#i started like ... doodling ... and then i just ... kept going

[natsredbra]

Tough graded

summary: Lottie thinks you’re mean - repeated tutoring sessions and a party proved her wrong!

pairing: Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

a/n: i hate this lowk but that happens with all my other stuff anyway soo

warnings: angst at the end, none other (mostly fluff and lesbian yearning)

word count: 3.5k

taglist: @towabirdno1fan, @minariiis, @feralnataroni, @lesbabe6, @radioactivesweet, @flurpe ,@ashliami, @johnnytoothpick @ikeepgettinglostwithchairs, @wompingburg

Lottie Matthews was a sweetheart. Everyone knew it. She was a popular girl, at least in a sense that everyone knew her. To be honest, she didn’t have many close friends, most of them being people she simply hangs out with.

Then there was you. You were just another student in Wiskayok High, with an average life, average home and average friend group. You were also familiar with Lottie, having being the first person she talked to once she moved from New York.

It was freshman year, and you’d never seen her before, her tall, seemingly confident appearance intimidated you a little. Somehow, you rubbed her up the wrong way that day and since then, she kept her distance. You didn’t notice it or pay much mind to her, but you always felt like she avoided you.

———————

“Settle down, class. We’re about to start.” Your chemistry teacher called out, preparing for the lecture as she attempted to calm a classroom of noisy teenagers down.

You sat in your admittedly uncomfortable chair, doodling in your notebook. At this point, it was as if the clock was going backwards. Ms Greene was in her own world, explaining something that might as well have been in chinese. Did I mention you don’t know dick about chemistry? And who could blame you, it’s not like any of this is actually important in the real world.

Fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, your mind wandered. You remembered you had leftover sandwich from your lunch, and were eager to eat it on your break. You also tried to come up with a plan on how to convince your parents to let you go to Jackie Taylor’s party on Saturday. But just as you were planning the dialogue, your teacher spoke something you deemed more significant.

“So I graded your tests, you mostly did okay. Shauna - kudos, the only 100.” The professor spoke, and you knew exactly what was to come.

“Y/N, come see me after class.” She said, looking at you through her glasses. There it was.

You dreaded the moment but once the bell rang, instead of exiting the classroom and getting your paper on your way out, you stayed back, waiting. It was like a walk of shame at this point.

“You wanted to see me?” You inquired dreadfully.

“Yes, I did. I take it you know why?” The woman said, sounding disappointed. Why would she be fucking disappointed, she’s not your mother!

“Guess so.”

“You got exactly 38%. Now, I’m wondering why that is? You told me you tried harder, you said you understood the curriculum.” She exclaimed, handing you your exam. Lots of the color red.

“I know! But it’s like whatever I study never shows up!” You defended, clutching your backpack.

“Well I’d hate to see you fail. So that’s why I thought of something else. Tutoring. I think it’d be very beneficial for you, a peer could provide an easier explanation.” Ms Greene said as if she discovered warm water, making you internally roll your eyes. “And I have just the perfect girl for it.” She continued.

Before you could protest, or say anything really, you could hear the door open again.

“You asked to see me?” Lottie Matthews, in all her glory said once she walked in. “I’m sorry I missed class today there was this-“ She started before the teacher cut her off.

“No, no. I know the situation, it’s perfectly fine. I wanted to talk to you about tutoring your friend from class here. She needs all the help she can get, and frankly I think you’d be perfect for it.” She explained and you were baffled with the implied insult.

Lottie on the other hand looked like her cat just got shot.

“Um- I just don’t know if I’d be right for that.” She said with an insecure tone, which was dismissed.

“No, as I said- after Shauna you’re the best in class, and god knows that girl has a lot on her plate. Thank you for your help, miss Matthews.” Greene said, leaving no room for argument on Lottie’s side.

You felt awkward. The tension was eating you alive and you weren’t even sure why there was any as you two stood, looking everywhere but each other.

“You’re both dismissed.”

“Right.”

