#jen's scribbles

[jenthetranskitsune]

Not my best work but I figured I should share it anyways, was fun to write.

[scribe-kitsune]

The sound of boots on metal made her look up to see Ward approaching her. She avoided letting her hand instinctively twitch towards her knife. “We should talk.” She raised an eyebrow, those were not great words to start with, “About?” He took & released a breath, leaning against the railing a few feet from where she was sitting under it, “You’ve been avoiding me.” Skye winced. She had been hoping that the specialist had somehow not noticed that. “Yeah, so?”

This took longer than expected.

[graveyardcrab]

feeling good feeling sassy

practice sketches… first time drawing him

bad habit of changing my styles

[devilatelier]

[wineonmytshirt]

me putting more work into this ftpanon event than anything i've ever done in college dsfjkjkdfjkdf

[tarjapearce]

Bad Teachings

College Professor AU! Miguel O'Hara x reader

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Smut (I tried my best, I swear ;w;) Mildly dubious-con. Age gap implied

Hope you like 🥹✨

The last semester felt impossibly harder, nerve wrecking and it was as usual chipping away the little social life you had. Not that you had many friends really, mostly of the people you hung out with, were people that always ended either paired with you or gathered in group works.

Sure you were invited to parties here and there, but nothing too concrete.

But right now, none of it mattered, as you sat before your teacher, Peter B. Parker, at the verge of tears.

"Look, I know it seems like you'll fail, but you still have a chance." He was packing up his things and then looked your way. " I know you care for the other classes, but this one is also important. I just can't help you out this time."

"It was just one assignment! Mr. Parker. One! I had none to drive me out to that place."

"What about your friends?"

"Just... Please?, This is my last class, I can't afford another semester here."

Peter was one of the few lax teachers out there that would help out here and there when he was able to. One of your favorites actually, contrary to what people said, he was a good teacher.

"I know, I know, kid. Just let me see what I can do ok? Im not promising anything, but I can try. Mr. O'Hara isn't that bad."

You groaned hopelessly.

"God, Im so dead"

"He's not that bad. He's all bark and no bite, I'm telling you"

"Not to question your decisions, Mr. Parker but from all the teachers you could've picked, why Mr. O'Hara?"

"Not up to me kid, administration's doing. Besides, I'll be gone just a couple of weeks. You'll do fine. I'll speak to him, okay?"

You just nodded, hope hanging on a thread.

-------

You were fucked . In fact, you could already picture your parents' mortified expression upon the news and the student loan could only stretch up so far . Miguel O'Hara was... brutal.

He took no shit from anyone, he had 'zero chill' or so you had heard among the other students that barely passed with him. However, you were learning what you needed and wanted to learn. He was demanding, but a great teacher.

"He's hot." One of your classmates admitted as you were gathered in study groups to do an assignment due in a couple of hours.

"I heard he's married."

"No, he's not. No kids, nothing."

"I heard his daughter died."

"He doesn't like talking about that, Jen."

You subtly glanced at him, so ever stoic, frowning and serious, checking and grading assignments like nothing. He was intimidating overall. Everyone behaved and actually studied when he teached.

Class ended shortly after you finished the study group. However you waited a bit longer when everyone had been out to submit your group's part. And also, probably have a chance to ask about your class status.

The first thing you couldn't help but notice was how snug the button t-shirt was on him, your nose detected a tingle of his cologne, His hair was long yet well kept and silky looking. Hell, he probably had a better hair routine than you. His hands movements were smooth and swift, as if they had memorized a pattern. He stopped and looked up to you. For being a man on his early forties he looked younger.

A chill ran down your spine.

"Leave it there." He went back to scribbling notes and you obeyed.

"Mr. O'Hara?"

"Hm?"

You sighed quietly, fearful he might sense your fear.

"Sorry to bother you, Um... I was wondering if-" you swallowed as he looked back at you with a slight frown in his face

"If Mr. Parker left any extra work for me?"

His brow raised in confusion

"I haven't seen Mr. Parker in months, niña. I was just called two days ago to cover up his spot."

Shit.

"R-Right. Uh, I just asked since he said he would-"

"Help you out? Yeah, that's not happening."

"I know it's just another day for you when students come here and cry-"

"You're not crying, so that's a first."

Your cheeks burned a little at his odd praising, but also you were embarrassed overall. Your favorite teacher had definitely forgot about you.

"Just... hear me out. This is my last class, my last semester's weeks And I truly cannot afford to repeat the class."

"And that is my problem because?"

Your lips tightened and soon your eyes turned glossy, but still you were determined to see it through.

"It's just 5 points I need to keep my score and have my record approved."

"The class ain't over yet. Better keep it up."

"Mr. O'Hara, pl-"

"No."

"I will buy you empanadas?" He snorted

"See you next semester, kid. Close the door when you're out."

His no was pretty much definitive. Sighing you marched away from the classroom and closed the door. You didn't cry. That was something.

----

The following days you spent holed up in the library, roomie to loud and messy to be around as you prepared for the pre evaluation for the finals, occasionally you caught a glimpse of Miguel O'Hara, working as usual in his favorite corner, un bothered.

What truly was pissing you is that some of your teammates hadn't submitted their part of the job, wich was due tomorrow. The whole report was half done and still it was alot left to do. You were trying. And just when you felt anxiety began worming it's way in you, the seat across you was dragged open and no other than Mr. Miguel O'Hara sat before you.

He looked at you with a blank yet curious gaze.

"You look like you're about to have a nervous wreck."

"I am."

"Right, here." He showed you a printed paper, "Meet me there, at 6. Don't make plans."

"What?" you squinted your eyes to read the information

"Thought you wanted help?" Exasperated at your obliviousness he huffed, "Guess not"

"Wait!" you snatched the paper out of his hands, "Sorry. Just.. Thank you" he smirked.

Your eyes lit up upon reading the paper and nodded. If it wasn't for you being so tired, and him being scary, you'd probably hug him.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" You spoke in between whispers.

"Si si, cállate. Look, it's a conference college is organizing, in a week, if you want those five extra, go. I'll be there. Don't make plans."

"Funny you think I have a social life, Mr. O'Hara. But thanks. I really appreciate it."

"At 6. Formal dress code."

"Gotcha." you nodded as you grinned. He left you alone.

----

You'd look like a liar if he saw you, a cocktail in your hand, chatting to a classmate that was nice enough talk to. It was a small celebration for a good score in the past assignment, you could breath a little, feel a bit hopeful.

"Did you saw Mr. O'Hara today? God..." the girl almost moaned in the spot.

"You kidding? He doesn't fuck his students."

"Who knows, I might be the first?"

"In getting reported maybe. Dude is scary. A friend of mine repeated twice with him."

"What about you, (Name)? I saw you in the library chatting with him."

The whole attention suddenly dropped on you.

"Ah, yeah he told me he'd see me next semester"

"Shut up. You're failing too?"

"Yeah. I mean, sure he's hot and stuff, but... yeah. I don't know how to tell my parents actually. Add me to the chat group, by the way"

Before the conversation turned into how half female college students wanted him, your classmate took you to another private spot. Mike Aguilar was his name, someone that like you, avoided unnecessary attention. What you didn't expect was that he stole a kiss from you. Between cocktails and making out with Mike for a long time, the loud music, it felt good. Felt good to experience the other side of broke colege student.

You ended up being taken to your room, railed up but Mike was gentleman enough to not indulge since you both were drunk. How long had been since someone actually indulged you? Even more so, that you had indulged  yourself? You removed your pants.

You were alone, but locked up the door, and grabbed your phone. Looking up in the group chat you looked for Mike's contact and typed.

"Hey Miky"

He replied almost instantly

"Sup, hlt stuff?" He didn't care for the typos

"Wanna see aumthin?"

"*Something"

You giggled as he send a "🥴" emoji.

Biting your lip, you put the phone in a pillow and began recording. Hands trailing on your clothed breasts as you sat down and spreaded your legs. One of your hands dipped inside your panties as the other one uncovered your breast to then squeeze and toy with one.

Your mouth had shaped in an 'o' as you bucked your hips to ride slowly your own hand. Your moans were needy and they turned more wanton as you kept toying with your nipples and clit, soon gasping for air, coming undone.

You then brought your slicked fingers to your mouth and licked them clean with a groan. You then giggled and stopped recording. The alcohol buzzed fully in your system, not only clouding your judgment, but also firing up a dirty mind.

"For your eyes only"

You uploaded the video and pressed send.

Tossing the phone on your nightstand, you went back to keep indulging in yourself before your roomie could get back. But this time, you had in mind a very specific scary teacher to think about.

----

The constant beeping in your phone bolted you awake. You turned off the alarm and saw your phone. Your eyes went wide awake as dread crept up to you.

"So... What was that you wanted to show me?"

Oh no.

Panic surged through your body as seeing Mr. O'Hara's chat open with a 'video' description. Shaky fingers opened it up, only to reveal the 'seen' mark in the chat.

OH NO.

-----

Against all odds and what could go wrong, you showed up in class. Sure, sending a porn video of yourself to your scary teacher was a major fuck up. But failing class would be even a bigger fuck up of all times, You had one foot outside of it all. Once out of college you wouldn't see Mr. O'Hara, and eventually he'd forget it all. Besides, you were pretty sure that he'd receive that kind of messages on a daily basis.

Sighing, you entered the classroom and as quietly as you could you sat in the very back of it. Class went as normal as you could, but the feeling of being watched was always present. Thankfully class was over and just as you snuck to get in, you snuck out.

You couldn't look at him in the face, not after what you had done in that video. Another reason of why you didn't drink often. But now a new problem laid ahead. How would you face him on Saturday?

Talking about, you didn't even know what to wear. Maybe the universe was conspiring against you, but you were grateful enough that he didn't bring it up, maybe he didn't pay much attention. There were so many scenarios running your mind.

----

In the end, you wrote an apology. It was easier to just apologize without seeing his face, and maybe things would be buried and forgotten as days passed.

But no. He had requested to see you after class.

As you approached you squeezed the written apologize and sighed once you were before his desk, across him.

"I need you to sign here, to confirm your assistance tomorrow."

You gulped and took the pen, after sliding the letter to him. He cocked an eyebrow to you as you signed.

"What's this?" He took the crumpled paper and opened it up. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see, amusement in them. A knowing look seizing you.

"I'm so so sorry. The... The video I mean. It wasn't for you, I swear! But I was-"

"Drunk and stupid? Yeah. Noted." He tossed the letter in the trashbin and stood with his arms on his waist, "I thought you were better than that, (Name)"

Your eyes glossed over the disappointment in his tone.

"Has anyone else seen it?"

You shook your head.

His eyes glinted with something dark, something you couldn't actually pinpoint and to be honest you were too embarrassed to ask.

"Good. Anyway, 6 pm. Austen's Auditorium"

"T-That far?"

"Have a problem?"

"Uh, no. I'll be there. I'll call an Uber."

"I'll drive you."

"What? No! I mean, no. I'm uncomfortable enough as it is. Don't wanna make this even more awkward."

"Trust me, nothing that I haven't seen before, unfortunately."

"Yeah, no. I'll call an Uber. I'm financially fucked anyways. Thanks" His pupils dilated so ever softly at the way your lips muttered the word fucked. His face remained steely as usual, but his eyes gave away so much.

"Whatever. Meet me in the last row, second seat, then."

------

You showed up, high waisted, tight, black, upper knee length skirt with a small slit on the side, a cream colored blouse with matching bra and a black blazer with nude heels. It was the standar, and the only truly formal wear you had in your closet. Uber drove you to the venue and soon, you met Miguel and sat next to him. You could recognize some other students along some other teachers from other areas. Conference was about the new ways of teaching and learning, nothing too groundbreaking as you had originally thought.

The conference was two hours long and at the end, you signed up a paper sheet and was told to wait on the entrance as Miguel greeted and signed out.

"Let's go."

Miguel guided you by placing a hand on your lower back, and gave a gentle push for you to follow him.

"Car's on the third floor"

"I told you that I could get an Uber."

"And risk you to be kidnapped or something? Not a chance. Besides I wanna keep my job as much as I can."

"Gee, thanks for caring, Mr. O'Hara."

"Todo un placer, preciosa." He chuckled

Your knees trembled as he spoke in spanish, you were sat on the front seat and fastened your seatbelt. He started the engine but it just revved a couple of times before it went dead. And just when you thought nothing could go wrong, it started pouring. Hard.

"Shit."

