#i had a dream that me and some friends won $4000 and were going to split it 4 ways

[bongwateriero]

i’m so sleep deprived at work that i pulled out my phone to check the time, saw a notification from you, went ‘oh maddys up’ (out loud), and immediately opened tumblr like i wasn’t literally in the middle of a task. anyways yay for overnights and gay people in my phone

YAY i love you i am always up for you except when i’m not

[julysn]

there’s a place for us in a dirty movie | dilf!kyle x fem!reader

𝓢ynopsis ⋆ After a long day of work and taking care of your children, you and your husband end the evening in bed.. and maybe end up making another kid.

𝓘ncludes slightly ooc!𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂!dilf!kyle / submissive top (?) kyle.. idk where i was going with this. / spoiler he rips your panties off with your teeth. / slight praise / you have two kids together / breeding / milf!reader / handjobs / probably didn’t cook. maybe i burned the meal. let me know

𝓦ord 𝓬ount ⋆ ≈4000

𝓝otes ⋆ dunno what i was cooking LMFAO i wrote this during class and i’m pretty sure the cute guy next to me noticed.. also sorry for inactivity!! yk how school is. HAPPY TRAIL DILF KYLE !!!!!!!! AAAAHHHHH

what motivated me 2 write this was there being not a lot of second person smut on kyle :,( can we all agree that first person SUCKS 4 smut 😭 | ao3 link

You sat there in bed, head tilted slightly and eyes lazily gazing into the screen of your television. Your kids were all asleep and tucked in nicely, and you were now waiting patiently for your husband to come home from work.

You and Kyle Broflovski have been married for about four years, and you loved him dearly. You’d give him the world and the moon if you could. The way your life turned out felt like a dream come true—you were living comfortably, had adorable children running around the house, and were in the most perfect relationship ever. It felt surreal.

A soft yawn escapes your lips as your gaze drifts from the TV to the door, before you reach over to the nightstand and pick up your phone. It was about time for him to come home, and you couldn’t deny the little flutter in your chest at the thought of him being back in bed with you. Even though you two were now married, whenever you looked—or, hell, thought about him, your heart rate would slowly pick up its pace and a smile would develop on your lips. It reminded you of your highschool years and when the two of you first began liking each other.

You remembered the day the two of you went on your first date together. Junior year, on a snowy day during December. The two of you were supposed to go to the local Buca di Faggocini for dinner, but it ended up snowing so badly that it was impossible to drive. Kyle decided to walk down to your house because the two of you were practically neighbors, and you both ended up sitting by the fireplace, bodies curled up into an embrace as you watched a movie.

Then there were the basketball games. You only attended them once you and Kyle started to date, and they were fun to watch. Or maybe it was fun because you just gazed at him the entire time. You loved seeing SPHS win, loved seeing the bright smile on his face whenever his team won—which was practically every game, since the other schools in the area couldn’t compare to the athleticism of South Park High—and seeing him celebrate.

Most of your favorite high school memories involved him in some way, whether it be you and Stan’s friends skipping class, or him just being in the background of your fondest moments. You two were truly meant to be.

Sinking deeper into an ocean of thoughts, you almost barely missed the sound of the doorknob twisting, the creak of the door shaking you out of your nostalgia.

“Hey.” You give Kyle a nonchalant smile, hints of tenderness in your expression as you desperately tried to hide the fact that you were practically smiling and giggling at the thought of him. He’d tease you if he knew.

But he could already tell.

Oh, he knew everything about you. Not in a creepy way, of course, but spending so much time with you over the years and watching the two of you grow from angsty, chaotic teens in high school to mature, intelligent adults caused him to learn little things about you. Your little habits, how you’d always try to act relaxed around him even after being married—when in reality you were thinking about him, every little thing. He noticed it, and he loved it. He loved you, loved every little thing you did and said.

“Have you been thinking about me?” Kyle asks, voice soft and smooth as he walks over to you and places a hand on your cheek, lightly cupping it as he leaned down and gave you a kiss on the forehead.

You practically melted at his oh-so-sweet gesture, even if you were used to it by now. He was just so sweet and perfect, the definition of husband material. It sounded crazy, but you were thankful that he was yours, no one else’s. You’d do anything to keep him as yours. You couldn’t help but let your lips curl into a wide smile, a soft blush blanketing your cheeks.

“Yeah.” The truth slips from your lips, and you watch with a sweet, lovestruck gaze as he turns away from you and pulls his shirt off, the softest hint of red climbing up your cheeks.

Kyle’s body was divine, comparable to the likes of Greek gods. He had the perfect set of abs; his athleticism from his high school years etched into his waist like an everlasting memory. Small, slightly noticeable veins ran down his arms, and your eyes fell upon his happy trail. You had to bite your lip to conceal the bit of drool that threatened to spill out, your gaze sliding down the way his hair led down to his genitals.

That was the father of your children. And you couldn’t be more grateful.

You watch him with an almost intense gaze, eyes glued to the sight before you as he balls up his shirt and tosses it into your laundry basket, carefully unbuckling his belt and slipping it off of his pants as he places it on the dresser and pulls his pants down, leaving himself in his boxers. You can’t help but stare as he opens the drawer and picks up a pair of comfy shorts, slipping the fabric around his legs and pulling it up to hug his pretty waist.

Ugh, he was so pretty. Kyle Broflovski was the prettiest man to ever grace the earth with his mere presence. You weren’t exaggerating, that was genuinely how you felt. He aged like fine wine, still as handsome as he was in his teenage years.

God, you could remember the first day you laid eyes on him. Sophomore year, the first day of school.

You had moved to South Park with your parents over the summer, and stepping into South Park High, your eyes were greeted with chaos. It was comforting, in a way, since your last school was stricter than a Mormon’s life.

You were then approached by a group of four boys, one of them being a kid with curly red hair and little freckles on his cheeks. He stood there awkwardly, not saying too much as two of the guys hit on you while one of them just introduced himself and the guys.

You glanced at him occasionally, mentally noting each feature he had. Not to be a creep. But he was pretty. Tousled red hair that slightly covered his eyes. Pale, freckled skin. Mossy green eyes. A defined jawline, unlike one of his friends that was currently trying to impress you. The softest hint of a blush on his nose—was it a cold, or just natural?

After the other three boys had left, the curly-haired teen offered to walk you to class, and you let him. I mean, this was a new school, and you needed help to get around. When the both of you began to walk to your first class, you two instantly hit it off.

And the rest was history.

Falling deeper and deeper into an abyss of nostalgic memories and thoughts, you barely noticed as Kyle slid into bed beside you, letting out a heavy sigh as he relaxed against the soft pillows and comforters. You barely noticed the stress etched into his features, deep in your love for him.

“Y/N?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn from staring at the wall to face him.

When you looked at him, you stole his breath away. Kyle couldn’t believe that you were real. You were an angel, someone worthy of becoming a model. The prettiest wife he could’ve ever asked for. His eyes drifted down to the way your top showed a bit of your cleavage, drifting down to your thighs, the sight of you causing a rush of blood to immediately run down to his penis.

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, looking him up and down. Damn.

Before he could reply, he watched as your eyes trailed down his body, silently admiring his muscles and pale, freckled skin when your eyes drifted down to the growing bulge in his shorts.

Immediately, you spoke, a finger pointing down at his crotch. Your mouth moved faster than your mind. “You want me to take care of that?”

And immediately, you regretted it. The way you said it caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over your consciousness as a blush crept up your cheeks and blanketed your skin.

Kyle blushes too, his cheeks turning a gorgeous shade of red that rivaled his hair as he stutters for a moment. Even though you two had been together for years, the thought of you performing such acts on him always caused a certain heat to rise up to his face.

Silence descends upon the two of you, the soft hum of the television filling the air as he slowly leaned in and captured your lips in a passionate embrace. You didn’t even need a verbal response or a nod of the head to know what he wanted, you just knew.

He wanted you.

Kyle’s arms wrapped around your waist, your hands on his cheeks as your tongues clashed and fought in a battle of control and dominance.

And he was winning.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into the kiss, letting him deepen it as he pulled you onto his lap and slid his hands down to cup your ass, calloused fingers digging into your flesh. Soft whimpers escape his lips as he kisses you desperately, wanting more, needing more of you.

One of your hands slipped down from his cheek down to his thigh, gently squeezing it as you tugged his shorts down and freed his erection from the prisons of fabric. Kyle let out a soft, pretty moan as your fingers gently brushed against his tip, sending shivers crawling up his spine. Pre-cum was already dripping down his cock, the perfect substance to use as lubricant.

“Fuck, oh my god..” His deep, breathless groans encourage you, motivating you to go him, motivating you to wrap your hand around his shaft and pump up and down, pre-cum coating your fingers as you do so.

As you stroke his dick, arousal begins to pool in your stomach. Fuck. He looked so pretty like this, desperate for you to continue your handjob, desperate to finally cum and feel your cunt around his cock. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter just at the thought of the two of you having sex again.

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you stroke his cock, motions beginning to accelerate as you smile cheekily. “Am I making you all worked up, baby?”

Kyle rolls his eyes playfully and flashes you a smile, still able to look as charming as ever even while you were jerking him off. “Maybe.”

You continue your motions, the thought of causing him to climax, or, in other words, to fall off of the edge of heaven motivating you to no end. Each stroke got faster, harder, better as he threw a hand over his mouth to muffle his moans.

The kids are still asleep, you thought, biting your lip anxiously as you occasionally glanced at the door. It was locked, but the kids might knock on the door or cry to get your attention. I hope they don’t ruin this for us.

Your free hand lifts, fingers lazily drawing circles around Kyle’s nipples as he looks down at you, eyes pleading for more.

“Y/N, please, I’m about to cu—“

His muffled warning was too late, as before he could even finish speaking, he ejaculated all over your hand. Kyle let out a deep groan into the palm of his hand, milky white cum flowing down your hand to his balls as his hips buck upwards.

You pull back, slumping against the soft comforters as you lick his semen off of your fingers. The silence was deafening, and you could’ve sworn there was a ringing in your ears. Tinnitus, maybe? Or was it really that quiet?

“So… do you want to go to sleep now?” You ask sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you stand up from the bed and walk over to the dresser.

You begin pulling your shorts down and slipping them off of your ankles, the soft fabric brushing against your skin. Just as you place them on the dresser, you feel his arms wrap around you, his calloused fingers tugging at your panties.

“I need you so fuckin’ bad..” Kyle mumbles against your neck, pulling you into him as his teeth graze against your neck. A soft, almost whiny moan leaves your lips as his hands squeeze your thigh before sliding up to your hips.

He pushes you down onto the bed, hovering over your figure as his teeth nibble on your flesh. You whine and gasp, looking down at him as his lips descended your chest to your waist, to your hips, pressing kisses everywhere he went. He was really desperate for you, wasn’t he?

“Oh god..” You moan breathlessly, eyes glued to the way Kyle kisses your hips, eyes glued to the sight of his lips exploring your body. He looked so pretty like this, all desperate to fuck you.

“You’re so pretty.” He comments absentmindedly, busy with ravishing your body, not even realizing the words that slipped from his mouth as his fingers gently caress your skin.

Kyle’s teeth found the waistband of your panties, tugging on them slowly as his tongue darted out to tease you with soft, quick flicks to the skin. Just as you relaxed from his ministrations, he pulls back and you yelp, feeling the fabric snap off of your skin.

“You better pay for that.” You frown, crossing your arms and glaring down at him.

“I will, Y/N. Promise.” He whispers against your ear, leaning in to kiss your temple. You smile at his affectionate action, caught off guard when he starts to rub his member against your entrance, shaft sliding up and down your clit.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” You babble out mindlessly, the sensations of Kyle’s cock in-between your folds sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. He always felt so good.

Loud, breathless moans escape your lips as his hands gently fondle your breasts, his thumb twirling against your nipples. His erect member slid up and down, up and down, torturing you as you waited impatiently for him to slide inside you.

“Shh, darling. Hold still.” Kyle whispers, leaning down to capture your lips into a kiss, your tongues pirouetting and tangoing sloppy as you try to maintain your composure, failing when he was teasing you so good like this.

You let his tongue explore your mouth and muffle your moans, letting him explore each and every single crevice he could come across and memorize the taste of your tongue against his.

Finally, after what felt like years of waiting, Kyle pulls back from you, ending the kiss as he hastily reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom out of the drawer. You watch through your eyelashes as he rips the wrapper open, tugging the condom over his shaft as he flicks the wrapper away and turns back to you.

“Are you sure we’re going to need that?” You ask slyly, finger aimed at the condom on his cock. “I wouldn’t mind another kid.”

It was a bold suggestion, but you just had to say it, you just needed to let it out. It’d be nice to have another one, and he was such a good father, it was unreal.

Kyle stares at you dumbfounded, a soft red hue rising up to his cheeks. It sounded like a good idea, in all honesty—your eldest was five, youngest being three. Maybe it was time for another baby..

After a few moments of hesitation, he starts to slip the condom off of his shaft, tossing it aside. “You ready, sweetheart?”

You nod so quickly your head would’ve probably fallen off, eager to have him inside you.

Kyle slowly pushes himself inside of you, gripping your hips as he fills your insides. He was quite large and hard, so it always felt amazing to have him pushing himself past your folds and into your canal. You squirmed in delight, throwing your head back against the pillows as he rolls his hips forward.

“Kyle-!” You moan, pearls of sweat dotting your hairline as he goes deeper and deeper, pumping into you with increasing intensity. Your eyes roll back, your fingers finding the bedsheets and tightening their grip on the fabric.

“You’re so pretty..” He moans, leaning down as his lips latch around one of your nipples, tongue swirling around your areolas as your body writhes underneath him.

Kyle’s thrusts find a steady pace, his hands gripping your hips as he gently sucks on your breasts. You squirm and moan, pleasure coursing through your veins as he starts to tease you, teeth grazing across your chest. His cock pushes in and out of you, in and out, in and out again as the sounds of his balls slapping against your clit fill the air. The kids better not be awake.

“You’re so tight and wet, babe.” The nickname slips out of his lips like he’s wanted to say it forever, but can’t bring himself to. You smile a bit, though, a small smile gracing your lips while he continues to pump his shaft deep into you.

You’re so distracted, distracted by the feeling of each and every thrust in and out of you, distracted by his tongue sucking on your chest, leaving hickeys in areas no one else could see, so distracted that your moans slowly get louder and louder to the point that your children could hear.

Kyle takes notice of this, pulling back and pressing his lips against yours in a quick attempt to silence you. It works, as his tongue swirls around yours and he explores your mouth again, loving how you tasted and how you felt around him.

Once he finally ends the kiss, pulling back and gazing at your figure as you writhe and squirm under him, he places his hand over your mouth so his palm could muffle your moans.

You’re losing your breath, the feeling of his hips brushing against yours and his cock pounding into you sending waves of ecstasy to your core. Soft, breathless whimpers leave your lips, eyes fluttering shut and back arching forward as his hands come up to fondle your breasts.

Kyle’s close, oh so close, oh so close to hitting his climax. He’s going to explode, and it becomes more and more evident as his thrusts begin to increase in speed, cock sliding in and out of your entrance as quickly as he physically could.

“Fuck, I’m gonna..” His words slide off his tongue without its sentence even being completed, cock swelling slightly as he begins to cum. You feel full, full of your husband, the love of your life.

Kyle groans as semen spills into you, penis twitching inside of you as a sense of warmth fills your being. This felt exquisite, divine, like your body was made only for the purpose of being pleased and pleasing your one and only.

Once he’s finally done emptying his cum into you, he pulls out of you, sliding out of you and collapsing against your body lazily.

Kyle lays his head on your abdomen, letting out a soft hum as you run your fingers through his tousled hair. The moment was sweet and peaceful, a stark contrast to the events that had just transpired between the both of you.

Silence envelops your figures for a few seconds, the rush of pleasure slowly fading as he comes to a realization.

“Did you cum?” Kyle asks, looking up at you and cocking his head to the side. A wave of embarrassment washes over your being as you replay the moment and realize no, you didn’t. You didn’t cum at all.

“No..” You admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as he lifts his head from your stomach. He just wasn’t hitting the right spots when he was penetrating, and you didn’t make it obvious.

Kyle lifts his head, the thought of him finally making you cum once and for all sending a spark of blood rushing down to his groin. He presses a kiss to your lips as he quickly flips you onto your stomach.

You gasp as he presses his cock against your folds, feeling it grow and harden. “Fuck..”

A smirk grows on Kyle’s lips, and he leans down, tilting your head to face him, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss, tongue swirling and spinning around yours.

Distracting you with his kisses, he effortlessly pushes past your entrance, filling you up and making you feel whole once again. You moan and whine, all of your noises muted by his tongue pushing past your teeth and exploring your mouth as if he hadn’t ever kissed you before.

Kyle hits the right spots perfectly, his mind focused on bringing you the most pleasure possible. You squirm and writhe, your arousal elevated by the way his tip tickles your g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuck—!” You cry out, burying your face into a pillow in an desperate attempt to muffle your sounds of delight. You just couldn’t keep quiet, no, not at all, not when he was fucking you like this. Not when he was fucking you so good.

You’re lost in a haze, a haze of satisfaction and pleasure, head empty except for thoughts of how good it felt whenever Kyle pumped into the right spots. You barely even notice his hand crawling up your scalp, fingers wrapping itself around the strands of your hair as he keeps your head buried in the comfort of your plush pillows.

He tugs on your hair, strong enough to lift your head to face him yet light enough to be barely painful, pulling your face closer to his so he could press kisses against your jawline.

Your noises of pleasure and gratification begin to crescendo as you feel yourself begin to climb to your peak, climbing to the climax as each thrust hit your g-spots perfectly. Your fingers curl around the bedsheets, gripping the fabric helplessly, feeling just so good, so satisfied with him filling your insides.

You felt whole again, like his dick was the one thing missing from the puzzle of you. Like he was the key to your soul, and sex was just the way you had to unlock your emotions.

“I’m gonna.. I’m—“

Your warning was abruptly interrupted as he pushed your head back down into the plush pillows and comforters. He knew he had to stop you from waking the kids.

“Just let it out for me, Y/N.” Kyle whispers against your skin, his voice sultry and smooth as his thrusts get deeper, harder, better.He was going to cum, and so were you.

Then, it happens.

You scream incoherently, screaming into the plush fluff of the pillows, screaming with pure delight. Indulgence crashes into you, your orgasm marking an end to your pursuit to climax. Your fingers tighten around the soft fabric, nails digging into your own palm, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You knew that Kyle was exceptionally good in bed; he always was. But there was something special when the two of you did it this time, something special in the way he thrust into you, something special in the way his lips pressed against yours.

Maybe that something special was the excitement of attempting to create another child.

You sigh and relax against the sheets, panting and out of breath as he releases your hair and plops down beside you, trying to catch his breath. Sweat pools beneath your thighs as he nuzzles his face into your neck, exhaustion overcoming your senses.

“That was really nice..” You sigh heavily, pressing a tender kiss to his temple, looking down only to see that he had already dozed off, eyes shut and lips parted slightly as his soft breaths hit your skin.

Tonight was a night you knew you’d never forget.

[purselover2]

Title: Going Once, Going Twice…….

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None that I can see, but please let me know if there are and I will add them.

This is for @amythedvdhoarder. Happy Hoelentine’s Day!!! I hope you like it. Its based off a picture I found of Seb and Hemsworth. I used my magic brain waves to turn them into Bucky and Thor and this is the result.

Mood board by the amazing @constantwriter85

❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜

As you stood backstage watching the other models get ready you found yourself wondering not for the first time why you were here. Surely there was someone who could have filled the spot left vacant when Maria got called away on an assignment. But no, they had come to you, said you had to, it was for the puppies and damn if you could ever resist helping puppies. Or the kitties, or any other animal. So that’s how you found yourself backstage getting stuffed into an evening gown that cost a small fortune getting your hair primped and your makeup caked on waiting to go on stage and walk down a runway, trip and fall more like it, to hopefully sell the high end clothes you wore to the highest bidder.

If that alone didn’t make you nervous there was the other part of the auction, the bidder got to take the model out on a date wearing said outfit. There was no way anyone was going to bid on you. You weren’t popular, not even an agent. You were the IT girl, you know the one no one pays attention too until something breaks.

“Hey y/n! You look amazing.” Nat said and she and Wanda joined you. “Don’t be nervous. You’re going to do fantastic.”

“Yes. This is going to be a great night. We’re going to save all the puppies!” Wanda was way too happy.

“Thats easy for you two to say. You have guaranteed bidders. No way are Bruce and Vision going to let you two go without bidding. I’m the one who’s gotta stand up there and hope for a pitty bid.” You said.

“I think you’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Wanda hugged you.

“Yeah, you never know, Mr. Right could be here tonight.” Nat agreed.

“Well lets hope he doesn’t get held up trying to find a parking space.” You joked. You made your way over the curtain and peaked out. There on the front row was the one person you never expected to see at a charity fashion show. Bucky Barnes sitting right next to Thor dressed like a million bucks. What the hell? Could this get any worse? It was bad enough to embarrass yourself in front of the other Avengers, but you at least taken comfort in knowing that the one Avenger you had a secret crush on, wouldn’t be there to witness your humiliation. But no, fate had other plans. There he was front and center sitting next to the fucking god of thunder who couldn’t hold a candle to Bucky in your book.

“Hey y/n.” The backstage coordinator announced. “You’re going to be the last one to walk okay?”

“Yeah sure.” You thought maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, maybe everyone would just leave after they bid and you wouldn’t have to even walk on. Walking over to the puppies and kitties that the rescue had brought to show off and hopefully get adopted you saw a white kitty that looked as nervous and out of place as you did. Bending over you picked it up and began to pet it.

“Well hey there little one, you look like you want to be here as much as I do.”

