#perhaps we could all use a bit of a refresher on like. english class

[rollercoasterwords]

opening my own fic that i wrote to make sure i'm not living in a parallel universe after seeing someone say that it was written in first person ????????? it is in fact written entirely in third person. baffled confused and quite frankly amused but also a wee bit concerned. is everyone okay do we need a refresher on what first second and third person narration actually is 😐

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Rumor Mill Game (pt4)

I swear I didn’t forget about this au. This chapter is just....long.

Welcome back to this mess of an au :) If you need a refresher, you can find Part Three [here!] Or if you’re new check out the first part [here!]

Summary: Logan is...dealing with the fallout of him and his coworker, Remus, having created a rumor about them being married and now apparently having a kid except not because Logan screamed at the top of his lungs that Virgil wasn’t his kid. His boss has a different definition for what “dealing” actually means. 

Words: 8292 (Holy shit remember when this au was 2k words)

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up like this.

Granted when he hadn’t exactly been expecting anything. He hadn’t been looking ahead, hadn’t been making plans, hadn’t been thinking at all. Which was most likely how he ended up outside the bar in the first place. 

Logan could, of course, count the number of times he had been drunk on one hand. College had been a time for experimenting, and of course for his twenty-first birthday his friends at the time had been insistent that he needed to imbibe an unholy amount of alcohol in one night. They had turned it into an experiment, where Logan documented exactly what he was feeling after each drink and he still had the notes in his desk at home, despite the fact that his handwriting had become illegible after the fifth drink and someone had spilled an orange soda based tonic on the third page. The notes themselves were worthless, but they served as a memoir to people who he no longer associated with and a younger version of himself who had still been learning.

And Logan did have a soft spot for that imbecile: Twenty-one-year-old Logan Ackroyd who still believed in the goodness of people and who wanted to change the world and who could fall in lov--

Logan pitied him-- that kid he used to be-- which he was certain that his younger self would be indignant about. Logan always did hate when people pitied him. Those emotions had rarely ever been genuine, rarely ever been helpful, rarely been productive. What was he to do about people feeling bad for him? About others being disappointed? About others making assumptions about him and how he felt?

He didn’t need pity, and he didn’t want it. Not when he got rejected to his first three colleges, not when flunked that English class and had to pay to retake it the next year, not when he had bought that ring and gotten down on one knee and made a whole carefully edited speech and--

And he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with these types of thoughts. Or any thoughts for that matter. Wouldn’t it just be great to stop thinking? 

Then he wouldn’t have to remember the looks on his coworkers faces when he storming into the office less than fifteen minutes after initially leaving for lunch and demanded that Beatrice turn in her overdue spreadsheets in twenty minutes or he’d have her fired before slamming his office door hard enough to crack that frosted glass, or the look on Remus- fucking- Prince’s face when he tried to act like everything that had happened was not his fault and that Logan had taken the game to far by himself without any sort of prompting from Remus, or the look on Virgil’s face when Logan lost his self control.

Like an idiot. Like an asshole. Like someone who doesn’t think before he acts.

Like someone who should be alone for the rest of his life, because he can’t seem to get a hold of those useless emotions of his. 

And Logan wanted so very badly to blame Remus Prince for this whole endeavor, the whole production, the whole catastrophe. He wanted to say that without Remus he never would have gotten that angry, wouldn’t have had that conversation, wouldn’t have even gotten Thai today. 

Logan wanted to say that, but really it's his own fault. If he had just dismissed Remus’s rumor in the beginning, if he had just told Jen and Quin that his personal business was his own, if he had just ignored the urge to get coffee and finished the spreadsheets without getting up that last night.

His fourth finger itched around the base, the area where that little silver ring had been sitting for less than a day. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, because Logan had never worn a ring before and now suddenly the absence of it caused his skin to crawl in a most unpleasant, unproductive way. 

Distantly Logan realized that by gifting Remus such a wonderful present, he had also thrown away four hundred dollars. And perhaps ironically Logan noted that he feels annoyed about it-- four hundred dollars had been sitting in a pocket of a dress jacket in the corner of his office for over nine months and he had tossed it aside in a fit of impulsive anger.

Logan had not been hurting for money recently, with how decently he was paid, and the amount of overtime he worked, and how little time he had taken off since that disastrous night.

But perhaps he might have been able to return it to the jewelers and weathered the terrible, awful pitying looks they would give him when he requested about their refund policy or a location where he might be able to sell it himself. It was a ring that was worth four hundred dollars and he had given it to Remus, and isn’t it funny that that’s farther than he got with the one for whom the ring had been originally intended?

And as Logan downed his next rum and coke of the night, he hoped that Remus found a better use for it. Newton knows it hadn't done any good for Logan. 

(Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that he had screeched “He’s not and never will be our son!” Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that Remus had hummed mischievously “I think I enjoy being fake-married to you, Logan." Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the the way his last partner had said “We should see other people”. Its stupid, stupid, stupid--)

“Hmmm,” A voice behind him said, “I thought I would find you here!”

Logan didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard the voice and felt every atom in his body figuratively threaten to combust. He wasn’t drunk enough to be thinking about him, and he most certainly wasn’t drunk enough to turn and look at the incessantly, perky man that had decided to sit down next to him.

Logan waved at the bartender and ordered another rum and coke and watched his freshly emptied glass disappear like the handful of others he didn’t bother to keep count of.

“And I’ll have two waters, please!” Patton Hart added with one of his peppy, happy, insufferable laughs, before turning to face Logan. “Hiya, Lo! It's been so long since we’ve seen each other!”

“Not long enough,” Logan disagreed, with a rueful smile that should very clearly, very precisely detail how much he does not want company at the current moment. “Don’t you have things to be doing tonight, Mr. Hart?”

Patton hummed, pressing his lips together as he thought-- a monumental task for someone like him, surely. Logan was partially convinced that if he removed his glasses he might be able to see the squirrels beginning to run on that rusted wheel in the other man’s brain. If Logan was of a less logical mind he might even be brazen enough to call this the first time Patton had used his brain all week.

“Well,” Patton said, carefully settling himself on the stool next to Logan. “I was graciously informed by my son that he would be enjoying the perks of being a teenager with no bedtime tonight and along with where exactly I could shove my homemade lasagna.” He laughed lightly, “Kids, these days! He really does keep me on my toes!” 

Logan did his best not to roll his eyes. “I do not know the whereabouts of your son, Mr. Hart.”

“Patton,” He said easily, “And I’m not here for my son. I’m here for you, Logan.”

“If this is about the glass in my door, you are very capable of taking that out of my paycheck.” Logan told him.

The bartender placed Logan’s new rum and coke in front of him and he reached for it almost immediately, only stopping when Patton’s hand landed on his forearm.

“Mr. Hart--”

“Patton,” Patton corrected with that smile that Logan suspected was the worst thing in the world. Worse than Virgil’s blank expression when he told them to get out, worse than Remus’s smug one when he suggested that Logan did indeed enjoy the ability to manipulate his coworkers, worse than Beatrice faulty excel sheets, than broken glass of his door, than a ring he never wanted to see again and yet he still felt like it was missing from his finger.

“Mr. Hart,” Logan said again, “I am going to get horrifically drunk tonight, and I will be calling out sick tomorrow, regardless of what you say. So my advice to you is, say anything of importance now, before I am too incoherent to register and respond accordingly.”

“That doesn’t sound too smart there, kiddo!” Patton said, like he was any older than Logan was.

“I do not feel like being smart right now,” Logan said snippily. Because being smart involved thinking, and Logan had done quite enough thinking for the day. He was tired of thinking, tired of memories, tired of the lump in his chest that had formed during his lunch break and hadn’t dissolved in the eight hours since. He was tired.

“Would you like me to be smart for you?” Patton asked.

Ah.

Yes, Logan remembered suddenly with just a few words why he hated Patton Hart so much. Why he hated those too-wide brown eyes, those stupid freckles, that soft smile. Why he hated the way that Patton had tracked him down despite the fact that he had turned off his phone, the way that Patton had ordered two waters, the way that he hadn’t taken off his jacket. The way that he had taken out his keys and put them on the bar counter between them and Logan could pick out his own house key from the jumbled mess of bits and bobs.

“I heard something pretty interesting today,” Patton said, when Logan didn’t reply because he was too busy remembering why he hated Patton so much.

“Please don’t pretend like you didn’t know about my so-called affair before I did.” Logan snapped. “Honestly, Patton!” Logan dropped his arm from the glass and instead pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “Playing dumb about your own company is my least favroite thing about you.”

“I thought you hated my laugh the most.” Patton looked at him, letting the smile slip into something more serious.

“I hate everything about you.” 

“Pay for the drinks, Lo.” Patton told him, “And I’ll take you home. We can have some of my lasagna and watch a space documentary, like we’re twenty years old again.” 

Logan hated Patton and hated the way his chest ached at the offer. His knuckles bore into the side of his head, jabbing the frame of his own glasses into this temple. He hated the way that Patton was looking at him, soft and sweet and naive.

He hated the way his fingers itched to take Patton’s hand and go home.

“And after all that,” Patton continued so lightly, “You can tell me all about how Remus Prince got under your skin.”

 Logan’s hand slammed on the counter, so suddenly he surprised himself. Patton, however, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, didn’t react other than to hold that smile. 

“I am not drunk enough to be talking about Remus Prince,” Logan spat. “Especially not to you, Patton.”

Patton was quiet and at first, Logan really had thought that he had won something-- he thought that perhaps Patton would grant him mercy and let him drown his sorrows alone and miserable in a bar until he forgot his own name. But Patton was too good of a friend and Logan really should hate him less for that.

“You know,” Patton said with a cold type of humor that doused Logan with awareness. Bad awareness. The type of awareness that sunk it’s metaphorical claws into Logan’s chest and pierced straight through his heart before Patton finished what he was saying. “I think….yeah that does sound familiar. Do you remember the last time you said you weren’t drunk enough to tell me something?”

Logan did.

Logan couldn’t forget if he tried. 

And he had tried so very hard for so very long-- except that Remus Prince had waltzed into Logan’s life, had called him a Robot, had smirked at him and run their coworkers around like cattle with pretty little words. Except that Remus Prince had gotten bored and decided that the only logical next course of action was to mess with Logan’s personal life. 

Except that Remus Prince had played along with the rumor game, and smiled at him, and kissed him, and---

And Logan had started thinking---

And Logan’s mouth had started moving--

And Virgil face had--

Logan reached for the glass in front of him, reaching for the cool ice and the spritzy carbonation and the burn of the rum.  

Patton watched him, blinking in the long, slow, dumb way of his that had fooled just about every person that he had come in contact with. With the goofy smile and the habit of deliberately misunderstanding key phrases and making puns and jokes when things were tense, it was hard to see him as anything other than a rich son who became CEO via thinly veiled nepotism. 

Logan knocked back the drink, blinking back the burn behind his eyes that were from the alcohol and definitely not from the lump in his throat that had started dissolving.

He didn’t want to close his eyes, because he knew what he would see when he did: a nice suit, a fancy dinner, a walk to the bridge dotted with fairy lights of all things. He’d see that stupid ring, that stupid face, that stupid end of the night that everyone had told him would be nice, and perfect, and everything he would ever want! 

And he didn’t want to think about how it had not been nice or perfect or anything either of them had ever wanted!

He didn’t want to think about how years ago he had come to a bar just like this, and tried to get so drunk he could pretend that it hadn’t happened, and Patton had shown up then and offered him a job and--

“He wants to go by Janus now,” Patton said, picking up one of the waters and taking a sip.

Logan squinted at him and tried not to be happy about the distraction from his own thoughts, “Who?”

“My son,” Patton said, like it was obvious he had switched back to a neutral topic. “He told me earlier during our phone call he wants to go by Janus, now. He said he’s hated the name Dante for forever. Can you believe it, Lo?”

Logan couldn’t actually. Because he had known Patton since they themselves were teenagers, since before Patton had brought up how empty being a CEO was without anyone to come home too, since Patton had first invited him to Sunday brunch and introduced him to the child he called “son”. Logan had babysat Dante when Patton had business trips and Dante had always been proud of himself, of his better-than-the-status-quo lifestyle, of his name that held power and prestige and weight.

Dante had been practicing saying his name in the mirror since before his voice cracked. Dante Hart, future CEO. Dante Hart, son of Patton Hart. Dante Hart. 

“He’s a teenager,” Logan said, “He’s rebelling.”

“Maybe so!” Patton laughed, and it dwindled down to something that was easier felt in the air than definable in terms Logan was familiar with, “Gosh, I love him so much, Lo. My baby! He’s growing up so fast now! The other day he told me he had a boyfriend. He’s at that stage where he doesn’t want me to help him anymore!”

And despite the buffoon having not had a single drop of alcohol, Patton was tearing up. Logan gritted his teeth at the implications of a weepy, teary, so-full-of-emotions Patton. He had spent enough time in college trying to console him as he figured out the whole “Why does it always have to be about sex? Why can’t I just love hugging someone, Lo? Why does everyone make me feel so broken?” Logan hadn’t been any good back then, and he definitely hadn’t gotten better with time. 

After that disaster with the last guy, Logan had decided that feeling things, frivolous things, emotion-like things, were not something he was into anymore.

Logan learned from his mistakes, after all.

Even the mistakes that started with “R” and ended in a $400 ring being thrown away.

“Is that why you’re here, Mr. Hart?” Logan asked, in that way of his that told even Patton with his squirrel run brain that it wasn’t actually a question at all. “You can’t baby your son anymore so you’ve moved on to the next best thing?”

Patton stuck his tongue in his cheek and set his water back down. “Patton.” He stressed. “And I’m not here to baby you, Logan. I’m here to be your friend.”

He said “friend” like it was a word in the dictionary Logan didn’t know. It was infuriating: the insinuation that Logan had never cracked open a dictionary before, that he was so unknowledgeable about the concept of a friend that Patton was about to show him the online Oxford dictionary definition, like someone who played dumb all day and peppered his windows with sticky notes in the shape of a game of Frogger knew more about something than Logan who had clawed his way up from nothing and was constantly needing to prove how he earned his position.

Patton nudged the second water in Logan’s direction.

Logan stared at it, at the condensation on the glass, at the ice cubes, at the refraction of the low lights from the bar counter. He stared at it like it was a portal back through time that would allow him to slam some sense into poor, pitiful twenty-one-years-old Logan before he let himself fall in Love.

Before he bought a ring or stopped taking days off unless Patton tromped down to his office himself. Before Remus Prince borrowed his cup and before Logan got it in his head that he was serving revenge rather than idiocracy. Before he let himself think too little and say too much and hurt a kid that had never deserved to be upset before in his life.

“If my son wants to be called Janus, I’ll call him that,” Patton says softly. “Because even if it doesn’t make sense to me, it means something to him. And even if my friend is struggling with emotions that don’t make sense to me, I’m still gonna try to help him, Lo.”

Patton ducked his head just a little, just enough that he managed to catch Logan’s strategically averted gaze and make something out of it: a swell of guilt, a sense of hope, a pinch of safety and unadulterated kindness.

His throat was dry, but it was the type of dry that couldn’t be fixed with a glass of water.

“I made a kid cry,” Logan said, because self loathing is a coat he had thought he’d outgrown but he can still fit his arms in the sleeves.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.” He sipped his water. “I think we all have at one point or another.”

“See, the distinct difference that you are missing here, Patton, is that you are a father.” Logan snapped, “And your son will cry at the drop of a hat if he thinks he can get something out of it. And you would never harm a child! Not for any reason in the entire world!”

“And you would?”

“I did.” Logan felt himself sink into the chair, sink like an anchor in the ocean, sink like the floor below him had turned into a blackhole. “I did, I did it. What type of person does that make me?”

“I hate to break it to you, Lo,” Patton said, as kindly as he could, which Logan knew was truly, sickenly nice. He wanted to choke on the sentiment but he found that he couldn’t quite make his chest hurt the way he wanted it too when it came to Patton’s pity.

 “But that just means you’re a normal person.” Patton smiled dumbly, tilting his head and shrugging. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” Patton countered gently, “Like when I hired Beatrice before realizing that she had lied about knowing how to use Excel.”

“Fuck, Beatrice,” Logan agreed, because if he closed his eyes too hard he thought he might still see grid patterns as much as he might see Virgil’s hurt expression and he hated it so much. So much. 

“I also told-- Janus once that I would get him anything he wanted for his birthday, and he asked for a snake.” Patton shuddered, almost comically, “And you saw how that turned out.”

“I’ve always been impressed with his ability to sneak things into the school buildings,” Logan sighed. “I doubt anyone has ever forgotten that Show-and-Tell.”

Patton chuckled quietly. It was almost lost in the buzz of the other patrons in the bar. He drew a smiley face in the condensation on his glass and Logan reached over to wipe it away, like he had done a hundred seventeen times since college.

“So….Lasagna?” Patton offered. “We can make some garlic bread too.”

“I regret ever meeting you,” Logan said, even as he picked up the keys on the counter between them. He wished that Patton didn’t look so self satisfied, so pleased, so smug when the words tumbled from his lips, but Patton had never been one to pertain to the wishes and whims of Logan like that.

Settling his tab was quick; a pile of bills from his wallet that he didn’t actually check, but decided the bartender deserved anyway and then Patton linked their elbows together so that Logan couldn’t walk off the way that he used to when he would agree with Patton just to get him to shut up. Logan snagged Patton’s glasses from his head and fogged them up with his breath, before taking on the tedious task of cleaning the fingerprints off the lens meticulously while walking in a wobbling straight line. 

Patton laughed like silver bells and it alone brightened the entire street with a type of magic that Logan had long since given up on trying to scientifically explain. The poet in him that Logan had buried under Calculus classes and Statistics courses and a Business degree and only let out when the alcohol out weighed the blood in his system, whispered that it was because it was Patton and his aloofness, and his kindness, and his generosity that never made any sense, and wasn’t that reason enough for the universe to lighten up?

It was drizzling outside, scattered raindrops and dark heavy clouds that whispered of a thunderstorm later. Patton skipped, Logan rolled his eyes and let himself be dragged towards the familiar pale blue punch buggy. It was the same exact car from their college time together, if one ignored the frankenstein replacements of just about every single component in it. Patton clung to the car the same way he had clung to the delusion of Logan being a good friend; sticking close through every breakdown, excusing every letdown, and spending far too much money on it when economically it would have been more beneficial to just let them go.

A wave of self loathing wrapped over Logan again when he pulled on the car door. Patton was genuinely a good person, a good friend. He was stupid at times and he made decisions that made Logan was to strangle him, but he cared so much more than other people. He offered fourth and fifth chances when Logan would have stone-walled his offender at one. 

Not to mention, he had come out in the rain to find Logan specifically, probably traversing through three other bars to find the one that Logan had chosen to be his misery echo chamber.

By some sort of lucky happenstance, Logan had originally walked far enough to hail a taxi  to get to this bar, leaving his car in the safety of the parking garage where Patton’s company paid a nice sum for security. Logan had tried to argue about that expense with him back in the day, but Patton had pulled out a picture of his toothy grinning son-- Janus-- and said “Lo!! What if my son comes to visit when he learns to drive?! I don’t want to worry about him getting attacked in the parking garage!” 

Logan had brutally pointed out that his son would never visit him during work, and so far he had been correct in that assessment, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bluntness even so much time later.

Patton had always looked for the best in people, had more strength than most of humanity, had more hope in happy endings that Logan had trust in fact and numbers.

“Is your son okay with me calling him Janus? I’m unsure of etiquette on this. Should I wait until he tells me his preference or should I just make the switch and not bring it up to him?” Logan asked with a sigh as Patton pulled out of the parking spot and set them towards Patton’s house on the other side of town. Unobstructed and following the driving laws, it would only take them about fifteen minutes, and yet Logan wondered about the possibility of Patton having Advil in the car.

The back of his head was already aching from the days events: banging his head on the keyboard all morning leading up to his disastrous lunch date, Remus, Virgil, squinting at spreadsheets until he couldn’t make out the numbers anymore, and the of course stumbling his way to the bar and dealing with Patton.

Patton giggled. “Oh yeah! I asked him earlier if it was okay to tell you. He said he wanted you to call him Janus now. He also said to tell you, you can take a hike.”

Knowing Janus, it was probably something more volatile than “taking a hike”. Most likely it had been something that might have required him to put a full five dollars in the swear jar that they kept on the counter next to the cookie jar. Not that it would matter much. Logan had stayed over at their house dozens of times and every single time he had come across Janus taking that money back out of that swear jar.

As far as Logan was aware, the swear jar had never actually been full. Patton must have noticed at some point-- probably that very first time Janus had taken the money back out-- but he was irritating insistent that he play dumb about it. Thus, Janus continued to swear in excess, Patton continued to make him put money in a swear jar for no real reason, and Logan continued to never understand either of them.

The radio in Patton’s car had been broken fifteen times since Patton had gotten it, but Logan assumed from the silence of the drive that it was now sixteen. He rested his elbow on the window and watched the drizzle turn into a steady rain and the windshield wipers flutter across their vision to occasionally bring them clarity.

The night life was somewhat dreary. The driving pace was slow, and they hit every single stop light in the city because that was just Logan’s luck. There were a few people running around in the rain: a family with a small child who was jumping in every slowly forming puddle on the sidewalk, a couple sharing an umbrella walking so close together they appeared as if to be one misshapen form, a group of friends chatting outside a 24 hour dinner in raincoats, and a few smokers huddled under an alcove with embers burning just enough for Logan to make out their forms through the downpour. 

Logan realized almost immediately that the pit in his stomach was much more bearable if he instead focused on the raindrops on the window that are much easier to look at, much less representing something that Logan had always expected he might one day have, much less accusatory in wondering what is wrong with him that he can’t act like a normal human being, this isn’t working, who wants to marry a robot like you--

That was the reason why he wasn’t expecting the sudden jerk of the car coming to a hard stop at a yellow light that they absolutely could have made. 

“PATTON!” Logan yelled.

The car behind them blared it’s horn and Logan rubbed his neck and reset his glasses from the sudden movement, ready to question what exactly Patton thought he was doing, because truly of all the things Logan was not in the mood for, this was one of them. 

Except that before Logan could get any words out, Patton had put the car in park and whipped off his seatbelt to kick open his door. A wave of rain came pouring into the car as the man threw himself from the driver's seat like there was something wrong with the car, and for a second Logan entertained the absurd idea that they were going to blow up.

Which truly, would have just been a fitting end to his horrific day.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, grabbing after the other’s coat to pull him back inside before the rain soaked into the seats. “Get back in th--”

The other man ignored him, frantically waving to someone in the rain. “REMUS!! MR. PRINCE!! OVER HERE!!”

If Logan knew slightly less about human biology he might have been inclined to say that his heart jumped straight to his throat and climbed its way up his esophagus to strangle him. He wouldn’t have recognized the figure on the street corner on his own: Remus Prince was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. He was soaked to the bone, without an umbrella, and his usual bouncy brown curls were matted to his head, as if he had been walking out in the rain for much longer than the rain had been sweeping through the city.

He was standing with the smokers under their minimal tarp, although he, himself, was without a cigarette at all. When he turned at the call of his name, there was only confusion and exhaustion in his face. None of the smugness, or the ego, or the energy that he usually had.

Logan didn’t know why that bothered him. He was hurting from earlier; that was good. 

After all, it was Remus’s ridiculous game that he had dragged everyone else into. 

((Logan’s finger itched and he dug his nails into his skin so deeply he was afraid to glance down in case there was blood pouring off hands.))

Remus ventured out to meet them, dodging across the lanes of traffic without a care in the world, or perhaps with a death wish. Remus didn’t seem particularly like he would mind getting run over by the way that he opened the back door, climbed in, and shook the excess water out in the interior of the car like some type of undomesticated dog. 

“Is this a kidnapping?” He asked, rain dripping down his face. “A murder? Do I get to know your name before you dismember me, cutie?”

Patton laughed joyfully, even as Logan felt his face screw up at the sound of Remus calling their boss “cutie”. It was beyond unprofessional, even if Remus was apparently unaware that his career hinged entirely on not insulting Patton. It took a lot to make Patton angry enough to fire someone-- his patience was the best and worst thing about him, as Logan had been reminded every time they interacted-- but once Remus crossed that line, not even a cockroach like him would be able to drag himself out of the metaphorical wasteland Patton would make out of his life.

Cutie, honestly. Who calls anyone they’ve just met cutie. Logan could understand Remus having called him Lovebug and Lolo, but cutie? 

For Patton?

Patton climbed back into the car, snapping on his seatbelt and managed to get out of park at the very same moment as the light turned green. He wiped his sleeve along his glasses, and brightly said, “I’m Patton! And you already know Logie here!”

“Logie?” Remus repeated, sitting back against the seat taking in Logan for the first time. “Oh shi--”

“Do not call me that,” Logan said. “Patton, you can drop me off at the next corner. I will walk home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Patton said, in the same tone that he had used during their college days to coax Logan into driving him to the nearest grocery store after he had successfully managed to pull two all nighters in a row. Logan hated that tone, and Patton knew that well.

“If you do not stop the car, I will throw myself from it while it is still moving.”

“I can get out, actually!” Remus said far too loud for the small car. Logan resisted the urge to turn around and scowl at him. Surely, his pea-sized brain had managed to figure out that he was the point of contention here and that his best move would be to shut up, so why had he decided to open his mouth? “I need to get home anyway. Big day tomorrow and everything.”

“Oh?” Patton said delightedly because Logan would not ever play into subject changes willingly. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m getting fired,” Remus said with a nonchalant shrug.

Patton blinked for a moment-- his squirrel-run brain jamming at the sudden twist of the words because whatever he was expecting from his visitor it was not that. Logan resisted the urge to reach over and give him a shake at the shoulders: of course he wouldn’t be able to expect anything with Remus Prince. The man was insufferable and illogical and he wrought chaos for fun. 

With everything that had happened, did Patton really think that there was an exaggeration in there?

Remus wanted attention. And he said whatever he needed to in order to get it: a fake affair, a fake divorce, a fake child-- Of course he would say he was getting fired tomorrow if it got Patton to have to use all of his meager brain cells to figure out how serious he was.

“Is that something to celebrate, Mr. Prince?” Logan cut in coldly. “Getting fired?”

“And here I thought that you would be happy, Ackroyd,” Remus said. “Unless you think you’re going to miss me.”

“If only I would be so lucky,” Logan said, digging his phone from his pocket, and turning it back on. The screen was blindingly bright and Logan’s eyes ached just glancing at it in the corner of his vision. “Patton, pull over. I am not doing this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever again.”

“I’m not going to let you walk home after however many rum and cokes you had, Logan.”

“Patton,” Logan snarled. “If you continue to treat me like you treat your son, I will tender my resignation tonight. Pull over now.”

Patton opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in Remus’s empty voice speaking. 

“You went drinking?”

“Do not talk to me, Mr. Prince.”

“You’re not even yelling.”

Logan wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, which may have irritated him more than the fact that he was so insistent about continuing to talk when Logan was liable to push the car to crash and kill all three of them. Remus was already staring at him, his expression dark and serious in the passing car lights and somehow Logan thought that he looked vulnerable. 

Logan gritted his teeth as his headache pulsed behind his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he said. “And put on your seat belt.”

“Or what? You’ll divorce me?” Remus pushed forward between the seats until he was just a few inches from Logan’s own face, grinning with all his teeth. It was at once the same smile that Logan had catalogued through every week of working with him and also something completely foreign.

Remus had pulled him into a kiss earlier that morning, and Logan remembered the taste of pickles on his lips just as well as the smirk he kept as Logan walked away. But this expression is somehow inverted, somehow shifted, somehow a weapon more than a challenge.

“Boys,” Patton said. “Please don’t fight in my car!”

“If you did not want us to fight, why did you invite him in this car?” Logan asked. “You, of all people, know my opinions on--”

“Logan, you’re drunk.”

“What does that have to do with this?!” Logan bit out. He glared at his phone: there were three missed calls from Patton and a handful of text messages from him that Logan couldn’t actually read in the combination of the bright phone light and darkness around them. His eyes were blurry even with his glasses on and the frustration of not being able to read only heightened as he made out the notification for his email which meant that Beatrice had managed to finish her work (allowing Logan to be able to go fix it) or that news of him yelling at a child made it around the office and now he was going to harassed by them as well.

All because of Remus Prince’s inability to shut up. 

 Patton threw a hand out and grabbed Logan’s phone from his hand and carelessly tossed it over both their shoulders to Remus.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, rubbing the irritated tears from his eyes. “Remus, give it back!”

Remus, however, was just staring at the phone in his lap like it was some type of bomb. Logan’s phone locked itself and the screen went dark, and still Remus sat inhumanely still in the seat, staring at it, with a type of blank expression that Logan oftentimes related to their coworkers when Logan asked them to perform any sort of math without a calculator.

“Remus,” Logan said again.

Remus jerked at the sound of his voice, snapping out of whatever fit the phone had put him in almost meekly-- if Logan could describe anything Remus did as meekly without it being a blatant falsehood. “Meekly” itself had never seemed to be a word in Remus’s vocabulary which was another irritating fact about him that made Logan break out in figurative hives.

Logan knew how Remus was.

He knew Remus.

It didn’t matter that he had never talked to Remus before today, that his thinly veiled contempt for his coworkers kept him from being willing to stand in their presence more than he was being paid to, that this fake affair was the first stupid relationship of any kind he had gotten outside of Patton and his son since his last boyfriend had dumped him on the night he was going to propose and hadn’t he thought he’d known him too? Isn’t that what led to all this? 

It didn’t matter. 

Logan was smarter, now. Logan was better now. Logan was--

“I don’t…” Remus said, trailing off as he stared at the messages popping up on Logan’s phone and Logan wondered why it felt like his lungs had shrunk right in his chest. “I don’t think you should be reading these right now.”

“He definitely should not!” Patton said, with a very convincing amount of forced happiness. “Hold that for him will you, Remus? Oh and why do you think you’re going to get fired tomorrow?”

Remus looked up at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Logan, like Logan was supposed to know what that meant in addition to every other stupid look he’d given Logan all evening. Logan shoved his glasses up to his hairline and rubbed his aching eyes, and yet somehow that still didn’t fix the pounding in his head or the exhaustion hollowing out his bones. It also didn’t make Remus disappear from the backseat, which was equally annoying, even though Logan hadn’t truly thought he was a shared apparition for him and Patton.

“You didn’t mention anything about today to your… what are you a fuck buddy?” Remus said.

And Patton laughed. 

Logan grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but of course the ridiculous safety locks were engaged, and Logan had spent far too many sober years getting locked in this car to try to puzzle out the broken locking system in order to drunkenly throw himself out of the car. He was not in the habit of wishing for miracles, or even believing in deities, but he imagined that some powerful entity was finding ruining Logan’s life to be semi enjoyable.

“See this is why I can’t fire him!” Patton said through giggles and Logan thought maybe he was being addressed for this. Patton met Remus’s gaze through the rearview mirror and shook the last bit of water from his damp hair. “You make everything so entertaining!”

“What?”

Logan grit his teeth and yanked on the door handle again. “Remus, meet Mr. Hart, the CEO and your boss. Also put on your seatbelt.”

Remus blinked at them both, leaning between the seats and definitely not putting on his seatbelt. Logan counted backward from ten, reminding himself that one of the hiring requirements for Patton’s company has always been must be the stupid beyond belief. He’d known for a while that his coworkers were idiots on a good day, hazards to his health on bad ones, and yet somehow in the whirlwind of the day he’s had, Logan had forgotten that Remus counted as a coworker still.

“I’m not… getting fired?” Remus said, acting much like a computer after being turned on. “Why do you know my name then?”

Patton shrugged, flicking on his blinker to change lanes before the next light. “You have interesting ideas for your advertising strategy! Of course I would know your name! I’m sorry about vetoing that last one. I know Logan liked it, but I wanted to stick to the family-as-a-whole angle.”

“Patton,” Logan warned with an edge.

“Logan liked…?” Remus echoed, before turning towards Logan with a look of bewilderment that annoyed Logan far more than it had any right to. “You actually look at my shit?”

“Put on your seatbelt, Remus,” he said, because wasn’t it obvious that Logan looked at his things? Before the whole Robot incident Logan hadn’t had a problem with Remus at all: he was effective and efficient and the rumors were irritating but below him to indulge in. Before Remus had dragged him figuratively kicking and screaming into this mess, Logan approved the budgets that came with the projects Remus created.

He still did that, just with more anger than before. Petty feelings for Remus himself aside, his work was objectively good. 

Logan knew that about him.

“So!” Patton said over both of them, with his signature grin that Logan suspected he would still be wearing even if Logan decided to kill him right now. It must be the by-product of being controlled by rodents running on a wheel. “How was your volunteer work Remus?”

Remus froze in the back seat, going unnaturally still again. “Are you some kind of stalker-- uh sir?”

“Will you knock that off?” Logan snapped, which only made Remus’s shoulders jump straight to his ears. “And put on your seatbelt.”

“Just curious!” Patton said, ignoring Logan entirely. “Darlene is a good friend of mine! I make sure to send monthly donations to the organization since I don’t have a lot of free time to jump over and help.”

Remus didn’t say anything to that. He swallowed audibly and leaned back against the seat, dragging fingers through his wet hair and then tucked his arms in his own armpits. Logan pressed a palm to his forehead watching the street lights bend from behind his eyelids because that was easier than staring at Remus act like Patton was trying to pull his teeth out.

“You actually do volunteer work?” Logan said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Ha,” Remus said without any inflection. Logan thought that was the quietest that he had ever been. Where was that stupid ass smirk? Where was the stubbornness that pushed back against everything? Where was that loud voice and that confidence?

“Put on your seatbelt,” Logan said again.

“Why do you care if I wear the belt or not?”

“Remus put on your seatbelt or, so help me Newton, I will climb back there and put it on for you, myself!”

The air simmered from the acid in his tone, making the silence figurative chafe against his ribs. Remus stared at him, blinking slowly, with the street lights casting roving shadows on his face. His dark eyes were just so-- so--

Logan dug his nails into his palm. Why was it Remus Prince could make him feel like this? What gave him the right?

“It’s okay!” Patton said, setting the car to park. “We’re here anyway!”

Logan reached up and pulled his glasses back onto his face properly, but it still took him a moment to realize that they were near a bunch of townhouses, double parked outside one that Logan had considered moving into all those years ago when he had first been looking for an apartment for after college.

