee Williams & New Orleans Literary Festival, and over 100 film premieres, luncheons, screenings, and galas. She published her first novel, There's No Place Like House, in 2021 and has travelled from The Tattered Cover in Denver, CO to Prairie Lights in Iowa City for live readings and book signings. Her next book, Los Angeles: A Eulogy, is forthcoming. She is over the moon to be moving to Las Vegas with her banjo-playing husband and rescue pup, Olive, this summer to start this new chapter as a grad student at UNLV.

[piedoesnotequalpi]

🍄❄️🌿 if you want!! - @pigeonwit

(Writer ask game!)

🍄 (how did you get into writing fanfiction?)

This has...three answers, depending on how far back you want to go.

Answer 1: The first fanfiction I wrote was a cursed but hilarious Shakespeare mega-crossover that I've contemplated posting here based on a writing prompt on a sophomore year English final. I then proceeded to not write any more fanfiction (except for my Broadchurch-inspired poetry in creative writing), until...

Answer 2: At the beginning of the pandemic, I was rewatching Parks and Rec and was curious how, at one point, Ben knew about Leslie's favorite spot in City Hall. I wrote a short one-shot with my thoughts, made an AO3 account to post it, and thought I'd never use the account to post anything else, until...

Answer 3: A few months after I first watched Newsies, I thought I could fit the Newsies characters into a Much Ado About Nothing retelling pretty well--Javid as Ben and Bea, Spot and Race as Claudio and Hero, Katherine as Don Pedro, etc. My irl friend encouraged me to write it and helped with some plot stuff (Jack dressing up as Rapunzel was her idea if I remember correctly). I thought I wouldn't write anything else after that, but then I had ideas for one-shots and was kind of in a bad place mentally, so I kept going, and now here I am >140k words into the Bachelorette AU! What a time!

❄ (What's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?)

I thought about this in the shower, and I think I'd like to see a whodunit/murder mystery fic, which seems like the sort of thing @jack-kellys would be good at. I know I certainly would not be up to writing a proper murder mystery though (despite taking an entire English class on detective fiction in high school).

(Last answer under the cut because this got long, oops)

🌿 (give some advice on writer's block and low creativity)

I know I maintain the illusion of avoiding writer's block by having a semi-regular posting schedule for the Bachelorette AU, but I am very much not immune to writer's block. Here are some things I do, with the caveat that this is just my experience and my methods do not work for everyone.

If the block is coming from feeling like I'm not sure what I'm doing in the next few scenes, I'll take a bit to figure out and write down what the next few scenes will be. These won't be super detailed, but I'll sometimes specify the POV character and usually say "xyz happens." For example, right now I have notes in my bachelorette document about who's going in the hot seat when, as well as the scenes I want to have take place after the men tell all filming wraps.

If I'm just overwhelmed, I'll take a little longer and write a list of things, in order, that need to happen in a chapter (this is what I did for each chapter for the bachelorette au). In the Much Ado adaptation, I wrote down each scene number from the play and decided which POV(s) each scene would have and in what order, which served as a reminder of what each scene focused on.

If it's just that the words won't come, I look back over what I've read, go read a book, or I just sort of force myself to plod along (with the exception of these past couple weeks, where I've been really tired from work and haven't had much time to sit down and designate Writing Time). Brute-forcing isn't for everyone, but when I'm doing that, I try not to delete what I've written and I try not to think about whether it's good, since if I don't like the scene I can go back and edit or rewrite it later. I also do sprints sometimes.

After yet another abandoned novel attempt in 2022, I never skip ahead to the scene I really want to write. I'll write down single lines or bits of dialogue, but that's it. If I skip ahead, it makes it way harder to finish the fic.

