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marie-swriting · 2 years ago

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It Is Not Your Job - Steve Harrington

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Summary : You're feeling worse and worse everyday, hoping your parents will finally notice you, but only your brother, Steve, seems to worry about you, as always.

Warnings : Y/N is 15, Steve is 17, underage drinking (don't drink if you're not of age !), mention of drugs, bad parents, feeling of not being seen, feeling bad (talk to someone if you're not okay ! My dms are open if you need to talk to someone), following strangers (don't follow people you don't know, be careful !), education situation complicatd, angst, fluffy ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if I missed other warnings.

Word count : 4.2k

French version on Wattpad

French Version on Tumblr

“Mom, you really need to sign our report cards.” You take your attention away from your TV as you hear your brother, Steve, talking to your mom.

“Already ? Oh yeah, the semester’s been over for a month. Where are they ?”

“We hung them on the fridge to make sure you and dad would find them easily.”

“Oh, I hadn’t seen it.” Your mother states, softly laughing.

From afar, you watch the interaction before rolling your eyes. Obviously she hadn’t seen your report cards on the fridge even though she’s walked past it for the past three days. She doesn’t see anything. She doesn’t see any of you. Your mother and father are there without really being there. You know they’re absent because of their work, they do everything to give you a ‘good life’ but you wish in their definition of a ‘good life’ there was something about being a ‘good parent’.

Your mom takes her work’s pen and signs the papers without looking at it.

“Congrats, babies. You did an amazing job.” She affirms with a wide smile.

For you, that’s your last straw. How could she say you did an amazing job when your grades completely went down this semester ? Even your teachers are worried about your future. Your mother doesn’t even pay attention to it. As always.

You’re tired of your mother’s hypocrisy so you get up from the couch and go to your room, without looking at Steve and your mom who are still in the kitchen.

When you enter Miss Click’s classroom, you hand her your report cards, newly signed. She thanks you before getting ready to start her class. You sit at your usual spot and pretend you’re listening to the teacher.

Since last month, your attention about school went down, just like your grades. You’re not following the classes attentively anymore and you keep skipping school. You had done it before, but only twice and they were exceptions, you had found good excuses to not feel guilty about it. Now, you do it without a second thought. After all, if the school tried to inform your parents, they wouldn't answer. If it was the case, you could always lie to your parents about why you skipped school, they wouldn't be able to check the truth as they're always on the opposite side of the country or even on another continent.

Steve noticed the change in your behavior but didn’t tell you anything. He guesses you’re only going through a bad phase. If you really weren’t feeling well, he knows you’d come to him. He’s spent his whole life reminding you he’s always there for you. He perfectly knows how to take care of you. Maybe too much, if someone asked for your opinion.

Two days later, it’s your father’s turn to come back from a work trip. He’s even worse than your mother. He speaks only if it’s necessary, whereas your mom, at least, tries to act as if she cares.

Annoyed by the so-called presence of your parents, you take refuge in your room again. You put your music on, turning up the volume, while you’re reading a magazine. You do everything to get lost in your thoughts, to forget you’re in a house that is everything but a home.

As you’re turning a page, your music gets drastically quiet. You take your eyes away from your magazine and see your dad in front of your radio, an irritated expression on his face.

“What do you think you’re doing ? I was listening to my music !” You say, getting angry.

You get up from your bed and start walking toward your radio but your dad gets in front of it.

“And I am trying to work. You’re so-called music prevents me from it.” He snaps, dryly.

“I need my music to focus.”

“You’re reading a stupid magazine.” Your father retorts, rolling his eyes.

“I do what I want, this is my room !”

“It might be your room but you’re under my roof. You do as I say ! So you stop with your stupid music.” He orders. “If you really want to destroy your ears with it, use your walkman. You know, the thing that cost us a leg and that you wanted so much.”

You sigh, frustrated while your father slams the door. You go back to your bed and scream in your pillow. You got irritated by talking to your father for less than a minute. That was also the first time you talked with your dad since he came home, by the way. As you don’t want to have to deal with him again, you get your walkman he so ‘kindly’ offered you and put your tape in it. Your headphones on, you turn on the music, trying to evacuate your emotions.

When you go into the kitchen the next day to have breakfast, you find a note on the fridge. You immediately recognise your mom’s writing. You don’t need to read it to know the content. She left for yet another work trip. She only stayed at home for a week. It’s almost a record. You scrunch the paper before throwing it on the table. You’re not hungry anymore so you go back to your room to get ready for school.

When you arrive at school with Steve, you do everything to hide your uneasiness. He tried to question you but you acted as if everything was okay. You don’t want him to worry for you. Besides, you don’t even really know what you’re feeling yourself. There are so many different emotions going through your head. You’re completely lost. You just hope your classes will be a good distraction.

During Miss Click’s lecture, she gives you back your test from last week. She hands you your paper and tells you she wants to see you after class. You nod before quickly taking a look at your grade. You got a D-, let’s say it’s better than a F…

For the remaining time, you’re nervous about the conversation with your teacher. When the moment finally comes, you do everything to hide your nervousness.

“You wanted to see me, Miss ?”

“Yes, Y/N. I’d like to discuss your grades. You may have gotten some better grades on the last tests but it’s still not enough. I know what you’re capable of. You’re a good student. Can you tell me what’s happening ?” She asks, worried.

“I… I’m just a little bit tired.” You lie. “I’m going to do better, I promise you.”

“I’m sure you can, but it doesn’t look like you are. Look, I would like to talk with your parents. I know it’s difficult for them but it can’t keep going on like this.”

“My mom left today and my dad is busy and he’s probably gonna leave soon, too.”

“I know but isn’t there a solution for me to see them ?” She insists and you start feeling embarrassed.

“I think you’ll be luckier with my mom but if you want to talk to her now, it’ll only be through the phone.”

“It’s better than nothing. Could you give me her number, please ?” She says, taking a pen.

“I don’t have her hotel number yet. I’ll probably have it tonight though. I’ll tell you during the week but I can’t promise you you’ll have her on the phone right away.”

“It’s okay, I’ll still try. Thanks.”

“Have a good day, Miss.” You finish as you start to walk away but she holds you back.

“Y/N, you know, if you need to, you can talk to me. If you struggle following the lesson, I’d be happy to help you.”

“Thanks.”

You give her a small smile before leaving her class, embarrassed. You have the impression Miss Click is pitying you and you hate it. Obviously she means well, but you don’t want to make her think you can’t handle things on your own. You know how to do it. You’ve known how to do it since your childhood. Your parents didn’t give you any other choice.

Even if it’s lunch break, you don’t go to the cafeteria. You wouldn’t have the time to properly relax so you better not eat at all. Instead, you leave the building and walk to the forest next to the school. You walk carefully, making sure no one is seeing you until you’re in front of the picnic table.

“Little Harrington. To what do I owe this pleasure ?” Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson smiles when he notices you.

“You do know I’m not only Steve’s sister, right ?”

“I know. What can I do for you ?”

“What can I have for fifty bucks ?” You ask, taking him aback.

“Sorry ?”

“For fifty bucks, what can you sell me ?”

“Nothing.” He affirms without wasting a second.

“What, is it more expensive ? I can already give you fifty and the rest tomorrow.”

“No, I think you didn’t understand me, Little Harrington, I’m not gonna sell you anything.” Eddie clarifies and it’s your turn to be taken aback.

“Why ?”

“You’re fourteen.”

“I’m fifteen !” You correct, annoyed.

“Sorry, Ma'am.” He states dramatically. “I don’t sell to minors.”

“So what ? You’re a saint now ?” You ask and he shrugs. “You’re selling drugs in a high school, what did you expect ?”

“Let’s just say I don’t sell anything to people under seventeen. In either case, you don’t fit into any categories.”

“You’re a jerk.” You state with a fake smile.

“Thanks, Little Harrington.” He jokes while you leave the forest. “It was a pleasure to not make a deal with you !”

After his sarcastic comment, you flip him the bird while you’re still walking toward the school. Among the people of this place, you’d never have thought Eddie Munson would play the good samaritan. Even if you don’t want to, you go back to class, suffering in silence.

When your father leaves Hawkins for his work two weeks later, you feel like it’s too much for you. You’re feeling really bad. You feel sick in your stomach. You can’t even eat. You feel like you could be sick at any given moment. Steve noticed it during the drive to school. He didn’t ask you any questions while he was driving, he wanted to let you rest for a bit. Maybe you just needed a few more minutes of sleep ? Yet, when you arrive at school, his brother's instinct kicks in.

“Are you feeling okay Y/N ? You look sick.”

“Yeah, I just have a bit of a stomach ache. It’ll go away soon. Don’t worry.”

“You’re sure ? We still have some time. We could go back home. I’ll call school and explain everything.” He assures you and you try to smile.

“Steve, I’m okay. It’ll pass in an hour, at most.”

“If you need, you can always go see the nurse and tell her to tell me if you go back home.”

You nod before leaving the car. You let Steve join his friends while you go to your class.

Your uneasiness is still there, even after one hour. Being at school begins to be too much for you, you decide to skip the rest of the day. You walk around Hawkins for a few hours before going back home.

You’re laying on the couch, you’re reading when Steve comes back home, panicked. Relief quickly makes its way on his face when he notices you.

“God, Y/N, you scared me ! I couldn’t find you in the corridors and I tried to call home but got no response !”

“Sorry, Steve. I really wasn’t feeling well and the nurse said I could go back home. I totally forgot to tell her to tell you. And when I got home, I went directly to sleep. I was so tired that I didn’t hear the phone.” You lie.

“I understand but remember to tell me next time. You really scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“You’re feeling better now ?” He asks, worried as he puts his hand on your forehead.

“I’m feeling better, yes. Besides, I don’t have a fever, Steve.”

“We never know. Maybe you caught something.”

“It’s nothing bad. I’m fine.”

“Alright, but tell me if it happens again !”

“Promise.”