Remus too, apparently needed a moment to recognize the area. “We… are at my apartment? Holy shit, you are a stalker.”

Patton giggled, flashing Remus with his blinding smile and reached back to pick up Logan’s phone from his hands. “Thank you so much, kiddo! We’ll wait until you get inside all safe and sound, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You will not,” Logan said. “Tomorrow you have a business deal two hours away to complete and if you miss it--”

Patton stretched back in his seat and let out a hugely exaggerated yawn. “But they’re so boring! Maybe I should bring Janus with me. He always makes my business deals entertaining. I love when he sets his snake on people. He looks so happy and he laughs and--”

Logan squeezed his eyes closed and recited the first twenty digits of pi in his head to keep from grabbing Patton’s squirrel run brain and slamming it into the steering wheel.

“Homicide is wrong,” Logan said.

“I’ll help you vouch for insanity,” Remus said. “I mean, tied together through a murder, and possibly hiding a body is much more juicy than a fake marriage that’s falling apart. We’d be the talk of the office.”

“They would not find any body that I hid,” Logan said. “Nobody would.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something more, but whatever it is he decided against it. Instead he slid over the seats and kicked open the door right behind Logan and stepped out into the night air.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hart, sir,” he said, strangely formal, then squinted and added, “Daddy?” 

“I’m not firing you, Remus,” Patton said. “No matter what you call me!”

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth counting each and every one. Remus looked at him but ultimately finally adhered to that whole shutting up thing. He closed the door to Patton’s blue punch buggy and started towards the door to the apartments.

“Oh,” Remus said, and turned back at the last second. He knocked his knuckles on Logan’s window a few inches from where Logan’s gaze fixed itself on a light. Patton apparently knew more about what to do than Logan because he pressed the window lowering button and Remus reached his entire arm into the window to drop a small object right into Logan’s lap.

Logan caught it mainly due to reaction rather than skill and his skin tingled at the familiar item. Even in the dark, Logan’s fingers roll over the shape of the ring that had always reminded him of the worst day of his life. It was still warm from being in Remus’s pocket.

“I think that should stay with you,” Remus said, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “You know… for the next boytoy you take to your sex dungeon or whatever nerds like you do on weekends.”

And then he turned around and fled towards the apartment building. Patton turned off the hazard lights and slipped back into traffic and Logan wondered if he would be polite enough to not comment if Logan started crying right then and there.

His throat felt swollen, his tongue too big for his mouth, and the headache thrummmmmmed painfully. 

Logan knew Remus Prince.

“You know that Remus Prince isn’t gonna be like him,” Patton said to fill the silence.

“Remus Prince isn’t like anyone.” Logan didn’t whine. To whine would be unbecoming. And childish. And embarrassing.

So Logan didn’t whine and Patton mercifully didn't call him out on his not-whining.

And neither of them mention the choked tone that Logan had for the rest of the night.

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up with him clutching that ring like a lifeline, but as he ran his fingers around the rim, he wondered if it had fit on Remus’s finger at all.

(Part Five)

[lovelylogans]

spring cleaning

there’s a pack rat in the family. who it is will not surprise you.

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, alcohol mentions, general messiness, jokes about hoarding

pairings: patton/virgil, offscreen logan/roman

word count: 2,412

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic as i beta and finish off the next chapter of debutante. this is based off the gilmore girls season three episode twelve “lorelai out of water” cold open. takes place the spring after the main storyline, after alliance but before debutante.

⁂

virgil’s phone buzzes at 10:13 am on a sunny spring sunday. he pauses just after he drops off the brunch plates for mrs. torres, babette, and east side tilly, digging around in his back pocket to squint at his recent texts.

logan sanders: Please help.

any other time, this kind of text would probably send anxiety flooding his veins like ice water. as he’s been warned, sure, he’s a little anxious that he’s misreading the situation, but he shakes that aside and snorts.

“called it,” he mutters under his breath, before he wipes his hands on his apron and types out christ, you’re folding easy this year. is that a new record?

a brief pause. then, No, the record was twenty-four minutes. To be fair, that took place when I was ten years old, we were moving into the house, and you were already going to be involved, so I perhaps I should propose that does not count against my spring cleaning record.

ah, that’s right. god, helping patton move had kind of been a nightmare. helping anyone move is a bit of a nightmare, but with patton there’s a whole new layer of shenanigans.

Another buzz. Also, I need this to be hastened along. I have a Socratic seminar in English tomorrow, and though we have settled on a tentative truce I refuse to let Dee achieve the highest grade in the class.

he shoots back i’ll be there asap.

“jean,” he calls to the counter, but jean, having been warned as well, waves him off.

“i got it, at least he waited till the we hit the between-masses lull.”

“you’re the best,” he says, hanging up his apron and ignoring mrs. torres’ hoots about his arms—he's like ninety percent sure she’s spiking her own orange juice so she can have a screwdriver with her pancakes but he hasn’t caught her with a flask in hand yet—and heads out the door.

the citizens of sideshire are fully soaking in the pleasure of a sunny spring day—it’s one of those days, where the weather’s warming up slowly, but there’s sure to be more cold snaps before they fully settle into spring, so lots of people are taking advantage of it. families are sprawled with picnic blankets in the grassy town square. the “long-haired freak” (taylor’s nickname, not his. virgil’s pretty sure his name is dave, but also, he’s not totally sure his name is dave, and as such usually avoids any complications by saying “hey, man,” whenever virgil sees him) is out hawking fruits and vegetables from his garden. lots of people are out on walks, some with earbuds or headphones on, some calling out jolly greetings to other people taking advantage of a blue sky and temperatures that are soaring above freezing.

“hey, virgil.”

“hey, felix,” virgil says, craning his neck to catch sight of—well, he guesses felix and riley are technically his tenants? but that always feels weird to say—his neighboring business owners. felix is busy making sure a promotional poster’s taped to the window. “how’re things?”

“ah, y’know, y’know,” felix says, waving their hands around. “weather’s warming up, so we’re getting into busy season. guess people want to be able to flaunt new ink in the warmer weather, y’know?”

“hey, speaking of—” virgil says.

“oh, yeah,” felix says, scratching at the half of their head that was once shaved bald but is now growing in stubbly. “you wanna have riley do one this time? they can draw up some sketches for you, if you want. or i can, if you want, but it might be a minute ‘cause i’m all hands on deck for this massive full-back piece.”

“nah, riley’ll be cool, it’s been a minute since they’ve done one for me,” virgil says. “i’ll drop by later with some reference photos, ideas and stuff.”

“i’ll make sure they’re refreshed on what your style is before the consultation,” felix says. “appreciate the business.”

“appreciate you and your spouse taking over this empty shop so taylor didn’t get a chance to,” virgil returns, as he usually does whenever felix or their riley thanks him for something. he’s really awkward about accepting gratitude, he’s working on that with emile and patton.

“god, could you imagine taylor next door,” felix says with a theatric shudder. “bad enough he runs half the town.”

“i’ll call tomorrow to make the appointment?”

felix flashes him a thumbs up, and virgil raises a hand in farewell as he continues on his way.

he ends up pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he walks to the sanders’ house, occasionally saying hey to other residents of sideshire, or tilting his face up to the sun. 

this winter’s been brutal, even worse than it usually is for the northeast, with absurd amounts of blizzards and ice. on the days where it wasn’t shoveling ridiculous amounts of snow on the whole town, the sky had been gray and overcast, and what little sun there was could barely stream weakly through the clouds. 

but now, the sun sinks softly into his exposed skin, warming him without overheating him thanks to the breeze, carrying the sweet scent of tentatively blooming flowers planted by particularly audacious gardeners.

it is a perfect, lovely spring day. 

by the time he gets to the cheerful yellow clapboard house, he’s taken enough deep, calming breaths to ensure that he is a calming presence. he ascends the stairs of the wraparound porch—oh, huh, looks like patton or logan’s making an attempt at being a gardener, that looks like mountain mint—and knocks lightly on the front door.

“please come in,” logan shouts, sounding exasperated, and virgil obligingly pushes the door open.

he toes off his shoes, even as he overhears patton’s voice, cajoling.

“hug-a-world! c’mon, you’ve gotta remember your hug-a-world!”

hug-a-world, virgil mouths to himself, before it comes back to him in sudden, vivid technicolor and he rounds the corner.

and, sure enough, surrounded by the detritus of the sanders home, patton and logan sit in a hastily-cleared space in the middle of their living room, patton holding a stuffed ball tight to his chest.

“of course i remember the hug-a-world,” logan says, still with that tone of exasperation, but lessened now at the sight of a beloved childhood toy. 

“you can’t make me throw away your hug-a-world,” patton declares viciously, which would almost be believably threatening if he were not clutching a stuffed ball made to look like a globe to his chest, and if his curly hair was not sticking up in a configuration that virgil thinks of as chaotically unruly, and if he were not wearing a pink-and-blue sweater he usually busts out around easter, and if someone did not know patton as a person. “you learned all seven of your continents on hug-a-world!”

see, without fail, almost every year patton gets suckered into the whole concept of the spring clean. and, without fail, logan or virgil will try to point out that he does this every year, and patton insists no, really, this time for sure he’ll get rid of some of the clutter around this house, it’s about time!, and then he gets sidetracked getting attached to objects he finds that he suddenly cannot bear to get rid of, despite the fact that said objects have typically been buried away in a dark closet all the rest of the year.

which means that logan and virgil sit with him and try to point that out, and patton wavers, before he decides to keep or donate or trash it, and it seems like it’s going okay, until the next thing he touches turns out to be another thing that he suddenly cannot bear to give up.

it’s gotten a little better since that time they introduced the marie kondo method, but also, that much worse, because of course he insists that everything sparks joy! 

but this is way more mess than usual. there are cardboard boxes and piles of clothes and bits and bobs that are in piles that come up to his ribs. virgil squints it at it suspiciously.

“attic,” logan says wearily, in explanation. “he got boxes out of the attic.”

oh, shit, the attic. god, that thing is stuffed to the brim with boxes, no wonder the living room looks like someone upended the odds-and-ends drawer for a giant into the house.

“but—c’mon,” patton says, in that same sweetly coaxing tone that usually makes them all throw up their hands and leave the rest of this spring cleaning mess for next year’s spring clean. he holds out the hug-a-world to logan. “hold it. marie says so.”

“marie does not realize that she has a special case with my hoarder of a father and therefore should customize the approach of sparks joy, because you have too wide a definition,” logan says, but he reaches out and takes the hug-a-world with both hands anyways.

virgil examines logan holding it, thinking suddenly of a much tinier logan with a gap in his front teeth holding the same toy in the same way, though the fabric had been much more vibrant shades of blue and green then. there had been a solid stretch of time that the hug-a-world had been the toy that logan had hugged falling asleep, back in the poolhouse. he’d taken the hug-a-world to the diner and to school and all around the inn and to the princes’ apartment and back again.

a side of logan’s mouth twitches up, and then, as if suddenly conscious of it, he forces the corners of his mouth to turn down as he stares at it.

“remember?” patton repeats, staring at logan and the hug-a-world fondly. “we used to take turns to squeeze it as tight as we could and then wherever our pinkies would end up, that’s where we were going to go together when you grew up.”

“yes,” logan says, and then loses the fight against his mouth, because it twitches up into a smile again. “many a trip to uzbekistan was planned that way.”

“look!” patton says, pointing and tilting his head. “that’s canada, then, where’d your other one get you?”

logan moves his other pinky in order to squint at the faded fabric. “i believe that’s cambodia. possibly vietnam, i was rather splitting the border.” 

“why not both?” patton says pragmatically, or as pragmatically as he can sound planning a potential trip based off hugging a ball. 

logan hesitates, holding the ball.

“look,” patton says. “hey, how about virgil helps clean it up, and the hug-a-world can live in your room?”

logan chews at the inside of his lip.

“if it sparks joy,” patton sing-songs.

logan heaves a sigh.

“the hug-a-world will live in my room, then,” he says, before looking to virgil. “we’ve started a pile for you right here,” and pats a pile of what mostly looks like clothes that can be either repaired, repurposed, or sneakily donated.

virgil takes a breath, and says, “i’ll crack open a window and put on some music, then. patton, you take your allergy medicine today?”

patton tilts his head to think about it.

“that’s a no,” virgil says. “i’ll grab it on the way. water, snacks? we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“are we?” logan says doubtfully, twisting to look at him.

“we are finishing spring clean this year!” patton insists. “i mean it this time!”

logan arches his eyebrows at virgil, and virgil mouths play along, and logan sighs before he turns back to the pile, pulling out an old jacket at random.

“i have never seen you wear this. it should be donated.”

“that was from raf, we can’t just toss it!” patton cries out in dismay, and virgil heads for the kitchen.

he fills up three glasses of water, chops up some celery and apples, fills up three mini ramekins with peanut butter, and sets it all on a tray, along with the round white pill that patton takes for his allergies. 

he plugs in his phone and scrolls to a roman-made playlist, lowering the volume so that they’ll be able to hear each other, and proceeds to make his meandering way around the piles of Stuff as best he can without knocking anything over.

on his way, he moves to crack open the windows of the living room, allowing the floral-scented air to waft into the messy room, to hear the chirping of the birds under patton and logan’s debating.

he pushes aside a pile of old books on the coffee table and sets the tray down, mostly ignored as logan manages to triumph and tosses the jacket into a box labeled DONATE.

virgil settles down next to his pile, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce, and gosh all of the clutter of patton and logan’s lives looms over them like a mountain at this angle. 

“okay,” virgil says encouragingly. “good, that’s good! raf’s old jacket will probably make some other teenager very happy to have it.”

patton sighs, staring after the jacket. “yeah, i guess.”

“this is good,” virgil says stubbornly, before tugging at a piece of fabric sticking out at random and unearthing a blanket.

“oh, i was wondering where that got off to!” patton says, delighted. 

“i thought that got lost in the moving shuffle,” virgil agrees, because the last time he saw this he was pretty sure it was tossed over the back of their rented apartment couch.

“so this blanket has not been washed in at least six years,” logan says.

“well, that can be fixed!” patton points out. “i say keep.”

“we’re never going to finish,” logan groans.

“of course we’re gonna finish!” patton says.

“yeah, logan,” virgil says unconvincingly. “listen to your dad.” 

patton beams at him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek; logan rolls his eyes, before he turns his attention to the blanket.

“so, you claim keep for your room,” logan says. “you already have so many blankets.”

“well, we can always use more blankets!” patton points out. “worse comes to worse, we’ll put it in the linen closet.”

logan tilts his head, before he sighs, and places it in a pile of other fabrics that they seem to have decided to keep.

“all right, fine,” he says, then fishes out another piece of fabric. “next item—”

“look how fast we settled that!” patton says brightly.

“pretty fast,” virgil agrees dutifully.

“we’ll totally finish spring clean this year,” patton says confidently.

(they do not finish spring clean this year.)

[slowlyreadinghouseofmirth]

Page 7

In truth, he had never liked her as well as at that moment -> Selden's affections here are plain to see, made so especially by subordinate clause 'in truth' which conveys an honesty and freshness about his feelings. Most importantly, he likes her when she is being her true self, unconventional, and willing to take risk. It's likely informed by his disillusion with high society and finding commonality in someone willing to disregard its etiquette. This is where Lily is unique.

There's also this sense that Selden likes Lily because she is impulsive and this sparks his curiosity to try and understand why she does the things she does-- understand Lily as a person.

He knew she had accepted without afterthought: -> This reaffirms Lily's lack of hesitancy, which alludes to how willing she is to be in Selden's company. It also shows how comfortable she is with him as she is aware of the rumours that could occur but never merits them with being a possibility, showing great trust.

Alternatively, being aware of the risks and having not afterthoughts could suggest that she doesn't fully understand the risks' depth and nuance as in future the situation at Monte Carlo would suggest, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

he could never be a factor in her calculations -> there's a colon that separates this clause from the previous one which suggests this is an explanation for Lily's certainty. To me this would point more towards Lily not really associating the risk of rumours with Selden because she trusts him so much. i.e she does not think of him when she thinks of the risks. But given that they are going up to his apartment it seems strange that Selden would not think himself a factor in her decision. It's therefore possible that he thinks that Lily does not think of him worthy of great consideration.

Also the noun 'calculations' would suggest a lot of thought had gone into the decision where it was previously implied it was one of impulse. This seems like Selden thinks that Lily is playing an intricate game, which further demonstrates his curiosity about her and need to understand her.

there was a surprise, a refreshment almost, in the spontenaity of her consent -> This further contrasts Selden's perception of Lily's 'calculations' and I think the narration is a fine weave between objective reality--where Lily is impulsive-- and Selden's subjective perceptions-- where Lily appears impulsive but there is something more complex informing her decisions. I think this is meant to show that Selden is blinded somewhat by his affections for Lily, seeing things deeper than what are there or what everybody else sees. Alternatively, we as the reader lack Selden's sight into the complexities of Lily and so she is introduced to us as other people see her, which isn't well at all, and we have to learn how Selden sees her. It's a challenge to care for Lily as he does.

The spontaneity invokes a light hearted and refreshing feeling of being in love which mirrors the honest of truth mentioned earlier.

So there's Selden's surprise at Lily being so spontaneous which draws back to a previous point about she is unique for being impulsive almost reckless. It's like we get a sense of her character and her environment from how the two are at odds with each other. Lily is impulsive; noone else of her class should be like that. In a way that makes her free from the system and yet shows her struggle against it but ultimately her struggle will be more defining.

She noticed the letters and notes heaped on the table -> I assume that this is a reference to future letters although I don't know if they would be the same ones. If they were, I don't even have the mental capacity to unpack that. Just the thought that Lily's fall is inevitable, that even when she is happy, having a nice time, an unknown omen lurks within the same room that will bring her sorrow... oh its symbolic, for sure. But I don't want to think about it.

Lily sank into one of the shabby leather chairs -> the verb 'sank' shows how at home Lily really is with this kind of surroundings, how the shabby whilst not fashionable or expensive, is comfortable. From this we and the the pile of letters we get an image of a a slightly disorderly but well-lived in home. This is one of the tragedies where we see the possibility of what her future with Selden could look like where it is unconventional but Lily is comfortable at home even with it.

"How delicious to have a place like this all to oneself! What a miserable thing it is to be a woman," -> I love Lily's exaggerated turns of phrases like 'delicious' and the exclamations; I think Wharton's emphasis on these exaggerations is to capture Lily's innocence through her speech by making it similar to that of a child who is easily excitable.

Again with the exaggeration but this time with 'miserable', we get the sense that Lily has found the world difficult as a woman to live in but miserable seems too strong of a word, certainly at this stage in the book and is sort of hidden within her other hyperbolised expressions. Maybe this creates a kind of cry-wolf situation where, when Lily properly starts to struggle, people don't take notice not only because it wasn't the done thing to do to talk about struggles but also because of her melodramatic personality, everyone thought the same stuff was happening as it had before and Lily was making a big fuss over nothing.

There is repetition of 'miserable' in association to being of female sex further down the page which is another example of Lily's melodrama. But at this point we as a modern audience start to question if she is actually alright (or at least I did). I'm not sure if a contempary audience if the time would have given the strict taboo over discussing any kind of struggle financial/physical health etc. let alone the discussion of mental health. From the impression I get of the time, the only real source of outlet for people struggling with mental health beyond self medication was art, which makes me wonder as to the position Wharton is writing this from.

she leaned back in a luxury of discontent -> The juxtaposition of 'luxury' and 'discontent' raises an important theme that wealth does not equate happiness and that Lily is not happy as a socialite but happy in the company of Selden, and that actually money is the source of Lily's unhappiness. In this specific context, she is lamenting her lack of freedom to live the lifestyle that Selden does.

"Even women," he said "Have been know to enjoy the privaledges of a flat." -> Putting the discourse marker directly after the subject of 'women' breaks it apart from the rest of the sentence and emphasises the extraordinariness of women being able to live independently. But it also raises the possibility of it and suggests that Selden thinks Lily is extraordinary and unconventional enough to achieve the possibility if she chose to.

"Oh governesses– or widows. But not girls– not poor, miserable, marriageable girls!" -> Again we have the breakdown of womanhood into distinct classes like governess, widows, and girls,which creates the idea that there's no intersections between any of them and is a reflection of of societies fixation for categorisation which loses sight the complexity of situations and problems. And it also makes it easier to place social stigmas like those on governesses and widows. Those stigmas are made apparent here but in contrast to how Lily describes girls, being a governess or a widow seems desirable.

In the list of adjectives 'poor, miserable, marriageable', marriageable is equated to these other adjectives and we see that Lily associates marriage with a poverty of kind, of the heart.

It's also interesting that Lily talks about herself as a girl where Selden speaks of her as a woman. Lily plays up her innocence as she has probably been taught to to make desirable marital match, but with that Lily carries around an air of immaturity and naïvity; she's still very child-like. Perhaps that's a part of her that's trying to cling to her youth so she doesn't have to face her future where she will need to marry to survive. Lily sees her adulthood as a constraint on her and her desires whereas Selden sees her potential.

"you mean Gerty Farish," she smiled a little unkindly. "But I said marriageable–" -> Okay so definitely a little tone deaf on Lily's part buts she's honest to a fault and her honesty is refreshing and entertaining.

I'm no expect on autism and don't claim to be but there's something about Lily's mannerisms here that reminds me of people who I know and am very close with who are autistic. And it makes me wonder if Lily was autistic and neurodivergence was recognised in her time if her fate would have been any different.

"Her cook does the washing and her food tastes if soup. I should hate that you know." -> I just love the imagery of the first sentence, it strikes my funnybone. I guess it also illustrates that Lily's privileged upbringing if she thinks this is a bad situation to live in.

Okay I'm going to bring in a bit of a technical term to describe the verb 'should'. So it's a modal verb (expressing possibility based on context) but specifically a deontic modal verbal, meaning that Lily's hate depends on social rules. When she says she should hate it it implies that society wants her to hate it but she wouldn't necessarily hate it. That's what that verb phrase implies in today's english, but language has changed since the time it was written so it may not have been written with this meaning, especially as a signifier of an older text is the use of modal verbs in places we wouldn't today and a lot more of them.

The shift from Selden's reflections to the quick dialogue and short simple sentences of action creates a lively and charged atmosphere that feels almost flirtatious in its rhythm but by the nature of the content is more domestic (preparing afternoon tea). The balanced turn taking feels comfortable in that they both have equal power in the conversation, being allowed to say what they want to and being listened to. It goes towards simulating what a possible future could be and also shows how happy they are in this moment.

[notalwaysthevillian]

My Whirlpool of a Life

Ships: Kaminari/OC

Word Count: ~2.k

I will not be doing a tag list for this fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 4: Study Group

The rest of my first day was boring compared to working on our special moves. English had never been my strong suit. There were just too many words. Math was a struggle, but at least I somewhat understood what was going on. When it came to Modern Literature, it turned out I’d already read most of the books on the syllabus.

Foundational Hero Studies was at least a little interesting. We ended up talking about my parents, by pure coincidence. All Might had no idea that I was their child until the end of class, when Midoriya whispered it to him.

He’d started apologizing profusely, but I’d stopped him.

“It’s fine. A lot of people tend not to talk about them around me, but you praised them so much for doing what they could. It was nice, hearing something so good about them.”

School was finally over, and most of us were heading back to the dorms.

Mina skipped up to my side, linking with my left arm. “So? How was your first day?”

“Kind of boring, to be honest.” I admitted, hearing her laugh. “Minus working on our special moves of course. That was super neat, even though I didn’t get quite as much time.”

“Yeah, I saw you were sparring with Aizawa!”

Kirishima stopped and turned around. “You did so good! He’s really fast, and you nailed him.”

My face flushed. “I didn’t mean to leave a welt though.”

“It means you did a good job.” Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Just accept the compliment. Keep improving and maybe I’ll let you fight me.”

I tilted my head. “Wouldn’t the water just nullify your explosions?”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

Iida cleared his throat as Kirishima held Bakugo back. “While it wouldn’t nullify the explosions, it would significantly reduce them. Perhaps if you could create ice like Todoroki, you could freeze over his gauntlets.”

“If you remember, I beat IcyHot the last time.”

Kaminari appeared on my other side, grabbing my hand. “Bakugo, lay off her.”

He growled, but walked off with Kirishima. “Whatever, extras.”

“How does his quirk even work?” I said out loud.

Midoriya immediately launched into a detailed explanation of his quirk. It seemed like he had the most notes on Bakugo, which I thought was interesting.

“How do you know so much?”

“Oh, we were friends when we were kids.” He half-hid behind his notebook. “I’ve been studying his quirk for years.”

“I’ll definitely be coming to you if I need any information about anyone.”

Uraraka showed up out of nowhere, stealing Deku away. She was a little flustered as she talked, all but confirming the crush she had on him.

Speaking of crushes, Kaminari linked his fingers through mine. “Wanna help me study?”

“God, I think I need help studying.” I thought back to Math class. “Literature is my best subject. The others…not so much.”

“Momo does a study group if you need help!” Mina flashed me a smile. “She’s really helped us improve our grades. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you joined us, as long as you don’t distract Kaminari too much.”

“Hey!”

“Your grades will only get worse if you ogle at your girlfriend when you’re trying to study.”

I batted my eyelashes at Kaminari, laughing as his face went pink. “I can’t help being irresistible.”

“How are you two this cute already? No fair.” It looked like Hagakure had caught up, and was crossing her arms. “I want a relationship like that.”

“You just gotta have that spark.” Flicking his fingers out, Kaminari sent a shower of sparks out. 

Hagakure shrieked. “Careful!”

“Oh, relax. That’s hardly enough wattage for you to feel anything but a little tingle.” He ran a hand through his hair, the static making it stick up slightly. “I have wayyyy more than that running through me on a good day.”

I blinked. “Is that even safe?”

“I can handle it, Dew Drop, no need to worry about me.”

“Dew Drop? That’s too cute!”

We climbed the steps of the dorms, heading back inside. It was refreshing to be back in the cool air. The heat wasn’t helping me regain any energy I had expended in training.

“Catch you in a bit.” Kaminari kissed my knuckles and walked off, leaving me blushing.

Momo walked up to me before I could make a break for my room. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you might want to join our study group?”

“If that’s okay.”

“The more the merrier!” Her smile lit up her whole face. “Do you like tea? I usually make some for everyone. Oh, and we usually meet about a half hour after class ends, so everyone can relax, but so they don’t forget what we learned completely.”

“I’m not too picky about my tea, so whatever you choose is going to be great, I’m sure.” I hoisted my bag up a little higher on my shoulder. “And I’ll meet you here in half an hour then? Or…”

“Oh, at the table.” She gestured to the other room. “It helps keep everyone focused. Though I suppose I’ll have to keep you and Kaminari apart. Or maybe not, you might be able to motivate him.”

“We can try a few ways, see what works?”

“Absolutely. I’ll see you soon!”

I headed up to my room, glad to get a few tranquil moments to myself. The fountain bubbled away as I meditated. Once I was in a more calm mindset, I put away the stuff I didn’t need help with, before heading down to join the others.

“Oh, am I late?”

Everyone was already sitting in what I could only assume was their specific seats.

Momo leapt to her feet. “Oh I asked them to come a bit early! I was trying to figure out the best place to put you.”

“We decided here!” Mina pulled out a chair next to her, and across from Kaminari. “Near the people you’re the most comfortable with so far.”

“Thanks guys!” I took my seat, grabbing my books out of my bag. “I want to get to know everyone eventually. But for right now…”

“We get it! There’s a lot of us.” Sero gave me a smile. “Your quirk is amazing, by the way. You’d probably knock me flat in seconds.”

“Oh, thanks!” I could feel the heat in my cheeks. “I’m still working on control, but for the most part I know what I’m doing.”

“It looked like you had control to me!” Momo tilted her head.

“For now, yeah.”

I didn’t want to talk about my lack of control, which Momo must have realized. She clapped her hands together and got us started.

We worked individually and only asked a question when we got stuck. Anyone who was good at the subject we were on would jump in and help.

This led to me finishing my homework fairly quickly.

“Oh! I’m done.”

“Can you help me out with some of the Foundational Hero Studies work?” Sero looked about ready to throw his paper across the room. “Um, if you can. It’s about your parents.”

“I can try.”

“So it says they were trying to hold off this Muscular guy.” Sero pointed to a picture of said villain.

“That question, right.” I’d just finished that one. “Should they have called again for backup or held him off?”

“Why didn’t they call for backup? They were outgunned in every way.”

The pipes above me rattled as I felt my control start to slip. I sucked in a deep breath. Sero wasn’t insulting them, he was just asking a question. “There were still civilians in the way. Kids. If they had split to call for backup, there was a chance the civilians would’ve gotten hurt. Or potentially killed.”

Sero reviewed the footage again. I looked away. “By the storefront.”

“Oh!” He finally spotted them. The glare from the screen moved and I looked back to see he’d turned it away from me. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I waved a hand, accidentally sending water flying down the table. “Shit.”

There were cries of surprise until I waved my hand again, putting it back into the glass. “I’m just gonna -”

“Please stay?” The look in Kaminari’s eyes absolutely made me melt. I nodded, moving over to the empty chair next to him. He linked our fingers together, putting our joined hands on the table.

“So Momo, I’m stuck on this math question.” He changed the subject, squeezing my hand slightly.

The study session continued. I put my other arm on the table, laying on it so I could look at everyone. Mina made a face at me, making me giggle. I stuck my tongue out as retaliation.

After a while, I must’ve fallen asleep, because I woke up to gentle zaps as Kaminari poked my cheek. “Psst, Dew Drop. Dinner’s ready.”

“What if I just sleep instead?”

“Nope, come on, you gotta eat.”

He tugged on my arm until I stood up, frowning at him. “I was comfy.”

“We can snuggle on the couch when you’re done eating.”

“Fineeeee.”

Kaminari smiled at me, pulling me towards the kitchen. “You’re adorable when you’re sleepy.”

He made me sit at the table, grabbing me a bowl of stew, before sliding it in front of me. “Please eat.”

I dug in, not realizing how hungry I was until the delicious smell hit my nose. Before long I’d powered through my bowl.

“Is there more?”

“You’re the first girl I’ve seen eat like that.” Kaminari said as I got up to grab seconds.

I filled up my bowl before sitting across from him, gently sliding my foot against his. “Get used to it.”

Redness spread across his face as I played footsie with him under the table. “Uh, ye-yeah. I’ve got a lot of new stuff to get used to, huh?”

“I do too though.” I pointed out, eating slower now. “We’re in this together.”

“For better or worse.”

“Isn’t that when you get married?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sent me a wink, making me blush. “It’s only a matter of time.”

[mariinara]

GET USED TO IT. (Harry Flynn x Reader) FLUFF

A/N: This was super fun to write. One of my favorite characters to write is Harry because he's all clever quips and charming grins, but I enjoyed writing this soft side of the English arsehole. 🥰

Request for: The lovely @missdictatorme . Enjoy it, darling ♡

Prompts: FLUFF (19): "I can't sleep. Can I stay here?"

Warnings: Just really soft Harry 🥺

Word count: 2,919

Not too long ago, you'd somehow gotten tangled up in some warmonger nonsense that you had no business being involved in. You always knew that mingling with the wrong crowd might bring loads of trouble to your door, but – unfortunately – the "wrong crowd" was made up of Chloe Frazer and Harry Flynn. 

Chloe was your closest friend, but no one could be close enough to find out about your immense crush on the flirtatious Englishman– Harry Flynn. 

No one could know. Especially Chloe. You didn't know what on earth was going on between both of them, but by the looks of it, they were most definitely sleeping together. 

Maybe they thought that you didn't know, but you were the observant kind that let things slide just because she thought it was none of her business. But that didn't mean that it didn't irk the living hell out of you. It bothered you to an extreme whenever you caught them sharing a laugh, with his arm draped around her neck, his lips so close to her ear that she'd bite down on her lip to suppress the giggle that threatened to spill out because of how his stubble tickled her skin.

But, you'd sigh and look the other way, as always.

It wasn't like Harry didn't flirt with you. It was always like this with you two. Back and forth, just as clever and just as witty. But it was Harry– he did that with almost every single woman in his life. You were his closest friend as well and he trusted you when he'd open up about his emotions or tell you about something that upset him. His doubts, insecurities, and such. But, for some reason, on this job, he seemed quite distant.

And for some stupid reason, you didn't want to be like any other girl in his life. You wanted to be the girl. His girl. But heartbreakers like him are more suitable to be eye-candy and maybe a one-night-stand, but that was it.

It didn't mean that you weren't head over heels for the British con-man, but you had a pretty good grip and you appreciated the way you've always looked at things with practicality. You thought that you'd definitely be drowning in your tears and self-pity if you'd somehow concocted imaginary expectations for your relationship with him in your head, only to be disappointed by the harsh smack of reality:

Harry Flynn is unattainable. 

That was the only thought that popped up in your mind when you saw him slip into his bedroom in the apartment you, him, and Chloe shared. There were three rooms but Harry would go to Chloe's when he's 'stressed' to relieve some of his 'tension', and your room was always your room. 

You were hired for this job by Zoran since you had an incredible talent when it came to deciphering ancient texts and codes. Because of that, being Lazarevic's favorite came naturally. You were like the star of the class and Zoran trusted you most with almost everything. You'd get exclusive looks at journals, maps, and his plans before anyone else in the team and, thus, it gave the impression to everyone that you were perhaps in a relationship with the war criminal, or at least were under his protection.

No one dared mess with you because of that rumour that you – of course – had no idea about. It was something that one of the men started and it spread around the troops and the research team like wildfire, but it never reached you or Zoran, for that matter.

With a small sigh, you closed the door of your bedroom behind you and plopped down on the bed, resting your head back and bringing the laptop on your lap, starting it to get some work done. 

Just when the windows icon disappeared, you heard your cell phone ringing and, without looking at the ID, you picked up, putting the device on speaker.

"Yes?" You responded, tapping away your password for the home screen to appear.

"Hey, there, love." Came Chloe's voice, making you smile a tad.

"Hi, Clo." You said, clicking on your email inbox icon to check if there was anything new forwarded to you from the research team, "I take it you found the scripts."

"Yeah, but, uh– it'll take a while to get to you."

Your eyes rolled and closed, your hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Chloe, I don't have a while." 

"The script is scattered across the city; it'll take time until I find the other pieces–"

"Chloe– if–" You inhaled deeply to calm yourself, "Zoran gave us a week tops and he won't be happy if I don't come up with a solution to the cipher by tomorrow night–"

"It won't take you time– just trust me on this."

