#when i was in high school i had an english teacher that i absolutely loathed

[the-grimsqueaker]

I see everyone's "a joy to have in class notes" in one's end of year reports and such, and raise (I don't know poker is that the correct term?)

When I was in year 11, it was a rough year for 16 year old me and it was really just the beginning as I still had one more year of high school to go. My parents made the absolutely enlightened idea to move me to a completely different school 200km away (they're divorced, I was living with my aunt and cousins on week days and dads at the weekend) about a month into term one. No friends, doing ATAR (I have no idea what the education department calls that now) which I had expressly told them that i did not want to do (it's the university track essentially, for non-aussies or anyone born after 2010) and it was about as fun as it sounds.

Now starting at a new school one month after everyone else and already behind in course work comes with other challenges beyond social and mental. I also had to pick my classes and all the good ones were either completely full or my previous school had not equipped me to be eligible for (can someone tell me if it's actually illegal for an australian school to not have a LOTE program? I'm pretty sure it is). Because of this my final class would be the ATAR level human biology. I loathed science (I used to be a straight A science student til year 10 when I got the worst teacher in the world).

Now 16 year old me was not thrilled with this but of course I had no choice, it was this or ATAR German and my previous school had not had a language program.

Nevertheless I tried. Boy did I try. I asked questions, I attempted my assignments, I tried so hard. And I don't think Aussie schools back in '09 had F's for failures, but we sure did have E's (I think I was averaging about 30%). Basically I got the lowest possible grade they could give me.

I distinctly remember the afternoon that our end of year (semester two) reports came out. I was in human bio when they were distributed and my teacher came and gave me mine herself and sat down next to me. It's been 14 years and I can remember this so clearly.

"Sam," she says, with a bright smile as she put my report down in front of me, "you're a great kid! I love having you in my class! I really love that you've engaged so much this year and I can see you tried really hard! Do not take human biology next year."

And I didn't have a choice in the matter and totally failed my human bio ATAR exam in year 12, one of three exams I failed (I did pass English with a 55% which is mind blowing frankly).

So yeah, I had a teacher say i was a pleasure to have in class to my face :)

"a joy to have in class" aka This Child Will Not Be Diagnosed for at least Eight Years

[iturbide]

Gustav wasn’t exactly my favorite person, but gdi the whole “stern dad that actually ends up caring in the end” thing is probably one of my favorite tropes. RIP Gustav.

I zonked out really early last night and waking up to this ask in my inbox had me really confused until I remembered oh yeah new Heroes and new chapter drop today

I’m really glad there are people out there who like that trope though because I’ll be honest?

I hate it. 

I hate it a lot. 

I have been a seething ball of rage since finishing so I apologize profusely in advance but there’s going to be a lot of ranting under the cut. 

So I’ve actually seen a lot of really interesting posts cross my dash today regarding Gustav, namely Avistella’s break-down of how he could have been a good character and jejecchi’s two part speculative analysis based on the full chapter in hindsight.  And they both make good points!  As a character, Gustav is certainly interesting, and I do respect him – but I can also respect Frederick and Validar as characters, and I think I’ve made it clear in the past exactly how I feel about them both. 

And the issue that I have with Gustav is very much about the choices he made.  We haven’t known him in person for long, but we’ve certainly heard about him in the past two books, and what we’ve learned paints a troubling picture: Alfonse states outright in Book Two Chapter 4 (Fiery Resolve) that he and his father had a falling out over Alfonse’s choice to join the Order: 

In fact, when I decided to join the Order of Heroes…there were many who opposed that choice. My father is one of them. He was very angry with me. He still won’t see me when I’m at the royal residence…

That’s an incredibly harsh response to someone who is only trying to do their part in helping the people they’ll someday rule.  He clearly never explained what his problem was with Alfonse joining the order, either, clearly demonstrating that Gustav is a man who demands obedience, rather than giving his children reasons why.  And that’s extremely troubling to me, because it heavily implies that Gustav is an emotionally neglectful parent at the very best (and possibly an abusive one, at worst).

And then we get to Book 3, and it gets infinitely worse.  Gustav himself gives absolutely no indication that he cares for his children: only Henriette does at the start of Book 3 Chapter 2 (The Dread Gate), and is then chided for it:

Gustav: Son.Alfonse: Father… It has been some time since we have spoken. I am honored to be invited to this audience.Gustav: And?Alfonse: Er…Henriette: Oh, Alfonse! Don’t be nervous. He’s missed you so much! It’s been far too long.Gustav: Henriette… Please, be discreet.Henriette: My mistake!

What’s worse, though, is that this chapter shows in unmistakable terms how harsh a father Gustav is, even when his children obey his orders.  At the start of the chapter, he tells Alfonse that protecting the people is their top priority: 

Gustav: We must stop them. No injury can befall our people. Do you understand, my son?Alfonse: Yes, Father. I will not fail you.

But when the Order comes across Hel’s army marching toward a defenseless Askran town and attempt to delay them until the main army arrives, Gustav’s response is not one of pride:

Gustav: I’ve heard about what happened here. Why would you take such a foolish risk?Alfonse: The people…Sharena: Father, we—we had to protect—Gustav: I was speaking to your brother, Sharena.Sharena: Yes, sir.Alfonse: The enemy was on the march. The town had no defenses… We had to do what we could to stop them, so I came up with a plan.Gustav: You thought you could face an army? Hardly. If you had miscalculated even slightly, you’d be dead now. Dead, Alfonse.Alfonse: Yes, Father. That is so.Gustav: I commend the Order of Heroes for its victory over Múspell. There is something you need to understand, however. You are not a Hero, Alfonse. You need not be amidst them, waving your sword about. Your place is elsewhere.

Gustav: You are moved to save people. Is that it? But a king’s duty is not to rescue those he sees in front of him… A king’s domain holds thousands. Protecting each and every one of them—that is the duty of a king. I am not sure you are capable of that—not yet, at any rate.Alfonse: I…I can’t… No, I am not ready, so I… While you reign—I thought I could help the people.Gustav: And if I die? You would be king. Are you ready to rule Askr?Alfonse: I… No, I am not. Not yet. I am no match for you, Father.Gustav: And if you died in battle, what then? The time I have left is shorter than you realize. I will die one day, and it will be sooner than you think. What will that day mean for Askr and its people?Alfonse: I… They…Gustav: Your life is not that of a swordsman rushing to the rescue. Your role is to lead this land and its people. If you can only comprehend the suffering that is right in front of your face… Then your compassion has its limits. You are far from ready to be king.

Alfonse did exactly what his father told him to.  He put the lives of the people first.  And Gustav not only chides him for it while completely changing the context of his original order, he does it publicly, in front of the entire Order (and won’t even let Sharena speak, which is on another level of cruelty entirely).  So Gustav has not only berated Alfonse for following his initial orders exactly, he has placed all the blame on his son rather than admitting that he gave poor guidance.  Again, this points to a worrisome pattern of psychologically abusive behavior. 

Now, I fully believe that Gustav cares about Alfonse, and always has: at the start of Book 3 Chapter 3 (Countdown), he specifically warns his son not to engage Hel, and to run should he see her.  But the way he demonstrates his affection in most cases is extremely problematic.  He takes an authoritarian approach in his interactions with Alfonse, trying to mold him through what amounts to ‘tough love, but offers no support, no guidance, no clear examples or explanations for exactly what he wants.  In hindsight, this distance he has placed between himself and his children may be a consequence of how he lost his own father in his youth – but that by no means excuses the behavior.  Frankly, it makes things worse because it shows how selfish he is: in order to spare himself the pain of a possible loss, he made the choice to raise Alfonse and Sharena this way, to give them little to no emotional support, to demand complete obedience without explanation, to provide no guidance that could mold his heir into the king that he so clearly wants Alfonse to be based on his harsh criticisms from the end of “The Makings of a King.”

And then, of course, we get to A King’s Worth. 

It’s very likely that Gustav made the decision from the outset to give his life in order to save Alfonse.  His dialogue in the opening of “No Cheating Death” is very striking in that he never states explicitly that his son is the one who will die: 

Gustav: So you have been cursed by Hel.Alfonse: I disobeyed you, Father.  I am sorry.Anna: If I may, your majesty…the attack was sudden.  Our scouts never even saw her.  They appeared suddenly, like ghosts…we had no chance to disengage. Gustav: Your mistake was setting foot on the battlefield at all.  This is the consequence of Alfonse’s rashness. Alfonse: Father…I’m so sorry.Gustav: Hel…she claimed my father’s life, too…there are no options left, Alfonse.  There is no escaping her curse. Henriette: Gustav!  This is our son’s life you’re talking about!Gustav: Henriette, please, listen.  All of you must listen to what I say now.  The royal family of Askr, our family, has suffered a loss.  We must accept that and move forward. Sharena: Father!  You can’t mean that!  Alfonse is alive!  He’s right here beside you!  There must be something we can do…Gustav: Death will not be turned away.Sharena: We can’t know that unless we try!Gustav: Enough.  I will rejoin my forces.  I must consider our next move. Sharena: Father…Alfonse: I have failed you, Father.  I am sorry.  But until the moment I die, I will continue to seek a means of defeating Hel.  My only hope is that, in the time I have left, I can find some way to be of use…Gustav: Very well.

Now, in the moment everyone understandably jumps to the conclusion that he’s talking about Alfonse.  But aside from his rather customary harsh beratement, he is evasive in his terminology, saying that the royal family of Askr has suffered a loss, rather than saying that they’ve lost an heir or anything similar.  But you know what else he does?  He leaves.  He doesn’t stay with his son, he doesn’t offer any comfort to this young man who believes himself fated for death – he just leaves, allowing Alfonse to believe himself a failure and desperately seeking a way to atone, despite the fact that he is almost certainly going to be putting his life at greater risk in the process. 