[atomicradiogirl]

a love letter to myself in 2019

i have serious nostalgia and wistfulness for my high school self (specifically my 2019 self) before covid and depression and health issues and a toxic relationship stole the rest of my adolescence where i didn’t get my freedom back until college. i know she’s still in there somewhere and while i’m happy now there was a long while where i wasn’t. so let me share some things my 16 year old 2019 self loved, just to keep her alive.

i loved the beatles and i would take the subway from my high school to the john lennon memorial in central park during free lunch period and get a hot pretzel from the street vender. i would walk around and listen to music and act like the main character.

i loved the holiday drinks at starbucks where i was a regular every single weekday morning until covid and a stalking. i loved that the baristas knew my order without me even having to say it. i loved having a place to act like an adult when i was far from it.

i loved that one last perfect beautiful summer in the hot humid new york city where i pretended to be a college student and fell in love with psychology. i loved reading on the train every morning and wearing sundresses. i loved getting shake shack (especially the cheese fries) and i so fondly remember karaoke and drag shows and real manspreading hours.

i loved english class. i loved annotating my books and i loved writing poetry for the literary magazine. i loved laughing in first period math class and i loved developing my love for cinema in film class.

i loved the diner almost a few too many blocks away from school where we almost didn’t make it back in time for class. i loved their nachos and their matzo ball soup and i loved their pancakes.

and so many things.

to my 16 year old self, i’m sorry it took so long for you to be truly happy again. you’re still loved and you still love so many things. you still love reading on trains and the beatles and shake shack and diners. you’re still around. i’m still here. we’re okay now.

[bookworldofmeghan]

The Teacher by Freida McFadden

woah...

Spoilers Ahead!!!

I don't know if I have any words. I started my Freida McFadden journey with The Housemaid. I absolutely devoured it and loved it. I have heard so many great things about her books and since the first one I read was amazing, I had high hopes. I am a full time high school teacher so I was very intrigued to where this was going.

I am truly and utterly disappointed in this book. First off the POV that they switch between is Addie and Eve for part one, Addie and Nate for part two, and maybe all three of them for part three (I can't remember). Eve and Nate are married and teachers at the same high school. I hated Nate from page one, he refused to touch and even have a conversation with his own damn wife. The way that I thought this might potentially turn into a relationship where the husband alienates the wife from her family was crazy, even though I knew from the beginning that he would end up having an affair with a student (YUK!). You couldn't hear how hard I hit the keyboard for that yuk but trust me I SLAMMED! Nate is a thirty-eight-year-old English teacher who teaches poetry to the juniors. Eve teaches math at the same high school with the same grade. Addie is a sixteen-year-old junior who lost her dad and struggles in math, but guess what? Her favorite subject is English. Wait... you're never going to believe it. Her favorite topic is POETRY!

Addie ends up being in both teacher's class. She already has rumors flying around from her issues last year between another math teacher and herself. Well, well, well, Nate ends up falling for her. Addie joins the poetry newspaper that he runs and one day stays after school. Nate ends up kissing her and they rendezvous every week/day after poetry meeting. Meanwhile, Eve goes home to her lonely house and grades work and shops for her shoes. She ends up having an affair with a shoe salesman and dreams of running away with him, even though they both know it can't happen.

Addie eventually repeats old habits by stalking Nate and gets caught. Eve catches Addie and Nate kissing in his classroom and she takes a picture for proof. When she confronts Nate, after telling her lover (Jay), she asks for a divorce and for him to resign. Eve finds Addie inside their kitchen and they talk about Nate taking advantage of her, Addie gets defensive and hostile and whacks Eve over her head with a frying pan. Thinking she's dead, she calls Nate and he comes running. While Addie is busy and out of the kitchen, Eve wakes up and Nate strangles her. But doesn't tell Addie, leaving her to continue believing she killed her. Nate comes up with this idiotic and dumb plan to get rid of Eve's body, with Addie's help of course.

While they are digging a hole in this abandoned pumpkin farm, Nate abandons Eve to be left at three am in the middle of nowhere, stranded. She ends up finding her way home with Jay, her ex-best friend. Nate sets Addie up to take the blame for his wife's disappearance. Meanwhile, someone is leaving reminders of Eve in his house. Addie is investigated, but her nemesis, Kenzie, comes to talk to Addie about her involvement with Nate. Turns out, the girl that's been bullying her was jealous. Nate started having an affair with Kenzie when she was just fourteen years old. They team together and do the brave thing of going to the detective and admitting what has been going on.

Just you wait, Eve is alive and ends up planning her revenge with Jay (her mister). They get revenge for burying her alive, by killing and burying Nate (alive? can't remember, I think so) in the same exact spot. The investigation goes away and everything with Addie and her ex-best friend (Jay) returns to normal, and Addie ends up being really close to Kenzie.