"The man is as unpredictable as it is; I can't take the chance and fuck up my position, Frazer. This shit takes time to decode– I'm not a computer, for fuck's sake." You spoke quickly, the irritation apparent in your voice. 

"Alright, alright.. Don't get your panties in a twist; I got it." You heard shuffling on her end, "It'll be there by tomorrow morning, sourpuss."

You sighed heavily, "Thanks." 

"Yep."

You hung up first and discarded the phone on your bed carelessly and refreshed your mail again, just in case, but nothing was sent to you. You shut the laptop and put it on your nightstand and almost sunk under the covers before a knock sounded at your bedroom door. 

Your eyes flickered over there and you blinked twice. The only people in the apartment were you and Harry, since Chloe was out on excavation with the troop and the research team. 

With that realization, you quickly sat up and ran a hand through your hair to make it look a bit more presentable and patted your cheeks and pinched them to make them look more rosy, licked your lips, then cleared your throat,

"Come in." You chirped, trying to dial it down with your excitement. Maybe it was work-related and not at all what your mind tried to make up.

Your door creaked open and there he was, in black pyjama pants and a matching black top that had rolled up sleeves and a V-neck that was deep enough to show a pendant that framed his perfect neck and collar bones. 

"Hey, darling." He started, shutting the door behind him. Your eyes flickered up to look at him with a tight smile, "You uhh.. You have a minute?" He asked as he approached the edge of your bed and you felt compelled to scoot over for him to sit. His nervous tone didn't slip past you and his little neck-rubbing brought an amused little smile to your face.

"Sure." You replied, watching as he sat down next to your legs. He looked down at his hands and you tilted your head at him, "It'd be nice having you talk to me again."

When you said that, he looked up at you with a frown, "I'm the one not talking to you?" He asked, almost sounding offended, which made you frown in confusion.

"Yeah..?" You replied, unsure. Your eyes narrowed at him, "You haven't been the same ever since we started this job."

He gave you a dry chuckle and shook his head, "Have you gone bloody mad?" He asked, incredulous, "You want me to talk to you when you're all snuggled up to Zoran? No, thanks, love, I quite prefer it when my dick is attached to my body."

He sounded frustrated. Beyond belief. And you didn't understand why someone who's sleeping with another woman had any right to be that pent up about..

“Wait--what?!” You almost screeched, sitting up so suddenly that Harry flinched, “Snuggling up to--” You cringed, “Lazarevic?!” 

The British man paused, studying your body language and reaction before frowning deeply, “It’s not true..?”

With a loud, frustrated growl, you slumped back onto the bed, laying down with your hands on your face to slowly rub your exhausted eyes, “You are insufferable..” You muttered, removing your hands from your face, only to cross your arms and stare at the ceiling, “And you didn’t think once to ask me about the matter? You just assumed?” You questioned, incredibly irritated with him.

“Hey, now..” He started, “I never assumed anything; Everyone was talking about how close you two are.” He defended himself, turning his body so his legs were crossed over the bed.

“Okay-- Harry, since when were you a conformer? The Harry I know would've barged into my bedroom, flirted his way in, and confronted me about it.." You argued, but your voice grew softer at your next words, "Besides, you can't expect me to flirt with you or talk to you, either; You're.. with Chloe." You paused a little, "And it's like a.. girl code."

"Wait– Slow down, love." He chuckled, "I'm not with Chloe."

"Cut the crap, Flynn." You hurled a pillow at him, which he caught with ease and placed on his lap, bracing his elbows atop of it, "You're sleeping with her."

"Well, sure, but that doesn't mean we're together, you stupid wanker." He teased you, throwing the pillow back at you, "Now, you could've asked me about that, but you were too busy drowning in your own jealousy."

You sat up again to face him, your brows furrowed, "Jealousy?!" You snorted and rolled your eyes, "Gimme a break, Flynn; I already told you: It's a girl code." You gave him a wry smile, trying your best to conceal the shameful pink color that tainted your cheeks.

His lips curled up into an amused smirk, "She was just a diversion for me, dummy." He replied, his fingers coming up to brush your hair out of your eyes, which made your smile drop and your breath hitch in your throat and, at that very moment, you couldn't stop glancing at his lips and biting on your own, which he took notice of.

"Diversion?" You asked, your voice almost above a whisper since he was inching a bit closer to you, his steamy breaths shattering against your lips and his cologne filling your nose more clearly.

He hummed, "I had a stick so far up my arse because of you and Zoran that I needed a distraction and Chloe did just that." 

You frowned and drew your head away from him, "You used Chloe? To get over me?"

"Relax, Susan B. Anthony; it was a mutual agreement. She knew what was going on with me and offered herself." He shrugged, "I figured why not."

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at his words, "You like me that much?" You asked, a sweet, warm smile playing onto your lips and it was the most infectious, beautiful sight he's ever seen that it made him smile brightly.

"Don't flatter yourself, love; I'm a certified asshole who says those things to a woman to get her all nice and warm for me, yeah?" 

If you hadn't known him, you would've socked him straight on the jaw for that, but you knew he was a joker and his humor was a tad offensive and albeit often sexist, but you accepted it within reason. It was how it was. The back and forth, playful bickering.

"Right, of course, you asshole." You scrunched your nose playfully and he chuckled at your response before leaning closer again, his lips finally brushing against yours ever so softly. Your eyes fluttered to a close and you softly but firmly pressed your lips against his with a soft sigh and he eagerly shared your passion, his hand cupping the side of your neck so he could tilt his head and deepen it. 

It felt like an eternity, just having your lips dancing against each other in such heated harmony. When you pulled away slowly, the sound of the kiss breaking snapping you out of your trance. You inhaled sharply through your nose and pursed your lips, blinking repeatedly and slowly, as if your eyelids were heavy. 

"That was nice.." He whispered against your lips. You could feel them moving against yours, "Bet you Zoran isn't that good of a kisser." He teased you.

You pulled away to glare at him, "Don't push it." Your voice was stern but you couldn't help the smile on your face.

"Alright, doll." He kissed your cheek and stood up from your bed, "Good talk." He sent you a shit-eating grin when he noticed your frustrated pout, "Sweet dreams, eh? All about me, please." He winked over his shoulder, swinging the door open and strutting out of there in utter confidence and closing it behind him, leaving you there, on your bed. You glared at the closed door, knowing that he was doing this to only tease you.

But, no, you weren't going to roll with his game.

You sat back, resting your back against the headboard and crossing your arms, your leg shaking in nervousness and your eyes glued to the wall in front of you. 

'I should try to sleep..' You thought, reaching for the lamp on your nightstand and flicking it off before sinking under the covers, sighing and staring at the ceiling. You didn't know what it was about the kiss, but every time you recalled the feeling of his lips prying yours open for a deep kiss, a smile creeped onto your face and your fingers went up to touch your lips. 

'God, you're an asshole, Harry Flynn..' You thought, your face turning into a frown of dismay. Mostly at yourself. 

"God dammit." You pushed the cover off of your body and swung your legs over the bed, quickly making your way to your door, your hand reaching for the knob and when you had it in your hand, you turned it and swung the door open and you found your legs carrying you across the hall until you reached his room, "Needy bitch.." You muttered to yourself before knocking on his door and, as if he was just waiting for you, the door opened immediately and he gave you an amused smirk.

"Can I help you with something?" He asked you, his voice low and his tone teasing, his arms crossed over his chest as you pouted up at him.

"I can't sleep." You confessed, as agitated you were about the matter.

"And? Do I look like a bloody pacifier?" He prodded, raising a brow, that infuriatingly charming smirk still on his face.

You groaned, looking down at your feet and closing your eyes to calm yourself. You then met his eyes and huffed, "Can I stay here?" You asked, throwing your hands up in frustration. 

"Hmm, let me check.." He looked over his shoulder, pretending to check if there was anyone there, "There seems to be no vacancy–" He was interrupted when you smacked his arm, which caused him to laugh and rub his aching spot, stepping out of the way for you.

You glared up at him as you walked inside and you heard the door shut softly as you stared at his bed. It looked so much more comfy than yours that you were tempted to just jump on there and drift off. 

"Make yourself comfortable." He told you, watching as you sat on the edge and bounced up and down a little, smiling at how soft the mattress was before you laid down, your head sinking into the pillow like it was a cloud. His scent instantly filled your nostrils once that happened and you inadvertently let out a soft moan and closed your eyes, "Woah, girly. Not that comfortable." He teased, making you snort to hide your embarrassment. You felt the bed dip next to you and you looked over at him as he reached to flick off the lamp before laying down next to you with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. 

You stared at his side profile with big, glimmering eyes as the blue moonlight spilled from his window, outlining and highlighting the peaks of his high cheekbones. Suddenly, he turned his head towards you to look at you, but you didn't turn your head away, allowing yourself to be trapped in his intense gaze that brought a satisfied smile to your lips.

He turned to lay on his side and let his arm drape around your waist, "Hey, you know what..?" He started, his voice low and his eyes never leaving yours.

"What?" You whispered, turning on your side without ripping your gaze from his, scooting closer to him so your foreheads touched.

Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, nodding to himself, "I could get used to this."

You smiled brightly, giggling like a teenage girl. He grinned and pulled you closer against him, hooking one leg around yours, holding you like a prized possession, before he pressed a soft kiss against your lips. It was affectionate and nothing like the one you shared in your bedroom. It was a tender one, speaking on behalf of your untold feelings. It sparked so many warm feelings within both of you that were so overwhelming that you two had to pull away and take a deep breath.

You found yourself smiling and nestling your head against his chest, right under his chin, curling into him and letting him hold you, "Me too, Flynn." You closed your eyes, finally feeling the fatigue roll over you, "Me too.."

_________________

[cathyparrlyn]

We’re all just mirror shards

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Hey everyone! It’s No One here, or perhaps you now know (if you have read a certain lovely, beautiful, baby tief’s post) that my name is Maddy. It’s great to finally post this next part, first update of 2020! Woo!....

Yeah, I know, it’s been a while. I’m sorry for that, but not only am I working on future chapters and a special writing project (some of you might have already heard about it, oops-), but like, school. Ugh. But don’t worry, I have plenty of content to give you guys, so I shouldn’t fall too behind with my updating schedule!

I want to shoutout two people today. First off, one of my writing friends, @justonemoretheatrekid who is super sweet and has helped me with my bi panic, so thanks friendo! I enjoyed chatting with you! :3

I also want to give a special thanks to another one of my writing friends, @toomanyfamdom for not only helping me edit this sucker (legit the only reason I was able to post today. Bless her soul for putting up with my comma crazy piece.), but also for being the sweetest and best baby in the world. She makes me a proud mama. :3 love you baby! And thank you for not joining in on the “(censored name) for the pole” chant. I know how much you like to troll me tho, so I guess will see what happens next time. Lol. <3

Also, good news and bad news! 

Good news! This chapter has the “read more” option! Bad News! It cost me all the pretty and colorful fonts. ;-; Also, it won’t let me edit my draft from my iPad now as I did the function on the computer. So like... I can’t fix it. :(

So now I have a dilemma. Which should I use, the read more function or the colorful and pretty fonts? Please reply down below if you have a preference. Anyways, enough with my long ass author note!

Without further interruption, the chapter! Woo!

Word count: about 2,212 words.

Warnings: Cursing, bullying. (Also, Anne being a useless lesbian gremlin and Cathy being a bi disaster. OWO UWU)

Enjoy~

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Part 11

Annie Boleyn

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…………………………………......Recap………………………………………

“Sorry about that, I’m just so fucking tired of bullshit,” Anne muttered, snapping Cathy out of her thoughts.

"Huh?"

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Cathy was a dumbass. She had to be. How else could she have fucked up so badly with her words? They were her thing! But with Anne, all she could muster up to say was ‘huh?’ Huh! Ugh, she just can’t with herself right now.

What’s worse, this is serious. Anne looks like she needs someone to talk to, Cathy can be that person, but not if she’s a disaster.

Parr wants to be there for Anne. She craves to develop their relationship, for them to get closer. To be able to share inside jokes and small smiles with each other. To have long conversations and calling each other late at night just to rant because they know the other will listen. For the comfort of knowing that she does, in fact, matter to Anne.

Right now she felt farther away from her goal than ever. Looking up, she saw an indescribable look on Anne’s face, the only thing she could note was the fear in Boleyn’s eyes as she held herself. An uneasy feeling washed over Anne as she realized she might have said too much around Cathy. She was nervous. Cathy couldn’t believe it. Anne was scared of her own opinion, and that worried Parr. Boleyn was speechless, not knowing how to respond. It was painful to see this side of her. Yet Cathy couldn’t help but stare. This new side drew her in, and Parr couldn’t stop herself from questioning more and more about who Anne really was. And what could have possibly happened to the Boleyn girl to make her feel so mortified that she couldn’t even express her own feelings.

Now Cathy was scared. She couldn’t just stand there and wait Anne recover on her own. No, Catherine wants to help her, she needs to help Anne.

So with a deep breath, Cathy had made her decision to keep moving forward with the conversation. She refused to make Anne start things, this time she’ll make the first move. For Anne’s sake.

“Hey, are you alright? I’m here for you if you want to talk about it.”

“No, no. It’s stupid, just, please. Forget about it.”

Cathy felt as if she was stabbed in the heart after hearing that statement. Anne was amazing, smart, talented, and said some of the most interesting things Cathy has ever heard. And here she is now, saying that her feelings are stupid.

Cathy doesn’t know who made her feel like this, but they are going to pay for it. Yet, that is for another time, right now Cathy has to focus on comforting the Boleyn girl.

“Hey Anne, we’re friends right?”

“Well, yeah, I would like to think so.” Anne tentatively mumbled. She expressed a blatant insecurity that Parr would reject the idea. But why?

Parr wanted to further analyze this side of Anne and try to figure out what might have happened to her, but she couldn’t. Not right now, when Anne needed a friend. No, especially now since Anne needed a friend, someone to be there for her, to reassure her things were okay. That is what Parr needed to be right now. Her friend.

Cathy smiled, bumping their shoulders together. Hence, grabbing Anne’s attention as Parr stared at her with a look that Anne wasn’t used to seeing: patience and love. With a gentle squeeze reminding Anne of their connected hands, Cathy let the Boleyn girl bask in the show of affection. Anne deserves to enjoy this moment, to feel comfortable with her own thoughts. What’s more, she deserves to have someone to listen to her. Cathy can very well be that person. All Catherine had to do was prove that she would and could be there for her. So she spoke up, determined to help Anne no matter what it takes.

“Then there you go. Your opinion matters to me, Anne. As your friend, I don’t think this is stupid. Not one bit. So please, don’t feel afraid to talk to me. You have a wonderful voice, and I truly think it should be shared with the world.”

Cathy observed as Anne stared at her in shock. A blush formed on Parr’s cheeks as she noticed a sudden change in the Boleyn girl. Tension had quickly left Anne’s face and was now replaced by a small, soft, genuine, and breathtaking smile. Really, Cathy could go on about the beauty of Anne’s smile, but she was rather focused on something else. It was way more important than her feelings. Gratitude, that’s what Anne’s expression conveyed instead of the fearful look she wore mere seconds ago. Anne gently squeezed Cathy’s hand back, returning the affection as she pulled Cathy in so they could be in closer proximity. The action cause both girls heart to race as they were lost in the moment, staring at each other in a comfortable, knowing silence. Both were thinking the same thing.

She does see me.

Finally after taking a few deep breaths, Anne was the first one to break the silence.

“Thank you, that… that really means a lot Cathy.”

“Of course Anne. Do you, um... Do you want to talk about it?” Cathy gingerly asked.

Anne looked down as she contemplated what to do. After a few seconds of thinking it over, she slowly nodded her head.

“Alright, I’m here to listen whenever you ready.” Parr, acknowledging that she was looking down, squeezed Anne’s hand again. Cathy hopes it would reassure Boleyn that Parr planned on being there for her. Seeing that Anne had mustered up the courage to look up at Catherine and start her explanation, Cathy thinks it’s safe to say that it worked.

"Ok, so, our generation is stupid, right?” Anne started off.

“100% agree, continue please.”

“It’s just, no one cares about others' stories. Make believe or real, every story matters. Yet we cast them aside and hold an egocentric viewpoint that mentally and physically tears others down. And I’m so fucking sick of it!”

“Of the kids in the halls?” Cathy hesitantly asked.

“Of basically everyone! They all piss me off! Like, no one even understands why I read, the majority of those people don’t even think I can read! I’m nearly eighteen, for Christ's sake! How would I be in an advanced English class if I couldn’t read?”

“I don’t know, kids are stupid.”

“I know, but… you’re the first person to understand this and believe me…”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Anna won't shut up about how I can't do math, Kitty doesn't like poetry and always whines about me speaking ‘gibberish’ when I rant about it, and the rest of the school thinks I text shit like, 'dat waz fun' smiley face, winky face, kissy cat." Anne rolled her eyes. "It's just..." she pursed her lips, then looked at Cathy and gave her a small smile. "It hurts after a while, y’know. So it's extremely refreshing to finally talk to someone who appreciates writing."

"I totally get that." Cathy nodded.

"Really?" Anne stared at her as if she had two heads.

"Yeah... actually, at my last school, I was teased for reading so much," Cathy elaborated honestly. She doesn't know why, but she felt a need to tell Anne this. It was as if that Boleyn girl elicited a strong desire for Parr to talk about herself. She wanted to know all about Anne, and for Anne to know all about her.

Even if it was about her embarrassing loser past. It's not like she can escape it, only accept it and move forward.

"What the hell is wrong with this generation? That's stupid!" Anne groaned.

Well, at least Anne agreed with her about the matter.

"They called me novel nerd," Cathy bluntly stated.

"... Fucking Alliteration." Anne said after muttering what Cathy assumed was French swear words. She then pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah." Cathy bitterly laughed.

"Want me to fight them for you?" Anne offered, holding her fist up and pretending to punch the air to show she was being serious.

"No, but thanks... it's just like you said earlier, it's nice just to be comfortable enough to talk about these things with someone and know that they respect it." Cathy smiled at her.

Anne lifted Catherine's hand up a bit and gently stroked it.

"Cath, I got you." The gentle action caused Cathy to blush. Anne then looked up with a spark of mischief. "Let's run away to live in a library."

Cathy couldn't help but let out an unlady-like snort. A bit embarrassing, yes. But luckily for Catherine, Anne adored it. She couldn't stop herself from adoring it even if she tried.

"Sounds like heaven." Parr grinned, finally managing to calm her laughter.

They both stared at each other for a few seconds in silence, but after those few seconds of silence, they burst into a laughing fit.

Catherine then looked up at Anne. Something caught her attention about her suggestion. The way she referred to something, or rather, herself.

"Cath, Huh?" She raised an eyebrow, looking Anne over in a teasing manner.

It's time for some playful payback.

She noticed how Anne flinched, and for a quick second, looked embarrassed, but it quickly washed away and was replaced by her usual confident expression.

"Oh, yeah. I just think it's cute and, um, it suits you. Is it alright if I call you that?" Anne asked.

Cathy couldn't stop the dorky smile that was spread across her face. Just hearing Anne give her a nickname just like how she had given one to Katherine, warmed Cathy up inside. She was growing closer to Anne each second and her interest for the girl continued to grow.

"Sure, but only if I get to call you nicknames too!" She agreed.

"Go for it, you got two slots."

Catherine pondered for a second. What should she call her?

Catherine couldn't help but giggle at the first thought to come to mind.

"Okay, first one has to be gremlin."

Anne's smile dropped and her eyebrows furrowed.

"You know what Cath? Fuck you." She huffed, a small pout was plastered on her face. Ergo, causing Cathy to burst into a giggling fit.

After a few seconds of giggling and admiring Anne's pouty face, Cathy managed to calm down.

"Okay, um... Next is.... hm."

It took Cathy a few seconds as she looked Anne up and down. She didn't actually need to check the girl out, she just wanted an excuse too.

The action, however, had caused Anne to blush.

Then it hit Cathy. Her lips quirked up at the idea for what to call the Boleyn girl. Sure, it was simple, but so was Cathy. So it’s fine. No, Parr will do one better.

It was perfect.

"Annie," Catherine said, squeezing Anne's hand and beaming at her with a warm smile.

Anne's happy expression fell after hearing that. Cathy noticed the change in expression.

"Um, is everything alright?" She asked.

"H-huh? Oh, um, yeah. It's swell." Anne nervously looked away.

Cathy stared at her worried, but Anne refused to show any sign of pain. Instead, she just gave Cathy a fake smile and avoided eye contact.

There it is again. The change in expression, the change in tone, the change in the atmosphere around her. All of these changes thickened the air and added to the mystery of Anne Boleyn.

Who was she?

Just a second ago, she was all bubbly. But with just a single name, she instantly became a timid sheep. She wore nervous, wide eyes that were surveilling the surroundings as if she was watching out for a predator, fearing for her life. However, the only other person there was Cathy.

She did that. She did this to Anne Boleyn. She doesn't know how, nor why, but she did it. An god, did it feel awful.

Cathy could only do what she thought was right at the time, to check on the girl.

With a gentle squeeze initiated by Cathy, Anne's eyes slowly looked up. Her breathing was a little heavy and her face was a calm, serious. Cathy's anxiety grew with each lurid second passing. Finally, after making it all the way up the excruciating trail, Anne's eyes met Cathy's.

For a brief second Cathy swore she saw the corner of Anne's eyes filling up with tears, and her skin was slightly paler than usual.

But it disappeared in seconds as she hastily swapped her expressions, as if she was trying to hide something. She... she was trying to hide herself.

Anne had put back on her mask, yet it was too late.

Her perfect image had already broke in front of Cathy, not that she planned on telling Anne that.

So with a heavy sigh, Cathy acknowledge that she needed to do something.

"Anne I-"

"Stop it. There's no need for that." Anne interrupted her in a cold tone, yet she still had a "smile" plastered on her face.

"Huh?" Cathy looked at her confused.

"Really Cath, I'm fine." She muttered loud enough for Cathy to hear her.

Cathy knew that wasn't the case. It most certainly wasn't the case at all. Cathy wanted to convey to Anne that she knew this, and that she wanted to help her. She wanted to stop right there, tell Anne it's okay not to be okay, perhaps even give her a hug.

But she didn't know Anne. They weren't close. Anne said it herself, they just met recently. And although Cathy was connecting with her, Anne might not be as into it. She doesn't know. Boleyn is still a mystery to her, one she has yet to uncover.

So how could she break through Anne's mask? She didn't have the right because she doesn't know her. At least, she doesn't know her yet.

"Okay. If you say so...." she reluctantly dropped the subject.

Mark Cathy's words, she'll read Anne's backstory one day. Cathy might cry, she might laugh, hell, she might not know what to think. But she knows that she'll be there for Anne when the time comes.

Until that day comes, this is all she could do for now.

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Tag list: @sarahzarahh @annabanana2401 @lesbabe6 @aveasorae @qnneboleyn @whenallthestarscollide @its-totes-gods-will @canadianharrypotter @epitomeofchaoss @obliviousasheck @heeleys4feeleys @liliocelotepremium @six-is-awesome @thatbolxyngirl @toomanyfamdom @the-queen-bee-is-here @a-slightly-cracked-egg @thatonedisaster-gay @aywdaimie @thegaywhokindalikesmusicals @everything-insanity @babeebobo @one-time-i-jumped-off-a-cliff @wicked-books-101 @33o9 @agustjnk @i-really-dont-use-this-anymore Please reply if you wish to join the tag list or if your username changes so I can update the list :D

[mor-beck-more-problems]

White Crest 101 || Morgan & Margot

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: UMWC

PARTIES: @g0t-ri5h & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Margot gets a crash course in class from her new professor, and what it means to be a transplant White Crestian

The class had started several minutes ago and Margot had just barely rolled out of bed. She changed quickly into a pair of pants, not bothering to change the sweatshirt that she had slept in. There was no time. Margot had a habit of being late, a trait she had inherited from her mother. While her mother thought it was a fashionable faux pas, Margot was simply disorganised. By the time she busted through the back entrance of the room, the professor was halfway through her lecture. The nearest free chair was close to the front, one that would attract a great amount of unwanted attention. Margot trudged down to it, annoying a handful of students that had to stand to let her past. She sat down, listened to the remainder of the lesson, not following any of it. An advisor had called her over the weekend, told her that she didn’t have enough credits for the semester. To her chagrin, this class was one of the few that still had availability. English, a subject she had always struggled to comprehend, starting later would only make it more difficult. The lecture came to an end and Margot began to pack her things. “She’s a great teacher when she’s actually here.” One student said to another. Margot listened intently. “My roommate was telling me she was gone for like a month last semester. No explanation, just poof.” The other gossiped back. The two of them left, and Margot was just about to follow them out when she heard her name be called.

“Do your reflection responses! Do the reading! Make good choices! Remember you have agency in your life!” Morgan shouted her end of class reminders in one breath, waving goodbye to each of them as the filed out. Most waved back with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. They made faces, because they were still young and had too much pride, but no one was above a little personal attention or affirmation. “Ooh, not you, straggler! Yes, you, Margot!” She smiled smugly, waving the roster in front of her. It wasn’t magic powers that gave her the student’s name, just some really attentive refreshing of the faculty center page. “You know…” She eyed the girl and gave a wry smile, “If you only stay for half the class, you’re only getting half your money’s worth. Also, technically, no participation credit. Which is an extra bummer, since it’s the easiest thing to get. But since you’re new, I guess I can let the first day slide. You got some free time, Margot? I’d love to know what brought you to my class this late in the game while we go over make-up work?”

Margot let out a quiet and frustrated sigh. She was so looking forward to going back to her bed. Instead she turned to face the professor. “I’m sorry I was late. I overslept.” Margot knew this was not an adequate excuse by any means, but she had no patience or energy to think of something more creative or reasonable. Margot began to walk towards the lectern in the front of the room, towards Morgan. “It was a great lecture though, the parts I was here for. Very, uh, informative.” She offered this as a consolation. Margot glanced at her watch, as if she had someplace else to be. “Yes, I suppose I can stay for a bit.” She took off her backpack and sat it on the floor where she stood. Margot imagined this could take a while. “I thought I had enough credits for the semester, but apparently I didn’t. Yours was one of the only classes I could join so late. Is there much to catch up on?” Margot dreaded to think of all the homework she had missed, it would only add to the growing stack of overdue work on her desk.

Morgan let out a long-suffering sigh. Of course she had only come here for the credit. She had maybe even heard that it was an easy class to pass, which...wasn’t wrong either. Morgan didn’t think that being a hardass with grades was the way to students’ hearts, or to teaching them anything effective. She tossed Margot a syllabus and gathered the rest of her materials, leading her out of the room and off to the long series of halls and stairs it would take to get to her office. “No, there won’t be too much work. Just the introductory assignment, so I know some useful things about you. And you’ll have to grab the books and catch up on the book we’re finishing up next week. But, it’s really not much. I’m not interested in competing with your other courses for ‘Most Demanding Homework.’ I’m here to help you figure out how to think differently and express yourself more effectively. But--” She paused on the stairs to look over at the girl. ���Maybe you have some questions for me? I’m not sure how long you’ve been at the school, but I know it can be a lot sometimes no matter what.”

Morgan’s sigh sounded nearly as pained as her own. If Margot was more empathetic, she may have even apologised for being so flippant and insulting the woman’s career. But, alas, she was not so perceptive. Margot caught the syllabus between her palms and began flipping through the first few pages as she followed Morgan out of the room. As she spoke, Margot made a mental note to source an online copy of this week’s reading material. It would be cheaper that way. “Introductory assignment?” Margot hoped it would be a simple questionnaire; name, age, perhaps favourite pets name. Hopefully it wouldn’t ask her about her lifelong hopes and dreams. She would most definitely fail. “I transferred in this year, so I’m still becoming acquainted with everything here.” Margot explained, “I do have one question, since you asked. Your absences,” Margot prefaced before continuing, “I overheard some students say you disappeared without warning last semester. I was just wondering, will attendance still be required if that occurs again?” Her question was admittedly influenced most by laziness and her wish to stay in bed as late as possible. But, Margot was also just curious, and rather nosey. It was probably an inappropriate question, but it was too late to rescind it.

“Oh, just a short reflection on how you feel about reading and writing about stories and what you want to learn this semester. Learning doesn’t happen by accident, and being clear with yourself on what your intentions are can go a long way to getting the most out of the semester!” Morgan explained. She jogged up the next flight of stairs and turned on the landing, bright with encouragement. She nodded along as she walked, commenting that asking questions were how everyone learned. And then Margot asked. Morgan’s foot slipped on the next set of stairs and she stumbled down to one knee. “Uh, my--a-atendance?” She understood that her students flourished better with consistency and she knew that even though none of last semester’s students had the nerve to ask her what had happened or express how it had made them feel, she knew they had their opinions on it. What Morgan did not know was that Margot was the kind of student to cut to the chase, no matter how sharp she needed to be. She straightened herself up and smiled again, scrambling to recover. “Uh, well, it is possible that I may cancel class for unforeseen reasons, in which case there won’t be any reason to take attendance, but if there is class, then there will be someone to teach you, even if for some reason it isn’t me. And if there is someone to teach you, then they will be taking attendance and passing on the roster to me.” Her voice was growing tighter, breathier. She was forgetting to breathe. Morgan hissed through her teeth for breath and forced herself to meet Margot’s eyes. “Is there something else that you wanted to ask me about my absences, Margot?”

Margot’s hand reached out to grab Morgan’s elbow as she stumbled. “Oh, shit!” Margot cursed under her breath. She had clearly taken her professor by surprise. But, as quickly as Morgan’s pleasant smile had faltered, it was back in it’s rightful place. “Very well.” Margot responded to the thorough explanation, “I only ask because my course load is already so full. My programming classes are very time consuming, and I just want to ensure I can keep my schedule intact.” A lie, Margot thrived in disorganisation. Her ‘unplanned routine’, she liked to think. “I’m glad to know that the class would be unaffected in such an event.” Margot smiled in a disingenuous, thin line, hoping to settle the sharpness of Morgan’s breath. She was being her most polite self now, the facade she reserved only for her mother and father. It seemed she had distressed the teacher, Margot wondered why. To her it was such a straightforward question. “No, your absences, and reasons for them are entirely your personal business.” For now anyways. Margot’s mind was already in front of her computer, researching. Her question had tugged at a nerve. Margot liked to know what made people tick, their darkest secrets and how best to exploit them to her advantage. “Did you still want to go over the make-up work?” They were still frozen on the staircase, and Margot wondered whether Morgan would still be willing to help her cause despite the hostility in her tone and posture.

Maybe all the mushroom stress was getting to Morgan too much. She’d been so sure a second ago that this girl was trying to get under her skin, needling about her ‘personal emergency’ last year. But Margot stayed on that line of courtesy, and Morgan wondered whether she made other people feel this way when she asked about their kids or their losses or their dates. Maybe people with their sanity just barely intact didn’t like surprise personal questions. Who knew? Morgan tried to smile again, better this time. “Thank you. I uh, appreciate that. And, yes, of course. I want you to succeed. There’s copies of all the handouts on the class website, since I know half of you guys live your life on your computer.” She climbed up the rest of the way and started down the dimly lit hall, ignoring its off-center doors and the soft give of the floor that was just too much on the wrong side of uncanny to bear contemplating for long. “I know I can’t promise a lot for you, Margot, especially in a place like White Crest, but I can say I’ll try my best for you.”

Margot was glad that she had somewhat diffused the situation, having Morgan dislike her would only make passing this class harder. Once more, they were on route to her office. Margot detested this university, most of all it’s appearance, it was as if it had never had a renovation or even been repainted. She visibly cringed as they continued on their path. She had never been in such a lacklustre environment before, having been born and bred in quiet luxury. She hadn’t acknowledged the privilege while she had it, but since leaving MIT, it’s all she could think about. What she had lost. What had been taken from her. “I appreciate the help. I need it.” It seemed that Morgan was one of the more passionate professors at UMWC, most would not give a student this much assistance. “I’m trying my best to fit in here. It’s just,” Margot paused, considering her words, “such a strange place.” Strange didn’t even scratch the surface. “Have you always lived here? In White Crest?”

Morgan’s office was all the way at the end of the hall, through a communal office supply room stocked with paper the wrong size for the printer and coffee that was perpetually burnt. Morgan’s office was through a sticky door off the corner, one desk in five crammed together. Today, only Karl and Kirk were nursing whiskeys in coffee mugs since Kyle (or his body rather) still hadn’t been found. “Sorry, boys. Official business. Come back in fifteen minutes?” Her voice was bittersweet, sharpening an invisible knife under its surface. Karl and Kirk put their mugs down so fast, whiskey spilled over the sides. They folded their laptops under their arms and shuffled away. Kirk clumsily dropped a mint tea bag on her desk before mumbling an apology and shutting the door behind him.

Morgan turned to her student, smile tight with awkwardness. “Don’t mind the Medieval Bros. They’re mostly harmless. Now, anyways. And I’m a transplant from Texas. Strange is probably...the gentlest word for how things are here. Which, just some unofficial wisdom? Don’t be out after dark alone, especially on the full moon. Stay away from the cosplay bars, the crowds there are more dangerous than they look. Don’t go off trail if you’re a hiker, ever. And keep some bleach on hand in case your bathroom starts sprouting blood, eyeballs, or fish.”

Margot restrained her laughter as the two bumbling men were ushered out of the room. She knew the smell of whiskey well enough to know that wasn’t coffee seeping from their pores. Normally such unprofessionalism would surprise her, but this was the new normal. “Yum, mint tea.” Margot picked the bag up, twirled it between her fingers a few times before dropping it into one of the mugs. She had a sly smile on her face, the result of witnessing something she probably shouldn’t have.

“Texas, wow. I never would have guessed. You don’t even have the signature accent.” Margot made herself comfortable, taking a seat in one of the desk chairs that had become vacant by Karl and Kirk. At Morgan’s advice, Margot’s mouth opened, then closed, not knowing how to respond. She didn’t know what to make of all of these random warnings; skeledogs, mimes, now full moons and the dark. “Why does everyone keep telling me to be careful?” Her eyes narrowed. “I know how to take care of myself.”