And then we get to the post-chapter moment of “Wolfskin Family,” the first moment where we see a true glimpse of something more like traditional parental affection from Gustav as he privately meets his son: 

Gustav: Son.Alfonse: Hello, Father.Gustav: This isn’t a social call, Alfonse.  I am on my way to a conference with my knights. Alfonse: I understand.  If you have no objection, however, I’d gladly guard you ‘til you join up with the army. Gustav: There is no need.  Am I so infirm that I must lean on my son’s arm? Alfonse: M-my apologies. Gustav: *sigh* Do you remember this, Alfonse?Alfonse: A dead branch?  It looks quite old…no, I don’t remember it. Gustav: I see.  Well, never mind.  Do not concern yourself over me.  I will rendezvous with my forces. Alfonse: Father, wait.  Please, let me–Gustav: I told you, boy.  There is no need.  Worry about your own skin. Alfonse: My apologies.  Again.  What was that branch, I wonder?

I was admittedly shocked going through this section because of the softness in Gustav’s expression as he talks about that branch.  I have no doubt that it has some sentimental value, likely something associated with Alfonse.  But equally striking to me is how Gustav treats his son immediately before and after that: First he snaps at Alfonse for wanting to accompany his father and spend some of what little time he has left with a man he deeply admires and knows so poorly (and while Gustav may have been attempting to joke, Alfonse’s immediate deference proves that it was poorly done – and then rather than apologize while he has a chance, he just sighs and presses on); and then snapping at him again, patronizingly calling him boy and telling him to worry about his own skin – and once again chasing him off and leaving him apologizing profusely as though wanting to spend time with his father is some offense. 

And then there’s “Death’s Arrival.”  Once again, we see this brief moment where Gustav shows something that looks like parental affection as he seeks Alfonse out, likely knowing that this will be the last chance he has to spend time with his son, and tries to prepare him for what’s to come:

Alfonse: *sigh*Gustav: Alfonse.Alfonse: Father!Gustav: It’s today, isn’t it…were you able to find a way to dispel Hel’s curse in time? Alfonse: No.  I have no excuse for what has befallen me. Gustav: Do not apologize, my son.  We knew this day would come.  There is no escaping death.  Alfonse…stay close to me today.  Keep your allies close, too.  When the curse comes due, I expect Hel to appear and pluck the life from your paralyzed body herself…Alfonse: Giving us a chance to strike. Gustav: No.  You cannot kill Death.  Even if we attack her then, she will not fall.  However, we may catch a glimpse of something…a weakness, perhaps, that will lead to her downfall. Alfonse: I understand.  I will do as you command, Father.  Even though I die, it may not be for nothing.  I hope so, anyway.  I am sure you will defeat her, Father, or perhaps Kiran.  I will hold fast to that hope. 

Not only that, we even see what could be construed as a moment of self-reflection: 

Alfonse: Father…heh.Gustav: Is something amusing? Alfonse: Ah!  I’m sorry.  I’m just reflecting on something Mother told me.  She said that, in your youth, you were much like me. Gustav: Did she, now?  I must admit it.  Wet behind the ears, I was.  Weapon in hand, I traveled the realms, always ready for battle…I was no different than you, it is true.  Yet look at me now, lecturing you…Alfonse: You misunderstand me, Father.  I was happy to hear that I put Mother in mind of you.  As for your concern and your guidance…they mean everything to me. Gustav: *sigh*Alfonse: Today is the day I will die.  I have failed in my duty as your successor.  That is my deepest regret.  Yet to be able to speak so frankly with you here and now…I am overjoyed. Gustav: Alfonse…

It’s heartbreaking to see how much this brief contact means to Alfonse, how starved he is for parental affection.  And even Gustav seems to notice this, given how he sighs at his son’s heartfelt confession.  But though he has an opportunity, he offers to encouragement to his son.  He does not tell Alfonse that he is proud of him.  He holds his tongue, and lets his son resign himself to death with the belief that he is a failure. 

Of course, then comes the climax, when Hel appears to claim Alfonse’s life – and Gustav takes the blow instead. 

Hel: You…shielded him. Gustav: I understand your curse, Hel – it is a curse on the blood of Askr.  That lesson, I learned from my father.  I am Askran royalty, and it is my life that will be added to the numbers of the dead.  The conditions of your curse are fulfilled.  Depart this place, death god. Alfonse: Father? Hel: Fool.  Look at you, awash in sentimentality…what has it cost you?  You have no right to call yourself a king. Gustav: You comprehend nothing. Hel: What? Gustav: My life exists only for the people of this land.  I have never lost sight of that.  Since the day I lost my father…I swore never to forget that duty.  How much longer would I have lived?  My son is young, and he is certainly worthy.  As king, what choice did I have? Hel: So you think this princeling has the makings of a king…then die without regret.  As ruler of the dead, I declare your life at an end. Alfonse: No!Gustav: Alfonse…become a king, my son.

This is the first time we ever hear Gustav speak of his son with any kind of pride.  This is the first time he has ever expressed any kind of approval for Alfonse.  After four chapters of cruelty, this act is supposed to absolve him. 

And it doesn’t.  Because all he was doing was being selfish.  He states outright, in his own words, that this is practicality: he gives his life because his own is short by comparison, and his people are his primary concern.  He claims his duty is to his people, so he forfeits his life for their sake…

…and in so doing, leaves behind the son who he has constantly belittled and accused of being unready to rule with the burden of rule.  He has taken no time to try and teach Alfonse how to be a king, has made no effort to teach him what it takes to rule, he simply abandons his son to this task. 

He is a coward. 

That’s really what it comes down to, as far as I’m concerned: his final act was nothing but pure selfishness, foisting off his duty on his unprepared heir after a lifetime of emotionally distancing himself for his own sake.  He left his children idolizing him in the same way that the Kanas idolize their parents: as distant, unreachable figures – and in the same way, Alfonse has sought so desperately to prove his worth to someone who only in his last moments treated him with anything approaching care.  

I honestly don’t want Gustav to rest in peace.  I want to march straight into Hel and drag him back out to make right the mess he made. 

[kalee60]

i wish you would write a fic where jock!bucky seduces twink!steve, maybe he hits steve with that pec flex guys do that is both dick-ish and insanely hot at the same time?

Oh Manda - you absolute gorgeous gem! I very much like what you're asking me to create here 😘 I also love, love, love that you sent me a prompt!

I immediately think of sun, summer, ice cream, boys at the beach playing frisbee and our gorgeous Smol!Steve and Jock!Bucky as friends mutually pining (Ha - it's me, it was never going to be anything but this story!)

Once again, my quick little drabble (that I wrote today when I woke up {thanks to my sprinting buddies in discord}) turned into a 4k fic... But I mean - I think that's okay (more stucky for us - right?)

I hope you like where I took this, maybe in a slightly different direction than intended - it's also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to check them out and read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - Beach and rated M for mild sexual content 😉

If you'd like a fic - here's the post - I wish you'd write a fic... (It might take me a little bit to write - but I will get there!)

Steve was in hell, literally. It was hot, he was sweaty and he was being tortured. Honestly, Steve really loved summer, but at the same time he loathed it. And most of that had to do with the fact he had to sit around in his large group of friends and watch Bucky fucking Barnes sans top and wearing only a small pair of running shorts frolic over the sand at the beach.

Life was unfair. 

How could somebody like Bucky actually exist in real time? He was a complete jock for starters, his looks and size perfect for being naturally great at sports, earning him a football scholarship of his choice (of course). And Steve, well Steve Rogers was as far from a jock as anyone could get. Not that he was horrible in the fitness and muscular department, but he was too little and his asthma still played up to join rugged contact sports. Being 5’4 also didn’t particularly endear him to any of the coaches at college who were scouting for star players. Plus studying to be a high school teacher probably wasn’t sporty enough, and he was leaning towards a specialist English role, not Gym.

So Steve joined the campus gym instead of a sporting team, did weights and classes and enjoyed it immensely. It was where he met Natasha, and that fateful meeting brought him to Bucky and his dickish jock ways and friends.

Though if Steve was to be fair (of which he was - usually) not all jocks were dicks, even if Steve had preconceived notions from high school what college boys would be like. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find that the captain of the football team was not only gorgeous, cocky and a bit of a douche, but also very smart, kind and had a smile that could make Steve’s legs turn to jelly with only a small half tilt.

But it was as he sat on a towel under the shade of a large umbrella that Carol had stolen from her parent’s garden shed, that Steve really felt the heat, and it had nothing to do with the blazing sun above him and the burning sand beneath his feet.

It was all Bucky Barnes and his chest, his slim waist, his tanned olive skin, the breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his sinewed and muscled thighs that tapered down to calves that bunched up as he jumped and landed to grab the frisbee aimed at him.

Steve sighed heavily as his gaze lingered on the brunette. Bucky Barnes was every mans wet dream, every girls perfect prince, and Steve pulled his dark sunnies over his eyes again, ignoring the pounding in his chest, the throbbing in his groin as he watched Bucky behind dark lenses spring up and prance over the sand, laughing with a wide mouth that could do sinful things to Steve’s body. The worst part was that Bucky was doing all of this with no knowledge that Steve harboured the biggest crush of his life.

It really was unfair.

Sitting back to lean on his hands, stretching his legs out, he saw Bucky glance over at him, and gave a smile. Bucky grinned back and then grappled Sam to the sand to yank the frisbee from his grip. Life wasn’t unfair because Bucky didn’t date guys, he did, very much so, and girls too from what Steve had seen, it was just the guys Bucky dated were typically more like… jocks.

Steve hunched over, trying to not stare too long and inadvertently get turned on, finding it an impossibility as his eyes wouldn’t tear away from Bucky’s frame as he bounded effortlessly over the soft sand, something Steve couldn’t do. He’d almost lost a lung from the trek over to their secluded spot earlier that day. Soft sand was the enemy - that was fact.

“Heads up.”

Startled from his thoughts by Bucky’s deep voice urgently calling out his way, Steve looked up only to see the frisbee coming straight for him. With a reaction that even surprised himself, Steve raised his hand and caught the flying disc with nary a blink of an eye.

