#we are all studying very hard for our greek test next year

[anakinsafterlife]

While we're brushing up on our Greek canon, friends, don't forget to read Lysistrata. Not a tragedy, but not only one of the funniest comedies in recorded history, but also completely relevant to this day.

[alchemist-shizun]

To tend thee is my care

ACT I

ACT II - Read on Ao3!

See the awesome fanart!

Word count: 13,679 

Taglist: @lesbianturtle @len-art-trash @i-need-you-buddy @jeevashun @quietlypondering  @creativity-killed-thekitten @bookwyrminspiration @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing  @softanxiouspatton @be-more-chaotic @pheonix-inside-reblogs @www-dot-ohshit-dot-com @datfearlessfangirl @alltimevirgilant @royalnerd829 @just-fic-me-up @theblankest123 @theotherella​ @thesleepyraziel @gaylotusthatexists @sendingcookiesfromhell @mijako98 @logicalberry @maybe-i-like-the-misery @orderly-opaline @purpledemond

(Please tell me if you want to be added too for Act II!)

Characters: Virgil, Nonbinary!Roman

Summary: You’ve heard of enemies to lovers now get ready for acquaintances to friends to now we’re fighting because I’m scared of your rejection so I’m pretending it’s your fault when it clearly is mine to friends again, even though you’re an idiot, but I still love you to lovers. 

Roman and Virgil are both part of the theater group of their school, Roman is one of the actors, while Virgil is the head of the stage design group. Despite being in the same year and having lessons in the same building, they hadn’t really ever talked to each other, but everything was about to change when the teachers, heads of the whole theater group, announced that they were going to challenge themselves by presenting one of Euipides’ last plays: The Bacchantes. Follow our two main characters helping each other out as one is forced to learn how to act in a matter of months and the other goes through a journey of self-discovery as he studies his role.

Pairing(s): Prinxiety (I’m unpredictable)

Warning(s): Mild swearing, Death mention (mostly when talking about the tragedy), Blood mention (once), Negative thinking, Implied toxic parenting (once), [Me projecting heavily onto Virgil (also Ro at some point)]

A/n: I’ve been writing this for months and I can’t explain how proud I am to show you guys this! Before you start reading, I want to inform you that the school system I write about here is not the American one since I know little to nothing about it. Instead I’ll be using the one of my country for reasons of simplicity. (All names I use here are invented, so you can place the events wherever you’d like.) I thought about doing a long for this plot but I chose to write a one shot instead, since it’s pretty long I decided to divide it into two acts, the second one is coming very soon. I studied and read the whole play translated in my original language, that’s where the inspiration for my au came from. All the English translations I used for the play are from here, here and here. The song mentioned is So Contagious by Acceptance. That being said, hope you enjoy!

✾✾✾✾

What now?

It was during an October’s Tuesday that Virgil had started panicking due to school stress.

It wasn’t like his teachers hadn’t been pressuring his class ever since they entered their first fifth year lesson: partly because of the final exams, the rest of the time they asked about their university choices.

This year’s archaeological excavation, an experience reserved only to the students of his course, was also placed exactly in those three weeks of October were the theater group had started.

Tuesday in October for Virgil meant lessons until half past midday, research for the upcoming excavation exhibition until two p.m., theater club for an hour, then back to doing research with one of his teachers and half of his classmates until 17:00.

In all honesty, he wouldn’t have minded being buried alive when they’d have to cover back up the site.

Virgil had tried convincing himself that it wasn’t really that hard, besides the club had just started and the first few days were mostly focused on helping the first years settle, be comfortable with the teachers and also test out their abilities. And this one was only the second meeting.

But, of course, his day had to get worse. Life was trying him, and boy, did he hate sudden drastic changes.

It was when he noticed all the odd attention he was getting by the teachers that he realized something was definitely going to go wrong.

Everyone took a seat on the wooden bleachers of the old gym, they were basically attached to the pavement and the obnoxious yellow-painted walls of the large room. A quick glance around and you had the feeling that everything was going to collapse at any moment.

Virgil saw some familiar faces, some new ones, but he definitely couldn’t forget about the regulars: his beloved stage deseign group, which were a bunch of students that the teacher trusted him enough to take care of and teach them what they had to do during shows and how to prepare the stage. And next to them some actors from the last three years, Dave, Bonnie, Lukas and Roman.

He and Roman were the only ones brave enough to stick around even during the toughest year of that hellhole, so everyone silently respected them. And just as much as Virgil helped the newcomers in his group, Roman was happy to lend a hand in acting along side the most talented fourth and third years above mentioned.

« Well hello and welcome back here, guys! » Mrs. Michaelis had started, clasping her hands together, she was an English grammar and literature teacher.

After making sure everybody had arrived, they explained that since the week after they were going to see the first years’ “auditions” as they liked to call them, but they were really simply methods to check how promising someone could be at acting.

« I know this may sound shocking, we still can’t believe it- »

« Mostly because normally it takes us a couple of months before choosing a script. » Mrs. Eagan, an ancient Greek and Latin teacher, had interrupted, causing multiple chuckles from the students.

« … As I was saying, yes. We already know the play that we’ll be covering this year, we also have scripts ready for almost everybody. But there’s some news! »

« This year we decided to sign up our group and participate to some kind of challenge! » murmurs began to fill the room, as uneasiness set in Virgil’s stomach. Why make things harder for everybody? Wasn’t it just as good doing a simple show one night and one morning?

« Some, let’s say, “judges” are going to attend our play and afterwards, if they’re satisfied enough, they will let us take our production to the biggest local theater! »

The murmurs transformed into gasps, that theater was placed in the city of their province, getting an invitation was a huge challenge.

« And our play is going to be … » Mrs. Eagan’s eyes met Virgil’s and fixated on them. That’s when he began overthinking. Why was she looking directly at him? That never meant good news. « … Euripides’ tragedy, The Bacchantes. »

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Only his eyes widened among the confused looks of most of the students. He had studied that play, along side many other ones, in his fourth year. He did truly love them, but damn him if they weren’t already a challenge to portray.

« That’s right Virgil, you know it. » why was also the English teacher giving him his attention? What were they planning, did he have to explain the play to everybody?

All the students turned to face him, some quietly asking what was the plot, some fourth years of his same course demanded to know if it was a difficult topic.

« Easy now, everybody, he’s already been tested last year by Mr. Richardson. » one of the teachers interrupted, walking closer to the spot where Virgil sat, for some reason he had found himself next to the “talented actors group”.

They explained the plot for everybody after that.

« We know it might be real tough, so this year we already agreed on the roles beforehand. Don’t worry, if you didn’t get your time to shine this year, in the next ones you totally will. »

Wait, he wasn’t part of the actors group, why did this have anything to do with him? Why were they still staring at him?

To his relief, the teachers addressed the newcomers first. « We were thinking about giving the role of the chorus to the first and second years, they have long bits, but we can split them instead of making you all recite them, so that you don’t feel too burdened and the role becomes easy for all of you. »

« The roles of the messengers will be given to our third years, messengers are used to explain everything that happens that does not happen on scene. One of the rules for tragedies was that the scene had to take place in the same time and place. Also, they didn’t show blood and/or murders/suicides on scene. They were all narrated. »

« As for our three fourth years. » they looked over Virgil’s shoulder to Dave, Lukas and Bonnie. « Your roles will be Cadmus, Tiresias and Agave. They play a very important part in the whole story, we trust you’ll do a great job. »

« As for our main characters, Pentheus and Dionysus … » they set their eyes on Roman, who looked more expectant than ever.

But then they also shifted their glances to Virgil.

« We were thinking our only fifth years could have their roles as a good way of saying goodbye to them, since this will be their last play. » everybody else was nodding in agreement, Roman was beaming but slightly confused. Wasn’t Virgil part of the stage design group?

In fact, our little emo kid could only look back in disbelief.

« Roman, Virgil, would you like to become a king and a god, respectively? »

What now?

As the beloved actor was about to answer, Virgil interrupted with a shy apology. « I’m sorry, but there must be a mistake, I’m not part of the actors group, I’ve never acted in the past four years, actually. »

« We know Virgil, but we really thought it might be such a nice way of thanking you guys for your contributions all these years. »

Oh yes, you’re right, putting me in a stress condition by making me do something I have no idea about for a big project that could take us to one of the largest theaters of the country is definitely the best choice you could have made.

All he was able to say was a stuttering noise, as they continued with their little speech. « And Roman is such a good actor, he’s going to help you for sure, aren’t you? »

The mentioned boy nodded vigorously, then proceeded to show one of his brightest smiles. « I always come to the rescue of my fellow actors in need. »

Yeah. Amazing. He was stuck with their decision.

« Besides you already probably know each other pretty well by now, so it won’t be a problem! »

The two students looked at each other. The recognizable expressions of two teens that, despite being in the same year and club, had never said a single word to each other apart from when needed during rehearsals.

« … Right. »

« But what about my group then? » Virgil questioned, he was definitely not going to leave them behind just like that.

« You don’t have to worry about them. This year your History of Art teacher will be lending a hand with the stage and volunteered to be the head of the group. »

Right. Mr. Williams, one of the only teachers that were pretty tolerable in his class.

« And look at them. » he did so, and he was met with happy smiles and encouraging faces. « I’m sure they’ll do a good job after four years with you by their side. Right, Anastasia? »

Anastasia was one of the oldest of the bunch, if not one of the wisest and most skilled, sometimes they wondered if she could just do anything that crossed her mind. « You got it! » she leaned in as if to get closer to the older boy. « We’ll be cheering for you Virge! » she concluded, followed by a couple of “Yeah!“s.

Everybody was so joyful and expectant that he couldn’t help but comply, so he decided to simply sigh and reply with nothing.

As the teachers continued with their topics for the meeting, Virgil couldn’t help but have a single thought in his mind.

This is going to be the most awkward thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.

✾✾✾✾

As soon as the meeting came to an end, Virgil was fast to get up and rush towards the dungeon’s stairs that would lead again to the surface. Basically there were two buildings, the school and the gym, linked by a little dungeon were there were all the labs and computer rooms.

He had to get back to the library as soon as he could, or god knows what “you’re late” speech his teacher would have given him. He was always literally on the verge of marking his students as absent if they didn’t show up to the lesson in the exact minute before the bell rang.

Virgil decided to panic about the dumpster fire that had come his way during the meeting after that. One issue at a time. First of all, he had to reach the stairs’ gate and push-

« Hey! Wait for me. »

God, he didn’t have time for this. He kept walking, ignoring the voice behind him and hoping for it to give up and leave him to his well-deserved peace and quiet. At least for three minutes.

As he walked, he found none but Roman himself matching his pace and walking by his side with a curious look. Who could blame him for wanting to be nice?

« You forgot your stuff in your classroom too? » he tried, not a brilliant starter for a conversation, but he had to get something out of the boy.

« No. » cut and dry, that was the only thing that Virgil dared to let escape his mouth.

« Where to, then? »

« The library. »

« Oh, are you waiting for a bus? Maybe I could keep you company. »

« Listen. » they made to a stop as they reached the last floor, not that far off from Virgil’s destination. « Today’s already been as stressful as it is, could you just … go straight to the point? I don’t have much time here. »

It was not like he had meant to sound rude, it wasn’t like it was his purpose either to brush off someone just like that or to see the other boy’s hurt expression. But he had reached a limit in which he didn’t really care-

« Oh, my apologies, then. »

And there was the guilt.

« I was just wondering if we could exchange numbers, if it isn’t uncomfortable for you. I guess we’ll need to hang out in the future. » he tried to sound as confident as he could, but it was as if “awkward” was scribbled all over his face.

« Sure, are you asking me on a date next? » with all the sarcasm injected in his words, he sure as hell wasn’t expecting Roman’s remark.

« Well, if you wouldn’t mind. » a sly smile made its way through the actor’s face, but was soon replaced by a troubled expression when he saw Virgil’s eye roll and sigh.

« Was I … was I too straightforward? I didn’t- »

« You’re fine, calm down. » Virgil quickly took out his phone and unlocked it before passing it to the other student. As he quietly typed after a murmured “alright”, Virgil couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever upset anyone with his bold statements. It wasn’t like this town was open minded, while he seemed … particularly flamboyant.

Before he could finish his thoughts, he had his phone back in his hands and the not-so-much-stranger-anymore was already heading towards his classroom to get his backpack.

« I sent myself a message. » he warned, then he disappeared and reappeared in a matter of seconds, marched down the hall and flashed him a toothy smile while waving his hand.

« Don’t be a stranger, I’ll see you tomorrow! »

Virgil only nodded and found it impossible to take his eyes off of him until the last lock of hair had vanished down the stairs, wondering what had just happened. Maybe that was the magic that worked on his public every year.

He gave a rapid look at the screen of his phone, noticing that the boy had saved himself as “Princey” with a star emoji right next to it.

This time, he entered the library with an amused expression.

✾✾✾✾

Roman kept repeating in his mind that it wasn’t his fault.

Yes, it was Firday. Yes, he had gone the rest of the days without a single word to Virgil, not even when he noticed him in the halls during break or when they either entered or left school. Some days he didn’t even see him.

Yes, he could have texted him. But it felt too weird, yet, they didn’t know each other at all! Plus they didn’t even have the script ready.

Yes, he felt like he had the weight of this play’s success completely on his shoulders and depending on him and still shied away from acknowledging it.

But Virgil kept avoiding him! He couldn’t do much without him.

If he saw him during the ten minutes break, Virgil would walk past him without a second thought as if he didn’t think he needed to talk to him.

Some other times he pretended he didn’t even see him. It was getting tough to even have his attention anymore, as if he had to be added to the mean girls table. He needed a miracle.

And maybe the deities were in his favor that day.

As Roman walked down the path that was made next to the plaza, he noticed a familiar little figure sitting on a bench with a backpack next to him and earbuds in his ears. He was watching in front of him as life flew by and didn’t notice Roman approaching at all.

« Virgil? »

The boy in front of him jerked his head up and took out both of his earbuds; his clothes looked much more worn and randomly put together, as if he had dressed himself in the dark. What got Roman the most was the quantity of dirt that was on them and … was that blood under some of his nails?

Roman dropped his bag on the bench, worry expanding in his chest. « Oh my goodness are you okay? » he made to reach for his hand, only to stop himself just in time to remind him of personal space.

Virgil gave him a confused look and brought his fingers to his eyes, close enough to examine them. « Not again. » he groaned, a huff coming out of his lips.

« Wait, I should have something. »

« You don’t have to, it’s noth- »

« Here! » Roman grabbed a box from his bag triumphantly, he took a couple of plasters and waved them in front of the other.

« Why do you even have so many? »

« What can I say, I’m a clumsy person. »

« Mh. Charming. »

« At least I rescued you! Now, show me your hands. » he ordered, but as soon as he saw Virgil’s mouth open to argue, he was ready to remark « I don’t care if you can do this by yourself, you have literally injured fingers, let me help. »

Seeing that there was no other way out of it, he complied.

As soon as he placed his hands over his fingers, Roman couldn’t help but notice how different their skin tones really were compared to one another, sure the difference was obvious at first glance, but seeing it this close was completely something else. He gently dabbed the fresh blood away with a tissue he had taken out with the box a few instants earlier.

Three plasters and a thank you later, the concerned face came back again and Virgil wanted nothing more than the sweet liberation of death. What was his deal, did he never dig on dirt as a child?

« How did you get hurt? »

Virgil simply pointed behind his shoulders, where Roman could only see a huge pile of dirt resting against a tree. He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, a sight the other would have found endearing if only he wasn’t so exasperated and tired.

« I’ve been working all day, Princey. »

Roman smiled at the familiar nickname, but still found confusion in his thoughts. « Aren’t you supposed to be at school? »

« It’s linked to school. Haven’t you heard of the excavations that our school is doing? »

Now that he mentioned that, he had heard a bunch of things, but never really paid attention since it was something that wasn’t related to his course.

Roman attended the Languages course, in which he could learn Spanish and French, other than his mother language, with literature comprehended, and all the experiences linked to it were the cultural exchanges during the third and fourth years.

Virgil, otherwise, was part of the Classical course, meaning that he had signed his death certificate by committing to five years of learning ancient Greek and Latin plus the respective literature as main subjects. But other than that and the famous one week school trip to Greece every three years, Roman had no clue what they did other than study until they couldn’t remember their own names, just like any other student.

Yeah, they couldn’t say their school system was perfect.

« I don’t exactly know every detail. Are you guys doing this? »

« Kind of. What we’re doing is carry on with the work we did the past two years, where we had opened other excavations. Let’s say we’re looking for clues. We’re supervised by an actual archaeologist though. »

« That’s so cool! Did you find any gold? » Virgil wasn’t really expecting such excitement coming from Roman. Apart from the all too familiar question, he often found his interlocutors to be pretty uninterested by the topic.

« No gold, but … remember last Tuesday? » Roman nodded attentively.

« On that morning, during one of Mr. Richardson’s lessons, one of our classmates video-called us saying there was an urgent matter to show us. They had found possibly a Roman coin. » he tried to bite back the smile that threatened to form on his lips at the joyful memory, but nothing could take away that particular twinkle in his eyes.

« Are you serious?! That’s wonderful, what if you find a hidden treasure? »

« Unlikely, but it would be nice. »

« Wow. » Roman breathed out, staring at the scene beside his … new acquaintance? « How did you hurt yourself, anyway? »

« See that pile of dirt? I’ve been scanning every bucket full of soil that was thrown in there. My job was searching in the dirt for possible relics that were missed out while others did the digging. We installed a little assembly line. And running your fingers through that for hours makes you sore I guess. »

« That doesn’t seem very fun, though. »

Virgil shrugged. « I didn’t mind. I like working by myself, especially when the job is as simple as it is important. » And it was true, it wasn’t like the archaeologist put him there because he was just hopeless with the other instruments, every little clue was important and looking for them was a crucial point that can be easily taken care of if you’re a perfectionist.

Plus, the archaeologist seemed to have taken a liking into Virgil, so that didn’t make him feel left out at all.

« Even though, today one of my classmates came to help me. » the boy turned to see that Roman was still listening to him, with no intention of changing the subject. That was new, too.

« You know those terribly annoying ones? He slowed down our chain to the point that he had to argue with this girl that was in dire need of empty buckets while we still had all of them full because he wanted to look through every inch of dirt before handing it out. » he let out a deep sigh, as if he had just been venting for hours.

« That was pretty idiotic, what happened then? »

« Uh, well, we went back to working, just as I was doing before he came to help. »

Roman snorted, imagining the scene in front of his eyes. « So he made a fuss only for it to go back as before and prove him wrong. I’d say he’s pretty amazing. »

« Yeah. » Virgil agreed, « Anyway, sorry for rambling. » he added in a lower tone, while checking his phone for notification, before putting it away quickly.

Roman arched his eyebrow at his words. « As someone who whines constantly, I don’t really think you should worry. »

At least, that succeeded to steal a chuckle from the tired one.

« Did you find anything? » Virgil was really starting to believe this guy couldn’t have a minute of pure silence.

« Well, there’s always a couple of bones, some weird ferric objects, teeth and … » he stopped, remembering the event of the week before.

This time, a wide smile appeared before he could stop it as he searched through his phone’s camera gallery; it was the one thing he was real proud of, possibly the prettiest of his findings.

He handed the phone over to Roman, whose eyes widened at the sight, in front of him he could see a pic of a piece of ceramic with white, brown, yellow and blue decorations, dirt was still covering it, but you could already make out how beautiful it was.

« You found this in here? »

« Yes, it was amazing. I was standing there, » he pointed to a vague direction in front of the dirt pile, excitement rising in his chest as he remembered. « and someone was throwing the dirt on the pile and I recognized the bottom of the piece. We had already found other ceramics and I was hoping it was one too. So I picked it up as soon as I spotted it and there were at least three inches of dirt on top. I moved it away with my thumb and I was met with that decoration. I think I might have yelled. » he leaned in to take another look at the pic, as if never satisfied with it.

Roman certainly didn’t miss how bright he appeared when he was talking about the excavation, all the tiredness was gone and the pain in his whole body caused by eight hours of work was long forgotten. He looked genuinely happy, a contrast to his unusual dark and broody persona.

« Did you choose you university yet? » he had a thought, while handing the phone back, which could have maybe helped the injured boy.

« Jumping a bit? Uh, no, honestly I have no idea. »

« Ever thought of doing something with archaeology? »

« Uhm … » Virgil tapped his fingers on his palm. It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered the possibility in the past, but he had been told that it was probably too hard and maybe too boring from his point of view. On the other hand he truly enjoyed working in the site …

« You still with me, buddy? You don’t have to choose in the next five minutes. »

« Shut up, I was thinking. »

« Your thinking is too loud. »

« And here I was considering you as actually not that bad. »

« I know you secretly admire me. »

« The important thing is you believe that. »

Their wise and profound conversation was interrupted by Virgil’s ringtone going off, he picked up, had a brief talk and tucked the phone away in his pocket.

« My mother’s arrived to pick me up. » he informed, pointing at a car parked a few feet away from them.

They both stood up, but none of them made to move at all.

« Uh, I was thinking … » Roman struggled to find the right words, as if anything he said might offend Virgil at any given moment. « I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but maybe we could meet up sometimes to talk about the play? Or I could start helping you as soon as we get the scripts. »

Virgil made a face, as if he had been trying to forget a bad nightmare and had just been reminded of it. Still, he had no right to escape that any further, and he was already anxious about not being able to make it in time, even before he could start learning his lines. So maybe starting to work on it sooner wasn’t that bad of an idea.

« Sounds good. » he hesitated, not sure how to continue, when an idea sparked in his mind. « Maybe I could give you some insight on the tragedy. »

« That’d be awesome! When are you free? »

Hah. « During week-days I’m busy until five p.m. everyday. At least for another week, when this project will be over. »

That explained why he was still in town at almost six p.m.

« You guys dig everyday? »

« Something like that. We’re divided into two groups and we dig every other day. When we don’t we still have to stay at school and do researches for the final exhibition. »

Roman’s eyes lit up at the last words, he was going to ask him about it the next time the occasion presented itself.

« That sucks. Okay, look, I don’t wanna steal anymore time from your beloved mother, so I’ll text about it to you later, okay? »

« Cool. » Virgil raised his hand and waved it ever so slightly.

Roman returned the good-bye and got back to his task, marching down the sidewalk, but as Virgil had just opened the door of his mother’s car, he remembered to yell “And don’t forget to get some rest, I’m starting to confuse your makeup with your dark circles!”.

Virgil got into the car with an exasperated sigh and found his mother giggling to herself while she looked at him.

« Was that a friend? »

« God I hope not. »

✾✾✾✾

Tuesday came back in a hurry, along with the theater club, some worried and some bored students. Virgil stood in the middle of “time to panic and/or cry” and “if I don’t fall into eternal slumber right now I will burn this building to the ground”.

If he could name some of the most atrocious backstabbers he had ever met, he’d instantly name his teachers: at first they told his class they’d make it easy for them since they were so busy with the project, now they pretended the students had to be more organized with their studying and homework. Tests and interrogations had been made despite them being at least nine hours at school instead of five, some even coming home later than that.

In a word, they didn’t care, it was the students’ fault.

Virgil had his back against the wall, sitting on the top step of the bleacher with his legs close to his chest, the meeting had been starting for a couple of minutes and, of course, he didn’t have anything to do except hating himself and wait for another uneventful hour to pass.

« Hey Gerard Way Too Dark, look what they gave me. »

Or maybe not.

Virgil looked up to be met with Roman standing in front of him with two binders in his hand: the two of them had agreed on meeting up only when school would let them breathe enough to find a single day where they were both free from studying. Which was yet to be a thing.

The beloved actor handed him one of the binders, it read the title of the play, the author and the characters. He didn’t like how his role was the very first one on the list.

« At last. » he dryly commented, flipping the pages quick enough to not read a single actual word out of it.

Roman sat down next to him and examined the first page, as if looking for some kind of unspoken treasure, then he turned to take out a stash of highlighters Virgil had no clue where he kept. He showed them to him, waiting for him to pick a color.

By the looks of them, they seemed brand new and neatly arranged in the colors of the rainbow. Virgil picked out the lilac one, he had always preferred the gentler colors, it made it easier to study with the lights on.

His colleague chose the red one and began going through the pages and highlighting all the lines he had to learn as Pentheus.

Silently, Virgil did the same with the lines Dionysus said, recalling the scenes as he went through them. Though … he noticed there were far too many. He never realized how impossible it looked in his eyes until he had it plainly laid out in front of him.

Great, you’re going to mess this up, you won’t ever be able to do this in time. Plus you’re probably going to forget everything the moment right before going on stage. Who thought this was going to be a good id-

« Are you okay down there? »

He didn’t realize he was rubbing at his face with his hands, while trying to shake off the storm forming in his mind. In doing so, he had also let the marker fall to the wooden step with a clatter, which caught the other’s attention.

« Yeah, ’m just tired. » he managed to let out through his fingers in a muffled sound.

Roman made a humming noise, then proceeded to cast aside all his stuff and let himself relax against the wall. « Then I’d say we call it a day and sleep until it’s time to part ways. »

Virgil looked at him, surprise written all over his face, wasn’t he supposed to work even harder than normal because of the occasion? Either way, he mirrored the boy, pulling up his hood so that he could find some comfort.

« I think I’m too worried about all this mess, » he retorted, gesturing at his script. « to be able to even close my eyes. »

« Then tell me about it. »

He considered the option, he did actually promise him he’d do it before, besides he’d be distracting himself from the impending doom, be actually productive and explaining the tragedy to the actor. A double win for both parties.

« The story is centered around this group of Bacchantes that came from Asia and want to enter Thebes and spread their cult, they’re also guided by a lone nomad that none knows is actually Dionysus, the founder of the cult itself. » he turned to face Roman, in a silent “tell me where I lose you” manner.