Steve goes to his room while you look at him, a grateful expression on your face. You feel lucky to have a brother who worries that much for you, who cares that much about you. He does a better job than your parents. You can’t even remember the last time one of your parents put their hand on your forehead to check your temperature. The feeling of gratitude quickly leaves your body as a wave of sadness comes when you realise how much Steve sacrifices for you. How much he’s sacrificed his life to do your parents’ job. He shouldn’t worry this much…

You try to call your mom for the fifth time in a row. Miss Click is being more and more insistent. She informed you she couldn’t reach your mom, despite trying several times. You promised her you’ll get a hold of her. You’re not surprised to see your mom acting this way. You told her your teacher wanted to talk to her about your grades. For a second, you thought she understood something was going on, that she’ll finally worry. Guess you were wrong.

When your mom still doesn’t answer you, you aggressively hang up the phone. Why do you even bother to make all of this effort if she doesn’t even try ?

This situation with your parents is becoming more and more insufferable. You want to talk about it with Steve but you’re afraid is going to take your parents’ side. After all, they’re not there because they want to give you a good future. They’re not doing it the right way but they mean well, right ? It’s selfish coming from you to ask to have their attention all the time. But they could have at least paid attention to your academic situation ! If a teacher wants to talk with your parents, it’s because there’s a problem. They should notice it so why isn’t it the case ? Every contradiction tumbles out in your head. If only you could have parents with a normal job, everything would be much easier.

Those contradictions keep running through your head for a few days, making your uneasiness worse. You’re shutting off more and more and skipping as much. Steve does everything to know the truth but you stay quiet. He already has so many things to handle, he doesn’t need another problem.

Today, you want to try to do a full school day but as soon as the bell rings, your stomach ache comes back. You now know there’s only one solution : leaving school and staying in your own bubble, away from everyone. You feel like you’re getting better when you do that. So, you wait until the corridors are empty to leave the building discreetly.

Outside, you walk around town. You go to some stores but buy nothing. You eat the sandwich you made for the day before walking some more. You wander like a ghost, like the shadow of your former self. When the end of the day comes, you don’t have the strength to go back home. You still want to stay in your own bubble. But staying in your own bubble sober is not enough anymore.

You walk to a grocery store and wait for an adult to ask them to buy you some alcohol. When a young man of about twenty years accepts to do it, you thank him. When he comes back and he gives you the alcohol, you’re even more grateful. You start to walk away when he calls you

“You know, you don’t have to drink alone. Wanna come with my friends and I ? We’re going to a bar not far away from here. They don’t ask for IDs.”

You hesitate for a second. You look at the man before looking at the car where there are two women and another man sitting. You think a little bit more before answering.

“Why not.”

“Yes ! Come, let’s have some fun !” One of the women screams before opening the car door.

You get into the car, following these strangers in the bar the guy told you about while you almost drink the whole bottle. As you were told, no one asks for your ID in the bar. You can order as much as you want. You decide to try a little bit of everything. You’ve always been rational. That night, you want to change that. Your new friends encourage you to drink by telling you a little bit about every alcohol available. You keep drinking shots as well as another regular drink until your head starts spinning. You hold onto the counter before feeling nauseous. You run into the bathroom, by some miracle you can hold back until your face is above the toilet. Nichole, one the women from the group, followed you so she’s currently holding back your hair while you empty your stomach.

“Thanks.”

“I think you had enough for tonight, don’t you think ?” She laughs.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Come on, let’s go. We’re gonna tell the others we need to get you back home.”

“Do I really need to go back home ?” You question before cleaning your mouth.

“Your parents aren’t there, right ? You said that earlier so you won’t get grounded.”

“It’s true ! You’re totally right ! Besides, even if they were there, they don’t care about me. They wouldn't even notice I’m drunk.” you add, suddenly feeling confident.

“Come on, troublemaker, it’s time to go home.”

Nichole supports you to help you leave the bathroom. When you get back to the others, you’re not fully lucid to say you need a ride back home so your new friend tells them. They nod, laughing when they see your state.

On the way home, Pete, the one who bought you alcohol, makes sure to drive slowly. Not because he drank alcohol too and wants to be responsible but because he doesn’t want you to throw up in his car.

Fortunately, you arrive at your destination without giving back your stomach content. You wave at your new friends before walking to the door. You take your key from your school bag and open the door. You don’t even have the time to put your belongings down when you’re suddenly blinded by the lights. Steve runs toward you, in utter panic.

“You’re really coming home only right now ? Fuck, Y/N, it’s one a.m, I was worried sick ! I thought something happened to you ! I even called the cops.”

“It’s alright, I’m not dead, Steve.” You murmur, rolling your eyes.

“Are you… Did you drink ?” He asks, getting closer to you.

“No.”

“Y/N.” He insists with a more authoritarian tone.

“Okay, maybe one drink.”

“How did you do it ? You’re only fifteen.”

“I asked Pete.”

“Who is that Pete ?”

“The guy I met earlier. He’s the one who drove me home.” You inform, smiling.

“Are you really telling me you accepted alcohol from a stranger and you got into the care of that very same stranger ? Do you even realise how dangerous it was ? He could have hurt you !” He snaps, in shock.

“Calm down, there was Nichole, Tessa and George, too.”

“Oh, and this is supposed to reassure me ? You’re completely drunk, it’s one a.m, you disappeared since this morning and you hung out with God knows who. Do you have any idea how bad I felt ?”

“It’s…”

“Don’t even dare say ‘it’s nothing’, Y/N.” He cuts you, guessing what you were going to say. “I’m responsible for you when the parents aren’t there. I was so freaking scared ! And not only tonight, by the way. I’ve been worrying about you for two months.” He admits and you frown as you guess he understood. “Yeah, maybe they haven’t seen anything but I noticed your grades slipping since day one. I also noticed you kept skipping school. I also know you tried to buy drugs.”

“How do you even… ?”

“Munson told me.”

“That dick !” You whisper, feeling betrayed.

“Thank God he told me ! He also confirmed all of my doubts. God, Y/N, what’s going on ? Why are you shutting yourself off like that ? You know I’m here for you so why are you acting like that ? I can help you. I just feel you fading away and I’m scared for you.”

“Oh my God, can you stop ?” You scream, mad.

“Stop what ? Worrying about you ? I have to. You’re throwing your life away.” Steve retorts.

“Stop acting like a parent, it is not your job, for fuck’s sake ! Do you even realise the speech you just gave me, it should be mom or dad doing it ! Not you. Yes, you could be worried but you’re my brother. You’re supposed to make fun of me because I’m being yelled at or you should blackmail me to not tell the parents about my grades. That is your job. You’re not a parent ! You’re not supposed to be responsible for me.”

“They work hard to…”

“To give us a beautiful future, I know.” You cut him, irritated. “But at what cost ? Steve, I’ve seen you acting more like a parent than a teenager and you’re seventeen. I’m tired of seeing you sacrifice your life because two adults aren’t able to do their job. Look, we have a new proof tonight. You were worried sick, you called the cops because I disappeared the whole day.” You keep saying, tearing up. “Parents are supposed to do that, not you. You said it yourself, it’s been two months since you’ve noticed I wasn’t feeling okay. Mom didn’t even notice my grades dropped, even though she signed the report card ! It makes me mad because even when I try to catch their attention, you’re the one worrying. Like you always do. I just want them to notice they’ve failed as parents for once. I want them to see us. For once. But it’s not working. I don’t know what else I can do and I’m sick of it. I can’t stand it anymore, Steve.”

You completely break down in tears. Steve doesn’t answer but hugs you as tight as he can. He knew your family situation affected you, just like it does to him, but he never would have imagined you were suffering this much. He strokes your head, trying his best to calm your sobs as he murmurs sweet nothings. You didn’t think you’d break down tonight but it’s the case. You keep crying every single tear from your body for a few minutes before calming down. When Steve doesn’t feel your shoulders moving anymore, he breaks the embrace a little to look at your face, to look at his little sister’s face, completely broken.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry I didn’t understand sooner why you weren’t feeling okay. I should’ve tried harder when I was asking you how you were.” He says, feeling guilty.

“I would have lied.”

“Still, I should have tried harder.”

“It is not your job.” You repeat whispering.

“It shouldn't be but it is. Even if it’s complicated to handle all of these responsibilities, I’m happy to be here for you so come talk to me when you’re not fine. Maybe I won’t have all the answers but I’ll do my best.” Your big brother assures you.

“Thanks.” You smile.

“If you want, we can try to talk to the parents ?” He suggests.

“They won’t listen.”

“We can always try.”

“Yeah.” You accept, not really convinced.

“You should rest, okay ?” Steve recommends you and you nod.

“Can you stay with me tonight ? Like when I had a nightmare when I was younger ?” You ask with a small voice.

“Sure. I’ll just call the police to say you’re home. I’ll also prepare you a glass of water and some medicine, you’re gonna have one hell of a headache.” He says, laughing a little as he points at your head.

“I guess.” You say, giggling.

Steve kisses your forehead before inviting you to go to your room. You smile at him a little before going upstairs. He starts walking toward the phone in the living room when you stop and call for him. Steve comes back with a questioning look.

“I’m sorry.” You start before clearing your throat. “For worrying you the past two months but especially for tonight. Maybe I wanted the parents to worry but the last thing I wanted was for you to be scared. You’ve been doing so much for me since we’re kids. I’m really grateful to have you as a big brother.” You admit, looking down for a second. “I just hope you know that.”

“I’m glad to have you as a little sister.”

“Again, sorry for tonight. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

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{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in english #stranger things x y/n #stranger things one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x sister!reader #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x sister reader #sister!reader

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prouvaireafterdark · 2 years ago

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Practical Ethics || Chapter One

I dedicate this fic to my beloved enablers and Armand whisperers (you know who you are). This fic would not exist without the tremendous support and ideas you’ve given me over the last few months and I love you all very much for it. I really hope you enjoy this <3

So, without further ado, I present to you the first installment of an Ethics Professor Louis AU, as told by the grad student Armand.

Also on AO3!

***

When Armand sweeps into Dr. du Lac’s graduate level Ethics course on the second day of class, he finds his seat in the center of the small lecture hall’s first row already taken.

The blonde man occupying it, Armand notices, is older than the average student, perhaps in his early thirties, and the desk he’s stolen is totally devoid of notes, books, or a laptop. Dressed in a designer leather jacket, tight black jeans, and platformed Doc Martens, he looks like he’s attempting to channel his inner rockstar. The man’s hair has also been pulled back into a low ponytail that would make anyone else look like a founding father, but in combination with his striking jawline and devastating profile, Armand finds it infuriatingly charming in spite of his considerable annoyance.