Bucky was skidding to a halt on his knees before him a second later.

“Shit, Steve. That was epic, you sure you don’t want to play? You can be on my team - my secret frisbee weapon.”

Steve’s mouth went dry as he tried to listen to the words leaving Bucky, because the delectable man was less than two feet away and the smell of sunscreen, sweat and something virile and uniquely Bucky entered his senses. Steve knew that if sitting next to Bucky in the dining hall was torture when Bucky was wearing his spicy cologne, he’d keel over being enveloped in his sweaty beach scent for longer than a minute. 

God he wanted Bucky to fill him, everywhere. Make him forget his name, take him over and over.

He realised that he still hadn’t answered and heat crept into his cheeks, managing to blurt out, “I’m good for now. Nat’s grabbing ice creams and I don’t want to get a stitch.”

Steve then gave Bucky what he hoped was a soft and cheeky winning grin, but the way Bucky faltered, swallowed tightly, face impassive made Steve wonder if he’d missed the mark on trying to be flirty.

He really was as hopeless as Darcy continually told him.

Steve’s eyes trailed down to Bucky’s broad and lightly haired chest, finding himself breathing quicker, wondering if he’d remembered to pack his inhaler. No, he was sure it was in the pocket of his backpack. Thank god, he might need it in the face of Bucky’s glorious muscles moving in his vision all day.

“If you’re sure,” Bucky finally said in a deep steady voice.

“Maybe later,” Steve stammered, holding up the frisbee with a shaky hand. He had to get a grip.

“Alright, later then, I’m holding you to that.” And Bucky took the disc from Steve’s grip and was off bounding towards Sam, Carol, Thor and Maria.

While Steve recalibrated his thoughts, Nat came back holding only one ice cream cone, licking it slowly with a sparkle in her eye as Clint trailed behind, wearing Nat’s beach bag and carrying the rest of the ice creams, and Steve worried she’d overestimated his balancing skills. But if Nat asked, Clint would do - it was kind of amazing the power she had over him without even trying. Although they weren’t dating (yet), Nat was never cruel, she was playing the long game and really liked Clint, but had been hurt before by some Russian asshole, and Steve knew that Clint, when Nat finally agreed to go out with him would never be the same man again. He’d be lost in deep shock and joy. They were perfect for each other.

A pang went through his gut as Steve watched them, taking a cone from Clint, wishing he had someone that wanted him as much as they wanted each other.

“Vanilla,” Nat commented with a scrunch of her nose at Steve’s choice as he took a lick of the creamy goodness, the chill on his tongue welcome under the heat of the day. “You’re so very basic, Rogers.”

“Hey there is nothing wrong with that. I happen to love vanilla.” A rich voice said from right in front of Steve as Bucky flopped down on the sand, kicking up little grains that stuck on Bucky’s thighs where he was sweating. Steve shut his eyes against the picture before him, once again pleading to any God or Goddess that would listen that it wasn’t fair, that they had to find him someone one day. He just hoped it would be soon, else his dick drop off from Bucky unwittingly giving him blue balls.

“You’re one to talk, you didn’t even want ice cream, just a soda. And a club soda at that.”

Bucky looked over to Nat, flashing her a wide grin, and Steve immediately started to lick his ice cream just to do anything but stare at the crinkling in the corners of Bucky’s eyes, or to watch his lips as they wrapped around the bottle tip. He only half listened to their banter as they kept teasing each other, Nat and Bucky having been best friends from childhood, the reason how Steve inadvertently fell into the group of jocks, for a lack of a better term to encompass all the fit people he was now surrounded with.

Nat had introduced him to everyone after they’d hit it off at the gym in first semester, and Steve had waited for the inevitable teasing to commence about his small stature, but it never came. He was always included, never mocked (unless it was called for, because he was a facts man and couldn’t help correcting people when they were clearly in the wrong) and it was such a novel experience, so how could he not fall immediately in lust with the football captain? One who had smokey blue-grey eyes, sinfully full lips made for kissing among other fun activities and a personality that you could fall into and live inside forever.

“Err, Steve… your ice cream, it’s ummm, dripping.”

“What?” Steve asked, realising that he’d been swirling his tongue over the top of the soft confectionary and that his fingers were now completely sticky as the ice cream dripped over them on to his thigh. “Oh shit.”

Steve immediately switched hands and started to lap at his fingers, tongue darting between them to catch all the creaminess, sucking them into his mouth one by one, only looking up when he heard a muted groan. Bucky was moving before him, squirming in the sand, and as his eyes landed on Bucky, he startled, surprised to find Bucky’s hooded gaze directly on Steve. But his eyes hadn’t landed just anywhere, they were trained to Steve’s mouth, and as Steve swiped his finger through the sweetness that had dribbled on his thigh, Bucky’s gaze followed that finger's movements. Steve without thought, heart thumping hard, confusion and awe flowing through his veins, stuck the digit in his mouth, licking off the stickiness. 

Thankfully, Steve had his sunglasses on, hiding his expression, but he knew his face was burning red at the brash and overt display. Bucky was watching him intently, the rise and fall of his gloriously thick chest heaved, and Bucky’s skin flushed from the exercise or maybe the sun. Steve wasn’t sure.

But it was as Steve licked around the base of the cone again, the ice cream melting quicker in the heat than he could swallow, Bucky’s pecs twitched.

Steve stopped all movement, caught at the tick of flesh, the way it bounced taut, watching with abject lust and desire as Bucky did it again - knowing exactly where Steve’s eyes were trained.

It was such a fucking dick move, a power move to get attention and Steve hated jocks who flexed like that, but on Bucky… on Bucky it was god damn mesmerizing. And it was after the third time Bucky’s pecs jumped, Bucky stood up abruptly and fled saying in a higher pitch than usual that he was jumping in the water, that Steve realised he might not have been doing it on purpose.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bucky was dead, he was going to die from being hard for... how long had he known Steve Rogers, six months maybe? Well, that was how long he’d survived with a non-stop boner for the blonde man. And he was at the end of his tether.

Steve was everything Bucky ever wanted in a partner, smart, strong, intense, funny, handsome  and a person that he could fall into, spend time with - love.

So it didn't help his little issue to be at the beach that day, watching Steve sit under the huge umbrella on brightly coloured towels in his swim trunks and a loose tank with arm holes so big he could see all the way through to his muscular chest and pink nipples. It was driving him fucking insane. 

Sure he’d seen Steve wearing an array of items at the gym, but he’d never witnessed him so carefree as he was at the beach. He was smiling more, relaxed, joking while big sunglasses hid those gorgeous eyes that would give the ocean a run for its money as to what was bluer.

But what killed Bucky that particular day over every other day he lusted after Steve, what made him clench and twitch all over was watching Steve lick up his ice cream. It was downright obscene, Steve shouldn’t be allowed to do that in public, or at least he should have a warning sticker on his person.

Steve had a mouth made for sucking cock, and Bucky wanted, no, he needed to know what having those lips wrapped around him felt like. Christ, he wanted to know what it felt like to be buried in Steve, maybe even have Steve press into him. Fuck.

There was only one thing for it.

He had to seduce Steve, and he had to do it soon.

But that begged the question - how?

How did Bucky capture the attention of the smartest, funniest, quick witted and grumpiest man on campus? Not only that, but to have Steve take him seriously? Bucky was aware that people thought he was only a dumb jock, that all he had to offer the world was to play ball and shit talk other teams and work out in the gym. Which, yeah of course he did all of those things - but he really was so much more. He was studying economics, was thinking about trying to specialise and work as an international trade specialist after college, and although Bucky really loved playing ball - it wasn’t his whole life. He’d never go pro - well, not without a hell of a lot of luck and persistence, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to take something he enjoyed and make it a living in that way. He’d seen how broken some sports stars bodies were after a career, and he still wanted to be able to walk at forty without having had three knee reconstructions.

But Steve, Steve saw through all of that, he spoke to Bucky like an intellect, like he had something worthy to say, to add to the conversation. Even at the gym after Nat had introduced them (Bucky begging to know who the gorgeous guy she was chatting to on the rowing machines was) Steve and he worked out together, had fun catcalling each other for being weak and helped each other with their forms - something Bucky largely did just to get hands on Steve even though Steve’s form was perfect.

Bucky had been taken with the slight man from the first moment he’d seen him, always under the impression that Steve was too smart to even think about dating a meathead like him, even if he truly wasn't what his physique made him. So he stuck with friendship, but now he wanted more. Was going to ask for more.

“Whatcha thinking?” Nat asked as she swam out to float in the water next to him.

“Nothing much,” He replied, ignoring her knowing hum. He hated that they’d been friends forever and she knew all his tells.

The much needed cold water had soothed his itching skin, and from his vantage point he could look back at their rag tag group of friends, able to stare unabashadly at Steve as he laughed with Clint and Thor about something, staring up at Thor as he... as he fucking flexed in front of Steve.

“Easy boy,” Natasha grabbed his bicep that was taut from clenching his fists, “Thor’s with Jane remember? Steve’s not interested in someone like Thor anyway.”

Bucky’s eyes swung to her immediately. “What do you mean? Because he's a jock?”

Nat let out an exasperated sigh. “No you idiot. Because he’s interest lies elsewhere.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s chest squeezed tight, wondering who had Steve’s undivided attention. And he couldn’t help but watch Steve as Carol held out a hand to pull him to his feet, and suddenly Bucky forgot his disappointment when Steve pulled his tank off, revealing a gorgeous toned body in all its glory. Bucky’s dick stirred. Thank fuck he was hidden in the water.

“You are a colossal idiot. You know that right?” Nat deadpanned.

“I have to ask Steve out,” he blurted. “I need to… I need to be with him.”

“I know,” Nat said with a smirk, and Bucky looked at her gratefully, if she helped he would be fine. “But that really sounds like a you problem. Have fun with that.”

“You horrible cow,” Bucky sniped back, ready to splash her, but she was already under the water stealthily swimming up behind Clint, only to dunk the unsuspecting man. 