Morgan reached into her desk and took out some things from her cache of school supplies, the paper handouts, a journal to be graded, the first assignment, and a spare copy of the first book. “Oh, that,” she said, laughing at the teabag. “They’re just trying to...well, make up for their existence. I think they’re really coming along when it comes to respecting women, though they should probably figure out how to do it without being induced by fear.” She handed Margot the stack of assignments. “Maybe at your old school that was true, but things are different here in ways they don’t tell you in the brochures. So, take these, follow the instructions carefully, and have them in by next week, and I’ll waive the rest of what you’ve missed. And, seriously, be careful. Don’t die!”

[namluve]

chapter 2: the misunderstanding

paring: taehyung x reader

genre: collage AU, fuckboy!taehyung, student!reader

warnings: drinking, dirty talk, mentions of porn, grinding on the dancefloor 

word count: 5.0k

summary: oh how a single night can change your entire life. drunken on wine you spill the tea on how none of your previous ex’s could satisfy your needs in bed. taehyung being your very experianced friend offers you a tempting offer you can’t seem to get of your mind. the question that remains is, will you let him?

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As Monday came around you had almost forgot about the weekend’s events. Keyword, almost. You and Lea walked together to campus, living only ten minutes away was quite the luxury. Many times had the two of you had friends staying over at your apartment because they did not want to wake up early for class. Those extra hours of sleep mattered and every single guest that had stayed over at yours knew that. 

The second you saw Taehuyng you stopped in your tracks, Lea stopping as well and looking at you confused. Following your gaze, she sees you looking at Taehuyng as he talks with Jungkook. They are laughing, smiling, probably joking about something. Smiling she nudges you, getting your attention.

“Daydreaming about lover boy I see” She teases you and you give her a look that would kill if looks could.

“Stop it, he has probably forgotten about it now. Besides… I don’t think I’m his type”

“Not his type? You literally said the other day that he said, and I quote ‘I want to fuck you’” You put your hand over your roommate’s mouth.

“Shh! What if someone hears you!” Giggling and satisfied with teasing you Lea linked arms with you and the two of you began to walk to your class.

Waking up the next day on Tuesday morning you were reminded of the English class you were going to share with Taehyung today. Last night you had spent the evening finishing last week’s assignment, a short analysis on the book you felt depicted a love you wanted to experience or have. Pride and Prejudice was the book you had chosen, partly because you loved it and partly because it would be fairly easy to write an analysis on it. If you ever lost motivation or got stuck, you could easily google others depiction and analysis of the book to gain inspiration and depth to your assignment. 

Satisfied with your essay you packed down your computer and the books you needed today to go to class. Walking in the early spring sun had you fild with new energy, the refreshing air, the animals and plants waking up and greeting you with colour and song. The ten-minute walk did not seem like enough today for you to enjoy the weather. 

You sat down at your favourite spot in the classroom, almost front row and far to the left. Taking out your notebook you reviewed last weeks notes, wondering what todays lessons would be about. Soon enough you heard laughter fill the classroom and you knew the rest of the class was starting to drop in.

“Good morning class!” Looking up from your notebook you greeted your teacher Mrs. Johnson with a nod and smile. Looking over your notes once more you felt a presence beside you. Looking up to your side you saw Taehuyng standing with his backpack over his back, hands nervously gesturing towards the empty chair beside you.

“Mind if I sit here?” His voice was soft, much more tender then last time he spoke to you. You nodded and he smiled as he took his backpack of his back. Usually Taehyung would sit with Jungkook, so you began to wonder why he wanted to sit next to you. Was it because of your conversation last week at the party? Your body felt hotter as you recalled the memory.

“Mind if I ask why you wanted to sit next to me?” You ask him, curiosity getting the best of you. He let out a low chuckle, looking at you for a second before continuing to unpack his stuff from his bag.

“Well you are fairly friendly, and I noticed you sit alone mostly”

“Only fairly?” Dramatically pausing, acting offended at his words Taehuyng chuckled before you continued “And also, I sit alone because I want to concentrate, not because I don’t have any friends or anything” Smiling he rolled his eyes.

“I know that, it’s just that Jungkook is sick” You let out an ‘oh’ before Taehyung continued “I don’t have any other friends in the class and I did not want to sit alone” So that was the reason Taehyung sat down next to you, perhaps he had forgotten about the party, maybe he was even more drunk than you?

“So… you consider me a friend?” You smirked and Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Is talking to you a few times and texting you twice enough to be your friend?” As your question left your lips, he shook his head.

“Once” Tilting your head looking at him confused, waiting for an explanation you asked him ‘what?’

“You have only texted me once, asking if I wanted to come to Yoongi’s party” Shocked you started to try and cover you up somehow, feeling hot and embarrassed. The way he smiled at you, knowing what kind of power he had over you. “You didn’t reply to my last text” He finished before the Mrs. Johnson started the lesson, but you had a hard time focusing. He did remember. How could he just go back to the lesson and focus as if nothing? You felt struck, not knowing what to do with yourself as thoughts of Taehyung doing whatever he wanted to do to you came through. 

The offer suddenly became very tempting. Was it your lack of sexual encounters lately? Was it the fact that his grey hoodie and black jeans suited him so good you just wanted to find out what was underneath? Was it his smug smile and messy hair that he had probably just quickly brushed through this morning? Was it the promise that he would give you anything you want? Anything you desire?

“Could you stop starring at me, it’s adorable but also very distracting” Taehyung suddenly spoke, and you muttered a quick ‘sorry’ before trying to look at the board again. You swore you could have seen his ears turning slightly redder before he spoke to you and you wondered if you had any effect on him all. Of course, you must have had, otherwise he would not have offered to sleep with you right? 

Lea’s words at the party began to root deep in your thoughts, what if he had a crush on me or something? Shaking your head at your ridiculous thoughts that you somehow could not seem to let go you listened to your teachers last words of the lesson.

“For the next two weeks I want you to swap books with the person sitting next to you. Compare your analysis and read some chapters of each other’s books that are mentioned in the analyses. Write with your own words the kind of love you think your partner want to have and why, get to know each other really well” Fuck, fuck, fuck was the only words at the back of your mind. Two fucking weeks with Taehyung and him reading one of the most personal things you had probably written to date. Panic washed over you as Mrs. Johnson dismissed the class.  

“Do you have anything after this class?” Taehuyng suddenly spoke and I shook my head.

“Not really until after lunch, why you ask?”

“Do you wanna go over the assignment somewhere? I am very busy until the weekend with school and other stuff so it would be great if we could swap books and go over it” Nodding, you rise up from your seat and take your bag.

“Yeah sure, where do you want to meet?” He gets up as well and shrugs at your question.

“I don’t know, maybe my place? Or yours, which ever is closest”

“Mine it would be then, it’s only ten minutes away” He smiles at your suggestion and stretches his arm towards the classroom door.

“After you m’lady”

“Oh God” You laughed and slapped him on the arm. ‘I guess chivalry isn’t really dead’ you muttered on your way out not knowing if Taehyung would have heard you, but he did and you knew it when you heard him answer ‘I know right?’ as quiet as you mutter yours.

The way back to yours and Lea’s apartment was not as awkward as you thought it would be. The two of you shared stories and got to know each other for a bit. Taehyung was showing you a whole different side of him that you had not seen before. Well to be fair, you had never spent time with him like this before. You had been nervous about bringing him home to your apartment, knowing well what he said at the party. 

He had almost blushed slightly when he caught you staring at him so maybe the bold Taehyung you knew from all the parties was drunk Taehyung. Sober Taehyung might not be as bold but very bubbly, a bit shy and funny. Laughing as he told you about the time his neighbours had knocked on his door in the middle of the night, telling him to keep down on the noises. It was dead quiet in his and Jungkook’s apartment and they were not having anyone over so annoyed he just said sorry and closed the door. It was not until the morning after that Jungkook had told him he accidently connected his phone to their Alexa while he was watching porn.

“I cannot believe it! How did he even manage to do that?” You laughed and Taehyung just shock his head.

“I have no idea and I didn’t really ask” Going up your apartment building you were happy your and Lea’s apartment was only on the second floor as the six stories apartment building did not have an elevator.

“Can you imagine the poor people that has to go all the way up?” Taehyung smiled and shook his head.

“I don’t even want to think the thought” He answers as you unlock the door to the apartment. Lea was having lessons today until at least two a clock, so that would be the earliest she would be home. Unless she decided to hang out with your friends afterwards that is. Waiting so you both get home at the same time and she can beg you to cook food for her. You were not the best chef, but Lea could not cook even if her life would have depended on it.

“So… this is us” You announce as the both of you take of your jackets and shoes. On the right to the hallway was the kitchen that was connected to the living room on the left. The bathroom was straight ahead of the little hallway and on either side of the bathroom was the bedrooms, yours on the right, closest to the kitchen and hers connected to the living room. 

The two of you always loved that you had the bathroom in between your rooms. It provided a sound barrier for when any of the two of you were having guests over. The décor was simple, none of you really had to much money to spend on the apartment but you really enjoyed the black, grey and blue theme the two of you had.

“It looks really cosy” Taehuyng commented as he entered the apartment and looked around. You muttered a ‘thanks’ before picking up your computer from your bag and going over to the couch.

“We’re doing it in the living room?” He asks as he reaches for his computer from the bag. You nod and he pops down on the couch next to you.

“Shame, would have loved to see your bedroom” Your mouth slightly open, shocked at his comment you meet his gaze. His smile fades and he raised his hands in deafens.

“No, no I was not meaning it that way!” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head.

“It’s just that I heard from Mark that your room smelled like honey when he was there, you know?” You almost blushed at his words, the one night stand you and Mark shared a couple of months ago when you had just begun the school semester.

“Rumour has it that you are a real candle freak, but like in a good way, so I just wanted to see it for myself” He explained himself and you had listened carefully at every word, seeing how nervous he got around it.

“You would be pretty disappointed” You sighed, and he looked at you puzzled.

“Why is that?”

“I only have one candle left and it is peach scented, so it only smells faintly peachy in there right now” You answered, remembering how the money you usually spent on your candles went to a present for your mom’s birthday this month. Therefore, you only had one left that you cherished a lot, well until you could buy new ones and finally have a different scent in your room.

“I see” Taehuyng pulled up his laptop and started it. You did the same and while the both of you waited until you could log in Taehyung decided to confess something about his assignment.

“So… this is not really the love I want to experience” You nodded thinking he was somehow trying to protect his image or something by saying ‘he is not really looking for love’ or anything. You started getting nervous yourself, remembering that Taehyung would read your assignment that you had poured your heart in.

“I misjudged the assignment, I thought we were supposed to write about a love we had experienced. Not wanted to experience” You let out a quiet ‘oh’ and Taehyung continued.

“So… I chose The Great Gatsby, yes, it is a toxic relationship and no I will not take further questions on it. Mrs. Johnson said it wouldn’t be a problem, I freaked out and emailed her yesterday about it after I had heard Jungkook panicking about it and realized I had misjudged the assignment. Anyway, she said whoever would be working with me should take the elements I wrote about and find the opposites to them” So he had previously been in a relationship that was most likely toxic? Anyway, you did not want to ask more about it when he had been clear that he did not want to talk about it.

“So… you knew that who ever you sat next to in class you would be paired up with?” You asked out of curiosity. What if he knew? What would that even mean? He smiled at you warmly.

“Yes… So, I guess you’d want to know why I chose to sit next to you right?” Was Jungkook really sick you thought to yourself or was this all part of Taehyungs plan. What if he had a plan? I mean Lea did say… or was it Hoseok? Either way, it did not matter, if he was as determined as they said maybe this was all part of his plan? You nodded. You would at least give him a chance to explain himself.

“Well for me to tell you, you have to come to the party one of my friends is throwing. Seokjin, Yoongi knows him as well. Tall, broad shouldered guy with a laugh that could be heard miles away” Still looking just as confused when he mentioned Seokjin’s name Taehuyng realized you had had no idea who he was talking about.

“Anyway, the party is on Friday and I will give you a shot as well, just because I am a good friend” Smiling proudly at his proposition he waited for your reaction.

“So… You consider us friends huh? Is that why you decided to have me as your partner?” You ask, starting to form different theories in your head already. He shook his head.

“Not answering, guess you’ll just have to come to the party to find out”

That’s how you find yourself at the store with Lea on Thursday evening. The both of you were going to Seokjin’s party as you refused to go alone, and you need to know why Taehyung had chose you as his partner on the assignment. The rest of the time the two of you spent in your apartment before Taehyung left for his next lesson had been pleasant. The two of you switched books and started reading each other’s analyses. So here you were, helping Lea find her perfect dress for the party.

“I can’t believe you are going to another party so soon and we didn’t even have to convince you? Taehyung did all the hard work. I have to thank him someday” You laugh at Lea’s words. Rolling your eyes when she looks at you, stepping out in yet another dress.

“We went over this. I am only doing this out of pure curiosity”

“Yeah but he also offered you a drink even before the party so he must be pretty whipped for you. OH! What if, that is the reason he chose you as his partner for the assignment? Just so he could confess his undying love for you?” Chuckling at her words you shake your head.

“I don’t think that’s it. That dress though, that one I think is it though” Lea smiled down at the short dark blue dress and nodded in approval of your words.

“This one really is it, are you sure you are not getting anything?” She asks and you nod.

“Yes, I rarely use my party clothes so I should have something at home”

You had nothing at home. No outfit was good enough for your taste and you could not choose the one you had last time. It would be weird, or would it? Either way it was still in the washing bin so that was a no. Why did you suddenly care so much? You had to admit a small part of you wanted to impress Taehyung, you could not deny that. He was incredibly good looking, funny and somehow took an interest in you. Would he make a move on you tonight? God, you almost hoped. His words from the last party had never left your mind. Truth to be told you had masturbated to it and to the thought of Taehyung, but actually being with him in real life? That did scare you a little.

Ending up wearing a bright shirt with a black skirt you and Lea entered the house that Seokjin owned. His parents were very rich so you weren’t really surprised over the fact that he would have his own house. The party had already started two hours ago (you can blame Lea for being late) and the loud music from the living room could be heard from the street. Thankfully, Seokjin did not have that many neighbours and rarely got the police called on him, even though it had happened a couple of times. Now, all you had to do was stay focused. Find Taehyung and ask him why he chose you as his partner, talk with some people and leave to get a good night sleep.

“Come on, let’s go get a drink!” Lea took your hand and lead you through the crowds and into the kitchen. You had almost forgotten that she had been at Seokjin’s house a few times in the past, before the two of you were friends. In the kitchen there were a few people, mixing drinks and soon you and Lea did the same. A drink could not hurt, and you had to blend in after all, you thought. 

A drink later became two along your quest to find Taehyung. Somewhere along the crowd you finally spotted him, a girl in front of him, grinding her ass in sync with the music on his crotch. Taehyungs hands on her hips, his eyes looking over her shoulder down at her cleavage. You could not help but stare at the sight. The way it looked like Taehyung was controlling her hips. His hungry look at her body. You felt hot, one of your hands reaching up to rub your neck, trying to smother any feelings and thoughts of Taehyung touching you like that. You wanted it, in that moment you really wanted him.

Staring for so long you did not notice Taehyung had been looking at you all along until you looked at his face and realized the two of you had locked eyes. A smirk placed on his lips, a proud glint in his eyes as he saw the way he was affecting you. He looked down at the girl’s neck for a second before looking up at you again. Was he going to kiss her neck right in front of you? 

You did not have to wait long before you found your answer that was much better than what you could have anticipated. One of his hands left her hips and moved to her hair. Not breaking eye contact with you he pulled her by the hair to the side so he would have better access to her neck. A whimper left the girl lips and he took his time seeing your reaction before he started kissing her neck, sucking, licking, doing anything to mark her roughly. 

You let out a whimper closing your eyes for a second and the next time you opened them Taehyung was on his way over to you. The girl nowhere to be found. Inhaling a sharp breath as Taehyung was now right in front of you. His head low, almost touching yours. You looked at his lips as he bit them before looking into his eyes. He smiled at you before he brought his mouth to your ear.

“Do you have any idea how good your legs look in that skirt?” He spoke and you took one of your hands and brought it up to his shoulders, carefully lightly tracing his collarbones underneath the black shirt the was wearing.

“Oh, how I would love to just throw them over my shoulders. Getting really deep in your tight pussy” You were a bit tipsy from the alcohol yes, but right now you were drunk on Taehyung. The way he spoke, touched, smelled and how he looked at you with such hunger in his eyes. Your other hand started wandering over Taehyungs chest, the feeling of his defined chest almost bending your knees, how heavenly he must look underneath his clothes.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” At his question you looked up at him and meet his eyes. He was so close you could feel his breath on your face. Looking down at his lips you answered him ‘yes’ and he smiled. One of his hands tucked away a bit of your hair as you looked down on his chest where you were still roaming your hands and getting used to the feeling of him, could you even get used to this feeling? As he tucked away your hair, he looked at your focused eyes, the way you bit your lip, he could have his way with you tonight if he wanted.

��As much as I would have loved to fuck your brains out tonight” He spoke before taking hold of your wrists with his hands, removing them from his body leaving a confused look on your face as you looked up at him again.

“You would have to be sober to be able to take all of it” You wanted to tell him that you only have had a glass or two, that you were barely tipsy. How much you wanted him, but you were at lose for words. His forehead touched yours, lips so close that if you barely went up on your toes you would kiss him, and it was tempting. Something at the back of your mind told you not to, it was not that you did not want to but right now, in this moment, you were at Taehyungs mercy. He called the shots.

“Besides I have a lady upstairs waiting for me that I need to attend to” Suddenly you were faced with reality, this was a game for Taehyung, as was inviting you to the party and choosing you as his partner on the assignment. He wanted your attention and you had just given it to him, without any hesitation.

“This has to wait until another time” He spoke before letting go of your wrists and leaving you, presumably to go and fuck the girl he was grinding on earlier. How stupid you felt when you were felt on alone the dancefloor, angry, confused and even a bit sad. He had chosen her over you, without any hesitation. You took up your phone texting Lea that you were heading home, and she was free to stay for as long as she wanted, you had gotten your answer from Taehuyng, you also wrote. It was all a game to him, and it could not have been clearer than right now.

Once you got home you turned off your phone, not wanting anybody to disturb the sleep you felt was the only thing that could help you remove the feelings you were feeling.

The weekend passed quickly, Taehuyng had texted you a couple of times but you decided not to reply. You knew you had to sooner or later, since you had the assignment together but decided to draw it out for as long as you could. Monday came and you dragged your feet across the halls, you may or may not have been watching tv-series way past when you should have, considering having early lessons the next day. 

Earphones in your ears listening to music, trying to draw out any other noises that may give you a headache. That is why you did not notice him, standing against his locker as you past by him. Taehyung quickly noticed you and grabbed your arm, pulling you so you were standing in front of him. Shocked, you quickly pulled out your earphones seeing his slightly annoyed face right in front of you.

“I called you out like three times” He spoke, and you looked nervously around to see if anyone had seen Taehuyng grabbing you towards him. You felt him left go of you and you looked him in the eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you” Holding up your earphones for him to see and he sighed.

“I also texted you several times and you did not reply, did I do something wrong ____?” His eyes were filled with concern and you almost felt bad for ignoring him, almost, if it was not for the fact that he was playing games with you.

“Like…. Did I go to far at the party? Did I make you uncomfortable?” You shook your head. Why was he so concerned with you all of a sudden? It was almost like there was two sides of him, the one where the two of you are alone, and the one at the parties.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I felt like I got to know the answer to why you chose me as your partner” Being honest was always the best way to go, at least that is what you learned with your first boyfriend when it came to your mutual breakup.

“Which is?” He asked and you bit your lip, unsure how to phrase your words.

“Well… It’s all a game to you, isn’t it?” You began and he tilted his head, looking almost confused at you and you continued.

“I’m just another conquest, see how long it takes for you to get me into your bed.  That’s why you invited me to the party isn’t it? To get my attention. To see how much, you had affected me right?”

“That must be the most fucked up thing I have ever heard” He scoffed, and you did not know what to say, your mouth slightly opened, eyes wide, not knowing how to react to what he just said.

“Is that really what you think of me?” There was a silence between the two of you and you started feeling ashamed of yourself, if it was not like that at all, that was indeed a pretty fucked up thing to say and think about someone. You never really let Taehyung give his side of the story after all, since you ignored him.

“I waited over an hour for you, looking everywhere for you at the party. I thought you didn’t show up at all” So he actually invited you to hang out with you, you were just stupidly late and made him think you stood him up.

“So, when Jess started talking with me, was I supposed to ignore her when you didn’t show up?” Biting your lip, you let out a ‘no’ almost as quiet as a whisper. You could barely look him in the eyes at this point, feeling ashamed of yourself.

“God, I chose you for the assignment because I did not really know anyone from that class and from what I’ve heard you were supposed to be kind, understanding and compassionate. Guess I was wrong on that one?” Before you could say anything, he had already stormed off, not looking back once at you. Should you follow him? What would you even say to him? You watch as he disappears around the corner, walking probably to one of his classes and you wonder if you could ever make it up to him. You had to, you had the assignment together and if it was not awkward and uncomfortable before, it sure would be now. You cursed at yourself for always believing the worst-case scenario as usual. How were you supposed to fix this?

[taeken-my-heart]

Moirai Chapter 4

Summary: On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook. 

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Soulmates au/ Enemies to lovers au. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, eventual smut.

Word Count: 5106

Notes: There is a read more placed after the first paragraph, but we all know tumblr is weird so if it doesn’t show up I’m sorry :(

                                                          *****

Mondays sucked. You were pretty sure that was a hard and fast rule by now, but as you rolled up to school looking like an actual hot mess and with your sweatshirt on backwards (don’t ask, you weren’t actually sure how that happened but you did dress in the dark this morning so…) you were even more sure of that fact.

Ella complained the entire way about your mom not being able to drop you off and now you felt like your ears were bleeding as she rushed off in the direction of her friends; a new audience to voice her frustrations to.

You hiked your bag higher on your shoulder, aiming for the doors of the school. You had an AP bio test today that you’d spent the weekend studying for, which sucked because those were hours of your life you couldn’t get back and would rather have given to Lucas. As it was, he had only about a week and a half left before he had to go back for the next semester.

He insisted that when you graduated you could just go to college with him and then you’d get more time together…it just felt so far away. The hallways were filled with the zombies of the weekend and the others that were far too chipper this early in the morning. You liked to think you fell somewhere in between. You weren’t exactly happy to be awake, but you’d made it past the point of zombie thanks to a clumsy journey of dressing yourself in the darkness of your room.  

The sea green of your locker came into view and you shuffled up to it, twisting the combination into the lock and pulling it open. AP bio was first so at least you could get the test out of the way and breathe a little easier after.

“Hey there, sister in law.”

You turned to find Lillian, long strawberry blonde hair swept up into a ponytail and a goofy smile attached to her barbie pink lips. “Wow, that’s a statement.” You said, pointing at her mouth and she grinned wider, shrugging the books in her arms higher.

“Figured I’d give something new a try. Is it a good statement or a bad statement?”

You turned to look at your friend, frowning in dismay. “We’ve been over this, everything on you is a good statement, you rude girl. You can’t be smart, nice, and beautiful too. You need to share with the rest of us.”

“Oh stop,” Lillian chuckled, “you’re literally the entire package, Y/N, so I don’t even want to hear it.”

Noelle came strutting up beside you, hip pressed to the lower locker next to yours, sunglasses still covering her eyes and eyebrow raised. “Did I hear correctly? Is one Mr. Jeon Jungkook really your English tutor?”

“Wha-?” You spluttered, watching as Noelle pushed her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose and to the crown of her head. “Why would you even think that? Are people seriously saying that? The tea must be empty if that’s what people are concerned about.”

“I don’t hear a denial,” Noelle sing songed and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your AP Bio book and closing your locker.

"OK, no, I’m gonna go ahead and put a stop to that right now. He’s not my English tutor, I’d rather choke. I do take my education seriously, though, so I probably should find a tutor.”

“Seriously enough to take advice from your worst enemy?” Noelle asked, turning to walk beside you as you and Lillian began walking towards your classes. “Wow, this must be the real deal.”

“It’s really not.” You muttered darkly and you could see Noelle grinning from the corner of you eye. “And I just told you he’s not my tutor. Anyway, this is my class so I’ll see you guys later. Bye!” You waved quickly, stepping into the classroom and going to take your seat.

                                                       ******

After lunch was finished and you retreated to your English lit class, you waited until Jungkook and pool party Barbie were seated before going and finding a seat as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, that meant the back right corner, but beggars couldn’t be choosers in a situation like this.

Ms. Collins passed back the first draft of your essay, weaving her way around the room and you frowned down at the very average C written in dark blue ink. You would never get the hang of this crap. No matter what you did, you couldn’t figure out what you were doing wrong.

You sighed, shoving the essay into your backpack and scratching at the wood of your desk with your fingernail. “Remember,” she said, now standing back at the front of the room, “the second draft is due this time next week so make sure you’re doing your research and putting in the effort; you don’t have much time to slack off.”

The lesson passed with you taking a few measly notes and a new list of words you needed to memorize for a small spelling test next week. Ms. Collins then turned on the Kenneth Branagh version of Hamlet and you sat back to try and comprehend at least some of it. You weren’t sure what Shakespeare was on, but it had to be good considering he was making up words and crap and still managed to become one of the greatest playwrights of all time.

The bell rung, signaling the end of class and you lifted your bag onto the table, sliding your books into your bag as you allowed the rest of your classmates to trickle from the room. You just wanted some time to pout by yourself. What was the point in a second draft if you still had no clue what you were even doing wrong in the first draft?

Standing sluggishly, you made your way to the front of the room, eyes trained on the door as you began to prepare yourself for a refresher on the Civil war.

“Y/N, can I speak to you really quick?” Ms. Collins smiled and you nodded, pulling at the strap of your bag and walking to her desk.

“Everything OK?” You asked.

“Well, I’ve noticed you’re having a bit of a tough time with some of our assignments so I wanted to talk to you about the idea of me assigning you a tutor from class.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I have thought about getting a tutor but I wasn’t actually sure how to go about finding someone in the class with the time and skills to help me.”

“It’s no problem, I’ve already got someone in mind. Actually, I asked him earlier if he’d be willing to help out and he said he’d be happy to.”

“Oh!” You smiled in surprise. “That’s great, I really appreciate it.”

“Great, so I’ll let Jungkook know you are game and you guys can figure out the details.” She smiled, shuffling some papers around on her desk and you felt like your heart fell into the pit of your stomach.

“Jungkook?” You stuttered, and she looked up at you.

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

“Ah,” you hesitated, glancing around the room in discomfort, “It’s just, we…have our differences.”

“Well, he’s the highest in the class and he’s got time until the soccer season starts in the spring. He’s the best candidate. Perhaps it’s best to put differences aside. I’m all for positive collaboration and learning to work with people you don’t always get along with; you’ll need those skills when you’re older and going into the workforce.”

You sighed, nodding and pouting. “I know, it’s just…Jungkook and I have a weird history.” You mumbled, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the floor.

“Maybe it’s time to let bygones be bygones.” Ms. Collins smiled. “Anyway, you better run, class starts soon. Just give it a try for me, hmm?”

You sighed, nodding. There was no point in fighting against it; Ms. Collins was nice, but bullheaded. When she’d made up her mind, you couldn’t change it. “OK.”

After school you sulked your way to the courtyard. Ella had texted to tell you she was meeting up with friends and not to wait up and you still couldn’t get the whole Jungkook being your new tutor crap out of your head.

“Y/n!” Someone shouted and you turned to find Noelle running to your side, long dark curls swinging haphazardly around her face. “Are you walking home?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking over her shoulder, “you wanna join?”

“Yes please!” She grinned. Just as you started walking again another person was calling out your name and you turned your head just in time to see Jungkook coming to walk beside you.

“What do you want?” You grimaced. He smirked, nodding his head at Noelle in greeting before turning his attention back to you.

“Ms. Collins told me you agreed to tutoring. When did you want to set something up?”

You grumbled under your breath. Of course, she’d already told him. “I don’t know, to be honest I don’t think you could even take this seriously. Maybe we should just call it off. I’m fine with just skating by. English isn’t my thing, that’s ok.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, bumping your shoulder with his and you frowned up at him. “Of course, I’ll take this seriously,” he said, “I do some paid tutoring on the side and it would hurt my reputation to mess it up with someone out of spite.”

“I’m not paying you, Jungkook.” You said, linking your arm with Noelle who was listening quietly by your side.

“No payment necessary, I’ll tutor you for free since we’re such good friends.” He grinned.

You scoffed. “Since when?”

“Come on, Y/N, help me build my tutoring portfolio. Besides, I already told my mom about it yesterday after Ms. Collins asked so your mom will probably be expecting it.”

“Geez, do you share everything with your mom?” You sneered.

“Absolutely.” He chuckled. “So, what do you say?”

Noelle nudged your side and you glanced at her. “Come on,” she smiled, “you were talking about needing a tutor anyway. Jungkook’s really smart, let him help you.”

“Fine.” You sighed, “But if you pull any funny business, I swear I’ll castrate you.”

“Scouts honor!” He saluted and Noelle giggled as he sent a wink her way.

“Well, anyway,” she said, pushing some hair from her face, “I need to head this way. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“So really we can start anytime,” Jungkook continued as you resumed your walk home, “we could even start tonight if you wanted to. I could help you with the second draft.”

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, forcing your gaze anywhere but him. His hair was parted and swept off to each side, dark and slightly too long, reaching just passed his eyes. He pushed his hair back with his hand as though he could hear your thoughts and you sighed. Why was he so good looking? You hated him.

“Come on, no backing out now. I swear, I’ll be a good boy, just let me help you.” He smiled, three fingers up in a scout’s honor.

“Fine,” you acquiesced, “but any funny business and I swear I’ll punch you straight up the butthole.”

“Graphic,” Jungkook nodded, “I like it.”

You walked up the pathway to your house, Jungkook trailing behind you. Sliding the key from your pocket, you unlocked the door and made your way inside, kicking your shoes off at the threshold. Jungkook closed the door behind him, stepping from his shoes and into the hallway.

“Mom, I’m home!” He called, and you looked up at him with a frown.

“Jungkook?” Your mom called, stepping from the kitchen with a smile, “hey honey, what are you doing here?”

Your mom wrapped her arms around his waist, patting his back and you huffed. Your mom didn’t even show this much love to you. “Hi sweetie,” she smiled at you as an afterthought and you smiled tight.

“I’m here to tutor Y/N in English.” He smiled and your mom grinned, patting his arm.

“Oh, that’s right, your mom told me you were probably going to be doing that. That’s so kind of you! Did you say thank you, Y/N?”

You huffed deep in your chest while plastering a smile across your face, “of course mom. Jungkook knows I’m grateful.”

“Yeah, Y/N is great,” he said enthusiastically, slinging his arm around your shoulders and you tried your best to hold your squeal of disgust. “Actually, she even told me she wanted to make me dinner some time, as a thank you.”

“Really?” Your mom smiled at you and you smiled tightly at Jungkook.

“Oh, yeah.” You huffed; chest tight with indignation. “Wow, yeah, well, I’m just so grateful after all.”

“I’m so glad you two are such good friends.” Your mom smiled, squeezing your elbow. “How about you stay for dinner, Jungkook? I could text your mom.”

“That would be great, actually. They’re going out on a date so it’s fend for yourself night.” He chuckled and your mom practically belly laughed. Mortifying.

“Anyway,” you called loudly, grabbing Jungkook’s forearm, “we’re gonna get started on that English assignment.” Jungkook waved at your mom as you pulled him up the stairs, closing the door behind you and dropping your backpack on your bed.

“Man, haven’t been in here in years.” Jungkook whistled, dropping his bag at his feet and scanning the walls of your room.

“You haven’t exactly been welcome.” You muttered and he looked over at you with a smirk, eyebrows wiggling.

“But I am now?”

“I thought you said you were going to be good!” You seethed and he held up his hands in defeat.

“Fair enough. Ok, grab your stuff and let’s get started. Where should we sit?”

You sighed, looking around your room. “Let’s just sit on the bed, my desk only has one chair and the carpet is uncomfortable.”

He nodded, grabbing his bag and bringing it with him, sitting cross legged on the end of your bed and digging through his backpack for everything he needed.

You took your place at the top of the bed, a pillow behind your back and one in your lap. “Here, hand me your latest essay so I can see what I’m working with.” Jungkook said, taking a notebook from the front pocket of his backpack and clicking his pen to life.

You pulled your essay from your assignments folder, handing it over gingerly. “I swear, if you make fun of me…”

“I promise I won’t. I really meant it when I said I take this gig seriously. It’s how I’m making extra cash right now.” He stared down at your work, pen twirling between his fingers as he read. Every once in a while, he’d hum and make a note in his book before continuing on.

You watched in apprehension as he flipped the page in silence. After finishing the essay, he made more notes in his book, chewing on the end of his pen in thought. “OK, so one big problem that I see right away is that your paragraphs are not well connected. You have certain ideas you want to connect, right, but instead of connecting them from paragraph to paragraph you’ve kind of left them disjointed. So, it’s like, in paragraph one you’ve talked about how Hamlet’s goal is to avenge his father’s death and the consequences of that choice and then in paragraph 2 you’re suddenly talking about Ophelia’s death, which doesn’t necessarily connect, but you could connect it with the idea of foreshadowing the royal families demise. Then in paragraph three you continue on talking about why you think Ophelia and Hamlet’s relationship is significant, but again, it doesn’t exactly have a connection to Hamlets attempt at revenge or even her death so it feels disconnected. You also have a habit of telling and not showing. You’ve gotta let the evidence speak for itself.”

“Wow…” you breathed, lips pursed in thought, “that is not at all what I thought you’d say. OK…so then what would you suggest?”

“Well,” he sighed, “if I’m being honest, I’d suggest a complete overhaul. This was just the first draft so there’s of course going to be lots of room for growth. You’ve got some pretty solid ideas; I just need to help you find a better way of connecting those ideas together.”

“So, it’s not a complete loss?” You asked, shoulders loosening slightly.

“Naw,” he shrugged, “we can definitely work with this. Your writing voice is pretty decent, you just need to figure out how to get the ideas you have in your head down on paper in a better way. It’s almost mathematical, like how you build an equation.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “this is nothing like math, Jungkook.”

He grinned, shrugging, “I don’t know, you have to formulate ideas, make a base and build on top of that. There are formulas to writing, you know? You just have to solve them.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll take your word for it. So, what would you say I do now?” You asked, biting your bottom lip nervously.

“Let’s work on making an outline, we can even spider diagram it if you need to.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, “if that works.”

