#people really judge you if you make a mistake while tutoring them

[gay-mathematician-portmanteau]

a college algebra student asked me to prove to her that any line with slope \frac{-1}{m} is perpendicular to a line with slope m. in my infinite hubris, i confidently launched into the dot product proof. about halfway through, i realised that i'd forgotten that adding non-zero constants to your column vectors' y-terms completely ruins the dot product. i absolutely flubbed it and will suffer for eternity as penance. send me to linear algebra hell.

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝stupid rumour.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki ]

「 Bakugou who has a crush on you ― the transfer student who has trouble speaking and writing Japanese but can understand the language He helps you on your language skills and develops a crush on you. Then you heard rumours of Bakugou liking Uraraka and you started become distant.」

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

"I thought I told how to do this one so many times and how did you manage to fuck it up?" Bakugou groaned, looking through your midterm paper.

"I'm really trying my best but kanji is just no good for me alright?" you grumbled, snatching the paper from his hands. It was quite embarrassing to be struggling with Japanese literature and other subjects.

Sure you were born and raised in Japan but due to some business issues, your family had to move to [Preferred Country]. And to be honest, you spent most of your life in [Preferred Country] instead of Japan so you weren't really familiar with kanji at all. It wasn't only kanji, its just the Japanese language in general. You didn't have much problems talking but when it comes to reading and writing, it was a problem so when it comes to studying, you were in big trouble. You have been whining about failing your tests and Bakugou — who happened to be your personal tutor. He got tired of your whining and decided to help you in hopes of making you shut up.

You can't really tell why Bakugou decided to help you in the first place. The two of you never got along that well to begin with. The ash blonde was very competitive by nature and when you showed promise during training, he seemed to have made you his target somehow. Bakugou never actually cared about the people in the class but you were different somehow. He was always easy to rile up and you enjoy messing around with him sometimes. It was almost safe to say that you spend most of your time with him. 

Since the day you transferred into UA, you struggled with your studies. Kanji now appeared to be an alien language to you and during tests, you struggled to understand the question. Bakugou picks up the scattered paper on your desk one by one, skimming through your mistakes and assessing your performance. You didn’t do that bad and only failed Japanese History and Literature. Your scores were really low and it barely hit the passing mark. 

Sometimes you like to think that you and Bakugou had something special but you're just a transfer student. Bakugou and Uraraka probably have a relationship that you could never understand. He respects Uraraka's strength after that one incident during the Sports Festival tournament. You stared at the two who happened to be queueing for lunch, having a conversation that you can't hear from where you were sitting. After a while, you took your eyes off them and sipped your drink.

"Do you think he likes her, [First Name]?"

"I'm sorry what?" you blinked, turning your attention towards Hagakure who sat across you.

"I'm talking about Ochaco-chan and Bakugou-kun!" the invisible girl gushed, her sleeves waving about to show her excitement. You blinked a couple of times, unable to process. Judging from her tone, you assumed that she thought you understood what was going on between the two. However, that wasn't the case, you yourself are clueless.

"But [First Name]-chan and Bakugou-kun are close in their own way too! Something going on between the two of you?" Ashido who was sitting next to you decided to direct the topic towards you instead.

"Nothing is going on between us. In fact, I think at some point he's gonna stop teaching me because of how I always disturb him." you muttered with a chuckle.

"Typical Bakugou. You can still join our studying sessions if you want. My offer still stands." Yaoyorozu smiled gently. You shook your head in response and gave the same answer as you did when the black haired girl proposed the idea to you.

Originally, it was Aizawa who forced Bakugou to tutor you in the first place. You had failed your tests miserably at first and your homeroom teacher seemed to notice that you struggled with communication sometimes. And Aizawa had this crazy idea to assign Bakugou to tutor you. He had hoped that the ash blonde will grow to become more social and cooperative. Honestly, you thought that it was such a bad idea at first. Bakugou was very rough with his words, impatient and is short tempered. You've tried to be nice and dismiss his behavior but at some point you just found him very amusing. You weren't sure if the two of you actually got along well or not.

However, you like to think that you both are actually on good terms. Even though he gets frustrated whenever you struggle to solve a question, he would leave you alone and give you pointers. He also likes to reward you with small treats like your favorite snacks and drinks. Bakugou also pays attention to your behavior a lot. Since the two of you are always studying everyday after school, there will be times where you will be so worn out from training. If that's the case, Bakugou will go easier on you.

"I've heard from someone that Bakugou has feelings for her since first year." Hagakure whispered as she saw Uraraka approach the table. The conversation was cut short when your brown haired friend arrived at the table with her pork katsu don. She looked between everyone, wondering why you all grew silent all of a sudden.

"What were you guys talking about?" she asked, taking a seat next to you. Acting completely natural like a smartass you were, you decided to just continue eating your lunch as if you were never a part of the conversation to begin with.

"We were talking about how there's this rumour of Bakugou having a crush on you since first year." Ashido chirped. Uraraka let out a noise akin to surprise before waving her hands defensively.

"Wh-Wha!? That's not possible!" she said quickly before glancing over at the ash blonde and then towards you.

"Why not?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"W-Well, that's because....." the girl seemed a bit nervous and you see her glancing at Bakugou a couple of times.

You rested your elbow on the table, letting out a knowing hum. It didn't take long for you to get the hint that Uraraka might actually reciprocate his feelings. A small frown was etched on your face as you looked away from the girl seated next to you. Bakugou would never just suddenly stop to stare at someone, especially knowing that he can be caught staring. It was just as you had suspected earlier. 'To think that I thought there's something special between me and Bakugou.' you thought to yourself, keeping yourself out of the conversation while the girls teased Uraraka for getting so defensive.

The next day, Bakugou was packing his things and thinking ahead. He could already hear you grumbling something to yourself as you cleared your own desk, preparing to head back. There was a homework assigned to everyone and you will — for sure — be begging him to help you with it, even though its due in 2 weeks and you have plenty of time. Just as he was about to call out your name, Kaminari and Kirishima approached his desk.

“Hey Bakugou! Some of us are planning to go watch a movie after school, want to join?" Kirishima asked. Bakugou raised an eyebrow at this, looking slightly annoyed.

"Why would I wanna go with you extras?" the ash blonde grumbled.

"Because it will be fun! Everyone is coming right?" Kaminari turned towards the group of girls that has gathered around your desk.

"Yeah, most of us are!" Ashido chirped happily. 

"Come on Bakugou-kun! I think its a great opportunity for you and [First Name]-chan to take a break once in a while. And besides, she's been looking forward to this movie." Uraraka told the ash blonde.

Bakugou glanced over at you, seeing that you were somewhat looking forward to relax today. It was Friday, and probably the best day to take a break from all that studying. The ash blonde had been pushing you a bit too hard and maybe this is his chance. Bakugou reluctantly agreed but not before telling them to not chose some stupid movie. He shook his head, telling himself that he's not doing this just because he thinks that you deserve a break and that he likes you or anything. Just as he finished packing, he looked over towards you, seeing Hagakure approach your table with a skip.

"[First Name], let's go watch a movie! Even Bakugou is joining! Ochaco-chan just invited him." she exclaimed, motioning to the ash blonde who glared back at her. Your excitement died down a bit, glancing between your invisible friend and Bakugou.

"Um, I think I will pass! I think I'm gonna start with that homework we're given, it's gonna take me a while to finish that after all." you said, quickly gathering your items.

Seeing you leave the class quickly made him confused. Uraraka muttered about how weird it was for you to skip out on going out, especially knowing that you were all going to go watch a movie that you have been looking forward to for so long. Bakugou decided that it was not worth his time to think too much into it and leave you be. He's not your babysitter and it doesn't matter to him what you do anyways. All while he was watching movie, he was thinking about how you should've been here watching the movie.

Just when he thought your behavior on that day was only you not being your normal self ― you did something that he had never expected before. It happened on the day after the movies. He had already expected you to be knocking onto his door and begging him to explain to you about all the homeworks that were given and about that Science quiz on Monday. Sure you came to his room with a handful of your notes and textbooks ― like usual. Your hair was slightly messy from hurrying to meet up with him at the same time ― like usual. It was nothing out of the ordinary, something you both were accustomed to. You always came late, looking like you just rolled off the bed and went straight here.

It was the same old routine until he heard those words.

"Sorry Bakugou! I'm going to be studying with Momo-chan today, she's offered to partner up for the Japanese History project." you announced.

"Hah?" was all Bakugou could only respond with. He was confused. Normally, you would be begging him to become your partner because you're so used to him. What has changed in you?

"Also.....she offered to help me with my studies so you don't have to waste your time on me anymore. Thanks, Bakugou. I won't be bothering you starting from today onwards." you bowed and quickly left him behind.

'Whatever, I don't care.' was what Bakugou said to himself.

There was so much that he wanted to tell you. But he made no effort to call out to you as you hurriedly made a run for it to the elevator. He shouldn't be bothered by this so much. After all, he was only teaching you because Aizawa told him to. The ash blonde told himself that over and over but he couldn't help but longingly stare at your back as you ran away from him as if he was the plague. 'There's no turning back on this. I made up my mind to not be a burden anymore!’ you told yourself. From that point on, you made it a goal to not interact with Bakugou at all.

He was already confused to why you decided to have him to stop tutoring you in the first place. Bakugou didn't seem to bothered by it that much but it did make a lot of people ask him about what happened between the two of you. The two of you were normally seen together most of time and to see you both on your own is just weird. You were now spending time with the girls most of the time and instead of Bakugou, you had moved on to asking other people to assist you with homework.

He wasn't going to lie but the thought of you running to others and asking for help didn't sit well with him.

Today after school, you were seen in the common area doing your homework together with Yaoyorozu. Bakugou had went down from his room to get himself a drink. Now that he doesn't have to teach you anymore, he was much more free. He could finish his homework much faster than usual. Bakugou watched as you grinned happily after being praised for getting some work done. On his way to the kitchen, he passed by Kirishima who looked like he was taking a break from his own studying. 

"Hey, did you two have an argument or something?" Kirishima asked Bakugou who had opened the fridge to get his drink.

"Hah? What you on about?"

"I'm talking about [First Name]. All of a sudden you stopped partnering with her and tutoring her." the red haired mentioned as he looked over at you.

"Why should I care what she does anyway? She's not my girlfriend!" he said, glancing at you in hopes that you did not hear him at all. Lucky for him, you were too immersed in the conversation that you were having with your partner to even care about what was going on in the kitchen.

"But don't you both like each other or something?"

"Who said that!?"

"It's pretty obvious, bro."

Bakugou really doesn't want to admit it but he really likes you ― a bit too much that its starting to get obvious. He was now starting to get worried that you might catch on to his feelings. He looked at you for a moment, watching as you worked on a few tough questions, eyes narrowed at the book in front of you. It was a habit that he learned after being with you for so long and he never said it out loud but you look very cute like that. After a while, Midoriya and Uraraka joined you and Yaoyorozu. Bakugou's eyes narrowed at Midoriya who was helping you with some of the questions.

That should've been him! ― was what he told himself. 

Little did he know, you heard the commotion in the kitchen. Though whatever Kirishima and Bakugou was talking about was unknown to you, you could feel them looking at you. Shaking your head in response, you reminded yourself that you vowed to not get in Bakugou's way anymore. When Midoriya and Uraraka joined your study session, you decided to just focus on your homework now. You can’t lie about the fact that you missed Bakugou’s company. Even though he was always impatient and complaining about how slow you are, he never once left you on your own. Not to mention, he was surprisingly a great teacher.

The Bakusquad ― Bakugou never really liked and approval of that name ― were hanging out in the common area. Bakugou was here against his will, dragged by Kirishima and Kaminari who wanted to play some games together. At the dining table, a few students from Class 1-A were gathered around sharing some treats while the Bakusquad played some games by the couch. Bakugou was seated on one end of the two seater sofa, mindlessly scrolling through his phone and rethinking his life choices.

"There was this rumour that you like Uraraka or something." Kirishima mused while he looked through his phone.

"What?" Kaminari suddenly perked up, drawing his attention away from the video game.

"Hah?" Bakugou raised an eyebrow.

”I’m talking about Bakubro here!” the red head male spoke a bit louder to gain the other boys’ attention.

”Oh now that you mention it, I remember! There was this rumour going on about Bakugou liking Uraraka or something.” Sero piped up, not drawing his eyes away from the game he was playing against Kaminari.

“I thought Bakugou was dating [Last Name] already.” Kaminari pointed out.

”I know right?! I know they both like each other but are afraid to admit it.” Kirishima added in with a triumphant smile.

“No one fucking said that.” Bakugou glared at the boys who began to give him the looks.

”Come on, you were so overprotective of her at that one time when we studied in the library together!” Kirishima started, now his posture upright and eyes filled with determination.

”Oh right! When there were these random people hitting on her, you sure told them off!” Kaminari added to Kirishima’s anecdote.

”But there seems to be some tension between the two of you right now.” the blonde hummed, pausing the game to turn his attention to the conversation.

It took him that conversation to actually realize how much your ignorance has affected him. Not only did you decide not to ask for his help anymore, but you made it your mission to avoid him at all costs. You avoided sitting with him during lunch, not partnering up with him during hero training and clearly turning down invites from your friends whenever you hear that Bakugou will be joining as well. He had confronted you in front of everyone, demanding you to meet up with him. 

And of course, it was hard to run away when he asked you right in front of everyone. The only solution Bakugou came up to get you back and clear this up was to confess his undying love to you. 

You were really nervous to talk to him and for some reason, you had a feeling that you were going to have your heart broken. Bakugou, by all means, isn't oblivious and notices a lot of things around you. So it was no surprise that he realized that something is up with you and that you are ignoring him. He probably has figured out the reason behind you avoiding him already. And you couldn't help but think your reason was really dumb.

“Look, I have no idea what you’re telling but let me just say this.” you started it first, as you don’t wanna regret not saying anything any sooner.

”But I want to tell you that I don’t want to get in your way anymore. And I approve if you want to date Ochaco-chan." you were fiddling with your fingers. So you were aware of this rumour but never made the move to ask Bakugou himself if this was true and decided to just blindly believe in some stupid rumour that some random extra had spread. Bakugou almost wanted to strangle whoever did this because it gave you stupid ideas.

"You are a fucking idiot for believing in some extra's words instead of asking me. Why the hell did you avoid me instead of confront me about the rumours, hah?" the ash blonde was trying his best to remain calm and patient.

"Because.....I was afraid that those rumours are true." you admitted.

"And I'm here to tell you that its not fucking true. Round Face is madly in love with fucking Deku and she's not even trying to hide it. Everyone fucking knows that." he told you.

"So you don't like her?" you asked.

"Stop doubting my words." he flicked your forehead. You shut your eyes and rubbed at the sore spot, muttering a few words about how unnecessary that forehead flick was. Seeing how you looked very unconvinced with his words, his hands squeezed your cheeks together and forced you to make eye contact with him.

"Listen to me, you little shit. I am going to say this once and I am not going to repeat this. Because I have no fucking idea why you are so blind to all of this. You can be dumb at lot of things and frankly, I'm glad that you are." he sighed and you let out a gasp, offended by his words.

"Hey, I'm not dumb―" he cuts you off by squeezing your cheeks to the point where your words were all muffled.

"You're so helpless in your studies without me, its like you can't live without me. But it makes me feel special because you never ask someone else for help and always look for me. Even though you're shit at your studies, you have a really freaking strong quirk. You can be so fucking annoying and drive me insane sometimes but goddamn, how can you be so fucking adorable at the same time?" Bakugou started to get a bit frustrated now and he almost couldn't believe the words he was saying right now. 

You reached to grab his hands and pried them off your face to allow yourself to speak.

"I am not going to listen to you do this any further―"

Once again, Bakugou cuts you off by leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. You were startled but after a brief seconds, you started to kiss him back. It's what you imagined it to be like, sweet yet fiery at the same time. You melt into the kiss, lifting a hand to cup his cheek while he cards his hand through your hair. You were the one to pull away first, taking a deep breath and you held your gaze. Bakugou looks oddly calm but you could see the red tint on your cheeks that was starting to reach the tips of his ears.

"You're red."

"Oh shut up, you're ruining the fucking mood."

Total: 3593 words Published: 07.06.2021

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ Not angsty at all actually. At least in my opinion. We hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! We decided to let you readers decide where you're from  Hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are closed! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

Deaf MC vs Devildom

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A HUGE thanks to @jaywalk-on-me for reaching out to me about this subject. I really hope I have given this it some justice.

Also, to avoid some of the controversies inside the Deaf Culture: I will not be referencing cochlear implants.

And a note for my fellow hearing people, there is definetelly not much difference between us and deaf/hard of hearing people, in fact, after reading about it, I can hardly consider it a disability seeing it can actually allow them to percieve the world in a much different way from ours and would not have any problems in their life if only us, hearing peers, were cooperative and understanding. Everything we need to do is literally minor details and does not hinder our own lifes in the slightest, in fact, it can even help us too! An example is captioning, there is literally nothing to lose, and honestly, even I put captioning on movies of my mother lenguage because sometimes I just can't understand what is being said and captions really help me with that and enjoy whatever I am watching to the fullest! So let's be more understanding. We are all humans, and can all learn from each other's perspective.

And as always

Warning: Uncensored swearing lol, and reference to lesson 16

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Lucifer

Ah, yes, he knew about it, was in your files, nailed it, he learned your local sign lenguage, all good.

Except his expressions are so damn stiff.

He signs a 'Welcome to The Devildom' and I kid you not, you will not be able to tell if he is trying to be welcomingly polite (and failing miserably) or threatening you.

It was definetelly both

He gets better at it-

Perks if you like classic music though, because you will be able to give him a whole different way of enjoying it.

He won't force you to speak if you choose not to, but he sure will never stop being delighted to hear your voice if you do.

It still baffles him how observant you are, may start trusting you to find details he missed on certain things.

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Mammon

He definetelly forgot everything he learned on sign lenguage the moment he stepped out of the tutoring Lucifer made him and all his brothers, except for Levi and Satan, go through.

Yes he will mistake around 5 signs per day on the first week of your arrival in the Devildom.

And he will often forget that you most likelly cannot hear him (if his voice frequency doesn't match your hearing that is) and go off blabbing without signing and then just go "oi why ya ignoring me" and he definetelly is this close 👌to being wacked with the closest thing at range.

Again, he gets better too.

In fact, once he warms up to you (and that's like, real fucking fast) he will make so much effort to get things right, and he always pays attention to have captions in movie nights even without you asking??

He tries lip reading once when you told him it's not easy and, I will let it to your imagination what on hell he managed to lip read.

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Leviathan

As mentioned above, he didn't need the tutoring. Why? Guess what, he already knew at least a few sign lenguages, all because of the many animes, games and shows he has watched portray it, even though the ammount of representation is small.(btw I recomend DARK, there is a deaf&mute character and oh boi she's awesome, it's on netflix)

So he definetelly had no problem communicating with you, in fact, he was almost relieved.

He doesn't need to speak verbally?? He basically would rather spoon his eyes out than talk on the phone so on drug levels texting instead is like heroin????

And oh lord you NEED to invite him to the music festivals on the human world catered towards deaf and hard of hearing people, be will LOVE it.

A little bit of downside though, some of his expression changes are very subtle, but as he spends more time with you, he will start incorporating character voices into expressions and body lenguage instead, and you bet he enjoys doing it.

He will definetelly make music just for you. You only hear high frequencies? Or maybe only low frequencies? Or just nothing at all but you enjoy the rythmic vibrations? He definetelly has spend an entire night making a full fucking album just for you.

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Satan

Seriously, he knows so many sign lenguages it actually made his way of signing pretty unique!

Another fake ass who will give you gentlemany smiles at first. He may be a way lot more smoother than Lucifer but you bet his fake ass is not passing your vibe check, not with the way his eyes just feel a little bit not right.

Another one who gets better though.

It's kind of nice how he grows so used to signing while speaking that his hands often give off a sign or two even when he is speaking to hearing people.

He will definetelly roast quite a few half assed interpreters.

Also he may or may not have gotten a new obssession after you two watched a few silent movies together??

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Asmodeus

Oh boy this one needs to chill out a bit.

If you can't interpret signs when done too fast then good luck because his hands will literally be able to spell a full fucking paragraph in 20 seconds.

And oh how he explores your other senses.

Definetelly goes to you first to judge how he looks.

Also he is the best option to keep yourself informed?? I mean, it's also something he can relate with, it doesn't matter if someone killed somebody or just broke their nail, he needs to know about it.

He may be a bit disappointed if you don't speak but he gets over it quickly.

Will ruin many people's carreer if they so much as refuse to attent to you just because you're deaf. There's just nothing wrong with it??? Stop being so petty!

He is now your biggest distraction in mid class and you will definetelly end each day carrying at least 10 paper notes in which he will try to speak with you. They definetelly smell like whatever he smells like at the time. And are definetelly written in colored pen. With glitter. And there are hearts. And possibly a kiss mark-

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Beelzebub

Big boy definetelly has two types of sign lenguage he uses, and if literally depends if he is eating and what he is eating.

Normally he is just, normal lol. Since he is pretty much quite a bit of an amateur at it he will make use of speech filters a lot when he needs to remember certain signs.

If he's holding something big like a sandwich he will either just gulf it all in to have both hands free or try to make a simplified version with one hand. I'll admit the first scenario is quite amusing.

Yes some of the first questions he asks is how to spells certain foods.

And yes you bet you won't be able to know all of them because Devildom food is definetelly something.

Oh and get ready for a bit of chaos if anyone refuses your order because you're deaf.

Please tell him to flap his wings and proceed lay on him or hug him. The vibrations will be very much close to one of those massage chairs.

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Belphegor

Oh boy.

First off, he did NOT know about you being deaf because thanks Lucifer.

You guys definetelly spoke in a lot of exchanged notes under his attic door.

He keeps them all hidden somewhere but he will never admit it.

If you're willing to teach him at least how to say 'hi', 'good night' or things like that, he will appear to not be very interested but once the entire lesson 16 fiasco happens they're definetelly the only signs he knows about for some reason when he finally gets tutored.

Still texts you instead.

Even in the same room.

That's what you get from the avatar of sloth I guess-

He does sign a few remarks at you per example commenting on how the new hairstyle Asmo decided to make made his bangs look like a poop behind his back.

Also this:

(The picture above actually happened and was translated to english from my mother lenguage)

[lord-multifandom-murder]

Silence is golden (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: This came to me in a 'poof' moment.....and technically I haven't been writing Fred content so I guess I should make up for it.

Summary: You're quite a quiet person, and almost a wallflower. Little did anyone know, you were extremely mischievous underneath that quiet surface. Fred finds this out after your friends get bullied.

Warnings: I suppose none, per usual.

Requests are OPEN!!

Since you were extremely quiet, no one ever expected you to play pranks. They always suspected it was the twins, Fred and George Weasley.

The perfect cover.

Fred and George always thought it was strange. Weren't they the only troublemakers in Hogwarts? Or was there someone else who did it in the shadows?

To be honest, George was more laid-back on the matter, but Fred was more bothered by it. It could damage their reputation as pranksters. Seeing that it wasn't them, and that these pranks were rather way out of their league.

Interestingly enough, that person always left a mark. It was rather odd, because no one in their right mind would do that, except for this daring maverick. It was always the same thing, a drawing of an 'X' wherever the prank was set up.

They were well-thought of, and almost nothing was left by the person who did them. Well, little did anyone know, it was you. You were quiet, yes, which made it easier to do things since no one bothered you. Since you were silent half the time, no one really bothered to wonder what you were thinking about.

Now, except for Fred.

He had noticed you sitting underneath a tree in the courtyard, deep in thought. It wasn't strange to find you alone even though you had friends, but Fred being Fred, came over to bother you. Mainly because he wanted to ask you on a date, really.

No one ever would have thought he would've fallen for the silent bookworm, Y/N Y/L/N, who was so quiet sometimes if you were standing right behind someone, they wouldn't know until they turned around and jumped in fright.

Fred had witnessed some of those exchanges, really. And he thought they were actually very hilarious.

"Hello there, Y/N," he smiles. You look up to see him standing in front of you, casting a shadow over. "Hello, Fred. What're you doing alone on this fine day?" you ask, quirking your eyebrow.

Fred looked surprised that you knew it was him, because him and George were always easily mistaken for each other; it was sometimes good, and sometimes bad. You could tell it was him because little did he know, you were around him more often than he would notice.

Rather if it was a prank, or just sitting nearby him in the Great Hall, after making a few observations, you could roughly guess who was who most of the time, which got easier after a while. And technically because you had a secret crush on the extroverted redhead.

You smirked amusedly at his face. "Think, Weasley. I wondered why you haven't placed a finger on that 'quiet person' stereotype yet."

Fred chuckled and sat next to you, leaving a slight distance between you to be polite. "I was just wondering if you weren't like the other quiet kids I see around here."

You smile. "It's nice to see that you don't judge a book by it's cover Fred. I admire that about you."

Did I ever mention that you were rather blunt with your words?