———————

The library felt suffocating with how quiet it was. People your age all around you, focusing on their studies just as you did, though they made it seem so effortless.

Lottie sat across from you, reading a book for her english class that you didn’t catch the name of as you answered some homework questions.

“I don’t get this.” You said in an annoyed tone, making her raise her head in uncertainty.

“Well that’s why I’m here. What can I help with?” She asked with a sweet smile. Overdo, much?

“This. None of these structures make sense and they all look the same!” You complained, louder than one could in there which earned you a dirty look from the librarian.

“What do you mean though? It’s pretty logical, this one is connected with this carbon cause-“ Lottie started, getting a bit closer to you to see the paper properly. That was, until she noticed you seemed entirely uninterested in what she had to say.

“Are you listening? I’m trying to help you.” She asked in that tender tone that always laced her voice. Lottie was very hard to truly piss off.

You felt kind of bad when you noticed how genuine she seemed, it almost melted all your rough walls down. Once you looked up at her you were met with big, rich brown eyes that glowed in the golden colored afternoon sun. Her lips rested in a slight, disappointed pout as she fiddled with the pencil between her fingers.

“Sorry. Yeah, show me.” You apologized with a sigh, leaning forward to better see what she was speaking of.

Lottie gave you a small nod and smile, really showing off those rosy cheeks. Well she was beautiful, but who didn’t know that already?

You really did try your best to pay attention to whatever she was saying, she did put her all into it. But it was difficult, after her hand brushed with yours when handing you an eraser, or when she flashed you a big, toothy smile every time you got something right.

Okay, okay. You’ve had a crush on Lottie Matthews for ages, so what? What wasn’t there to like? She was smart, athletic, nice and so damn cute. But it’s not like she’d ever notice you. You simply weren’t in her league.

What did Lottie think though? She thought you hated her. Thought you were rude and arrogant. You never spoke to her unless it was a grunt that passed as a reply even though you cross paths so often. You avoided her like a plague when it came to seating arrangements in class. Once, you wouldn’t even let her have a cigarette.

But this all felt different to you both. To Lottie, she thought you finally broke the ice - she savored the sweet voice you used in a sentence like a bottle of good, fancy wine. And you learned she might not have been so out of reach after all.

The session you had stretched on, and once you finally understood some of the schoolwork you needed to do, your conversation bent into something more casual. Getting to know her was nice.

She told you about how her parent’s divorce affected her. You learned she, quite begrudgingly, went to her dad’s at New York every two weeks. She also said that her favorite kool aid flavor was Black Cherry, and her favorite candy bar was a snickers.

“So, when should we meet up next?” Lottie asked as the talk slightly died down.

“Well tomorrow is fine by me. We have that test on Friday.” You replied, packing your books again.

“Oh, sure! You know, you can come to mine. Might be less distracting.” She offered with a tinge of hope that you did not catch onto. You just thought of the fact that you were about to go to Lottie Matthews’ house. A nice one, you’ve heard.

“Okay, yeah. Let’s go to your place.”

—————

See this is how you found yourself in this situation. God knows you were too afraid to talk to her, yet your questionable chemistry grades brought you together and that is why you were right there, standing in front of her house and too antsy to ring the doorbell.

However you couldn’t stand here and hope she got a radio signal about your presence, so you did. Not a moment later, a chipper Lottie as usual, answered the door.

“Hi! I’m glad you found the house. Kinda on the down low.” She said, moving from the doorframe to let you in.

You gave her a small “yeah” as you entered. Not only was it on the down low, it was gorgeous too. Very expensive and high end furniture, paintings that seemed like they could belong in the Louvre. Though the prettiest thing there was Lottie.

She might’ve had her hair in a messy braid, wearing a striped white and pink shirt with a pair of gray sweatpants, but she still made it look cool and classy.

“Balls.” You muttered as your eyes landed on an immense, glistening chandelier in the middle of her living room.

“Oh, my mom bought that when we got the house to piss off my dad and drain his bank account.” Lottie said way too casually, “Let’s go to my room.”