I was grossed out every step of the way. And wait, I forgot, Nate got with Eve when she was fourteen. He's not attracted to her when she turns thirty, because he's only freaking attracted to fourteen and sixteen year old girls. This book never should've been written. This was horrendous and volatile subject matter that is just disgusting and deplorable. I am so glad I didn't waste money on buying this book. Let's ignore the subject matter, I found this book to be so predictable. I knew that everything was going to happen chapters before. Normally there is a huge plot twist with Freida McFadden's books, and there just wasn't one in this. No shocking moments. No mouth dropped moments like there usually is, and that was disappointing, that's what makes a Freida McFadden book.

Goodreads overall 4.01 star rating

My rating: 2.0 stars

[jaywalking-rogue]

I was allowed to post silly/interesting And make Them Bloom facts on Tumblr and will henceforth use it for the greater good.

Anyway I want to talk about Yakamoz members' levels of English because there's some interesting deviations from canon and also I'm an English major, so enjoy.

Shiraishi An: around C1-C2 levels, fluent, much better than in canon. Taiga encountered a huge issue with language barrier when he first moved to America (although he wasn't half bad himself), and understood immediately that An would need English to survive in musical world going forward, because he definitely had plans for her to go beyond Japan. So he taught her a bit and basically made it so he would only talk to her in English & make her talk with him in English as well. An was initially frustrated, but as he was coming from the place of care, and it was kind of an interesting experience, she got interested in English and went out of her way to learn it even more by herself, at times taking it almost as seriously as she did singing.

She also met a lot of English-speaking people during her opera shenanigans, watched a lot of foreign productions and masterclasses and such. An was kinda interested to learn English at school too but soon got very bored with drills and grammar and in general felt like she's too ahead of the class to enjoy it. She still gets good grades in it though!

She's very good at keeping conversations, knows a lot of idioms and slang terms, but has a considerable accent since she never bothered with correct pronunciation and wouldn't know a grammar rule if it bit her in the face. Her writing is also lacking.

Additionally, An knows a bit (very little!) of German and Italian, because these languages has a lot of operas written in them.

Asahina Mafuyu: around C1-C2 levels, fluent, about the same/better than in canon. She is in very similar situation to An and is learning English because of Suzune's (Mafumom) concerns that she will need it in the future. Which, to be fair, she probably will! She started learning it seriously quite a bit earlier though, around the first year of junior high.

She's about as good at is as she is in canon, and is able to write essays and even poetry quite well. Her accent is also not as noticeable as An's; however, because of her often overthinking her correctness of speech, she struggles with keeping a casual conversation and sounds a bit "like a textbook". She's also not as familiar with slang terms and cultural context as An is.

She and An are known to exchange brief talks in English during practise or breaks, usually initiated by An. Although Touya could probably understand what they're saying, he prefers not to.

Aoyagi Touya: B2-C1 levels, about the same/slightly worse than in canon. Touya's primary source for English knowledge is school, and while he succeeds in it quite brilliantly, he never goes out of his way to learn more of it and couldn't be bothered to. Like Mafuyu, his speech is very proper and refined, and sounds very official. Could probably keep up with a business conversation, and he sometimes reads English books as a hobby, but not much else. He has very little practice with spoken English.

Tsukasa Tenma: A2-B1 levels, worse than in canon. Although canon Tsukasa's English is already... Debatable, Yakamoz!Tsukasa is considerably worse in it because he was never as interested in learning it. He only was invested in musicals briefly, soon focusing on his piano, and haven't watched much, if any, English media/musicals since, which hasn't helped. He keeps up with English at school and is okay-ish at it, on a normal level for a teen his age. That's about it, thought.

Kusanagi Nene: A2-B1 levels, about the same as in canon. Nene still spends a lot of her free time gaming, including online games, and has learned some English from chats with other players and watching reviews and playthroughs. She also keeps in touch with western musical scene, but it isn't much, and she's self-conscious when using English anyway.

Yoisaki Kanade: A1-A2 levels, about the same/worse than in canon. Although Kanade is distantly aware she'll probably need it if she wants to further her career, she doesn't have the time or energy to study English, and dislikes the idea of planning that far ahead anyway. She relies on Mafuyu when she encounters something she needs help with, and it has worked out for her so far.

[ijustkindalikebooks]

Review: Reading Lessons by Carol Atherton.