You saw Nat come back through the curtain and hand the puppy she took on stage over to a handler and you motioned for her. “How did you do?”

Taking her hands and smoothing them down her dress she shook her ass and replied. “A date with me cost the gentleman $5000.”

“Damn girl you go. Bruce is a lucky man.” You winked.

“Who said it was Banner?” She smiled.

“That smile.” You giggled. “Here comes Sharon. I’m guessing she took some of Cap’s social security check tonight.”

“Those age jokes never get old.” Nat laughed. “Hey Sharon, how much did grandpa spend?”

“$5000!” She yelled. “He got into a bidding war with some guy from the Pentagon. Apparently Steve doesn’t like to loose.” She chuckled.

“Great a bidding war.” You held the kitty tighter as you stroked its fur.

“Y/N! You’re up.” The handler bellowed.

“You go girl!” Nat said pushing you forward. Wanda high fived you and Sharron patted you on the shoulder.

You stood just to the left of the stage and waited for the MC to announce you.

“And now ladies and gentlemen, its time for our final model. Please welcome to the stage Ms. Y/F/N, Y/L/N!

The curtain parted and you took the first step, then another then you realized that with the lights in your eyes you couldn’t see anyone in the audience. This was perfect. You’d just pretend you were out for a walk holding a cat and everything would be fine. You had already during rehearsal counted the number of steps to the end of the runway. You’d walk down, stop, let them get a good look at the dress and the cat and turn around, walk back and not see a single face. Especially Bucky’s.

You counted the steps and reached the end. Stopping you made a point of petting the kitty and it nuzzled your face and tried to curl up closer to you, taking a pink tipped paw and placing it on your lips drawing an awe from the audience and a few chuckles. You took the moment to snuggle him some more and then hold him out for everyone to see. Finally you turned and walked back down the stage to the MC.

Once you reached him, you stopped and stood waiting for the torture to begin.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, lets start the bidding shall we. Do I hear an opening bid?”

You braced yourself expecting to hear silence, when out of the crowd you heard a familiar voice yell, “$1000!” This was a dream. There was no way Bucky Barnes was bidding a $1000 to take you out.

“I have $1000, do I hear $2000?” The MC continued

“$2000!” Came a voice from the other side of the stage. Squinting you could just make out the smirk on Brock Rumlow’s face. Great. He had asked you out a couple of times and you had politely tuned him down. He gave you the creeps in a major way and you didn’t want within ten feet of him.

“I have $2000, do I hear $3000?”

“$3000.” Came Bucky’s reply.

“$4000.” Brock countered without even waiting on the MC.

“$5000.” Bucky returned.

“Well it looks like we have quite the bidding war here tonight ladies and gentlemen.” The MC was obviously unable to contain his excitement. “I have $5000, do I hear $6000?”

“$7000!” Brock yelled.

“The bidding stands at $7000, do I hear $8000?” The MC asked. You couldn’t believe this.

“$10,000!” Bucky yelled louder and you almost hit the floor. Holy shit, ten thousand dollars. That was going to go a long way to help the puppies and the kitties. In your arm your new fury friend must have sensed your nerves because he again started rubbing your face. Taking your hand and rubbing his ears, you waited.

“$10,000 ladies and gentlemen! This is indeed a record setting bid. Do I hear another bid?” He motioned to Brock, who took a moment before shaking his head no and you released the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Relief that you wouldn’t have to endure a night with Brock Rumlow, only to relize that it meant you’d be enduring a night with Bucky Barnes. Even if it was a different kind of enduring.

The crowd went crazy as the grand total for the evening was announced and you made your way back stage, where Wanda, Sharon and Nat were all waiting for you.

“Oh my god girl!” Wanda exclaimed.

“And here you were worried about no one bidding.” Nat teased you.

“I’m so excited for you.” Sharon replied. “I swear to God though if Rumlow had won I would have insisted on a double date so that you didn’t have to be alone with him. That guy is major creep.”

“I was scared there for a while. But damn, how did that even happen? Why in the world would Bucky Barnes ever want to go out with me?” You shook your head at the thought, not noticing the girls looking over your shoulder as someone approached.

“Well doll, I can give you about ten thousand reasons if you really want to know.” You heard Bucky say from behind you.

Turning around you saw him standing there with the other Avengers as they came to collect the other ladies. As each couple paired off and made their way to the door you suddenly found yourself alone with Bucky. You still had the cat in your arms and he was sleeping contently.

“Hi Bucky.” You smile at him. “Thank you for not letting Rumlow win.”

“You’re welcome, but if you think that’s the only reason I did this, then I have some making up to do.” Bucky walked closer to you and used his flesh finger to stroke the cat on top of the head.

“Making up to do?” You asked.

“Yeah, I thought you knew that I wanted to ask you out.” He explained.

“Uh you did?”

“Yeah. I just never thought you’d go. So Thor talked me in to coming tonight and taking my chances. His thought was that if you had to go out with me, it would give me a chance to show you what a great guy I am, his words not mine, and that I could woo you.” Bucky chuckled at the last part.

“Woo me?” You giggled. “Well, I appreciate the effort to impress me, but you could have saved yourself some money and just asked me out the old fashioned way. I would have said yes.”

“Yeah?” He looks at you.

“Yeah.” You answer. “BUT now that you’ve told me about this mighty plan you and the god of thunder have cooked up, I’m wanting to see it play out.” You move to walk towards the handler to give the cat back. “Let me just give this little guy back and we can go.”

“No need.” Bucky tells you and you look at him. “I adopted him. He’s obviously a very smart fellow for picking you to cuddle up to. I only hope he can teach me his moves so that I can get some cuddles.” Bucky took him from your arms so you could find your coat and bag.

“Cuddles, Sargent Barnes come AFTER the proper wooing, not before.” You replied as you walked off.

“Well then let the wooing commence.” He said following after you.

[bettsfic]

how i got an agent, or: my writing timeline

when i started writing, i had no idea how publishing worked and i had a lot of misconceptions about it. but i just signed my first literary agent so i thought i’d share what my experience has been getting to this point, in case it helps anyone else with their own publication goals. i’m also including financial details, like submission fees and income, because “i could never afford to pursue writing as a career” is something that kept me from taking the idea seriously.

for context, i write mostly literary fiction and i’m on the academic/scholarly writing path. this process looks a lot different for other genres. 

i didn’t write this in my pretty nonfiction narrative voice; it’s really just the bare-bones facts of how it went down, how long it took, how many words i wrote (both fanfiction and original fiction), and how much it all cost. 

background

2002 - 2005: read a fuckton of books, wrote some fiction, wanted to be a writer but knew it would never happen, journaled every moment of my life in intimate detail

2006: started working full-time (at a chinese restaurant) while still in high school, also started taking courses for college credit; no time to write, and forgot i had ever wanted to be a writer

2007: graduated high school, started college (psych major), still worked at the restaurant, moved out of my parents’ house into an apartment with my boyfriend; my dad got diagnosed with stage 3 colon cancer

2008: continued college full-time, quit the restaurant and started part-time as a bank teller, broke up with bf and moved in with a friend at an apartment where the rent was obscenely high; had to pick up a second job altering bridal gowns

2009: continued college full-time, started dating someone else, moved in with him, had to support him, took a third job as an admin assistant 

2010: continued college full-time, still had 3 jobs; my dad’s cancer became terminal

2011: my dad passed away; i graduated college with a 3.9 and $31k of debt; quit 2 of 3 jobs; got promoted at the bank; my bf cheated on me and we broke up; moved back in with my mom

2012: a very dark time; also, bought a house (because where i’m from, it’s cheaper to buy than rent)

2013: discovered fandom

2014, age 24

this is the year i started writing and posting fanfic. prior to that i was a compulsive journaler but had no drive or desire to become a writer, despite how much i had written when i was a teenager. it seemed like a very childish dream. at this point i assumed writing was just a phase like all my other hobbies i’d picked up and set down. 

but fandom proved to be really healthy for me, and i made some good friends who encouraged my writing and made me want to be better at it. i was really not very good at writing. i don’t think i had any natural creative talent whatsoever, or even a particularly vivid imagination. the only thing i had going for me was the ability to put thoughts into words after a decade of obsessive journaling.

i started writing in spring, and by the end of the year my total word count was 311k. i was making a decent income at the bank, insofar as my bills were covered and i had health insurance. i still had a significant amount of credit card debt from college that i was trying to pay down, and which was eating up all my extra income. 

2015, age 25

i continued writing through 2015 and went to visit @aeriallon, whom i’d met in fandom and who told me i should consider applying to MFAs. i was miserable at the bank and knew i wanted to go back to school, but i didn’t think there was a chance in hell a grad program would accept me, since my writing wasn’t very good and i hadn’t so much as taken a single english class in undergrad. she told me to just look around and do a few google searches to see what i found. 

when i started searching, i assumed i would probably be more compelled toward an MEd or MSW programs and go the therapy route, which is what the plan had been in undergrad before my dad died and my life got derailed. i never wanted to be a banker, but i’d got a promotion into commercial finance that paid decently, so i took it and told myself i’d work for a year before going back to school. but then i kept getting promoted and one year became many.

i ended up being more drawn to creative writing MFA programs because they seemed to want people with weird backgrounds like mine. also the classes sounded fun and the programs were funded. i didn’t know how i would be able to afford my mortgage payment or sell my house on a fraction of the income i was making at the bank, but i figured i’d apply and see what happened.

it took 6 months to get a writing sample ready to apply to MFAs. it was the only ofic story i’d written as an adult, and in retrospect i had no idea what i was doing because at that point i didn’t read literary short fiction. but i got the sample as good as i could get it and completed my applications. i applied to 6 schools and got accepted into 1. 

in 2015 i wrote 250k. i can’t find my application spreadsheet from that year, but i probably spent between $300 and $400 on application fees. early in the year, i had finally managed to pay off my credit card debt and save a little bit of money.

2016, age 26

the school i got into was within driving distance of my house, so i didn’t bother moving. i tried to quit the bank but my boss convinced me to stay on 2 days a week working from home. i agreed to it, because my grad stipend wasn’t enough to cover my bills, and i was counting on what little savings i had accrued to get me through the program. i still had no drive or interest to publish. i mostly just wanted to go back to school so i could learn how to be better at this thing i really enjoyed doing.

in the MFA, as you might imagine, i had to read a lot of stuff and write a lot of stuff, and was encouraged to begin submitting some of the short stories i wrote for workshop. i was not particularly into the idea, considering it seemed like a lot of work for little reward, and also i didn’t think my stories were very good.

i also started teaching english comp. i hated it and decided that after the MFA, i never wanted to do it again. haha. hahahahahaha

in 2016 i wrote 343k. i didn’t apply/submit in 2016 so i didn’t pay any fees, but my grad stipend was $14k for the academic year, plus the income i was making at the bank.

2017, age 27

i did a complete 180 and decided i loved teaching more than anything else in the entire world, and i was willing to do whatever it took to become a teacher. i realized that to become a teacher, i needed to publish. begrudgingly i started submitting to literary journals. i also applied to summer workshops and got into tin house, which i highly recommend if that’s something you’re interested in. at tin house i met my dream agent, who seemed really interested in my work and encouraged me to query her as soon as i had a book done. 

a lot of personal drama happened that year. i was still working at the bank in addition to teaching a 2/2 and taking a full course load. in summer i had a long overdue mental breakdown. 

2017 was a rough year. i wrote 149k. this is the year i started keeping a dedicated expenses spreadsheet. i spent $174 in submission fees. tin house tuition with room and board was a little over $1500 + travel. i thought it was worth it because i met the agent i thought i would later sign, but that didn’t pan out. (i made some great friends though!!) tin house was definitely an unwise financial decision; i paid for it out of what little i managed to save in 2015.

2018, age 28

early in 2018, i went from teaching comp/rhet to creative writing, which only cemented my desire to teach writing as a career. i realized i was far better at teaching writing than writing, but i knew i had to keep writing to keep teaching (shocked pikachu.jpg), so i kept submitting to journals. i got my first story accepted. i didn’t receive any payment for that publication. i quit the bank early in the year (finally! after 10 years!) and was terrified about money, in part because my student loan payments were coming out of deferment and i was still paying off my hospital bills from my breakdown. 

in spring semester, i won a few departmental awards (totaling $500ish) and got a second story accepted (again, no payment). i also got accepted to another workshop which i will not name because i hated it. i graduated in may and defended my thesis in july. the thesis would later become my short story collection, zucchini.

in fall, i stayed on at my school as an adjunct, and started writing training wheels which would later become an original novel called baby. 

i wrote 450k in 2018. i paid $373 in submission fees. i was also nominated for an award for one of my publications but didn’t win. the workshop i went to was like $4000 with room and board (it was a month-long workshop). i got 75% of it covered with scholarships and i paid for the rest of it out of my savings, and even though i’d intended to drive there, my mom ended up buying me a plane ticket. again, i met a lot of big-wig writers i thought for sure would help me get an agent. i told myself i was networking, and that publication was all about Who You Knew. but that turned out not to be true for me.

as an adjunct i made $3200 per course, and i taught 3 classes in fall. in winter, i got my shit together and started applying for creative writing PhDs, mostly to convince my family i was doing something with my life, with no expectation that i would get in. in winter i applied to 2 schools. with application fees and the GRE, i ended up paying well over $500.

2019, age 29

in spring semester, i taught 2 classes while i revised training wheels into baby. when i had a completed manuscript, i finally pulled the plug and used all my networking contacts to get my dream agent i’d met at tin house. i queried her, and a very popular and well-regarded author i’d met at the other workshop emailed her on my behalf to tell her good things about me. i thought for sure i had it in the bag. this author also touched base with a few other agents whom he thought would like my work.

i didn’t hear back from any of them. not even a “no thanks.” i set down querying for a while. 

i got a third story picked up and published around this time, and i was paid $25 for it. they also nominated me for an award, and i don’t think i won? but i can’t find out who did win so idk.

my grandpa passed away and i decided to sell my house and move in with my grandma so she wouldn’t be alone. i got rejected from both PhD programs i applied to and decided to get a “real job” instead, and began applying for random positions that offered health insurance, because i knew i was drastically undermedicated and it was becoming a Problem.

near the end of spring semester, i moved out of my house, put it on the market, and was interviewing for a community development manager position for a nonprofit. at the same time, i found out about another university that was taking late-season applications, and i applied. five days later, i got accepted. one day after that, i got a job offer for the nonprofit. since i had no idea how long it would take for my house to sell, and being unable to afford both rent in a new city and my mortgage payment, i deferred my PhD acceptance for a year and decided to work at the nonprofit for a while. the risk was that i could only defer my admission, not my funding, so there was a chance that the following year i wouldn’t get the same funding package.

i lasted one month at the “real job” before i had another breakdown and ended up quitting. 

my house sold for well under the asking price and i received only $4000 in equity once it was all said and done. that’s a lot of money to me, but considering that i’d been paying on the house for 7 years, i was expecting a lot more.

i had a year to kill until the PhD so i decided to take a break from teaching and apply to artist residencies instead. i applied to 8 residencies and got accepted into 4, but only ended up attending 3, because the 4th was outrageously priced and there was no indication of the cost when i had applied.

in winter i picked up querying agents again. i queried 10 agents every other week. i also got a ghostwriting gig writing children’s books that paid $800 a month.

in 2019 i wrote 417k. i spent $441 in submission fees (to residencies and contests, not agent queries. never pay money to query an agent!!). i ended up teaching 3 classes fall semester.

2020, age 30

i started out the year driving across the country going to residencies. the first cost $100 (no food), the second cost $250 (A LOT OF VERY GOOD FOOD), and the third paid me $500. i was at the third when the pandemic hit.

the query rejections started rolling in. i gave up in february after 60 queries. of those 60, i received 7 manuscript requests for baby, but the consensus was that it was too long and plotless (you got me there.jpg). at the second residency completed and revised zucchini and decided to begin querying with that instead. i could only find a few agents who accepted collections so i only queried 16. i got one request for the manuscript but then didn’t hear back. i gave up in april shortly after the pandemic hit. 

when i figured the collection, like the novel, just wasn’t publishable, i started submitting to contests which is the more standard route for the genre. i submitted to 12 in total and was a finalist in 1. i was rejected or withdrew from the rest.

the PhD program reached out to ask if i was still interested in starting in fall, and i said i was, so they put me in the running for funding again and i was accepted. the stipend was $17k per academic year.

like most of us, i got totally derailed in spring and stopped doing basically everything. the ghostwriting gig started paying $1500 a month and i also started my creative coaching business, which slowly but surely began to supplement my income. i also received the $1200 stimulus. 

when school started, i quit the ghostwriting gig. i had no intention to continue querying either book, but i saw a twitter pitch event called DVpit (diverse voices) and decided to participate. for those who don’t know, a twitter pitch event is where you tweet the pitch for your book and use the hashtag, and agents scroll through the tag and like tweets. if an agent likes your tweet, you query them. 

i got one like, so i followed up with the query. the agent asked for the full MS and a couple weeks later followed up with the offer for representation. we talked on the phone, she sent me the contract, i asked for a couple changes, and then signed! 

so far this year i’ve written 375k and paid $518 in submission fees. i’ll give more details when i do my end of year roundup next month. oh, and i finally paid off my student loans.

totals

word count: 2.3 million

agent queries: 77

agent MS requests: 9

agent rejections: 28

agent no responses: 44

short story submissions: 86

short story acceptances: 3

short story income: $25

total submission/application fees: $1472

my (final) query letter

honestly this query letter probably isn’t very good which is why i got such a minimal response, but it got the job done eventually.

Thank you for expressing interest in ZUCCHINI through this year's DVpit event.

ZUCCHINI is a collection that views sex through an asexual lens. It poses inquiries into constructs like gender, sexuality, and love to dissect the patriarchal/puritanical foundations from which our social perspectives often derive. Being a collection about asexuality, each story portrays a relationship that develops from forms of attraction other than physical.

In one story, a grieving widow purchases her first sex toy; in another, a woman uses sex to cope with the death of her abusive father, and later in the collection faces the long road to recovery; an administrative assistant seeks out a codependent relationship with her boss; a masochist hires a professional sadist to lead him toward self-actualization; a woman begins to recover from her sexual assault by staging a reenactment on her own terms; and lastly, two lifelong friends in a queerplatonic relationship decide to get married. Asexuality is an under-acknowledged identity within the LGBTQIA community and is often misunderstood. In seven stories, ZUCCHINI dissects the notion of attraction, explores the intersections of sexual identity and trauma recovery, and conveys the experience of intimacy without physical desire.

Three stories in the collection have been published in literary magazines. “Lien” appeared in volume 24 of Quarter After Eight and was nominated for the PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers. “An Informed Purchase” appeared in the summer 2018 issue of Midwestern Gothic and won the Jordan-Goodman Prize in Fiction. “The Ashtray” appeared in issue 16 of Rivet Journal and has been nominated for a 2020 Pushcart Prize.

Complete at 53,000 words, ZUCCHINI is a collection in conversation with Carmen Maria Machado’s HER BODY AND OTHER PARTIES, Lauren Groff’s FLORIDA, and Samantha Hunt’s THE DARK DARK.

If ZUCCHINI is of interest to you, I would be happy to send you the manuscript. Per your guidelines, I've appended the first twenty pages below, which is the entirety of the first story.

what comes next

i’m going to spend january revising the collection per my agent’s feedback. when i send it back to her, she’ll shoot it out to the first round of publishers. my understanding is that the goal is to get multiple offers on it so that it has to go to auction. if there are no offers, she’ll do another round of submissions, and so on, until we’ve exhausted our options. if that happens, we’ll reassess, but by then hopefully i’ll have another novel finished.

meanwhile, i’ll be continuing the PhD which entails teaching a 2/2, workshop, and 2 lit seminars per semester. i’m also still doing my creative coaching, writing fanfic, and working on my original projects. in summer, i’ll finally be moving to hopefully start going to school in person next fall. 

the PhD is a 3 year program with an optional fourth year. i don’t see myself finishing in 3 years so i do plan to take the extra year unless something comes up. after the PhD, i’m not sure what i’ll do. a lot will probably change by then so i’m trying not to commit to one idea. i might apply to post-doc fellowships and tenure track positions, or i might leave the country and teach overseas, or i might move to LA and try to get in a writer’s room somewhere. i’ve got a lot of options.

overall thoughts/stuff i learned

first of all, you don’t have to go through all of this to publish a book. you could feasibly just write a book and query agents. the only reason it took me this long is because my PTSD brain was sabotaging me every step of the way and i didn’t start taking anything seriously until i found something i was willing to fight for (teaching). i went the MFA/literary route but other, faster routes are just as good. maybe better. probably better. actually if there’s any chance you can go a different route, you should take it.

reflecting on all of this, very little of it has anything to do with talent or being a good writer. nor does it have to do with being at the right place at the right time. i’ve only made it this far because i took very small steps over and over again, and during that walk met people who could help me -- the authors who have mentored me, the editors who accepted my stories, the agent who signed me. and as i got further along my path, i started being able to help other writers in the way i was helped. 

i don’t believe i’ll ever be a great writer. the best thing i can say about my writing is that it’s competent and accessible. everything i write sets out to do something and most of the time it gets the job done. i don’t imagine i’ll ever be able to financially support myself with publishing, and i’ll certainly never be famous or well-known, but i’m good enough to keep making progress. i’ll probably continue to find opportunities that are adjacent to writing and that will keep me afloat, pending my health and provided the country doesn’t devolve into civil war. 

probably the most important thing i learned in all this is that having a wide appeal isn’t the goal. you don’t write to be lauded or liked. you have to stay as true to yourself and your interests as you possibly can, so that the people who come across your path can see you and help you. you’ll need those people; no one gets anywhere alone. if you pander, if you’re too concerned with praise and success or being adored, you won’t make it very far. the rejection will eventually kill you. 

with all that said, my advice to you is this: never stop writing. the ability to share our stories is the single most precious thing we have. you can’t let anything stop you from telling your stories the way you need them to be told.