As you followed her upstairs you tried your best not to let your eyes rake over her lean from, but it proved to be hard. She really did look good - and it checks out, she’s a soccer player!

You wondered how strong her legs must’ve been, she could definitely trap you under-

“I’m sorry for the mess, the maid is coming later today.” Lottie said apologetically, tossing some clothes from her bed for you to sit on.

Her room was much different from the rest of the house and resembled Lottie herself. Girl band posters all around, a floral bedding, and photos of her soccer squad scattered all across her room.

“This is cool. I like the little bee.” You said, picking up one of the frames your gaze landed on. A picture of her and Jackie Taylor warmly smiling to the camera with a bunch of team spirit makeup.

“Oh, thanks! I just took that one about a week ago, I like keeping stuff like that.” She said, coming up behind you to take a look herself.

Right now, you could smell her perfume. Something sweet, vanilla and roses maybe - casually on her, as if it were part of her skin.

She slowly walked back to the bed, patting the spot next to her as she got her textbooks out.

You waltzed over there too, hugging your knees to your chest as she sorted everything.

“Can I ask you something first?” Lottie blurted, looking up at you with an unsure expression- made your chest flutter a bit.

“Of course.” You simply replied as you fiddled with the sheets under you.

“Did you like- hate me or something?” She asked with a nervous giggle, obviously a bit flustered.

“What, no I- wait, why would you think that?” You questioned back very invested, turning to her fully and bringing your knees to your chest. She repeated your action.

“It’s just…since we met, there’s been this weird thing between us both. I don’t think I did anything, but if I’m wrong, you can tell me.” Lottie spoke softly, voice sweet as honey as she hugged her knees.

“You didn’t. I was just being an ass.” You admitted, suddenly feeling a bit stupid for how you treated the girl. She obviously didn’t deserve that.

In fact, let’s take a quick look onto the day you met her.

~ You sat in a stuffy classroom full of people you went to middle school with just a couple of months ago, feeling the light breeze that the window cast.

It was a bit much, all the pre class yelling at eight in the morning along with the wind slapping your face repeatedly, but you pushed through it. When you raised your head, you saw something that was quite interesting. Which was rare for freshman year of high school.

A taller brunette speaking to your teacher that checked her schedule before nodding her head, likely a “you’re in the right place” signal. The girl she talked to wasn’t hard on the eyes either.

Oh shit, your seating mate wasn’t in here! She was definitely gonna seat her with you. How are you supposed to talk to such a hot girl again? Okay, now you’re just overthinking it, she could be nice.

“Hiya!” She cheered once she sat down, extending a hand, “I’m Charlotte. Everyone calls me Lottie though.”

You took the hand she put out, saying your own name sheepishly.

“Um…are you in any clubs or sports teams?” She asked, clearly trying to make conversation. Though it wasn’t clear to you.

“No.”

“Oh okay! Well- shit, I hope I’ll catch up with all the studying. New York is different with this stuff.” Lottie spoke, though you didn’t dare meet her eye. You might’ve passed out.

Somehow, what she said sounded weird to you. Maybe a little entitled? But she didn’t seem the type. That was, until you caught eye of the watch she wore. Was it real fucking gold? Likely. This girl was so out of your stratosphere.

“I think you’ll be fine.” You replied with a tight lipped, unwelcoming smile. Really, you didn’t mean for it to come off that harsh.

All she could do was sit in silence. She pissed you off already, somehow. Great work Lott! Was it even possible to make an enemy before a friend in a brand new school? Apparently. And anyway, her dad was her biggest one so it wasn’t such a foreign concept to her.

~ ”I understand.”

“Huh?” You inquired further, a tad confused and spaced out.

“I understand, trying to protect yourself for any reason. I get it.” She said again in that quiet tone which made you always want to pull her in for a deep, soul lacing kiss.

“Thank you.��� You whispered as your eyes beheld hers. There was a sempiternal longing in them, something you’d never seen in anyone else.