« They are stopped by Pentheus, now king of the city, son of Agave and nephew of Cadmus, the founder of Thebes. Tiresias is a famous seer that understands the potential of the cult and invites Cadmus to preach the god with him. They try to reason with Pentheus, but it’s all in vain. In the meantime, while this king is busy insulting the cult, Dionysus makes all the women of the city go mad and follow the Maenads. »

« Payback? »

« More like first warning. » Virgil counted to one on his right hand for emphasis. « After that, Pentheus sent his soldiers to capture him. And they succeeded, he didn’t resist and kept up his act, only to free himself of the chains thanks to his magic. When Pentheus found him, Dionysus pretended he was helped by the god and began charming him until the king gave in. »

« You mean, how he made him dress up as a Maenad? »

« Yes, but not only he did that, he drove him crazy, too. » did anyone else ever notice the slight green spots in Roman’s brown eyes or was it just the trick of the light? Virgil couldn’t tell, so he decided to explain further. « Pentheus claimed to be seeing double and having hallucinations. He was also very careful of his clothes, hair and posture, he wanted to be the perfect Maenad. He tried to convince himself it was for disguise purposes, but in my opinion he was rather enjoying that dress-up. »

« Really? » Roman questioned, he still had to look into his character, the more he knew about him, the better he could portray him. He always took every bit of information he could find, to the point in which he could somehow relate to them or at least be able to link him and the role. That way, he was able to love acting as every single one of them.

« You need to read their last conversation. Even you would say that at first glance. Anyway, the play ends with the Bacchantes shredding to pieces the body of Pentheus. The practice is called “sparagmòs”. After that Agave and Cadmus have a touching scene and it ends there. A bit shocking for her since she just killed her son, but the god made sure the women all saw a beast instead. »

« That’s cruel, though. »

« Princey, he disrespected a fucking god, dying is the least that could happen to him. »

There was the nickname again. And, as if on cue, Roman’s lips twitched into a small smile that disappeared right after. He wasn’t aware of the reason why he didn’t want to get caught, but … did Virgil really not remember?

« He didn’t give him a chance to apologize! »

« Then again, the cult of the Bacchantes includes a ritual where a human needs to be sacrificed. If he had ever been sorry, Dionysus would have probably ordered him to sacrifice himself so that he could be satisfied and purified by his action. »

« Okay, okay. » Roman put his hands up in surrender. « I recognize I’m talking to a smart one over here, I give up. » he pretended he was waving a white flag to his side.

Virgil chuckled at his words. « I’m actually just average, but I can be passionate about some things, too. »

« Just average? I doubt all of your classmates still remember the entire plot of a tragedy and also can provide conspiracy theories. »

« Conspiracy- what are you talking about? »

« You know I’m right, you were totally on the verge of geeking out about this one. C'mon who’s your favorite character? » the actor mocked resting his face on his palms while a sly expression surrounded him.

« I will throw you off the stairs the next chance I have. »

« Good luck with that since you can’t even reach. »

Oh that was the last fucking straw.

Virgil turned his head to look at him in the eyes so rapidly that Roman feared his neck would give in and break right then and there. But the most disturbing image was the rage that was forming around the boy’s aura.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the wisest thing to-

Virgil surged forward in a sudden movement and the actor jumped away pleading for salvation, it was only when he heard a foreign laugh that he turned around only to be met with the same dark and stormy guy, doubled over himself with laughter, teasing Roman.

« Did you seriously think I was going to attack you? »

« You can be scary sometimes, shut up! » heat began running in Roman’s cheeks out of embarrassment and he pretended nothing happened while Virgil quieted down next to him.

It was exactly in that moment that the meeting was called off.

As Roman followed him to the library, he wondered if that was going to be a regular thing after-

You idiot, this is the last week of your project.

« Oh, by the way. » Virgil stopped at the top of the stairs. « Don’t take it personally if I brush you off or disappear for the next few days, but the exhibition’s coming and I still have no idea what to say. »

« Talking about efficiency. » the actor rolled his eyes, recalling a few other examples he could give on the marvelous organization of teachers.

« Yeah, our teacher gave us tons of useful information. » he dead-panned, approaching the library’s doors.

« I will forever respect you for putting up with Mr. Richardson. »

That was able to get a chuckle out of Virgil.

« See you around, Pentheus. »

And with that, Roman was left walking home by himself with the warm feeling of having made a new possible friend spreading in his chest.

✾✾✾✾

It was Saturday morning when he noticed the fliers hanging around school. They showed a bunch of excavation pics and the subject of an archaeological exhibition centered around the school’s town. Roman took note of the date: it was exactly that same day!

So that was how he found himself during afternoon pacing around the plaza and stepping into an old tower, where a little crowd of at least fifteen people of all ages were standing and listening attentively to a student. There was only a little group of them, which he figured was because the exhibition took place multiple times during the week.

He just wondered if he had been lucky enough to find …

As he made his way through the front, so that he could see all the materials and boards exposed he heard the female voice say « Now I will turn it over to my classmate, Virgil! »

As soon as he heard his name, he followed her gaze and finally met an unusual sight: instead of the usual hoodie, he wore a black button up shirt and skinny dark blue jeans that might as well have been mistaken for the same other color. So he did know how to be fancy if he wanted.

Before he began explaining, he noticed Roman standing right next to their theater teachers and bit back a smile. He didn’t recall inviting him, actually he hadn’t wanted anyone he knew to witness him mess everything up as he was used to do. So what was he doing there?

Virgil welcomed everybody once again, then turned over to all the materials exposed.

And when he started talking, Roman was enthralled.

He didn’t know if it was the way the words rolled down his tongue, how he brushed the objects as if they were sacred treasures that would turn into dust at the slightest touch, or the sparkle in his eyes when he took in everybody’s attention and curiosity.

But there was a thing he did recognize: it was passion, that was definitely what he was radiating, the one emotion he knew all too well which helped him getting his public hanging at the edge of their seats.

And this time, he was the hooked one.

The two locked eyes multiple times, Virgil was surprised enough to find comfort in having someone to constantly smile at him, or in Mrs. Eagan’s nodding, in all those mouthed “you’re doing great”. He couldn’t stop going back at them everytime he looked up.

Before anyone knew it, his time was over and the group moved onto the last part of the exhibition, which was outside; the crowd followed the last student to the site that was still open and the remaining students in the room sighed with relief as Mr. Richardson followed them too for the final thanks.

Some minutes and a standing ovation later, Roman was already back into the small room as bright as ever, walking toward his favorite little archaeologist.

Virgil paced towards him at the same time, hissing a “what are you doing here?” while a small grin let itself spread on his face.

With no warning and an abrupt move, Roman’s arms had already wrapped themselves around the other boy’s upper chest, lifting him a little in the process.

Well, that was definitely new.

Not being used to such excitement, Virgil was only able to awkwardly return the hug after an initial moment of vacillation. Seeing his energy on stage was a thing, experiencing it like that was completely something else, but deep in his heart he knew it wasn’t a habit he wouldn’t have liked to adapt to.

Wait, what was that thought coming from? Why would he have to adapt to anything, he was just going to help him through acting and that was it.

Still, a new friend wasn’t a bad idea either …

« You did amazing! » was what Virgil heard after being released from the embrace, but not quite completely as Roman was still holding onto his arms.

He blinked a few times. « What are you talking about, I messed up and started stuttering at one point- »

« Oh shut up and let me compliment you, I didn’t even remember you did, king of modesty. »

« More like king of self-deprecation. »

« Can you stop for once in your life? »

Right in the short amount of time they weren’t talking, a single line caught their attention.

« Look at all this trash. »

What?

« Yeah, these are all so obviously fake. »

Thunderstorms.

Thunderstorms and lightning, howls of rage formed in Virgil’s chest, burning in a bonfire which heat traveled through his blood and reached his eyes only to darken them with fury.

His body stiffened, he wanted to scowl at them and tell them how wrong they were, just how dare them invalidate all the hard work of three weeks?

« Oh, Virgil! » Roman seemed to distract him, but he had a plan in mind as he moved both of them close to the materials table. « Remember that day I visited you while you guys were digging? »

But there wasn’t any- was he onto something? « Oh, yeah, you were walking home from school and you decided to stop. » he played along, as his friend nodded, making sure to be heard by the rude couple.

In the meantime, one of the students had gone out to update their teacher on the situation.

« Yeah, when you found that beautiful ceramic piece! » Roman turned to recognize the piece he had seen in the pic he had been shown, then pointed it. « Is it that one? »

« Yes, I can pick it up for you. » Virgil did so as he spoke.

« Wow, it’s even more gorgeous. »

« We had a hard time cleaning everything, so we tried to do the best job we could. Getting dirt out of bones is also … not super easy. »

« You guys are awesome. » Roman kept glancing around the room arranged for the exhibition, while the now embarrassed couple decided to leave under the incinerating stare of Mr. Richardson who had just came in to witness the situation.

Everybody in the room went to either grin or laugh inside, while the two boys shared a high five.

After making sure everything was under control, the teacher decided to begin cleaning up the place, so all the guests that stayed to chatter were dismissed.

« Hey, uh … » Virgil struggled to get out his voice, a little for being tired, a little because in moments of shyness his tone would go out as nothing more than a simple mutter. « Thank you for earlier and … also for coming, I guess. »

« Both of them were my utter pleasure. » Roman had a thing for being extra, and if he chose that aesthetic, he better had to stick to it by doing a theatrical bow at his friend.

« You are a nerd. »

« With style! »

« Whatever helps you sleep at night. » Virgil turned around to face the tower and began walking away. « See you around, Princey. »

There went another one.

Roman had to giggle quietly to himself, every single time his mind traveled to that one particular moment back in the first year when-

« You know, this is what I was talking about. »

He felt a presence walking by his side, suddenly, and found Mr. Eagan glaring at him with an almost nostalgic look.

« I’ve been telling him for years that he has the acting potential. » she sighed while Roman simply nodded along. « He’s been getting better, you see this isn’t the first exhibition they do, I’ve seen them all. »

« Oh, really? »

« Yes. And you can totally sense how much emotion he’s putting, you can tell he’s invested. »

« I agree, I’ve had the occasion to see that. »

« And honestly I feel bad for forcing him into this play thing … but I’m sure he’s going to shine. I’m so proud of him. » she smiled at herself, then stopped in her tracks and looked up at her student. « And I’m also sure you’ll do a good job. Bring out his talent, Roman. In your own special way. »

He remained speechless for a moment, just how much trust did these teachers actually have in both of them? He found it endearing, he felt almost as if they had some kind of motherly appreciation towards them.

« Thank you. We’ll work very hard on this one, you’ll see! »

They exchanged their farewells and Roman headed home, this time by himself, having all kinds of thoughts in his mind.

But most of all, he felt worried.

All of a sudden, it seemed like a blank page was being replaced in his head instead of all the knowledge apprehended through his life.

He had no idea how to start helping Virgil.

✾✾✾✾

Despite the initial awkwardness, things had begun to go way better than both of them had imagined. The occasional staying late after the theater meetings had allowed them to grow closer, so much that they at least shared a few words during break every day at school. And that was a huge effort for Virgil as he preferred to stay in class where almost none hanged around and simply scroll through his phone, waiting for the last two dreadful hours of lessons.

And, well, random texts weren’t late to arrive to the party, too.

Princey: okay but can we talk about what an idiot Pentheus is?

Vee: this is a weird midnight text to get, but go off I guess

Princey: I’m serious! Come on, like why don’t you just let people do their thingsss

Vee: Oh you’re taking this to heart, alright

Princey: Yeah?? Am I not supposed to be emotionally invested in my own play?

Vee: You’re talking as if you’ve written it

Princey: Maybe I did

Vee: gasp are you Euripides reincarnated

Princey: The one and only

Vee: My apologies sir, you have all the rights to whine about your own plot

Vee: I also have no clue how you know english

Princey: It’s the muses’ power!

Vee: Melpomene?

Princey: Bless you

Vee: Wow okay, go to sleep

Princey: Sleep is for the weak

Vee: And you’re gonna be weak in the morning so it really doesn’t matter

Princey: Alright, mum, why would you stay up then?

Vee: Reasons

Princey: Are you still scrolling through Tumblr and sticking to your natural emo kid persona?

Vee: ouch

Vee: no,  but I’d love to

Princey: mhh then you forgot to do homework or study?

Vee: You know me, I’m too anxious about my parents’ judgment to do that

Princey: demanding parents?

Vee: sorta.

Princey: sore topic?

Vee: Yup.

Princey: Alright then, you’re watching a movie? An anime?

Vee: No, I’m just talking to an idiot who won’t go to sleep

Princey: Oh I see, sounds like a total badass guy fighting the system

Vee: Yeah, fighting his body’s shut down system if he doesn’t get enough sleep.

Princey: bold of you to say that when we’re in the same situation

Vee: listen we’re talking about you stay focused

Princey: you know I’m right

Princey: C'mon why are you still up

Vee: no reason tbh

Vee: I just can’t seem to fall asleep so I’m tyring myself out until I can pass out on my bed

Princey: thaaat doesn’t seem very healthy

Vee: I never said I wanted to take care of myself

Princey: LOVE  YOURSELF BITCH

Vee: HAH

Vee: no.

Princey: i will make you!!

Princey: one day we’ll have a big relaxation day and you will be able to see the beauty in yourself!!

Vee: sounds unrealistic i’m in

Princey: come on work with me emo nightmare

Vee: i’m too lazy to live i’m sorry

Princey: then why don’t you just s l e e p

Vee: bc my sleep schedule is a mess and i cant seem to even shut my eyes everything in my life is going straight in the trash can and uhhhhhh yeah everything sucks

Princey: woah slow down

Princey: okay look you’re having me a bit concerned here

Vee: haha no it’s the usual daily stuff for me

Princey: ……….. it shouldn’t be????

Vee: eh

Princey: hey, would you answer if I called you?

Vee: if this is because of what i’ve just said, you’re worrying too much

Princey: nah it’s just for a distraction

Princey: and maybe you’ll be able to fall asleep

Vee: are you implying your voice is boring or you want to sing me a lullaby?

Princey: i’ll pretend i didn’t read the first part but i’ll have you know i have a very beautiful singing voice

Vee: pf alright i’m not entirely convinced

Princey: i’ll buy both of us coffee at the vending machine tomorrow morning before the first lesson starts

Vee: okay i’m sold, hit me up

✾✾✾✾

« This is unacceptable! I’m sorry, our friendship has to end here, I’m leaving. »

« I’m telling you, I have my reasons. »

« You can’t just simply dislike Hercules! »

Virgil sighed in defeat and resigned in his plastic seat; Christmas holidays had been around for a week, new year’s was already approaching and two youngsters had decided to spend an afternoon together with the excuse of reading some lines out of their scripts and helping each other out.

It wasn’t really the first time they did that, plus with the arrival of winter it was a nice excuse to be comforted by a warm cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream.

Just like they were doing in that moment, only that it seemed that they had completely forgotten about the play because of how much they were invested in other topics. Such as, obviously, Disney movies.

« It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just … so wrong. »

« Oh my- it’s not Percy Jackson, it’s Disney, they’re allowed to take some creative liberties. »

« I know, but I didn’t watch it as a child, I saw it recently- »

« How dare you. »

« -shut up. What I mean is: my studies have ruined its likability. »

Roman closed his eyes and put his hands together in front of his face in an exasperated manner. « Then let’s hear these freaking reasons, enlighten my blindness, o wise one! »

Virgil couldn’t help but smirk as the other one huffed. « First of all, thank you for the compliment. »

« But, see, the first thing that got me was the character of Phil. The actual Philoctetes wasn’t a satyr, he was a hero that fought in the Trojan war who also happened to be Hercules’ friend at some point. »

« Well, they were linked in the end! »

« Let me finish. All the deeds that Phil claimed to have made? All those heroes he trained? Bullshit. Everything was done by Chiron, the only wise and composed centaur of greek mythology. And like centaurs were thought as savage beasts, satyrs were always linked to Dionysus and described as libidinal creatures. Philoctetes would have probably felt insulted. »

« Your studies may have ruined your view but you’re ruining my childhood right now. » Roman muttered the words as a childish pout formed on his lips.

« Ah, also Megara was a city, not a person. » said Virgil with nonchalance.

« WHAT. » the wide-eyed actor jumped in his seat and surged forward a little, blinking a few times.

Without expecting it, Virgil’s composed face contorted with a snort, which then grew into giggles and then again transformed into a genuine and amused laughter that couldn’t stop.

He tried to breathe in. « Princey, you- » he cut himself off as another wave of giggles hit him, so he held one hand up as if to tell him to wait until he could properly compose himself.

And Roman knew he otherwise would have felt offended, or at least in a playful way, he knew normally he would have instantly asked what was the matter. But he couldn’t really shake off the feeling of wanting to protect and carve this picture into his memory until it was the only thing he could remember.

And he truly wanted to share that angelic laughter, participate to the mirthful moment, yet he found himself solely staring at the unusual sight in pleasant disbelief at how stunning that scene was.

He could merely twitch his lips upwards and consider how much he adored hearing the nickname in such an entertained voice.

Something inside Roman clicked as Virgil finally gained enough breath, and he knew he was done for.

« Sorry, uh, » he was finally able to breathe out. «  I was actually messing with you. She did exist. »

He looked him in the eyes and all Roman could think was “finally”.

After a beat, noticing the other didn’t respond and assuming he was upset or something, he continued. « Though she and their children were afterwards killed by Hercules according to some. Others think he killed his children and Megara compelled him to commit suicide. Awful stories for great heroes, I guess. »

Roman, who was still starstruck, was only able to comment. « Breathtaking. »

Virgil made a face and lowered the cup he was raising to his lips. « What? »

« Uh … what? No I was just- the TV! Behind you, yes. I was commenting that. »

The confused one turned ever so slightly to quickly glance at the old black screen facing his back. « Alright, I won’t question your weird obsession with old style televisions. »

Nailed it.

Their discourse went on escalating to different topics, but never once brushing the fact that they met to keep up their theater practice, like good procrastinating students. It wasn’t like they were avoiding it on purpose, for the first time they felt like spending quality time with each other was their main priority.

« Okay, listen, Tripping in the Darkness. I went on a cruise once and even there I was able to reveal my beautiful voice. »

« So sorry for the passengers. »

« I should have left you outside freezing in the cold. » Roman scoffed after a beat.

« But you didn’t. »

« I’m starting to reconsider. »

« We both know you would never do it. »

« I forgive you only because you’re cute. » oh wait, oh wha- Roman immediately hid behind his cup, drinking the last remaining of his warm beverage. He hoped that the heat would rush off of his cheeks by the time he had finished.

« Wow, I’m flattered. » Virgil didn’t leave his sarcastic tone and didn’t seem to have noticed anything different, until he snorted out loud when he was met with Roman’s face after he lowered the cup.

Roman’s heart sank, was he still blushing? Was he already onto him? That was bad, that was-

« You got … » Virgil’s voice got back to being amused and he gestured towards his face. Oh, great, he had a chocolate-stained face now. Just what he needed.

« Where? Is it gone? » he frantically kept on asking as he wiped around his mouth and cheeks with his bare hand.

His friend shook his head. « Not even close. »

On a scale on one to Roman’s worst embarrassing moments compilation, he would have probably found himself on top of that very ranking, because after that Virgil simply reached for the container on the little table.

« For starters, you take a tissue. » while he did so, Roman could only watch as his friend  gently rubbed away the spot on the bridge of his nose. Oh. The cup did touch it earlier.

Alright that was awkward and I’m stupid, let’s move on.

But no, his brain had decided to short circuit and leave him to his impulsiveness; out of the blue, he grabbed Virgil’s wrist before he pulled away completely.

Virgil blinked, confused once again by his behavior. « Uh, what’s up? »

That’s when Roman’s mind finally snapped to reality and, of course, he panicked to find the best excuse he could permit, so he slid both of his hands to cage Virgil’s own. « You’re super cold! » he noticed, lowering their hands to rest on the table.

« Yeah? It’s minus degrees outside? And I’m often anxious? »

« Oh, right. » why was he feeling more sympathetic than usual? « Then, I shall protect you from both! »

« By holding my hand? »

« By making sure your heat level is within the parameters! »

« Alright, Doc. I’ll trust you. »

That was how they ended up holding hands for the rest of the day without even realizing until they had to part.

« You sure you don’t want me to accompany you to the parking lot? »

« I’m fine, don’t mind. »

They were standing out of the cafe to exchange their goodbyes, about to head for different streets and eventually go home.

« You know, you didn’t really have to pay for me, I’m not broke. » Virgil talked in little puffs of condensed air, hands in his pockets and trying to shake off the cold stinging sensation that pierced his skin.

« Oh, soft you now, »

« Is that a fucking Hamlet quote? »

« -it is my duty to ensure your well-being. Plus I know you hate talking to cashiers, so. »

« You’re the worst, but thank you. » Virgil rolled his eyes. « I still feel like I owe you one now, though. »

Well you could just kiss me whenever you feel like, a part of Roman’s brain noted. Uhm, what the fuck is your problem? Responded the other.

« Nah, I’ll probably forget it by the next time we talk. » he admitted, ignoring the weird thoughts that were happening in his mind, a mind that needed to shut up for at least a single second.

Virgil muttered an “alright” and was about to turn around and wave him off, like he always did, when he was confronted by a simple demand.

« Uh, can I, like, hug you? »

He stopped in his tracks, considering for a moment, before a “sure” escaped his lips and he started nodding.

Roman stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his chest, content and making a little pleased sound as the other returned the hug. He wasn’t sure why he was being so uncertain that day.

« Bye, Virge! » he called out as he stepped away from his friend and began walking home.

Virgil waved in return and immediately took out his phone and earbuds: after hitting shuffle he was fast to recognize the song by the first chords.

Acceptance, huh? He had discovered their song back in middle school. Boy, did he try so hard to be edgy. Still, certain songs weren’t really that bad.

Oh no, this couldn’t be more unexpected.

He had just made to turn the corner of a mansion’s fence when a realization struck him. And he was still subtly smiling because of it.

He somehow hadn’t been aware of it in the moment, probably because of their distracting conversation.

The lyrics went by in his ears and he almost didn’t even notice the words flowing in his head as that little memory of their afternoon occupied his mind.

Could this be out of line? To say you’re the only one breaking me down like this.

Roman had been brushing his thumb against his skin for almost all the time he had been holding onto his hand earlier.

He also had hugged him a little bit tighter than how he remembered back in October. And he was very excited too, that day.

And yeah, the majority of sane people would have found the situation simply nice or just a normal friendly action. But Virgil?

Come to think of it, I’m aching.

Yeah, he was already burying his face in his hoodie. God, was that heat rushing at his cheeks? Did his body really want to make it any more obvious?

On account of my transgression, will you welcome this confession?

Oh god, oh fu-

Virgil exhaled deeply and rubbed at his face with his hands, an unwelcome warm feeling spreading in his chest, it felt like as if someone was lighting a fire in there, not caring for the emotional damage that they were about to cause. Like a firework sent up in the middle of the night only to startle you enough to wake you up in a cold sweat and thumping heart.

Keep me hanging on so contagiously.

Virgil abruptly ripped the earbuds away from his ears and stuffed everything in his pockets as he leaned on his school’s gate, staring at the parking lot in front of him. His parents had yet to arrive to pick him up.

He had enough time to calm down.

« Well, I’m fucked. »

Maybe.

✾✾✾✾

Princey: HAPPY NEW YEAR V!!

Vee: yeee here’s to another shitty one

Princey: AW COME ON try to be a bit more upbeat

Vee: YEEE HERE’S TO ANOTHER SHITTY ONE!!!!

Princey: THAT’S MORE LIKE IT COMRADE

Vee: wtf okay

Princey sent a pic

Vee: are those streamers in your hair?

Vee: and … glitter?

Princey: don’t question it it’s your turn now send me something

Vee: i don’t think that’s how it works

Princey: do iiiiiit scaredy cat

Vee: fine

Vee sent a pic

Princey: .. wait

Princey: Are you in bed?

Vee: On the couch, actually

Vee: if that’s what you’re asking yes, i’m at home

Princey: and you’re not having fun? Are you okay??

Vee: yes don’t worry

Vee: i’m by myself

Princey: WHAT

Vee: gee it’s not that weird

Princey: no it’s just i thought you were out with friends

Vee: were all busy

Vee: but it’s fine, i don’t really appreciate big and loud parties

Vee: and i jump at every single loud noise so fireworks are a big no for me

Princey: you should have told me!! i would have managed something, we could have even just chilled alone

Vee: no it’s fine really, thank you

Vee: sorry to bring you down with that

Princey: oh shush

Princey: can i call you?

Vee: that’s sweet and all but i’d feel like i’m bothering you so

Princey: what are you talking about, plus there are so many people here they won’t even realize i’m gone for a while

Vee: i don’t wanna waste your time, it’s ok

Princey: but you’re not doing that!

Princey: idk can I at least visit you for some time? I don’t want you being all alone like that

Vee: no

Vee: i mean not that i don’t want you here but i’d feel guilty, i told you

Princey: you don’t have to!!

Princey: i lo kdjsdsdjk

Vee: what-

Princey: look i care about you, you’re one of my closest friends already and i love spending time with you, so if there’s a way for me to cheer you up i will gladly accept it

Vee: that is …

Vee: the gayest thing i’ve ever read

Vee: you’re a dork

Princey: i will take all that as a compliment

Vee: okay let me just

Vee: get my dog off of me

Princey: ADORABLE DOG

Vee: yeah i love her

Vee: and afterwards you can call me alright

Princey: SCORE!!