Bucky’s attention suddenly caught on movement on the shoreline as Steve stood knee deep, testing the water and with no further hesitation, dove in, coming up for air not far from where Bucky floated. Bucky watched mesmerized as the sun glinted off Steve’s wet eyelashes, before he wiped the droplets from them, smiling at Bucky.

“Oh god, this water feels amazing.”

“So would you,” Bucky whispered.

“Huh?” Steve asked.

For a long moment, Bucky stared at Steve, realising that sound carried over water differently and Steve most likely caught what he said. Seducing someone was hard, even though he hadn’t even tried yet.

Instead of answering, Bucky ducked his head so his mouth went underwater and swam towards Steve like a shark, deciding that he just had to ask him point blank, no messing around with seduction. Slipping up out of the water at the last moment he put on his most predatory smile, Steve’s eyes widening and he looked around, face flushed and Bucky hoped he wasn’t looking for an escape.

He quickly darted behind Steve, wrapping his arms tight around his lithe body, trying not to linger too much as Steve was the perfect fit, felt so good against him; and when he heard the small gasp from Steve’s throat he launched him into the air. Flinging Steve into the water a few feet away.

“You fucker,” Steve exclaimed laughing as he came up for air, and Bucky smirked.

Suddenly with a smirk of his own that made Bucky inhale sharply, Steve disappeared under the water, Bucky feeling him come up underneath his body and with a strength that belied Steve’s small stature, completely turning Bucky on more than it should, he was pushed up out of the water, throwing him completely under as well.

“Jesus, Steve. You should join the team.” Bucky spluttered when he came up for air.

Steve grinned back, pushing wet hair out of his eyes and Bucky stared, lost in how stunning Steve looked in the sunlight, that he was there before him alone in the ocean full of people, “I mean they already have you and Sam as Captains. Wouldn’t want to put either of you out of a job.”

Bucky laughed, “I don’t doubt you’d do it too, Stevie.”

And when Steve stopped smiling, Bucky realised what he’d said.

“Shit, sorry - you don’t like that? Nicknames?”

“No I... I do…” Steve answered softly, and Bucky became lost in a blue that matched the water they were treading.

“Would you get out with me?” Bucky blurted.

“Sorry? Get out of the water?”

Bucky internally facepalmed himself. “No, I mean go out.”

“Out. With you?”

Bucky nodded.

“Err, why me?” Steve asked in a small voice lost on a gust of wind.

Looking at Steve, who stared back at him with questions in his eyes, Bucky wanted to explain how much he’d desired it for months, to tell Steve all the ways he wanted to make him happy, and as a multitude of words sat on his tongue, Bucky suddenly understood Steve might not listen to his reasoning, might not believe him. So he decided to show his intent instead, and swam closer. Steve’s eyes were wide, guileless, Bucky seeing a small spark of something more, and hoping he wasn’t triple jumping over a line, he swam up behind Steve. He felt Steve tense up, anticipating to be flung into the water again, but instead, Bucky pulled him closer so that Steve’s back slotted against his front and leaned in, mouth only an inch away from Steve’s ear.

“Why you? Oh Stevie, you have no idea how gorgeous you are. How much I want you.” Bucky pressed his nose against the back of Steve’s ear and inhaled deeply, sunscreen, salt and Steve’s shampoo filled his senses and he lost his head for a moment, especially when Steve let out a high pitched groan and wriggled back into Bucky. “I want to spread you out beneath me, I want to lick all the sweat off your body, sweat that I'm going to cause from working you hard, making you work extra hard for my dick, because Stevie - I want you, I want you bad, and I think you might want me back just as much.”

Bucky hoped he wasn’t completely off base with his desires, that Steve really was just as interested, and when Steve ground back against him, skin sliding against Bucky’s, letting out another moan at the friction when he felt Bucky hardening up underneath him, Bucky knew it was going to be ok.

“Yes…” Steve whimpered as his shorts caught against Bucky’s dick, pushing backwards.

“You want that baby?”

“Fuck. Yes, I do.”

“How much?”

Steve spluttered, and Bucky couldn’t help chuckle at the noise. “What do you mean?”

“How much do you want it?” Bucky knew he was being a prick, making his pec’s tense against Steve’s back, pulling him onto his lap as they floated in the water, before wrapping a leg around one of Steve’s pulling it to the side, making Steve gasp gorgeously.

“A normal amount,” Steve husked back.

“Oh, you want me a normal amount - is that all?” Bucky smirked before licking a sloppy stripe up Steve’s neck at the same time as he snuck a hand down the front of Steve’s swim trunks, gripping his dick tightly, feeling the impressive length and girth for the first time. Fuck, he was definietly not taking switching of the table. But not anytime soon. First, he wanted to take Steve apart in every way conceivable.

Steve meanwhile, was liquid in his arms, going slack as Bucky took his time to explore while they floated in circles not far from the shore, but far enough out they wouldn’t get in trouble. He hoped. 

The moans tearing from Steve’s throat were getting louder though, Bucky loving every noise punched out of Steve as he stroked harder under the water, the friction and pressure of the water making him slower and more languid than usual. And Bucky wanted to make Steve call out with no thought or boundaries, nothing to stifle his pleasure, he needed Steve coming in his arms, again and again.

“I think you might just want me a little more than that.” Bucky rasped against Steve’s neck, sucking a bruise onto his pink skin, giving Steve’s dick another sharp tug and before he knew what was happening, Steve was shaking in his arms, whimpering out a release and Bucky was speechless. Utterly speechless as he continued to stroke Steve slowly, carefully as he jerked in his hand.

“Holy fuck, you’re stunning, gorgeous, the absolute best,” Bucky rambled into Steve’s neck, nipping kisses and pressing his lips against him in absolute awe at what had just occured.

Suddenly Steve moved, spinning himself around to straddle Bucky and he went under for a moment as their weights shifted and came back up spluttering, only for Steve to launch himself so his lips pushed against his. Steve took over, devouring his mouth, and although Bucky was the one in control, holding them both up, he’d never felt so out of control as Steve writhed and ground down as best he could in the water. Shit, Steve was going to be a handful and Bucky was there for it.

As he kissed back, grabbing the back of Steve’s head, holding him still as he pressed his tongue in deeply, a huge beach ball smacked into the side of his face. They jumped apart with a gasp.

“Don’t make me go get the hose!” Nat yelled out as she and Clint swam around nearby. “It’s about time you dolts wised up, but this is a public beach with you know - families.”

Bucky watched as Steve’s face flushed a perfect shade of red, and he couldn’t help but grab him again, giving him a quick intense kiss, claiming Steve until he struggled for breath, to show Bucky’s intent was clear and true. It was pure perfection.

“We’ll pick this up again later.” Bucky promised.

“Later.” Steve replied breathlessly.

Suddenly Steve pushed himself away from Bucky, grabbing and throwing the beach ball, hitting Clint dead on the nose. The surprised yelp from both Clint and Natasha made Bucky laugh.

“Oh it’s so on, James,” Nat yelled out.

Steve piped up from his side, “you wish, Romanoff - we’re gonna take you down!”

Bucky beamed.

“Yeah!” he called over to them, dodging the ball that came directly for him as Nat and Clint shit-talked. And as he and Steve swam out to retrieve the ball floating behind them, Bucky turned to Steve and gave him an overtly salacious wink. “And once we take them down, I’m going to take you home and show you what going down is all about.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Really? That was incredibly lame, especially for a savvy sex-crazed jock.”

“You’re not interested in my proposal then?”

“Oh I’m interested,” Steve grinned, licking his lips and Bucky caught his breath. “But if you’re going to use dad jokes on the regular - I might have to start calling you something else in the bedroom.”

Steve then threw the ball, Nat ducking at the last minute, and Bucky didn’t even feel when the returning pitch slammed into his head; Steve’s words creating a delicious cacophony of images and filthy thoughts in his mind instead.

Bucky had always known that Stevie Rogers was going to be both the life and death of him, and as he rubbed his head, grasping the ball in one hand, ready to throw it, he couldn’t wait to see where their adventure would take them.

But first - Clint had to pay.

[hiraemy]

Lumine and The Goblet of Fire

Word count: roughly 2.7k for this part

disclaimer: first of all, this au was heavily inspired by @majunju 's incredible art! she made chilumi as beauxbatons and durmstrang students and my brain went brrr so i had to write something for them??

both Genshin Impact and Harry Potter are not created by me. However, i took the liberty to mix a lot of concepts in this AU, so have that in mind when reading. 

for sake of plot, lets pretend that Durmstrang is located in Russia. Lumine, Paimon and Aether are the only ones from Beauxbatons, while the rest are from Hogwarts unless mentioned otherwise. All the characters that have adult models, like Jean, Lisa, Kaeya and Diluc are presumed to be adults, with Childe being the only exception. Also, all the characters that use children or teens’ models are students, with a few exceptions like Venti and Scaramouche [mihoyo pls stop giving us confusing ages and body models i never asked you anything]

(please, have in mind that english is like, my third language, if you notice a spelling or grammar error, feel free to message me!)

Act One: Lumine and her stupid impulse control

“I’m going to put my name on it.” Aether broke the silence suddenly

“What...? No! Oh god, I expected that from Paimon, but you’re just as bad as her!”

There were a lot of things that Lumine hated. 

Open shoes. A very specific type of silk-flower based perfume(Aether once tried it because he wanted to impress a girl, but it ended stinking for two weeks straight). History of Magic. Condensed slime— those that Paimon loved, but she couldn’t even see it without being sick—, potions that took more than one single day to brew. But the worst, certainly was—

“C’mon, Lumine! You’re just afraid that you’re going to get your ass kicked in the tournament!”

...when Aether was being dumb. 

“No, I’m not!” She countered quickly, ignoring the way Aether smirked like he knew exactly what buttons to push. Actually, it wasn't that far from reality, if she was being honest. She eyed the paper carelessly torn from his notebook that had his name as if she could burn it only with the power her heavy gaze. “You’re being dumb! Are you deaf or something? DIdn’t you hear them saying that the Triwizard Tournament has a high death count?”