You groaned in frustration and Miguel smirked.

"Why the rush? Have somewhere to go?"

"No, Mr. O'Hara. Just wanted to rest. I'm not used to wear heels actually."

"Thought you were meeting with that guy you were making out the other night"

Your eyes widened in utter embarrassment as he stretched in his seat.

"Jesus... this can't be even more embarrassing."

"As your teacher, I completely disapprove such behaviors. Specially with that cabrón. He's not a good person."

"What do you mean?"

"He's conditioned. Likes to spread out intimate content of girls he gets."

"How do you know this?"

"I told you, nothing I haven't seen before."

You sank in your seat, mulling over his words.

"Hate to admit but... Im kinda glad knowing this. I mean, I'm really embarrassed though, but-"

"You're glad that little video fell onto my hands and not someone else?"

You nodded, unable to look at him as your face flushed.

"Yes, what?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"Must admit though." His hands on the wheel tightened. "It took me by surprise. Out of all the female students, you, did a whole show."

You gulped as your breath hitched. His eyes squinted and that dark tingle was back at it again

"Hands in those cute ass panties, riding your hand like it was the last thing you'd ever ride."

His hand pulled his hair back as he bit his lip so ever softly. You on the other hand were trembling, unable to look at him in the eye.

"Who were you thinking of?"

"N-None. I swear. This is... really really bad"

"Maybe, but so is sending really explicit videos to your teacher, preciosa."

You shut your mouth and looked at him, he leaned in and studied your face. His index and thumb taking your chin.

"You're trembling. Why? A pretty thing like you shouldn't fear me. I'm not gonna hurt you. Quite the opposite actually." His thumb caressed your cheek and his lips brushed over yours.

"I wanna make you feel as good as you did in that video." He kissed your cheek and bit softly at your earlobe earning a shudder. It was like if another person had took over him.

"Can I? You want me to make you feel good, muñeca?"

He was overwhelming your senses, then you felt him unbuttoning your shirt. You nodded.

"W-Wait... what if someone sees us?"

Miguel unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you for a deep kiss. Moaning, your hands raked down his chest, stopping at his belt.

"Don't worry on it. It's fucking pouring outside." He riled up your skirt up, exposing the fabric of your panties. His lips went to your neck and kissed a soft trail as his fingers dipped between clothed folds, earning a whimper. His free hand managed to pull out one of your breast and then rolled his tongue over it.

"So sensitive" His fingers rubbed in slow circles your little flesh mount. He took a moment to pull one of the windows two inches down, enough for air to seep in.

"Spread those legs for me, preciosa. Lemme see that pretty pussy." Your hips accommodated as your skirt was pushed upwards, he then removed your panties and smiled.

"Sit on the back seat. Can't taste you properly like that." With trembling hands you moved on the back leathery wide seat as he moved the front ones forward, leaving more space in the back. He removed his blazer and his tie. Your heels long forgotten in the front seat. He seemed like a caged animal in a tiny space, and you a small snack for him.

His hands kneaded the supple flesh of your thighs, you removed the blazer and soon he finished unbuttoning your shirt, your bra was unclasped, spilling your breast freely. He groaned and kissed you once more. In your haste you unbuckled his belt but he stopped you.

"Are you on contraceptives?"

His fingers spreaded your legs further, exposing your slick flesh. You just nodded dumbly.

"No habrá problema entonces." He muttered more to himself than anyone as he bend over, one of your thighs dangled in his left shoulder as he brought your slit closer to his mouth.

He did a small cross blessing on himself and a little prayer and licked his lips.

"We've got to be grateful for this meal." His tongue went flat against your slit and dragged it up. Your toes curled up and you groaned.

"Mira qué lindo coño tienes, mi amor." His lips focused in the little bundle of nerves, giving it soft suckles, kisses as his tongue dribbled in your inner folds.

"Podría comerte todo el día" He mumbled as he gave feathery bites on your plush flesh. His hands held your thighs, you were too enraptured in pleasure to mumble a coherent word. Instead your hands latched at his head softly and applied pressure only when he grew closer to that very sweet spot.

His tongue lapped up and soon his whole mouth disappeared between your folds. The obscene sound of his mouth working made your spine arch. He held you in place as his face kept buried between your legs. Your breath hitched as your body went taut. He switched in between devouring your clit and fucking you with his tongue.

"Y-Yes!" You hissed as searing pleasure crashed hard. Your toes curled in, and your body trembled, coming undone on his mouth. He made sure to clean you up before releasing your flesh with a wet pop. You pulled him for a kiss as the rain kept hitting the car, drowning any sound.

"Such a pretty and naughty baby." He cooed as he tied your hands behind your back with his neck tie, then pulled his pants down his knees and brought your knees close to your shoulders, exposing once more your puffed and wet cunt.

"Sending videos for me to watch" He pumped himself a couple of times before rubbing his flushed tip in your sopping folds. You moaned as he entered you slowly, feeling the good stretch of his cock in your walls and gasped.

Hearing your classmates talking about the possibilities of what Mr. O'Hara had between his legs was nothing compared to actually experiencing it as it dug deeper in your guts.

You gave a shaky whimper at how full you felt, and he was barely starting. You could only watch as his girth disappeared between your folds with ease.

"You're so tight, princesa." He kissed your temple, as you choked on a thrust he gave, shaking your whole body.

"Wanna be a good girl for me?" Nodding you groaned as he tangled one of his hands on your front bangs and held you still, to then ram his hips against yours. It earned him a sweet wail from you. He closed his eyes for a second, relishing at your warmth and tighteness

"So fucking good. Will give you a lil' present before you graduate." His hips slapped shamelessly and viciously, leaving you with little room to breathe properly. Your hands desperately trying to hold onto something

"Gonna miss you and this pussy when you're gone, you know that?" His voice rumbled through his chest between heavy pants and soft growls.

You were too cock drunk to actually speak, the lack of air was making you dizzy, soon you felt like a zombie, just grunting and moaning as his body crushed you, over and over, almost fucking you in to the seat. Miguel O'Hara was anything but gentle, in all sense of the word. The car shook softly and soon, you gritted your teeth as the pressure in your lower belly increased until you came on his cock. Gushing and clamping down hard.

Your body shook, and he cupped your cheeks, smiling at the debauched look on your face as you came, proud of himself. Your hands had numbed out, but he then untied them.

"Such a messy baby." His hips didn't stop, one of his hands snaked it's way to your neck and squeezed.

Your hands found a little strength to cling to his arm, his eyes never left you.

"Give me another one, mi amor"

He cooed as his hips fucked you silly, tears piling up at the corner of your eyes, overstimulation making a mess out of your senses. Your nails scratched his wrist as his thrust turned erratic, sloppier and finally he came as he cradled your limp body closer to his.

It was almost possessive. You gave a pathetic cry as you came with him. He kissed you softly and laid you gently.

He then pulled one of the windows down another couple of inches, letting air to refresh your burning body.

Your clothes were soiled, except for the blazer, the rest was drenched in sweat or covered in fluids. The good thing was that rain could cover up all evidence.

He looked at you in awe and pride.

----

"You look lovely in this one."

Mr. O'Hara's chat was opened, revealing a picture of you sucking his cock in his classroom with your graduation gown, looking at him with doe-like eyes.

"Thanks. You taste great, btw." You typed back, with a smirk

"Call me, Miguel, preciosa. I'm not your teacher anymore."

-----

Si si, cállate — "Yeah, yeah, shut up"

Todo un placer, preciosa - "My pleasure, gorgeous"

cabrón— Fucker

muñeca- Doll

No habrá problema entonces- "No problem then"

Mira qué lindo coño tienes, mi amor- "You have a pretty pussy, my love"

Podría comerte todo el día- "I could eat you all day"

[moonkake-143]

𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡 | Into the Labyrinth

Goblin King!Eddie X AFAB/Fem!Henderson Reader

Edited By the lovey: Jen

Contents: Slow Burn, One sided pining from Eddie turned mutual, love at first sight, fluff, angst, no use of y/n

Summery: Your time starts now and your first challenge awaits.

Chapter 2/? {wc: 5.7k}

Masterlist

Part 1  Part 2

The walk felt long and arduous, especially with the sun beating down on you as hard as it did. How odd it was that you were just under the cover of darkness back home— it had been cold and stormy, but here the sun was high up in the sky, with clouds only partly covering the land. Below you, the grassy hill felt as if it went on forever, and for a beat, you thought it did— a sick trick already at the start, but one thing remained a constant in your mind.

        Find Dustin and get out of there.

        You thought those words over and over like a mantra, or hell, even a prayer, pushing yourself forward despite the burning sun. Despite the clock that timed you from the top of that damn hill. Despite the handsome, curly-haired man who brought you here in the first place.

        Cursing him, you shook your head and continued your trek, finally reaching the bottom of the hill and landing on a dirt road. The surrounding fields were barren, and crops rotted in tipped-over barrels. The area was devoid of life, and as the smell of charcoal invaded your nostrils, you scrunched your nose in disgust, picking up the pace. With sunken thatch roofs, the houses were charred, and when you came closer, you noticed arrows stuck in the rotting wood. You noticed the claw marks that scarred the doors and the rust-colored stains that marred the sides of the cottages. There had been some sort of struggle; a carnage that had been long forgotten, but there were no bodies in sight— as if they had just up and vanished.

       Just what happened here?

        As you walked, the ash-stricken houses began to converge the closer you walked towards the forest, as if a village was waiting deep inside. A growing uneasiness followed you until you finally stopped in front of a signpost, realizing that the dirt road forked into two paths— one that went into the forest, and another that continued towards abandoned farmland. Both signs were illegible, written in a language that resembled the scribbles of a two year-old. But even if you could translate them, the wooden signs were so damaged, rotting and falling apart, that you struggled to decide which way to go.

        Without warning, a gust of wind swept through you, and you shivered, rubbing your arms to combat the sudden chill. Now you really wished you had a jacket, rather than just a tank top. However, you noticed that the wind whisked a trail of leaves into the woods.

        If that wasn't a sign, then you didn't know what was.

        Taking a deep breath, you followed them down the path.

        Time seemed to stand still as you walked through the damp forest, but then again, time felt a lot different here. The trees provided a much-needed cover from the burning sun, casting gloomy shadows. It seemed to be a logging camp, with a scattering of wooden cabins that looked in better shape then the ones outside, but were still unsettling to walk past. You found more arrows, with rusty axes embedded in the trunks of trees, but nature seemed to overtake them. Grass and daisies grew in the gaps between abandoned machinery, covering the pieces in moss. More houses seemed to go deeper into the forest, all seemingly abandoned and overgrown.

        As you walked, the humidity caused your hair to frizz up and covered your entire body in an uncomfortable layer of sweat. You let out a huff and wiped the condensation from your brow, your legs aching.

        How long had you been walking for? Was this all for nothing? Had you gone the wrong way? Was there no labyrinth at all? Questions swirled around your mind as your chest swelled, your breath shortening. The heat was not helping— it felt suffocating, as if the entire forest was a damp sauna. What was it with this sudden change in weather?

       With a ragged breath, you finally stopped walking, and your vision blurred with tears. Anxiety gnawed at your very core, your body tensing and trembling as you buried your face in your hands, taking deep breaths. Slowly, you tried to steady yourself, your head aching and pulse pounding. As the pain in your chest subsided, you lowered your palms from your eyes, slowly opening them.

        In front of you wasn't the dirt path, but a large gate— one that hadn’t been there before. It was tall and deeply ornate, with a stone arch and iron bars that were curled into what looked like bats. Moss and vines twisted along the cobblestone pillars on either side, but what caught your eye was the wide, seemingly endless wall that encompassed the labyrinth. You slowly walked up to it, grabbing onto the iron bars and pulling— but the gate was locked.

        "Come on, I've come this far…” you sighed.

        "Halt! Who goes there?”

        Jumping in surprise, you spun and frantically looked for the source of the voice, bringing your arms up in a defensive position— albeit a rather weak one.

        "Who’s there?!” you called out.

        The disembodied voice seemed to chuckle at your attempt at intimidation.

        "I should be asking you that! What brings a human to my neck of the woods?”

        The voice sounded feminine and held a jolly lilt of humor, one that eased your stance slightly. Looking around, you kept your fists up, stepping forward. Maybe those karate classes from elementary school would kick in if something did happen.

        Then as swift as the wind, someone from the top of the gate dropped behind you.

       "Boo!”

        Yelping, you tripped and landed on your bottom, stirring up dust that caused you to cough.