Princey: okay

Vee: one thing though

Princey: mirror mirror on the wall what’s the question botherin y'all

Vee: … i’ll pretend i’ve never read that

Vee: are you still getting me coffee tomorrow morning like that one time

Princey: if this is a subtle “do you wanna hang out here” i’m all for it, tho expect me to come up at like 11

Vee: wow you know exactly how to make things awkward everytime

Vee: okay dog’s off, you can call

Princey: on it!

✾✾✾✾

It is widely known and said that time flies by quickly when you’re either having fun, doing nothing or during the holidays. Students had reluctantly returned to their daily routines of lessons, homework and studying, trying to frame everything in the best way, so that they had at least some time to breathe between their tasks.

January, sadly, meant that the end of the first term was approaching inexorably  and the teachers suddenly realized they needed more marks than they actually had from every student in a matter of two weeks. Everything for the initial report cards that, in the end, didn’t matter at all compared to the final one.

Thanks to February, students would have some time to breathe and re-gain strength until March, which was another wave of tests in preparation for the real monster: May.

For the last years, though, February also meant that they were going to get more information about which subjects they had to focus on the most for their final exams, which could only be linked to chaos, panic and that anxious but subtle feeling that the big moment was coming.

Thankfully, the weekend existed and with it also places for poor unfortunate souls to release stress and distract themselves from the imminent danger.

And that is how we follow two fellow individuals in distress who had decided upon spending their first free time in weeks walking around town and having a nice chat during night. At least before they ended up in a little desolated playground, their scripts in front of their faces, definitely acting more dramatically than needed.

« Do you perform the rites by night or by day? » Roman leaned on one of the street lamps, permitting him to read his line and, at the same time, he widely gestured with his free hand.

« Mostly by night; darkness conveys awe. » Virgil emphasized his second line with such an ominous tone that made his friend giggle lightly.

« Oh my, I’m thrilled. »

« Okay but you’ve got to admit it’s actually a cool phrase to say. »

« Maybe if we were serious enough, my darkling. »

After Virgil’s usual “shut up and keep reading” (which he had been using for the past fifteen minutes, mind you), Roman complied. « This is treacherous towards women, and unsound. » his voice sounded almost offended, his hand trailed over his heart in a fist.

Virgil bit back a grin at the sight. « Even during the day someone may devise what is shameful. »

« This vile quibbling settles your punishment. » the taller one took a few steps forward, pointing his finger on his friend, accusatory.

« Your ignorance and impiety toward the god will settle yours. » Virgil snarled, imitating the other in pointing fingers.

Roman gasped way more dramatically than needed and placed a hand on his chest, eyes wide with disbelief. « How bold the Bacchant is, and not unpracticed in speaking! »

His acting partner intook some breath, before stopping, narrow eyed, while he read his words.

« What, is something wrong? » Roman demanded, eyes scanning the next lines before looking up.

« This is so fucking gay. » he admitted, a smile playing on his lips as he contemplated the possibility of a different turn of events in the plot.

« Dionysus and Pentheus, but make it gayer. »

« Than it already is? That’s a challenge. »

« I have something in mind. » Virgil didn’t like the mischievous look on Roman’s face. « Keep going. »

« Tell me what I must suffer; what grievous harm will you do to me? » he hadn’t noticed how fast the other was to reach him, the previous grin was still imprinted on his lips. His pace faltered only a bit, but didn’t stop when he was a few steps from his Dionysus.

« First, I will cut off your delicate curls. »  how Roman could change his tone from a mocking one to a warm and clear one, would forever be an unsolved mystery to the world. He proceeded to raise a hand to Virgil’s hair and slowly moved his bangs to the side, a knuckle brushing his cheek afterwards.

« My locks are sacred; I am growing them for the god. » Virgil played along and started to remember the lines, a result of their persistent reading every week. Not that he could really tear off his eyes from the looming figure in front of him.

« Next, give me this thyrsos from your hands. » other steps forward and Roman had trapped him against some metal bars he wasn’t aware of.

« Take it from me yourself; this is the wand of Dionysus I am bearing. » with no warning, Roman pressed his right hand, where the actual thyrsos would have been, to the bars and locked their fingers together. He leaned in even further, making sure Virgil could notice the sly sparkle in his half-lidded eyes.

« Last, I will guard your body deep in the dungeons. » his other hand gripped the bars right next to the boy’s head, literally trapping him. He had to stay in character, after all.

The leaning was slow this time, but didn’t seem to be stopping at any moment and Virgil could swear he felt his body move without his consent.

Inches apart, and Roman’s lips twitched upward. He stopped.

Virgil snorted.

Next thing they knew they were both bursting out laughing like they had just heard the best joke their favorite comedian had ever made.

« That was- » Virgil tried, after they both collapsed to the ground, weak in their knees for too much hilarity. « That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. »

« When Pentheus and Dionysus couldn’t get any gayer. » Roman commented through an almost hysterical laughter, while part of his brain began to shut down in a ohgodwhathasjusthappenediwasabouttobutthenididntandisthisthereallife state. An everyday situation to which he was used to, of course.

« Actually, » his friend began, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. « Greek gods are very open about their sexuality. »

« Oh, yeah. Wasn’t it Zeus himself that tried to f- » Roman was instantly shushed to silence, while a pained expression grew on the other’s face.

« We don’t talk about him. »

Fair enough. They had been in comfortable silence for quite a while, sitting on the ground and enjoying the void of the night as the only sources of light showed them only certain features and details of the objects around them.

« Hey, Virge? »

The mentioned boy almost jumped at the sudden sound. « Yeah? »

Roman’s expression, fixated on something ahead of him, was somewhat between focused and in a daze.

« Did you know the teachers wanted to keep your hair growing for the play? »

« What. »

« They decided against it when they realized I actually had to cut them away during the show. »

« Why are you telling me this right now? »

« I was just thinking about … » Roman’s words lingered, as if he thought about whether or not he could disclose a secret.

About me, please say about me. Virgil shook off the bizarre thought while he waited for a response. Are you fucking kidding me? Part of his mind answered. Didn’t all those past experiences teach you anything?  Virgil found it harder to concentrate on Roman’s words now, he creased his eyebrows as if he were having a headache.

Those were in elementary school and middle school, you idiot. The other side responded. They were still valid experiences!

« Ohi. » Roman waved his hand in front of the other’s face. « Are you on this planet, sir? »

« Sadly, I still am. »

Roman rolled his eyes at that. « Dang, here I thought the aliens had gotten you. »

« You wish. »

« Anyway, I was about to get going since it’s getting pretty late even for a Saturday night. » he pulled himself on his feet, then smiled brightly and turned to his friend. « Lift home? »

« Thank god you exist. »

And Roman did really try hard to act cool and all, but he found out he couldn’t prevent his face from turning at least the weakest tint of red.

✾✾✾✾

They didn’t know how it was possible, but they made it through until April.

The last two months were a train wreck of multiple meetings between Roman’s wonderful school trip abroad, additional tests, the first exams simulations, and things getting very serious at theater club. The designs, scenes, props and costumes were all coming along neatly and, with everybody giving their all, the excitement for the play could be felt through thin air. Roman was thrilled and he thought that there wasn’t nothing else that could possibly be better than that kind of feeling.

Virgil begged to differ.

He was standing in the middle of the external part of the front of the school with a couple of other classes of his same course; they all had backpacks on their backs and a luggage held close.

Virgil was almost bouncing, unable to stay still, he started tapping his fingers on the handle of his own luggage. The anticipation was killing him, how could everybody else be so calm and casual? They were about to leave for a trip to Greece!

It was the most wanted and awaited of school trips for their course, it happened every three years and not only students were given the opportunity to confront and visit places and subjects they had studied, but also thanks to certain lovable teachers the weirdest and funniest things occurred in those trips. It was a dream come true, finally at their fingertips.

He really didn’t want to seem mean, but Virgil couldn’t stop looking at the time on his phone while one of his closest classmates trailed off talking about how energetic they felt for the trip ahead.

Until …

« Wine god! » what the f-

Virgil and his friend looked up simultaneously to be met with the vision of Roman waving one arm from the top of the external stairs and afterwards quickly running down towards them.

« I didn’t see you anywhere this morning! » he was still half-running when he spoke those words, as he reached them. He put his hands on Virgil’s shoulders.

« We didn’t really leave until now, we had a test. »

His eyes widened « What the heck? Right before a trip? »

Virgil shrugged. They had chosen it was better to do it before than afterwards.

« Well, anyway, I wanted to properly say goodbye and wish you a good travel! »

« Thank you, buddy. You really didn’t have to, aren’t you having a lesson right now? » Virgil raised one eyebrow, uncertain.

Roman showed him one of his stupidly charming grins and put his hands on his hips. « I simply asked to go to the bathroom. »

« I hate to break it to you, Roman, but this isn’t exactly the right way. »

« Oh, shut up. You know I wanted to see you before you headed off for the seven seas! »

« We’re literally traveling through the same sea, what are you tal- »

« It’s been a long day, let me have this. »

Virgil tilted his head to the side, they had been in school for only three hours, what exactly did that make it a long day?

His thoughts were broken by the thundering of one of his teachers who announced that everybody had to get ready since they were going to leave in a matter of minutes.

« Alright then. » Roman murmured with a slightly sad sigh, he quickly replaced his defeated expression with a smile, careful not to be discovered. « I’ll have to leave now. »

C'mon say something. His heart begged for mercy as Virgil looked back up at him and he saw two bright gray irises, the sun’s rays hitting them from the side just enough to make them look like literal crystals.

Anything would do, take your chance, tell him!

His eyes fell to the figure right next to them, still standing there and witnessing every one of their interactions. Well, maybe next time.

Roman leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around his friend’s shoulders in a tight embrace that was soon returned a bit more weakly around his waist. He felt like he was holding on him for dear life more than anything.

His hand trailed at the nape of his neck and stroked his hair for some instants, in which Virgil tightened his own hug and laughed silently on his shoulder.

« I’m not leaving forever, you know? The time zone is not even that different. »

« I know but I’ll be lonely! »

« We both know that’s not true. » Virgil released the other and patted his shoulder. « You’ll be fine and you can text me whenever you want when I’m not in the ferry. »

Roman let out a fake annoyed huff, but smiled anyway. « Have a safe trip, Virge. » he backed away, still facing him while waving a hand.

Then he turned to the other boy.

« Keep an eye on him for me, okay? »

« Will do! »

At this, Roman sprinted away towards his class and could only smirk wider when Virgil called him out with a “Oh shut up, Princey.”

Virgil met his friend’s all-knowing look as he turned away from the spot where he saw Roman disappear, not realizing he had a soft expression written over all of his face.

« Why are you- no. Listen, it’s not what you- »

His friend ignored him, dancing around him. « You’re doing flips, read my lips, you’re in love! » he sang, while Virgil buried his face in his hands since for some godforsaken reason when he was embarrassed he tended to have a weird smile on his face that made him completely implausible. He hated that, it only made people tease him even further.

Which was exactly what happened in this situation, even after Virgil had smacked him behind the head lightly and started to get going towards the bus station as their teachers had instructed.

[nessamaurice]

Simple Ch. 6 (Loki x F!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: Tony and the Avengers are in desperate need of something like a “babysitter” to have an eye on Loki and teach him “how to human”. He decided to stay on Midgard over the dungeons of Asgard as punishment for his deeds in New York. That’s where you swoop in. A simple receptionist at the Avengers compound. You have to share an apartment in the compound with Loki and damn, he’s a really tough nut. With your open and kind character it seems that you are slowly cracking his shell. But suddenly things are getting twists that will change your life and your relationships there irreversibly.

Story rating: M

Chapter trigger warnings: harming

Words: 2108

6

It turned out the tests Bruce made with you seemed to be alright, nothing you didn't knew or that wasn’t indicated before. The following days passed without anything special happening, except your relation with Loki. You tried to pick up the conversation with Loki again but apparently the moment was over. He shut himself off again. But you didn't miss out that he continued to feel more comfortable around you. The next day he accepted your tea offering for the first time. That made you ridiculously happy and you couldn't hide the big grin appearing on your face.

"What's so funny?"

"What? Oh, no, nothing." After a few moments of silence you couldn't hold back, "Do you like my tea? Today I chose a rose flavored green tea. I love the scent of roses. I don't like the flowers themselves, they are everywhere you look, being pretentious, I'm just weary of them, but their scent...“ You let out a little, soft moan. „Wonderful."

Your rambling was met with silence and you almost gave in, disappointed. But before you looked away you could see a small smirk tugging on his lips.

A few days later you just couldn't contain yourself anymore. You turned in your winged chair to Loki.

"How are you feeling today?"

"...What?"

"How do you feel? We've been sharing these rooms for quite a few days now and have barely spoken to each other. Tell me something. Anything. Or ask me something! Just let us interact in any way. I can't take it any longer."

He looked you straight in the eyes, the dimmed sunlight making the green-blue almost glow. Then a question seemed to pop up in his mind.

"What are you reading?"

You looked down at the book on your lap. "What I’m reading? Oh, that is something specific. It's called Antiquitates Iudaicae. It's not that easy to read, it's not like a novel or something, it is more like a history book. The text is about 1900 years old. A roman-jewish historian named Flavius Josephus tries to explain his beliefs to the Greek to help them understand his culture."

"Why are you reading this, since it is not easy to read?"

"I am a faithful person and it helps me a bit understanding the setting and the time when the bible was written. There are no other ancient Jews from the first century left around here, so I wanted to know how he tried to explain his culture to persons that have no relation with it."

"So, you believe in god? Then you must be humbled to be in the presence of one." A lofty expression appeared on his face, but was wiped away the second you started laughing.

"I'm sorry, really. Don't want to be disrespectful. But do you really think you are a god? Just because you have access to other dimensions and live a few thousand years? Not that this wouldn't be highly impressive, honestly. But you are as far away from being a god than I am. You are a creation, not a creator."

Loki wanted to say something but the words kept stuck in his throat. His face turned sly.

"You have no idea what I am capable of." His voice was low and husky.

"You are completely right. If there was some sort of food chain, I'd clearly be beyond you because of your many skills and knowledge. But they don't make you the summit, neither. Look, I totally see why the ancient Norse people thought of you as gods. What you can do is really admirable. But I would never give you this title. I got too much respect of it."

Loki tried to swallow down his anger. He really wanted to behave but even more he wanted you to explain that. "So, what do you think deserves this title?"

"Love. Compassion. Mercy. Omnipotence. I think, nothing in the whole universe happens without him allowing it to happen. Even the bad things. For the most people it's hard to accept that. They blame him for all the terrible things. It's not like that he would cause the bad things to happen. But he knows exactly what's going on. He knows every outcome of every move. And, I believe, he leads us on the tracks we should go. Not like we are just marionettes and he sets every move, but at some points, big decisions that give our lifes a turn, he may give us a certain push. A lot dreadful stuff happened to me in my life, but who knows that it couldn't have been even worse? Who is able to say the way it went is not the best of all possibilities? Even if it is hard to cope with, I know he gives me the strength to get through. Whether it is some sort of energy that comes from within me or he puts people in my life that will help me with whatever comes my way. But that is my totally personal point of view. The nice thing is, I don't have to persuade anyone to believe the same. My faith is individual. Nobody has to agree with me. This is what helps me get through life. Not to give up.... What sort of faith do you have? ...if you have one at all?"

Loki listened carefully and his face slowly softened as he followed your thoughts. He seemed a bit surprised as you addressed the question to him, like he was asked for his opinion for the first time in his life.

"That is a very interesting point of view, I have to admit. I can imagine that it is not very popular, but interesting, though. I... I never really developed something you could call faith. My culture is full of myths and legends. I learned everything about our Allfathers and Gods, but never took it really personal. I was not attracted to do so."

He stopped talking and started pondering on that thought. You watched his face, his eyes getting lost. You used the opportunity to take a closer look and studied his face. It was edgy and delicate at the same time. His bright eyes pierced right through you every time he looked at you. He was very concentrated on what he wanted to say next, so you simply kept quiet and waited for him to form his thoughts into words. It was rather beautiful to watch his mind work.

After a short while he continued, "I think there might be something like a higher force that has impact on our lives. But that started just recently. I long thought that I am the master of every of my own steps and if I place them right, everything will work out just fine. I will get what I want if I only fight hard enough for it. So that's what I did, I fought for my own purposes. But all I got was misery, sorrow and hatred." 

You could literally see his pain boiling up from the inside. It was tearing him in two. You reacted out of instinct and reached out to lay your hand on his cheek. His eyes darted at you immediately, turning glassy. Softly you stroke over his cheek with your thumb. You wished you could just pull him into a tight embrace and help him let go of all expectations towards himself. To put down his guard. It was like you could literally feel his inner need of ease and solace. But he was just too much of a proud man. He pressed his lips together and pushed your hand away, abruptly stood up, stepping towards the window front, staring outside with his arms crossed.

"I'm sorry." Was all that came to your mind. Pathetic, you thought. And he thought that as well.

"You have no idea what you are talking about." He hissed turning towards you. "Don't act like you would understand. YOU HAVE NO IDEA!" He shouted at you and disappeared right in front of your eyes. You sat there in your winged chair, nonplussed. You looked around the room, but no sight of him.

Far beyond puzzled, you started to talk with the air. "I... I don't if you are still here? But, I wanted to say that you are right. I have no idea what you've been through. What it feels like to be in your skin. If I were, I know I would have done the same that you did, because you are the only person that feels this way. I am no one to judge. I never judge. Well, at least I try. The big truth is that it's simply impossible to compare individuals with each other. We are the summaries of our experiences and we all have our very own way of perceiving the world around us. So, I have to add as well that you also have no idea what you are talking about. I do understand. Traumata are a serious thing and everyone reacts differently to that, but don't treat me like I had no empathy. Maybe everyone else treated you like you didn't even had the right to speak your mind, but I'm not like this. You are intelligent and attentive and if you haven't noticed that by now, you are obviously blinded by some kind of rage and hatred. And pride. But I don't want to push you. Just know that I won't let you treat me like this. I will not leave you because I can imagine that you've been left too often in your life, but I will not tolerate it. Okay, and because it feels like I have a serious conversation with myself outside of my head I'm gonna go into the kitchen to get me a drink because that's fucking strange. Feel free to join me there."

You sat on a barstool and looked out of the giant window front at the other side of the even bigger room. You felt the cold sweat of the glass condensing in your hand, running over your fingers. Totally lost in your thoughts you didn't notice Steve sitting down next to you. He really tried not to startle you but failed.

"Sorry Y/N. Just thought you looked like something was on your mind you'd like to talk about?"

"No problem. Ah, no, it's okay. There were just some intense emotions between Loki and me."

Looking at his raised eyebrows you awkwardly cleared your throat as you explained yourself, "Oh no no no, not something like that. Totally not. No no." Somehow you dwelled in that thought a bit too long.

"Well, that were lots of 'no's but okay." Steve laughed and pushed you slightly with his shoulder to the side.

Before you could blush too obviously you changed topic, "Have you seen Tony? The last time I saw him was when were having pizza. Is everything alright?"

"To be honest I haven't seen him, neither. Well, at least not in person. I walked by the lab and saw him video chatting with Bruce, so he must be okay. But don't worry, wouldn't be the first time he disappears for a few days without telling anyone. ... Are you sure you don't want to talk about what's weighing you down?"

"Thank you Steve. Everything's fine." You conjured a smile though you didn't felt like smiling which made it totally implausible. But Steve accepted you didn't want to talk right now. He assured you can knock on his door whenever you wanted before he left the open kitchen of the common room again. You really, really hoped Loki would show up in the kitchen. You imagined both of you together having a drink, talking, enjoying each other's companionship... But you were pulled out of your day dream by a polite voice.

"Miss Y/N, your presence is demanded outside of the personal rooms."

"What? Me? For what?" You thought JARVIS sounded differently than usual.

"I am sorry, Miss, but I was not given further information than it being important and urgent."

"Uhm, okay. Sure. Just a sec." You gulped down the rest of your Gin Tonic and jumped off the barstool. For a moment it felt like someone was slightly brushing your arm as to hold you. You stopped, looked around, but didn't see anyone, so you went on.

After you slipped into your shoes and a coat you were going down to the ground floor with the lift. The doors opened and the blood in your veins froze. Two giant, black-suited men immediately entered the lift. One grabbed your arms and pulled them violently behind your back and the other one pressed a strongly sweet smelling piece of fabric on your mouth and nose. You felt a sharp sting right into the side of your neck just before everything went limp and dark.

Taglist: @it-jinxed-us​, @humbledarkness​, @lunawitch19

[uncloseted]

How does someone find their passion in life ? i'm going to uni next year and i have no idea what i want to study, or what i'm passionate about, as horrible as it is, i've never found anything i've liked more than just laying around all day, i could live forever doing nothing but i also don't want to have a work i job i completely hate but i know i have to work or study something eventually

So first things first, I think it’s important to say that your field of study/career doesn’t necessarily have to be your passion (and for that matter, what you study at uni doesn’t necessarily dictate your future career- a lot of people have degrees they never use).  I know that many of us have been sold this idea that a career can only be satisfying if it’s our “passion”. I think that’s a convenient narrative for aggressively capitalistic countries (the US being the biggest offender) because it sets a standard that we should be willing to do anything for our passion-career (unpaid internships, working for less than our labor is worth, doing unpaid work, putting up with toxic work environments, unreasonably long commutes...), since we’re not doing it for the money, we’re doing it because we genuinely love our jobs.  Maybe your passion is making dolls from corn husks or golfing or people watching or something else that’s not easy to monetize, and that’s totally okay.  It’s okay to have a job that you don’t love and aren’t super dedicated to because it allows you to do the things you do really love.  Your work shouldn’t have to be your life- work should allow you to live your life. 

Anyway, I do have some thoughts about how to find a career that works for you, whatever that might mean.  I’ve written about this before (of course, the internet cannot find it), but I would look into the Japanese concept of ikigai- your “reason for being”.

When searching for your ikigai, I would suggest making a list (no matter how short), of the things you love, the things you’re good at, the things the world needs, and the things you can be paid for.  Look for overlaps in each category, and try your best to think creatively about how you can combine the different categories.  For example, maybe you love movies, you think the world needs to know about global warming, and you’re good at organization.  Your ikigai in that case might be to be a coordinator on documentaries that focus on global warming.  It’s a job that pays pretty well, and also incorporates the other sections on your list, so it’s likely to feel fulfilling.

Moving away from ikigai, there’s this story that I think about a lot.  A great uncle told it to me, and I always assumed it was a story from his life until one day I discovered it was actually a chain email called The Parable of the Mexican Fisherman and the Banker.  I still think about it a lot, though, and it’s shaped the way I view work, so maybe it will be useful to you as well.  It goes like this:

An American investment banker was taking a much-needed vacation in a small coastal Mexican village (in my uncle’s story, the fisherman is from Kalymnos and he dives for sponges) when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. The boat had several large, fresh fish in it.

The investment banker was impressed by the quality of the fish and asked the Mexican how long it took to catch them. The Mexican replied, “Only a little while.” The banker then asked why he didn’t stay out longer and catch more fish?

The Mexican fisherman replied he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.

The American then asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

The Mexican fisherman replied, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos: I have a full and busy life, señor.”

The investment banker scoffed, “I am an Ivy League MBA (in my family the school is always Harvard), and I could help you. You could spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat, and with the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats until eventually, you would have a whole fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to the middleman you could sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You could control the product, processing and distribution.”

Then he added, “Of course, you would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City where you would run your growing enterprise.”

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But señor, how long will this all take?”

To which the American replied, “15–20 years.”

“But what then?” asked the Mexican.

The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You could make millions.”

“Millions, señor? Then what?”

To which the investment banker replied, “Then you would retire. You could move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”

The question that this story prompts for me is, if you had unlimited time and resources, what kind of life would you lead?  Where would you live?  What would you spend your time doing?  Who would you be with?  Would you have pets?  Kids?  What would your daily routine look like?  Maybe the answer for you isn’t a university degree or an office job.  Maybe it’s not millions.  Maybe it’s diving for sponges on a Greek island or being a fisherman in Mexico.  I think it can be helpful to put together an image of that perfect life and then try to reverse engineer the best way of getting there instead of putting the onus on the job you have to shape what kind of life you want to lead.  Maybe you really want to have kids, so you need a job that will have a good parental leave policy or that has flexible hours or that will pay enough to support the family you want to have.  To me, those considerations are just as important as whether or not you feel interested in the job you do every day.

I would also think about the opposite- what kind of life could you absolutely not stand living?  What kind of workplace would drive you crazy?  Knowing what your “hard nos” can help you to narrow down the potential field of options. For example, my hard nos include anything to do with venipuncture, jobs that require me to be organized on behalf of other people, anything that’s heavy on performing/public speaking, jobs where people have high expectations of me (incidentally, this is the reason I’m not a therapist), and any environment that wants me to work more than 40 hours a week.  For some people, all of those are totally doable, but for me they’re not, and that’s okay.  There’s no reason to spend your life doing things that make you miserable. 

The last thing I’m going to suggest is the CareerExplorer quiz.  I like this quiz in particular for a few reasons.  First, it’s a really comprehensive test, and so I think it can help you find the language to describe what you’re going through, what your hard yesses and hard nos are, and what you need in a work setting. Even if the answers the test gives aren’t perfect, I think it provides a framework to think about career options because of the questions it asks.  The other reason I really like this test is because so far it’s been 100% correct for everyone I know, even those with more obscure careers, so it seems to be more exact than other career aptitude tests out there.  And the user interface is really nice as well, which is a bonus.

Hopefully some of that is helpful in your decision making process.  And if you ever want someone to bounce ideas off of or help coming up with careers that might be a good fit for you, I’m happy to help.

[lingthusiasm]

Transcript Episode 35: Putting sounds into syllables is like putting toppings on a burger

This is a transcript for Lingthusiasm Episode 35: Putting sounds into syllables is like putting toppings on a burger. It’s been lightly edited for readability. Listen to the episode here or wherever you get your podcasts. Links to studies mentioned and further reading can be found on the Episode 35 show notes page.