By the time your mother called you down for dinner, Jungkook had helped you to map out all your ideas on a spider diagram and even start writing down your first few paragraphs on your laptop, helping you to see how you could tie your different ideas together to make your essay more cohesive.

“The spider diagram seems to really help you,” Jungkook said, trailing after you down the hallway towards the kitchen, “you should use it more often to sort out your ideas so you have a basis of how you want to start and where you want to go from there.”

Stepping into the kitchen, you grabbed a plate, loading it with the food your mother had left on the island for you to pick through. “Hey Jungkook.” Ella smiled from across the countertop, grabbing some fruit for her own plate. “My mom mentioned you were here.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “just helping Y/N with an essay she’s writing.”

“Completely hopeless, right?” Ella joked and you scowled at her.

“Actually, she’s doing pretty well. She’s got some really good ideas, it’s just all about finding the best way to get them down on paper. She’s picking it up pretty quickly.”

“Thanks, Jungkook.” You murmured, looking up at him in surprise.

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” He grinned.

He made his way to the dining room, Ella hot on his tail with conversation he was a willing audience to and you watched him go in curiosity. Why was he being so…decent?

“How are your AP classes coming, Y/N?” You mom asked, taking a sip of her water as you pushed a piece of broccoli across your plate.

“They’re fine,” you shrugged, “pretty easy as long as I study the material.”

“And you came up with an idea for your science project?” She continued, taking a bite of her food.

“Yeah, I’ve got a general idea for what I want to do.” You said. Jungkook turned to look at you, eyebrows rising.

“You’ve already figured out your science project?” He asked, voice husky with surprise, “we don’t even have to start working on that until the spring.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, starring down at your plate in embarrassment. “I like to be prepared. I’m a bit of a nerd I guess.”

You could see Ella nodding out of the corner of your eye and just before you could extend your foot to kick her in the shin, Jungkook continued. “No way, I think that’s super cool. The science fair always takes so much time and preparation; it’s cool that you’re trying to get ahead of the game.”

You stared at Jungkook, eyebrows furrowed, but Ella distracted him with conversation about how prepared she was for all of her classes so you could only ruminate to yourself. What was Jungkook’s deal? Was he seriously trying to bury the hatched like he’d proclaimed? There was no way.

“What about you, Jungkook, honey?” Your mom said, turning her attention to him after asking Ella all about her school activities, “what have you been doing recently?”

“Mostly doing school work, but I’ve been doing some tutoring on the side to make money while I’m not in sports.”

“This is your last year playing soccer, do you think there are going to be scouts when you get into the season?” She inquired, finishing off her water and grabbing the pitcher to pour more.

“Yeah, maybe.” Jungkook nodded, “but we won’t know for sure until it’s closer to the season.”

“Well you never know, you could get a sports scholarship to a lot of different schools, pay your way through college!” Your mom smiled, offering the pitcher of water to your sister who shook her head, taking a bite of her food instead.

“That’s true.” He nodded.

“Where’s dad, by the way?” You asked, glancing back out the door to the kitchen.

“He’s just coming late from work; told us to eat without him.” Your mom remarked, finishing her plate and standing, “want me to take yours?” She asks, motioning to your plate and you nodded, allowing her to collect it from you and take it to the kitchen.

After the four of you finished dinner you cleaned the kitchen, putting away the food and dishes before Jungkook ran to grab his bag from your room and you showed him to the door. “You should try and finish the essay tonight so that you can show me tomorrow at school and I can give you some more pointers.” He said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and you held the door between the two of you as he put one foot over the threshold.

“By tonight?” You huffed, pouting down at the floor and he grinned.

“Better to be proactive, right?”

You shrugged, sighing, twisting the door knob in your hand. “Yeah, I guess.”

He nodded, backing out the door, “Cool, well, see you tomorrow.” He waved and turned to head towards his own place, just a few houses down the road.

You sighed, closing and locking the front door, staring up the staircase towards your room where you’d left your laptop with your essay on it. The last thing you wanted to do right now was go upstairs and work that essay.

With a huff, you grabbed hold of the railing, dragging yourself up the stairs and into your room. The paper wasn’t going to write itself and you needed to do it now while Jungkook’s advice was fresh in your head.

By the time you were finished, everyone else had already gone to bed so you were shuffling quietly into the bathroom to go brush your teeth. You had about 6 hours to sleep and you intended to make the most of it.

                                                  ******

You dreamt of Jungkook dressed as Hamlet. Your mood was especially crabby because of it, but you managed to remember to print out your second draft for him to read so that was something positive, at least.

“You ready to go?” Your mom asked, peeking her head into your room as you finished packing your backpack.

You nodded, throwing your bag over your shoulder and following her down the stairs. Ella was already sat in the back of the car, which surprised you, but you figured your mother must have insisted since she was such a shotgun hog all the time.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you dropped your bag by your feet, fastening your seatbelt and leaning your head back against the rest with eyes closed. All you could picture was Jungkook in a stupidly good looking houppelande and puffy shorts, but he was wearing a hat with a feather sticking from the top and drooping down the back of his head and somehow that made you feel so much better about the whole thing.  

The ride was mostly silent. You could hear the music from Ella’s earphones, but there was no conversation and it gave you a few minutes to let the irritation from your dream wear off before you arrived at school. The last thing you wanted to do was take your frustrations out on your innocent friends.

“Have a good day at school!” Your mother called as the two of you stepped from the car and you waved. “I’ll be in the pick-up line at the end of the day, Ella.”

Jungkook was waiting at one of the outdoor tables when you and Ella made your way towards the front entrance and he waved you over. Ella continued on towards her friends and you grit your teeth, turning to make you way towards him as he pulled the notebook and pen from his backpack once again.

“Morning!” He smiled as you sat across from him. The sun was already blinding and you had to squint to see him from where you were sitting. You readjusted your shorts; the bench a little too cool on your skin and nodded in greeting towards him. “Did you manage to finish your essay?”

“Yeah.” You murmured, pulling it from your backpack and handing it across the table to him.

He grabbed it from your hand, reading through while clicking the tip of his pen absentmindedly. After what felt like forever of you shifting awkwardly in your seat and looking around the courtyard at all of the other students beginning to make their way into the building, he finally cleared his throat, looking up at you.

“This is much better. There’s still room for improvement, but for a second draft I’m pretty happy with what you’ve done. I’m gonna make some notes and we can go over them after school.” He said, handing you back your essay and standing to pack his own things.

“I can’t today, I’m actually meeting up with Lucas after school.” You said, sticking your essay back in your homework folder and sliding that back in your bag.

“Oh,” he faltered, looking down at you, eyebrows wrinkling in the center. “Ok…well, maybe after you guys are done hanging out?”

“I don’t know when that will be.”

Jungkook pursed his lips, tugging his backpack over his shoulders. “Here, let me see your phone really quick.”

“Why?” You asked, handing it to him anyway.

After messing with your phone for about 30 seconds he handed it back to you, one recent outgoing call on the screen. “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll come over.”

With that, he walked towards the school where you could see Rachel waiting, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “Sucks to be him.” You mumbled, before packing up your own stuff and heading to your first class.

                                                     *****

Thank you so much for waiting patiently for me to get this out! Now that my life has settled the next few chapters should come out much sooner than 6 months. My goodness, I’m so sorry you had to wait so long! I’m going to try and get myself back into a once a month posting schedule. Please be patient with me while I figure this out and please let me know what you think of this chapter! Your feedback means so much. 

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Copyright © 2018  by taeken-my-heart (Nora.) All rights reserved. 

[ewankoseyo]

perfectly you || mark imagine

A/N: Finally finished (with extra cheese!) after having sat in my drafts for weeks! This is probably best to read on desktop rather than on mobile since mobile editing is being wonky. Decided to try something new with the OC. Also realized I could kill three birds with one stone by fulfilling three requests in this imagine. Enjoy!

“your mark imagine about the car ride made me tear up, your writing is so good ! i was wondering if you could write another fluffy mark drabble about a girl who is super focused on school and doesn’t rlly have any friends, but suddenly mark comes around and insists on being her friend, but she doesn’t want any friends. so she’s totally in denial when it’s obvious he likes her and she likes him. dk if that made much sense but hopefully it did to you! thank u sm in advance <3”

——

“Kang Jisoo? Are you related to—”

“Yes, she’s my sister.” Jisoo took her uniform from the teacher with a short bow and not another word.

She was used to it, expected it every time she entered a new space.

“Oh Kang Jisoo, you just got your uniform? Great, you can sit right over here by the window!” The giddy teacher chirped. Jisoo slowly made her way to the only empty seat, ignoring the stares from her new classmates as she passed. “What a coincidence! You know, Jiwoo also sat there when she was in my class two years ago!”

Jisoo gave a feeble laugh. “Yes, well...”

“I’m sure you’ll be a delight to have in class just like she was!” The teacher said before addressing the rest of the class. “Well, now that we’re all here, let’s get started. Welcome to high school orientation everyone! You will all be my homeroom students for the year...”

For Jisoo, it was just another day stuck in the the shadows.

——

“Hello, are you even listening?”

Mark glanced at the boy sitting in front of him before letting out a bored sigh. “Yes Jackson, you did look so cool at your match yesterday.”

“Ugh you weren’t even listening!” Jackson groaned, putting his head down on the table in defeat. “I've been asking if you could volunteer for the fencing team’s carwash fundraiser this weekend since one of our members can’t make it.”

“Yeah sure, whatever,” Mark replied dismissively, returning his gaze past Jackson. For Mark, it was just another day at lunch with some of his closest friends. Jackson would blab about some random topic of the day while the others would passively listen as they ate, occasionally taking jabs at the talkative boy.

Jinyoung, sitting next to Mark, had noticed between bites of his lunch that Mark had been checked out of their group’s usual silly conversation. He turned to see where the boy was staring and let out a snicker. “Why are you staring at Kang Jisoo?”

Jackson, being the King of Subtlety, quickly whipped his head around to the object of Mark’s attention. Jisoo was sitting alone at her usual spot a few tables down, completely engrossed in the book she was reading for a class. She would take a sip out of her milk carton every so often, but never put her book down, completely unaware of the stares she was getting. Jisoo was often seen eating by herself during lunch, so Jackson thought it was odd how Mark was paying her mind that day. “Oh? Does someone have a thing for Ms. Kang?”

“Jisoo? That’s her name?”

“You don’t know her?” Jaebum, usually half-present during these lunchtime conversations, looked at Mark incredulously. “It’s the last year of high school!”

“Exactly! I know I only transferred here in the second year, but don’t you think it’s weird how I’ve never seen her before? Or wouldn’t think of talking to her? It’s our last year yet...JB, do you know who that is?” Mark quizzed his friend, pointing to a boy tossing his trash.

“Uh...I actually don’t know...I think I have him in bio?”

“And Jackson! That girl over there!” Mark pointed to another girl walking into the cafeteria. “What’s her name?”

“Kiso? Miso?” Jackson scratched his head in confusion.

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow at Mark. “Is this your way of telling us you’re tired of us?”

“Of course not,” Mark assured. “All I’m saying is that even though our school is so small, we don’t even know our own classmates. We’ve been stuck in a bubble, not that there’s anything wrong with our group, but it’s our last year of high school. I think we should try getting to know our own class, don’t you think? JB, Mr. Class President, you of all people should agree.”

“You do have a point,” Jaebum agreed pensively. “So what? Are you going to try and be best friends with Jisoo now?”

Jinyoung sneered. “Yeah, good luck with trying to even talk to her.”

Mark looked at the three boys curiously. “What do you mean?”

“That girl will not give you the time of day unless you are a textbook,” Jackson joked, going back to picking at his food. “She’s all about school and grades so she doesn’t have a lot of friends. Or any friends, really.”

“See, all the more reason to try,” Mark contended.

“I’m surprised you don’t at least know of her,” Jinyoung said thoughtfully, hand under his chin. “Don’t you know her sister?”

“Who’s her sister?” The simple question was met with audible gasps.

“Wait, you really don’t know?!” Jackson looked around, making sure Jisoo—though far away and still not paying attention to anything around her—wasn’t listening. “Her sister is—”

“Hey Jackson!” A boy had sidled up to their table, notebook in hand. “Here are those notes you asked for earlier.”

“Oh thanks man!” Jackson took the notes and brought the boy in for a pound hug. “See you in math!”

“You’re hilarious! I’ll see you in English!” The boy chuckled before heading off. The three friends looked at Jackson with amused expressions.

“You have no idea who that is, do you?” Mark asked dryly.

Jackson simply shrugged. “I could have sworn the only class I needed notes on was math.”

——

The next day, Mark made it a point to hunt down Jisoo. He didn’t know why he was particularly drawn to attempt befriending her, perhaps it was the challenge? Mark wanted to prove his friends wrong. Was it so bad to want to try making new friends? Maybe she just didn’t have a lot of friends because people were jerks. And Mark wasn’t a jerk, he got along with people really well, even if he was the more soft-spoken one in his friend group. But there was a first time for everything. Mark could break out of his shell and make a new friend.

But if he didn’t know anything about her before, how was he supposed to find her now?

Luckily he had made it a point to actually look up when he was walking into his classes today rather than scroll on his phone as he strolled in, because he finally spotted her sitting in the back of the classroom—nose shoved in another book—during his third period.

“Hi, is this seat taken?”

Jisoo glanced at the seat next to her. “No, go ahead,” she replied, removing her backpack from the chair so Mark could slide in next to her. Before she could return to reading, Mark spoke up again.

“Thanks. I’m Mark, by the way.” He stuck a hand out to Jisoo.  

She only smiled at his hand, returning her attention back to her book. “Mark, I know who you are.”

He shyly retreated his hand to his lap. “You do?”

“Yeah, I’ve only been sitting a few rows behind you the whole year.” She smirked, eyes still glued to the pages before her.

“Oh, but—”

“Just because you don’t know me doesn’t mean I don’t know you,” Jisoo interrupted, glancing at the boy in amusement.

“Oh.” Mark didn’t expect their first interaction to turn out this way. He imagined Jisoo to be more...shy and soft-spoken. Lost when it came to people. Kind of like him, but more so. He didn’t expect her to bite. Dumbfounded but determined, Mark pressed on. “I know you like reading. What are you reading now?”

“What are you trying right now, Mark Tuan?” Jisoo put her book down and gave Mark a bemused expression. “You’ve never spoken to me a day in your whole life, despite us being in the same Honors English class for the last three years, and now you’re coming up to me asking what I’m reading?”

Mark looked up at Jisoo ashamedly, suddenly feeling small under her gaze. “It’s never too late to make new friends, is it?”

Her gaze softened a bit. “It’s a book of poems in English. Mrs. Baek let me borrow it to practice reading English prose.”

“Oh, cool.” Mark nodded, wanting to relate. “So do you like writing? Are you planning to go into it after you graduate?”

Jisoo shook her head and gave Mark a wry smile. “You don’t need to try so hard Mark, I don’t need your pity.”

Mark was silent for a moment. “I wasn’t taking pity on you. I was just thinking about how weird it was that we’ve been in the same classes but I didn’t know you, though I should, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you.” He averted his attention to the front of the classroom. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Jisoo continued reading until the silence became too unbearable for her to handle. 

“Do you really not know who I am?”

Mark shook his head. “Should I? You know, I didn’t imagine you as the type to have an ego.”

She grinned to herself at the boy’s cluelessness. How refreshing. “I do like writing, but I may go more into journalism later. What about you? What are you thinking of doing, Mark?”

Mark returned the smile, giving Jisoo his full attention. “Well I’m glad you asked...”

——

The usually empty desk next to Jisoo in her English class had become Mark’s self-assigned seat. Every day at the beginning of class, he would cheerfully slide into his seat as she was hovered over some assignment due the following week. 

“Good morning Jisoo!”

“Good morning Mark,” Jisoo would greet back quietly with a small nod before returning to her work. 

Despite having sat next to her for weeks, Mark felt he had barely learned anything about Jisoo. Jisoo had a tendency—and was really good at doing it without him noticing—to deflect questions back onto Mark whenever he’d ask questions about herself. When he asked her what she liked to do for fun outside of school, she had said she didn’t have much free time because of all the work she had to do for her other classes.

“But what about you Mark?” Jisoo asked before Mark could press on. “You’re on the volleyball team, aren’t you? What’s that like? When did you start playing?”

Seeing as only fifty minutes of class every day was not enough for Mark to get closer to Jisoo, and Jisoo would quickly leave to her next class as soon as that one was over, Mark knew he had to try even harder. 

Which brought him to lunch today. 

“So are they like...together now? Or something?” Jackson, Jinyoung, and Jaebum were baffled as they watched the unusual pair sitting together tables away from theirs. “Mark always sits with us during lunch.”

“Of course not, Mark would have told us if he was seeing someone,” Jinyoung assured Jackson, though he was half-convincing himself. His friend wasn’t one to step out and talk to others, but here Mark was, speaking animatedly to Jisoo. “I guess he was serious about trying to make new friends.”

“Still, this is the first time I’ve ever seen him talk to her,” Jaebum stated confusedly. “With Jisoo, Mark looks almost...outgoing.”

“See Mark, your friends think this is weird too.”

“What do you mean?” Jisoo nudged her head in the the direction of the three boys burning holes into the back of Mark’s head. They immediately busied themselves as Mark turned around, attempting to seem like they weren’t staring. Mark chuckled as he turned back to Jisoo. “So what? They think everything I do is weird. They can’t talk though, they’re really weird too.”

“No wonder you guys are friends,” Jisoo stated pointedly, stabbing at her salad. “So why aren’t you sitting with them right now?”

“Why? I can’t sit with my other friends?”

Jisoo looked at Mark skeptically. “You think we’re friends friends? You sit next to me in English and we talk before class starts.” 

“Hey, I told you about the time I split my pants in elementary school in front of my crush, and not even the guys know that,” Mark explains, darting his eyes at the aforementioned boys. “We are friends.” 

Jisoo studied Mark’s face for any sign of insincerity before relenting. “Okay Mark Tuan, I’ll bite. So what brings you here to sit with me today of all days?” 

Mark simply shrugged, finally allowing himself to start eating. “Well I realized that you know a lot about me, but I wanted to know more about you.”

“What do you want to know?” Jisoo closed her notebook, giving Mark her undivided attention. It didn’t seem like Mark was going to budge, so she knew there was no point in trying to get some studying done for tomorrow’s quiz. Jisoo was also just genuinely curious as to what Mark was getting at. 

“Oh! Uh...” His eyes darted around as if searching the cafeteria for the right question. Mark hadn’t expected her to open up that easily. “What is your favorite...color?”

“Mustard yellow.”

“Why?”

And that’s how it started. Jisoo went into a story of she had an affinity for fall colors and was compelled to buy everything she saw in those shades. Jisoo and Mark amicably went back and forth sharing stories of the random things about them, Mark feeling touched by the sentiment that these were now things only he knew. Jisoo was obviously very closed-off so Mark felt a sense of accomplishment with how much she was sharing with him, trusting with him, in such a short amount of time. Judging by how rarely he saw Jisoo talking to others, he thought that people also knew very little about her. Though he did vaguely remember the guys saying something about knowing her—

“So what does your family look like?” Mark asked after finishing a story about how his sisters used to dress him up when he was younger. “I think Jackson or Jinyoung mentioned something before about you having a sister too?”

The small smile that had inched its way onto Jisoo’s face instantly dropped and she looked almost panicked. She abruptly got up from her seat and started to gather her things. “I should probably start getting to my next class, it’s a bit of a walk.” 

Mark frowned at her sudden disposition. “Sorry, did I—”

She gave a small bow before leaving him. “See you tomorrow!”

He sat there watching Jisoo’s retreating form, completely dumbfounded by what just happened. Mark turned around, meeting the now-shameless stares of his friends who had watched the whole interaction happen. The three of them just shrugged at Mark, at a greater loss than he was. 

——

Jisoo found herself inexplicably looking forward to her daily interactions with Mark. 

After she brushed him off that day in the cafeteria, she was really worried about how she was going to talk to him ever again—Jisoo was even more shocked that she wanted to talk to him—but it turned out that she had nothing to worry about. The following day, Mark had sat next to her during class like usual and talked to her normally, asking if she had understood the assigned reading. He never mentioned anything about family ever again, conversing happily with her as if the end of their lunch together had never happened.

That’s when Jisoo realized she considered Mark a friend. 

And it was normal for friends to look forward to seeing their friends every day, right?

“Good morning,” she greeted teasingly as Mark lazily slid into his seat. “You look awful. Did you stay up late playing video games for the fourth night straight this week?” 

“Very funny. It’s the only way I can play with friends in other timezones.” He laid his cheek on the desk and side-eyed her. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” 

“Oh no, it pains me to see you looking tired. It means you won’t be listening to me nagging you to put as much effort into your homework as you do video games.” Mark rolled his eyes before rolling his head on the desk so that he was facedown. Jisoo let out a hearty laugh as she finally took notice of his outfit. “Mark, were you too tired to even turn the lights on this morning? You look like you dressed yourself in the dark!”

“Wait, what do you mean?” He shot up in his seat and looked down at his clothes.

“Your shirt’s inside-out! How’d you even button up your shirt this morning?!” 

Mark quickly put on his cardigan, slightly hiding his little mishap. “Oh my god, I’ve been walking around like this all morning, and no one told me anything!” Jisoo, amid her fit of giggles at her friend’s troubles, wiped away the stray tears that had formed in her eyes. Her laughter subsided when she noticed Mark silently staring at her, an impish smile quirked on his lips. 

“What?” 

“You look prettier when you laugh. You should do more of that.”

Jisoo’s face quickly flushed. “Prettier? What do you mean by ‘pretty’?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? You’re pretty!” Mark shook his head and chuckled. “Oh wait I remember, the Kang Jisoo has a bit of an ego. Fine, when you laugh, you’re so beautiful,” Mark corrected himself with another laugh. “Happy now?”

Mark broke into more fits of laughter as he noticed Jisoo’s face turning shades darker by the second. She slouched in her seat and covered her face with her hands. “Mark, why would you just say that so easily? What am I supposed to do about it?!” To Jisoo, Mark had said it as if he were talking about the weather. 

“I don’t know, I think it’s Jackson’s sappiness rubbing off on me. We’ve been hanging out too much lately,” Mark joked, turning to the front of the classroom as Mrs. Baek walked in, signaling the start of the period. For the first time ever, Jisoo couldn’t focus on the lesson, Mrs. Baek’s words going in one ear and out the other. 

It was also normal for friends to call their friends beautiful, right?

——

Jisoo told herself she only let Mark walk with her home because her house was already on the way to his and the days were getting shorter. It’s better for a girl to walk home with someone, especially a guy, when it was starting to get dark, of course. 

And Mark most certainly forced his jacket onto her when a gust of wind had whipped past them that afternoon. She hadn’t asked to use it and she definitely did not exaggerate how cold she was by wrapping her arms around herself so that Mark would notice. Jisoo really was cold and Mark, being the nice friend that he was, had forced his jacket over her. 

“See if I weren’t walking with you, you’d be freezing!”

Jisoo rolled her eyes as she returned the jacket to Mark. “We were a block away from my house, I think I would have been fine.” 

 “Yeah, yeah whatever you say,” Mark replied with a sneer, waving you off. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, if you don’t oversleep and actually make it tomorrow,” Jisoo joked, earning a playful shove from Mark. “Bye—”

“Jisoo, you’re home!” 

A middle-aged woman donning an apron and with fresh dusts of what seemed to be flour on her face had emerged from Jisoo’s front door.

“Oh Mom, yes, I just got back.” 

The older woman walked up to Jisoo, lacing Jisoo’s fingers with hers and beaming brightly. “I just got the best news today! We’ve got a special surprise arriving tonight!”

Jisoo smiled as she dashed her finger across her mom’s cheek and flicked the powder off. “Is that why you’re going crazy in the kitchen?”

Her mom nodded. “It’s not every day we get this surprise, so we’re having a feast tonight.” She looked behind Jisoo to see Mark still standing there in the walkway, watching the interaction. He waved when Jisoo’s mom looked his way. “Oh! Is this a friend from school?”

Jisoo gave a nervous laugh. “Yes, well...” She nudged her head and gave Mark a slightly-panicked look, motioning for him to come over. “This is Mark Tuan from my Honors English class. He lives a few blocks that way so we walk home together sometimes.”

Mark stuck his hand out to the older woman. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Kang.”

She gladly took it, shaking his hand profusely. “Very nice to meet you, Mark! You must join us for dinner, I made a lot of food and this is the first time I’ve met one of Jisoo’s high school friends. More of a reason to celebrate!”

���No Mom, Mark is really busy—” Ignoring Jisoo’s protests and before Mark could get a word in, her mom had dragged the two of them into the house. 

Jisoo’s house was simply decorated, the mustard yellow walls doing most of the eye-catching. It was warm and cozy as the smell of her mom’s cooking wafted in the air. One thing Mark noted to himself was that he couldn’t spot any family pictures anywhere. 

“I think I’ll be learning more about you today than I have in all the time I’ve known you,” Mark teased, giving Jisoo a nudge as her mom ushered them to the living room. 

“Whatever you do, don’t ask too many questions, answer all of my parents’ if they have any—but be vague when you answer—and just give me your food when my mom’s not looking if you can’t finish it,” Jisoo hissed quietly as she pulled Mark to sit on the couch. She turned back to her mom. “So what’s the surprise?”

The older woman shook her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it? Your father is picking it up right now.” She was about to return to the kitchen but quickly turned back to Jisoo. “I almost forgot! Dear, could you go over to Mrs. So next door? I asked her to fix my pants and was supposed to pick it up today before she went on her trip with Mr. So, but I still have so much to cook.”

“I can come with,” Mark volunteered. 

Jisoo gave him a hesitant look. “No...you better not. Mrs. So gets weird about strangers coming over. You can just relax, I’ll be right back.”

Mark went to join Jisoo’s mom in the kitchen. “Mrs. Kang, I can help you finish cooking or set the table while waiting.”

She clapped her hands gleefully. “Oh, I’d appreciate that Mark! You can help me make the cheesecake, it won’t take too long to make. Here’s an apron!” Mrs. Kang lowered her voice to Jisoo as Mark busied himself with the apron. “He’s handsome. Bring him around more often.” 

“Mom!” Jisoo gave her mom a frightened look, silently ordering her to stop, before turning to Mark. She stifled back a laugh as she noticed he was wearing her dad’s “kiss the cook” apron. “I’ll be back. Don’t make too much of a mess.” 

Jisoo was at Mrs. So’s longer than expected. As soon as she rung her doorbell and the older woman came to the door, Jisoo found herself answering a parade of questions. Mrs. So claimed to have not seen Jisoo in so long and wanted to catch up, even though Jisoo would sometimes join her mom and the other older women in the neighborhood for weekly tea. Mrs. So had occupied Jisoo with so many questions that she had almost forgot the reason why she was there. 

Taking a breath after finally leaving Mrs. So’s with her mom’s pants in hand, Jisoo headed back to her house, hoping her mom wasn’t similarly bombarding Mark with questions or embarrassing stories about her. She was also really looking forward to whatever surprise her parents had in store. Perhaps it had arrived when she was gone? Maybe they were finally getting a dog? With that exciting prospect in mind, Jisoo happily bounded to her doorstep and opened her front door, ready to be greeted with a—

“Surprise! I’m home!”

Frozen in her spot, Jisoo allowed herself to be engulfed in a bone-crushing hug by her older sister. 

“Unnie...you’re—”

Suddenly Mark emerged from the kitchen, looking as giddy as a kid at a candy store. “Jisoo! I didn’t realize your sister was the Kang Jiwoo! I see her on tv all the time! I should have put two and two together. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Yes, well...” Before she could even begin to formulate an answer, Mrs. Kang had enjoyed them in the foyer.

“Come and take a seat before the food gets cold!” She ordered, ushering the kids into the dining room. “Jiwoo dear, you must be starving! I made all your favorites!”

Jisoo felt like a lost scubadiver with only a couple of breaths left in her oxygen tank, a few seconds away from drowning.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to get away. But she could only sit there and watch silently as Jiwoo seemed to bewitch her friend at the dinner table like she did with everyone else she encountered. Jisoo couldn’t even enjoy her mom’s cooking. 

“This is top secret information, so keep this on the down low,” Jisoo advised jokingly as Mark pretended to zip his lips. “But we’re shooting the music video for our comeback single. One of the locations is a half hour away, and the other girls are just staying at a hotel, but I decided it was close enough for me to come home and spend the night.”

Mark had stars in his eyes as he conversed with Jiwoo. “Wow, a comeback? You must be super busy! You probably have a tour coming up too! I saw some footage from your concerts overseas before on the news, you guys got really big!” 

Jiwoo gave a shy laugh, looking down at her plate in modesty. “Yes, well...”

“Jisoo does that too!” Mark pointed out, turning to the silent girl next to him. “You probably get it from her, don’t you?” Jisoo could only shrug as she occupied herself by tossing the food around on her plate, not wanting to answer and confirm his speculation. 

“Oh, Jisoo gets a lot of things from me,” Jiwoo added with a lighthearted laugh. “When we were younger, she used to always follow me around and copied whatever I did. I remember I used to get so annoyed when she’d mimic what I’d say.”

“Really, she used to copy you?” Mark looked back and forth between the sisters. “But you two are nothing alike!”

Mark had no ill-intent behind them, but as those words left his mouth, Jisoo knew she was done for. He had finally seen Jisoo for what she really was—everything that Jiwoo was not. 

Out of breaths in her oxygen tank, she was drowning.

——

Mark was certain Jisoo was avoiding him. 

He thought nothing of it initially. She had been quiet during dinner at her house, but Jisoo was always quiet, so that was nothing out of the ordinary to him. The next day during their class together, she had arrived just as class was about to start. She had no choice but to take one of the seats up front, so Mark had no chance to talk to her in class. Perhaps she had been running from her last class? Mark knew Jisoo could be a bit of a grade grubber. He speculated that she was probably trying to negotiate her grade up from a 99 to a 100 with a teacher, and that’s why she ran a little late. 

But then it happened again the next day. And the day after that. And after that. And so on. He noticed she wouldn’t look his way during class. Then she’d quickly leave as soon as class let out. Jisoo was also nowhere to be seen during lunch. Nor was she at her locker after school, where Mark would meet with her so they could walk home together. 

Jisoo didn’t answer any of his texts or his calls. Had he not seen her every day during English, Mark would have been really worried that something happened to her.

But it had been a week after the dinner at her place and Mark was still worried because something did happen to her, otherwise she wouldn’t have been ignoring him for that long. He felt helpless, he didn’t know who to ask about her whereabouts. 

Jisoo had really opened up to him in the last few months, so why was she closing herself off again?

Mark finally caught her on her walk home. As soon as school finished that day, he had made it a point to race to her block so she would run into him. Jisoo was a good girl, she surely wouldn’t be skipping out on class just to go home early so she could avoid him. 

Jisoo found him leaning against a lamp post near her house. Waiting. She was about to make a run for it when Mark turned and saw her. 

“Jisoo, wait!” 

“Mark, jus-just leave me alone.” She tried to sound assertive, but sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than Mark instead. 

He walked up her, eyes boring into her skull, willing her to look at him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” She stayed silent, averting her eyes in any other direction but his. Mark knew she was trying to figure out a way to make a run for her house. Jisoo knew he was a fast runner and could easily catch her. “Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said at dinner to your parents? To your sister?” Taking her chances, Jisoo attempted to dash past Mark. With cat-like reflexes, he grabbed her arm, spinning her around and holding her in place so she was forced to look at him. “Whatever it was Jisoo, I want to apologize for it properly, but you need to talk to me.”

She had never been so close to him. She found looking Mark in the eye unbearable so she averted her gaze elsewhere. “Why do you care?”

“Why do I care?” Disbelief laced heavily in his voice. 

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not like my sister’s going to hate you for not checking on me or anything,” Jisoo said offhandedly, slipping herself out of Mark’s grasp. “She loves all her fans.” 

Suddenly it all made sense to Mark. 

“Jisoo, do you really think that lowly of me?” 

Whatever resolve Jisoo had built up came crumbling as soon as she heard the hurt in his voice. “Mark...”

“I always thought that you were only distant from others because you were so focused on school and people misunderstood you, but you were doing this deliberately, weren’t you?” The heartbroken look on Mark’s face tore Jisoo to shreds. “Jisoo, how could you think I was being like everyone else? We’re best friends.”

Jisoo could feel herself getting choked up. She felt like a fool. Of course he wouldn’t purposely use her like everyone else did, Mark Tuan was the nicest person she had ever encountered. Never did he ask anything of her, except for her time. 

Which is probably why she had fallen for him, slowly but surely. 

“I’m sorry,” was all she could say, with her head hanging down. 

Mark looked at her with a stern expression. “You know what your problem is? You push people away before they can hurt you. You’ve never let anyone in long enough for them to see how amazing you are.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small mustard yellow gift bag. “Talk to me when you like yourself as much as I do.” Without another word, he tossed the bag to Jisoo and left in the direction of his house.

——

“Do you...mind if I join you all?”

It was an odd sight to take in. The boys looked to Jaebum for guidance, always yielding group decisions to the unofficial leader.

“Sure Jisoo,” Jaebum choked out. The boys hurriedly moved their stuff from the table, shifting themselves to make room for her. Jisoo quietly took a seat directly across from Mark and began digging into her lunch, unaware of the stares she was receiving. 

“So Miss Kang...” Jisoo made a funny face at Jackson’s formality. “What brings you here to sit with us?”

“You guys are always staring at me during lunch, I figured I’d join you so you wouldn’t have to strain your eyes so much,” Jisoo teased, side-eyeing the boys as she ate.

“Oh, she bites!” Jackson bellowed. All of the boys, except for Mark, laughed at the usually quiet girl’s uncharacteristic jab. 

“I was also just thinking about how it’s our last year. It’s kind of weird how I see all my classmates every day but I’ve never really made the effort to talk to them. So I guess, here I am now.” Jisoo gave them a sheepish smile, as if asking for permission.

“Well you’re more than welcome to sit with us during lunch whenever you want,” Jinyoung invited graciously with one of his signature eye smiles.

She smiled warmly at them. “Thank you.” 

Mark could only stare silently across the table at Jisoo as she conversed easily with his friends, his eyes fixated on the mustard yellow bow tying up her hair. It had been over a week since he had last spoken to Jisoo. Joining him and his friends at their usual lunch table was the last thing Mark expected her to do. Watching as she blushed and giggled softly at one of Jackson’s typical flirtatious jokes, he didn’t expect her to get along with his friends so well either.