        Curse your lack of instincts and balance. Those classes did nothing to prepare you.

        When the dust settled, you found a pair of striking blue-green eyes staring you down. You let out a gasp, quickly scooting backwards in a feeble attempt to crabwalk away from her. She was sun-kissed, as if she spent her life outside, with freckles dotted across her nose— or was it dirt? You couldn't tell, but she was studying you like a specimen, her eyebrows married in concentration at the possibility of you being a threat. But then she relaxed and flashed a sharp-toothed smile, her teeth both blinding and scary.

        "So it is you! The girl Eddie’s always on about!”

        "Wh-What?”

        "Oh, sorry for startling you— here, lemme help you up.”

        She grabbed your forearm, hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing, and you winced as her sharp claws lightly grazed your skin. Her dirty-blonde hair was chopped just above her shoulders, her eyes crinkling under her wide grin. How could she smile even more?

        "Who are you?”

        "Oh right, I’m Robin! I watch over this gaudy-looking gate!”

        Robin stepped back from you, and it was then that you fully took her in. She wore a similar outfit to Eddie's, dressed in a poet shirt and tight trousers, with gloves fit for an archer. Slung over her back was a longbow and a quiver of arrows, and a dagger was sheathed to her hip. Gold piercings adorned her ears, which were long and pointed— something you had only ever read about in fantasy novels.

        "You’re an elf…?”

        "Oh hells no! A goblin, actually! Never seen a goblin before? We're nothing like those posh pricks!"

        "No, I've never seen a real goblin before..."

        "And it's been a while since I've seen a human! They're quite rare around here.”

        Shaking your head, you stared at her in awe. Goblins always were depicted as small, evil green things, but Robin— she looked human. It made you wonder what elves really looked like.

        "I know, I am quite stunning, but I'm afraid I'm taken!"

        You realized you were staring for longer than was socially acceptable, and your face turned bright red as you broke your stare.

        "You're really the girl he's always talking about, huh? I can see why he likes you.” The relaxed tone disappeared from her voice, her previous expression returning as she studied you. The goblin woman then began to circle you like a vulture, sizing you up and scanning you from head to toe.

        "What? Why are you doing that? Robin, right? Please, can you let me inside?”

        "Woah, one question at a time. Start with the most important one.”

        "Can you please let me inside?”

        "I can, but that’s not the right question.”

        "What? What do you mean not the right question?”

        "You ask a lot of questions, huh?”

        Robin finally stopped in front of you and stared, a smile slowly appearing on her face. She was quiet, letting you stew in your own mind.

        What was she talking about? You said please, was that not enough?

        You turned your back to her, opening your arms and lifting them to the sky.

        "Open Sesame? Abracadabra?”

        Robin burst into a fit of laughter, her own face turning red as she clutched her abdomen, her shoulders shaking. You dropped your arms in embarrassment, cheeks flushing as you wracked your brain for what could have been the answer— why wouldn't she open the gate?

        Oh wait.

        "...Will you please open the gate?”

        "Now that’s more like it!”

        Robin turned and pushed vines aside to reveal a wooden lever, pulling it down. The mechanisms began to churn, the cranking of the gears becoming louder as you walked closer. Anxiety quickly settled into a permanent place in your stomach.

        "How bad is it?”

        "The truth? Terrifying. Are you really going in there?” Robin watched you with curious, worried eyes.

        "I have to…for my brother.”

        "You mean the brother you wished away? How admirable. But here’s your official warning: a mere human like you may not make it out alive. The labyrinth is no game to take lightly— you might forget which way is which, fall into a pit of spikes, or encounter a monster thirsty for blood— you'll never know what you might find.”

        Staring wide-eyed at the open gate, you turned to her.

        "There are monsters in here? You're not messing with me?“

        "Afraid not, but here— you might need this.”

        Robin unclipped her dagger, quick to wrap the belt around your waist.

        "Promise we’ll be friends if you make it out alive?”

        "When I make it out…”

        "That's the spirit! Now go get 'em! Don’t die!" Robin’s smile was blinding as she pushed you towards the entrance. "Good luck, and don’t take anything at face value!”

        You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stared at the stone walls, which seemed to beckon you inside. Taking a breath, you crossed under the gate, which quickly fell shut behind you with a loud bang. You jumped, turning to see the goblin woman waving from the other side.

        Letting out a surprised huff, you faced ahead once more.

        "Alright, I gotta find Dustin," you thought. "I've only got thirteen hours— how am I even going to track that? Robin mentioned monsters...at least she gave me this…"

        Pulling the dagger from its place on your belt, you examined it. It was a simple thing wrapped in leather, with a slightly curved blade. Embedded in the hilt was a red stone, possibly a ruby. You held it out and slashed at the air, imagining your target as someone with curly hair and brown doe eyes. Once satisfied with yourself, you sheathed it away and continued your journey.

        You walked slowly, taking in your surroundings and keeping a watchful eye out for any traps. Brown roots covered the stone walls and spilled onto the path in thick chunks. You carefully maneuvered around them, but the passage seemed to go on forever, and you slowly went from a walk to a jog, and from a jog to a sprint, running down the path with no end in sight.

        Your careless running finally caught up to you when you tripped over a thick, gnarled root, toppling over and tumbling to the ground. Knees digging into dirt, you huffed as you looked up, and from the corner of your eye, you saw it.

        The labyrinth was moving.

        By the looks of it, it changed ever-so slightly— nothing the careless eye could catch so quickly. The walls shifted in what looked to be a wave of magic, pulsating as if they were alive, and the root you had just tripped over slowly disappeared, rescinding into the stone crevices behind you. Was the labyrinth alive after all? Or was this Eddie’s doing?

        You punched the ground in frustration as the pain in your knees became a dull ache. Groaning, you sat up against the wall, your face red not just from exhaustion, but the anger that bubbled to the surface.

        "You can’t be serious!" you screamed at the bright blue sky, hoping someone— anyone— would listen. "What the actual fuck am I supposed to do? Hey, Eddie! Yeah, I have a feeling you can hear me, you prick! What the fuck!? You didn't say it fucking moves! Or that there were monsters in here!”

        You were met with dead silence as you leaned your head against the stone wall, catching your breath and closing your eyes.

        "Alright, this is fine, just breathe. This is like one of those DND campaigns. Yeah, okay, maybe none of this is even real. Did I finally lose it? What if Dustin is dead? Oh god, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself— what if I'm dead too?! What if mom finds me on the side of the road?!” Your ramblings carried through the silence of the labyrinth, hands trembling as you raked your fingers through your hair in anxious panic.

        Tears threatened to escape your eyes, and you tried to will them away, but had to shove your palms against your eyes to force them to hide. You wouldn’t cry, not over this, not over hypothetical scenarios. Dustin was alive— he had to be. You remembered his bubbly laugh. You remembered how curious he always was, often getting into trouble. You remembered how he tucked his head of curls under your chin when you watched movies together. Then you thought about how scared he must be without you there, in the dark and surrounded by terrifying monsters who could eat him if they wanted to. You tucked your knees close to your chest, hiccups erupting from your body as the tears you tried so hard to fight back flowed from your eyes.

        "Are you alright, dear?”

        You jumped at the sudden voice. It was a gentle thing, feminine and holding a motherly lilt that pulled you out of your internal dread. You searched for the source of it, eyes teary.

        "Would you like a spot of tea? I believe I have some leaves perfect for brewing.”

        The source of the voice finally revealed itself to you, hanging from a vine on the wall. Rubbing the tear stains from your cheeks, you leaned towards the creature. A spotted mushroom sat on its head, and delicate, glistening fairy wings sprouted from its back. You shook your head at the question.

        “What troubles you, my dear?”

        The fairy was small but seemed wise with age, with pointed ears that stuck out from her dark brown curls. Her skin was golden, as if the sun blessed her, and she wore a dress made of leaves. Her voice was warm and inviting, but her golden eyes looked you over with sorrow and worry— a mother's gaze, no doubt.

        "It’s this maze! It moves without warning! How am I supposed to get through it in thirteen hours?! Dustin is probably scared to death and it's all my fault!”

        "Oh dear, our king hasn’t properly warned you of the labyrinth, has he? Well, I can tell you with certainty that the brother you shed tears for is safely tucked away in his manor. Our king is kind and always watches over us, including little ol’ me. But in this place, things are not what you expect— for example, take that wall in front of you. It is no ordinary wall.”

        The fairy's wings gently fluttered as she lifted herself towards the wall. Placing a small hand against it, she seemed to keep floating forward.

        Slowly calming your tears, you picked yourself off the ground and approached the wall. Hand outstretched, you expected yourself to stop short, only you stumbled forward.

        "So it’s an illusion...” You walked further and were finally able to place your hand against the cobble, where you saw paths on either side. The fairy slowly settled onto your shoulder, her wings limply hanging downward.

        "I’m sorry, dear— my wings don’t quite flutter how they used to. Can you set me down near that mushroom there? Thank you.”

        "No, I should be thanking you. I needed your help.” You crouched and held your palm towards your shoulder. The fairy hopped onto it, and you set her on the dirt.

        "Oh dearie, it was nothing. Now go, he’s waiting for you!”

        "Thank you again.”

        The fairy gave you a warm smile before waving you away, her hands sparkling as you straightened up. There were two paths to choose from, both looking nearly identical. You looked to the right first, which was lined with spotted mushrooms, and then to the left, where flowers grew from stone walls. Your feet moved towards the left path, distracted by the flowers, but you stopped. 

        "Maybe the flowers are a trap. Their smell is so overwhelmingly sweet, it's giving me a headache— I can't go that way.”  You shook your head and swiftly turned to the right, following the mushrooms down the path.

        You walked and walked for what felt like hours, the pulsating walls shifting from gray cobblestone to green hedges, the changes taking place in your peripheral vision. When you looked over your shoulder, you noticed that shrubbery covered the opening you came through. You pulled the dagger from its sheath and carved an arrow into the ground, marking your path. Keeping the knife out, you trekked through the hedge maze, and when you reached a dead end, you sighed and turned back— only for the arrow mark to be missing.

        "What the hell? This is such a sick joke— I swear it was right here! Ugh!” You stomped, and the stone tile beneath your foot clicked. Your breath stalled short as your eyes darted around, but you saw nothing. You heard the sudden rustle of leaves, and turned to find that the dead end had opened into an archway. It could have been some sort of trap, but you were desperate, and hurried through the opening.

        The passage slowly opened to a courtyard surrounded by round hedge walls, and you froze as fear took hold of you. Between two pillars, you found a mysterious creature sleeping. It was blocking something— a door.

        "This has to be the way. Of course it wouldn’t be so easy. I need to find a way around this thing— whatever it is."

        You surveyed the creature from a distance, still frozen in fear and awe. Curled like a sleeping housecat, it resembled a golden lion with feathered wings. How were you going to get around it? Your sweaty fingers gripped the hilt of the dagger Robin had given you. It wasn’t much, but you took comfort in having something to defend yourself with. You inched forward, trying to find a way around the beast.

        The animal stirred and you froze immediately, sweat beading on your temple as you defensively held the knife in front of you. The creature then growled and twisted, stretching out in its sleep. A crystal ball rested under its paw, suddenly lighting up, and an all-too-familiar voice shouted through it.

        "Chrissy, wake up!”

        The creature hummed and swiped at the ball, which rolled its way towards you. Maybe this was your chance for contact— to see if your brother was alright.

        You quickly sheathed the dagger and dropped down to hoist the crystal ball into your hands, backing away from the creature. Larger than the one previously offered to you, the orb reflected a man with shaggy curls. You glared at his image, but Eddie's attention was elsewhere as he shouted at someone, his voice muffled by all the noise around him. In the background, you heard the sounds of goblins yelling and knocking each other over as something metal loudly clattered to the floor.

        "Eddie, the kid is causing too much trouble! He nearly decapitated little Mike with a sword just now! You watch him, I need a break!” 

        "Stevie you can't leave now! He likes you!"

        "Not my problem! And stop calling me that!

        The unknown man huffed in annoyance before walking off and Eddie rolled his eyes before he let out a heavy sigh. 

        "Some one else was watching over Dustin? And he was around a sword?!"

        Eddie's pointed ears twitched at a high-pitched scream and he groaned, before turning his head to face you.

        "How many times do I—? Oh hello, Miss Henderson.” His eyes widened, not expecting to see you on the other end of the crystal.

        "Where is he?” Your voice was low and angry as you quickly hid behind a pillar, but he seemed distracted.