[Music]

Gretchen: Welcome to Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics! I’m Gretchen McCulloch.

Lauren: And I’m Lauren Gawne. Today, we’re getting enthusiastic about syllables! But first, Gretchen’s book is out now. If you haven’t bought it yet, you should buy a copy!

Gretchen: Yes! It’s very exciting to finally have other people being able to read the book and talk to me about memes, and emoji, and punctuation, and all of the internet linguistics things that I’ve been thinking about for three years. We are doing a very special Q&A episode for the book. This episode goes up on August 15th. You have until August 15, so you have some number of hours until it is no longer August 15th in any time zone. You can check ahead to Hawaii and maybe gain a few hours that way to send in your questions about things to do with internet linguistics, the book-writing process – and then we’ll do a very special behind-the-scenes bonus episode about that.

Lauren: I’m looking forward to everyone else’s questions. I have a bunch of questions about how the book-writing process went. I’m looking forward to that Patreon bonus episode. Also on the Patreon we have a new $15+ tier. Several people have been asking for a way to support us even more than the $5 a month for bonus episodes. At our $15 Ling-phabet tier you will receive your very own symbol of the International Phonetic Alphabet, which you can get through either a super scientific quiz or just merely saying that you have a favourite.

Gretchen: Then, we will add your name and symbol of choice to our Lingthusiasm Supporter Wall of Fame on our website. We’re happy to put your name or any other name within reason. If you want to give this as a gift to somebody, that’s also a thing you can do. And if you join this new level before August 15th – this is the same time zone thing that you’re running into right now – you can also get a signed book plate, which is a custom Because Internet sticker that you can stick into your copy of Because Internet, which I will sign for you and I’ll put your name or whatever name you want. You can stick it inside your book and then you have a signed copy of Because Internet. If you join that very soon, you can get that as well.

Lauren: Of course, even if you don’t listen to this episode within the first 24 hours of it going up, you can still buy Gretchen’s book from all good and bad booksellers – preferably good ones. You can also support us on the Patreon.

Gretchen: Yes. There are some other ways to get an actual, physical copy of the book signed, but this is probably the easiest one. Hopefully, you have a chance to do that.

[Music]

Lauren: Gretchen, I am going to test you. Everyone can play along. I’m gonna give you some pairs of words and I want you to tell me whether they sound like English words.

Gretchen: Okay. Sounds good.

Lauren: They’re made up – some of them. The first one is “blick” and “bnick.”

Gretchen: “Blick” sounds like a pretty reasonable English word. I don’t know what it means yet, but it could mean something. “Bnick” – I’m not so sure.

Lauren: I actually even have trouble saying it. I feel like I’m saying “buh-nick” – “buh” ... “nick” all at once.

Gretchen: /bnɪk/ – B-N-I-C-K. Not something I’d expect English to turn into a word – no.

Lauren: No. The B and the N together don’t really work that well. What about the word “copter” versus the word “pter”?

Gretchen: Yeah, “copter,” I mean, is an existing English word – could continue to be an existing English word. Seems legit to me. “Pter” – yeah, the P-T thing, again, not really doing it for me.

Lauren: Because that’s the – like when you say “pterodactyl,” I know that it’s P-T, but I can never say that P.

Gretchen: Or like the Greek “Ptolemy” is just /taləmi/. It’s not /ptaləmi/ even though that’s how they said it back in the day.

Lauren: In fact, “helicopter” is from Greek “heliko-pter” – “spinning” and “flying” are the two roots there.

Gretchen: It really seems like it should be from “heli” and “copter,” but it’s “heliko-pter.”

Lauren: Which is not how my English brain can divide that word up.

Gretchen: No. No. It really isn’t. But the Greeks are really happy to have /pt/.

Lauren: Okay. Next two are “fneeze” and “sneeze.”

Gretchen: “Sneeze” seems like it’s doing fine. But with the F – “fneeze”?

Lauren: I’m really glad that you recognized “sneeze” as a word. We’re doing well. Good work.

Gretchen: My vocabulary is really good. I know the words “helicopter” and “sneeze.” Yeah, “fneeze” – also not so much.

Lauren: “Fneeze” was the original way that English speakers said “sneeze.”

Gretchen: That is amazing.

Lauren: Then, when they started printing it, that "F" looked like that long "S" that you get in ye olde printing times.

Gretchen: And people started pronouncing it much more sensibly as “sneeze.” We don’t have any words in English that begin with /fn/.

Lauren: Yeah. We literally had, like, three of them. And two of them are now gone, and people turned “fneeze” into “sneeze” because it felt more like the shape of an English word. Okay. Next one is “sing” versus “ngiss”.

Gretchen: “Sing” – again, an English word. I recognize it. Seems very English-word-like. But “ngiss” – I don’t think we have any English words that begin with /ŋ/.

Lauren: No. But we do in languages like – a lot of Australian languages and also Syuba, the language I work on, has that initial /ŋ/ sound. Even though I know this, I really struggle to pronounce it because it’s not where it goes in English. We have it at the end of a word. I know I can make this sound. But I really struggle to make it at the start of a word.

Gretchen: You have it in Vietnamese at the beginning of words. And Cantonese, I think, sometimes you see it in people’s last names – but not at the beginning of words in English.

Lauren: The final pair is “heat” and “tih.”

Gretchen: “Heat” – also an English word. Seems like it works. “Tih” – with the "H" at the end, I can make it, but it kind of reminds me of when I was studying Arabic and I had to learn how to make words that ended with an "H" sound because that’s not where we’re used to saying it in English. Even if you write an H – like “Ahh!” – you write it with an H, but you don’t say /ahh/ unless you speak Arabic, maybe.

Lauren: H goes at the start of a word for English, /ŋ/ goes at the end of a word, and when you try and put them in the other spot, it’s really hard to say and it’s really hard to hear as well.

Gretchen: That’s something that I find really interesting because when we think of the sounds of a language, it’s easy to be like, “Okay, here’s a list of the sounds in this language,” but it’s not just about which sounds you have, it’s also about how you can combine them with each other – which ones can go at the beginning of the word, which ones can go at the end of the word. Not all languages let you do all possible combinations.

Lauren: That’s because different languages have different structures for their syllables and what sounds can go together in a syllable, which is like a chunk of sounds together.

Gretchen: A word is made up of syllables and that kind of determines what one you can do. If you talk about words that are just one syllable long, that kinda gives you the maximal picture of what sounds can combine in that language.

Lauren: What sounds can combine and what spots they can go in within that structure. In fact, the word “syllable” comes from a Greek word that means “goes together” or “what goes together,” which is a really nice – I kind of like that, that “syllable” means what can hang out together.

Gretchen: That’s very nice. Also, just to clarify, we’re not talking about signed languages here because signed languages don’t have sound-based rules for how they go together because they don’t have sounds.

Lauren: They’re not stuck with this narrow-minded problem of linear time in the way that sounds are when they all have to follow a string.

Gretchen: Sounds only exist in one dimension. Signs exist in two dimensions. They’ve got their own constraints, and we’re just not gonna get into them in this episode. Yeah! Different languages have different shapes for their syllables – different ways they like their syllables to be constructed. I like to think of a syllable as kind of like a burger.

Lauren: Awesome.

Gretchen: It’s a very delicious metaphor. I’m sorry if anyone’s hungry right now. You have your pieces that go together like the patty and the bun, and the various toppings, and cheese and so on that you might add to your burger. There’s various different kinds of ways you can do that when you’re looking at the syllable-burger as a whole.

Lauren: Different languages allow you to put different things in the burger and in different orders.

Gretchen: Yeah, and some people – there was a lot of controversy about the burger emoji a while back because people were annoyed that some versions of it had the cheese below the meat instead of on top of the meat. The order is important when you put things in a burger.

Lauren: And what you include and how much you can include in a burger definitely varies from place to place.

Gretchen: It can be political sometimes. I don’t know what you guys put in burgers in Australia that is different.

Lauren: Well, a classic Australian burger has beetroot in it.

Gretchen: Oh, okay. See, I would definitely not think of beets as a thing you put in burgers.

Lauren: It’s delicious.

Gretchen: It probably is. I’ve never tried it. Languages are also often faced with syllables that they can’t necessarily handle through their own internal resources. They have a couple options. One of those is to say, “Okay, there’s so much here that I’m actually gonna split this across two burgers” and another of which is to say, “Look, there’s so much here. I’m just gonna take some stuff out and completely discard it.” One very salient example to English speakers sometimes is when Spanish borrows a word from English. In English, you can start a syllable with a sequence of sounds like /sp/ or /sk/ or /stɹ/. You can have an S and then a consonant or some consonants after it at the beginning of a syllable in a sequence like “Sprite” or “school” or “scheme” or “street” or in a name like “Stephanie.” But in Spanish, this combination of S and a consonant at the beginning doesn’t work. You can have just S at the beginning, but you can’t have S and then a consonant at the beginning of a syllable. It’s just not something they’re keen on. The way that that they deal with this is they say, “Okay, if you try to put S and then a consonant at the beginning of a syllable, you’re gonna add a vowel in before the S.” Now, the S belongs to the previous syllable and the consonant belongs to the next one. You’ve split them across too different sorts of burgers. You get things like “Stephanie” becomes “Estephanie.” Or “Sprite” becomes “Esprite.” Or “school,” which goes back to the Latin root “schola” becomes in Spanish “escuela” rather than “scuela” or “schola.” In all of these cases, you’re adding the E at the beginning to kind of rescue this S and allow it to stay because otherwise it’s not something that works for speakers of that language to pronounce.

Lauren: Nepali speakers do the same. But instead of E at the start for their burger, they use an /i/ burger. So, it’s “/iskul/” instead of “/ɛskul/.” They don’t like S and K in the same burger, so they move the S over to another little burger with an /i/.

Gretchen: I like to think of the vowel in the middle as the meat or the patty or the portabello mushroom in the middle of the burger. Then, you have your consonants on the other side, which are kind of like the buns. It’s like “No, we’ve got too much bun. This bun is too big. We need to give it its own patty – its own vowel – by adding an extra vowel." Another example of this is – so Hawaiian, which is really – the largest syllable that it will let you have is just a consonant and a vowel all by itself. When the expression “Merry Christmas” was borrowed in Hawaiian, it got converted into “Mele Kalikimaka.” “Merry” becomes “mele” because they don’t have an R in Hawaiian. That’s pretty straightforward. And then “Christmas” – so that has a /k/ /ɹ/, /kɹ/, but that’s too much in Hawaiian, so you get “kali” rather than /kɹ/ to break up that sequence as well.

Lauren: Hawaiian is like when you choose to eat lots of individual, tasty, smaller cheeseburgers rather than one big burger full of stuff.

Gretchen: Yeah. It’s kind of like the sliders of syllables. Everything’s just a bunch of small, open-faced sandwiches.

Lauren: I think the important thing here is everyone still gets to eat plenty of burgers.

Gretchen: It’s interesting because there’ve been some studies that show that some languages have syllables that are smaller – that just have maybe, maximum, a consonant and a vowel, or a consonant and a vowel and a consonant and no more. Those languages tend to pronounce their syllables faster because there’s less information in them. Whereas, a language like English, the most dense-syllabled word in English is the word “strengths,” which has got three at the beginning S-T-R, and at the end it’s got /ŋ/ /θ/ /s/. “Strengths” – three at the beginning, three at the end.

Lauren: That is a very large and full hamburger situation.

Gretchen: It’s a very large and dense – there’s a lot of toppings and stuff on this hamburger. So you say those a bit slower because they’ve got more information in them. When you count by syllables, it seems like some languages are faster, but it’s because they’ve got smaller syllables. If you count by bit of information, they actually end up averaging out to about the same.

Lauren: I learnt Polish, which also is a language that allows a lot of stuff in a single syllable burger. But it allows different stuff to English. It took a long time to get my head around that. I know we don’t normally try and apologise for how badly we speak languages on the show but, like, I really do feel it’s been a long time since I’ve worked out my Polish consonant cluster mouth. A word like “wstrząs” which means “shock,” has multiple consonants before that vowel that we don’t normally put together in English.

Gretchen: Yeah. I don’t even think I can produce it – /vəʃɑnt͡s/ – yeah. I’m definitely dropping some of them just to –

Lauren: Just to try and make it fit within the kind of burgers that you’re used to.

Gretchen: One thing I could do if I was trying to say that is /vʃɑnt͡s/ – I’m gonna drop one. Or I could say /və-ʃɑnt͡s/ and try to add a vowel in between to split it up.

Lauren: A bit like Hawaiian speakers do with “Kalikimaka” for “Christmas.”

Gretchen: Exactly – add a vowel there. English speakers, sometimes we drop stuff. Sometimes, we don’t. You can see this in words that we’ve borrowed from other languages. Like with “helicopter,” you don’t need to do that there because it’s in the middle of the word. But in a word like “pterodactyl,” you just drop the P. Or “psychology,” you just drop the P there. Or “xylophone,” which was originally /ksɑɪləfoʊn/ because that’s what sound an X makes.

Lauren: Oh, yeah. I never thought about that. Most of you just get used to saying words how you say them.

Gretchen: Yeah, exactly. In French, for example, they’ve also borrowed these words from Greek, but French is more okay about saying those consonants at the beginning. In French, you say, “la psychologie” and “xyloph” – I don’t know if you do it with “xylophone” – /ksiləføn/. You definitely say /psikələʒi/ in French. You don’t say /sikələʒi/. Sometimes, in English we drop it. And sometimes, in English we add another little vowel to kind of rescue all of the consonants. In words from Russian, some English speakers can say things like “Vlad” and “Ksenia,” but a lot of times you’ll get /vəlæd/ or /kəsɛnjə/ in order to try to keep both of the consonants there.

Lauren: A bit like Spanish speakers and Nepali speakers with /iskul/. We move that initial /v/ in “Vlad” to its own /vəlæd/ syllable.

Gretchen: To try to say the whole thing. Japanese does this as well. In an English loan word like “picnic,” because in Japanese they don’t like consonants at the end of a syllable unless it’s an N or an M, so “picnic” becomes something like “pikuniku” because you wanna rescue those Ks by giving them their own vowel.

Lauren: The start and the end of a syllable have their own characteristics. We’ve been talking around the kind of burger part and what can go before or after the burger. But that can differ. With Japanese, you can only have an M or an N after that central part.

Gretchen: Exactly. I think this is one of the reasons I like a burger metaphor in particular because a sandwich also has a central part with the filling and two pieces of bread, but what makes a burger distinct is that it’s asymmetrical. You’ve got a top of a bun that’s different in shape from the bottom of the bun. Languages often let you do different things with the start of the syllable than they let you do with the end of the syllable. In many cases, at the end of the syllable, you can’t put as many consonants there. Sometimes, you can only put a few, like M and N, or you can’t put any, like in Hawaiian. Or in English, you can put the /ŋ/ at the end of a syllable, but not at the beginning. Or you can put the H – the /h/ – at the beginning of the syllable but not the end.

Lauren: Yeah. We definitely can’t put it at the end as we discovered at the start of this episode.

Gretchen: /ŋah/, / ŋah/, what a great word! “Hang” – totally good word. /ŋah/ – not a word.

Lauren: /ŋah/ for English is the equivalent of serving a burger with the bun upside down. An English speaker would just be like, “What is happening?”

Gretchen: “What have you done?”

Lauren: “What have you done with my burger?”

Gretchen: It doesn’t even sit on the plate. The top is curved, so it doesn’t even sit there. It just kinda falls over.

Lauren: It could be a perfectly good burger in many other languages – a very confusing burger in English.

Gretchen: Right. What you think of as something that belongs on the top, or what you think of as something belongs on the bottom. I think there’s also so room for some individual variation. Do you put the ketchup on the top bun or the bottom bun? I don’t know. In general, languages do have this asymmetric relationship between what can go before and after the vowel.

Lauren: The vowel being that really central – it’s hard to – a burger without the patty in the middle is a salad roll.

Gretchen: Yeah, if you have – I was trying to think about this as well, because you need to stress test your metaphors before you commit to them. I was thinking, back in the day, when I was a student and not very organised, and I was a vegetarian and I was trying to get enough protein, sometimes I would just eat a veggie burger with some carrot sticks or something, or a salad or whatever, because I wouldn’t have the buns. That’s something you can do when you’ve still eaten, by some definition, something of a burger. I think if I just had the bun by itself, I have not eaten a burger.

Lauren: No, you’ve eaten a roll.

Gretchen: You’ve just eaten a roll. You’ve eaten a bun. By no definition is this a burger. Whereas, if you just eat the patty, you have kind of still eaten a burger even though it’s a very small burger.

Lauren: Overwhelmingly, when people talk about syllables, the vowel that’s in the middle is a really central anchor point for almost all languages.

Gretchen: You need this anchor point of something to make the syllable. It’s generally a vowel, but it’s not 100% a vowel because there are some words in English, for example, depending on how you pronounce a word, like “bottle,” you probably say /bat-l̩/ and it’s just really just an L – /l/. You could say /battəl/, which might give you vowel there. You could just say /baʔl̩/ or /baʔn̩/ and that might just be /n/ – the N itself – that’s the second syllable and there’s no vowel to speak of.

Lauren: That N is the portabello mushroom of burgers.

Gretchen: Yeah, exactly. It’s kind of the centre of it, but you don’t normally think of it as a prototypical burger.

Lauren: As a vegetarian, I am really sick of portabello mushrooms as burger. But as a language speaker, I love syllable nasals and syllable Ls.

Gretchen: Well, I also kind of think of – so you have can have in the middle one vowel, but you could also have several vowels. You could have something like “bike” has /ɑɪ/, which is a diphthong, which is kind of two vowels smooshed together. So, maybe that’s kind of like a deconstructed burger – something that’s got multiple pieces inside of it.

Lauren: You can order two patties in a burger if you want a really meaty burger – yeah.

Gretchen: The other reason I really like this burger metaphor is that if that you wanna serve a burger with only one bun, you probably take the top one off because that’s the one that’s the weirder shape, and you can still leave the bottom part of the bun and the patty part on your plate. There’s also kind of a different relationship that this vowel has with the consonant or consonants that come after it versus the ones that come before.

Lauren: It’s a very fancy restaurant that you’re eating in if you have to use cutlery to eat a topless burger.

Gretchen: You can have an open-faced sandwich. People don’t often have an open-foot sandwich. What’s the opposite of an open-faced sandwich, where you only have the top?

Lauren: An “open-bottom sandwich,” which is, I think, why they don’t say it. It sounds ridiculous and it looks ridiculous, and it’s even more ridiculous to eat.

Gretchen: It’s very messy.

Lauren: Although, it totally works fine for syllables. So, we found, finally, the first thing where the metaphor really doesn’t hold.

Gretchen: Yeah, the metaphor doesn’t hold in the sense that you can have a syllable like /ba/, which doesn’t have a bottom thing. But there is this closer relationship that the vowel has with anything that might come after it, because when we talk about what are different kinds of poetic devices you can do with languages or what are interesting kinds of ways you can play around with sounds – so you can have things that rhyme, which means that the vowel and any consonants that come after are the same. Or you can have alliteration, which means that just the initial consonants are the same. You don’t often get something where the first consonants and the vowel are the same, but the latter consonants are different.

Lauren: As a poetic device. Obviously, we can do this, but we’re not as into it.

Gretchen: You have “bad,” “mad,” “sad,” “glad” – these all rhyme. It’s great.

Lauren: Excellent.

Gretchen: Or you can have “bad,” “big,” “Ben,” “brigand,” “boxes” – and all these begin with B. You could make some sort of “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers” sort of thing out of them. But “bad,” “bat,” “bag,” “back,” “ban” –

Lauren: They’re technically more alliterative because they all have B and A. But we don’t necessarily find them any more compelling than anything that was just a B at the start.

Gretchen: Yeah. The extra vowel doesn’t seem to gain us anything, as opposed to “bad,” “mad,” “sad,” “glad,” which is like, “Yeah! This is great! This is really doing something. Now we’re in a Dr. Seuss story.”

Lauren: So satisfying. We’re really into rhyming as a poetic device in contemporary English. But Old English was really into alliteration.

Gretchen: In Old English, it’s all about those initial consonant sounds, and they didn’t really care about the ends. This is a distinction that seems to be relevant in a lot of languages – the rhyming part of the syllable as compared to the onset part, which is just that initial set of consonant or consonants at the beginning.

Lauren: You need to understand how this rhyme part works, not overtly because obviously people can make rhymes without sitting there going, “Hmm, I must make sure that the vowel and the information following it is all the same in order to create a successful rhyme,” but you see even really young kids are great at understanding if something rhymes and also are really good at Pig Latin, which requires you to take the onset – so that top of the burger – off and then put it on the top of another, new syllable burger, which ends in A. I am terrible at Pig Latin.

Gretchen: Oh, I did it a lot as a kid. You have, like, “Pig Latin” becomes “Ig-pay Atin-lay.” That “ig” that’s left over is your rhyme. And then you’ve taken the onset – the P – and put it at the end. So, example, my name “Gretchen” and you put it into Pig Latin, it’s “Etchen-gray” because you’ve taken both the G and the R – because that’s the whole onset – and put it at the end.

Lauren: Having “Retchen-gay” would be very bad Pig – like, I would not be Pig Latin-ing correctly.

Gretchen: Yeah. That’s not how you Pig Latin. People are sensitive to this distinction even though most people don’t know the word “onset” or think about it in those terms. It’s something that is very intuitive from a language game. There’s also Latin games like “Ibbish” or "Obbish” where you put “ib” or “ob” in between the onset and the rhyme. In a word like – oh, I can’t do this one at all. In a word like “pig,” you would “pib-ig” or something like that – or “pob-ig.”

Lauren: This makes me so much happier to know that the kind of on-the-fly processing that you need to do for things like Pig Latin really are learnt behaviours because you can’t just immediately do it with another one.

Gretchen: I can do Pig Latin really fast, and the other ones I didn’t learn as a kid. You’ve gotta make sure that your kids acquire Pig Latin when they’re young enough because otherwise they’ll never get them.

Lauren: I missed the Pig Latin acquisition window, clearly.

Gretchen: I know. It’s terrible. I missed the Ibbish/Obbish acquisition window. This is something that people are really sensitive to. And yet, there’s not alternative version of Pig Latin where it’s like – I don’t even know how you would do it. You’d have to be like...

Lauren: P-A-/gə/.

Gretchen: Well, I’m trying to think – so what if you take the last consonant and you put it at the beginning – “gepi”? “Latin” would become “Naylati.” This is just not a thing that language games do.

Lauren: I never had much luck learning Pig Latin, but understanding how syllables work has made me much more aware of going learning other languages when it comes to – because we focus a lot on learning the sounds of a language, but it’s rare to be explicitly taught how to combine those sounds into syllables.

Gretchen: I think that was something that I noticed when I was learning Arabic that I had to learn how to make this H at the end of the word – when I was learning German – because they have not just /ʃtɹ/ but you can also do something like /ʃm/, which is less common in English except in a few loan words. Another interesting example of this is in Dutch where they have this combination of /s/, which is very straightforward, and /x/, like the German C-H sound – /x/ – but together it’s like /ʃx/ and I just can’t do it. I have tried a lot. There’s a city – and this is a very unique sound combination to Dutch – and there’s this city, which I’m gonna pronounce wrong, but it’s like “Scheveningen” – maybe. This was used as a shibboleth during the second World War to distinguish between whether somebody was Dutch or not. They would try to get them to pronounce this name because it’s really hard if you’re not Dutch.

Lauren: It’s a bit like when I was learning Syuba and other Tibetan languages that have that initial /ŋ/ sound. It was very frustrating to know I can make this sound. I’ve made it in English my whole language-speaking life. But putting it at the start of the word suddenly becomes a challenge for the shape of the mouth.

Gretchen: It’s the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. The combination of sounds is an additional thing that can be really interesting about language even apart from the individual sounds that are there.

Lauren: Just like it’s fun to bring people to Australia and introduce them to burgers with beetroot in it, it’s really fun when you learn a new language to figure out what combinations of sounds it allows.

Gretchen: Yeah. Linguists have a lot of fun drawing diagrams to represent the information about – okay, what can go in the onset of this syllable? What can go in the rhyme? How can we divide the rhyme further between the nucleus, which is the vowel, and the coda, which is the consonants that come after? How can we represent this information in a way that makes it easier to talk about the differences and similarities between languages?

Lauren: Of course, diagrams are fun. But hamburgers are more fun.

Gretchen: Maybe linguists should draw their syllable diagrams as if they were actually hamburgers – new proposal.

[Music]

Lauren: For more Lingthusiasm, and links to all the things mentioned in this episode, go to lingthusiasm.com. You can listen to us on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, SoundCloud, or wherever else you get your podcasts. You can follow @Lingthusiasm on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr. You can get IPA scarves, IPA ties, and other Lingthusiasm merch at lingthusiasm.com/merch. I tweet and blog as Superlinguo.

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Lauren: Lingthusiasm is created and produced by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our audio producer is Claire Gawne, our editorial producer is Sarah Dopierala, and our editorial manager is Emily Gref, our music is “Ancient Cities” by The Triangles.

Gretchen: Stay lingthusiastic!

[Music]

[paradise-of-guilty-pleasures]

Shattered Reflections {2}

[Helsa RP- Fanfic]

Fandom: Frozen

Genre: Post-Frozen/ Canon Divergence

- Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Romance

Pairing(s): Hans/Elsa, Kristoff/Anna

Prince Hans is a mirror at heart, but wishes to shatter his reflections and correct his past mistakes. He returns to Arendelle, willingly surrendering himself to Queen Elsa’s judgement. Uncovering truths, unforeseen circumstances and a bit of je ne sais quoi, bring the Ice Queen and the Mirror Prince together in a way neither of them would have imagined.