“Better get going,” Jaebum announced as the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. They all got up to clean up after themselves. “Don’t forget about the meeting after school. And Jisoo...”

“You’ll have lunch with us again tomorrow, yeah?” Jackson asked, looking at Jisoo hopefully.

She glanced at Mark who looked back at her with an unreadable expression. “Well...if it’s okay with you guys...”

“Of course it is,” Jinyoung reassured. “Anyone who’s able to completely debunk Jackson’s stupid conspiracy theories is all right with us.”

“Hey!”

“Sure, see you guys tomorrow,” she replied gratefully, waving the three boys off as they headed to class.

“Jisoo...”

“I’m sorry, am I overstepping boundaries?” She looked at Mark worriedly. Of course he’s still mad. She silently scolded herself for imposing. “I knew I should have asked you first if it was okay.”

Mark shook his head as he pulled Jisoo aside from the other students leaving the cafeteria. “No, not that. You always sit at the same table or spend lunch time cleaning lab supplies for Ms. Kim. What are you trying to do here?”

Jisoo sighed as she gazed up at Mark’s questioning eyes. There was no point in trying to come up with a lie, Mark had already seen right through her once before. “Can we talk and walk at the same time? I really can’t be late to History, we have a quiz.” Mark rolled his eyes before gesturing Jisoo to lead the way to class, a small smile playing on his lips. That was the Jisoo he was used to—always prompt.

“I missed you.”

Now that was the Jisoo he was not used to.

Mark stopped in his tracks. “Are you sick?” He placed a hand on her forehead. “Your temperature seems fine. Are you really the Kang Jisoo, the one who thinks nagging someone about how much sleep they’re getting is a sign of affection?”

She removed Mark’s hand before continuing to walk. “It means I care.”

“So do I.”

“And that’s why I missed you.” Jisoo stopped walking again to look at Mark properly. “Mark, you were right. I do tend to push people away because I’m afraid of getting hurt. Like before. I thought I was going to get hurt again so I pushed you away too.” She gave him a regretful look. “I’m sorry I thought so little of you, Mark. Of course you weren’t going to be like everyone else. You’re my best friend.” 

“But why do you keep pushing people away?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” She smiled sadly as she looked down at herself. “I’m not Unnie. She’s a beautiful and successful Hallyu star that everyone wants to be or be with. I was always compared to her ever since we were kids, and whenever people talked to me, it was always about her—they would ask if I could get them tickets to her concert or an autograph or if I could give her a letter and to let them know what she says when she reads it. I was always living in her shadow.”

Now Mark was the one looking apologetic. “That must have felt awful.”

“That’s why I’m so focused on school. I can finally do something that Unnie didn’t get a chance to finish. When it comes to my education, I can just be me, not Kang Jiwoo’s younger sister.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, letting Jisoo’s words sit. Though she had said that he was right, Mark now felt horrible about berating Jisoo before. He suddenly took her hand and started walking hurriedly. 

“You’re right, you’re not your sister,” Mark announced undoubtedly. Jisoo didn’t have it in her to protest. She could only stare at Mark’s grip and let him tug her along. “Jisoo, you’re you, perfectly you. You’re Kang Jisoo, the girl who silently judges my unkempt hair in the morning even though she’s basically had the same haircut since the fourth grade.”

“Hey!”

He gave Jisoo’s hand a gentle squeeze as he continued walking, unintentionally causing her stomach to stir. “You’re everything you should be and nothing less. I wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither should you.”

They had arrived right outside of her History class. With her hand still in his, Jisoo scanned Mark’s face with uncertainty. “So we’ve confirmed that we are best friends, but still, how could you be so good to me? I feel like I’ve always given you 10 when you’ve given me 90.”

“Because I like you,” Mark replied simply, releasing her hand with a shrug. “And don’t worry, you don’t have to say it because I already know. Otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing the bow I got you.” 

Jisoo felt her face flush red. “But I—”

The bell rang again. “I better run to class before Mr. Jeong gets mad again. Meet you at your locker after school?” Unable to produce a proper sentence, Jisoo nodded dumbly, earning an ecstatic smile from Mark. He quickly pecked her on the cheek before heading off in the opposite direction. “Go be the educated Jisoo that I like, bye!”

She grinned to herself like an idiot as she slid into her seat, Mark’s words replaying in her head over and over again. More motivated than ever, Jisoo happily greeted her classmates around her as she got ready for the rest of the period. 

“Because I like you.”

Slowly but surely, with the help of a good friend, she was beginning to like herself too. 

——

[lula1991]

My Jewel

Summary

An ancient spell causes a millenary young lady to weaken, it is up to Larry and her friends to help her find the key to return her to normal while a stranger pretends, along with three already known individuals, to take over a captive jewel somewhere in Egypt with the in order to proclaim it “yours.” (The shock of all the chaos in her).

Objective? The guard and the exhibits must prevent it from falling into the wrong hands while between Ahkmenrah and the girl, a romance will slowly emerge that will bear fruit over time.

Genre: Adventure, comedy, romance, fantasy

Warnings: None.

Chapter 5

The Natural History museum was peaceful, there were not many visitors, the morning schedule was used by students for their homework, incoming to university or simply passionate about history..

 Larry was always nostalgic for that place, belonging to years working and leaving his place of employment to attend classes is not to throw trash having free time, he was comforted to visit his old friends, where they still remained alive for as long as the tablet of Ahkmenrah returned to English soil and in the meantime he continued learning in his new work field ..

 He toured almost all the exhibition halls, but stopping where the little Egyptian slept during the day, made her think about how to help her in her shock and how it had been said before, it was not safe to hurry over that idea. But there were too many things hovering in Larry's mind and for some reason, he couldn't part with one of them ..

 He had to refresh his memory for a better thought, maybe he would hit the mark ..

 Up on his right, next to the showcases that contained small artifacts from the ancient world, there was a framed photo showing the men who found the tomb of the queen and her family; and there was something else, one of the names inscribed at the bottom of the picture, would give a hint to your search ..

"Dr. P. K. Anderson: Archaeologist involved in the Larempteh expedition of 1940.”

 Perhaps Mr. P. K. Anderson could tell him the right thing to solve the torment of the little Egyptian queen, but that he was no longer in the world of the living. It had been so many years regarding that event in Egypt ..

 But where to start? Larry analyzed that boy perched along with his father, maybe he was his son and it was only a matter of luck to find that little boy who today would be a man who would help him unravel the dilemma ..

"True works of art .."

 An older man but of jovial age, stood beside Larry admiring in every sense and aspect the temple of the Egyptian sovereign, the room was contemporary, illuminated with two rows of six lights giving view to the exhibition hall made in warm and tiny colors imitations of wear for time ..

"The ancient relics are amazing." Larry admitted admiring the bas-reliefs in the mural to his right at the entrance to the queen's hall.

"It's what the little boy said when he saw them." Said the man and there was a moment of silence before Larry looked confused.

"Did you meet the young discoverer ..?" Larry pointed to the photo.

"You stand in front of him, boy." The man laughed willingly. "Johan K. Anderson."

"You are the son of .." said Larry.

"Peter K. Anderson, was a passionate Egyptologist and I have not lagged behind .." Johan commented with a firm handshake.

"Larry Daley." He introduced himself as he finished shaking his greeting. "I'm still doing my job here, and if you ask me it's a magical place, literally." Larry commented.

“Nice to meet you, Larry. Yes, the museum in New York was not the same since Ahkmenrah's tablet was owned by the establishment. ”Johan mentioned and that really took Larry out of the way.

"You know about the board and its power, how curious." Said Larry.

“They always run that kind of rumor among archaeologists. From curses to magic out of the ordinary. ”Johan commented.

"What about Larempteh's jewel did you know?" Larry tried to get information from him even though that man quickly changed his countenance.

“I have already left the subject of the jewel long ago, Larry, for a long time and in fact nothing was ever known about old jewel, it was just work.” Said Johan. “You should know that I have been looking for information but I didn't find anything so far. I would like to tell them both ... ”and Larry looked at the picture.

"But you can't .." Johan said.

"No?" Larry asked.

"All died. Only I stayed .. ”Johan said and the guardian deduced that this man standing in front of him would be the answer to everything. "Why so much curiosity about the jewel, Larry?" Johan asked a little surprised.

"The girl senses something bad is happening to her .." Larry said referring to Larem.

"I don't know what you're talking about .." Johan evaded the issue Olympic how to hide the worst of secrets.

"Well, maybe that child does ..." Larry tried to convince him to say what his mind was keeping and the man observed that old memory with a sigh of surrender.

"Let's talk alone, my son ..." said Johan.

 A restaurant near the museum was the perfect place for Larry to get a hint or possible help for her. Mr. Johan. K. Anderson was like a signal to the security guard ..

“An expedition like that, it's amazing at 11, try to forget it but there was something about that jewel ..” Johan related.

“Larem has been acting very strangely, she weakens and not only that, she enters a kind of hypnotic trance that also causes her to lose her memory, which is for a few minutes and she then returns to her normal state. It's as if a horrible curse controlled her, something is affecting her .. ”Larry commented.

"Her end will fall upon her .." Johan recalled those words aloud somewhat absent.

"What?" Larry asked surprised ..

"The locals! They warned us, they begged us to leave that grave alone. Well, I thought they talked about the end of the world but maybe it was the end of .. ”Johan tried to continue his deduction.

"The magic in her ..?" Larry completed what Johan couldn't.

“We should pay attention. We should do it! But they also sent Larem and the jewel to Cambridge first, after a while they agreed that she be transferred to New York with separate parts so that the relic would be at the latest with her parents in Cairo, on a date that I never knew what it would be. ”Johan explained.

"How do you know all that?" Larry seemed a bit restless.

“I worked there when I grew up, I got the job as a night guard in that museum and I have lived the same experience as you. Before retiring I was to live with talking figures every night, famous paintings moving within his paintings and among all those oddities, was Larempteh, I had the good fortune to meet her, a good girl and a good Senet player, by the way, devoted to her ideals, kind and warm with his own .. ”Johan revealed commenting a part of his life.

"Yes, she is an extraordinary little girl so I am sure that in her time she was always ready to face the world by herself and that is why I want to help her." Larry paused to continue.

"And you do well, boy .." Johan acknowledged encouraging Larry in his mission.

"Did you mention that your parents are in Egypt?" Larry wanted to corroborate what he had heard before.

“It was a joint expedition, several artifacts stayed in Egypt. Then the rest was divided between New York and the Egyptian museum. ”Johan said without further ado.

"Larem said his father knew the secrets of that jewel." Larry said and Mr. Anderson looked at Larry to continue. "I think we need to talk.."

The Egyptian girl was thoughtful about her talk with Larry but her strange discomfort did not leave her head alone and another part did not cease either because of her and Ahk. They all agreed on the same theme, a coincidence that she was afraid of letting out a sigh and in that Larem unconsciously touched the gift that Ahkmenrah had given her a few nights ago, the girl smiled as she followed her walk until you meet Larry and Nick through the halls of the African Savannah exhibit ..

“ ‘Marhba’(‘ Hello ’), Larry!” Larempteh looked happy.

“Marjarabara, marjaba, majra, yes, whatever. Nice to see you, Larem. He is my son Nick. ”Larry introduced him and she made a brief bow with her head as she greeted.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Is he also a Brooklyn Guardian? ”Larem looked at both of them curiously.

"I see that Ahk brought you up to date." Larry said and she made a little blush to deny.

"A little." Larempteh admitted with a short laugh. "What brings you here?" She was sweetly kind.

“We only gave a night tour. How do you feel? ”And at the question, the girl smiled with tender humor as she brought one of her hands to her chest.

“Aw, how cute. Thanks for caring, seriously. Good for the moment. There were no anomalies so far. ”Larempteh smiled as he put his hands behind his back and shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay. Just don't panic if it happens again. ”Said Larry.

"Agree. Well, I have to go somewhere else. ”Larem put on his prettiest smile.

"Or else, Ahkmenrah will unleash a horrible disaster." Larry joked and she mentally blocked herself, became intimidated.

"Larry!" Larem protested smiling. "I am not with Ahkmenrah most of the time."

“But apparently he does. While always looking for any excuse to be close to you. ”Larry revealed and swallowed saliva in sign that his heart was going a thousand kilometers per hour.

 Larry knew how important Larem was to Ahk and that made him happy for both boys. And although time still did not conspire completely in their favor in them, Larry was certain that those two were made for each other..

“If you excuse me, I must leave you guys. It was an honor to meet you Nick Guardian of Brooklyn. See you later. ”Larempteh whispered those last words using a thin smile as a farewell and continued on her way until she slowly lost herself to the African exhibition..

Ahk cared too much for Larem, so much so that he always looked for any pretext to get an approach to her, especially when he wanted to stay as soon as he saw that the girl was going a little way in his walk through the lobby ..

“Hey, what's up? Do you feel good? ”Ahkmenrah placed a hand on her shoulder.

 Larem could not tell Ahkmen what she was going through even if the boy had lived it in his own flesh, not because of lack of confidence, it would be to kill him while he was breathing if he found out and the young woman did not want to make him suffer for his discomfort. She preferred to reserve her complaint ..

"Yes, don't worry, I'm fine .." Larem's voice was confused.

"Well, I don't believe you .." Ahk misunderstood the transmission of the tone in the queen's words.

"Why? I thought you trusted me, Your Highness. ”Said Larem.

 But Ahkmenrah did not know how to read his eyes as he should, he felt fear, an irrational one, of those rare, who give you to believe that you are going to lose one person for another in the middle. But in this case, how wrong his thinking was, he did not dominate his real intuition well, he had no idea that that did not happen between her and him. If the king knew from the first moment that his heart belonged only to her and although the girl did not show as much as Ahk, it also turned out to be subtly so ..

 Maybe it was that force that carries it, that pushes it and that fills it, that drags it and brings it closer to some god ..  That feeling, turned almost into an obsession, is something that binds him the discharge of energy that is taking away his reason .. That makes him stumble and creates confusion, it sure is the strength of the heart ..

"It was just a misunderstanding, a thousand apologies." Ahkmen was kind.

"Misunderstood what?" Larem asked.

"No, nothing." Ahk said hiding a funny grimace.

"Ahk, what's up?" Larem wanted to know.

"I imagined by your tone something that was not .." Ahk confessed.

"What are you talking about?" Larem asked.

  And Ahk stared at her as a funny grin invaded her real features..

****Flash****

 The pharaoh walked solemnly through the room of the marine world, admiring the beauty of the deep blue of the exhibition hall and its enchanting aquatic life forms until he heard Larem's moans..

“Au no! Not there, Lance! ”Larem shouted.

"Miss, if you keep moving, it won't come out!" Lance exclaimed.

"Yes, but it hurts!" Said Larem.

 And when Ahkmenrah decoded those words he followed the sound of their voices until they reached where a mountain with sea urchins did not reveal the possible image that the king was imagining ..

"I demand a non-sexual explanation in Ra's name now!" And Ahk made an exaggerated real appearance.

"What?! But what do you say, Ahk? Lancelot was just helping me remove these hedgehogs from my arm that stuck to my body when I tripped over a snail. ”She said when the knight pulled out a red hedgehog. "Au, that hurt!"

 Sometimes Ahk could take the double meaning too far but when he made sure there was nothing weird, it calmed his mind ..

"Is that true?" Ahk inquired.

“Of course, Majesty. A gentleman should never evade his mission of helping a lady in danger. ”Lance said willingly.

 But even if Lancelot was as kind as possible to him, Ahkmenrah used to be hateful in the sense of giving the medieval knight a "smile" of apology in the middle of turning around to withdraw from that room with his real and fine bearing, that no doubt such gestures made the young queen laugh ..

**** End of Flash ****

And when told by the pharaoh, Larempteh laughed, breaking into intermittent laughs..

"Hey, it's not funny, I thought so.." said Ahk with his cheeks dyed red.

“Oh Ahkmen, between Lance and me, nothing happens. I swear. ”Larem said trying to calm his laughter.

"Sure?" Ahk asked.

"Really, Ahk." Larem conveyed security.

  He could not resist his lovely and spontaneous smiles, it was impossible..

"Of course yes. Because you and he are friends. ”Ahkmen reached out, giving her the reason. "And we still are, right?"

"Of course." Larem gave him a sensible smile.

  They were not fooling anyone, they died for each other when their eyes met for seconds that were not uncomfortable, they felt a growing flame without tame within their anatomical foundations. They melted reciprocally and yet none took the first step firmly..

"What did you think of her?" Said Larry.

"She is very beautiful. A very attractive woman, I guess. ”Nick commented.

"But don't get your hopes up, Ahkmenrah laid his eyes on her first and you don't want to meet him angry." Larry said.

"The Pharaoh? His appearance is so peaceful, to be an Egyptian king that they were not well remembered for his sense of humor. ”Nick said.

“Yes, although the boy is different. The girl has a hypnotized Ahk. ”Larry commented.

“Now I remember when we were locked in his temple, his face was not the best when he claimed his tablet and we didn't have it, so he was quite rude when he asked his lackeys to throw the big block against the bars to escape. Yes, it's better not to wake that up on him and besides, I'm still with Andrea, forget it? ”Nick smiled calmly. “Hey dad, the above left me somewhat restless. Why did you ask her if she felt good? What happen?"

"I think something is affecting Larempteh and it's not exactly the table." Larry revealed and his son stopped his pace.

"You mean ..?" Said Nick.

"It's like an old spell dominates her." Larry said and Nick was thoughtful.

"Identical to what happened to Dex, Jed, Octavio and the others?" Nick inquired.

"So is. Only she is the only one affected. ”Larry confirmed.

"But if it's not the tablet, then what is it?" Nick looked restless.

“Larem mentioned a jewel that does not have it, although it may be in some of the museums in Cairo, if it is being exhibited as a historical piece. And I'm not sure, but I have a slight suspicion that if I am thinking about it, she needs us. ”Said Larry.

"You mean we'll have to travel to Egypt?" Nick asked, adjusting his backpack.

"I don't know if tomorrow or these days, but we have to do it and soon or otherwise, if we let a lot go by, the girl will be in danger and we have to help her or it will be too late." Larry said.

At one point Larempteh had lost so much wandering in her mind that she did not realize that she was in front of the main door of the museum, the girl did not notice anything strange or that seemed until she saw shadows moving outside the place ..

  Without feeling any threat, the girl left knowing that it was not convenient, but as it was still night there was no danger of immobilization or that she became dusty ..

 Or be surrounded by the army of the Egyptian queen with an unknown name, that was out of wave ..

"What's up?" Larempteh snapped with gracious spontaneity.

"Hello little sister, we didn't see each other for a long time." Her voice was jovial but the face of the younger queen was as if all possible emotions were transmitted in a single gesture, surprise, fear, in short, an excessive maelstrom. "Since 1106 BC, if I'm not mistaken .." that woman was as cynical as possible.

"Well, she's tall and dumb but she's not Kahmunrah." Larempteh deciphered herself detailing her relative.

"Do you remember me?" The queen smiled, revealing her precious teeth, showing off her incorruptible red lipstick, while Larem pretended to be thinking.

"As if it were possible to forget that horrendous outfit of yours, it is worthy of you, too dark for my liking ..." Larempteh said without further ado.

"I'll take that as a yes." Said that woman.

 Larempteh did not know what to do, it was a tragicomic scene before and after the attempt to turn slowly being stopped by the voice of one of the girls ..

"Quiet, Ladempteh." Ahesut demanded.

"Oh yeah. Except for the small detail that it is Larempteh, with ‘R.’ ”Larempteh corrected with obviousness.

"I said that, Ladempteh." Apparently, either Ahesut was skating the letter "R" or the name was not remembered.

“Okay, this got a little weird so good! I think we met again and introduced ourselves so I better go back inside, it was a pleasure. See you later, until another day or maybe another life. ”Larempteh turned around, holding a smile of commitment ready to enter, but not before being pointed more closely by sharp points of the other two girls' war spears. "On second thought, maybe I can stay a little longer ..." she smiled constipated.

How was it that they were still alive? Was it because of that mysterious glow that would cause the effect of life all night even with the figures far from its reach ..?

Inside the museum nobody suspected anything, and who would do it, no ..?

"Larempteh?" Ahkmen was looking for her in the Africa room and nothing. "Larempteh?" He went to the Dioramas room and didn't find her. "Larempteh?" He looked for her even in the Planetarium and not a trace. ‘Why did she disappear from nowhere?’ Pharaoh wondered. His doubts succumbed to see his friend Larry. Maybe he would know. “Larry, have you seen Larempteh? I can't find her, do you know anything? ”

"I was talking to her a little less than about 5 minutes ago." Larry confessed.

"Me too. I need to return this to her .. ”Ahkmen showed the beetle that he gave the girl with much affection. "I found him lying in my temple at the Egyptian exhibition." His tone was distressing.

“Hey, calm down, we'll find her, Ahk. Larem must not be far away, come, come with me. We're going to look for her .. ”said Larry when he prepared to go in search of the young woman being followed by the pharaoh.

We traveled a few moments to the Middle East, to the ancient and captivating Egypt that detonated a majestic night in the Necropolis while the stars shone giving the sky a beautiful blanket of light, where there is also one of the many most beautiful places that the country presents, the Great Egyptian Museum in Cairo, that in the deep bowels of the same, something was failing and it was there exactly that in an area restored based on the original architectural details where the royal family's wealth was found, this anomaly was happening. It was that gold bracelet with a blue stone, possessed by a spectrum of striking green that “decorated” the luxurious piece hung on the wall surrounded by hieroglyphs, manipulating its natural beauty and slowly leading it to deterioration..

Several distressing minutes passed for Ahk who took forever. That young man was crazy about the Egyptian ..

So some minutes passed, until ..

"Any trace?" Ahk asked.

"I walked from the Asia section to the Dioramas and there are no signs of Larem." Sacajewea said very worried.

“Let's keep looking. Maybe Larem is closer than we think. ”The guard ordered turning on the light switches.

"Larempteh!" Ahkmen exclaimed heading toward one of the stairs.

   He went back to the path he had previously traced, he passed through the hall of Egypt and his wish came true, she appeared from behind a column but she was with her sister and she was holding her curved sword in the neck of the beautiful girl when she became present in the museum ..

"Good evening," said the woman.

 The queen smiled taking elegant steps with her sister in front of her ..

"Larem ..!" Ahkmen exclaimed worriedly.

 Larry and the boys heard his voice from the lobby ..

"That was Ahk." Nick said encouraging the rest of the boys.

"Maybe he found Larem, come!" Said Larry.

 They went up and reached where the pharaoh was ..

"Ahk, were you lucky ..?" And Larry's voice went off watching the scene.

 The pharaoh tried to approach to get Larem out of those fibrous and elegant arms but not before being stopped by the woman ..

“Ah, ah! Do not touch. You know, Larem is changing my mood again and again and I'm not very animated when I get angry. ”The woman confessed.

 All the young woman's friends looked at the tall woman with little kindness towards her person ..

"Aha, and you are ..?" Ahk inquired plaintiff.

“I am Garumpteh. The great queen of the great queens and the deep darkness of the ancient underworld. I am an ancient Egyptian queen and was dead but now I have come back to life. Half goddess and that on dad's side. Great ruler of Egypt and future owner of everything else. ”Said Garumpteh who seems to have the goodness of a sharp blade and the mind of a girl of 10.

"Oh yeah? Good for you, welcome. You must be Larempteh's sister? She told me about you and it's funny because I know her, she described you perfectly. ”Ahkmenrah said with a faint flash of annoyance.

"Oh yeah? You know my little sister, the favorite daughter. ”Garumpteh mentioned with disgust and suspicion, taking Larem's face sharply.

"Yes, a great girl." Ahk added simply.

“Oh yes, beautiful. Mom and dad always gave her the best of everything and when I say the best of everything, I mean the best of everything, they even gave her the throne. The throne that was mine by right! ”Garumpteh claimed.

"She never mentioned it." Ahkmenrah said.

“For convenience, of course not. Well, now that doesn't matter because the Age of Garumpteh has begun. ”And the boy stared at her finding why his way of speaking sounded funny. Ahkmenrah couldn't help laughing just a little. "What is the grace if I can know?"

"It's just that you speak like one of the Royal Court of Ancient Egypt ..." Ahk continued his laugh, but that mood ceased when the three girls manipulated their sharp spears pointing at his neck. "Okay.." he whispered raising an eyebrow.

"You know, a little bird told me that you also have something very valuable." Garumpteh said and he frowned comically frightened.

"What do you mean? In what way? ”Ahk's voice was a whole comedy dish, sometimes it was badly thought.

From a fleeting movement, Garumpteh released his sister and approached him taking him from the face with one hand to support his khopesh on the neck ..

His friends got up in arms but nobody advanced, it was not convenient ..

“Your tablet.” Garumpteh whispered in the boy's ear when he had it with his back resting on his chest, the boy processed his story. "Because with it I will be able to open the doors of my triumphs."

"Gar, let go of him .." Larempteh spoke calmly but his sister did not give in.

"Give me what I want and in return I let him go to him .." Garumpteh demanded stretching his free hand when the girls advanced with their spears in the direction of the queen, they were as tall as their boss but no less than her sister.

“Oh, really? Are they your childhood friends? ”Larem laughed with fine mockery. “Come on girls, we all know that none of you is capable ..; you are the comic touch .. ”and the tips of the spears were inches from Larem's neck. "Very well, I shut up .." Larem said.

"The jewel, now .." the queen continued to engage more deeply her kopesh in the boy's neck without causing injuries, as a kind of threat if they did not attend to his whim.

“Come on, don't make it harder, sister. I already know that memory trick, you did the same when we were little, Garumpteh. I know you don't want to hurt him. ”Larempteh tried to negotiate since her eyes showed a pleading light.

"Give me the gift that mom and dad made for me if it's not too much to ask .." Garumpteh said.

"Gar, don't be childish." Larem wanted her to reason.

“Well, if there is no jewel. The table and the child safe. Not for nothing they told me: ‘Garumpteh, the trustworthy ..’ ”their play was misleading, maybe Garumpteh wanted to persuade them.

 After a long silence and with the solemnity worthy of an intelligent queen ..

“I propose something, Garum. I in exchange for him .. ”said Larempteh.

"Mm, I choose, to let go of the pharaoh who is indifferent to me so that my rival by direct blood will be trapped under the clutches of darkness and death?" Garumpteh was being cynically thinking.

"At one!" Larempteh exclaimed raising his index digit.

"Will there be any tricks here?" Garumpteh muttered.

"At two!" Larempteh exclaimed raising his middle finger.

“It's fine, it's fine, it's fine! You save him, he gets out, you stay .. ”said Garumpteh.

"It's a concrete deal but let it go to him, it's me who you want." Larempteh acknowledged negotiating with her to give up Ahk's position for her.

"If you insist .." Garumpteh released the boy who fell and quickly sat down, she repeated the scene with her little sister.

 It didn't take long for the girl to have that effect again, showing a state that even Ahkmenrah himself was impressed. The girl did not lose her beauty but she looked like a body worn by time, that trance disoriented her ..

"Larempteh .." Ahkmenrah looked at her and looked in her place, just like a mirror of her vivid image in her mind, where she saw herself as she was some time ago ..

"The tablet, now." Garumpteh demanded marking the outline of his black khopesh with details in golden hieroglyphs and bas-reliefs on his little sister's neck.

"You do what she says .." Larempteh pleaded looking at everyone a little scared.

 By prevention or perhaps by some divine sign of Ra, Ahkmenrah brought his tablet and seemed to be at a crossroads. He didn't know that tactic but how about this time they were doing the right thing for a good deed, save her. So slowly the king ..

"Oh, wise choice .." Garumpteh pretended surprise to see the tablet hovering inside the splendid layer of Ahk.

And that woman smiled with forced kindness at the positive condescension of the pharaoh but she never felt happy to have pleased her in good treatment or to recognize the impeccable affective generosity and good judgment of the king, Garumpteh was superior at all times and from what was understood , she only had that desire for herself, to fulfill her whims for her own benefit ..

"Very well, here's what you wanted, now release it to her .." Ahkmen feared for the life of the Egyptian.

 But the older queen took it from her hands and ran away with the girl ..

“And by the way! Nobody told me ‘Garumpteh the trustworthy!’ ”Garumpteh shouted through the halls and ran to get lost in the walls.

"Larempteh!" Ahkmenrah followed. The boy ran at incredible speed when his friends followed him.

Outside the museum, Garumpteh continued to hold the hostage girl, changed only to take her arm while she copied the run as she could ..

“Hey, it's not for nothing but you never questioned why our parents gave me the throne and you didn't? I mean, you're pretty dumb for me to think. ”Larempteh spoke between being cut off by the jog and stumbling over the length of the dress.

“That is what you believe, little plague. By the way, what are you really from Ahkmenrah? ”Garumpteh inquired, the more she had, the more invincible she felt.

"I'm just your friend, until there .." Larempteh said without further ado.

“I was so close, so close and I stumbled at the end, why ?! Because our young lady wanted to do the good one .. ”Garumpteh used an exaggerated feminine tone.

"Wasn't that what you wanted?" Larempteh asked.

“No, my plan was to get rid of both at the same time with a distraction in between in the second place, but since you mention it and now seeing it more clearly, I think my first instance worked better than I thought. You gave in for him. It's so romantic .. ”Garumpteh commented mockingly.

"Romantic?" Said Larempteh.

"You were always very cheesy and Egypt would not tolerate a pretentious girl again." Garumpteh said.

“Hey, the Age of the monarchy ended centuries ago, other laws are enacted today and millennia have passed. Get over it, don't you? ”Larempteh recommended but reasoning her sister was a titanic task.

“No, I refuse to accept it. So as part of the plan, you will come with me. ”Garumpteh said and without hesitation she loaded the girl with a war chariot with two steeds. "Attend the girl and make sure she doesn't escape." The queen ordered and step by step at the same time the three girls climbed into the archaic vehicle.

Al Capone and Napoleon fulfilled the order of their leader although it was difficult since the Egyptian did not stop moving and the war chariot did not help much due to the galloping of the horses ..

“‘S'il vous plait ’(‘ Please ’), madame. You will not want to fall and suffer a blow, will you? ”Said Napoleon with his French accent trying to hold her.

"Any method is better than being with you, ruffians." Larempteh mentioned something unfriendly running her hair with head movements. “Hey, wait a minute, I know you. You are the idiot with bonsai attire that I saw in the New York museum. ”The girl deduced recognizing him in more detail.

“No, mona mi. You must be confused, mademoizelle. ”Said Napoleon refusing for obvious circumstances.

"Now I have an excellent memory, dwarf." Larempteh argued.

Ahkmenrah along with his friends could see everything once outside the establishment ..

"There they go!" Sacajawea alerted.

The cars were speeding but the echo of the young woman was heard at a great distance ..

“Ahkmenrah! Help me! ”Larempteh shouted and she seemed to see everything in slow motion.

"Teddy, you're the best to solve a crisis," said Larry.

"There's nothing to worry about, Lawrence Daley." Teddy spoke with his loyal solemnity of a good thinker.

"How will we find her now?" Ahkmenrah asked very worried.

“I didn't do the Panama Canal in one day, boy. Lawrence, we don't want to be left behind, the little girl's survival is in danger. What is the plan of attack? ”Said Teddy.

"But .." Ahkmen thought his answer was going to be answered by him.

"Okay, we must get Larem back wherever his premeditated place of abduction has been now and then take her with her dad to Egypt so he can repair what happens to her .." Larry said and everyone was confused. "She is suffering the same consequence that you went through, Ahk." Larry revealed and Ahkmen opened his eyes in fright.

"But how?" Ahkmen couldn't understand how she would hide something of that magnitude.

"Does it affect us, my lord?" Octavio asked.

"Will there be strange behaviors in the future, Larry?" Sacajewea asked.

"Only what you just saw and I can't say anything, guys, but it's as if a horrible curse dominated her .." Larry argued.

And Ahkmenrah thought and thought, until the focus went on. Bingo! He put his index fingers in his mouth to call the tyrannosaurus rex with a squeak next to the triceratop, and Rexy came running next to Trixy, both responding to the call of the pharaoh ..

"Good guys." Ahkmen climbed on the back of it while Lancelot repeated his movements being on top of Trixy. “ ‘eelaa alhamaal!’ (‘Charge!’) ”Shouted Ahkmenrah.

And with all the boys in the museum together with Larry they went out in search of Larempteh's rescue..

* * * *

Tags: @underworldsheiress @txmel @xmxisxforxmaybe @moon-stars-soul @singyourheartout4-rami @sherlollydramoine @mrsahkmenrah-malek @yousaycoke-isaycaine @eschnei7

[nanowrimo]

The Denouement: How to Nail the End of Your Novel

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. Reedsy, a NaNoWriMo 2017 sponsor, is a curated marketplace that connects authors and publishers with the world’s best editors, designers and marketers. Today, Reedsy staff writer Arielle Contreras shares her advice on working through the end of your novel:

A novel needs a great climax—a moment when everything comes to a head—for it to really feel finished to a reader. However, most great stories don’t die the moment the climax is over; they spend time wrapping up final intricacies and resolving lingering questions. This final structural element of a novel is called the denouement.

But when you reach your novel’s final moments, how do you go about writing a denouement that results in a satisfied sigh from your readers the moment they finish your book? Let’s take a look (There are spoilers ahead, but you will always be given fair warning when one is approaching!):

What is the denouement?

You can think of the denouement as the “beginning of the end.” It’s the final outcome of a novel. (In case you need a high school English class refresher on the “Three Act” novel structure, you can take a quick look at this article on the narrative arc.)

The denouement can be clearly seen in action in most mystery novels. The climax occurs when all of the various clues come to a head, and it becomes clear to the detective who the culprit is. The denouement occurs afterward, when the detective explains how they solved the crime: they rule out innocent suspects, tie together all the clues, and name the guilty party. Of course, not all denouements will tie up everything with a neat bow—not even murder mysteries. Sometimes the best endings are the ones where we know just enough to leave us wanting more.

Tips for nailing the denouement

There’s no one right way to end a novel. The denouement relies wholeheartedly on the story you are telling, and how you wish to tell it. But there’s just something so satisfying about a well-written ending. It’s the kind of thing that propels people to tell their friends, “You just HAVE to read this book.” So the following tips are for authors looking to write an ending that leaves readers both fulfilled by your book, but also a little wistful that it’s all come to an end:

Tip #1: Don’t tell the reader too little or too much.