In her twenty-five years as a secondary school English teacher, Carol Atherton has taught students of all abilities, from all walks of life. But the common thread to her lessons has been the books which have appeared on syllabuses year after year. But what is it about these books that sparks conversations? And why do they still matter? From Macbeth to Lord of the Flies, and from An Inspector Calls to Noughts and Crosses, each chapter invites us to take a fresh look at the novels, plays and poems we studied at school, revealing how they have shaped our beliefs, our values, and how we interact as a society.

As someone who still takes in the works from their time at school be that the work of Thomas Hardy, the poetry of Maya Angelou and the plays of Priestley which is covered in this book I was intrigued by this book as I fondly recall the books I enjoyed during my time in education and this book certainly took me back and made me think about what we take except subtext from the books we study.

Short essays that cover a range of books that are traditionally covered in classrooms, this book certainly gives you pause for thought and reminds you something is never 'just something'. There is thoughts, ideas and meaning in words and this is made clear from the first essay, 'My Last Duchess' which is definitely a poem I never got to study but now want to go and read because that seems something that I missed out on.

Atherton's own personal experience fusing with the ideas brought to light by these stories are a revelatory and brilliantly delivered, leaving you wanting to read more books right there and then but also wanting to take your time to take in every word. I appreciated also being able to read about books my parents got to take in in school as well, for example 'A Kestrel for A Knave'.

A fascinating read that delives into high school english classes with a new perspective, I really enjoyed this book about books.

(Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the ARC!)

[fshoulders]

Thought I didn't have anything to add here, but then I pondered. I do have something to add about "what I assume my teachers were trying to teach me with the classics".

I'm not a secondary school English teacher, but I've played one in the past: I used to substitute-teach English at the private high school where I myself matriculated around the time of Jurassic Park. I've taught classes on Great Expectations, Jane Eyre, Henry IV Part...mumble, the Iliad, the Ramayana, Their Eyes Were Watching God (if you didn't get taught that as a classic, go enjoy it now, oh my word).... Lots of stuff. And one time, I taught a class on why we take English class.

It was at the end of my first and longest stint as a substitute, when the head of the English department had broken her arm in twelventy places so I ended up teaching 3 or 4 sections of Junior English for several weeks. We'd started and finished Their Eyes Were Watching God, and moved on to something else, and by then I knew I loved these kids. Which was a shock: when I was their age, I was a misanthropic little paladin and did not like most of my peers. But high school juniors (16-17 years old) are whip-smart, but not yet cocky with it like seniors. They like to have fun, but they're easier to get to quiet down and think seriously than sophomores. However, after those weeks, I felt like even the kids who were best at English class -- who did the reading and raised their hands and weren't afraid to make wild, beautiful connections -- didn't really know why they were there.

So I asked their Regular Teacher if I could take one class period in each class and just do a group discusssion about what English class is for. Because the vibe I was getting off them was 'so I have English grades to use to get into college with'. I had 'em write down their answers anonymously to "What is English Class For?"

They handed their answers in, and I read 'em out. And we talked about their answers, and then we talked about my answers. They had some answers I hadn't thought of. And some of my own answers I didn't have to bring up, because that class already had! A lot of them knew they needed to learn to write well, for instance. We talked about the different kind of things they might want to write besides college essays and eventual job 'deliverables'. (I seem to recall telling them that even if they never wanted to try to write original fiction, that didn't mean cribbing techniques off the 'masters' couldn't make their fanfic better. I know I am a dork, but they laughed!) Some of them talked about a sort of cultural acquisition: getting to know exactly the sort of 'great books' and liberal arts touchstones that were getting beaten up in those screenshots at the top of the thread.

But I think maybe one kid in one of the classes, if that, wrote down the thing I really wanted them to take with 'em out of English class -- English class teaches you how to read more skillfully.

And some of the texts they practice reading on are texts they wouldn't have chosen, which makes them surly. (It sure made me surly in middle and high school.) Some of them are difficult to read. But reading is a skill, like any other. Even if they hadn't wanted to read Jane Eyre, or A River Runs Through It, or Elizabeth Bishop's poetry, or Toni Cade Bambara's short fiction, they could use those texts to improve their facility to read deeply, closely, and well. Then they could apply that facility to any text they wanted to read. For academic ambition, for pleasure or self-improvement or curiosity, or to keep up with a crush. And much of that skill is even transferable, out of the English language, out of the written word! They could read into and under horror movies, political ads, rap lyrics, art films, video games! They could notice and name the biases in the things they read, or read the context around a story the way this whole beautiful thread above did with Huckleberry Finn.

