#i HATE education i HATE SCHOOL i hate everything this STUPID SYSTEM STANDS FOR and most importantly I LOATHE VARIABLS

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

burgertron HATE ged prep . burgertron PILEDRIVE WHOEVER MADE IT SO THAT YOU HAVE TO TAKE 4 SEPARATE TESTS TO GET A PIECE OF PAPER THAT SAYS YOU DID IT into THE FUCKING DIRT!!!!!!!

[detentiontrack]

alter intro???? ALTER INTRO??? (only if u want! /nf. signed, another system)

Sure! Why not. So I can’t make them front on command so this is all written by me (sage)

(Also I’m very early in awareness so there could be more I don’t know about yet. But these are the main ones.)

Cameron/Cam (do NOT call him Cam unless he says you can), 21, he/him, bisexual, protector/deals with triggers and self care, has probably been present since the trauma started.

- comes out if I’m making bad decisions or not taking care of myself (like if I don’t eat or drink water and have no motivation to make food)

- comes out if I’m extremely distressed and can’t use my coping skills, and then makes us do the coping skills himself

- frequently flirts with men and changes my tinder profile to show men

- hates taylor swift for some reason (is a weezer/the front bottoms fan. Also dabbles in boy genius and phoebe bridgers but will never admit it. Sorry Cam lol)

- other than me, he knows the most about psychology (our major) and in a pinch, can function at school (doesn’t like taking tests though so that’s MY responsibility)

- the only other part besides me that knows how to drive (he was the most present when I was learning how to drive because I was so anxious about it)

- yells at me for not eating or sleeping and leaves me nastygrams if I don’t take care of myself

-

Lily, 17-25 depending, she/her, no sexuality (not aromantic, she just hates everyone equally and thinks all people are inherently untrustworthy and bad and thinks we should not have ANY relationships. We’re working on that in therapy.) persecutor, been present since about age 9, deals with conflict, holds residual eating disorder symptoms (mostly body/appearance based symptoms) also can’t experience social anxiety or insecurity.

- is the only one who really meets the criteria for BPD (shocker /s)

- deals with interpersonal conflicts like relationship and family issues.

- literally hates everyone. Especially Cameron. It feels like trying to gentle parent kindergarteners when they’re both co conscious.

- hyper feminine. Will dress my body up with makeup and hairstyles and fancy clothes even if we’re just going to the grocery store.

- sometimes comes out or is co conscious when I’m feeling really insecure or socially anxious

- that annoying vegan + low carb + low sugar girlie. Yells at me if I eat bread twice in the same day.

- to be fair to her, used to be a LOT worse. Her role while living in an abusive household used to be to be super oppositional and stand up for us and our siblings so no one gets hurt. She has bitten someone before and would do it again. Literally isn’t afraid of anything. This can backfire though if someone hurts my feelings and she wants revenge.

- doesn’t like driving and doesn’t know how to drive but always wants to front while I’m driving

- doesn’t know anything about our education or the things we learned in school, and thinks our major is cringe.

- thinks literally everything is cringe and lame

- just told me this post is stupid and everyone should “mind their own goddamn fucking business” (I, Sage, don’t feel that way though!! Ask whatever you’d like /gen)

(???) I’ve been referring to him as Jared. Ageless (but I get middle aged man vibes) No pronouns or sexuality (I just go with he/him), present since the start of trauma, last resort alter

- by last resort, I mean his job is to completely shut off all emotions if it’s not safe to process them in the moment. During the abuse, it manifested in going completely “blank”, and now as I navigate triggers, he shuts off all emotions and makes me numb like a robot and fronts until I’m in a safe place.

(Like it happened a while back when I got triggered at a grocery store. He kept us together until I got to my car and could breakdown and allowed me + Cam to deal with it)

- Cam HATES him because he believes that we should be processing our emotions in the moment and not repressing things (which is fair, because I repressed all emotions and trauma for a long time, but sometimes I need to keep it together at work or in school or in public)

- rarely ever talks or is co conscious. It’s all or nothing with him.

(I don’t feel comfortable saying her name online for personal reasons so I’ll call her C) C, 8/9-11. She/her. No sexuality because she is a child. Child alter (the term “little” personally icks me out)

- rarely ever fully fronts but loves making her presence known

- my therapist and I’s best guess is that she’s basically me if I hadn’t gone through all of the trauma and lost my childhood innocence (I also was always expected to function like an adult in my actual childhood so I never really got to act like a kid)

- likes “childish” media like amphibia, toh, and inside out/io2

- likes to dance and be silly

- biggest fan of lily but lily HATES her and thinks she’s annoying

- comes out when listening to certain pop songs or when I’m being silly with my little siblings

- doesn’t have the ability to feel angry and doesn’t know what abuse or trauma is. Remembers absolutely nothing from our childhood. My therapist and I are working to understand if she even knows if she’s a part of a system

[officialkatie]

we r sooo back (sadface)

i know with every passing day that i am not meant to be a teacher. seriously. i wish i could go back in time and tell my past self that this is NOT the path for you because at some point you have been bestowed anxiety issues and so store so much stress in your cells. i know the stress is killing me from the inside. i know that it is turning my hair gray and giving me bad skin and terrible digestive issues and turning me into a shell of my former self. i literally hate this. i have never hated anything more than this except for probably organic chemistry but at least i was suffering with friends. meanwhile instead i have teachers telling me how stupid kids are and how much everything sucks and i am seriously going to snap. i already did yesterday and i am having a serious anxiety attack about the repercussions. there have been none so far but we were off today. i feel like i am just waiting for the other shoe to drop and for them to tell me i cannot finish the program because of my "behavior" or whatever. which typing is sounds ridiculous but honestly parents are so stupid and crazy that they WOULD demand a student teacher be removed from the classroom for making a stupid comment not thinking because she's under immense stress every single day and gets no help and no money and all the kids are so stupid. i know this is a website where we're like 'ahh the education system is failing these kids' and yes honestly i agree. but there's only so much i can do for an 8th grader who just does not care. they did not learn to read beyond third grade and do not care to. they get no help at home and i give them a zillion chances and they do nothing with it. this is why i can't be a teacher. i get so frustrated when these kids don't care about something i'm really passionate about. i know its my job to instill this passion in them but they just suck the life out of you. please don't ask me to sharpen your pencils for you, eighth grader. you see everyone going to sharpen pencils. you have done it before. you can go do it. but no. here i am and it's 12;20 and i'm having an anxiety attack because i snapped at you because you were too lazy to go sharpen your god damn pencil and now i feel like i'm going to get in trouble. which fine. don't snap at a kid. i get it. but seriously you're going to kick me out over one comment that was so stupid? maybe if you had actually taught these kids any sort of critical thinking skills or respect at all they would just go sharpen their damn pencils. yes i snapped at a kid. i have felt terrible about it for over 24 hours. it is literally decaying my body. i shouldn't be kicked out over it. that's stupid. it's a stupid thing to kick me out over and what does it matter anyways. i've learned my lesson. i do not want to work with kids. they are overwhelming. if i have learned one thing from student teaching it is that i am not going to change the education system.

i would have been a great teacher. i truly believe that i would have been a great teacher. but i cannot stand the amount of BS that comes with teaching. the lack of respect from everyone around you. everyone is miserable all the time. i will gladly take a job where i am working with none of those breaks if it means i won't need them. i can vacation when i want and not confined to a school schedule. i won't have to worry about the teenage boys looking at me in a gross way. i can leave my work at work and have time to myself. teachers are literally always on call always on alert. so much is expected of them with little in return. i can't live on all this stress. i take everything to heart and i take things so seriously and i want to do well and i have come out of this experience feeling so terrible about myself. i don't know why anyone would want to do it. i can't be like the other candidates in my program that are so excited and ready to change kids lives. it baffles me. i just don't feel like they do. i'm not the kind that is so motivated like that. i love working with kids but maybe it shouldn't be my career. adults are no better but i don't have to be on eggshells around them like i do with kids. maybe i should have student taught somewhere else. i havent connected with these kids like i did my camp kids. i connected with those so easily and right now its like week 13 and i haven't connected with them at all. they don't care. none of them want to be there. i can tell. i don't want to be there either. i need a balance of indoor and outdoor and this is not it. i need outside time i need respect i need a fucking bathroom privilege. why are teachers so limited in their bathroom time and then there's only like 3 teacher bathrooms in the school. seriously? i can't be a teacher with my problems. my stress is too high and my digestive system is too weak to be a teacher. i think if i was a real teacher i'd die.

i literally had an anxiety attack tonight thinking about going in tomorrow and i couldn't even admit that to my parents. i kept thinking about how i made a stupid snip at a student that didn't even come out right that i immediately regretted and i know that's not an excuse and i'm not trying to excuse it and they're going to kick me out and then i won't graduate and then what. all that money wasted. i don't think that would happen though. it was an honest mistake and my teacher would defend me. she wouldn't leave me to the wolves. she's been good to me and kind and helpful. she knows it was a mistake and that i regret it. and if it came to it she would defend me. and she wouldn't let them remove me. what kind of a waste would that be. they're going to let me finish because no one cares about a stupid student teacher. if it becomes a problem i will just tell them the truth. you do not have to worry about this happening in the future because i am not going to teach in this or any district ever. because i hate this profession. no offense to the teachers and administrators in this imaginary scenario. you have all been very nice to me and i am sorry for what i said. but 1. it could have been WAY worse and i didn't even mean it in a bad way and 2. i think teaching sucks. im just here because im not a quitter. so you can't remove me. i will finish out the session and you will never hear from me again.

ok i think i've calmed down. even though i'm still anxious about that actually happening and i'm not discounting it from the realm of possibility because some parents are crazy and WOULD complain i think it is not as likely to happen as i think it is. because it's not really worth the effort. i'm leaving anyways. it was a mistake and it won't happen again. the end. it would be stupid for them to escalate it more than it needs to be.

i think i am ready to try sleeping.

[hutchhitched]

The Marrow of the Story

Written by: @hutchhitched​ 

Prompt 17: Everlark enemies to lovers, a long-standing grudge (could be anything, even simple) but somehow it is discovered that Katniss is a bone marrow match for Peeta. If she doesn’t donate he will die. [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone​]

Ratings/Warnings: E

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic and the world slowly ground to a halt. This is the eighth of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. I wrote most of this a few months ago before getting stuck on some transitions. Since then, the teenage daughter of one of my closest friends has been diagnosed with B-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia and must undergo a bone marrow transplant this spring. As such, this story became much more personal than a prompt. I’m sure I’ve taken some liberties with the medical aspects and ethics of this story. They are intended for story-telling purposes only. K, I hope you enjoy my take on your prompt.

  “Ms. Everdeen, I need your signature,” my administrative assistant says briskly as she enters my office.

 “What’s this for?” I ask as I scribble my signature on the form.

 She takes the manila folder and hands me another, indicating that I need to sign it, too. “Maintenance orders. The library and those lockers in the freshman wing that don’t lock properly.”

 “Got it. Thanks.”

 “Oh, and you have a call waiting on line three. I told him you were busy, but…” She shrugs as she walks out of the room, and I sigh and drop down in my desk chair. It’s been a really long day.

 “Ms. Everdeen, Panem North. How can I help you?”

 A rumbly, entirely masculine voice reverberates through the line, and I wrap the phone cord around my left index finger. Even before he’s spoken three words, I’m already impatient for the call to end.

 “Ms. Everdeen. It’s Peeta Mellark. How are you today?”

 I narrow my eyes and resist the urge to slam the phone down in the receiver. Mr. Mellark is not my favorite person. He’s the principal at Panem South, my high school’s cross-town rival, and he and I have always clashed. It might be his smug arrogance when he explains his educational philosophy, or it could be the way he surveys me and then turns away in dismissal every time I see him. Whatever it is, I’ve never been able to stand him, and it’s obvious he feels the same if our interactions at every systemwide meeting and educational conference is any indication. My greatest fantasy consists of him being fired in disgrace. A close second is his forced transfer to another school—any school, so long as it’s out of state and I never have to see him again.

 “What do you want, Mellark?” I snap. I have so little patience today I’m afraid I might actually use profanity if he doesn’t hang up within ten seconds.

 “Doing that well, huh? Always good to hear a friendly voice when I have to contact you.”

 “I thought you were on medical leave,” I say with little compassion. It’s not my finest moment, I know that, but I really loathe this man.

 “I am,” he admits. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need your help. I know we’re not exactly friends, but—”

 “Friends?” I laugh. “Are you kidding me? I don’t even like you. There’s no way I’d be your friend. Not even if you were dying, and I had the cure.”

 Silence stretches across the line, and I cover my face at what I’ve said. The words are rather unforgivable, and I open my mouth to apologize when he says something I don’t expect to hear.

 “Well, I guess that answers my question. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

 “What question? You didn’t ask me anything,” I say, exasperated.

 He sighs heavily, and I almost throw the phone across the room. “Katniss—sorry, Ms. Everdeen—I don’t really know how to tell you this, so I’ll just ask you to check your email. I think you’ll find something there from me. It’s from my personal account, so you might have to look in your spam folder. It’ll explain everything. Have a good day.”

 And then he hangs up without even bothering to say goodbye. That complete and utter bastard hung up on me. I mean, I wanted him to leave me alone, but he could have at least had the courtesy to say goodbye before cutting off the conversation.

 I know I’m being unreasonable, but I don’t have time to deal with it at the moment. The last bell of the day is about to ring, and I hurry from my office to oversee students loading onto buses and wandering the parking lot as cars zip in and out of traffic. It’s one of the most nerve-wracking parts of my days, and I’ve almost forgotten Mr. Mellark’s phone call by the time I make it back to my office. If I’m lucky, I can finish within the hour and get home before dark. I hate it when the sunlight hours are so short the day quits before I do.

 I’m just about to shut down my computer when I remember the aggravating phone call. I consider forgetting about it and walking away, but something tells me to open my junk folder and see what that twit’s request is. And then I see it, and I want to throw up.

 Dear Ms. Everdeen,

I know we aren’t exactly friends, but I’ve always admired your ferocity and willingness to give everything you have for your students. Compassion in education isn’t hard to find, but the way you fight for your school, faculty, staff, and students has been inspiring to watch over the past few years.

I mean that. It’s not a ploy to win you over, even though I have a gigantic favor to ask of you.

You might remember that I’ve been on medical leave several times over the past few years. It’s difficult doing my job when I’m ill, so I’ve tried to hide the significance of my condition. The truth is I have a rare bone marrow disease that, without a transplant, is terminal.

Since this is not official business, I’m writing from my personal email, but the favor I’m asking does require your professional approval. With the upcoming blood drive in our district, health clinics have volunteered to be on hand to administer tests for the bone marrow registry. That would streamline the process and allow potentially myself and countless others in need of a transplant a match from someone who might not otherwise volunteer to be tested.

Please consider allowing your school to be part of this. It might save a life.

With admiration, Peeta Mellark

 ****

 Of course I end up giving approval. I’m not a monster, no matter what Mr. Mellark thinks. In good faith, I’m tested as well, and two weeks later, I get a phone call telling me I’m a match for someone in need. By a dramatic, ironic twist of fate, it’s Peeta Mellark who needs my marrow. Thankfully, I’m able to take some time to process, and it’s torture as I weigh the pros and cons.

 A few days pass before I work up the courage to call him. I haven’t heard from him since the phone call letting me know about the email. I’m sure his health takes up much of his energy, but I’m oddly saddened by his absence. I’m also angry with him, but that’s not fair. It’s not his fault that the favor he asked of me will result in me giving up a part of my body and DNA.

 “Hello?”

 “So, what is it you have exactly?” I ask and wince at how detached and unfeeling I sound. I’m anything but that. My squeezing heart is more than enough evidence to prove otherwise. Still, I’m barely holding it together. I can’t let go of the control or I might collapse, and then what?

 “Ms. Everdeen?”

 “Katniss. If you can ask me to consider donating bone marrow, then you can call me by my first name.”

 “Okay, Katniss.” There’s a long pause before he continues. He’s tentative when he finally says, “So, you decided to participate on top of allowing the clinic access to your school?”

 “I did, and I’ll repeat. What is it you have exactly?”

 The words sound just as cold the second time, and I hold my breath until he finally answers.

“I have something called aplastic anemia. I’ve had it since college. Been treating it with blood transfusions for the past decade or so,” he explains with no trace of self-pity or false bravado. His tone is pragmatic, which is almost heart-breaking considering what he’s facing. “There aren’t too many of us with AB- blood in the world, so, I don’t know. When I saw the option of getting more involvement, I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask for help. Directly, I mean. Instead of waiting for the system to work. The worst you could say was no, right?”

 “I’ve already said no to you several times,” I remind him, and he chuckles in response.

 “Yeah. You’ve fought me on every philosophical disagreement we’ve ever had.”

 “That’s because you have really stupid ideas about what works sometimes.”

 His chuckle morphs into a full-fledged laugh, and it makes my lips twitch. “You reject me with aplomb, too. Thanks for not holding back.”

 A grin quirks at the corner of my mouth. He’s funny, I realize. I guess I probably could have figured that out earlier if I’d ever bothered to listen to his words instead of merely hating him.

 “Well, you know. I’m not very good at making friends.”

 The words catch in my throat as I say them. It’s a true statement, but I hadn’t comprehended how much it bothered me until I heard them out loud. I don’t sound matter-of-fact like he does. Loneliness and sadness echo in my voice. I could take some lessons on self-pity from Peeta Mellark, apparently.

 “I’d like to be your friend,” he says softly.

 I blink away tears because my insides have melted into a very unprofessional puddle of goo. It’s a good thing we’re not interacting about anything regarding our jobs.

 “You just want my bone marrow,” I mumble, and my heart jumps at his soft chuckle.

 “Your bone marrow?”

 I inhale shakily and bite my lip. Finally, when I’ve regained a semblance of control, I answer in a quiet admission, “I’m a match.”

 “You’re my match?” His disbelief echoes across the line, and it breaks my heart to hear the trepidatious undercurrent in his tone.

 “I am.”

 “Oh…”

 “So, you want my bone marrow.”

 Silence stretches between us, and I hear rustling before he responds carefully. “I’ll start with that. We can talk about what else I’d like to have later.”

 His voice is warm and soothing, and I feel myself softening. I’ve known that I’m going to be his donor since I knew he needed me, but it feels more personal now. More like he’s my responsibility, my ally, and not my enemy.

 “Okay.”

 There’s a beat of silence, and then he asks tentatively, “Okay?”

 “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

 There’s almost no sound from his end of the line, just his breath in my ear. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking or feeling. It must be a massive amount of relief mixed with a hundred other emotions. Like me, I’m sure he hates asking for help, and to have to request it from me must have been terrible for him. I don’t want him to feel beholden. He doesn’t deserve to have to be grateful for the rest of his life just because he needs something I can willingly give.

 “Thank you,” he finally says, and the simplicity of it takes my breath away.

 I wonder exactly what it is he’s thanking me for—his life? For being willing to grant him a favor? For not being a complete bitch to him like I have been for the past three years? It’s the least I can do for someone who’s dying. I can’t be responsible for hitting him when he’s down.

 “Sure. Yeah, let me know the specifics. Or the hospital can or whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

 I end the call before he can answer, or maybe he does and I just don’t hear it. I can’t bear to listen to his voice anymore. I don’t know how much I’m going to have to actually see him to complete this process, but I’m suddenly nervous. He’s melted me with just an email and a few phone conversations. If I’m in the same room with him, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep up the façade of hating him, and I need to. I can’t afford to care about him.

 The next few weeks pass in a flurry of meetings with medical professionals and preparing for the surgery. I don’t see Peeta, and he doesn’t contact me. Maybe he’s afraid I’ll change my mind, or maybe he doesn’t have any interest in actually being my friend, after all. I don’t allow myself to think about why that disappoints me. Instead, I tell myself that he’s likely dealing with his own illness and concentrating on getting as healthy as possible so he can recover quicker following the procedure. Maybe I’m just making excuses for him, but I remind myself that making a friend isn’t why I’m doing this. He doesn’t owe me anything.

 Suddenly, it’s the day of the surgery, and I’m terrified. I haven’t ever been on anesthesia before, barely been sick, and never had an IV. Now, I’m about to go under the knife for my mortal enemy. Okay, that’s overdramatic and hyperbolic, but I’m allowed that on the morning of a procedure that will result in me being cut open and part of my hip scraped away. I comfort myself by imagining the simple pleasures I’ll indulge in afterward—an overly sugared hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, some of those cheese buns I never allow myself to buy, highlights from a hairdresser instead of a box. Surely, I deserve those after opening myself up to…

 I shut down that mode of thinking and concentrate on getting to the hospital. As nervous as I am, I manage to stop thinking and let the medical professionals do their jobs. Before I can worry about anything else, I’m on a bed and being wheeled to surgery. When I count backwards, all I see are Peeta Mellark’s deep blue eyes shining at me.

 ****

 I blink awake to a concerned gaze. My sister’s next to my bed when I wake up and greets me with a smile.

 “Hello, sleepyhead. Welcome back to the world.”

 “Little Duck,” I slur with a lazy smile. “Hiiiii!”

 “How do you feel?”

 “Very fuzzy,” I admit after a sporadic inventory of myself. “And my ass hurts.”

 “I hear that happens when somebody cuts you open. I could be wrong.”

 My bubble of laughter is almost giddy, clearly an aftereffect of the anesthesia, but I still manage to ask the really important question. “When can I go home?”

 “A few hours, I think. Outpatient surgery, for the win!”

 “I’m already thinking about how long I have to sponge bathe instead of showering. An incision on my rear end is a new one for me.”

 “I bet the guy you’re giving your marrow to would be happy to help you. He must be pretty grateful,” Prim said slyly, and I roll my eyes.

 “I’m guessing he’s more concerned about not dying, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

 “I looked him up, you know. He’s very pretty.”

 “He’s also an arrogant ass.”

 “Speaking of arrogant asses…”

 “Hey! I thought I’d gotten past being maligned by the Everdeen girls.” Gale Hawthorne’s deep bass booms from the hospital room door. “Hey, Catnip.”

 “Gale! ’S so good to see you.”

 “Well, Prim called. I thought maybe I should cut my business trip short and pay you a visit.”

 I reach for him, and he crosses to me quickly. His hand wraps around mine, and the warmth grounds me. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen my childhood best friend, and his familiarity makes me feel like I might be able to handle anything. They both keep me occupied until I’m released and then help me get settled at home. Gale and I sit on the couch and catch up while Prim makes a run for takeout.

 “I couldn’t believe it when Prim called to tell me you were doing this,” he says. “Especially not for the guy you’ve been bitching to me about for the past few years.”

 “I haven’t been—”

 “I’m going to stop you right there. You have, and we both know nobody takes up that much space in your brain unless there’s something there.”

 “There’s nothing between us,” I insist and grunt when he nudges my shoulder.

 “Then maybe you should figure out if there could be. I mean, you have a vested interest in the man. You have a lot in common professionally. He’s going to live a long life because of you. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you were part of it.”

 “He’s in a bubble for a few months. Recovery. No germs. All that.” I’m making excuses, and he knows it. He looks at me with pity, and I want to smack him.

 “Katniss, give the guy a chance. From what you’ve told me, he’s into you. On top of the fact that he made arrangements for that massive bouquet of lilies and wildflowers over there.” He motions to the vase we brought home from the hospital. The note provides thanks for saving his life and an apology for flowers being inadequate as repayment.

 “He’s not—”

 “Give him a chance.”

 Gale’s words wash over me, and it’s like all the painful moments and deep bouts of loneliness resurface at once. No matter what’s happened between Peeta and me, I have a connection to him now that’s deeper than our usual snipping and snark. Being forced to think about him as someone with real hopes and dreams and challenges has softened me to him, but I barely know him. Why does everyone assume he wants anything more than he’s already received?

 Prim returns with food, and I’m grateful for the distraction. I promise Gale I’ll think about what he’s said as I recover, but that’s only to get him off my back. Yet, as the days pass, I can’t get Peeta Mellark out of my head. Now that I’ve saved his life, he’s got a hold on me.

 ****

 I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I expect anything from him. I’m just stopping by to see how he is, and that’s it. No expectations, no nothing. Just an attempt to make sure he’s feeling better after the transplant. I shouldn’t even be able to see him, but I called the hospital, explained the situation, and found out I’ve been approved for visiting for the past couple of weeks. Peeta must have added me to his approved list, which makes me remarkably happy. It’s been a month since the bone marrow transplant, and Peeta’s body seems to be accepting it with no problem.

 Besides, no one can fault me for checking in on a sick colleague. It’s practically expected as part of my job. Except, that’s a lie. I’m not checking on anyone else who calls into work sick, but, then again, no one else called in because they had a disease that resulted in some of my own body inserted into them.

 Which sounds dirty and definitely not what I should be thinking as I knock on his hospital door and peer into the room.

 “Katniss!” he says as his beautiful blue eyes light up. “Please, come in.”

 “I, uh… I just thought I’d check on you. Make sure my bone marrow is behaving. Not giving you any trouble.”

 Oh, hell. I sound like an idiot.

 “Doing beautifully. It’s almost like it knows it’ll be in trouble if it acts up. Must be the principal coming out in us.”

 “Behavior issues are the least favorite part of my job.”

 “Same,” he chuckles and waves me to the chair. “Sit, if you have a minute. I’d like to thank you—”

 “No,” I insist. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

 “Katniss, you saved my life,” he sighs. “The least you can do is let me thank you properly. Let me take you dinner sometime or something. In fact, yes. I need to do that. No expectations, no nothing. Just dinner.”

 I feel an uncomfortable pang in my stomach as I hear my own thoughts repeated back to me. It’s almost like he can see inside my brain, and that’s terrifying.

 “Fine,” I concede. “Dinner, but not until you’re completely recovered. I don’t want to be cause for a setback.”

 “I can handle that,” he agrees and then gives me a soft, beautiful smile so incredibly shy that it feels like he’s only ever shown it to me.

 I don’t even want to think about why I’m floating as I leave the hospital.

 ****

 It’s another few months before Peeta finally insists he’s well enough and calls and invites me to the dinner I agreed to when he was in the hospital. His recovery has been rapid, and I hear through the grapevine he’s back at work and seemingly cured. I don’t know enough about his disease to know if he’s healing faster than normal or not, but I breathe easier when I hear the news. That is, until the phone rings.

 “Katniss Everdeen. My savior,” he says when I answer.

 “Oh, please don’t,” I gulp. “I’m no savior.”

 He chuckles at my discomfort but it’s clear it’s not with any sort of malice. “Sorry. That might have been hyperbole.”

 “You think?”

 “Maybe. Maybe not. I would like to see when you’re free for dinner. You’ve put me off long enough. I demand satisfaction. I mean, my belly does. In other words, I need food, and now that I feel well enough to consume copious amounts of it, I’d really love some company as I do that. Who better than the woman who made it happen?”

 He’s so charming it makes my toes curl, which is not at all what I want. Because how am I supposed to resist that adorable smirk I know is plastered across his face when he’s sitting across the table from me and plying me with delicious food? He’s supposed to be my nemesis, and I’m not strong enough to deny him when he’s not only good and kind but also a survivor of a rare disease. I mean, that’s not even playing fair.

 “You don’t have to buy me dinner,” I start, but he interrupts before I can get any farther.

 “If I remember correctly, you agreed to this back in the hospital, and I know you always keep your word. I wore you down, and you said you’d go with me. Don’t go backing out on me now,” he chides. His tone remains light-hearted as he speaks, but I detect a hint of hurt below the surface. My willingness to concur seems important to him. Why, I’m not sure, but the last thing I want to do is break the fragile truce that had somehow emerged between us.

 “I’ve got some back to school things coming up, so my nights are pretty full,” I protest feebly, but he just waits patiently until I relent. “Fine. Next Thursday. Does that work?”

 “Of course.”

 “Don’t you have meetings, too? You haven’t resigned, and I haven’t heard about it, have you?”

 “No, nothing like that,” he laughs. “I’ve just been given stringent orders from Superintendent Crane to take it easy. My assistant principal is covering anything at night until October.”

 “Lucky you.”

 “I have a good staff,” he deflects. “Next Thursday. I’ll pick you up.”

 “No! I can meet—”

 But he’s already disconnected the call. I don’t even bother to wonder how he’ll figure out my address. I don’t put anything past him anymore. Other than the life-threatening illness, he seems to have beaten, Peeta Mellark has the best luck of anyone I’ve ever known.

 ****

 “And then I lowered my hand and answered him in the most serious tone possible. I could hardly keep a straight face because I had fake buck teeth in. The poor kid looked at me like I was insane, but he didn’t ever wear the vampire teeth in class again.”

 I can’t help myself as I giggle at Peeta’s story. I never giggle. It isn’t like me at all, but Peeta’s so funny and disarming over dinner, regaling me with story after story of strange behavior modifications he’d tried when he was an assistant principal and mostly in charge of discipline issues.

 “I’ve gotta admit,” he says ruefully, “I don’t really miss that part of the job now that I’m head principal.”

 “No, I can imagine you wouldn’t,” I agree with a smile.

 Lifting my wine glass, I look at him over the rim and take a sip of the pinot. I dreaded this dinner all week, but it’s been the highlight of a pretty rough few days. I certainly wasn’t expecting to enjoy his company so much, not even after getting to know him a little bit better during his recovery. I thought his charm might wear off at some point, but he just gets more and more disarming the longer we talk. If I didn’t know better, I might think I actually like him, but that’s ridiculous. I’m just glad to have company over dinner. That’s all this is.

 My cheeks flush when Peeta grins at me and sits back in his chair. He’s kept up a steady stream of witty repartee throughout the evening, but now he merely surveys me as the soft sounds of the dining room echo around us. It’s almost intimate.

 “I can’t tell you how much I’m enjoying this,” he finally says. “And how grateful I am for what you did for me. I know it wasn’t an easy choice, but you… You’re an amazing woman, Katniss Everdeen. I’m in your debt forever.”

 I don’t know how to answer him because I can tell he’s completely sincere. He’s not gushing or trying to butter me up. He’s genuine in his words and actions, and I’m stuck feeling guilty for treating him so poorly before his illness threw us together.

 “You really don’t have to thank me anymore,” I insist. “It’s not necessary at all. I mean, what kind of an asshole would I be if I hadn’t agreed to help you? Besides, you’re a fellow principal. Administrators unite and all that.”

 “Stop deflecting,” he said. “You did something really great, and it’s okay for you to take credit for it.”

 Flustered, I fiddle with my napkin because I don’t want to say something stupid. He has a way of making me tongue-tied that I haven’t felt since I was a teenager. “Thanks,” I manage to mumble.

 “Thank you.”

 I hesitate but finally manage to choke, “You’re welcome.”

 “I’d like to do this again. If you’re willing.”