        "Where’s who? Hey!" The ball jostled as it was ripped from his hands. "Get back here!” He started chasing after the thief, and when he seemed close, you heard childish laughter.

        "Dustin, is that you!?” Your eyes brimmed with tears as you clutched the ball close, a relieved sigh escaping— none of your fears had come true. 

        The laughter became louder as your brother’s gummy grin took center stage, his blue eyes crinkled with glee as he ran, the crystal shaking in his hands.

        "Dustin! Dustin! Are you okay?!” Your voice shook as you tried to get his attention, lowering it as the sleeping creature stirred. He laughed and joyously called your name.

        "I okay, no worry!”

        "Are you sure? You're not hurt? Where are you?” Your questions came out quick, but he giggled, his curls bouncing as he ran.

        "I at Eddie's house! I like it here and I like Eddie! He play with me and I still eat my veggies, like you say! But Eddie don’t eat.”

        "I’m coming to get you, okay? I'll be there soon. Then we’re gonna go home and eat all the ice cream you want. If the goblins do anything bad, then you hit them real hard and run away.”

        "Yay!" The boy cheered, but his running slowed, his eyes droopy and tired. "Pinky promise...?”

        "Pinky promise…I…I love you.”

        "Love you…” he yawned.

        Suddenly he was scooped up, laughing sleepily— something you didn’t think you would miss so much.

        "I’ll take that back now, you little rascal— time for bed.”

        The image shook once again as Eddie plucked the crystal ball from Dustin's grip, holding it out to show the two of them. Dustin dug his face into his shoulder and clung to his neck, legs wrapped around his torso. The man’s eyes were gentle as he shifted his attention from the boy to you, and with a soft voice, he stared you down.

        "You have eleven hours— I'll see you soon.”

        Red smoke filled the crystal, and when it cleared, he was gone.

        "What was all that about? No, forget him, Dustin is okay. He's been eating and now he's going to sleep. See me soon? When I see Eddie, I’m gonna—"

        You set the large crystal ball on the ground and turned to the now very-much-awake creature— one that was half-human, dressed in a white and gold toga. Her ocean blue eyes were piercing, her golden hair perfectly framing her soft face.

        "It seems you caught me napping— you must be the famous Henderson girl I hear so much about.” The creature's voice was soft and tired, her eyes staring you down as you stood away from her.

        How did all of these creatures know you?

        You kept still, your heart furiously beating in your ears. You were sure she could hear it too.

        "That knife at your hip— I hope you weren't planning on using it on me. Otherwise, you might have been my lunch.” she grinned nonchalantly.

        You quickly shook your head— a lie.

        "Come closer, don't be shy. I’m Chrissy and I promise I won’t eat you— there are things here that are far worse than me. Now for your test!”

        You slowly began to approach her, noticing three large locks on the door behind her.

        "Test? What kind of test?”

        "It’s really easy, just answer some riddles and unlock the door behind me to continue towards the city. Easy-peasy!”

        "Wait, riddles? You're a sphinx?” You wracked your head for the story, remembering the creature from a book of Greek mythology you read for history class.

        "Well no, I’m a goblin. We come in all shapes and sizes." Chrissy was a large creature, but she began to shrink, her lion legs shifting into human ones. Her toga reached her ankles, and her bare feet seemed to have been dipped in gold. Her blonde hair fell just past her shoulders as she yawned, arms stretching out above her head.

        You watched in awe and she smiled brightly, giving you jazz hands. The golden bangles around her wrists clanked when she did so.

        "Alright then, I have three riddles for you. If you can’t solve them, then unfortunately, you'll be...misplaced.”

        "Wait, misplaced? Where to?”

        "Typically you’d be placed anywhere in the labyrinth, but in this case, I was told to send you back to the beginning.”

        Your eyes widened and she laughed, her jewelry jingling as she approached you.

        "So, are you ready or not? You don’t have that much time…”

        Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Hopefully all those Dungeons and Dragons sessions would pay off.

        "I’m ready…I think.”

        She clasped her hands together in prayer and her blue eyes gently closed. When she opened them a few seconds later, they glowed a bright gold. You flinched at the unexpected change, but tried to relax. This was your first true test.

        "Your first riddle is this: if given one, you’ll have many or none at all.” Her voice echoed throughout the landing, shaking the hedge walls.

        You steadied yourself and delved deep into your mind, stewing in the question. You had to think carefully; if you gave the wrong answer, you would have to start all over again. And if you did, there most likely wouldn't be a kind fairy creature to help you. What would you even choose to say? There were so many choices.

        Wait.

        Taking a deep breath, you shakily gave your first answer.

        "A choice…?”

        Chrissy smiled, and a lock from behind her fell to the floor.

        "That is correct— your destiny is shaped by the choices you make on your journey through life. Many choices can alter your path, whether they lead you to ruin, or lead you to glory. Choices give the power to challenge your fate. Now your second riddle is this: some are cherished, some are hated, and even if lost, they remain with you.”

        You stared at her, taking in her words, imprinting them into your mind. It could be people— maybe it was. But how are lost people still with you? In your heart?

        Suddenly you thought of your father, the day he left Hawkins ingrained into your memory. Your mother was pregnant with Dustin at the time— you remembered her crying after work, still in her scrubs. You remembered the day she came home with your brother in a carrier and how she cried for weeks after. You remembered seeing her less often. You remembered waking up to feed Dustin when your mother worked night shifts. You remembered not having a Sweet 16th after he was born. You remembered helping to pay for his racecar bed. You remembered getting him to say your name for the first time. It was his first word. You remembered raising him, and you remembered loving him so much. But you remembered the sleepless nights before tests. You remembered missing school to watch over him when he was sick. You remembered crying when he wouldn’t stop. You remembered having to swallow back the tears when your mother was there. The memories were a cocktail of pain, loss, and happiness.

        You remembered…

        "Is the answer memories?”

        Another of the locks fell to the ground, causing it to shake.

        "Correct— memories are powerful. They may hold a person's love or hate, their joy and their grief, and some may choose to block them out. The memories you hold dear will always be imprinted into your heart, even as years pass. Our memories shape us, and you are now stronger because of them. Keep those memories close, for even if they hurt, they are a part of who you are. Now, your last riddle is this: they arrive every night, whether invited or not. They can be seen, but not heard or touched. If one falls, they all keep moving.”

        You absorbed her words into your mind— you needed to get this right, or you would be doomed to reset this death trap. Tapping your foot, you tried to wrap your head around the riddle. You looked up at the sky above you, falling into a distant memory.

        "Whas in da sky?”

        "Those are stars, Dustin. You can only see them clearly out here.”

        "Why?”

        "Because it's dark here.”

        "The dark is scawy...”

        "It can be, but the stars will always keep you safe.”

        "How?”

        "Well, you see that up there? That’s the North Star— when it comes out, you make a wish on it. And guess what? If you follow it, it can take you home.”

        You sat on the driveway with Dustin in your lap, staring up into the starry sky. There had been a blackout, and your mother was still working at the hospital. The sudden darkness had scared the boy, and you tried to calm his cries by bringing him outside.

        "It can?”

        "Yeah, and do you wanna know the coolest thing?”

        "Wha?”

        "Sometimes stars fall from the sky. They say bye-bye to their mommies and they go on their own adventure. They fly by and spread their magic dust to make you happy.”

        "Really? They not scawed?”

        "Maybe, but it’s okay to be scared. Their mommies are always watching.”

        "And sisters?”

        "Yeah buddy, their sisters watch them too.”

        Dustin leaned against you, staring up at the sky with awe in his bright blue eyes. The stars, despite the blackout, kept on moving.

        "Is Mommy still working?”

        "Yeah, the hospital needs a lot of help, so she’s staying late.”

        "I sleep with you?”

        He looked up at you with pleading puppy-dog eyes, and how could you say no to that? You sighed and gently nodded.

        "Yeah, you can sleep in my room 'til Mom gets back.”

        He cheered and leaned against you, his eyes starting to close, and for a second, you thought a comet shot through the sky.

        You wished things were different.

        "Stars— the answer is stars.” Your voice came out shaky and unsure, and you held your breath until finally, after what felt like years, the final lock clicked open and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

        "Correct— for centuries, the stars have guided the lost, and today, their memory guides you forward. Whenever you feel lost in your heart, unsure of how to navigate the darkness within, then look to the night sky. Follow the stars and allow them to guide you, just as they guided others long ago. Just as the stars keep moving, so will you. Congratulations— you have passed the test and may continue on your journey.”

        You held your breath, your eyes wide with shock. Your heart raced as you stood still, as if one wrong move would send you back to the start of the labyrinth. But your anxiety melted into joy when you realized that you had done it— you had passed the first test. You let out a shaky breath, your trembling hands quickly rubbing away the joyous tears that poured down your cheeks. Breaking into a smile, you turned to the orb, pointing at it with a determined fire in your eyes.

        "See that, Eddie?! Fuck you, I did it! Bring it on!”

        Chrissy smiled and tried to hide her laugh. She closed her glowing eyes, and when she blinked them open, she was herself again.

        "Do watch out for traps, won’t you? I would like to see you at the banquet.”

        "Banquet?”

        "Yes, I would like to see you there alive and well. We have a celebration coming up and would love to have you there.”

        You stared at her with confusion etching your features— as if you would voluntarily spend another second in this godforsaken place.

        Chrissy stepped aside as the door swung open, exposing a topiary of a lion on the other side of the passage. You turned to her as she stretched and yawned, her form shifting back to her more animal-like appearance. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you were finally able to voice your concern.

        "Are the next trials harder?”

        "Well, everything has its difficulties and everything has its solutions. You’ll be fine, just keep looking ahead.”

        "Alright, thank you!”

        You took a deep breath, and with a newfound excitement, you passed through the doorway, your eyes trained on the topiary ahead. You looked back at Chrissy, who seemed to settle into sleep, and with a wide smile, you began to run. Your shoes pounded against the flagstone floor as you hurried through the passage.

        But then the flagstone was gone, there was no ground, and your eyes widened as you fell down a gaping abyss. You clawed at the edge of the stone, but it was too late. Your heart raced as you helplessly flailed your arms, the darkness swallowing the scream you let out as you plummeted into the unknown. Was this the your fate all along? Had you made the wrong choice? Gone the wrong way? Were you going to die?

       "I should have looked where I was stepping."

        You fell down, down into the abyss, and the darkness consumed you.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I know it took almost a year to get here but it's here! I'm a full time college student and coming up with original puzzles for this was no easy feat I'll tell you what. I promise I haven't given up yet! Don't forget to reblog, like and comment it really helps! (gosh I sound like a Youtuber lol) But anyways thank you again for reading and back to the writing cave I go!

Taglist: (If you want to be placed on it comment under here)

@fan-girl-97 @sh0wthyself @maxstecc @mirkwoodshewolf @bellalillyrose @under-the-clouds @bllshtbel @ali-r3n @darknesseddiem @ladyjbrekker @mewchiili

[megidonitram]

Everyone's Running From Something (ch. 4)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

<=Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰ None

The all-hands meeting for the beginning of the semester went the same way every all-hands meeting at the beginning of semesters go. Every professor and TA in a humanities field got squeezed into a conference room that wasn’t quite big enough, had a powered sugar donut or a couple cubes of assorted melon with half a Styrofoam cup of burnt coffee, and listened to the departmental dean give an un-rousing speech about being on the same page with the other departments. Then he talked at nauseam about school policies and ran a quick training session over a new time-tracking software that would be implemented in 3 weeks’ time.

Gale scribbled down notes on a big yellow legal pad and tried to ignore Jen and Astarion, making faces at each other as he wrote. He’d been in academia long enough to know they’d both be crying to him in a few weeks when they messed up their timecards.

As the meeting drew to a close, a dapper man with slicked-back chestnut hair and a car salesman smile stepped into the room. Astarion went stiff like a cat puffing up to defend itself. The dapper man just gave him a plasticky, knowing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The dean perked up a bit as he noticed the man lingering in the back of the room. “Raphael, what a pleasant surprise! I had no idea you would be joining us,” he exclaimed, “We were just finishing up. Are there any words of wisdom you’d like to impart to our humanities faculty?”

“Oh, nothing so important,” Raphael said, and suddenly Gale understood why Astarion was so on edge. Everything about the man oozed with a disingenuous charm that made Gale’s hair stand on end. “I just realized I forgot to send out a notice about the upcoming donor gala the next coming Friday. I realized you were all in a meeting right now, so I thought I’d pop in and remind you in person.”