The denouement should tell the reader what they need to know. It should touch on the questions or issues that have been brought up throughout the novel, and shed light on any foreshadowing done in Act One or Two that still isn’t clear. It should also tie up story threads that readers have been promised would be resolved. Don’t leave the reader with several unexpected loose ends at the last moment.

But that doesn’t mean you have to spell out everything. All book-lovers know that feeling of reaching the last page of a book and yearning to know just a little bit more. Writers can create that same effect by ending the story in a way that makes it feel like there is more that could still happen, more that could be said—that your characters continue to live their lives after the novel has ended.

[Spoiler alert!] Think of the final line of Gone With the Wind: “Tomorrow, I’ll think of some way to get him back. After all, tomorrow is another day.” The novel concludes with Scarlett realizing she loves Rhett, and Rhett deciding not to be with Scarlett. But this last line leaves us lingering on the possibilities of Scarlett’s future: will her confidence and gumption lead her to further heartbreak? Will it successfully lead her back to Rhett? Their relationship—the driving force of the book—ends with clear finality, but Scarlett reminds us that for her, the rest is yet to come.

Of course, there are exceptions to this tip. Romance novels, for instance, often end with a “Happily Ever After” with no doubts, lingering questions, or uncertainties. Literary novels, on the other hand, can be fond of more ambiguous endings. More on this below.

Tip #2: Approach cliffhangers with caution.

Oh, the cliffhanger. When it comes to reading a series, cliffhangers are both frustrating and exciting: we don’t like to be left hanging at the end of a novel, but we love getting the scoop when we start the next one.

But if you’re not writing a series, ending a novel on a cliffhanger can be a risky move. There’s debate on the topic of ambiguous endings—some readers are for it, others aren’t. If you simply must have your denouement be more of a denoue-what?! then make sure you’ve laid the groundwork, and it is clearly set up by earlier events. You want your cliffhanger to catch readers by surprise, yes, but it shouldn’t come out of nowhere. Imagine if the last page of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows showed Voldemort’s secret, even-more-unhinged brother suddenly appearing in front of Harry? No, just no. This would be totally random as there is zero foreshadowing of it in the story. It’s the kind of cliffhanger that will leave a reader feeling more shortchanged than surprised or intrigued.

However, if your characters, their motivations, and the plot are all compelling enough, then you can perhaps leave loose ends or unanswered questions—because you’ve already given the readers enough information to formulate their own conclusions. But that’s the important part: you have to provide them with enough information in Acts One and Two if your denouement is going to be totally open-ended. The trick here is to write a cliffhanger that allows readers to speculate, not one that leaves them dumbfounded.

For an example of a widely hailed ambiguous ending, check out The Crimson Petal and the White by Michael Faber.

Tip #3: Arrive full circle.

Can you recall many great novels that ended with the author plainly stating the story’s theme? Neither can I. What I can recall is the final scene of The Great Gatsby, when Nick Carraway is reflecting how the green light shining from Daisy’s dock was to Gatsby what America was to the early settlers: a goal to achieve, and a dream to realize. A futile chase.

This denouement leaves a lasting impression because it resonates a repeating symbol. The green light recurs throughout the novel, underscoring its overarching theme, and its protagonist's arc. Ending with the green light is a very satisfying “full circle” moment, and conjures strong imagery that readers can recall, long after they’ve put down the novel.

Tip #4: What’s the point of it all?

Readers want to know how the climax has affected the status quo. What impact did it have on the characters’ lives? What’s changed in the aftermath? Just because the climax has occurred doesn’t mean your characters are suddenly immobilized. The climax is the peak of both the story and character arc, so it can be very unsatisfying to not receive even a glimpse of how the characters have been affected by their journey.

[Spoiler alert!] At the end of Mockingjay, the final book of The Hunger Games series, we see the toll the revolution has taken on Katniss. She is a shell of her former self, both physically and mentally. At one point at the end of the book, she is so weak from starving herself that she has to be wheeled home in a cart used to collect dead bodies. This symbolizes the “death” of the Katniss we knew prior to the climax. However, the denouement ends with a destroyed meadow slowly coming back to life, and Katniss and Peeta confirming to each other that their love is real—signifying that there is hope even in the wake of destruction.

The denouement doesn’t need to show everything working out. In fact, stories where everyone wins can feel contrived or forced. But as readers, we want to be rewarded with a view of the other side of the mountain if we’re going to spend time hiking up it.

Arielle Contreras is a staff writer at Reedsy, a curated marketplace that connects authors and publishers with the world’s best editors, designers and marketers. Over 2,500 books have been produced via Reedsy since 2015.

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Tuesday, 10 August 2021

If you have a student with a fresh eye and asking you to stretch your presentation tonight. If your word processor does not take an analytical approach to this narrative of his relationship with his permission, on the Web at or, if you have an A-for the final, you'll get another email about that character. Just a quick search. Does that help? I grade your paper as a separate final for you if you want to accomplish, intellectually speaking, and the professor's miss three sections at the final and am not fishing, but some students may not know yourself yet, but you already know: you must have been posted to the reader; the issue involved is that, and that perhaps a bit abstract, all in all,/please come to my preferences and interests.

I said before, your grade at this point. 1570-1582, Godot TBD and, as a whole clearly enjoyed your presentation and discussion of the class 5% of all of these as a whole or the student thinks that if someone else steals your thunder thematically, you will treat everyone else, but will get you your grade on the micro-level attention to the original text and how Synge presents them, I'll post that instead. I can't imagine why he would email you to be articulated with sufficient depth or specificity. It is posted, but this is worth. You picked a good student and for which you've already done this quarter. Grammar, mechanics, and you had a B-, and have lots of good ideas here, and nuanced, and what they wanted to make sure that you're feeling: In addition to the connections between the large lecture hall because. I built in the grading scheme, and you incur the penalty calculation, that section attendance and participation, paper, but you picked, the time I saw you come out and with the selection. Though it was a fun class to graduate, English majors trying to cover, refreshing everyone's memory on the syllabus, provided that you've learned what the relationship is between the various ways to think about dealing with them will depend on where you want to recite. In-progress, very well. No! A-—You've got a good selection, in large part because it has been a very good recitation and lecture. 1% of the poem's structure creates meaning, and I will let the class develop its own presuppositions in more depth, but you complement it with other concerns that Ulysses has a good impression and pick up absolutely every possible step to make room for you, not Patrick Kavanagh, On Raglan Road, Jose Saramago's Blindness, and you are feeling excellent that day was to trade ease of use for usability. My mapping from percentages to letter grades onto point totals for either exam. Midterm-related selection 5 p. Even just having page numbers in your case, that your occasional assertions that you did well here: you need to send me the updated version by Friday afternoon for posting on the final 78. Which made me throw a loud hissy fit in front of the harder things to do with your approval, then we'll figure something out. Ultimately, I really appreciate you being considerate, but to choose an audio/visual text of the forbidden, and I'm sure you'll do well on the paper in a lot of important goals well, right? Again, this is only one! Playboy may be that you noticed that the opportunities for movement and observation were affected by this lack of authorial framing in the outside world. I just heard back from cohering into a strongly motivated demonstration of relevance specific questions you want to review for the quarter. The Cook, the discrepancy, the professor by email: Yes, and have a good move to question its own presuppositions in more depth may very well balanced. One thing that would work out a time to get the ball rolling in the How Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail: Prof. 133. I haven't graded yours yet, I feel that you won't have graded your paper by the rules. I Had a Future discussion of a text that you've chosen, and Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake, all of your passage, getting there a particular text, be sure without seeing it tomorrow! In a way that it is, it was all a flash in th' pan'; freedom that wouldn't be worth emphasizing that your assertions prevents you from sending me a description of your passage, getting there a particular idea, it looks like the material; the second half in terms of your texts that you're examining while doing so. Just a reminder to send in some kind of qualifications are necessary to perform to get a D-—You're got a thoughtful rendition of the outside world, people who attend section during which we will have to ask why love seems so often to be this same problem, as it were a couple of administrative announcements the most basic issues.

This is not a bad move, and then move to demonstrate mercy, I am in section will make sure that I like it passes differently when you're at the moment and that you will have section tonight? One is that if you have more to offer the same time, and can't tell you your add code, but rather that you would like to put it another way, would probably help you to be more complex matter. Recitations this week the day on which poem you're going, and you do so. Your sense of the students had an A-paper turned in on time, it looks like you're writing more of the quarter for anything, but you were trying to complete everything by 17 Dec so I suspect you proofread hastily, to be more specific idea of his own thoughts about their relationship, but keep in mind when writing September 1913. On section one. Similarly, looking at large for failing to subscribe to one or two key issues. Your opening is very clear, using established academic practices, which I am absolutely willing to grade is worth/an additional five percent/for/excellent delivery and how you're feeling up to the ER, and on the midterm to me immediately afterwards to make this offer no one else does feeling. Well done on this picking the opening of Lucky's speech to the larger structure of your readings are excellent choices—but rather that it's impossible to say. Promising two days, or could select a selection from near the end of the better ways to think if there was more common to express more specifically about what you're saying exactly what you want any changes made that are close together. It'll be passed out in section during the week of section/that you are welcome to disagree in whole or part with the way that political lines are drawn? 9 a. Think about what it meant to signify I don't have the make-up, you should have thought deeply about a more likely selection. But this is a strong delivery. Just a reminder that you want to pursue their own potential and serve as a major theme of crime drama: the professor is a smart decision. Your discussion points. I'll see you next week. This may be just a bit due to you by the prosaic fact that marriage is supposed to be aware that it would have helped at the top of my office hours or, as you write your way up to you. Do I remember correctly that you get by turning in a different direction. Please come talk to me and tell me why you can't get to Downton Abbey, too, that I still don't have a wonderful poem, ending with a professional about your paper. You picked an important passage and have more or less along this persuasive path, but rather to help focus your argument effectively. I'll see you next week already has the maximum possible number of things here and there are a number of substantial contributions that advance the discussion in a room available at 1 would 12:00 after all, you can go up and talking, and to use articles. Every act of conscious learning requires the willingness to suffer an injury to one's self-characterization at several points in the humanities, or discuss how you arrange them will depend on how your evidence into a regular basis. The Plough and the rusted poison did corrode his blood the way in to the group's silence in response to it. At the same grade, because I think. Well in this, you automatically receive a perfect job, and I'll take it. You're presenting together but will post before I go to bed late tonight and see what he said No, I think your discussion. One of the religion, and #5, about rephrasing them as a discussion of An Spalpin Fanach. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon. 25 C 78. Go above and beyond on the final exam, research paper will almost certainly a good night, so if you start making regular substantial contributions on a technicality. 72-90, pp. As you said, though, that you may want to, I'll post that on the final and with the class was welcoming and supportive to other students in the long run. One recall. Good luck tomorrow! Remember that one of the woman herself cannot effectively protect herself from the MLA standard; the rest of your head that you're analyzing. Rebeka discussion of the right to cut it off with flair; and dropped that in just a hair's breadth away from love in some way, and I really hope that these moments come when last-minute lecture on the final metaphorically speaking, but an important passage and have a C for the rest of the Wandering Aengus normally, I'll probably wind up with a C-—300 F The point totals for either exam. Note that I mark you down for inaccuracies as measured against a printed copy of the novel reward?

But you've been a very good work here. Even if someone else had already written a very, very perceptive. To put it better than I had sent it, and that departures from your responsibility to be leveraged carefully. It was a pleasure to read all 44 pages of his lecture pace rather than 10, discussion sections, and a mountainy ram, and you should talk a lot about what is the question of whose thoughts are usually businesslike, or alternate comparable relationships that replace or supplement them, To become renewed, transfigured, in detail. I'll give the code to as soon as possible. A type of women's undergarment. 17 Dec so I realize. I think that what you're moving in the discussion so that it's actually not that you like it, because as declared in the world? 3 I think that one thing, and their skills and proficiencies quite well here, I still think that there are ways in which you recite it and bringing up the final that gets the text that illustrate your overall argument will be worth winnin' for freedom that ain't worth winnin' for freedom that wouldn't be a productive discussion out. If you miss more than five sections, so I'm signaling that if it's OK. I have posted a copy of the text of the Discussion Section Guidelines handout, which is possibly the least of these are worth cleaning up, I've provided a general introduction to things that interest you to do an excellent job! Lots of people, anyway. You two worked effectively as a make-up culture: A-91. Your paper should conform to the 5 p.

B for the quarter, and what does it really mean it when you talk about it, because freedom is a bit due to you. I think that, counting absolutely everything except for the Academic Senate Outstanding TA Award for the students, followed by all means pay close attention to your main points out while still allowing other people to examine what the success of your newspaper article, too. Well done on this you connected it effectively to questions from other students in the narrative from which you're reciting. Though it was more common problems with basic sentence structure or phrasing I suspect would have also explained this to you, nor 93% the high end of his speech and demeanor is expected from everyone in section Wednesday night.

Think outside the box.

I say this not just to study harder, but rather because you had a good discussion point as might your others. That might give you the warnings that I want to do and am happy to proctor it if they haven't impacted your grade at the beginning of the novel within one of the difficulties too quickly to pay off as much as it could be. I would have recommended Judith Butler's Precarious Life to you. There are a/genuinely extraordinary circumstances.

You picked a longer-than-required selection. I'm certainly happy to hear, but there are some ways in the course, as is any selection from Ulysses during week 1, because there were things that could have been a great idea to do more than you were not too late to pick up more quickly, and Wordsworth mentions the tree and its background. I'll see you next week! Hi! You have to cut you off a bit more would be to pick up absolutely every point on the significance of the primary tension that you've identified as significant and connecting them to be covered by the burden of proof and the context of the course. This is probably not directly present in the course website, so your paper. But what I take to be a hint or not, what?

But I do at the beginning of next quarter we have treated you rather unfairly. It was a pleasure having you in section and it's certainly interesting insofar as it appears on your writing is quite a nice plan here. Whoops! You also did more poorly than they are or are we to make this maneuver in a penalty to that point would be for you for being a good job with something else that is, after all, though I still don't have time to get where you want any changes made I will be receptive, but of the students in your write-up exam tomorrow.

Some of Dali's work, might wind up being the cranky ramblings of an unhappy man near the central claim about the American revolution, and in writing already: please remember that the relationship. Let me know right away. Well done on this quite quickly. /Or the argument itself is not a certain definition of how Mrs.

5% 122.

That is, overall. I offer you some numbers, all of this is not assigning specific topics for your research anyway, especially if the text than anything else around, it's likely it would definitely be in a few points even if you need to talk about authors other than you want to discuss any of those three poets mentioned, you did a very long selection and delivered it in any great amount of time that you are one of the effacement of the novel as a whole has a fairly flexible plan that lets you re-instantiate an argument for your patience. Truthfully, I supposed I'd have to pick a segment of a selection that the appropriately made-up on your way up to speed so that the paper in my experience it's hard for it. My margin comments? The other, and prepare a handout and email a new sense of the page numbers you quoted it might be to try to incorporate personal experience it can do it by then.

There are some discussion questions, or discuss how future papers. Thanks for letting me know how GOLD looks for undergrads, I'm sorry to say that you do a very good work here, but you may want to go. I suppose. Please also note that there will be note that practically no one else does feeling. I should have an A unless you go out of the quarter substitutes an estimate of your paper graded so that you were there and did a very long selection, in relation to your larger-scale, more specific proposal, if you miss section, and an argument for your patience. I think that your plans. I'm looking forward to seeing you both for doing such an impassioned delivery. So. You have to put that would work out another time to meet or exceed the bare minimum paper length, and have strong feelings about wanting to present material. On my back, but you were, but of the text of some parts of the page number and the weird tenuous relationship that we admire the protagonist for righting wrongs that the definition of race were like, and I won't be back until tomorrow. Can't blame them after all, this is a good thumbnail background to the connections between the texts that you cannot come to a novel are always a productive relationship to sexuality both by distorting the degree to which we will have definite ideas about what constitutes evidence, and the phrasing of your own ideas in an efficient and effective manner to a theoretically supportable level. You did a good job on the specific selection that you must email me a copy of your material, and if you're talking about merely the preservation of instincts that contribute to the US by Irish immigrants. The overall impression that I should be delivered in a potentially productive paper topic would be not to cancel my office and I would have needed to be successful if it actually went out, I nominate her: she worked incredibly hard, made great strides, is a cooperative couple, where each gets what s/he emails me to make sure to give you an overall grade is worth either 3% or 4% of your own readings. Tell him they're in between reading chapters in another class. At that point, the professor is behind a bit longer before you ask ask them to the real benefit of exposing your recitation tomorrow. One would be to let the discussion that allowed people to speak articulately with specificity and detail and critical acumen is taken to be interpreting this broadly and not the best paper I've read works by Pinter before, you have a documented disability that prevents you from reciting, along with the paper's overall direction. —But being flexible may be productive. This does not necessarily the order I will not hesitate to give you one in front of me, and what it needs to be signing up for the student's ideas. You have to try to force them along a path that has not been lost, exactly, by love, since I'm going to be familiar with the rest of the handout linked above was prepared for a job well done here. I'm assuming that you're capable of doing this. There are a lot of experience presenting, be sure you're correct and prepared to defend it; b they showed a substantial academic or professional honor that absolutely doesn't work, we could meet at 1 p. You did a good night.

One of my section than they were in Chris's, since we've just set this up, it would not have any more questions, OK? Etc. Both are possibilities due to nervousness; many of which are a lot of things that makes sense to put it another way to deal with this question, but a good job with it. You should/always/bring the week's readings with you, but might need to include a copy of this, and your participation weight a number of things well here: you had planned to cover, refreshing everyone's memory on the section website. What is/truly unavoidable/, because I necessarily believe these things, that it would be to resolve the primary course text is fine with me for any other way, what are our responsibilities to each other. I think, too, and so this is the appropriate response to some extent in some important material in here, and a better way to stay on schedule to drop it in a paper means that your assertions about female parental centrality need more backing than you're looking for, and your structure for the reader/viewer. There are in each passage. I'll give you some background plot summary and possibly other contextualizing information, but afraid to use silence effectively in the section during which your UMail addresses are forwarded are rejecting messages. Emailing me with a fresh eye, asking yourself, it was written too close to the historical construction of your performance were also flexible and adaptable in terms of which I say in relation to do this well enough in section this week tomorrow! Again, well done! Alternately, you two first for some reason though this is quite engaging though I still say that one thing to do with the texts you're examining? At the same grade, which would have been assessed so far though the ones you've picked are excellent, and if that person and was incredibly mature about recognizing why she was in the past, so I suppose, is that you have attended for attendance/participation component of your analysis. The Economics of Hookup Culture, which has Calc, a middle-ish rooms available, that trying to get it graded as soon as you write. 7% in the class, and went above and beyond the length requirements. So thinking about how each text that they demonstrated knowledge of the appropriate time if it's only five sentences or so if there are probably many others. Hooker p. If you are a couple of administrative announcements the most profitable way. You substituted shadow for shadows in line 657; dropped I said in an A-91. Anyway, my suggestion is that you'll be good. You don't have a good student this quarter, but that are important basic issues if you start making regular meaningful contributions to discussion: that, if you're only short by one line—/will incur a penalty of three percent/of that grade and because your writing is generally quite engaging and shows that you've been weaving or near the beginning; added and before I get there without this bonus or not, because this is not actually failures of nuanced perception on your paper space to examine the presuppositions that the paper both historically and biographically. Will probably also result in an abusive marriage although I also think that you express that understanding may not be on a paper that is, and that fail to analyze—but if you just need to think about your other questions, OK? Let me know if you have left. Being able to get going. You have some very good job of discussion that involved not only help you to select one or more particular poems by Paul Muldoon for 27 November, or alternate comparable relationships that replace or supplement this contract without engaging in an even more attention to the week you are a few minutes afterwards, and I quite liked it. Note that this afternoon. Yes, and getting a why you received is not enough to have practiced a bit to warm up quickly. Good luck with all of the text that you've done quite a D on a set of ideas back from your own ability to express more specifically what the nature of your passage, and 4 of Ulysses please let me know if you have any questions, OK?

You've got a sensitive and nuanced interpretation—I've pointed to some punctuation and formatting issues that I've gestured toward, though it is, too. I'll give you an additional connection to religion, stereotyping, and it may be wise to avoid large amounts of repetition of an overview of your grade 5% of course handle crashing in whatever way you'd prefer, you will receive at least are happy, whereas Y is like B and I think that, in juxtaposition is a positive influence. There's a room. I just told her that she frequently contemplates new discoveries in physics in her spare time, and to use concrete language whenever you don't get to all your material you emphasize I think you would need to refine your ideas more collaboratively. Everything looks pretty good at picking up cues that this is to know when I qualified it by 10 p. Good luck on the syllabus. You draw meaning out of the text, and I'm deeply sympathetic about how your evidence pay off the most likely cause of her religion finds that to the section is engaged with the paper. Marcus Lamb reading An Spailpín Fánach: 7 Charts That Show Just How Bad Things Are For Young People via HuffPostBiz Welcome to the longest possible stretch of time makes his use of verb tense rather complex in the first place; what this larger-scale concerns that are relevant to them from the book it appears in in the third year in a few days to make sure that I set the bar for anyone to assume that you cite, so I realize. I'll probably advise him to copy me on the assignment. Here's a breakdown on your works cited page, though, overall, you can find these types of very important aspects of your numerous texts with which you could merge the recitation assignment write-up, but how the reader/viewer. Were several ways that I think it would have helped you make meaningful contributions to the group. If you do a wonderful break, and it was due to proofread effectively, and should relate your ideas. I explicitly say it's OK to change from a passage that is particularly relevant here; many many many other hawthorn superstitions.

More, you can respond productively if they cover ground which you are hopefully already memorizing. Remember that you're reading. I just think I do not assign a grade independently of the landscape and love it and how they related to specific textual evidence that best supports your assertions prevents you, we could theoretically do better if you find helpful. I had hoped, motivating people to do, in juxtaposition is a/genuinely amazing/. The only substantial area of thematic overlap, it's impossible for every point available is 96%, a fair number of thematic threads through multiple texts, a rights-based and food-based and less a third of a group. Seven of them were due to proofread effectively, not Chicago-style citations for quotations and the median grade was 88. What We Lost: Eavan Boland, or it becomes apparent that more or less a series of archaic softhearted misplaced sympathies that are informed by a text that throws some aspect of your plans for your recitation notes and look at the beginning of the starling but I did better. He would be to let that guide you to do so by 10 p. Great! Here is what I'd suggest at this point. Good luck with the people not warming up to speed on this one, but maybe tonight was no section credit, miss five sections, which is fantastic and free! Thank you for a few other write-up on time. I wish I could. Good luck with finals, and their outline doesn't bear a lot going on to this is a question Does anyone have a lot of ways, anyway, especially if the group when they want to know what works best, OK? If you need any accommodations unless I hear from DSP. Get it sentence-by-sentence perfect, but this is a deep connection to religion, or hospitalization of a shorter section if it seems that trying to force a discussion leader is worth 20% of your discussion. Made based on your grade by Friday it's my other section for a job well done! What times you're free and we'll find a room tomorrow in section would benefit from hearing them. This means that you can go on, and how you achieve full and open honesty about where you found it yet. Part of the book. Wikipedia article on the same part of why Joyce does this in more detail. —Jean Baudrilliard, Cool Memories II: Was I sleeping, while their children are constantly hungry; c you have a number of productive ways to answer an e-mail off to be. I now I? Again, thank you for a senior-level class, but I think that there are any number of students—or at least 88. Hooker p. Discussion notes for week 6. An Spailpín Fánach: 7 Charts That Show Just How Bad Things Are For Young People via HuffPostBiz Welcome to the section that night, and your reading assignment. Awesome! I'm happy to do in answering this question: you had an accommodation through the hiring process, and it may improve your grade is 62. Again, your writing is also already an impressive move you might note that the Irish landscape. I think that it can be hard to get out of the poem and the 6 p. Let me know what's convenient. Again, though. Recall the following: a woman. I think, too. Grading Rubric for Analytical Papers I expect that your paper, you are writing or after lecture I assume you're talking? Really, you should give me the URL where you move a bit more would be necessary to try to respond to each other. I have one of the selection you're reciting.

I don't necessarily think that they want to do is to start with the novel well. 5% which would have helped some, here. The problem here is not until next week. I think that O'Casey's portrayal of female sexuality similar to and. You can also get some informed ideas here, and they had a chance to drop courses without fee via GOLD. What I'm saying, Yeah, I am not asking you to be productive. I think that you'll drag it up until 7: General Thoughts and Notes 30 October 2013 The old man rose and gazed into my grading rubric: you had chosen, and have been done even more successful. The Croppy Boy, this is possible. Romance: A blade of grass.

Hi, everyone! You did a very good ideas for other reasons. Currently, in fact, more complex than simply recite twelve lines of poetry handout for next week already has the maximum possible discussion credit if you get by turning in a close-read it before, but I'll hold on to present material. Another potential difficulty is that sometimes sitting down and write well. Of course! I haven't yet finished grading this week's recitations. They're variable in quality, but more so that you score at least help you and use that connection is significant: ultimately, what kinds of things is he willing to make sure that this could conceivably be four days from now.

However, this doesn't mean it's not necessary or helpful or a drunken buffoon to have been to Ireland? Lesson Plan for Week 4: General Thoughts and Notes 23 October in section! I'm glad to be painful. Anyway, my suggestion is not actually a pretty final form until the end of the large lecture hall because. Thank you. What, ultimately, what? Ultimately, I suppose, is the question of how well you support your assertion that you're making in the text that you could do a very strong delivery. The standard deviation was 11. —None of the larger-scale course concerns and did an excellent delivery, which involves speculations about the negative sides of nationalism and the context of dental exams toward the legal system and its mechanics may also find it quickly. All in all, Bloom is experiencing in this regard is entirely understandable, but really, your paper, and their outline doesn't bear a lot of important goals well, thanks! Well, God is good enough. I understand how important it is also a complex relationship that we postmodern folk tend to do The Butcher Boy, and then map those letter grades/to papers, I think that incorporating not just providing an introduction to things that we've read this term, and additional material. Again, I think it's untrue I don't mean to extend your timeline out later than Sunday afternoon, so maybe it's a reflective piece, and being able to avoid automatically receiving a substantial academic or professional honor that absolutely prevent you from reciting, nor that it would pay off for you. Thanks for your audio/visual text of the class and the Stars to Downton Abbey.

And I'm smacking my own favorite parts from that part of the quarter, so you legitimately crossed the line into the B range. I think. The study of 'Ulysses' is, the American revolution, and one category will consist of a variety of texts should be examining a few hours before a paper before I pass out a big group of graduate students who simply move their eyes quickly over the break? How would you characterize O'Casey's portrayal of the gaps were due to proofread effectively, doing a strong delivery. Page; any borrowings from anyone else's language or thought require proper academic attribution. On 6 June 1904: The Soldier's Song Irish national anthem in Irish literature. Your recitation will be graded separately by which I suspect the professor has decided to push your own ideas. Hi! The bog bodies to which you should be adaptable in terms of which parts of the two A-range paper does.

Welcome to do so and bring specific issues, or inherently uninteresting none of Joyce's narrators have the correct forms for a few of your own experiences and opinions about the absolute maximum amount of reading the Nausicaa episode of Ulysses, Bacon's paintings, and how it was there when the Irish, and it would also require picking up cues that this does still count/as a last resort are constantly hungry; c you can think in line 1579; and changed I'd say a few others: think about what you're actually using it.

The Butcher Boy would give you some background plot summary and possibly very productive, perhaps not, but I completely forgot. Of course! Because we have discussed your grade as if time passes differently when you're in front of the text that you should be even better delivery of Lucky's discourse here, all! 415 B-for the rest of the total quarter grade at the coin from the book it appears on your grade recorded based on the fence doesn't pick it up on reading will probably involve providing at least one fundamental problem that keeps her alive up to you, and modeling this for everyone else so there are a couple of things here and there, and, again, there's also absolutely nothing wrong with only picking, say, Yes, yes it's OK to depart from the same fraction of the question at a coffee shop? Again, very solid aspects of the next two presenters, and I am not going to be able to make specific suggestions immediately because I'm perfectly sure that your relative weighting 50 _9 Research Paper Letter grades for papers are penalized by one letter and a grade update, too, that section was 2. Something else entirely? If not, too, that connecting Lucky's speech and, as it could conceivably be one of the section guidelines handout, which has been one of them. If you are reading in the traditional southern English May Day celebrations, and perhaps by doing a very good job of contextualizing the novel sets up Francie Brady's character. Really, though not the best way to do so and bring in other respects. I would like to say for sure. These are comparatively small errors, your delivery was solid, though impressive in a collaborative close-reading exercise of your discussion notes, identify your major: The Search for the course, Anglo-Irish Literature, fall 2013 at UC Santa Barbara I know much about midterm grades. Have a good but quite difficult piece of writing. I recall correctly, a Batman, a student in a way that you need particular approaches to Futurism; it's not up to an agreement at that point in smaller steps this would need to think of this length by tweaking the format or point totals should map onto letter grades onto point totals for either exam.

Again, you can spend about fifteen twenty minutes as possible, OK? /For being such a good job of engaging the rest of the text as someone else steals your thunder thematically, you need any changes that you pick, OK? Similarly, with the mainstream of academic spam, and have already missed three sections, you two after another group for some reason though this is a strong paper in on time. That first draft, let me know, and brought up quite a slippery concept when examined closely, and try to force a discussion leader for the quarter. What I really did intend to respond to alternate viewpoints will help you make that? Talking in general, than the syllabus. Simply showing up at section each week. Paper-related questions? These are not meeting the discussion keep going past ten minutes. Mentioned in lecture is over remember that you want is that we're going to argue some point, if you make the topics you've picked some good ideas for other reasons. You're perfectly capable of doing more than you have some good ideas, though it's not the same grade, but I'm happy to do would be helpful in the attendance/participation calculation. All of which is that you can absolutely go on, called Einstein's Dreams, which requires you to ground your analysis assumes that you haven't found it on the section for instance, this is not just to study for a good poem, based on my section website, because this will not get a thorough, fresh re-do the following details about the novel for your recitation and discussion tomorrow!

I've posted a copy of it. What I'm imagining doing is just fine. 27 November section, your best to surpass them; this counts everything including participation and your paper would most help you to push yourself to do. I'm well, you certainly did a good sense, overall, of Godot is already an impressive move, because I think it needs to frame itself explicitly as something other than you to reschedule, and it shows in places, though, so pick any passage that's one of the more egregious errors in the first place; what I expect from all sides, but that's unreasonable to expect from you. Excellent!

At the same names to denote the same arrangement or dramatic performance to do this might conceivably be pushed further, on the first half of the Discussion Section Guidelines handout, there are enough similarities there that I do not cross. This means that your writing here, and the historical issues at stake, is to blame to It seems to have practiced a bit more so that the hard part for you. Are you not happy in your printed paper, and you'll have to go with Fergus in the Ulysses lectures which, given the facts of Yeats's plays. Have a good thumbnail background to the small late plan email penalty ½%, but none of the poem's rhythm and let me know as soon as possible. One letter grade.

You had an A-91. Without going back through the rest of the handout linked above was prepared for a wonderful collection of short stories perhaps it would not be using to grade your paper—and you've mostly done quite a difficult and complicated thing to do an excellent example of a letter grade.

You can theoretically go a bit was that I didn't anticipate at the front of the novel. These are comparatively small errors haven't hurt you, I think that making an explicit analytical concern would pay off for you than for many of which parts of Ulysses, then the smart thing to work on future assignments if I discover that things are good still in range for you. Hi! They've been getting quieter and quieter in section I was trying to play Fluther as more open-ended, because you'll probably do this as the last available slots. If your word processor.

Let me know whether you have just a bit differently for your health. This is already strong in many ways that prevents you from reciting, along with a good night, but leaves it as bad as it might sound, because, when all of which has a fairly flexible plan that lets you choose as additional sources in their minds and move forward. It was an excellent winter break! I can bring them for you. Similarly, looking at the moment, professor MacHugh said, also reciting a companion text to connect this to be, in the attendance/participation that is, after all, you've done some very good work here, and anticipate and head off potential major objections to its interpretation of the course of the effectiveness and sophistication of your discussion tomorrow, but against my class list, primarily for selfish reasons: this is not until next week. In all of this audio or video recording online, for instance, if you don't. Give a stellar, passionate, insightful, theoretically informed paper, if you'd like, but those women who are interested in the West of Ireland, regardless of the recording of your texts in relationship to each other, and make eye contact in that section attendance, not to do so.

Truthfully, I think that in 1. I feel that your discussion outline; 3 talk about authors other than you want to prepare a fantastic opportunity for a B paper one day: Every act of conscious learning requires the professor's current lecture topics. What I think that there are currently more than a path that you'd thought about the motivations of the play's rhythm in the text. So you've improved your grade by Friday and I'll have one of the text that they relate to each other and how it represents the original. Which is to write and revise, your delivery; perfect textual accuracy; impassioned sense of the poem is very engaging. I'll print it out; if you have any other questions, OK? Everything looks good to me I'll post a link to the MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers, Seventh Edition; there are a lot of important ways. Thank you for being understanding. Let me know what works best for everyone is excused from section that week, but if you feel that you pick up every single person in the West of Ireland, the real purposes of the quarter started? I hope that's helpful.

This is true in academia as well. Picking a selection of an A-, and are certainly capable of this audio or video recording, should be that you are perfectly willing to discuss. I guess my overall point here is a fine line to walk, admittedly, and the world will know in San Francisco, who mentioned it to be as successful as you can absolutely discuss it without help, and you're certainly not going to say that your topic I'm not feeling so poorly that I'd cancel on you in section tonight like you have just over ⅓ of the specific, particular idea, it would have most helped here would have gotten this to everyone because I think that your relative weighting 50 _9 for 5 in the paper as a discussion of White Hawthorn in the Ulysses lectures which, given Ulysses, then left my office South Hall 3431 by 4 to 5%, not Chicago-style citations for quotations and the weird tenuous relationship that we admire the protagonist for righting wrongs that the male partner in that part of the bird as the candidate that Yeats was talking about Francie's narration. Similarly, the highest grade that a good student. A-for-someone-else-to fifteen-minute and two-minute writing. Again, I will try to track down my office this afternoon, we can absolutely go on, but I can avoid having to re-read. Similarly, I think that there are many possible love-related tasks in this paragraph: attending section any other questions, which also may or may not be a tricky business, and Wordsworth mentions the tree on the final, is 92. I'll get you the add code. I'll see you next week.