 His voice feels like a caress, and I lift my eyes to look at him. He’s studying me, unsmiling but not frowning, and I’m struck by how handsome he is in the dimmed light. He reaches across the table and holds his hand out to me. I stare at it for several seconds before I’m willing to reach out and accept it. He gives it a squeeze.

 “How about next week? Is that too soon?”

 “I— I need to check my calendar.”

 “I already did. No school activities.”

 “Are you—”

 “I’m sure,” he insists. “Please.”

 I don’t have a good excuse for saying no, so I agree. I’m still in a daze when he pulls the car to a stop in front of my house and gets out to walk me to the door. He leans in to kiss my check, but I turn my head at just the wrong time. His lips hover millimeters from my skin, and I struggle to breathe. After what feels like an eternity, he tilts his head and brushes his mouth over mine.

 The earth skews off its axis. There’s no other way to describe what happens because my entire world rearranges itself in that brief moment. Much too soon, he’s backed down the sidewalk and waves goodbye to me from his car before pulling away.

 ****

 I’m a mess by the next Friday when Peeta picks me up again for our second dinner together. I don’t know whether to call it a date or not, but the kiss the previous week indicates it could be. The night passes much the same as the previous week. He’s charming and funny and wearing the most stunning shade of green that makes his eyes sparkle turquoise. They do things to my insides. He’s a perfect gentleman as he drives me home again, walks me to the door, and kisses me softly. The situation repeats on the third and fourth and fifth time until I’m so wound up, I’m about to lose my mind. I don’t mean to complain, but my body wants more than what he’s offering.

 I can’t tell if it’s deliberate or just really bad luck that our schedules don’t align for another few weeks. The days pass slowly without seeing him, although we do talk often. Some of his messages and emails make me smile when I read them, while others make me wonder if he’s flirting with me or simply being his usual friendly self.

 I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out what’s happening between us. The conversation I had with Gale after my surgery flits in and out of my conscious thoughts. I don’t want to open myself up. I’ve been hurt too many times in the past, but Peeta’s wonderful—smart, compassionate, funny, respectful, and supportive. He’s also got a backbone and knows how to advocate for himself and others around him. In short, he’s exactly what I’ve always desired in a partner. It scares me to death to acknowledge that I want him to be a bigger part of my life. It terrifies me to realize I can also picture him in my bed.

 Finally, we both have an evening without a work responsibility, and he asks if he can come over and make dinner when I tell him I’m simply too tired to dress up and go out to a restaurant. By the time he shows up on my doorstep with bags of groceries, my stomach’s in knots. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, it feels like we’re starting all over again.

 He looks insanely good after having filled out a little since the transplant. His broad shoulders are strong underneath the soft cotton of his salmon colored sweater, and the jeans he’s wearing hug his thighs and hips like a second skin. When he turns around so I can inadvertently check out his ass, I swoon at the sight. I want my hands on that peach so badly my fingertips tingle.

 He leans in to kiss me hello, and time stands still. He pauses once he’s broken the kiss, and we stare at each other for what feels like ages. Something’s changed. We’ve evolved. Our relationship’s grown while we’ve been apart. The air crackles with anticipation, and I’m beyond ready. Finally, he recovers and surveys me, taking in my black leggings, forest green tunic, and braid with a whistle. I flush scarlet at the flattery.

 “Good thing I have these bags to occupy my hands,” he teases, but I swallow down disappointment. He doesn’t seem that interested in touching me, and that makes me feel like howling my disapproval.

 “Maybe I should help. Give your hands a chance to…uh…stray.”

 He whips his head around to stare at me, uncertainty mixing with something I can’t quite decipher. When I don’t drop my gaze, he gulps before heading into the kitchen and tossing the food on the counter. He makes himself busy while I flit around him, unsure what to do. When he finally turns his megawatt smile on me and asks me if I’d be okay cutting vegetables, I nod eagerly. If it puts me closer to him, I’m completely game. He positions me in front of a stack of carrots, potatoes, and mushrooms and turns to his own work.

 We keep up a steady stream of chatter that grows increasingly flirtatious as the minutes pass. He brushes against me several times, and I can feel the electricity sparking between us. When he reaches over to take some of the diced potatoes, our hands brush, and we both jump.

 “Peeta,” I sigh a second before he’s pressed against me, his chest hard against mine as he cups my jaw and kisses me.

 I growl in the back of my throat at the feel of his tongue tangling with mine, and he hauls me tighter against him. He wraps my braid around his hand and tugs my head back so he can lick deeper into me. I’m shaking with desire, frantic for his hands on me. We’ve been circling each other for four years. The months since I agreed to donate my bone marrow have all been foreplay. I’m ready to give into the craving I’ve denied for far too long.

 I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. My hands tangle in his hair, and I can’t stop the wanting whimpers that fall from me. He’s just as frantic, his hands caressing everything he can reach, until they both cup my behind and squeeze.

 I realize I want to climb him like a tree. There’s no shame in admitting it. His body’s hard under his clothing, and he’s rigid as iron against my hip. When he thrusts his right hand under the waistband of my leggings, I don’t even try to stop him. Instead, I moan when his fingers stroke the patch of hair between my legs.

 “Fuck,” he gasps. “Katniss, tell me to stop if this isn’t okay. This is— You’re… You have to stop me now if you’re going to.”

 I don’t stop him. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My limbs aren’t working other than to cling to him. My eyes roll back into my head when he breaches me. His mouth works magic while his fingers plunder and stroke. I’m begging him, my voice hoarse and broken. It’s been so very long, and I don’t have the patience to wait anymore.

 I’m pressed against the counter, my back bent as he fingers me. I don’t care about dinner or anything else except the feel of his calloused palm cupping me while he dips in and out in an uneven rhythm designed to stop me from falling over the edge too soon. His breaths are ragged, and I wrap my left leg around him to pull him closer. It also gives him better access, which he uses to his advantage.

 I’m sopping wet, squelching as he thrusts in and out, his thumb circling my clit and forcing wrecked squeals I’ve never made until experiencing the glory of Peeta Mellark finger fucking me in my own kitchen. My whole body trembles as the tension builds. I just need a release. That’s all I care about in the moment. The entire world could be exploding outside, and I wouldn’t care. He’s driving me crazy, and I don’t want to be sane. I just need him.

 “I’ve wanted this for so long, sweetheart,” he groans in my ear. “Wanted to feel you on me, hot and wet and sweet. I’ve dreamed about making you come. Imagined it so many times. Wanted to feel you fall apart because of me. You’re almost there, aren’t you, honey? I can tell you’re trying so hard not to let go. I’ve got you. I won’t hurt you.”

 I’ve abandoned all sense of propriety. I’m moaning and rutting against him. I don’t know who I am anymore, but then everything makes sense in a rush of euphoria. I come with a scream that Peeta swallows with his kiss. He holds me close, rocking me through the spasms, grounding me, and cheering me on as I quake and shudder.

 I blink as I come back to myself, but he’s there. His face comes into focus, and I give him a dopey grin that makes him chuckle. He welcomes me back with a kiss as he frees his hand. My pants are moist, and I wiggle at how uncomfortable it is. Still, I think it’s worth the discomfort. I feel like walking liquid.

 “I think we burned dinner.”

 “Don’t care,” I tell him through a kiss. “We can order pizza. Not hungry anyway.”

 “Well, I am,” he jokes as he proceeds to devour me.

 We haven’t talked. I have no idea where we stand, but that doesn’t matter. Right now, Peeta’s here, alive and well, and with me. We make sure the burners are off and then I lead him to the bedroom. I don’t ever want to let go. If I could freeze this moment, I would, but I also want to see about all the others he has left simply because fate threw us together. We’ll get to the deep stuff. For now, I’ll settle for him deep inside me.

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 5:

If I die out here alone, for nothing, I will feel so incredibly stupid.

Previous

Note: There is a content warning this chapter for a brief mention of past attempted sexual assault. The mention comes near the end of the chapter.

Read chapter 5 on AO3, or read below:

Despite the damp cool of the basement, I am warm when I finally blink my eyes open to the dim morning light. Cardan has curled up at my back.

Alpha blood tends to run hot, they say. It plays into the general myth that we are opposites in every way: alphas hot, omegas cold; alphas strong, omegas weak; alphas dominant, omegas submissive, and so on. Scientifically the hot-cold theory has a little backing, though we’re talking an average temperature difference of 0.2 to 0.5 degrees max. But with Cardan so close to me, practically radiating heat, I am almost inclined to believe it.

We’re not touching too much. He has sort of nestled his face into the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and if I hadn’t slept in my sweatshirt I could probably feel his eyelashes tickle my skin. His hand found the curve of my waist in the night. But that’s it. The rest of him is a few inches away, like even in sleep he finds it difficult to overcome his revulsion to me.

It’s almost comfortable, if I forget who I am and who he is. Not even what I am and what he is, because Madoc’s position means that if any handsome, eligible alpha bachelors deigned to outright marry an omega, as he had once married our mother, Taryn and I would be the best of the bunch—best-connected, best-educated, best-groomed. No, it’s that he is Cardan and I am Jude, and I have hated him ever since my body put itself at war with my brain, and he has hated me too, just because I was afforded some small amount of privilege without being born into it.

And still, I stay there for a minute, soaking up his warmth. Because I didn’t think I’d have this anytime soon. I didn’t think I’d get to wake up next to a boy cuddling me, not after what happened with Valerian and definitely not after what happened with Locke. And even though these are the worst circumstances, and this is the worst boy, there’s something perversely nice about it.

Or maybe I just like things that are bad for me.

I was thinking of seeing if girls were better when I got to college, but they don’t really explain how alpha-omega girl sex works in school and I am not about to ask Vivi. And now I don’t know if I’ll even make it to college, so maybe it’s not so bad if I steal a moment of peace.

But then the stink of mildew cuts through Cardan’s rich sweet-musky-boy scent and I am forcibly reminded of where we are and why, especially now of all times, I can’t afford to be soft. So I jam my elbow back into his side, and if I do it with maybe a little less force than I normally would, well, it’s not like he knows that.

Cardan awakens with a start. “Ow!” he says, rolling over onto his back and pressing a hand to his side. “What the hell!”

“You’re fine.” I sit up, take down my now grody ponytail, run my fingers through it and begin to put it up again, watching him out of the corner of my eye. “Today’s the day.”

Cardan scowls at me, rubbing his side.

“Do or die day,” I clarify, looping my elastic around another time. “In case you forgot.”

“I remember,” he huffs. “That mattress is terrible.”

“Well, maybe tonight you’ll get to sleep in your own bed. Or maybe we’ll be dead. Or we’ll be locked in this room again and you can sleep on the floor.”

“Such tempting options. However will I choose?”

I roll my shoulders, trying to work the kinks out of my muscles. “My guess is we’re going to be held up with the police for questioning for a long time. You might not have to. Maybe the choice will be made for you.”

“As always, Duarte, I do so admire your rosy outlook.” Cardan finger-combs his hair and sits up all the way, blinking at me. “I’m still worried about the third guy.”

I don’t tell him that I’d been thinking the same thing. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I say quietly. “We have two other bridges to cross first.”

Only a minute or so after I say it, there’s that knock on the door. I glance at Cardan, who needs to play the role of alpha today, and wait for him to speak, even though it sucks to defer to him. He takes his time about it, too, stretching his long legs, running his fingers through his hair once more, like he has all the time in the world, like the person on the other end of the door should be so lucky as to strangle him.

Just as I’m about to strangle him, he calls, “Yes?”

The door opens. The scarred man and his gun are there, along with, absurdly, a little paper Starbucks bag in his other hand. An upgrade. He looks at me and Cardan—we’re now both sitting on the mattress, even though we are a few feet apart—but if he has any comments he keeps them to himself. He shakes the bag like he’s trying to call in a wayward dog. “Breakfast.”

“Thanks,” I say, because it is my place to be deferential.

“No coffee?” Cardan asks.

I whip my head around to glare at him. The man grunts, “Didn’t know how you took it.” Disconcertingly, I can’t tell if he has a sense of humor or if he’s serious.

Airily, Cardan says, “Fine. Put it down wherever.”

The scarred man raises both his eyebrows, but he half-sets, half-drops the bag on the floor and backtracks through the door, closing it and leaving us alone. Cardan goes over to retrieve it and peers inside. “Okay, looks like sausage, egg, and cheddar and… turkey bacon?”

I hold out my hand. “Give me the turkey bacon.”

“Oh, thank god,” Cardan says, and this time he doesn’t take a bite out of it before he hands it to me.

“Not a fan of turkey bacon?”

He scowls. “It’s all healthy. Plus, it’s not like turkeys actually have a belly to cut bacon from. You have to grind it up and make it yourself.”

I snort, but am happy for his judgment if it means my breakfast escapes unscathed. It doesn’t surprise me that Cardan couldn’t care less about eating healthily. From what I know, he has a mostly liquid diet, and the liquid is mainly alcohol. Not that it matters much. He probably won’t be able to keep getting away with it after a few more years, but right now his body takes pretty much everything he consumes and uses it to build him more muscle.

I think of how hard I have to strength train for a fraction of what Cardan gains just by existing, and how some of the training shows, especially in my arms and back, but the rest is buried under a cozy layer of body fat, and I kind of want to strangle him again. Just one of the many downsides of being an omega.

Since I don’t have any fun facts about turkey bacon to contribute, we eat breakfast without speaking. We had agreed that it was important to get our strength up for whatever lies ahead, but I find it hard to chew and swallow, even though the sandwich is lukewarm. I end up offering the last half to Cardan, who takes it despite his complaints.

Then, once enough time has passed, he gives me a look, and I nod and stand, shaking my legs out. Instead of staying in my usual corner, I stand next to the door, tense, waiting. With one last glance at me, Cardan strides over and knocks.

We have a system with our captors now. They know that the knocking means we want out for one reason or another. They either call through the door to find out why or just open it right away. This time, the door simply opens. Cardan stays where he is and does not move to the back of the room.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s that time again.”

It’s the woman’s voice I hear, and I am privately thankful. “Okay, back up.”

“But I was hoping I could go first.”

“Back up.”

Cardan takes one step back. It’s now that she realizes that I’m not in my corner. Just a little further, I think. And she gives me the half-step I need.

“What’d you do with your friend?” she asks.

To answer that question, I grab her by her shirt and drag her into the cell.

Surprise is a legitimate advantage, but a fleeting one. Since she’s armed and I’m not, I need to move fast. I don’t have to think much about it. I jam my knee into her stomach; all of the air leaves her lungs in a startled gasp, and her grip loosens on the gun. I pry it from her hand with one of mine and use the other, still fisted into her shirt, to pull her further into the room—and let go.

It only takes a few seconds. I dart out. Cardan has already gone ahead, as I told him to, and I pull the door to behind me, quickly twisting the lock on the knob. That was phase one.

“Um, Jude,” says Cardan.

I turn, raising my stolen pistol in front of me before I do anything else, finger resting dangerously near the trigger. The scarred man stands on the other side of the table, his gun also raised. But instead of aiming it at Cardan, as we thought he would, he is pointing that barrel at me.

“This is a surprise,” he says.

Behind me, the doorknob rattles as the woman realizes I’ve locked her in.

“Let her out,” the man tells us, voice steady and slow.

“Or what?” I ask. Somehow, my voice doesn’t shake. “We’re both armed. Let us go and I won’t shoot you.”

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” he asks.

“What do you think?”

He cocks his head to look me over, evaluate my posture, my steady grip. “Huh,” he says, and then he moves to point his gun at Cardan instead. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cardan’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I’ll only ask nicely one more time.”

I snort. “Sure. Do me the favor.”

The scarred man raises an eyebrow. Cardan whispers, “Jude?” like he isn’t sure whether or not I am playing a game. I am not sure either. I am intoxicated by the adrenaline pulsing through me.

“We’re not friends,” I clarify. “Shoot him if you want.”

Cardan gives me a panicked look.

“Of course, if you’ve promised to give him back alive, that’s going to cause some trouble.” My palm is sweaty. I shift my grip on the gun. The knob rattles again at my back, and I hear a soft curse, a hand slamming on the door. “It’s your call.”

The man’s lip curls into a kind of terrible smile. “All right, girl,” he says. “You go free. He stays. Leave the gun on the top step.”

I blink. “Really?”

“Final offer.”

I should go right away. Instead, I glance at Cardan, who has gone pale. But he looks at me again, and then, defying all my understanding of him, he whispers, “Go, Jude.”

So I do. Slowly, my entire body quivering with tension, I walk backwards up the stairs, keeping my pistol trained on the scarred man until the last possible moment. I try the knob at the top, and find it unlocked. It seems too easy, but with one last, stomach-churning glimpse of Cardan’s white face, I flee. But I don’t do everything. I do not give up the gun.

The house I step into has obviously long been abandoned—it was probably never even finished. Some of the walls have gaping holes in the plaster, the support beams visible; some were never plastered at all. There is no furniture to speak of. I don’t linger to take it in. I start running, through a hallway, in the direction of what might be the front door. When I find it, I tumble out into bright morning sunlight, and I keep going.

Immediately I know I am well and truly in the middle of nowhere. All around me is a field of overgrown grass. If there is a road, I cannot see or hear it. Still, I have to assume there was once a driveway that led somewhere, so I take off as fast as I can toward a distant line of trees. I do not wonder about Cardan. I do not wonder about anything.

For a minute it is just me, my feet flattening the dew-damp grass, my lungs straining with every breath. I am alone in a way that I haven’t been in days. Then there is a crack from behind me, and then I feel something rush past my face, just missing me. Startled, I drop the stolen pistol, which lands harmlessly in the grass and thankfully does not fire. I don’t stop running for it. Stopping is the last thing I should do, not when I am so close.

Still, my stomach drops. Without slowing too much, I glance over my shoulder back at the house. The second floor is half-intact, and I can kind of see through the wall—there might be a dark shape perched there. A man. The third man.

He’s a sniper.

I swear under my breath, and my panicked heart skips a beat. They chose this place on purpose. There’s no cover out here, giving them a clear view of whoever might be coming or going. Giving them time to move us in case the cavalry arrived. My only choices are to keep running until I am out of range, or stop, and go back. And I am not doing that.

If I die out here alone, for nothing, I will feel so incredibly stupid.

There’s another crack, now unmistakably the sound of a rifle being fired, and this time I feel when it hits—really more of a graze, but it still skims through my flesh about midway up my calf, leaving a tear in its wake. The strange thing is that, at first, being shot doesn’t hurt at all. It doesn’t feel like much of anything. It shouldn’t be enough to make me miss my step. I falter anyway, and when I bring my foot down I land on it wrong and roll my ankle. I drop with a cry into the grass, tears stinging the corner of my eyes.

But even then I keep going, crawling on my hands and knees through the long summer grass, blinking back my tears because I refuse to let myself cry. I don’t look at my ankle or my wound. It is only when I hear the grass crunching underfoot behind me, and a shadow falls over me, that I finally, finally stop moving forward.

I don’t stop fighting, though. The man—Cardan had described him as tall, and he was right—picks me up with some effort and, without a word, throws me over his shoulder like a sack of garbage. After adjusting me a little so my weight is more evenly distributed, he turns to carry me back to the house. All the time I am squirming, trying to kick, pounding at his back with my fists, screaming with the faint hope that someone might hear me. It isn’t enough to get the sniper to loosen his grip on my waist, but I do feel him wince in pain a couple of times, giving me some small, bitter satisfaction.

All I think is, I shouldn’t have dropped the gun.

Despair begins to set in as we reenter the unfinished house, as the sniper shoulders his way through the door to the basement and carries me down the stairs. Cardan is seated in a chair, rumpled but seemingly unharmed, his hands behind his back. Apparently, someone has bothered to tie him up or handcuff him this time. He sits forward when he sees me carried in. “Jude?”

“Are you sure he’s the alpha?” the sniper asks his companions. “He seems to have gone easy on you.” He deposits me into another chair, and the woman is there immediately to cuff my hands, threading the handcuff chain through the chair back so I am well and truly stuck. I see that some of my blood has soaked into the sniper’s black shirt and think, Good. My leg is starting to hurt now, in throbs, like a bad burn.

“You shot her?” Cardan asks, straining against his bonds.

“I’m fine,” I say, avoiding his gaze. I cannot believe he would do something as stupid as give himself up so I could go free. I look at my wounded calf, streaked red. There is an angry-looking tear there, but it could have been much worse. He didn’t hit bone. “It’s a graze.”

“Because he’s good at his job,” says the scarred man.

The sniper shakes his head and disappears into the room beyond the bathroom. He returns with a first aid kit and begins to stoop down next to me so he can clean my calf, but I raise my foot, threatening to kick him again.

“That’s enough,” the scarred man says. “Believe it or not, we don’t want to hurt you kids.”

“Not,” I mutter under my breath.

“Hurting you wasn’t part of the remit unless you misbehaved,” says the sniper. “Is that more believable?”

I scowl and hold out my leg so that he can clean the wound. Cardan’s eyes narrow. “We can’t just trust you,” he says, as a stinging antiseptic pad is applied to the torn skin and I flinch. “We don’t even know who you are. Give us something. Names. Something to call you.”

The scarred man and the woman look at each other. The woman says, “You can call me the Bomb. This is the Roach. That—” She points to the sniper. “Is the Ghost. You can figure out why for yourself.”

“You call yourself the Roach?” Cardan asks. “Wow. I mean, love yourself a little.”

To my surprise, the man grins. “Not my choice, but we don’t get to choose. How’s her leg?”

“The twisted ankle is going to give her the most trouble,” the Ghost replies. He presses a clean cotton pad to the wound and binds it in gauze. Then he starts on wrapping my ankle. He’s efficient; he’s done this before. “Although I’m guessing we don’t want her mobile anyway.”

“I wouldn’t mind if she taught me a couple of moves,” the Bomb says, rubbing her stomach. I wonder if I bruised her. “What was that, karate?”

“Krav maga,” I admit, glaring at the Ghost as he props my foot up on the nearest empty chair. Ignoring me, he stands and leaves to wash his hands. “I’ve been training since I was nine.”

The Roach lets out a low whistle. “Someone didn’t want you getting jumped.”

I turn my glare on him. “For all the good it did me.”

For reasons I don’t understand, the Roach grins and holds up his hands. “This? This is just a paperwork dispute. Once everything’s signed and sealed, we’ll turn you loose.”

“Lot of hassle for some paperwork,” Cardan remarks. “You could have just let Jude go if it isn’t that big of a deal.”

“I’m starting to see it,” the Bomb says to the Ghost. “Although, yeah, I could have sworn the girl was the alpha too for a second there.”

And if that isn’t absurd enough, Cardan leans toward me across the table and asks, “Did they teach you how to slip handcuffs in krav maga school?”

“Do you want to dislocate your thumbs?” the Ghost asks abruptly, reemerging from the bathroom.

I give Cardan a shrug and a nod—that is how to do it—and he shudders.

“Look, we know just about everything there is to know about this guy,” says the Roach, pulling out the last empty chair and sitting across from me. “But now I’m curious about you.”

I blink. “There’s not much to say.”

“He has quite a file on him,” says the Bomb, jerking her head to indicate Cardan, who pulls an innocent face. “But you were nowhere in it. We thought you were a bystander, a fling, or maybe his new girlfriend—”

“His what?” I squawk.

“But you’re way more interesting than that,” the Roach concludes. “Cardan told us this whole little escape plan was yours.”

The Ghost, for his part, leans against the wall, folds his arms over his chest, and says nothing. I decide I would like him best except for the part where he shot me.

“Why don’t you just let Cardan tell my life story, then?” I snap, angry at everything and everyone.

“Gladly,” Cardan says, looking a little too gleeful. “Jude Duarte was born with a chip on her shoulder. She’s glaring about ninety percent of the time and never lets her guard down, ever. As far as I know, she’s only gotten drunk once. She and her sister were the first omegas to graduate from our school, and Jude staged a coup by being named valedictorian, too, as if being first at just one thing wasn’t good enough. Our last semester, she gave a kid a black eye and got him expelled.”

“Why?” The Bomb asks. “What did he do?”

Cardan lapses into an embarrassed silence that I don’t really understand. Valerian had been his friend, once. Maybe still is. I say casually, “He tried to do what alphas always do,” like I don’t still feel the awful weight on top of me, the cheekbone cracking under my knuckles. “So I did what I had to.”

“They expel kids for that now?” asks the Roach. “Huh. Good on them.”

“Jude’s dad made a persuasive case,” Cardan says.

They exchange bemused glances. The Ghost asks, “Who’s her dad?”

Cardan and I look at each other across the table. They really don’t know.

“My adoptive father,” I clarify, because it matters. “He’s a lawyer. Uh, his last name’s Madoc?”

“Oh,” says the Roach. “Shit.”

Next

[whatgaviiformes]

10. Music Makers - Part 5 / Scenes from Gordon’s Bedside

“When words fail, music speaks”

Chapter Summary:  Virgil and Gordon and music

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

You are Here 

Chapter A/N: In honor of 10 chapters of this concept, the plan is to give you a hell of a chapter 10 with a few moments in time strung together. I decided to go ahead and share what I have with you instead of waiting. Once the chapter has been shared in full over tumblr, I will post the full piece at Ao3 and FF.net. It may or may not make sense to remain as chapter 10 or be it’s own thing. Do share if you have an opinion. :-) 

 The title Music Makers comes from “Ode” by  Arthur O'Shaughnessy, and it is very lovely.

Part Notes: Thanks to @janetm74 and @gumnut-logic by extension for the second opinions on the thing I asked. You know what for; I can be a little on the paranoid side. For music reqs on this one, it’s a mix of quite a few different things- but I’ve been listening to a lot of this album: Endeavor by Christoffer Franzen 

***

Music Makers - Part 5/6

The one advantage to the sudden upheaval in his education was that instead of continuing to grad school, Virgil was able to use his skills for a practical purpose under the tutelage of one of the world’s most brilliant minds; and meeting Brains had been awesome.

It meant that his own blood, sweat, and tears went into the building of the birds. And also very possibly his fury.

It meant he could stay on their island home to help Gordon’s recovery. For all the good it did him. One day the idiot would learn that pushing himself doesn’t make him cool, it makes him stupid.

The last thing he had expected to see when checking in on his brother for the night was him standing. Without assistance, without protection nearby, the walker and the chair both out of reach. Of all the stupid, idiotic –

Words had been exchanged, and not nice ones.

He needed to walk out before he said anything he regretted.

To be fair, welding at 2AM didn’t make him dedicated, it made him equally as stupid. He’d just been so mad, but after an hour or two, the rage had dissipated, and he’d stayed primarily to get the job done.

He’s not too much of a completion-ist, though, to admit when he’s getting tired. His work is sending all that ire right back to him. The angry shower of sparks very much tells him Thunderbird One’s panel does not appreciate his carelessness. One is going to be Scott’s and already she is so like his older brother. He can practically hear Scott telling him to clean up and get some rest before he screws up his baby.

Better listen.

He definitely needs to shower once he gets to his room; the sweat has started to make him itchy, and he feels grimy now that he’s had the time to think about it.  He picks up rag from their supplies with a yawn, and wipes at his face.

Ug. Gross. The dryness in his throat warrants a stop by the kitchen as well for rehydration. He thinks that perhaps the headache he’s had throbbing behind his eyes was actually lack of water and not so much his brother.

Tired as he is, it only takes less than a second for Virgil to notice the prone form on the ground as he walks through the faintly lit lounge on his way to the kitchen. And that dryness in his throat, from earlier is nothing in comparison to the fear lodged in his throat as he chokes out syllables that are supposed to be Gordon’s name as he kneels beside the figure.

His hands are trembling as they reach out to search for a pulse at his neck, and with his other hand he pushes back the strands of golden hair to reveal his brother’s face: pale, flushed cheeks, closed eyes.

Jesus.

Tear streaks.

“Virgil?” Gordon’s voice is groggy, but he stirs underneath Virgil’s hands.

“Gordon! What’s wrong?”

“Go away,” he mumbles. “I’m sleeping.”  

Virgil retracts his fingers sharply and sits back on his heels.

Sleeping.

He was just sleeping. His heart is a jack hammer in his chest, and Gordon was just sleeping.

He sighs as he tries to get his heart rate under control. But then….

“Out here?” It’s a very long distance from Gordon’s bedroom to the lounge, and there’s no sight of his chair. Or his walker.

“I had no choice,” Gordon says weakly, opening an eye to look at his brother. “Good a place as any.”

Virgil’s heart clenches at the pain behind the words. Sleeping, yes, but still hurt, and the lack of movement below him tells him exactly what happened. Gordon had followed him.

Their fight had been hours ago.

He feels his hackles rise again. “Goddamn it, Gordon, this is exactly-”

“Virgil! Not now! Please, not now.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I tried! You left.”

“You weren’t listening!”

“Shut up, Virgil,” he snaps. “God. Just – I don’t know - go get Brains or something. Leave me alone.”  The biting words quickly turn into a pained cough, a gasp as the spasm hits, and Virgil feels the fight leave him. He reaches out to rest his hand on Gordon’s shoulder blade and hates that his brother flinches at his touch.

“Gordon. I am sorry. Let me help,” he says softly. “I am not leaving you here.”

“Why not?” Gordon responds bitterly. “You did earlier.”

“I know.” It surprises him when he says it, and Gordon’s not innocent either, but he can’t deny that he ran, retreated, and made himself scarce in work that couldn’t be done safely with a phone distracting him. “I know, Gordo.”

“It’s not fair. You can’t just leave when you know I can’t follow.”  Even so, it’s obvious that Gordon still had tried, and it’s a stab to the gut to think about how long his brother had been stuck in the lounge, to realize that he is so used to this level of pain that he can sleep through it. He looks up at him, eyes glazed with pain when he pleads, “Please don’t do it again. Please don’t leave me alone.” Then with a twist of the knife, “You’ve always been the one that stays.”

He is the freaking worst brother in the history of existence.

There’s little Virgil can do in reply but hang his head, as he helps work the kinks out of Gordon’s back, moving slowly towards his lumbar region where multiple surgeries and lingering nanobots have started to rebuild the damage. Gordon’s spine is 40% bone, 50% metal, and 10% nanobots.

Both the surgery and the nanobots were new procedures, and while Gordon’s case was a perfect scenario for the parameters, there was a timetable to be upheld. The nanobots were dispersed into his spine overtime, every two weeks, by way of a large needle. Each injection was a step closer to full recovery.

With nanotechnology, they didn’t know how badly it could wrong, and even Brains had reminded him he had to stick to the approved physical therapy plan if he wanted to keep those nanobots working. A shock to one of their microscopic systems could mean a full failure in their duty to realign a critical nerve. Gordon could ruin everything with his obstinacy.

Virgil had just been afraid for Gordon, afraid to fail when the stakes were so high. He hadn’t meant to leave him. Not like that, not with the gut-twisting wound of betrayal that came with it. Virgil just needed time to process – he always had. His anger was the slow vibration of magma.  It was easier to work through his emotions when he had time to think through them, and he didn’t mind going to bed angry. And if he was still angry in the morning it meant that whatever had transpired, it was worth his frustration.