Raphael’s eyes landed directly on Astarion as he spoke his next sentence. “There is a reasonable expectation that faculty attend these events.” Out of the corner of his eye, Gale saw Astarion’s expression go steely. “After all, we want to show up and show out for the people who allow us to do so much.”

“Of Course!” The dean chirped. “I know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The meeting adjourned, and Astarion immediately made a break for the door. Gale hurriedly gathered his things in one arm, instinctually following after the only person in the room he really knew, like a baby duck.

Raphael stepped into Astarion’s path before he could get out of the meeting room. “Ah, we meet again, Dr. Ancunín!” Raphael’s voice dripped with sugary contempt. “I will see you at the donor gala, won’t I?”

“Perhaps. Are you thinking about calling in that favor I owe you?” Astarion’s voice was clipped, his face unnervingly blank.

“I think I’d like to wait on that a little longer, but I would like you there in case I change my mind.” Before Astarion could respond, Raphael’s gaze slid off him and onto- “Dr. Dekarios! Wonderful to see you. Are you settling in well?” He reached out a hand to him.

Gale stuffed his legal pad into his work so he could shake Raphael’s hand. “Exceptionally well!” he replied. “Everyone’s done their utmost to make me feel very welcome!”

“Oh, you don’t have to fib on your new colleagues’ account, Dr. Dekarios. I’m more than familiar with how surly certain members of the English department can get.” Raphael laughed congenially, but Astarion shot him a poisonous look.

“I’m not lying to you, sir,” Gale replied. “Astarion’s been nothing but professional.”

“Well, perhaps he’s going a bit soft.” There was a flash of something dangerous behind his eyes. He turned to Astarion. “I shall see you next Friday.” It was a command more than a farewell, but he walked away all the same.

Astarion muttered under his breath. Gale didn’t catch what he said but could make an educated guess. Astarion exhaled a deep breath like he was equalizing pressure.

He turned to Gale and said, “Thank you.”

Gale blinked. “Of course.”

Astarion opened his mouth to say something else, but the words couldn’t or wouldn’t form.

Shadowheart stepped in between them, too concerned with responding to a text message to notice the weird tension. “Karlach wants to get drinks.” She said. “She got stuck in traffic and doesn’t want to drive all the way down here for nothing.”

“Roveer’s?” Astarion asked, a very weary resignation in his voice.

“Yes, probably.”

“Nothing like running into your students at a sports bar a week before classes start…” Astarion grumbled. “Fine. Let me finish here, and I’ll meet you there in, oh… 15 minutes.” He turned to Gale. “Are you coming?”

“To the office?”

Astarion gave him a perplexed look. “To the bar.” He clarified. “You should take the opportunity to meet Karlach.”

Gale could feel himself going bright red as Shadowheart snickered. “Right. Yes. I would love to.” He replied.

“I’ll let Karlach know you’re coming. She’ll be thrilled.” Shadowheart replied, giving Gale a warm smile. “I’ll go lock up. See you in a bit.”

“Come on then.” Astarion replied, nodding for Gale to follow him.

***

The all-hand meeting was on the third floor, so by the time they’d returned to the basement and back up a floor to leave, Gale was starting to fear his knees wouldn’t survive the week- let alone the semester. “There has to be an elevator in this building.” Gale huffed and puffed as he hoofed it up the last flight of stairs. He didn’t want his new colleague’s first impression of him to be of him on his hands and knees wheezing. “I can’t take much more of this…”

“There is, but personally I don’t like chancing it unless I really don’t want to be in a meeting.” Astarion slowed to a stop at the top of the stairs to wait for him. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but he also seemed much trimmer than Gale was- or at the very least, his shirt accentuated the pleasing nip of his waist. Gale wondered if Astarion was a swimmer. “A history adjunct got stuck in it overnight a few years past, and it still reeks a little bit when it gets hot enough.”

Gale laughed, but Astarion very pointedly did not.

The conversation lulled a little bit.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Gale asked.

“That entirely depends on what you want to ask.” Astarion stepped into the hallway, taking a moment to slip into his grey wool peacoat before they ventured outside.

“Raphael, is he always…”

“Such an ass?” Astarion finished his thought. Gale wouldn’t have used such a strong word, but Astarion had gotten the spirit of the question right, at least. “He’s usually much worse.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a glorified middleman with too much power and time on his hands.” Astarion scoffed. “He enjoys putting things in people’s way and watching them try to wriggle their way out of problems he created. My advice is to deal with him as little as possible.”

“Is he who you went to talk to earlier?”

Astarion gave him a poisonous look that only confirmed Gale’s suspicion.

They walked across campus in uneasy silence. The bitterly cold wind whipped and whistled, tossing the last remnants of fall leaves across the concourse. The few student residents who’d gotten in that morning had either decided to hold up in their rooms or were enjoying their free time in more exciting corners of town. Gale found himself wondering what Xenia was doing... He hoped she wasn’t all alone in an empty dorm.

“Does Xenia have many friends?” Gale asked as they approached a crosswalk leading to the block of shops across from campus.

“Hm?” Astarion tapped the pedestrian-call button, which commanded them to ‘wait!’ in a mechanical voice. “I think she probably has more friends than she realizes she does. Kids like her tend to think they’re alone in everything.”

“Poor kid… Seems like she’s been through enough.” Gale sighed. There was something heartbreaking in the phrase ‘kids like her.’ It was sad to think that there were more 19-year-olds out there carrying emotional burdens far too heavy for their age- sadder still to think that if there weren’t, then Xenia would be alone.

“She’ll figure herself out eventually. She’s not like…” Astarion paused, seemingly a little shocked by what he was about to say. He leveled a wary glance at Gale. “She’s not a quitter, I mean.”  

“I’m sure she’s not. I just hope she doesn’t run herself ragged.” The walk light flashed, and they hurried across the street.

***

They were comedically out of place in Roveer’s Roadhouse. A group of grown adults in Oxford dress crowding around a sticky Bud-Lit branded high top surrounded by a bevy of flatscreen monitors playing every sports broadcast under the sun. Shadowheart was already nursing a syrupy cocktail out of a chipped margarita glass.

An extremely tall woman with a red tipped mohawk and smiling eyes bounded over to Gale and clapped a firmly friendly hand on his shoulder. “You’re the new Adjunct, I take it?” She asked. “I’m Karlach, Professor Cliffgate, if you’re nasty.”

“Gale Dekarios.” He reached out to shake her hand. She fist-bumped him instead, and Gale got a glimpse of a nasty burn scar peeking out from the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s a pleasure!”

“Aw, I have a great-aunt named Gale!” Karlach replied.

“I get that a lot…” Gale sighed. “I like your hair!”

“Thanks!” Karlach tussled her own hair. “Told my kiddos they could pick what color I dyed it if they all passed their benchmarks.”

“Does Balduran give benchmarks?”

“Oh, no. Teaching university is my side gig,” Karlach replied. “I’m actually a full-time middle school teacher.”

A spindly girl with bleach-blonde hair pulled into space buns sidled up to the table, clutching a notepad. “Can I take your order?” She seemed quite put upon being asked to do actual work on a slow day.

“Vodka Soda,” Astarion replied, holding his ID out to the server.

She took it and dropped it in her apron, jotted something down on her notepad, and turned to Gale with an expectant look.

“I’ll, uh, take a Corona,” Gale replied. He’d never ordered a Corona in his life, but it seemed like an acceptable ‘getting drinks with colleagues’ kind of an order.

The server stood there staring at him a moment long before she asked, “ID?”

“Oh, um…” Gale patted for his wallet and realized he left it in his desk drawer. “I didn’t realize I would need it…”

“You didn’t realize you’d need an ID at a college bar?” Astarion asked dryly as he turned to the server. “Just put it on my tab.”

The server nodded and walked away without asking if they needed anything else.

“Wow Gale, just one day on the job, and you’re already bumming free drinks off the department chair.” Shadowheart teased. She took a sip of her drink crinkling her nose at the taste.

Gale flustered. “I-I was going to pay with my phone, I swear! I wasn’t planning this.”

“Relax. We’re not so underpaid that I can’t afford to buy you one beer.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “You can return the favor when you get your first paycheck.”

Gale blushed. “Alright.”

The server brought them their drinks without another word, then plopped down at the end of the bar to scroll on her phone. Gale pushed the lime through the neck of his beer bottle and watched it fizz as it sank to the bottom of the dubiously golden liquid.

“So, did I miss anything important at the all-hands?” Karlach asked idly, stirring her bourbon and coke.

“You know you didn’t,” Shadowheart replied. “We’re changing timecard systems, and Raphael and Astarion are in another one of their weird power struggles-there, I saved you an hour and a half.”

Karlach’s eyes lit up, and she turned towards Astarion. “Before the semester even starts?” There was a conspiratorial glee in her voice. “What the fuck could he have possibly done this time?”

“Why spoil the mood by ruminating on that rat bastard?” Astarion said. He picked the lemon slice out of his drink and laid it on a napkin. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fair.” Karlach shrugged. She turned back to Gale and fixed him with a warm smile. “So, Gale, what brings you to the wonderful world of higher education?”

Gale had thought a lot about what he would tell people when they asked him why he wanted to teach college. He’d written little speeches in the shower about the joys of teaching language and the satisfaction of helping students reach their goal, but sitting in a group of other English professors, that suddenly all felt very trite.

“I was a public librarian, but I had to step away from my last position when I got divorced.” He admitted. “I found a job at a community college teaching database management, and I realized I’d just always missed teaching.” He took a long pull of his beer. The sour of the lime battled with the bitterness of the beer on his tongue.

“Library science might be a harder industry to break into than academia. It must have been tough to leave that behind.” Astarion mused.

“I do miss it terribly sometimes… but my ex helped me get into graduate school and got me my first library job. If I stayed, I would never be able to make anything that was truly mine.” Gale sighed. He could see the wheels spinning in Shadowheart’s head as she tried to figure out his age.

“You talk like you’re as old as this bag of bone,” Karlach pointed a thumb at Astarion, who glared daggers at her. “But there’s no way you’re that old.”

“I’m 35.” Gale clarified.

“That’s a little bit older than I thought, but still nowhere near as old as Astarion,” Shadowheart said.

“You are barely two years younger than me.” Astarion snapped.

“Barely a decade older than Gale, too.” Shadowheart shot back.

Astarion rolled his eyes and muttered something into his drink. “Did you go to get your master’s straight out of undergrad?” he asked.

“Yes, why?”

Astarion shrugged. “That’s just quite young to be with someone that well-established in their field.”

“Oh, we didn’t get together until I graduated.” That wasn’t entirely true. They didn’t get together publicly until he graduated. He didn’t know why he was still defending Mystra. It wasn’t like any of his new colleagues would ever meet her.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything…” Astarion lied.

“Of course not.”

They both took a sip of their drink, holding awkward eye contact.

“Well, here’s to making something for yourself then,” Shadowheart said, holding her drink out to Gale for a cheers.

Gale clinked the neck of his beer bottle against her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

[hannahssimblr]

note: you don't need to know how to pronounce Garda Síochána - just know it's what we call our police force in Ireland. Any mention of garda/guards is in reference to the cops. Jude is saying the Síochána bit (the full name) to be funny and emphasise the fact that they are entirely unarmed. If you do want to know how to pronounce it then here is someone saying it right.

We are greeted at the doctor’s waiting room by two familiar faces. Shane and Joe look up when we enter, and the biggest, dopiest smile I’ve ever seen spreads over Joe’s face. “What’s up guys! You got ticks too?”

“Um, yeah.”

He fist bumps me, then Jen, “Hell yeah! Tick friends. Four thicks with ticks. We should get that tattooed.”

“Good idea,” I slump into a creaky seat and immediately start fidgeting with a ballpoint pen on the table. While the others chat to one another I begin to draw random shapes onto the corner of a magazine. 

“So we lose four tents,” Shane is saying, “And we all get ticks. Would ye say that’s the biggest failure of all time?”

“We can go back and get the tents though, lad,” Joe says, “Sure I can remember where we were and all.”

“They’re in the dump by now for sure,” Jen says, “So annoying because I actually really liked that tent, and the sleeping bags too. Like, we lost a bloody fortune worth of stuff that we could have used to go to a music festival or something.”

A fat pigeon lands on the windowsill and I quickly sketch it out, not realistically, but a stupid cartoon version who is trying to swallow an entire loaf of white sliced pan in one gulp. I cock my head. It’s actually a bit grotesque. Maybe I should scribble it out. 