[chronictonsillitis]

no pain so exquisite as to be bound (to you)

“Gon nau,” the officiant says, slipping her hand into the man’s. From now—

Their skin is hot against each other's, palms sweaty as their fingers lace together.

“Tu ste glong raun kom won.” Two are joined as one. 

Clarke swallows hard, and looks up. Two pairs of eyes widen simultaneously, two sets of hackles instantly rising.

**** Forced to stand alone by the departure of her sort-of almost co-leader, Clarke does her damndest to hold the Dropship camp together. The thanks she gets when the Ark comes down? Her camp shuttered and her authority stripped. For her people, she agrees to marry a stranger, dashing any hope of finding her soulmate. Clarke is told nothing of her Grounder betrothed; yet the man waiting at the altar she knows all too well. In exchange for keeping his identity secret, an agreement is made, and the clock starts counting down: to the arrival of her soulmark, and the dissolution of this sham marriage.

Written for The t100 Fic for BLM Initiative Donation Celebration with beautiful artwork by Bri ( @underbellamy​)! The Initiative is still accepting prompts and going strong, hitting $4000 in donations as of this week!

Chapter 1/?

(Ao3) or

She probably should’ve expected something like this.

After all, if her mom had been willing to send her down to Earth with the rest of them for the sake of the Ark, why would she balk at a simple marriage?

And of course Clarke goes along with it, because if not her, then who? Wells is dead, Bellamy is long gone; there’s no one else of the right age visible enough, no one else important enough to the Council to be a worthy prize for the Grounders.

Clarke scoffs internally. A worthy hostage is more like it.

The irony of it is not lost on her. She was forced into leadership by the actions of the Council, sending her to the ground, and forced to stand alone in charge of the delinquents by the unceremonious departure of her sort-of, almost co-leader. It was her who faced down the Trikru leader, her who held the Dropship camp together as they were besieged, and her who ultimately negotiated for peace.

And what was the thanks she got when the Ark came down? Her camp shuttered, her authority stripped, her role limited to a purely honorary seat on the Council with no real power, an empty concession as a reward for all her hard work. She’s spent the last year more or less stagnant, being spoken over in meetings and condescended to by people who kept her around purely because the Trikru representatives refuse to speak to anyone else. She wonders how they’ll deal with that particular problem now that they’ve shipped her off to Trishanakru.

Clarke expected to feel relief when she wasn’t in charge anymore, but instead she’s felt useless, like a child who’s long outgrown the kid’s table. Useless and flat.

Still, she didn’t expect her return to usefulness to be as a bargaining chip.

“You understand what you’re asking me to give up?” Clarke asks her mother behind closed doors after the offer of marriage is first put forth. “The home I’ve made, the relationships I’ve built?”

Abby wrings her hands, eyes full of guilt. “It’s not forever, you’ll be able to come back. To visit, at least.”

Clarke laughs harshly. “It is forever, that’s the point!” She paces back and forth, her heart clenching almost painfully. “It’s not a job, Mom, it’s a marriage. I’ll be one of them, bound to one of them, for life. I’ll never get a chance—” She breaks off, stopping facing the wall. “I’ll never have the opportunity to have what you and dad had. I’ll never get to have a true partner.”

She’s still too young to have her mark, just a hair past nineteen. They say it happens when you turn twenty, but that’s just an estimate. She’s likely got nine months or so until it starts to form, the lines beginning to weave their way across the skin below her collarbones in bits and pieces, slowly darkening until it’s all there, her own unique pattern branded black into her flesh.

An outward marker of genetic compatibility, her mom had called it during Clarke’s medical training, but Clarke prefers the traditional term: soulmark.

Matches on the Ark were not universal, but they were common enough. Her parents had been matched, and it had been easy for Clarke even as a child to see the difference between their relationship and that of the non-matched couples. There was a reason nobody took relationships seriously until they both were marked.

“I know that, honey,” Abby says, her voice soft. Clarke hates it, hates when she combines politics with acting like her mom. Abby puts her hand on Clarke’s arm, her touch innately comforting in a way that is wholly unfair given the situation. “But with Wells gone…”

Her words trail off, but the implication is clear. Abby thinks Clarke won’t match anyways. She thinks her daughter’s intended match is lying dead in a grave beside the dropship, buried beneath six feet of dirt, so what is she really being asked to give up? Only a dream, only a fairytale. Nothing of substance.

Clarke isn’t so sure.

She loved Wells, she still does, but it was never— like that, for them. She knows growing up everyone expected them to match, the prince and princess of the Ark, and maybe when she was little she believed it. But when he died it was her best friend that she grieved, not her soulmate.

And maybe she’s being foolish and romantic, but she still has hope. She thinks her match is out there somewhere, still breathing. But if she accepts this deal, this marriage, that hope is dead.

Clarke remembers the girls at the dropship camp tittering beside the fire, speculating about their marks and their matches. She remembers the way Octavia stared intently at Lincoln’s soulmark, memorizing it, confident in three years she’d be marked with its twin. She remembers tracing a pattern across Finn’s skin in the bunker, imagining he could be hers.

None of the delinquents were old enough to have a mark, save Bellamy of course. Raven’s started blooming a few weeks in, but Bellamy’s soulmark was fully fledged well before they came down, winding black and proud across his chest as he strutted about the camp shirtless. From his prolific activities with the camp girls, Clarke assumes he didn’t have a match that he knew of. On the Ark, at least, it was unheard of to have a matching soulmark and not act on it. To be given a gift like that and to turn it away— no one is that stupid.

Then again, it’s Bellamy, so who knows.

He was stupid enough to leave his sister, stupid enough to leave Clarke to fend for herself as leader of a bunch of kids barely younger than herself, with nothing but a half-hearted shooting lesson and a suggestion to keep Miller close. And yeah, she’d survived, but it would have been a hell of a lot easier with a partner.

“If we had any other options, Clarke,” Abby begs. “I wouldn’t ask. But we need this alliance. Without Trishanakru, Azgeda will wipe us out before the end of the summer.”

Clarke stiffens, her nose pointing upwards, because she knows this. Of course she knows this. She’s been in every goddamn Council meeting, even if nobody had bothered to listen to what she had to say. Maybe if they had, they wouldn’t be in this position.

But they didn’t, and now they don’t. It’s this or nothing.

So fine. If this is all she can do for her people, she’ll do it. She’ll give up her family, give up her friends, give up her chance to be with her soulmate even before her mark begins to darken on her skin.

It’s better that way, her Trishanakru attendants say as they bathe her in milk and drape her in silk, prettying her up like a lamb for slaughter. Better not to know, so she can go into the marriage free of tethers, unbound by her own expectations. Clean of skin and pure of heart, they say.

“And what of my husband-to-be?” Clarke asks dryly. “Is he still unmarked?”

The question is only half sarcasm, the other half genuine curiosity. She knows nothing of the man she is to marry except his status amongst the clan: second to the Chief, a warrior. In negotiations they never mentioned his name, temperament, age, nothing. He could be an old man for all Clarke knows; even a child, if Trishanakru shares the same customs as Trikru.

The woman braiding her hair purses her lips, not meeting Clarke’s eyes. “No,” she admits. “But he will show you the same respect you show him. He has not found his match, and after today, he will have no match but you.”

How romantic, Clarke thinks, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

She has no pretensions about this marriage. She does not expect love, nor even happiness. All she expects is the treaty with Skaikru to be honored. If that happens, it will be enough.

She stands still as they drape her with beads and gems, lace strings of pearls into her hair. Absentmindedly, she wonders where exactly all the jewelry came from. Maybe an old museum, or a jewelry store.

They pat around her eyes with oil, pressing gold leaf to it so it peels off on her skin. Her dress is long and heavy, layers of fabrics darned with intricate embroidery. She almost laughs, thinking of what everyone back in Arkadia would say. She imagines the Princess jokes would come on pretty strong.

For all the bangles they slide up her arms, all the jewels the hang from her ears, her ankles, her hips, her hair, they put no necklaces on her. It’s confusing, at least until it isn’t.

Clarke balks at the monstrosity they pull out, because it’s a collar.

There’s no better word for it really. Not a collar like a dog would wear, not a thin strip of leather, no: this is a bridle, a harness, an anchor. It’s gold and bejeweled and if Clarke wasn’t the one wearing it she’d call it beautiful, but she is.

It’s thick and heavy, settling on her shoulders like a weight, making them sag. It covers her chest from the hollow of her throat to the middle of her sternum, covers her shoulders from clavicle to acromion.

It’s choking her.

It clasps behind her back with some complicated mechanism she cannot see, and Clarke thinks she spots one of the attendants pocket a key. Her throat goes dry, hands fighting the urge to scrabble at her throat.

“What is this?” Her voice is shaky, her anxiety leaching into her tone.

Her attendants are polite enough to ignore it, reaching out to adjust her hair so it falls over the hammered metal, gold on gold. “It is traditional in weddings like this. To cover your mark.” The woman hums, her finger tracing over the jewels, a wistful look on her face. “They are normally leather. You must be very important to the clan.”

Oh joy, Clarke thinks.

“I don’t have a mark yet,” she grits. “Why do I have to wear it?”

“But you will. It’s tradition, but besides, it’ll be easier for you to start now. So there’s no temptation.”

Clarke isn’t sure what kind of fucked up weird conservatism she’s marrying into, but she’s not thrilled. “When can I take it off?” Her attendants go quiet, their eyes not meeting hers. “Hello?”

The youngest one, a kind looking girl who’d smiled when Clarke had asked her name, gives her an apologetic look. “You can’t. The key will go to your husband, as a sign of your trust.” She shrugs. “You will get used to it.”

Clarke highly doubts that, but she also doubts that these women have any say in whether she stays permanently collared.

It’s moments like these she thinks she probably should have insisted on meeting her husband before the day of the wedding, or insisted on having some of her own people here with her to advocate on her behalf. Besides the inherent powerlessness of this marriage, she didn’t expect to actually be locked into anything.

Not physically at least.

The last piece of her outfit that they add is a gold beaded vail, hanging over her face and eyes like a curtain. She joked about being lamb for slaughter, but seriously. The collar, the blinders: she feels like livestock.

Clarke frowns. She will put up with the indignity for her people, of course she will, but fuck if she can’t show her displeasure.

The first part of the wedding is small, intimate, and Clarke is grateful. The nice attendant tells her it will last a half hour, in which her husband-to-be and her will be bound temporarily. After that, they will have time to meet privately.

By the downcast eyes of the attendant, Clarke thinks that this is a polite way of saying he will have time to sample the goods before committing to her permanently. Her skin crawls at the thought. She knew there was likely to be some sort of required consummation, but she’s sort of blocked it out. She hasn’t had sex since Finn, hasn’t had any sort of romantic or sexual interactions in the interim. She hasn’t wanted to.

She’s both embarrassed by her inexperience and furious at herself for being anything other than angry.

They lead her into the ceremonial hall, an open room with a vaulted ceiling. Light shines in through broken stained glass windows, and she thinks maybe, before the bombs, this used to be a church. Fitting, she supposes.

She’s directed to a cushion at the end of the room, in front of some sort of altar. She sweeps the silks away from her ankles and kneels, sitting back on her bare feet.

Clarke would think someone would tell her husband-to-be she’s already there, or that this was to be a formal event, but nevertheless she can hear him arguing with someone as he approaches the door. Her attendants stand at her back, waiting calmly.

“—ridiculous for them to just expect I would have no problem with it,” a man says, his rasp deep in a familiar way that she cannot seem to place. “I have duties to the clan, to you, and your ambassadors just expect me to drop everything and marry a stranger, just because she’s related to some backwoods Seya. Is she supposed to come with me into battle?”

Another man speaks softly in response, his voice low enough it doesn’t quite reach Clarke’s ears.

“Why should it matter to me whether she’s marked or not? If she’s not a warrior I have no use for her. What am I supposed to do with some— some spoiled child bride?”

His last hiss echoes through the room as he enters, striking her like a slap to the face.

Clarke bristles, her teeth clenching, and lifts her shoulders. She doesn’t want to be in this marriage either, thank you very much, especially not to a man who’s clearly too arrogant to see past his own nose.

She’s not a warrior, fine, but she fights in different ways. She’s a politician, and a healer, and a strategist. Clarke is useful, and not just as some diplomatic trophy.

The reply is too quiet for her to hear, but she’s sure it wouldn’t calm her down.

Her intended apologizes to her attendants, and Clarke hears them shuffle to the side, letting him past. She’s not sure why he bothers, clearly he has no care for propriety. He drops unceremoniously to his knees beside her without a glance in her direction, the man to whom he was speaking coming around to stand in front of them. The officiant, she guesses.

Clarke keeps her gaze straight ahead, glaring at the paneled wall in front of her.

The ceremony is conducted wholly in Trig, the words unfamiliar and spoken so quickly Clarke misses most of the actual content. She’s okay at Trig, but with her unofficial house arrest leaving only Lincoln to practice with, she’s still far from fluent, and none of this is anything she would have even thought to learn.

At some point she’s directed to raise her right hand, and the man beside her his left. The officiant continues, “—ogeda. Nomfa kom Trishanakru, Seken kom Seya, yu na teik dis?”

The bone of her wrist brushes against his skin. The contact is disconcerting, and her eyes flicker involuntarily to the man’s hand.

His skin is tan, several shades darker than her own, his hand broad. His nails are short but clean, and she wonders if he too had to take a milk bath before this.

“Sha,” he says, his voice a low rumble, and the officiant hands him one end of a red ribbon, wrapping it once around his wrist. Clarke shivers.

Probably not.

Her eyes come back up as she realizes the officiant is speaking directly to her now, his words slow and careful. He gives her a serious look, something almost fatherly, his eyebrows pulling together. “Nomfri kom Skaikru,” he asks. Daughter of Skaikru. “Yu na teik dis?” Will you allow this?

In the corner of her eye, she sees the man at her side stiffen, his spine snapping straight, but she doesn’t have time to puzzle through that. She meets the officiant’s eyes with a resolute stare, and nods. “Yes.”

His lips curl into a half grin, as though he is proud of her answer, and he loops the ribbon around her wrist, placing the end softly into her hand. Clarke closes her fist around it.

The officiant bids them to stand, and they do, rising as one to their feet, wrists bound between them. The officiant takes both their unbound hands and gestures for them to face one another.

Clarke closes her eyes and opens them again, releasing a steadying breath through her nose. She forces her feet to turn, keeping her gaze pointed downward. She will not let this man see doubt in her eyes, won’t let him catch a hint of fear.

“Gon nau,” the officiant says, slipping her hand into the man’s.

From now—

Their skin is hot against each other's, palms sweaty as their fingers lace together.

“Tu ste glong raun kom won.”

Two are joined as one.

Clarke swallows hard, and looks up. Two pairs of eyes widen simultaneously, two sets of hackles instantly rising.

Because even though her husband is a stranger, she knows his eyes: deep brown staring out now from unfamiliar charcoal black; the same way she knows the curl of his hair, the line of his shoulders, the pattern that lies beneath the paint on his chest.

She knows these things the same way he knows the slope of her nose, the curve of her breasts, the mark above her lip, the weight of her body clinging to his.

Clarke’s heart races.

Bellamy.

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 14

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Leo's fear raises its head at the worst possible moment.

A/N: Finally some (slight) drama after I've drowned all of you in fluff in the previous chapters. Also, it was pretty exciting for me to finally get to explore Leo's studying life a bit more in this chapter.

I also want to take this opportunity to advertise a future fic of mine that I /hope/ to finish by the end of this week. The past week I've been working on a post ToN Caleo one-shot which is already over 4000 words long and at this point mainly needs some heavy editing to be posted. So stay tuned for that too if you like this ship!

Big big thanks to Cris for helping me a whole lot with this chapter! I really needed your science knowledge :’)

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! And remember that comments are the only reward I get so they would be much, much appreciated!!

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Leo. Jason, Percy, Annabeth

Words: 3000+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

“Mister Valdez? Are you listening?”

Leo snapped out of his daze. He was at his engineering math class and for the past 15 minutes the professor had been explaining to the group a problem that had taken Leo about 2-3 minutes to solve. Usually he did something else while listening to his professors; finish more calculations (sometimes even ones they weren’t assigned to do), doodle blueprints and ideas for future inventions into his notebook, write down a new joke he had come up with, or text Jason that he was bored. Weirdly enough, doing all that other stuff helped him to focus on what was going on in the lecture.

However, this time his mind was elsewhere; it kept showing him images of a girl with shoulder length reddish brown hair, dark brown eyes that seemed a bit harsh at first but softened when she laughed at his joke, a couple of freckles on her light skin… He could also hear her laughter and smell the cinnamon scent that probably came from the shampoo she used in his head. The previous evening had gone so well but he had no idea what to make of it; even if he did like Calypso (which he wasn’t quite ready to admit yet), could anything ever happen? They were flatmates. Things would sure get complicated if they got together and then broke up and would barely stand each other’s company… Besides, who was to say she’d ever like him? Sure, sometimes she seemed amused by his jokes but what other reasons did he give for her to like him? Not much, he felt.

Leo started to get frustrated because he couldn’t get those thoughts out of his head and he might have started to growl to himself if the professor hadn’t called him at that exact moment.

“Yes?” Leo answered unsurely, not having heard what the professor had asked.

“Good. Then you can tell me what the solution to this problem is.” The professor pointed at the long and complicated looking problem on the whiteboard.

Leo sighed of relief on the inside. They were still talking about the same problem that he had solved over 10 minutes ago. He could do this.

“X is 3,65, Y is 5,51 and Z is 7,24,” he said, sounding almost bored.

“That is correct,” the professor said, badly hiding his surprise. He had thought this kid who seemed to be living in his dream world would be utterly confused by his question. He turned his attention back to the rest of the class and continued: “Of course, the easiest way to solve this equation is to divide X with… Yes, Mister Valdez?”

“Actually, I disagree,” Leo said, now completely awake. “Why would you divide it when you can…”

“Which one of us is the professor here, Mister Valdez?” the professor cut him off. “You may think you know how to do this but there are plenty of students here who aren’t quite as advanced and that’s why it’s better to show them one way to do it rather than to confuse them by....”

“Yeah, right, my bad,” Leo said sarcastically. “If these students are so simple minded, then why don’t you give them more practical problems to solve? You know, things we might actually need in the work life instead of… that,” he pointed at the whiteboard.

A couple of people were brave enough to nod and hum in agreement to Leo’s comments but there were also a few that started laughing.

“Alright, that’s it, Mister Valdez. Leave my class.”

Leo obeyed gladly (that class was such a waste of time anyway). He packed his things and headed out of the room, grinning widely as he left to let the professor know he hadn’t won that battle. It was almost lunch time so he decided to already go to the cafeteria to wait for Jason whose class wasn’t too far either.

About 15 minutes later Jason showed up, and to Leo's surprise he also had company. Percy Jackson did occasionally join them for a game night or a sparring session but Leo almost exclusively saw him outside the university. From what he knew Percy was currently focusing on his swimming career and wasn’t studying anything. Now he had however joined Jason for lunch and that made Leo wonder if there was some specific reason for that.

“Hey, man,” Jason greeted. “You’re early today. Are they having enchiladas or something?”

“Nah,” Leo shook his head. “I may have gotten kicked out of the class.”

“What did you do this time?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Nothing, really!” Leo exclaimed. Jason kept looking at him suspiciously, though, so he had to add eventually: “Fine, I may have disagreed with the professor about some of his methods, but really, that’s all. Didn’t blow up the lab or anything like that.”

“One time when I was in the high school I told the teacher his pants were unzipped and I wasn’t allowed to participate in his classes for a whole week after that. Didn’t miss much, though, he sucked as a teacher,” Percy joined the conversation.

“That’s exactly what I thought about this guy!” Leo said and gave Percy a high five. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be in the pool at this hour.”

“Just checking the places,” Percy shrugged. Leo raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Fine, Annabeth thinks that at some point I should start thinking about my career after swimming so Jason said he could show me around today so I’d get an idea what it’s like here. Oh and, he promised me a free lunch.”

“Makes sense,” Leo said while already looking at the menu eagerly. “I’d come here for a free lunch too.”

“You pay for this one, though,” Percy pointed out.

“Back to the actual topic ,” Jason said, looking at Leo a bit worriedly. “You didn’t get into big trouble with that professor, did you?”

“I think he’ll go back to ignoring me again in the next class. “ Leo replied. “So no need to worry.”

“Good. It’s just that, after that last lab incident…” Jason started, referring to an incident that had happened in the previous semester, but Leo stopped him.

“I said no need to worry,” Leo said a bit louder. “I’ve got things sorted, OK? Just… let’s go to get that damn lunch now. Chili con carne, anyone?”

In reality, Leo knew that if he skipped one more lab class, the professors wouldn’t be that understanding. The saddest part about it was that he actually enjoyed the lab classes way more than the boring theory classes because there you got to try things out with your own hands, but… there was one big but. He couldn’t be there when…

“Leo?” he heard Jason’s voice somewhere nearby

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You were just totally zoned out, I was talking to you like a full minute and I don’t think you heard anything I said,” Jason pointed out.

“Oh, sorry. Lots going on in my mind. So, what did you say?” Leo asked.

“I was asking about when we should meet up on Saturday? I have soccer practice in the morning and Piper has a meeting with her theater group at 1 pm but we’re free after that.”

“I have to ask Cal but I think I can organize my work so I’d be free any time after 4 pm.”

“Alright, sounds fine to me,” Jason said, but Leo could sense that he was still wondering what had been bothering him that much.

“So who’s this Cal person?” Percy asked when the boys made it to the buffet tables.

“My new flatmate,” Leo said simply, currently more interested in filling his plate than elaborating on his living situation.