Armand had chosen this seat carefully, you see, as he had just endured a harrowing semester as research assistant to Dr. de Romanus—a Romanist, coincidentally, whom Armand had met in Venice, and who had encouraged him to move all the way to San Francisco to complete his doctorate now that he was teaching in the Religion and Philosophy department after the unfortunate defunding of the university’s Classics program. Currently staring down the barrel of another semester working with Dr. de Romanus, Armand is keen on seizing any opportunity he can find to serve under someone with a less… draconian approach to pedagogy in the future. Dr. du Lac seems a more promising prospect than the ancient Dr. Talbot by about a mile, and so the stakes for making a good impression are quite high.

Armand’s eyes narrow as he approaches.

“Excuse me,” he says, standing up as tall and imperious as he can as he stops beside the blonde man. “You’re in my seat.”

“Am I?” the man asks, his English faintly accented. French, definitely, but not Parisian, if Armand recalls from his own considerable time spent living in the city—a regional dialect, he would guess. The generous curve of the man’s mouth and the tilt of his head turn mean all of a sudden as he continues, “Apologies, monsieur. I did not see your name on it.”

The man makes no move to find a different seat, and in fact settles more fully into it, his spine slumped casually against its cushioned back like he could drop off and take a nap at any moment.

Indignant rage simmers beneath the surface of Armand’s skin, mingled with the equally infuriating attraction he feels as an errant blonde curl comes loose from the man’s ponytail, falling over the curve of his cheek when his head tips drowsily forward.

Well, that decides it, Armand thinks to himself. I must destroy him.

Out of spite, Armand chooses the seat next to him, spreading out his folder of meticulously highlighted and annotated readings across the meager desk space this lecture hall provides, just past the point where the edges of his papers brush the blonde man’s arm where it lies on the armrest. He can almost feel the man’s answering glare like a physical thing against the side of his face, but Armand simply feigns ignorance and busies himself with unlocking his iPad to get ready to take notes.

Dr. Louis de Pointe du Lac enters the classroom then, dressed impeccably as always in a finely tailored suit—a sophisticated heather gray tartan this afternoon. Though Armand appreciates the view, he struggles to comprehend how someone living on a philosophy professor’s salary at a small liberal arts college can afford to indulge such exquisite tastes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the blonde man sit up straighter, his attention captivated by the professor as he sets up his notes at the podium in front of the room.

The man can’t be blamed for that, Armand supposes. In his opinion, Dr. du Lac is by far the most handsome professor who works here, and if the chili pepper on his Rate My Professors is any indication, most of his peers agree.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s get started,” Dr. du Lac says with a kind smile and a clap of his hands to gather their attention, taking a moment first to review the names of all his students as he takes attendance before settling in to give his lecture.

Armand does his best to stay focused on the lesson, diligently taking notes on his iPad as Dr. du Lac writes on the board, and even asking and answering questions when the opportunities present themselves. Inevitably, however, he finds his attention drawn to the man sitting beside him.

The man—Lestat, he’s learned from Dr. du Lac’s roll call—seems incapable of doing three things: sitting still, taking his eyes off the professor for longer than a microsecond, and taking any notes whatsoever.

An expensive-looking leather bound journal now sits open on his desk, but he has yet to write down a single word beyond his own name in elegant, looping script. In fact, the only time Lestat even lifts his ridiculous fountain pen off the desk throughout the entire lecture is to rest the end of it against his full bottom lip as his eyes track Dr. du Lac’s every movement, his tongue occasionally peeking out of his mouth to swirl around the metal tip.

Several weeks pass this way—Armand and Lestat stubbornly sitting side by side, each focused entirely on their professor but with seemingly very different goals. He’s noticed that Lestat is always the last person to leave the lecture hall, lingering around for a private word with Dr. du Lac once everyone else has gone. Armand even saw Lestat follow the professor to his car in the parking lot once, but he was running late for a meeting with Dr. de Romanus and couldn’t afford to be too curious.

Lestat’s apparent oral fixation also continues to rear its head at least once a class, driving Armand to the point of madness until one day he can stand it no longer.

“Why are you even here?” he seethes, glaring over at where Lestat is fidgeting in his seat.

They’ve been asked to discuss some reading questions in small groups and, to no one’s surprise, Lestat has made no move to actually contribute anything of substance.

“Pardon?” Lestat asks, looking over at him with those impossible eyes of his. Are they gray? Blue? Purple? Their color seems to change by the day and Armand is pathetically distracted by the desire to pin down their hue.

“You sit here every class taking no notes, doing nothing except practically fellating your pen while you stare at the professor like you want to eat him,” he hisses, frustration bleeding through in his tone. “Do you even do the readings?”

To Armand’s extreme displeasure, Lestat smirks at him.

“Perhaps if you spent less time worrying about what my mouth is doing and more time reviewing your precious notes, you would not have only gotten a 94 on the quiz,” Lestat muses.

“What? How—?” Armand stammers, his cheeks burning with humiliation.

“It seems highlighting nearly the entire article as you have done did not guarantee that last six percent,” Lestat continues, gesturing down to Armand’s desk-full of neatly organized readings with a single manicured finger.

Incredulous anger consumes Armand’s chest. Lestat must have seen his grade when Dr. du Lac handed their quizzes back at the end of last class. It’s the only explanation, but, come to think of it—“You didn’t even take the quiz!”

“I don’t need to,” Lestat shrugs, unfazed. “I am merely auditing the class.”

Now that was even more baffling. He had assumed Lestat needed to take this course as some kind of curriculum requirement, but why on Earth would someone like Lestat be auditing an ethics class?

He supposes it does explain the reason Dr. du Lac’s eyes seem to almost intentionally skip over Lestat when he’s sprawled out in his chair like the entitled brat that he is. If he isn’t paying for the course, why bother making sure he’s actually learning something?

“Well, I don’t know what good it’s doing you. It’s not like you’re even reading the articles he assigns,” Armand shoots back, arms crossed tight over his chest. “Wait, you can read, can’t you?”

Lestat sneers at the question, but before he can open his mouth to deliver the venomous rebuttal Armand is sure he’s been working on the ten whole seconds it’s been since he asked, Louis is addressing the class again.

“Alright, that’s enough one on one discussion time for now. Who’s got something for me?” Louis asks, and when Armand looks up, he sees the professor’s eyes are flickering between the two of them, his brow creased in concern.

It’s another week after that that Armand gets back their latest quiz—a perfect score this time—and finally decides that the moment has arrived for him to move on to the next stage of his plan.

After Dr. du Lac dismisses their class, Armand waits for the handful of other students who have questions for the professor to depart before making his approach, ignoring the glare he gets from Lestat who still hasn’t moved from his seat.

“Armand,” Dr. du Lac smiles as Armand steps up toward the podium where he’s still gathering his papers into his messenger bag. “Those were some very insightful comments you made about the assigned reading. I think you might be the only one who actually understood it.”

Armand is momentarily stunned by the compliment, warmth flooding his body at such praise. He is struck, too, by how beautiful the man is up close, finding himself captivated by the gentle curve of his lips as he grins at him and those warm, dark eyes, fathomless in their depth. He could fall in love with those eyes, he thinks—if Louis wasn’t his professor and Armand wasn’t already in love with someone else, of course.

“Thank you, professor,” Armand says, an almost dreamlike quality to his voice as he attempts to recover.

“Please, call me Louis,” Dr. du Lac interrupts with a wave of his hand. “‘Professor’ is for the undergrads.”

“Louis, then,” Armand replies with a soft smile of his own, shaking off the urge to just keep staring at him.

“So what is it I can help you with?” Louis prompts when he says nothing else.

“Oh,” Armand says, redirecting his thoughts. “I was wondering if you might have recommendations for further reading for me. I will be writing my dissertation on philosophical approaches to the devil and plan to include a chapter on the epistemological and moral issues concerning the subject. As our department’s resident expert on moral philosophy, I thought you might be uniquely situated to point me toward a starting point for my research.”

“Already thinking of the diss?” Louis wonders, curious as his eyes pass him over again. “You must be a few years out from writing it.”

It isn’t hard to imagine why he’s asking. By now, Armand is quite used to being underestimated because of his perceived youth.

“I’m older than I look,” Armand assures him, shifting from one foot to the other. “And I am eager to get started.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Louis says kindly. “I meant you’ve only just started your degree. You’re new to the department, right?”

“I do already have my master’s,” Armand tells him, disliking the implication that he hasn’t advanced enough in his studies to know what he wants to focus on, before he continues, “but yes, I matriculated while you were on sabbatical last semester, no doubt crafting your latest masterpiece.”

Louis laughs, a soft and beautiful sound. “You could say that.”

He glances behind Armand to where Lestat is waiting as he says it, but then his brown eyes refocus on Armand.

“Hey, why don’t you come by my office hours tomorrow?” he suggests. “I’ve got to run, but I might have a few books you’d be interested in.”

Any rankled feelings still lingering in Armand’s heart evaporate completely in the face of Louis’ generous invitation. He is as flattered by Louis’ interest in supporting his work as he is excited by the prospect of spending more time with him.

“That would be wonderful,” Armand replies, eager to accept. “Thank you, I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Louis nods obligingly.

Armand says his goodbyes before heading out the door, feeling strangely light on his feet, as if buoyed by the butterflies he can feel fluttering around in his chest.

#loustat fic #loustat #devil's minion #devil's minion fic #armand #ethics professor louis fic #god this has been SUCH a long time coming #i still have the last chapter to finish but i've decided my desperate need for serotonin outweighs my desire to wait til it's 100% done #so here it is!#chapter one!#i hope it's worth the wait

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katieslittlethoughts · 2 years ago

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le matin de 16 Janvier 2023

A mildly interesting morning today since I woke up relatively early, early enough to get out of the house with my roommate, who has a 9 am; so early in fact, that I even had time for breakfast before leaving the house, which did not deter me from a crêpe when I arrived in the 7th.