“Paimon is sure it isn’t that bad!” The half-fairy smiled at her, eyes twinkling in greed and mischief. Lumine narrowed her eyes at the way she happily jumped in her steps, staying afloat in air for more time than it was normal to common humans “After all, they're opening it again, right? I’m certain that the ministry has done something to make it safer!”

“You’re the one to talk! You don’t care about anything other than the mora!” Lumine was quick to shut her down, sending a glare that didn’t affect any of the two. In that moment, the three of them entered the hall which had the Goblet of Fire in its full glory, a bunch of Hogwarts students surrounding it like curious birds, eager to know which students were applying for the tournament. 

“Have a bit of faith, wont’ya?” Aether smiled boyishly, flicking his wand from his sleeve and hitting it slightly at the top of his head, also giving a wave to a bunch of ravenclaw girls that awed at his presence. He continued in his confident stride, each step leaving him closer to the Goblet “Arent I the best of our school when it comes to Charms? Besides, I have my beautiful, great and awesome sister which of course, will give her full support and use her full knowledge to—”

“Shut up, you know it's not that what I’m concerned with!” Lumine hissed, grabbing her brother’s wrist and tugging, lowering her voice. In the corner of her eye, she saw the Dumstrang guys eyeing her, Aether and Paimon like wolves, ready to pounce on them. “You heard the rumors, right? Please, don’t tell my you’re that reckless-”

“What rumors?” Paimon squeaked, her eyes going wide for a fraction.

“The Fatui. You know them, right? The Tsaritsa’s pawns.” She whispered, narrowing her golden eyes and not daring to let her guard down when she was in the same room as the Durmstrang and Hogwarts students. “There are rumours that they are at the move. Some say that her personal minions, The Harbingers, are also involved in some dark scheme around Hogwarts.”

“Nah. You’re just being paranoid, there’s no way someone of that caliber would be here" Aether raised his eyebrow and Lumine wanted to tug her hair out in pure frustration. “Besides, it’s not like I'm some helpless dead weight. I know I already said it before, but I’m really confident it’s going to be fine.”

“Aether is right, Paimon thinks you should relax!” The white-haired girl smiled brightly, nodding her head to herself. “Or even better, you could enter the tournament too! It would make our chances of representing Beauxbatons even higher!”

“Don’t you ever listen to me? Why would I—” Before she could complete her nagging, Aether quickly threw his paper into the Goblet, the flames flickering aggressively before consuming his entry. Her mouth fell open in disbelief, but the crowd around them didn’t seem to notice her reaction as they gave a round of applause for her twin.

“What, Lumi? Are you afraid of losing?” He made a point of taunting her with the most infuriating shit-eating grin he had “Or… Maybe you’re not up to the challenge…? Y’know, it’s really okay if you feel too scared to face some bad guys—”

Ah. Right.

Aether knew how much she loathed being underestimated.

“Shut up!”

"Aww, there is no need to be this angry! I'm your big brother, of course I'll know when you feel too scared to put your name on the Goblet! It's okay to feel insecure, and I think it is better for you to not enter as you might not be able to—"

The crowd cheered again as the Goblet of Fire consumed another entry from Beauxbatons Academy.

“Lumi—”

“Shut up, im still mad at you.” 

Aether smiled sheepishly under his sister’s heavy glare and Paimon giggled. Lumine also sent her a heated look, making the half-fairy squeal childishly. 

“Luuuuumi!” Aether whined, making her sigh. “Don’t be mad at me! You were the one who put your name on the Goblet, right?”

“Don’t act like you’re innocent! You know damn well what you did—” She hissed like a annoyed cat. Aether pouted and tried to trap his sister into a hug, but she slapped him away on pure instinct. 

“Chill, chill! At least we’re getting a feast tonight, right? Not like we don’t eat well in any of the other nights, but a guy told me that Hogwarts’s food is really amazing on these special days!” Aether pleaded, the bright grin revealing how amused he was with his sister’s grumpiness. 

“Free food is great, but free great food is even better! There is absolutely no way you can be mad after you eat, right?” Paimon tried, and Lumine let out an even more tired sigh. “Besides, a lot of students applied for Beauxbatons! What are the chances of you being chosen, especially since you don’t actually want to do it?”

“Shut up Paimon, you just jinxed it,” Lumine scolded half heartedly, tucking her notebook under her arm. 

The bunch of Hogwarts students were a handful. Even with the merged classes to accomodate the Beauxbatons and Durmstrand delegations, it seemed like the hosting school’s own students were never going to be used to see them in the classrooms and corridors of the castle. Everywhere they went, their blue uniforms made the crowds stare them down with admiration, suspicion, curiosity or even anger in some cases. 

Aether and her were somehow getting even more stares than the other Beauxbatons students. Her twin shined under the spotlight, offering a gentle smile to the brave girls who tried to talk to him sometimes —how strange it was to see her brother gathering a bunch of fangirls—, but she felt uncomfortable under the attention.

“You’re too tense, Lumi” Her brother chimed, as if he could read her thoughts. His arms were carelessly fold behind his head and he shot her a gentle smile. “No one is going to bite your head off if you smile a bit, right? Just relax!”

“Now, the moment you all have been waiting for...! The Champion Selection!” The Headmaster, Barbatos announced, his voice carrying in the big hall and being able to shush all chatter. With a swoosh of his hands, the lights on the walls dimmed down, leaving the Goblet of Fire as the main attraction.

Lumine felt a shudder in her spine, knowing that despite seeming like a simple gesture, the skill level required to perform a wandless and also wordless spell was higher than everything could even imagine herself doing. Deep inside her gut, the respect she had for the Hogwarts Headmaster was raised to the roof, especially since his appearance was nothing but of a kind and carefree young boy. 

Below the table, her hands were connected in a silent prayer. Her luck couldn’t be that bad, could it?

If everything went well, neither her or Aether would be chosen.

“Mr. Alberich, would you like to do the honors?” Barbatos asked a blue-haired man, who Lumine vaguely recalled being a member of the Ministry of Magic named Kaeya. As he nodded and approached the Goblet, she felt her shoulders getting even more tenser.

The flames flickered aggressively, but Kaeya didn’t seem to be intimidated by it. He slowly extended his hand, the fire spiking suddenly and changeling from blue to a menacing pink as it spat a piece of paper.

“From Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albedo!”

The crowd— majority being from Hogwarts itself, the hosting school— cheered loudly, the most excited ones being from Ravenclaw. A boy dressed in blue rose from his seat, his ash-blonde hair styled in a braid at the back of his head and teal eyes immediately catching Lumine’s attention. He quickly went to the front and was guided by one of the teachers to a backroom, disappearing from everyone’s view. Mr. Alberich waited until the cheers died down to announce the next Champion, the flames shaking as if the own Goblet was impatient. Finally, with a burst of green, another paper flew into his hands

“From Durmstrang Institute, Childe!”

This time was the turn of the students seated at the end of Slytherin’s table to scream, a lot of figures rising at once and making it almost impossible to pinpoint who exactly was Childe. However, Lumine could see how a tall guy with a slim build was receiving some strong pats on his back, his messy ginger hair being attacked by another short guy who was too enthusiastic. His eyes still glinted with pride and excitement, even if the neatness of his red uniform was entirely ruined by his peers.

She clapped politely, lowkey still distressed about the next Champion. She was suddenly startled when the guy, who was definitely Childe as he finally went to the front, made unexpected eye contact with her. His eyes lingered a few seconds more than she would be comfortable to admit, making her even more anxious.

Mr. Alberich approached the Goblet again for the third name. For some reason, Lumine thought that the man was being slow on purpose, or that the Goblet was being too indecisive, as the flames flickered between blue, yellow and orange aggressively for a few seconds. Everyone else seemed to notice this too, a few curious whispers breaking out between the students. Kaeya narrowed his eyes and then, not a second too late, the Goblet spat the last entry.

“From Beauxbatons Academy…”

Her stomach dropped and she thought she would throw up on the spot.

 “...Lumine!”

Aether screamed the loudest, right beside her ears. Paimon came to a close second though, shaking her by her shoulders like a ragdoll as if there wasn't a tomorrow. 

"Lumi! Lumi! What are you waitin' for? Go to the front!" She got up, feeling her stomach do all the kinds of flips and lowkey dizzy. Her head couldn't even register properly the cheers, her mind too busy shouting all the bad words she knew at her mental images of Paimon and her brother. 

She took in a deep inhale, keeping her breath until she was in the front of the whole hall, right in front of the teachers. Lumine saw the Beauxbatons Headmaster’s eyes take her in with slight tension in his slender fingers and she couldn’t help but to feel out of place.

"Mr. Zhongli…" She greeted quietly at the man, his tiny nod being the only thing to indicate his acknowledgment. He quickly led her into the backroom she saw both Champions go before, his brown cape flying elegantly behind him with every step.

"Miss Lumine, what a pleasant surprise… I must admit I didn't expect you to put your name in the Goblet." Zhongli started as a matter of fact, even if his eyebrow had a curious arch, as if expecting her to explain this turn of events.

“Yeah, neither did I, if I’m being honest.” She sighed, her hand wrapping around her stomach to hopefully help with the nausea and anxiousness

“Be assured, I’m sure the Goblet of Fire made an excellent choice for our school.” Zhongli said, his voice acquiring a softer tone, probably noticing how the blonde fidgeted a lot. Lumine clenched her fists, taking a deep breath. The man didn’t say anything else, and both of them reached a room decorated with Hogwarts’ trophies from the many tournaments held before.

She immediately saw Childe in a corner, poking a shiny statue that seemed to react at his mean touches, his eyes shining with some kind of rush and impatience she really didn’t want to explore any further. A tall woman, with elegant white hair that reached at her waist and ice blue eyes, slapped his hand harshly, freeing the poor statue from the Dumstrang’s clutches. Lumine didn’t know who exactly this woman was— It was common knowledge that Durmstrang Institute’s headmaster couldn’t be bored to attend the tournament personally—, but she could assume safely that she was at least a teacher.