Fred blushed slightly but didn't say anything. You smile and mirror his behaviour. "Say, could you help me with some Charms homework? I heard you're very good, considering I always hear Flitwick bragging about you in-between classes."

"Sure, d'you wanna go to the library? It's more quiet there so I can focus," you say, ready to stand up. Fred suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you down. "Sorry, but uh....I'm actually busy at the moment but maybe we can meet tomorrow in the library? After lunch? I'm not in a hurry to turn this in."

"Okay then, after lunch," you repeat. Fred smiled and got up, brushing his trousers. "Well, it was nice talking to you Y/N, but I have an appointment with my dear twin brother."

"Bye, then. Oh, say hello to George for me!" you say with a playful smile.

"Don't worry, I won't forget!" he calls back, jogging off. You smile quietly even though you were screaming internally, and went back to thinking.

---------

The next day, you were walking to lunch with Neville and Ron. He was helping to tutor the both of you since you weren't doing very well at the subject.

You met with Harry and Hermione and they greeted you as you sat down. Hermione gave you a kind smile and started asking you a bit about what Neville taught you and Ron about. Neville eagerly entered the conversation as you ate and discussed about the proper way to manage a Fanged Geranium.

"What're you doing here, Longbottom? Shouldn't you be in the greenhouses playing with dirt?" a snide voice sounded. Hermione grimaced as Malfoy walked towards the Gryffindor table.

"Shove off, Malfoy. It's none of your business," Ron grumbled, stabbing his Shepherd's Pie rather violently.

"Manners, Weasley. Honestly, Longbottom. Why are you ever here? You can barely do magic. You're worse than that Mudblood Granger."

You stood up abruptly, turning around to glare at Malfoy.

"Oho, Y/L/N! What're you going to say? Share your thoughts! Oh wait, you can't because you barely talk!"

"That's enough, Malfoy!" Hermione snaps angrily. "Shut it, Granger. Go on, Y/L/N. Do you even know words?"

You sigh, and nod. But that's all you do. Malfoy tried to bother you again to say something, mocking your chosen silence. You huff and turn around again, holding a fork at him, surprising everyone. You motion for him to move back to his table.

Surprisingly, he complies and slouches away. Fred watches you with awe as you sit down calmly, as if nothing happened, with people gawking at you. "Silent, but deadly," he thinks to himself, as he watches Hermione scold you for brandishing a fork at Malfoy, while Harry and Ron were chuckling amongst themselves about how funny his face was.

As you made your way to the entrance of the Great Hall, you feel someone tap your shoulder. You look around to see Fred grinning. "That was pretty cool, what you did back there," he remarked. You smile. "Thanks, I've been meaning to do that for awhile."

Fred smiles again. "He's a right git. He deserved that."

"So I assume we're going to the library?" you ask, strolling out with Fred. "I see you remembered our little study date, eh?" he grins.

"I don't remember calling this a study date," you say, looking at him. Fred groaned inwardly. "I-I didn't mean-"

"Nevermind, it's fine. I dont mind if we thought of this as a study date," you say, trying to cover up your blunt mistake, feeling bad for making Fred nervous.

He shrugs. "It's fine," he says. "Let's go on our study date, then." he decides with a playful smile.

Once you reach the library, you bring him to your favourite place, which was a tiny secluded haven. Little did Fred know, you were there half the time when you were formulating a new prank.

You had your secret stash of books there, filled with all sorts of stuff. Strategies, inventions and ideas. But, Fred needn't know that. It's Charms he needs.

So, you sat next to him, Fred happily finding comfort in a squishy armchair he claimed just seconds ago. So, on went the lesson.

And on went your plan for revenge on Malfoy.

After helping him with most of his homework, you excused yourself and went to sit a little further away at a desk while he finished up his essay.

You pulled a book out and started to read. Fred looked up at you as you read and blushed, remembering how cute you were when you focused. "Mind finishing your work before you admire me?" you ask, not taking your eyes of your book.

Fred chuckled. "I'm finished," he says. You close your book and move towards him, taking his parchment and reading it through to check for any mistakes. "Well, it seems that we're finished here," you say, giving the paper back to him and going to your desk to keep your book.

Fred smiled and stood up. "Well, I'm glad that you decided to help me. I wouldn't have been able to even pass this up without your help!" he says, while zipping his bag.

"I'm glad that you came to me for help, actually. Not many people thought that I would want to, since I don't talk much," you say.

"But you've talked plenty before!" Fred exclaims.

"'Course I have. Only when people initiate the conversation first. And only if I want to talk to them."

"Then I consider myself lucky that you wanted to talk to me," Fred jokes, laughing with you. You smile quietly before Fred leaves, when you said that you had work of your own to finish before going back to your Common Room.

Work, that is, for a prank to pull on a certain blonde brat.

Fred walks back in a daze, with a stupid smile on his face. When he went into the boys' dorms and sat on his bed, he shoved his face in to the pillow and hugged it hard. George and Lee who were playing a round of Exploding Snap watched with smirks on their faces.

"I assume your little study date with Y/N went well?" George asked with raised eyebrows.

"Very well," Fred answered happily.

---------

That night, he couldn't sleep. It was silly, the fact that he had fallen so hard for you that he was kept awake just by the mere thought of you. Yet, he wasn't complaining.

He sighed and sat up. "Oh, what's the use?" he grumbles to himself. He stood up and padded quietly to the door. When he opened it and sneaked down the stairs, he decided to go and have a nice cup of hot chocolate.

While he was navigating through the corridors, he heard footsteps. Quick and light, he noticed a shadow darting in the neighbouring corridor. He hurried over, and his eyes widened in surprise to find someone he wasn't expecting to see late at night. That certain someone who kept him up for the same reason.

You.

You had a bag slung over your shoulder, walking as quietly as possible. Fred looked down and noticed you weren't wearing shoes at all. He then saw you hurry down a flight of stairs, and through a secret passage that he never knew existed.

He quickly followed you, wondering what you were up to. He then noticed that you were heading in the direction of the Great Hall. He followed you curiously, watching you sneak through the giant doors towards the Slytherin Table.

He followed after you, but then accidentally stubbed his toe on the bench leg, causing him to hiss out a curse. He saw you lift your head, and then hide under the table. He limped padded towards you and rapped the table.

Underneath, you were hyperventilating. Shit, you thought. I didn't see anyone!

But then you heard Fred's hushed voice. "Y/N, is that you?" he whispers urgently. You peek your head out from underneath the table and looked up to see a bewildered Fred peering down at you.

".....yea?" you ask timidly, not sure of what to say to him. This was a rather awkward exchange.

"What're you doing here? And why do you have a marker-wait....," Fred asked, suddenly realising something. "Were you the one playing all those pranks?" he asks, surprised.

"What if I am?" you defend. Fred looked under the table to see a little contraption sticking out from underneath. He takes note of a little red 'X' beneath the table. "So you are," he notes.

"Please don't tell anyone! I'm sorry!" you blurt out. "Sorry? For what? And why in Merlin's name would I tell anyone?" Fred asks.

"I'm sorry that everytime I play a prank I let the blame fall on you! I just thought it was fun, playing tricks secretly," you mumble.

"Hey, it's fine! So, you ARE that famous secret prankster! Me and George have been dying to find out who it was! Your pranks are ingenious!" Fred exclaims.

You blush. "Thanks," you say. "I guess it helps that you're quiet sometimes, no one bothers you much," you say.

Fred looks at you in awe. "And I thought that you couldn't get anymore amazing," he says. "What?" you ask, confused.

Oh well, it's now or never.

"Well, Y/N, I've liked you for a while now, and I was wondering if you.....wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me on the weekend?" he asks shyly.

You weren't expecting this.

"Sorry-I-you don't have to if you want, I just-," Fred stammered.

Suddenly, you jump on him and hug him tight. "You're serious?" you ask, your voice slightly muffled.

"Yes?" he answered uncertainly, looking down at you. He was then taken by surprise when you kissed him. It was rather quick, but when you broke apart, both of you were blushing.

"I'd love to," you whisper with a shy smile.

"W-wait, really?" Fred asks.

"Do I need to repeat myself?" you ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Y-yea, especially before you kissed me," he says.

"Idiot," you snort, leaning in again, but this time kissing him slowly, his arms slowly winding around you and savouring the moment.

"I'd love to," you repeat. Fred's face breaks into a wide grin and spins you around, causing you to shriek with laughter.

"Shhh! Aren't you supposed to stay quiet?" Fred snickers. "Blame the one who caused me to make the noise!" you shoot back.

Both of you laugh amongst yourselves before sneaking back to your dorms.

---------

"So you're telling me that Y/N is the person who's been pulling all those pranks?!" George exclaims at breakfast, after Fred regaled his night time wander with him.

"Yes! And don't tell anyone! If they ask, just say that we don't know," Fred hisses.

George raised his eyebrows. "Don't you dare, or I'll hex you into next week," Fred threatens, brandishing his wand at his twin.

"I get the message. No one's gonna believe me anyways," George says, before diving into his breakfast. Fred looks around to see you stroll into the hall and he waves you over excitedly. You smile and walk over.

"Morning, beautiful," Fred greets, kissing your cheek and surprising people nearby.

"Hold on......since when were you and Y/N dating?!" Ron asks.

"Since just now," Fred retaliates, sticking his tongue out at his younger brother. "Are your feet cold?" he whispers to you.

"No? Why would my feet be cold?" you question.

"You were walking around barefoot last night! Your pretty feet must've been freezing!"

"I had my reasons for not wearing anything," you say mysteriously. "Oh? Do tell," Fred says.

"Shoes make too much noise. It would attract attention easily, what's to say no one'll hear me clacking around in the middle of the night?"

"Unless you stub your toe on something, the pain's a bitch," Fred grumbles, still salty about stubbing his toe last night since he was just wearing socks.

You snort, but is quickly drowned out by a loud yell coming from the Slytherin Table.

Everyone turns around and roars with laughter when they see Malfoy head-to-toe in some Colour-Changing Ink.

Fred noticed that Malfoy was sitting in the same place where he found the little device. His point was proven when a Slytherin cried out, "Hey! There's an 'X' on the floor!"

He looks at you with a wide grin. "So THAT'S why you snuck out! You're lucky no one caught you!"

Fred watches you in awe as you ask Hermione to pass the marmalade calmly while everyone was howling with laughter at Malfoy.

You smirk, leaning over to say to him quietly, "Told you, Weasley. Silence is golden."

[heathers-wig]

come & find me - heathney hanahaki au part one

synopsis:

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“I don’t…” Heather frowns, thinking of the flowers welling up in her lungs that she’s sure will snuff out her life. Her frown melts into a scowl when she thinks of whoever her enamored was, and how they doubled as her soon-to-be inevitable murderer, along with how she didn’t even get the privilege to know their identity. “I don’t know.”

❁

Or: Heather contracts the Hanahaki Disease. Other than the fact that she’s quite literally slowly but surely dying due to flowers rooted to her lungs, she has a problem; she doesn’t know who exactly her unrequited love is for, or how to prevent the disease from worsening. Can she figure out who her “beloved” is and snuff out the floral illness before it claims her for once and for all?

pairings: heathney (heather x courtney), BG gweoff (gwen x geoff), BG izva (izzy x eva)

word count: 15,226

warnings: suicidal thoughts implications + descriptions of coughing/vomiting

A/N: there are two endings, happy and sad! feel free to choose which you deem as the true ending :) thank you for reading!

READ IT ON AO3 HERE!

i. daffodils & gardenias; unrequited and secret love

It starts with a petal. Well, if Heather were to be honest, it had started far beyond the first initial petal, but all the pieces fell into place when the very first petal fluttered from her lips.

Her science teacher was going on and on about the instructions for their next lab — something about carefully dissecting a pufferfish that had long since died, but Heather paid no mind to it.

Instead, she observes.

One of her favorite things to do was observe those around her. It was like dissecting them, similar to how her science teacher was now demonstrating on one of the pufferfish, and their internal thoughts and behaviors. Who they unconsciously drifted to, who they repelled and fought with — or, to be more precise, where the weak links in her class were located. With this frequent and diligent studying, she knew exactly how to break certain students and their allegedly tight-knit friend groups.

Take Bridgette, Geoff, and Alejandro, for instance; all Heather had done was slightly insinuate to the gullible, blonde girl that Alejandro liked her, and she was putty in her hands. Of course, Heather noticed Bridgette stare and stare at Alejandro nearly around the clock, but Geoff, Bridgette's actual boyfriend, hadn’t. She did him a favor, really — all it took was her to mastermind him walking in on Bridgette and Alejandro during a Halloween party, and Heather was satisfied.

Currently, Geoff and Bridgette were sitting awkwardly and stiffly next to one another — a huge mistake on their parts, in Heather’s opinion, to choose to sit next to one another after only beginning to date during the summer, but Heather had never had the patience for high school romances. Bridgette had tried to slide apology notes to Geoff’s direction, but for once, his eyes were glued to the board and the notes went unnoticed.

Heather noticed them, though, and she had to stifle a laugh.

The rest of the class is more or less the same. Some were pointedly looking away from the experiment their teacher was performing, and some were sketching in their notebooks, like Gwen.

There had to be three people genuinely paying attention — Geoff, for obvious reasons, Beth, because she currently had a B in the course and thought it was the end of her small-minded world, and Courtney, because she was, well, Courtney.

It’s when Heather’s eyes stay on Courtney’s head of hair that didn’t have a single strand out of place that it happens.

A scratch in the back of her throat digs into her, but Heather swallows it down instead of clearing her throat. If she did it too loudly over something so mediocre and unimportant, her classmates would just assume she was trying to stir something seeing as how it was the end of the last period of the day and, while Heather loved the occasional entertainment at the spite of her peers, she wasn’t in the mood that day.

And so, Heather waits and makes stray sketches in her notebook — repeatedly writing her name in cursive, drawing hideous illustrations of her peers, anything to pass the time until the bell rings. When the bell finally sounded off, punctuating the end of the day, students unceremoniously gathered their lump of notebooks and textbooks and scoop them in their arms, leaving the classroom in a cluttered, chatty, and hurried mess.

The first one out the door is Geoff, followed by Bridgette on his heels, Heather notes, but she can’t bring herself to follow and eavesdrop and what would possibly be one of the most interesting breakups Wawanakwa High had seen since Courtney and Duncan’s infamous split. She’d probably overhear the details of the split from somebody else, anyway.

The devil seemed to have spawned at the initial thought, as a prickly voice accompanied with a light tap on Heather’s shoulder made with the eraser end of a pencil is what tears Heather’s eyes away from the door. She has half the mind to berate whoever it was for pestering her at the end of the day, but falters when her eyes meet the other’s.

Courtney’s narrowed dark brown eyes are unamused. When Heather rises from her seat, Courtney tilts her head up to meet her gaze — Heather was taller than Courtney, even with the pair of wedges the brunette had on that day.

“I expect you were paying attention,” Courtney’s tone is sickeningly sweet and mocking, the specific one she uses around people she thinks are below her in terms of intelligence, or just in general. She has seen Courtney use it around the young kids she tutors, Duncan, jocks, Heather herself, and practically any student in their school who has managed to sour her mood, which was mostly everyone. “We are partnered for the lab, after all —”

“We are?” Heather questions dryly. She had expected Courtney to pick up on her sarcasm — Courtney had made it her job to scribble Lab with Courtney on every available space in her planner on the days leading up to the experiment, after all — but judging by the brunette’s eyes narrowing further, she either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

“Yes,” She hisses through clenched teeth, before frowning. “Whatever, I actually paid attention —”

“And I thank you for your service,” Heather remarks just as dryly as before, sauntering out the door.

“Wha — hey, where are you going?”

Heather snorted softly. “Come and find me,” she chastised sardonically. She had figured the answer to be obvious, but Courtney never failed to surprise her in one way or another.

Courtney scoffs and follows her, falling into place next to Heather. She fixed the headband on her head that matched her clothes as she rolled her eyes so far back Heather couldn’t help but wonder if they saw the back of her head.

“Haha, very funny,” The brunette doesn’t laugh, which makes Heather crack a smile in satisfaction. Winning with Courtney was always exhilarating and thrilling. “See you tomorrow, Heather,”

Heather hummed, waving a lazy and half-hearted hand over her shoulder, already bolting in the direction of the student parking lot. “See you,”

When Heather is finally in the solitude of her sleek, black car — her parents wasted no expense when it came to spoiling her, despite neither being the affectionate or loving type — the thing building up in the back of her throat is finally released into the palm of her hand, and all Heather can do is stare at it.

She’s coughed up bile and phlegm before, and she’s heard of blood being coughed up as well, but the tiny, dainty and crumpled thing laying in her hands was unheard of and felt unreal as it rested in her palms. She was suddenly aware of how dry her hands were as she felt the thinness of the soaked object, given that it had been resting in her throat.

Rifling it in her hands, Heather scoffs when she realizes just how ridiculous it was to believe she had just coughed up a flower in the school parking lot. However, she blinks harshly and firmly, and when she opens her eyes, the yellow petal is still there.

A foreign feeling of confusion and uneasiness settles over her like a blanket, but she instead scoffs once more and crumpled the petal, wrapping a tissue around it to keep it from dirtying her leather seats, and rolls out of the parking lot, avoiding any acknowledgment of the flower petal she’s convinced she imagined coughing up.

(On the ride home, she coughs up two more additional petals, too — one white and curved to perfection, looking much too angelic and innocent for having just been lodged up in her throat just moments prior, and the other the same shade of yellow as the first. Heather ignores both, and tosses them out the window to sink further in denial, similar to how she felt her stomach sink as she watched the petals flutter aimlessly to the ground, destined to be run over or stepped on.)

❀

That night, after finishing both her math homework and leftovers for dinner, Heather switched off the lights and settled into her bed before impulsively flicking open her laptop. It was for school purposes, her parents insisted, and was to never be used at night when she should be asleep, but quite frankly, Heather hadn’t cared much for her parents’ opinion of her considering their clear distaste for her.

Her fingers mindlessly fly across the keyboard, the same feeling of dread from when she was stunned upon the initial discovery of the petals resurfacing.

why am i coughing up weird shit

Healthline - Signs of Lung Illness

If any of the following symptoms apply to you, be sure to contact your health agent and schedule an appointment to discuss your symptoms and possible diagnosis. If you experience a burning, aching, or squeezing sensation in your chest, illnesses such as Lung Cancer, Pleuritis, etc. may be at play.

why am i coughing up petals and how do i stop it

Derrit - r/AskDerrit, in an old manga I read today, the Hanahaki disease was a plotline. Is it real? I can’t find any research indicating an answer.

BlaineleysBitch: no. the entire premise of the disease doesn’t even make sense. it’s not real.

Mr.CocoNutty: tbfh i haven’t heard anything about it? i’m sure if it were real there would be some coverage abt it considering how unbelievable it sounds

KittyKat16: yea, i don’t think it’s real, but it would be really cool if it was!!

what’s the hanahaki disease

Wikiresource - List of fictional diseases

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. The flowers in particular symbolize the specific love and relationship the patient has for the enamored, as told through flower language. Hanahaki can be cured through the confession of the victim's feelings. The response of the enamored is unimportant. The victim may also develop Hanahaki Disease if they believe the love to be one-sided but once the enamored returns the feelings, they will be cured.

how to get rid of hanahaki disease without having to confess shit

Making sure to groan inaudibly — her parents were under the impression she was asleep, after all — Heather pressed her finger down on the backspace key with a familiar scowl on her face, her finger remaining in place atop the key long after the words had been removed. The feeling of resentment and annoyance was familiar, but the overwhelming confusion and petals she felt building up in her throat were not.

Sighing, Heather rubbed her eyes gently yet urgently. Mindlessly, she resorted back to her idle habit: observing.

Assuming she had the disease that was supposed to be fictional, somebody had swooped Heather off of her heeled feet without her even realizing it. That had to be impossible, as Heather wasn’t dense enough to not realize something as obvious as feelings for another. After all, she read people and their infatuation with others as easily as one read magazines — who was to say she couldn’t do the same for herself?

Recalling the wiki page, Heather sighed as she began to re-type. The article had said that the flowers she had coughed up symbolized her love for whoever her crush was in flower language, and seeing as how it was her only lead on whoever her supposed enamored was, Heather wanted to crack down who it was exactly and quickly exterminate any and all contact with them to execute any possible feelings.

how do you identify a flower

PlantCapture - What Flower Is This? How to Instantly Identify Flowers

If you already have a photo of a flower saved on your phone, you can also instantly identify it by uploading the photo to PlantCapture. Once you've instantly identified a flower, PlantCapture stores it in your library. You can easily go back to see how many flowers you've identified.

Heather whipped out her phone with another sigh as she begrudgingly began downloading the app. Watching the small icon load, she scowled even deeper. Even the smallest inconvenience in the entire situation was enough to dampen her mood even further, despite the fact her own alleged feelings brought this on herself.

Remembering she had tossed out her only petals, Heather just barely resisted another groan before a familiar scratchiness formed at the back of her throat. Being sure to cough quietly, Heather slipped the petal out of her mouth as she winced at the taste of copper rolling down her tongue. The article hadn’t mentioned anything about blood, Heather bitterly notes, before shaking her head at her own stupidity. Of course there wasn’t a full list of symptoms for a disease that was believed to be fictional.

Switching flash on, Heather got the results of her flowers instantaneously as promised: the yellow and white flowers she had been hacking up all day were daffodils and gardenias, respectively.

Heather’s fingers flew to her keyboard once more automatically. With bated breath, she hoped that the results would be specific enough that she could put an end to the investigation that night and stomp out whatever ties she had with her “enamored”.

But, as noted from Heather’s luck that day, things rarely went her way.

what do daffodils mean

FlowerDictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

Daffodil symbolizes regard and chivalry. It is indicative of rebirth, new beginnings and eternal life. It also symbolizes unrequited love.

what do gardenias mean

Flower Dictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

The gardenia is a flower that symbolizes purity and gentleness. However, this symbolism often depends on the color of the gardenia. ... Another symbol of the gardenia is secret love between two people and also joy.

Upon quickly searching them up, the results did little to ease the dread pooling in her. The test was definitely correct, as it seemed, but was entirely unhelpful when it came to figuring out the identity of whoever it was that Heather had unknowingly developed an unreturned love for.

Slamming her laptop closed — a bit too loud for her liking, but beats pass and she doesn’t hear the annoying patter of her mother’s footsteps reach her room, so she assumes she’s in the clear — Heather grunts one final time, unceremoniously moving her laptop back on her desk. Raising the petal to her line of vision, Heather has to squint to make out some of the details. This one was white, identifiable even in the dark. It was a bit crumpled from having been clutched so tightly, and still wet from her own coppery blood.

A gardenia, Heather recalls with another scowl that was deeper and more ferocious than the last were. Meant to symbolize a “secret love”... so much for a clue.

She wonders, her last coherent thought before succumbing to sleep, how big of a secret her love must be for it to have left Heather herself in the dark on who her loved one was.

At the thought, Heather wrapped her blankets tighter around herself, lulling herself to an uneasy sleep of blood, thorns, beautiful but deadly flowers, and a figure in the distance who looks so comforting and familiar whose name is on the tip of Heather’s tongue, but can’t be reached.

❀

ii. amaryllises & white chrysanthemums; pride & loyalty

Despite Heather’s praying to a God she didn’t believe in, the flowers didn’t disappear overnight. Instead, they bloomed rapidly in her lungs, and at times when she felt the familiar tickle in the back of her throat, flowers in full-bloom were coughed up.

They would be beautiful, if not for her own blood staining them, a grim reminder of what would become of her if she did not find a fix, and soon.

Still, Heather was nothing if not quick on her feet. She managed to keep her illness under the wraps — of course, her second in command was Lindsay, so it wasn’t difficult to conceal her bloody bundles of flowers as just “feeling under the weather”; any other person would be suspicious of the foreign scratchiness and hoarseness her voice now had, the way she would breathe shakily as if her lungs were rattling and about to give out, or the way she barely restrained the flowers from being coughed up after a gym class, but since it’s Lindsay, Heather can get away with her lie.

When Lindsay sweetly wishes for her to feel better, even dropping off a bowl of badly homemade chicken noodle soup, Heather couldn’t help but scoff as she shook her head at the feeling of guilt lingering in the back of her head, and the feeling of bloody flowers in the back of her throat.

❀

With every fistful of the flowers beginning to stain her clothes, Heather took responsibility for her own laundry, for the first time in her life. Her parents put on a spectacle of overexaggerated joy and relief when she announced it, saying that, oh, thank goodness their darling was beginning to take responsibility instead of pooching off of them; Heather had just forcefully smiled and nodded, as she always did now, and excused herself to hurriedly put in the first load.

Her clothes were stained red in her own blood. Some petals began to stick onto her clothes, as well, and the last thing Heather wanted was the intrusion of her parents and their nosiness as she deciphered just who she was coughing flowers for.

Interestingly, the flowers she was now coughing up were different. Amaryllises and chrysanthemums, as she had identified — the red flower was the former of the two and symbolized pride. The white chrysanthemums, wide with many intricate petals, symbolized loyalty and the truth. Thankfully, they were more of a clue than the daffodils and gardenias with their meanings of unrequited and secret love.