After my roommate and I parted ways, I knew I wanted to sit in a little café for some coffee or espresso in the morning. I didn’t have a particular place in mind, with the abundance of cafés surrounding campus in the 7th I knew it was more so a matter of where I wanted to go, not what was available to me.

I ended up on Rue Cler, a classic spot for little cafés, produce, flowers, and anything else of the sort. I ended up in this little spot called L’Éclair. They were super friendly and had a really sweet ambiance, which drew me in to the place. I had a crêpe with raspberry jam and an espresso.

I was a big fan of the espresso but the crêpe tasted a little too much like a pancake for my tastes. Overall it was a great 7.70€ spent. Something I learned today was that you can just choose where you want to sit in a café, still trying to learn those social norms/etiquette things. When I said by I was really confident in my ‘merci’ but mumbled the ‘bonne journée’ since I lost my nerve, but it’s getting there and really I think my nerves better represented me, and not my understanding of the language.

After my second breakfast of the day, I headed to campus to check out the little study spot overlooking the Seine. It was peacefully quiet this morning and the view is just as dreamy as it sounds.

All in all it was a morning well spent. I got a double breakfast, got caffeine in my system (whether or not it works doesn’t really matter), and I got to practice some french. I think this will encourage me to end my nights a little early so I can enjoy mornings like these, where I feel well-rested and prepared for the day ahead. Wish me luck on my first class of the semester!

#study abroad #studyabroad #studygram #study inspiration #studyblr #paris #ipad notes #ipad #ipad planner #college #university #goodnotes #france #frenchblr #life lessons #daily life #self reflectio

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herblackabyss · 1 year ago

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About • Tag List • Ask • Series Masterlist •

[Title] 7 Dates, 7 Conflicts [Rating & Genre] [M] 18+, strangers to lovers, Collage AU [Pairing] Jeon Jungkook x Reader (Amaya Bradford) [Trigger Warnings] one little cuss word

[A/N] I'm working on two other fics along with this one, not BTS related sorry besties but I'm super excited about them especially the Mingi one. Rengoku Mingi lives in my soul rent-free 24/7, 365. but anywhoo I hope you all enjoy. I spent tiiimmmmmeeee editing and refining because I wasn't satisfied with the flow but I guess it's okay now... it's actually stressing me lol kmt. Your feedback is always welcomed guys it helps me improve my writing so feel free to critique in a helpful way. Also I named MC because it really helps with my writing but y'all can just replace the name ig <3

[Word Count] 1802

Tag List

@btsffreader92 ♡ @tinaluvtae ♡ @natalimurghulia ♡ @grltwin ♡ @hobisstar ♡ @namjoonsthottie

7:48 AM

If there's one aspect of school that I utterly dread, it's undoubtedly these cursed early mornings. Dragging myself out of bed at the ass crack of dawn feels like a form of punishment, a ritual concocted by the overlords of academia. I can almost picture them huddled together, plotting in the dim glow of a single desk lamp, cackling as they birthed this diabolical plan to subject students to ungodly class hours. It's as if they extracted it straight from the depths of a collective sleep-deprived nightmare. Yet, no matter how hard I tried to avoid it, luck seemed to take a vacation during this particular semester. My favourite professor of all time, Mr Moody, and his highly sought-after class turned into the academic equivalent of a rare collector's item. The moment that registration portal creaked open, it was as if someone had fired the starting pistol at a track meet—the slots for Mr Moody's class were filled up faster than a Snapchat story on a roller coaster. So here I am now, faced with the one option that clung to the registration page like a stubborn sticker—an 8 am lecture..

Goddamn it.

It's the first day of the new semester, and I can already feel exhaustion seeping into my bones. Despite my reputation as an academic overachiever, I've developed a chronic allergy to early mornings. The mere thought of tearing myself away from the warm embrace of my blankets before 10 am sends an unbearable itch coursing through my body. It feels like I'm wrestling a goddamn grizzly bear every single morning just to make it to class on time.The snooze button has practically become your best friend—Ahem, sorry, not sorry, Chenle. And let's not even talk about the inner battle that rages on when I have to choose between a few extra minutes of precious sleep or a decent breakfast. Navigating through a labyrinth of corridors, I finally arrive at the lecture hall, securing a seat right in the heart of the middle row. I've always held the belief that my choice of seating speaks volumes about my stance on the upcoming semester. For me, it's all about striking that perfect balance. Front rows are out of the question—too much scrutiny from the professor's watchful gaze. But the back rows are equally unacceptable, a potential vortex of distraction among the Neanderthals. So I opt for the middle ground, a conscious decision to engage without being swallowed whole. As I settle in, I lazily rummage through my backpack, unearthing the recommended textbook for class, a fresh notebook, and that pencil pouch I scored from a Sugar Rush Riot concert during summer break. My gaze sweeps across the sea of semi-conscious faces in the room, hoping to catch sight of any familiar ones. And lo and behold, I manage to spot a few friendly faces. There's Ava, my ethics class companion from last year, Gina, my partner-in-crime for surviving Mr. Hanson's painfully dull physics lectures, Issa and Lucas, the dynamic duo who effortlessly infused Parisian flair into my French class last semester, and, unfortunately, the notorious campus Lothario, Jeon Jungkook.

He's got quite the reputation, you know? A real crowd-pleaser, widely sampled, and utterly disrespectful. Around campus, it's like every girl has her very own "Jeon Adventure" to share, each tale brimming with explicit and intricate accounts of how he managed to leave them a quivering, breathless mess. Frankly, it's rather revolting. The way they flaunt every encounter with him like it's some kind of prized badge, casually boasting about every single detail of their time spent together.

A sigh escapes my lips, and I shake my head in mild exasperation. Jungkook might be popular, but I'm not interested in becoming a chapter in his little escapades. I certainly can't afford a distraction of his magnitude and certainly have no intention of sharing a guy with the entire campus.

Lazing there, lost in thought, waiting for class to commence, my eyes are inexplicably drawn to his striking side profile. Absently, I trace the line of his sharp jaw, observing the corners of his eyes crinkling as he engages in animated conversation with his friends. A subtle twitch of his nose, almost like a telltale sign, triggers a charming smile that graces his lips. His head tips back in response to a particularly hilarious joke, and in that instant, his gaze locks onto mine. His lips curl into a languid grin as he watches me. His sudden attentiveness snaps me out of whatever trance I was in, and before I know it, my face scrunches up into a deep scowl. I dramatically roll my eyes before diverting my attention elsewhere, avoiding any further visual contact.

With impeccable timing, Chenle saunters into my peripheral vision, deftly navigating through the rows of my fellow classmates with two steaming cups of coffee and a pair of assorted bagel boxes from Avery's Baegel Shop. Always the savior, isn't he? Seriously, where would I be without him? He's practically rescued me from the brink of starvation more times than I can count. He seamlessly slides into the seat next to me, placing the delectable breakfast on the desk in front of me. The mouthwatering aroma triggers an intense craving, causing my mouth to water involuntarily.

"What's with the expression?" he playfully teases, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips, noticing the way my brows knit together.

"Nothing," I replied with an annoyed huff, a hint of a smile curling up the corners of my mouth as I popped open the lid of the tempting treasure trove before me. My eyes locked onto the ideal choice—a cinnamon and creme bagel, practically begging to be savored.

As I took a bite, the explosion of flavors enveloped my senses, prompting a contented moan to escape my lips. Chenle chuckled at my reaction, well aware of just how much I appreciated his thoughtful gesture. He's always had an uncanny knack for understanding exactly what I need, even without me uttering a single word.

"I knew that one would hit the spot," he remarked, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"You know me too well," I replied, savoring each delectable bite.

"Oh, by the way, guess who's in this class?" I casually tossed out, locking eyes with my friend and flashing a knowing grin. Chenle and Jungkook happened to share the same major, and they'd endured numerous classes together. Most of my insights about the dreadful experience of sharing a lecture with Jungkook had been filtered through Chenle's complaints. Apparently, the guy had a knack for transforming classes into needlessly complex puzzles.

"You've got to be kidding," he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically, disbelief etched across his features. I subtly nodded in the direction of the back row, where Jungkook was comfortably settled. I took another heavenly bite of the warm bagel, savoring the exquisite blend of cinnamon and brown sugar that danced on my taste buds. "But hey, don't sweat it too much. Rumor has it that Mrs. Steel doesn't take any nonsense in her class. Maybe she'll be the one to rein him in."

Almost as if on cue, Veronica Steel strode into the lecture hall, exuding an aura of self-assuredness, her car keys swinging carelessly from her fingers. Her lack of teaching materials upon entry suggested that she might not have an elaborate agenda for today's session. Fortunately for me, this was my only class on a Monday, leaving the rest of the day blissfully free.

"Good morning, everyone," she began, introducing herself with a confidence that immediately put me at ease. Her subtle Spanish accent added a touch of warmth and familiarity to her words. "I'm your instructor, Mrs. Veronica Steel."

"I won't keep you too long, given that this is our first class. However, I do have some important information to share." Her words lingered in the air, grabbing everyone's attention. "All the assignments for this course will be completed in pairs, and I've already assigned your partners. You should have received an email this morning containing the list of assigned pairs." The room sprang to life as students scrambled to retrieve their devices and check their emails, myself included.

My laptop springs to life, and I eagerly navigate to my inbox, searching for the email from Mrs. Steel. Hoping against hope that I've been paired with Chenle, or at the very least, with Gina or Issa, anyone who won't make my life a living nightmare. My eyes scan the list, darting over each name with bated breath, and then Chenle leans over and lightly taps the "Ctrl+F" keys on my keyboard. I can't help but feel a hint of embarrassment; it's not like I've forgotten such a basic keyboard shortcut.

With deliberate care, my trembling fingers spell out my name. Dread courses through my veins, fearing the prospect of being saddled with a partner who'd expect me to carry the entire load. With each letter that materializes on the screen, the suspense heightens. And there it is, as I complete the last letter, my partnership materializes on the screen: Jungkook Jeon & Amaya Bradford.

The air seems to vanish from the room. This can't be real. Out of all the potential partners, it had to be Jungkook. And to make matters worse, this partnership is locked in for the entire semester. Veronica's voice keeps rolling, outlining the expectations for the upcoming assignments. "Each pair will evaluate their partner for every assignment," her words hang heavily, driving home the gravity of the situation and the potential impact on our grades.