Reading deeply and critically is an underrated skill. We don't talk about it enough, we don't practice it enough, and maybe we don't even know when we're supposed to be learning it. Maybe the screenshotted people had terrible teachers who never made it clear that art isn't endorsement, that we can read against the past but still understand it, or indeed why they were sitting in that classroom at all. If you don't hand the student a scalpel, maybe this is what you get: a reader who stared at each book like the outside of a frog and took nothing away but the fact it reeked of formaldehyde. Maybe it's just a series of bad jokes!

But come, for Muses' sake let us sit upon the ground, and tell mad stories of why we hate Gatsby's guts. (With supporting evidence from the text.) Tell me whether you think the narrator of Wuthering Heights wants you to approve of Kathy and Heathcliff's relationship, and why you think that! Is he manipulating you to feel a certain way? What language feels manipulative, or engages you more with one character's emotions than another's? What do you think Jim thinks of Huck in this chapter, and why do you think that? Which racism do you think is the character's, and which is the author's? How do you tease that out?

English Class: You can bear that book a grudge for the rest of your life, but learning a lot from it today is the best revenge.

[wanderinglotus7]

POET IN PROGRESS

November and December brought me the peace I needed to wrap up 2023 on a high note and walk into 2024 with a new mindset. God gave me a taste of what the "slow life" really entails. I appreciate all the small moments I can get just to enjoy the simple pleasures life has to offer. That saying, I've been thinking a lot about my life. Yet, this isn't new to me. With my vision board in sight, I began asking myself some questions...WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?

Loaded question. Really, what am I doing with my life. It could be the change of the seasons or God gracing me a break from work, but I began asking myself where is life directing me. I'm 27 now, and opening a new chapter in my life. I'm leaving the grief & anxiety behind me (hopefully they wont become a major distraction in my life again). Singlehood has taught me to place myself first. To love myself again! I'm not in a rush to level-up in my career. I still have another year and a couple more clinical hours to rack-up before i can sit down for the LICSW exam (ugh). (I'm still 50/50 on this decision). I'm blessed to be with Adelante for almost 2 years come June. Call me a career woman LOL!

My health & mental health are pretty stable. I've reconnected with some old friends as well as reconnected with some new ones. I'm still capable of providing for myself. Therapy helped with asserting my boundaries. I'm able to focus on my hobbies. So, what's missing...?

I guess I'm still adjusting to my new life. Finding that perfect work/life balance will be a constant theme in my life. As long as I can address my needs early before compassion fatigue & burn-out take over, I should be fine. Then the aspect of school popped into my head. Not too long ago, I just completed 6 years worth of college, and I have the student loans to prove it. Why am I thinking about returning to school. In reality, I don't have the time to enroll in college again. Not even for a part-time program. Anyway, what would I study. I don't need to take any classes related to social work or psychology. My current work experiences is giving me all the lessons I need to better understand the world better. Then there's my vision board.

God was sending me a message via my vision board. God is telling me that this season is my time to invest in my passion. That passion is writing. If money wasn't an issue, your girl would be spending her time travelling and reading good books. If money wasn't an issue, I would be working in a bookstore. As an alternative, I can visualize myself as a travel blogger. I don't technically want to become a professional author/writer full time because my intentions behind writing isn't motivated by money. Plus, my inspiration doesn't work like that. It comes and goes like the ocean waves. I WRITE BECAUSE I HAVE SO MANY STORIES TO SHARE.

GOD BLESSED ME WITH A POWER FOR WORDS. My pencil is my sword. My words give me voice.

"Your life is already artful-waiting, just waiting to make it art."- Toni Morrison

Thank you liberal art colleges for pushing your students out of their comfort zones. I'm glad I took a few English courses at Bridgewater College before I graduated. The English department was my gateway into the world of poetry. Ever since then, its been one notebook after another. Ding! Why not go back to school for creative writing. PROBLEM: Time & Money. God always makes a way out of no way. Starting in June, I'm going back to school. I'm taking 3 six week online workshop classes to improve my skills & knowledge around poetry. And I entered my first chapbook, Mariposa, into a recent poetry chapbook contest. Fingers-crossed.