With his distraction taken forcefully from him, Childe finally seemed to notice Lumine, turning on his heels with hands on his pockets. The witch felt another chill, incredibly uncomfortable with his heavy gaze analysing every feature, but she prayed to every god that she could at least maintain the stoic features she was quite infamous for. His blue eyes stopped carefully to analyze her face— a fact that she pretended to not notice by looking away—, with a satisfied(?) smirk appearing on his face that screamed bad intentions.

It took more than she would like to admit to pretend she wasn't the least affected by his heavy gaze on the side of her face. Her arms crossed around her face, her hand resting discreetly above the hidden pocket in her blazer that had her wand. Golden eyes searched the room again for another distraction, until they landed on the figure of the ash blonde boy chosen for Hogwarts.

He was pretty, no one could deny that, but even if he had those stupid charming eyes of his, there still was something about him that really threw her off. She couldn't exactly pinpoint it, but Lumine was sure that Albedo had some kind of deep dark secret kept hidden in himself. Was the whole Harbinger thing making her paranoid? 

Before she could answer her own question, Barbatos entered the room with other Hogwarts teached in tow. The three of them— her, Childe and Albedo— came closer to the fireplace where everyone gathered, eyeing the teachers and the Headmaster who stood in front of them in a neutral position, except for mr. Zhongli, who was behind her, and the mysterious woman she supposed was Childe's teacher behind him. Occupying the vacant space, a pretty woman immediately went to stand at Albedo's back. She had light-brown hair and alluring green eyes, but the most iconic feature was her curvy body accentuated by her purple dress.

If she had to guess, she would assume that she was Ravenclaw's house head. Technically, Barbatos had to be a neutral party, as the hosting Headmaster, even if everyone knew his favouritism towards his own school.

"Well, now that we're back here, far from prying eyes, guess I can finally drop the formalities!" The small man suddenly said with a big smile, catching her off guard. In the corner of eye, she saw that Childe had a similar reaction, but Albedo seemed exasperated. "I must say, this year's competition is going to be tough. But I'm sure you three will be able to handle it just fine, hehe!"

Oh god. Was Barbatos like this in real life…? Suddenly, the previous mighty and ruthless image she had of the Headmaster was shattered. All the books talked about him as one of the seven great wizards of the last war, so she expected something more… Aggressive?

"Venti, please." For a greater surprise, Mr. Zhongli seemed used to his attitude, poorly hiding his smile behind a fist.

"Yeah, right. The Triwizard Tournament" He forced a cough, hardening his expression and straightening his posture. "From now on, Mister Childe, Mister Albedo and Miss Lumine will face difficult trials to determine which one of you is the greater wizard. I should also mention that the prize will be eternal glory and ten million mora, of course." 

"We already warned you before, but let me repeat it. If you don't take these challenges seriously, you'll probably be squashed to the ground." Mr. Alberich stated bluntly. 

"Is there a chance of dying?" Childe asked, the way his head tilted indicating that he wasn't asking just because he was scared. 

"There were a few casualties some years before, but this time, the Ministry is making sure to bring some precautionary methods." He answered cooly, his expression not changing the slightest. "That being said, we still stand on the recommendation that you take extreme caution."

He didn't deny it. The fact didn't pass above any of the students' minds, Lumine tensing her shoulders, Childe grinning madly and Albedo pressing his lips.

"Anyway, about the first task," Barbatos took the lead again, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "The three of you will face an ability challenge. In other words, you'll be facing magic combat right from the start."

"Against each other?" Lumine asked, not wanting to fight Childe even in her dreams. He exhaled some mad, maybe sociopath vibes if she looked at it from a certain angle, and she certainly didn't want to test her theory. 

"Nope," Barbatos said easily, tilting his head in fake innocence "Where's the fun in that? I can't say anything else, since it's supposed to be a secret until the trial— Ah, by the way, about the test, it will be on November 24th. You have two weeks to prepare, so have fun!"

Forget every good thing she had thought of him before. He was a Madman. She was surrounded by a bunch of madmans.

Oh dear lord.

[snek-snacc-ficc]

One Is A Genius, The Other’s Insane

Summary: Logan had seen enough of the world to know it was a horrible place, greatly in need of a competent leader. That was a job he was more than willing to fill, and so, by the age of twenty, he began his tireless work to plan the perfect scheme for world domination. Things became much more complicated, however, when Remus, his complete opposite in nearly every sense, stumbled his way into his life.

(Pssst, it's a Pinky and the Brain au)

Words: 3,177

Logan Ackeroyd couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he realized the world was a horrible place. It had been more of a gradual thing really. He studied history in school and learned of all the horrors man had committed against man throughout the thousands of years of humankind's existence. Everyday he’d watch the news and see atrocities happening across the globe in real time. When he turned sixteen, he had to get a terrible job as a fast food cashier, enduring impatient, rude customers demanding cheap food that tasted like it had been chemically manufactured (and he figured it most likely was), just so one day college would be slightly more affordable. And, perhaps worst of all, when he did reach college, he was forced to listen to pretentious English professors take the likes of Sigmund Freud seriously. Listening to an old man tell a room full of his fellow peers that Hamlet wanted to copulate with his mother was the last straw, and so, by the age of twenty, Logan Ackeroyd decided that he would take over the world. 

He wasn’t the absolute perfect choice for Earth’s ruler, he knew, but he also knew that he had an immense amount of intelligence, and a righteous moral code, and that put him above nearly every other world leader in his book. 

Unfortunately, Logan found, working to become the world’s benevolent dictator didn’t pay well, in fact it often depleted his pocket book, and so he took up a job as a middle school science teacher by day, and would dedicate his nights to working out the perfect scheme for world domination. 

It was supposed to be a secretive, solo endeavor. Involving others in his plan could get messy and chaotic, which was rather counterintuitive to his goal. Along with that, it could prove disastrous to alert others of his plans for fear it could somehow lead to interference from the authorities. It was best, he decided, to simply keep to himself with a clear mind. All of that, however, was ruined the day he met Remus.

Logan’s trip to the hardware store was meant to be quick and simple. He was working on what he thought was the verge of a breakthrough, (a prototype of a device that would allow him to brainwash the masses through the use of a high pitched sound wave), but he was missing some of the tools needed for its completion. When he turned around from the shelf he had grabbed a collection of bolts from, he was brought face to face with a man with a handlebar mustache staring at him. He was startled for a moment, but the feeling quickly gave way to annoyance.

“Excuse me,” he said, pushing past him.

“Is that blood on your sleeve?”

Logan looked down at his long sleeved polo. He hadn’t noticed the red stain on it earlier and he thought it odd that the stranger would point it out.

“I don’t believe so. There’s a stronger possibility that it’s jam.”

“You should totally lick it to find out.” 

“That would be highly uncouth,” Logan deadpanned, hoping the peculiar person would soon leave.

“It could be cool. If it is blood then you’d be like a vampire.”

Logan moved towards the check out, delving into an explanation of the definition and proper pronunciation of “uncouth.” The man continued to trail behind him, apparently satisfied with his shopping trip of a cartful of spray paint, chattering on about what seemed like disconnected nonsense. By the time he was finished with his purchase, excusing himself once again to leave, Logan was relieved to no longer be burdened with the annoying distraction.

He rushed to his lab with the missing parts once he reached home, eager to begin work on the project once more. He had little time to do so though, as right as he began the door to the room swung open. Logan jumped, grabbing a screwdriver on instinct in case he had to defend himself, and spun around to see the man from the store standing before him. 

“What?!- Why’re you-” he sputtered, completely flabbergasted.

“You left this at the checkout,” the man said, thrusting forward a plastic bag with a collection of wrenches in it. Logan hadn’t even realized he’d left it behind, but his attention had been split when he was checking out thanks to the other.

“So your first reaction was to stalk me and break into my house?!” Logan’s voice rose with anger and unease. “How did you even find where I live?”

“I followed your car.” The man said it like doing so was the most casual thing in the world. “I almost missed ya, but I caught up just in time. Lost you for a second at a stoplight though. And when I found you again your car was already in the driveway and you were gone. I tried knocking at the front door but you never answered, so I just walked in and heard you doing...whatever this is down here.”

Logan was silent, both confused and slightly disturbed that the man’s first solution had been breaking and entering, but he had little time to dwell on that. His cover was blown. His lab had been exposed to an outsider who would most certainly bring an end to his work. It had always been a concern of Logan’s, but he didn’t think he would be faced with it so soon. He kept his composure though, already theorizing which high security prison he might be thrown into. 

“Well,” he said, “I suppose now that you know of my secret you will contact the authorities. I’d rather you do it now and get it over with. My phone is right over there if you need to use it.”

The man did not move to grab it however. He remained where he was, darting his gaze around the room.

“Why would I do that?” he asked, still taking in the surroundings.

“B-Because you know of my nefarious plans now, to take over the world.” Logan gestured to the large bulletin board on the wall labeled “Plans for World Domination,” using the same tone of voice he used when re-explaining concepts to students that had been zoned out in class.

“You’re trying to take over the world?!” the other sounded ecstatic, “Woah, how?”

That hadn’t been the reaction Logan expected at all, and he still was unsure whether it was a trap of sorts or the man in question really was this...dense seemed the best way to put it. Either way, he had little left to lose. If he was going to get arrested, at least he would finally get the chance to explain his genius plan to someone beforehand. He turned back towards the device on the work desk. 

“Well if you must know, I’m working on this prototype of a device that would send out a high frequency noise to anyone within a ten thousand mile radius. Once it’s finished, I was going to hide them on numerous radio towers and implant a message within it that would brainwash everyone that heard it, allowing me to gain total control of a large number of people quite quickly and efficiently. The only problem thus far seems to be a simple yet pesky error on my part; These wires on its main control panel keep falling in the way when I try to work on it, and there's no way for me to move them all at once and simultaneously continue my work.” 