“Man, I’m just glad that Jude made it out of there alive,” Joe says, “We didn’t know if you were going to make it.”

“What, like, do you think I was going to get shot to death by the Garda Síochána?”

“No, I dunno, like.”

“Thanks for abandoning me, by the way.”

“Oh stop it Jude,” Jen punches my arm, which throws my line off, “He’s in a huff because we saved ourselves instead of coming to find him, but anyone would have done the same.”

“Well you were fairly busy!” Joe protests, “Off with Clóda.” I’m not looking at him, but I can practically hear the exotic wiggle of his eyebrows, “C’mere, man, did you ride her?”

I glance quickly at Shane who is staring at the floor, “Nah, I didn’t.”

“What? You had the chance and you didn’t take it? You’re crazy, Jude. If that’d been me I’d have-”

I zone out as Joe, the chronic virgin, starts describing what he would have done and not done, while dimly aware that Jen is giving out to him for being disrespectful. The pigeon drawing is coming along. Maybe I’ll make this guy into a new character and put him in different scenarios. I draw a newer version of him on the next page with eyes looking in two different directions and I chuckle to myself at how stupid it looks. 

“That’s a cool drawing,” Jen murmurs, peering over my shoulder, “you should bring it home and glue it into your sketchbook.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“-Oh yeah, and that reminds me,” Joe goes on, moving fluidly from his thoughts about Clóda to the next topic without so much as a pause for breath. He’s like a tap that never stops dripping. “I’ve been thinking of getting a tattoo, like an actual tattoo, you know I was joking about the Thicks with Ticks thing before, but now that I’m sixteen I’ve been like, maybe I should get one if my ma or da lets me, and like, I was thinking that Jude is really good at art and all, so it’d be cool if I got him to draw something for me that I could get tattooed on me, you know?”

I sit up wielding my biro, “Where, man?”

“Huh?”

“Where’d you want your tattoo? I’ll do a sketch for you now.”

“Oh cool, yeah, like maybe my neck, like here?” He runs a finger from his ear to his shoulder, “Like something cool, a dragon or whatever, breathing fire, and maybe with its tail curling around like that.”

“A dragon, yeah?” I lean across Jen and push his head to the side to stretch out the skin and I start drawing.

He glances at Jen after several minutes, “How’s it look?”

She keeps a straight face, “Yeah, unreal. It’s a dragon alright.”

I finish it off with a few flourishes and then Joe shows it off to Shane, “Well?”

Shane splutters.

“Is it cool?”

“C’mere give me a proper look,” he turns him all the way around and stares intently at the drawing. “Man, that is the most detailed penis I’ve ever seen.”

Jen and I cling to one another cackling. 

“Even the spurts of cum, fuck sake, you’re sick,” Shane starts shaking with laughter too while Joe panics and tries to wipe it away with his hand. “Aw, are you serious? Is it just a dick?”

Shane looks again and shrieks “The veins!”

“No, you’re going to have me go into the doctor with a cumming dick on my neck?”

“You don’t like it?” I pretend to be offended and clutch my heart, “That wounds me, really.”

Jen joins in, “Yeah, he worked hard on it, how could you be so cold?”

The doctor comes to the door, “Joseph Roche?”

He stands up and gives us all the most aggressive middle fingers he can muster. “Fuckers,” he says, and follows the doctor out while we all collapse in fits of hysterical laughter. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[mediocre-daydreams]

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐬

📌 jen's favs 📎 drabbles 🔒angst 🌷fluff

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

far from you (full trilogy) @hey-marlie

y/n stark is really not here for this european school vacay because in this post-endgame world, she’s mourning the loss of her dad. but one (1) sticky boi peter parker is just trying to be the friend he once was while also trying not to flirt too much because if she rejects him (which she wouldn’t, not that he knows that) while they’re in venice holy hell he’ll just pitch himself off the gondola right then and there. 🔒🌷📌

was it worth it? @kelieah

you and peter are married and expecting, and after every mission, you ask him “was it worth it?" each time he would say yes. but as peter begins to neglect his family in favor of his work, he leaves his wife vulnerable. is it worth it? 🔒

it’s your voice @peteprker

after spiderman saves you while you were being attacked in an alley, he walks you home and his voice gives his identity away 🌷

the favorite @softspideys

you’re convinced your dad likes peter parker more than you, until he saves your life (stark! reader) 🔒🌷

clause 3 of the friendship agreement @youlightmeupfinn

you and peter parker have always been the best of friends, even going as far as to enact a friendship agreement like idiots. when you walk in, feeling quite touch-starved and desperate for cuddles, you go for clause 3 of the friendship agreement… cuddles. 🌷

your boy who is a friend, peter @luveline

you and peter are penpals from opposite sides of the country, but you manage to fall in love through letters alone. 🌷

the baby project @vendettaparker

when you and peter begin working on an assignment for your child development class and morgan overhears your discussions, she starts to think that you and peter are actually expecting a baby, leading to a lot of confusion and a very pissed off tony. (stark! reader) 🌷📌

sunset lovers @duskholland

you've never met your soulmate, but you know his handwriting like the back of your hand—literally. every word your soulmate writes on his skin appears on yours, and vice versa. you're desperate to meet him, but until the universe decides to introduce you, you're stuck with scribbled smiley faces and chemistry formulae. (college! soulmate! au) 🔒🌷📌

close to my heart @peterbenjiparker

physical affection has been a part of your friendship since it began years ago, it was only a matter of time peter questioned why he was the only one…on the receiving end of your hugs and kisses. 🌷📌

my reverie’s affinity remains to be you @indouloureux

in a world where you see ten seconds of your soulmate’s life in your dreams, you already knew that spider-man was your soulmate. but what you didn’t know, was that you’d be vexed to see who was beneath the mask (enemies to lovers) 🔒🌷📌

sleepyhead @flourgirl

peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class. 🌷

another love @abibliophobiaa

(series) you were arranged to be married to king peter of ayelandia. this was not a love match, however, as peter had love and lost it. a tale of lost love. of healing. and learning to love again. 🔒🌷📌

five minutes @blooming-violets

tasm! peter is bad at answering his phone, but you are wary of calling him while out on spidey patrol anyway. when he gets a break, he sees a missed call from you. when he listens to the voicemail, the sounds are almost unintelligible and chill him to the bone. 🔒📌

the spider and the sunflower @spidervee

(9.8k) the questions continue, long past twenty-one. the more you find out about tasm!peter, the more you want to know—he tells you that if he found a hundred dollars on the street he’d donate it to a food bank and that the tl;dr version of his life is “art, panic, loss, and student loans.” when he asks you if you have any tattoos, you wink coyly before laughing and telling him you don’t. then, when you ask the person he’d love to tattoo more than anyone else in the world, he returns your teasing smile and replies that it’s you. 📌📌

out of focus, eye to eye @irndad

she's always been his favorite what if. friends to lovers, jealous!peter. italics is flashbacks! 🔒🌷

boxing lessons @sourcherryandsprinkles

(0.9k) tony asks peter to gives you boxing lessons. little did they know, you are not as defenseless as they thought 🌷

the break up @vendettaparker

(smau) you “break up” with peter 📌

[welcometololaland]

Hello Lola! This your nice ask week ask! I want to know the origin story of you as a fic writer! What was it that drove you into this life? And I'd also love to know: A someone who collaborates with other writers, what is it like to develop a story and work on it with someone else? How is that organised and scheduled? Not to get too col and corporate about it, but I was to know the strategy lol

hey cig, you know there's nothing i like more than corporate catch phrases, so i couldn't help but circle back to this ask 💜

i started writing fic when i was about 14, although none of those stories exist on the internet anymore (thankfully). truthfully, i've dabbled in creative writing my entire life - i remember sitting out the front of my parents' campervan on holiday and scribbling stories as a six or seven year old - so fic writing was a natural extension of that.

as for co-writing fic - i'd encourage everyone to give it a go if you haven't already. imo it's an incredibly rewarding experience (way better than group projects at school or team building games on corporate retreats). i think the number one thing to remember is that co-writing requires more flexibility - you have to give up any timing expectations and some creative control. but if it works, if the vibe is good, you'll end up with something even better than you could have written yourself.

one of my favourite parts of the experience is bouncing ideas back and forth and getting increasingly ridiculous. seeing the original aquarium rock disaster idea come to life in the rainbow fish was one in a long line of incredibly fun moments writing with jen (@strandnreyes). similarly, the owen strand fire safety agenda in (un)professional services was something that rae (@rmd-writes) and i laughed over for DAYS and kept bringing back in as we wrote successive parts. i also count all my rosie (@dustratcentral) fics as co-writes even though she will fight me (cursed is a state of mind, the ring-in, phonography, the morning (part 2), carlos and the baby c- omg sorry, spoiler) because writing someone else's brilliant idea is a task in itself and i'm so lucky that she lets me do that from time to time 💜

i think the easiest way to do it is to each pick a pov and go from there. a structure/outline will definitely help you, which is most commonly established by dumping all of the ridiculous messages from a chat into a google doc. then it's a matter of writing, reading what the other person has written and constantly checking in to make sure that you understand where the fic is going.

to be honest, every finished co-write i've done (and some are fleeting and don't quite get off the ground and you have to be okay with that) has been very, very easy. i actually think that they're easier to write than solo fics (but that might just be me). something about the shared experience really gets me going!

if anyone else has any experience, please feel free to jump in!

thanks for the ask, cig 💜

[theredhavendelegate]

Iss. 9:

The Hands That Toil: Redhaven's Labor Shortage!

Bouts of rain have been hitting Redhaven over the course of the last week, and the new government is making haste to take advantage of that fact, initiating a program to revitalize agriculture in Redhaven’s countryside. The program will involve the hiring of farm laborers from the city’s civilian population placed directly under the management of Frontline Confederation officers as farms are rebuilt and replanted.

In a related move, the estate of Lord Oswald Redhaven is looking for scientists, engineers, and researchers to conduct investigations into the fog surrounding Redhaven and what lies beyond it. Thus far, head researcher Earnest Bell has determined that we are, all of us, in another dimension. He explained to The Delegate, “This new world is just like our old world in many ways, but it differs in many more. These distinctions are mounting and have begun to form the basis for a whole new frontier of scientific possibility.”

The estate has officially termed this new dimension, “The Void”

Despite the confidence of the new government, as evidenced by the farming and science programs, there are those who have reservations. Chief among these individuals is a farmhand you may recall from an older interview with The Delegate, Jens Dahl… ---

Gerhardt square’s cobbles are wet with rain water, though the downpour has passed. A bald man with white, well-groomed facial hair stands in front of a podium. He is wrinkled with worry and age, though his back remains straight and his chin held high. A badge of silver and gold sits on his breast, shining bright: the feather of Redhaven. His feather.

There are police present, a few in front and a few in the wings, but the crowd is passive and admiring. Some are even awestruck.

Another man watches from the edge of the crowd with his brow furrowed and his shoulders sagging, not quite as old as the speaker, but worse-for-wear by a lifetime. Jens Dahl listens intently to the speech, eyes squinting through the gloom of the sunless afternoon.

Lord Redhaven’s voice booms, “Though we’ve all lost much in The Great Transit and the days that followed it, there is new faith to be found. Professor Bell and his team have discovered new materials within the fog, materials that may change life itself for you, the citizens of Redhaven. This ‘void crystal’ as it has been named, may well be the future, and it is only by the strength of our people that we can understand it, that we can take this future into our own hands.”

A pack of journalists to Jens’ right scribble furiously, marking down every syllable. He tilts his nose up warily and waits.

Lord Redhaven continues, “That is why we are calling for anyone with experience in academia, research, engineering, and chemistry to join the call. My estate will be open immediately following this event, where Professor Bell will be conducting interviews and selecting the most promising candidates to further his research, and to further our future.” The statesman pauses for a moment, gauging the crowd with his eyes. “So, thank you, people of Redhaven, for fighting on through this tragedy. We will come out of this stronger than ever before, so long as we stick together, so long as we keep heart.”

There is a roar of applause, swelling like the tides and flooding the senses. Lord Redhaven nods humbly and makes his way off stage. The assembled officers form up to surround him and a few of the reporters rush up, shouting questions as the road is closed off to block them.

The audience lingers, murmuring about applications, about qualifications, wondering if there will be opportunities for common laborers or veterans.