The idea of spending a whole semester partnered with Jungkook feels like a mental minefield. We're polar opposites, like oil and water, each with a distinct approach to academics and life. Finding common ground for effective collaboration seems an insurmountable challenge, one that's thrust upon me, whether I like it or not.

Mrs. Steel's voice rings in my ears, emphasizing that switching partners is off the table, no negotiations allowed. The pit of dread in my stomach deepens. This is unavoidable, a collaboration sentence I'm forced to endure.

Against my will, my gaze drifts towards Jungkook. Fuck I really can't stand this guy—an infuriating, self-assured grin plastered on his face. He's relaxed, clearly the king of his realm, ignoring the brunette whispering away on his right. His eyes, however, are locked on me, as if I'm the only presence in the room that matters.

As Veronica concludes, she leaves us with a parting shot. "Thanks for showing up, and I can't wait to see the amazing work you all produce. Welcome to COMM101." And just like that, she's gone, leaving me to wrestle with the chaos in my mind.

"Fml," I whisper, my forehead making contact with the table's surface with a resounding thud.

NAVIGATION | NEXT →

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts x oc #bts x fem!reader #female reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook x female reader #sylo stories

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bekas-ieilandinwoner · 6 months ago

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So just going about my day when I got reminded of a film that I watched in French class. The problem? Well I don't remember anything about the film. Why is that? I spent most of the class time watching the film hiding in the restroom. I was dealing with quite a lot considering the fact it was close to the end of the semester, and I had a lot of end of course stuff to do. I was so stressed. Additionally, my 16th birthday was at the start of that semester. Only one person outside of my family even said happy birthday. That person was actually taking advantage of me, but I had no clue since I have never had a relationship like that. No one to tell me that it was wrong. I became quiet once more. I was absolutely devastated by the French project that would follow. (If y'all want I could provide the French stories I made.) Anyways, my summer and winter breaks always feel forlorn and hopeless. I try to take a rest from school, but end up still jaded. At night remain restless for little reason. My face is seemingly permanently marked by those weary bags underneath my eyes. I have had them since the start of middle school. Even in my safe place my very being is forlorn. Nothing will come of this.

#ongezellig #schoppenboer posting

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immersionfrancaise · 1 year ago

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Ok, so after moving to Jordan in 2016 to teach English, after years of studying Levantine Arabic, I have taken a slightly dramatic turn.

In June we packed up life and the baby and said goodbye to Jordan. We spent the summer in the States visiting family, and then in August we arrived in our new home.

We are now living in the south of France, and my husband and I are studying French full time.

I tested into the A2 class after two mostly forgotten semesters of French that were taken more than 10 years ago.

All that to say, this blog (which has not been terribly active as of late) is transitioning from an immersed in Arabic blog to an immersed in French blog.

Allons-y! 🇫🇷🤓🥖

#french #france #langblr #student #personal

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a-multilingual-dream · 2 years ago

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Hello!

My name is Juliet. I recently finished my masters degree in sociolinguistics, and then moved to France to work for a travel company. I used my first three months of living in this new country and working full time to get settled in, but now I'm ready to get back to my language studies!

And what better place to get motivation than here ;)

Let me introduce the languages that i speak / want to speak:

🇩🇪 German 🇩🇪 (Native)

This is my mother tongue and i actually have a certificate to teach German as a foreign language - i love teaching it, so if anyone needs help, don't hesitate to contact me.

🇺🇲 English 🇺🇲 (C1 / C2)

I started learning English at 12 years old in high school, and later taught myself by reading English books and watching English tv shows. My master program was mostly in English and i actually wrote my thesis in English, so I'm pretty comfortable with the language.

🇨🇵 French 🇨🇵 (C1)

Oh French - my love and my enemy. I grew up next to the French border and starting learning it in 5th grade. I proceeded to do 2 student exchanges in France, spent a year as an au pair in Paris, later did my Erasmus semester in Paris and recently moved back to France. I love France, i love French - and the pressure is high to speak it fluently. This actually makes me pretty self-conscious when speaking it, which in turn makes me worse at it. By moving to France, i hope to really improve my language skills, especially my vocabulary.

🇮🇹 Italian 🇮🇹 (B1)

Italian is my favorite language in the world, and Italy is my favorite country in the world. I just love everything about it, which is why I decided to learn Italian a few years ago. I have been studying it on and off for about 4 years, a mix of beginner classes at my university and self study. After finishing my masters this spring, i spent the summer traveling through Italy and ended the trip with a 2 week language course in Torino, and it was absolutely amazing! I'm excited to keep learning and to hopefully go back to Italy many times :)

🇯🇵 Japanese 🇯🇵 (beginner)

I've been wanting to study Japanese for sooo long, i think it's been 5 years since i bought my first Japanese language book. 5 years later, do i speak any Japanese? Nope. I can read and write hiragana and katakana, quite a few kanji, and i know basic sentence structure. But that's it. I think it's soo interesting to learn all about a language that's completely different from all the languages i know, but that also makes it challenging to learn it all by myself. I had planned and booked a 6-week language course in Tokyo in the summer of 2020, and was soo excited that i cried when I booked it. Well, I cried even more when the whole trip got cancelled bc of COVID... After that i didn't really get back into studying it, although I'm still as interested in it as ever. So I've been thinking about trying out italki this year... I will try to make a decision about how to go forward with my Japanese study during January.

~Other~

If i had the time to study more languages (which at the moment i absolutely do not, but life is long) i would be interested in Chinese and Korean. After getting to know the basics of Japanese i find it really fascinating to learn a whole new writing system and a completely different grammar, and although I've had absolutely no connection to Asia so far in my life, i absolutely want to travel there and learn more about its numerous languages (which i know aren't just Japanese, Chinese and Korean 😉). It's just like there's a whole new world to explore there!

So that was my (not so short) introduction. I'll be looking for langblrs that post more or less about the languages I'm learning, so if anyone who studies any of my languages sees this post, don't hesitate to leave a like and I'll have a look at your account!

To be continued...

#langblr #studyblr #German #English #French #Italian #Japanese #Chinese #languages #langblr reactivation challenge

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letsbenditlikebennett · 1 year ago

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TIMING: Before spring semester ended PARTIES: @ariadnewhitlock & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: While trying to navigate a campus covered in cracks, Alex finds her route is a no go and starts ranting to herself in French. When she hears a response that happens to come from a pretty girl named Ariadne, her mood is brightened. The pair chat and go to the campus food court for pizza. CONTENT: Parental death mention

This was far from the first time that some strange occurrence in Wicked’s Rest had forced Alex to take a detour, but for some reason, this detour seemed especially frustrating. Mainly because when she thought she’d finally found a way around the large ooze-filled cracks in the ground, she seemed to come across another. Navigating around the likely biohazards had already caused her to miss getting a chance to eat lunch before practice and now they were making it take longer to get home when all she wanted was to eat the entire contents of their pantry.

Frustration swelled in Alex as she realized her planned route home was no more. “T'es sérieux putain,” she muttered as her shoulders slumped in defeat. The growl in her stomach protested her despondence as she tried to figure out which shortcut she was going to take. “Maybe through the music building,” she wondered aloud in some strange mix of French and English, not paying much attention to anyone passing her by.

Even though she’d lived in town her whole life, even though she’d spent time on campus as a child (and baby, she supposed, though she didn’t much remember that), the new detour requirements due to whatever, exactly, was going on was certainly testing her navigational abilities. Especially since the routes Ariadne was able to take seemed to change daily, or more than once a day, sometimes, even. It was unpredictable at best.

She was between classes - though she had a choreography one coming up soon, and Ariadne had decided to attempt to find somewhere to sit and do something (what, exactly, she wasn’t sure). Tucking her phone back into her pocket, she spotted another figure, stopped in the middle of the pathway. One who spoke, it seemed, French. “C'est un joli espace,” it’s a beautiful place, she couldn’t help but comment. “Do you play an instrument?” She added on. “Sorry for jumping in on the conversation, it feels nice to hear someone else speak French.”

The sound of another voice drew Alex out of her muttered swears and brought her attention to the person it was attached to. The very beautiful person who it was attached to– who also spoke French apparently. All thoughts of getting home and some plan of an alternative route left her mind entirely as she took in how nice the language sounded coming from someone who wasn’t directly related to her. She realized she was staring with her eyes tracing the soft waves in the other girl’s blonde hair and shook her head quickly. A beautiful place? “Quel– oh the music building, yeah,” she answered, stumbling over her words.

After a mental kick to pull herself together, Alex straightened up her posture and smiled, “Sorry, the whole unplanned detour thing has me a little thrown,” she laughed, “But yeah, it is one of the nicer buildings. Don’t spend too much time there, actually. More of a science building kinda gal. I do play some guitar though!” She fondly thought of the old acoustic guitar she found in the thrift store not too long after she first moved to town. “Do you spend a lot of time there?”

The other girl was undoubtedly beautiful, too. Ariadne couldn’t recall when she’d last seen someone whose hair was that brilliantly red. She shook her head, trying to refocus on what the other girl was saying - “yes, the music building.” She felt herself relax, at least a bit. The fact that the redhead hadn’t been mad at her did wonders for her paranoia. Which she still wasn’t entirely sure she could have, but all the same, anything to calm her nerves was always welcome.

“Oh, big same. The unplanned detour, thing.” Ariadne sighed, “you play guitar? That - that’s really cool. I can’t play it. Or read music, really. So uh - no.” She shook her head, “not in the practice rooms, at least. I do dance though, so I’ve been in there, but I’m in the dance building more often. I just - grew up here, so I know some things.” She pressed her palms against her face. “Didn’t mean to sound like I was bragging - I -” she stuck out her hand, “I’m Ariadne. If you like life savers, I have some in my bag.”

“Unplanned detours should be the town slogan,” Alex joked as she felt the annoyance from before floating away in the distance. If having to take the long way around campus meant bumping into a beautiful girl, she’d consider it a win. She stood a bit taller, well, as tall as someone who was all of 5’1” could stand as it was. The reason she picked up the beat up guitar from that thrift store was primarily to impress girls, but still, it felt nice when they thought it was cool. “My guitar skills are like– mid at best,” she laughed, “And I definitely can’t read music either. Every song I’ve learned has been from YouTube… and they might all be Taylor Swift or Phoebe Bridgers songs. And dance building? Are you in the dance program here?”