“OK. I was just wondering because Annabeth mentioned that she’d been at your place, and apparently she’d helped to give this flatmate of yours a makeover.”

“Oh, yeah!” Leo said, remembering that meeting quite vividly. “From what I’ve heard they’ve been hanging out quite a lot lately. That’s good because… well, she’s new here.” Leo was going to say that she doesn’t seem to have a lot of people in her life, but decided that he didn’t want to reveal too much to someone who had never even met her.

“Where is she from then?”

“I think she moved here from New York,” Leo said. “And she’s around your age. Who knows, you might even know her.”

“New York is a pretty big place,” Percy pointed out. “I guess Cal is a nickname? What’s her full name?”

Leo was going to answer when he spotted the chemistry lab professor in the crowd and he quickly hid behind Jason.

“Don’t let him see me,” Leo said hastily. “He’s gonna…”

Leo didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence when he heard the said professor say loudly: “Mister Valdez!”

Leo peeked from behind his friend.

“Hola, professor,” he said awkwardly. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Yes you did, you were just trying to hide from me. I wanted to remind you that today is the test day which is 60% of the mark. And that means that…”

“If I skip that test, I will fail the class,” Leo added, looking down at his feet. He didn’t remain like that long, though. “I’ll be there, professor.” He put up a brave face and saluted him as the professor just ‘hmmph’ed and turned away from me.

“I thought you said you have everything in order.” Jason raised his eyebrow once the boys had paid for their lunches and started to look for a table. “That didn’t seem like it.”

“Take care of your own business, Sparky,” Leo grunted and pointed at one empty table not far from them. “Let’s go there.”

“I’m serious, Leo,” Jason continued once they got seated. “Something is bothering you. We are your friends and we do care. You can trust us on this.”

Leo let Jason’s words sink in. Friends. Care. Trust. Since his mother died, he had always been the oddball, the outsider until he got a family who actually cared about him, Jo, Emmie and Georgie, but he still got a bit overwhelmed every time he realized that he really mattered to someone.

“Thanks, man.” Leo said finally. “I’ll… keep that in my mind. Promise.”

“Good.” Jason smiled at him encouragingly. “You can talk to us whenever you feel like it.”

After that the discussion moved to other things. Percy was hopeful that he was fit enough for a new record in his next competition and he didn’t forget to praise her little sister as well. Jason mentioned having seen his father at the campus but he had barely acknowledged his presence. Leo threw a few sarcastic comments here and there to let the others know he was listening. However, he had lost his appetite after hearing about the test. He had barely tasted his lunch and was now moving the rice back and forth on his plate as it got cooler. If the others noticed that, they didn’t say anything, probably thinking that it was better to let Leo open up on his own accord.

The lunch time flew by too fast for Leo’s liking. After separating from his friends he started heading towards the lab where most of the other students were already getting prepared. Taking a deep breath, he stepped in, hoping for the best.

The lab class started with a brief written test that made sure the students were ready for the practice part. This time would be particularly important, though, because it was testing them about pretty much everything they had learned so far in that class, and would be graded accordingly.

The written test caused no problem to Leo. He’d be able to name the lab tools by heart even in his sleep and the calculations weren’t much harder to him. However, he was already dreading the actual practice part for a very specific reason…

In the practice Leo would have to mix a few compounds together to get a chemical reaction. That was the simple part. But unfortunately for him, these said compounds would have to be heated in order for them to react. And of course you’d need a flame to do that. Now that was the hard part for Leo. He hated the gas burners and it had become a habit for him to skip a lab class when he knew they would be used. Unfortunately for him, that was fairly often because apparently the university’s heating plates were used by some other group at the same time, and that was also why he was about to fail this class. But if he could handle using the burner just this once, maybe he’d be fine… He knew he couldn’t afford to fail it because if he did, it might be a sign that he wouldn’t be able to do the job he was so excited about, and that would be a huge slap in his face. Maybe even bigger than he was ready to admit.

He measured the compounds and was ready to heat them when he noticed that a fellow student nearby had accidentally mistaken two of the compounds with each other, ruining the mixture. That gave him an idea.

“Pssst. I can mix a new one for you if you heat this for me.”

“What?” The other student looked at him with confusion. “Why would I do that?”

“I just told you. I can fix that for you.”

“You just want to flex with your skills, that’s all,” the guy said, knowing Leo’s reputation as the genius who however refused to join lab classes. Probably because he felt he was too good for them. “May I remind you that this is a solo practice!” the professor yelled from the front of the class. “No talking allowed.”

“Yes, professor,” Leo said quietly, but rolled his eyes at him when he turned his back. He read the instructions one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and when he was double convinced that he was in the part that he had dreaded, he breathed sharply and picked up his gas burner and some matches. He felt his heart starting to race and his hands starting to shake as he took one match from the box and tried to light it.

He tried once. Twice. Took a deep breath and tried once more. At this point his hands were shaking so furiously that the match fell from his hand. Realizing that he still couldn’t do it, he made a frustrated groan, dropped the match box on the table and started shakily collecting his things.

“Mister Valdez? Did you finish your task?” The professor raised his gaze from his desk and focused on him. A few others turned to Leo’s direction as well.

“No, sir.”

“And why not?”

“I. can’t.” Leo said with a voice so deep and raw that you rarely got to hear it from him. He left his unfinished product on the professor’s desk. Then he threw his bag over his shoulder and doors banging left the class.

He didn’t make it far when he felt his knees going weak and he had to sit down on the closest chair, burying his face in his hands.

…

“Thanks so much for showing me that place! It feels so good to see some nature even this close to the city,” Calypso exclaimed happily to Annabeth as they were walking towards the dorms. Calypso loved nature and she didn’t really feel at home in the concrete jungle, hoping that one day she could afford to buy a house from the countryside. She had once mentioned that to Annabeth who also enjoyed adventuring in the less crowded areas and had promised to take Calypso to one of her favorite parks nearby. They both had had free time from their classes that afternoon so they had decided to take the advantage of that and go to explore a bit.

The park had been pretty, having a small river running through it and little trails circling the trees. Calypso, who had grown near the sea missed seeing bodies of water so even the river had made her feel a little less homesick. The girls had been there for a few hours, taking pictures and having a small picnic while talking about anything and everything that had come to their minds.

Now, unfortunately, it was time to return back to real life and the assignments that were waiting for them at home.

“No problem,” Annabeth replied to Calypso’s comment. “Honestly, I think this break was much needed. I do love architecture and history and all that but sometimes my ADHD kicks in and I just need to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, it helps to focus again afterwards,” Calypso agreed. “Hey, do you have anything special to do this weekend? Leo, I, Piper and Jason are supposed to have a video game night on Saturday and I thought I’d ask if you want to join. You can ask your boyfriend too if you want, of course! I’m sure Leo wouldn’t mind.”

“What time would it be?” Annabeth asked.

“I haven’t asked Leo yet but he does work on Saturdays so probably not very early. Sometime in the evening. I can inform you when I know more,” Calypso promised.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in my mind. My boyfriend has a swimming practice twice a day so he may not be able to join us but I might!”

“Great!”

The girls had reached the area where Calypso lived so they turned to their own directions.

“I’ll contact you!” Calypso said before Annabeth was too far to hear. She waved at her in response.

Calypso was still smiling when she entered her flat, but the smile soon melted from her face when she saw Leo hunched on the couch, looking utterly lost. Calypso approached him cautiously, asking: “What happened?”

Leo patted on the seat next to him, gesturing to her to join him on the couch. She did, but when he didn’t say anything for a while, though, Calypso decided to be bold and wrap her arm around his shoulder. Leo looked at her with dark eyes, still appreciating the gesture.

“I may have to start making new career plans.”

[rvnclwrites]

Romania 1999 Pt 2 (Charlie Weasley x Female MC)

Summary: AU where MC is an American who attended the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead of Hogwarts. Set eight years post graduation (1999) when she finally gets the nerve to travel abroad and follow her dream to be a Dragonologist in Romania. Check out my master list for part 1.

Word Count: ~4000

"Watch out!" Dave shouted, giving (Y/N) and Charlie just enough time to duck behind the nearest boulder.

A burst of fire filled the air as Aro the Hungarian Horntail roared in disapproval at the swarm of people closing in on him. (Y/N) crouched closer to the dirt, shielding her face from the blaze. Once the heat and smoke died away, she peered over at Charlie who looked like he was having the time of his life.

"Having fun yet?" he asked over another booming roar from Aro.

She returned his grin. "Best time I've had in awhile."

(Y/N) had only been at the Sanctuary for two weeks and could already see why Charlie Weasley was considered the best Dragonologist there. He effortlessly maneuvered around the boulder, staying low to the ground to appear less threatening to Aro, and crawled toward the blazing flames ahead, determined and unafraid. It sparked a memory inside (Y/N) of stories her mom used to tell about (Y/N)'s no-maj grandpa who was a firefighter. (Y/N)'s young mind was mystified by what no-majs managed to do without the help of magic, but as her gaze followed Charlie with his outstretched wand, she couldn't help but think maybe wizards were just as crazy.

"Stupify!" Charlie, along with three other wizards shouted at once. The remaining four, including (Y/N), followed in suit, sending red sparks soaring toward the dragon. At last, the beast collapsed onto the platform, successfully stunned.

"Nice work!" Felix boasted, slapping Charlie on the back. "You too, (Y/N). Quick reaction time and impressive stunning spell."

(Y/N) nodded appreciatively, feeling the last of her adrenaline pulse through her as she helped Dave, Hank and Charlie finish boarding up the dragon so it could be transported to a different area of the Sanctuary. She caught a glimpse of Charlie petting the dragon's tail through the crate and smiled. The most distinguishing factor that separated Charlie from the rest of the team was that he didn't just do this for the thrill or the hard work. He genuinely cared for these creatures and wanted the best for them.

(Y/N) slid her wand into her jacket and turned to ask Charlie a question but reconsidered as the redhead strolled past her.

"Good work today," he said with a nod before continuing down the hill. Something about his long strides and demeanor prevented her from trying to catch up with him.

Despite how hard she tried to ignore it, (Y/N)'s heart sank. The other thing (Y/N) had noticed about Charlie was that he had some sort of indistinguishable pretense up most of the time. She had caught glimpses of what she assumed was the real Charlie- like his excitement moments ago when they were crouched behind that boulder, or his teasing grin on (Y/N)'s first day when he thought Norberta would roast her alive. But the rest of the time it was like he was holding back, keeping to himself and letting others do the talking.

"Don't take it personally," Hank muttered, snapping (Y/N) out of her reverie. "He's like that with everyone."

Not with you or Scott, (Y/N) wanted to point out, but she shrugged instead, not wanting Hank to know that she cared. Because she didn't. She didn't have to be best friends with her mentor. "So who's going to move Aro to the south wing?"

"The night crew takes care of that. Someone oversees on a broom and directs the other workers the safest route."

This peaked (Y/N)'s interest. She had seen a handful of wizards use brooms around the Sanctuary when rounding up or feeding dragons, but her team hadn't gotten the chance to yet. "Do you ever ride a broom here?"

"Lord no. I was never a good flyer. Charlie does the flying in our group."

(Y/N) felt an unexpected wave of annoyance hit her. "I bet I'd be better," she mumbled uncharacteristically, catching even herself off guard.

"Oh really?"

Despite the fact that she wasn't usually that competitive, (Y/N) didn't take it back. She was a good flyer. "Mhmm."

"Do you like Quidditch?"

"Who doesn't?"

Hank laughed. "Guess I should have asked if you play Quidditch."

A pang of nostalgia reverberated in (Y/N)'s chest. "Yeah, I played Beater for four years at Ilvermorny."

A concerning, lopsided grin tugged at the corner of Hank's mouth. "Charlie was the Gryffindor Seeker for five at Hogwarts."

(Y/N) shook her head, resisting an eye roll. "He wouldn't catch a thing if I was playing against him."

"Is that so?" They came to a stop at the bottom of the hill where the other Dragonologists were socializing. "Did you hear that, Scott? (L/N) here thinks she can beat our boy at Quidditch."

All three heads to Hank's left jerked up and stared at (Y/N) as if she had just sprouted multiple heads.

"Come off it, Weasley could have gone pro if he wanted to."

Not wanting to sound pretentious, (Y/N) decided not to mention the two offers she received to play professionally after she graduated. "Guess I'll just have to play him one day and see."

"Darlin', I'd buy you Butterbeer for a month if you won," Hank said, reaching for a drink before plopping down into a chair beside the other three. The men soon began bickering about which Quidditch team was the best this year, and (Y/N) took that as her chance to sneak back to her place and get some rest.

The one major con about her and Charlie not being close was the age gap between (Y/N) and the rest of the team. She got along great with Hank and Scott, but it was different than the dynamic she had with the Magizoologists back home. It would take some getting used to.

-

It was drizzling as (Y/N) began her trek back up the hill to meet Charlie the following morning. They had agreed to start with Ventus, a Welsh Green dragon, and (Y/N) wasn't surprised to find Charlie already at the landing as she approached. She was surprised, however, to find him swearing and clutching his left arm.

"Everything okay?" (Y/N) asked, jogging over to meet him. "Oh man."

A fresh gash stretched across Charlie’s freckled forearm. “I’m fine. Ventus' claw was lodged beneath that boulder and he lashed out once I got it free. I would have waited if it was any of the others, but he's always been so tame. He must have been in pain all night."

(Y/N) turned around to make sure Ventus had calmed down. Luckily, the Common Welsh Green was curled into a ball, seemingly able to rest now that his claw was free. Charlie was lucky this was the breed that had been in pain- any other would have most likely scorched his entire arm.

"I'll go down to Madam Rosetta to get this cleaned up," he said, wincing as he raised his arm to help stop the bleeding. "You can wait here if you want. Just don't approach him until I get back in case his claw still hurts."

"I can fix that for you," (Y/N) said automatically, instinctively reaching for Charlie's arm with one hand and withdrawing her wand with the other.

Charlie flinched as (Y/N)'s fingers closed around his wrist. Whether it was from anticipating pain or the mere physical contact, (Y/N) wasn't sure. Maybe both.

She looked up at him with concern, still holding onto his arm but loosening her grip in case he wanted to pull away. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable. "I mean, I can if you want me to." She attempted a smile. "Promise I won't make it any worse."

Charlie stared at her for a long moment, as if weighing options inside his head, and she felt his rigid posture ease the tiniest bit. "Okay."

(Y/N) cleared her throat and directed her ebony wand at the wound. “Episkey.” Within seconds, the open skin sealed itself shut, leaving but a faint trace of the injury. Charlie began to pull his arm away, but (Y/N) held it in place and muttered, “Ferula.” A white bandage sprang from the tip of her wand and coiled around Charlie's pale skin. "That will help with pain and prevent scarring."

(Y/N) could tell the spell worked because she saw the tension release in Charlie's shoulders as the bandage fastened around his arm. The redhead looked at her with curious brown eyes and she quickly released her grip on him now that the wound was taken care of.

"I didn't know you were a Healer."

"I'm not, I'm a Dragonologist," she corrected, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and she was surprised when Charlie returned it. He raised an eyebrow at her, and (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders. "You never asked."

Charlie frowned and turned toward Ventus. "Can you heal creatures too?"

(Y/N) nodded. The process of healing creatures was remarkably different from healing wizards, but that encompassed the majority of her work back home. "Can't say I've worked on all of them, but I've helped a fair share." (Y/N) felt a sudden tightness creep into her throat at the thought of the Reserve back home and attempted to clear it. "You?"

Charlie shook his head. "I've tried but can never seem to get it right. Rosier and Dave’s buddy Logan do most of the healing around here. Must have been one of the reasons Felix was so excited to bring you on."

At first, (Y/N) was relieved to know there was finally something this man wasn’t good at, but then she felt a twinge sympathy at the look on Charlie's face. "You can't be good at everything you know."

He laughed a little. "When you have as many siblings as I do, competitiveness becomes almost innate."

(Y/N)'s attention sparked at Charlie's admission. Everything she had learned about the redhead so far, from his age to his house at Hogwarts to how many years he’d been at the Sanctuary, had been from Hank. That was the first time Charlie himself had told her something about his personal life. Maybe he would come around after all.

Unfortunately, the elation died away as fast as it came when (Y/N) realized she couldn't press him further. If she asked how many siblings he had, Charlie would likely ask if she had any and (Y/N) was hardly in the mood to address that question. So instead, she tried a different approach at friendship. "Want me to show you how to fix Ventus' claw?"

Charlie hesitated. "Aren't I supposed to be the mentor here?"

(Y/N) laughed. "I won't tell."

To her astonishment, he agreed. (Y/N) explained the process thoroughly; the best way to approach, how to distract, tips to ease the pain, the correct wand motion for the spell. Within an hour, Charlie had cast his first successful healing spell on Ventus.

"I can't believe that worked," he said, staring down at Ventus' unscathed hind leg resting comfortably on the grass.

(Y/N) nudged his shoulder with her elbow. "Told ya you could do it."

Charlie turned to look at her, and (Y/N) was horrified to feel a flutter in her stomach as their eyes met. She stepped away from the dragon and from Charlie, abruptly disregarding whatever fluke feeling that was.

"We should probably go feed Norberta before she gets too hungry."

Charlie nodded, and the two started down the path towards the Norwegian Ridgeback. "Thanks," he said after a moment. "I really appreciate the help back there."

"Anytime," (Y/N) said with a smile. She really hoped he would take her up on that offer sometime.

-

A couple weeks turned into a month faster than (Y/N) anticipated. The summer leaves were turning orange and the temperature was dropping to a comfortable breeze in the evening. Most importantly, she had succeeded at nearly every task Charlie or Felix handed her and was starting to feel more apart of the team everyday.

Her and Charlie's relationship had improved a little after that day with Ventus, but she still wouldn't go as far as to say they were friends. (Y/N) had continued giving him occasional lessons on healing and Charlie talked more when she was around, but there was still some sort of a barrier that (Y/N) couldn't figure out. She still tried to convince herself she didn't care, but as (Y/N) waited for her friends' responses to her letters, she couldn't help but feel the weight of loneliness creep up on her more and more.

"So, what's this I hear about you being better than me at Quidditch?" Charlie asked as he sat across from (Y/N) at the team's picnic table.

(Y/N) choked on her porridge, feeling heat crawl up her neck as everyone at the table turned to look at her. "I didn't necessarily say I was better," (Y/N) clarified after swallowing her food. "I just said you wouldn't catch the Snitch if I was playing against you."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at an uncharacteristically bashful Hank, who added, "You did say you'd be a better flyer though."

(Y/N) smiled and continued eating her breakfast, feeling no regret or need to deny that accusation.

"Ha!" Hank shouted, slapping the table. "Look at that smirk. I have all the faith in the world that this gem right here will be your downfall, Weasley."

"Well, we can't find out who's the better Quidditch player on the grounds," Scott said, making a point to pause and glare at Hank. "Because someone has horrible aim. But we can easily find out who the best flyer is."

That caught (Y/N)'s attention. She wasn't able to bring her broom from home and would give just about anything to ride on one.

"They would have to ride the same broom so it's fair," Hank said.

"I'll ride any broom you give me," (Y/N) said, feeling excitement bubble up in her stomach. Even though it had been less than two months, it felt like it had been ages since (Y/N) and her friend Rowan had soared around the Khanna family's farm on (Y/N)'s last day in America. The nostalgic knot hurled it's way back into (Y/N)'s stomach at the thought of Rowan, and she prayed someone would get her a broom. Flying was definitely what she needed.

"I believe we've got a coupl'a Nimbus 2008s up in the storage shed by Aro."

"Well, what are we waiting for then," Scott said, seizing Hank by the arm and lifting him to his feet. "We'll find the brooms and meet you kids by the entrance gate."

As Scott and Hank raced up the hill, (Y/N) and Charlie got to their feet, starting toward the entrance to the Sanctuary.

"Sure you wanna do this?"

(Y/N) grinned. "I just hope you're better at flying than you are at healing Norberta's tail." After a half hour explanation, Charlie still somehow managed to shrink the poor beast's tail instead of mending the wound, which made resizing it without enlarging the injury incredibly difficult.

Charlie's mouth dropped open, but (Y/N) could tell he wasn't actually offended. In fact, that playful grin she had only managed to glimpse once so far made an unexpected return. "Oh, you're going to regret that."

"Whatever you say, dragon boy."

Charlie's fiery red brows raised, and (Y/N) didn’t exactly know where that nickname came from, but she decided she liked it.

Scott and Hank took longer than expected, and (Y/N) found out why when Scott began explaining the rules.

“No, they have to go under that tree branch first and then over the pine tree with the red marker on it. Then they’ll go into the extreme dive, pull up no sooner than this blue marker right here, which gives them a straight shot to the landing up there where they have to loop-the-loop before dismounting. First to touch down wins. Sound good?”

(Y/N) nodded, taking a moment to observe the area the way she would a Quidditch pitch. She knew Charlie would likely be better at the extreme dive and pull up since he was a Seeker, but she had the under-and-over and loop-the-loop mastered from years of chasing after Bludgers.

“Ready?” Charlie asked as they each mounted their broomstick.

(Y/N) gripped the handle, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment and a slow exhale fall from her lips as she relaxed onto the broom. Boy was she ready. She glanced from the branch, to the pine tree, to the marker near the ground, to the landing and nodded. “Whenever you are.”

“On the count of three,” Scott announced, taking the job way more seriously than anyone else would have. “One… two… THREE!”

Charlie and (Y/N) kicked off the ground and shot into the air as cheers erupted behind them. Apparently Hank and Scott weren’t the only people wanting to see someone beat Charlie.