Gordon, though, pushed and pushed until whatever confrontation was forced to happen in the here and now until his point of view was seen or the matter was resolved.  His anger was fire, a deluge of sparks until you were surrounded. It was never a good combination.

Virgil left before he exploded. Gordon from a year ago would’ve known that.

“Any better?”

“A little,” he nods.

But Gordon is not the kid he was a year ago.

It’s a muscle pain, Gordon admits, a stiffness he knows well. Any damage to his spine – well, that’s a different kind of pain. Even still, they need to check to make sure he didn’t injure himself further, and that it is ok for him to move. He is just going to leave for a second Virgil promises, and he runs to the infirmary for the scanner.

It's programmed to find the status of every nanobot in Gordon’s system and will automatically report back to Brains and the team of doctors on the mainland. The green lights across the image of Gordon’s spine seem promising, and Virgil adds a brief journal entry to send with the timed log: Over-exerted in exercises today, muscle stiffness resulting in spasms and inability to move, but no apparent damage to nanos. Massaged area.  – VT

Just in case, he’d rather have a doctor sign off. He adds:  OK to move?

A message comes back with a ding, indicating it’s from one of Gordon’s doctors in reply.

“So what’s the damage. Am I still one step closer to being a cyborg?”

Virgil is not going to dignify that joke with a response, frowning, but tells him he is okay to move.  They agree on the recliner on the opposite side of the lounge. Virgil helps shift him to his side so that he can be picked up, and he tries to be as gentle as possible with his movements, carefully slipping one arm below Gordon’s knees and the other at his upper back. At the same time, Gordon slings his arm around Virgil’s neck.

They’ve had a lot of practice. Lift from the legs, never the back.

Gordon hisses with the movement and tucks his head into Virgil’s chest.

“What furnace ran you over?” He asks through gritted teeth.

“I know. Sorry about the smell. I was welding.”

Gordon grunts in reply as Virgil situates him in the recliner, raising the footrest and lowering the backrest into position. They have a few heating pads around the villa, the closest being in a supply cabinet, but Virgil treks down to Gordon’s room instead for the one that lives there so he can also bring back Gordon’s hoverchair at the same time. Gordon’s not fond of the chair and what it means, but he’ll appreciate the independence it  affords him once he’s feeling better. He’ll be able to come and go as he’s ready.

Gordon nods appreciatively when he sees what Virgil has brought back, and it is with expert hands that Virgil guides the heating pad to Gordon’s lower back. The blond exhales, breathing deeply.

“30 minutes only, Gordo. Set a timer.”  He gives him a thumbs up, but Virgil knows he needs to keep an eye too. Gordon has a habit of just leaving the heat on. “I mean it.”

Water next. Even though the headache behind his eyes has a bit more of Gordon’s name on it now, he is still parched. And Gordon could use some extra fluids too.

He heads to the kitchen and fills up two 32 oz jugs.

“Here you go. Hydrate,” Virgil says when he returns, handing over Gordon’s favorite. He is happy to see Gordon’s small smile at the cartoon llama and motivational phrase: Listen to your llama, drink your water and hold the drama. Virgil has an entire shelf of coffee mugs to express himself. Gordon has water bottles.

It’s such a simple thing, Gordon’s smile. But he’d thought for a long time he’d never see it again.

For a few moments, the dim lounge is quiet save Virgil’s desperate guzzling as the water soothes his dry throat. Finally, some relief.

“You going to slow down there, big guy?”

He shakes his head as he swallows.

This evening was too much.

From the throb of his headache to the prickling in his fingers, Virgil’s body vibrates with the whiplash of the emotions from the past few hours. Exhaustion, anger, fear, anger again, sadness, guilt.

“Do you want to maybe not drown yourself?” Gordon asks. “That’s my job.”

Virgil stops gulping the water with a gasp of air, and the remaining fluid sloshes as the water jug topples out of his trembling hand. Gordon flinches at the loud thump it makes as it hits the hardwood and rolls. Virgil is shell shocked where he stands.  

“Fuck. Not like that,” Gordon corrects quickly. “Shit, sorry. I just meant no one can drown you but me.”

Ah.

“I need to sit.” Virgil falls back to piano bench, dropping his head into hands and rubbing at his eyes.

Too much.  

“A-are you ok?”

“I don’t know.” A pause as Virgil looks up. “Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

They’ve made a mess of this evening, such terrible things they said to each other in Gordon’s room, and they’re both tired, drained, with maelstroms behind their eyes.

Gordon holds his gaze as Virgil looks away.

Virgil glances over as Gordon looks away.

Beneath fluttering fingertips, Virgil bounces his knee. Gordon closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing, the heat on his back, on the beat of Virgil’s foot tapping on the floor.

He asks, “Hey Virgil? Can you play something?”

“Yeah,” Virgil breathes. “I can do that.” He had been about to ask Gordon if he minded.

Back poised, Virgil turns away and opens the lid of his baby grand in the moonlight, and he plays, channeling every moment of the night into melodies that speak in ways he knows neither one of them can.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Then again, maybe it is that simple.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

Words: 4,022

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Damage Control.

Harry didn't ask how on earth was she capable of doing what she'd done the previous night, but she would often catch him staring. 

He was used to the harmless version of her, for years she'd threatened others and claimed to be ready to hurt anyone who would dare touch her friends, but he always knew those threats were empty, Mel couldn't hurt a fly, not before, at least. 

"Dumbledore will be back before long," said Ernie Macmillan. "They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her. Apparently, she had a right little tantrum..." 

"Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head's office," said Hermione as they started to climb up the entrance stairs. "Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old —"

"Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?" Malfoy walked up to them followed by Crabbe and Goyle. "Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff..." 

"It's only teachers that can dock points from Houses, Malfoy," Ernie made a face.

"Yeah, we're prefects too, remember?" Ron raised a brow.

"I know prefects can't dock points, Weasel King. But members of the Inquisitorial Squad —"

"The what?" said Hermione.

"The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger," Malfoy showed them a tiny silver badge that was proudly pinned under his Prefect one. "A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points... So, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress... Macmillan, five for contradicting me... Five because I don't like you, Potter... Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that... Dumbledore, five because your presence is enough to lower the school's quality — Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a Mudblood, Granger, so ten for that..."

"Don't!" Hermione stopped Ron from attacking Malfoy.

"Wise move, Granger. New Head, new times... Be good now, Potty... Weasel King..."

"You know, Malfoy, if you keep calling Ron your king you might as well bow and lick his shoes," Mel scowled. 

"Why don't you shut your mouth for once, Nutty? Or I'll tell Flint to break your other wrist as well. Did I mention he's the Head of the Inquisitorial Squad? That's right," Malfoy smirked. "You're done for, Dumbledore..."

He walked away, laughing along with Crabbe and Goyle.

"He was bluffing," said Ernie. "He can't be allowed to dock points... that would be ridiculous... It would completely undermine the prefect system..." 

"They can," Mel made a face, "Flint took points from me the other day, though I can't say I didn't deserve it..."

"But he's your friend!" Ernie exclaimed. 

"Yeah, but he has to pretend he's not," Mel sighed.

"Noticed, have you?" said Fred, walking down the staircase with his brother.

"Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points," said Harry, trembling with anger.

"Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," said George. 

"What do you mean, 'tried'?" Ron asked.

"He never managed to get all the words out," said Fred, "due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."

"But you'll get into terrible trouble!" Hermione gasped.

"Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him," said Fred. "Anyway... we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."

"Have you ever?" 

"'Course we have," said George. "Never been expelled, have we?" 

"We've always known where to draw the line," said Fred.

"We might have put a toe across it occasionally," said George. 

"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem."

"But now?" said Ron.

"Well, now —"

"— what with Dumbledore gone —"

"— we reckon a bit of mayhem —"

"— is exactly what our dear new Head deserves," said Fred.

"I'm in," said Mel, but Fred shook his head.

"I'm sorry lady, but it's better if you stay out of it this time."

"What?" She frowned. "No! My uncle's gone, I don't have to keep a low profile now."

"Yes, you do. Our friends still need you here, and you could put Erick on a tough spot, we ran into him a few minutes ago and he told us he's the Head of Umbridge's group, apparently breaking your wrist gave him extra points with the toad. He's doing his best to keep most of the squad from doing really nasty things, but he can't ignore you now."

"You mustn't do it either!" Hermione insisted. "You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!"

"You don't get it, Hermione, do you?"

"We don't care about staying anymore. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Lady Dumbledore and her uncle first. So anyway," Fred checked his watch, "phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."

"Anything to do with what?" said Hermione anxiously. 

"You'll see," said George. "Run along, now."

Fred pulled her apart from the group for a second, his eyes scanning her face.

"Really Mel, you should lay low for a while," He told her. "At least until your wrist heals properly."

"Why are you so worried all of a sudden?" 

"Don't you remember what Sirius said? You have a target on your back, I can't let you do it, out there you're in more danger than in here with that old cow."

Mel hated to admit it, but he was right. She couldn't risk it. 

"I don't want you to get expelled, though," She sulked. 

"I know," Fred smiled. "But you don't need me around anymore, do you?"

"Don't say that!" Mel exclaimed, knowing what he meant.

"We'll talk about it later. Now go."

The twins left quickly, Ernie did so as well, leaving the three of them alone.

"I think we should get out of here, you know," said Hermione. "Just in case..."

"Yeah, all right," said Ron.

"Have you seen Erick?" Harry asked her.

"Not really," Mel said worryingly. "He must be under a lot of pressure, I know it sounds weird, but I'm glad he broke my wrist, thanks to that Umbridge trusts him. He'll try his best to keep things under control, but Malfoy is an animal, he'll find a way..."

"I'm not so happy about him breaking your wrist," Harry frowned. "But having him on our side is helpful..."

"I want to talk to Daphne and the others, see if anyone suspects them..."

"If you talk to them they will, it's better to keep your distance..."

Harry stopped and looked to her left, Mel let out a surprised yelp when she noticed Filch was standing right beside them.

"The headmistress would like to see you, Potter," The man said. "And you too, Dumbledore."

"I didn't do it," said Harry stupidly.

Mel nudged his side, scowling at him.

"Guilty conscience, eh?" Filch chuckled darkly. "Follow me..."

They threw one last worried look over their shoulders to Hermione and Ron before following Filch. 

"Things are changing around here..." Filch commented happily once they got to the first floor.

"We've noticed," said Harry.

"Yerse... I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all. You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stinkpellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Twenty-nine comes in, Potter, I'll be allowed to do them things... And she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves... Oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge..."

Mel had a few things to say about it, but Fred's worry had done its job and she found her voice losing all conviction before she'd even started to speak.

"Here we are," Filch said as they reached Umbridge's office. He opened the door a bit. "The Potter boy to see you, ma'am. I got the Dumbledore girl as well."

"Thank you, Argus," She heard the woman say. "Tell Miss Dumbledore to please wait outside while I talk to Potter."

"Not at all, ma'am, not at all," said Filch, pulling Mel back as he closed the door. "You stay here."

It didn't take long before Harry finally walked out of the office, Mel did a quick examination and noticed he was perfectly fine, just a bit grumpy. Harry looked at her and opened his mouth to speak, but Umbridge talked over him.

"Miss Dumbledore, please come in."

Harry tried to warn her silently, but Mel didn't understand what he was trying to say. She walked in and closed the door behind her. She froze at the sight of Erick, standing right behind Umbridge's desk. She felt torn between relief and worry, he was there and he would be able to hear everything, but at the same time, he couldn't help her.

"Sit down, sit down! What would you like to drink?"

"Hmm?" Mel said, sitting clumsily.

"Pumpkin juice? Tea? Coffee?"

"I— er... coffee," The girl replied.

"Very well," She turned her back to her and prepared the drink.

Erick stared down at the bandages around her wrist without saying anything, brows furrowed.

"There you are," Umbridge placed the cup in front of her, smiling. "Drink up!"

Mel looked at the cup for a couple of seconds, then at the woman.

"Why am I here?"

"I wanted to have a word with you," Umbridge smiled. "Drink up, dear!"

"I prefer my coffee cold, thank you," Mel replied shortly. "What do you want to talk about?" 

"Silly little things that you might want to tell me, now that your dear uncle is no longer in charge," Umbridge laughed in that childish way of hers. "It must be hard, being the only heir, and with all those rumours around you! It's okay, girl, you don't have to keep enduring nonsense, you can do as you please."

What Mel wanted to do was to throw the coffee at her face, but she was intrigued by her attitude, so she remained silent. Umbridge touched her cup with her wand and pushed it forward.

"There, your coffee's cold now."

Mel reached to hold the cup. The drink was obviously tampered with, but she didn't know what else to do, not until she looked at Erick. He lifted three fingers without Umbridge noticing, then he put one down. She then lowered the cup.

"You know, you won't last long as Headmistress," She said casually.

Umbridge laughed. "I don't think you have the power to decide that, dear."

Erick put down a second finger. Mel grabbed a hold of her wand with her free hand.

"Well, no... but I'm not sure you've got what it takes to control the students." 

Erick put down the third finger. Almost immediately he sneezed and stumbled back, crashing against a few of Umbridge's decorative plates. As the lot fell down and smashed into pieces, Umbridge looked back at the mess, startled by it. Mel vanished the contents of her cup and hid her wand up her sleeve. Erick also waved his wand around, fixing the plates in an instant.

"Sorry, Professor," He said.

"That's quite all right, boy," Umbridge replied, though she looked annoyed. "I should clean the shelf more often... the dust tends to gather around quickly..."

"Okay then, let's finish this up," Mel tilted the cup and pretended to drink its whole content in one long sip. She licked her lips and put it down. "What do you want from me?"

Umbridge's eyes shone with hunger. "Where is your uncle?"

Mel straightened in her chair, she figured it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of fun. 

"Which uncle? I have two, you know. One of them isn't really my uncle but feels like it, I love him dearly. I guess he's looking for a job—"

"I meant Dumbledore," Umbridge said. "Where is he?"

"Oh," Mel blinked. "Out."

"Where?"

"Dunno."

Umbridge blinked, staring at the empty cup.

"I'm sure you must know, hasn't he been teaching you his nasty little secrets for years? Haven't you been planning to attack the Ministry since you started school?"

"Oh yeah, every Wednesday we sit in his office with tea and biscuits, talking about how much we hate Fudge and his stupid hat," Mel snorted.

"Watch your words, child," Umbridge's voice trembled. "Very well, you don't know where he is then, I guess he was wise enough not to trust kids... but you certainly know where Black is hiding, don't you?"

"Under his mother's skirts!" Mel replied brightly. Erick had to turn his snort into a second sneeze.

Sirius would often refer to the Black mansion in the very same way, and Mel thought it funny to use his reference at the moment.

"I caught Sirius in the Gryffindor fire in October, Miss Dumbledore! And he was talking to you and Mr Potter!"

"The only thing you caught that day was cinder."

"Enough of your foolishness, girl!" Umbridge spat. "You will tell me the truth now!"

"The truth?" Mel shrugged. "Alright... I struggle to tell Fred and George apart, especially if they have their backs turned to me. I dislike the taste of treacle tarts but they're Harry's favourite so I don't have the heart to tell him his taste sucks, and I'm actually scared of owls so I always try to find a way to make someone else attach my letters — What else..? Oh! Every time I see your face it makes me think of Neville's pet —"

"ENOUGH!" The woman stood up. "Mr Flint, please leave us alone.

"Erick's eyes widened. "Professor?"

"Make sure no one comes to interrupt, dear."

"But—"

"Do as I say!"

Erick hesitated, then he walked out of the room avoiding any kind of eye contact with her.

"You insolent child," Umbridge said quietly. "You've been under Dumbledore's protection for too long, it's given you a false sense of confidence. That's over. You respond to me."

"You think so?" Mel leaned further on the table. "Would you like to try and see if I listen?"

Umbridge smiled. 

"I know the Dumbledores well enough to know they value their well-being too little. However, I also know that the only way to get through you it's through those you care about. Tell me, how long will it take to break you once I start punishing your friends for your impertinence? I believe some of the members in my Inquisitorial squad are quite eager to start..."

"You wouldn't," She said shortly.

Umbridge giggled, leaning closer. 

"I will break every single thing you care about until you decide to speak."

BOOM!

An explosion rose from the first floor, cutting short their discussion.

"What was — ?"

The explosion spread around, the floor trembled. Umbridge walked up to the door and pushed aside Erick and Harry, who'd been waiting outside.

"What's happening?" Mel asked.

They followed the noise, and soon found the source of it. The twins had ignited a bunch of colourful and magical firecrackers. 

Filch and Umbridge were standing, apparently transfixed with horror, halfway down the stairs. As Harry watched, one of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to maneuver; it whirled toward Umbridge and Filch with a sinister wheeeeeeeeee. 

Both adults yelled with fright and ducked and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape toward the second floor.

"Hurry, Filch, hurry!" shrieked Umbridge. "They'll be all over the school unless we do something — Stupefy!"

A jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow — she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into the painting next door, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her.

"Don't Stun them, Filch!" shouted Umbridge angrily, for all the world as though it had been his suggestion.

"Right you are, Headmistress!" wheezed Filch, who was a Squib and could no more have Stunned the fireworks than swallowed them. He dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom, and began swatting at the fireworks in midair; within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze.

"C'mon," Harry laughed, "We should go before they decide to punish us for this."

Erick and Mel followed, they walked into a fake tapestry and there they found Fred and George.

"Impressive," Harry said brightly. "Very impressive... You'll put Dr Filibuster out of business, no problem..."

"Cheers," George laughed. "Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next... They multiply by ten every time you try..."

"Shouldn't you be trying to help Umbridge?" Fred asked Erick with a smirk.

"I suppose," Erick let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Let's see..."

He peered through the tapestry and yelled 'Evanesco!' and soon enough the firecrackers multiplied. 

"I'm sorry, Professor! I'll go get help!" 

He came back and laughed along with the group of Gryffindors.

"Thank you for helping me back in the office," Mel said, gently nudging his arm. 

Erick made a face. "It's the least I could do after breaking your wrist... I can't do much..."

"You can," Harry replied. "Sabotage Umbridge from the inside. Daphne and the rest of  the Slytherins still have her trust..."

"I can't believe they turned out to be more decent than a Ravenclaw girl," Fred shook his head in disappointment. 

"We're not monsters, you know?" Erick raised a brow. "We just happen to have the common sense you Gryffindors lack."

"Yeah, yeah," Mel rolled her eyes, standing on her tiptoes to surround the boy's shoulders with her arm. "Gryffindor dumb, Slytherin smart— You still have to admit you've had more fun with us than all those years stuck with the snakes..."

"You didn't hear it from me, though," Erick smirked.

"Dear, dear," said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. "Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?"

Umbridge's threats now felt empty as Mel watched her running around, trying to get rid of the firecrackers and failing miserably. The teachers were having a lovely time pretending to not know how to get rid of them. You could feel the solidarity around the school, and it was all directed against Umbridge and her Inquisitorial squad.

Fred and George were treated as war heroes that night. Even students from other houses were there, celebrating their doings. 

"They were wonderful fireworks," Hermione admitted.

"Thanks," said George, surprised and pleased about her reaction. "Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock, we're going to have to start again from scratch now..."

"It was worth it, though," said Fred, who was writing down the new orders from his classmates. "If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it's five Galleons for your Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe..."

"I will admit," Mel sniggered, "I find you really attractive this evening, Fred."

The twin laughed, and to her surprise, a blush crept up his neck. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, a few students whistled and Mel laughed, walking away and following Hermione back to their table.

"Oh, why don't we have a night off?" said Hermione, looking at the way Ron and Harry were pouting at their bags. "After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we'll have plenty of time then..."

"Are you feeling all right?" Ron smiled a bit in amusement.

"Now you mention it, d'you know... I think I'm feeling a bit... rebellious."

"Talking about rebellious," Mel started. "Umbridge threatened me — She'll try to convince me to speak by punishing you, so I'd appreciate it if you do your mischief carefully. I'd like to keep my mouth shut for a while."

"That's new," Ron snorted. 

"Shut it," Mel grinned, throwing him a cushion.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked. "I heard the way she was yelling at you..."

"I've had worse," She shrugged. "I mean, little can beat that one time Quirrel broke my skull, or when Lockhart called me dumb... or when an actual death eater kidnapped me — If Umbridge wants to scare me, she'll have to try harder."

"I've been looking everywhere for you!" Mel exclaimed in the middle of a busy hallway. "We need to talk..."

"Are we breaking up?" Fred asked. 

Several students turned their heads in their direction, sudden interest adorning their faces. Mel scowled at them and dragged him away from the crowd. 

"You should learn to be quiet..."

"Never been good at it," He smirked. "I like the attention too much if you haven't noticed..."

"We can talk about that another day..."

"Right," He nodded, adopting a serious expression. "We're here to get a divorce."

"How do you know I'm breaking things up?" Mel scoffed. "What if I'm trying to ask you on a real date?"

"Lady, I've seen the way you look at me — like I'm a pup you can't bring yourself to give away. It's flattering, I didn't know I had that power," He grinned stupidly. "But you're right, it's about time we end things."

"I wish I didn't have to," Mel pouted. "I'm having fun!"

"But we don't like each other like that," Fred reminded her. 

Mel lowered her gaze before quietly replying, "No, we don't."

"And you don't hate Harry now."

"I never did," Mel sighed.

"And I saw him arguing with Cho last night," Fred raised a brow. "So maybe you'll get a second chance after all."

"No," Mel disapproved. "You know is not like that anymore, the whole point of this was to help me get over Harry."

"Yeah," Fred tilted his head, staring at her with a funny little smile. "Sorry, that's true. It's strange... I always thought it'd be you and Harry, now... I have no idea."

The news about her breakup spread around the school in less than an hour. Everyone approached with words of comfort as if she had gone through the death of a loved one, she was starting to regret her decision when Harry sat next to her with such a grim look she knew she wouldn't be able to accept his condolences without spilling the truth.

"Listen," She stated bluntly. "Yes, it's really sad that Fred and I broke up, but—"

"What?" Harry looked at her in disbelief. "You broke up?"

"...You didn't know?"

"When did that happen?" He questioned in confusion.

"A few hours ago," She said, pushing aside the subject. "What were you going to tell me?"

Harry looked around the hall and pointed towards the empty classroom near them. She got up from the bench and followed him inside.

"What's the matter?"

"Snape banned me from his office." 

"What! Why?" She exclaimed. "He has to teach you!"

"That's not the point," He said, "I saw a memory — He made me promised I wouldn't say but... I need to talk about it with you."

"Why?"

"I saw my father..." Harry paused before adding. "Emily as well." 

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee

[jalapeno-princess]

Angel of Mine

College Boyfriend Mark X Reader

Genre: FLUFFIEST OF FLUFF, Doting boyfriend Mark that we all deserve

Word Count: 4.5K

Summary: You and your boyfriend Mark are cuddled up in your bed watching a movie when you are reminded that you have an essay due in a couple of hours that you haven’t even started on. Before you can completely break down, your boyfriend comes to your rescue and offers to write your paper for you. It’s in the moments of watching him so focused, typing away at your laptop do you realize how lucky you are to have Mark as a boyfriend.

A/N: Hey guys! So it’s the beginning of midterms here in Hawaii and i’ve already cried seven times I am not kidding you I have two semesters left of college and this is the hardest it’s ever been. I wrote this imagine for shits and giggles; i’ve never had a boyfriend before (HAHAHAHA CRIES IN FILIPINO AND KOREAN) so I wouldn’t know if there are guys out there who are actually like this (If you are, God bless you) (and if your boyfriend is like this, MARRY HIM) I actually watched a tiktok post on instagram right after I finished this where this girl said she was doing her boyfriend’s homework because he was stressed or whatever and if that isn’t couple goals than I don’t know what is (btw I do not condone having someone else do your homework) (especially if you force them to do it because you don’t want to it’s your responsibility and your education, but if they offer...it’s a different story) (LOL) anyways, enough of me blabbering, please enjoy reading while I cry in a corner.

“Remind me how I got myself in this situation again?” Your boyfriend gave you a knowing look and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a faint giggle at the sight of his furrowed brows.

“Because you love me.” He playfully rolled his eyes and continued typing away at your computer.

“Yeah, sometimes a little too much. But if I remember correctly, you promised to suck me off once I’m finished writing this damn thing, so don’t think I’m going to forget our agreement babe.”

To say you were a procrastinator would be the understatement of the year. Just a few hours ago, you and Mark were comfortably cuddled up together in bed while you both watched the live action version of Mulan. When your boyfriend excused himself to go use the bathroom, you decided to scroll through your Instagram while waiting.

After looking at a couple of posts from some of your friends and family, you were curious as to what everyone was doing and you found yourself going through some of their stories. Finals were less than two weeks away, so you were used to seeing your friends post pictures of them working their many assignments or studying for exams.

What you weren’t expecting to see was one of your classmate’s working on an essay for your English class that was apparently due in less than four hours. Only then did it hit you; you had yet to write the paper and it was worth 20% of your grade. For weeks, you told yourself you were going to start on it and when it was first assigned over two months ago, you thought you had all the time in the world.

Two months went by quicker than you could even fathom and you were frustrated with yourself for not writing it down on your calendar or completing it earlier. You practically ran over to your laptop and began looking up the rubric to see how your professor wanted you to write your essay and you could feel your heart sink to your stomach as soon as you read the requirements.

Mark was confused when he saw you no longer lying in the bed; the two of you decided to have a lazy day indoors and you’ve only left the bed twice to use the bathroom and to get something to snack on. This past week has been extremely rough on your mind and your body; so when you told Mark you had no intention on doing anything other than laying in bed and watching movies, he knew to trust your words.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

Your flustered expression only made him even more curious as to what could have happened in the few minutes he was in the bathroom for. You bit your bottom lip in frustration; knowing how Mark could be whenever it came to your education, you were afraid he was going to be upset once he found out you had only a few hours to write your essay. Since you were too much in shock to respond to him, he took matters in to his own hands and looked at your computer screen.

“Wait—I remember you mentioning this essay a couple of weeks ago—eight pages?! Six educational sources—and it’s due by 11:59 P.M. tonight—y/n what the hell?!”

This wasn’t the first time you waited till right before your assignment was due to start working on it. Matter a fact, most of your important assignments; research papers, group projects, essays and online tests were completed on the day they were due. Sometimes it was on purpose; you felt as if some of your best work were the ones you’d work on right before you were supposed to turn it in. You knew it had a lot to do with the fact that you felt pressured to do better knowing you had a time limit; but most of the time you were just lazy and didn’t want to do any work at all.

You and Mark knew about each and every single thing there is to know about one another. He knew of each and every beauty mark on your body and where it was located, he memorized all your aunt’s, uncle’s and cousin’s names, he knew the exact shade of blue that you claimed was your favorite color and he knew how you liked your tea in the morning.

The only thing he had no control over, was the way you handled your education. Mark thought the entire world of you; he believed you were the most hardworking, courageous, determined, generous and golden-hearted person he had the amazing pleasure of knowing. And he wasn’t being biased because you were his girlfriend, but you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen before. In his eyes, you were flawless; you could do no wrong—well; the only problem Mark really had whenever it came to you was the fact that you didn’t know how to prioritize your responsibilities.

After what happened to you right around the time you were introduced to one another, Mark would’ve thought that your mindset and outlook on how you managed everything going on in your life would change. He knew you were capable of great things; when you put your mind to it, you could finish any task that you were given and you were great with multitasking. Mark saw how much time, persistence and effort you would put in to your job or whenever you’d lend a hand to anyone who needed assistance; he admired your work ethic and how passionate you could get when it came to the people and things that you loved.

It was just harder for you to put time in to your essays, journals, blogs or reading the books your professors would assign. School was never something you ever really cared for; it wasn’t like you were really learning anything anyway. For years, you tried your best in being good at all subjects. You’d stay up studying for hours on end only to not retain any information that you learned and it wasn’t entirely your fault. The educational system was just fucked. In this generation, it isn’t even about learning anything; the main focus is turning in assignments on time.

The professors could give less of a shit whether or not you understand any of the material being taught. During your relationship, Mark tried his best to motivate you and even bribed you with food and kisses. He even offered to make flashcards for you if that meant you’d have an easier time studying, but nothing ever worked.

As much as he wanted you to be successful with your education, especially because he genuinely loved attending school, he knew not to force anything on you and making matters worse. This time was different though; this class was one you were already having a hard time with and this essay in particular would determine whether or not you pass or fail by the end of the semester. Your boyfriend tried his best to hide his disappointment, but it was only natural for him to be upset. Attending college was not cheap at all.

He was completely aware of the thousands of dollars you had to fund on your own because your parents weren’t able to help you financially as much as they wish they could. Since he was extremely supportive of you and each and every single one of your endeavors, he even helped pay for quite a bit of your tuition which you haven’t completely forgave him for, but you both showed him and told him on a daily basis how grateful you were that he did such a thing; and that he never fails to take care of you in ways you didn’t think you deserved.

A part of him wanted to continue his poor attempt at scolding you, but as soon as he saw tears building up at the brim of your eyelids, all his anger and frustration dissipated. If there was anything Mark hated, it was seeing you cry. The reason behind your tears didn’t matter; it just broke his heart knowing you were sad and right now, he pushed the idea of your procrastination to the back of his mind. He motioned for you to stand up and kissed both your cheeks to get rid of any trace of tears. Then, he pulled you in to his embrace and placed his chin on the top of your head before he comfortingly ran his hands up and down your back.

“I’m so sorry Mark—I’m sure you’re upset with me and you have every right to be—I’m so stupid—“ if this were under different circumstances, the cheeky pinch on your butt would’ve earned your boyfriend a punch to the shoulder, but you knew this was his way to stop you from degrading yourself. Before you could ever say anything negative about yourself, Mark would try and divert your attention away from bad mouthing yourself.

Although you and Mark were together for three years now and you knew he was the man you planned on spending the rest of your life with, there was an annoying voice in your head that would remind you almost every single day that you didn’t deserve him. He’s sacrificed so much for you and you knew it was because he loved you; but you never understood why. You weren’t anything special; sure, you loved him with every fiber of your being and you knew he was well aware of that. Yet, you knew he deserved so much more but there was no way you’d ever be able to let him go. Not when he was the one who saved your life all those years ago. The only person who meant anything to you.

As much as you loved your family and your friends, nobody could ever compare or mean as much to you. Nobody could ever be as important as Mark was. He was the only person you were sure you would die from heartbreak if you were to lose him. It was selfish of you to continue dragging him down with you and your toxic ways, but you needed Mark; you’d be nothing without him. He was your own personal guardian angel sent to change your life entirely for the better. He was the only good thing going for you and with the way he treated you as if you were the most fragile and rarest jewel in the world, you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“You’re not stupid baby—a little irresponsible and careless, but not at all stupid. Hmph, I’ll tell you what, seeing as how I’m better when it comes to writing essays, let me handle it this time.”