The shift of the girl covering her face slightly took Alex by surprise. She adjusted her own stance and softened her features to mask the confusion. The statement caught her off guard, but she recoiled quickly. Clearly, Ariadne was a bit shy, which was kind of endearing. She laughed and shook her head, “Even if you were bragging, I’d say go off, queen.” She took the hand that was extended to her, giving it a friendly shake and a light squeeze. “Ariadne, that’s a pretty name. It really suits you,” she smiled, “I’m Alex. And I love any and all candy… and detours made me miss lunch before practice. So you’d even be a real life-saver with those.” She giggled a bit and added, “We’ll pretend I said something much cooler than that.”

Not the smoothest game Alex had ever run, but Ariadne seemed more nervous than most people. While she liked to maintain a sense of cool, she never shied away from the chance to be a little cringe every once and a while. She looked to the music building, all old bricks and brambles with rays of sunshine peering around the edges. It really was a beautiful building, not that she cared all that much for structures. “Where are you heading? After a stroll through the music building, that is.”

“That and just ‘surprise!’” Ariadne sighed. She wasn’t going to focus on the truly unpleasant surprises that came along with this town. Having a full-out panic attack in the middle of the day, in front of a stranger, was really not how she wanted her day to go. “Well, mid is better than non-existent, which is what mine are.” She nodded. “Please don’t yell at me when I say I don’t think I could name a song by either of them. I know the names, but Fleetwood Mac and such, that’s more my speed. What do you like about them?” At the girl's next question, she brightened. “I am - dance and art history double major.”

“Thank you. Alex is really pretty too. And god, same. Never met a candy I didn’t like. Except not the biggest grape jolly ranchers fan.” Ariadne shook Alex’s hand back - and I think that was a clever pun! I’m awful at being funny, and you seem very good at it, so… besides, I don’t think judging people is very fair, so if you want to pretend you said the coolest thing you can imagine, I’ll pretend right with you!”

Her gaze followed Alex’s to the music building. “I have a choreography class coming up soon, but I was looking for somewhere to go and sit. You said you were hungry, yeah? Do you want to go to the Campus Center? I could really go for a slice of pizza, personally.” Ariadne looked over at Alex, somewhat sheepishly. “And probably a soda. We should go wild, right? If I’m going out for lunch, I won’t get a salad, unless it’s like super special.” She readjusted her bookbag. “Nothing against salads. I love them. But I actually can make one at home, so…”

“Wait, really,” Alex responded incredulously, “Phoebe is a little more niche, but Taylor Swift? You’ve probably heard some without realizing it. Her stuff's in stores and restaurants a lot. I think I know some Fleetwood Mac… or well, the Glee versions of Fleetwood Mac anyway. Which I can almost guarantee don’t stand up to the originals.” She was pretty sure that Fleetwood Mac was an older band, something they may have heard on some rural radio station or truck stop gas station back when she and Andy were always on the road. “What’s your favorite song by them,” she asked, “I’ll have to give it a listen.” And maybe learn it on her guitar. Because what was even the point of learning to play guitar if it wasn’t used to serenade gorgeous women?

“You’re so valid for that. They are the least tasty jolly rancher flavor,” Alex agreed, “And glad I didn’t totally ruin a first impression with a dad joke. And not judging people, I like it. Good way to live.” She wasn’t sure how much she lived up to that. Harsh judgment had been ingrained into her the moment she was born. She was supposed to be a protector, she was supposed to find and stop the monster. Some joke that turned out to be. Now she was a monster and she grappled with how much she believed she was truly a monster. It should have been cut and dry. Maybe Ariadne had the right idea.

“I have never said no to pizza,” Alex beamed, “And I’m not about to start now. Lead the way.” She walked alongside Ariadne and really wasn’t all that invested in how pretty the music building actually was. The higher ceilings in the open hallways allowed for some nicer acoustics she was sure, but right now she just enjoyed the way they made Aria’s words carry. “I probably have salad stuff at home too, I don’t cook much though. My cousin is just on a kick of trying to get my sister and I to eat ‘real food’.” The last part was surrounded in air quotes. “But either way, here for going crazy with the pizza. It’s one of my favorite food groups.”

“That’s fair - I guess I’ve just never looked her up to listen to, then?” Ariadne bit down on her tongue, “not that I’m trying to say that, ‘cause I think I’m too cool or whatever. Very much not cool. Also just very much genuinely not trying to seem cool. Clueless might be better?” Because that was the best way to describe her, far as music went. Well, music in this century. Though Ariadne knew some current music, she just preferred… other music. Which wasn’t something to focus on right now. “I’ll have to listen to Taylor, too. Do you have songs of hers you think I might like most?” She shook her head. “That’s a super big ask, but if there’s any that a newbie should listen to, I’d love advice.”

Another nod. “The absolute worst.” Alex was being exceptionally kind to her, and Ariadne was exceptionally grateful for it. “I think if a joke - a kind one, I should clarify - ruins someone’s first impression of you, maybe they aren’t worth impressing in the first place?” She offered the other girl a smile. “I mean, I try - I think that it’s impossible to never ever judge, but I try to avoid it, if possible. Unless you’re like, rude or anti-basic rights or whatever, then I will judge, but outside of that? Eh. Not worth it.” She wondered if some of the lack of judging resulting from her preoccupation with being a monster herself made her some sort of self-centered, but elected to not focus on that right now.

“Awesome. I agree, pizza’s perfect.” As the two set off, she found herself glancing back toward Alex, as if to make sure that this suddenly acquired maybe-friend wasn’t something she’d made up. “Sounds like your cousin cares, but I think you should be allowed to eat whatever you want. My cousin,” she swallowed, for a moment, “is like, a genius cook. He’s at the culinary school here. He probably would have a few things to say about some of my meals, maybe.” Ariadne was pretty sure that eating nightmares was not something any chef would advise. “Best pizza toppings in your opinion?”

There was something endearing in the way Ariadne rambled as she spoke. It wasn’t a habit that Alex personally had, she was far too reserved to risk a part of herself she didn’t want to show the world being exposed. So much of who and what she was had been kept under lock and key with only small, calculated thoughts being shared with people who weren’t Andy. It was refreshing, that stream of consciousness being shared aloud. She shook her head and laughed a bit. “You’re so fine,” she assured, “Not at all giving off the gatekeeping hipster vibe. Pretty sure those folks think they’re too good to listen to Taylor Swift as if she’s not the songwriter of the generation.”

Narrowing down her favorite song wasn’t an easy task. Alex contemplated for a minute as she thought over some of her favorites before narrowing it down to three. “Hard to pick one favorite, but My Tears Ricochet, Cruel Summer, or Fearless. Fearless specifically has to be Taylor’s Version though,” she explained, “She’s re-recording all of her old albums because some dude in the music industry who bullied her bought her masters– so now she’s re-recording them so she is sole owner. So yeah, can’t give Scooter the streams and money for listening to the stolen version.”

“Hm,” Alex voiced as she listened, “You make a good point. If someone is judgemental over a harmless pun, probably not worth impressing anyway.” It was a blatant lie. So badly, she needed people to like her more than she liked herself. As if their approval could make up for the fact she was a monster, as if it could make up for the fact that if her parents were alive to see her they’d probably think the same. Those thoughts were too heavy though and ones she would never even whisper aloud. “Oh yeah, fuck anyone who’s not here for basic rights and stuff,” she agreed, “That’s worth judging. That’s like… someone’s basic character or whatever.”

The trek through the music building was short and Alex could appreciate some of the building’s beauty, but the conversation at hand was much more intriguing to her. Her new friend was beautiful, but didn’t carry herself in a way that gave Alex the impression she knew that about herself. But Alex was no frat boy, she wasn’t just going to lay on the compliments and tacky innuendos about it. She nodded as they exited the building and got closer to the food court-esque student center. “Yeah,” she pondered, “He does care.” It was hard to believe that Kaden could care for a monster, but the evidence was stacking up in his favor there. “He doesn’t stop me from eating my normal stuff, he just cooks better stuff. Except for the cheese.” Her nose scrunched about thinking about the stinky cheese he brought home. “That’s so cool– I signed up for one of the community cooking classes, but culinary school? That’s like Gordon Ramsey level… hopefully they don’t teach the calling people idiot sandwiches thing in culinary school.” She giggled a bit as they entered the student center and she braced herself for the wave of noise that came with going to one of the busier parts of campus. Her face took a more serious note as she pretended to contemplate pizza toppings. “Hm, definitely not anchovies. They’re stinky. I like pepperoni and olives best, I think, but I’ll eat most pizza. What’s your favorite?”

“Okay, if you’re sure. I’m also sorry for the nonsense I’m saying, I -” well, she didn’t really know how to make easy conversation, and saying a lot of not much was better than giving away random facts and aspects of her life to strangers, no matter how cute and kind they were. “Oh, good, I really wouldn’t want to give off that vibe. I think anybody should enjoy any music they want.” Which was true. Ariadne certainly didn’t see any point in ‘gatekeeping’ or anything similar to that because what was the joy in keeping things that made you happy from other people?

Alex clearly knew her stuff about music, and Ariadne nodded along as she listed off her favorite songs. “Ew, that’s awful that someone would do that to her. Also, I don’t like to judge, but what kind of name is Scooter? That sounds like a bad-guy name.” She pulled out her phone and typed the song names into her Notes app. “I’ll have to listen to those later.” She felt excited about it - someone had recommended something important to them and that was Ariadne’s favorite way to find out more about people. It wasn’t invasive the way that nightmares were, and it was about something joyful rather than something terrible.

“Oh, thanks.” Except that Ariadne knew that messing up a first impression made her nervous, but there was something so comfortable about Alex’s presence that she found her worries moving aside, at least for the moment. “It is someone’s basic character, yeah, I think.” She found herself grateful that she wasn’t being too rude in her comments, that Alex was agreeing with her. Someone cute and nice and knowledgeable thought she made good points and Ariadne couldn’t help but brighten at that.