“I don’t know why, but I really get you. I feel like…I know what’s going on with you, even though I don’t. We should definitely keep hanging out.” Lottie proclaimed happily, her voice still low.

You could see it in her eyes, that she was telling the truth. That she was genuine. You could see everything in her eyes. She could not hide or shy away from you.

“Me too. I feel the same way.” You said in a smoky tone.

She moved a bit closer, slightly forward until your knees touched. Just as she was about to speak again, there was a knock on her door.

“Lottie sweetheart?” A woman called out, likely her mother. She didn’t wait for an answer before pushing the door, and Lottie jumped as if electrocuted.

“Hey! We were just-“ She started, sitting flat on the bed and keeping her hands in her lap.

Mrs Matthews took a look around the room, then a long one at you.

“Go on. What were you doing?” She asked, her tone bordering on accusatory.

“This is my tutee mom. We were studying.” Lottie rushed, pointing to the books next to the two of you as if to make a point.

“Right. So, what did you need help with?” Lottie’s mother honeyed, turning towards you. Her lips curved in a smile, though it made you feel a certain unease.

“Chemistry. Ms Greene put us together.” You wheezed out, trying to ignore the slight charge in the air.

“Wonderful. Dinner’s at six. Let me know if your friend is staying.” And with that she left the room, leaving you with both of the previous and brand new tension.

“So should we start-“

“Are you coming to Jackie’s thing on Saturday?” Lottie asked, hugging her knees yet again.

“If my parents let me, yeah.”

“Good. Try to be there, okay?”

—————

Yeah, of course that’s how you ended up there. Since you did amazing on your test the previous day, with the luxury of Lottie’s help of course, you were able to persuade your parents into letting you go.

That’s why you’re now grabbing a glass of absolutely horrid spiked punch in Jackie’s glamorous kitchen, with an attempt to calm your nerves.

You’d only gotten to the party - maybe half an hour ago? And you definitely still weren’t buzzed enough to talk to Lottie.

There she was, in all her glory, wearing a slip dress to a fucking high school party. A purple one with her hair down and in its natural wave.

The shoes she wore were her signature doc martens with which she’d likely be buried in. In one hand rested a solo cup, filled with either the god awful liquid you drank or beer. Between her middle and pointer finger was a lit cigarette.

She looked entirely dazzling in the dimly lit room, filled with escapades of sin and Lottie’s silfira. Or that’s how you saw it in your reverie at least.

She surveyed the room for you as if no one else was there, mouthing you a “hi” as the guy next to her, some kid from her history class, continued to talk her ear off.

Politely she excused herself, leaving him bewildered as she walked over to you.

“How are you?” Lottie asked over the loud speakers, leaning onto the island next to you as she offered you a drag of her cigarette.

“I’m okay. Little bored though.” You said, sipping your drink again.

“Well we have to fix that don’t we?” She exclaimed in her usual chipper tone, moving over to face you. You could smell smoke, alcohol and cherries on her lips, since she stood so close to you.

“Do we?” You pondered jokingly, or not. Her idea of fun was likely something you’d regret in the morning, in terms of embarrassment at least. She was quite intoxicated too.

“Yes, we do! You know, I’ve never seen you dance.” Lottie teased, running the rim of her cup over her bottom lip.

“That’s because I don’t! Especially not here.” You interjected, gazing around the place.

“Oh come on! Dancing is fun, okay? I’ll even do it with you.” Lottie practically begged, gawking at you with those pouty eyes no one has ever said no to.

Fuck it. A month ago you’d give anything to dance with Lottie Matthews. Better yet, to be noticed by Lottie Matthews. This was a one time opportunity and you couldn’t let yourself pass it up because of slight insecurity and anxiety.

“Let’s go.” You muttered, downing the rest of your drink. Once you did, Lottie cheered a little, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the dance floor.

Her balter made you feel slightly better about your own moves, or better yet the lack of thereof. She let her hands wander, pressing her chest against your back as she trailed your abdomen to the beat. You could only follow her movements and remind yourself how to breathe here and there, of course.