“No, there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you do this assignment for me Mark, I’d rather take the F—“ the soft kiss he placed on the corner of your lips made it aware that Mark meant business. Whenever he’d say something, he meant it. However, you refused to allow him to work on something you kept pushing back for months. Your essay was your full responsibility and it wouldn’t be fair for your boyfriend to have to write something he didn’t benefit from in such a small amount of time. God, he really did love you.

“The more time you spend trying to talk me out of helping you when I already made my mind up, the less time I’ll have to work on this paper. I don’t want you stressing over this; you’re already so worn-out as it is. This’ll be a piece of cake babe—you just sit on the bed and look pretty while I get started.”

Mark had to be a figment of your imagination. There was no way someone as thoughtful, kind-hearted, selfless and caring as him could exist. Most people would groan at the idea of having to do more work and if it were anyone else, you were sure you would’ve gotten a completely different reaction. You were quick to pull him in to a tight hug and left multiple chaste kisses all across of his face.

“I love you—more than I can ever fathom in to words Mark Tuan. You don’t understand how much this means to me—I’ll do anything you ask of me. Ugh, I will never get over how amazing you are and I could never thank you enough for all that you do for me.” He cupped your cheek and placed a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Anything huh? Maybe you could do some loads of my laundry, but that’s pretty much it—oh. I um—maybe you could—ah never mind.” You looked at him in curiosity and giggled when you saw the apples of his cheeks grow pink with embarrassment. Whatever he was probably referring to had to be something he was shy about. Your boyfriend was the definition of an introvert and he had a hard time asking people questions or even favors; this sometimes also included you. If you wanted to know what was on his mind, you’d have to pry it out of him.

“What is it babe?” He gave you the most adorable shrug and nibbled on his bottom lip as he began to look everywhere around the room but at you.

“Don’t feel as if you have to do this for me, I really don’t expect anything from you, but I wouldn’t mind a blow job if you’re up for it later.” One thing you loved the most about Mark, was how gentle and awkward he would get whenever it came to initiating sex or insinuating that he wanted a sexual favor from you. It was cute, yet it also turned you on for some reason. Maybe it was because he’d act totally innocent and submissive since he never wanted you to feel uncomfortable and he preferred to take things at your pace; but once the two of you actually made love, his attitude would take a 360 degree turn.

Sex with Mark was your favorite past time; he could get very naughty and rough in bed, but he could also take things slow and sensually. It really depended on the mood, but your boyfriend was an extremely generous and passionate lover. He knew what you liked, what positions you enjoyed the most, how to lick, bite and suck on all your sensitive body parts in order to elicit any kind of needy reaction out of you. It really boggled your mind that someone like Mark—someone so perfect without a flaw at all actually existed and what was harder to believe was that you were the lucky girl who was extremely blessed to call him yours.

That was something you would never take for granted; nor did you think you would ever get used to having him in your life. You seductively made your way on to his lap and began leaving sloppy kisses against his nape. This beautiful man sitting in front of you was willing to do your homework in order to prevent you from having a mental breakdown. He was willing to sacrifice his time to work on an assignment that wasn’t his responsibility to take care of just so that you didn’t have to suffer. Honestly, what world war did you fight and win in your past life to be the one that receives Mark’s love every single day? Whatever it is that you did to be able to call Mark your boyfriend, you would do it again and again if it meant having him in each and every single lifetime.

“Fuck—babe—as good as that feels, I only have three hours—y/n—you know, I’m actually thinking about taking you on your offer—just settle for the F and I’ll get settled in between your pretty thighs—“ you couldn’t help but stifle back a giggle once you heard the soft whine fall from his lips after you got up from off his lap, but he was right. He was already doing your homework for you, the least you could do was sit on the side and prevent yourself from bothering him.

“Oh yeah—you’re definitely taking me down your throat as soon as I turn in this paper. Now do as I said and sit down on the bed. Your presence alone is such a distraction and fuck—I’ve been hard since this morning when you walked out in my shirt. Damnit y/n—I really want to have my way with you right now. Please use this experience for future reference. I can’t believe I’m being cockblocked by a research paper of all things.”

You watched as Mark quickly skimmed through the rubric; you knew your boyfriend wanted to make sure he understood the material before typing out a bunch of nonsense. The last thing he needed was to spend all this time and effort looking for resources, citing them and looking for both spelling and grammatical errors only to earn you a bad grade. If Mark wasn’t there and you just so happened to find out about the essay, you wouldn’t have even attempted to write anything.

Your mindset in college was that if it seemed impossible, you would just give up on it entirely. Mark’s mindset however, was more realistic and you wished you had the motivation and enthusiasm that seemed to live in his bloodstream. Watching him so focused as he typed away like nothing was such an inspiring sight. English was one of your boyfriend’s favorite subjects; he loved reading all kinds of books—from murder mystery to comics and romance novels, Mark always preferred reading over watching a movie or television shows.

But, if there was anything he enjoyed more than reading, it was writing. Normally, the day his professor would assign him an essay, proposal, research paper or journal entry was the same day he would complete it and turn it it. There had to be something wrong with him. What person in their right mind genuinely enjoyed writing thousands of words, making sure there weren’t any errors and that the paper in its entirety actually made sense? You knew not to bother him, but you couldn’t help staring at him in all his handsome glory. His brows were furrowed and he began biting his lip in concentration; you didn’t think it was possible for someone to look like a model straight from an ad or a magazine while typing out an English paper.

“Can I get you something to eat or drink babe?” He quickly shook his head in disagreement without even looking up—he was too focused in whatever it was he could be typing.

“I think I need a couple of kisses though, you know—to help me reenergize.” You playfully rolled your eyes at his cheeky request before getting up and placing a few soft kisses against his mouth.

“So how’s it coming out?” He scrunched his nose before giving you a slight shrug.

“If I’m being honest, this probably isn’t my best work, but I’m sure it’s fine. I’m almost done by the way—so I’ll have you look it over to make sure it’s to your liking and then you can turn it in. Maybe you should start preparing your gratuity and tie your hair up. Might as well take your pants off while you’re at it—ow! I’d be careful if I were you baby. I might just replace your name with mine and confuse the shit out of your professor—yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, be a good girl and return back to bed.”

As much as you wanted to continue messing around with him; only because you were enjoying how demanding he would get when he was under stress, you knew better than to distract him. You decided to find something else to occupy yourself with as Mark returned to typing profusely at your laptop. It was extremely fascinating how he didn’t even take a second to think about what to write. The words seemed to just flow out of his brain like it was the easiest thing in the world and you were growing envious of his ability to come out with such quality and detailed work in such a small amount of time.

Around twenty minutes later, Mark let out a sigh of relief and brought his hands behind his back—a sign that he was finally finished. He motioned for you to walk over to your desk and had you sit on his lap. Out of habit, he snaked his arms around your waist and placed his chin on your shoulder; wanting to be as close to you as possible.

“Ten pages, twelve sources and it’s only 9:15. Tell me what you think baby.”

Right as you finished reading just the first paragraph alone, you were at a loss for words. Even if you were to start writing this paper when you first received the assignment from your professor, you were sure nothing you could write would be at least half as amazing as this paper was. It wasn’t repetitive—nor did he use nonsense words or anything you were sure you probably would have added in. He put all his sources in alphabetical order and inserted page numbers at the bottom of each page.

You could see why Mark’s previous English professor had asked him on multiple occasions to be her TA. The word brilliant wasn’t even enough to describe the kind of student Mark was. For someone who never really cared about reading English papers; whether it was an assignment for class, or when you had to give constructive criticism on one of your fellow classmate’s work, you would always skim through their essays—but you found yourself reading each and every single word Mark had typed out. His essay had you hooked; it was one of those writings that you were sure anyone would actually enjoy having to read. How was he able to finish all of that so quickly? By the end of it, you were in tears and you didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt Mark giggle in to your neck.

“Why are you crying Bub? I don’t think what I’ve written is at all that depressing. I literally wrote about biodegradation and how to save the earth—“

You didn’t give him any chance to continue his explanation as you roughly smashed your lips against his. Mark did so many things for you on a daily basis. He didn’t have to say he loved you for you to know that he did—his actions spoke for him. Knowing how most guys could be, you were sure no boyfriend would waste his time completing an assignment, especially one so time consuming needed all your knowledge and effort—for his girlfriend.

College was rough on everyone; so to take on something you thought was extremely difficult in order to prevent you from stressing out more than you already were—it made tears fall from the brim of your eyelids. You continued your ministrations, licking his lips and bringing both the bottom and the top in between your teeth before sucking on his tongue. Feeling him hum in to your mouth sent warmth to your core. In your relationship, you were the more extroverted and talkative one. You could go on and on about any subject you were passionate about.

However, just like Mark; you were more about actions than words—mainly because you felt like there weren’t enough words in the English dictionary to actually form sentences that would describe just how much you loved Mark wholeheartedly and exactly what he meant to you. When you felt his excitement press up against your ass, you knew what was right about to happen; but you wanted him to know verbally how grateful you were for him before showing him physically.

“Fuck—how did you—what kind of drug are you on Mark? That was one of the best essays I’ve ever read. There’s no way my professor is going to believe I wrote that. This is honors worthy—you’re—I can’t even find a word good enough to describe you. Otherworldly? Wonderful? Perfect? I love you so much Mark. Fuck, do I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t know what I did to have you in my life, but I would do it again and again to have you forever. I know you hate when I say this, but it’s the truth baby—I really don’t deserve you. Thank you, not just for typing this essay—fuck I still can’t even process this entire situation you need to sign up for scholarships or some shit you are so fucking intelligent and such a hardworking student. But—thank you for loving me. You really are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I am forever grateful for whoever it was that decided to bless me with you as my soulmate. I love you Mark Tuan.” His wide grin and the way he looked at you so adoringly made your heart melt.

“I’d do anything for you—you know that baby. It’s just—seeing you so distressed—so frustrated and unhappy with school, watching you overwork yourself to the bone—it fucking sucks. Especially when I see you beating yourself up over grades you have no control over. I know you try your best in every single thing that you do and I know that it’s easy to forget some important things and fall behind, but I will always be there to catch you—and to assure you that everything is going to be okay. You’re my person y/n—it’s my life duty to take care of you. However—don’t get used to this baby, as much as I love you—trust me—I love you with every breath I take and with every beat of my heart—but shit, that was rough. Oh—and I never want to hear you say you don’t deserve me ever again. You take care of me just as much as I take care of you. It’s a team effort babe. Now, with that being said, you caused a big problem in my pants over half an hour ago and I think it’s time that you solved it.”

[hopevalley]

Season 8, Episode 11: Changing Times

Well, as it turns out, my second Covid vaccine kicked me down hard. After sleeping for quite a long time, though, I’m tired of sleeping and ready to try and get this write-up done.

Surprisingly, or...perhaps not so surprisingly, I don’t think I have that much to say about last night’s episode. I think we’re just too close to the finale for me to feel “safe” in guessing/hoping for anything in particular.

Let’s hit up the plot points like before:

The Triangle

Carson & Faith

Rosemary’s Purpose

School District Problems

Jesse’s Disappearance 

The Triangle

I’m probably one of the few people who liked Nathan who felt like the whole beginning scene was super weird and uncomfortable. Homegirl held his hand for one second in the last episode and now she’s going to warm his serge by the fire (while he just stands there awkwardly??? He could have done that himself while she got him some tea or something idk) and then dress him???

I think we’re meant to see that as her going back to...I don’t know...old habits die hard or something? But she was barely married for any time at all and it’s been three years since Jack died. No way would she be so far into those old habits that she’d fall back into them with Nathan lmao.

Like, it’d be a REALLY GOOD PLOT for a character who had been married for years and lost a spouse (cough Abigail cough) but considering the circumstances it felt like a cheesy fanfiction! I wanted to like it, but I just felt weird about it. Tonal whiplash out the wazoo.

Especially when we had to watch Lucas drive by and see Nathan’s horse at Elizabeth’s house. 

Lucas sadly watching Elizabeth talk to Nathan was also awkward, but at least it gave him the courage he needed to break things off with her.

You’d think I’d have a lot to say about the triangle, but I’m saving all of that for some kind of...post-season discussion. Who is she going to pick? Nathan seems like the most logical writing choice, but it could yet be Lucas. I genuinely don’t care who she chooses so long as she picks someone.

--

Carson & Faith

I like to hate on these two a lot, so you might be surprised to know that I’m enjoying their storyline. I’ve criticized this series over and over for never bothering to portray realistic relationships and one thing I can say about Faith and Carson this season is that things actually feel...plausible.

I also appreciate how they try to tie Carson into the town a bit more: he talks to Henry and Minnie and even Lucas trying to figure things out! It makes perfect sense to me; how do you choose between someone you care about/the potential life you could make with them, and a career that you’re really and truly passionate about?

This is the most interesting Carson has been since Season 5.

Anyway, the pudding scene was genuinely funny, and a great way to break up the stress that I’m sure we were all feeling about his impending proposal. Faith’s reaction to thinking he might propose was...pretty telling. I really wish they hadn’t saved so many dangling plotlines to solve in the final episode, though. I was hoping Faith and Carson’s storyline would be fully figured out in the penultimate episode so that we could let him go (or whatever) in the season finale. It just seems to me like it would be a good, smooth ending for them.

Also, for what it’s worth, they tried doing this kind of plot with Frank in Season 5, but it was rushed and pulled out of thin air; he’d never shown an inclination toward pastoring toward dying children in the past and it was clear that they just needed to write him off the show. With Carson, this sort of plotline works VERY well; he was a surgeon, and he was passionate about it, but that passion took a hit when his wife needed surgery and she died on the table under his hands. He’s had some time to move on from that and process his feelings, so it makes sense that he’d find that passion again. I just wanted to point this out because it’s interesting how well it works for Carson and how...well, not-well it worked with Frank. I really felt like with Frank, it was just a storyline that could have been given to anyone with the same success rate, whereas with Carson they took a look at the character and what we already know of him, and built the storyline specifically for him. That’s good writing, babes!

Anyway, Carson trying to propose in the vague hope that Faith will come with him, even knowing she doesn’t want to leave Hope Valley, is pretty manipulative and awful, but it really goes a long way toward making his character feel like an actual person. Like yeah, he does actually want the best of both worlds. Do you blame him?

--

Rosemary’s Purpose

I know a lot of people are really into this storyline but I found it boring. The only good part was when Lee called the other desk in his office “hers.” Everything else just felt like a bit too much to come to the conclusion that she should run a paper. We already had her “advice” column in the paper and it was...amusing while it lasted, but eh. I just don’t see good storylines coming for her from this angle, especially when they went the route of her finding out she wants to start the paper back up to share information with the town. Are we really going to trust Rosemary’s integrity when it comes to writing news stories, especially when MOST of the time the things she’ll be allowed to write about are, you know, who grew the biggest cabbage? It makes me dread the potential for Round Two of Nosy Rosie.

I dunno. I used to really like Rosemary but this season’s been pretty rough on her character. Good for you for wanting to find your passion career, but most of us work so that we can eat, not for a fun way to pass the time and stay busy. :/

--

School District Problems

Mr. Landis is right and Elizabeth is an idiot. Sure the school board is being assholes for no reason (as if they’d care if one blind child was sitting in a classroom in one western town lol), but Elizabeth’s really going to dismiss his concerns about how she can juggle the added work necessary to teach Angela while also keeping up with everyone else?

It sucks that Angela will get left out, but Elizabeth should be working with Mr. Landis to come up with a plan to teach Angela without sacrificing the education of her other students. Better yet, she could rely on her friends for advice. Like Rosemary.

Still no apology there...

Anyway, a projected 100 new kids? That’s outlandish. The only way that will happen is if they open a factory in Hope Valley, and even then it could take years. I MEAN, WHERE IS THE HOUSING GOING TO BE FOR ALL THE ADULTS THAT WOULD GIVE YOU A HUNDRED NEW STUDENTS LOL. I think we have to assume the plotlines are connected.

I also find it hard to believe the board would care about Elizabeth being certified to teach Angela. Where else is she going to get an education? It’s 1918 in the middle of almost nowhere???

This show drives me nuts with its attempt to be a “Frontier Show” while also shying away from the characters actually being stranded/cut off from society at large. You still had unlicensed teachers teaching in western towns in this time period because nobody cared!!!

ANYWAY, if Union City was like 3 miles away I could see them trying to combine schools. But it isn’t. So.

I dunno. I hate this plotline. I feel like they stole it from a better show (Road to Avonlea, where the bigger school was just a few miles away and it made sense to consider combining the schools for a better education system for the students as one-room schoolhouse teaching was proven to be less effective) but didn’t bother to consider any of the logistics of the storyline.

Maybe it’s my passion for education and history that makes me hate it, though. I know too much to find this storyline believable. I should also mention that I haven’t enjoyed Elizabeth’s role as teacher for a very long time. (I think they suck at writing Elizabeth as a teacher.)

I’m just not interested in wherever this is going to go because I can’t imagine it’ll have a lasting impact.

The only good thing I can say about the whole plotline is that I REALLY LIKED HOW BILL CAME OUT OF IT. I think he’s the only person who knows how to speak to Elizabeth. She struggles with blunt honesty at first, but ultimately tends to appreciate it, and that’s pretty much what she always gets with Bill. Also, the scene where he shuts her down didn’t make her look stupid, either (just worried/anxious), so I could appreciate it.

--

Jesse’s Disappearance

I couldn’t care less about this plotline if I tried. Jesse’s gone missing in the mountains before (was it last season? I don’t even remember because I didn’t give a damn about it then either) so this felt like a multi-reused plotline...for the same character, no less.

It’s also poorly implemented. Why doesn’t anyone else care about Jesse? Why is Clara pouring her heart out to Lee while her friends are failing to support her in the slightest? Why should any of us care when we know he’ll be fine?

It just feels so forced for the sake of drama, and it’s made 10x worse because there’s too much else going on at the same time.

Also, how convenient that they have to tell us how hard-working and dedicated Jesse is to his work to force this plot to even make sense... C’mon, he has never been a particularly dedicated to work. They just needed to explain why he would have left the car so that he could be “missing.”

Boring. I also don’t care that much about their “stolen” money.

The only good thing in all of this is seeing how soothing of a voice Lee actually has. 

--

The best parts of the episode:

Henry calling Florence “Flo” GOT ME. It was so surprisingly cute???

I love Bill, and he really came out of this episode looking great! Finally, it seems they’re done writing him as a grouchy old man who hates everyone! In this season (and particularly in this episode), he is allowed to be capable, smart, helpful, loyal, and in possession of a great deal of integrity. I couldn’t believe that guy tried to bribe the judge in town right off the bat lmao...but the way Bill handled it felt very in character—very reminiscent of him from S3 or 4. He never shuts things down immediately, preferring instead to get more information to use against his, erm...opponent. Should he need it, of course. I was really happy to see him written well in this episode.

HENRY’S LETTER FROM HIS SON. STARTS OFF WITH “DAD,” AND SAYS PS. I LOVE YOU AT THE BOTTOM. Good for Henry.

Fiona’s backstory! Finally, we get some FIONA LORE. Neat.

PUDDING HANDS CARSON. 

[maybeimamuppet]

just a farewell

It’s very hot.

It’s the middle of July, and Janis is boiling even with her window open and a fan running full blast. She’s always hated summer. Cady, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered by the heat.

She does, however, seem very bothered by the other thing that the middle of July is bringing them. Janis is leaving for college in New York, and Cady is staying for her own in Illinois.

In September, when they first started applying for colleges, they weren’t even together. They were crushing hard on each other, but not dating. They didn’t even know what schools the other had applied to. By the time they started hearing things back, it was February and they had finally started dating.

They’d had a long discussion about how much they wanted their relationship to affect their decisions. They’d come to the mutual but rather upsetting agreement that, no matter how much they loathe the idea, there’s always a chance their relationship won’t last forever. Their educations would, and they both deserve the one that would be best for them.

So, Janis decided on an arts school in New York. Damian had actually chosen the same one, so they decided to rent an apartment in the city together. Damian is a performing arts major, and Janis decided to study art history and drawing, wanting to leave painting as her sacred art medium.

Cady’s application process was rather more involved, since she had been homeschooled for all but two years and her parents had never done any kind of credit system. She’d had to take placement exams instead of basing things off of her transcript. She’d chosen to go to the University of Illinois, and had managed to get herself in as a junior in credits as a mathematics major. Regina is majoring in psychology there as well, and they had recently learned they’re going to be roommates.

“I’m gonna take this down,” Cady says quietly as she grabs a box by the door, sneakily before it can be taped shut.

“Sure thing, Peanut. Thanks,” Janis says as she folds another shirt for the box she’s packing.

Cady carries her box down the stairs and out to Janis’ truck. She had snuck her Mathletes jacket over and hidden it from Janis. Cady tucks it safely in the box with a little love note and tapes it shut, then slides the box into the back of Janis’ truck bed. She can live without it for a few months.

-

Janis is worried.

Cady has been acting oddly all month. She barely speaks, and when she does her voice is soft and monotone. She’s been extra clingy, always needing some form of physical contact with Janis whenever they’re together and seeming to panic slightly when she’s not able to. And, Cady’s been having more nightmares, regularly waking up either screaming or sobbing in Janis’ arms.

But the worst part by far, the part that worries Janis the most: Cady hasn’t smiled in almost a week. No matter what Janis does, she won’t smile. Janis does understand. She’s dreading the idea of leaving her girlfriend, but she’s still worried about her.

She pushes the last box containing her bedsheets over by the door to be carried down later and flops down on her bare mattress. Cady comes back and scoots in next to her. It’s too hot to cuddle no matter how badly they both want to, so Cady settles for hooking their pinkies together.

“Hi, Kitkat,” Janis says, turning onto her side to see her.

“Hi.” Cady replies in a voice so sad that Janis wants to unpack everything and stay behind.

“What’s wrong?” Janis asks sadly. Cady turns to look at her as well, heaving a sigh as she does. Janis runs a hand through Cady’s newly chin-length curls. “You haven’t smiled in so long. What’s the matter?”

“You’re leaving,” Cady says quietly.

“I gathered that,” Janis chuckles weakly. “I get it. I don’t want to leave you either. But I’m worried about you. You barely even speak anymore, and you keep waking up crying. I miss your smile.”

“It’s stupid,” Cady mumbles. Janis sees her eyes watering and switches their grip to hold her whole hand, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Baby, no it’s not,” she chides. “If you’re this upset, nothing could be stupid. Just tell me what’s wrong, I don’t want to leave knowing you’re this sad.”

Cady takes a deep breath and inches herself a bit closer. “I’m... I’m scared,” she chokes. “When-when Aaron left for his school we didn’t even make it two months. I thought I was so in love with him, and then it all ended. And with Rhys, he left and he... he never came back. I’m scared I’ll never see you again.”

She dissolves into broken sobs by the time she finishes. Janis gives up on trying to keep cool and pulls her into a tight cuddle, desperately hushing her and trying to comfort her as best she can. She supposes she should have known Cady would have some sort of issue with abandonment. Two of the people she loved most in the world left her. One broke up with her and the other died. It all makes a bit more sense now.

“Oh, baby,” Janis hushes. “It’s not like that for us. Aaron was so far away, and you weren’t with him nearly as long. And Butterfly, Rhys was going to war when he had to leave you. I’m going to New York, I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Cady sobs. “New York is dangerous! What if you get mugged?”

“If I get mugged then you’ll be the first to know since you’ll have to bail me out of jail for killing whoever tried me,” Janis says. “I know how to defend myself. I have pepper spray and a knife, and my mom made me take all those self defense classes with her, remember? I’m gonna be safe. Our apartment is in a good neighborhood and I’m not gonna go anywhere alone.”

Cady knows she’s being slightly irrational. Nobody would mess with Janis after looking twice at her, but she’s still scared. “What if you meet someone else? And like them more than me?”

Janis rolls over and pulls Cady to lie on top of her. “I don’t think that’s possible, Peanut. I love you so much. I’m more worried about you meeting some hot math dork and ditching me. Someone with, like, elbow patches on a turtleneck, you know?”

Cady doesn’t quite laugh, but Janis feels the slightest hint of a grin against her neck. Progress is progress. “I’m sorry.”

“Baby, no, you don’t need to be sorry. I’m... devastated, I don’t want to leave you here,” Janis says, choking back her own tears. “But we’re gonna be okay.”

Cady nods against her shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Butterfly. Come on, I have an idea,” Janis says, prying her girlfriend off her lap gently and tugging on the pair of shoes she left unpacked to wear on her drive to New York.

“Oh god,” Cady groans as she hauls herself upright and wipes the tears from her face. Janis’ ideas tend to be a little out there. Her last one involved stealing Damian’s old trombone and using it to piss off a bunch of local cows. She’d nearly gotten herself trampled and the trombone had not survived the incident.

“Not like the cows. Or the chickens,” Janis says quickly. “This one’s safe, I promise. Come on.”

Cady inches her feet back into her flip flops and takes Janis’ hand, following her to her mom’s car since her truck is full of all her stuff. Janis has truly mastered the art of driving one handed now, since Cady always asks to hold one.

Cady is confused when they pull up to a convenience store, but follows Janis in anyway. She’s even more confused when Janis makes a beeline for the stationary section, since they usually only stop by for snacks.

Janis looks carefully at all the calendars, before she grabs one with pictures of kittens for each month. “Pick one for me to have.” Cady looks too, picking one with different famous paintings for each month.  “Perfect.”

Janis takes both and heads to check out, leading a puzzled Cady behind her. Why are they buying calendars they can only use for a few more months?

“Do you want to go get frozen yogurt, baby?” Janis asks once they’re in the car again. Cady nods happily, excited at the idea of her favorite treat. Finally got her to smile.

—————-

Cady insists on paying for their yogurt, since she knows hers will be very expensive. She’s piled loads of popping boba, gummy worms, strawberries, and Oreos on top of her watermelon flavored frozen yogurt. Janis kept it simple with salted caramel yogurt topped with mini M&Ms.

Janis finds a bench nearby with an umbrella so they’re not in the sun. Cady sits and pulls Janis into her lap, resting her head on Janis’ shoulder as they both dig in.

“Do you want to try some of mine?” Cady asks after a few minutes, offering a spoonful to her girlfriend.

“Are you just offering because you want some of mine and you’re trying to make it fair?” Janis asks knowingly, but does take the offered bite.

“No,” Cady says sheepishly. “I’m just trying to be a good girlfriend.”

Janis chuckles around the strange mess of flavors in her mouth. “You don’t have to try to do that, Peanut. Here.” She offers Cady a bite of her own.

“Yours is good,” Cady says, finishing off her own. She winces a little at the tart flavor of the watermelon immediately after the sweetness of the caramel.

“Wanna taste it again?” Janis asks as she takes the last bite of her own.

“But you finished it,” Cady says in confusion.

“And?” Janis purrs, leaning in to kiss her and flicking her tongue against the seam of her lips. Cady gasps in understanding, so Janis takes the opportunity to brush their tongues together. After a few minutes, she breaks away. “Tastes even better this way.”

“You’re so smooth,” Cady jokes. “And sweaty, get off.”

Janis laughs and stands up, offering a hand to help Cady back up. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jay.” Cady says. The sadness is starting to come back.

“Come on, let’s go do my idea.”

————-

A few minutes later they’re back at Janis’ house, sitting on the bare floor of her bedroom. “What is this idea?”

Janis pulls out the calendars and her mom’s fancy felt-tip pens in all sorts of fun colors. She hands the paintings one to Cady and keeps the kitten one in front of her.

“You do better with visual reminders of stuff, right?” Janis asks as she picks out a dark yellow pen. Cady nods. “So, we’ll go through these and mark off when everything starts and when our breaks are, and when we’ll call each other. Then you can count off all the days until we’re together again.”

“Oh,” Cady says. “That is good.”

“I told you,” Janis teases, poking her knee with her foot. “Are you thinking of joining any clubs or anything that would meet on Saturday nights?”

“I don’t think so,” Cady says confusedly. “Why?”

“We could have video dates those days. My art club only meets on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I’d be free if you are,” Janis says. “We’ll still call and stuff during the week, obviously, but I think it would be good to have something scheduled.”

“That sounds good too,” Cady says. “You’re so thoughtful.”

“I try really hard,” Janis jokes, marking off every Saturday for the remaining weeks of July, along with all of August, September, and October. Janis had already made the tough decision not to come back during her fall break, so they wouldn’t be able to see each other until Thanksgiving.

Cady does the same to hers. “Now what?”

“Look up when your fall break is and mark that, and do Thanksgiving too. We’ll do something fun over Facetime on my fall break since I can’t come back,” Janis says. “And then when I’m back for Thanksgiving we’ll do this again for the next semester.”

Cady marks off her first day of classes, her fall break in October, and the start of her Thanksgiving break. Janis does the same, and makes a special mark on the day she’s flying home for Thanksgiving in November.

Cady adds cute little doodles on random days, with random ‘I love you’ reminders scattered throughout as well. Just to make Janis smile. Once they finish marking everything, they switch calendars. Janis tucks hers safely into the backpack she would be bringing on her road trip.

Cady reaches for her once they finish. Janis is leaving in just a few hours, she wants to squeeze in as many cuddles as she can before she has to go. Janis obliges, cuddling into her side and burying her face into her neck. Cady turns to face her and nuzzles her nose into her hair.

They cling to one another desperately until they both get too hot and uncomfortable to continue. Janis inches back and holds her hand instead, checking the time on her phone with the other.

“We should get to Damian’s soon,” she says quietly. “We need time to load up all of his stuff too.”

Cady pouts. Janis and Damian would be leaving directly from his house. She’d get her last kisses, hugs, and cuddles for several months there. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Janis switches out her keys, grabbing the ones for her truck and leaving the ones for her mom’s car behind. Her mom and sister would meet them at Damian’s house later to see them off, but she takes a second to look wistfully around at the house itself.

Cady clings to her hand as they walk through the yard, and snatches it back as soon as Janis gets into the driver’s seat. The smiles and getting her voice back seems to have been a temporary thing. Quiet Cady is back now, playing sadly with Janis’ rings.

-

Janis has a key to Damian’s house and can tell by the lack of car in the driveway that his mom isn’t home, so she unlocks it and throws the door open with a loud, “What’s up, fuckers?!”

Pippa, who was waiting behind the door at the sound of a key, scrambles to run to her owner in the living room for protection. Janis and Cady follow, Cady shaking her head in exasperation.

Pippa gets very excited when she sees Cady and runs back over, popping up on her hind legs to show she wants attention. Cady can barely smile even at the adorable antics of the puppy, but does bend down to pet her like always.

She carries Pippa down the hall to Damian’s bedroom, following her girlfriend and best friend. Damian has everything packed already, they just need to get the boxes into Janis’ truck.

Cady’s glad that Janis and Damian are going to the same place. As hard as it is for Janis to leave Cady, she knows having to leave Damian would have been much harder for her. She’s glad Janis and Damian have always had each other to lean on, and still get to be together.