“I’m glad you have a cousin who cares about you.” She wrapped her arms around her body as they moved through the building. “What’s up with the cheese?” Ariadne grinned. “That’s good that he doesn’t stop you from having what you love. My cousin will sometimes still do junk food nights with me, so that’s nice. Just that like, learning to cook all fancy or whatever didn’t turn him into a snob.” Ariadne wrinkled her nose. “Yes, I don’t think they teach you name-calling there.” Her eyes widened, “or like, I hope not. That would seem very very mean, and I don’t think you should ever be mean if you can help it, you know?” She shook her head. “Sorry. Oh yeah, no anchovies.” She nodded at Alex’s choices. “Those are great. I’ll admit I don’t love olives - a bit too salty for my taste, but I’m real big on banana peppers, mushrooms, and spinach. Sometimes some bacon, but I’m also not too picky.” She pulled the door of the campus café open for Alex, “after you.”

“Positive,” Alex assured with an easy smile. It was strange, meeting someone who so outwardly mirrored how she felt a lot of the time. Out of place. That was hardly something she truly wanted to reflect on, so the thought slipped away just as quickly as it had come and she found herself walking in step with Ariadne. She couldn’t help but laugh at her new friend’s reaction to Scooter. It was the only appropriate response. She laughed a bit, “You’re all good. Scooter is a stupid name… for a human. Good name for a cat or something though.”

“Totally a shady dude, though,” Alex agreed, “And like in general, seems weird to have ownership over someone’s like… entire life work like that. But can’t say I really understand the legality of well… most things that aren’t directly related environmental conservation. And even then, that’s mid.” The wave of noise was becoming easier to tune out, even if it did it did give her a minor headache. It was easier when Ariadne was talking and she could focus on what the other girl was saying to block out everything else.

At the mention of cheese, Alex shrugged a bit. She couldn’t say she understood fancy cheeses, yet another thing her parents would probably hate if they were here, but she did know that it smelled. Sure, some of the stink was likely the stink hanging over the entirety of the town, but blaming it on Kaden was way more fun. “I don’t know about the cheese. Supposed to be fancy and really good. It’s called Pont d… something. I couldn’t get past the smell,” she offered, “And no worries, think that may be a Gordon Ramsey specific thing for the cameras, not an actual culinary school thing. If your cousin isn’t a snobby person, probably isn’t gonna magically graduate one.”

Given the smells and sounds that Alex already had to do her best to ignore day in and day out, she was glad Ariadne wasn’t here for anchovies on pizza. As pretty and seemingly kind as Ariadne was, there was only so much her nose, and by proxy her stomach, could handle. “Can never go wrong with banana peppers,” she agreed, “I get ya on the olives, there not everyone’s jam. Think I have more of an affinity for anything that can be stored for a long time or purchased at a gas station.” Purchased was probably not the most accurate word, but a little white lie about her shoplifting habits wasn’t a huge deal in the big scheme of things. Really, letting Ariadne think she was human and worth getting to know was probably the bigger lie, but Alex didn’t have it in her to isolate herself when what she craved most was approval. From who? She didn’t know, but approval all the same. “Thanks,” she smiled as she walked through the door that was held open for her. “So veggie sans olives,” she asked, “We could probably split one of those smaller pies.”

They took their place in line and Alex found herself more curious about her lunch date. Well, not a date date. They’d only just met, but Alex figured she could ask her to meet up for coffee some time before they parted ways. “So Dance major,” she wondered aloud, “What’s that like? What made you choose Dance?”

“I’m glad.” Alex was easy to talk to, in the best of ways, and Ariadne found herself relaxing naturally, without having to put too much thought into any of it. It was a welcome feeling, though not one that she was willing to get too comfortable in, because she was all too aware of just how poorly that could go. “Yeah, but if he’s a mean person, I wouldn’t think it’d be fair to name a cat or whatever after him. Or with his name? She shrugged. “I think I’ve started to get into the ‘not making sense’ category again.”

“Hey, you’ve still got lots on me, because I don’t know any legality of anything. Environmental conservation is really important though, so I think it’s real impressive that you know about that, even if just a bit.” Ariadne nodded, the admiration clear on her face. She had an intense appreciation for the successes and passions that others had - being in competition with someone else had never been something she’d thrived with, even though she figured she was probably supposed to thrive with that in dance, at least.

“I can see the lack of appeal for wicked smelly cheeses, yeah.” She shrugged. “I can’t say I know cheese names, but I believe you.” Which she did - “that makes sense, though I’m not like, a Gordon Ramsey expert or anything. My cousin’s something else,” Ariadne winced at that, “but he’s not a snob. Never has been.”

“Banana peppers are just the best, aren’t they? Yeah - olives just aren’t really my jam, but I figure that leaves more for those who do love them, which is a really nice thing to think about. Ariadne nodded. “Gas station and long-storable food is underrated. I’ll admit to keeping a lot of freeze dried fruit in my bag at pretty much all times, and those slushies you can get at the gas station? The best.” Another nod, “yeah, we can split it if you’d like, I’d like that, but I don’t wanna like, force you or whatever.” Especially because Alex deserved so much more in even a casual sort of friend, but focusing on pizza and the lilt of Alex’s voice was good and helped push her not-so-nice thoughts away, at least for a few seconds.

“I’ve loved dance ever since I was itty-bitty. So I guess it was something I was always good at, even when other parts of school were hard. It makes me happy.” The line moved forward, and Ariadne shuffled along. “I am able to push everything else away when I dance. I - did that answer your question even kind of?” Another step forward. “Can I ask why you environmental conservation?”

It was nice to get lost in conversation about simple things like music and pizza. Surface level was where Alex thrived, where she felt safe and comfortable. Like one of those microfleece blankets, she could wrap the lightness around herself and settle into the warmth. To top it all off, Ariadne was sweet, arguably sweeter than anyone else she had ever met. There was a certain innocence there, one that she wished she could protect, but in a town like Wicked’s Rest that was a feat in and of itself, especially for someone who still struggled to put up a good fight when push came to shove.

“True,” Alex laughed easily, “No cat deserves that.” Not that she was a big cat person. They probably smelled the canine side of her and most tended to stay away. Not that she was looking to get a cat. “And good– that you’re cousin isn’t a snob and all,” she added, “And probably makes some pretty fire food.”

There were a lot of fond memories around gas station slushies. Alex loved the blue ones and how her lips would appear blue for hours after. It was a silly thing, but she and Andy could laugh about it and gas stations' slushies just hit different on a summer day. “Oh yeah, can’t skip out on a gas station slushie. And food that can be stored is convenient and you can always keep a spare snack on hand.” Which was a good thing for a werewolf the closer to the full moon she got though admittedly most of her snacks were beef jerky.

Alex was intrigued as the other girl spoke about dance. It wasn’t something Alex was ever coordinated enough to excel at. She could remember her mother trying to compare hunting movements and combat to a dance– one that the young not-ranger stumbled all the way through. Even at school dances, she opted to only join in for the slow dances. She was content to watch her dates dance with friends for the other songs. The answer Ariadne provided was simple enough, even if she couldn’t quite understand it herself. “That sounds cute,” she smiled, “Itty bitty you dancing away. And it makes enough sense, you just love it. Some things are just that simple.”

The question being returned to her was a bit more complicated. There were a lot of Alex chose ecology and conservation as a place to put her efforts. For one, the survivalist aspects of hunter training were the only ones she was ever any good at. Then, once she was a werewolf, the forest just felt like the right place to be. It was quiet, familiar in its own way. And if she could protect that little oasis, she wanted to. Even better if she could keep the unsuspecting humans of Wicked’s Rest from wandering right into danger. “Hm,” she shrugged, “I guess I’ve just always felt best in nature. Even if parts of it are more dangerous, it just feels right being out there. Quiet, but not boring, you know?”

She wanted to add - no cat should deserve to be near me - but refrained. Because that would involve way too much explanation on her part, and not in any way the sort of explanation she wanted to provide. She’d gotten good at explaining why sometimes reading was hard for her, but that was not a part of her she was ashamed of. Not at all - if anything, it was something she was proud of, something that she knew she struggled with, but also knew it wasn’t a bad thing. The whole being dead thing, on the other hand, was not so great. At all. Ariadne still hadn’t found an easy way to explain that, save for if she ran into someone who was already dead themselves.

“Yeah, he’s not.” Chance may have been a lot of things, and she may have been confused by a significant number of those things, but Ariadne would never call him snobby. Reckless and overconfident, sure, but not snobby. There was also still a (not so) small part of her that hoped somehow, the Chance she’d known for the better part of her life would return and resurface. Or at least that she’d be given a reason as to why he’d up and changed his whole personality.

She grinned at Alex. “Right? Gas stations slushies are like, elite. I’ve mixed cherry and blue raspberry before, in part solely so I can have a purple slushie that isn’t grape.” Another nod, “oh yeah, easily stored food just makes sense. I mean, I’m all for a bowl of fresh strawberries, or whatever, but easily stored means it won’t go bad, so you can keep it for ages.” Ariadne offered Alex a kind shrug.

“I’m glad you think that way.” Ariadne wished that she could, sometimes - that she could make things more simple. Just over a year ago, things had been simpler. But maybe, right now, with Alex, things could be simple again, even if just for a few moments. She wondered if she was greedy, taking advantage of that as much as she was. Just like when she’d drunk have a bottle of lemonade in no time one summer simply because she’d forgotten to drink anything while playing and had been so thirsty she couldn’t stop.

“I like that. Quiet, but not boring. I know I can use some quiet, more often than not. Everything else just gets so… busy.” She made a small face. “I’m glad you found something you like, though. I think that’s wicked important, and if you can do that and help people - or the world - or whatever - out, all the better, yeah?”

“Cherry and blue raspberry together for a good tasting purple,” Alex mused playfully, “Looks like your cousin isn’t the only culinary genius in the family.” The easy smile had settled into her features now. When was the last time she allowed herself to drop the carefully curated version of herself for anyone besides Andy? Was this that? Or was there something novel in the effortlessness of it all? Even her lamer jokes had gone over without a hitch– had gone over with an appreciation even. She wasn’t going to read too deeply into it. She was going to enjoy her lunch with a pretty girl and good company without all the inner turmoil.