That still didn’t mean that Heather had any clue of who they were for, though — she just knew that they had to be high-maintenance, and part of her refused to believe she would unconsciously fall for someone who had to be so pretentious, but seeing as how the thought sent her into another bout of coughing sloppily disguised, it had to have been the truth.

Heather was beginning to hate the sensation that arose when she felt a coughing spur coming on. She hated how she could feel a crumpled lump form in the back of her throat, squirming its way up her throat and nearly out her mouth. It feels hot, sticky, and suffocating, and when the flowers come up, Heather hates them too, and especially whoever her beloved is. However, the disease doesn’t cease even just a little, and so Heather finds herself heaving, coughing, and puking chrysanthemums and amaryllises in the middle of the night as she ponders on who it is she’s supposed to be loving.

Still, she manages to keep herself from hacking during class in front of her peers, and that’s all that matters to her, even when the flowers she chokes on splinter into her like thorns in her side.

❀

It’s here that Heather messes up. Well, to be fair, she messed up as soon as she began feeling things for whoever it was that had captured her sight unknowingly, in Heather’s opinion, but that was irrefutable and couldn’t be helped.

This, however, could have been helped.

Like many things, it started at school. Like the first petal that had been coughed up weeks ago, it started during science class, when she felt the feeling of hot bile, blood, and petals rising in her throat as Courtney bent over their lab report. She didn’t notice Heather’s discomfort, as her eyes were fixed on the report, her brows scrunched together in concentration.

At least, that’s what Heather thought, until Courtney suddenly looked up from the report and eyed her curiously. “Are you feeling alright?”

Heather barely contained her surprise at the sudden inquiry. The only person to ask that was Lindsay, not even her own parents, let alone her (unofficial) rival and (official) lab partner.

Upon seeing her confusion — had she done that bad at a job of hiding it? — Courtney sighed and looked back to their work. “To be honest, you’re quieter than normal and you look kind of sick — you look like you’re going to pass out at any time now.”

“Thanks,” Heather mutters coarsely, finding her voice. Despite her calm exterior, she could feel her heart racing, and the flowers itching their way up her throat.

Courtney squawked indignantly. “Hey! I’m just being honest!”

“Mhmm,” Heather hums absentmindedly as she rises from her seat. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She barely hears Courtney’s grumpy and hesitant “Fine,” before stalking out the room, grabbing a hall pass on her way out. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, out of sight from her peers, Heather dashed as quickly as she could to the solitude of the nearest bathroom. She slams the stall door closest to her open noisily, thankful there was nobody around, and heaves into the toilet as the blood and flowers bloom from her mouth.

They hurt more than the daffodils and gardenias, now that they’re coming out as full flowers accompanied with a few stray petals rather than just petals, but Heather shoves the thought to the side in favor of pulling her hair away from her face. The toilet bowl is filled with a hideous mixture of blood and petals, and Heather feels like a decaying corpse as the energy leaves her, crumbling to the ground as she heaved from the aftermath of the coughing fit.

Picking petals from her backmost molars, Heather spits once more, the remaining drops of blood falling into the sink. Her chin is wet and sticky with her own blood, and she’s sure her teeth are stained red as well; Heather half-heartedly debates asking her parents to pick her up as she flushes the toilet, whisking away most of the evidence excluding the blood dribbling down her chin from her mouth and a few stray petals, before deciding she’d rather vomit flowers rooted to her lungs for the rest of the day than be with her family.

As she rinsed water from the sink in her mouth, Heather nearly spits it out in surprise when she notices a bathroom stall crack open from the mirror. Then she actually spits the stained water from her mouth, whirling around to threaten whoever it was to secrecy. When her eyes meet a head of blue hair, she falters slightly, and that’s all it takes for the other to take control.

“You too?” Is all Gwen asks, having recovered from her initial surprise. She doesn’t look grossed out by the blood, and instead joins Heather by the sinks.

Narrowing her eyes, Heather recoils to what she knows best around Gwen: defense. “Excuse me?”

Gwen laughs, sardonically and self-deprecatingly, with a hint of amusement. It’s the most Heather’s seen her laugh to her since, well, ever. Then, still in astonishment, Heather felt herself stagger back and her eyes widened when pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers fell from Gwen’s blue-lipsticked lips, gracefully fluttering to the tiled floor.

Suddenly, Heather understands, but Gwen still unnecessarily elaborates. “The flowers. You too?”

Heather only hesitates for a split second before sighing and staring down at the sink bowl. “Yeah,”

“Didn’t expect it from you of all people,” Gwen chuckled humorlessly. “Didn’t think the Queen Bee Heather knew what emotion was, let alone be stuck in unrequited love,” she mocked bitterly. She turns to Heather, gaze softening. “So, who is it?”

Heather blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gwen snorted and gestured to the petals and trail of blood on the tiled floor. “The flowers, honors student,”

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Heather paused before admitting, “I don’t know,”

Gwen grunted disbelievingly. “Come on, I know you don’t like or trust me, but really, who am I going to tell?”

“Hey, I’m actually being honest here!” Heather snapped, glaring at the goth. Of course, I’m told I’m lying when I’m actually being honest… she thinks with a scoff as her scowl returns.

“Whatever, have you tried…” Gwen trails off, frowning as her brows scrunch together. “I don’t know, I just knew who mine was for—”

“Who?” Heather asks curiously, having not picked up on Gwen displaying any of the usual symptoms of a horrid teenage crush. No staring, attention-seeking, stuttering, or blushing — it was the same behavior for everyone with Gwen.

The goth hesitates only for a split moment before sighing and giving one name: “Geoff,”

Heather hums, unsure what to say. Gwen narrows her eyes, seeming to just remember who she was talking to.

“Seeing as how we’re one and the same right now, if I catch you telling anyone, I will spread the news of your diagnosis, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Weird Goth Girl, your secret is safe with me,” Heather promises, the corners of her lips twitching up at the use of the old nickname. “Just help me clean up all this before someone walks in,”

Gwen nods once, before bending over the sink and coughing a few more flowers and petals in the sink, blood spilling from her mouth. Awkwardly, Heather pats her back, unsure what to do, before realizing she should probably hold her hair back.

“Thanks,” Gwen murmurs, her voice even more hoarse and tired than normal. Heather just gives her a nod before crouching down to pick up the flowers trailing the ground; Gwen hurries to grab a mop from the back closet to clean the blood.

It’s when Heather comes across the petals of the pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers that a pang of empathy spurs in her. She turns to Gwen.

“Those type of roses specifically mean joy, the white carnations mean purity and loveliness, and the yellow coreopsis means cheerfulness.”

Gwen looks up from her work and blinks, taken aback, before smiling slowly and softly. “That fits him,”

Wordlessly, the two set off to finish the cleanup of their shared death sentence in the form of flowers and blood, when the bathroom door flies open once more. Both Heather and Gwen look up, eyes wide in surprise. Before either can communicate, a thunderous voice and a ticked-off Eva enter the area.

“Get back to class, we have to clean up —” she gets cut off from her own demand, faltering at the sight of Heather and Gwen bent over the floor, cleaning blood, flowers, and bloody flowers. Her eyes flit back to the duo who are too frozen and flabbergasted to speak. “What happened?”

Heather opens her mouth to bullshit her way into an explanation as she always did when Eva’s eyes suddenly narrow dangerously, intercepting the unsaid lie. She spits out one last order before turning on her heel, leaving the bathroom.

“Meet me in the library after school. Come alone, and hurry up and get back to class so no one else walks in on you.”

After her departure, all Heather and Gwen could do was stare at one another, wide-eyed and depleted of the fluttery itchiness of their lungs and throats, for once, before resolving to hurriedly finish garnering the crumpled flowers and washing the blood down the sink.

Heather goes back to class for the remaining minutes of the day, her mind elsewhere even as Courtney berates her for the long bathroom break. Her mind drifts to Gwen’s sardonic laugh, the goth's utter defeat after finishing hacking, and the way her eyes are avoiding Geoff’s direction, instead fixated on a pink charm bracelet Heather had noticed her fiddling with on multiple occasions before.

The image of Gwen choking on her own blood and petals momentarily and the sound of her warbled snort had been seared in Heather’s memory, and all she could do was wonder. Wonder if, in due time, her own condition would mirror Gwen’s when she inevitably lost to the disease that was slowly but surely suffocating her.

❀

When Eva had instructed her and Gwen to meet with her alone, Heather had assumed that that applied to Eva as well.

What she had not expected, however, was for her and Gwen to be seated with Eva and two of the most arbitrary (personality-wise, that was) redheads Heather ever had the pleasure (?) of meeting.

She scowled. With herself, Gwen, Eva, Izzy, and Harold, they had practically formed their own little Losers Club. Brilliant.

Harold awkwardly coughed, having declared himself the unofficial leader.

Gwen scoffed, leaning back into her seat. She leaned her chair, balancing it on two legs at a dangerous angle. “What is this, Hanahaki Club?” Gwen mockingly questioned, mirroring Heather’s thoughts.

Harold guiltily smiles. “Well, no. See, Eva here —” Eva glared at the boy, scowling. Harold faltered for the fifth time that meeting, gulping — “had Hanahaki awhile ago. Last year, I think. She confessed to Izzy, and the rest is history.”

Izzy nodded enthusiastically. She grabbed Eva’s hand, making the latter blush furiously at the unprompted gesture. “Yup! Our getting together was actually like this one Romanian film —”

“Anyway,” Harold interrupted. “I noticed Eva’s symptoms and helped her, which we intend to do with you two. Now,” he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, casting a pensive look to Heather and Gwen, who exchanged glances. “Which one of you has Hanahaki?”

Before Heather can think to lie and save her own skin, Gwen answers truthfully. “Both of us,”

“Gwen!” Heather hissed. The mentioned shrugs.

“What, you think you’ll be able to resist coughing up flowers during this?” At Gwen’s words, Heather felt her face twist as she felt an itching in her throat. Satisfied, Gwen nods and turns to the others. “Thought so.”

“I’m going to be honest,” Eva begins. Her tone is softer than before, but just as commanding. “Hanahaki… it’s hell. But just ease your suffering by confessing. I didn’t want to risk my life when a few words could save it.”

At Eva’s words, Heather can’t help but feel a surge of jealousy at her words, her sureness. At how she and Gwen just knew who their flowers were for, and how Eva had the mind and courage to confess.

If she did know who the amaryllises and chrysanthemums that were rooted in her lungs were for, would Heather confess? She wasn’t sure, and she hated the uncertainty.

“Yeah, but, he just broke up with his girlfriend,” Gwen murmured, tracing a finger on the table as she spoke in a low voice. She seemed fascinated with the intricate design of the wood, now, refusing to meet the eyes of her peers that were softened with sympathy. “And… he just sees me as a friend. ‘One of the guys', you know?”

A beat passes before Harold frowns, a hand on his chin like some wannabe Sherlock, Heather notes, face expectedly contorted in pensiveness. “Is it Geoff?”

“Bingo,” Gwen says dryly.

Izzy turns to Heather, the hyperactivity from before dulled as she looks serious for what had to be one of the few times in her life. “And you?”

“What about me?” Heather sighs, though she knows that they know she knows what’s being insinuated.

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“I don’t…” Heather frowns, thinking of the flowers welling up in her lungs that she’s sure will snuff out her life. Her frown melts into a scowl when she thinks of whoever her enamored was, and how they doubled as her soon-to-be inevitable murderer, along with how she didn’t even get the privilege to know their identity. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Eva echoes. Her face is not contorted in anger, like Heather assumed it would, but rather thoughtfulness. Neither is her voice thunderous or disbelieving — Eva seemed to seriously be contemplating the likelihood of it. She turns to Harold. “Is that even possible?”

The redhead looks just as lost in thought as Eva. He shrugs. “Maybe…” He shifts his attention back to Heather, who is beginning to feel as if she were being prodded at, dissected, and inspected by her peers. “Have you tried thinking about it?”

“Excuse me?” Heather asks, taken aback. Her scowl diminished momentarily in her surprise, before it fell back into place, more intense than before. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Analyzing the flowers and flower language like I’ve gone insane —”

“I mean,” Harold interrupts, “have you tried… I dunno, fantasizing about the people in your life? Like, placing yourself in your ideal date with them to see if the flowers spur in your throat? It worked in this one manga —”

Heather droned out the rest of his rant, frowning to herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Anyway,” Eva cut Harold off with a silencing glare. The boy in question audibly gulps, shifting in his seat and indiscreetly glancing away to the opposite direction. “What do your flowers mean?” She looked to Gwen and Heather.

“The first round were marigolds,” Gwen admits carefully. “They mean jealousy. The second had mistletoe and yellow tulips — they mean affection and longing, and the tulips meant good friendship, or something like that. Now, I have pale pink roses, which mean joy, white carnations, which mean purity and loveliness, and yellow coreopsis flowers, which mean cheerfulness.”

“My first flowers were daffodils and gardenias.” Heather found no reason to lie now. “They mean unrequited and secret love. Way to spell it out,” she chuckled dryly, and humorlessly, and pretending to not notice the varying amounts of sympathy from the group. Her throat stings. “The ones I have now — amaryllises and chrysanthemums — mean pride and loyalty.”

Eva raises her eyebrows. “High-maintenance? Wouldn’t have expected that from you,”

Heather grunted. “Shut up,” Her throat hurt too much for a better rebuttal.

“You know, it’s probably Courtney,” Izzy hums half-jokingly with a grin. Gwen barely stifles a laugh.

Feeling her face flush and a lump form in her throat, Heather opens her mouth to argue, but is silenced when Harold shoots her a look.

“So, to recap,” Harold draws their attention back in, “The flowers represent who you love and/or your dynamic with them. Heather, try finding some privacy and think of your ideal date with people you know who are prideful and loyal, okay? We’ll meet up here on Monday. Hopefully you’ll have figured it out by then.”

“Fine,” Heather agrees, clumsily gathering her things. Her throat is burning, along with her chest and she’s sure her eyes are stinging, and she desperately wants to cough, but not now, and certainly not here with this audience. “See you Monday, Hanahaki Club,” she mutters sarcastically.

Half-hearted laughs register in Heather’s ears, but she’s already out of the library and dashing to the second nearest bathroom, not wanting to be walked in on. Her focus had been shifted from her illness momentarily, but now that it had been remembered, it was all it took for her to cough up the familiar flowers to the bathroom floor, unleashing a familiar strangled and warbled choking noise, accompanied by foreign tears.

❀

At night, when Heather’s parents and siblings are fast asleep, Heather lies wide awake in bed, tossing and turning. Whoever her beloved was was causing her to be unable to sleep at night, and when she was awake, she would cough on petals and blood, and she just craved to sleep.

Part of her wondered if it was possible for her to choke on the flowers in her sleep, before concluding that it didn’t matter. She was going to die, anyway.

Her mind wanders back to the secret meeting in the library, and of Harold’s advice. She had never wanted to date any of her classmates, but seeing as how she had the disease, it was a waste of time groveling in defeat. Instead, she shuts her eyes, and thinks of her fantasy.

Intimacy is what comes to mind first. She doesn’t like intimacy with her family or friends, but maybe she’s a sucker for looking into someone’s eyes and holding hands and telling someone I love you and meaning it. It doesn’t make her a sap; it just means that her needs are impossible to fulfill.

Eyes still shut, the image of her perfect date materializes in Heather’s head. Limbs entangled around one another as she and her mysterious person cuddled on a couch while watching an arbitrary film. Sharing a cup of hot chocolate and blankets as the chilling air from outdoors was kept out from inside by the heater. Talking animatedly about their interests and such over the movie, gazing into one another’s eyes; no judgment was to be found in either. It was peaceful and isolated, and perfect to Heather. Her parents never showed affection, and couples in high school never lasted — that type of love wasn’t real, but Heather allowed herself to fantasize, still, for the sake of finding who her enamored was.

Thinking it was best to start with the girls Heather was acquainted with that fit the bill, Heather sighs before imagining the ambiguous person as her classmates.

Leshawna. She’s the most faithful person Heather knows of, and she’s certainly proud. The flowers remain still and unmoving in her lungs, and so, she decides to move on.

Gwen. Unsurprisingly, the flowers don’t itch. The goth was more of someone Heather could respect, anyway.

Eva. Still, no reaction. Part of her is grateful, as she didn’t want to face the wrath of Izzy ever.

Dakota. One of the least likely, but it was possible, Heather supposed. They had some things in common, after all.

Court—

Her dark brown eyes were the only thing that had materialized in her mind when the flowers came out roughly and swiftly. Her blood is hot and thick in her throat as she tries in a daze to not suffocate on it, but still, she chokes on it. She can feel tears springing in her eyes and the sweat piling on her back and under her armpits; she can feel her chest burning in indescribable pain that was unlike any of the other coughing fits. It’s worse than anything she’s ever endured which is, granted, not quite the resume, but nevertheless, Heather feels as if her body is tearing and ripping itself apart while simultaneously hastily stitching itself back together by the amount of pain unleashed from her floral disease.

She scrambles to the sink of the bathroom attached to her bedroom, retching into the basin. The blood and flowers look like an artful arrangement, though Heather barely registers its appearance through both the pain and the unwavering amount of hatred coursing through her at the thought of Courtney unknowingly inflicting this upon her. Somewhere, she’s sleeping peacefully, while Heather is choking on her own blood and the flowers rooted to her lungs from just the mere thought of Courtney’s eyes.

Finally, mercifully, after a few minutes, the coughing fit ceases, but all that’s left is Heather’s heavy heaves as she attempts to retain her breath. Her vision flickers as black dances across her vision, and all she can smell is an overwhelming smell of metal and cleaning supplies. Her sink looks like the delicately painted masterpiece of an artistic sacrificial seance scene with all the blood and flowers. With a sigh, Heather strips of her bloodstained clothes, tossing them in her hamper to wash in the morning. After changing into a new acceptable and clean pair that Heather is sure will be ruined in a few hours, she brings out the cleaning supplies from under her sink and begins to clean at a feverish pace in a dazed state.

Ah, Heather thinks bitterly with a crazed and forced smile on her face, scrubbing extra hard on the sink as the thought flits in her mind, I get it now.

❀

“It’s Courtney,” Heather admitted to the group with a scowl present on her face. None had to ask her to elaborate, and none mention her scowl or her cough at the name. Heather’s scowl deepens further when she notices Gwen and Harold sighing in unison, sliding money to Izzy and Eva, who gladly accept them, with defeated sighs. “Wha —! Did you guys seriously bet on this? I’m literally dying over here!”

The words silence the group before Gwen snorts, and with that, the rest join her and laugh. Heather has half the mind to tell them that they’re in a library, but realizes she sounds freakishly like Courtney. Plus, for once, Gwen is choking on her laughter rather than flowers, so Heather allows it just for once with her own small smile and laugh.

“You know,” Harold manages to choke out, eyebrows raised in either surprise or amusement, “I didn’t take Courtney as your type.”

“Me neither,” Heather mutters. “Who did you think my type was?”

He shrugs. “Alejandro was my main suspect. I thought Justin was Eva’s crush, at first, to be honest.”

The laughter dies down momentarily as the group stares at Harold in confusion. Gwen, cracking another smile, mutters, “Harold, they’re lesbians,” before collapsing in another fit of laughter.

This time, Heather joins in more easily, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The flowers momentarily disappear, along with Courtney and thoughts of her love.

❀

END OF PART ONE

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

Chemistry — Sokka x GN!Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

Words: 1.4k

Summary: you and Sokka are chemistry lab partners.

A/N: this was supposed to be a blurb but uh...yeah I couldn’t end it for some reason. Anyway, I just really felt the need to give our boy Sokka some love! Btw, reader is kinda judgy in this one heh

Masterlist

1203...1204...ah, room 1205! Found it!

Today was your first day of Chem Lab 101. You arrived at the lab a few minutes early, hoping to get a good spot.

When you entered the room, you realized that everyone else had the same idea. All the lab benches were taken except for the one in the way back. And, even worse, you noticed that all your classmates were already partnered up.

I guess I’m on my own. You were disappointed but hid it well, making your way to the back.

“We’re waiting on one more student. I’ll give them a minute or two, then we can begin,” your lab professor announced, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

While patiently waiting, you heard a ruckus outside. Soft, distant thumping grew louder and nearer. It was the sound of someone running, which came to a halt at your lab.

“I’m sorry I’m late, professor! We got let out of class late and it was on the complete opposite side of campus and—“

“Okay, okay,” the professor said, holding a hand up to stop their rambling. “Just find a place so we can get started.”

You peaked up from your phone to get a look at the person. It was a tall guy with short-ish, brown hair in a ponytail, wearing black joggers and a blue hoodie. You got the feeling that he was the lazy type.

Oh, spirits, I’m going to be stuck with the slacker now, aren’t I?

“Hey, is this seat taken?” He asked, pointing to the empty space next to you.

Well, what do you think, dummy? This is the only one left and you’re the last student. You smiled politely and shook your head, but on the inside you were rolling your eyes.

“Great!” He plopped his backpack on the lab bench. You went back to mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you noticed a hand in the corner of your eye.

“My name is Sokka, and you are...?”

You looked up at him. His blue eyes shined as brightly as his smile did.

He’s lucky he’s cute.

“[Y/n],” you replied before shaking his hand.

“Alright class, welcome to Chem Lab 101,” your professor began. “My name is Ms. Wu. Today, we’ll go over lab rules and class policies, but don’t think I’m not going to give you any work today! After this, I’ll have you all work in pairs on an experiment...”

“Good job today, class is dismissed.”

Your first lab wasn’t so bad after all. Sokka turned out to be a pretty decent partner (at least so far). He followed instructions well, but the true test is whether he’ll contribute anything to the lab report due next week.

Since high school, one of your biggest pet peeves was doing group projects. More specifically, group projects with people who do nothing. You would usually ended up doing all the work. It’s frustrating and unfair. So if this Sokka guy would turn out to be one of those no-good partners, you might just ask your lab professor if you can work on your own.

As you exited the lab, Sokka jogged up next to you.

“Sooo,” he started, “what are your plans for tonight?”

Okay, I know I said he’s cute, but I really don’t want to be hit on right now...

You narrowed your eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“I was just thinking we could get a head start and get that lab report done.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected.

“Yeah. It seems simple, I bet it wouldn’t take us long.” Sokka shrugged while he put his hands behind his head. You raised an eyebrow.

Not only did he want to start early, he also thought it would be a cakewalk. It was cocky, but you were glad to hear this from him (especially since you thought he was going to ask you out after meeting you only a couple hours ago).

“Sure, I’m free at 7,” you said.

“Bet. I’ll meet you outside of the library at 7! Gotta run!” And he took off, running down the hallway, probably to the other side of campus again.

“Hey!” Sokka called out to you, jogging up the front steps to the library.

You had arrived just a few moments ago and decided to wait outside for him. Unlike earlier today, he was on time.

After greeting him, the two of you wandered the library until you found an empty table to work at.

“You ready to ace this lab?” Sokka asked enthusiastically, pulling his laptop out of his bag.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied nonchalantly.

“What? You don’t like chem?”

You shrugged. “Eh...it’s okay. I don’t hate it, but it’s not my best subject.”

“Well, don’t worry. I like chem, and I’m pretty good at it. Not trying to brag or anything, buuuut, if you need help, just let me know!” He grinned and gave you a thumbs up.

Again, not what you were expecting. Maybe Sokka really wasn’t who you thought he was, and you judged him unfairly. It was a bad habit of yours, but at least you would keep your thoughts all to yourself.

You gave him a nod, and the two of you got to work.

“I got 4.73 grams of Zinc Nitrate,” you said, setting your calculator down to write your answer.

“Hmm...hold on, can I take look?” Sokka asked, leaning in close to look at your work. You gave him a quizzical look, trying to suppress the growing heat on your cheeks.

“You have an extra significant figure, and you forgot to convert your units here,” he said, pointing to the mistake in your work. His arm just barely grazed yours. You felt sparks go off, leaving goosebumps behind.

“The answer I got is 6.8 grams,” Sokka continued. He either didn’t notice the brush of contact or was just being cool about it. “I double checked it, I think it’s right.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” You tried to act natural. On the inside, you were flustered.

He really is good at this. And he’s cute. Wow, he is so cute. I lucked out big time today.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to help. I probably shouldn’t point out your mistakes like that...but everything else in your equation is right!”

“No, no, no, I just...uh...you know, I’m not good at chem, and, well, you’re smart, so...” you stuttered.

“Thanks,” Sokka chuckled.

“Not that I thought you were stupid!” You blurted.

“I know, I know. It’s because I look stupid, isn’t it? Yeah, my sister tells me that all the time,” Sokka joked, jotting down some notes before moving his eyes up to glance at you. The look sent shivers down your spine.

Spirits, he’s funny too. I’m done for. Hold on...how long have I been staring at him?

“Haha yeah,” you awkwardly laughed, “wait, I mean, no! You don’t look stupid at all!”

Sokka threw his head back. “What’s the matter? Chemistry got your brain fried?”