Jens does not wait though. He turns around and separates himself from the pack as quickly as he can, trotting down the high street until he’s clear of the throng and the buzzing conversations. He slows slightly and his breathing evens out, though he carries on for another few blocks to the stoop of a duplex apartment. He knocks on the door, asking, “Ingrid, are you in?”

A high and rough voice calls out, “It’s unlocked.”

Jens wipes his feet off outside and enters, closing the door gently behind himself as he does. The interior is dim and much smaller than it seemed from the outside, but it is well kept. A rough-looking woman with messy blonde hair is lounging on an old couch and reading a newspaper.

“Sit,” she commands, and Jens rolls his eyes.

“Where do you get off, giving orders to a guest?” he responds, more tired than annoyed.

The woman closes her paper and straightens up. “It wasn’t an order, it was advice. I can hear you panting.” Jens’ frown drops just a little bit lower, then he concedes, taking a seat on a wooden chair in the corner. Ingrid continues, “How was the speech? Was the magnanimous Lord Redhaven as impressive as everyone says?”

Jens hunches in the chair, setting his elbows on his knees. “Sure, sure. He seems spry for his age, sprier than me for sure. Talked a lot about what his cabinet of experts have found out about this ‘void’ we’re trapped in.”

There is a pause.

Ingrid leans forward and says, “But you’re worried about something.”

Jens bites his lip. “The good Count put out a call to hire. He specified researchers and academics and that sort of thing, but they’ll need regular folks too. Equipment will need to moved, infrastructure repaired, supplies manufactured. Between this and the farming program, a lot of people who were out of work last week will be back to it.”

Ingrid leans back and shrugs. “So what? We’re workers, we work. You’ve been a farmhand your whole life and you’re doing fine.”

“That’s not all of it though. The Field Workers local went up in smoke. Same for most of the other trades. Farm work was hard, but we did fine so long as we had our reps. I’ve worked fields without contracts, and it isn’t pretty.” Jens is stewing now, thoughts rattling around in his head like loose change.

Ingrid scratches the back of her head and squints, finally rising to her feet to stretch. “You’re the most experienced one left, right? How long were you a foreman? Ten years? Fifteen? All the surviving farmhands know and respect you, so just open another local for them. You’ve already been arguing with the bosses, so you’re basically already a rep.”

Jens’ eyes go wide as dinner plates and he cocks his head to the side. He stammers for a moment, then finally mutters, “That’s too much. I don’t think I can do it all on my own.”

Ingrid shrugs. “You could always ask The Blues for help. I hear they do this kind of thing all the time: agitation or aggravation, or something like that.”

Jens shakes his head. “I’m sure the Coalition has done lots of good around Redhaven, but I don’t like ‘em. That Calloway guy? The one who started the riot earlier in the month? They haven’t given him up and he shot someone. Who knows how many other crazies they’re protecting?”

A silence passes between the two, then Jens speaks again. He asks, "Why don't you do it? You're more social than I am, friendlier and what-not, and you're great with names and faces."

Ingrid replies, "No offense to you, Jens, but I'm not going back to farm work. I'm still good and strong, but it wasn't for me, not for the long term. I like to jump between things, you know?"

She goes to continue when there is another knock. It is quiet but firm, assertive and yet, strangely patient.

Ingrid puts up a hand to silence Jens, and then walks over to the door. She questions aloud, “Who is it?”

The voice is even and refined. “A friend from The Mayor’s office. She sends a bottle of cognac, and a proposal for your guest, Mister Dahl.”

Ingrid flashes Jens a questioning look and he shakes his head uncertainly. Ingrid whispers, “Should I let him in?”

Jens answers, “It’s your house. I hate brandy though.”

Ingrid rolls her eyes and opens the door to reveal a rather short man, somewhere around five feet tall. He is well-dressed, with a vest, bowler hat, wire-rim glasses, and a thin mustache. A silver watch chain hangs from a pocket, and he presents a bottle squarely in front of himself with both hands. There is a silver ribbon near the cork and the liquid inside seems to shine in the dim daylight with a color that ranges from yellow at its shallowest to crimson at its depths. The man looks expectantly towards Ingrid.

She hesitates for a moment, and then accepts the bottle. “Come inside, then,” she remarks, leading the way and passing the alcohol to Jens.

Though Ingrid invites him to sit with a gesture, the man remains standing. “Mister Dahl, Miss Larsen,” he expresses, as if playing host, “I represent the office of Mayor Desdemona Carmine and the interests of Redhaven. I am aware that Jens is well positioned to represent the agricultural laborers of Redhaven.”

Jens sits up straight and interrupts, “Were you eavesdropping?”

The man turns up his nose and shakes his head slightly. “Not at all. You’ve garnered a reputation of sorts, a good one.” Jens hunches over again and rolls one of his wrists. The man continues, “The heads of various unions and co-ops within the city will be gathering soon, and nobody is currently expected to represent your bloc. Your inclusion in this momentous event could be arranged, however.”

Jens mulls the words over for a minute, and Ingrid interjects with a question. “Great, that’s nice, but why is this meeting happening at my house?”

The bowler-hatted man blinks slowly, like a cat, and sighs. “Ah, yes, that detail. Mister Dahl’s home in the countryside is being watched, not everyone is as pleased by his reputation as we are. Actually, assuming that he agrees, we have secured new lodgings for him already.”

The sag in Jens’ shoulders grows deeper. He glances around the room, to Ingrid, to the man, to the bottle, to the shuttered windows, and then to the floor.

He takes a deep breath, then looks back up. “I’ll do it.”

The man claps his hands together quietly and nods. “Very well. I’ll provide you with a date and address, and show you to your new quarters tonight, let’s say…” he withdraws his pocket watch, “six o’clock?”

Jens nods, then stops. He raises a brow. “Wait, wait. What’s your name? What do I call you?”

A tiny smile, unnatural on the man’s face, grows and then disappears. “If all goes well, you won’t be speaking with me again after tonight. You can call me ‘The Valet’, in relevant company though. If they know who I am, then they’ll know who you mean.”

The Valet waits for a moment, then tips his hat, and says, “I’ll see you at six. Good day, Mister Dahl, Miss Larsen.” He leaves the two, and the door closes heavily behind him.

---

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[spotsandsocks]

@elvensorceress Hi Jen, Happy birthday my lovely. I hope the day is fun and kind to you, bringing many good things your way.

I’ve just scribbled down a little offering to lay at your feet as a gift, inspired by your wonderful talent and gifts to the world of Demi!eddie fics. I’ll tidy it up and send to ao3 too as a gift to you but for now please forgive any typos or errors. Hope you enjoy this mini ficlit. You’re so inspirational I even have a title without having to think about it so please enjoy 683 words of 💕🌸An Unexpected Love🌸💕

There he goes again, walking past with a smile and for fuck’s sake this time a wink.

It’s really not fair. He shouldn't have to suffer like this. Except Eddie knows life isn’t really meant to be fair. If it was he wouldn’t be having a prolonged existential crisis about his best friend.

And if life was fair it wouldn’t be getting worse.

He’s never been one to lose his head over a pretty face, male or female. He’s never understood that instant burst of attraction or the sudden desire that seems to take over some people. Sure some people look nice enough, pretty eyes, kind smile, technically attractive in all the right ways that people tend to agree on the concept.

Buck looked absolutely normal the first time he met him. Nothing special, just a guy, a stroppy frat boy type guy actually, then he became a nice guy, pleasant looking, a good partner and then he became a fucking miracle, something he never thought he’d have in his life. A friend, a partner, someone to have his back and he looked like every desire Eddie didn’t know he had.

It took years but one day he’d looked and he’d realised that Buck was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen and he keeps getting more attractive too, year after year the more special he becomes the more attractive he gets.

Right now, he’s fucking gorgeous and Eddie wants him in a way he’s really not used to. He remembers feeling like this with Shannon at the start but it didn’t last as long, all their problems washed the feelings away.

He’s wanted Buck for so long now and it shows no signs of stopping. Sometimes he thinks he’s used to it. Sometimes. Except he forgets; when he’s away from Buck for a little while he forgets how much he likes his face and so when he sees him again he has to go through this whole fluttery business of taking in his face remembering all over again, how much he loves him, wants him, feel his heart skip and his stomach flip. It’s really quite unfair, he’s far too old and sensible for this kind of thing.

Buck’s on the other side of the room right now looking fucking edible and smiling at him with a look in his eye that been getting more obvious.

Eddie stares back, god he’s staring right back and he can’t hide it anymore. He doesn’t even want to.

Buck cocks his head, holding his eyes and his smile twists, and then he chuckles softly and he blushes!

God Damn it he’s blushing and that is too much. One man can’t be allowed to be that pretty and not get kissed.

Buck looks like he wants to get kissed. Like he wants to get kissed by Eddie.

Eddie stomach flips on a cocktail of desire and hope and love. Shit he’s far too old for this nonsense. Buck’s looking at him like he’s waiting, has been waiting for something forever.

So Eddie’s feet decide enough is enough and that he’s far too old to wait any longer either. He crosses the room towards an unexpected love that came into his life and stayed and now he gets to have and keep it forever.

It’s hard to believe he got so lucky but he did because Buck is moving too. His friend, his love, knows him so well that he sees the decision on his face and just like he always has Buck knows just what he needs and meets him halfway.

They reach each other in the middle of the room and his beloved idiot smiles with his lip caught between his teeth and says hi.

Eddie’s never wanted anything more and he can have it.

He reaches out and pulls Buck close with a sigh of relief and Buck leans into the kiss with very satisfying enthusiasm and just like the first day he looked at his best friend and realised he was unexpectedly in love with him the world changes and becomes a little bit better

[fetabathwater]

slides in here 🧎‍♂️ Fans, Baby, Wild card!

questions here!

This got so long I had to stop myself finally.

Fans: How is their relationship with their fans? Do they go out of their way to interact? 

Look, Jennifer Lamb is a category 5 hurricane of emotion on the average day, but something about the fans just twinges something in her brain. In the small bars, yeah she'd be more than happy to sit around the bar later, chatting with the ones who'd hung around, let them buy her a beer or two, and go on her way. Sign some things, and y'know throwing out the usual guitar picks and broken drumsticks to the local small crowd. Discounting shirts and homemade merch at a bar while they were one of the bands to float through the night. Maybe throwing everything in a free tote bag that has a scribbled logo. Especially as favours to any bar owners who let them in, then it'd probably get a lil more of a personal touch especially if they had kids of their own who were fans and/or they were fans themselves, then it would still largely be merch. More or less short circuits her because people like the band. And Her. And the Music. And they want to HAVE something of hers. Wild.

But her interaction with fans is actually her being an absolute nutjob and trawling fansites. Most of her private life has already ended up online or splashed across local magazines, especially because of the very public fight/breakup with Seven, and then recently finding out from Maya that the number one fansite is run by a teenager… it's quite accessible in the worst way. Jen is super interested in reading fansites, just to see what they've posted/what they know. The kind of manic 'I should be sleeping 3am but I'm on wikipedia energy' but instead she's going down a rabbit hole of her own history, especially when people still keep up photos of Seven in the band - and she fucking loves polls. (Jen you would've loved og gossip girl fr). Definitely has made a throwaway account on a forum more than once (she forgets the password not long after making an account) and like. Loves to deep dive on timelines and people breaking down the meaning in her songs. She is that one person who responds to the song meanings like 'its about having sex relax its not that deep' and then is like. Told she's wrong and banned. Also it's so funny for her, when she's wrangled into appearing on their social media, to drop like some batshit insane comment or demo, and then has her little 1 hour scroll through these people going bananas. She has a few favourite accounts bookmarked, even. Stupid head.

Sheenas as the fan name for her came about after one of Jen's first solo covers (pre-breakup actually) was her doing 'Sheena Is A Punk Rocker', but also dressed like Sheena, Queen of the Jungle from the comics, at a Halloween party for the local crowd, and it kind of stuck... she only found out why recently from Maya. So not only is she like, confused anyway, but then she's like doing maths about when this kid would've seen that video. Did they see all of it? Should she check what versions were uploaded? Can she get a copy?

But essentially she's now very much publicly in the space of actually having Orion largely coach her through interactions because... she's floundering. Literally becomes a publicist's wet dream with how she can get the smiles and the eyes and the hand movements, and mostly manages to not let her mouth run, but it's like she needs to be micromanaged because this is no longer the comfortable small bar shit she loves and wants to go back to. Even before ending up on the TV, really. A lot of the focus is also on (pretty much) deflecting questions about Seven, but in particular the like months following it all. There was one very salty former fan who took it quite personally and just missed Jen's eye with a pin (that they actually had handed out at one gig many moons before). And her pre-pin incident comments about him weren't even bad! People just lost their marbles.