Eventually the puppy cuddles have to take a temporary break, so she rests Pippa on Damian’s bed and grabs a box to carry out.

With the three of them working, the boxes are all where they need to be pretty quickly. Now they have about two and a half hours to kill before Janis and Damian have to hit the road.

“Should we have one last movie night?” Damian asks. Cady almost bursts into tears then, she had forgotten she’d be losing him for a while too. She nods, knowing that if she tries to speak she’s going to be completely inconsolable for the next several hours.

She sits in between both of them, trying to focus on Lilo and Stitch instead of the coming events. It just about works.

Unfortunately, the movie has to come to an end, along with their time together. Nobody speaks, but they all squish a little bit closer together.

“I love you guys,” Cady whispers, finally prompting the tears from all of them. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“We’re gonna miss you too, Little Slice,” Damian says.

Janis doesn’t say anything, just leans her head onto her girlfriend’s shoulder. She stays there for a second before she seems to remember something and leaves.

“Where are you going?” Cady asks through her tears.

“I have something for you, hold on,” Janis replies through her own. Cady cuddles more with Damian while she’s gone.

Janis comes back carrying a strangely shaped... something. “Here.”

Cady takes it and nearly drops it on her toes. “What is it?”

“It’s a weighted thing, I made it from one of my jackets,” Janis sniffs. “To help you when you get overloaded. Or just when you want cuddles.”

Upon closer inspection, it is made out of one of Janis’ decorated jackets. “This was your favorite one, why would you do that?”

“It had a rip in it anyway, there was no way I could get it back,” Janis says.

Cady squeezes it close. It smells like Janis, and her girlfriend left the sleeves on and filled them with whatever she used to weigh the body down, to simulate a hug. “I love it. Thank you, Jayjay.”

“Of course,” Janis says quietly. Damian leaves then as well, and returns with his own signature blue jacket.

“Here, you can have this too,” he chokes. Cady takes it gratefully and hugs both her new gifts close.

“Thanks, D,” she says.

Janis and Damian’s families show up in the midst of a very long, tearful goodbye hug. It’s time to go.

Cady squeezes them quickly and lets them go to their families, knowing she’ll get one last chance to say goodbye before they actually have to go. The tears keep streaming down her face as she watches Janis and Juliana say their goodbyes. Janis’ mom even brought Pancakes, and that goodbye is even more sad.

Eventually, they all head out into the yard. Janis and Cady have a moment to themselves as Damian says goodbye to his mom and Janis’ family.

Cady throws herself at her girlfriend and refuses to let go as Janis picks her up. She locks her legs around her waist and arms around her neck as they both sob quietly into each other’s shoulders.

“I don’t want you to go,” Cady weeps quietly.

“I know,” Janis murmurs back. “I don’t want to go either.”

“I love you so much,” Cady sobs. “I’m so proud of you. You’re gonna do great.”

“So are you,” Janis says, resting her back on her feet and cupping her face. “I love you so much.”

“We’re gonna be fine,” Cady says, seemingly more to comfort herself than Janis. “You’ll come back.”

“Always. I’ll always come back to you. In November,” Janis chokes in response. “I promise.”

“Will you text me or call me when you’re not driving?” Cady asks, cuddling into her shoulder again.

“Of course,” Janis sniffs. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“Okay,” Cady sobs in reply. “This is the worst, I hate goodbyes.”

“I know, I hate this too,” Janis sobs. “Come here.”

They both lean in for a kiss, trying to convey all their love and sorrow through it. Their tears mingle on their cheeks, and they can both taste the salt on one another’s lips. Every once in a while one pulls back to choke out another sob, but the other pulls them back in quickly.

Eventually they do have to break apart to breathe again. Cady murmurs ‘I love you’ in every language she knows. Damian calls Janis over then, they really do have to get going.

“I love you, Bluejay,” Cady says, kissing her one last time.

“I love you too, Butterfly,” Janis says back. “Good-“

“No. Don’t-don’t say that,” Cady insists. “This time it really isn’t a goodbye. You’re coming back. This is a farewell.”

“Okay. Farewell, Cady Heron,” Janis says as she climbs into the passenger side. She and Damian had decided that he would drive first. Janis knew she would probably be crying too hard to drive safely.

“Farewell, Janis Sarkisian,” Cady says, kissing her cheek through the window before she steps back to stand by their families.

Juliana clings to Cady as Damian and Janis drive off. Cady clings to her just as tightly, both of them crying into each other. Everyone waves at the truck until it’s out of sight.

-

Cady spends the rest of the day with their families, wanting their company to distract herself from her feelings. She plays Just Dance and a few card games with Juliana to keep them both busy.

A few hours after they’ve left, Cady’s phone pings with a text from Janis. It’s a very blurry picture of the sign marking the border to Indiana.

“Is that them?” Julie asks.

“Mmhmm. They’re in Indiana now,” Cady says, turning the phone so she can see the picture. “Janis says she’s taking over driving, but she’ll let us know when they stop again.”

“How far away is your school?” Julie asks quietly.

“Only about two hours, it’s in Champaign,” Cady answers, replying to Janis’ message before she deals a new hand for their game. “Why?”

“You can come back more often,” Julie says. “I don’t want to be alone, now that Janny’s gone.”

Cady almost starts crying again. “Of course. Your mom got you a phone, right?”

���Uhhuh,” Julie says, digging into her pocket and pulling it out. Cady takes it and enters her contact information.

“There. If something happens or you get lonely just tell me and I’ll come back,” Cady promises. “Do you have Janis and Damian’s numbers too?”

Julie nods. “Thanks, Cady.”

Cady grins at her. “No problem, kiddo.”

————-

Cady stays with their families until sunset, when her parents tell her she needs to come home. Janis has continually texted her throughout the day, sending pictures of cute birds she finds at rest stops or strange things she sees out the windows.

Cady is about to turn in for the night when her phone pings one last time.

bluejay: caddy caddy

butterfly: What what?

bluejay: oh we made it to my family’s place btw we’re about halfway thru ohio

bluejay: but vera and her friends took us around to see stuff and there’s a massive field of fucking concrete corn

butterfly: What?

bluejay: Sent a picture: ive never been more afraid in my life

butterfly: That’s so weird, why couldn’t they just have actual corn there?

bluejay: i don’t know!!!! i’m scared i’m gonna get murked here but vera says ppl take prom pics with them and shit

butterfly: How tall are they?

bluejay: i think they’re about six feet they’re not that much taller than me

butterfly: Huh. How weird.

bluejay: ikr

bluejay: what are you up to babes ?

butterfly: Sent a picture: Sleepy 📷️

bluejay: aww. i miss you so much already baby

butterfly: I miss you so much, love. I have my cuddle thing you made me and I just crossed off my calendar for the day 📷📷

bluejay: oh i’ll go do that once vera finds her gfs

bluejay: goodnight peanut i love you

butterfly: Goodnight, Jayjay, I love you too

Cady shuts off her phone and plugs it in, turning onto her side and staring at the calendar she pinned to the wall. She tries to look at the cute kittens in party hats and not the word ‘JULY’ in large letters, taunting her just below it. She buries her face into the cushion, inhaling Janis’ lingering scent, and gently cries herself to sleep.

————-

Very late the next evening, she gets a text from Janis letting her know they’ve made it safely to their apartment in New York, and they’re going to get to work unpacking everything the next morning.

With the new time difference, Janis is an hour ahead of her, so they wake up at roughly the same time, now. Janis texts her around ten Cady’s time to ask if she wants to Facetime while she gets started unpacking.

Cady, obviously, agrees immediately. A call from Janis comes through, and Cady hits the green button to accept it.

“Hey, love,” she greets. “How’s the big apple?”

“Big,” Janis responds. “Here, look.” Cady can see her shuffle out of her new bed and over to the window, and then the camera flips around to show off Janis’ view.

“Wow,” Cady says. “That’s beautiful.”

“I think my view is more beautiful,” Janis flirts. “I miss you.”

“I miss you,” Cady responds sadly. “But hey, we’re already two and a half days down until we’re back together!”

“Look at you, little miss optimist,” Janis chuckles. “What are you up to?”

“Art, kind of, actually,” Cady says happily. “I got all my stuff for school yesterday, I’m decorating my notebooks.”

“Lemme see,” Janis says excitedly, sitting on her floor and opening a box. Cady flips around her own camera to show the lion she’s painting onto the cover of her yellow notebook. “Cute! I like it.”

They continue to chat lightly as they both work, and it almost feels like they’re back together again. Maybe this won’t be so bad. Cady hears a quiet gasp as Janis opens another box.

“Baby,” she says quietly. “You gave me your jacket?”

“Yeah,” Cady says shyly. “I wanted you to have something physical of mine. Turns out we had similar ideas.” She watches Janis read the little note she hid inside and the smile grow on her face.

“Thank you, Butterfly,” Janis says. She wraps the soft blue and yellow fabric around her shoulders and continues unpacking the rest of her clothes.

“You’re welcome, Bluejay,” Cady replies. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Peanut,” Janis says.

—————

About a month later, Cady is officially moved into her dorm and ready for her first day of classes. Janis doesn’t start her own until Wednesday, so she still has time to get everything ready.

On Monday morning, Cady wakes up to a text from her girlfriend. It’s eight in the morning her time, so Janis must have woken up extra early just to say hi.

bluejay: good luck at class butterfly. have a great first day 📷📷

butterfly: Thanks, Jellybean. I love you 📷️📷️

bluejay: i love you more. tell me all about it when you get back go be smart

Cady sends back a thumbs up and kissy emoji, then shuts her phone off and heads down to the bathrooms to get ready.

-

On Wednesday, she does the same for Janis. Janis’ classes are all in the afternoon, but Cady sends her a sweet text at around eleven to wish her luck.

butterfly: Good luck today, my love. You’re gonna do brilliant things and I can’t wait to see them 📷

Janis sends back a picture of her making a peace sign but with her eyes brimming with tears. Cady replies to that with a picture of her making a kissy face and an apology for making her cry, and they text back and forth while Janis gets ready and Cady has her lunch.

-

On Saturday, they have their first date over video chat. Cady puts on a nicer outfit even though she’s just sitting at her desk in her dorm. Regina is away at a party for the night, so she’s got privacy to talk to her love.

At the agreed time (which Cady had spent a very long time confirming Janis knew, even with the time difference), she opens her laptop and brings up Facetime, shuffling her short hair as she sends the call through. Her eyebrows shoot up as her girlfriend comes into view. The formerly blonde ends of her hair are…

“Blue! I mean, hi!” She says, pointing to the screen before she remembers that Janis can’t see what she’s pointing to.

Janis laughs at her reaction. “Hey, Peanut. I got bored and bought a bunch of colors of temporary dye, Damian helped me do it. What do you think?”

“It looks really good,” Cady says. Janis notices her brow furrowing and her lips going into a thin line.

“You wanna touch it, don’t you?” She asks. Cady nods crankily. “Soon. I’ll dye it blue again when I come back.”

“How long does it last?” Cady asks. “It really suits you.”

“Only about a week, it’s kind of like paint. I’m glad you like it,” Janis replies. “Anyway, how was your first week?”

“Good! My classes are actually a bit easier than I was expecting,” Cady chirps happily. “And my professors are really nice. It’s just kind of hard to remember where everything is, still. How has yours been?”

“Not bad,” Janis shrugs. “School is fine, but I miss you. Damian and I have been walking around to get used to the city, and I keep finding places you’d love and then I remember you’re so far away and I can’t actually take you there.”

Cady frowns. “Maybe I’ll have to come to you a few times, then you can show me around.”

Janis grins back. “Yeah, that would be great. Honestly, I think you’d really like it in the city. It’s big and kind of overwhelming, but once you’re used to it it’s just like you’re in your own little pocket. And then you travel to other pockets.”

“It does sound fun,” Cady giggles. “Has your art club started yet?”

“No, it’s not ‘til next week,” Janis says. “But a bunch of people in it are in my classes too, so I got to meet some of them. They all seem chill, I’m excited.”

“Good,” Cady smiles. “I’m glad.”

“How’s having Reginald for a roommate been treating you?” Janis asks. “I see a lot of pink already.”

“Yeah, trying to mesh us is a little tricky,” Cady giggles. “A lot of pink and then a lot of my tribal patterns from Africa. But really, she’s actually been a good roommate so far. She doesn’t even complain about my nightlight thingy you got me.”

“Good,” Janis grins. “God, I miss you so much. I want snuggles.”

“I miss you too,” Cady says. “But it’s August now! We made it a whole month already, now we just have… a few more to get through.”

“I’m really glad you’re an optimist, babe,” Janis chuckles. “I love you.”

Cady leans in to kiss her laptop camera, and once Janis catches on she does the same. “I love you too.”

————-

In October, Cady makes special plans for Janis’ birthday. She switched her location to the city to order some sushi for Janis’ dinner to their apartment, and sent a bit of money to Damian for streamers. It’s a Thursday, so Janis has her art club and won’t be home until late.

She gets to talk to Damian while he sets everything up, happy to catch up with her best friend. He’s just blowing up the final balloon when Janis enters. Cady quickly dons the party hat she purchased and grabs her party popper.

“Aww, Dame,” Janis says happily, not having noticed Cady on the screen yet. “Cute.”

“Wasn’t me,” Damian shrugs, slightly out of breath from blowing up all the balloons himself.

“You’re the only one here,” Janis says confusedly. “Ooh, sushi, yay!”

“That definitely wasn’t me,” Damian says. “For fucks sake, get over here.”

“What?” Janis asks around a mouthful of salmon maki roll, coming to sit by him on their crappy little couch. “Oh!”

Cady pulls the string on her party popper, making a louder bang than she was expecting and causing her to yelp as the confetti all rains down on her. “Happy birthday, love!”

Janis laughs. “Thanks, Peanut! Did you do all this?”

“Uhhuh! I hope that sushi place is good, it had the best reviews,” Cady says. “Thanks for the help, D.”

“Anytime,” Damian says. “Cads, do you have your stuff?”

“Yep!” Cady chirps, grabbing her favorite blanket and a bowl of popcorn, climbing up to her top bunk in her bed.

“What’s going on?” Janis asks in confusion, around yet another mouthful of sushi.

“We’re having a movie night! Damian and I figured out how to do it,” Cady says happily. “You get to pick the movie, birthday girl.”

“Can I pick a horror movie?” Janis asks. It’s already a bit late, and Cady typically needs a minimum of one happy movie after any scary one to be able to sleep. Janis usually has to cuddle her, too, but she can’t exactly do that from a different state.

“Sure,” Cady replies anxiously. Maybe Regina will let her sleep in her bunk. Almost definitely not, but maybe. “I’ll deal with it.”

“Compromise, I wanna watch Coraline,” Janis says. “That’s… almost a horror movie but not quite.”

“Okay,” Damian chuckles. He pulls it up and shares the screen with Cady. It’s nowhere near as good as their real movie nights, but it’s better than nothing. They still get to stay up way too late on a school night and eat more popcorn than should ever be consumed in one sitting.

Cady is thoroughly spooked by the time they all have to hang up, but Regina offers a mug of her favorite calming tea to help her sleep and begrudgingly agrees to tuck her in. Cady drifts off clinging to her homemade cuddle buddy and wrapped tightly in her blankets.

————-

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, Cady gets a very late night text from Janis.

bluejay: peanut

bluejay: i’m really sorry

Cady instantly replies, trying not to panic.

butterfly: What’s the matter?

bluejay: i can’t come home for thanksgiving

bluejay: the airline just canceled our tickets out of nowhere and they don’t have any other replacements. everywhere else is booked too

butterfly: No

butterfly: You said Thanksgiving. You have to come back

bluejay: i know

bluejay: i can’t change it i’m sorry. dame and i looked everywhere

butterfly: Look again

butterfly: Please Jay

bluejay: okay i’ll check one more time

Janis checks every single airline for any available ticket. Everywhere is booked until after her break.

bluejay: i’m sorry baby there’s literally nothing

bluejay: i miss you so much i want to come back and see you

bluejay: baby ??

Cady’s been crying too hard to see her keyboard.

butterfly: You promosed

Cady never makes typos. Janis brings up her contact and calls her immediately, frowning when Cady declines.

bluejay: baby please

bluejay: i don’t have any control over this

bluejay: you know i’d walk back if i could

bluejay: baby please at least answer me

Janis suddenly gets a text from Regina, of all people.

reginald: What the hell have you done?

reginald: Cady’s, like, losing it. I think she’s having a shutdown.

snarkisian: my flight home got cancelled

snarkisian: is she okay ??? she won’t answer me

reginald: I think she’s too upset to notice you’re trying to get ahold of her. She’s crying really hard. And she won’t come out from under her blanket.

snarkisian: god caddy

snarkisian: can you ask her quietly if she’d be able to talk to me if you answered the phone ?? she’s probably too upset to move but i might be able to help her calm down

reginald: She said yes. Or nodded, at least. I would help but I don’t know what to do, I’ve never seen her like this.

snarkisian: i haven’t either but she told me what helps her. i’ve only seen her have a meltdown

snarkisian: just watch what i do ig

She pulls up Cady’s contact again, and this time there’s an answer. It’s Regina’s concerned face, but she quickly sticks the phone into Cady’s little blanket cave so Janis can see her instead.

“Hey, Butterfly,” Janis says sadly when she sees Cady’s face. She’s stimming aggressively but very slowly, and even in the darkness Janis can see the tear tracks on her face. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I want to come back. So bad, I miss you. I want to hold you and kiss you and never let go.”

Cady sobs a few times, hard. She gasps for breath in between each. Janis notices she’s getting more upset and stimming harder, wringing her hands back and forth. Her skin is turning white with each twist.

“Do you have your weighted blanket?” Janis asks. Cady manages to shake her head. “Would it help?” She nods. “Okay. Reggie?”

“Yeah?” Regina calls from outside their little cocoon.

“There should be a weighted blanket wherever she keeps her clothes. It’s blue and has little flowers on it, can you give that to her?” Janis asks. Cady flinches at the volume of their voices and covers her ears.

“I’ll try,” Regina says. It might mean sleeping on a heating pad due to an aggravated back, but if it helps her friend, it’s worth it. Huh, maybe I really am a decent person now.

She finds a blanket that matches the description tucked in the bottom drawer of Cady’s dresser. With a good deal of effort, she hauls it out and hefts it up onto Cady’s bunk. Cady pokes her red, teary face out from her other blanket and grabs the weighted one, wrapping it around herself like a cloak. Janis can see her breathe a little sigh of relief at the pressure.

“Where’s your thing I made you?” Janis asks quietly again. Cady pokes an arm out to grab her cuddle buddy, resting it on her lap. The extra weight helps even more. “Deep breaths, Peanut.”

Cady nods and listens, taking some deep breaths in and out between her sobs. Regina helps by dimming the lights in their room and turning on Cady’s nightlight that paints colorful stars on the ceiling. Cady said that she just kind of has to wait shutdowns out, and that she almost never gets them anymore. Janis feels terrible that she caused one, even inadvertently.

She stays on the phone and Regina waits nearby anxiously until Cady sort of recovers nearly an hour later. She’s stopped crying and her stimming has picked up speed again.

“Are you okay, baby?” Janis asks quietly. Cady shakes her head. “I know. Are you feeling a little better, at least?” Cady nods. “Good. I’m so sorry, Butterfly.”

“‘S not your fault,” Cady chokes. “‘’M sorry.”

“No, Peanut, don’t be sorry,” Janis says. “I’m sorry this happened. Reggie, she has a calendar on her desk, can you grab that?”

Regina does, passing it and a pen to Cady in silence and climbing back into her own bed. She’s still within earshot, but she would very much like to go back to bed now that her roommate is okay.

Cady flips to November and aggressively scratches out the week of Thanksgiving. Stupid airlines.

“I’ll book my tickets home for Christmas now, you can mark those off instead,” Janis says. Cady watches her eyes shift as she browses the available flights home. “There. I’ll be back on the fifteenth.”

Janis actually booked a flight for the tenth. Her break is remarkably long, luckily for her. Maybe she’ll surprise Cady. She watches Cady take her pen and mark off December fifteenth with a sad grin.

“Okay. I love you,” Cady says quietly once it’s been done.

“I love you too, Peanut,” Janis says. She leans in for a camera kiss, and Cady does the same. “Call me every day of your break so we can still talk, okay? I can’t wait to see you.”

Cady nods slowly, lethargic from her shutdown. “It’s late, go to bed.”

“You go to bed,” Janis retaliates childishly.

“I’m in bed,” Cady replies, holding the phone to show her nest on her bunk.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” Janis groans with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Butterfly.”

“Night, love. Sleep well,” Cady says, nestling into bed and leaning in for one more camera kiss.

“You too,” Janis replies, returning it. One more month.

————-

The next morning, Janis texts Regina. Her help will be vital if she wants to make Cady’s surprise actually good.

snarkisian: reggieeeeeeeeeeeeeee

reginald: Christ. What do you want, Jan?

snarkisian: for u to stop using proper punctuation and capitalization in text first of all

snarkisian: but i lied to caddy i’m actually coming back on the tenth

snarkisian: can u help me surprise her ????

reginald: Lord, it never ends with you two.

snarkisian: stahp

snarkisian: just try. end ur next one without a period. i bet u can’t

reginald: I hate you

snarkisian: eyyy

reginald: Are we surprising your girlfriend or not?

snarkisian: oh yeah oops

snarkisian: all i should need is a way into ur dorm. i can get an uber there from the airport

reginald: I’ll pay for it. What time are you coming in?

snarkisian: OWO reggie being nice ???

snarkisian: i should land around one your time so i’ll be there a bit after that

reginald: I do actually care about you two, against my better judgement. I’ll come back between classes and let you in. Her last class that day ends at three.

snarkisian: tits thanks reggie

snarkisian: love u

reginald: Ugh.

Janis grins at her phone as Regina ends their conversation. She never thought she’d have banter like that with her again. Time to plan.

—————-

Janis writes out a note as she sits next to Damian on the plane. He fell asleep almost immediately after they took off, but Janis knows he’s also very excited to see Cady and their families.

Janis picks her pen back up and continues writing after a quick glance at his snoring face.

Dear Butterfly,

Hi, baby. I miss you so much, I can’t wait to see you again. I’ve missed holding you and getting all your kisses and cuddles. I miss trying to count your freckles and seeing your beautiful eyes up close. Cameras and jackets can only do so much, I guess.

I’ll be back before you know it and won’t have to let you go until January. I can’t wait. I’ll see you soon, Peanut.

Love, Jayjay

P.S. Turn around ;)

That should do it. A bit short, but it’ll get her message across well enough. She only has a couple more hours until she’s reunited with her love.

——————-

She bids Damian a farewell as they get their bags. He’s going directly back to Evanston, but Janis is sneakily staying in Cady and Regina’s room until their own break begins and then heading back with the two of them. They’re breaking a few campus rules, but nobody should have to know.

Regina meets her outside their dorm, which had taken Janis absolutely forever to find. She’d eventually had to stop and ask someone after Googling the name of it no fewer than seven times.

“Hey, art freak,” Regina greets, swiping her ID card to get into the building. Janis comes shuffling up in all her snow gear and lugging her suitcase behind her.

“Hey, Reginald,” Janis replies.

“Is that seriously still your contact name for me? You’ve had that since sixth grade,” Regina grumbles.

“You know it,” Janis says as they get into the rickety elevator. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s a little scary the first few times. You get used to it,” Regina shrugs. “Hasn’t fallen yet.”

“Oh, that fills me with so much confidence,” Janis grumbles under her breath.

“See? You survived,” Regina says. “This is it.” She pulls out a key and sticks it in the door, opening to a small room. Bunk beds, two desks, two dressers. That’s about it, but it’s been personalized with Cady and Regina’s own styles. It’s cute.

“Aww. Cute,” Janis grins. Cady has a bulletin board hung up over her desk, with her calendar and so many photos of all her friends and family pinned to it. The fifteenth has been decorated with several tiny hearts and exclamation points. Janis is also on the bulletin board most frequently, with Damian as a close second.

“Can I trust you alone here? I have a late class,” Regina says, grabbing her backpack and heading back towards the door. “Cady’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Yes, I can be trusted,” Janis groans. “Thanks, Reggie.”

“Stop calling me that!” Regina yells, already down the hall.

“Never!” Janis calls back. The door clicks shut after Regina, so Janis sets herself up for the surprise. She takes off her coat, sticking it and her suitcase under the bed and out of sight. It takes a bit of pushing, but eventually she makes it fit.

Then, she folds up the note she wrote and writes ‘Caddy’ on it with a heart and puts it on Cady’s desk for her to find, before deciding to hide in the nearby tiny storage closet. Regina said it would only be a few minutes, she can make it that long.

-

Janis grins widely as she hears her girlfriend in the hallway, trying not to make any noise from her hiding spot.

She peeks through the gap as Cady enters and takes off her coat. Cady suddenly notices the note on her desk. While she’s occupied reading it, Janis takes the time to step out and stand behind her. Cady reads the end and whirls around.

“Janis!” She yells, running to her and pitching herself into her arms. Janis stumbles back when her girlfriend rockets into her, but recovers quickly and holds her close. “What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t come back until next week!”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Janis chuckles. She hears Cady sniffle and feels tears soak into her shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

“I missed you so much,” Cady sobs. “You’re so much better than a pillow.”

“Aww, Peanut,” Janis coos. Her arms are getting a little tired, so she goes to sit on the bed. Regina technically has the bottom bunk, but she doesn’t have to know. Cady refuses to let her go, actually locking tighter around her now that they’re seated. “I missed you so, so much.”

Cady pulls back but doesn’t unlock herself, wiping her tears away and cupping Janis’ face. She stares intently at her and brushes her thumbs over her cheeks so softly.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispers. Suddenly she whacks Janis’ arm gently. “You stinker! You tricked me!”

“To surprise you, ow!” Janis laughs. “You seemed so sad, I figured this might cheer you up.”

“I haven’t seen you in five months, of course I’ve been sad,” Cady says quietly. “You’ve been here for so long and haven’t kissed me yet.”

Janis grins and pulls her in, tangling a hand in Cady’s hair and gripping her waist with the other. Cady runs her hands up and down Janis’ back before eventually settling on her shoulders. They both sigh in relief at the warmth of each other, finally feeling each other’s grip and the soft texture of one another’s lips.

“So much better than kissing a camera,” Janis mumbles happily.

“Definitely,” Cady giggles. “How long are you here?”

“I have to go back on the fourth, my classes start again on the sixth,” Janis shrugs. “We have almost a full month together.”

“Yay,” Cady says happily. “Does your family know you’re back?”

“No, I’m staying here until you guys go back. But they might find out before then, Dame already went back,” Janis shrugs.

“You criminal,” Cady gasps jokingly. “Staying here against the rules, how dare.”

“I know, it’s terribly scandalous,” Janis chuckles. She starts poking random places on Cady’s face gently, then follows them with kisses.

“What are you doing?” Cady giggles.

“Your freckles,” Janis says between little pecks. “I’m trying to memorize where they are, they don’t show up as well on camera.”

“Mm,” Cady hums in understanding. “Tickles.”

“Sorry,” Janis breathes. “What should we do?”

Cady pulls back and hauls Janis up with her, then crawls up onto her own bed. Janis comes up after her, having to be careful of bonking her head against the ceiling.

“Snuggles. Right now,” Cady demands, getting comfy on her side and reaching for her.

“Bossy,” Janis snorts, but obliges without complaint. She tucks herself against Cady’s chest and pulls herself closer. “This is a nice sweater.”

“Thanks, I just bought it the other day,” Cady chuckles in response. “Your hair is blue again.”

“I know, what do you think?” Janis asks, shaking it out gently so Cady can feel. “I had it green last week, I had to dye it back for you.”

Cady sticks her hands into it and fiddles with the ends happily. “It’s so soft!”

“Thanks,” Janis giggles at her reaction. “It’s basically colored conditioner, so it’s been doing me a lot of favors.”

Cady cuddles back in, but doesn’t take her hands out of her hair. “Do you have purple?”

“Yeah, I do,” Janis replies. “I’ll do that one next week, you wanna help?” Cady nods eagerly. “And your hair grew, you look cute.”

“Thanks!” Cady chirps happily. Her hair has grown out to her shoulders now, and is still as curly as ever. “God, I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I am too,” Janis grins. Cady squeals in surprise as she rolls over onto her back and pulls Cady on top of her. “How’s my math genius been doing here?”

Cady smiles against her neck. “As good as I can without you. I think I’m most of my professors’ favorite student. Oh, and I had a meeting with my advisor the other day, and they said I’m still on track to graduate after next year.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Janis grins happily, running her fingers through Cady’s curls. She still uses the cherry shampoo. “I’m surprised your head hasn’t exploded yet. How do you have room for all those brains?”

Cady chuckles again and leans up on her elbows. “You’re one to talk. So many art techniques rattling around in there.”

“And very little else,” Janis replies. Cady flicks her ear gently.

“You’re brilliant, shush your face,” she frowns.

“Make me,” Janis teases.

“Happily,” Cady smirks, leaning down to press their lips together again.

————-

On Christmas Eve, Cady sneaks out of her house and over to Janis’. She left her parents a note and sets an alarm so she can be back in time for presents anyway.

Janis doesn’t have a tree she can climb, so she picks up all the little pebbles she finds on the way to pitch at her window instead. Cady could just text to wake her up, but this is more romantic.

It only takes four rocks for Janis’ face to appear in the window, bleary eyes looking out into the yard to see who’s out there. She grins happily when she sees Cady and disappears suddenly to go let her in.

“What are you doing here?” She murmurs when she has her back in her arms.

“It’s Christmas,” Cady shrugs. “Or nearly, anyway. All I want is to be with you, and you’re close enough now that I can.”

“No, I appreciate that,” Janis replies, scooping her up and carrying her inside. “But it’s, like, ten degrees outside and you’re just in your pajamas and you also walked over here alone at night.”

“You don’t live that far,” Cady shrugs, but now that Janis brings it up she is absolutely freezing.

“It’s a ten minute walk, Butterfly,” Janis chuckles. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Cady yawns when Janis carries her past the stairs and down the hall.

“I can feel you shivering, let’s go have hot chocolate,” Janis responds, shifting her grip and then resting her on the counter.

“Oh,” Cady says happily. “Okay.”

Janis pours some milk into mugs and puts them in the microwave, then returns to her girlfriend. Cady grins as Janis cups her face and leans in, wrapping her legs around Janis’ waist and pulling her closer. They lose themselves in the bliss of one another, in kiss after kiss.

Until the microwave beeps and Janis has to scramble to stop it before it wakes up her family. She manages after just two beeps, Cady giggling quietly from her perch on the counter as she removes the warm mugs and adds in the cocoa, then a touch of cinnamon and some marshmallows. She puts crushed candy canes in her own, leaving Cady’s plain since she hates mint.