“Well I can help with that Dr. Dork-enshmirtz, here.” He moved over to the control panel, lifting up the bunches of wires that hung over it. “That better?”

Logan, though still a bit stunned, dug around in the bag the man had brought over, taking out the wrench he needed to continue where he left off. 

“My name is Logan,” he said, “but that is quite helpful, thank you…?”

“I’m Remus,” the other chirped eagerly.

“Thank you Remus.” As much as he loathed to admit it, it was fairly nice to have some sort of companionship. Being able to share just a bit of his idea already gave him a rush of excitement, despite the odd circumstances it had occurred under. And having someone to be an extra set of hands was an added bonus.

“Would it be possible for you to further offer your assistance to me?”

“Sure thing Nerdy Wolverine, as long as I get Australia privileges when you brainwash everyone. I’m gonna make a spider army.” 

The plan fell through in the end (Logan hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to travel the globe, climbing thousands of radio towers), but from that moment on Logan had Remus as his partner in justifiable crime.

---

"Heeeyyy Logie, what are we gonna do tonight?"

Logan rubbed his temples. For ninety-five nights in a row Remus had asked this same question, and every single night Logan's response was the same.

"The same thing we do every night Remus, try to take over the world."

"Ooo neat! What are we gonna do this time? More sabotaging jam companies?"

"No Remus," Logan sighed, "after last night's disaster we're lucky we aren't on some government watch list." He was most disappointed that out of all of his plans that one fell through. Creating a utopia where only Crofter's jam was consumed would have been a dream come true. But alas, he had to move on.

"Truth be told I am rather stumped as to what our next approach should be, but I'm sure with some copious amounts of effort I will come up with another brilliant idea."

"Why don't you take the night off Brainiac?" Remus asked.

"Take the night off?" Logan scoffed, "When the world still remains in the clutches of corrupt, incompetent leaders? Never. Besides, what would I do if not plot to take over the world?" 

"You could take a nap," Remus suggested, "You've got circles under your eyes so dark you could pass for a MySpace profile picture."

"While I appreciate the concern, my friend, I am quite fine. Though my sleep schedule is a bit off of an average rhythm, rest assured I have calculated a routine that keeps me functioning regularly. Though, given that you sleep a full 9 hours each day I doubt a set sleeping pattern can do much to create normal behavior." Logan muttered the last bit watching Remus grind his nails against his teeth like they were a nail-filer.

Remus halted his movement, inspecting his hand with one eye closed as he spoke. "Well then we could do something fun. We could watch this one documentary I want to see about this religious cult that made all it's followers fuck each other on a bridge and then jump off," he let out a cackled laugh, "Crazy how all that religious stuff can control people like that."

Logan scrunched his nose. "Remus, I ask that you keep your disgusting documentary drivel to yourse-" He paused for a moment, the last thing Remus said sinking in. 

"Remus, what did you just say?"

"It's crazy how all the religious junk can control people," Remus repeated, "that's partially why I gave up organized religion, in fact…" 

He trailed off but Logan wasn't listening, the gears in his head turning, formulating a new idea.

"Remus," he exclaimed, eyes lit up as he cut the other off without realizing it, "are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

"Hm, well I think so Logie," Remus said, "but I'm actually allergic to synthetic body glitter."

Logan grit his teeth, face falling. 

"You would make for wonderful evidence to prove it's possible to de-evolve, Remus. No, I was referring to the idea of preying on the population through the use of religion. If I were to somehow convince the masses that I were a god I would have the world tied around my finger; They would do anything I commanded."

"Woah, you'd be a much better god than Sky Daddy Logan," Remus said, "but how are you going to get that many people to trust you?"

"From what I've observed, most people seem to distrust claims of the supernatural due to a lack of perceivable, verified evidence," Logan said. "If I could find a way to create some sort of projection of myself to a large number of people all at once, it might be enough to convince them that I am a deity. And right here in America would be the perfect starting point, because most people here are rather gullible and severely lacking in critical thinking skills."

Remus clapped his hands together. 

"Yay! We're gonna start a nerd cult!"

---

Tireless nights were spent working to bring the plan to fruition. Logan had to work out exactly how he could create a convincing projection of himself, as well as find a power source with enough energy to fuel it. After weeks of building, planning, and re-working the contraption was finally finished and ready to be put to use. 

It was about half past ten o'clock when Remus and Logan headed out to the nearby electrical company. Its small amount of security and large source of power made it the ideal location to put his plan into motion. When they arrived and had successfully snuck through the wired fence, Logan turned to Remus.

"Here," he said, handing him a thick metal pole he had under his arm, "you use this to knock out the security guards while I hack into the security system and cameras. Try and meet me in 15 minutes."

Remus gave a two-fingered salute. 

"You got it Dorkenshmirtz."

Logan rolled his eyes at the nickname, but couldn't truly be annoyed by it. So far everything was going perfectly according to plan. Logan even found himself grinning as he made quick work of disabling the security, the flow of adrenaline making him nearly burst with excitement. Once the system was completely down, he turned tail to head to the main center. He unzipped the bag he was carrying, carefully taking out the disk-like platform he would use for the projection, and untangling the series of wires and cords to put together. To his dismay, he found that the last cord was slightly bent, most likely from being shuffled around in the bag on the trip over, and wouldn't properly plug in to the outlet without hands on assistance. The concern was quickly diminished though. Remus would be able to hold it in place while he was on the platform. Just as the thought crossed his mind the door swung open and Remus stepped in. His hair was slightly more astray than usual and a noticeable bruise was forming around his jaw, but he was smiling madly, chipper as ever.

"Did you take all of the guards out?" Logan asked.

"Yup, I bonked 'em!" Remus said, proudly. "A few of them put up a fight but I went like this," he swung the pole through the air, "BONK!"

Logan couldn't help the amused quirk of his lips. 

"Wonderful," he said, making his way towards the platform, "Everything has been put into place, except the cord over there. I need you to hold it into the outlet for this to work. Do not let go."

Remus nodded.

"Amen Sky Daddy!"

He plugged the cord in, keeping it upright and steady. Almost immediately the platform lit up with a surge of power. Logan walked towards it, nearly trembling. Finally after years of work, trying and failing and trying again, he was going to succeed. The world would finally be his to craft to his perfect, peaceful vision.

Once it was completely charged up Logan took his step onto the platform. Outside an enlarged image of himself filled the sky for miles. He cleared his throat, preparing his speech for the people, when suddenly his moment was interrupted by the sound of Remus cursing to himself as softly as he could manage. His head whipped around and to his horror he saw sparks of electricity flying from the place where the cord met the outlet, sending repeated shocks through Remus, who was struggling through the pain to keep the cord plugged in.

Remus looked to Logan, seeing him hesitate.

"Go on," he whispered, though his voice was strangled with discomfort, "I'm fine."

Logan turned back around once more, but got no further in his speech as he caught the sparks growing larger out of the corner of his eye. 

Time seemed to freeze for Logan, his head was spinning, torn between the task at hand and Remus' pained whimpers.

He'll be fine.

He'll get electrocuted and die.

It's one person vs the future of the rest of the world. This is what I've worked towards for years, and I'm going to blow it.

But he's helped so much. 

Stupid, loyal Remus with his constant screw ups, and dumb jokes, and annoying nicknames, and laughter and chatter that always rang through the house, that filled a void I didn't even notice was there before, and-

Remus cried out, his body completely jolting with an electric shock, but still he forced himself to keep hold of the cord.

"Remus let go!" Logan shouted.

"N-no, y-you-" Remus couldn't get out another word before another strong shock struck him. The surrounding wires and cords were jumping with sparks as well, and Logan caught sight of a fire starting at the floor where Remus sat slumped weakly against the wall.

"Remus!"

Without thinking twice Logan bolted from the platform, heaving Remus into his arms just as the flames began to grow and approach his body. He rushed out of the building, lungs burning from the toxic fumes of smoke that filled the air, but he didn’t slow his pace until they reached the car, the sound of sirens already blaring in the distance.

The drive home almost certainly broke the speed limit, but Logan cared little about that, glancing at Remus, unconscious but miraculously breathing, every few seconds until they reached home.

---

It was evening two days later when Remus finally awoke. He groaned, blinking his eyes open. Just as he came to, Logan walked into the room, rushing over to the bedside.

"So Logan,” Remus said, flashing a dopey smile up at him, “what do you want to do tonight?" 

Logan threw his arms around Remus' neck, the position awkward due to him being sprawled out on the bed, but neither paid any mind to it. Tears leaked out of Logan's eyes, that he tried to hold back.

"I think," he said, sniffling, "that you can choose what we do tonight Remus."

Soon after, the two were curled up on the couch, Remus' head resting on Logan's thighs. Logan sipped hot chocolate from his #1 DICK-tator mug, a Christmas gift from Remus, carding his fingers through the other's hair as a true crime documentary played on the T.V. Maybe, he thought, world domination could wait a bit when he had his whole world lying right in his lap.

---

Ah! I’m so glad I finally finished this! Think of it as my own little celebratory work to welcome in the new Animaniacs reboot.

Taglist: @bullet-tothefeels 

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“School Life:” A Hoodie Season AU Prequel

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Hwang Hyunjin (SKZ)

Genre: Married Life AU (Hoodie Season Prequel)

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Mild Language

Summary: When Y/N is hired as the librarian at her former high school, she isn’t exactly thrilled to return. Of course, there’s also the issue of the persistent dance teacher who seems determined to win her affections.

Here’s a funny story: imagine promising yourself that you’d attend college, nail an awesome degree, and then find a job making six figures on an annual basis, only to return home with a teaching license to work at the same school that you attended when you were 16 while making less than acceptable.

Yeah, life had a funny way of making a joke out of itself, and the punch line is never really that good. 