You plastered your hands onto your burning face. “I guess so...”

“You’re cute when you blush like that.”

Your eyes widened behind your hands, and your face became even redder than you thought possible.

“Umm...thanks. I think.” Your voice was muffled by your hands.

“And you’re funny too,” Sokka chuckled. “So I was going to ask you this when we finish, but now might be a good time. Do you want to grab dinner with me after this?”

You slowly dropped your hands. Your heart pounded against your chest. “Like...a date?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged in a very cool and collected way, “if you want it to be.”

“Oh...yeah, I’d like that.”

“Alright then, let’s power through this!”

The rest of the assignment went smoothly, save for those few times you got a little flustered when you caught yourself staring at Sokka. The two of you worked hard and finished fairly quickly.

And dinner afterward was nice. He took you to new restaurant that he had been meaning to try. You got to be with him in a more casual, non-academic setting, and you learned a lot about him. All the while, you thought about how lucky you were to get him as a lab partner.

Cute, smart, funny and just all around cool. I can’t believe I thought I was going to be miserable with him the second I saw him.

“You know, this was nice. We should do this again,” you said, exiting the restaurant while Sokka held the door open for you and you.

“Which? The study session? Or the date?” Sokka smirked.

“Both. Well...more of the date than the study session, but that’s only because I’m not good at chem.”

“I see. I’m that case, I’ll tutor you, and then take you on a date. How about that?”

“Deal!” You said with a truly polite smile this time.

[bleughbleughbleugh]

Haikyuu Characters In The Wizarding World (Houses and Headcannons)

Warnings: mlm couples, mild swearing

Karasuno Boys VB Team

#1 Daichi Sawamura - Gryffindor

He gives off major hardworking Gryffindor vibes, I feel like he would be the Quidditch Captain and top of Transfiguration. Always stressed with his teammates sounds a bit like Remus Lupin with the Marauders. He is angry and stressed Oliver Wood, but with t hi g h s. He is always making sure the first years know what to do and where and who to stay away from. Very responsible. Only detention he has ever gotten was because he accidentally blew up his cauldron in Potions because he was too busy staring at his partner and wasn’t paying attention and landed them both in detention. But he landed himself a date so he doesn’t really mind. 

#2 Koshi Sugawara - Slytherin

I think he would be a very sly, Slytherin. Would most likely be Head Boy and Prefect and would get away with everything because he seems like an angel but he is actually very ambitious. He used his charm and connections to his advantage a bit like our favourite ferret boi. He would definitely be part of the Slug Club and hangs around with his partner in crime Oikawa. Loves flirting with the cute Gryffindor Captain in Potions, the lion gets flustered very easily :P

#3 Azumane Asahi - Hufflepuff

He is very hardworking which is a main Hufflepuff trait, he is also more timid. I feel like everyone would wonder why this tall giant is a Hufflepuff until they see him do something like apologising to a bug he crushed or running away when his feral and energetic boyfriend, Yuu runs up to him with Tanaka ready to create chaos. He is always called on by Hagrid in Care Of Magical Creatures and he hates it because he thinks all the creatures are scary as fuck. 

#4 Yuu Nishinoya - Gryffindor

We all saw this coming. A second after the Sorting Hat touched his head it screamed out “GRYFFINDOR”. I mean where else would we put him. He is very brave and treasures family and friendships above all else. I feel like he would get along with all the Weasleys except Percy, he would love pretending not to know whatever Percy is talking about just to annoy the heck out of him. Would most likely be a beater on the Quidditch Team with his BFF Tanaka, he definitely gets judged because he is rather small but as soon as the game starts he proves everyone wrong by hitting a rouge bludger to the other team knocking them off their seat.

#5 Ryunosuke Tanaka - Gryffindor 

He is that Gryffindor who is always trying to impress the smart and beautiful Ravenclaw goddess that is Kiyoko. They would be like James Potter and Lily Evans. He is always getting in trouble for being caught out of bed or pranking the Slytherins etc. I mean a Gryffindor isn’t a Gryffindor without a little bit of mischief. He definitely shows off on the Quidditch field, I am sure there was at least one time where he tried to execute a difficult manouever to impress Kiyoko and it ended up with him in the Hospital Wing being scolded by Madam Pomfrey, but it’s all good because Kiyoko came to check up on him.

#6 Chikara Ennoshita - Gryffindor

Is practically Remus Lupin personality wise. Very stressed boi, always trying to make sure Tanaka and Nishinoya aren’t doing something stupid that will land them in detention because for God’s sake they can’t lose anymore house points or else McGonagall will most likely kill them all. Is definitely Quidditch commentator, gets told off for swearing and berating Tanaka and Nishinoya every time they make a mistake but he still has the position because he is Minnie’s favourite and all the teacher’s like him since he is an O student with a good behaviour and attitude.

#7 Kazuhito Narita - Hufflepuff 

This hardworking angel is definitely a Hufflepuff. He is one of the most kind boys you will ever meet. Would always be quietly watching all the chaos and mischief happening in the back with his boyfriend and best friend Kinoshita. They’re eating popcorn :). I feel like his favourite class would be Charms because he can enjoy the chaos in peace, while calming acing the class. He and Kinoshita sometimes joins Tanaka, Ennoshita and Nishinoya when they sneak out to the kitchens or the Forbidden Forest.

#8 Hisahi Kinoshita - Hufflepuff

He is that laidback and chill guy in the back of the class who would let you coy off him if you were struggling. But he would most definitely be able to hex or jinx you if you crossed or said something bad about his friends. He is always ahead with the work and will likely tutor you if you need help. He loves Astronomy because he is definitely a night owl. Everyone wonders how he is always awake, he says it’s because he has a coffee addiction. Is always seen with a snack because the house elves love him since he is so polite and kind to them. He is the one who discovered the kitchen first out of his friends and always sneaks out with them.   

#9 Tobio Kageyama - Gryffindor

He doesn’t try to cause trouble, he just always end up in detention because he spends most of his time fighting with Hinata. (They are still best friends though) He definitely banters with the tall smart-ass Ravenclaw Tsukishima. Is most likely the Quidditch team’s prized seeker. It’s common knowledge that all animals hate him yet the sweet boy decided to take Care Of Magical Creatures to try and get animals to like him more. He is making some progress. Hinata got him a small, raven coloured owl for his birthday, as a joke, and it attacked him as soon as it landed in the Great Hall. He secretly loves the fact that Hinata got him such a “sweet” present. He called it Shoyu.

#10 Shouyou Hinata - Gryffindor

Very loud. Before he even got on the Hogwarts’s Express he already made a bunch of friends and got into a fight. He will always be seen bouncing around Kageyama. No one knows if they are enemies or friends. Some people think they are dating, I mean who wouldn’t the t e n s i o n. The upperclassmen and professors all have bets on which one it is. He always ends up in fights with students way taller and older than him and lands himself in detention. Yet he has no enemies and everyone likes him. He definitely believes everything Trelawney  predicts. He and Kageyama are her favourites because they think she is amazing and cool for having the “gift”. 

#11 Kei Tsukishima - Ravenclaw

It was either Slytherin or Ravenclaw but the Sorting Hat thought there was enough salty people in Slytherin so he was placed in Ravenclaw. He definitely has the brains for it. He also brings all his snobbish housemates that think they are geniuses down a peg or two. No one retaliates against him since he is so tall and he is rumoured to be a great dueller. No one knows since the only students he has ever fought were the ones bullying his best/boyfriend Yamaguchi and they landed themselves in the Hospital Wing and were too cowardly to ever talk about the incident. 

#12 Tadashi Yamaguchi - Slytherin

Everyone thinks he is a sweet angel and no one really knows why he is in Slytherin but if you look closely you would see him teasing and annoying the hell out of Kageyama and Hinata with his Tsukki. Whenever Tsukishima is have a salt showdown with someone he is always prepared to help him even though he never needs it. Can be seem snickering to himself when someone gets blamed for something he did. Never gets caught. I mean he is a Slytherin. He is the Quidditch Team’s youngest chaser. His most commonly seen in either the library, Quidditch pitch or the kitchens snacking with Tsukishima.

Managing Team

Shimizu Kiyoko - Ravenclaw

She acquired the title “Ravenclaw’s Genius Goddess”. When McGonagall called her name out for the Sorting she has heads turning. Was at first mistaken for a Veela or at least part Veela since she has the same effect on the male population. Everyone thought she would never go on a date until Tanaka asked her to the Yule Ball in her last year and declared his love for her. He was actually successful this time because she realised she returned his feelings and they were the IT couple at school. Was most likely Head Girl, and one of the few upperclassmen that Tsukishima respects and doesn’t mind the company off since she doesn’t annoy him and is very quiet. 

Hitoka Yachi - Hufflepuff

She would definitely be a Hufflepuff. Very timid and shy but is one of the most hardworking person you will ever meet. Always trying her best and trying to fit in because she’s insecure but she is a perfect little angel and her housemates and year mates all protect her from anyone who try to corrupt or tease her since she is so small. She spends her time in the library with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima but sometimes hangs out with the other Hufflepuffs in the kitchen since she doesn’t want to intrude or thirdwheel.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.4}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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The moment they were back in Snape's office, Robin got started on making them coffee. It was early afternoon by now, and she was well aware that there still was plenty of work to be done before they could move on over to the lab. Once again she offered her help with his work, but his (admittedly very much justified) objection remained that he couldn't let her grade other students' essays, and Robin had to accept that. Thus she merely sat down at the smaller table with her own coffee after handing him his, and henceforth listened to him complaining about the many stupid mistakes the second years had made in their essays. Eventually it became a real game between them, to keep a list of the most ridiculous things people had written in their essays, and to rank them by their level of idiocy. Robin, void of anything else to do for once, actually wrote it all down on a piece of parchment, both the most ridiculous statements and the ranking points they had given them.

In the end, they successfully managed to miss dinner entirely, as their game was more entertaining than either of them had anticipated. But the work was done, and Robin was proud to say that she had made it less dreadful for him after all. Even if not entirely on purpose, but still very much willingly.

"You know, you could probably fill an entire lesson just with reading out the dumbest quotes on this list and have the students figure out why it's so wrong." Robin sighed with a smirk as she stretched in her chair. The piece of parchment in front of her looked almost like a piece of art at this point, littered not only with the most desperately wrong quotes from the essays, but also Robin's corrections of them, as well as some extended elaborations on the matter and little drawings of ingredients. Yes, she had been that bored between judging ridiculous quotes.

"I could. Should I, however?" He raised an eyebrow at Robin with a not-smirk while he got up from behind his desk at last, only to sit down again across from her at the small table. Without taking his eyes off hers, he snatched the piece of parchment out from under her fingertips and only then lowered his gaze to inspect it. A few seconds passed before he frowned, and Robin smiled.

"I think you should." She remarked innocently, replying to his earlier question while leaning back in her chair. "Have them correct the mistakes, that is, not mock the person who made them."

"I am surprised that you bothered to correct them."

"Didn't have much else to do between judging students' idiocracy. Besides, at this point I really should know the second year topics, shouldn't I? Did them twice, after all."

"Twice because…?"

"Once in my own second year and then again last year when tutoring Jorien and Cas. So technically I only did them once, and then tried to teach them a second time."

"You still tutor your roommates regularly?"

"Yeah." Robin shrugged with a smile. "Not just them though, and by far not only in potions. Just this morning I actually had sixteen students, can you imagine?! Sixteen thirteen-year-olds! And they actually listened to what I said!!!"

Now Snape's eyebrows rose in surprise, but the not-smirk turned into a real one; small, but definitely visible. "I had no idea that was even a possibility."

"Me neither!" Robin laughed, then kept on grinning. "So, just in case you get a suspicious amount of high quality essays from your third years next week, you know who to blame. Or who to thank."

"We will see about that." He replied with the same smirk, but then continued on a more serious note as he took another look at the parchment in his hands. "May I keep this?"

"Sure." Robin shrugged easily, and for whatever reason her heart skipped a beat. "I hope you can decipher all of it… I didn't specifically try for readability."

"I have been reading your handwriting for years, Robin. Not only in tests or essays written specifically to be handed in, but in scribbles and working notes as well. I would even say I know it quite as well as my own."

"Good." Robin couldn't help grinning at him with enough excitement to make him frown a little in suspicion. Before he could ask however, she had already summoned her handbook out of her backpack and dropped it on the table in front of him with a dull thud. "Because there's something else I have been dying to show you."

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A quiet rustling of sheets, soft breathing, hushed whispers. "Robin…" The mattress dipped gently at her side. She smiled, curling a little closer around the new source of warmth. "ROBIN!!!"

She jumped at the loud voice, sitting up with a start, and her head bumped against something hard in an instant.

"Ow…" She grumbled with a deep frown, rubbing her now aching forehead in an instant, while her eyes finally went into focus enough to see Cas sitting in front of her on her bed, rubbing her forehead just the same. Jorien sat on the other side, laughing at both their misery without a hint of guilt or pity.

"Very funny, you guys…" Robin groaned tiredly as she crossed her legs underneath her to make room for the two girls. "The last time you woke me up like this was-..."

"Happy birthday, Robin!" Both girls cheered before she could finish her sentence, and Robin had to smile despite the small mishap.

"Thank you! Is it really the twentieth already? Again?" She sighed, but by now she knew that resistance to Cas was hard, and resistance to Jorien was entirely futile.

"Twentieth of October, six o'clock in the morning!" Cas grinned, and crossed her legs as well while Jorien followed suit a few seconds later.

"Six?! Good gods…" Robin groaned exaggeratedly and frowned at them with a desperate smile. "Why on earth would you wake me up this early?"

"Because it's Thursday and our present for you requires some time before breakfast." Jorien replied factually, and Cas nodded in her usual giddy eagerness.

"Do I need to be scared?" Robin inquired with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. She knew that look on their faces, and she knew that they were up to something. A second later, a small box very much like the one she had received last year was placed in her lap and Robin opened it with a curious smile. When her eyes fell onto the contents however, her brows furrowed, and she looked up at Cas and Jorien with a big question mark on her face.

"We're not doing anything you don't want to, of course… But you liked those onyx earrings so much when we went to Hogsmeade, so we decided to get them for you." Cas shrugged with an excited smile, and Jorien merely nodded in no less amusement.

"That is very sweet of you, but you realize that I don't actually have any holes in my ears but the ones nature demands, yes?"

"Yet. That is part of the present." Cas replied mischievously, and both girls smiled at Robin in a way that made her realize that they were absolutely serious in what they were planning to do. It humored her more than it probably should have.

"Alright." Robin said with an easy smile. "Thank you for the lovely present. If you take joy in stabbing holes into my skin, feel free to. I don't mind."

"Wait… really?!" Cas frowned incredulously. "I thought you were going to protest! I prepared an entire speech to convince you that it was for the best!"

"I told you she would be all for it." Jorien shrugged at her friend, with a humored smile similar to the one Robin wore herself. "And you didn't write a speech, you practiced saying 'please' in as many ways as possible."

"Don't tell her that!" Cas protested with a roll of her eyes, and Robin merely had to chuckle at the two of them. They were like an old married couple sometimes, and it was hilarious and adorable at once to observe. Cas turned to Robin once again. "Anyway, we asked McGonagall for a spell to pierce your ears that wouldn't blow your head off along the way, so you don't have to worry about a thing. It's all approved and safe for use."

"I'm not worried." Robin replied easily, and really she thought the idea was rather sweet. It was such a typical teenager thing to do… something of the kind she had never spent a second thinking about before now. But to Cas and Jorien it actually seemed to be of immense importance to do this themselves, and Robin felt touched that they included her in their spark of youthful rebellion. And she wouldn't mind getting her ears pierced after all. "So… You actually asked McGonagall for a spell?"

"Who did you expect us to ask?! What Professor Snape is for you, McGonagall is for Jorien. I'm just swimming on her wave." Cas explained, then motioned for Jorien to go ahead and do the actual work. A typical Cas move, giving the speech and leaving the work for someone else. "This is probably going to hurt, so you might want to grab something."

"Don't worry, it takes a lot to hurt me these days." Robin sighed and for once, she would just have to trust them; there wasn't much that could go wrong anyway. "But try to keep my head intact, alright?"

Ten minutes later, and luckily without any accidents, Robin had two neat holes in her ears and could at last make use of the gift she'd received. Two studs of black onyx, small but just as gorgeous as she remembered them to be from the two times they had looked at them through the shopwindow in Hogsmeade. She smiled when she looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the subtle new detail about her appearance. The deep black really was a sharp contrast to her ashen skin, but so was her dark hair anyway. The new piece of jewelry probably wouldn't be all too noticeable in comparison to that.

"You look absolutely gorgeous, birthday girl…" Cas declared dramatically, still lounging on Robin's bed even while Robin herself had gotten up. "Now we just need to get a little colour onto your face and you're ready to seize this day!"

Robin spun around to face them in an instant, glaring at the two girls in both horror and defense. There was a lot she would let them do to her, but that most definitely did not include turning her into a canary! "Cas no! Absolutely not!"

"Cas yes!"

"Jorien?" Robin pleaded with both her tone and her eyes while moving back over to her bed and to the girls. "I already let you make holes into my ears!"

"Sorry, but it's all part of our present." Jorien shrugged with a sympathetic half smile before she moved off the bed to get ready. "Just let it happen."

"What is your present if it includes piercing my ears and painting my face?!"

"We're making you pretty, dumbass! Like they do in the movies!" Cas groaned loudly and rolled off the bed as well to pad back towards her own. "You're bloody 17 now! And you still don't have any dates! We're trying to get you one."

"Not that again…" Robin sighed in return, hiding her head in her hands for a moment to regain some composure before she started getting dressed for the day of classes. "Don't you guys have anything better to do than meddling in my affairs?"

"No." Both Jorien and Cas replied at the same time, then giggled at their synchrony, and Robin finally had to realize that resistance was futile indeed. Sometimes living with thirteen-year-olds demanded a sacrifice; sometimes Robin just had to make concessions to their youth. And honestly, she couldn't deny them a thing, being as excited as they were about this now.

"Fine…" She sighed at last, mindlessly buttoning up her blouse with long practiced moments, then tugged it into her trousers. "You may paint my face if it means so much to you. But I'll get the bathroom first, now and all to myself. And I forbid you to use anything actually colourful."

"But colour is the best part! It's ALL colour!!!" Cas cried as she struggled into her tights. "Some charcoal would do wonders on your eyes!"

"Black isn't actually a colour but a value." Jorien corrected with a roll of her eyes. "So technically you can use all the black, white and grey you want."

"Precisely! Thank you, Jorien, your thought-out input is always very much appreciated." Robin smiled proudly at the girl, who in return grinned to herself upon the praise. "Now, do we have an agreement? I get the bathroom first and you will use no colours, but you may otherwise do with my hair and face as you please. Deal?"

"Deal!"

… … …

In the end, Robin had to make another compromise: in exchange for not getting any brown paste and powder onto her face, which Cas seemed to be very fond of unfortunately, she had to agree to let them use colours, dark colours, on her eyes. Thus Robin ended up sitting on her bed, sighing repeatedly, while Cas painted her face and Jorien braided her hair. Honestly, she still didn't know how or why exactly she (the older one!) had become their dress up doll, but under the pretext of 'making her look pretty for her birthday', Robin still found herself unable to deny them. Even if, on the inside, she very much felt like running.

When all three of them made their way towards the great hall for breakfast at last, Robin still felt mildly uncomfortable. The braid Jorien had forced her hair into was rather charming actually, and also very much useful to keep the wavy, bushy mess out of her face, but she wasn't so sure about the 'smokey' black, brown and green Cas had layered around her eyes. Robin felt more like a raccoon than herself… but in comparison to what some (few) of her classmates wore on a daily basis, or those women in the magazines Cas read instead of books, it still was subtle enough to tolerate for a day. Makeup may be fun for some other people, which was fine, but it most definitely wasn't for Robin and she had a rather strong interest in not repeating this masquerade. Oh well… she still would be racoon-Robin for a day now. Besides, it would break the girls' hearts if she didn't suffer through it with a smile on her face, so that's what she did as they hurried to breakfast.

"And where would we be coming from?" A taunting voice stopped all three of them just outside the great hall, and Robin had to smile while the other two looked rather panicked upon the unexpected appearance of their potions teacher. "Miss Miller, Miss Blakeley… Punctuality is a virtue, not an option. Breakfast started fifteen minutes ago. You are late."

"So are you, professor..." Robin replied with an innocent smile, which however turned into more of a smirk as soon as her eyes met his. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

Snape approached them with long strides and his usual public facade, and the closer he came, the more Cas and Jorien hid behind Robin. She still didn't understand how they could miss the humor in his face that even now was obvious as day! All they saw was the menacing scowl he wanted them to see. That they probably wanted to see as well; expectation and prejudice were the masters of deceit in one's own mind.

"Funny." He said to Robin in a particularly flat tone that made her bite her lip to keep from laughing, then he turned to look at Jorien and Cas instead. "You two would do well to be on time from now on, even if for a mere meal. I tolerate no slacking. Now find your seats before your classmates leave nothing but their empty plates for you." With that, he motioned for them to get going, clasping his hands behind his back with that indifferent look that made Robin smile even more.

"Robin…? Are you coming?" Jorien asked carefully while Cas straight out started walking off already, gaining as much distance to Snape as possible until she disappeared out of sight. Jorien still stood between Robin and the doors, looking at her insecurely.

"You should be fine without your precious Robin for five minutes, or is that too much to ask?" Snape drawled in feigned annoyance, and Robin gave him a look before turning to Jorien.

"I'll be there in five minutes, just save me a seat and some toast, will you?" She smiled at the girl as positively as possible, who only nodded with a weak smile in return before quickly following behind Cas, out of sight.

"Did you have to scold them for something so minor?" Robin finally asked as she turned back to Snape with a small frown. "They were only late because of me, or rather because of what they did for me. Today, at least…" Really, they were usually late for all meals. No matter what day it was, and no matter if they were with Robin or without her.

"Had they been any later, all they would have found left is scrapings. It might have slipped your notice, but their classmates are more animals than civilised beings when it comes to meals." He pointed out calmly, and Robin had to sigh. He was right. "Unless you wish to show them how to use the kitchens or leave them to fend for themselves in the future, I would prefer to teach them punctuality."

"Yeah, alright, I see your point." She said with another sigh. "Nevermind. I usually prefer being early anyway."

"I am aware." He replied with a not-smirk, upon which Robin had to smile again as well. "Is that colour in your face the reason for your mutual lateness?"

"Ah, well, yes." Robin chuckled awkwardly, and before she knew her fingers nervously brushed over the rough spot of skin on her neck again. "It is, uh… it's part of their birthday present to me, I guess. They insisted on it."

For a moment Snape observed her closely, with a curious frown that made Robin feel both nervous and tingly. He leaned a little closer for a second, then back again. "Something else about you is different than it was yesterday evening, but I cannot tell what it is."

"Well, uh, I also let them pierce my ears, because they really wanted to, so it's probably that." Robin shrugged with an almost apologetic frown. Did he observe everyone that closely? Probably.

His eyebrows rose in surprise, torn between incredulity, humor and irritation. "Why would you let them do all that to you? I was under the impression that people did nice things for others on their birthdays…"

"They gave me earrings, so they also had to make sure I could wear them. And as for the colour on my face… you better don't ask what made them do that to me." She shrugged again, deeming the way he said 'nice' highly amusing. "I let them do it because it quite obviously made them happy."

"It is your birthday. People are supposed to ensure you are happy."

"Oh, I'm quite happy as it is." Robin replied with a small smirk, and a soaring heart once more. "I can manage looking like a raccoon for the day. Perhaps it'll scare Morgan off at least."

A quiet snort escaped him before he could make an effort to remain stoic, and even then he seemed to struggle not to smirk. "Raccoon certainly is not what I think of when I look at you, Robin. But you make me curious about their reason to obviously try for exactly that visual."

Now Robin had to snort as well, shaking her head to herself. Damn, she didn't want to tell him… but she also knew that she could deny him even less than the two girls. What was it about the people she cared about?! The only weak spot she knew of, and they all were entirely oblivious to it.

"If you have to know, they wanted to make me look pretty for the day." She sighed, but as soon as he even made an attempt to reply, she added, "Don't. Please. No scorn or mocking on my birthday. I know I look stupid, but I have to make concessions if I want to keep my sanity when living with them, and this was such an instance. I could have looked far worse."

"I was merely going to say that they obviously have a strange concept of beauty if they are blind enough to try to cover it up with paint." He said as if it wasn't enough to make Robin's entire body feel too hot all of a sudden. Actually, he didn't even seem to realize what exactly he had just said in the first place as he went on. "I do very well understand your need to make concessions, and your diplomacy is certainly appropriate. However you don't have to tolerate everything they do to you merely because I told you to watch over them."

"I know. That's not why I do it, not at all." She sighed, regaining control over her heartbeat by simply ignoring what he hadn't even said on purpose. "They care about me, they really do, and they only want the best for me in their own kind of way. A thirteen-year-old way, which unfortunately entails trying to draw more positive attention to me."