“Thank you, my love,” Cady says when Janis passes hers over, cradling the toasty drink in both hands and taking a small sip. It almost burns her tongue, but she’s so cold from her journey over that it actually feels nice. Janis pops up on the counter next to her and leans her head on her shoulder.

Cady laces their fingers together and leans her head against Janis’ with a few gentle kisses to her hair. They both take small sips of their tasty drinks, feeling the peace of the holiday as they’re alone together in a dark kitchen in the middle of the night.

“Merry Christmas, Peanut,” Janis murmurs when the clock on the stove hits midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Jayjay,” Cady mutters back. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Janis says, finishing off her cocoa. Cady downs the rest of hers and hands her mug over, then clings to Janis as she comes to scoop her back off the counter.

“Surprised you made it up this late,” Janis murmurs. “Midnight’s impressive for you.”

“I know,” Cady yawns. “You make good hot chocolate. ‘M sleepy.”

“Thank you,” Janis chuckles. She rests Cady on her bed and crawls in after her, grinning happily when her girlfriend latches back onto her like an adorable octopus. “Goodnight, Butterfly.”

“Night night, Bluejay,” Cady mumbles back, drifting off almost immediately in her girlfriend’s warm embrace.

————-

The next afternoon, they meet at Cady’s house to do their gift exchange with Damian. Janis had driven Cady back home in the wee hours of the morning, so their families were none the wiser that they had spent the night together.

Damian opens his presents first, getting a signed Cabaret playbill from Janis and several new pairs of fun socks for his collection from Cady.

Janis goes next. Damian got her some new jackets to customize (to make up for the one sacrificed to make Cady’s special cuddle cushion). Cady’s gift is smaller, and Janis opens a fancy box to reveal a charm bracelet.

It’s mostly empty, but there’s one fancy-looking gem and one half of a heart, similar to the split necklaces she has with Damian.

“I know it’s not really your style,” Cady says nervously. “But I figured you could fill it up however you want. And you don’t have to wear it. I have the other heart charm, I just have to find something to put it on.”

“I’ll wear it forever, back off,” Janis says protectively, fastening it around her wrist. “I love it.”

“Oh, good,” Cady breathes. It’s finally her turn to open her own presents. Damian surprises her with her plane ticket to New York to stay with them for spring break. “No way!”

“You said you wanted to come see New York,” Janis responds with a giggle as Cady tackles Damian in a hug. He hugs her tightly for a while before letting her go to open her present from Janis.

Once again, it seems that Janis and Cady have had similar ideas. “Chains?” Cady asks confusedly.

“For your necklace,” Janis replies. “For Rhys. You can try them all and figure out which ones you can handle, there’s a bunch of different ones. And if none of them work then I’ll take you to the shop when you come visit us and you can pick some to try.”

Cady has two very important necklaces that she can’t wear due to the chains. One is a locket containing some of her brother’s ashes, and the other is a charm with his thumbprint etched into it. Janis figured she can move both charms to one chain once they figure out which one she can use.

Janis frowns in concern when she sees her girlfriend’s eyes brimming with tears, but Cady just rockets herself into her arms and kisses her neck a few times.

“Thank you,” she chokes softly. “So much.”

“Of course, baby. I know how bad you want to wear them, we’ll figure out a way for you to,” Janis murmurs in reply, holding her close.

Cady reaches for Damian too, so he comes over and squishes both of them in a tight hug.

“Merry Christmas,” Cady says quietly.

“Merry Christmas!” Damian cheers. “I love you guys.”

“Oh! That reminds me!” Cady says suddenly, wiggling her way out of the cuddle and running to turn the lights off. They’re illuminated only by the lights on the tree until Cady grabs her phone and turns on the flashlight. “Gimme your wrist, Jay.”

Janis reaches the one with the bracelet over to her in confusion. Cady spins it until the charm with the gem is found, then presses the light to the underside.

“Whoa,” Janis whispers. The dark walls are now illuminated with writing in several languages. She looks around until she finds one she recognizes.

“It says ‘I love you’ in a bunch of different languages,” Cady says just as she finds English. “Here, hold it.”

Janis takes the light and continues holding it to the gem, and Cady runs to the wall to point out all the languages. “It’s technically from China, so they might not be perfect. But this is Spanish, ‘Te quiero’, and this is Swahili,” she says excitedly, having to stand on her tippy toes to reach it. “‘Nakupenda’, and over here is Swedish, ‘Jag älskar dig’.”

She continues running around and pointing to them all excitedly, having to jump to reach certain ones or stand on her tippy toes for others. Janis is amazed that she can recognize and pronounce them all, even the languages she doesn’t speak.

Cady turns the lights back on and sits back down once all of them have been pointed out. Damian and Janis had just let her have at it. It’s quite entertaining, watching her run around and chatter about one of her interests.

“Thanks, babe,” Janis chuckles as a panting Cady plops down in between them. “That’s really sweet. And your explanation was very informative.”

“Thank you,” Cady puffs. “Now, what Christmas movies are you going to introduce me to this year?”

Damian’s eyes suddenly light up and he gasps dramatically. “We never did Elf!”

“Fuck!” Janis says when she remembers that unfortunate fact. “Cads, come on, we have to do this now. This is vital.”

“Okay,” Cady giggles, moving them to the couch. She hands Damian the remote and Janis the blankets so they can get everything ready, then heads into the kitchen herself to get their munchies.

She comes back to a full-on blanket fort and a movie waiting for them, handing over the towering plate of cookies and mugs of hot chocolate. Janis pulls her in close and cuddles Cady between herself and Damian.

Best Christmas yet, Cady thinks to herself as the movie begins.

————-

In January, Janis and Damian are officially returned to New York and Cady heads back to school.

Two weeks in, she catches a miserable cold. Apparently it circulates every year, known as the college plague. Regina let her have the dorm room and was spending the nights with friends so she could avoid it as much as possible.

Cady doesn’t want to let Janis know she’s sick, so she hauls herself out of her bed and down to the desk for their weekly Facetime date. Seeing Janis will make her feel better anyway.

“Hey, Peanut,” Janis says happily as soon as her girlfriend comes into view on screen, but it quickly turns into a frown. Cady is bundled in Damian’s blue hoodie, and already wearing her glasses instead of contacts. Janis can also see her bed is unmade and covered with tissues, and spies a bottle of medicine off to the side.

“Hi, Jay,” Cady says, trying to keep the slight croak out of her pained voice. “How are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Janis says. “Go get in bed.”

“What?” Cady says confusedly. “Why?”

“Baby, I can tell you’re miserable, go get in bed,” Janis insists. “Talk to me there, you should be lying down.”

“I’m fine,” Cady says. Janis raises an eyebrow. “Ugh, okay.”

Cady unplugs the computer rests it on her bed, plugging it back into the other outlet before she crawls back into bed. Janis was right, being in bed is much better. She props herself up on her pillows and covers herself with her blanket, then rests the computer with Janis still watching in concern on her lap.

“Much better,” Janis smiles. “What did you catch, Butterfly?”

“It’s just a cold,” Cady says with a sniffle. “I’ll be fine in a couple days.”

Janis pouts. “Poor Peanut. Have you eaten? And are you drinking water?”

Cady holds up her water bottle. “Yes, of course. I haven’t eaten dinner yet, but it’s fine. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

“Okay,” Janis says. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love,” Cady says. Suddenly, she sneezes violently a couple times. Janis chuckles, she’s always found Cady’s sneezes adorable. Cady pouts as she blows her nose. “Don’ laugh a’ me.”

“Sorry, Butterfly,” Janis says. “You should rest, baby.”

“No,” Cady frowns. “Don’t hang up, I’m fine.”

“I won’t,” Janis says. “If you’re sure you’re okay.”

Cady nods. “How has your week been?”

“Good, actually,” Janis says a bit quieter. She has a sneaky plan to get Cady to rest. Cady loves her voice, so if she just keeps talking, maybe she’ll go to sleep. “My new portrait professor is really funny, and he makes everything so easy to understand.”

“Good,” Cady grins.

“Yeah, he’s really nice,” Janis says. “And he’s gay, he’s got a husband and kids. He always draws one of them whenever he has to do a model or give an example, it’s really cute.”

“Aww,” Cady says, trying to hide a yawn. Janis has noticed she’s sliding down her pillows slightly and definitely noticed the stifled yawn. Cady rests the laptop next to her and turns onto her side, taking her glasses off and cuddling in with her blankets. Nearly there.

“And I got a new assignment to draw more natural stuff from one of my other classes, so Damian and I have been going to Central Park a lot,” Janis continues, grinning as Cady’s eyes start to flutter shut. “It’s cold, but it’s really pretty all covered in snow and stuff. Hopefully everything will be green by the time you’re here, though.”

Cady grins a little at the reminder that they’ll be back together in March, and that she gets to see New York for the first time ever. She doesn’t say anything, just continues letting Janis talk and lull her to sleep.

Janis continues rambling about all her art and what she and Damian have been up to until she sees Cady’s eyes flutter shut and her chest begin to rise and fall evenly. She’s snoring ever so gently, since she’s so congested from her cold.

Janis did promise not to hang up, so she reaches to grab her sketchbook. Cady snoozes and Janis sketches her, penciling in all her freckles and stroking out her long eyelashes as they rest on her cheeks.

Cady still hasn’t woken up after a rather long time, even when Janis finishes drawing her messy curls and shading her red nose. Janis sends a text to Regina asking her to drop some food off for Cady, and then unfortunately has to hang up.

“Sleep well, Peanut,” she whispers. “I love you.”

She shoots Cady a text for her to find when she wakes up and closes the screen.

————-

In February, Cady’s birthday comes around. All she really wants is some cuddles from Janis and Damian, but it’s just unreasonable to expect them to come back for one day.

Instead, she’s surprised to open the door to her dorm room and find it completely covered in balloons and streamers. Regina fires off a rather large confetti cannon as soon as she enters, making them both shriek in surprise at the loud bang and entirely too much confetti rain down from the ceiling. A few pieces actually get stuck hanging from it, or lost in lampshades.

“Happy birthday, bitch!” Regina calls once they’ve both recovered. “Shit.”

“Regina, oh my god,” Cady laughs, pointing to a completely busted ceiling lamp. “This is… wow.”

“Janis did it,” Regina shrugs. “I blame her.”

“Sorry!” A voice rings out from the desk. “I didn’t read the measurements right. Turns out that size is for outdoor use only.”

“Hey, love!” Cady laughs, coming to greet her girlfriend on Facetime. “Thanks for the rest of it! But now we have to pay for that light.”

“I’ll get that too, it’s my bad,” Janis winces. “Happy birthday, baby!”

“Thanks,” Cady says. “Oh, hi Damian!”

“Hey, Caddy,” Damian greets, leaning in next to Janis. There’s a bowl of what looks suspiciously like popcorn on his lap. “Happy birthday, I miss you!”

“I miss you too, D,” Cady says. “One more month!”

“Yeah!” He cheers, leaning back over to his spot.

“Okay, go get comfy,” Regina demands, pointing to her bed.

“What’s happening?” Cady asks confusedly, but listens, going to grab her blanket and a pillow and getting into Regina’s bunk.

“Movie night, duh,” Regina says. “Here.” She hands the laptop over to Cady and grabs a bowl of snacks Cady hadn’t seen before, then crawls into the bed next to her.

Cady rests the laptop between them so they can both see the movie and their friends. Suddenly, another call comes in. “Oh, yay!” Cady answers it and smiles as Karen comes onto the screen. She’s still in Evanston, attending the local community college and working part time.

“Happy birthday, Cady! Cake emoji!” Karen says happily.

“Thanks, Karen!” Cady responds. Then, yet another call comes in. “No way.”

Gretchen is all the way in France, studying fashion at one of the most elite schools there.

“Oh my god, Gretch, hi!” Cady says. Gretchen looks very tired, but smiles when she sees her friends and girlfriend. Janis is only a few states away from Cady, she can’t imagine what it must be like for Gretchen and Karen trying to do long-distance from different continents.

“Hey, Cady lady! Happy birthday,” Gretchen says softly so she doesn’t wake up her roommates.

“This is crazy,” Cady says happily. Janis really went all out setting it up.

“Happy birthday, baby. What movie do you want to watch?” Janis asks, grinning at her girlfriend’s happy smile.

Cady looks sheepish. “The Lion King?”

Everyone laughs, knowing her well. Janis pulls it up on the shared screen so they can all watch at the same time. “Of course you do. Here we go.”

Cady cuddles in with her blanket and munches happily on her snacks. It’s a perfect evening, and she can’t wait to see all her friends in person again soon.

—————

Juliana’s birthday is the day before Cady flies to New York. Julie has kept her updated on how school has been going and what life is like in Evanston, but they haven’t seen each other in person since January.

So, Cady drives home to surprise her. Turning twelve is a very important occasion. She talks with Janis on the phone as she makes the rather long drive back to her hometown.

She switches to Facetime Janis as she pulls onto the correct street and puts the car in park. Julie deserves to see her sister’s face, even if they can’t be together in person.

Damian pops up as well. He might as well be their brother anyway, he’s so close with both of them. Cady grins as she knocks on the door. It’s different, knowing Janis isn’t going to be there, but she’s still excited to see Juliana.

“Cady!” Julie yells happily as she opens the door. Cady grunts slightly as she hugs her. Julie is officially taller than her now at 5’4”, much to Cady‘s chagrin.

“Hey, kiddo! Happy birthday,” Cady greets as Julie squeezes her tightly. “Oh, here, I forgot your present in the car.”

She hands over her phone so Janis can talk to her sister, smiling as she hears Janis yell a very loud happy birthday over the speakers. Julie laughs and continues talking to Janis and Damian while Cady grabs a gift bag from the car.

“Okay, this is technically from all three of us, Janis and Damian sent me their parts of it,” Cady says, handing the bag over and taking her phone back so Janis and Damian can see Julie open it.

Julie tears into it quickly, removing the tissue paper and pulling out a jacket like Janis’, a few starter paints, and some patches. She’s always wanted to be like Janis, so they all got her a jacket of her own to decorate however she wants. Janis bought the jacket itself, Damian got the patches, and Cady bought the paint set.

Julie gasps excitedly when she sees everything all together. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

Cady laughs as she runs to hug her again, and hears similar reactions from Janis and Damian through the speakers. “You’re welcome, Jules. What do you want to do now?”

“Cake,” Julie says instantly. She and Janis are remarkably similar sometimes. “Janny, it’s chocolate, should I save you some?”

Cady watches Janis process that and try to hide the tears pricking her eyes. She won’t be back in Illinois to see her sister until May, even if they freeze the cake it’ll be nearly inedible by the time she could.

“Nah, Jules, it’s fine,” Janis replies as Julie leads Cady into the house. “You eat my piece too and then we’ll buy another one when I come back.”

“Okay,” Julie giggles.

Everyone sings her happy birthday after their mom lights the candles, and Julie blows them out happily. Cady hears Janis sing extra loudly, both to beat out Damian and to make sure Juliana could still hear her.

Janis stays on the phone with them for the rest of the day, there in spirit to help Julie decide what to put on her jacket and where, and also when Cady takes her out for ice cream for dinner. As the sun sets Juliana remarks that she had even more fun today than when she got to go bowling with her friends the evening before.

Cady does eventually have to both hang up on her girlfriend and get back to her own house so she can prepare for her trip the next day. Julie hugs her tightly before she can leave.

“Thank you for coming,” she says quietly.

“Of course,” Cady replies. “I think of you as my sister too. I’ll always come for your birthdays.”

Juliana clings to her a little tighter at that, and Cady squeezes her back before she does actually have to let go and leave. Cady is glad to have a sibling in some form again.

—————

Cady wakes up entirely too early the next morning, excited to see her girlfriend again for the first time since January. Her flight doesn’t leave for another six hours or so, so she has some time to kill.

She double checks she has everything packed in her suitcase and that all her tickets are in order, makes her bed extra carefully, and then heads to find some breakfast downstairs.

Cady can barely focus enough to make cereal, she’s so excited at the prospect of seeing both Janis and New York City. Her parents come down as she’s cleaning up after herself, so she decides to catch up with them for a while.

-

After several rounds of Guitar Hero, her dad reminds her of her flight and she rushes back upstairs to get ready.

Cady flies through taking a shower, brushing her hair and teeth, and putting on some comfy travel clothes before she grabs her bags and runs back downstairs. Her parents chuckle at her eagerness and lead her to the car to drop her off.

She hugs them goodbye before she has to pass through security, and then she’s off on her little adventure.

-

Janis texts her as she waits at the gate for her flight to be called to board. It’s a video of her trying to haul Damian out of bed and him moaning that it’s a ‘holy day’ and demanding more sleep.

She giggles quietly at her friends’ antics and smiles when she remembers she’ll be able to hug them in just a few hours. Cady sends back a message telling Janis to leave Damian alone to sleep and another excited message telling her she can’t wait to hug and kiss her again.

Janis texts back the same and tells her she’ll be waiting (hopefully with Damian, but that remains to be seen) at the airport with all the cuddles and kisses they’ve been lacking for the last two months.

-

Three hours later she’s officially in a different state, and in a different time zone, and in her girlfriend’s arms. Cady’s bags wait on the carousel as she clings tightly to Janis and kisses all over her face. They get a few strange looks, but neither of them really care.

Damian did end up coming, so Cady hugs him tightly as well. He kindly takes her suitcase out to their Uber so Cady can hold hands with both of them instead.

Janis smiles when she sees the necklace Cady has on, containing both her charms for her brother. She’d tried all the chains for a week, and found one with smaller links that was the least aggravating. After a bit of practice, she can wear it all day now. Her goal now is to find a bracelet she can wear to put her half-heart charm on to match Janis’.

—————-

Janis unlocks the door to their apartment for them and leads Cady in to show her around. It’s rather small, but has an impressive two bedrooms. Cady likes it, it’s very cozy.

She especially likes Janis’ bedroom, which has been personalized wall to wall. She put paper on the walls and painted over that, intricate murals of all sorts of patterns and colors and textures. Her familiar black bedsheets don the bed, and Cady smiles when she sees her Mathletes jacket covering a pillow that Janis cuddles.

Janis flops down onto it and reaches for her actual girlfriend, so Cady cuddles into her happily.

“I love it here already,” she says quietly, nuzzling into Janis’ neck and fiddling with her pink-tipped hair. “You look good with pink hair.”

“You think?” Janis responds. “I was kind of scared to try it, actually. Damian made me do it.”

“Yes! You look good in pink, I keep trying to tell you,” Cady giggles. “Maybe I should dye mine.”

“No,” Janis whines, fiddling with Cady’s curls. “I love your hair.”

Cady grins at her. “Not even like you do? Don’t you think I’d look fun with, like, purple hair for a couple days?”

Janis ponders that, looking at her girlfriend to analyze. “Maybe. If you really want to. I do think you’d look good, I just love you as a redhead.”

“Thank you,” Cady smiles. “I love you in every color.”

“You’re so sappy,” Janis groans, but she’s smiling happily too. “I missed you.”

“I missed you so much,” Cady replies quietly. “I can’t wait for summer.”

“Two more months,” Janis agrees. “Then we have so many movie nights and cuddle sessions to make up for.”

Cady smiles again and cuddles back into Janis’ shoulder. “I can’t wait. I’ve missed in-person movie nights.”

“I have too. It’s not the same without you attached to my arm like an octopus when we watch scary movies,” Janis teases. “Or without you trying to steal my popcorn.”

“Our popcorn, excuse you,” Cady retaliates. “I get girlfriend privileges. If we’re watching scary movies it’s our arm and our popcorn.”

Janis laughs at that and rolls onto her side so they can face each other. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Cady replies, inching closer and leaning in for kisses. Janis rests a hand on her cheek and responds in kind, running her tongue gently over her bottom lip and pulling her closer when Cady gasps quietly.

After a while, neither of them is sure how long exactly, Cady pulls back abruptly with a gasp.

“What happened?” Janis asks in concern.

“Our anniversary,” Cady says. “It’s been a year, on my birthday.”

“Oh, yeah,” Janis says. “I was more focused on the birthday, I totally forgot.”

“So did I,” Cady chuckles. “Well, we can celebrate now.”

“Yeah we can,” Janis purrs, rolling to pin Cady underneath her and pressing their lips together again. She hopes Damian took a hint and went out somewhere.

—————-

The next day, Janis and Damian show Cady around the city. Janis shows her the local jewelry store and helps Cady pick a charm bracelet chain to try, and then Damian takes them to the Broadway area to look around.

“Wow,” Cady says in awe at all the bright colors and big signs. It’s strange to think that all the bootlegs she’s watched with Damian over the years were filmed in these buildings. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it just?” Damian sighs dramatically. “Oh, that reminds me. I have a very, very late birthday present for you, Cads.”

“Aww, really?” Cady asks. Janis raises a suspicious eyebrow. A present this late is almost sure to have some sort of selfish motivation behind it.

“Um… I might have impulse bought three tickets to Wicked,” he says sheepishly. “Surprise!”

“No way!” Cady calls and leaps into his arms. She’s aware of its reputation as one of the more ‘basic’ musicals out there, but it is still one of her favorites. Janis seems kind of excited as well, though she loathes musicals. “When is it?”

“A few hours, we have a little bit of time to kill,” Damian responds. “We should eat first, anyway.”

Cady refuses to let him go, so Damian carries her piggyback to their favorite sandwich place that he and Janis had discovered while they were lost one night. Neither of them are still totally sure how it happened since the streets are numbered, but Janis wasn’t particularly surprised, knowing their math skills, even combined, are rather sub-par.

—————-

Several hours later, they’re in the theater and ready to watch the show. Cady is shaking with excitement, looking around in awe at the set and all the lights. Their seats aren’t very close to the stage, but Cady is excited that she can see the whole thing at once.

Janis squeezes her hand and smiles affectionately at her girlfriend’s joy. Damian grabs Janis’ bag and passes out the snacks he’d managed to smuggle in. Cady offers Janis some of her Sour Patch Kids, which Janis takes. In return, Cady gets a few Milk Duds.

Cady leans onto her shoulder as the opening music starts, and stays there for the whole first act. Janis can feel every smile and hear every gasp or reaction to the events on stage. Janis is rather shocked herself, having somehow never seen the show. She’s quite frightened when they finally get to Defying Gravity and Elphaba is suddenly at their eye level.

-

Cady buys them all matching t-shirts from the merch area after the show, still vibrating with the adrenaline. Janis is pouting, making Cady frown.

“What’s the matter? Didn’t you have fun?” She asks sadly, wrapping her arms around Janis’ neck. Janis holds onto her waist while Damian heads off to take pictures of everything.

“I did,” Janis responds. “I just really thought Elphaba and Glinda would end up together.”

“Oh,” Cady laughs. “I did too, honestly. Fiyero isn’t bad, though. He’s cute.”

“You’d make a good Galinda,” Janis murmurs, leaning down for a quick kiss.

“And you would make a great Elphie,” Cady says, kissing her back.

“You really think I could sing like that?” Janis chuckles. “I don’t think I could handle being up so high.”

“You have a beautiful voice, of course you could,” Cady says. “And she’s fastened in, you wouldn’t fall.”

“Still, did you see how high they go? And you’d be in the bubble,” Janis mumbles with an anxious shudder. “Maybe for Halloween.”

Cady grins back. “Yeah, that’d be better. Then you can stay on the ground.”

“Humans aren’t supposed to be up that high!” Janis insists. “I’m the normal one here for once.”

“I never said you weren’t,” Cady giggles at her reaction. “Come on, let’s go find Damian.”

Janis pouts but follows as Cady hauls her around by the hand.

—————-

Janis and Damian drop Cady off at the airport again at the end of the week. Cady has an extra suitcase now, to carry all of her treasures she’s acquired in the city.

They all cling to one another desperately before Cady has to pass through security. Damian heads to a vending machine to give Cady and Janis some alone time.

They’re both already crying slightly, sniffling into each other’s shoulders. A single week together isn’t nearly enough time.

“It’s just two more months,” Cady whispers. “We’ve made it this far, we can do it again.”

“But I don’t want to do it again,” Janis whimpers. “I want to be with you.”

“I know, love. So do I,” Cady sniffles. “We’ll have the whole summer together. We can do it.”

“Summer,” Janis repeats to comfort herself. It feels years away. “God, I thought this was supposed to get easier.”

“I don’t think it ever will,” Cady chuckles sardonically. “Kiss me.”

Janis obliges, tugging Cady in by the waist as Cady cups her cheeks. She tries to memorize the cherry scent of her hair, and the artificial watermelon taste of her chapstick that still lingers. Neither of them care that they’re making out in an incredibly crowded airport, or that they’re getting strange looks. They need this moment.

“Two months,” Janis whispers when they break apart.

“Two months,” Cady repeats. They’ve already done their calendars for the next few months, and heavily decorated the day Janis and Damian would be flying back for the summer. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Janis sniffs.

“I love you most,” Cady murmurs, tipping her face back up for more kisses.

Damian comes back after another couple minutes and gives a cough to announce his return, so they break apart regretfully. Cady heads to cling to him, and he holds her just as tight.

“Bye, Little Slice,” he says sadly. Cady squishes her face against his chest to hide her tears.

“Bye, D,” she whispers back. “I’ll see you in May.”

Janis presses against her back so Cady is totally pinned between her art freaks. They stay like that until the last possible minute, but Cady does still have a flight home to catch.

She heads through security and blows them kisses from the other side, which they return before they head to leave.

Two months.

——————

Cady and Janis talk every day, and still have their weekly Facetime dates. They text in between classes and call to chat as they study for finals.

Until Cady doesn’t answer the phone one day.

Janis tries not to worry. She knows that it’s Cady’s last week to prepare, and that she has good reason to be stressed. But Cady’s never ignored her calls or messages before.

Janis tries not to bother her, only leaving one voicemail and trying to limit the amount of texts she sends.

She smiles when a call from Cady finally comes through, but it quickly fades when she picks up. Apparently she hadn’t been restrained enough for Cady’s taste.

“Janis, what do you want? My exams are next week, I have to study,” Cady huffs.

Janis is confused, she just wanted to check in. “I just… wanted to talk to you. I miss you.”

“Janis, these are important,” Cady growls in retaliation. “I miss you too, but god.”

“If that’s how it is,” Janis replies quietly. “Then I’ll leave you alone.” She hangs up and turns her phone to silent, plopping it into her nightstand drawer before turning away from it and crying into her pillow.

-

Damian wakes her up a few hours later, she must have drifted off. “I made dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” Janis whispers back, not even turning to look at him. “I’ll eat later.”

“No you fucking will not, what happened?” Damian demands, flicking on her light and coming into her bed with her.

“Nothing happened, I’m just not hungry,” Janis insists, turning to squish her face into her pillow so he can’t see the tear tracks. He isn’t fooled, hauling her up by the back of her shirt like a mama cat grabs a kitten. “Hey!”

He rests her down once she’s upright and looks at her face. “You’ve been crying. What happened?”

Janis falls apart with one look into his eyes, bursting into heartbroken tears again. Damian pulls her in for a hug and waits for an explanation.

She’s crying too hard and doesn’t want to give details, so she just sobs out a “Cady.” and hopes he can piece together what he needs to.

“Did you have a fight?” He asks gently. Janis nods and cries harder into his chest. “Okay, shh. We’ll work it out.”

Janis cries herself to sleep again, somehow, so Damian tucks her in and heads back to the kitchen. He can’t believe he’s even considering the possibility, but maybe Regina can help.

damecupboard: Hey Reggie

georgewashington: Hey, Damian. What’s up?

damecupboard: Has Caddy said anything about Janis? Or been acting weird?

georgewashington: Janis, no. Acting weird, definitely. She’s been super on edge the last couple days. She yelled at me for breathing too loud while she was trying to study.

damecupboard: Jesus

damecupboard: She and Janis had a fight, Janis is messed up. She’s cried herself to sleep twice today already

georgewashington: I’m not surprised they fought. I don’t think Cady’s slept in three days. Poor Janis.

damecupboard: This isn’t like her, can you try to talk to her?

georgewashington: Uh. I can try, but it’s kind of like volunteering to enter a cage with a hungry lion.

damecupboard: Just try to ask her what’s going on but don’t make it obvious

georgewashington: Got it.

Damian bites his thumbnail anxiously while he waits for Regina to answer again. It’s not until nearly ten minutes later that his text tone pings off again.

georgewashington: Well. I think our whole building knows she’s on edge now, but in between yelling things I couldn’t understand she kept talking about getting into a good grad school and mentioning Janis.

damecupboard: Huh. She can totally get into a good school on her own, these aren’t that important

georgewashington: I’m worried about her, she really hasn’t slept in a few days. And she barely eats. All she does is study.

damecupboard: Yeah, yelling at you guys really isn’t like her. If I get Janis to, can you try to get her into a “movie night”? I think if they can see each other and talk it’ll help

georgewashington: You’re really just gonna sacrifice me like that huh.

georgewashington: I’ll try. Six your time, get Janis and call. If we don’t pick up she has actually murdered me for even asking.

damecupboard: Got it. Sorry, Reggie

damecupboard: I’ll make them buy you flowers

georgewashington: I like poppies.

Damian chuckles at her response and goes to wake up Janis again. He frowns when he finds her clinging to her pillow with Cady’s mathletes jacket covering it.

“Janjan, come on, your food is getting cold,” he says quietly, shaking her awake again. “You gotta come eat and then you can go back to bed.”

Janis just groans and turns to lie on her belly.

“You know full well I will haul your ass out of bed myself, come eat,” Damian insists, clapping his hands to try and get her to move.

“Can’t I just eat in here? And be sad?” Janis asks pitifully, poking out one chocolate brown eye to blink at him sadly.

“No.”

“Why?” Janis groans.

“Because I’m lonely, you have to keep me company,” Damian lies. “It’s your legal obligation as my roommate. It was in the papers we had to sign.”

Not even a chuckle. “Entertain yourself.”

Damian grabs her ankle and starts dragging her out of bed. Janis doesn’t resist but also doesn’t get up. “Come on.”

“No,” she whines, reaching for her blanket. She gives an “Oof!” as she thuds to the ground, but lets him continue to drag her out of the room and into the kitchen.

Damian allows her to stay on the ground, resting her plate of food on her chest and dragging her over to the couch. Janis pouts at him from the ground, so he removes the plate and helps her up, then hands it back.

She eats slowly, and leans on his shoulder with a sad sigh once her last bite is gone. He pulls her close and looks to the clock, it’s nearly six.

“What are you doing?” Janis asks confusedly when he reaches for his laptop and rests it on the coffee table in front of them.

“Nothing,” Damian replies quickly, but she can see him open Facetime and click through to Regina’s contact.

“Damian, no, I don’t wanna see them,” Janis whines. The call goes through regardless and catches Cady mid-very loud sentence.