A/N:

(( This is a collaborative RP Fic written by lovely fellow Helsa shipper FOW and myself. We RP for fun and just wanted wanted to share this story with fellow shippers, especially all my lovely shipper buddies over in the Helsa Discord Server. Long live the Province of Helsa! Thank you, Beta Reader Friends, your help is much appreciated. Hope you enjoy~ ))

P.S: ((This is the shortest chapter so far, I have a few more chapters ready to post, but I don't want to spam, posting them all at once, so I'll try post one chapter daily or every other day until the story is up to date.)) Previous Chapter: Chapter 1. Double Jeopardy 

--

Chapter 2. Burn After Reading 

Hans accepted the journal and his return to the dungeons without complaint, always polite. He was right: He never made a sound when he walked. He moved as silent as a shadow, but for the clink of his chains, which even then were quiet.

Given enough pen and ink, he proved to be a voracious writer. It helped that he had nothing better to do with his time, but he certainly took more time in getting his words down. He had to choose them carefully. He knew they could be used against him. For the moment, he wanted to stick to uninteresting topics. Just to test the waters. Yet, in spite of himself, his thoughts kept turning to his situation.

He never gave complaints. He rested without concern, and waited to see who would come for his letters.

Anna had NOT taken the news of the the 13th Prince's return to Adrendelle well, and far less knowing he was to be staying in the kingdom, even if he was to remain in the dungeon. Anna wished to go pay him a visit in the dungeon, just to punch him in the face again, but was prohibited from doing so. She was relieved that Elsa was not wasn't planning to contact the Prince either (at least outside the required daily journals to her).

Anna asked her sister why she even allowed the Prince to return to their kingdom, but even Elsa didn't know the answer to that herself.

Hans seemed to remain entirely neutral in the presence of the messenger. He insisted on folding over his journal pages and putting a wax seal on them (or rather, a splot of wax from the candle he wrote by, with 'XIII' scratched into it) to send to Elsa.

Whether the seal remained intact or not, he supposed he had no control. Perhaps it was better if he didn't know.

'Please burn after reading.'

'It's much different, writing a journal or letter that you know someone will read. Every word weighed like ounces of gold and scale often checked for accuracy. When one flake can tip the balances of someone else's opinion.'

'That is the way by which I lived in the Isles. Words spoken have echoes through later conversations, everything comes back as a scathing remark, or nitpick. Some days the picks go so deep or come from so long ago, one questions if they had any merit at all, or if they are going mad. I much prefer the dungeons. Would you believe, they echo less in Arendelle.'

'I said I was a prince 'in name alone', in truth all that means is that I have access to the castle grounds. I have found that the castle dungeons and the castle rooms are equally grim, and each echo their secrets to all in sundry. Neither prisoners nor princes are allowed their secrets, apparently. My father and brother are both ill, and have been for many years. My family didn't want to cut me off from visiting them, even if I am a treasoner. At least, not after they decided not to hang me I suppose. That proposition was short-lived. They have seen too well that scene, and they have no desire to see it again.'

'How grim. The Isles has a grim sense of humor. Or maybe it's just my family. I should never know, I imagine. I would hope to be there when my father dies, great man as he is, but I can't expect that time of mourning to be respected. Better to have taken my chances here. But chances at what? I don't believe in any gods. I don't imagine there to be a soul for me to save. My own peace, perhaps, but that's selfish even for me. My own inner stupidity, perhaps.'

'A tolerable first entry, I suppose. Have a nice day, your Majesty. My sincerest apologies to Her Highness for being inflicted upon her vicinity again. The Princess is welcome to throw things. -Hans'

Hard to say of that last part was a joke. It was a meandering, but that was simply what one got, with a journal.

Elsa read over the letter multiple times. It was not what she had expected, but it had given her a glimpse into his life, even if it was minimal. She had asked him for his thoughts and feelings, though she got more of the former rather than the latter.

The journal entry felt so stiff, but she thought since it was the first one that someone was reading it was understandable.

She read his request at the top of the page 'Please burn after reading'. She contemplated if she would fulfill his request, she had a candle at the ready, but she could not bring herself to burn it. Not yet at least, instead she folded the letter back up and placed it in her desk drawer under lock and key.

The next was sent with the same 'seal' as the first.

'Please burn after reading'

'Good morning, or whensoever you should read.'

'It would almost be easier if these were letters to and from, but then I could not stop myself from afflicting some persona on you.'

'My mother is an actress, you see. A very good one, but that is all she is good at. Acting, and picking one apart like a carrion bird. I have memorized Macbeth, and say the cursed play's name without fear, knowing I am more cursed than it could hope to be. For every character, an act. "For all the world's a stage and its people merely players," writes the Bard. It must be nice to not have to pretend, to be content. To not have to pretend to be content.' The repetition was no typo, nothing was crossed out or uncertain there.

'And yet, it all feels real at the time. It always does, no matter if the decision is conscious. Broken mirrors are unlucky, and I am by trade unlucky. But there are some things I would never admit to feeling, and some things I simply feel I cannot.'

'I have often wondered how Her Highness feels so much all at once. The Princess seems so full of life. Never take her to the Isles, it would be a shame to drain that charming nature. I wish this could have been avoided so to never temper her enthusiasm with jaded realities. But alas, Reality is a bastard.'

'Wishing you well,

-Hans'

So the Queen was actress? That was something Elsa had not known. She had studied much of the Southern Isles after the coronation, but much like information on Arendelle during the closing of the Gates, there was not much it (at least regarding the Royals).

Now she knew where Hans got his acting skills from.

There was so much dejection in his words, that it almost made her feel sorrow herself.

She wondered if he really incapable of feeling or if was another charade of his. If Anna was truly right that he had a frozen heart.

Again as she did with the previous letter, instead of setting it ablaze, she set it in her drawer with the other under lock and key.

She had pondered whether to have made his punishment writing letters rather than journals, but decided against it. She really shouldn't be writing letters to him, no matter how curious she was to get questions answered. She chose journaling because it was more informal and open for him to write the thoughts and feelings she requested, since it seemed to have been the way avidly written in his confiscated journal.

Though she should have realized upon her request that he probably wouldn't be as open to her as he was to himself and there was no way of knowing if what he wrote was truly himself or just another persona he hid behind.

The next letter was a trifle less organized. Still, however, with its carved seal.

'Please burn after reading.'

'Good whenever, Your Majesty. Assuming you read these at all. That sounds rather like a greek punishment, writing letters to one who never reads them. Although, it sounds a bit like a religion, too, doesn't it? Ah well. Philosophy is the act of asking a thousand questions and debating about answers none will ever have.' What an opener.

'I had thought this story to be one I and my crew had made up in a collective fever, utter nonsense brought upon by unfamiliar waters and frayed nerves. Reflecting on Arendelle, however, I think perhaps it may have been entirely real.'

'Once upon a time, I and my crew met Sirens.'

'We were on the Conch Cat, my ship, as a captain some years ago, shortly before my admiralty. I have since kept the Conch Cat, though it now likely has a new captain, in light of my removal from the Navy. That stung worse than any sentence for treason, but I digress...'

' We had traveled some way through a storm somewhere in the Pacific, and that storm was hellacious. It threatened to rip the mast down even with the sails pulled up, but as we sailed on, soon it halted. As if someone had snuffed a candle, it had gone, replaced with a fog so thick that one could not see the forward bow from the stern. We could only drift slowly and pray that both fog and storm relented before we found somewhere to become a shipwreck, but the fog was, at least, peaceful. Some minutes into our silent crawl across the water, we began to hear ringing laughter and singing. We could all of us understand the language we heard, but the voices sounded foreign- indescribably so. They sang a familiar song, about a woman missing her sailor fiancée. '

'My heart is pierced by cupid,'

'I disdain all glittering gold,'

'There is nothing can console me'

'But my jolly sailor bold.'

'We looked into the water, and found there a woman, with lily-white skin and long waving hair under the water, graceful as any fish, and with a silvery tail of shimmering scales in our amber lamplight. It was bizarre and curious, so of course every man leant to see (and likely, a part of that being that she wore no scrap of cloth, but mine was a purely scientific curiosity, if you'll believe it).'

'There was more than one, but it was one with long raven hair that I could best see from my position. Every man listened to their singing, and each looking over the sides, before I alone realized what was happening.'

'I called to the men to get back to their posts, and barely managed to grab the helmsman and drag him back by his collar, before one of the sirens leapt up to try and grab him. He still has scratches on the side of his face (that he swears to others were from a jealous lover). I recall that one having ringlets of red-gold hair, though I caught only a glance as she tried to nab him. Men jumped back from the sides, some grabbing others, and returned to their posts. I, however, remained curious. Why had they not affected me so much as they had affected the men? Some men had to be tied to rails, why should I be different? So I ventured forward again with a lantern, foolish as I am.'

'Your heart is pierced by cupid'

'If a man may be so bold,'

'But I have nothing for you,'

'For mine is beating cold.'

'They did not care for this addition, and our Barrelman managed to pull me back this time.'

'I ordered my men to pull the sails down and speed through the fog, damn the consequences and the mast as well, so we did. Someone launched a canon, it sounded as if it hit rocks but we had seen none. We survived the sirens, fog and storm with shredded sails but an intact mast by only the grace of any god listening, and escaped. We all drank ourselves to sleep that night, and spoke of it as a fiction the next day.'

'I think perhaps, after all, it was no fiction. But I only tell the story to men of the sea, who are used to a little fabrication and strange stories. I never tell it as a fact, but it is. Who would believe? I'm glad to tell it as a truth to someone."

'My best to you, always; -Hans'

His writing was less elegant than it had been the day before, with perhaps some scratching-out and scribbling that was uncharacteristic of his writing. The handwriting seemed less tight and controlled, the writing less thought-through. The send-off seemed almost careless in both its words and its handwriting. There was a curious section near the header of seemingly aimless hatch marks, to no real purpose. He just seemed a little less controlled and rigid than before. And perhaps, his topic of choice was stranger than usual. Getting a thought out that he would seemingly never otherwise have shared.

Elsa tapped her pen against her desk. His opener doubting whether she even read his journals made her want to send him a note of reassurance of her readership, now she was debating whether that was the right course of action or not.

His sea story though different than his previous entries, had piqued her interest. The tale of Sirens only a myth to some, but to her it read so real, for she knows Trolls are real and even her own powers were something that would seem like fiction to someone that hadn't witnessed them with their own eyes. The possibility of more Magic out there made her wonder if there was someone out there who's a little bit like her in the great unknown. Yet the sirens weren't the only thing that caught her attention in this letter, his lyrics of the song stood out to her

'Your heart is pierced by cupid'

'If a man may be so bold,'

'But I have nothing for you,'

'For mine is beating cold.'

It was mention of a frozen heart yet again.

A blank piece of paper sitting in front of her as she continued tapping her pen.

How would she even address him, even in a simple note? She kept hovering her pen over the paper ready to start writing, but pulling away as her mind went blank yet again.

Maybe she need not tell him, but show him that she read his words. Without much of a second thought at the center of the page she wrote:

' I believe.'

Short and simple, but to the point. She folded the paper, like he did his and now it was time to seal. She placed the wax, but the Arendelle seal didn't seem right. She poured more wax and this time with her magic made a snowflake to replace it.

The note was done, now it was whether or not she would choose to send it.

She cleaned off her desk, placing his recent letter with the rest under lock and key. The note she just wrote in her hands, she played with the edges as she looked at her snowflake insignia. She was lost in her thoughts, when a knock at the door startled her.

"Your Majesty," The head guard seemed uncertain at first. "Your prisoner seems... off, today. He hasn't expressed any change in particular, he just seems off in a way I can't place, my instincts say something is wrong. Do you have any thoughts or direction? He also insists that he would like to wash his own clothes, but I consider that too dangerous, and frightfully curious for a previous prince." The head guard frowned. He had been doing his job for some years, but something about all this felt wrong, and he couldn't quite say how. Something beyond the laundry.

Elsa sighed. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention Captain."

She had noticed a change in Hans in the way he had written the journal, but had not thought much of it, but now that the captain voiced his concern there was no ignoring that there was something definitely off with Hans today.

"I think I have to go see him myself, in order to decide a proper course of action." It was something she had not planned on doing, but she felt she had no choice now, she had allowed Hans to return so he was her responsibility.

She still had her note in hand as she stood up from her desk and walked towards the Captain.

The guard nodded. "Excellent plan, your Majesty. I will be there to maintain your safety." The Captain assured. That was what it always was, his job. But he took pride in it.

[danbensen]

…or how tracking my life told me I was abusing coffee and social media

So there I was, my nails digging into my palms, my right molars pressed into each other. The air hissed in through my nose as my vision narrowed to a point. It was like hurtling down a roller-coaster. It was was terrifying, and I had no idea why it was happening.

I’d be doing nothing especially ominous – sitting down on the couch, carrying my younger daughter, thinking about bread – and suddenly I’d be gripped by this intense sensation of danger. BREAD! The image of a whole-grain loaf gained the mass of a church bell. DOOM! It rang. Toll the yeasty knell, oh brazen fate, for all men shall one day die. Die, oh, mortal flesh. Die and meet thy baker. (whoo! I am so sorry about that pun. Deep breaths now…)

Tiny drops of steam Ebb and flow before the light With each of my breaths.

It was ridiculous, but of course knowing that it was ridiculous didn’t help. I was like a cat, freaking out for no reason. Or was there no reason? Aren’t I supposed to listen to my body, now that I’m meditating and whatnot? But what exactly was my body supposed to be telling me? Avoid carbs? Run from the couch? Something about my daughter…? Yeah, If I searched hard enough for a reason to be terrified, I’d surely find one. Now there’s a reason for fear.

So I meditated more. I stopped using social media. I took my daughters to the park and watched the sky as it changed from brass to rose and the street lights blinked on. I talked to Pavlina. And I realized that over the course of the past month, I’d gone from drinking two cups of coffee a day to four.

The trees turn black and The sky, indescribable. Look up and it’s changed.

Scheduling is hard. My older daughter’s in first grade now, and school starts at 8:10 in the Center. The younger one’s in kindergarten, which starts at 8:30 in Levski G. At some point, it would be nice if Pavlina and I could go to work, which is back in the Center. If we want to have breakfast and drink our coffee in peace, we need to wake up at 6:15. Three hours later, I’m finally in the office and I’m tired. That scares me because I associate being tired with being sick. Fatigue=death.

I’m supposed to listen to my body, but my body is a stupid animal. It’s not going to say, “you’re drinking too much coffee.” It says “coffee reminds me of being happy!” and “not being productive scares me!” It says “I’m tired! I must have cancer again!” It’s up to me to keep track of what I’m doing, cut out the distractions, and give myself enough mental room to notice the patterns.

Right. So that’s why I’m not doing social media any more. Because part of the reason I was too distracted to notice I was drinking too much coffee was the last newsletter I wrote. I posted it on facebook, which made me want to check facebook for likes and comments. And once I was on facebook, why not see what other people are posting? Oh. Oh. That’s what they’re posting. Oh no.

I debated writing this explanation. Why not just stop using social media? Why talk about it on social media? But my litmus test for whether I should write something is “will this help people?” Maybe this is helpful: social media is distracting and depressing. It fills my head with noise. Maybe you have the same problem and this is the solution.

The sky at seven The color of hope that hurts And the crying swifts

I’ll continue to post my work on my website (including these newsletters) and mirror or link to those posts on Tumblr, Twitter, and Facebook. Readers are welcome to like and comment, but I’ll only read those comments once a week (Friday seems like a good day). Comments on my website, PMs, and emails to me will get my attention earlier. I won’t read any content that isn’t sent personally to me or that I didn’t sign up for. Hopefully that means I’ll still get news from people I care about, but not about tragedies that I have no power to solve. That way, I can continue to function from hour to hour.

What do you think? Is this going to work? Can I stay connected without sacrificing my mental health? Let me know in the comments. Or even better, email me.

In other news, I had some good writing stuff happen this month. Interchange has hit its 2/3 mark and, more importantly, its rhythm. I’ve managed to block off a fairly reliable 90-minute chunk of time in the mornings, which I use to meditate and then “speedwrite,” which means writing without thinking about what I’m doing. I generally end up with a single element of a scene, such as the conversation the characters are having, how they feel, what’s going on in the environment, or what actions the characters are taking.

Then I usually have some time after lunch (and my second and final coffee), and I can layer those scene-pieces onto each other and smooth the edges. If I have more time, I do research, which usually involves shooting messages to generous experts. In this way, the inestimable and inspiring Thomas Duffy helped me tie a ribbon around the center of my book, in which a biologist’s subconscious belief that she owns the environment she’s studying leads her to destroy it. As the forest crumbles around her, she blames herself…then makes exactly the wrong decision about what to do next. Yeah! Fiction! Thomas, I’m going to send you roses or cacti or something.

Another new tradition I’ve instituted is spending my Friday mornings not working on Interchange. It’s a little release of pressure, a chance to play and remind myself that writing isn’t just another chore I have to do. The first week, it was a short story. That one turned out so well, I’m going to try to publish it. It’s called “The Sales Event” and it’s about smart phones and general relativity. Do you want to beta-reader it?

I got another couple of “no”s from publishers about The Sultan’s Enchanter, but one of them was that very gratifying “no” that comes at the head of a long list of things I could do to fix the story. Making those fixes will be educational, even if that particular publisher still passes. Wealthgiver is rather like The Sultan’s Enchanter, after all, and the lessons I learn from one will be important for the other. The world needs more books about amoral Balkan people!

Yeah, I’m still working on Wealthgiver’s neo-Thracian language. I even posted a little of it on Tumblr. But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten my little goats!

Kapt kapēnon ainē kesa / byźai darsai ypo dēsâ. Ēbron, aiźi, byźâs kâ / skalmon, bleptē, bystâs kâ, As tae yper iatśikan / kapâ pe ta ve abbrinkan.

There were at one time / brave goats under heaven. A kid, a nanny, and a billy goat / clever, loyal, and tough, Who would dance up / a hill for to make themselves fat.

Dâ ispilsen opē rinkon strymē / parân ân, śân târâ dymâ. Iśē iserpa źēryntē / źymlē mērē urdēnē. Byźulâs ada pyrân źilmân / dâ bolvarâs pia rhobton saimân.

But a quick-flowing river blocked / the path with an evil guard. There coiled a beast / a great water-dragon. A goat will eat green grains / but a serpent will slurp blood

Peskēnon ērga ēbron do. / Pliskon ērga śân negō. Źymlē zē semân iglytsa. / “Kis ēs tu?” Neston iglâtsa. “Semâs manon ēm ēźo.” / “San ar ēsti? Abadam so!”

First comes the kid. / It splashes with its hooves. The dragon heard this. / “Who are you?” she roared. “This only am I.” / “Is it so? I will eat you up!”

Things are heating up! I’m still not entirely comfortable with the articles and deitics, but I do like that last line. And the orthography is shaping up nicely. I love googly things over letters.

Another potential conlanging project for that other hundred years I plan to live: Western Hellenism. What if the Greeks had conquered Iberia?

And finally, PROTECTOR! This is the comic project I’ve been working on for literally six years. Words by me and Simon Roy, inks by Atryom Trakhanov, colors by Jason Wordie, and lettering by Hassan Otsmane-Elhadu. What a crazy, fun, glorious process this collaboration was!

Protector is a post-apocalyptic scifi story about a slave who stumbles across “a demon of the Profligate Age,” a military cyborg who’s been in hibernation for the past thousand years. The post-human robots who are terraforming the Earth are not amused, and send in some sweaty future-vikings to put a stop to these shenanigans.

There will be five issues, and issue one comes out in January. If you’re interested, please order a copy, or better yet, tell your local comic or book store to order lots of copies! Give us some numbers that will convince Image to ask for a sequel

And finally, some books and stuff

Daring Greatly by Brené Brown – this book wasn’t as transformative for me as it could have been because I’ve read Brown before and I already agree with her. Shame is bad. Vulnerability is the cure. Bam. What I like about Brown is that she collects good data, lets it prove her wrong, and suggests how the lessons from the data can be usefully applied. It’s not just science, it’s engineering.

Falling Free by Lois McMaster Bujold – I think this was the third read. What happens when GM humans become obsolete? What happens when an engineer has a spiritual epiphany? It wasn’t quite as much fun as some of Bujold’s other science fiction, but it has a lot of heart.

Spooky Action at a Distance by George Musser – an excellent physics book, examining the concept of space, which lies at the center of the contradictions of relativity and quantum physics. If space didn’t exist, the universe would be chaos, but a lot of experiments only make sense if space _doesn’t_ exist. Great stuff, and it inspired that short story I’m so proud of.

Death by Water by Kerry Greenwood – a refreshing splash of chilly New Zealand sea spray. Phryne pursues a jewel thief and has a little bit of sex, but a lot of good food, drink, and dancing. There’s also a hakka.

Wicked Prey by John Sandford – it was actually a little boring. The police’s side of the story didn’t hold up as well as the criminals’. But this is a relatively early book in the series, which means Sandford is improving.

The Upright Go Pro – it’s a little device that you glue to your upper back so it will buzz at you when you slouch. Immediately after I put it on, I realized I have little tiny tyrannosaurus arms that don’t reach any table or counter-top. It ran out of batteries one day and man did my back hurt that night. So I guess it’s working.

Gravity by Against the Current and Brighter by Patent Pending – Good Interchange music.

Be Kind to Yourself by Andrew Peterson – It makes me feel better.

Song of Durin by Clamavi De Profundis – I haven’t gotten goosebumps from a song in a long time. It’s about dwarves.

The Twits by Roald Dahl – I read it to my older daughter and boy howdy did Roald Dahl know how to write for children. Everything seems utterly ridiculous but it all somehow satisfies. Like eating dirt cake.

Steven Universe – My younger daughter found me rewatching it on my phone and made me cast it on the big TV. Now it’s all “I wanna watch Steeben dabout a Giant Woman. I’m Pearl.” No, younger daughter, you are not Pearl. Pearl is my older daughter. My younger daughter is Amethyst. Nobody is more Amethyst than my younger daughter. (I’m Peridot)

[a-goddess-called-infinity]

Chapter 2: Legend

Synopsis: Steven learns some gym mythology, and then the Crystal Gems catch wind of the fight in Wakanda. 

DISCLAIMER: I have not seen the entire SU series unlike the MCU and may not be familiar with every nuance. As such, I apologize for mistakes or if characters appear OOC. This is an AU, however, so I took certain creative liberties. I do appreciate it if you take the time to comment to help me make this fic better. The period in which this happens in the SU timeline is ambiguous and for simplicity, I’m focusing on the main four plus Peridot and Lapis.

Words: 1,416 

AO3 link here

Previous - Next 

-

Earlier that day, in Beach City~

“Too bad your test isn’t on gem history, I could really help you study for that,” Steven sighed as he slouched back on the couch. His best friend Connie had come over to hang out on the condition that she study a bit for her history test while there. 

“I dunno Steven, you tend to not listen to Pearl’s history lessons,” Connie retorted playfully. Steven shrugged, “I don’t do it on purpose. I just get… Distracted,” he replied.

Connie giggled, “Yeah, it’s hard not to with the way she rambles.”

There was a moment of silence as Connie continued to look through her notes. Steven was quickly getting bored, but he didn’t let it show. He decides to try to revive the conversation.

“Some of the Gems are pretty old. They could probably tell a lot about history.”

“Mhm,” Connie replied half-heartedly.

“You think they’re old enough to confirm stuff like mythology?” Steven pondered out loud. Connie looked up from her notes and thought, “That’d be really cool! I’d ask all about greek myth,” She hummed. 

“I’d ask about Vikings!” Steven declared.

“Oh, oh, even better,” Steven added on with great conviction, “the Big Bang.”

“You mean, how the universe was made?”

“Yeah!... Well, they probably aren’t that old,” Steven laughed. Amythest was made here on Earth. The others were presumably made on Homeworld.

“Don’t the gems have their own mythology?” Connie asked. Steven shrugged, “I think so. They have shrines and temples and cool magic stuff, but I’ve never asked,” he admitted. Upon saying this he realizes he could simply ask them. It’d hopefully turn into storytime.

As if on cue, they turn to the sound of the temple door opening and see Pearl and Garnet walking out. Steven commits to his idea and hops off the couch, bounding towards them with a twinkle in his eye. 

"Oh, hello Steven—"

"Guys, how was the universe made?" He blurts out the first question on his mind, interrupting Pearl. 

"Oh Steven," Pearl says, waving her hand in that way she does when there are trivial questions, "There's simply no scientific way to trace back the origin of the universe. To do so would be to trace back the origin of matter itself! We—"

Steven shook his head insistently as she started to ramble, "No, no, like, how do you believe the universe was made?"

"Eheh, what?" Pearl said incredulously. Now, she was a history guru and there were plenty of legends depicting the universe's birth, but that's all it was; legend. Fable. Fairytale. Not facts, equations, or science. Even though she wasn't as skeptical as, say, Peridot, it wasn't even plausible with their gem "magic", or so she believed. 

"The legend of Infinity," Garnet says simply as she adjusts her glasses. Steven gasps dramatically, that was quite possibly one of the coolest titles he's heard. 

"I-It’s just a silly fairy tale," Pearl dismisses slightly flustered, "it's quite far fetched, the prospects of Goddesses and all that—"

"Whoa, no way!" Connie piped up as she abandoned her homework and joined Steven's side, "Tell us!"

"Garnet," Pearl quietly groaned.

"Tell us, tell us, tell us," the two teens chanted. 

"Ok, I'll tell you," Garnet says with a small smile. Steven and Connie gasp and take a seat on the floor. Connie has her knees up and her elbows resting on them as her hands support her head. Steven is laid back with his hands on the ground and his legs splayed out in front of him. They eagerly wait as Garnet prepares her tale. She clears her throat.