He frowned at that, with a lingering hint of amusement. "They paint your eyes black to draw positive attention to you? How… curious."

"I know, right?" She huffed in both humor and dread. "I for my part like black better than anything else they could've put on my fave, but it's probably the wrong colour to make other people think 'pretty' and not 'scary'. I forbid them to use bright colours though, so perhaps it is my fault that I'll scare people off all day, which I do almost every day anyway, so-..."

"Robin." He quirked an eyebrow at her, and Robin took a deep breath to untangle the mess in her head that caused her to ramble.

"Yes. Sorry. Nevermind, just forget about it."

"Give me your hand." He ordered calmly an instant later, holding his own out to her with his palm facing up. Robin's heart skipped a beat, but she did as he said without question, placing her hand in his only to feel the familiar surge of electricity running up her arm and through her body.

To her surprise, he turned her hand around to rest in his with the inside facing up as well. Then, without a word, a small spark of light flickered to life inside her palm. It glowed softly in different colours that came and went so quickly it left the light white, an addition of all colours, and yet black at once in its subtraction. Robin couldn't have described it even if she'd wanted to, for her eyes and mind were too drawn to their hands to even try such a thing. The spark grew, not into a bigger light, but into a shape, a web of atoms that made up matter one by one. It grew, blossomed and rooted until at last it took on the unmistakable shape of a flower. A flower Robin had never seen before, one that was entirely black in its impossible existence, but yet consisted of all the colours in existence indeed. She couldn't take her eyes of it as it rested in her palm, all light gone but the impossible colours remained. His hand was still curled around hers, long fingers brushing against the delicate skin of her wrist beneath the cuff of her blouse… Robin didn't know which of the two fascinated, enchanted her more. Perhaps both did, in a different way.

"Now, would you expect someone to deem this flower scary?" He asked after a few seconds, dropping his hand from hers at last.

"No…" Robin replied quietly, holding the blossom in her palm like the greatest treasure. "It's beautiful, breathtaking even. I've never seen anything like it."

"Because it stems from your mind alone, which makes it entirely unique in its existence."

"But, how… I mean…" She didn't even know what to say, leave alone what to think, neither in a positive nor in a negative way. Why had he shown this beautiful piece of magic to her? Why hadn't she known that he could do something like this in the first place?! The overwhelming urge to be closer to him overcame her when she looked up at him, and it couldn't even be lessened by his perfect neutral facade. Gods, why did he always hide when she wanted to see him the most?! "Why?"

"It is nothing but a reminder that darkness does not scare everyone." He replied neutrally, neither bothering to feign indifference nor to let his honest expression shine through. A few seconds passed in silence, and they merely looked at each other as they did so often.

"Thank you." Robin finally said, giving him the most sincere smile that had graced her lips all day. "It's a lovely gift."

"It isn't a gift." He was quick to respond though, frowning first, then looking almost humored again. "But it might counteract the racoon visual nonetheless."

Robin chuckled, closing her eyes for a second to dwell in the happiness of the moment. The overwhelming bunch of emotions tied to the impossible flower in her hand. "Well, thank you either way. I appreciate your help with my facial issues."

Finally the not-smirk was back on his face, and if Robin wasn't mistaken, so was the humor in his eyes. "What kind of… person would I be if I didn't help you even with the most obscure problems?" Again he raised his eyebrows at her, and she smiled brightly enough to light up the entire hallway, until he spoke on. "That, among other things, is why I want you to be prepared at two o'clock this afternoon."

"Huh?" Robin's brows furrowed into a deep frown in an instant. "Prepared for what?"

"To play along." He smirked for real this time, quite obviously basking in her confusion. "You will see."

Then, without another word, Snape turned on his spot and disappeared down the hallway towards the dungeons before Robin could say another thing. Two seconds later, the doors to the great hall were opened by the first students already leaving breakfast, and they stormed the hallway with enough noise and chattering to break Robin free of her frozen state. Did Snape actually enjoy being that cryptic?! He probably did; insufferable idiot.

Robin sighed to herself, looking at the flower in her hand in careful consideration, then moved to tie it into her hair with a smile. Having this little piece of magic with her, his magic, would certainly make her day a lot better, even if it was prone to cause her constant tingles. Who cares… it was her birthday, she could allow herself to enjoy one single day of dwelling in her feelings. And besides, nobody had to know who had given her such an impossible flower; it wasn't a gift after all, just a point proven.

As Robin made her way into the great hall at last, hoping that at least some kind of food was left for her, she wondered what would be happening at two o'clock. She really couldn't wait to know. Then again, the anticipation and excitement of not knowing was also quite delightful. Two o'clock… that was a third into her defense against the dark arts class. And that meant whatever was going to happen, it could only be an improvement.

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[rason-rodd]

The Bat-Review #3

This is the last part of the two issues-run by Martinbrough and Akins, closing Red Hood’s Rebirth Chapter and possibly his adventure as a main solo character due to rumours of cancellation spread on the internet and Red Hood absence in the comics scheduled for March after Future State. So do they end it well?

Last month, I left you all by sharing my opinion on Red Hood #51 which was Martinbrough and Akins’ first time at writing and depicting Red Hood. Well, I will try not to rant so much but let’s say I hope it’s the last time.

Yes, I may be harsh and I can admit that my expectations are probably too high, making me a type of reader that is hard to satisfy. But for me this run is a failure in many points.

First, I really really really disliked the rhythm. Issue #51 took a lot of time to introduce the scenery and the new characters, putting aside Jason and all sort of action to do so. And as much as it was an understandable decision when reading issue #51, after Red Hood #52 this comes out as a mistake. Indeed, you cannot build an entire new story and create new characters if all that is given to you are only two poor issues. Two issues are not enough to introduce new characters, develop a complex plot and end it properly. It is as if you were trying to make a 20 pages novel. It doesn’t work. And you can definitely feel it while reading Issue #52. Everything is rushed. The characters and the story have no room to evolve and all the main revelations lose their tension and suspense (for exemple, Dana being Strike and revealing herself to Jason). I don’t necessarily blame Martinbrough for this. DC has its share of responsibility as well and it is very likely the writer would have done a better job had he been given two or three more issues to tell his story right. But again, when you know you only have two issues to tell a story don’t make the story too complex. Last week, Nightwing #77 did a better job at telling a good story in one issue by remaining concise and simple than Martinbrough with his Red Hood two issues-run. 

But the problematic rhythm is not the only cringy stuff in Red Hood #52. Both Martinbrough and Akins (also joined by Moritat) fail at using and depicting Jason and leave the reader wonder if they even know the character.  (nb: judging by what I read about them on the internet, they apparently don’t) Jason is made a secondary character in his own comics, being completely overshadowed by Dana who takes the limelight in his place. Everything revolves around her and her thirst for justice as well as her family situation and Jason is made the witness of all her drama and almost her sidekick.  Again, this issue gives us no insight on Jason’s line of thoughts or feelings, making him almost unrelatable when there was definitely room to articulate his character to so many points, ‘family’ being the focal of this run and a theme that is central to Jason Todd’s character. There was a possibility to link him to Dana, to link him to Tommy Maxx by connecting his personal experience to theirs but it was never really done. Too bad. 

But, I have to admit I kinda liked Dana and her fiery personality. She reminded me of a young impulsive Jason Todd and I believe that she could have been a good way for Jason to evolve and mature had we had more issues to read. I could have definitely pictured a nice tutor/pupil relationship between the two (and not the sexual/romantic one we were hinted at), giving Jason the opportunity to put himself once again in some teacher’s shoes (in Bruce’s shoes?) that suit him so well. 

I will finish talking about the story by quickly mentioning Tommy Maxx and say  “What was the point of this character?” All this time spent building a story around him to be taken down like some second-rate criminal. Seriously? He was lame and lousy and I don’t need to say more than this. (ps: also why talking about Black Mask if not to use him?)

And finally, the art. For this run Akins worked with Moritat and the change of drawing style when you turn the pages is, to me, rather bothering. Plus, I don’t like how Jason is drawn. He seems way older than he is supposed to be, almost looking like Bruce’s clone and the way he dresses is ugh. I mean look at that tank top in the last pages and tell be Jason doesn’t look like a village people, I dare you! Also, no one is going to talk about the problems linked to perspective. The frame showing the diner from outside is honestly disproportionate. But at least the colours look rather beautiful.  

So, to sum up, Red Hood #52 is the definition of problematic rhythm and shows what happens when you ask a writer to write an original detailed story in two issues. Plus, it fails at using Jason Todd as a main character and at linking him to new ones. A disappointment that leaves me bitter considering this was probably Red Hood’s final issue. 

[tremendoussaladtyrant]

Party Girl - Chapter 1 - JJ x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, underaged drinking (Basically the same as the actual show).

Synopsis: JJ x reader where reader feels trapped in her upper class world and meets JJ at a party before proceeding to have her life turned on it’s head.

I’m considering making this into a series but we will see what happens. P.S if there are mistakes it is because it is rather long so I probably missed out some things while editing.

The sea was your home, you’d been brought up with it. The waves lapping at the sandy beach shore had been your only constant and therefore it had come as no surprise to anyone who knew you when you said you wanted to become a scuba instructor. The dream had been far fetched and just that, a dream. To anyone from a less controlling world, such a job would seem like something reasonably easy to attain – aside from the cost of all the course’s and gear – because high grades aren’t needed. The people who think that don’t have your parents.

You had been born into a rich family and you weren’t complaining as far as money goes but money can only go so far and materialistic ideals often fail to bring happiness. With the money had come expectations and obligations which controlled your whole family’s lives and with the expectations and obligations came unhappiness. Your youthful dreams had been crushed by the ideals of your parents and sculpted into goals more accommodating to their high standards.

Your life had taken this turn when you were just 14 and you had gotten your first low grade in school. After your teacher called up your parents to inform them about your grade drop – which had been considerable – you had had to have the talk with your parents about your future. “Dive instructors don’t need high grades,” you had said only to have your sessions at the dive school you went to on the weekends ripped away from you; math tutoring filling up your weekends instead. From then on life as you knew it changed for the worst, partying later on became a habit because it was something you could do to help ignore the path your parents had laid out for you. This brings us to the now.

“Okay, what do you think of this?” you say peaking a head through the drapes covering the entrance to your closet, before throwing them away from your body dramatically. “Awe, why is no one looking?” Pouting you place a hand on your hip and stare expectantly at your two girl-friends. Abigale is lying on your bed on her back scrolling through her phone and Marlene is fixing her hair at your dressing table.

“Babes, sorry but this is far more interesting.” Abigail says continuing to scroll through her phone.

Marlene looks up, “It’s cute, but a bit revealing don’t you think?”

“It’s not by fault boys can’t keep it in their pants,” you reply flopping down next to Abigale on your bed and poking at her shoulder. “Time?”

“6.45, be patient. Just five more minutes till we go.” Abigale continues to scroll through her phone.

“Your brother and his friends are taking us, right?” Marlene says, pulling at the pieces of her hair that are too short to fit into her high ponytail.

“Yeah, well he said he would anyway. The hair-spray is in the second draw to the right.”

“Thanks, you’re a life saver.” Marlene proceeds to rummage around in said draw, finally pulling out a large can of hair-spray and getting to work on plastering her baby hairs to her head.

You lay there for a minute, the room silent aside from the music playing from your stereo before there is a rather harsh knock on the door.

“You girls commin’ or do we have to leave without you?” Blake, your brother, yells from the other side of the door.

“We are coming now,” you call back before bouncing up and off the bed and almost skipping around your room to switch off your fan, radio and finally the lights when both Abigale and Marlene have exited. You also remember to grab a jacket from the storage cupboard in the hallway so as not to be drilled into by Blake about your less then decent top.

When you get downstairs, you see both Rafe and Kelce standing near the door. A 6 pack of beer is in Kelce’s right hand and there is another one on the counter.

“Topper not with you tonight?” you question, skipping past both your brother’s friends and out the open door.

“No, he’s spending the night with Sarah,” Rafe says, following you out. Rafe has always had a thing for you and it makes you slightly uncomfortable when he blatantly hits on you. However, due to you always shutting down his advances he usually ends up with some other girl by the end of the evening – more often then not, Abigale.

“I call shotgun,” you yell as you get closer to Blake’s expensive new car.

“No, you don’t, you’re getting in the back.” Blake responds, coming up from behind you and guiding you to the back door. You pout but get in anyway, both your friends following you in. Blake and Kelce get in the front, Rafe not getting in at all and instead going over to his old motor bike. Rafe follows behind on his bike as your brother drives out the drive way. Rafe has been complaining about that bike for a while because his father refused to buy him one of the newer models due to Mr. Cameron not being a fan of motorbikes.

The car journey is short and soon you are near the beach. Blake parks up, Rafe gliding his bike in next to the car.

“You stay out of trouble tonight. I’m not being responsible for anything dumb you do,” your brother says sternly as you get out of the car looking a bit too excited.

“We’ll try keep her out of trouble,” Marlene says, getting out of the car behind you. You scoff slightly because you know that both Marlene and Abigale will be off with random guys at the end of the night. With a warning look from Blake you shut you mouth and turn away from him.

“See you suckers,” you say pulling off your jacket and chucking it into the still open car before running onto the beach. You slow to a walk when the gathering of people comes into sight. You here Blake curse you out in the distance and Rafe laugh but you don’t turn back and keep heading down to the party.

The first thing you go to do when you get down to the group is head to the kegger for a drink. The boy handling the kegger, is blonde and attractive. You can tell from his attire that he isn’t from the wealthier side of the figure eight – not that you expected him to be. His hair is matted with a mixture of sweat and beer.

“A cup, please.” You say as you reach him.

“Got lost on your way back from the golf course, princess?” The rugged boy says, running a hand through his blonde hair.

“Do you really take me as the kind to play golf?”

“Fair,” he says, pulling a cup from the packet and filling it up. Even though he is pouring you a drink he still seems slightly hostile. You get the feeling that he doesn’t want you on this side of the figure 8.

Giving you a now full cup, he begins to speak, “Now beat it, princess. You don’t belong here.” Your mouth involuntarily opens and affronted you turn you nose up at him slightly.

“Last time I checked there wasn’t any rules about where I can and can’t go,” you reply, annoyed. “Your allowed on our side of the island.”

“’Your side’,” he scoffs and you cringe at what you just said. “The only reason we are allowed on ‘your side’ is because we work there.”

You consider apologising but your pride gets in the way. Before you can turn and walk away Rafe comes up beside you.

“Praying on my kind now are you, JJ? Didn’t know you had the guts to try it with one of our girls.” Rafe comments slyly.

“As if I’d ever want to get with her,” he replies, looking you up and down. Now you are even more annoyed then before. Was he suggesting you weren’t good enough for him? Calling you ugly? The judging look he shot at you pointed to both of them.

“Let’s go Rafe, don’t waste your time on him.” You say out of anger and Rafe grins nodding before wrapping his arm around your waste, making you slightly uncomfortable, as you walk away.

“Yeah, run away like the cowards you are,” JJ shouts after you and although you can feel Rafe’s arm muscles clench, he and you keep walking towards your brother and friends.

Once you are far enough away from JJ you shake Rafe’s arm from around your waste and down your drink. Marlene has disappeared but Kelce, your brother and Abigale are standing in a group together. A girl you have never seen before is hanging off your brother’s arm and another one is standing beside him as he lifts his beer up to his mouth whilst talking to Kelce. Abigale is subtlety glaring at you from where she is standing over by Kelce. You guess it is because she must have seen Rafe’s arm around you before you shook him off. As you get over to the group you get another set of eyes on you. Your brother gives you a stern look and you role your eyes and sigh feeling like everyone is mad at you tonight.

“(Y/N), we need to talk,” Abigale states when you get over to the group. Kelce raises an eyebrow at you but says nothing as you bow your head and - grabbing two beers off the ground - you follow your friend away from the group. When you both stop walking you drop the beers into the sand and go to sit down, but as you see Abigale make no move to sit down as well you stop and straighten up.

“I saw you with Rafe, you snake.”

“Abby, I swear it is not what you think. He put his arm around me, not the other way around,” you close your eyes as you start to feel the buzz from the drink you downed earlier.

“Oh yes sure and I guess it was just a coincidence that you shrugged his arm off right when you got in eye sight of me.” Abigale pushes at your shoulder and you stumble back slightly.

“It isn’t like that.” You massage your temples.

“Tell me what is it like then?”

“For goodness sake Abigale, it is not my fault that he put his arm around me!” you exclaim rather loudly, frustration in your voice.

“You know what, why should I believe you? You have always been a slut. Don’t come near my man again or I’ll give you more just a push.” With that Abby turns away from you, flicking her long hair in your face and strutting back to the group. Slapping both hands to your cheeks you sink down to the ground and sit on the sand, facing out to the sea. Getting a beer and open it with one of the keys in your back pocket. You think about what she said to you. I’m not a slut, am I? It isn’t my fault boys come up to me when I’m dancing. It isn’t like I ever give them any indication I want more. You take a long sip of the beer before putting you head in your hands. Great, you think, I’ve probably just lost my best friends. Too be honest with yourself they weren’t amazing friends in the first place, you weren’t even sure Abigale liked you beforehand but you’ve known both of them since you were little so you stuck with them.

Taking your head out of your hands you finish up the beer. You crack open the other one and putting both lids in your back pocket and picking up the other glass you head back to where you had left your brother and everyone else. To your surprise they aren’t there but hearing a commotion from the main group of people you drop both your empty bear bottles next to the pile your brother and his friends had left and head over to the noise.

When you get over there you see what has been causing all the noise.

“Blake!” You yell, pushing through the people in front of you to get to set of fighting boys. A boy with slightly long hair is going at it with Rafe while JJ has your brother in a choke hold. Although your brother is bigger and a lot bulkier than JJ, JJ seems to over power him with fighting experience. Not knowing quite what to do as you see your brother gasping for air and in JJ’s grip, all that is rushing through your head is that you need to get JJ off him. You don’t trust the boy not to seriously injure him, after all he seemed spiteful enough to want to do so earlier. Thinking fast you run at them, jumping on JJ’s back. He lets out a startled huff but doesn’t let go of your brother.

“Let go of him, you dick!” you yell and when he still doesn’t you have another – not fully thought out – idea. You sink your teeth into his shoulder hard and he yelps, letting go of your brother and dropping him to the ground. The crowd are all making a ruckus behind you and the noise from them is all you can hear as JJ shakes you off him and you fall onto your but on the ground. Your brother gets up from the ground where he had been trying to catch his breath and punches JJ repetitively until he falls to the ground. He then sends a kick JJ’s way not paying any attention to you. Seeing the well-aimed kick at the boy you had just bitten; you jump onto JJ who is on his back on the ground.

“Stop, Blake! He has had enough!” You scream out ready to take the kick which never comes.

Suddenly, everyone starts bolting and you hear a yell, “Police!” someone says.

The beer hits you in that moment and you aren’t able to move fast enough. Next thing you know you find yourself pushed into a police car next to a pretty battered JJ. He ignores you for the whole journey, looking out of the window but you aren’t to bothered by it opting to worry about how your parents would react to this. You get to the station relatively quickly and once you have given the officers your name and parents details you are placed in an empty holding cell with JJ. You sit in silence for a while, considering the mess you are in and how you are going to deal with your parents who you know will be fuming.

“You really bit me,” JJ says, breaking the silence and massaging his aching shoulder. This brings you out of your thought and you look at him as he rubs the place you bit.

“Yeah,” you say sheepishly, scrunching your nose. “Sorry about that”

JJ shrugs it off, the malice from earlier some what gone. “Can you come take a look at my side for me? I can’t see it but it kills.” He turns around so you are facing his back, so your nod is lost to him, but he hears you as you shuffle closer to him. Your cold hands touch his bare back as you fingers pull his shirt up and he flinches slightly.

“Awe, can the poor baby not handle the cold?” You tease, opting to put aside your disagreement from earlier now that you will be sharing a cell for the foreseeable future. Running a cold finger up his spine, you feel him shiver again and you coo as he huffs, irritated. You can almost picture his expression and you laugh smugly.

“Just check my side, smart-arse.” He grumbles sounding slightly amused. You finally check his side and sure enough it is starting to bruise.

“That looks like it hurts,” you say, voice laced with concern even though you have only just met him. He tugs his shirt out of your hand and pulls it back-down.

“No-shit-sherlock.” He turns around to face you and you fall into him slightly as you had initially been balancing on you knees, hands on his back.

“I have a name you know,” you say pulling away from him quickly, face flushed. You’re not sure why you are getting so hot and bothered because sure he is good looking but you’ve known and know many good-looking guys and have always managed to keep your cool around them. You figure it must be all the drink going to your head.

“Oh, I know.” He smirks at you and you raise your eyebrows.

“So why don’t you use it then, Mr know it all.”

“Does it annoy you that I don’t use it?”

“Yes.” He gives you a look, eyes sparkling. He seems so free, so lively and full of adventure – these qualities draw you to him.

“Well, there is your answer then.” You huff in response and move slightly away from him and put your back to the wall. He moves to put his back against the wall as well, forgetting about his side temporarily. It is brought to the front of his mind again as he hits it against the wall and hisses.

“You okay?” You turn to him and scan his face. He just grimaces.

“Peachy.”

“Stop with the smart replies, you’re not falling anyone. I know you side must be hurting you more then you seem happy to admit.”

“And how would you know?”

“I’ve had my fair share of injuries.” His brow crinkles as he looks at you.

“You?” He sounds surprised.

“Let’s just say I’m not the most rational drunk.”

“A party-girl, huh? I never would have guessed.” He says, still grinning but his brow creases slightly; you don’t bring him up on it. “So, what else do you do in your free time?”

“Why do you care?” You ask, suddenly getting defensive. In truth since scuba diving had been stripped from you, all you had really been doing with your life was partying, studying and hanging out with your most likely fake friends.

“I don’t but in case you hadn’t noticed, sweetheart, we aren’t getting out of here any time soon, so amuse me.”

His comment annoys you slightly but not seeing the point of arguing you indulge him. “Oh, you know, the usual kooky things, shopping, big soirée’s, hanging with friends.” You say only slightly sarcastically.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, but there has to be more to you then that.”

“I used to scuba-dive,” you say, looking down slightly and JJ can’t help but notice that the memory seems to pain you.

“Used to?” He questions you but is cut off as a police officer comes up to the cell door and takes out a set of keys, shoving one in the lock and unlocking the cell.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he calls out and you stand up.

“That’s me,” you say trying to act more confident then you really are.

“Your parents have come to pick you up; they are waiting in the waiting room. You are free to leave,” the man says.

“Perks of having kook parents,” JJ spits out spitefully and when you go to look back at him, he won’t meet your eyes. His ‘angry at all people who are rich’ façade is back up and you roll your eyes at him.

“Are you going to be okay, JJ?” You say – one last attempt at making peace with the boy.

“Just fine, don’t worry about little old me.” He says will malice.

“Fine. Bye JJ,” you say icily.

“See you around, Princess.”

With that the police officer leads you out of the cell and to the explosion that is going to be the argument which is guaranteed to break out between you and your parents, but only when you get far enough away from anyone who could possibly hear.  

Part 2

[inmyarmswrappedin]

Episode 15! And you won’t believe this, a white person showed up! 

I started watching the episode after I answered this last ask, which itself made me think about 19. The thing about 19 is that it neither praises nor condemns white people, because they simply don’t really exist in Aisha’s world. (That’s not true for every 17-verse season though, I know for instance Abdi had a white gf.) When white people show up on 19, they’re that guy that checks tickets at the bus, or a customer at the smoothie shop. They’re the nameless law students Aisha sees when she has to make Yusuf believe she’s already attending uni. They’re the people in the judicial system that Emrah sometimes talks about (lawyers, judges, etc). 

All this to say, I was surprised when this white woman showed up and had several lines lol. 

So Aisha arranged a meeting with a woman around her same age who can tutor her in maths. But she probably arranged said meeting when she didn’t have more pressing concerns, like getting Emrah to agree to have dinner with her brother and herself. As such, Aisha’s not really paying attention to the lecture. And though I tried to follow the lecture myself, I also wanted to figure out exactly what Aisha was texting Emrah, without using google translate. So yeah, things are not looking great for that math test.

On that note, I’ve been wondering for a while what event the episodes are counting down to, and I’m thinking it might be Aisha’s actual math exam. It’s either that or something to do with Emrah’s international drug deal. But I hope it’s something that impacts Aisha directly.

Anyway, I think Aisha left her cellphone at home intentionally, because when she walks up to Khushi’s (not a pal, but an actual Indian restaurant in Oslo), she hides between two cars to check the time on her laptop! It’s already 6:07 pm and Emrah is nowhere to be seen. However, Yusuf is at the entrance, pacing the sidewalk.

(Edit from the future to say that three different people sent me asks to remind me that Aisha’s mom confiscated her phone after their fight. So, including me, there are at least four people watching the season in real time! A veritable crowd!!)