She was warm and inviting against you, making your hips move with ease. Everything was easy around her. She was amazing to talk to, talk about. You decided to try your luck, moving around and pressing your chest against hers.

She seemed as surprised and as happy with the action as you were. The charge between you was inevitable and couldn’t go unnoticed.

Just as you wrapped your arms around her neck, there seemed to be a shift. Something in her eyes - those that were like a book for you to read, something overcame them.

She jolted away slightly, making you stumble back.

“Lottie, what’s wrong?” You yelled out over the obscene noise.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Lottie stammered, you couldn’t hear her but you read her lips well enough.

She gave you one more mordant look before scurrying off, pushing past the drunk teenagers as she left you behind. Turned around five times to check on where you were as well.

But you? You stood there in absolute shock. All the booze you consumed made your mind hazy, and you could barely believe what was happening. For a whole week, there had been a “will they won’t they” vibe between the two of you and what? Now she just runs off?

No, this was your fault. Your fault for making yourself believe and hope for a person you always knew was out of reach, untouchable for you, even. Lottie must’ve been embarrassed of you, that had to be it.

Anyhow, for a moment you stood there all alone, mean, unwelcome tears burning in your eyes as your whole body felt numb - other than the pounding headache that started to wash over you. How did it come down to this?

[lovely-kalli1st0]

HELLO! I adore captive prince and I've been drawing little sketches and then I found the absolutely stunning fic by @kybelles 'beautiful boy' about babianos so here's some doodles of babianos - and others

- I think it'd be so funny if new born Damen had Theomedes going whose god damn white baby is that 😭

- he's an early baby but he's got big brown eyes that look like Egeria's and everyone loves him

- 4 year old Damen was bullied for being too pretty the other kids would run around yelling 'pretty face'

- HES MY CUTIE PATOOTIE he has so much hope in his eyes + his dimple conquers everyone 🤭

- I like thinking Theomedes tried to keep Egeria a little alive in Damianos, he was dressed in green chitons because that was the colour of his mother's eyes and her favourite colour. Also little things like her wedding bracelet being turned into an accessory for Damen.

- also I believe there was a time where Kastor genuinely loved Damen and his necklace is a gift from Kastor to his baby brother who follows him around like a baby duckling

Sigh...

- his eyes lose his childhood innocence but he gets swole

- in my mind pre teen/tween Damen is like chubby partially because of the baby fat and then obviously because he's a wrestler.

- I feel like he kept long hair at one point, like idk Nikandros visited one summer from the north and had long hair because that's the fashion there and Damen also wanted to grow his

- and yes the bandages are from Kastor the loser manchild stabbing him 😮‍💨

- older Damen still has pretty eyes like he's one of those asshole guys with gorgeous long eyelashes that girls are jealous of

- but that baby fat leaves and he starts displaying like proper musculature

- Marlas Damen OKAY I have this thing where I like drawing him as a teenager because sometimes I feel like people forget he was 17/19 leading armies and going into wars. Damen has a compassionate heart and he was just a boy when he saw all the men he grew up with and friends of his get stabbed and die on the field.

- so it's super important to me that I still draw some of that youth

Okay thank U for attending my ted talk 💪❣️

(full image)

[gambeque]

short

[frostgnawdraws]

Silly comic of hatchling's helmet handle being used as god intended. This took me way too long

[valkavavaart]

been playing hit psp game crisis core. why doesn't the big soldier simply eat the little soldier.

[marzimars]

‘Cuz you are the best lawyer in town 🎶

[lowpolyshadow]

i have art block but i also don't have art block you feel me

[dietmimo]

🥛

[sysig]

Join in! No seriously join in, please, come on, you were invited (Patreon)

[acesammy]

In my attempts to fill in some of the old art I never bothered posting to tumblr, here are a couple of M*A*S*H doodles from 2021. I drew them during a lunch break on a couple of sticky notes

[juustozzi]

oop finally got to play the beta story update, gonna ramble in tags (will have spoilers)

[keeps-ache]

morning - afternoon - night

[look at my background boy- under the cut]

[raven13skye]

Sketch that ended up turning into Kairi <3

[physalian]

How To Make Your Writing Less Stiff 5

Movement

Dredging this back up from way back.