"Before the universe, before the concept of time itself, there was nothing yet everything all at once. The threads and energies of the void wove and collided into an entity. She was a Goddess called Infinity,” she went on. Steven and Connie were completely entranced by her story. Even Pearl enjoyed it, though she didn’t let it show right away. 

“Over a span that was simultaneously billions of years and milliseconds, She decided to create the universe, and in doing to She split herself into six parts.” Garnet lifted her hands, snapping her fingers with each word for emphasis.

Snap! “Space.”

Snap! “Time.”

Snap! “Power.”

Snap! “Reality.”

Snap! “Mind.”

Snap! “Soul.”

“Whoa…” The teens cooed in awe.

“Each part became a gem that launched across the newly birthed universe, granting it the ingredients necessary for life. It’s said that Homeworld was created at the exact spot She split, making all of gem-kind direct descendants of Her.”

As Garnet finished, the wheels in Connie’s head were churning, “Wait, do her gems still exist? Somewhere in the universe?” She gasps after asking her question, “Do they each have their own forms?”

“To the latter question, yes, theoretically they do,” Pearl butt in, “But for as long as gems and other lifeforms have existed, they’ve never been found. If they exist,” she added. 

“That means they can fuse right? And reform Infinity?” Steven blurted out, ignoring Pearl’s skepticism. He was gushing over the fact that God was a giant woman. Oh, what he’d give to meet her! “It’s said if Infinity would ever reform, she’d look over her child, the universe, and judge her,” Garnet said solemnly.

“The universe is a woman too?!”

“Steven no,” Pearl interjected again, “Her point is that with the state the universe is in, she’d probably, well—”

“Boom,” Garnet finished, mimicking a very under exaggerated explosion. Steven’s and Connie’s faces fell.

“Well, I think she’d be the nicest person to exist,” Steven said dreamily, trying to conjure an image of her in his imagination. “She… has galaxies in her hair! Long, fluffy hair, and… Six arms with each gem! Where ever she walks, life springs up…”

Connie joined in, “... And her voice is so heavenly people who hear it can’t comprehend it and die from its magnificence!”

“Yea— wait,” Steven said, having to double-take what she said.

“She has eyes all over her body, and is on fire!” Connie was thinking of something closer to arch angles. Steven laughed nervously.

Before Pearl could ramble about how ridiculous and mildly insulting their renditions of the gem goddess were, Peridot yells frantically from across the room, "Guys, come look at this!” The four of them head over. Amytest emerges from another part of the house to see what was going on as well.

Peridot is sat in front of the TV while scrolling madly on her tablet while Lapis Lazuli is entranced on the TV. It was the news.

“I was reading some crazy articles and flipped to the news and it’s real!” Peridot explained, not looking up from her tablet. Everyone watched the TV intensely.

“According to officials, a massive alien fleet has entered our atmosphere. Reports say that the fleet is similar to the one that attacked New York a few years ago. The fleet seems to be landing somewhere in Africa, although the report is unofficial.”

As the news anchor talked, there were diagrams of the various ships entering Earth’s atmosphere with time stamps. When he mentioned New York, images of the alien army that attacked were shown and compared to the very limited pictures of the current described situation. 

“We can help this time!” Steven declared. During the aforementioned Battle of New York, Steven and the Crystal Gems were busy dealing with a different threat. Other events such as Sokovia and Germany were largely unknown by them and the world until after the fact. 

“This is hardly a gem issue,” Pearl argued. It was a weak excuse, but the gems had an unspoken agreement to keep their heads down. Obviously, they were well known in Beach City, but the “city” itself was small and inconspicuous. Anything that happened there was written off as just “the quirks of the town”. Plus there was the Sokvia Accords, and whether or not they would somehow have to comply with them if they were to make themselves known to the world and their governments was a mystery they didn’t want to solve. After all, there were extraterrestrials with impressive powers.

“Guys, an army of aliens is attacking us for probably the fifth time. Aren’t we Earth’s protectors?” Connie counters.

“Yeah, let’s go kick some alien butt! They don’t stand a chance against us!” Amythest agreed.

Glances were exchanged before Garnet nodded, “The closest warp is… The caverns,” she declared. There was no arguing with Garnet and her future-vision. 

With that, everyone headed to the warp. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Someday

Summary: Dean is a Greek God in training but he’s still human until he can get his powers to present...

Square: Greek God AU

Pairing: Greek God?Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language, angst

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo

“Hello, Dean,” you said, walking into the young man’s bedroom. “I brought you…”

His bed was unmade but he was nowhere to be found. The sun was barely up and it was unlike him to be awake this early without prompting.

“Dean...not today,” you muttered. You set his fresh clothes on the table in the room, going to the drawn curtains and spotting the footprints in the ground outside. You drew the curtains shut and left the room, heading outside and to the back of the grounds. You walked for a few minutes until you found Dean sitting off the edge of the dock, feet dangling in the pond of water. “Good morning.”

“How do you always find me?” he said without turning around.

“You’ve been coming out here since you were just a little Greek god,” you teased.

“We played hide and go seek a lot when we were kids,” he said, patting the spot beside him. “What is it today? Another test?”

“Your father is coming,” you said as you took a seat. Dean kicked his feet in the water, squinting as he looked across the small pond.

“He thinks I’m human,” said Dean. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Humans are nice. Gods are dicks.”

“I’m sure he’s just coming to visit you,” you said, knowing his father only stopped by on Dean’s birthday or unless he wanted to yell at Dean for not showing some sort of power yet.

“Maybe he’ll disown me,” said Dean, not sounding as disappointed about that as you were expecting.

“You’ll get your power soon,” you said. “Maybe you’re too tense. I could always give you a shoulder massage if you like?”

“Y/N. Stop with the maid carer whatever crap. Just be my friend today,” he said.

“But I’m-“

“No,” he said firmly. “I can make my own bed and wash my own clothes and I want you to stop doing things for me.”

“It’s my job,” you said. “Just like it’s my job to make sure you’re presentable when your father arrives.”

“Screw you,” he said, standing up.

“Dean. My family serves Gods. We’ve done it forever. Yes, you are my friend but I have a job to do and as your friend, please don’t fight me on this today. Please just do what your supposed to,” you said.

“You don’t care. You just like living here in this nice big house with the other girls and you do whatever you want all day long,” he said, heading off into the woods.

“Dean!” you shouted, running after him but he was already gone. “Your father will be here for lunch! You better be back by then!”

“Her,” said Dean’s father, walking gracefully through the main hall, curling a finger for you to follow. You padded after him, hoping your smiting went quickly.

To say Dean’s father was not happy his son was missing was an understatement.

“Stop,” he said when you were alone in a sitting room. You froze in place, keeping your head low. Dean’s father looked as mortal as any other man but you knew better than to forget what he was. “You’re Y/N. Dean’s head caretaker.”

It wasn’t a question so you didn’t respond.

“Did you know that your mother gave birth to you not long after Dean was brought here? His mother thought it would be nice for him to grow up with another child. It would teach him about humans and how to someday be a just God. I was against it,” he said.

You were leaning towards the smiting still, waiting for his temper to finally snap.

“Dean has grown up though. He should have shown his powers years ago. As his head caretaker, don’t you believe this is your responsibility?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” you said.

“Your family has been raising Gods for a very long time. Yet you’re the first to have caused the delay of a Gods powers presenting,” he said. “I must ask, what have you done differently?”

“Nothing sir,” you said, swallowing hard.

“You took something from him,” you said.

“No. I took nothing,” you said.

“You took his heart,” he said.

“I did-“

“The boy is in love with you. He has been since he was a child. At first I thought it was simply a kinship sort of love but he loves you at his core. This human love is...preventing him from reaching his potential,” he said.

“Sir, I didn’t-“

“It’s the boy’s fault. Do not fret. If the boy no longer loves you, he will be fine,” he said.

“I-“

“Break his heart,” he said. “Are we clear?”

“Sir-“

“I will return in a month. I expect him to be showing his powers by then. Or else you and I will have to resolve this another way.”

“Hey,” said Dean, returning home that night for supper. “How was my father?”

“Your dinner is ready,” you said bluntly, setting the table.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I snapped,” said Dean.

“Don’t apologize to me. You’re a God and I’m a human,” you said, leaving to go to the kitchen, returning with a plate for him.

“Y/N,” said Dean, grabbing your wrist when you went to move away. “What-“

“I have things to do,” you said, shrugging out of his hold. Dean balked at you, shaking his head. “Your bath will be ready after dinner.”

“You’ve never made me-“

“Good evening, Dean,” you said, turning away and leaving.

Dean gave you space the rest of the night, knowing you got the brunt of his father’s anger.

But the next morning he wasn’t backing off when you continued to give the cold shoulder.

“Again, I am sorry that I said you don’t care and-“

“I don’t care, Dean,” you said, folding a few dry sheets outside. “Go to training.”

“Y/N,” he said with a scoff.

“If you skip your training I will inform you trainer to take the stronger handed approach,” you said. Some of the color ran out of Dean’s cheeks.

“That’s...we don’t...no, you said you’d never-“

“You need a firmer hand. I will let your trainer know that beginning today, any minute you are late, slacking, etc. will earn you a punishment,” you said.

“Y/N-“

“Now you’ve got one,” you said, folding the sheet and tossing it in the basket. “Go unless you want to add more.”

Dean shook his head at you like he was disgusted but went. You regretted saying it because now if you didn’t, Dean would take advantage of it and you only had a month to get him to hate you.

“What’d he say,” said Dean when you were cleaning him up after training that afternoon. “My father.”

“Nothing,” you said, laying a few dressings over the raw skin.

“You had me punished. He obviously said something,” said Dean.

“You need to stop acting like a child. Do as you’re supposed to and things like today will not happen again,” you said.

“Is that a threat?” he asked.

“No. It’s the way things are,” you said.

“I could have you punished you know,” said Dean.

“Yes, you could,” you said.

“Y/N, why-“

“I will make you dinner later. Now go do your studies.”

By the end of the week, you were pretty sure Dean was starting to get bitter. By the end of the second and another punishment, you felt like it was turning to hate. By the end of the third, Dean had run away.

“What happened?” you barked at the trainer.

“He talked back a lot today and he took his punishment and when I came back after getting him some water, he was gone,” he said.

“If he is not found, it’ll be all our asses,” you said.

“You used to be a lot nicer you know. You never had me-“

“Shut up. Get all of the staff out looking for him,” you said. You went back to the house, changing into clothes you could travel in and headed off into the woods for him. He wasn’t at the pond or the clearing nearby, none of his usual hiding spots turning up anything. You went farther into the forest, farther than you’d ever been until you eventually came to an opening and a large cliff.

You looked to your left and saw nothing, looking right and spotting Dean sitting on the edge, staring down.

“Dean,” you said, his body flinching at your voice. “You need to come home and get cleaned up.”

“I’m not going back,” he said.

“You have to,” you said.

“Make me,” he said. “I’m not scared of getting in trouble anymore. I can take it.”

“No more today. Just come back,” you said.

“I realize at this point that you hate me. You were doing some sort of nurture thing before and my dad said go tough love now and I get it was all an act for you but I can’t turn it off like that. I can’t hate you even. I know it’s my fault I don’t have powers yet but at least you used to reassure me that it wasn’t. So sorry, but I’m not going back to a place where everyone hates me,” he said.

“Stop acting like a child,” you said. You stepped over to him, grabbing his arm. He shrugged you off and you slipped, skinning your leg against the rough rock as you went over the edge. You waited for the impact but didn’t have one, opening your eyes to see you were standing right next to Dean. “What just happened?”

“I...don’t know,” said Dean. “I grabbed you. It happened in a split second.”

“I’ll say so. I didn’t even notice,” you said.

“It was probably the shock,” he said.

“Or it’s your powers,” you said.

“No. It wasn’t,” he said, staring at his lap and then you bloody and gashed leg. “Can you walk on the leg?”

“Yes,” you said, Dean glancing at all of the cuts along it.

“I have to take you back to the house,” said Dean.

“The trainer will punish you tomorrow for running away,” you said.

“Like I said, I’m used to all that crap at this point.”

“Dean,” said his father the next week, Dean not bothering to lift his head. “Still nothing?”

“No sir,” he said.

“Hm. I see your head caretaker has changed her tactics,” he said, giving you a nod.

“Yes sir,” said Dean.

“Do you think they’re effective?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Dean.

“But you have no powers,” said his father.

“You wanted me broken and I’m broken. Aren’t you pleased with that?” said Dean.

“I said break his heart, not his body and spirit,” said Dean’s father.

“I’ve been trying sir,” you said, Dean glancing in your direction.

“You told her to break my heart?” asked Dean. “Why?”

“Your love for her is preventing you from gaining your powers,” he said. “I gave her an attempt to sort this out but now we have to do this my way.”

“Killing her will not make me stop loving her,” said Dean, putting a hand on his head before he let out a little laugh. “You threatened her. I knew you had to have done something to her and for a minute you had me convinced but even then I couldn’t stop caring about her. So you threatened her. What was it?”

“If you will not develop powers, I will have another child that will,” he said. Dean cocked his head and looked at you, looking back at his father dangerously.

“You better rethink that,” said Dean, taking a few steps in front of you.

“You are a human. Move before I hurt you, son,” he said. “You know a human can only bear one God and your mother is not able to again. She could possibly-”

“Leave before I hurt you,” said Dean, clenching his fists.

“Move,” he said, waving a hand, curious when Dean stayed in place. He did it again and Dean chuckled.

“Having a hard time getting it up?” said Dean. “Call it quits before you hurt yourself.”

“What power is this?” he asked.

“It’s called I’m fucking pissed and don’t come near me or her or anyone else again. Stay shoved up on your cloud for the rest of eternity,” said Dean.

“I will-“

“Stop,” said a voice you didn’t recognize. You turned and saw an older woman standing by the entrance to the room. “Dean.”

“Mom?” asked Dean. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Your father is a real joy to live with sometimes,” she said, Dean’s father silent. “Go home. I told you that you had one last chance and that was it.”

“I-“

“You were going to hurt this girl. A girl our son very clearly cares for. Don’t even think being forced mortal is the last of your punishment,” she said.

“Mortal?” you and Dean both said.

“A lack of love does not give powers. Love does. You’ve had Dean treated as a toy since he was born,” she said to Dean’s father. “The only true love he could feel was from this girl. If he was allowed to freely express it, he would have had powers as a toddler.”

“I don’t-“ said Dean.

“The parents are supposed to be with the children, even if they are Gods,” she said more gently. “But I had to make a choice. Raise you or keep your father in check and stop him from blowing up the world whenever he didn’t get his way.”

“Wow. You’re an even bigger dick than I thought,” you said. Dean’s father glared at you but relented eventually.

“You should have seen the first two hundred years of our relationship. This is a vast improvement,” said Dean’s mother. “I will think about giving your powers back if you learn to behave.”

“But I’m mortal,” said Dean’s father.

“And your mortal son just stood up to a God. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from him,” she said. “Dean I doubt you will develop powers. If your father ever read our history, he would know you have to present at a younger age.”

“So I’m a human,” said Dean.

“Yes,” she said, walking over and cupping his cheek. You went wide eyed as you saw the marks on his body heal. She turned to you and you backed away.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“For hurting my son? You did not do that. It was his father who ordered it and I am no mortal but I know you are afraid of him,” she said.

“I shouldn’t have...” you said, stepping back again when she reached out for you. “I’m supposed to take care of Dean.”

“You were under duress,” she said.

“I could have said no,” you said.

“You could have said yes a very long time ago but you didn’t,” she said.

“It doesn’t excuse-“

“Dean, what do you think?” she asked.

“I think you should let my mom fix your leg and maybe we can both forget about the past month,” said Dean. “I was a bit of an ass most of the time.”

You nodded and let her touch you, the ache in your leg gone.

“Take care of each other,” she said. “Dean, I am sorry that you didn’t become what you were supposed to.”

“I think I did, in a way,” said Dean. “I never made a very good God.”

“Neither did your father,” she said. “We’ll come visit when he’s in a better mood but your training is done. Be who you want to.”

“Why didn’t you come down and tell him this before?” you asked.

“He had to learn to make his own choices with his own head,” she said.

“What are you the God of again?” you asked.

“Maternal something,” said Dean. “You think they wouldn’t have messed me up so much.”

“Dean…” chided his mother. “I’ll be back soon. Promise.”

“Hey,” you said, waking up to Dean bringing you breakfast in your bed. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing you food?” he said with a smile.

“Why?” you asked, Dean peeking back the curtains, a whole lot of light coming in. “How late is it? I should have been up hours ago.”

“For what? We have no more rules. It’s just us here now,” he said. “I think you can sleep in and eat in bed if you’d like.”

“I think we need to slow this down,” you said.

“I’m not asking for anything. I just made you some food and I’d like if we could maybe take a walk together later if you aren’t busy,” he said.

“I sort of just lost my job so free time isn’t a problem for me,” you said. “I mean, I’m still unhappy about what I did.”

“I’m not,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” you said.

“My dad is an asshole. You have always, always been kind and cut me slack and let me be, even though the others didn’t like it. And I went and yelled at you that you didn’t care when you were the only one that ever did. We’re okay. I just want us to get back to normal,” he said.

“Okay. But we go slow. We both have to get used to the way things work now.”

“Come on, new record,” you said, tossing a grape up in the air, Dean catching it in his mouth. “I think your God like power would have been food consumption.”

“Nah. It’s my dashingly good looks,” he said. “Like my cousin. Half-cousin? I don’t know. Guy’s mortal but I’m pretty sure Aphie is doing something to make sure he stays that way.”

“Isn’t Adonis like super into himself though?” you asked.

“Sort of. No one’s as bad as Narci,” said Dean. “The girl spends every family function in front of a mirror.”

“I’m glad to know the Gods are just as dysfunctional as the rest of us,” you said.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be invited anymore. Thankfully,” he said. “You’re much more pleasant company.”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Hey, how’d your mom stop your dad like that a few weeks back? I didn’t know a God could take another’s power.”

“It’s a weird rule. My mom sent some of those books a few days ago. It’s like a spouse of a God can strip the God of their power if they choose or give it back.”

“Do you think…maybe I could give you your power?” you asked.

“I don’t want it,” he said, laying back against the grass, closing his eyes.

“Try doing something,” you said. Dean peeled open an eyelid, pretending to be annoyed. “Come on. Try.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up and throwing you over his shoulder. “Nope. Just as heavy as usual.”

“You’re hilarious,” you said, Dean walking around with you.

“Can’t seem to fly either. I can catch twelve grapes in my mouth in a row? I bet that’s it,” he teased.

“I’m sure that was it,” you said, Dean setting you down again before he started to laugh. “What?”

“I think I figured it out. It’s probably not a very useful power unless you’re you,” he said. You stared at him, Dean chuckling. “You fell and I caught you? My dad’s powers stopped working before my mom showed up? I think my power is to protect you.”

“Your power is to protect me? That doesn’t seem very godlike,” you said. “It sounds shitty to be honest. It sounds human.”

“I like it. Sounds pretty awesome to me,” he said, grabbing the bunch of grapes. “It was your turn, wasn’t it?”

“Dean. Do you like being human? Really?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I think I finally really do.”

[anakinsafterlife]

From the huge uptick in Greek content on my dash, I can that see we are all studying very hard in advance of our big test on the Odyssey, coming next year.

[marshmallow-phd]

Fighting Instinct

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Summary: He went out of his way to ignore you. You saw his kindness towards everyone else, but he showed you only irritation. And you couldn’t blame him, considering your first meeting. However, little do you know that he’s hiding a dark world, one that you’re pulled into against your will....

Warning: none

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I Final

**

“From the Navajo to the Ancient Greeks, shapeshifters have been a staple in folklore from all over the world for several thousand years.”

Professor Kim pressed a button on his handy little stick, switching the picture shining out of the projector onto the whiteboard behind him from a regular wolf in high definition to a strange hybrid drawing on animal skin. The man in the drawing was hunched over, his back covered in fur and his fingers coming to sharp, clawed points. A few seats down from you, a girl sighed, leaning in deeper with her chin in her palm, as the teacher pushed up on his rolled up sleeve for the millionth time this period. You could have sworn you even saw her eyelashes flutter.

Professor Kim was not bad on the eyes. He had a pointed chin coupled with a strong jawline, deep brown eyes, and was in very good shape that was shown off by the tight-fitting button down he was wearing tucked into tailored slacks. But it was also hard for you to call him “professor” as he was only a few years older than you. Considering his credentials were over-the-top impressive, you still respected him. The word “professor” to you was just ingrained with middle-aged guys with thick glasses and receding hairlines in tweed jackets. However, you weren’t sure if the female-majority classmates around you felt the same way.

The World Folklore class wasn’t actually considered a credit-worthy elective for most of the majors at the college, but the class was always full anyway. Girls (and boys who swung that way) clamored to get a spot in the hundred-seat lecture hall to be able to stare at Professor Kim for an uninterrupted hour and a half. You were lucky that, as a world history student who needed this class to get full credit, you were able to get priority over someone else who was just going to throw away the money. You couldn’t entirely blame the student population for being enthusiastic for the class. The subject matter was fascinating. Starting off with mermaids and sirens, the lessons only grew in excitement, especially the three weeks spent on dragons.

Legends like that always fascinated you; the things frightened minds can come up with to explain the random bump in the night. But what captivated you more was how universal the legends could be. Different cultures that never met or crossed paths could have similar stories about creatures that could shift into humans or vise versa.

“The one thing that the legends can never agree on however,” Professor Kim rounded his desk so he was now standing in front of it, leaning back on the edge, “is if these types of creatures are just a strange natural occurrence or if there’s magic involved.”

A few students snickered at the mention of magic, the current generation used to Harry Potter and flying brooms.

“(y/n).”

Your pencil froze in the middle of your notes. Without even looking up, you could already feel all heads turning to stare at you, wondering what you did to gain the professor’s attention all of a sudden.

“Yes, sir?” you asked, clearing your throat and sitting up straighter.

Professor Kim gave you a kind smile. “Your papers are always fascinating. Please, tell us what your take is on why so many cultures have made up stories about people turning into animals.”

Great. You were not the kind of person who participated in class discussions. The fear and anxiety of being completely wrong or made fun of for your opinion was overwhelming and it kept you quiet. That’s why you sat in the middle level, just off to the right side. It was an inconspicuous spot; not too far up front where eye contact could be made, but not in the back either, where avoidance was obvious. You liked writing papers, however. It gave you time to think, to go over your words carefully as you constructed your argument. In that medium, you could be intelligent and fearless. This was horrifying.

“Um, well–” you cringed internally. Way to be articulate. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, stealing from the research paper you had already started that wasn’t due until the end of the semester. “Most people would argue that something man is most afraid of is the monster within themselves. Something that is uncontrollable. And these legends are a manifestation of that fear. That while there are scary things out in the world, the most frightening is the one hidden inside.

“However, another argument could be made if you focus on the animal itself. While humans consider ourselves the top of the food chain, that’s based mostly on our level of intelligence rather than our physical traits. How we hold ourselves doesn't stop a starved tiger from mauling you. So, you could say that the fear that created these stories might have actually come from a worry that maybe someday our only true weapon we have against the animals – our brains – could be lurking within them. So, instead of it being about the beast inside the man, it could be about the man inside the beast.”

During your little speech, Professor Kim had crossed his arms, still leaning against his desk, and stared at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“That,” he smiled, “is the kind of thinking I’ve been waiting for in this classroom.” He pushed off the wooden edge, walking around the open area near the front row. “The thing about worldwide folklore is you have to think outside the box. You can’t just create one argument for all these different civilizations who have their own stories to tell.”

To your relief, all the attention was back to the front. Sinking down in your seat, you tried to focus on your breathing, getting your system back down to calm mode. As you did that, your eyes wandered around, perhaps searching for anyone who might still be staring at you. And there was one.

A student several rows down and to your right was staring at you openly, his face blank of any emotion. When your eyes met, he slowly turned back to the front, not ashamed that he was caught, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

You shook off the strange encounter, trying to not dwell on it.

Professor Kim dismissed the class ten minutes later, ending it early. Some girls pouted while others shrugged it off. Ending class early was nothing new. Slowly and neatly, you placed your notebook and other papers into your messenger bag, careful to not jam them into your laptop.

“(y/n)! Can I talk to you for a second?”

You groaned quietly enough so no one could hear you. You’d had side conversations with the professor before. Outside of the classroom, occasionally bumping into him on your way to another class or just roaming around, killing time. He was always nice to you, interested in whatever conversation he decided to start up with you. This, however, was different.

Instead of up the steps and out the doors to the nice cool autumn day with the rest of the students, you fought the tide to get to the bottom where Professor Kim was waiting for you. He’d put on a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses, adding to his charm.

“Yes, Professor?”

He looked down at you sympathetically. “I know I put you on the spot today, but I wanted to let you know that it’s because I know how smart you are and you need to not be afraid to contribute to the discussion.”

Pulling on your bag strap, you shifted uncomfortably. “I appreciate that, Professor, but I live my life in the shadows. It’s where I prefer to be.”

That made him frown. It was almost angry. “The shadows is not a wonderful place to preside.” He turned off the projector, sighing. “(y/n), what exactly is it you plan on doing with your degree once you graduate?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hesitated, looking away. You hated that question. You hated it because you didn’t really know. You didn’t want to be a teacher like everyone assumed. Too much attention. A thought that had been brewing in your mind since you started taking this class was researching different legends around the world and compiling them into an academic book. It was a bit of a fantasy you played in your head, locked away in a cabin far from the city, in the middle of the woods near the mountains, where you could breathe fresh air and feel the open space. But that wasn’t exactly a career that could pay the bills.

In the end, you simply shrugged, keeping that information to yourself. “I don’t really know, to be honest. History was just the only thing I was really interested in during high school so it seemed logical to further my studies there.”