[the-contemporary-critic]

Hello!

My name is Branda. I’m a high school student in San Diego and the writer of this blog. I moved to the US when I was a year old and have lived in San Diego ever since.

I started this blog because I plan on becoming a journalist in the future. One of my many hobbies is writing, I absolutely love it. I’ve written short fiction stories, poetry, essays (obviously), and non-fiction articles. The purpose of this blog is for me to review different media I interact with. That’s another one of my hobbies; watching TV shows & movies, reading, listening to music, and taking it all in to process.

I do a lot of things outside of this blog. As I mentioned, I’m a high school student but I also take college classes at my local community college. I run a Banned Books club and I’m part of a booktok club at school. I have a YouTube channel where I go over the math I learn. I’m the type of person who finds a busy & chaotic atmosphere to be relaxing. That’s why I do so much.

Going back to the purpose of this blog, I watch & read a lot of stuff. Even with so much, I have favorites. My favorite TV show is the 2012 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles series. When I type "teen" into my keyboard, it autocompletes the title. I watched it when I was a kid and I started a trend of rewatching my childhood shows last year. I rewatched this one, and it stuck.

As for my favorite movie, it surprisingly isn’t TMNT-related. My favorite movie has to be the movie adaption of The Outsiders of S.E. Hinton.I read the book in my 7th grade English class and I fell in love. I love all the characters, the dynamics between them, and the plot. My favorite character will always be Ponyboy, but my favorite duo has to be Dally and Johnny. After all, Johnny was the only thing Dally loved.

My favorite book isn’t The Outsiders, although it is a very close second. The only book that manages to beat it is The Stranger by Albert Camus. I was in a reading slump and the book brought me back to life. It was my introduction to absurdist literature and philosophy. I’ve only ever fallen farther in love since.

My favorite musical artist is most definitely Lana Del Rey. One thing l1l talk about more soon is that I absolutely love Lana Del Rey no matter how much I can’t stand her cult following. I’ve listened to her for 17,290 minutes in over 2 years. Now, don’t judge me for this, but my favorite album of hers is UItraviolence. Norman Fucking Rockwell doesn’t even come close to Ultraviolence. My top three most streamed songs of hers are all from the UItraviolence album. If her new release can top UV for me, I’d be honestly be a little shocked.

If we bring up the k-pop industry, my favorite artist does obviously change. I don’t listen to any 4th generation music, but I’m still attached to 2nd and 3rd gen artists. SHINee is the 2nd gen artist that tops the list for me. They have the best vocalists & dancers in one group. They’ve tried so many concepts and have started so many trends. There’s nothing you can dislike about them.

I’m now done ranting about favorites. I can’t wait for you all to join me on this blog & I’s journey. I know I’m going to enjoy it, and I hope you do too :).

[movieteenagers]

Wild Heart, Chapter 1

MSR // College AU // Rated T // WIP // Read it on AO3

August 1983

Damn this school and its liberal arts philosophy. 

As a physics major, literature wasn’t necessarily Dana’s “thing”. She’d much rather sign up for an extra chemistry course, or maybe even a computer science elective, but she needed an English course to graduate, and she figured she ought to get it over with sooner rather than later.

She flipped through the course catalog lazily, musing over each of the different class offerings.  French Feminist Lit? Intriguing, but her French was no good. Greek and Roman Playwrights? No, the Classics majors she’d met were too stuck up, her randomly-assigned freshman year roommate among them. Shakespeare, Poetry, Fantasy…ugh, no, no, no.

Finally, she came across the listing for ENG 243: Gothic Literature .  That was intriguing.  Angst, brooding, and ghosts sounded like just the thing to keep her attention.  She made note of the scheduled class times and location in her Filofax, right under MAT 264: Analytic Geometry III and PHY 310: Intermediate Laboratory.  