But (Y/N)’s mind was far from the crowd as fresh air filled her lungs and her hair whipped behind her. She felt like she was on cloud nine as she and Charlie swooped down to fly beneath the first branch, each switching off for the lead every second. One advantage (Y/N) had as a Beater was she was used to distractions. Seekers were primarily solo players, focused on catching the Snitch while the rest of the team watched their back. The two Beaters, on the other hand, not only protected their team but also created chaos for the other.

So (Y/N) attempted to fluster Charlie, mimicking every move he made within a mere foot of him. She could tell he wasn’t used to sharing his personal space on the broom when his eyes caught hers as they reached the top of the pine tree. Neither hesitated as they launched into the extreme dive, the only part (Y/N) felt less comfortable with. As she expected, Charlie executed the pull up flawlessly, showing off a little by how close to the ground he was willing to go. (Y/N)’s dive wasn’t as deep or graceful, but it was enough to hit the marker, sending her heart thudding in excitement as she began the loop-the-loop. While several wizards became dizzy and disoriented from the move, (Y/N) loved the drop in her stomach and the freeing effect it had. She had performed the tightest continuous loop of her Ilvermorny class and set out to do the same right now. She whipped passed Charlie on the final loop, flying out of it and dismounting on the landing effortlessly, touching down less than five seconds before Charlie did.

Once she was steady on her feet, (Y/N) exhaled again, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt as she stared down at the breathtaking scenery below.

“Bloody hell,” Charlie breathed, stepping beside her and brushing his ruffled hair from his face. “That was- I mean you were-”

(Y/N) laughed. Apparently flying could be added to the list of things that made Charlie’s guard slip. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

The corner of Charlie's mouth twitched and he looked as if he was about to say something else, but unfortunately their moment was cut short by the thunderous shouts approaching from Hank and Scott in the background.

“That was incredible,” Hank howled, coming up to clap (Y/N) on the back. “We’re all going to the pub tonight.

"Yeah," Scott chimed in. "Anything you want is on me.”

(Y/N) laughed again, keeping a firm grip on the broomstick in her hands. “The only thing I want is this broom."

“Sweetheart, I’m sure Felix will let you fly that broom anytime you want after a ride like that,” Hank reassured her.

(Y/N) suddenly wasn’t as fond of all the attention when she realized nearly every team had been watching her and Charlie- even the research team had decided to join them at the pub. (Y/N) felt overwhelmed from the excitement and chatter as everyone sat down and ordered drinks. She appreciated everyone’s compliments, but all she really wanted was to be back up on that landing, looking out at the Sanctuary.

Thinking of the landing sent (Y/N)’s gaze searching across the table for Charlie’s freckled face. He always sat across from her at the Sanctuary, so she was surprised to not find him there but rather in the seat right beside her. Her stomach did a loop-the-loop of its own as he smiled at her.

"Bet you didn’t thinking beating me would be this big of a deal," he said, leaning over to ensure (Y/N) could hear over the crowd.

A shiver trailed down (Y/N)’s neck, and she forced a laugh. “No, not quite.”

The redhead chuckled before taking a sip of his Butterbeer and clinking his glass against hers. “Well you deserve it. You were awesome out there.”

(Y/N) was grateful for the dim lighting as she felt her whole body grow hot. She took a final swig from her glass, giving her an excuse to get up for a minute. “I’m going to get another drink. Anyone need anything?”

(Y/N) was beyond surprised when Sydney stood up, a smile coating her smooth, tan face. “I’ll go with you. Dave and I need a refill too.”

Leaning against the bar, (Y/N) ordered another Butterbeer while Sydney ordered a shot of fire whiskey and some Pumpkin Juice.

“You were really amazing today,” Sydney said, picking up the tall glass of Pumpkin Juice the bartender set in front of her. “But can I give you some advice?”

(Y/N) stiffened, instantly uncomfortable by the tone of Sydney's voice. Confrontation was not one of (Y/N)’s strong suits. “Sure?”

The beautiful blond swirled her straw around the glass and looked down at the floor. She seemed nervous. “I just thought you should know you’re wasting your time.”

(Y/N) blinked at her, completely lost. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

Sydney frowned. “What I mean is we get it. I mean look at him. He’s attractive, successful. We’ve practically all had a crush on him at some point, but I just thought I should warn you before you get hurt. Charlie doesn’t date anyone. Like ever. Hell, at this point I think there would be more of a chance of finding him with a dragon than a woman.”

(Y/N) nearly knocked over the freshly filled glass of Butterbeer the bartender placed in front of her. "Excuse me?"

Sydney slid a tip across the table before turning back to (Y/N). "I just wanted to spare you some heartache because Charlie is obtuse and doesn't know when he's leading people on."

A spark of protectiveness for the redhead flared through (Y/N) so unexpectedly, she couldn't stop herself from saying, "I hardly think it's Charlie's fault if someone else can't take a hint."

The innocent glow in Sydney's blue eyes vanished faster than (Y/N) could say Nox. She straightened and grabbed the whiskey from the counter. “Suit yourself then. Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

(Y/N) waited until Sydney walked away to return to her seat between Charlie and Hank. Her mind was attempting to organize a million thoughts at once and she suddenly felt exhausted.

What irked (Y/N) the most though was the gnawing thought at the back of her head asking why hadn't she just corrected Sydney? She should have brushed it off with a laugh and said she wasn't interested in anyone here like that.

“Everything alright?” Charlie asked, and as those brown eyes stared down at her, (Y/N) was not okay with the answer that voice in her head gave.

“Oh yeah,” (Y/N) said, rubbing a hand over her face. "Just ready to get some sleep soon."

"You're gonna need it because tomorrow we're getting three new rescues shipped in."

(Y/N) felt her thoughts untangle the slightest bit at this. Dragons. That's why she was here. And that was it.

[deathvsthemaiden]

🌻

Congrats! You have won access to a list of some of my most random thoughts in recent memory! Enjoy maybe (advance apologies for not linking any sources to any of the half remembered fun facts...don’t take them too seriously I never know what I’m taking abt 😬🤗)

•If you’re talking loud enough for people to hear you without trying or meaning or wanting to...it doesn’t count as eavesdropping!! @/my mother I am innocent! Learn some volume control 📢

•The older I get the more toxic and alienating I find the commonplace turn of phrase “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t attached!” Why is that painted as a bad thing...... 🥺💔❓I’d loveeee to forget my head. Just a few times. 👌🏽 As a treat.

•excluding the obvious, such as slurs, my least favorite words in the English language are landlocked (hideous reminder of my geographic state of affairs), and kismet. The latter is just so uglyyyyy the original language(s) it’s derived from make it sound so much better why can’t we just say kismat! I speak Urdu so I’m biased but like—

•I emphathize with fish an odd amount. I’ll eat them gladly and w gusto but I also find the level of suffering they’re allowed to feel staggering. It blindsides me. Blob fish used to (actually still do) freak me OUT!! Like my sister would scare me by showing me pictures of them w no warning. But apparently the reason they look the way they do is normally they live like 2000-4000 ft underwater and the decrease in water pressure as they’re drug up to the surface misshapes and deforms them and apparently this is very painful?? Even if it isn’t tho...the first time I read that. Immediate tears sprung into my eyes. And apparently some fish can choose to commit suicide? Like they just stop swimming and eating... god oh my god—!! They’re FISH!! Why are they so COMPLICATED!!! And I used to own a tank full of fish and usually fish don’t last long in our house! Rancid vibes you know? And my mom and I were so pleased these ones had lasted so long!! And then mysteriously they all just died too?? We did everything RIGHT! It was probably more than 2 years ago and we keep saying we’ll get more fish but I just don’t have the heart...I’m.....not ready to get hurt again so soon.

•apparently purple marble is/was a thing that exists. But the Romans used it up? Wild if true

•can’t stop thinking abt how elegant FGO!Bedivere would look in fencing gear

•My parents almost named me Sumbal

•You know how B&N has special gilded hardback editions of various classics? I will never forgive them for making their edition of Jane Eyre black/grey and WHITE!! MONOCHROME and BLEAK!! (Just bc it’s gothic!!!) It’s one of the most colorful books I’ve ever read!!! It swept me off my FEET! During the happiest parts of the book everything in my line of sight irl was GOLDEN I was in literal actual and true LOVE!!! I fell a-freshly in love w life bc of how much this book delighted me and they swaddle her in black and WHITE?? I can’t deal gentle reader I cannot deal—

•I have mixed feelings about poetry but I have a soft spot for The Tiger is out yes (you know the one, by the little boy? the ENERGY!!)+e. e. cumming’s The Grasshopper. On average poetry doesn’t make sense to me but grasshopper is the sort of (non)sense which I’m capable of appreciating. I dream of having a voice controlled fancy robot try to kill me so I can tell it to recite grasshopper and then it just explodes in confusion bc you can’t do that (recite grasshopper) 🐅 🤖

•I’ve lost track of the # of years I’ve waited in vain for Shoukoku no Altair to be localized and have official (physical!) English copies available for purchase, instead of just ebooks. Since the forgettable and upsettingly bad anime adaptation I’m afraid it’ll never happen ever...💔 I ache and yearn for naught but idk how to stoppp 😭

•The Cr*wn of L*ve by John Everett Millais is one of my most favorite paintings but I’m like. Embarrassed about it 👑 @my brain WHY. When did I become such a s*ppy gremlin. I blame ur fics and Jane Eyre Eve 😑 I was firmly in the ‘romance is a neurochemical con job’ camp just years before courtesy of my upbringing....what have I become 😶😶😶

•nothing screams “I hate you” like not appreciating+wasting food and also not returning the favor ever like it’s not a zero sum game but god is a little reciprocity too much to ask yes it is and yes I am sensitive and have been hurt before why do you as—🤐

•purposely vague but sometimes I wonder if I’d been one of those kids who put her head down on her desk in elementary school a lot and stopped listening to teachers whilst doing so maybe life, academically speaking, would go smoother for me now. But I was too afraid of getting in trouble and not yet the full fledged quitter you do (not literally) see before you today. Although the urge to put my head down wasn’t one I never felt...Missed opportunities alas

•I used to be able to handle spending any length of time in those mesmerizing aquarium tunnels and even enjoy myself in them but I’m now a more fragile and wise gal and can not even look at pictures w/o feeling intense WHJDNDNDND idek. They’re scary man. 🌊

•one of my favorite fun facts ever is this painter in 1881, Edward Burne-Jones finally realized mummy brown paint actually had bits of real mummies in it when having lunch with friends and was so unnerved he tried to give his tube of the paint a burial immediately. Like immmmeditately. (read this like a year ago in The Secret Lives of Color by Kassia St. Clair) 🎨 📖

[epiphanicwiring]

My controlling mother

I’ve been 20 years old for some months now, but it’s been a while I’ve come to suspect my mother is indeed controlling. Parents shape, in some way or another, even tacitly or subtly, and to some extent, our common sense, values and life perspectives, although it is in our own will whether we critically analyze them, follow or refuse them... Sometimes our concept of what is ‘normal’ is warped, and because it is ingrained in our common sense, we don’t doubt about its veracity until we pop some of our experience into a conversation with friends, our therapist or significant other, and they give you a look of concern. That is what happened to me: It’s no news I’ve been suffering from depression for years, so the first time I went to see a therapist was in 2015 (I was 15/16 then). I would walk from school to the psych’s, and I would wait until I was inside of the building to message my mother that I have arrived (I felt I would be lying if I did it outside the building, at the door, for example). I did it every time. My therapist found this odd: I naturally explained to her what I was doing, as it was something I was accustomed to. She was probably the first one to point me out that that was a bit too much. But I always did it: “School”, “Conser(vatory)”, “Psychologist”, “At [insert friend’s name]’s”. I knew that if I didn’t send her those messages, she would become worried, and call me or my friends, only to know that I was okay, and then she would get angry and I would have to stand it. Then I got into university in 2017. I got into the Sound Engineering career. This is a sub-story: Throughout my adolescence, I was pretty much interested in every career known to man. My grades at school were so incredible I had an average of almost 9.7/10 in all of the subjects that were in Spanish, since I went to a bilingual school (I have to admit, Physical Education was the only subject I failed at, and that’s probably why I didn’t have a 9.9 or something), and an average of 10/10 in all of the English subjects. That was no surprise, I was the ‘gifted, brilliant’ student child since primary school; I still can recall my mother’s facial expressions when receiving my grades when I was 6 or 7, crying of joy. It’s up to this day that no one who personally knows me (except for my closest friends and boyfriend) even dares to ask me how am I doing at university, because ‘I must be doing terrifically good’. Back to the sub-story, my main career choices were Astronomy, Psychology, Fashion Design, Medicine (I’ve been interested in Neurology, Neuroscience and Neurosurgery for quite a long time now) and Music. That’s quite a lot, yeah. But my main dream was to be a composer. So when I was around 14 years old, I happily expressed this to my mother. “Composition? You want to study Composition? You’ll starve yourself to death. You can’t live off it”. (The same answer I got when I was little and dreamt of being an astronomer, by the way). She followed it with: “You have such a brain you could be a neurosurgeon. That’s what you could be”. As if composing were easy, right? But yeah, she was... Right, I was too intelligent to waste my time composing. So I crossed out “Composer” from my careers list and never thought of it again.  From that time to when I was 16/17, I was desperate to find ‘that’ career, the one that would suit me like a ring. “What career could mix the arts with the “hard sciences”? Does something like... Sound Engineering exist?” and then I googled ‘Ingeniería de Sonido’ (Sound Engineering) and I found out that the career was only taught at Untref, 2 hours away from where I live, out of all the places Argentina has to offer. (If you want to know, yes, I have 4 hours of daily commuting, without counting the less extreme commuting to my music conservatory which is 20 minutes away with a lot of traffic). Studying Sound Engineering at Untref does not equal to graduating as a producer, nor a record engineer. Of course you can work in those fields, but to put it bluntly, as many professors say, you would kind of be wasting your degree; you would be more in the side of submitting papers and working with huge acoustic solutions companies than recording an album in a studio. So, at first, my mother thought it had to do with, you know, the music industry: “(The university) It’s too far away!”, “I don’t want you to study this!”, “It’s full of boys, you will feel bored”, “Remember, you could be a neurosurgeon”. But I really wanted it, and I won the battle: I got inscripted, I passed the exams, I got into the career. When I chose the career (16 years old), I was pretty much disencouraged from following a career in music. I felt mediocre, despite what my double bass teacher expressed to me (”I don’t think you should follow another career, you have all of the potential to be a professional double bassist”, he said to me. He even recently told me to substitute him in the Bass Department when he retires). I felt too old, too intelligent and too much into academia to follow a music career. “I don’t even practice 4 hours a day”. Why? Because I had to stand out at school. Because that was “a priority”, in the words of my mother. So I was prepared to leave music behind and be the best sound engineer in the scene. Too bad I was...  Severely depressed. And I failed, and failed, and failed... Course after course. I wanted a gun or a million pills so bad, I wanted it all to fade away. It was in the mid-term of 2017 that I noticed I was doing horribly, emotionally and psychologically. I couldn’t get out of bed, I had zero ability to focus, I lived off coffee and I had lots of emotional revolts. I needed help. I told my mother about this, and she didn’t take it well. “I give you everything and yet you feel like this”, “You’re just lazy”, “What you have isn’t depression, you just want attention”. She refused to pay for the therapy sessions, so I basically had to use all of my savings and the money I gained from giving lessons (It’s been years I want to buy a bow for my bass. Once I had to lend her 4000 Argentinian pesos I had saved throughout time, which is a lot, and she never gave them back to me, and never will, unless she buys me a bow or something). My therapist used to be my Psychology professor at school, and I knew he was the only one who could work with my mind at that stage, and really help me. I eagerly payed him until I had zero money of my own, and I told him I would have to stop the treatment. He appreciates me a lot as much as I do with him, and he offered me to keep attending the sessions paying half of what it was. I’m forever grateful and I promised to myself I will give him every cent back once I start to save more money. Still, I had to cut the treatment 3 or 4 months later (2018 mid-term), because it was my mother this time who was paying it, and whenever she had to give me the money, she tried to oblige me to stop going, or told me “You aren’t depressed anymore so why are you wasting your time going to the therapist, I cannot pay for it”. She loves to tell people with a smile that going to a therapist is useful and a wonderful thing to do, when in reality, she treated her daughter like actual shit for being depressed. She was the one who kept on sending me to a school where people bullied me for 11 years. She was the one who would made me feel bad about having a 7/10 or an 8/10 on an exam from time to time. She was the one who told me to ‘make myself strong’ instead of taking action to come to a solution. The thing is that, to this day, I still have some of the symptoms or habits: I break down mentally from one second to another (the trigger is usually her, or career choices, or body insecurities), I engage in suicide ideation, sometimes I hit myself, I fast, I cry myself to sleep, I procrastinate heavily on the Internet out of anxiety or I want to isolate myself and terminate any link with humanity. It’s not like I’m not depressed anymore. These symptoms come and go, but they aren’t completely gone. I was also diagnosed with anaemia last year. It isn’t that terrible in the sense that I’m not going to die, but it definitely made me extremely tired and dissociative (depression+anaemia=failing classes). 

In early 2018, I had told my mother I was unsure about my career decision. Sound Engineering is an amazing field, but leaving music as a hobbie wasn’t really in my plans (having gained some of the confidence I had lost when I was 16, as previously mentioned). I was asking myself: “What if the only thing that stopped me from becoming a professional musician was fear?”. The fear to dare do something my mother didn’t approve of. The fear of economic instability, competition... What if I really starve myself to death in the music industry? What if I cannot offer anything good as an artist? What if it really is a waste of my intellectual abilities? What if... As soon as I demonstrated this (filtered, of course) uncertainty to her, she became a monster. She was angered, her voice’s volume slightly up, and her eyes... It’s the eyes. The way she looks at you when she’s angry or in disapproval. I’ve feared them since childhood. This also happened one time I told her I could maybe be biromantic or bisexual. I was 15 or 16, and I liked a girl I knew from the Internet. That was all, nothing serious, but even though I have always felt attracted to men, and my main crushes were men, I knew since I was little I had the capacity within me to love anyone from any gender. To me, love just is, even just trying to label myself ‘I’m this, I’m that’ is something I’m deeply uninterested in. That day, I remember, she left me ith doubts and hatred towards myself: “How could I possibly like a girl? I’ve always liked boys, there’s no way”. The same effect had the conversation about my uncertainty in terms of career choices. “How could I possibly be a musician? I’m destined to be an engineer. I’ve always liked science. I’ve always wanted economic stability. I want to live well. There’s no way I could possibly be a musician”. 

When I started university, I made wonderful friends. And of course, we talk to each other whenever we can. There was one occasion I mentioned during a conversation how my mother tracked me by GPS. One of my friends found this terrible. I also mentioned that not only she tracked me, she also kept asking me to message her where were I: “At [bus number]”, “Uni”, “Subway”, “At [insert friend’s name]’s”. There was one time I was in a Calculus class and I saw she was calling me (fortunately I always have my phone silent, something she hates). I had to go out and talk to her. She had been using the GPS and she couldn’t stop the panic button. According to the GPS’ map, I was somewhere else (this glitch happened quite a few times) and because I forgot to send her the “Uni” text informing her that I, in fact, had arrived at university, she was extremely worried. She listened to my friends’ voices and became calm. 

Another thing she does is waking me up when she wants to. If I don’t, she becomes very angry. When does she wake me up now, in vacations time? 8 or 9 AM. That’s already too late for her. What does she do? Come up to my bedroom and all of a sudden, open the door, threatening me with something if I don’t wake up. Or telling me I HAVE to go buy something for her work by 10 AM because she has forgotten to do so. That’s not the worst, she recently got to the stairs (the stairs that take you to the second floor, which are located above my bedroom’s ceiling) and she started DANCING making a lot of unnerving noise. 

Sometimes I don’t want to eat and she would come up to me and tell me “You are not going to eat? Okay, I’ll take you to the psych guards and let you there”. Oh, and she’s used to taking photos of me and sending them to people knowing that I’m extremely self-conscious and that that could cause me an emotional turmoil.

In September 2018 I started dating the love of my life. Unfortunately, as much as I want to keep an upbeat predisposition, my mother has been a topic of discussion and an obstacle to my general well-being in this realm as well. Again, how can someone be completely happy when they are temporally and physically restricted by someone else? Going out with my boyfriend and spending quality time with him is definitely one of my most favourite activities. But again, there she is: “Let me know when you find him”, “Tell me when you’ve arrived to the place”, “I don’t want you two to be alone”, “Don’t be back late” (late to her is 9 PM), “Solange, when are you coming back home???”. At first I didn’t notice the chains were so heavy. But after various events and discussing this with my boyfriend, they really are. For example, she would prevent me from going to a party or going out for dinner with him “because it’s too late”. I recently tried to let her see that the dangers of the city are inevitable, and that I’m already a grownup adult who has the right to make her own decisions (and of course, I will provide myself of safety as much as possible). With her logic in mind, I practically can’t get out of my house. As usual, she tried to make me feel as if I was the irrational one. Her arguments are: “I’m the one who provides you of housing and basic resources (so she’s the authority in here)”, “If something happens to you, I’m responsible”, “You never help me in the house and you DARE do the opposite of what I tell you to do”, “I’ve been working all day and you went out and had a great time so you can’t say anything to me”. Her gaslighting me makes me doubt if maybe I’m wrong and I have to play by her rules. In the past I would rather had her in my side, but now more than ever I’m totally certain that it is my life that’s at risk, and that as an adult, my rights to choose cannot be prohibited nor taken away from me.

I would like to know what do you guys think of this, and any help in the form of advice, observations, arguments and ideas on independence will be very much appreciated. If you happen to have controlling, abusing or toxic parents and would like to discuss about it, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.

[kasienda]

Representation Matters

Okay, so I don’t get flames often, and when I do, I usually ignore them. But it just so happens that this particular flame hit on a topic that is super important to me. 