“I told you, I don’t have time for a movie! God, what is with you people? First Janis, now you?!” She yells, presumably at Regina who’s just offscreen. Janis is suddenly confronted with the memory of their very short phone call, and some more unpleasant ones from their high school days. She feels herself sniffle and let out a sob into Damian’s shoulder, making Cady suddenly snap her head to look at the screen.

“Hey,” Damian greets with a wave, as if he hasn’t just witnessed the terrifying display of Cady-rage on screen and doesn’t have a very upset Janis weeping into his shoulder. “How’s it going?”

Cady suddenly looks very sheepish. She frowns when she sees Janis crying quietly.

“Cady. Talk to them.” Regina demands. Cady’s bottom lip starts trembling and she suddenly bursts into tears as well.

“God, I’m so sorry,” she sobs. “I’ve… I’ve been such a bitch, I’m so sorry. Janis.”

Janis looks up when she hears her girlfriend start crying, still instinctively wanting to comfort her even though she’s distraught herself. Damian pats her shoulder comfortingly to try and get her to talk.

“What is going on with you?” Janis asks. It sounds more rude than she wants it to, but  it’ll do.

“Jay, I’m so sorry,” Cady sobs. “I’ve been… I’m trying to study as much as I can. If I don’t pass then I might-I might get bumped back a semester, or I won’t get into grad school. I-I have to pass, I have to do well enough. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Why are you so worried about this?” Janis asks quietly with a shaky sniffle. “You’ll pass.”

Cady starts crying harder at the question. “Because if I don’t I might never see you again,” she wails rapidly.

“Whoa, what?” Janis says. “What are you talking about?”

“If I don’t pass I won’t get into grad school and then I won’t be smart enough for you and-and I’m trying to get into schools in New York so I can be close to you but if I don’t then we have to keep doing this and I don’t want you to leave me,” Cady sobs. “But now I fucked everything up and got mad at you and you might anyway!”

Janis suddenly realizes this goes a lot deeper than she thought, and Janis didn’t actually have anything to do with her outburst at all. Damian leaves suddenly to give them some privacy, and she hears the door to Cady’s dorm click shut through the speakers, signaling Regina has done the same.

“Caddy, hey,” Janis says as Cady has her face buried in her arms at her desk. “When was the last time you slept?”

Cady peeks up at her and chokes out more sobs. “I don’t know. I think Tuesday.”

“And when was the last time you ate?” Janis asks quietly.

“Lunch, a while ago,” Cady sobs again.

“Baby, this isn’t healthy,” Janis says. “You can’t do this to yourself.”

“But I have to study, Jay, I have so much to-“

“No,” Janis insists. “You don’t. You’re burning yourself out. You haven’t slept in four days, and Regina just told me that ‘lunch’ you ate was yesterday. You’re gonna kill yourself if you keep going like this.”

“No, I have to-“

“Cady Jane Heron, listen to me,” Janis demands loudly. Cady snaps her head up and looks at the screen almost in fear. “I love you. I love you more than anything in this fucking world put together. I’m not going to break up with you because you don’t get into a grad school. I don’t care how smart you are. I love that you’re brilliant because it’s part of who you are, but if that changes it doesn’t change you. Or how much I love you. And we’ve made it this long being apart, I can handle a little bit longer for you to try again or figure out what else you want to do. All I care about right now is you being okay and still loving me at the end of the day.”

Cady dissolves into heavy sobs, burying her face in her arms again. “I’m not okay, Jay.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Janis says. “We’ll work on it. For now, go get in bed. I’ll have Regina bring you something to eat.”

Cady nods and unplugs the computer, climbing up into her unmade bed and crying gently against her pillows. Janis texts Regina and asks her to grab something quick for Cady to eat and letting her know Cady is sure to give a very long and tearful apology for her behavior.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you, Jay,” Cady mumbles in the meantime. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not gonna say it’s okay,” Janis replies. “But I understand. But you can’t do this again. You have to tell someone if you’re feeling like this, and I’m gonna get Reggie to watch you a little closer for a while. I love you.”

“Okay,” Cady sniffles. “I love you too.”

She perks up when Regina comes back with some soup from the dining hall, and starts sobbing again. Janis lets her apologize to Regina and waits for her to come back on screen.

Cady says her apologies several times over, and Janis can see Regina hug her begrudgingly from the edge of the screen. Now that she’s gotten her apologies in order, Cady gradually calms down, taking some deep breaths in between spoonfuls of her soup. It’s warm and filling, and she drifts off just after the last bite passes her lips.

Regina grabs the laptop and empty tray from her lap. Cady turns onto her side, deeply asleep.

“Fucking hell,” Regina murmurs under her breath. “I’ve never seen her like that, that was scary.”

“You’re telling me,” Janis jokes weakly. “Can you make sure she showers and eats again whenever she wakes up? And don’t let her study for a while?”

“Sure, I’ll hide her books,” Regina says, marking Cady’s pages and places with bookmarks before she carefully stashes them all in one of her own dresser drawers.

“Thanks,” Janis chuckles. “Let me know if anything happens.”

“Got it,” Regina replies. “Later, art freak.”

“Bye, Barbie.”

Janis closes the screen with a heavy sigh and leans her head into her hands as Damian enters again. “Everything sorted?”

“For now,” Janis sighs. “Fuck, D.”

“I know,” Damian comforts. “She’ll be okay. And now you know you can handle conflict from different states, that’s a plus.”

Janis is very glad she still has a girlfriend by the end of this day. “Can I sleep in your bed?”

“And you say you’re not clingy,” Damian teases. “Come on, loser, chop chop.”

————-

Cady is much more rational after a night of sleep, and texts both Janis and Damian one more apology. They Facetime Cady and Regina every day until the end of their term. Cady takes much better care of herself throughout, and only studies in short bursts. She passes all her exams with flying colors, as everyone knew she would.

Janis and Damian’s finals are the following week, and then they’re packing up their apartment and flying home for the summer. They decided to leave Janis’ truck there and not drive home for the sake of simplicity.

Cady texted them and said she couldn’t be at the airport to meet them due to a last math club meeting, but would be able to meet them at Janis’ house once they arrived there.

She, of course, was lying. She’s waiting by baggage claim and smiles when she sees her two favorite people (looking frankly exhausted) grab their suitcases. Cady quickly texts Janis before they can order themselves an Uber, telling her to turn around.

Janis does, and Cady jumps up and down and waves so she can see her. Janis smiles widely and runs to meet her. Cady runs to her too, and they meet each other halfway.

“I thought you couldn’t come,” Janis says as she picks Cady up to spin her around.

“I lied!” Cady says happily. “Payback for Christmas.”

“Ah,” Janis giggles, pulling her close again and wrapping her up tightly. “How are you, Peanut?”

“A lot better,” Cady replies quietly. “My parents put me in therapy to help, too.”

“Good,” Janis says. “Now take me home, I have girlfriend cuddles to catch up on.”

“Okay, come on,” Cady chuckles, lacing their fingers together and grabbing Damian as they leave the building for the last time until fall. Good riddance.

—————-

Juliana comes flying out the door when she sees them pull up, running full tilt towards her sister and pitching herself into her arms. Janis shrieks as her sister suddenly collides with her, but wraps her arms around her tightly.

“You’re weird, Jules,” she teases quietly into her sister’s hair. “You’re not supposed to like me.”

“I don’t, you’re gross,” Julie retaliates, but doesn’t leave. Janis suddenly hears an indignant meow, and looks down to find Pancakes sitting and waiting for his turn.

“How did you get out?” Janis asks, scooping up her chunky cat and stroking his ears. “And how did you get fatter since Christmas?”

“Oh, oops,” Julie says quietly, realizing she left the door open. “Come on.”

Damian and Janis’ moms come out to hug them, and Janis is confused to find Cady’s parents there as well. Cady grabs their suitcases while they make their greetings and carries them in for them.

Janis follows after her a few minutes later, still carrying Pancakes who is refusing to be set down. “What’s happening?”

“Just a little get together,” Cady teases, resting Janis’ suitcase on her bed to be unpacked later. “To celebrate you coming back.”

“Oh,” Janis replies. “What… what sort of get together?”

“You don’t have to be scared, it’s just a barbecue,” Cady giggles. “And nobody else is coming, we just have a lot of food. And Jules got you another cake.”

Janis grins affectionately. “Cute.”

Cady comes up and scritches Pancakes behind his ears, making him purr happily. “I know, Janis is home for three whole months!” Cady agrees excitedly. “And she’s been with me for two hours and hasn’t kissed me yet!”

Janis rolls her eyes lovingly and cups the back of her neck, pulling her in for a sweet kiss. Pancakes meows crankily when he’s squished between them, so they pull back.

“You’re a real cockblocker sometimes, you know that?” Janis asks him quietly. “Let’s go see if we can steal you some food.”

Pancakes is stuffed into his cat carrier so he can spend the evening in the backyard with them, and given a piece of a cheeseburger patty to appease him.

Janis, Cady, Damian and Juliana play tag while the adults cook, and then have a contest to see who can jump off the swings and land the furthest away.

Cady laughs delightedly as Janis pushes her swing higher, and shrieks in surprise as she comes rushing up behind her upon her landing to pick her up and carry her around. Janis slips after a few steps and they both tumble to the ground, but nobody is hurt.

“Jay, oh my god,” Cady laughs, clutching her stomach. Janis laughs with her and rolls off to the side, lying on her back next to her. “You’re such a dork.”

“Are you okay?” Janis laughs breathlessly. Cady had kind of taken the brunt of their impact with the ground.

“Yeah,” Cady chuckles, her laughter finally slowing. “Are you?”

Janis rolls on top of her again and leans down for a kiss. “I have you back with me, of course I’m okay.”

“You’re such a flirt, oh my god,” Cady giggles. Janis leans down again, but is suddenly beaned in the head with a foam football.

“Ow!” She yells, looking over to where Damian is standing with Juliana on his back.

“Horny police,” Damian calls. “Stop it.”

“Ugh!” Janis grumbles, but does roll off of her girlfriend. “You guys are no fun.”

“You literally just tossed your girlfriend on the ground and then fell on top of her, don’t talk to us about fun,” Julie retaliates. “We just don’t want to see you fuck in public.”

“Hey!” Janis calls, whacking her on the back of the head. “You’re not allowed to swear.”

“But you do it all the time!” Julie says.

“Yeah, do you really want to end up like me?” Janis asks.

“Fair point,” Julie shrugs, shrieking as Janis suddenly lunges for her. She slides off of Damian’s back and runs away from her sister’s wrath, with Janis running full speed after her.

“You little brat, get back here!” Janis yells, increasing her speed.

Cady and Damian watch in a mixture of hilarity and concern, laughing as Julie streaks by them. Janis is gaining on her, however.

Juliana makes it to the adults first, shielded by their mother. “Girls, behave.”

“Yeah, Janny,” Julie teases. “Behave.”

Janis sticks her tongue out at her, and Julie does it back. “Sleep with one eye open tonight.”

Julie dissolves into giggles at the threat, and Janis does too. Cady grins at their interactions, reminded of her brother. She still has the necklace, and touches the charms without thinking of it.

The sisters return to Cady and Damian then, both slightly out of breath. Janis kisses Cady in greeting and smiles as she nuzzles into her shoulder. Julie and Damian both make fake gagging sounds, but they ignore them this time.

Eventually they’re called to eat, and Cady sits on Janis’ lap as they all sit around a picnic blanket and munch happily on their hot dogs and burgers. Janis feels more at peace than she has since July.

Maybe summer is okay.

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut later.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

_______________________________________________________

Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

Familiarity breeds contempt.

Three days became four, then five. The hours flowing between your fingers and before you know it’s been two weeks and three days already.

Not that your will ask them to go. You were pretty sure the little trembling harmony that reigns in your home is as fragile as you decide by asking the wrong question.

To say you are comfortable would be rich, at least. They are a band of murderers, meanwhile you were just a student, but you would be lying if you didn’t accept the fact that the wave of fear had subdue to become some mild annoyance.

The thing is that the famous league of villains is as human as can be. Surely, they are insane, powerful, and menacing, but they also eat, and sleep, and they watch tv and smile when they are happy.

So here you are, getting in tune with their antics. Like how Magne likes to use your flowery shampoo because smells nice and it makes her feel pretty, or that Mr. Compress drinks his milk with honey before sleep.

So, you try your best to remember place and time, but then Toga asks you to paint her nails and asks if she can brush your hair because she wants so desperately to be your friend that something in your heart breaks a little when you remember that she’s just an abandoned child, with no other feminine figure to guide her. (Magne does what she can, but she also faces different kinds of struggle.)

Something in you began to soften to them and you simply cannot help it. Maybe is the little girl in you who wanted to be a hero but saw it impossible.

That’s how you end asking Spinner about his swords, both of you watching some tv program about forging historical weapons, and sharing about your parent’s death with Jin, who cries for you and hugs your tightly telling everyone he’s so happy to have a friend like you.

You end up buying vitamins and oranges for them because no one getting scurvy under your watch. Patching their injures and making some fast clinical examination of them, just to discover some of them are underweight, scrawny, and sharp. So, you cook for them, and made two beds in the living room because you’ve always had a soft spot for broken things and lost causes and somehow, you really want to make them feel nice, and you are no longer sure if this is about your survival or theirs.

Then is Tomura.

You can feel the attraction growing wild inside of you. How your eyes look for his figure inside the house and how you care about what he thinks of you or what he likes.

He’s not helping either, not when he insists on playing chess with you between playful back and forth, or sometimes just sits behind you in the kitchen counter to watch you cook. Silent until he’s not, asking “what’s that” when he sees you putting some spices in the pot.

He’s a curious cat. A fast learner and problem solver. Quick to intuition and creativity.

And you like the way his hair falls wet over his shoulders, clearing away from his face after he showers, looking less like a vagabond and more like a boy.

It’s awful and you know it. You can recognize a crush from a mile away and yours is there pulsing alive for everyone to watch.

The sad part is the what if.

Sometimes Toga asks things. Random things about medicine, about history, about books, and you cannot help it but to vomit everything you know about the subject because you are a scholar above everything else.

Those are the moments when Shigaraki will look at you from the corner of his ruby eyes, attentively listening and absorbing anything you say, siting quietly in a corner of the room, playing with his phone. Then he’ll hear something that catches his interest, asking you about it, his questions always interesting and more complex than Toga’s.

It saddens you to think of him as a student. His brilliance shining under the lights of proper education and love. What positive reinforcement and care could have done for him. Not that you know anything about Shigaraki, but there is no way a loving family could produce such person (not when you are more than sure that he’s clinically depressed), so your bets are on violence and abandonment.

What brilliant career could have achieved, what kind of things would he create, instead of just brutal destruction and (you suspect this one) raw self-loathing.

So, you dream of him sometimes.

You can see him wearing more than just a worn-out coat, a backpack hanging from his shoulder and his soft features clean and properly cared for. What he should look without the dry skin, the slouching and the eyebags.

You can imagine him crossing paths with you on campus, siting with you in the cafeteria, laughing youthfully, his persona free of the heavy weight of his wicked gestures, product of a life expended celebrating too much spite.

Maybe you would have meet him in other circumstances. A “friend of a friend” in some shitty party, the kind of boy that smiles when speaking, sharing some smart-ass joke, his witty speech making you laugh, making you fall.

Just like now.  

“so, how do you know a quirk is a mutation?” Toga ask while you read some article in your laptop.

“well, most of them have a base or function as a variety of some primordial quirk. Those that are mutations simple work outside the norm and tend to be very dangerous for the everyone, including the holder, because as the mutation is a completely new expression of genetics, the rest of the body is still adapting to the evolutionary crescendo. That and, well…mutants have a very distinct look because the gene that comes with the mutation, also alters the expression of other common things like melatonin production.”

“Oh! I remember that! We saw it at school…with the Mendeleyev system.”

“exactly!” You say, but Toga isn’t done with the questions and you don’t stop the conversation before-

“so, how do they look? The mutants. How do they look.”

“well, they all have silver hair and red eyes.”

They look at the corner of the kitchen and only then you realize what you’ve done.

“Congratulations, Shigaraki. You are officially a fucking freak.” Dabi says from the couch, but Shigaraki doesn’t answer his provocation. He just keeps playing in his phone, the only sign of acknowledge is an arched brow.

It rubs you wrong. As much as anybody is okay with it, you hate the words that leave his mouth.

Maybe is the fact that he’s making fun of someone’s looks, or maybe is because hearing someone being called a freak sends you back to high school when your classmates told you that you were a fucking creep with that evil quirk of yours (or maybe is the stupid crush speaking) but it makes you angry, so before you can think of it, you spat.

“blue eyes are a mutation too, so you are no one to talk about it.”

Twice laughs at the comeback, but before you could taste your little win, Dabi makes sure to answer back because he’s being dying to fight you the moment he set a foot on your apartment.

“that was bold for a quirkless little bitch.”

You laugh astonished, deciding you will not acknowledge the fact he (very wrongly) thinks you quirkless.

“A quirkless little bitch? Seriously, Dabi? Where you raised in a fucking barn that you know nothing but fuck this and bitch that?

“yeah. I know stupid cunt too.” He barks referring to you.

“Dabi, cut it out.” Shigaraki snaps to no avail.

“Hey! We agree in no insults!” Compress try to quiet the fight down, but neither of you pays attention.

“I’m sure you do. Pretty useful to describe yourself I bet.”

“you sure like to bet, like how you are betting I don’t burn you alive for being an annoying bitch.” He threatens looking at the chess game still on the kitchen table, getting quickly into your nerves.

“Guys-“Toga fails to intercede.

“Fuck off, Dabi. This might be shocking for you, but you don’t scare me.”

“now, that’s pretty fucking stupid of you.”

“Dabi, shut up!” Shigaraki growls done, but you are not paying attention to him, so you keep pushing into the fight.  

“I’m not the one insulting everyone just because I cannot deal with some fucking daddy issues.”

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT” he snarls before kicking the little table in your living room, breaking one of its legs.

“CUT IT OUT! I don’t have to know when it’s plainly obvious you have problems with authority.”

“you really think you are so clever, don’t you?” he states, crossing the living room, aiming to you.

“Dabi, get the fuck out!” this time Shigaraki yells.

“I know I am, asshole!”

He stops his tracks, looming over you. His eyes scanning your face before looking at Shigaraki, who suddenly stands beside you.

Dabi laughs darkly.

“stupid woman. You should know better.”

And then…he just slaps your laptop out of the table; the computer smashing open against the cemented ground.

Chapter 9

[things2mustdo]

By Hara Estroff Marano published March 1, 2007 - last reviewed on June 9, 2016

HEM : Why do you believe that adolescence is an artificial extension of childhood?

RE : In every mammalian species, immediately upon reaching puberty, animals function as adults, often having offspring. We call our offspring "children" well past puberty. The trend started a hundred years ago and now extends childhood well into the 20s. The age at which Americans reach adulthood is increasing—30 is the new 20—and most Americans now believe a person isn't an adult until age 26.

The whole culture collaborates in artificially extending childhood, primarily through the school system and restrictions on labor. The two systems evolved together in the late 19th-century; the advocates of compulsory-education laws also pushed for child-labor laws, restricting the ways young people could work, in part to protect them from the abuses of the new factories. The juvenile justice system came into being at the same time. All of these systems isolate teens from adults, often in problematic ways.

Our current education system was created in the late 1800s and early 1900s, and was modeled after the new factories of the industrial revolution. Public schools, set up to supply the factories with a skilled labor force, crammed education into a relatively small number of years. We have tried to pack more and more in while extending schooling up to age 24 or 25, for some segments of the population. In general, such an approach still reflects factory thinking—get your education now and get it efficiently, in classrooms in lockstep fashion. Unfortunately, most people learn in those classrooms to hate education for the rest of their lives.

The factory system doesn't work in the modern world, because two years after graduation, whatever you learned is out of date. We need education spread over a lifetime, not jammed into the early years—except for such basics as reading, writing, and perhaps citizenship. Past puberty, education needs to be combined in interesting and creative ways with work. The factory school system no longer makes sense.

What are some likely consequences of extending one's childhood?

Imagine what it would feel like—or think back to what it felt like—when your body and mind are telling you you're an adult while the adults around you keep insisting you're a child. This infantilization makes many young people angry or depressed, with their distress carrying over into their families and contributing to our high divorce rate. It's hard to keep a marriage together when there is constant conflict with teens.

We have completely isolated young people from adults and created a peer culture. We stick them in school and keep them from working in any meaningful way, and if they do something wrong we put them in a pen with other "children." In most nonindustrialized societies, young people are integrated into adult society as soon as they are capable, and there is no sign of teen turmoil. Many cultures do not even have a term for adolescence. But we not only created this stage of life: We declared it inevitable. In 1904, American psychologist G. Stanley Hall said it was programmed by evolution. He was wrong.

How is adolescent behavior shaped by societal strictures?

One effect is the creation of a new segment of society just waiting to consume, especially if given money to spend. There are now massive industries—music, clothing, makeup—that revolve around this artificial segment of society and keep it going, with teens spending upward of $200 billion a year almost entirely on trivia.

Ironically, because minors have only limited property rights, they don't have complete control over what they have bought. Think how bizarre that is. If you, as an adult, spend money and bring home a toy, it's your toy and no one can take it away from you. But with a 14-year-old, it's not really his or her toy. Young people can't own things, can't sign contracts, and they can't do anything meaningful without parental permission—permission that can be withdrawn at any time. They can't marry, can't have sex, can't legally drink. The list goes on. They are restricted and infantilized to an extraordinary extent.

In recent surveys I've found that American teens are subjected to more than 10 times as many restrictions as mainstream adults, twice as many restrictions as active-duty U.S. Marines, and even twice as many as incarcerated felons. Psychologist Diane Dumas and I also found a correlation between infantilization and psychological dysfunction. The more young people are infantilized, the more psychopathology they show.

What's more, since 1960, restrictions on teens have been accelerating. Young people are restricted in ways no adult would be—for example, in some states they are prohibited from entering tanning salons or getting tattoos.

You believe in the inherent competence of teens. What's your evidence?

Dumas and I worked out what makes an adult an adult. We came up with 14 areas of competency—such as interpersonal skills, handling responsibility, leadership—and administered tests to adults and teens in several cities around the country. We found that teens were as competent or nearly as competent as adults in all 14 areas. But when adults estimate how teens will score, their estimates are dramatically below what the teens actually score.

Other long-standing data show that teens are at least as competent as adults. IQ is a quotient that indicates where you stand relative to other people your age; that stays stable. But raw scores of intelligence peak around age 14-15 and shrink thereafter. Scores on virtually all tests of memory peak between ages 13 and 15. Perceptual abilities all peak at that age. Brain size peaks at 14. Incidental memory—what you remember by accident, and not due to mnemonics—is remarkably good in early to mid teens and practically nonexistent by the '50s and '60s.

If teens are so competent, why do they not show it?

What teens do is a small fraction of what they are capable of doing. If you mistreat or restrict them, performance suffers and is extremely misleading. The teens put before us as examples by, say, the music industry tend to be highly incompetent. Teens encourage each other to perform incompetently. One of the anthems of modern pop, "Smells Like Teen Spirit" by Nirvana, is all about how we need to behave like we're stupid.

Teens in America are in touch with their peers on average 65 hours a week, compared to about four hours a week in preindustrial cultures. In this country, teens learn virtually everything they know from other teens, who are in turn highly influenced by certain aggressive industries. This makes no sense. Teens should be learning from the people they are about to become. When young people exit the education system and are dumped into the real world, which is not the world of Britney Spears, they have no idea what's going on and have to spend considerable time figuring it out.

There are at least 20 million young people between 13 and 17, and if they are as competent as I think they are, we are just throwing them away.

Do you believe that young people are capable of maintaining long-term relationships and capable of moral reasoning?

Everyone who has looked at the issue has found that teens can experience the love that adults experience. The only difference is that they change partners more, because they are warehoused together, told it's puppy love and not real, and are unable to marry without permission. The assumption is they are not capable. But many distinguished couples today—Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter, George and Barbara Bush—married young and have very successful long-term relationships.

According to census data, the divorce rate of males marrying in their teens is lower than that of males marrying in their 20s. Overall the divorce rate of people marrying in their teens is a little higher. Does that mean we should prohibit them from marrying? That's absurd. We should aim to reverse that, telling young people the truth: that they are capable of creating long-term stable relationships. They might fail—but adults do every day, too.

The "friends with benefits" phenomenon is a by-product of isolating adolescents, warehousing them together, and delivering messages that they are incapable of long-term relationships. Obviously they have strong sexual urges and act on them in ways that are irresponsible. We can change that by letting them know they are capable of having more than a hookup.

Studies show that we reach the highest levels of moral reasoning while we're still in our teens. Those capabilities parallel higher-order cognitive reasoning abilities, which peak fairly early. Across the board, teens are far more capable than we think they are.

What's the worst part of the current way we treat teens?

The adversarial relationship between parents and offspring is terrible; it hurts both parents and young people. It tears some people to shreds; they don't understand why it is happening and can't get out of it. They don't realize they are caught in a machine that's driving them apart from their offspring—and it's unnecessary.

What can be done?

I believe that young people should have more options—the option to work, marry, own property, sign contracts, start businesses, make decisions about health care and abortions, live on their own—every right, privilege, or responsibility an adult has. I advocate a competency-based system that focuses on the abilities of the individual. For some it will mean more time in school combined with work, for others it will mean that at age 13 or 15 they can set up an Internet business. Others will enter the workforce and become some sort of apprentice. The exploitative factories are long gone; competent young people deserve the chance to compete where it counts, and many will surprise us.

It's a simple matter to develop competency tests to determine what rights a young person should be given, just as we now have competency tests for driving. When you offer significant rights for passing such a test, it's highly motivating; people who can't pass a high-school history test will never give up trying to pass the written test at the DMV, and they'll virtually always succeed. We need to offer a variety of tests, including a comprehensive test to allow someone to become emancipated without the need for court action. When we dangle significant rewards in front of our young people—including the right to be treated like an adult—many will set aside the trivia of teen culture and work hard to join the adult world.

Are you saying that teens should have more freedom?

No, they already have too much freedom—they are free to spend, to be disrespectful, to stay out all night, to have sex and take drugs. But they're not free to join the adult world, and that's what needs to change.

Unfortunately, the current systems are so entrenched that parents can do little to counter infantilization. No one parent can confer property rights, even though they would be highly motivating. Too often, giving children more responsibility translates into giving them household chores, which just causes more tension and conflict. We have to think beyond chores to meaningful responsibility—responsibility tied to significant rights.

With a competency-based system in place, our focus will start to change. We'll become more conscious of the remarkable things teens can do rather than on culture-driven misbehavior. With luck, we might even be able to abolish adolescence.

The Adolescent Squeeze

Before 1850, laws restricting the behavior of teens were few and far between. Compulsory education laws evolved in tandem with laws restricting labor by young people. Beginning in 1960, the number of laws infantilizing adolescents accelerated dramatically. You may have had a paper route when you were 12, but your children can't.

1600s

1641 Massachusetts law prohibits people under 16 from "smiting" their parents

1800s

1836 Massachusetts passes first law requiring minimal schooling for people under 15 working in factories

1848 Pennsylvania sets 12 as minimum work age for some jobs

1852 Massachusetts passes first universal compulsory education law in U.S., requires three months of schooling for all young people ages 8-14

1880s Some states pass laws restricting various behaviors by young people: smoking, singing on the streets, prostitution, "incorrigible" behavior

1881 American Federation of Labor calls on states to ban people under 14 from working

1898 World's first juvenile court established in Illinois—constitutional rights of minors effectively taken away

1900s

1903 Illinois requires school attendance and restricts youth labor

1918 All states have compulsory education laws in place

1933 First federal law restricting drinking by young people

1936 & 1938 First successful federal laws restricting labor by young people, establishing 16 and 18 as minimum ages for work; still in effect

1940 Most states have laws in place restricting driving by people under 16

1968 Supreme Court upholds states' right to prohibit sale of obscene materials to minors

1968 Movie rating system established to restrict young people from certain films

1970s Supreme Court upholds laws restricting young women's right to abortion

1970s Dramatic increase in involuntary electroshock therapy (ECT) of teens

1980s Many cities and states pass laws restricting teens' access to arcades and other places of amusement; Supreme Court upholds such laws in 1989

1980s Courts uphold states' right to prohibit sale of lottery tickets to minors

1980 to 1998 Rate of involuntary commitment of minors to mental institutions increases 300-400 percent

1984 First national law effectively raising drinking age to 21

1988 Supreme Court denies freedom of press to school newspapers

1989 Missouri court upholds schools' right to prohibit dancing

1989 Court rules school in Florida can ban salacious works by Chaucer and Aristophanes

1990s Curfew laws for young people sweep cities and states

1990s Dramatic increase in use of security systems in schools

1992 Federal law prohibits sale of tobacco products to minors

1997 New federal law makes easier involuntary commitment of teens

2000s

2000+ New laws restricting minors' rights to get tattoos, piercings, and to enter tanning salons spread through U.S.

2000+ Tougher driving laws sweeping through states: full driving rights obtained gradually over a period of years

2000+ Dramatic increase in zero-tolerance laws in schools, resulting in suspensions or dismissals for throwing spitballs, making gun gestures with hand, etc.

2000+ New procedures and laws making it easier to prosecute minors as adults

Currently spreading nationwide:

New rules prohibiting cell phones in schools or use of cell phones by minors while driving

Libraries and schools block access to Internet material by minors

New dress code rules in schools

New rules restricting wearing of potentially offensive clothing or accessories in schools

New laws prohibiting teens from attending parties where alcohol is served (even if they're not drinking)

New laws restricting teens' access to shopping malls

Tracking devices routinely installed in cell phones and cars of teens

New availability of home drug tests for teens

New laws prohibiting minors from driving with any alcohol in bloodstream (zero-tolerance)

Proposals for longer school days, longer school year, and addition of grades 13 and 14 to school curriculum under discussion

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 88

Sophia, the day after her conversation with Tyche.

Thank you to @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose for keeping me going and on an even keel! Sorry the Author’s Note is so short... I didn’t realize until I had about 10 mins before I had to be back at work that I forgot to queue this for today *facepalm*

The next day was an entire education on new places I could be sore. A hot shower and analgesics only took the barest edge off, and I ended up needing a transport to get to my office instead of my routine walk. I did my best to ignore the grin on Conor’s face every time I moved too fast and winced.  After the third time I scowled at him, I brought up my datapad and did some research, careful not to tap my legs as I gestured, which had become something of a habit.

 “That snot,” I gasped. Conor glanced at me, so I clarified. “Tyche had me doing fencing footwork yesterday…. Intermediate footwork, it turns out. No wonder I’m so sore.”

 “Least it wasn’t sparring,” he pointed out cheerfully, gently lifting my chin to get a look at my lip.  “You should have let Noah heal that, love.”

 I brushed my cheek against his hand. “I want the reminder. May even let her do it again once it heals.”