Great. You sounded like a cover page for a resume.

“Well, why don’t I recommend you for a teaching assistant that’ll be open with me next semester?” Professor Kim suggested. Your jaw nearly dropped. “It’ll be a paid position – minimum wage, of course – you’ll earn credit towards your degree, and you might even gain some insight to what it is you want to do.”

“Oh, um, well….” It wasn’t exactly an offer you could say no to. Teaching assistant positions were rare and fought over like the Hunger Games. You scratched behind your ear near your hairline, a nervous tick of yours.

“You won’t be teaching any classes,” he promised. “Research assistant might be a more appropriate title for the position. And the occasional test grading.”

Now that sounded much more intriguing. But you still needed to mull it over. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Just let me know of your decision when you turn in your term paper.”

You nodded, nearly incoherent now. He was giving you nearly two months to make a decision. What the heck?

“Have a good day, (y/n).” He dismissed you and you took the opportunity to get out, perplexed about what just happened.

Eun Na was waiting for you in the student center at your usual table. She already had her laptop out and was bobbing her head along to whatever weird psychedelic music was pouring out from her headphones.

While you had a few other friends at the university, Eun Na was stuck to you like glue. Your freshman year had been a total nightmare. Evenings and weekends were spent alone as your dorm mates were never in and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask if you could tag along. Making friends was hard to do with mild social anxiety and your friends from high school had gone off to different colleges leaving you on your own.

It was harder to make friends here. In high school, you saw the same people day in and day out so you naturally gravitated towards certain people. But in college, you had to put more effort into it. You had to actually approach people and start conversations. Group projects were your worst nightmares.

But the first semester of your sophomore year was considerably brighter. In your European History 201 class, Eun Na had sat down next to you and introduced herself. And it didn’t stop there. She constantly asked you questions about the homework and the material. Soon, the questions turned personal and you didn’t even realize you were giving her answers that you’d normally withhold. Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out outside of class and have since became inseparable. She helped introduce you to other people who made college life seem not so lonely anymore.

When you sat down across from her, sliding into the booth while trying to not let your exposed skin from your shorts stick to the vinyl, she pulled out her earbuds and frowned.

“About time you showed up,” she pouted.

You just chuckled. “Sorry. Professor Kim held me back to offer me a teaching assistant position for next semester.”

Eun Na pursed her lips, obviously bothered by your news. “Well, that’s…. random.”

You shrugged. “Not entirely. I mean, sure I don’t really talk during class, but he likes my papers.”

Professor Kim really liked your papers.

You nearly had a panic attack when you got the first one back. There were red marks and little notes all over every single page. You were to the point of tears until you actually read what they said. There was nothing but praise in them. And it happened with each of your papers. With today’s events, you began to suspect that you were possibly his favorite.

“I’m not sure if you should do it,” Eun Na said suddenly.

You knit your eyebrows together, confused. “Really? Teaching Assistant positions aren’t exactly just handed out like that.”

“Exactly,” she countered. “You don’t think it’s a little odd that he just randomly offered it to you? No strings attached?”

You nearly gagged at her implication. “Seriously, Eun Na? He’s not a perve. Besides, if he really wanted to, there’s plenty of female students who would gladly be in that position.”

Eun Na rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She closed her laptop with an ear-stinging slam and threw it in her bag, making you flinch. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“He’s giving me plenty of time to think about it.”

She gave you one more pointed look. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll see you in psych.”

You shook your head, unable to believe what had just transpired. Eun Na was usually the most supportive person you knew. She’d never shut you down like this before.

Tapping a pencil against the table, you gave up. You decided that you would think over the offer another time, by yourself, weighing the pros and cons. Until then, it would be on the back burner. After checking the time, you decided it was time to pack up as well. Just before you could zip up your bag, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to look, you found a very handsome guy leaning towards you from one table over. His tan skin glowed under the harsh lighting and his sharp jaw rivaled Professor Kim’s. Odd, as you usually went ignored by his type.

“You really should pick new friends,” he said in a tone that was completely serious. You didn’t know this guy at all and he had not a flicker of amusement or teasing in his eyes. Who was he to be telling you how to live your life?

“Excuse me?” you said with a scoff.

His face didn’t falter for a second. “You should hang out with other people. You’re going to get hurt.”

Rolling your eyes your stood up and started to walk away. Eun Na came running back up, clearly out of breath. After swiping up her headphones that you never noticed had fallen to the floor, she tilted her head at you.

“What’s up?” she asked, studying your irritated expression. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you replied, looking over your shoulder to the nosy stranger. He’d gotten up and was walking past the two of you, not even glancing in your direction as your eyes followed him. “Some people just need to learn to mind their own business.”

Eun Na followed your gaze and a fire lit in her eyes. Her jaw clenched with a sharp noise as her teeth clashed together and she grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the exit. “Come on. We should get you to class.”

[theharlequinwriter]

Guided Arrow ..........part 1

Summary : Being Thea’s twin sister and also part of team arrow when you wake up in the another universe alone and no way home.

warnings : Swear words and PTSD 

word count : 2,402

Before I knew it Barry was reaching for my hand and we were falling down a building and then  well I don’t really know all I saw was white and when I woke up I was one the side of the road soaking wet and clearly not in star city anymore.

‘’Ollie!!......Speedy......BARRY!!!!.’’

No one answered.

‘’what the fuck happened?’’

Pulling my hood back I put my mask in my pocket and threw my bow over my back and started to walk sticking my thumb out every other foot. Finally reaching a nearby diner I asked for a booth and a cup of coffee while I pulled out all my gadgets trying to find Felicity’s or Barry's voice trying to find me.

‘’you look like you’re lost’’

Darting my head up I saw a man with blue eyes, black hair and oddly a trench coat.

‘’you can say I am in a way.’’

I winked at him as his very handsome friends walked over.

‘’Cas what the hell are you doing?’’

‘’Talking to miss.... I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.’’

‘’y/n Queen’’

‘Names Sam and Dean Winchester’’

The taller one with the long hair stuck out his hand towards me, grabbing his hand I could feel the caclus on his palm from oddly enough....a gun.

‘’So, Cas said you’re lost?’’

Dean asked as he shuffled into my booth.... uninvited.

‘’Yeah, I guess, the last thing I remember is reaching for flash.......my friends hand as I fell then everything went black. I woke up on the side of the road and made my way here.’’

‘’Well we can help you find your way back if you like.’

‘’YES, thank you.’’

Walking outside dean helped me into the car and we were off to their house or what they called their bunker. Once inside i made my way to their version of the quiver. Setting my arrows and hood on the couch began to scan their place. Clearly they really are brothers, not sure on Cas thou.. Possibly dean's boyfriend? not by the way dean watched my ass get into the car. Walking around I found their library full of supernatural information.

‘Where were you guys when darhk was around?’’

Dean came into the room with 4 beers. Handing one to me as Sam sat down and opened his laptop.

‘’So, let's start with your hometown or where you were last.’’

‘’Star city.’’

I watched as Sam typed it into his keyboard and his eyes going wide.

‘’uhm y/n that city doesn’t exist at least not that google knows.’’

‘'w-W-W WHAT DO YOU MEAN DOESN’T EXSIT I WAS JUST THERE!!!’’

‘’Google says nothing found for a Star city.’’

‘’MY WHOLE LIFE IS THERE, MY BROTHER, MY TWIN SISTER, MY NEPHEW! MY BESTFRIENDS MY FAMILY GOD DAMN IT!!!’’

I threw the beer onto the floor.  

‘’’listen y/n lets google your family maybe they will come up, you did say your sister in law was a hacker maybe she's hiding the results.’’

‘Okay my Sibling are Oliver and Thea Queen, my best friend is Iris West Allen, Her husband is Barry Allen.’’

Dean looked up at me  

‘’You're Brother and best friend are named after comic books?’’

‘NO?’’

Sam ran to the other room carrying back a few plastic covered comic books with the titles. GREEN ARROW and the other THE FLASH. I felt my head going dizzy and everything went black. When i came too I was lying on a couch, I could hear Sam and dean talking.

‘’Maybe she escaped the looney bin.’’

‘’maybe she hit her head harder than she thought.’’

‘’OR THE HOT CHICK IS CRAZY!’’

I made a coughing noise as I walked into the room.

‘Come sit, I'm going to blow your minds.’

We all headed in the war room and sat down.

‘’So, my name is Y/n Queen, my brother is Oliver Queen and Yes he is the Green Arrow, My sister and I are quickdraw and speedy. My Best friend is the wife of the flash, we discovered other worlds or dimensions a long time ago. I'm guessing that’s where I am in a world where I'm nothing more than words on a page.’’

Both Winchesters sat there with their mouths gaping.

‘’So, you're like a real super hero?’’

‘’I guess so, Ollie more is than me, I'm just backup.’’

‘And how did you get here?’’

‘Cisco must have breached me right as I grabbed Barry sending me flying through a breach, although this would be a far new distance for him....I'm happy i made it.’’

‘’Breach?’’

‘’’Rips or portals into other worlds.’’

‘’I need some air.’’

Dean stepped out of the room leaving me, Sam and Cas alone.

‘So, are their angels in your world?’

‘’not that im aware of cas , We have the league of shadows . My brother married their leader, We do have magic buts its really bad.’’

‘’Magics bad here too but more of like hocus pocus and hexes.’’

‘’so, no vigilantes?’’

‘’Not that I know of, I mean we are hunters if that counts.’’

‘’it’ll do.’’  

Sam smiled as dean walked into the room.

‘’can i shoot an arrow?’’

‘’Sure dean.’’

We went outside where I let dean have 2 arrows to shoot, he missed both times. Taking my aim, I shot to perfect straight into the apple Sam had placed on the car.

‘’How did you learn to do that?’’

‘’My brother, after slade …. I mean Death Stroke killed my mom, Ollie never wanted me and Thea to be unsafe again and after i busted him on being arrow and dig being spartan....Sorry Dig is my brothers right hand man. He welcomed me to the team as quickdraw due to the fact im a quick shot.’’

‘’wow.... you been through it.’’

‘’ oh, I got stories that would make your mind implode. Ive met a alien well a kryptonian .’’

‘’YOU FUCKIN MET SUPERMAN!!!!’

Dean was shouting now

‘’Well yeah but I meant his cousin Supergirl, she like my pen pal.’’

‘’ So I guess you're staying here till you can get home.’’

‘Thank you, Sam.,’’

Later that night  

Laying here in this strange bed in a whole other world completely alone.... alone, the one thing I fear was to be alone. I got up and headed for the library at least it has a good book maybe they will have a new series I can love. Stepping into the library I found Sam researching through a bunch of lore.

‘’Is he real?’’

Sam pointed at a comic with a man named Spiderman.

‘’maybe but not in my world or at least hasn’t made himself known.’’

He nodded to the chair next to him. Sliding into it he handed me a piece of candy.

‘’can't sleep?’’

‘’no im on earth 1 time’’

‘Earth 1?’

‘Well since I knew that one first that’s earth 1 , Supergirl is from earth 3 and I making this earth 4.’’

‘’thanks?’’

‘’So What do you like to do for fun here?’’

‘'Don’t really have time , the hunt never stops , I've actually been to hell , met lucifer and god oh and I Lost my soul and met Gods sister and died a thousand times , so has Dean and Cas.’

I could see the pain welling in his eyes, he was tired.

‘’Sounds likes my brother hehe Hes been through it for 5 years I thought he was dead and then poof he wasn’t, but he wasn’t ollie. He had scars and tattoo, spoke Russian and was very odd. He ended up letting his anger go and now we are happy again even for a moment, But your right lives like ours it only ends in death.’’

Sam laughed as he handed me a beer from the mini frige.

‘’Thats why we gotta go down swinging.’’

‘’Cheers to that.’

Tinking the beers together we continued to exchanged stories and advice. Sam made me feel safe like my life wasn't guns and masks and his wasn’t demons and vampires.

‘’Hi sam , Whose this.... she isnt from here.’’

I screamed as a young man with blonde air appeared out of nowhere.

‘’ y/ n this is jack.....lucifer's son.’’

‘’HOLY SHIT....i mean hi, im sorry im not used to people appearing like that unless they plan to kill me.’’

‘’I think its my fault you’re here.’'

‘’Jack what do you mean its your fault?’’

Before he answered he was gone.

‘’he does this when he is upset and feels guilty, he runs.’’

‘’poor guy.’’

‘Well he is only 5 months old.’’

‘’yeah well …..wait what?’’

‘’he aged in order to survive.’’

‘’oh...so are you completely human?’’

‘’yeah I mgiht be missing a bit of my soul here and there.’’

Sam smiled at his own remark, we headed into the library to research anything on other worlds. 3 hours and 5 cups of coffee each later neither Sam or I found anything besides that I may be stuck here forever. Sam already promised I have a home with them here and I will never be alone as long as hes around. I couldn’t help but notice how warm and safe I feel around him.  

I woke up to the feeling of someone breathing, as I opened my eyes I  found myself on sams chest cluctching a book on demi gods while sam had one arm wrapped around me and they other on a book on greek gods. We must of fallen asleep on the couch studying , he looks so happy when hes asleep like he isnt living a hard life everyday. Before I could take in anymore of the moment dean came busting into the room causing sam to jump shoving me to the floor.

‘Jacks back’

We all ran to the den where jack sat on the couch clutching his head in his hands. I walked over placing my hand on his shoulder.

‘are you okay?’’

‘im sorry’’

‘’for what....bringing me here. Ive been through worse trust me.’

He looked at me with his bloodshot eyes and buried his head into my chest hugging me tightly. He was still sobbing but at least now he knew I didn’t blame him.

‘so nothing from jack yet?’’

It has been almost 3 weeks since I arrived here , Cas has been working with jack to see if maybe he can re open the rip to send me home. I offered to ask barry and iris to help jack understand himself better, run some test and see what he can and cant handle. Then there's sam , we have gotten really close since I arrived late night studying and him teaching me how to put up warding's and devils traps. I even promised him id get the anti-possession tattoo once im home. Sitting in the den reading the local paper scanning for any sign of supernatural creatures.

‘hey y’n’’

Sam came into the room handing me a cup of coffee and sitting next to me , smiling at me god I love it when he smiles. Snapping out of my  trance I had to nod and try to catch up.

‘so jack thinks if we can find a dream walker we can send you home.’

‘’where do we find one of these dream walkers’’

‘’well that’s the thing we only knew one and shes dead but jack thinks he has a lead on another in ohio, him and dean went to check it out . Cas heard of one in California so he went out that way , that just leaves us.’’

Falling into the chair in the library I picked up a comic with the title green arrow looking at the way they drew my brother.

‘’ollie doesn’t have a beard ‘’

Sam chuckled.

‘’what?’’

‘’just how you call him ollie makes him seem like he isnt in a comic book in our world.’’

‘’this should be so odd to you I mean look what I found.’’

I held up a anime comic named supernatural starring sam and dean.

‘'that was written by god , not by a geek in a basement.’’

‘’ so whats sam / dean?’’

‘’how did you hear about that?’’

‘’im a vigilante , if I want info I get it.’’

‘’its nothing , its gross.’’

‘’so am I in one of these books or do I not matter?’’

‘’they stopped being made after dean went to hell , cas is isnt in them either..... but you matter to me ‘

Looking up sam was starring at me with a small smirk on his lips. Shaking his head I could see him searching the room in a painc.

‘’you said something about food and a movie?’

‘uhh yea set up in the tv room I got burgers and venom’’

About halfway into the movie sam got up to leave the room, wondering what was up I decide to follow him into the kitchen , sam was pacing the room on the phone.

‘’what do you mean she was a phony? , y/n is going to be heart broken.’’

‘’yeah I know dean but I do care for her ...of course id love to be with her........dean she has a family and a life....we weren't ever supposed to meet.’’

He hung up his phone turning towards me.

‘’y/n......uhm’’

Without thought I moved forward crashing my lps into his pulling him closer by is plaid collar , his fands found my hips lifting me onto my tip toes pulling me into him. Taking a step back I looked up at him feeling the blood rush to my face when dean came rushing in.

‘hey robin hood we might need your help.’’

Climbing into the impala we drove to a empty house where three bodies laid on the porch and woman with short hair came forward extending her hand.

‘’names Jody , dean here tells me your one of us.’’

Nodding I looked at dean.

‘why do you need me here?’’

‘’because this guy here says hes from star city’’

Stepping into the door, a man with his hands and feet tied laid on the floor with a bag on his head, reaching out i lifted the bag to revel cold dead eyes and a buzz cut along with the smile of the devil and his body covered in tattoos.

‘’d-d—d—d-d- dia'’

‘’hello y/n , Miss me baby doll ?’’

[vmheadquarters]

Happy Birthday @anilcadz91!

You wanted a happier ending (and a happy ending ;) to the scene above and, since the librarians think you should get what you want on your special day, our very own @cheshirecatstrut has made your wish come true. We hope you have a very happy birthday!

When Logan emerges from the Anthropology building holding Dick in a laughing headlock, only to lose his smile upon spotting Veronica? She knows right away something’s wrong. Even at his most sophomore-year-hateful he flirted and posed, mirth, lust and anger twining in his dark, compelling eyes.

She plays the odd moment off with panache, if she does say so herself, joining forces with him to mock Dick; but his disinterest in banter makes her stomach squirm. Logan’s fascination with V has always been so consuming, she’s never once considered it might wane.

But she’s Veronica Mars and she doesn’t back down—so after Dick gets a clue and wanders off to harass Lilith House, she takes the bull by the horns. “You weren’t outside my criminology class,” she accuses, going for playful. Tugs him closer by his overlarge button-down. “I waited.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, lackluster, and turns his face away.

The sick feeling in her stomach becomes an uncomfortable knot…he’s not playing along with her attempt to charm. “Is something wrong?” she asks, because how can she not?

He transfers his focus to his shoe. Studies it intently for a moment before glancing up from under his brow to meet her eye. “I can’t…” he begins, hesitant, in a defeated tone; then stops, exasperated, when her phone rings.

Holding up a ‘wait one second’ finger, V frowns at the display, thankful for a reprieve. “It’s my dad,” she says, trying to make ‘relieved’ sound ‘apologetic’. “Hang on to that thought for just one sec.”

Logan spins in an exasperated circle but nods, and she turns her back, moves a few steps away. “What’s up?” she chirps into the receiver, sounding way more chipper than she feels.

“Veronica, are you anywhere near Dean O’Dell’s office?” Dad’s clearly harassed, and also hard to hear over the traffic noise in the background.

“I could be,” she says. “Are you standing on the side of the highway?”

Dad sighs. “More or less. Look, he’s not answering my calls. Can you swing by and ask if he’ll meet at two instead of noon? Some fan of our work slashed my tires while I was running down a clue, and I need to get a tow and have them replaced.”

“Nobody appreciates genius anymore.” She checks her watch. “I’ll do it now, and then send you this mysterious type of confirmation message called a “text’.”

Dad fake-laughs and hangs up, and Veronica spins to find Logan watching impatiently, hands on hips. “Sorry, can’t talk after all, emergency,” she says, running the words together and holding up the phone in explanation. Walks quickly backwards, because she does NOT want to hear whatever he plans to say. “Dinner later? Student union, burgers, you, me, seven PM?”

“Veronica…” he begins, running agitated hands through his hair, but she just cuts him off with an, “Excellent! I’ll pencil you in!” and scurries away, heart pounding.

At least he doesn’t try to stop her, which is great, she decides. Because whatever was about to happen seemed big, yet she’s got no idea what his DEAL is. The last time they had anything like a fight, she told him she loved him and promised they were OK. What more does he WANT? Does he think those kind of words come easy to her? Surely he gets her instinctive need to flee any interaction that resembles ‘fraught’?

Logan should be cosseting her fears, after last week’s massive display of vulnerability. Not sulking like she stuffed his childhood teddy bear in the blender and hit ‘puree’.

Normally, Veronica can admit, she takes Logan’s loyalty for granted, no matter how insecure about her sex appeal she sometimes feels. She’s always assumed as long as her fidelity matches his, she’s the one who’d have to walk away. The idea that there IS a line, and she’s got no idea how she crossed it…well, she’s supposed to meet Wallace and Mac for lunch. And she’s clueless at the moment as to how she’ll choke down food.

She hikes across campus and finds the Dean at his desk, fiddling with a lukewarm pizza like he has no appetite either. Maybe dissatisfaction’s in the air today, like a virus. She passes Dad’s message, and he just says, “Sure, why not? It’s not like I have any social life or plans.”

This is clearly an invitation to probe further, but Veronica’s got her own problems. So she just says, “Thanks, I’ll let him know!” and heads over to the food court, where she greets her friends with decently-faked good cheer. But she’s so fidgety and indecisive in line, even Mac notices. “Veronica,” she says, after womaning up and ordering the fettucine. ‘Either you’ve got a bee in your shoe, or you’re upset and trying to hide it. What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, curse you and your new intimidating social skills.” Veronica tries a playful foot stomp, then abandons pretense with a sigh. “I’m fine, really. It’s just that Logan’s brooding is off the charts today, and I have no idea why.”

Mac looks at Wallace, brows raised. “But…isn’t Logan always brooding? I thought that was his trademark.”

“Nah, this is different.” Wallace, accepts a double helping of pudding and licks a spill off his thumb. “He was doing the thing in sociology yesterday where he hides his hands in his sleeves, and twirls a pencil instead of listening. He only acted like that in high school when he was planning to ditch for a month or get arrested.”

Veronica and Mac both stare, because how perceptive, and Wallace rolls his eyes. “What? I notice things. I’m told that’s a GOOD quality in a guy whose best friends are girls.”

Veronica opens her mouth to probe further, but at this inopportune moment Piz appears, bubbling over with oblivious excitement. “Hey gang, what’s the word? Is it avuncular?”

“No?” he continues, cutting across Mac’s attempt to reply with a chortle at his own joke. “Just a shot in the dark. Hey, set your dials to KRUFF tonight. I mean, we’re already moving on as to what to do with the whole Greek Row ghost town next summer. I’ve got this one guy coming on the show—wants to turn it into an ROTC training—“

“Jesus Piz, do you EVER stop talking?” Veronica snaps, temper combusting. “Seriously, how do you manage to interview people when you can’t shut up long enough to listen to answers?”

Tossing her tray down she storms away, ignoring the concerned stares that follow her. And okay, maybe she overreacted a tad—Piz is harmless, just super-nerdily enthusiastic about radio and his own opinions. But she’s been unenthused for a while, frankly, about having to share Wallace with Chatty Cathy. Especially at moments like this, when Wallace has data about CRITICAL ISSUES, but she can’t get a word in edgewise.

She’s almost out of the food court when she passes Dick, engrossed in ominously-excited conversation with Charleston Chu; the phrases ‘big-ass tires’, ‘drive right onto the quad’ and ‘group moon’ are mentioned, all of which inspire terror. So she has no qualms about interrupting with, “Dick, I’ll give you a cookie if you quit plotting to get expelled for five minutes, and answer some questions. And by cookie, I mean I won’t turn you in to the Dean.”

Dick heaves an over-exaggerated sigh but gestures to a table, shooing Charleston away. “This isn’t you hitting on me, right? Because Logan may have finally located his balls and taken away your whip, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be the next gimp in line.”

“Dick,” she says, sitting, and watches him follow suit, “and I mean this sincerely. The idea of smacking you down deeply appeals, but NEVER in that context.”

“So what do you want, then?” He takes a long swallow from the tall-boy he’s holding, in defiance of the Union’s no-booze rule. “Connor Larkin’s phone number?”

I already HAVE a boyfriend, Veronica would like to say, and I’ve got no interest in another. But clearly Dick thinks she DOESN’T have Logan, which means he believes a dumping was planned. Ergo, the squirmy feeling in her gut’s on point, as usual, and now she needs to turn Dick upside down and shake him for DETAILS. “I just need to know why Logan’s mad,” she says. “That’s all. Just what exactly, WAS the final straw? Because we’ve been getting along fine, as far as I know, and I don’t understand his issue.”

“Here’s a hint: you’re psycho.” Dick shrugs. “It’s not like we paint each others’ nails and gossip in our free time, Ron-Rons. All I remember is, he rushed home from dinner a week ago and sat staring at his phone for half an hour. And ever since, when your name comes up he changes the subject. Which, no offense, but I’ve been praying for this day since you two started dating. So excuse me while I celebrate with a twelve-pack, then show those angry feminists how the Pi Sigs get things DONE.”

Veronica scowls as he leaves and pulls out her cell, a suspicion beginning to coalesce. Pages through her call list and determines that yes, the last time Logan reached out was six days ago, at dinner time. Which is about five-and-a-half days longer than he usually goes without calling. But she failed to notice, what with the rape case, and three tests this week, and the coffee-stained stacks of unfiled cases that spilled all over Dad’s office…

Casting her mind back, she counts. Six days ago, she went to the Lilith House and confronted Nish, then learned about Patrice Pitrelli. She remembers being upset for hours, after, because those women cast HER as the villain, when THEY were faking rapes to sabotage a frat (not to mention assaulting frat members). She remembers buying comfort food, because nothing helps a girl shake off gender-traitor accusations better than pasta. And she remembers eating at a table by herself, because she just didn’t have it in her to deal with humanity. She got several calls that night, while wolfing down spaghetti and…

Sent them straight to voice mail.

Her jaw clenches then, because she knows what happened, and it’s just so LOGAN. Of course he’d call her from the food court while he was also in the food court, and say, “Want to see a magic trick? Bet I can guess where you are.” And of COURSE if he watched her hit ignore, his pride would be hurt. He might even assume she didn’t love him, because Logan Echolls, under all the snark and smarm, is a surprisingly delicate flower.

Jesus, he needs to get a grip. But as she pages through the list of ‘recents’ she has to admit…she’s been ignoring his calls a LOT.