In my most recent Reveal Drabble, I wrote a piece about Usagi and Mamoru confessing some secrets they were keeping from one another. In the background of this story (like literally two sentences in a 4000+ word story) I had Rei and Minako in a romantic relationship. 

Which led to this delightful guest review:  Why did you put Minako and Rei together romantically? They ARE NOT LESBIANS! It's bad enough I have to be sick to my stomach with the way Usagi and Mamoru are with each other and now I have to read that? It's disgusting! Where do you get the idea that they are? *shakes head*

So umm... this is fan fiction. I can literally make them whatever I want regardless of what they are in canon! And in this instance I made them partners and lovers! I spent no time on it because the story wasn’t about them. So why did I bother including this detail at all? 

I did it for my sister honestly. My sister is a bisexual cis gender female. She and I have been close all of our lives, and we are obsessed to this day with many of the same fandoms, but we don’t always have time to give each other’s artwork all of our attention. So when she called me out of the blue one day and told me that she had read every single thing I had written over the course of the last week, I was ecstatic! We talked for over an hour analyzing all of my stories! Do you know how much of a treat this is to an author? 

Anyway, she had one particular criticism of Going It Alone, definitely my most popular and successful story to date. She asked me why I hadn’t made any of En or Ail’s victims the same sex as them? She pointed out that if their succubi powers could detect when someone was attracted to them, and therefore susceptible to them, that they would encounter potential victims that were the same sex as them at least some of the time.

My answer to that question? Honestly, because it didn’t even occur to me! I am a cisgender straight female and I simply constructed of all of it from my own perspective. But when she pointed this out, I was taken aback and I felt like she was right! That I had missed such a good opportunity for even just a bit of representation - an acknowledgement that LGBT people are a part of this world we live in! 

I explored the same sex pairing of Zoi x Kunzite in my first Sailor Moon fic, Once Upon a Dream, so I have some inclusiveness in my portfolio of work, but having that ONE example is not enough. I want to create works where my own sister can relate and identify all of the time. And she knows that Usa x Mamo is my OTP and that a lot of my fan fiction work will often be focused there, but that doesn’t mean I can’t acknowledge other realities and other types of pairings. 

I also think as a cisgender straight female, it is easy for me to forget that this is even an issue! Easy to assume, that because same sex marriage is now legal in my country, that this battle has been won. That while prejudice exists it doesn’t have a huge impact on day to day lives. But then, getting pretty much instantly slammed for a itty bitty bit of representation of a same sex pairing, is a good reminder of the level of prejudice that my bisexual, homosexual, and transgender friends and family still experience every single day. And that this fight is sadly not even close to over! 

So, why did I bother to include those two little lines about Rei and Minako in a story clearly about a different couple?

Because representation matters! And I want my work to reflect that LGBT representation and equality is something that I value, something that I acknowledge, and something that I support. 

Thank you Guest Flame Reviewer for reminding me that this fight is not over. And here’s some pictures of Reinako just for you!   

[boofphil]

this isn’t you - 1

summary: phil just wants to know who dan really is. he isn't like the rest of the football team, who bully people and harass girls. he's hiding something from everyone, something that maybe isn't as bad as he thinks it is.but dan doesn't know how to stand up for himself and the memory of how painfully lonely he was keeps him on the team.a series of unfortunate events (that slowly turn into fortunate ones) may change that, however.

genre: angst with a happy ending, slow burn

word count: ~4000

chapters: 1/19

warnings: bullying, homophobic/transphobic slurs

a/n: this fic is a gift to @dreamdilddy ! merry christmas c: i hope you enjoy this! the idea came to me in a strangely detailed dream. 

fic updates every sunday

prompt: I'm really into like slowburn/friends to lovers type stuff. it's my absolute favorite and I'm not very picky when it comes to it!

ao3 link

Dan should have been more careful when spying on the theatre club.

It wasn’t that he was doing it with malicious intentions, he simply couldn’t afford to be caught. He had many reasons to hide. For starters, he was supposed to be at football practice. It was unbearably cold outside, however, and the coach insisted on them still practicing two hours three days a week no matter the temperature. Dan wasn’t in the mood in the mood for freezing to death.

Secondly, if the football team knew where he had gone, the humiliation and bullying he would have to endure would be unbearable. He still remembered the bruising he received when he had mentioned going to the school play at the beginning of the season.

The team was, essentially, a bunch of bigoted boys who thought they were cooler than everyone else.

Which brings up the third point. It would seem suspicious that he was only there to watch the rehearsals. The football team was notorious for playing pranks on the theatre club (when Dan asked why, they had explained that it was their punishment for being “a club of fags”).

The thing is, he loved theatre and wished he could be apart of it. But pressure from his parents to join something sporty and the overwhelming loneliness lead Dan to joining the football team instead. Dan was mediocre at the sport and figured he wouldn’t be picked at tryouts. Apparently he had underestimated himself, as he’d been one of the first people chosen to be on the team.

He had been distracted by the singing of the lead actor of the play when everything went to hell. He was too focused on the melodramatic song to realize that someone was approaching his hiding area. It was only when that person began moving the boxes that Dan began to panic. There wasn’t any other place he could escape to; he hadn’t thought out his hiding place very well. It was either he be discovered by whoever was moving the boxes or run out from behind and cause a scene.

Dan was trapped.

He squeezed his eyes shut, accepting fate. Hopefully it’d be somebody who didn’t hate the football team, though his brain quickly reasoned that there was not one person in the theatre club who didn’t hate the football team’s guts.

“What the hell are you doing here?” a voice hissed, making Dan flinch. “Don’t you have football practice?”

Dan opened his eyes, keeping them on the floor. “I-I was leaving right now, sorry-”

“Trying to play another prank on us?”

Dan finally looked up and was met with the face of Phil Lester. He didn’t know much about Phil, other than some kids on the team liked to beat him up every now and then.

“No, I swear, I wasn’t-”

Phil scoffed and grabbed Dan’s arm. “Save it, Howell. We all know the football team wants to humiliate us again, don’t try to play innocent.”

Dan felt curls of panic forming in his stomach. They increased as Phil dragged him out of his hiding space, trying to bring him into the stage.

“Please, no, I promise I was only watching,” Dan begged, heartbeat increasing as he fought against Phil’s grip.

“You’re such a terrible liar.” He overpowered Dan’s panicking struggles and brought him onstage, disrupting the scene that had been going on.

Dan stared at the ground, trying to will away the red shame on his cheeks. He listened in horror as people reacted to his presence.

“Phil? What’s going on?”

“Why is he here?”

“Is that Dan Howell?”

Dan could hardly breath. There were so many eyes on him, all of them tearing him apart and judging him based on his association with the football team. He felt sick and dizzy from the amount of anxiety Dan had rushing through him.

“I found him hiding behind some prop boxes. Looks like the football team is trying to prank us again,” Phil loudly announced, his voice echoing through the auditorium.

Dan didn’t need to look up to know that everyone was scowling at him. He needed to play it cool, as it was expected of him. Be mean and arrogant like the rest of the team. Have no respect, just like the captain told him.

“The only people you respect is the football team,” the captain had jeered, “and girls with big boobs.”

The team had erupted into laughter at that, Dan nervously joining in.

He kept his eyes trained to the ground, waiting for someone to act.

“Well, if they were going to prank us, they should have sent a better person.” Dan knew that voice; it was Maria, the director of the play. Her slight accent and loud voice made her very recognizable even without looking up.  

“Everybody knows Dan is the clumsiest person on the team. I’m surprised they even keep him with how much he messes up.”

Dan clenched his hands together, fighting off the urge to recoil or run off. He needed to be strong. “There was no prank.”

Maria snorted. “Oh really? Then tell me, why were you hiding back there?”

Dan couldn’t tell her the truth, that he longed to be apart of the play, that he knew every line of his favorite character. Word would spread like wildfire and Dan would have to face the football team.

“That’s what I thought.”

Dan listened to her heavy footsteps as they approached him. He stiffened up and finally dragged his eyes off the ground, facing Maria head on.

Maria stopped in front of him, her eyes icy daggers that looked over him and made him feel insecure. Dan didn’t know alot about Maria, but he did know that she was very intimidating and not somebody to cross.

Maria smirked. “I have an idea.” The way she said it let Dan know that he was not going to like this idea. “Why don’t you pay us back for all the times your team has pranked us?”

Murmurs of agreement rose around him. Dan’s heart pounded nervously and his palms were becoming sweaty, though he tried to ignore it.

“And what makes you think I’ll do that?”

Maria’s smirk didn’t even twitch. Dan had to admire her confidence and ability to face Dan head on. “Because if you don’t, we’ll make sure that the football team hears about you being here, listening intently to the play, reciting every word to yourself, and pretending that you were the star of the show, that you were doing this instead of football practice.”

She nailed the point right on. He knew that there was no point in telling the truth; Maria wouldn’t believe him and it’d only humiliate him more.

Dan crossed his arms both trying to look intimidating and to hide the shakiness of his hands. “What do you want from me then?” he snapped.

Maria grinned, knowing she had won. “That’s up to the rest of the crew. Everyone here wants some sort of revenge; the football team made sure to make everyone’s job much more difficult You’ll do whatever is asked by whoever. If you complain or cause any trouble, there will be consequences.”

The crew cheered in approval. The cheers filled Dan with dread, his stomach knotting up. Someone even called dibs on him.

Maria smiled at everyone, bathing in the approval of her crewmates. “You come and do what they want for two times a week and we’ll all pretend that we never saw you here. But if you dare make any slip up, we can’t promise that our mouths will remain shut. It’s all up to you what you choose to do. Got it?”

Dan could only nod slowly, fearing that any words would reveal how terrified he really was.

“Good.” Maria patted his shoulder, then pushed him over to the crowd of crew members. They all glared at him, each one holding some sort of grudge. “Now, what shall be our first job for our friend Dan?”

Dan watched in horror as people began shouting out, trying to claim him to work on their part of the play. He let his eyes fall back to the ground, his shoulders slumping with it, and his tough facade melted away. Maria went through each request loudly, but her voice sounded like white noise compared to the anxiety that was coursing through Dan’s veins.

“I’ve called dibs already!” someone yelled, pushing through the crowd.

“Eloise,” Maria greeted.

“The football pulled a prank on the makeup crew last week. Thought it would be funny to cover all our makeup in powder. We can hardly get to it without sneezing or having some kind of allergic reaction.”

Maria nodded sympathetically. Then, she turned to Dan. “Looks like you got yourself a job, Danny boy.” She shoved him forward towards Eloise. “Go on, Eloise will show you where it’s at.”

Dan sighed, trudging slowly after Eloise. She began yapping away about how awful the football team was, but Dan didn’t say anything. She was right about everything and he didn’t want to try to argue that he wasn’t like the rest of them.

The whole cleaning process left him with a raw throat and watery eyes. The entire time, the makeup crew had mocked him and laughed at him, making him feel worse. By the end of the practice, Dan wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed and cry.

He headed out without a coat (one of the theatre members had stolen it) and made the long journey home, having missed the bus. He shivered as he walked, his eyes watery and making it hard to see. Home seemed so far away and he couldn’t get there fast enough.

When he did get home, he collapsed on the couch inside, curling up with some blankets to stop the shivering. He needed water to soothe his throat and clothes that weren’t his scratchy uniform. He waited until his shivering was relatively under control before finally getting up.

After changing into clothes, he went to the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. As he gulped down the water, trying to clear his throat, Dan couldn’t help but feel bitterness towards the theatre club. They’d essentially turned him into a puppet, obeying them out of fear of being blackmailed.

Phil could have easily left him alone or simply thrown him out, but instead he had to embarrass him in front of the whole club and ruin any opportunities Dan had at redeeming himself and joining the club. He cursed his asshole teammates for tormenting the theatre club and for inadvertently getting him in the situation he was in.

Dan knew it was partially his fault too; no one was supposed to be in the theatre during rehearsals and he had been skipping football practice. He’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and was paying for it now.

Dan sighed, putting the now empty water glass down. He could kiss his dream of being the lead role in a play goodbye.

-

Dan’s stomach growled once again. Dan paused from putting away a costume, pressing a hand against his stomach. One of the theatre students had taken to stealing Dan’s snacks that he packed for after school. Usually, it was an annoyance at most, but Dan hadn’t had any money for lunch. The most he had eaten was two pieces of toast for breakfast.

“Get back to work, Howell,” the costume manager, Ty, yelled. Dan turned to see him glaring at Dan, watching his every move and waiting to lash out.

Dan hated the costume manager and wasn’t surprised to hear that everyone else working costumes hated him too. Ty was cold and unlikeable and very disorganized. He was supposed to have organized the pile Dan was currently going through, but Ty had instead waited until he had Dan under his control to do it. He’d been watching Dan like a hawk the entire time, not letting him take a moment’s break.

Dan was starting to feel nauseous and dizzy from both the hunger and from being on his feet for too long. He knew he was going to pass out soon if he didn’t take a break or get some food in his system.

That’s why the moment Ty looked away, Dan took off running towards the dressing rooms. Most people were near the stage wings, focusing on perfecting the cues, allowing him to slip through the door that lead to the dressing rooms without any trouble. He was distantly aware of yelling coming from behind him, but he didn’t care; he’d rather not pass out and embarrass himself even further. He could risk getting in trouble with Maria. She seemed too focused on the play anyway to notice any commotion backstage.

He found himself heading towards the lounge area where a fridge was at. He remembered overhearing people talking about putting their food in there to save for breaks during rehearsal. Dan didn’t hesitate to make a beeline for it once he entered the lounge, stomach demanding food.

Dan figured a little bit of food wouldn’t hurt. Nobody would miss it.

Inside the fridge, people’s food sat, unknowingly being scanned over by a hungry teenage boy. His eyes landed on a rather large sandwich and his hands grabbed it without giving Dan time to think.

Dan sat down at the table set up in the middle of the lounge, unwrapping the sandwich. He felt slightly bad for whoever’s sandwich he was about to eat, but the growling in his stomach was enough to overpower any guilt he had.

He had taken a few bites of the sandwich when Phil burst through the door, scanning the room with wild eyes. They froze when they say Dan and the sandwich.

Dan felt his cheeks start to burn, the tell tale sign that he was blushing. He ignored them and instead took another bite of the sandwich, albeit much slower than he had been earlier.

“That’s my sandwich,” Phil said, glaring at Dan.

Guilt pooled in Dan’s stomach. Already he looked bad in Phil’s perspective, this merely made him look much worse. He continued eating the sandwich, however. He was hungry. “Not anymore, I guess.”

Phil stormed over, barely letting Dan have another bite before snatching it away. Dan looked towards the tabletop, not wanting to make eye contact in fear that he’d feel even more guilty. He felt awful and not tough or cool at all. Wasn’t he supposed to feel that way? His teammates always did after they stole someone’s lunch.

All he felt was guilt.

“What’s your problem? All you ever do is act like you’re some entitled brat who can humiliate others that you deem lower than yourself and take whatever or whoever you want.”

Dan didn’t say anything. The part of the sandwich that he did manage to eat was now aching in his stomach.

“I have no respect for someone like you. Nobody does.”

Dan felt his eyes water, the hunger making him more sensitive than he usually was. No, this couldn’t happen. Not here, not now. He wasn’t going to let Phil see him cry over something as silly as getting yelled at. Dan quickly rubbed at his eyes, hoping to hide the tears that had began to form in them.

“I didn’t have lunch,” Dan finally snapped, sounding much more pathetic than he had intended to. “And one of your theatre friends keeps stealing the food I do save.”

It was Phil’s turn to be silent.

Dan looked up at Phil and before he could stop himself, words were tumbling out of his mouth that were never meant to be said.”I didn’t ask for all this, you know. I never wanted to join the football team and become somebody who treats everyone else like shit. I know that I’m some God-awful person that nobody can stand, okay? And I’m sorry for it, I never wanted to be that kind of person.” Dan sighed and turned away, feeling tears in his eyes again. “I’m sorry. You’re right; it’s your sandwich, and I have no right stealing it.”

Phil stared at Dan, shocked from his outburst. The way he looked now, unable to make eye contact and cheeks red from shame, was foreign to what Phil expected of him. He was expecting a fight, physical or verbal, and for Dan to insult him back. He didn’t expect Dan to agree with him and apologize.

Before he could think properly, Phil slid the sandwich back over to Dan. “H-here, you can have this.”

Dan stared at him, confused. He wanted it badly, but only a moment earlier Phil had been yelling at him for taking it. Now he wanted Dan to have it? “Are you sure?”

Phil nodded. “You’re obviously hungry; I can hear your stomach growling from over here. I don’t need the sandwich anyway, I had a pretty big lunch.”

Dan hesitated, then snatched up the sandwich and began to devour it. Phil stayed silent as Dan ate, mulling over Dan’s words. Dan had basically told him he didn’t want to be on the football team and that he knew they treated everyone like shit.

The more he thought about it, the more Phil realized that Dan didn’t exactly fit in with the rest of the players. Dan always went along with anything the theatre club had him do without complaining or putting up a fight. He’d been respectful of everyone, even when Maria was gone. And when Phil had originally found him hiding behind the boxes, he had almost looked scared.

Dan was more aloof than rude, unlike the other football players. It didn’t make any sense; why was Dan on the football team if he knew they were awful?

“Why’d you apologize?”

Dan looked up briefly from eating his sandwich before looking away. “Like I said, it wasn’t right of me to steal your sandwich, even if I was starving. It’s common sense.”

This only made Phil more intrigued about the mystery that Dan was slowly becoming. “Why are you on the football team?” Phil blurted out.

Dan shrugged. “I like football.” He’d dealt with this question long enough to know how to respond.

Phil shook his head in disbelief. “There’s plenty of people here who love football but refuse to join because of the team. And you obviously don’t like the football team; so why are you on it?”

Dan shifted uncomfortably. He’d finished the sandwich, leaving him no excuse to stay silent. He’d already told Phil too much; he barely knew Phil. For all he knew, Phil could be secretly plotting another way to embarrass him in front of the theatre club. Dan stood up, preparing to leave.

“Dan-”

“It’s none of your business,” Dan said, “I like football so I joined the team. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

Phil watched wordlessly as Dan slipped out, heading back to do who-knows-what. Phil frowned after him.

Dan didn’t join the football team because he liked football, that much was obvious to Phil. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Maybe some things were better left alone.

-

Dan didn’t see Phil for a long time after that, thankfully. He didn’t want to risk more interrogation or spilling more of his secrets. He didn’t need to deal with a too curious boy pestering him about a decision he’d made long ago.

Phil had already told the whole theatre club he had been spying on them for a “prank”. What would stop him from telling everyone about Dan’s true distaste for the football team?

Dan felt like he was walking on eggshells around the theatre club. He constantly panicked whenever he heard his name being whispered or saw someone looking his way for too long. He tried to keep himself distracted with chores, but the theatre club was being oddly nice and giving him only easy tasks that took ten minutes at most.

Dan had a feeling it was because the football team had been leaving them alone. Dan was kind of glad for it; the team had been focusing their efforts more on preparing for a tournament than beating up fellow classmates. Unfortunately, that didn’t last for long.

It was lunch break and the team had agreed to have some fun (Dan having said nothing, knowing what this “fun” would be). Dan trailed along behind them, occasionally adding in the appropriate statement or laugh.

It made him feel guilty, allowing these people to get beat up while he stood back and pretended to be the bully, all because he didn’t want to be the on being bullied. He refused to look at the person that was chosen to be the victim, fearing that the guilt would overwhelm him.

He followed them miserably as they moved down the halls, looking for the next victim. Dan wasn’t paying attention to what was happening, instead mentally battling his consciousness like he always did when this happened.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was for the team to go after Phil.

Dan watched helplessly, nausea pooling in his stomach, as the team captain, Luke, shoved Phil up against the locker. Dan knew what was going to happen next.

Luke threw a punch while Dan watched cowardly. He couldn’t find any malice or ill feelings towards Phil that he had earlier that would make the experience easier on Dan. It only made him feel more guilty; why couldn’t he stand up for Phil?

His teammates were laughing, Luke kicking Phil’s side as he laid curled up on the floor. Dan felt dizzy as Luke hit Phil’s face, Phil wincing with pain and protecting his face with his hands. Dan swore years passed before they were finally done with Phil.

Dan was grateful when the team began to leave, forgetting about Dan’s existence in favor of finding a suitable target to harass. Dan didn’t bother following after them; if he saw one more person being bullied, he knew he’d throw up out of guilt.

Phil’s lip was bleeding and he was clutching his stomach, trying to sit up.

“A-are you okay?” Dan whispered, frozen still in his spot.

Phil glared at him and tried to get up, but his limbs were still shaking from the whole ordeal. Dan finally moved, coming over to help Phil stand up. At first, Phil tried to fight him, but gave in and let Dan pull him up. Dan winced as he heard Phil groan in pain, his body sensitive to any contact.

“I’m sorry,” Dan whispered, staring at the ground.

Phil sighed. “It’s fine, it happens all the time.”

That only proved to make Dan feel worse. “You shouldn’t have to,” he muttered.

Phil looked at Dan in surprise. The silence stretched on, until Phil finally spoke again.

“You really don’t belong with them.”

Dan bit his lip, fearing what would come next. He couldn’t risk it.

Phil didn’t expect an answer for Dan. “Thanks for uh-helping me I guess.”

“I didn’t really do anything, I’m sorry.”

Phil smiled softly at Dan. “It’s alright, being here is enough.”

Dan returned the smile, albeit smaller. “I-uh have to go. But, thank you.”

Phil nodded, letting Dan dash off to catch up with the team of assholes. Phil could feel the bruise forming on his belly and knew he needed to stop the bleeding soon, however he couldn’t help but stare after Dan.

Dan was a boy full of secrets, that was for sure.