Time to face the music, so Aisha walks up to Yusuf. Yusuf wants to know where Aisha’s boyfriend is. Aisha says she doesn’t know and doesn’t have her cellphone. Yusuf says to use his cellphone. Aisha says she doesn’t know Emrah’s cellphone, Yusuf says to look it up... Anyway. For a second, it looks like Aisha might come clean and say she broke up with Emrah, but instead she says he must’ve gotten tied up at work. Gvhvhv please Aisha, we have 4 episodes to go, when are you going to stop lying? 😂

Luckily, Emrah jogs up right at that moment and backs Aisha up, with a story about how there was some trouble at work. Aisha introduces the boys, Emrah extends his hand, and after a moment of playing tough, Yusuf shakes his hand.

While at the restaurant, a server comes up wanting to know what they’ll be drinking, and Yusuf’s like “tap water, now gtfo.” They have some SERIOUS shit to be talking about here, server! Indeed, Yusuf cuts straight to the chase and says he knows about Emrah’s history. He says his sister is the most important thing in the world to him, even over his parents, and Aisha isn’t allowed to see Emrah. HOWEVER, he’ll now be going to the bathroom, and when he comes back, he wants to know what Emrah has to say for himself.

I’m going to take a break here to talk briefly about Wtfck, a show where another Moroccan girl has an overprotective older brother. My thing about Yusuf as compared to Elias Ait Omar, is that we’ve been shown over and over again where Yusuf is coming from. We’ve been shown that Yusuf is himself pressured by his environment to check on his sister, have opinions on what she wears, on who she hangs out with and who she dates and who she makes out with in public. We’ve also been shown that, otherwise, Yusuf loves his sister and is genuinely proud of her, that he as an older brother loves to tease her and fuck with her, that he isn’t all disapproval all the time. I know that when Yusuf says that men and women are different, he’s saying that because he can see that his environment treats men and women different, and he doesn’t know or hasn’t questioned or thinks he can’t fight why this is, NOT because left to his own devices, he’d uphold this system he and Aisha are part of. Elias has simply not gotten the same treatment. I understand when people say that Elias isn’t a villain, and that Muslim siblings have this kind of conversations all the time. But do the wtfck writers know that boys like Elias are subject to pressure themselves? Or do they think Elias is a willing oppressor? Because it’s very clear that the 17-verse writers know Yusuf is only trying to play by the rules as he understands them.

While Yusuf is taking a leak, Aisha begs Emrah to make up a story, say he’s done with that life, just anything that won’t get Aisha in trouble with her parents. Emrah’s like, “I’m done lying.” That makes one out of the two of you, man. Meanwhile, the server comes with a jar of water and tries to pour it in each of their glasses. Aisha’s like, “Excuse me, I got this! Can you gtfo I’m having an important conversation here!” Lol this poor server.

Yusuf then comes back, and Emrah’s actor is given the chance to deliver on the best monologue I’ve seen so far on the show. He made a mistake, he did time for it. He’s trying to get his life back on track, thinks he might study to become a teacher. He would like to help teens in the situation he was, teens from bad environments who could be led to make the wrong decision and ruin their lives. Which isn’t to say he blames someone else for his choices. He made the choice to get involved in drug dealing himself, it was all him, not anyone else’s fault. But no, he’s not done with that world because he still owes money to Bigmac and has to pay it back.

Yusuf’s like, “Alright, that’s enough. I don’t want you to see my sister again.” Emrah says he respects that decision, and puts on his hat and coat to leave. Aisha begs Yusuf to let Emrah explain. This is pretty funny because she never let Emrah explain to her lol.

But Yusuf agrees to listen, and Emrah adds that, because of his decision, he lost everything. His future, the person he loves... But most importantly, he lost his little brother, because as Emrah was sitting in jail, Ibo, just 16, was out in the world all alone. He finally says that when he first got a handful of bills, he felt like a king. But in reality, he was just a loser with good clothes.

The mention of Emrah’s little brother goes straight to Yusuf’s heart, an older brother himself. He once again reiterates Aisha is the most important person in the world to him, and he wants to know how he can trust that Emrah truly just wants to be done with drugs forever. Emrah says that’s up to him.

This is such a good scene. It really became about Emrah and Yusuf, connecting both as older brothers and men in an environment where things and decisions don’t necessarily come easy. It reminds me of Markus’ season in the sense that I don’t agree with these men’s every decision, but I understand how they got here and understand they’re subject to different pressures than myself. It does make me believe that if you approach someone in good faith and make an effort to understand them, a better world is possible. Which is also what I felt when I first watched Isak’s season.

Indeed, when all three are done with dinner, Yusuf says he’s going to catch up with a buddy and sort of tells Aisha she’s free to go home by herself (remember that the only reason Aisha was allowed out was because Yusuf was going to tag along). Pretty much letting Emrah and Aisha walk home together and have a moment to themselves. Aisha feels that everything is coming up Aisha! But Emrah says that they’re done. Aisha says no, she wants to help him. But Emrah says this is his mess to clean up, and now that he made things good with Yusuf (and by extension, Aisha’s parents), they’re officially broken up. 

Guys, I screamed in frustration.

[ficklewish]

Pre Calc Sucks

a Tendou x Reader Soulmate AU

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Tendou x reader

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

If you were told that you'd meet your soulmate through a texting app way before you did, you'd probably laugh at their face and tell them that it's not possible for that to happen, as it only does in movies or books. Or that's what you believed. Never in a million years did you think that it would happen to anyone you knew, let alone you yourself. It was a shock, but it was welcomed with open arms, as you had finally met the love of your life, the one fated to be with you. Meeting Tendou was, by far, the best day of your life. How you first met him however…now that would be a funny bedtime story. 

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

You were struggling with your art and school when you had downloaded discord. A school friend had suggested it to you, as certain servers had places for school or art help, and you had given in due to the huge lack of inspiration you had. Making an account and picking your username, it had finally been done, but once again, you were stuck. How exactly did discord work? Would it just…randomly suggest servers everyday or did you have to find them? You had left it for a while, just empty, waiting for it to be filled. Your friend had asked if you had made any online friends, and responding with no, they became confused. "Haven't you joined any servers?" You awkwardly laughed, turning away from them. "No…I don't know how discord works." You look back up at them and see the most judging look in their eyes. "You're hopeless. Here, let me help you." Taking your phone and opening your search engine, they go to a random site and start scrolling while you look over their shoulder. Seeing them go through multiple windows, they give back your phone. “There, I added you to one, you can figure out the rest from there.” Giving a small thanks, you turn to your phone, reading the instructions. “Hmmm, this is gonna take a while…” After doing a few tweaks and introducing yourself, you finally started to talk to the people on the server, learning their names and pronouns, acknowledging their age for appropriate conversations, and even adding a few friends. You had completely forgotten you were still at school, even though it was currently your lunch period. “Who knows, maybe your soulmate is in there.” Startled, you turn towards your friend then roll your eyes. The whole soulmate concept was something you used to like, but now, it was just a reminder that you hadn’t found yours yet. The whole “first place they touch you” thing was just a taunt, at least to you. Your mark was what seemed like someone's arms wrapped around you, including your upper arms. So many of your peers had already found theirs while you felt almost forgotten. It brought thoughts to your head, such as what if...your soulmate was across the world? Would you ever meet them? Did you even have one? Shoving the last thought deep into your mind. “I doubt it, shit like that only happens in movies.” Your friend looked at you, then smirked. “I don’t know about that.”

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

After classes ended, you went home, a bit excited to start talking online, as childish as it sounded. You had to keep reminding yourself that you joined for school and art help, but making a few friends never hurt. Taking off your shoes and dropping your things, you sat on the couch and noticed you were home alone for the time being, your parents most likely at the market. Taking your phone out and opening the app, you begin to interact in the correct chat for school. 

"Hey! I was wondering if someone could help me with my pre calculus homework? I'm a bit stuck"

You noticed that someone was already going to respond, which comforted you greatly. 

"I could help with this! Just give me a moment!"

Checking their profile to not accidentally misgender them, you notice that they are actually a he, and he has similar interests as you. Going back to your bag and getting your notebook and textbook, you turn back to your phone and prepare to fry your brain with math. (fucking hate math, it's so COMPLICATED) 

"Alright, what did you need help with?"

Telling your "tutor" about which problems you were confused about, they immediately begin to guide you through it and point out any mistakes you made, all while not exactly telling you the answer. He had helped you understand the concept much more easier than your teacher ever did, and you were extremely grateful for that. He had even given you some extra tips on how to remember certain formulas for when exams and tests are assigned. You thanked him multiple times for helping you with your homework

"Of course! Just DM me anytime you need help, I'd gladly do so!"

And that's what you did, texting him every now and then for homework help, mainly pre calc as it was your worst subject, and you didn't want to burden him with your other classes in case he had his own to pass. Sometimes, you'd even text him because you were actually interested in him, as he had been an interesting person to talk to. Learning a bit about him and sharing a bit about yourself, you quickly formed a friendship with, who you found out a few days ago, Tendou. He'd talk about how he was a part of a volleyball club, being a 3rd year, being part of a powerhouse team, and even some personal facts about his life. Of course, he never told you exactly where he was located, which was perfectly fine, as you didn't want to disclose that information either. However, you soon started to notice that whenever Tendou would text you, you'd become giddy no matter what the conversation was about, and when someone other than Tendou would text you, you'd deflate a bit, hoping it was him. Whenever you'd be doing anything else, you were hoping that he would send you something, you were just hoping to talk to him. These feelings scared you, as you might've had a soulmate, yet you fell for Tendou, and you prayed that maybe, it would somehow work out. 

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

4 months later, and Tendou being your "tutor" was still going strong, and your friendship even stronger. You had brought up meeting with him a few times, and the both of you had even planned it sometimes, but never actually went ahead with those plans. Your schedules never met up, as he had practice and you had a part time job. You grew wary, wondering if you would ever meet your online crush. It was then that you realized you had absolutely no idea of what Tendou even looked like, which meant you could've passed him on the street multiple times without noticing. You would constantly hope that one day he would stroll into the little cafe you worked at and notice you, but that was a far stretch, as he had no idea of what you looked like either. Today was no different. Each time a customer would waltz in, you had hoped that it was Tendou, but it never was. It was currently near closing time, and you had begun sweeping the place while a coworker cleaned the kitchen in the back. It wasn't until you were about to begin putting chairs up that you felt a vibration come from your phone. Taking it out, you look at your notifications and see you had gotten a text from Tendou, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Scanning the text, the happiness you had felt quickly melted into excitement and nervousness. 

"I found the place you work at, and I think I see you. Are you the one who's holding a broom?"

Rereading the text a few times to check if you weren't seeing things, you began to grow panicked. Today was an extremely stressful day, and you knew that you looked horrible. Your hair was a mess and you had even cried once due to an overly loud and rude man whose order was messed up, and you knew that the tear stains were still slightly visible. Quickly answering his text with a "come inside then :)" you continued to put chairs up in hopes to distract yourself from the nervousness and panic growing inside you with every passing second. Hearing the door open and the small bell above it chime, you freeze. "Um…are you possibly Y/N?" Turning around slowly, you're met with a tall boy with red hair and tired eyes. He reminded you of a lizard, and you thought he was really cute. Remembering that he had asked you a question, you answered. "Yes I am. Are you Tendou?" His eyes widen, and a smile grows on his face. "Aahhh, I finally get to meet you!" Realizing that he is indeed Tendou, a smile of your own grows on your face, and you couldn't stop yourself from engulfing him in a hug. The hug is cut short however, since you feel a searing pain from where Tendou had wrapped his arms around you. Pulling away, you look into his eyes, and does the same. Realization floods his eyes, and he looks as though he's about to cry. "Well shit, who knew you'd be my soulmate too." You immediately run back into his arms, shedding a few tears into his hoodie as he hugs you as if his life depended on it. 

"I guess stuff like this really does happen in real life."

ˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ༄ؘˑ

a/n: HOOOO this took me a while to write, had to start over 3 times 😔 neways, I hope you liked it!

[green-and-grey-kenaz]

Solace in Plato

Language: English

Characters: Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Chiron

Summary: With the now rather alarming prospect of actually reaching adulthood being a reality, Nico has agreed to tutoring under Chiron's guidance. When Plato is suggested as something to study, Nico is not impressed and avoids it. A few weeks later and Will Solace asks him whether he's actually read Plato or just an abridged version.

Just a little fic exploring their relationship and Nico's internalised issues with being gay.

Word Count: c. 2 500

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32634607

“I hate Plato.” Nico muttered, staring at the book placed in front of him as he sat in the library of the Big House. Having not had any formal education since the ‘30s, Chiron had taken it upon himself to help educate Nico should he wish to get exam results - which would be useful for getting a job or Athena believe it, going to University. Neither was a prospect that he had ever really considered possibilities but the alternative was staying here and helping out with the new recruits while Will went to University in a few years time or doing the same thing but in New Rome.

Because Will insisted that he wanted to help the world, not just demigods. Nico didn’t deserve him.

So he’d agreed to go along with this and when Chiron had asked him if there was any subjects he thought he might take at University (and after Nico had suggested undertaker, mortician or detective based on a TV show Will had told him about, don't ask) he had begrudgingly admitted that he had more than a passing interest in Classics. Try as he might, his childish obsession with mythomagic had left him with more than a passing knowledge of Classical characters and he got a strange, warm feeling in his chest when he knew the answer to ‘how do we kill this obscure monster’ and no one else did.

Based on these answers, he had a somewhat tailored learning with Classics in both Italian, English and the Original Ancient Greek (his Greek was amazing for his age - a by-product of being a half-blood - but apparently his English reading skills were that of a kid and his Italian not much better, Hades knew why) and more than his fair share of biology and chemistry. Will had been only too delighted to help him with the sciences, although was suspiciously absent when it came to physics and math, but that was OK, really, and he probably wouldn’t make a good mortician anyway because he shouldn’t pick careers based on how many spirits he could raise, tempting as it was. The rest of his schooling thought? That fell to Chiron.

And today? Well, apparently they had progressed onto Philosophy and a man who's work made Nico's stomach plummet. Plato.

“Why is that?” Chiron asked, a patient expression on his face. Nico just glowered at him but like Will, he seemed impervious to it. It was irritating when people did not cower and cave in to his glares. He was used to inspiring fear in others.

“Do I need a reason?” Nico his arms, leaning back on the chair, returning a dark gaze to the book as if he could cause it to wither and crumble under his gaze. If he could do it to food, why not books? Plato sat cheerfully happy there without so much as a speck of mold coming to grace it.

“When discussing philosophy, it can be rather helpful.”

“Well I just don’t like him. Pick some other philosopher.”

Chiron had stared at him for a good few seconds before relenting, choosing some other book and asking no further questions about it. Nico hated that he could feel just how his heart rate had picked up, thundering in his chest as if it would crack open his rib cage. He knew people suspected… that the people he tolerated as friends already knew and accepted him for his inclinations… for what he was… but he wasn’t ready to confront the proof that he was different. Wrong, a voice always threatened to whisper in his ear. An abomination. A freak of nature. Nico knew that he couldn't read Plato, not with Chiron standing there and dissecting the merits of this particular work. It was never easy to look in the mirror and see just how messed up you were.

Despite the time it took for his heart to return back to normal, he did manage the text they’d chosen and perhaps sensing his unease, Chiron had used it as a chance to work on his reading more than the philosophy. He even finished the lesson with a kind smile and was informed that his modern language skills had far approached where they should be for someone his age. This followed with a suggestion that he could go into translation work. It was tempting, he would be better able to hide away in a darkened room as a translator than becoming an academic (sadly, these days academics had more obligations to teach), so Nico nodded and promised to think on it.

Two weeks later found Nico sitting in the shadows of the forest while Will quizzed him on anatomy which counted as studying for both of them. Annoyingly Will was refusing to sit anywhere other than the sunlight and so had coerced Nico into what they had settled on as being called ‘a potential threat to his aesthetic’, or in other words, dappled shade. It had promised to be a rather lovely day until a topic best avoided reared its head.

“Why do you hate Plato?” Will asked suddenly, looking up at him with those bright eyes and that warm smile that made something in his stomach twitch and his throat clench. Nico knew he shouldn’t feel so ill at ease with these feelings. They hadn’t put a word on it but it was a thing that they were doing. Having feelings together, exchanged smiles and moments of laughter when he thought no one was watching. Once, Will had even placed his hand down a mere inch from Nico’s and he had let his little finger flicker to just once lightly tap against Will’s in thanks for the silent support. He’d felt sick with guilt afterwards, but what was new? The little moments of happiness more than made up for it.

“I just do. And Chiron shouldn’t have told you that.” He muttered, shifting to move back under the full shade of a tree, pulling his legs in to his chest as Will closed the book. Right, study was over. Nico wrapped his arms around his legs, finger shifting the skull ring as he felt the pressing anxiety to run and escape the potential fallout. How many people knew? No doubt his unnaturalness was being spoken of throughout camp as he sat here. They would prove Jason wrong that times had changed. Their eyes would follow him, judging and radiating hate for someone who was so different. He’d have to leave and go back on the run, abandoning all he had built here. Nico closed his eyes as the feelings became overwhelming and claustrophobic, grass yellowing beneath his feet.

“He was concerned.” Will said softly, shifting over to sit next to Nico and breaking his silent panic.

“I’m not talking about it.”

“Is it Plato’s Sympo-?”

“No.”

“Hm. That’s what Chiron thought as well.” Nico could hear amusement in Will’s voice and concern. He dropped his hands from twisting the ring, suddenly subconscious of his tell and instead twined blades of dead grass between his fingers and yanked. His hand opened to let the picked grass tumble back to the earth.

“Did you read the original or just hear an abbreviated version?” Will pressed.

“Have you read it?” Nico challenged, ripping up more grass.

“Not until last week. Chiron sat me down with it and we discussed it.”

“Then you know why I can’t stand Plato.”

“Abbreviated version, huh?”

Nico looked over to Will who did not look disgusted, upset or any of the other myriad of emotions that he would have expected. Did he not read the whole mankind were once male and female, now split and eternally trying to recombine with their other half? Which left them and whatever they had rather in the dirt. Because if there was one thing that was worse than knowing he wasn’t right, that there had been some huge mistake with his creation, it was knowing that someone as good as Will Solace had the same affliction. Sure, he could be annoying but Will deserved more than that. He shouldn’t be a broken half. If anyone deserve to be able to become whole once more, it was Will. Will, who was staring at him like he expected some answer and Nico shrugged, yanking more grass.

“So what? I was like eleven. Not exactly likely to go and read the actual version. I deserve credit for even doing that much.” He couldn't actually remember how he'd heard it. He had found out that it was from Plato's Symposium after he knew the story, that much he knew. He assumed either he had read it very young or perhaps some ghost had told him. Most of his pre-Camp Half Blood lessons had come from ghosts in one form or another.

“Perhaps you should. I rather liked the bit about the straights all being nymphomaniacs and adulters.” Will smirked.

Nico frowned, his body freezing as he blinked very slowly trying to make what Will had said align with what he knew. A frown tugged at his brow.

“What… do you mean…?”

“Well, the whole bit about there being people made of two parts, either two men, two women, or a man and a woman, always trying to get back together. And the same sex ones generally being the better lot. Well, more the two men combos because they weren’t necessarily the most progressive in Ancient Greece. But in the end, that’s just a story that Plato had Aristophanes, who was a comedic playwright, tell. It’s not really anything to be taken too seriously.”

How had no one told him that? A dark anger settled into the pit of Nico's stomach and he found himself wanting to track down whichever spirit had lied to him and- Will continued speaking, his voice too light for Nico to continue his thoughts and the seething hatred dissipated.

“Honestly, read it if you don’t believe me. Chiron sat me down and took me through the whole story, every boring line after every boring line. I’m not supposed to tell you this because he’d rather you told him when you’re ready but he kind of clocked that you and I-” Nico shot Will a death glare and Will held up his hands.

“I was going to say get on well! And yeah, considering your aversion to Plato, he thought it might be you heard a misrepresented version of that story. We both know about festering wounds so agreed you should learn the truth of the matter. Preferably not by forced study so I kind of had to get an impromptu philosophy lesson. I think Chiron intended me to be rather more subtle about his involvement but my assessment is that it is better to know that you’re not alone and that it’s OK.”

Nico did not want to stare at Will. He did not want to look shocked nor rattled. He focused on plucking more grass and trying not to feel pleased that Will could sit in silence, knowing he needed time to speak and for it not to feel awkward.

“I just.” Nico frowned. The story had not exactly haunted him but it had lodged itself into his chest as further proof of all he had been raised to understand. It felt like a screw had been loosened somewhere deep within. “It isn’t saying that… well…?”

“No,” Will smiled. “And, I mean, the best thing about it is Plato actually wasn't arguing for the gays or the straights. There’s just like this collection of discussion by some old dudes on the meaning of love and then Socrates comes in boom at the end and we get Platonic love , or the basics of it. Big advocation for love being about the search for the meeting of minds rather than physical stuff, which I think is a rather good way to look at it. It goes on to being about then true love is a love of knowledge. That’s what the whole thing is kind of about. I think. Most of it went over my head.”

“That… doesn’t sound so bad.” Nico admitted, his hands winding around some grass but not yet pulling. He focused on the texture of it in his palm and it ground him.

“Besides, it’s not like it’s the be all and end all.” Will continued. “It’s just some guy arguing about love two thousand years ago and what do they know?”

Nico hummed, chin resting on his knees as he stared out at the camp below them. Will moved to sit closer, mirroring his position merely a foot away. If either of them leaned just a bit, their head might rest on the other one’s shoulder and Nico did not shift away.

“I just… As long as I can remember I’ve always been told that love is between a man and a woman. I just seemed inescapable. It didn’t matter who was teaching…” It wasn’t easy and words caught in his throat.

“Look, I know it’s complicated and none of this is going to be easy but I just want you to know that if you need to talk about something, you have me. And if you don’t want to talk to me about it, then Chrion is there too-”

“No.” Nico said hastily, blinking in surprise at that. “That is… I’d rather talk to you than Chiron. About things.” He noticed that at some point, Will had placed a hand, palm upwards between them. Hesitantly, Nico slipped his hand down, ghosting his fingers over Will’s. He did not move or even look at him and somehow feeling safer in that knowledge Nico let his fingers intertwine.

It was better than the grass.

“But when I’m ready. There’s… I’ve got a lot to figure out about all this but I know whatever I think, I enjoy what we have and I don’t want to not feel this.” He twisted their hands so Will’s was on top now and his fingers brushed against Will’s knuckles and down the proximal phalange before circling the knuckles again. Will’s thumb brushed against his and Nico felt his body begin to tense against the warmth and sparks of feelings. In moments like this, it was hard to believe that what they had was wrong.

“I don’t want to not feel like this either.” Will smiled and the distance between them seemed less, although Nico could not say how the gap had closed.

If they really were two halves of a whole, Will had to be his better half, Nico reflected as he felt his head drawn to rest feather light on his… on Will’s shoulder. Yes, it felt like this might be completion or at the very least something that Nico had not felt for an even longer period: contentment.

[dinosaurtsukki]

across the sea | a bokuaka fanfic (act. I)

inspired by the movie ‘portrait of a lady on fire’ by celine sciamma which is sad and lesbian

pairing: bokuto koutarou x akaashi keiji

word count: 21.8k words

contains: historical setting (actually the setting is vague bec if i tried to describe it more it would take 5 extra pages), heavy angst, slight fluff, greek mythology references, implied smut

summary: when Bokuto accepted a portrait commission for the young, engaged Akaashi Keiji, he never expected him to be so beautiful. he knows it's a mistake to be attached, a mistake for them to fall in love in a time when they know it's impossible for them to be together.

a/n: i’m a sad gay who loves sad lesbian movies and portait of a lady on fire is peak film. a lot of the things here are based on the film so i suggest you check out this beautiful movie, but i added a few tweaks here and there to make it my own. 

chapters: act. I, act. II., act. III

“You’re not the first painter to come here,” the ferryman said. Actually, it wasn’t the first time Bokuto had heard that. And now, he was sitting in the middle of tiny, fishing boat, clutching his tattered suitcase and the thin, wooden box where he kept his canvases for dear life. Mostly due to the fact that if his suitcase or canvases found their way overboard, Bokuto would have no choice but to jump after them.

“Is he a terror?” Bokuto asked, deciding to make conversation with the ferryman anyway.

“A terror? No, none of the painters who came back looked scared. Maybe frustrated or lost is the right word,” the ferryman said. “He never leaves the manor but they say that he’s more beautiful than his suitor.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Bokuto muttered as he gazed over the horizon to the shore where the boat was headed. He wasn’t particularly fond of the job he had to take: a portrait commission. Bokuto would much rather work on the commission from the church in his hometown with his master, painting bodies and landscapes were his specialization. On the other hand, Bokuto was not as confident with drawing the human face, specifically, capturing emotion in the eyes. Which were very, very important for a painter hoping to make his own way into the world. And because of that, his master sent him off to the Elysium Estate, a secluded piece of land nestled along the coast of a provincial town owned by the Akaashi family, to paint Akaashi Keiji’s portrait to send to his suitor.