—

She is, surprisingly to her, not the first student to arrive for the class.  She glanced at her watch – it was only 12:15, so she was a whole fifteen minutes early.  The class was in Pickler Hall, famous for its tiny classrooms holding no more than a dozen desks and a singular chalkboard. She liked getting to these classes early on the first day in order to ensure herself the absolute best seat, but today, the room wasn’t empty.  In the back corner of the modest, dusty classroom, in a desk pushed all the way against the wall, there was a lanky, dark-haired boy she didn’t recognize – a young man, really; he was definitely an upperclassman – reading a pocket-sized paperback book called Hypnosis In the Relief of Pain.  Hippie pseudoscience , she thought haughtily. He held the book high in one hand, elbow resting on the desk in front of him, with a pinch of concern between his eyebrows that inexplicably charmed her.  He didn’t look up at her as she slid into a desk closer to the center of the class, in the front row, but once she settled after pulling her own book out of her bag, she felt oddly like he was studying the back of her head.

Slowly, more students started to trickle into the classroom, and the stranger boy’s gaze felt less heavy.  She nodded politely at a girl she recognized from around the science building, but she didn’t see anyone she really knew in the mix.  She twisted her body and grabbed the back of the chair, pretending to pop her back in order to sneak a glance at the boy with the oddly entrancing energy. Despite the rising murmur of students, he sat unmoved, still reading with his elbow propped up on the table.

Just then, the professor, a small, elderly man in a tweed jacket with elbow patches, toddled into the room.  Dana stifled a giggle at his stereotypical appearance.  “Good afternoon to you all,” said the professor. “I’m Dr. Taylor.  Glad to see some familiar faces in here. Just as happy to see some new ones.” He nodded at Dana in the front row.  “This class is structured simply.  You read the novels, we discuss them in class.  Every once in a while you write a paper or take a test.  You won’t have to write a drop of fiction, I promise.” Dr. Taylor reached into his bag and pulled out a thick stack of stapled packets.  “You’ll find the syllabus is comprehensive…”

Dana once again felt that she was being watched, and snuck a glance over her shoulder at the dark-haired boy. He was looking at her.  They made eye contact and held it for a few seconds, but then she was handed a stack of syllabi to continue passing on and she refocused forward.

He was very cute, she mused. Not her usual type, but objectively attractive. Maybe a little creepy, with the staring…but she felt butterflies in her stomach. It was not a feeling Dana was incredibly familiar with.  It had been awhile since she’d even wanted to be noticed like that – she hadn’t broken up with her high school boyfriend, Marcus, until March of her freshman year, and hadn’t really dated since.  She broke up with Marcus, after all, because she didn’t want some teen romance holding her back from her goals.  She was going to be a doctor, and she didn’t want to be tied down to one idea, one person, or one location. She had no romantic illusions about a suburban house with a white picket fence and a man paying the bills.

This guy, however, was wiggling his way into her brain, and she hadn’t even heard him speak yet. She decided she would try to talk to him after class, maybe grab his number, but play it casual.  He was obviously interested in her, too, if the way he stared at her was anything to go by.  She tuned back in to Dr. Taylor’s droning explanation of the syllabus.

“And there won’t be any sort of cumulative final,” he explains, “because I don’t want to grade them.”  A few students generously chuckle under their breaths. “I guess that’s all for today.  The first novel we’ll be reading is, as I mentioned, Wuthering Heights. For Wednesday, come ready to discuss the first fourteen chapters.  I’m excited to hear what you think.” He gestured subtly to indicate that the class was dismissed, but Dana stayed seated for a minute, letting the half dozen or so other students filter out before her.  Just as she suspected he would, the dark-haired boy hung back too.

Dana stood and turned around to face him, though she pretended to catch his eye simply by accident.  He sat casually, arms crossed over his chest, looking at her expectantly, with the slightest of grins.  She smirked in return.  “Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he replied.

“I’m Dana. Scully.”

“Mulder.”

“Mulder?” He nodded. “Just Mulder? Like Cher?”

He chuckled.  “Yeah. I guess so.”

She swung her backpack up over one shoulder.  “You an English major?” she asked.

“Psychology, actually,” Mulder replied, finally moving to gather his things —no backpack, just his spiral notebook and the hypnosis book he’d been reading earlier — and stand up as well.  He really was tall. “Needed an English credit.”

“Same,” Dana said. “Well, I’m a Physics major, I mean. I needed an English credit too.” He gestured for her to exit the classroom ahead of him and followed her out into the hall.

“Well, I guess we’ll be experts on spooky stories by the end of the semester,” she said. 