[maryxglz]

To fangirl or not to fangirl

by so_sassie on 18 September 2017

A RADA Hamlet review

(aka a Man Crush Monday blogpost about none other than Tom Hiddleston)

OK, I admit I’ve been fangirling a little since I was one of the lucky few to see him in Hamlet last Friday. So bear with me. This too shall pass.

Tom and I go way back to 2007, when I got £10 tickets to see Ewan McGregor in Othello at the Donmar Warehouse. Ewan was great as Iago, as was Chiwetel Ejiofor as Othello, of course, but the one who stood out for me was Cassio. A young actor with an amazing talent and a beautiful voice.

At the same time, I was rehearsing for Othello in Brussels. I was playing Bianca and so I learnt my lines by listening to the BBC recording of this performance, indirectly making Tom my study buddy.

In 2008, I saw him again in Ivanov at Donmar West End. Sure, Kenneth Branagh was playing Ivanov, but I’m not a big Branagh fan. Love him as a director (especially after seeing this Hamlet), but do believe he’s been too omnipresent in his own plays. I actually went for Tom. He’d made such an impression on me the year before. Again, a great performance. And I had the pleasure of meeting him after the show.

He was, as expected, a typically British charming gentleman.

So when I found out he was doing Coriolanus in 2013, I tried to get tickets, but it was sold out immediately. Of course, since then, he’d become a well-known film actor and everyone wanted to see him live. I entered a lottery for £10 front row tickets and as luck would have it, I won! Mind you, I usually never win anything, so I was overdue for some luck.

I’d never seen Coriolanus, as it’s one of the lesser known Shakespeare plays. It was so intense, so charismatic, so emotional, so raw. The “special effects”, the action, the fight scenes. Not to mention the famous shower scene. I figured that was gonna be the last time I’d see him live, since he’d become so famous.

Then came the news of RADA’s Hamlet a few months ago. I entered the ballot at my friend’s request, but wasn’t holding my breath. Less than 4000 tickets available. No way I was gonna be able to be a part of that. But then, unexpectedly, I was… Literally a 1 in a million chance. It actually only really hit me when I was sitting there last Friday night.

How was it, you ask?

Well, I’lI tell you what I wanted: magic!

And boy did we get it! I’ve seen 5 Hamlets so far, 2 live, 3 on screen. Mel Gibson, Kenneth Branagh, Jude Law, Benedict Cumberbatch and now Tom Hiddleston. Let’s not talk about Mel Gibson, for obvious reasons. Branagh, as I’ve mentioned before, is very good, very professional, but I don’t like watching him play. Jude Law also wasn’t bad at the time. But the last 2 were by far the best I’ve seen. The one with Cumberbatch was a huge spectacle, live in the cinema, while the one with Hiddleston was live, on the front row of a small theatre.

That in itself makes it a winner. You’re right there, in the action. The actors are almost on your lap (for those of you who are interested: he wears Calvin Klein). I was in a trance all night. It was captivating from start to finish. Not once did I wonder when the interval was coming. Not once did I lose focus (well, maybe once or twice, but that was due to Hamlet’s very tight jeans and shirt). OK, back to the point.

It was more comedy than tragedy, which was a totally different approach than any of the other ones I’d seen. Singing, dancing, funny puns, but still very true to Shakespeare’s text. I’ve never laughed so hard at one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, except for the Reduced Shakespeare Company’s backwards version of Hamlet. All the actors (some of them recent RADA graduates) were amazing. But of course, I’m biased and have to say Hamlet stole the show with his wit, his sadness instead of the usually played melancholy (real tears!), his fierceness, his charisma and his charm with the ladies.

Which brings me to the the female Horatia, Rosacrantz and Guildastern. What a great idea. It worked really well, and the actresses who played the parts (Ayesha Antoine, Eleanor de Rohan and Caroline Martin) were so good! As a Shakespeare-loving actress, I feel this should be done more often. Give women a chance to play these great parts!

I loved the stageing: the sound effects, the swiftness of the scene changes and the perfect light cues are an amateur actress’ dream. The way the small stage was used to its full potential, was inspiring. The funny bits mixed with the serious parts, were very touching and more than once belly shakingly hilarious. (Hamlet’s “Words words words” scene with Polonius, while reading Matt Haig’s “Reasons to stay alive”; shaking his booty with Rosacrantz and Guildastern; pretty much every scene with Polonius, who stole most of the show, to name but a few). The Yorick scene with the skull drumming gravedigger and Hamlet the “skull puppet master”. Honestly, I didn’t know a tragedy could be this funny. The fight scene with Laertes was incredibly well-directed, and yet scary and very, very close. While Benedict was earnest and touching in his performance, but also quite moody at times, Tom was giddy, funny, sincere and genuinely sad or happy.

He has gotten better with age and remains an amazingly talented classical theatre actor. It’s a shame he doesn’t have time to do more of it. Don’t get me wrong, I like his films (most of the time), but it’s not the same, is it? As a theatre actress (albeit amateur), I appreciate that kind of talent and only wish I could reach that level. I love watching and studying actors and actresses, becoming inspired by them and taking away tips and tricks from every performance, whenever I can.

I feel so lucky to have been able to see this play.

TL; DR: even if Tom Hiddleston didn’t look the way he did, I’d still be in awe of his talent…but, like with anything in life, it does help.

[stupid-stupors]

messy mall

was playing mercy in overwatch but i was wearing a light purple bikini and was impossible to catch. was playing in 4000 SR range and won a game at blizzard world, and the enemy team winston typed in chat “mercy, bap you guys are both insane, cannot kill you for some reason” and i was doing sooo well. the bap changed to zen and we won the game.

after we won, me and my team got funneled down this water slide and then the pressure of the water at the bottom took my bikini top right off. i was trying to cover myself when one of the guys from my team shouted for cosmo, i was like ??? is that who i think it is? then cosmo came over and it WAS bufang, the two of us just stared at each other like wtf and then i got out of the pool and hugged him and he tried to fix my bikini top but suggested we go elsewhere to talk. we went into the building and went up the stairs into this mini rectangular library room where he fixed it but then told me that he couldn’t be seen with me anymore bc he has a girlfriend, and i was like oh that’s ok bc i have a boyfriend! and then it was all good but i felt like my other teammates were thinking we would be having sex together right now bc of what i was wearing. bufang thought that was funny and laughed. we walked out of the building and into this mall.

(kind of not sure if these two dreams are connected or just related)

so i was was in a mall bc it was my day off and i was by myself but then noticed a lot of commotion. there was a lot of blood on the floor and also this strange beige fur covering the floor that these three alligators were eating. this nice old lady was watching the alligators eat them and i asked her what they were doing. she said that there was a huge accident with this weird creature that the authorities were looking more into. and that the alligators were tasked with eating that animal’s fur. and this fur covered the whole ground... i was like just this one animal? had this much fur? and she was like yeah. i asked what happened and she said she didn’t really know herself, and everyone who witnessed it was too in shock to talk. but basically this huge thing just came in and ripped somebody’s body in half during class and the teacher tried to save her but the teacher ended up getting ripped in half as well and then was crying until her last breath. then the creature left the classroom and went into the rest of the mall and just ripped up like 2 or 3 more people until the authorities came and trapped it somehow. and the animal was really strange, like it looked like there was a smaller monkey in a bigger monkey. i didn’t really understand that part. then i asked where the creature was now and she said i’d have to look around. this other girl came in and said she also wanted to see the creature with her own eyes and that she would look with me so we briefly became friends.

we met this old man who said he was going to take over the creature watching room and we asked if we could have special visitors privileges bc we were soooo curious what it looked like. it took a lot of convincing but then in the end he said yes. we went into this beige vaulted door and someone else was manning the visitors room but saw this old man and immediately got up to let him sit down and assume position. this snooty lady with a large hat and a sad face came up behind us. we were asked to fill out a visitors form on a red clipboard. the other girl filled it out first, then the snooty lady (who went thru like 4 different pens bc they all just stopped working when she picked them up) until a green pen worked, and then me. me and the girl got to go to the creature watch room first though.

the watch room was this cramped space kind of like a submarine-ish style and just had these two small windows that we had to sit down on the floor to look through. and this creature was absolutely gigantic that it looked fake. it had two bodies, horizontal on each other, 10 arms, and was just losing fur like no tomorrow. but the weirdest part was its face. its face didn’t really look real, like it looked like there was a smaller monkey moving around freely in there and controlling the larger freak body. it looked at us through the visiting window and then got really curious and put its face right up to us. we freaked out and left. the snooty lady was crying and we thought that maybe one of her children was ripped in half by the creature so she wanted to see it.

i was walking in the mall with the girl when she said that our teacher wanted to talk to me (so i probably knew her from some class?). we went to go talk to our teacher and he said bc of what happened in the mall, he wanted to brighten things up and asked us to do a really last minute poem project that should take no longer than 6 minutes for us to read and that we were assigned a partner to do it with, my partner was michael. late at night, he messaged me and asked if i could print out these lines that he put together and a sheep picture and paste it on a green and purple sheet of construction paper. i printed out the lines with comic sans font and got a picture of a woman tending a sheep that looked like a kid could color it in. then i turned it in to the teacher who said she was going to put it up on the bulletin board. a few hours later i get an email from the teacher asking if it can be showcased, and i was like ya sure. but then i get pinged by michael who said that the zenyatta on my team had actually written those lines and didnt give us permission for his words to be showcased. and i was like wtf i thought you wrote them and he was like no but now i feel bad that i asked him so late at night to write those lines and for you, even later at night, to put them together. i was like lol it’s fine but it’s gonna get showcased.

— another dream??

i felt kind of terrible while working from home and decided to walk to cvs to get my headache checked out. i walked past ps 203 and past key food (which was on that path...??) to get to the cvs on bell boulevard. i went into the cvs and looked around for a little until i got to the counter and used a coupon i had for a free check up/consultation. these two ladies at the desk had these cone things with medicine on them but the medicine could tell them exactly what was wrong with me. i put some medicine on the bottom of my nose to breathe it in and they said i just had a common cold. one of the ladies (sitting on the left) told me that she didn’t even know there was a coupon for these things but feels bad bc i wasted it on a common cold, and i was like it’s fine idc. so i leave CVS and somehow forgot that i was WFH so i was trying to find the nearest azalea(?) office which was like a restaurant. and i walked to the left but couldn’t find it and thought it was odd. it was raining outside and getting really difficult to walk. i turned 180 and walked back uphill to the cvs and then kept walking to find this azalea office. i looked to the left at one point and there was a sheep with beige fur and a black face standing sadly in the rain outside of the pink baskin robbins store. i kept walking and could not find my office. and THEN i remembered that i was working from home but couldn’t remember how to get home.

[fanficstookover]

Orion - Sirius Black

Ever since you were little, you have dreamed of owning a dog. Unfortunately, that couldn’t happen because of your mother’s allergies. It devastated you. Sirius realised this and thought it was time to take some action. 

(A/N)  I don’t know what is wrong with me. This was supposed to be just a small draft on my computer to get the idea out of my head... but NO! I had to write a full on 4000 word story... It’s probably way too long and the whole plot doesn’t even make sence anymore...but I like it, so it stays.

word count:  4228 

warning: don’t think so.. the tiniest mention of bullying in general just fluff.

One day you were hanging out with your friends: James, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Lily, in the Gryffindor common room.

You were currently in your sixth year. It was the middle of the night, it had just turned midnight. There was a huge party going on the hours before to celebrate a glorious win in Quidditch. Even though Hufflepuff had gotten the snitch, Gryffindor won. And it was all thanks to James. Right before the snitch was caught, he made one more goal, which resulted in a 160 point difference. So when the snitch was caught, they still won by 10 points.

As it was already the next day, most people went to bed. The six of you kept on laughing (and drinking). It was very visible that you were all drunk.

You can’t clearly remember why, but Sirius, who was seated next to you on the ground, started to imitate a dog. He barked and growled, making everyone laugh. As he stopped, you sank onto his chest and sighed.

“I wish I had a dog. I love dogs.”  

“What you love so much about them?”  Sirius said.

“I don’t know, I just do. But I can never have one. Not until I move out at least.”  you were still leaning against Sirius, he was playing with your hair. It was a weird thing he often did when you were drunk, but you liked it.

The next morning, all of you were dead at the breakfast table. At this point, most of the Gryffindors knew better than to talk to you, or as if everything was okay. They all knew the reason behind it. HANGOVER.

“Never again,” mumbled Sirius, with his head in his hands. But you all knew that next week will be the same. James, who was wearing sunglasses to protect his eyes from the sun, said: “so, what are we gonna do today?”

“Die,” groaned Remus, who was trying to eat his porridge, but looked as if he was going to get sick at any moment now. You all agreed. But you still had other plans for the day.

“I have to study.”  

“Excuse me!” Sirius shouted in shock, receiving death glares and hisses from the people around him, “Sorry, sorry. What are you talking about (Y/N). your head will explode if you don’t do anything today.”

“Actually, I’m fine,” I said as I stood up, “I clearly didn’t  drink as much as you thought I did. See you at lunch.”  and you were off, leaving your hangover friends at their table.

Instead of the library you decided to go to your favourite spot on the grounds to study for your test. It was a nice and sunny day, so why not?

You sat down under a tree and took your book out of your bag. With the fact that the weather was wonderful, not many people were actually outside. It was better for you: this way you could study easier.  

You were maybe studying for about 10 minutes, when something rustled in the bushes nearby the spot you were sitting at. At first, you thought nothing of it - thinking it was just a bird or another small animal. But after a few minutes, it still didn’t stop. You sighed in frustration and walked up to the bush. You probably should know better than to check for wild animals in bushes on your own. But you weren’t too far away from the school and you were sure you just saw somebody walk around here somewhere.

You peaked through the bushes, meeting a pair of big eyes. You jumped back. Out of the bushes, a big black dog walked out. It did so very slowly, as if it was scared himself. It reminded you of something that you remember from a lesson of Divination.

“The Grim,” you gasped. You slowly walked backwards to your books when the big dog suddenly started to run at you. You screamed as he jumped on to you. You fell on the ground, with the dog still on me. You closed your eyes, ready to die at any second now. But nothing happened. The dog got off of you and licked your face.

“Oh, gross,”  you laughed and petted the dog on his head. He wiggled his tail and put his head on your lap.

You actually stayed like that past lunch. You were there such a long time that at some point, you heard your name being called. “(Y/N)! Are you there?” it was Remus. The dog's head immediately shot up from your legs. He looked very observant. “Hey, it’s okay.”  you tried to calm him down, but the dog got up and ran away. You got up too and tried to run after it, but he was gone. You turned around to find Remus, James and Sirius.

“Oh, hey guys. Feeling better?” you said. You tried to listen to whatever Remus was saying, but you kept looking around. Hoping that the dog would show up again.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you,” Remus got your attention back, “because we can go. It’s just that we were actually worried about you, but you clearly-”

“No, it’s not that. There was this dog here.”

“A dog?”  Sirius said. You looked around again, but there was still no sign of the animal.

“Yes, a dog. He was big, black and absolutely adorable.” you said and it was followed by James who started to laugh. “And what is so funny, if I may ask?”  

“Nothing,”  he shrugged, “It’s just that - er- often when people see a big, black dog they run away, not hang out with him the whole day.”  

“Well, to be honest, at first, I did think it was the Grim or something like that. But then he turned out to be the sweetest thing.” you sighed, “and now he’s gone.”  

“That’s a shame,” Sirius said, “Come on, let’s go have some supper.”

“Is it already that late?”  

The next couple of weeks, you kept seeing the dog around the castle. At first, you thought you were hallucinating, but a few other people started to comment about a huge dog that walked around the building.

You found yourself going back to the tree several number of times too and most of the times, the dog would accompany you.

“I should probably give you a name, shouldn’t I?” you asked the dog one day. it was a very nice spring morning and you were only reading your notes, as the dog was sleeping next to you. As you had spoken, the dog looked up at you, his head a bit lopsided.

“Hmmm,” you thought for a moment, “how about Snuffles?”  you suggested. The dog clearly shook its head. It had made movements like this before. The ones that made it very clear he understood what you were saying.

“What do you think about Orion?” you said after looking at your astronomy book for some inspiration. The dog barked and you just assumed that it was a bark of approval.

“Then it’s settled,” and you went back to your studying. This time the dog put his head on your leg. The two of you were enjoying the day, until you heard a rumble in the sky. You looked up, the sky was starting to become more and more grey. Suddenly you could feel small droplets of water fall on your forehead. The dog whimpered and you smiled: “Go, I’ll see you around… Orion.” The dog replied to you with a wet lick on the cheek and then ran away.

For a few moments you wanted to followed the dog, to see where it was hiding when he wasn’t with you, but he was already gone. At this point, the slight drizzle had changed into a full on storm. There was no choice, but to run inside.

Right as you were about to step inside, somebody called your name.

“Sirius?” you said as you turned around. It was indeed Sirius. He was just running inside, completely soaked. “What were you doing outside...wait, do I even want to know?” he just laughed at your comment, so you assumed for yourself.  

“I could ask you the same question, really.” Sirius draped his arm around you as you walked to the common room.

“Just studying w..” you stopped your sentence at the sudden smell that came off of your friend. “Dear Godric, you smell like a wet dog.” you immediately pushed him off of you.

“Who were you with?” Sirius ignored your comment.

“Uhm, no one.”

“Don’t lie. You wanted to say something before. Was it that dog again?” he sighed.

“That’s none of your business, Black.”

“I’m just saying, (Y/L/N/), that dog could be dangerous.” you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“I highly doubt that.” you said as you both made your way towards the stairs - in silence.

“You know what,” Sirius stopped just as you were about to step on the first set of stairs, “I’m starving.”

“But it’s way too early for dinner.”

“Who says I’m going to the great hall,” he winked, “you want anything?”

“I’m good.” you said. Sirius walked the other way as you walked up the stairs. You had wondered for years how  the boys got all of the food, but you never got around to ask them. So, you turned around and started running in the direction that you saw Sirius walk to minutes ago. Maybe you could still catch him if you were quick.

Turning corners, there was still no sign of your friend. How was that even possible?  There was no way that he could turn invisible… was there?

Walking into another corridor, you suddenly took a step back, feeling that you stepped on something soft that made a sound as soon as you did. You looked down, seeing it was Orion. You had woken him up by accidentally stepping on his tail.

“I am so sorry, Orion,’ you wanted to pet him, but Orion growled and snapped towards your hand. You quickly pulled it away before he could bite you. Taking a few steps back, you looked at the dog, which was still growling and showing his teeth. You just turned around and walked away.

Walking back to your first destination, you thought about what Sirius had said before. Maybe he was right and it wasn’t the best idea to hang out with a wild animal.

“Hey, (Y/L/N). Wait!” Sirius was walking down from another flight of stairs, his arms filled with cookies and fruit. You held the painting of the Fat Lady open for him. He thanked you and the two of you walked into the common room.

“Here, I got some strawberries for you..hey, what’s wrong?” he looked at you as he put down all the food on the table in front of the couch that he had occupied. Apparently you were looking just as bad as you were feeling. You sat down on the spot that Sirius offered you.

“I guess you were right.”

“Excuse me?”

“Or- uhm, the dog. He almost bit me.” you stared into the burning fire.

“What! When did that happen?”

“A few minutes ago. I thought I would go back and see what you were up to, and then I walked into him.. a-and I accidentally stepped on his tail, waking him u-up.” at this point, tears were, very slowly, forming in your eyes. “So he got mad and almost bit me.” you sighed.

“I don’t get it.” Sirius said, “Why is he such a big deal to you? It’s just a wild dog.”

“It’s j-just that… I’ve always wanted a dog. And at first, he almost felt like my dog. I just wanted a dog!” you cried into his shoulder. Sirius let you until you were done.

“You still smell like a wet dog.” you laughed.

“Strawberry?’ sirius neglected your comment again. But you didn’t realise. You were enjoying the delicious fruit that Sirius had gotten for you. It was just what you needed.

“Who can tell me what a Patronus actually is?” your professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts asked the class. Only Remus put his hand up. Most of the class wasn’t even listening to what he had said. It was simply too hot in the room to function properly. You tried to listen to your friend who was actually sitting right next to you, but it was just so hard to concentrate. You only caught a few things about it being: “a representation of one's soul.”  which was followed by a comment of from James or Sirius that made the whole class laugh.

“Thank you, mr. Lupin...mr. Potter.” the teacher looked at the messy-haired boy that replied with a wide grin.

“Now, the Patronus Charm, itself is far beyond your abilities now. So I will only teach you the theory.”

“Then what’s the point, professor?” Sirius asked from the back of the class.

“Do not interrupt me, mr. Black. As I was saying…” the rest of the lesson faded by you. It was inconvenient as the homework was to write an essay about the charm. “And, maybe, I will help the writer of the best essay in conjuring a patronus.” the teacher said as the bell rang and everybody walked out.

“He’s just saying that so everyone will make their homework,’ Sirius said as you all walked down the stairs to the Great Hall.

“So you’re not going to make it then?” Peter asked.

“Of course I am! Who would I be by skipping a chance on learning the Patronus Charm?”

“I’m sure we can do it by ourselves.”  I rolled my eyes as we sat down at the Gryffindor table. “With some practice, that is.”

“We will have all the information from the essay’s.” Remus agreed.

“So let’s agree on it: if none of us win with our essay (I doubt that, said Sirius, patting Remus on the shoulder) we are going to learn it by ourselves.” I said. Everyone said yes.

The next couple of days, everyone from your year was working on the Patronus essay. To your surprise, Sirius was one of the people that was working the hardest on it. He had much more written down than you… or Remus.

“I wonder what he has written there.” I asked him, as we both looked at Sirius.

“I have no clue.” Remus shrugged and went back to work. I looked at Sirius for a few more seconds. You could see he was working extremely hard. He had his tongue sticking out and the only time you saw him doing that was when he was working on some extravagant prank with his friends.