An hour later, the boat had reached the harbor and Bokuto promptly got off, grateful for steady, unshifting land, thanked the ferryman and paid the fee. Then, clutching his suitcase and canvases, he made his way up a rocky trail to where the estate was. Up close, the large house looked dark and gloomy, as if nobody lived there, at all, but it still looked quite grand with its Greek-inspired architecture and marble columns framing the entrance. Standing outside, as if expecting him, was a young man with short, black hair, dressed in a butler’s uniform.

“You must be the painter, Bokuto Koutarou,” he spoke, bowing formally when Bokuto walked up. “I’m Kageyama Tobio, the estate butler. If there is anything you need during your stay here, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned. “Um, no need to be so formal though. I’m just an apprentice painter.”

“The madam ordered me to treat you as such,” Kageyama said, holding out his hand to take Bokuto’s belongings. Bokuto contemplated it for a while and handed him his suitcase, keeping his canvases closely to himself. Kageyama opened the door to the estate and they walked into a foyer that was dimly lit by a few candles.

“It doesn’t seem like a lot of people stay here, huh?” Bokuto said as he looked around.

“Only the madam and her son are currently living here,” Kageyama explained, taking an oil lamp from the table and walking down a hallway near the grand staircase. “You will be staying in this room for the meantime,” he added, opening the door to a room that was much larger than Bokuto’s master’s studio. Inside was a large, four-poster bed, windows that almost covered the entire far wall, a fireplace, and an easel already set up. When Bokuto glanced at the wall nearest him, he could see a door that probably led into his own bathroom.

“Wow, this is… a nice room,” Bokuto said, unable to find the words to say.

“The madam and young master Keiji have retired for the evening but he has agreed to meet you for breakfast in the dining hall,” Kageyama said, leaving the suitcase on top of the chest at the foot of Bokuto’s bed. “Would you like me to bring up some supper?”

“Yes please,” Bokuto smiled politely and Kageyama left him in the dark, grand room. Bokuto took the time to start a fire to light up the room. Then, he unloaded his canvases. The wooden box that was custom-made for it was nailed shut and Bokuto pried it open with a small tool stashed in his suitcase. To his relief, the canvases were both as pristine and white as when he first packed them. Bokuto lovingly ran his finger across the surface, already eager to break out his paints and start the commission. Just for the sake of being able to paint again.

After a warm meal of bread and soup, Bokuto lay on the soft bed of his room and fell asleep.

The next morning, he was woken up by Kageyama knocking on the door. Remembering that he would be meeting Akaashi for the first time, Bokuto quickly washed his face and dressed into his best pair of trousers and a clean shirt before hurrying to the dining room. The room was half the size of the manor’s living room, but better lit with tall windows that reached the ceiling. The long table was set for two and already sitting there, was Akaashi Keiji.

The rumors about his beauty were true: with his tanned skin, hair the color of chocolate that fell in short waves around his face, his graceful facial features, and eyes the color of deep emerald that followed Bokuto as he walked to his seat. Under the table, he felt his hands itch for a piece of charcoal and paper.

“U-um, Bokuto Koutarou,” he stammered, remembering that he had to introduce himself. “Pleased to meet you… um, sir.”

“There’s no need for that,” Akaashi waved his hand. His voice was soft but he spoke and enunciated every syllable. “So, my mother sent you to become a companion before I’m carted off to Italy to get married. Hopefully, I get to enjoy some kind of freedom before that happens.” He paused and fixed his gaze on Bokuto. “What do you think about all this?”

“Well, your mother seems concerned about you and your health—”

“You don’t have to talk as if she’s here,” Akaashi interrupted him. “She’s the one who’s paying you, not me. Tell me what you really think.” Bokuto blinked at the interruption and one look at Akaashi told him that he would detect any lie. So, Bokuto decided to tell the truth, or as much as he could without spilling the fact that he was painting his portrait in secret.

“When I entered the workforce to get a job, I never thought I’d have to be hired to be a personal companion,” Bokuto chuckled. “But it beats working in a factory. About your situation however, I think it’s a bit sad.”

“Sad? Do you pity me?” Akaashi’s expression was neutral.

“In a way, I do. It must be lonely having to stay here. Maybe your mother hired me so you’d have someone to talk to. In a way, I guess I am perfect for job,” Bokuto grinned. “People say I’m talkative enough to hold a conversation for two.” Akaashi looked down at his plate, as if thinking over what Bokuto said, and then looked out the window.

“I want to go down to the beach today,” he said, Bokuto silently let out a sigh of relief. He had passed whatever test Akaashi had set up. “Accompany me after breakfast.”

“Yes sir,” Bokuto nodded. In front of him, he saw the corner of Akaashi’s lip turn up.

“I’m younger than you. You may call me Akaashi.”

An hour later, Bokuto made his way down the beach with Akaashi behind him, wearing a dark green scarf around his chin and a jacket over his shirt. Bokuto couldn’t help but notice how Akaashi looked at the beach as if it was the first time he was there, and perhaps it was his first time at the beach. Judging by how thin his frame was and his breathing that was almost labored while he walked down the beach, Bokuto could easily tell how sickly he was. Bokuto considered sitting on the sand with Akaashi, but another part of him wanted Akaashi to experience much more. As soon as they reached the beach, Bokuto kicked off his shoes and socks and walked over to wade in the sea.

“Come on,” he smiled and raised a hand encouragingly at Akaashi who eyed him curiously before taking off his shoes and socks, as well as his jacket and left them in a neat pile beside Bokuto’s things. He dipped his feet hesitantly in the water, before walking forward and joining Bokuto.

“Thanks to you, my mother allowed me to finally come down here,” Akaashi said, squinting at the horizon. “We came to live at the estate because the doctors said the sea breeze might do me good, but they kept me locked inside.”

“What do you do to pass the time?” Bokuto asked.

“Read, mostly. Actually, all the time,” Akaashi answered. “Even if I wasn’t allowed to go out, my father consistently sent me books and tutors so at least my learning was up to standard. My mother joins me in the library sometimes to work on her embroidery.” He looked sideways at Bokuto. “I know a lot of things, like the deepest parts of the sea we’re standing in, the trade routes that cross it, but I’ve never been in it.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, yesterday was the first time I’ve been to sea,” Bokuto admitted. “I never thought waves could rock a boat so much. I was sick to my stomach and I almost threw up over the side of the boat.” Akaashi smiled wryly.

“Did you?”

“No,” Bokuto chuckled. “The sea was a wonderful blue, I couldn’t bear to throw up in it.”

“That’s good,” Akaashi nodded. “I’ve always wondered about how salty the sea is.” Bokuto raised his eyebrows, bent down, and cupped some water in his hands.

“Want to try it for yourself?”

“As long as you don’t tell my mother,” Akaashi snorted. He cupped his hands down under Bokuto’s and bent down, raising their hands. Bokuto felt Akaashi’s lips kiss the tips of his fingers as he sipped the saltwater. Akaashi raised his head, making a face that was half-grimace, half-look of curiosity, and spat the saltwater back into the sea. Bokuto laughed.

“How was it?”

“The saltiest thing I ever tasted,” Akaashi said. “Even saltier than bacon. But now I know how salty sea is.”

They spent the next few hours at the beach, even taking their lunch there after Kageyama delivered it in a picnic basket. Bokuto took the time to watch Akaashi as he picked up rocks and shells to inspect before returning them where he found them, attempting to memorize his unwilling client’s face. In his head, Bokuto pictured Akaashi in a fancy, green dress jacket that matched the color of his eyes, sitting with his hands folded over each other and perhaps a book on his lap. He kept that image in mind when he asked Akaashi if they could head inside. The madam, whom Bokuto was to meet the next day, called Akaashi to the library giving time for Bokuto to begin sketching drafts of the portrait.

He took his time, drawing different parts of Akaashi at first: his hands, his hair, his side profile and ears, his nose and mouth, and lastly, his eyes. Bokuto had to soap the charcoal off his fingers before joining Akaashi at supper, this time making less conversation to observe the details of his face. When he was alone in his room again, Bokuto laid the sketches out before him near the fireplace and made an attempt to draw Akaashi’s eyes again, only to give up on lie on the floor, trying to remember how the candlelight at dinnertime accentuated the planes of his face and the faraway look in Akaashi’s eyes that seemed to lead out to sea.

…

The next day, Bokuto sat in front of Akaashi Keiji’s mother, or Mikoto, as she preferred that he would address her, in the manor’s library upstairs. Out of all the rooms Bokuto had visited in the giant house, this one seemed to be the most visited by the madam and her son. Like the dining room, it had large windows that lit the entire room. The wooden floor was polished and books that have left their shelves to rest in stacks around the room showed signs of it being frequented, most likely by Akaashi himself. Other than that, there was something about the entire room that felt comforting and warm.

“So, you’ve met my son,” Mikoto said, sipping from her teacup. She looked a lot like her son: same brown hair, green eyes, and sharp features. His master told him that she had one lame leg, thanks to being infected by polio years ago, which prevented her from going around frequently. “How did you find him?” she asked, fixing him with her gaze.

“He’s, well, quite reserved,” Bokuto answered. “Yesterday when we had breakfast, I feel as if he was testing me,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

“Ah, Keiji tends to do that,” Mikoto smiled ruefully. “We used to live near a city when he was younger. But, because of his health, my husband decided to move us here for the sea air. That did Keiji’s health better but unfortunately, he’s had very little encounter with the outside world. When we told him about the marriage arrangement, he’s grown distant from me.”

“Is that the reason why nobody has ever successfully painted his portrait?” Bokuto asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Mikoto nodded. “Keiji’s strong-willed and scheming, despite everything. He knows that we need the marriage for our lands and wealth to continue remaining under our family name. He doesn’t directly transgress the marriage, but he makes it difficult for it to continue.”

“He’s probably prolonging it,” Bokuto said, suddenly feeling sad for Akaashi. Even though he was better off with a wealthy family compared to Bokuto who was taken in by his master after his parents died, Akaashi had very little freedom. And now, a marriage.

“Probably,” Mikoto set her cup down and looked at the portrait of her that hung over the fireplace. “Which is why we need you, Bokuto-san. Your master played a hand in helping seal my marriage by painting this portrait. He did well. And now, you must do the same.” Bokuto gulped. “Your master spoke very highly of you. Have you started on the portrait?”

“Yes,” Bokuto nodded. Early that morning, he had sketched a rough layout of Akaashi on one of his canvases. Without Akaashi there to pose, it took a great deal for Bokuto to visualize his position. But he wasn’t his master’s student for nothing. Bokuto was confident that he could paint Akaashi’s likeness.

“Well, I mustn’t keep you then,” Mikoto said. “Call Akaashi to come here. I’ll let you have a few hours to paint.”

“Thank you, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto bowed before leaving the library, closing the double doors behind him. He walked down the great stairs of the manor and was about to head into his room when he ran into Akaashi heading his way. “Akaashi,” Bokuto grinned, trying to make it seem as if he hadn’t just discussed Akaashi’s marriage with his mother just a while ago. “I was just about to look for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Akaashi said. He was wearing trousers, a light blue shirt, and a beige jacket.

“Your mother requests that you join her in the library,” Bokuto said. Akaashi made a face.

“I don’t feel like reading, I’d rather go outside,” he said. “Would you come join me at the beach again? It should be at low tide when we are there.”

“I-I would, but…” Bokuto stammered.

“Is there anything you’re preoccupied with?” Akaashi asked, stepping closer to Bokuto. His green eyes bored into his, searching for an answer. Bokuto relented.

“Of course not,” he shook his head and smiled. “Going to the beach sounds great.” Bokuto groaned internally, thinking about how fast he’d have to paint before sunset. And then, Akaashi smiled, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Let’s go then, Bokuto-san.” And somehow, it was all alright. The two of them made their way to the beach, walking side by side. Akaashi had the same scarf he wore yesterday tied around his chin. Bokuto walked in front of Akaashi when they made their way down the trail along the rocky side of the cliff. Every so often, Bokuto felt the urge to turn around to check how Akaashi was doing, and to memorize the look of his hands as they gripped the side of the cliff, the concentration in his furrowed brow, how his green scarf billowed behind him in the wind. As they neared the bottom of the cliff, Bokuto suddenly heard the sound of rocks falling and Akaashi crying in surprise.

“Bokuto-san!”

Quick as a flash, Bokuto turned around to catch Akaashi in his arms, holding a hand out to steady himself against the cliff with the other wrapped around Akaashi’s waist. Up close, Bokuto could smell the sea breeze already caught in Akaashi’s clothes as well as the slightest whiff of vanilla. For a moment, he wondered if he could catch that scent in the portrait he was going to paint.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Bokuto said. Akaashi stepped back, steadying himself against the rocky cliff wall. His one hand lingered on Bokuto’s shoulder before using it to pull down the scarf tied around his chin.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he spoke. Without thinking, Bokuto held out a hand to him. Akaashi accepted and the two walked hand-in-hand to the beach.

Bokuto soon found out why Akaashi was excited to go down to the beach at this time. After leaving his scarf, jacket, shoes, and socks in a neat pile again on the sand, Akaashi waded out to sea and bent down in search of hermit crabs and other creatures in the tide pools. Bokuto waded with him for a while before sitting near a large rock and taking out a piece of paper folded around a small piece of drawing charcoal. He decided to focus on drawing Akaashi’s hands, folded over each other, before finding his own hand moving by itself and drawing Akaashi’s eyes, his nose, the scarf tied around his chin that covered his mouth. ‘Stupid,’ Bokuto shook his head, realizing that he didn’t need to sketch the scarf for the portrait. He folded the sketch and stuffed it in his shirt pocket, rubbing the charcoal of his fingers on his pants as Akaashi jogged towards him with something cupped in his hands.

“Bokuto-san,” he stopped, holding out his hands to Bokuto to show a hermit crab scuttling in it. Bokuto let out a chuckle.

“I see you’ve found a friend,” he reached out a finger to gently stroke the crab’s shell. Akaashi had a small smile on his face. “Thinking of bringing it home?”

“No,” Akaashi shook his head. “I read that they easily get depressed when they’re alone. And I don’t think he would want to live in a sink. I just wanted to hold one in my hands.”

“Like when you held seawater yesterday,” Bokuto said, smiling at the memory. “But I’d advice against tasting this one.” Akaashi looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Very funny, Bokuto-san,” he said dryly. Bokuto snickered. Akaashi bent down and released the hermit crab into the sand.

“Let’s head back, I’m good for today,” Akaashi said, walking back to where his things were. “I know you still have some things to work on.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Akaashi held out a hand. “It was… rude of me to try to invade your privacy. I apologize. It’s just…” Akaashi pursed his lips and looked down.

“I get it. Kageyama isn’t the most talkative person around,” Bokuto grinned, sidling up next to him. “And I was hired to be your companion.”

“I don’t want you to think about it like that,” Akaashi said. “I know it’s not normal. It’s kind of sad that my mother would have to hire someone to be my friend here. So, can we both pretend that your salary doesn’t come from a fake friendship?”

“Well…” Bokuto shrugged. “If we’re going to that, want to add to the pretending?”

“How do you suppose we do that?” Akaashi looked at him curiously.

“If we’re going to be pretend friends, how did our ‘friendship’ begin?” Bokuto asked. “Maybe I was a boy from the nearby village who wandered here, wanting to see the Elysium Estate for myself. All the other kids say it’s an abandoned manor, a haunted one specifically. But I, a brave soul, decided to check it out.” Akaashi smiled and sat down on the sand to put on his socks and shoes.

“On that day, my mother let me read outside, just near the house of course. While reading my book, I couldn’t help but notice a noise coming from behind the house,” he continued.

“It was me, pelting pebbles at one of the windows,” Bokuto laughed, fully engaged in their imagining.

“Lucky for you, my mother was asleep and I happened to appear before you first.”

“I probably screamed like a girl in terror thinking you were a ghost.”

“And then I had to calm you down. And then tell you that there were in fact people living here.”

“And then I sense how lonely you are and invite you to play.”

“And then we play tag all morning and chase each other on the beach,” Akaashi smiled, eyes scanning the horizon again. “That’s a nice backstory. Though, it’s just a story.”

“It’s a good story,” Bokuto held out a hand and helped Akaashi to his feet. Both of them reached the manor a good three hours before the sun set, leaving Bokuto with enough time to begin mixing his paints to begin the portrait. It was probably his favorite part of painting, creating the colors to imprint a real picture on canvas. He mixed some red and white into a warm shade of brown for Akaashi’s skin, darkening the shade for his hair. Bokuto touched his brush to his paints and filled in his sketch. Then, he mixed in white and a darker brown for the highlights and contours. Next, he worked on Akaashi’s suit: dark green jacket and crisp white shirt. Clothing was harder to work on without a model but Bokuto tried to imagine where the creases and folds would be placed and ran his brush over them.

Now that he had begun, Bokuto didn’t want to stop painting, even after dinner when he had to light five candles and place them around his workstation. Eventually, the change in lighting got to him and Bokuto knew he couldn’t continue working like this. He packed away his paints, brushes, and palette, folded up his easel, and moved them to the extra storeroom connected to his bedroom. Then, he gently lifted the canvas, careful not to touch it, and placed it gently in the closet. Lastly, Bokuto blew out all the candles, taking the last one with him to take one last look at his painting before going to sleep. When he squinted, with the candle in front of him, the portrait looked as if it was on fire.

…

The next few days were like so: Bokuto would accompany Akaashi for walks on the beach or around the fields bordering the estate and the village over. Many times, Bokuto would have to rush his time to work on Akaashi’s portrait before sunset fell. In the mornings, he’d wake up early to check on errors he might have made in the dim light. Most of them were errors in shading, a color not mixed right, but there was little to fix. Before he knew it, Bokuto was almost finished with the portrait.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel guilty having to paint this portrait behind Akaashi’s back, knowing all the effort he put into preventing his arranged marriage as best as he could. Even seeing the excited look on Akaashi’s face, which lifted Bokuto’s spirits momentarily, had the bitter aftertaste of knowing that this excitement would all be ruined once Bokuto had to tell him about his circumstances for being at the manor. So, he spent a bit more time with Akaashi, hoping that he didn’t have to finish the portrait so early. That was until Akaashi.

“He’ll likely be in bed all day,” Mikoto said, telling Bokuto the news over breakfast when he asked why Akaashi wasn’t there. “That should give you enough time to finish the portrait by tomorrow, right?” she looked up at him over her breakfast. Bokuto swallowed.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. For once, he wasn’t excited to get back to finishing a painting.

“Good. Keiji’s father has called for me to meet him in Kyushu. I set out to leave tomorrow after breakfast. If you like, I could be the one to tell Keiji about your… background,” she said, spreading butter on a slice of bread. He could tell that she was relieved, probably, knowing that she’d be rid of her sickly son. ‘No, that’s not it,’ Bokuto mentally shook his head, reminding himself that Akaashi Mikoto was simply doing her job as a mother and as someone concerned about the wealth of her family. She wasn’t a bad woman, Bokuto just somehow bitterly considered her as one.

“It’s alright, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto shook his head. “I’ll tell him myself.”

Mikoto smiled at him. Immediately, she looked years younger, just like the woman in the portrait that hung in the library. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I trust that it hasn’t been easy, having to paint a portrait of my son without having him pose. I have no doubt that the portrait will be lovely, but I’m not looking forward to seeing the look on Keiji’s face after realizing what I’ve done.”

“Neither am I,” Bokuto smiled ruefully. “Forgive me for this but, I believe I’ve come to see him as a friend these past few weeks.”

“I know he sees you as one too,” Mikoto nodded, looking out the window. “I forbade him from going to the beach for years, fearing that something would happen to him. I couldn’t accompany him and Kageyama’s the only household staff who manages the property. These days, you can tell how excited he is in the morning. He doesn’t say it but you can see it in his eyes.”

Bokuto smiled wistfully. In his portrait, he tried to capture the small smile that would come up on Akaashi’s face whenever he was excitedly wading in the beach or showing Bokuto something new. But as successful as he was in picturing it, it didn’t translate in the portrait. The Akaashi Keiji there had a stern expression on his face, his eyes staring blankly. It was still a good portrait, but Bokuto knew that something was lacking.

After breakfast, he spent more than an hour adding the finishing touches on the portrait and looking at it from afar. He was finished with the portrait, but he didn’t want to tell Mikoto or her son yet. Instead, Bokuto ventured off into the kitchens where Kageyama was busy preparing lunch. With going to the beach with Akaashi and being locked in his room working on the portrait, Bokuto saw very little of Kageyama. Knowing that he’ll be leaving soon after giving the portrait to Mikoto, Bokuto felt that he should have at least one conversation with the butler.

“Bokuto-san,” Kageyama looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. “Is there anything you need?”

“Just water,” Bokuto said. “It’s alright, I can get some myself.” Kageyama nodded and Bokuto filled his cup at the tap near the stove before sitting at the long wooden table inside the kitchen. There was a bowl of potatoes, a chopping board, and a knife on the table. “Do these need peeling?” Bokuto asked, picking one up and, without waiting for an answer, picked up the knife.

“Please don’t trouble yourself with that, Bokuto-san,” Kageyama said hurriedly. “You still have the young master’s portrait to finish.”

“It’s already finished,” Bokuto smiled up at him. “And believe it or not, squinting at a canvas with a brush full of paint gets tiring after a while. I’m a pretty good assistant in the kitchen as well,” he said, peeling the potato. “But I’m a terrible cook.” A small smile flitted across Kageyama’s face. He sat at the table in front of Bokuto and cubed the peeled potatoes.

“How long have you worked here?” Bokuto asked, hoping to initiate conversation.

“A good five years,” Kageyama answered. “The previous butler was a good friend of mine but he decided to work in a much livelier household.” Bokuto quirked his lips slightly.

“And you don’t mind having a less-lively household?”

“It’s quite ideal, actually. I only have two people to wait upon. Both of them don’t require much, except for when the young master falls ill. The pay is good and the room and board is free,” Kageyama answered. “And the beach is just outside for me to visit.”

“It makes me sad knowing that Akaashi hasn’t visited the beach at least once before I came,” Bokuto said.

“Yes,” Kageyama nodded, pausing with his work to look up at Bokuto. “He’s… a lonely man. I’ve kept wondering again and again if maybe I could have tried to befriend him but… that would be imposing of me.”

“Akaashi probably wouldn’t mind,” Bokuto said. Kageyama blinked at him in surprise before smiling.

“Seeing how lively he is now with you as company, I agree.” Again, Bokuto felt regret in the back of his throat.

“Do you… do you think he’ll hate me after I tell him that I’m painting his portrait?” Bokuto asked. Kageyama pursed his lips.

“I don’t know the answer to that. But I have a feeling he will be disappointed,” he said, scooping up the cubed potatoes and adding them into the pot on the stove. “Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Would you like me to take it to your room?”

“No need,” Bokuto shook his head and then, an idea popped into his head. “I could take Akaashi’s lunch to his room.”

“Bokuto-san, you don’t need to—”

“Trouble myself, I know,” Bokuto nodded. “But I’m finished with the portrait and there’s nothing else for me to do. Also…” he sighed. “I know it’s pretty useless but maybe I could make amends with Akaashi this way?”

“He would appreciate it,” Kageyama said.

Bokuto carefully carried the tray of Akaashi’s lunch: soup with chicken and potatoes, and a roll of bread, upstairs to his room. It just occurred to him that he had never been to Akaashi’s room before and seldom even went to the second floor. Bokuto paused in front of it before knocking once, twice, thrice.

“Akaashi?” he spoke. “I, uh, brought—”

“Come in.”

Bokuto opened the door. He didn’t know what to expect when it came to Akaashi’s room but once he was inside, the whole space undeniably felt as if it belonged to Akaashi. The number of books in his bedroom was probably a quarter of what was in the manor’s library. Bokuto felt himself smile, knowing he found the source of the gaps in the bookshelves. The curtains on the window were drawn back, letting in a good amount of light. There was a small table pushed near the window and on it was a vase full of wildflowers. Bokuto recognized them as the ones that Akaashi had picked in the fields the other day. The owner of the room himself was sitting up in bed, wearing a maroon robe, with a book on his lap.

“I brought your lunch,” Bokuto said, lifting up the tray.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, his voice sounded hoarse and weak. Bokuto set down the tray at his nightstand and sat down on the chair near his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” Akaashi shrugged, there was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed the fact that he was teasing Bokuto.

“Care to elaborate?” he chuckled.

“I think it’s the usual flu,” Akaashi sighed. “Aches, fever, all that good stuff. Nothing new.”

“Well, you better eat to maintain your strength,” Bokuto said, gesturing to the tray. Akaashi smiled wryly and lifted it to his lap. While he ate, Bokuto looked over at the books on his nightstand. Most of them were books on philosophy and political science. Except for one with a deep, burgundy jacket and a well-worn spine. “Greek Myths and Legends,” Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s my favorite book from my collection,” Akaashi said, sipping some broth from his spoon. “My father had gifted it to me personally before we left our previous estate.”

“I didn’t take you for a fan of legends,” Bokuto said.