He chuckled again, as if at a private inside joke. “Can’t wait. I like spooky stories.”

“Then I think we’ll have a grand time here.” She smiled in a way she hoped was charming. She was really no expert at this whole flirting business. “Well, I’m around. For…studying. I mean, I hope we can trade notes and stuff? I work in the library, too, if you ever…you know. Stop by.” She cringed internally and bit her tongue to keep her mouth from running. “I gotta get to my next class.  See you Wednesday, Mulder.”

“See you Wednesday, Scully,” he replied as she walked away. She wondered if he’d already forgotten her first name.

[allalliecreate]

In middle school (I think seventh grade?) I learned there was potential for the books they made us read to be good because we were simultaneously reading The Giver in English and a sci-fi book that I don't remember in science.

But when I got to high school I was quickly disappointed. I hated 9th reading Animal Farm, The Odyssey and Romeo and Juliet. I was only vaguely bored reading the actual works (no strong feeling either way) but hated writing the papers they made us write. They always had very specific topics and it seemed like if I felt I did a good job, nope you get a D. I hate this paper? Much better, B+. I was so anxious I was constantly getting stomach aches and my mom had to institute a "one absence per month" rule. When it came time to pick classes for the next year, I tried to pick regular English rather than honors, but the counselor kept trying to convince me to continue in honors English, I was so smart, she knew I could do it. I was to anxious to say no I don't want to do more I only did that year because I was already doing the honors math and I thought I could just get the advanced degree (there was three degrees we could get: the standard, the advanced with 1 year honors English and geometry, and advanced with honors that had 3 years honors English and up to precalculus I think).

10th grade was better, but I was absolutely bored reading The Scarlet Letter and Julius Caesar. We might have also done papers or read more things, but I really can't remember them. All I remember is I did better in 10th grade than 9th. I was once again convinced that I should do honors English, was once again too anxious to do the opposite.

Then summer reading came along. Every year before an honors English class, we had to pick a book from a list and read it over the summer, write a paper, and take a test on it. I picked And Then There Were None. I loved it. 10 years later, I still have it in my bookshelf. Then the school years starts, and I think I had the best English teacher that year that I had ever had. We did a poetry unit that I can't really remember other than I used canvas for the unit project. Then we did The Great Gatsby. It was so fun (a mysterious neighbor whose always throwing wild parties!) , and again we had a project to do rather than a boring pretentious paper to write. We had a big list of item we could pick from and we had to choose 2 to do. I don't remember any of them except two. One was to draw a scene. An artist in our class did a comic of when Nick met Gatsby that had everyone thirsting over Gatsby. The other option I remember was one I picked: you had to rewrite a scene from a different character's perspective. I did Daisy and when I presented it I even read it like I thought Daisy would talk. Everyone thought it was so good and I kept that writing for years. I think it got thrown away with my other high school writing and at the time I saved everything at school so I have forever lost it.

And then we were told we were going to To Kill a Mockingbird. I was so positive it would be back to the stuffy boring books about people doing very little and flowery language and stuffing your face with symbolism. I was completely surprised that it was about a little girl. That had adventures with her brother, who was also under 10! We did have to write a paper for it, but it was a short one. We had to argue whether or not the two sub-stories (Atticus's trial and Scout's adventures learning about Boo Radley) could be separated and still be complete stories. I think I argued that while they may not be able to be two independent stories, they could be separated into two companion novels and still be as satisfying. I don't know if I still believe that, I haven't read it since then, but it is one book I wish I had my own copy of.

12th grade wasn't as good as eleventh, but I did like reading Beowulf and The Canterbury Tales, and just a little of King Arthur. Macbeth was also fun. What I really enjoyed the best was that I was no longer in honors English. That year, instead of doing a long paper on a single vague word (like "honesty" or "bravery" or "love") that the honors students had to spend the entire year researching, I got to write a paper on what makes a hero using a movie hero. I know I wrote about Mulan and I think the main point of my argument was that she wasn't a princess with a whole country to consider, she wasn't some chosen one who had to make a choice to make or break the world, she wasn't even being specifically hunted by some evil. She was just a daughter that loved her father.

got thoughtful about opinions on bad books so here’s an inverse: what’s a book you had to read for school that you actually enjoyed/have grown to like? mine is Lord of the Flies