“Why’d you think he wants to win so much?’ you asked Remus. He looked up from his parchment, a bit annoyed that you kept interrupting him.

“He’s very competitive, I suppose. Now excuse me,” he pointed at his essay.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” you went back to work too, but not without the occasional looks at the boy sitting a few tables away from you.

“I have graded all of your essay’s,” your teacher said, looking through them, “and I must say that there are a lot of very well written ones.” you glanced quickly at Sirius, who was looking exceptionally proud of himself.

“With that in mind, I just couldn’t carry the thought of choosing just one.”  

“So you will teach the whole class then?” James asked.

“No, mr. Potter. The arrangement was one student.”  

“Oh c’mon. This is humbug,” Sirius spoke up, “my essay is 10 pages long!”

“And I must say that not all of the information in it is correct.” the teacher said. Sirius slid down his chair, his face looking a bit red from the anger. Soon after the bell rang and you were excused.

“So, when will we be practicing?” Sirius asked, startling all of you.

“How about this Saturday? Most of the people will be at Hogsmeade anyway.” Remus said. Everyone agreed on a time and place.

The next Saturday, you were all sitting in an empty classroom. You had moved the desks away, not knowing what effect you should expect.

“Will this actually work without a Dementor?” you asked Remus. Before he could answer Sirius spoke: “Yeah, but it won’t be as powerful as it with a Dementor nearby. With a Dementor around, the patronus can stay in form as long as the wizard pleases. Without one in the neighbourhood, it will probably hang around for a minute and then vanish….What?” he looked confused as all of his friends stared at him in bewilderment.

“Nothing. It’s just… you really know everything about it, don't you?” James smirked.

“I had to fill ten pages somehow.” Sirius shrugged. “Should we get started.”

“Good idea.” you said. “Tell us, professor Black, how do you conjure a Patronus?” you giggled.

“Very funny, (Y/N). It’s quite easy actually. You have to think of the happiest memory you have and say the incantation: Expecto Patronum. The happier the memory, the stronger the Patronus.”

“Sounds easy enough.” you said, getting out your wand. “Who wants to go first?”

“I’ll go.” Sirius volunteered. Everyone watched in excitement. Sirius closed his eyes in concentration. After a minute, he took a deep breath and said, very clearly: “Expecto Patronum”. At first, nothing happened. Then, out of the tip of his wand, a bright, white light emerged. A vague shape was forming, but it disappeared just as quick as it turned up.

“It is harder than it looks like.”  he said, looking a bit disappointed.

“Nobody’s judging you, Padfoot, this was already pretty impressive for a first try.” James said, taking his wand out. He also thought for a moment and then spoke out the incantation. Only a small spark erupted from his wand, cheering Sirius a bit.

“Let me try.” you stepped up to the middle of the classroom. After James’ attempt, it made you feel a bit more sure about yourself.

You had to think about a memory. But not just a memory… it had to be the happiest memory of your entire life. But there had been so many...  Then, one came up that you didn’t think about in a long time.

It was at the beginning of your second year. You were sitting in an empty corridor, crying. A Slytherin girl had just made fun of you  (After so many years, you couldn’t remember what it was). You were feeling very lonely. It was already your second year at Hogwarts and you barely had any friends (maybe that was what that Slytherin girl had said.)  

“Hi.” a soft voice pulled you away from your thought. It was a boy with a lot of black hair. You said hi back and went back to softly crying. Thinking that the boy would just walk away, you were pleasantly surprised when he sat down next to you.

“Why are you so sad?”

“It’s nothing.” you shrugged. The boy clearly did not believe it.

“You’re (Y/N), right?” he asked.

“Yeah.” you said through tears.

“I’m Si-”

“I know who you are.” you interrupted the boy, whose cheeks turned slightly pink, “you are James’ friend.” you said, thinking about the boy with the messy black hair who had just gotten into the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“Yeah. that’s me.” he said with a grin on his face. Then it disappeared. “I uhm, I gotta go.” he said and ran off to somewhere. It made you a bit sad. For a second, you thought you actually made a friend. But you were wrong.

But then, you heard footsteps. They were running. Looking up, you saw Sirius coming back. This time he was holding a gigantic chocolate cake with strawberries. He handed it to you as he said: “Sorry I ran off like that. Had to get this for you. I hope you like the strawberries. They didn’t have anything else.”

“I love strawberries. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” he said. You both sat down and enjoyed the cake together. At first he didn’t want to share it because it was for you to cheer you up, but you insisted. “It’s what friends are for. They share.” you said, not realising what you just had said.

“Friends?”

“Er - if you want to be, of course.”

“I would like that. Yeah. James is starting to be a bit of a pain sometimes.” you both laughed and ate the cake together.

It wasn’t necessarily the memory itself that was so happy, but the thought of what it made possible. It was the moment your wonderful friendship started with Sirius and also with the rest. All of those adventures that you had, would have never happened if it wasn’t for that moment.

You shouted out the incantation: “Expecto Patronum!” it was immediately followed by a silvery light. Then, a dog appeared out of the light. It was big and looked very happy to be able to run around the room. Everyone looked at it in admiration. You were the first to conjure a full patronus… on your first try!

The dog ran around until it saw Sirius. It ran at him with extreme speed and then bumped into him, making SIrius fall over. As soon as they collided, the dog disappeared.

“Wow! You’re patronus is- Ow, what’d you do that for?’ Peter rubbed over the arm James had just hit with his hand.

“It’s Orion?” you whispered to yourself. But why?  You didn’t understand. Why was he your patronus?  You haven’t seen the dog since the accident in the corridor.

“Orion? Who’s Orion?” Remus asked.

“Er - that’s the name I gave to that dog that used to visit me by the tree. Remember?”

“You called it Orion? That’s very fitting, isn’t it?” James...giggled?

“How come?” you said.

“Sirius’ middle name is Orion. You didn’t know?” Remus said.

“He never told me.” you glared at your friend, who was suddenly very interested in his shoelaces. “Every time I asked him, he just joked it was Lee.”

“I wish,’ Sirius huffed.

“So what. It’s just coincidence. I was reading my Astronomy book when I gave it to the dog.” James wanted to comment on my rebuttal, but was interrupted by Sirius.

“Expecto Patronum.” he simply said. A dog appeared out of the tip of his wand. It was almost identical to yours, just a bit bigger.

You turned around to say something, but Sirius had left the room. The dog wanted to follow, but as soon as he had closed the door, it vanished.

“I - er- I’m gonna go..”

“You do that.” James smirked. I rolled my eyes and walked out of the room. You looked around for the boy, but he was nowhere to be seen. You could hear footsteps, so you followed them. They went outside. It was raining again, but you didn’t care. After only a few steps, you were completely soaked. The footsteps were lost in the sound of the heavy rain, but somehow, you knew where you had to be.

Just like you predicted, under your favourite tree, lay a big, black dog. It didn’t look up or wiggle his tail as you walked up.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you?” you said, kneeling next to the dog...well, at your words the dog changed back into your friend.

“I don’t know. At first it was just a one time thing. I remembered you telling us how much you wanted to own a dog so.. Urg..” he groaned, “you must think I am an absolute creep.”

“Now that I think about it, we did share a few intimate moments… but at most, I would say it was sweet.”

“Sweet.”

“Yes.” there was a silence for a moment. “You know what our patronuses mean, right?” he said as he took a step towards me. The rain was dripping in his hair, covering his face. You swepped a few locks away, looking deep into his eyes.

“I think I do.” you took a step closer too. There was barely any space left between you… and then suddenly none at all. Sirius put his arms around your waist and pulled you into a deep kiss. You immediately kissed back. It was a truly magical moment. For a moment the time had stopped and the sun was shining again. You both could have stayed there forever. You only let go once you had to breath.

“But why didn’t you ever tell me you were an Animagus?”

“I actually have no idea.” he laughed.

“We should probably get back inside. I don’t want my boyfriend to get sick.” you laughed.

“Boyfriend?” he smirked, making you blush.

“Er - if you want to be, of course.”

“I would like that. Yeah. James is starting to be a bit of a pain sometimes.” laughing, you walked back inside and the rest of the day, you spend sitting in front of the fireplace, warming up from the rain. But not before Sirius had gotten some chocolate cake for the two of you.

“You really have to tell me how you are getting into the kitchen.” you said, all cuddled up into his chest.

“Just because you are my girlfriend, doesn’t mean I am going to tell you all of my secrets at once.” he winked.

[imagining-supernatural]

13: Adrenaline

Request by @andhiseyesweregreen: Congrats on 4000 babe!!   My number is 13 and my sentence is "We push and pull like a magnet do." 💗💗

Word Count: 1045

A/N: I changed the sentence a little just so I could work it in easier. I love Ed Sheeran, but the grammar in that sentence just doesn’t for anything other than a lyric. Also, Shape of You has a completely opposite feeling from Adrenaline, so this was super interesting to figure out :) And for this one I put it in season 11/12ish, but I’m still in denial that Ellen and Jo are really gone, so it’s kind of an AU because they’re definitely not dead! (The Roadhouse never burned down, Ash still sleeps on the pool tables, and hunters still stop by there all the time dammit!)

A/N.2: I just found out that this song features Trevor McNevan, who is the lead singer of Thousand Foot Krutch who is, like, one of my favorite bands? WHAT? How did I now know this? Two of my favorite bands have a song together and I’ve listened to it countless times, but I couldn’t figure it out? WHAT??

Version en Español: Adrenalina

Song 13: Adrenaline by Nine Lashes

Ever since you met Sam Winchester, your life seemed to shift and it was like you couldn’t quite breathe right. The edges of each moment never quite aligned, and nothing you did seemed to get the pieces to lock into place.

You managed to escape from your family’s unglorified business of hunting monsters and killing the things that go bump in the night to study law at Stanford. Well, pre-law. You never quite made it into law school. Your brother ruined those plans when he got himself bitten by a vampire and your dad dragged you away from school to help hunt down your sibling and cut off his head.

But those few years as an undergrad in California had been like a dream. You met your first boyfriend during the first week as a freshman. Then, the next semester you met Sam in one of your classes. He had been single then, but you were still unavailable. By the time you wised up to your feelings for him and broke up with your boyfriend, he’d found Jess. And he was so happy that you couldn’t be a homewrecker. Then Jess died, Sam disappeared, and your father showed up a week later.

Those dream years at college just served to show you that you really were a hunter. You could pretend to be lawyer material all you liked, but your life wasn’t meant to be simple or serene. So you resumed hunting with your father.

Since then, you’d run into Sam Winchester a few times. Always when you had to get an early start the next day in order to meet your father for another hunt in a different state. So you only got to have a few drinks with Sam before calling it a night. Other times, he was the one who had to run. The business conference or meeting he’d been in town for was over and he had to catch an early flight the next day.

But you always seemed to find your way back together, if only for a few hours.

“Sam Winchester as I live and breathe,” you said, announcing your presence with a smile. He spun around in the barstool and a wide grin broke across his face.

“Y/N!” He unfolded his large body from the stool and gathered you into his arms, crushing you to his perfectly toned chest.

Laughing lightly, you wrapped your arms around him as well, enjoying the way his muscles moved under your arms. He may be a businessman who got lost, but he definitely could fit right in here at this typical hunter bar. “It’s been a few years. What the hell are you doing in an old dive bar in Nebraska?”

“What are you doing in an old dive bar in Nebraska?” He asked cautiously.

You glanced around the Roadhouse and tried to fit the pieces of this puzzle together. You knew that there was a simple explanation for this, but you didn’t want to believe it. You wanted to believe that Sam had a normal life. It was the only way for you to keep one toe in the simple, nine to five life you’d often imagined as a child.

“Sammy!” A man with a jawbone that could cut glass came sauntering over. “Ellen got us a case down in Florida. Whadaya think? Kill some monsters, hit the beach, hit on hot chicks in bikinis on the beach?”

Sam let out a sound between a sigh and a grunt and turned to you. “Y/N, this is my brother Dean. Dean, my friend from Stanford.”

A case? Kill some monsters?

“My God, we’re idiots,” you said, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Dean and a cocked head from Sam. Shaking your head quickly to clear it, you stretched out your hand to shake Dean’s. “Sorry. I mean it’s really nice to meet you, Dean. I’m Y/N and I just came from a hunt in Arizona that turned out to be some ancient spirit from central Africa.”

Slowly, you slid your eyes from Dean over to Sam, meeting his wide-eyed stare as he finished the puzzle in his mind. “Wait, you’re telling me that—“

“We’ve both been hiding that we’re hunters for years? Yeah.”

“So when you said you had to go get your dad out of a hairy situation three years ago—“

“Werewolf. And you weren’t kidding when you said you just got out of a meeting with the devil himself?”

At that, Sam laughed. “Not at all. And when I said I had to go run and make a deal with a demon or my boss would fire me…”

“My God, I am such an idiot. You weren’t even trying to hide it.”

Again, he laughed and even though over a decade had passed since you first started crushing on him, you still found your heart doing somersaults.

While Dean subtly excused himself and you and Sam sat down to catch up on the unabridged versions of your lives, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. You and Sam push and pull like magnets do. Together, but never touching. Apart, but always on your mind. And there was always something in your way, some unseen force holding you back.

But there was nothing right now. Just the two of you. The both of you were confident in who you were. As you learned more about him, you could see your own past as a mirror image of his. Doubting if hunting was really the life for you. Wanting to make the world a better place by practicing law. Trying to get out. But then figuring out that this was where you belonged. The unspoken heroes.

Blood pounded through your veins as you built up the courage to say what you wanted. It was now or never. Time to take the chance.

“So, Sam. I have this hunt in Oregon. I was gonna ask Jo to be backup, but maybe… maybe you can come. It’ll be like old times. Late night study sessions in the library. Just higher stakes. More blood.”

He glanced over at his brother for a second, considering his options. Then a soft smile tweaked at his lips and you knew that you’d won. “When do we leave?”

Lyrics under the cut

[Bridge:] How many people wanna get this started? / From the front to the back, do you want it?

This life is never simple / And never quite serene / The sky is open / But I can't believe it's open to me / This time I'm taking chances / The chance is all a dream / This time I'll pick up the pieces / Never really thought that I could feel this

[Bridge]

Then listen to me step up / If you wanna feel this music / (Don't stop it, keep rockin') / Adrenaline phenomenon let's use it / (No need to prove it, just use it)

[Chorus:] You know who you are / Deep down in your heart / You've come so far / (Don't you know the time is now or never?)  / (First day of the rest of your life forever) / You know who you are / Deep down in your heart / You've come so far / (Hold me back once that's a warning) / (Hold me back again then you will be sorry)

If I can take me somewhere / If I can find the means  / If I can touch the things I / Never thought would be in my reach / My time is leaving me here / No friend of mine it seems / So I will pick up the piece / And never give it up since I can see this

[Bridge]

Then listen to me step up / If you wanna feel this music / (Don't stop it, keep rockin') / Adrenaline phenomenon let's use it / (No need to prove it, just use it)

[Chorus]

[Bridge x2]

[Chorus x2]

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Andrew Bogut, Click, and Complex: PLATINUM "AVERAGE" RATED SWEETHEART. ALL COVETED 1'S ON HIS SAFER. WIGGLY, SOCIAL, SUPER SWEET, ADORES PEOPLE, LIKES OTHER DOGS. A VOLUNTEER FAVORITE --SIMPLY A WINNER Perfect. precious. Bellamy ID 44859, . 5 YRS., 41 LBS OF WAGGY, NEUTERED & DREAMING OF A LOVING FAMILY, MANHATTAN ACC TO BE KILLED - 10/25/2018 PLATINUM AVERAGE RATED BELLAMY IS PRECIOUS, PERFECT AND A WINNER! Sometimes when we see the names that the ACC give incoming dogs, we wonder who picked it, who or what they had in mind, and whether it fits the dog. We googled the name Bellamy and found out it is the last name of a famous soccer player. Then there is Bellamy the Hyena (seems to be a comic hero), a former captain of the Bellamy Pirates, and a former member of the Donquixote Pirates. But finally, we found that Bellamy is also a boy’s name of Old French origin and it means “handsome friend.” We like that one, because it fit our Bellamy like a glove. There simply is no one more handsome, wiggly, social or sweet than our Bellamy – and he is the finest friend you could ever ask for. He arrived at the shelter as a stray, but you would have thought he was on a grand adventure. He won the hearts of the NYC PD who gave him his ride there, he was waggy with his finder and the ACC intake staff, and when it came time for his Behavior Assessment, he was soft, gentle, social and sweet with the assessor – it goes without saying he simply knocked that assessment right out of the proverbial park, and got all coveted 1’s across the board and a platinum AVERAGE rating. But it didn’t end there, because in playgroup he was bouncy, respectful and sweet with the other dogs. This kid is a star people. The volunteers adore him and so does everyone else. You won’t find a better companion or one more easy going, big of heart, and sweet. So what are you waiting for? Get off that darn sofa and foster or adopt him now! He’s neutered and ready to roll right into your life. PRIVATE MESSAGE our page or email us at MustLoveDogsNYC@gmail.com for assistance. Bellamy and his friend Princess Peach! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGp4IZV97NA BELLAMY, ID 44859, @ 5 Yrs. Old, 41.4 lbs. Manhattan ACC, Large Mixed Breed, Gray, Neutered Male I came to the shelter as an Agency, 10/19/2018 Shelter Assessment Rating: AVERAGE! Suitable for a family with an average amount of dog experience. Intake Behavior Rating: 1. Green AT RISK MEMO: Bellamy is at risk for medical, he has been diagnosed with canine infectious respiratory disease complex which will require rest and in home care. There are no behavior concerns for Bellamy and he should do well in most homes. INTAKE NOTE – DATE OF INTAKE 10/19/2018: Upon intake, Bellamy allowed all handling. Officers were able to place him in a crate without a problem. Bellamy allowed being collared and was receptive to head and body touches. OWNER SURRENDER NOTES – BASIC INFORMATION: Bellamy was brought into our facilities as a stray via the NYPD. He allowed all handling by the finders and the ACC staff. His prior history and behavior are unknown. SHELTER ASSESSMENT – DATE OF ASSESSMENT, 10/22/2018 Look:: 1. Dog holds gaze with soft eyes, soft body. Allows head to be held loosely in Assessor's cupped hands. Dog holds gaze for three full seconds. Sensitivity:: 1. Dog leans into the Assessor, eyes soft or squinty, soft and loose body, open mouth. Tag:: 1. Dog follows at the end of the leash, body soft. Paw squeeze 1:: 1. Dog gently pulls back his/her paw. Paw squeeze 2:: 2. Dog quickly pull back. Flank squeeze 1:: Item not conducted Flank squeeze 2:: Item not conducted Toy:: 1. Dog settles down close to chew, will relinquish toy to you. Summary:: Bellamy approached the assessor with a soft body. He was social throughout the assessment, allowed all handling, and displayed no concerning behaviors. PLAYGROUP NOTES – DOG TO DOG SUMMARIES: Bellamy may be most compatible with dogs who are respectful and gently playful. Playgroup Summary (1):: 10/19: When introduced off leash to a female dog, Bellamy engages in soft bouncy play with intent to mount. Playgroup Summary (2):: 10/20: Bellamy engages in some bouncy play with a female dog. ENERGY LEVEL:: We have no history on Bellamy so we cannot be certain of his behavior in a home environment. However, he is a young, enthusiastic, social dog who will need daily mental and physical activity to keep him engaged and exercised. We recommend long-lasting chews, food puzzles, and hide-and-seek games, in additional to physical exercise, to positively direct his energy and enthusiasm. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: AVERAGE (suitable for an adopter with an average amount of dog experience) Behavior Asilomar: H - Healthy MEDICAL NOTES: 23/10/2018 Hx: Constant diarrhea reported 10/21. Today, visualized this in kennel - puddles of diarrhea the consistency of melted ice cream. S: At front of kennel, barking and wagging tail O: No coughing, sneezing, nasal discharge A: Diarrhea - R/O stress colitis vs. early CIRDC vs. other cause P: 1. Metronidazole 125 mg PO BID x7 days 2. Proviable SID x7 days 1088 23/10/2018 SO BAR in kennel. Active at kennel front. liquid flat, brown diarrhea in kennel. EN -- sniffling, serous nasal discharge during observation. A CIRDC P doxycycline 2 tablets PO q24h x 14 days enrofloxacin 1.5 tablet PO q24h x 14 days cerenia 16mg tablet -- give 1 tablet PO q24h x 4 days 23/10/2018 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: Estimated 3-8 years based on dentition and overall appearance Microchip noted on Intake? Scanned negative History : Stray, no health hx available. Diarrhea noted 10/21 and 10/22, CIRDC diagnosed today. Subjective: Alert, walks well on leash Observed Behavior - Tail wagging, relaxed body, allows all handling Evidence of Cruelty seen - None Evidence of Trauma seen - None Objective BAR-H, MMs pink and moist, BCS 4/9 EENT: AU moderate yellow discharge, mild stenosis and erythema. Moderate serous nasal discharge. Eyes clear, no ocular discharge noted. Oral Exam: Heavy yellow staining on all teeth PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Soft, non painful, no masses palpated, not distended U/G: Male neutered, scrotum soft and empty MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Rectal: Normal externally Assessment: 1. CIRDC, diarrhea 2. Otitis externa 3. Slightly underweight Prognosis: Good Plan: 1. Clean ears and instill Claro AU 2. Monitor weight, ensure appropriate gain 1088 *** TO FOSTER OR ADOPT *** HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account \ Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications. Shelter contact information Phone number (212) 788-4000 Email adoption@nycacc.org Shelter Addresses: Brooklyn Shelter: 2336 Linden Boulevard Brooklyn, NY 11208 Manhattan Shelter: 326 East 110 St. New York, NY 10029 Staten Island Shelter: 3139 Veterans Road West Staten Island, NY 10309