She did actually set up a PO Box at one point, with the intent of people sending fanmail to because she has a soft spot for handwritten letters, but it hasn't been advertised since the pin incident. Superfans may know about it, but Jen also hasn't checked it in years.

Baby: How do they feel about Jazzy leaving? How are they coping? What are their plans to stay in touch?

I looked back on my answer for this and. Okay no, we're changing our tune a bit.

Whilst Jen is happy for her, and knows that fundamentally Jazzy wanted something different from her life than Jen did... a part of her resents that Jazzy was able to walk away. And it's not even resenting Jazz! Realistically, it's easier to think that, even for Jen, that she's just so mad that even after everything, Jazz is able to walk away with the house and the husband and the white picket fence (not really but y'know). Those are also just like little bitey thoughts that plague her and make her do the what-if spirals that always end up "why didn't I just walk away, too?" because Jen doesn't even know if she wants any of the other things, anyway.

So Jen's coping is like correlation and causation type scale nonsense going on, especially with choosing to tour with Soft Violence, the way Jazzy reacted, even, and she's like. In such a place where she doesn't even know if she wants to reach out, keep updated and update Jazz, etc, etc. Because she also absolutely loves Jazz, and is so happy for her, and honestly wants to be there with her through this rollercoaster she's about to get on, because it's Jazzy. It's Jazzy. And god, she misses her so much already.

Wild card: Tell us something about your MC! Feel free to really just roll us over with an emotional steamroller and crush the souls out of our bodies, if you’d like. (You’re also welcome to choose one of the other questions to answer!)

Only other tattoo is the one on her lower stomach (Medusa head) (yeah that got repurposed sry Harper I'm doing smth else with you) but she absolutely loves the awful jokes she can make about it when people react after seeing it for the first time. "If someone is getting to a point where they can see it, [she] definitely knows that something turned to stone."

Jen does not understand how her putting on her glasses and Depression Greys™ makes her like. Walk around Clark Kent style. Fascinates her and compels her to try to do stupid shit with it.

This combined with her absolute inability to understand nor use social media has compelled some to see her as a #cryptid, which just further confuses her. She's seen her face on a post. She knows it exists. Yes she knows the name of the app? (don't embarrass her, man, there's hot people here)

Oh! And combining this with her Average Voice Resting Time™, where she's Clark Kent-ed out, wheat bagged and this close to just turning into a burrito, she uses a small whiteboard to talk. She's quite verbose, unfortunately.

Her fave flower is Queen Anne's Lace, because its a complex lil flower made up of dozens of others, and at the centre is a tiny lil red bud. The apparent story for it's naming is a provocation of Queen Anne to make a more complex lace flower than another king's wife, and in doing so she pricked her finger, so a little droplet of blood landed in the middle. There's also a poem! It's also for safety and refuge, because it turns inwards and seemingly 'dies' when it is actually ready to grow. Also attracts wasps lmao. It's commonly mistaken for baby's breath, which is everlasting love… which isnt wrong for Jen either, however it is that inward protection. At the centre of it all, there is a burst of colour, and she wants to protect it… the internalisation of it all.

During high school, she ran one of those ‘Ask Annie’ columns in the school paper. Her advice was ridiculous, and it was really well received even if she was pulling answers out of thin air. She's not sure if anyone cracked that it was her.

It did lead her to testing out some situations on people before answering, even. Or outright going 'hey if xyz happened do you think doing abc would work'. She wasn't even trying to be subtle by the end.

Jen has a pet bearded dragon. Named Lizanardo Da Vinci.

Just like how she has Vlad the Impala

Was voted most likely to date a rockstar. Made out with her own mirror image in response.

Turns out she’s got a real knack for maths. No one knows where it came from. Jen was one of those 'coasted through on C+/B-' kind of students. But no one is ever ready for the quick maths.

The first time Jen went in to get contacts, and was trying to put them in, and her arm was weirdly angled and the optometrist was patient but it freaked her out to think about putting something basically on her eye. Seven kind of like, went through the motions with her until she was comfortable.

He still has the pair of glasses that were always left in the right side pocket of his jacket. The case is worn and faded and cracked and still has all the stickers and scribbles on them, but the frames are still fine, lenses are only a check or two old, but Jen never knew how to ask for them back.

With Seven, especially when they were much younger, watching scary movies was such a big deal and like they were breaking the rules at sleepovers, even if it meant they were literally terrified. For days. It became "their thing" and especially as they got older with rewatches and marathons, and then the band, and eventually dating, the inside jokes were always there. Sometimes, they even used it as bad flirting, which weird people out just as much, if not more, than the fact that they were attached at the hip. Jen hasn't even looked at one of those movies since, and deleted OSTs, etc, off of any and all things.

Is a big fan of meditation because a girl sometimes has a lot of pent up energy and just wailing on the mic doesn't cut it. Quiet time, Jen is in her attempt at a lotus position.

[my-darling-inej]

“six of crows isn’t a comedy”

oh yeah? how do you explain this then:

“Why don‘t you pay someone else to pay someone to burn burn your kruge for you? That’s what the big players do.” “You know what the really big bosses do? They pay someone to pay someone to...”

“I can tell you’ve never picked a pocket.” “And I can tell you’ve never given enough thought to your haircut.”

“That’s what you’re scribbling away at in the notebook?” “I also keep a journal.” “Must be fascinating. Day one: sat in tomb. Day two: sat in tomb some more.”

“It’s a weevil?” Inej asked, examining it. “A chemical weevil,” said Jesper. “But Wylan still hasn’t named it. My vote is for the Wyvil.”

“Jesper Llewellyn Fahey?” “Shut up,” said Jesper. “It’s a family name.” Inej made a solemn bow. “Whatever you say, Llewellyn.”

“Someone likes drama,” Nina said. “I mean really, who wears white to a knife fight?” “Dunyasha, the White Blade of something or other. She really wants to kill me. Possibly everyone.”

“Wedge it between your back teeth,” Kaz said as he handed the disks to the others. “But don’t bite dow-” Wylan started to sputter and cough, clawing at his mouth. [...] Jesper started laughing, and Kaz just shook his head. “I told you not to bite down, Wylan. Breathe through your nose.”

Matthias flipped him onto his back none too gently and started pressing down on his chest with more force than was strictly necessary. “I. Should. Let. You. Die,” Matthias muttered in time with his compressions.

“A sedative,” said the medik. “Is that safe for a pregnant woman?” “For me.”

“We’re not going in through the embassy,” said Kaz. “Always hit where the mark isn’t looking.” “Who’s Mark?” asked Wylan.

[Kaz literally almost drowning] “Ice Court, remember? Impossible heist? Near death? Three million kruge waiting for you in Ketterdam?” Kaz blinked and his eyes cleared. “Four million.” “I thought that might bring you around.”

Jesper struggled not to laugh. That was definitely Matthias and Wylan. Matthias was hurling the money with way too much force and Wylan with way too much enthusiasm. The kid’s throwing arm needed serious work. He looked like he was actively trying to dislocate his shoulder.

“Do I know you?” “I am Dunyasha, the White Blade, trained by the Sages of Ahmrat Jen, the greatest assassin of this age.” “Doesn‘t ring a bell.”

and i could go on and on...

[gnattyplayssims]

1964 Pt2 - Kyle Kyleson

"You wanted to see me Mrs. Colbert?"

"Yes. Have a seat, Ava. There seems to be a small problem with your advanced curriculum."

"I've been doing all the work...and getting A's. What's the issue?"

"You haven't put down your plan for completing your service hours."

"Oh...I haven't been able to find anything yet."

"Well it turns out that I have a fantastic opportunity for you. There's a student who is struggling with his science class. In fact he'll be expelled if he doesn't get his grades up."

"Oh I love science, I can help."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say. You can come in now."

The door opened and a fashion nighmare walked in. Ava cringed as the teen flopped into the other chair.

"I told you I don't need a tutor Mrs. C. It's just a few missing assignments, I'll turn them in next week."

"See that you do. If you can't get your grades up you will no longer be welcome at Copperdale Academy. Perhaps you'd have better luck at Myshuno Prep."

"Don't worry." Ava piped up. "We can meet after school. You'll be caught up in no time."

"I don't need a plumbing tutor!"

"What did the old hag want." Nancy was in one of her typical moods but they barely phased Ava anymore.

"She had a community Service opportunity for me."

"Right...I still can't believe you signed up for that stupid program."

"Not all of us can rely on daddy's bank account."

"So what's the assignment?"

"Tutoring!" Ava couldn't hide her excitement at the opportunity.

"Who?"

"Kyle Kyleson."

"Ew! The hoodie, beanie kid? He's like 10 levels of gross."

"Relax Nance, it's just tutoring. It's not like I'm gonna marry him."

"Ew! Don't even say that!"

By the end of the month Ava was nearly convinced Kyle was a lost cause...until one day... "Stop. What was that?"

"What?"

"I saw you. You mouthed 7 but wrote down 9." She frowned and scribbled something down "Solve this." He rolled his eyes and did as he was told. "And this?"

"Kyle...these are university level equations...you're like...a genius."

"Wow, thanks Einstein."

"I'm serious. What's your deal?"

"How bout this...My sister and I need a 4th for our bowling league this semester. You join, I'll tell you."

Ava rolled her eyes. "Fine."

"KYLE! You didn't tell me your girlfriend was so CUTE!!!" The woman went for a hug.

"Sorry, I don't do hugs."

"Oh..." The woman looked like Ava had smacked her, clearly not used to people denying her friendship.

"You must be Jennifer. And just to clarify...we're NOT dating."

Kyle had already settled in at a lane "Ava you're with me. Jen and her college buddy will practice down there. You know the rules?"

Ava rolled her eyes. "Throw ball, hit pins. Not that hard"

He smirked and pulled his ball off the rack wasting no time in showing off his skills.

The ball struck the pins with a satisfying clatter and Kyle whooped as all the pins fell and he did a little dance as he spun off the lane. "And that's how it's done."

"Give me a break, literally anyone could do that." She grabbed a ball and stepped confidently up to the lane.

"Ooooh not bad Mizrahi. Nice form!" Kyle cheered for her and his praise made her heart soar more than she cared to admit. She released the ball and watched with satisfaction as it rolled right into the gutter.

"Oh well...that's unfortunate."

"Plumbob. Give me another ball."

Kyle came up behind her. "It okay to admit you don't know something."

"I'm fine."

"Really? Cause from here that looked like a gutter ball."

"I don't need your help."

"And that sounds like a wall."

"Fine whatever, how would you throw it?"

"Hold it like this."

For the next hour Kyle showed Ava the proper techniques and explained the rules of the game. He would occasionally throw his own ball to demonstrate and laughed when she got another gutter ball but he always showed her what she did wrong. Until finally...

"I HIT ONE!!"

Ava leapt excitedly into Kyle's arms as the singular pin toppled over. Kyle grinned up at her, spinning her around. "I knew you could!" Looking down into his beautiful blue eyes, Ava felt like the world around them melted away.

"So can I join your team?"

"I'll think about it."

For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about it. "I should probably walk you home now."

As promised Kyle explained his bad grades as they walked home. "I was doing this stuff in grade school. Why waste my time on classwork?"

Ava looked about to protest but he didn't let her speak. "Hey did you know that when a wet object touches a frozen object it creates a shared ice layer that causes stickiness? Watch!...Oh thit!"

Ava laughed, "Are you stuck? Here let me help"

"Na! Thtop!"

"Sorry what was that?"

Ava grinned mischieviously and took a step closer, her heart pounding as her shoes bumped his and she pressed her body against his. A shiver of excitement went through him as he felt her warm breath on his tongue and the 'shared ice layer' melted away.

"That's better."

Kyle turned to her in embarrassment his frozen tongue still hanging out of his mouth like a sad puppy. "Kyle Kyleson, you may be a genius but you're kind of an idiot." She pressed a warm kiss to his cheek. "I mean really. Who flunks out of 3 schools for being too lazy?"

"It was only 2, I haven't flunked out of Copperdale yet." She slipped her hand into his and he pulled her a little closer.

"I'll be real upset if you do...after all the work I put into you. So get your act together."

He tucked their hands into his hoodie pocket. "Only if you join our bowling team."