Shit. Veronica lets her head fall back, stares at the sandwich somehow glued with old mayonnaise to the industrial-tile ceiling. The only thing she hates more than admitting she’s wrong is apologizing. But if she wants to keep her boyfriend, which she has to confess she does, even if said boyfriend is a DUMBASS…is there a way she could convince him, maybe, without having to do both?

XXXXX

When Veronica makes it back to the food court that night, Logan’s waiting at their ‘special’ table (which she knows, even though he’s never said so, is his do-over for banning her from his high school lunch group). He’s already purchased burgers and bottled sodas, plus the extra serving of fries she likes, and even managed to locate a bottle of ketchup. But instead of eating, he’s twiddling his straw with barely-contained angst, and Full Emo staring at the wall. She’s come up with a plan in the nick of time.

Plunking her bag down by a chair, she says cheerily, “Wow, if THIS doesn’t hit the spot after a hard day at the office!” and sits.

He half-smiles, trying not to succumb to her charm. “I figured you’d be hungry.” Looks sideways, takes a deep breath, then leans earnestly towards her. “But listen, before we eat. Veronica…”

She holds up a hand. “Logan, I know there’s something you want to tell me. And you can, I promise. But first, I have something I need to tell you.”

He nods, slumping back, and she says, “I recognize things have been difficult between us lately—for me, because this rape case is stressful, and…not bringing back the best memories. I’m guessing you feel the same. And even though we talked about you reforming and me acting unnaturally, which I swear, I’m trying to do? Angst makes my patience with people…more limited. I’m pretty sure, in light of the fight we had last week, I’m not holding up my end of the bargain. So I’ve decided to take steps.”

Folding his arms across his chest, he lifts his brows, uncharacteristically non-verbal. She forges ahead, though, because this feels like her last, best chance. “One of the ways you’ve been more open this semester is by giving me your room key. And I loved that gesture, but I can’t reciprocate, because you know my dad would blow a gasket if I gave you a key to our apartment. So I thought about what I might do instead that would be in the same spirit and…I need you to call me.”

“Call you?” His brows inch higher. “From across the table?”

“Yes,” she says. “Pull out your phone and call me right now. It’ll make sense in a minute, I promise.”

He sighs elaborately but does as she asks, thumbing open his phone and reluctantly pressing what she knows for a fact is speed dial number one. Removing her own cell from her pocket, she displays it with a Vanna White wave. Sets it on the table as the introductory trumpets of ‘Ain’t No Other Man’ by Xtina begin to play. Logan barks out a laugh, like he can’t help himself, and she makes a production of pretend shock before picking it up. Adopting a sultry expression, she coos, “Hello?”

Fighting a slow-growing smile, he says, “Who is this? Because I thought I was calling Veronica ‘all work, no play and DEFINITELY no cramping my style’ Mars.”

“She’s not here right now.” Veronica crosses her legs, doing her best hardboiled sexpot. “The only Veronica at THIS number is the one who gave her boyfriend a special ringtone. So even when she’s had it up to HERE with humanity, and would rather cut off her ears than make conversation, she’ll know it’s too important a call to miss.”

His gaze softens as understanding dawns. He unfolds one arm from his self-protective stance to pick up the straw, and taps it, musing, on the tabletop. “You mean there are two of you at large on the Hearst campus? Jesus, Dick will never sleep again.”

She snorts her contempt and indifference, breaking character, and his smile fractionally widens. So she forges determinedly ahead. “Since it’s you, I have a few minutes to talk, before I bolt my dinner and pull an all-nighter for a midterm. So why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind? Let me relieve you of all your troubles and cares. I promise not to lecture or judge, much.”

“Well that’s new. Hmmm…I guess I just want to say…” he pauses, the asshole, to consider—not even potentially-relationship-ending-conflict can dent Logan Echolls’ instinct towards drama. V clenches her jaw so hard it hurts, but manages to hold the smiling pose. “That this fake voice is doing it for me in ways I’ve never previously considered possible. And my ringtone’s pretty bangin’…although those trumpets will startle the shit out of anyone within a ten-foot radius.”

“Maybe I should have chosen ‘Hips Don’t Lie’?” she murmurs, as relief floods through her. His smile breaks through finally, FINALLY, like the sun emerging from a cloud.

“For us, that seems appropriate,” he says, and hangs up his phone. She slides hers shut too, and they stare at each other across the table.

She thinks he’ll want to discuss this almost-miss they just had, because Logan never shirks the tough subjects. But, “So where are you planning to study?” is all he asks, picking up his burger and sinking in teeth. Like he suddenly has his appetite back. Like all the tension and distance she’s fretted about today just vanished into the mist. “Because Dick’s been up to no good, planning something doubtless-embarrassing with the Pi Sigs, so my place is quiet. And, you know, you have a key.”

“As a matter of fact, I DO.” She unwraps her own burger, the knot in her stomach finally unraveling. “But I have to warn you—cramming for tests kicks my stress level up to eleven. Any idea how I might relax, once I’m done, so I can walk into that exam room tomorrow with a clear head?”

“I’ll give it some thought.” He pauses to sip his Coke. “Considering how stressed you GET, though, my plan will need to be exhaustive. So we should start as soon as you have time.”

She grins, chewing, as his feet surround hers under the table. Reflects that Dick will have to wait in vain for his months-long wish to come true. And Piz can find another sucker to listen to his ninety-percent-Piz radio show. Because she’ll be…otherwise occupied.

As for Wallace, he deserves a batch of snickerdoodles, soon-ish; his gossipy ways just saved her ass, and should be encouraged with sugar. But right now, Veronica decides, she needs to concentrate on the care and maintenance of what’s hers. So she twines her fingers through Logan’s while he talks, and debates which stress-relieving techniques to employ.

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Round 2

(Story Post; No Art at End)

“Hey! Welcome back!” Rheni said as Camilo came through the door. “You hungry?” Rheni was in the living room on his computer. Over the past four years he’d been studying programming and found that he actually had a knack for it. About a year and a half after starting, he picked up a job online programming for a small game company based in town. With the second income, he and Camilo were able to move out to a two bedroom apartment. Camilo had finished his undergrad and started graduate school. For his work excellence and high GPA, the EID subsidised his tuition so long as he remained in the astronomy major so he was shooting for a PhD. It felt like everything was on the right track now. And yet Camilo was in no proper mood when he got home that day. Pickle ran to the door to see him but he didn’t really have the energy to engage her. “I’m not hungry…”

“That’s too bad cause I ordered Greek for you,” Rheni said pointing to the food on the kitchen counter. “Guess you can have it later? Or for lunch?” “Oh… Yeah, thanks Rheni,” Camilo said. He trudged into the kitchen and looked into the bag. “My favourite. I’ll save it.” Rheni looked away from his laptop to look at Camilo and frowned. “What’s up, babe? You don’t look too good.” “Rheni, it’s alright…” Camilo went over to him and put a hand on his head. “What are you up to.” “Work,” Rheni said as Pickle ran over and hhoppedup on the couch beside him. “Editing game code.” “Sounds fun,” Camilo said, although sarcastically. “Actually, it’s pretty fun,” Rheni said. “It’s like I get to see what the game looks like but in written form sort of.” “Uh huh…” Camilo sat down beside him and pulled his dog into his lap. He started petting her and she wagged her tail, nuzzling up against his neck. “…I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant again.” Rheni let go of his mouse and turned to Camilo. “You’re not serious.” “I am,” Camilo said. “I haven’t been feeling well, and I bought a pregnancy test after work and it was positive…” He dropped his head into his hands. “Oh god, Rheni, I don’t want to go through that again…” “Have you seen Syd about it yet?” Rheni said wrapping an arm around his partner. “They’d help.” “I told you, Syd’s in Europe,” Camilo said. “They left a couple days ago.” “Right… Well I’m sure there’s a replacement.” “Rheni, I don’t like seeing all different doctors…” “Well, what other options are there?” “We could just wait til it happens.” “You need to be checked out. It we find out early on, it might be possible to change the result.” “Change the result?” Camilo asked. “You were there. Syd said we’re not genetically compatible as parents. We can’t have kids. It’s just going to end like before. We’ll just be prepared this time.” “But what if this time is different?” Rheni asked. “What if it survives?” “Rheni, it can’t,” Camilo said. “And even if it could…” He frowned. “I don’t even want to think about that.” Rheni frowned. “Think about what? Us having a child?” “Well, yeah.” Camilo rubbed his stomach. “We can’t have kids, you and me. It’s too much.” “…Is it?” Rheni asked. Camilo frowned. “We can’t have kids. We’re both studying and working. You can’t even leave the apartment. I don’t want to be pregnant ever. Do you even know how much dysphoria I was dealing with during that miscarriage?” “Well… Okay, I get that you don’t want to be pregnant,” Rheni said. “But maybe after this, however it turns out, maybe we can adopt or something?” “Rheni, I don’t even know if we can think about that kind of thing right now,” Camilo said. “Not as we are. We already have a goal. That’s getting you into society. Maybe even getting your body back. The EID is working hard alongside our allies to look for the people that did this to you. We should be thinking about that, not children.” “…I just don’t see why we can’t think about both,” Rheni said returning to his programming. “But that’s fine… I guess I’m just getting ahead of myself.” Camilo sighed and kissed Rheni’s cheek. “…I’m not outright saying no to kids. But…If we looked at it like we were a typical couple…like two honeymooners or something…I still feel like we’re not in a stable place to raise a child. I know I’m not. I’m young and I feel really overworked these days between school and work. And if I pursue my PhD, that feeling probably won’t go away for a very long time. And you, you also have work and classes. We just don’t have that kind of time.” “Well, I… I don’t really have that much work,” Rheni said. “The programming classes could end whenever I want. I’m not bound to a curriculum… And the work is really flexible. I’ve just been doing a lot of it, because I don’t really have anything else to do. And it helped us get this apartment.” “I hear you but if I may be selfish, I can’t and don’t want to have a kid right now,” Camilo said. “As I said, it’s too much.” “Okay. I understand,” Rheni said. “Either way, I want you to see a doctor at the EID. Do you know who’s replaced Syd?” Camilo shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard Fay talk about him. He thinks the guy’s crazy.” “Crazy in a personal way or crazy in being a doctor?” Rheni asked. “What?” “Well, like you can be crazy on your own time as long as it isn’t hurting anyone, but like if he has crazy medical practice, then I don’t want him anywhere near you.” “Oh… I think it was personal crazy…” Camilo said. “Fay was going on about ghost hunting or something.” “Ooh, a ghost hunting doctor!” Rheni started wiggling in his seat. “Can he make a house call? I want to meet him!” “You’ll meet him at your next physical,” Camilo said. “I should go on my own.” Rheni pouted. “I want to meet a ghost hunter… And my next physical isn’t for another month. Syd could be back by then.” “I don’t know what to tell you,” Camilo said. “I’m gonna go by myself.” “Okay, fine…” Rheni sighed. “Maybe if I fake an injury, they’ll have to visit.” “You can’t get injured,” Camilo said. “I can too!” Rheni said. “I can get burned or evaporated or my nucleus could get separated from my body.” “Those all have simple solutions though,” Camilo said. “Add water and put your nucleus back in.” “Well… my nucleus could get damaged,” Rheni said. “Do you know what to do if that happens?” “Um, no…” “Well me neither so we’d have to call a doctor,” Rheni said. “You’re not going to fake an injury,” Camilo said. “Just wait until your physical.” “Can’t you at least tell him I want to meet him?” Rheni asked stroking the back of Camilo’s neck. “I want to know if the bathroom ghost is real.” “There’s no ghost in the bathroom!” Camilo said. “The vent is under the toilet paper. That’s why it floats.” “There’s a presence. I can feel it.” “What do you even do in the bathroom, anyway?” “Practice faces.” “You’re so immature.” “Hey I’m getting a lot better at colours,” Rheni said holding out a hand and giving it a slightly skin like peachy colour. “If I can get the shape just right, I might pass.” “As human?” Camilo asked. “Yeah. Like if I can get the shapes and colours right… Hair is the hardest. It’s so wiry… I can’t get the texture right.” “Babe… I’m gonna go lie down,” Camilo said setting Pickle down on the floor. “Not trying to ignore you… I’m just not feeling well.” “Aw, do you want me to come give you snuggles?” “Naw, you finish your work. I might be up later.” “Okay. Rest up. Take Pickle with you at least for snuggles.” Camilo gave him a kiss on the cheek then went to bed, their peppy pup bounding after him to give all the snuggles she could.

Rheni: We’re gonna get through this, you know?

Cam: Yeah…

[itskateak]

LET’S TALK ABOUT MY HISTORY TEACHER

(Who is currently on administrative leave and is awaiting trial with the school district)

(TW: Abuse, animal abuse, police brutality, racism, implied (but wrongly) terrorism, politics, anxiety, panic attack mention, violence, religious entitlement. Please let me know if there are more.)

He is....so many things. Rude, self-entitled, racist, and disrespectful, to name a few. So, here’s the things he’s done.

• Banned Metal water bottles because someone accidentally made a noise with one, once. It wasn’t even that loud, nor long. Just a slight clink as they put the lid on.

• Told a story about a storm in Mecca (2015) that knocked over a crane onto a Mosque and it killed 107 people. Injured 238. This happened to occur on 9/11. He told us the story the day after 9/11 this year (2018) and ended it with “Weird, right?” and a sly smile.

• Told us multiple times to write in the textbooks, which is basically vandalism. Previous markings in the book show it isn’t the first time he’s asked this of students. I always refused.

• “Freedom of press, right? Except the press are in the pockets of the democrats.” A direct quote from him (I had begun writing down these types of things as they happened to give to the principal. This stuff happened daily).

• He once planned to show us a video of the Chinese police beating a man in the streets, despite all of us protesting verbally and profusely. He forgot, and didn’t show it, but to think he would’ve.

• He showed us a video of monkies domesticating puppies, which inevitably included animal abuse. Although it is just nature doing its thing and it isn’t a human abusing an animal, he should’ve given a warning so that us animal lovers could step out of the room. I felt sick afterwards.

• I was afraid of asking to leave class while having a panic attack because I thought he would tell me to sit down and not let me go. I had planned to just walk out - the counselor told me I could do that - but he did let me go without asking any questions.

• We watched a video about online privacy and how google created a separate search engine for the Chinese government. He slandered the company and said that they’re awful and guilty for supporting a dictatorship like that. While it isn’t a good thing to do what they did, yes, I don’t think he should’ve thrown his political views in like that.

• In that same topic, he mentioned one of the creators of the video was a Democrat who voted for Hillary. I found this comment odd, and called him out on it and asked what that had to do anything. His response ran something like this: “Well, it’s usually something liberals are concerned about and I think all parties and everyone should be concerned about.” That didn’t answer my question, nor did it come close to explaining why that guy’s political part and who he voted for had any reason to be included in the discussion.

• I doodle in class sometimes to help stay focused. I always have, and it’s always a good tactic. Especially when watching videos or listening to lectures. I draw circles, boxes, swirls, etc. Just mindless things. Well, one day, I’m drawing on a paper that happens to have a larger drawing on it. It’s in a different pen color than what I’m currently using, so it’s obvious I’m not drawing that. I have my notes page right next to me, and I’ve taken three or four notes already. He tells me to stop doodling at least three times - other kids are sleeping, or not doing anything - and every time I try to explain, he walks away. I approached him after class and explained, and he told me that I got a good grade on my last test, so he can’t exactly tell me I can’t draw in his class, but it better not affect my grade. I said it helps me to focus better. He responds along the lines of: “I mean, if you believe that lie about how your brain works, then I can’t stop you. But that’s not true.” I responded : “I think I know how my brain works, since I’ve been doing this since third grade and it hasn’t negatively impacted me yet.” And then I walked out of the classroom.

• He dictated how we did notes. No full sentences, only use the word “the” when absolutely necessary, no more than half a page, etc. It was ridiculous. I gave one sentence summaries of the two paragraphs in each eight sections. That was eight sentences. He told me it was too long, and that I shouldn’t be writing full sentences. I told him my brain doesn’t work that way, and it won’t help me if it isn’t in a full sentence. We argued, and I walked out of the classroom to go to my next class. We also turned in our notes each class, and didn’t get them back until after the relevant test.

• He once limited everyone to three bullet points per reading section (usually two or three pages). Everyone blamed me since he pointedly looked at me when saying “some people write full sentences and a full page.” To say I was popular in that class is a very wrong statement. Every time he would mention anything wrong that we’ve done with notes, everyone would turn to me. Thanks.

• I once wrote half of my notes on the Japanese in Japanese, and I got extra credit. I did it out of spite, but hey. Worth it. I also wrote incredibly long and complicated headers to spite him.

• We re-enacted the Trial Of Socrates, and as the attorneys, we spent time in the library researching. We had to write opening and closing statements, and a script for our witnesses to follow with our questions and their answers. At the trial, they were not allowed to have the script with them. Somehow we won, as prosecution, but it was still difficult since the witnesses had not done any of the studying of their roles at all, even though we insisted they should. So not only did we have to research the entire case itself, write an opening and closing statement, we had to research our three witness and write scripts they couldn’t use AND research the opposing team’s four witnesses (one being Socrates) and write counter arguments and cross examination questions. In a week.

• A kid once came in really late to class. He came in quietly, apologized for interrupting, and gave our teacher his pass. He went to sat down, and the teacher told him what page we were on. While pulling the textbook out from the metal cradle under the desk, it snagged and made a ringing noise. The kid, realizing quickly what it was, silenced it and apologized again. Our teacher kicked him out of class for “interrupting”, not allowing him to take the textbook. He missed the entire class.

• He has a quote on the board one day and we had to explain if we agreed or disagreed with it. (“I would rather entrust our government to the first 400 people in the Boston telephone directory than the entire faculty at Harvard.”) I disagreed, naturally, and one of my friends explained most of my points. When asked to tell my side, I did say that she had said my main reasons. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but he looked me dead in the eye, and in front of everyone in the room asked: “So, you don’t care that they’re a bunch of liberal, champagne drinking jerks?” I was shocked, to be very honest. I kept my expression and voice even, and never broke eye contact. I responded: “If they do their job right, then no. I do not care, as long as they do their job and do it well.”

• Has spoken in ways that put his religion and beliefs above others. Comments like “When God made the world” and such were sometimes thrown in.

• Mispronounced multiple Greek Gods’ and Goddesses’ names. Such as Nike (uh-knee-kay), and Zeus (Zay-oos). I corrected him each time and each time he glared at me.

• He once tried to inform us that the reason Indian music sounded so strange was because they used the half-step intervals that we don’t have. I literally laughed so hard he paused the video and asked me why I was laughing. I had to explain chromatics to him. “We have them, we just don’t use them as abundantly or frequently in every song. It’s normal in Indian music to hear that.” He was still skeptical, even after I told him I’ve studied music theory in passing and have been in music classes for five years, and can read two clefs and can play two instruments.

• And now the finale, which got him suspended. This was not in my class, but this is what we were told happened. He held up a picture of a monkey and pointed to the only black kid in the class (we have very few in the school anyways) and said,”Look! It’s your ancestor!”

He will not be back to finish out this semester, and it doesn’t look good for him to come back next semester, if at all. I wrote all of these down with dates and my dad went to the principal with the list. If he does return next semester, it has been made abundantly clear that I am not to be in his class.

[clenastia]

Discord Prompt #3! Write an all-dialogue story, but with only one character speaking! The other character’s questions should be inferred from your character’s answers!

...this fuckin sucked.

Did not like.

There was also a random generator to decide our character’s race/sexuality/etc and I got Israeli/lesbian and I’m like. Thanks. Thanks a lot. Everything I know about Israel I know from bible study as a child, so it’s like, 2000 years out of date and functionally useless.

And I really did NOT want to spend ages googling for this prompt to try and learn the quick and dirty of a whole different culture.

So I just-

Tried to dodge most of the questions lol.

Apparently we’ll be using these characters in next week’s prompt too, so THAT’LL be fun. Hopefully I’ll be more in the mood to actually look up stuff by then.

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that - my parents may have followed their God, but I don’t really care. But I don’t like meat anyway- yes, a salad will do.”

…

“Right, I suppose we have to get started then? I’m Beyle De Vitis, but please, call me Berry-

“What? Oh, that. Well my father, may he rest in peace, had to move to England for work, and then ended up having to stay longer than expected, so we moved out with him for a couple years - the other kids kept mispronouncing my name, and eventually it just stuck. I really don’t mind though, I’ve always found it rather cute.”

“Anyway, where were we? I think I was introducing myself: I was born in April of 1996, in Israel. I- yeah, I think that’s Taurus, but I’ve never been much for those astrology things - yeah, the 21st.”

*sigh*

“Right. My family was pretty well-off, I think. My dad wasn’t home much when I was younger, his job only settled down later on, sometimes we’d travel with him, though most of the time we couldn’t. Mom didn’t work, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t busy! School and all, you know. And she loved to volunteer, so there were always places to be…

“I guess that’s how I fell in love with languages though. Especially when I was really little, when we went with my dad and I heard all those people speaking so many different languages, I just wanted to know them all. And I’ve finally got my degree!”

“No, I don’t really- it’s- I do freelance work, mostly. Just not good at sticking to any one job, y’know? I get too antsy, always want to move on to new things.”

“My family? I visit occasionally. My younger brothers still live at home- yeah, the twins. I think they don’t want to leave Mom alone, especially now that Dad’s gone, but I just couldn’t stay, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess you do. Heh, who’d have thought. Nah, I don’t have anyone in my life. Not too good at, how should I put it, going steady? My last girlfriend broke up with me after- I wouldn’t call it cheating, really, it’s not like I had sex with Myra, but I guess it’s true I wanted to. I’ve given up on the whole relationship thing. I guess it sounds bad, but I just get bored with people, you know?”

“Heh. Guess not.”

“Why are- are you reading a sheet? Why are you asking about my appearance, you’re literally looking at me. Should I become some dramatic heroine in a story, ranting about how plain I am while every reader in the world face-palms at my self-deprecating behaviour?

“Yeah I thought so.”

“The scar? Oh, it doesn’t really have any dramatic story. I got into my dad’s fishing supplies once, and tried to use it unsupervised - got the fishhook caught right in my eyebrow, honestly I’m lucky it didn’t go through my eye. I panicked and ripped it out, so the damage was pretty bad and it left a mark. Hurt like a bitch too, I couldn’t even look at a fishing pole without freaking out over it for years.”

“Stuff I like to do? Learn languages, obviously! I speak six fluently, and a few more casually. No, I never got my IQ tested. I don’t really need to? I just like learning languages, and lucky for me there’s all sorts of jobs for that! I’m thinking of brushing up my Hindu next, maybe Greek after that.

“Well I already speak English, I don’t really need any other European languages. You can get through pretty much all of Europe with a bit of English, and I know passing phrases if I need one. After Greek I think I want to learn a couple Chinese dialects. China’s very big, and it’d be a blast to just spend a year or two in the country, learning all the different language variations and exploring, don’t you think?”

“Well, I guess I just think it’s fascinating, dialects. The way a single language can change into so many different forms - I know Europe’s a bit like that, with Latin, and all, though it’s a bit more drastic over there. I’m sure one day I’ll learn all those languages too - it may be a bit unrealistic, learning every single language, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try! My child’s self would never forgive me otherwise.”

“Politics? Well- I don’t really like discussing it. As a translator, my job is to try and understand, right? You can’t just translate words, you have to sometimes translate cultures, make sure the people you’re translating for understand where others are coming from- it makes it kind of hard, expressing your own political views. I always have to try and look at it from a cultural perspective and- ugh. I don’t really know what I’m saying here. But I guess I can try to answer the easy stuff.”

“Well- I mean, I don’t like people dying? I guess that’s an obvious thing to say, but I mean- stuff like the death penalty, stuff like that. Ugh. You know what, let’s just change the subject.”

“What do you mean you’re out of questions? You seriously were going down a list! Come on, can’t you do a bit better?”

“Look, if your entire list revolves around someone describing themselves and their political views, you have to admit, it’s a pretty bad list. No one wants to feel like an idiot going on about their appearance, or kicking up arguments with their politics - well. I mean, I guess some people do, but I’m certainly not one of them.”

“Ah. Was that a bit rude? Sorry. I mean, it’s still a bad list but I’m sure you did your best. Oh- ugh. Here, I’ll- y’know, just to cheer you up. Don’t look so despondent.”

“My favorite color’s blue. But like, dark blue- I know these questions aren’t on your list, but they’re better than the ones on your list, admit it! My favorite planet is Neptune-

“Well- you know, those pictures in like, some of those old textbooks? I just thought Neptune was cute. It’s- oh stop laughing at me!

“ANYWAY. My favorite food’s stir-fry- obviously I mean vegetable stir-fry, didn’t we already talk about the meat thing?”

“Favorite animal? See, you don’t need a list, just make stuff up, that’s the spirit! I don’t really have a favorite animal, but if I had to pick, maybe a panda. They just look so cuddly!”

“My favorite book is All. The. Books.”

“Please. I translate for a living. Give me anything with words on it, I promise you I’m in love. What- no. We’re not talking about Twilight. Ugh, look- English isn’t even my third language, and I read those books when I was still learning. I would like to continue to pretend that I only thought it was bad due to my own poor understanding of the language, because-

“Look, I know there are worse books out there but-

“Ugh. I’m just not much for vampire stories even on a good day. Not really my style, you know?”

“Well, Tolkien, obviously. He invented his own languages for those books - I am absolutely fluent in Sindarin.”

“Klingon? Eh, a little. American television’s always been a little strange to me, but maybe one day I’ll sit down and give it a proper study.”

“Huh. Yeah, sorry, that’s my brother- I have to take this-

“Sorry! Thanks for the interview! Uh- and sorry for making fun of your questions!”

*door slams*