“They’re the best things to read,” Akaashi cocked his head. “They’ve been around longer than any scientific theory or philosophy. The very beginnings of how men and women attempted to make sense of a world they didn’t understand yet.”

“When you put it that way…” Bokuto reached out a hand. “May I?” Akaashi nodded his permission and Bokuto carefully extracted the book from the pile and thumbed through the pages. He could tell that the book was worth quite a lot. From the thick, cream-colored pages, the title that was written in perfect calligraphy, to the colored, watercolor illustrations. The fact that this book wasn’t behind a display case, well-worn from reading and placed on a nightstand said a lot about Akaashi. Bokuto flipped to a random page. “The Myth of Prometheus,” he read aloud. In front of him, Akaashi smiled and leaned back in his bed.

“’There lived a titan named Prometheus, the supreme trickster and the god of fire,’” he recited out loud. ‘Of course he remembers it word by word,’ Bokuto thought, smiling to himself as he continued where Akaashi left off.

“’He was tasked by Zeus to form man from earth and water, and he did so. But Prometheus, the titan, grew fond of his creation…’” And so, Bokuto continued reading, not stopping until he reached the end of the myth when Prometheus was sentenced to his punishment of being chained to a rock while an eagle feasted on smalleaccompanying illustration of Prometheus’s punishment.

“Zeus always was the most bloodthirsty of the three major gods,” Akaashi chuckled dryly. “It’s a good story. While it is meant to be a cautionary tale about what happens when you defy the orders of a god, it does bring to light the need for situations wherein such transgressions are necessary.” He paused and turned to look at Bokuto. “What do you think about it, Bokuto-san?”

“Well, I always thought it was about…love?” he said uncertainly. In all honesty, the only time he ever encountered the myth was when his master retold it to him. Greek myths were always the subject of many painting commissions so Bokuto was trained to be familiar with them. The hard part when it came to painting them was adding that slight variation, the artist’s interpretation of the myth.

“Love?” Akaashi echoed. “You seem to be quite the romantic, Bokuto-san.”

“I-I mean,” Bokuto stammered, thinking of a good reason. “Prometheus was in that whole predicament because he loved his own creation too much, right? And it’s almost impossible to love something you created.” It was true, he knew that much, especially among painters. Sometimes that love gets to the point that it was impossible for him to find imperfections in his work, or even fathom being separated from the painting. In the end, most of the paintings Bokuto loved would end up in the hands of the people who paid for it. “It would be cruel of him to deny his own creations that fire, and Prometheus knew the consequences for it. I bet even after being chained to that rock, he would still make that same decision again if he could.” When he finished, he found Akaashi looking at him with an amused expression on his face.

“You’re quire right,” he said. “It’s an interesting take on the myth. I never would have thought of it but then again, I’m not a creator.” The look on Akaashi’s face seemed to lay bare Bokuto’s secrets.

“D-do you have any other favorite myths?” Bokuto asked, hoping to change the subject. “I could read a couple more for you if you like.” Akaashi placed his tray back on the nightstand and folded his hands over his lap.

“That would be nice Bokuto-san. Could you turn to page three-hundred and twenty?”

“’The Twelve Labors of Heracles,”’ Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s a long one. Are you up for it?” a corner of Akaashi’s mouth was turned up in a smile.

“Of course I am,” Bokuto returned the smile. He’s never been much of a reader, especially after being taught by the older painters at his master’s studio and even then, he had been slow when it came reading and writing. At first, Bokuto winced as he stumbled over some of the words but Akaashi kindly helped him through it and didn’t seem to mind. He was quite good at making up voices for characters like Pan, the satyr or Medusa that cracked a smile on Akaashi’s face. Before he knew it, it was already dinnertime when Kageyama brought up their food. Mikoto came in once to take Akaashi’s temperature and before leaving the room, she made eye contact with Bokuto who hgave the most imperceptible of nods. ‘Yes, the painting is done,’ it meant, and Bokuto was back to contemplating how to break the news to Akaashi.

“Something the matter, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked. They were both still eating dinner at the table near his bedroom window. Akaashi looked visibly better than he looked earlier.

“I…” Bokuto swallowed and felt his hand curl into a fist on his lap. “Akaashi… I-I haven’t exactly been truthful to you.” Silence fell, Akaashi stopped what he was doing and looked at Bokuto, waiting patiently for him to finish. It only made Bokuto even more nervous. “You see, I’m actually—”

“Another painter that my mother hired,” Akaashi interrupted him. Bokuto’s eyes went wide.

“You… you knew?”

Akaashi pursed his lips and reached for Bokuto’s hand, the one that was still on the table. His hand was smaller and more delicate against Bokuto’s hands, his touch feather-light. “As much as you scrub your hands, you can’t quite erase all of the charcoal and paint stains completely, nor the smell of turpentine.”

“Ahaha, I should have been more careful then,” Bokuto laughed nervously and stopped when he saw the expression on Akaashi’s face: it was the picture of melancholy, and Bokuto felt his heart ache. Did he still choose the befriend him even after knowing his intentions? “I… I’m sorry,” he apologized softly.

“Why are you apologizing?” Akaashi looked up to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t need to be so civil around me since you knew what my intentions were,” Bokuto said. “Your mother told me that you constantly evaded the other painters’ and refused to pose for them to delay your wedding.”

“That is true,” Akaashi nodded, taking his hand back. Bokuto’s hand quickly felt the loss of warmth. “But shouldn’t I say the same for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t have to befriend me either. All you had to do was to paint my portrait in secret. You could have quickly denied my requests to go to the beach or ask my mother to keep me occupied for as long as you wanted.” The candlestick on their table was their only light source in the room and it illuminated Akaashi’s features so clearly and Bokuto felt every word he said. “Or is it, you just did those so I would trust you and for your cover not to be blown.”

“I…” Bokuto could hardly find the words. It was just like the first time they met, when they talked over breakfast before going to the beach. Except, Bokuto knew there was something at stake, only he didn’t know precisely what that was. Akaashi Keiji was just another one of his clients. Bokuto’s job would be finished tomorrow and he would go back to his studio with his money and he would wait for his next commission and in a few years, he wouldn’t even remember Akaashi Keiji among the other paintings he would make.

And so, he decided on his reply.

“Yes. You’re right.” He steeled himself for the look of hurt on Akaashi’s face, maybe a few things he would shout. ‘Those are momentary. I would forget about them later on,’ he thought. Instead, Akaashi leaned back in his seat and turned his head to the window.

“I see,” was all he said. And for some reason, that was worse.

“Akaashi—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Akaashi cut him off, he was still looking out the window. “You may retire to your rooms now, Bokuto-san. You’ll have to travel home tomorrow.”

Bokuto swallowed hard and stood up, murmuring a ‘good night’ before leaving Akaashi’s room, running down the stairs, and entering his own room. He was out of breath and livid. ‘Why am I letting that get to me?’ he thought. With every breath he inhaled, an image of Akaashi came to mind. The intense look on his face when he was trying to figure out of Bokuto was lying. The pure excitement at seeing the beach. The hesitance giving way to confidence as he waded into the water. The pucker of his lips when he tasted the sea. The pure concentration as he hunted for hermit crabs. The movement of his lips when he said Bokuto’s name.

Without even realizing it, Bokuto found himself standing in front of Akaashi’s portrait. ‘Painters have an instinct,’ he remembered his master telling him when Bokuto made his first oil painting of a landscape. ‘A lot of us can tell when something is wrong with what we’ve painted. Not when it comes to the technical skills like light or shading. But it pertains to whether we’ve successfully captured a scene that’s alive, and all scenes are, on canvas.’ With his instinct, Bokuto could instantly tell that the portrait he painted of a man with a stiff expression on his face and no light behind his eyes, was not Akaashi.

Bokuto picked up his turpentine-soaked rag that he used to clean his brushed and held it over the face in the portrait. With one swift motion, he swiped it off.

…

He barely slept that night, knowing for sure that he was going to lose his job the next morning. He was going to be one of those painters who had left the estate empty-handed and frustrated, after getting so close. Yet try as he might, Bokuto knew that he didn’t regret destroying the portrait. So maybe, he could return with his head held high.

After stealing a few hours of sleep, Bokuto woke up to wash himself as best as he could and change into a clean shirt. He did all of this without looking at the portrait. Kageyama called him for breakfast and Bokuto steeled himself to face Mikoto and Akaashi. She attempted to make conversation over breakfast and yet he’d nod once in a while and pick at his breakfast, choosing not to acknowledge Bokuto who felt a deep ache in his chest.

Finally, it was time to unveil the portrait. Bokuto knew that he could simply tell Mikoto that he chose to change it in the last minute but on the other hand, he wanted Akaashi to see what he had done. So, he covered the portrait with a cloth and met them in the library to unveil the finished product.

“Bokuto Koutarou!” Mikoto exclaimed indignantly. She was clearly frustrated and Bokuto couldn’t blame her. She has gone through this same scenario a few times over. “You said you finished the portrait.”

“I did,” Bokuto nodded stiffly. “But… it wasn’t satisfactory enough.”

“You could have left that up for me to decide,” Mikoto huffed. Bokuto glanced over at Akaashi to find that the corner of his mouth had turned up in a smile. ‘Maybe this was his plan all along,’ Bokuto wondered. But it didn’t matter now. “Clearly, you are just like all the other painters who have come here. I suggest you leave as soon as possible.”

Bokuto nodded again, taking the cloth to cover up the portrait when Akaashi spoke up, saying something that neither Bokuto nor Mikoto could have expected.

“I’ll pose for him.”

Bokuto stopped and turned to face him. Akaashi was looking directly at him with a look of mild amusement on his face.

“You will?” Mikoto asked.

“I will,” Akaashi nodded. “I think… it’s time I put off this marriage long enough,” he explained. And yet, Bokuto didn’t quite believe he was telling the truth.

“Oh, Keiji,” Mikoto’s voice softened as she held her son’s face in her hands and enveloped him into a hug. “Thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”

“I know, Mother,” Akaashi said stiffly.

“As much as I would like to ask ‘why now?’, I really must get going,” Mikoto straightened up and looked at Bokuto this time. “I will be gone for two weeks. I expect a fully-finished portrait by the time I return.”

“I shall not disappoint,” Bokuto bowed.

“Good,” Mikoto nodded.

“Let me walk you to the ship, Mother,” Akaashi said, offering her his arm. Before leaving the room, Akaashi glanced once at Bokuto and with an imperceptible incline of his head, gestured for him to follow. An hour later, Mikoto and her luggage, which Bokuto helped Kageyama with, were loaded in the ship waiting for her at the docks. After the ship set sail, Kageyama was the first to head back to the house. Bokuto stayed with Akaashi as they watched the ship sail into the distance. He had a million questions for him but for now, all he could feel was relief. As Bokuto watched the way the wind swept through Akaashi’s hair, he knew that he wouldn’t mind looking at him for the next two weeks.

…

They started working on the portrait the next day. Kageyama offered to push the long table from the dining room to the side since it was the most well-lit room in the estate. In the middle, they added a chair and a low table for Akaashi to pose on. Bokuto set up his easel and spare canvas at the side, grateful at being able to paint in good lighting after having to work secretly in his own room. He began painting the background of the portrait with broad strokes of a maroon color to keep busy when Akaashi walked inside.

To say that he looked stunning was an understatement. Before Bokuto began his first portrait, Mikoto had shown him the suit that Akaashi was supposed to wear: a dark emerald green with golden buttons and a crisp white shirt meant to be worn with the color turned up. Seeing Akaashi actually wearing it was a different story. The suit hugged him perfectly, accentuating the slight curves in his waist with the high collar just reaching the bottom of his chin. Akaashi had combed his hair back just slightly which showed off his forehead.

“You look…” Bokuto began to say before stopping himself quickly. “Ready.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nodded curtly, unaware of how good he looked. “If you would…” he gestured to the chair in the center of the dining room and Bokuto hurried to pose him.

“Sit slightly forward in the chair,” he instructed. “Back straight. You can rest your elbow on the table if you want but the other hand, please keep on your lap.” Akaashi followed the instructions. “Lastly,” Bokuto reached a hand out to touch Akaashi’s shoulder to tilt him slightly towards the canvas. He was aware of how close Akaashi’s face was and that he was probably staring at Bokuto. ‘In all my years of painting, have I ever worked someone as beautiful as this?’ he wondered, before shaking the thought of his head and backing away to survey the pose. “Good, perfect,” Bokuto nodded before returning to his canvas.

“What expression should I have on my face?” Akaashi asked.

“A neutral expression would be ideal,” Bokuto answered, quickly painting an outline on the canvas. “If you get uncomfortable in your position please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. “Am I… allowed to speak?”

Bokuto glanced up at him and back to the painting. “Of course,” he swallowed before continuing. “I have you to thank for my job.”

“I didn’t do it for your job,” he heard Akaashi speak. Bokuto bit his lip. This wasn’t an ideal position for them to have this conversation.

“Then… why?” Bokuto asked.

“I should ask why you decided to destroy the portrait of me.”

“That… That’s because the person I painted wasn’t you,” Bokuto answered. “I didn’t want it to be the work I submitted.”

“I see…” Akaashi said. He had the same amused expression on his face as he had when he saw the portrait unveiled to him. “It’s just the opposite of what Prometheus did.” Bokuto paused his work to listen. “In your disgust at your creation, you opted to destroy it. Such is the mind of a creator.” There was a wry smile playing on Akaashi’s lips.

“It wasn’t disgust,” Bokuto contradicted him. “It was… a lack of attachment more like.”

“How come?” Akaashi cocked his head ever so slightly, his pose still undisturbed.

“Because my subject wasn’t aware of being painted,” Bokuto smiled, finally deciding to meet Akaashi’s gaze. Surprise flickered there, and then mirth.

“That better be a good portrait then.”

“It will be.”

They were able to finish a good amount of the portrait in that afternoon before Akaashi grew tired of posing. Bokuto was about to offer to go to the beach again but stopped when Akaashi headed straight for his room. ‘Maybe he doesn’t forgive me quite yet,’ Bokuto thought with a sigh, only for those thoughts to end when Akaashi asked him to have dinner in his room, especially since the dining table was out of use. It was a relief to see Akaashi engaged with him in conversation. The book of “Greek Legends and Myths” were still on the nightstand where Bokuto had left it. And somehow, with Mikoto out for two weeks, Bokuto felt as if he wanted to stay in that manor forever.

Before going straight to his room, he decided to pass by the dining room to look at the portrait again. He had worked fast, completing a few days’ work in just one day. The sensation of not wanting to leave was even stronger and Bokuto felt a hard lump in his throat. He walked briskly past the dining room when a small voice whispered in the back of his head: ‘Turn around.’

Bokuto spun around and caught sight of Akaashi standing in the far end of the room. Only, he was pale and almost transparent, and wearing an elaborate suit. Bokuto blinked once and then the vision was gone.

[chaoticgremlinwholikescheese]

The Nerd and the Jock

JACK’S POV:

I hate english. Essays are a waste of time. I don’t plan on being a writer or an english teacher, so why should I waste hours of my time on a meaningless essay that no one will ever read again? Well. Probably so I don’t fail the class. But I’m doing that anyway, so my point still stands.

Because of my current grade, my teacher is forcing me to get a tutor. I know she’s doing it for my own good. That means I have to miss football practice once a week. And I’m going to have to work with one of the nerdy kids. That sounds bad. Let me start over.

Yes, I’m a jock. But no, I am not a bully and I have nothing against nerds. I just don’t like when people judge me. I may be failing a class, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. I wish people understood that. Every tutor I’ve had has been judgmental and mean. Especially this one guy Oscar. He would roll his eyes every time I didn’t understand him.

Anyway, I have tutoring today. And I am not looking forward to it. Race and Spot have clearly picked up on my sulking. They keep shooting each other silent looks, waiting for the other to ask. Race finally gives in. “What’s going on, dude?” I sigh dramatically and lay my head on the table. “I have tutoring with some guy named Alex. Don’t wanna do it.” 

“Wait. Alex Kiminski?” Spot questions. “Yeah. I think so. You know her?” Spot nods. “She’s in my history class. Total nerd. Constantly reading.” Doesn’t sound so bad. “Is she going to kick my ass?”

“Oh yeah. She’ll have you at an A before the end of the month. She tutored Morris, and he ended up aceing chem. Still don’t know how she did it. That guy is dumb as a rock.” The three of us laugh. I sober up, concern setting in. “Seriously though. How mean is she?” Spot assures me that she’s not mean, just determined. It doesn’t do much to settle my nerves.

The day passes with me stressing out about tutoring. I’m picturing a scary teenager that looks like a witch. Or like a female version of principal Pulitzer. Basically, she’s going to look terrifying and I’m going to hate every moment of tutoring. I should probably change my name and move to Mexico now. 

The day passes much too fast. I have to say goodbye to Race and Spot, watching them go to practice. I lug myself to the library. Every step I take brings me closer to my doom. I check into the library. They give me a table. I patiently await my execution. 

“Are you Jack?” I whirl around. The woman I see there is not what I had imagined. She’s short, with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She has a pair of black glasses on her face and freckles on her nose. She’s wearing a yellow sweater and jeans, along with a pair of black converse. She looks surprisingly normal. 

“Y-yeah. You’re Alex?” She says yes and takes a seat next to me. “So, I hear you’re having some trouble with english. What are you working on now?” I pull the books out of my bag. “We have to write an essay about the effects on germany after world war one helped to contribute to the start of world war two.” I dread writing this.

She claps excitedly. “I love world war two! One of my favorite parts of history. Do you have a first draft?” And with that, we begin working. And too my surprise, she actually helps me. She’s really nice. And she’s funny. She critiques me while being kind. Plus, she has a bunch of cool facts that she shares about world war two. It’s pretty fun.

The way she explains things makes sense. She doesn’t judge me when I make a mistake. I find myself understanding the material. I even get interested in it. She makes me work hard, but in a good way.

Time flies by. I manage to have a first draft of the essay written. The next week, I’m looking forward to tutoring. Something I’ve never said before. We end up talking more than studying. I really enjoy her company. 

We say hi in the halls. That gets some strange looks, ‘cause I’m a jock and she’s a nerd. I don’t mind though. Race is constantly mocking me. He insists that I ask her out on a date. I told him I don’t have a crush on her. But then he pointed out that I blush and stutter every time I see her. He might have been right. Also something I’ve never said.

I’m especially excited for our tutoring session today. The essay she helped me write finally got graded. I got an A. First A I’ve gotten in that class. I’m fidgeting excitedly as I wait for her to come to the library. She finally arrives. 

“I got the test back.” She asks me what I got. I whip it out with a grin. “I got an A!” She cheers and hugs me. “That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!” She gets a sad look on her face. “Guess you won’t be needing a tutor anymore, huh?” My heart sinks. I didn’t even think of that. 

“What if we still met up? Not for tutoring. But like a date.” I say nervously. She beams. “I’d like that.”

[twstdreams]

Thank you so much for the dorm match up! 😊 I am a bit of a chatterbox and I love to discuss on various things. I don't really care what, just as long it's interesting! With subjects I am good with English, History and Geography but I am really bad at match, physics, chrmistry, literally anything of that sort. I wear my heart on my sleeve and I am open with my emotions, if I feel like crying I'll cry, if I feel like laughing, I'll laugh. (1/?)

Also, I am really not good with technology either! I am an INFP and when it comes to people there isn't really a specific personality type I get along with. It's mostly kind of just "if we vibe, we vibe" thing. My friend group is very quirky and varies which makes things so fun! As a person I am quite cheerful, optimistic and bubbly but if I'm in the mood I am quite chaotic! Just really random which freaks some ppl out while others love it, pick your side 😂

I'm a sucker for sweets and yougurt, I can never get enough of that! I also have a passion for scary stories and when I go on walks I love listening to them! I love mythology, faries especially, and I daydream all the time! I get so lost in my world that I sometimes lose track of where I am! I'm generally nice to people I might, maybe a bit shy to some, but still pleasant enough for them to like me.

However I can be quite cold if I don't like some person. I give them the silent treatment and if I HAVE to speak to them I'm just really bitter and snarky. I strongly dislike arrogant people and people who bully. I can also be quite protective over the ones I love and my friends call me that mum of the group, although when the mood hits me I can be a child too. But yeah, mostly the mum friend who worries too much! Is this enough?

Happy Birthday, sweetie! I hope you enjoy this gift!

The shape of thy soul is ... Diasomnia!

You’re not good with technology? No worries, neither is Malleus. Diasomnia is founded on the Witch of Thorns who comes from the Valley of Thorns, a land where most things are magic-based rather than machine reliant. Therefore, no one is going to judge your lack of technical skills

You don’t encapsulate the elegance that Diasomnia students usually emulate. However, considering Sebek is shouting left, right, and centre, Silver is taking naps anywhere and everywhere, and Lilia is currently hanging upside down, it’s not enough to be a deal-breaker

It’s great that you get along with a variety of people because Diasomnia has a wide range of students as well and will help you overcome the aura that the other dorms feel make it hard to approach Diasomnia students

Even if other students don’t have the guts to point it out, Diasomnia, like most of NRC, has its own brand of chaos. Malleus is threatening to light people on fire, Sebek could not stop exalting his young master if his life depended on it, Lilia teleports as he pleases, and Silver has infamous “mad-free space.” You will fit in just fine with the chaos.

Your cheerful, bubbly, and optimistic nature will be welcome! There’s not a lot of sunlight as the dorm as it's modelled after the Witch’s castle, but you can be the designated source of sunshine! Lilia finds your bubbly nature so cute and Malleus finds your optimism refreshing

Your love of sweets will be indulged when there are tea parties! Ignore Sebek’s glaring and forge on, tea and sweets are a lovely combo.

You and Malleus are quite the chatterbox combo! Malleus goes on and on about gargoyles and the stories surrounding them and you adore listening to the ones about haunted ones. 

You love asking him about fae customs and he happily obliges given that you’ve listened to his gargoyle tangent. Lilia answers your questions too, but sometimes you wonder if he’s just pulling your leg. Sebek will answer inquiries too but be prepared for a lecture to go hand in hand.

Losing track of where you are? You probably run into Silver napping at random areas. If you decide to wake him up from his impromptu slumber, he’ll be very grateful

Diasomnia is filled with protective friends, so that aspect is easily accepted. What’s the use of all this power if not to protect that which is precious to you?

Your cold and feisty treatment towards those you detest is nothing new at Diasomnia either. Most people are scared of accidentally angering those from Diasomnia as they can’t be dealt with by normal means. There’s a reason others find people from this dorm hard to approach. The fact that you’re not throwing shotput balls fast enough to break bones as a warning already puts you amongst the nicer ones.

Dorms to avoid:

Pomefiore

Being bad at chemistry, and all the sciences in general, will already put you at a major disadvantage at the dorm where everyone excels at magic potions and sorcery

You may love sweets but you probably won’t like the vigorous exercise routine you’ll have to complete first to compensate for any and all desserts you consume

Vil can and will make you cry. Furthermore, he might not even stop his berating even if tears are streaming down your face

Daydream in the middle of Vil lecturing you and you will most likely get smacked right then and there

Not all of Pomefiore’s students are arrogant, some are kind and open-minded to a degree, but you’ll definitely meet people who you’ll want to kick off their high horse

Savanaclaw

You dislike arrogant people and bullies, which this dorm has in spades. 

Exasperated sighs fall from your lips as you nearly marvel at how Leona is both so incredibly lazy yet also arrogant.

Cocky upperclassmen who have no issue playing dirty and bullying others also infuriate you. Be careful because they’re not afraid to use magic or brawn to drive a point home

Daydreaming is not really a safe activity at the Savanaclaw dorm given how ready everyone is to fight, even a small slight like bumping into someone is enough to set off a brawl

Other possible dorms:

Heartslabyul

Your love of sweets is thoroughly sated at the Heartslabyul dorm. There are constantly a galore of high-quality sweets thanks to Unbirthday parties and you’ll get your fair share as long as you don’t upset Trey

If Ignihyde is known for little to no social interactions and sticking to itself, then Heartslabyul is the opposite. Like many other Heartslabyul students, you get along with a variety of people. Cater has friends from nearly every dorm, showing her personable Heartslabyul students can be

Don’t mistake this dorm as a cutesy pushover place because of the pretty parties and eccentric activities. Heartslabyul dorm is filled with people who have no qualms getting revenge or doling out punishment. 

Riddle screams “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD” at a moment’s notice, and especially if he catches someone breaking the rules more than once. Trey may come off as a serene brotherly figure but he’s ready to dole out fitting passive-aggressive punishments like any older sibling is. Deuce is ready to throw down at a moment’s notice if someone is disrespectful. So your cold and snarky treatment towards those you dislike probably doesn’t even have anyone blinking an eye unless it breaks a rule

Speaking of rule-breaking, having to memorize 810 rules and daydreaming are not two things that mesh well. If you were part of the dorm pre-overblot, it was rough. It probably still is, but you’re trying!

Bonus: Riddle ensures no students fail so even if you suck with anything science or math-related, you’ve got an incredibly smart, tutor