Make sure your characters move, but not too much during heavy dialogue scenes. E.g. two characters sitting and talking—do humans just stare at each other with their arms lifeless and bodies utterly motionless during conversation? No? Then neither should your characters. Make them…

Gesture

Wave

Frown

Laugh

Cross their legs/their arms

Shift around to get comfortable

Pound the table

Roll their eyes

Point

Shrug

Touch their face/their hair

Wring their hands

Pick at their nails

Yawn

Stretch

Sniff/sniffle

Tap their fingers/drum

Bounce their feet

Doodle

Fiddle with buttons or jewelry

Scratch an itch

Touch their weapons/gadgets/phones

Check the time

Get up and sit back down

Move from chair to tabletop

The list goes on.

Bonus points if these are tics that serve to develop your character, like a nervous fiddler, or if one moves a lot and the other doesn’t—what does that say about the both of them? This is where “show don’t tell” really comes into play.

As in, you could say “he’s nervous” or you could show, “He fidgets, constantly glancing at the clock as sweat beads at his temples.”

This site is full of discourse on telling vs showing so I’ll leave it at that.

Epithets

In the Sci-fi WIP that shall never see the light of day, I had a flashback arc for one male character and his relationship with another male character. On top of that, the flashback character was a nameless narrator for Reasons.

Enter the problem: How would you keep track of two male characters, one who you can't name, and the other who does have a name, but you can’t oversaturate the narrative with it? I did a few things.

Nameless Narrator (written in 3rd person limited POV) was the only narrator for the flashback arc. I never switched to the boyfriend’s POV.

Boyfriend had only a couple epithets that could only apply to him, and halfway through their relationship, NN went from describing him as “the other prisoner” to “his cellmate” to “his partner” (which was also a double entendre). NN also switched from using BF’s full name to a nickname both in narration and dialogue.

BF had a title for NN that he used exclusively in dialogue, since BF couldn’t use his given name and NN hadn’t picked a new one for himself.

Every time the subject of the narrative switched, I started a new paragraph so “he” never described either character ambiguously mid-paragraph.

Is this an extreme example? Absolutely, but I pulled it off according to my betas.

The point of all this is this: Epithets shouldn’t just exist to substitute an overused name. Epithets de-personalize the subject if you use them incorrectly. If your narrator is thinking of their lover and describing that person without their name, then the trait they pick to focus on should be something equally important to them. In contrast, if you want to drive home how little a narrator thinks of somebody, using depersonalizing epithets helps sell that disrespect.

Fanfic tends to be the most egregious with soulless epithets like "the black-haired boy" that tell the reader absolutely nothing about how the narrator feels about that black-haired boy, espeically if they're doing so during a highly-emotional moment.

As in, NN and BF had one implied sex scene. Had I said “the other prisoner” that would have completely ruined the mood. He’s so much more than “the other prisoner” at that point in the story. “His partner,” since they were both a combat team and romantically involved, encompassed their entire relationship.

The epithet also changed depending on what mood or how hopeless NN saw their situation. He’d wax and wane over how close he believed them to be for Reasons. NN was a very reserved character who kept BF at a distance, afraid to go “all in” because he knew there was a high chance of BF not surviving this campaign. So NN never used “his lover”.

All to say, epithets carried the subtext of that flashback arc, when I had a character who would not talk about his feelings. I could show you the progression of their relationship through how the epithets changed.

I could show you whenever NN was being a big fat liar about his feelings when he said he's not in love, but his narration gave him away. I could show you the exact moment their relationship shifted from comrades to something more when NN switched mid-paragraph from "his cellmate" to "his partner" and when he took up BF's nickame exclusively in the same scene.