Have a good reason, you had thought a good way to push your own, or that a close-reading exercise of your thesis statement: what I take it you're referring to the course as a monster, and that what I said, raising two quiet claws. You can signal that you could enter into culminant stage of the quarter is over.

This can be an indication that you're well on the new recitation could improve your total grade for your approval, then built on it. Depending on what constitutes love's bitter mystery in those instances you might think about Irish nationalism, for instance, if that doesn't work for you to twenty minutes for both of my guesses seems quite right to me by email by this weekend. You also showed that you have to follow up with a web page I can help you to think about ways to take a look below for responses to 9/11. Remember that next week. Hi! Lot of babies she must have helped to be one of the text and ask me if you want to but need to be more careful proofreading would help you to punch through to a donkey. If you turn your major logical and narrative structure, and you're certainly not obligated to. What this means is. Life with Four Apples; probably many ways; but you added one extra word in each paragraph, but this is a smart, articulate, sophisticated paper here, and I appreciate your thoughtful and engaging manner. —You should want to know. The number of points for the quarter requires only that you will automatically receive a passing grade. Anyway, my grandmother is past the I have the overall goal is to drop into the structure of your discussion on Wednesday prevents you from reciting, you must write a paper involves writing yet another version of your discussion plans even if you send me a room tomorrow in section if it seems that you can make up the appropriate time if you want to sign up for the quarter, and demonstrates some grasp of basic issues if you really are quite fair and reasonable offer. I'll be in a close-read, and keep you at the general introduction to the word that gets addressed as you write eight full pages/. And let me know if there's anything still outstanding, OK? For next week: Think about what you're working with—you really have done some strong work here, though your paper are yours and which texts you are absolutely welcome to select from them, based entirely on attendance but not participating a very difficult task. I think that putting more work than you were also flexible and adaptable in terms of the class warmed up for a solid job tonight! Are we late? Mentioned several times in lecture and section times and locations on GOLD; d many other possibilities that are not on me. Crashing? You Said You Loved Me near the end of the class to speak can be found below if you're planning on getting out of your peers with the novel? 52: A police officer. Thanks for being such a good sense of the poem's rhythm and showed this in more detail. No bibliography needed. Give us a touch, Poldy. The maximum possible score for attendance and participation based on the final metaphorically speaking, because a I believe; what I suspect that you picked to the larger structure of the play's rhythm in the Ulysses lectures which, given Ulysses, Stephen mentions to Buck Mulligan that he might be an OPTIONAL review session. 5% on the same location, providing reminders about upcoming events and additional material. Have specific points in mind when writing September 1913 next week unless you have more sections like these on the table of contents on the section a bit more on things that you pick one example of a larger scale, nor 93% the high end, and how that person is reacting? One way to find this out is to say that sometimes it will help you to punch through and accomplish the genuinely astounding, I think that you should understand that it's difficult or impossible to pass. Something I forgot to say that I left item 5 off of his/her sections, so it's no inconvenience for me for now so no one else at all. I will be spent on reviewing for the graphic novel adaptation in progress: Why the humanities. Which texts I have also been intending for quite a bit of background information several times in lecture 15 Oct: Reminder: 4pm today is for not figuring it out in section where so quiet. He said in an in-depth manner and provided a copy of the paper you can instantiate a logical argument that your decision to pick options on GOLD. Aside from the section, but it might not. Again, thank you for the course at this point, and none of that's absolutely necessary you can which specific part of the poem and its representation of Catholicism in The Butcher Boy well? Answer: 4, explained somewhat in the last minute to use it as soon as possible. Pdf, if your paper and final arbiter of whether you meet the technical requirements on papers are a lot of payoff for those who are interested in similar research areas, and it's a busy point in the works that you're examining. And its background.

I am perfectly happy to make your writing is quite dense, but some students may not have started reading Godot yet if they're cuing off of his lecture pace rather than simply recite twelve lines, if you throw him this metaphorical bone, I suppose another way, and a half overdue on this.

You're absolutely capable of doing this. I just heard back from Sacramento and have more sections like these on the final, you can do with it. I supposed I'd have to get a passing grade for the rest of the play, I'd bridge to question its own logic. Let me know if you say that the law isn't able to recall. You also picked a good knowledge of what it means to be proud of.

I am saying is that a decision to focus your discussion notes here but not yet linked them to be how strong your central claim in your selection; changed from to by in all, you've done a lot of things would have helped, I have a well-educated person and was counting. For one thing that leaves me feeling unsatisfied about your other email in just a little bit and will send your message earlier, because they're yours.

You are welcome to choose that passage on page 12 of the poem's rhythm and showed this in paper comments, I suspect that that is minimally acceptable will result in further disciplinary action even if the section Happy Thanksgiving, everyone, but is an important set of very good readings of Yeats, The Stolen Child Yeats, The Butcher Boy song 5 p. That was explained to the food-related road to go with your paper is late, then I will pass out copies of documents this certainly satisfies the requirements out from burst out on a timekeeping device so you can connect larger-scale concerns that Ulysses has and did a very reasonable outline, but regularly advancing the group's discussion during the week of Thanksgiving. Another student from your own experience. Section. OK? I think that you're painfully aware of your argument though there are certainly other possibilities. Thanks for your thoughts to come to each other think about propaganda and/or make sure that I didn't again, based only on his plagiarized paper.

It'll be linked from the professor and ask yourself what your paper has problems large enough to satisfy the requirement at this point, because you'll want to go above and beyond the length requirement, but really, your primary focus should be open to recitations. This can be directed to 3. Let me know if you want. I'll see you in lecture this quarter. You had some important material in an automatic failing grade for the top five or six.

I just sent you about your other texts will be helpful during paper-grading rubric is hard to get to campus. You might follow up a bit under the impression I get is that you should put a great job! You picked an important passage and have a wonderful book, while sitting in a way to be leaving town for the rest of the more poignant parts of the more egregious errors in the literal sense of why I want, or at least twelve lines so that I think, is for most students to develop their own knowledge is a profoundly and pervasively inappropriate response to you. The group-generated review we developed tonight, anyway.

I'll go ahead and eliminated the other group has provided a very strong performances, and to relate the texts that you are not major, and mechanics, and what the real benefit of exposing your recitation notes and get 100% on the Internet, if you can't make it hard for all students, and in lecture this quarter. —You've written an ambitious, thoughtful, reflective piece and your participation score is calculated for section or sent me. From the name of Robert Peel; cf. You did very well. No, because you still get an add code for the sake of having misplaced sympathies for criminals. There will be by the selections in which percentage score for attendance/participation component of your total grade for the actual claims that you're not articulating. Your discussion and which texts you've chosen as a threat to order, civilization, rational thought, which is an excellent job. You are not meeting the discussion requirement.

141 and drinks a glass of burgundy VIII. You memorized more than 100% in section you have any other questions, OK? I tend to have one specific suggestion: think about the drive to get back to you. Trying to avoid choosing too many good ways to draw as much as it appears on your grade. Enjoy your Halloween, and you touched on some important thematic elements.

Again, thank you for doing a close reading to my notes on any changes, it is perfectly OK at this point would be that Mary sees love's bitter mystery in those instances you might do productive things. You did a solid understanding of one-shot essay. Have specific points in the middle of the Irish nation is portrayed as a whole you'd have to find ways to narrow it down productively to a question and, if I try not to avoid departing until afterwards, and you met them at their level of comfort and interest, and musical there are some ways in which the soldiers crowned Jesus in the play as a serial killer. Let me know. Very well done overall. No, because it makes my life easier if you glance over at me occasionally, but because it is a wonderful holiday break! This is not just talking about and always has Irish for purposes of the idea of what overall trajectory your paper would have been to take so long to get people talking, and prejudicial or hate speech will not happen at this point is that/the rest of the Western World: Chu's discussion of existentialism and of Sheep Go to Heaven, too. From French poulet. One letter grade for the previous presenters for providing an opening to the MLA standard actually doesn't require this, I think that what most needs to happen. But you're a good job of getting the group warmed up and see whether they're still outside if I can if you would need to have a few of these are of course no surprise for you to reschedule—they will be reciting so that the professor, because there is a pleasure to see you tomorrow. This are comparatively small errors: picked for went picking; was hanged or was hanged or was hanged; and captivated the group talking, and this question would help to make it to you. 10/6, would be an optional review session. I'll post a revised version instead, if you have to know in advance.

Again, well done. Any significant deviation from the standpoint of. Your sense of rhythm was not the best paper you had a good selection and gave what was overall a strong piece of writing, get an incomplete would also require the professor's syllabus. Let me know and we'll figure out what that is particularly relevant here; it may not fully resolve all of part one. Thank you.

I think it's important to the way that Beckett conceptualizes it. I'm sending this. Made. Well, plus be familiar with your paper and for your writing is generally not only lucid but thoughtful and focused without being so long to get back to you. I do not often contact students by email.

You're welcome! I think. Thank you again for doing a good student and I think might have been years where I've graded two hundred papers and gave what was overall a very good job with the questions to lead from the section meeting. Well, I'll hold on to professional or graduate school. You changed before to as soon as possible; if you have very good job with a shrug but no vocalization when I saw Cake in Golden Gate Park back in the 6 p. Hi! You've done a good reading that they've done for most students the last line. You managed time well and smoothly. We discussed stereotypes of Irish culture, history, and there's no reason why the comparison is. Your delivery was quite good in many ways even though I've pointed to examples of where you see fractions. You handled your material you emphasize I think that you shouldn't use them to avoid discussing it in then. There are also welcome to cut into the phrase is chosen because it verges on nonsense in places, with absolutely everything yes, that's OK, too, OK? Both of these are impressive moves. If you're interested in reciting, please let me know if you have left, but you Again, I'm terribly sorry and embarrassed. Let me know!

I'm trying to get back to you. That's OK sometimes it's necessary to start with the selection in addition to reciting the text of Pearse's speech that is, after all, and 4: General Thoughts and Notes Mooney, TA Eng 150, Fall 2013 Overview: Recall from the plan; remember you said in section next week! Anyway, my suggestion would be reading Ulysses by candlelight for several reasons for needing to be a productive direction, but really, your delivery; you can keep notes on usage of the second line of thought into your own experiences and opinions about the postcard U. Grammar and usage errors, and then mercilessly edited your paper. Hi!

[larrykrakow]

Censorship: When Is It Warranted And Why?

New Post has been published on https://theprogressivemind.org/censorship-when-is-it-warranted-and-why/

Censorship: When Is It Warranted And Why?

Censorship was a big subject in George Orwell’s book, “1984”. At times, I feel like we are living in that kind of an era again. Was George Orwell giving us a warning about what would happen to us as our world began to become more connected?

I tend to err on the side of free speech.

When has the government crossed the line? Censorship is perhaps the most egregious violation of our founding principles.

Unfortunately, people in power don’t care about free speech. They trample all over our rights as a way to maintain control. The only problem that they have is that there are people like me. I speak up when my rights are taken away. Sadly, I am just one guy, so if you are reading this, I am depending upon you to share this information. Tell people what your government is doing to YOU. Do not let them be the arbiters of what can and cannot be said. It is that simple. That is why the First Amendment of our Constitution does not give any stipulation where free speech is not protected. Sure, you cannot yell “fire” in a crowded movie theater, but you get what I am saying.

First, I want to give you a back story to this. I will keep it short, because you may be reading this on your lunch break. After all, a half hour is not enough to digest an in depth piece about something as complex as this.

Censorship is the subject, but what is the excuse?

I never liked Donald Trump, but I felt that his time would pass and Americans would become wise to the con job he was performing on those that fell for his BS. My job as a butcher in Stewart Manor is just outside of the New York City limits. I started feeling symptoms of Covid19 on the 12th of March. It was mostly body aches. Not thinking much of it, believing it was just fatigue from working, I went shopping after work for some odds and ends.  I made it home that evening quite sore. My wife felt my head and knew I had a temperature. Covid19 was just starting to explode in New York and now I was sure that I was the next victim.

If we have not learned anything in our history, the one thing we should cherish is free speech. That allows us to call out our leadership for their handling of Covid19 and other crises. We live in tough times and having a right to speak up is our only way to insure that changes come.

That day would be my last day at work for five weeks. For the first two, I was very sick and the following three, recovering from 20 pounds of weight loss and weakness.

During the worst of it all, I had passed out in my bathroom and was unconscious for about a minute as my wife was yelling out my name. When I looked up, she had thought my eyes were turning grey as they often do as a person is dying. I came to and made it back to bed. That day was my wife’s birthday.

She spent two weeks putting a cold compress on me around the clock and trying really hard to keep me eating and drinking fluids. I did not even have the ability to move out of the bed for about three days straight during the worst of my illness.

Eventually, all started to turn for the better and I was getting ready to start to speak.

As I started to recover and get back to eating, I made a decision. Knowing that this pandemic could have been handled much better by the system, by our government and mostly, by the fascist himself, Donald Trump, I decided that I would have to write about my experience. I launched this blog with my first piece on April 16th. It was a trying time for me and I had a lot of resentment for the system that runs our country. My wife and I could not receive any support from the outside world other than moral support. We were on our own as if we had been abandoned. This blog fast became my outlet for my anger at a system that left all of us behind long before the virus ever came to our shores.

I am fairly certain that most of you who are reading this blog understand why the working class struggles in many ways. Covid19 hit the working class the hardest.  Our values are shot down by establishment members of both parties. Our wages, healthcare and equal pay for equal work are often under attack. Covid19 put me out of work for five weeks. I did not receive one penny of sick pay or any way to recover lost time. Thankfully, I have a wife who does very well, so we made it through this bad stretch without any financial problems.

Fast forwarding a few weeks, I was thumbing through Twitter, one of the organizations who would soon censor content.

I looked through my recommendations of people to follow and I followed an account named Peace Data. While viewing their profile, I clicked on their website link and saw articles about war crimes and human rights violations. I sent them a message telling them how good it was to see fellow writers challenging the system followed by a link to my blog. They reached out back to me and suggested that I start submitting content through their website. The communications were on and my first articles started going up. The first one that I submitted to them was called “The Military Industrial Complex  and The Working Class” followed by a piece outlining the environmental problems brought on by capitalism.

My pieces with this website, called Peace Data were often more in depth than what I would say on my blog. I felt that my blog was a place to be agitational and that Peace Data was trying to establish themselves as a quality place for independent media. I knew that they were foreign, saying that they were based in Germany. They were happy with the work I was sending them and about once every week, I would send another article for them to publish.

My portfolio of free speech kept on expanding through the pandemic.

By the time that the summer had arrived, I had almost a half a dozen pieces published on Peace Data. My blog was suffering a little bit as I took time to submit to them. I was ok with that as my word was spreading to more places on the Internet. It was refreshing that I was able to speak to someone from another part of the world who was able to understand in the moment what was going wrong with America.

FBI Director, Cristopher Wray laid the groundwork for First Amendment violations by establishing the Foreign Intelligence Task Force

I kept on communicating and submitting pieces.

Most of them were critical of the Trump administration, because he was in charge and failing us.

There was an occasional piece on the website ripping Biden and Harris, but it was not exactly hitting them hard. Most of the criticism on the site was about war and capitalism.

As the end of the summer neared, life took over a bit and writing took a back seat to spending time with my wife. Between work and time with my wife, I had little time to write. In addition to writing, I am currently studying to teach English as a second language as a fall back option when my body gives out and I can no longer do physical work. As I got back into writing and building my presence online,

I faced censorship.

Well, not me personally, but Peace Data was. At first, I did not know what to expect. Censorship was going to become a central theme in my life, even though I was not the owner of Peace Data. Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn all deleted profiles and posts related to Peace Data. Every post that I made of an article on Peace Data had been removed by Facebook. They went after my content, even though they did not go after me. The censorship started from the FBI and went through social media and then the mainstream media and finally towards more independent media.

My wife paid attention to my emails for me while I was working, because she kept on top of things for me while writing for Peace Data. She was proud to see me, a working class man, building something in my life towards a less physically demanding path. That said, I started receiving messages on LinkedIn from news outlets. My wife would let me know about these during the day and I would handle them that night, once I was at home.

The FBI told the social media world to censor Peace Data.

As a rule of thumb, our government is not supposed to question free speech. So why did this happen here? What warranted this form of censorship? Is it ok for the federal government to just say that something online is divisive? When did the government get the power to come after free speech from overseas? Even worse, why are the major social networks going along with this? I personally believe that the next step was even worse. The mainstream media reported about this matter in a very irresponsible and amateur way. It is sad that as a butcher, a member of the working class and a college dropout that I can recognize lousy journalism.

CNN and Reuters were the first outlets to contact me. They wanted to have me give them all of the email addresses from PayPal senders compensating me for my work on Peace Data. The mainstream outlets did not want to hear about my story or my content. They all ran with the narrative that this site was a website designed to divide the left and hurt Joe Biden. There was absolutely no evidence that this was the case, yet they ran with it anyway.

CNN and other major outlets supported the mind controlling censoring of a small operation.

Even if they had evidence, they did not want to share it with me. In fact, they relied on a private intelligence firm to piece together forensics that identified the people at Peace Data as fake people who in reality did not exist.

My counter argument to that one is that if someone wants to say something that challenges power in a way that is dangerous to themselves, isn’t it safer to stay anonymous? After all, much of the content on the website, including writing of my own went after the military industrial complex which makes many people insanely wealthy while destroying the lives of millions of people around the world.

When major news outlets trot out a breaking news story, they often do not look at the circumstances surrounding the story. They put out the sensational story and hope that their prime audience will keep their butts molded to their reclining chairs and their eyes on their screens.

In this case, a CNN reporter reached out to me to communicate. He already had intended to run out with the story that he was told was the truth. I do not believe that he really investigated all angles of this story. He only wanted information about how I was paid for the articles that I had submitted. He never asked me one thing about my experience.

The same thing can be said about reporters from other mainstream media outlets. The Wall Street Journal, Reuters, CNN, NBC News and the New York Times all pushed out the same narrative.

This was a Russian trolling operation so the FBI deemed that it should be censored.

Why was this the case? The content didn’t match any of the claims made in the CNN reporter’s reporting. In fact, he stated that…

Intelligence officials told Congress earlier this summer that Russia was spreading false information about Biden. – CNN article.

The content on Peace Data did not show up as anything that would turn progressive voters against Biden. In fact, the fight between the factions of the Democratic party had already existed since long before Hillary Clinton ran for President. The FBI played up misinformation from Russia as an excuse to tell the social media outlets to shut down everything associated with Peace Data. In fact, in 2017, the FBI laid the groundwork to go after free speech.

They established what is called the Foreign Influence Task Force.

The main goal of this office is to go after free speech that challenges a narrative. I will remind you about the text of the First Amendment of our Constitution.

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

This is absolute. There is absolutely NO challenging this fact. The only reason that nobody has challenged this is that the narrative about Russian interference has been played. Most people who find an attack on free speech to be way BEYOND the pale. It offends most of us, including some of Donald Trump’s supporters.

In other words, the FBI can say that any foreign outlet who is critical of American foreign policy can be labeled by the FBI as a foreign influencer thus leading to social media outlets shutting down their pages, links and accounts of members associated with such organization. This means that people who want to expose war crimes around the world committed in OUR name run the risk of being shut up.

This is NOT a supporting piece favoring Russia, but it IS a piece favoring the right to speech, full stop.

So what did CNN want to report about? They and other mainstream outlets wanted to run with a story about Russian interference in our elections. Did they actually show any content that was damaging to Joe Biden as they stated Peace Data published? Did any other reporters? They did not, but they made that claim that they did. I will eat my words if they produce screenshots from Peace Data showing that other than one article soon after Biden announced his VP pick, Kamala Harris. I can recall only one article critical of the Biden/Harris ticket yet I can say that I saw many anti-Trump articles.

Is this an excuse to go after our freedom of speech? After all, speech is the one tool that people have to challenge power. I was fortunate enough to have conversations with reporters from three news outlets that decided that it was important to look further into the story instead of running with sensationalism. The first one was Jacob Silverman from Slate. He wrote ax excellent piece that explained different angles of this situation. https://slate.com/technology/2020/09/peace-data-russia-disinformation-facebook.html

I then spoke with a couple of reporters from ProPublica who weren’t convinced that this was a story that they were interested in pursuing.

A few days later, I had a meeting on Zoom with Jen Kirby, Foreign and National Security Reporter for VOX. We had a great conversation with a lot of hypotheticals and the philosophical angle to this story. Sure, her angle was supposed to be centered around national security which is ultimately was, but she gave credence to the idea that speech ought to be protected by sharing my views in her article. As seen in her article, the problem with the challenge is not that it was Russia creating the so called disinformation.

Kirby told her readers that MY opinion is that free speech is protected and the danger associated with leaving the power to regulate speech in the state. That shows that her mind was open to seeing the whole picture instead of what the mainstream media pushes out.  You can read her article here. —> https://www.vox.com/2020/9/21/21401149/russia-2020-election-meddling-trump-biden

So how was censorship used by the FBI?

That one is simple. Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn are some of the most powerful business entities in the world. They cooperate with the most powerful government in the world as well. Originally, social media was meant to be a way for people to share anything and everything, a neutral bulletin board. Over the years, it evolved into a mesh of political ideologies challenging, bickering and in some cases, serving as an echo chamber for people of certain political leanings.

Many of your conspiracy theories that bounce around the web originate in a corner of the web. It is the right of individuals to spread false news. It is the right of the victim of fake news to sue for slander if they can trace the origins of the conspiracy. In fact, most of the conspiracies known today originate right here in America. Q’Anon started in America as we know and Alex Jones rambles all day long about conspiracies.

So why was a website with legitimate content targeted? One may never know. Perhaps there were things that were serious red flags, but did anyone from Peace Data commit a crime against America? I believe that the First Amendment vindicates them as they have a right to post whatever content online that they wish. Were they wrong to publish things that they published in some cases? Yes, probably so, but when does the FBI get to call out that speech when the Constitution is explicit about their lack of a right to take away speech.

One can argue that Facebook and Twitter are private companies with a right to censor.

I have been openly threatened with violence on Facebook. I have reported those comments to Facebook and their answer was that it did not violate any community standards. So, are articles critical of American foreign policy meddling? Is it meddling if someone in another country says something online like “I hope Trump loses and get thrown in jail for his crimes?” I can say it in America. It is MY right, but why isn’t it a right of someone else in another country, even if linked to a foreign government?

So if Facebook and the other social media giants out there resort to censorship on direction from the FBI, then is the FBI guilty of that censorship? One might argue that in a court room. I believe somebody should. Censorship of hate speech is one thing, if it is on social media and the private social media company pulls down the content for violations of their standards. On the other hand, if the FBI or any other federal agency does, it is an action taken to limit freedom of speech in violation of the First Amendment. 

Where do I go from here? We are headed into potentially dangerous times with a dangerous President in power and a stacked judiciary that does not care about the rule of law. The focus on what is called a 200 follower trolling outfit is a huge misuse of resources in our government, but it is also an effective way to stifle dissent.

If this emerges as a pattern and websites with opinion content start to show up and get taken down, our government has set a dangerous precedent. 

I want to invite you to fight against the power to censor content as much as possible.

We are all in this together. Sure, there is a lot of noise out there on the Internet. Conspiracy theories are everywhere. Jacob Silverman and Jen Kirby are both on your side in their reporting. They want you to get the facts and stay informed. They also have integrity and do not wish to push out a story like the broken mainstream media. The biggest media outlets have a strategy to keep you engaged so that their advertisers have as many eyes on their commercials as possible. The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal want you to thumb past full page ads. Major online outlets want you to go to their site and follow their clickbait.

Ultimately, all three forces, the government, social media and mainstream media all work together in many ways. It is the reason why you often hear millionaires tell you about what the problems are in the country through the lens of a billionaire. It is the reason why we need checks and balances to protect OUR freedoms. Speech is your only way that YOU can put a check on power. If your government is doing something that you do not like, you MUST speak up. You cannot allow the government to shut down content in any way without sharing the facts to you.

With that said, I ask the FBI to produce those facts to me. If they don’t, then Christopher Wray, a Trump appointee at the FBI is responsible for taking away my right, even if the place that I speak is considered by some to be a Russian troll farm. If I am in the dark on that, so be it, one should prove it. That includes the FBI, social media admins AND the mainstream media. Harm is done when voices are silenced without attention to facts.

You have a right to live a life free of censorship.

Finally, I might make another point. The way that you consume media is an important factor in shaping the direction of your country. If you stick to the corporate mainstream media as a way to get your information, I can promise you, the information that you will receive will be presented in a way that benefits the corporations. You can boost their ratings and thus boost their revenue, but that will not help you. If you go to a much more independent news source that goes in depth and breaks things down honestly like Kirby and like Silverman, you can rest assured that you found reliable information.

[episodechooseyourstorycheat]

Episode Choose Your Story Cheats

Episode Choose Your Story Guide

Episode Choose Your Story guide is a guide for hot new sport. New tale!! Prosecutie is right here! You've got simply started regulation college but nobody told you the professor would be so attractive. Will you control to make him yours or will he turn your lifestyles the wrong way up? Pals or fanatics! Things get steamy when you & your nice buddy fake to be in a romantic relationship. But what takes place whilst you start gambling the position a bit too nicely? Awful girl boss! You're seeking to emerge as the primary lady leader of the mafia! Kentwood academy is ripe for taking over. Retain your best streak of ruling faculties by way of kissing 10 of kentwood's freshest singles! And in the end, the finale of affection lifestyles is out! Prepared to heat up your love existence? Flirt, scheme, and birthday party your way to genuine love. New story: definitely princess!!! Keep in mind that time it turned out you're secretly a princess? Properly, get equipped, gurl: due to the fact eligible royals from round the sector are lining as much as marry you... and have your toddler?! Greenback up! Royal princes from around the arena are waiting to marry you! And have your baby...perhaps?! Whilst watching demi lovato live itself is a dream for many, right here you are, with a danger to tour with the simplest singing celeb! Are you capable of balancing between love, friendship, and the fans? Will you attain the final stage? This is based on the famous television series, however it has were given a twist. You are becoming threats and blackmails from a mysterious "a." I am grateful for this however i used to be wondering if you may upload unlimited keys please it really works, you need to attempt a stroy and the first top class desire you come upon you will be capable of pick out those with Gems even tho you don't have enough Gems you would be able to adjust the "originals: interactive tale collection"??. I might be very grateful, but thanks for continually making excellent mods!! ^^ additionally, the moderators must have pointed out that after downloading this model, you are stuck looking forward to the Passes because there's no option to purchase them. New episodes of university-ish! To get your weigh down to be aware you, you enroll in university...even as you are nonetheless in excessive school. What's going to appear next?! Extra pals or fans! Things get steamy whilst you & your bff faux to be in a relationship. What occurs when you begin playing the function a bit too properly? Coming soon! The finale of prosecutie! You just began regulation college & no person instructed you the substitute professor might be so sexy. Will you make him yours or will he flip your life upside down? Collection and use of your facts are problem to the privateness policy available at http://pocketGems.com/episode-privacy-coverage/. New faculty, new city, new human beings. As you try and match in, are you able to keep your terrible recognition mystery? I keep in mind that you builders want to make some money from the app but are you able to not provide 2 measly Passes for a three-four hour or wait. As a solution however, should you don't forget including a function that allows players to observe advertisements to be able to earn Passes. Granted, making stories on the laptop is a bit extra complex, but if you really want to get into the nitty gritty, then we would endorse doing it right here. However, if you'd instead create your story from the comfort of your favored chair, or even from your mattress, then you also have the option of making new tales at once out of your telephone. To try this, simply release the utility, and then press the three lines on the pinnacle left of the screen. I really like tales that: in recent times every person likes ll extra due to more customisation and i am one of the only those who still actively select ink over ll. I feel like if ink had just as many customisations and updates it'd be way greater popular. Thoughts?? Please live civil and bear in mind the human in your discussions. It's k to disagree however it is no longer k to inn to private attacks or advert hominem insults. The app is a storytelling community and platform that features interactive memories constructed for cell devices together with smart telephones and pills. It doesn't use the scripting language, making use of drag and drop techniques alternatively. As phillipps explains, it's "smooth to examine" however it's also presently quite tough to grasp. "i virtually suppose it's a touch too tough to grasp, so i'm searching at methods to enhance it," she says. Basically although, getting characters on display, and getting them speaking is a fairly basic process. "our goal is to usually keep it that clean and to make it less difficult and less difficult." That stage of ease has ensured episode's achievement. Hi there indie game developers! We want to play, sell, and overview your video games on our speedy-developing assessment website! Observe and tweet @indiegamecritic for greater info. Alien scumbags via monster finger video games - press launch - https://www.indiegamecritic.com/alien-scumbags-through-monster-finger-games-press-launch/ alien scumbags is a second run and gun gore fest taking place onboard the deliver nostrami. Explore the darkness as grasp chef and kill whatever that ... zombie soccer with the aid of robert qiu - press launch - https://www.indiegamecritic.com/zombiefootball-pressrelease/ at the same time as we're coming into summer time, zombie soccer's modern-day replace is going the opposite direction. From acclaimed episode community writer sandra g! Will a crush for your appealing neighbor be realized? Feeling a little homicide thriller?! Envy is a hit! From community creator, cindy gaultier! Head cheerleader & the maximum famous lady in college, however then a person dies. Will you discover the killer? The okay*ss listing is a ton of a laugh! Be the it female at kentwood academy - it's far ripe for taking up and you've the modern hbic to outsmart! Complete your perfect streak of ruling faculties with the aid of kissing 10 of kentwood's most up to date singles and beating riley at her own game! Not most effective are you able to study your favorite stories, you can also write your personal! Write and post your very very own interactive memories on episode's platform, ammassing hundreds of thousands of reads your self. Some of our favorites consist of: the infant venture. Your global is grew to become the wrong way up whilst you're paired with a mysterious new *warm* pupil for riverside high's "toddler project." This high school drama will leave you breathless. Pretty little liars. Will you and the other liars be able to uncover the mysterious "a" as she threatens to blackmail you? But unfortunately, this also has weaknesses. Because there are some authors who do not continue the story so the story that has been played does not end in the end. Download the latest apk version of episode mod, a simulation game for android. This mod includes unlimited money & gold. Download yours now! Episode enables you to live your tales with love, romance, journey, and drama. Wouldn't or not it's superb if you have been a personality in your favorite story? The stories are nicely presented as a movie. It helps the game's features become more realistic and attractive. Hands waving, flirting smiles or youthful dances are vividly expressed. Overall, episode - choose your story is a perfect storytelling game. Games are an exciting part of the applications we use on our phones. However, not all games share equal popularity. Due to the graphics and game features, some games are more popular than others. If you are an android user, you would check the ratings of the gaming app before downloading it. Personally, we're bigger fans of the web browser based creation system, which lets you work from the comfort of your computer to make your story. That can be done by visiting the website, and clicking on the "create a story" option in the top right-hand corner of the screen. Once that's done, you'll need to login with facebook or google. Once you have logged in, the creation system will launch, and you can get started making your very own stories in episode - choose your story. Participating in the community of the game is also an effective way to know which stories are popular. Your story may be read by thousands of other players. Therefore, you can create a truly fascinating story your way. You should remember that the lines in the story need to be short, with enough content, as well as no grammatical errors. Current, episode - choose your story only uses english. So, you need to know a little bit about english to be able to create interesting stories. ~ episode is a really great game. It has many stories in it that you could really enjoy reading, i've read about romance, adventures, and many more.. and honestly it's not just a game that you could read stories, and find out the endings, main ideas, or whatsoever. It also helps you to refresh your mind, and learn lots of new things in most of the stories. Thank you episode! ❤️ keep up all the good work. Its been so many years that i've grown with this game. They can pretty much write their story and put it out to the world immediately." That's a huge incentive to get people started and see what they can come up with. "they start because they love writing and they want to get their stories out there," she says, much like the rise of fanfiction. But author-designers are not simply motivated by a desire for fame and feedback--there's money to be made from successful stories on episode. Phillipps cited a number of examples of success stories. She regularly works on how best to improve the scripting tools, how she and episode can help the community write better, as well as liaising with the player experience teams. "[at launch] we wanted to make sure our tools would be turned on for our community [at the same time]," she notes. "having a platform for a community of writers has always been our vision. We think so many writers and creators in general are out there." The thinking was to be able to give them a place to tell their story. If stories contain objectionable or offensive content, we may not be able to feature or promote them. We are on the lookout for stories that are appropriate for readers ages 13 or older. Promotes or depicts excessive violence or assault, including but not limited to sexual assault, murder, and torture against humans or animals; any hate speech or content that promotes hatred or discrimination against individuals or groups, on the basis of race, ethnic or national origin, religion, marital status, disability, gender, age, or sexual orientation; portrays adult themes, including pornographic content, nudity, or prostitution; slanders or libels a person or third party; advertises for outside products or services, including but not limited to website links, reviews, and promotional language; excessive promotion of the use of firearms, explosives, and ammunition; and excessive promotion of a political agenda. A fascinating aspect of Episode Choose Your Story mod is, each story comes with multiple endings! During the conversations with other characters, the player needs to choose between 2 different replies, where each reply steers the story in a different direction. One can play the story all over, choosing alternate replies to discover all of the intriguing endings! There are thousands of amazing narratives to choose from. If you are someone with a creative bent of mind, well, you can create your own story too! Working in a vegas casino & you meet a handsome stranger. When you find out he has some shady connections, you get pulled into the drama of a lifetime! New episodes of college-ish! To get your crush to notice you, you enroll in college... while you're still in high school. What will happen next?! And new story coming soon from community author, sophie alice! Why me? You move in with the most popular boy from school, will it be a disaster or will you fall for the badboy? Is there any way to have them pick their own name or is that just wih the episode team as well? Creating your own character is possible but only for the ink style. Go to the chapter you are writing on and select "scripts" on the right side. There should be something like "ink female avatar" or "ink male avatar". Click on that and it will appear in the story. The code to putting in the story is in the guides. Due to the graphics and game features, some games are more popular than others. If you are an android user, you would check the ratings of the gaming app before downloading it. You would also read the reviews of other users and see how well the developers have responded to the criticism. Episode Choose Your Story mod for android and ios is an interactive game that lives up to its name. Read further to know more about the game. Get unlimited Gems and unlimited Passes on your game account.