 This time, it was his turn to scowl. “Not funny.  That face has been bruised enough for one lifetime.” He gently rubbed my cheek as the transport stopped. “Okay, time to go be the boss.  No fighting with the other kids.”  Despite the joking tone, his eyes were serious as he leaned in to kiss me before he headed to his shift.

 I realized that Alistair not only beat me to work, but could apparently hear me groaning as I tried to walk, because the door opened before I was even within three feet of it.  True to form, he gave me an appraising look before his expression settled on my face. “Door get a bit mouthy today? Or did your feet decide you needed to stay home?”

 “Tyche punched me, actually.” My tone was light as I inched my way to my desk. “For defending myself. And then she decided I need more ways to defend myself, so now I can hardly move.”

 “Solid logic,” he deadpanned as he handed me a cup of coffee. “I feel obliged to point out that the coffee is hot, seeing as you display a disturbing propensity to get hurt.”

 “Very funny.”

 “You have been warned, et cetera, so on, so forth.” He waved a hand nonchalantly as he turned, bringing up my agenda for the day. “Your first meeting is the one to discuss medical testing ethics, criteria for volunteers, and determination of the necessity of the procedures. Then you have time set aside to review the status of the Galactic Core Curriculum, along with proposals for expanded learning topics and their existing analogues in the education systems of other planets - “ He paused and tilted his head. “I will never cease to be caught off guard when sentences like that exist.”

 I restrained the urge to nod - or more accurately, my back twinged with a warning not to even consider it. “Believe me, I understand. Noah and I were talking about other species a few weeks ago. Did you know there is a species of avians out there who essentially live on a planet with no surface atmosphere?”

 “The Preeyar, yes,” he sighed wistfully. “Knowing that Fermi was simply impatient has been quite eye-opening, so to speak.”

“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” I conceded. “We were too young for extraterrestrial civilizations, we weren’t listening properly, they apparently weren’t trying to contact us until recently…  But they do exist.” A smile crept on my face at the idea that we really hadn’t been alone in the universe.

My office door opened without warning, and a familiar voice chimed in as Alistair turned with clenched fists. “I do argue that we are entirely too dangerous to have been contacted.” Arthur Farro stood leaning against the frame, and Alistair relaxed marginally. “At least we were until relatively recently…. Throwing nuclear ordinance at each other the moment killing each other in the thousands - rather than the millions - stopped scratching that vicious itch. Who does that?  We’re like demented eight-year-olds who got bored of burning ants and started setting each other’s hair on fire instead.”

“You really should keep that door secured,” my assistant sniffed as he closed out my agenda, right around the time he caught Arthur squinting at it.

“He has the code,” I admitted.

“Or maybe that was accidental,” our resident history teacher continued, ignoring us. “I’m a big fan of assuming stupidity instead of malice where possible.  And, dear lord, does our track record make it plausible.”  Finally entering the room, he flicked a finger at my face. “That was not, however.”

Before I could stop him, Alistair took one glance between me and my friend, and strode to the door. “No.”

“Alistair…”

“I’ll clear your calendar. No. Have a good day.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Arthur asked as the door closed behind my soon-to-be-ex assistant.

“That he’s a coward,” I muttered.

“You know damned well that’s not what I mean.”

“Tyche already decked me.” I gestured at my split lip and the bruise that bloomed on my chin overnight. “So, yeah, I know - “

“No, you really don’t seem to.”

“Arthur, stop.”

“I will not.” He stepped forward and placed both his hands, palms down, on my desk.  He knew I hated that gesture. “Bjornson’s entire narrative hinges on you being more dangerous than anyone realizes, and you putting up a display of false helplessness to make everyone trust you.  By decking one of his followers, not only did you show that you do, in fact, have violence in you - meaning that it’s now entirely plausible you’re as Machiavellian as they claim - but you’ve also gone and indicated for whatever reason that Jokull is enough of a threat to drop that premise.” Straightening, he crossed his arms in clear disappointment. “If you wanted to give him more credibility, good job. You succeeded.”

I swallowed every bit of hurt I felt at his words, reminding myself they were nowhere near as barbed as the ones Tyche had given me the day before. Instead, I tilted my head and arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you done? Did you say everything you needed to say?” I paused, giving him a chance to respond. When he didn’t, I poked harder. “Feel better?”

“Not particularly, but big picture? I’m not a terribly gleeful person, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. But yes, it is your turn now.”

“Gracious of you,” I cooed sarcastically.  “Tyche made the same points yesterday, after punching me in the face, with the added gravitas of a guilt trip served with that special seasoning of having watched me almost die and thinking I abandoned her as a child. Also three hours with a rapier, whipping my ass. So. Far more impressive, I assure you.”

“Foiled again by the smaller Reid,” he sighed dramatically before catching himself.  “Rapier, you say? I was going to say no pun intended, but I’ve decided I did that on purpose. Yep. Totally intentional.”

I rolled my eyes before pulling up my tunic to show the bruises on my midriff. “I’m not very good at it, for the record.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, saber’s a better style anyway.  And I’m not just saying that because it’s my favorite.”

“Uh huh,” I nodded, not entirely convinced. “As far as Bjornson… seriously. She gave me the scoop.  I seriously fubared the entire situation yesterday.  Apparently, our suspected cult leader only believes in physical attacks on those who would defend themselves. No honor in beating a beaten foe, et cetera.”

“Mmm hmmm,” he nodded, like I was a student he was letting reach her own conclusion.

“Which means I just made it open season on Sophias,” I groaned.

“Really, saber is much better for brawling tactics,” he hedged.

I laughed bitterly. “Doesn’t matter.  My walking privileges are revoked until further notice. Must be accompanied by one of six people, or two out of another ten, and on a transport.” The last word came out like a profanity.  It was a known fact I hated using them.

Hence why I was now being forced to, unfortunately.

“If you think there is any possibility that I’m going to argue against Tyche on that decision, I need to talk to her about that head scan,” he told me pointedly. “Then again, you and I have different definitions of the word ‘think’, but I’ll be clear - it’s not happening.  Moving target, faster than a walking pace, with a protective attachment? Which roster am I on, again?”

“Very funny. You already know.”

His expression softened slightly when he realized I was actually upset. “There is some good news in all of this.”

I threw up my hands and spun in my chair. “Oh, do tell, great military historian and warlord. What is the shining silver lining to the fact that I just gave a man who thinks I am the only thing standing between him and his New Start a golden ticket to sic his followers on me?”

“Okay, first off, sassy shit, my main career is a school teacher. I only moonlighted as a warlord to pay those apocalypse bills. Not my fault I was good at it.” Suddenly, he got serious. “The good new is, if he was too stupid to realize that your talent for inspiring loyalty meant you were a massive problem for any takeover plan, and a problem he’d have to deal with sooner or later….. Well, he’s probably too stupid to keep his little cult together much longer.  Leaders who don’t recognize more than one kind of strength never manage to build a lasting legacy.”

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair…” I said, half to myself.

“Yeah, our guy is no Ramses II,” Arthur replied.  “Besides, those who seek power are rarely good at keeping it.”

“I would have given him my seat on the Council if he’d just asked,” I admitted.

“Besides the fact that you literally just proved my point, if he was suited to the Council, he’d be on it.  It’s not like you were the only candidate.”

I shrugged. “No idea. I didn’t even know I was on the Council for the first week. I think it was a week.”

When I turned to look at him, I was met with a flat stare. “I know it was explained to you at some point.  How does that search function work?” He reached forward like he was going to tap my head before I swatted his hand away. “You were appointed to the Council to replace Simon, you represent a specific population on board the Ark, when we arrive at Von, you will serve an additional two planetary standard years before elections are held, of which you cannot be a candidate….”

Ugh. “I was put forward as a recommendation by Simon. The other Councillors put forward their candidates. The population I represent voted based on my personnel file, since no one even knew any of the candidates at that point. We’d only been on the Ark about six months. Some of us, anyway.” Glaring, I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t know how you figured that out, but I have a feeling I’m going to kill someone.”

He waved a hand at me in a very familiar gesture. “I see other people do it all the time. Jog your memory, and some phrase or word triggers it.  Cool to watch, though.” With a shrug, he continued. “Point is, Bjornson wasn’t even a candidate, same as me.”

“How do you know that?” I asked incredulously.

“Fuck, Sophia. You really need to keep track of your constituents.”

“Hey, I didn’t even want to be a - Wait. You are one of my so-called ‘constituents’!?”

“Even voted for you,” he grinned.  “Didn’t know it was you-you, but… Communications background, peaceful but intelligent attributes to balance out our resident warhawk, fair enough to offset Huynh, and you seemed like the type to actually listen to Grey, Pranav, and Eino.” He shrugged. “To be fair, I was right.”

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[willkillforgoodmemories]

Schools Re-imagined

Okay fellow guys, gays and ladies (all beings are invited), TODAY on quaran-talks (get it, quarantine but replace the tine with talks, never mind), we will be 

“RE-IMAGINING SCHOOLS” (Mostly High school and it’s equivalents around the world)

so that they actually do their job and prepare us for the real world, which they haven’t. They have, however given me sleep-deprived days, traumatic memories and snakes for friends. 

ASPECT NUMBER ONE

Changing when school starts. I mean, whose lovely idea was to start school at 8.00. Many schools also start schools at 8.30 but lord, imagine how happy we all will be if schools opened a little later.

  According to the National Sleep Foundation, the sleep requirement for teenagers is between 8-10 hours per night. That indicates that the earliest healthy wake-up time for teens should not be before 7 a.m.

I propose that schools start not earlier than 9.00 am. That way one does not have to bear with the absolute feeling of grogginess of completing tasks on auto-pilot (when you complete tasks by doing the bare minimum because your brain is not awake), not rushing through morning routines (rushing can cause stress and anxiety) and can start the day on a good note.  All those you thrive on 3-4 hour naps, it is in no way healthy and in some ways, not even your mistake. Moving on,

ASPECT NUMBER TWO

The marvellous blame-game. The student is usually the pawn. Don’t get the concept while in class, the teacher will probably say that you weren’t listening. 

Ma’am or Sir, it’s your job to make sure the students understand what you teach. Be patient and stop telling them it’s wrong if they don’t understand the concept.It won’t hurt if you take out some time and teach them the concept again. 

If you don’t get the concept during homework and use the reference guide, the parents will usually say that they weren’t paying attention in class and should know it. The reference material was made for a reason, and that was so that the student could use it. If the student wasn’t able to understand in class, there is a high chance they would be able to understand it on their own with their own research. Don’t doubt a student’s ability, even a little pat on the back can go a long way. More on this later. 

ASPECT NUMBER THREE

A very popular opinion is that schools kill creativity. They don’t out right kill it, they just suppress it until it never come backs. In other words, it’s there but not quite. (confusing, just like the world’s education system). If the student says a wrong answer, don’t outright say no or prompt the class to laugh at them. Question their understanding in a polite way.  Promote creative thinking and finding different ways of solving problems. Creativity can be found in all subjects, you just need to find a will. Don’t suppress interests such as liking of a particular aesthetic, genre of music or style. 

ASPECT NUMBER FOUR

There is no space for individuality. Uniforms are okay because you don’t have to go through the hassle of picking out clothes but limiting other choices such as style of hair, use of accessories and nail polish and colour of hair should not dictate what kind of a student they are. Teachers and Administration should not care about these things because every student needs their own way of showing creativity. These things do not dictate what kind of student they are. There is a common misconception that students who do the above mentioned things will distract students and disrupt the class. The students usually compliment or comment on it and move on with their day. The teachers, however will call them out, fine them, give them detention or some other kind of punishment. The only people that are getting distracted here is the staff who takes the time out of their day to call a student out on their mode of expression. All those teachers who support their students’ choices are pure gems and deserve all the love in the world. 

ASPECT NUMBER FIVE

The ungodly amount of homework. This is an extension of ‘aspect number two.’ I along with many other teenagers believe that the homework should be limited to two hours a day. No, I don’t mean two hours per subject. I mean two hours total. It can be extended to 3.5 hours but not more than that. Take the example of a GCSE student. A normal student takes about 9-12 subjects. Depending on the intensity of the subjects,the student should spend about 15-20 minutes per subject. During tests and exam weeks, this can be bumped up to 5 hours but still, testing a student’s skills of memorization does not prepare them for the real world. After spending six hours in school, this time should be taken to go over material and identify weak points in their understanding, not increasing stress.  

ASPECT NUMBER SIX

The unhealthy expectations which really effect a teenager’s mind, and not in a good way. Many people are out here judging a student who excels in art on it’s ability to do STEM subjects, and vice versa. That’s like judging a fish's ability to climb a tree. Let the student pursue what they like without a thought in their head, “what will everyone think of me.” As a human being, they’d support and not belittle your choices. Let them pursue what they like. If they get bad grades, ask them about it. Don’t start shouting. Teachers, do not announce grades in class, you are literally creating students who build up low self-esteem. How hard is it to understand that teenagers are human beings. They’ll learn. If a previously-gifted student gets a bad grade, don’t make them feel bad about it.

ASPECT NUMBER SEVEN

Actually take a stand on matters that make sense. Stop bullies, racists, homophobes and sexists. Don’t go around nit-picking students who have long nails and unkempt hair or uniform if you have these problems roaming around. That just says that you are only caring about your outer appearance at the expense that most of your students will grow up to be ignorant citizens. A teenager mirrors their surroundings and if you can create a positive surrounding, it’s your part towards a more understanding society.

ASPECT NUMBER EIGHT

WHO thought that giving extra homework on weekends would be a good idea. Like, WHY? Weekends should be for relaxation and for revising topics. Wouldn’t it make sense if students took time to, I don’t know, go over the work from the week. That way, the information can be retained for a longer time. I also present to you the idea of making open book tests the norm. What many schools don’t understand that not everyone can memorize entire books. A student who does well on assignments but not on exams clearly shows that they understand but can’t remember it. The real world clearly shows that you don’t need to remember things because resources will always be at your disposal. A student should know how to apply concepts because 85% of the stuff they learn in school is utterly useless in real life. The remaining 15% are basics of subjects which should be learned. 

ASPECT NUMBER NINE

The schools either need counselors that actually do their job or teachers that are willing to go the extra mile. Counselors need to understand the students’ situation and help them. Don’t blame everything on the phone. (Phones are least of our problems). Normalize opposite-gender friendships. Lastly, with classes algebra and all that, wouldn’t also having classes like etiquette's, how to file taxes and other worldly classes actually help.  

REVISED TIMETABLE

As per the guidelines above. 

Biological sleep patterns shift toward later times for both sleeping and waking during adolescence -- meaning it is natural to not be able to fall asleep before 11:00 pm.

Sleep between 11:00-11.30 pm. Wake up at 7:45 am (Assuming you slept at 23.15 which is the halfway point, you got a sleep of 8.5 hours, which is healthy)Getting ready and having breakfast at a peaceful pace takes an average of 15 minutes. You will be done by 8:15 am. An average school commute takes about 30 minutes so you should have 15 minutes to spare before 8:30 am strikes and you leave for school.School starts at 9.00 am and ends at 3.00 pm. (Schools here last for 6 hours).Go for extra-curricular activities. On average, extra-curricular activities last for 1.5 hours so you should be free by 4.30-5.00 pm. That leaves you with 6 hours. Even if you take an hour long nap and take exactly 2 hours,no more or less for your homework, you will still be left with 3 hours of leisure. These 6 hours can be scheduled how ever you like. 

Now compare it to my timetable that was in place before the lock down. I woke up 6.00 am (Usually woke up early to complete homework which was impossible to complete yesterday) Left home for school at 7.15 am, usually made up for sleep in the  car. 

Reached school by 7.45. School started at 7.50 am and went on till 2.00 pm. All extra curricular activities were suspended due to tests and exam prep. Reached home at 2.40 pm. (Was picked up from school at 2.10 pm because group assignments roles cannot be assigned in class for some stupid reason so a lot of work has to be done outside class). 

Refresh and have lunch, start homework at 3.00 pm. Went on till 5.00 pm, took a 15-minute break and again continued till 9.00 pm (This is just homework). Picked up the assigned reading and assignments, that went on till 10.00 pm. Time with family till 10.45 pm. 

These were the good days. The days I was assigned art homework were torture. I have gone to school with only 3 hours of sleep many weeks. 

For a system that is suppose to help the students, the education system sure does hate students.

[nctzendreamz]

HOMECOMING — PART ll

Prologue / Part l / Part ll / Part lll

Summary: The year is 3030, and the divide between the rich and poor couldn’t be greater. Wildwood University is the most prestigious school in the entire world, but it isn’t only because of the impeccable flying cars that can be seen best during the fuchsia lit nights, or the dexterous education everyone receives. It has secrets. A lot of secrets—the biggest being that Taeyong is going to kill you.

Genre: Gang!AU, Futuristic!AU, Dystopian!AU

Warnings: Vivid descriptions of violence, foul language, drug use, and murder.

“You’re new.” Is the first thing that comes from your lips. You’re observing him—eyes trailing up and down his lanky build. He can’t tell whether you like what you see. It’s obvious you’re not easy to read. You have some form of a wall, and it’s up. “And you’ve met Mackenzie.” You eek, mouth forming into a straight line. She can’t hear you, as her headphones are placed in her ears and she seems to be meditating.

“She said you were nice.” Taeyong mentions.

“Oh, she wasn’t lying.” You chuckle. It’s a cute sound. “She can just get...how do I say—a little boy crazy? I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me she had flirted with you. How long have you been here by the way? I’ve missed a lot of class.”

“Today is my first day, actually. And yeah...I think she likes me already.”

“Let me guess—subtle touches, awful attempts to make you laugh?”

“Exactly.” He finds himself smiling from your easy-going nature. He’s not having to jump through the hoops he imagined, as you don’t see him being the new kid as a bad thing. You both are smiling at eachother, but the moment is interrupted when a rubber airplane hits you on the side of the head.

“Can you guys leave me alone for one second? God!” You yell, and Taeyong can see that it actually pissed you off.

“Johnny’s orders.” One of them says, laughing at your annoyance.

“Is that your boyfriend?” Taeyong asks innocently. Of course he knows the truth, but he needs to seem clueless. This will help build his case.

“Don’t even make me think about that.” You barf, holding your stomach and mouth at the same time. “My brother. The guy who escorted me to class as if I haven’t been doing this forever.”

“Maybe it’s because you haven’t been to class recently.” Now it’s his turn to eek, and he gets you to laugh. You think he’s funny.

To the naked eye, it would seem like Taeyong was fond of you. I mean, he was enjoying such stimulating conversation, but he hates you even more now. He seemingly doesn’t remember that Indigo is still in his system, even though it had slightly worn his silent demeanor away. The floating of the desk is kind of making him sick, but he can’t speak on it.

“I try to just focus on a certain something.”

Did you just read his mind? He knows such technology doesn’t exist, right?

“Fun fact, I threw up on my first day of school. Everyone thought it was the funniest thing they had ever seen, but poor Mr. Eddie.” You’re relieving the memory; he can tell. The way your hand reaches for your chest, scratching a non existent rash tells him that this isn’t a memory you laugh at.

“Mr. Eddie? Is that our professor?”

“The professor.” You emphasize. “You should probably know this before class—

“Goodmorning class.” The voice comes from seemingly everywhere, but no one else looks creeped out, so Taeyong keeps his cool.

“Morning.” You all say in unison.

Suddenly, another door in the room reveals itself. A squeak of metal is making itself known, and everyone is either cringing, or covering their ears.

“Is he a fucking—

“Half man, half robot. A fucking robot. It’s crazy because we should be used to it right? I mean, it’s 3030 there are robot people everywhere.”

“It’s just the principle.” Taeyong decides, but in reality his chest is getting tight. He hadn’t even known about this. I mean, he had seen the little robots that could clean a little, and even project news on the wall if you paid a little extra, but this man is walking.

“Jeez Ed!” One of the players yells. “Late to the lecture, and loud. I think this means no homework.”

Is this how annoying the wealthy were allowed to be? Sweaty, presumably blonde jocks who just can’t be settled?

“You all are going to be very upset with me.” His voice is robotic for sure. Everyone begins to pop around, concerned for their professors well being. “But I’m going to have to cancel class. As you can hear, I need more oil.”

It’s like an explosion has taken off, because everyone minus you, Taeyong, and Mackenzie stand up immediately, fighting to get out of class first. It’s chaotic, and it’s making him anxious all over again. It’s not dramatic—it’s slight, but it feels like it can grow to make him actually explode.

“You three need a place to stay?” Mr. Eddie drys, clearly shocked at your presence.

“This is Taeyong.” You introduce. “And while we both know I would’ve been the first one out of here, someone has to show him around.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it Y/N.” Mackenzie speaks suddenly, taking her headphones out. “I’m sure you want to go see Kun anyway. He’s back, right?”

Kun? Who the hell was Kun?

“Kun?” Taeyong questions with a head tilt. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Your hand finds home on your earlobe, and it’s rubbing it softly. There is a smile on your face, but it’s extremely quiet and sad. Whoever Kun is to you, you love him—or at the least care about him. But at the same time, things aren’t peachy.

“No.” Is all you say, slapping your hand to your leg. “Enough about me though!” Your bright nature has returned, and it’s almost weird. He must be your ex, and where was he? Why did he leave and come back? “I have to show you around! I also need to meet your roommate and tell them if they try to hurt you it’ll be their head.”

That’s ironic, he thinks to himself. So badly does he want to laugh something evil because you’re so stupid and clueless, but he contains himself.

“What about me?” Mackenzie is pouting now, arms covering her chest. Does she really thinks that’ll work? I mean, it was quite pathetic.

“You know I love you, right?” Your tone is soft as you speak to her, hands on her shoulder. Your eyes must be as beautiful as he predicted, because her aggressive stance is loosening by the second.

“Of course I do.” She spills.

“Then I know you remember that you have a terrifying essay to write for literature, and that you don’t need to be out all day. Plus, weren’t you trying to go to the race tomorrow?”

“It was in my plans.”

“Then finish your essay tonight. Then, all the boys can see you looking good with the LED lights shining all over you...doesn’t that sound perfect?” You’re painting the picture with your hands, the both of you looking into space.

“You’re right!” She squeals, jumping up at the thought.” “You’ll be there too, right Lee?”

He looks at you for a quick moment, realizing he never told you his “name”. You seem to process it for a moment before looking at him for a response.

“I mean...I can’t make any promises. I’m not the going out type.”

“But I’ll be there. And when I’m somewhere, it matters.”

His ears were bleeding. He just knew it. “Right.” He whispers, trying his best to not sound awkward.

He should have said no when you offered to show him around. His current feelings were nothing short of introverted, and the farther the two of you walked, the more hot he became.

“I’m sure you’re used to seeing stuff like this.”

Oddly, you don’t seem tired. You had practically shown him the entire East section of the campus, and even he—the cold blooded murderer needed some water.

“Oh yeah.” He says dryly. “You know how it is in Valhalla. There are things everywhere. Blazing lights, fresh air...”

“Exactly.” You smile.

He had to admit, your smile made him feel safe. He still needed to go through with his mission, but it’s nice to know you won’t be annoying him the whole time he’s getting you to trust him. You’re easy going, and he’s already in the friendzone. He just needs to get farther.

There’s a kid coming by fast on his hoverboard, but you’re too busy looking at your watch to even hear the skrting of the device. With a swiftness, Taeyong takes your elbow and back into his hands, and he moves you to the other side.

“Shit.” You breathe out, hand on your chest now. You’re ashamed. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’m not usually this clumsy—well that’s not true, but none the less I—

“It’s okay.” He chuckles, letting his hand slide from your shoulder all the way down to your hand. He squeezes it lightly, and the look in his eyes are swallowing you. “It happens to the best of us.”

And now the two of you are having a stare down. He can see how genuine you are. The way your eyes soften the more time that passes proves this, and Taeyong is mocking your actions. In the pit of his stomach he can feel something, and he reads it to be disgust. God, you seemed like a nice person, but wasn’t this a waste of time? To do all of this and make you think he actually cares?

“Right.” You finally speak, looking at the first tree that appeared in your vision. “Anyways, we should probably go to your room now. Have you been in it at all?”

This must be how you deal with problems—moving on without a second thought. You didn’t like to think about your feelings, but at the same time didn’t that mean you were in touch with your emotions?

“It was my first stop.” He admits. He had heard about the people whos only job was to move people in and out, all for free, but with the belongings he had in his bag, that obviously wasn’t an option for him.

It took his breath away, although everything at Wildwood did. Back in the day, college dorm rooms were tight-knit, with squeezed beds and insects crawling somewhere unless you went to a top school. His room consisted of two king sized beds, and they gave him the option to make it a water bed.

He had already spent his morning hiding everything, so you wanting to come inside was no big deal. As you two journey up the hologram escalator, he noticed you were looking into space even though you should be looking at all the scenery.

“Something on your mind?”

His voice is soft when he speaks to you, and he decides in this moment that he’ll keep it that way. It seems to make you more comfortable, and comfortable means you’ll start talking; trusting.

“Too many things.” You chuckle. Now your eyes are closed, and you seem to be soaking in the good weather as if it’s the only thing good from your day. “No need to burden you with it.”

“It’s not a burden. There’s nothing worse than having no one to go to.”

“Then tell me a little bit about you, newbie.” The two of you reach the top—another door that leads to his complex. Unfortunately, they do separate these things by gender even in 3030.

Taeyong is looking for a key to his room; stopping himself as he realizes he’s not in NEO anymore. All he needs is his thumb. “Nothing much to know.” He keeps it short. “I’m just a regular, rich guy.” His tone is sarcastic, but instead of being skeptical, you laugh.

“Are you always this funny?”

That was the first time other than Mackenzie that someone had appreciated his sarcastic humor. As deppresing as it sounded and was, there weren’t a lot of jokes to be made in NEO. I mean, he usually was completely intoxicated, not wanting to laugh unless he was taking someone’s life. He’s surprised such a sentence could form from him, especially in a place he was dreading so much.

“Nope, just around nice people like you.”

He hates every second of this. He was never one to be in the mood for love, only death, blood, and darkness. He had his fair share of steamy nights in the alley ways with the street whores, but he never cared about them. He never would care about anyone but his brothers, truthfully.

He can’t tell if you’re a mess because he’s not facing you. He’s focused on his print before the door clicks, and the two of you step in.

Whoever his roommate is, he’s here. The room that Taeyong walked into this morning was empty, but this room was now full of boxes and an outfit on the bed. You’re looking around just as he is, except he’s searching to make sure his belongings are still in place. They seem to be. The pathetic rich boys who went here weren’t capable of putting something back so perfectly, so he lets his guard down.

“Well, this is it.” He motions all around the room, appreciating his own effort to keep his side spotless.

“I always wondered what it would be like to live in a dorm.” You sigh.

“You don’t live in one?”

“My dad is kind of....the president of the university. And per his rules, his kids have to stay with him.”

So you still live with your parents? Not odd, but at the same time why would he be trying to keep you around. The buisness, he remembers. It was never specified what it was. Drugs had crossed Taeyong’s mind, but at the same time, so did paper, and loans. But now that he considered it, your father must have business with bad people, meaning others could be out to get you. I mean, he was. No no, Taeyong. That’s too much of a stretch, and even so, she does live at home, which means the mission isn’t compromised.

“At least he cares about you.”

“I guess.” You take a deep breath, and he can’t miss the way you hault.

“What’s wrong?”

“That scent...I know it.” Now you’re looking all around the room at his mates side, touching his things frantically.

“Y/N, who is it? Did they do something to you?”

The door opens—so cliché. On the other side is a built man sporting a tank top and sweatpants. His hair seems to be black—but it could also be blue. His face is serious as he walks in, but the minute he locks eyes with you, they soften. It was the same thing you had done to him not too long ago. His lips are trying to find the proper words say to you, but instead he just stands there. You’re frozen in place—hands locked on one of his clothing items.

Kun. This had to be Kun.

[bookofmirth]

Hi! I hope I'm not being annoying, but I have a question about school. So the thing is, I hear people talk all the time about how school's regimentation kills originality, we're forced to study stuff that won't help us in real life, we should learn more practically, etc. I hate some of the focus on "everyone being the same" too, but the sad thing is, schoolwork is the only work I like. I like the motivation it gives me, I like learning everything through reading and not too much 1/2

2/2 social interaction. I especially like making notes and learning to understand cool concepts (though a bit more practicality might be nice). Basically, school is my comfort zone. There isn't really any other creative work I have a long-standing interest in, and I have hardly any practical skills. The only thing I really enjoy is school as it is now, regimentation and all (though my school's a lot more lenient than most). Does that make me boring and unoriginal? I feel like it does, and that

I feel like I should be good at things that are more useful. But I just like studying a variety of subjects as it is now (including some I hate, school wouldn't be the same without them). People say the education system has failed us, and I do believe that our test design is really stupid, but the stupid education system is all I'm good at. Then am I going to be a failure at life instead? (thanks if you read all this!)

Ok first off, I’m sooooo sorry that this took me so long to answer. I’ve been basically closed off to everything outside my house because I can’t handle it, including social media, and uh, that’s not a good move for me, apparently. Anyway!

I was thinking about what you said a lot and as a teacher it makes me soooo frustrated but also it’s intriguing?? 

First thought, everyone learns differently. If you learn best by just reading the material, that’s great! That means the school system, in a lot of ways, was made for you. I was the same way. Just let me read, don’t make me do group work, I didn’t need to study for tests because I either knew the material or I didn’t.

I know that the idea of school killing creativity is a popular one but I beg to differ. A whole lot. Exams kill creativity. The way that students are assessed kills creativity. Standardized testing that assumes students under vastly different circumstances with different resources and teachers should perform the exact same way? That kills creativity. So yeah, the test design is stupid.

It probably differs a lot depending on what you study. When you get to university, chances are that if you are in a liberal arts field, you will be required to be creative. When you hit grad school (I know, very different circumstances), if you don’t have original ideas, you’re out. 

Education itself is not inherently anti-creativity. If you have good teachers, it’s the opposite. Every single semester I teach the same couple of classes and train students on the same job, and every single semester I sit down and spend hours upon hours trying to figure out how I can do better. How I can be more engaging. How I can meet students where they are, appeal to their interests, be more clear in my communication. Etc. I know that not all teachers do that and I’m NOT trying to toot my horn but!!! I also don’t want people to paint all teachers with the same broad “they don’t give a shit” brush. The system itself really constrains what teachers can and can’t do, which is why I cannot teach at the grade school level! I need to teach at a university where I don’t have to deal with any standardization. Eff that.

Being able to learn in different circumstances and *wanting* to learn will be super useful to you later. Degrees don’t fit jobs perfectly (at least not in my experience). You aren’t learning how to work so much as you are learning about concepts. The practical work always comes later, and as long as you like learning, you’ll pick it up quickly! Don’t worry about enjoying something that other people haven’t found use for. If you have, that’s all that matters. If you can make your education both enjoyable and use it to get you want you want? Perfect.