I do the same thing in Eternal Night when Elias, my protagonist, stops referring to Dorian as "it" and "the vampire" instead of his name the moment they collide with a much more dangerous vampire, so jarringly that Elias notices in his own narration—the point of it being so explicit is that this degredation isn't automatic, it's something he has to conciously do, when everyone else in his clan wouldn't think twice about dehumanizing them.

—

Any literary device should be used with intent if you want those layers in your work. The curtains are rarely just blue. Whether it’s a simile with a deliberate comparison or an epithet with deliberate connotations, your readers will pick up on the subtext, I promise.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier

[cherryyluvs]

Little Notes, Big Feelings

Notes in your locker, simple, and anonymous. A little bit sweet. You never expected Mark Grayson confessing that he likes you. ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

It started with a note, neatly folded and tucked in between the vents of your locker. Just barely sticking out and impossible to miss.

You were half asleep still rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes. grabbing the little slip of paper “Pop quiz in Johnson's class today. Hope you studied. (I didn't, Whoops.)"

You blinked at it, turning it over just to see no name, no clue on who wrote it. Just a simple, neat handwriting, and a tiny smiling doodle of Seance dog in the corner. You glanced around the busy hallway, scanning faces. But no one seemed to be watching you. Just students going to their class, laughing with their friends, and stuffing books into their bags.

Weird. But sweet.

After that notes kept coming, little messages that made you smile. “Did you see the new episode of Seance Dog? Crazy right?” Other times they would be personal. “You looked really happy today.” You kept every single one, tucking them into your notebook like they were little treasures. You found yourself looking forward to them, and you wanted to know them too. So one afternoon you decided to write back, slipping a note into your own locker. Leaving it right where the mysterious writer had been placing theirs. “Okay, secret admirer, your turn. Who are you?”

The next morning a reply was waiting. “If i tell you. It ruins the fun doesn't it?” You let out a huff, fine.

If they wanted to play, you’d play. The back and forth went on for weeks! You had asked what their favorite color was (Yellow but sometimes blue) . Some were rants about a new superhero sighting or how the cafeteria’s chicken nuggets are a danger to society. “The cafeteria nuggets are definitely a health hazard. Stay safe out there”

There's a response the next morning, “RIGHT?? I'm glad someone gets it. Also I can neither confirm or deny that I saw one of those nuggets move.” The messages became part of your daily routine, a little secret, something that made the school day a little brighter.

And one day you found a note that made your heart drop.

“Would it be weird if i said i kinda like you?” Your fingers trembled slightly as you held the small piece of paper. This wasn't just playful anymore, this is real. At this point you needed to know who it was.

You waited, keeping an eye out at your locker, hoping to catch them in the act. Whoever they were, they were good at being sneaky. So you tried a different approach.

You left a note in return, simple and direct. “Not weird. Kind of sweet, but I think i'd like it more if I knew who you were.”

The next day there was no note, and after that, nothing. Your heart sank, had you scared them off? Had they changed their mind? It gnawed at you, making you realize just how much these silly little notes meant to you.

And then it finally happened. You were at your locker, gathering books for your next class, when a voice behind you cleared their throat. “Uh… hey.” You turned around to face the stranger and there he was. Mark Grayson, moving nervously on his feet, his easygoing confidence nowhere to be found. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes but you could see the pink creeping on his cheeks.

It clicked instantly. The handwriting on the notes, the way he always looked in your direction in class when you weren't paying attention. Mark, who was sweet and awkward, always rambling about comics and superhero movies.

“You're-”

He exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for days. “Yeah it's me.” Your heart fluttered, warmth flooding into your chest.

Mark Grayson, you'd noticed him, you never thought if he had noticed you but he had. And for a long time apparently, “So.. was that too weird? He asked hesitantly. “I can stop if-” You shook your head, a small smile creeping onto your face.

Pulling out a pen from your purse and grabbing his wrist, before he could question it, you scribbled onto his palm.

“No, not weird at all.” When he read it, his entire face lit up.