“Exactly,” Alex exclaimed, “We lived out of our car essentially for a while, so stuff that doesn’t go bad just made sense. And now it’s habit, I guess.” She shrugged, the normal embarrassment not kicking in. Ariadne seemed to truly live up to her ideal of not passing judgment on others and it had lulled the normally guarded werewolf into an odd sense of… comfortable? She couldn’t put her finger on it.

“I’m glad you did, too,” Alex answered, “And it’s nice that you get the quiet thing.” It was nice that she seemed to get a lot of things, or if she didn’t, Ariadne at least tried to understand them. And against any better judgment, she said, “This is nice. Don’t be surprised if I steal you for more campus lunch dates in the future.” There was a playful smile on her lips as she spoke and she raised her slice of pizza in a mock ‘cheers’ motion. Maybe unplanned detours weren’t such a bad thing after all.

#wr thread #wr ariadne #threads; with ariadne; sweet little detours #parental death tw #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight's blinding) ;; season 1 writing

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vinbee631 · 1 year ago

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13 - The Bar Isn’t the Best Place to Find Advice, Thank God We’re In the Hallway

Prodigal Sons and Daughters Alike

If Janus had known private high school was going to be filled with as much teenage angst as regular public high school, he never would have bothered with the hours of work it took to apply.

Little Janus angst for the soul, title loosely based on Shape of You by Ed Sheeran because I Could Not Think of Anything Else and it's funny.

god, i love their dynamic so much.

If Janus had known private high school was going to be filled with as much teenage angst as regular public high school, he never would have bothered with the hours of work it took to apply.

That was only partially untrue, unfortunately.

It did not help that he’d chosen a track that was full of the most dramatic individuals on the planet: actors and dancers.

Yes, he was also very dramatic, what of it? It takes one to know one, after all. He reserved the right to be critical of all his whiny classmates, when he too, spent an unreasonable amount of time complaining and being a pain in the ass.

It would seem, with every bone in his body being the dramatic and sarcastic ones, that he would fit in well with his department.

The fact that his only ‘friends,’ if you could even call them that, were exclusively his dormmates, only one of which was even close to being in his track, did not back up that statement whatsoever.

Despite being much more outspoken than a certain recluse roommate the twins had initially taken to creating conspiracy theories about and inevitably started scheming about instead of actually talking to him, Janus did not succeed in the department of making and keeping friends, he never had.

So, when faced with the sudden reminder one of his classes involved a semester-long group project without assigned partners, he realized he had just been royally fucked, pardon the french.

It was enough to forget about the fact he was supposed to be planning his big get-to-know-Virgil thing the others had been chatting about excitedly for a few days now.

Logan’s success on the matter didn’t help, either. There was now an expectation that Janus had to come up with something convincing enough that Virgil would actually agree to it, he didn’t have the crutch of someone else’s failure. No, that would be too easy.

With all that in mind, it was a bit easier to explain how he found himself in his next, and most current, predicament. One that he literally ran into as he was distractedly making his way to his next class.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. One would think that brainstorming and walking would be easy to multitask, but I’ve never been the type to effectively do two things at once.” Janus crouched down to help the poor sap he’d rammed into gather the papers they’d been carrying.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” the person replied, and Janus glanced up to find he recognized that prickly voice. He smirked up at Virgil, handing him the rest of his scattered papers.

“Well, if my apology isn’t good enough, I’m not quite sure what else you expect from me. As great as turning back time would be, that is unfortunately not in my skillset at this time.” A filter in this situation would have been immensely helpful, but he was pleasantly surprised at Virgil’s snort in response.

“Really? It’s not that hard to learn. I took an online course over the summer, you should consider it,” Virgil snarked back, surprisnging himself and Janus.

The latter scoffed. “Not all of us have ample free time to evolve beyond human nature, although if you have any better, less time-consuming options, I hope you will keep me in the loop, yes?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “If you don’t have the patience for the zoom meetings, that’s on you. But sure, if I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know, I guess.”

“Good, it’s the least you could do after rubbing your privilege in my face. Although… here’s an idea, perhaps we would both benefit from you teaching me instead? I wouldn’t get to complain about how hard to access the classes are, and you wouldn’t get to complain about my- laziness, or whatever,” Janus proposed sarcastically, inspecting his fingernails casually.

“Ah, I don’t know enough to be a teacher. I barely know enough to use it, to be honest, hence why I didn’t reverse time to stop this whole thing from happening. It’s finicky, takes years to perfect, and even longer to master it enough to teach it to someone.”

“Well, you see my predicament then! I’m not going to start learning something that takes years if I don’t have the time or motivation to do so. So I’ll appreciate you refraining from any judgment,” Janus continued, surprised Virgil was putting up with him for this long, but he was not about to point that out.

Virgil raised his hands in mock surrender. “I concede to you point. Although, I never said you had to master it, just that I was shocked you wouldn’t make an effort to try it out… Anyway, I gotta…uh, get to class now… Good talk.”

Janus nodded, a bit too scatterbrained to wave goodbye. In hindsight, that was his chance to keep Virgil’s attention, to offer to walk to class with him or carry the papers he had previously scattered, or- something.

Virgil surprised him once again by taking that step for him.

“Is… is everything- good?” When Janus glanced back up, he realized Virgil hadn’t, in fact, left for his class. He even had the decency to look a bit concerned for him, how sweet.

“Uh… yes, never been better,” Janus stammered to reply when he realized he’d taken a bit too long in his shock to respond, “why do you ask? I thought you had a very important class to be getting to.” Virgil shrugged. “You just… looked like something was- up, I guess.” He fidgeted with the straps of his bag as he spoke, obviously just as uncomfortable as Janus was with the question.

“Do you actually care?” Janus asked honestly. “I mean, I’m sure you have better ways to spend your time than listening to me complain about something I will likely have resolved in a week or two.”

Virgil simply shrugged again, going as far as to step to the side so they weren’t in the way of anyone walking past. “I have time, actually. And, I don’t know that I’ve seen you express any emotion other than smug, so you have me intrigued.”

Janus laughed. “I suppose that’s not entirely innacurate. I… suppose it sounds a bit silly out loud, but, well… I have yet to find a partner for a semester-long group project, and everyone in that class has already found someone to work with. And, as fun as it would be to interrupt someone’s hard work, joining an already established group would completely throw off all of my ideas.”

Virgil nodded in sympathy, pursing his lips. “I mean… does it have to be someone in that class? Like, I’m sure whoever the teacher is has other periods. Maybe, someone else in another class is looking for a partner?”

“It seems we do think alike,” Janus smiled grimly. “I already tried that, asked the teacher and everything. He said I have to join a group within my class, it would be too complicated to not be able to utilize our class time to finish the project.”

“Huh, I guess that’s reasonable. Sucks for you though…” Among all the outcomes Janus had complied in his head of this particular conversation, Virgil making an honest effort to help him had not been one. But hey, help was help, he wasn’t going to refuse it just because he was surprised it was happening.

“What… what kind of project is it? Is it something you can just- word-gymnastics your way into doing by yourself?” Another idea Janus had considered, and he shook his head ruefully.

“Um, well, I have the syllabus and assignment sheet if you even care that much. It’s a production class, more theater tech than acting, but we have to script and perform something, and we can either record it ourselves or perform it live. Has to be a collaboration, unfortunately, unless I want to fail the class.”

“Hm, you really are stuck,” Virgil muttered, reading over the papers Janus had handed to him. Now that he was this invested, he supposed there was no turning back. Honestly, he did kind of feel bad. He wouldn’t have said anything in the first place, but Janus had suddenly looked so- stressed. He wasn’t sure why that had tugged at his gut in the uncomfortable way it did, but now he was too far in to question that feeling.

“Oh, wait, maybe… I know your teacher said it had to be someone in that same period, but what if it’s someone not in the same class? You could… uh, write the whole thing yourself or whatever, then find someone you’re friends with to help put it on? Just like, anyone, but it might help if they’re at least in the same track, or track adjacent.”

Janus blinked, slowly smiling. “Huh, you’re onto something. I could try it. Honestly, I wouldn’t know who to ask, but if I get permission, that’s a start.”

“...Well, what about someone you see a lot? Like… one of our roommates or something?” Virgil suggested. “I know you guys spend a lot of time together, so it could be a fun side project, and you would still have plenty of time to actually…y’know, work together without the class time?”

Janus blinked. That was… actually really smart. “Well, I wouldn’t want to jump the gun. I will still have to check and ensure I am allowed to outsource my partner. But, that is really smart. Thanks, I- I really appreciate the help.”

“Hey, man, not a problem. Just as long as I don’t have to go talk to any teachers for you.” Virgil smirked, and Janus met his tentative eye contact with an appreciative smirk.

“First I make you listen to my problems, and help me with them, then I force you into social interaction? You think so cruelly of me, Virgil, I would never!”

Virgil snickered behind one of his hands. “You didn’t make me do anything, but… well, you’d be amazed at how selfish people can be.”

“Nah, I get it. One favor can turn into forging someone’s homework for the rest of the school year. I dunno what the public school system was getting at, but there are no benefits to being a smart kid,” Janus bemoaned.

“Bold of you to assume I was allowed to go to public school but yeah, something like that.” Virgil grimaced as he realized what had just come out of his mouth.

“What- what do you mean by allowed?”

“Nothing… just- um, forget it. See you.” Janus supposed he’d touched a nerve, as he watched Virgil speed off. Although, he had bigger problems to worry about at the moment. Namely, another debate with the offending semester project teacher.

Although, maybe he would be trying to have more conversations like that soon. Virgil was quite witty, and seemingly without even trying to be.

And, he was also responsible for Janus’ success in his project, when later that afternoon, Roman enthusiastically agreed to help, but only after he begged for the details of the conversation earlier.

Huh, he supposed this whole, befriending Virgil business was going to work out after all. With any luck, the others would have the same luck he and Logan had.

Oh, and that Virgil would get the hint and begin spending time with them willingly, that too, of course.

#sanders sides fanfiction #tss storytime 2023 #cw cursing #virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders

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