But there wasn’t time for me to complain about my prospects since I had been unemployed for six months with a lousy degree in literature that led to absolutely nothing. In desperate times, we’re often forced to do things that we hate, and I was certainly disenchanted with the idea of working in a high school library surrounded by horny and immature devils all the time. 

“Good morning, Y/N!”

Oh, and I also had to deal with one of the most annoyingly persistent men on a regular basis. “What do you want, Hyunjin?”

Despite my dismissive tone, Hyunjin still leaned in across the check-out counter, and I could feel his eyes staring at my ass. “It’s my free period.”

“And?”

“And...you should come have coffee with me,” Hyunjin said, and I finally turned around to endure his flirtatious smile. It had only been two months since the start of the semester, and a grand total of two weeks since Hyunjin had first started trying his luck with me. But I was beginning to think that he didn’t know how to take a hint. 

“I’m busy with paperwork,” I said, ignoring his crestfallen expression. However, in my defense, I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and I was far too preoccupied with my own self-loathing to entertain his advances.

“Again?” he pouted, giving me a look that I’m sure won the heart of any girl that he had the chance to impress.

It was too bad that they didn’t work on me. 

“Bye, Hyunjin,” I said, giving him a cheeky smile before disappearing into my office.

The next morning, I noticed that Bang Chan, one of the upperclassman teachers, had arranged to pick up some books for his students. It required some set-up on my end with the computer system, and I was completing the necessary paperwork when Chan walked into the library. “Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a pleasant smile.

“Mr. Bang,” I greeted him in return. “I brought an empty cart for your request.”

“Perfect!” Chan smiled, walking around the counter to pull the cart towards the surrounding bookshelves.

I watched him from the corner of my eye while inputting the final codes for my spreadsheet. “Is this for a class project?”

Chan lifted his head from where he was examining a nearby book display. “Oh! Yeah, the kids like it when we do this kind of stuff. Well, I mean, they don’t like reading so much, but it’s better than tests.”

I nodded my head because I could certainly appreciate that considering some of the more stringent high school examinations that I recalled from my teenage years. “The school wants me to read you this long and boring list of protocols after you check-out something.”

“Yeah...” Chan trailed off with a chuckle. “Do you want to do it now...or?”

I grinned, closing out one of the tabs on my computer screen before joining Chan by the bookshelves. This close, I could appreciate the subtle scent of his cologne and his easygoing smile. “I think we can just skip it,” I said, raising a brow. “I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

“You’ll let me off easy, Y/N?” Chan asked, turning around with a knowing look and I reveled in our simple flirtation. 

“Since you’ve been so nice,” I said, breaking off when I heard the door to the library open again.

“There you are!” Hyunjin announced his presence, waltzing over to the two of us without a single care in the entire world. “How can I last all day without seeing this smile?”

I sighed when said smile disappeared. “What did you do before I came here?”

“It was a lonely workplace,” Hyunjin said, and I noticed the way that he had positioned himself between me and Chan.

“Anyway,” Chan continued, attempting to speak over Hyunjin despite his unexpected presence. “As a thank you, Y/N, would you like to come to the school’s basketball game this Friday? I coach the men’s team, and we’re undefeated this year.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s basically a tradition,” Hyunjin intervened, sending Chan a look. “The boys love the support from their teachers.”

“But Hyunjin, you don’t even-”

“You’ll come, right?” Hyunjin asked, interrupting Chan’s train of thought. In return, the older man merely shrugged before occupying himself with the task of stacking the books that he required onto the cart. 

I studied Hyunjin’s beaming expression because, in all honesty, it was one of the very last things that I wanted to do, but it seemed unusually important - which meant that a small part of me was quite curious. “I guess I can try and clear some time,” I said with a shrug.

Hyunjin’s smile was impossibly large, and he leaned against Chan’s cart like he wanted to look as cool and laid-back as possible. “You know, Y/N,” he started. “I think you and I share a lot in common.”

“I doubt that,” I said with a tense smile.

“We both care a lot about our students,” Hyunjin said, and I tried not to laugh because Hyunjin couldn’t begin to imagine just how much I didn’t want this particular job on my resume. “We’re also good-looking people.”

The comment was shallow, and I didn’t feel that impressed by his attempt to compliment me. Meanwhile, Chan snorted around a laugh as he pushed his cart back, nearly sending Hyunjin sprawling into the floor. “I have things to do,” Chan said, excusing himself politely while a flustered Hyunjin tried to play off his decidedly uncool moment.

“If only your students were around to see this...” I trailed off with a distracted sigh, leaving Hyunjin behind spluttering out nonsensical words while I returned to the sanctity of my private office.

On Friday night, I parked my car near the back of the school before entering the loud and unusually crowded gymnasium where, for just a split second, I almost considered walking back out the door. It smelled like sweat and dirty laundry, and the bleachers looked uncomfortable, especially since everyone was forced to sit shoulder-to-shoulder. “What fresh hell is this?” I grumbled, shouldering off my jacket since I definitely wouldn’t need it.

I proceeded to walk around the proximity of the gym, searching for familiar faces. I spotted Chan standing on the sidelines with another teacher (Changbin, maybe?) before I realized that someone was calling my name from behind me. I turned around to greet Han Jisung, one of the Freshman English teachers, and he pointed to a section where I recognized several other staff members. “You can join us if you want,” Jisung said and I nodded my agreement.

He led us through the crowd of eager fans, keeping an eye on me as I teetered precariously on the old bleachers wearing high heels that I definitely regretted. But at the very top, I could see some familiar faces, including one that appeared far more eager than the rest. “Oh, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “I’m glad to see you. It’s nice to have the teachers support our teams.”

“You never come to the basketball games,” Felix said, and Hyunjin shot him a silencing glare.

“What are you talking about, Felix?” Hyunjin asked with wide eyes. “I always support the school.”

“Sure,” Seungmin snorted as if he was simply placating Hyunjin’s obvious fabrication.

“Yeah, I heard it was something else,” I said, taking a seat next to Han before turning my attention to the game.

I wasn’t a big sports fan by any means, and I struggled to make sense of the chaos that included a bunch of teenage boys running up and down the court wearing their brightly-colored uniforms. Sometimes a whistle blew or the shot clock made a truly horrible sound when the buzzer went off to conclude the end of game-time. Otherwise, I felt utterly confused as I sat back and nodded when one of the other teachers surrounding me made a comment that I certainly didn’t understand.

When the game reached halftime, Hyunjin immediately stood up from his seat, starting down the staircase as he chanced a look back over his shoulder. “They have refreshments outside,” he said to me. “My treat?”

I placated him with a nod, following him into the slowly forming crowd attempting to migrate outside of the gymnasium where the smell of pizza and nachos was especially prominent. Hyunjin and I stood at the back of the line, and I swallowed down a feeling of claustrophobia. Meanwhile, I hadn’t noticed that Hyunjin was looking at me until he finally made his voice audible over the white noise of the surrounding crowd. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Hyunjin said, giving me, what I assumed, was his best attempt at a humble expression. “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to offend you...”

“It’s not so much that,” I said. “But it’s tiresome to see you put so much effort into flirting with me.”

“Oh...” Hyunjin said, clearing his throat awkwardly, but he also seemed hurt by my admission. “I’m not, like, some kind of serial dater or something. I genuinely thought you were interesting when we met at the teacher’s conference for the first time.”

“You did?” I asked, studying this vulnerable version of Hyunjin with close scrutiny.

“Yeah.” He nodded, adjusting the beanie hugging the crown of his hairline. “I’m kinda bad at this type of thing, but you’re different from the others. I think you and I both know that’s not always a bad thing, and I was hoping that you might at least give me one tiny little chance at a date.”

I gave him my full attention then, and I found myself taken aback by the look of earnest interest reflecting back at me in warm swirls of brown. “Okay,” I said, deciding that it couldn’t possible hurt to give him an opportunity. “But do me a favor and at least have a better excuse the next time you come into the library,”

Hyunjin had the decency to blush, and I couldn’t help but smile as we took another step forward.

It was Saturday evening when Hyunjin picked me up in front of my small apartment complex. I settled next to him in the front seat, smiling in his direction when he extended a tentative greeting. “How are you, Y/N?” he asked, and I was surprised to hear a hint of nervousness in his tone.

“I’m good,” I said. “But what’s this surprise all about, Hyunjin?”

“No spoilers,” Hyunjin said, and he seemed to regain some semblance of his former confidence as we drove down the crowded city streets in the direction of the main interstate.

“Well, I expect something classy since you made such a big deal about dressing up for the occasion,” I said, reaching down to smooth my hands along the hemline of my skirt.

“I don’t know much about you,” Hyunjin admitted. “But I had a friend give me some advice.”

“Dating advice?” I questioned, smirking in his direction. “You must not go on very many dates.”

“Not really,” Hyunjin remarked. “Despite what you might be thinking, it’s never been a big thing for me.”

I contemplated his words, watching as he drug his bottom lip between his teeth to worry the skin. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin said. “I guess I’m not very good at making connections with people. I’ve been told that I can come on too strong.”

I laughed at the honest assessment. “Maybe you just need more practice.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin agreed. “But is that okay with you? I mean, now that you know that I don’t have any idea about what I’m doing.”

“I think it’s more exciting,” I told him. “It also explains why you’re flirting was so over the top at the beginning of the semester.”

Hyunjin groaned as if embarrassed by the reminder. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said, reaching across the console to take his willing hand. “If you were quiet, then we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Hyunjin let out a shaky exhale, studying me for a moment from the corner of his eye. “I want to make a better impression on you, Y/N.”

“Trust me,” I said with a smile. “The impression I already have of you is quite persuasive.”

Hyunjin nodded, and a comfortable silence proceeded before he fumbled with the buttons on the radio to allow some music to accompany the remainder of our drive together. It was something techno and upbeat - the kind of thing that just made sense to me because I knew that he was a dance teacher. But in any case, I only really started to pay attention when I noticed that we had somehow entered the more upscale part of the city. 

Maybe Hyunjin was really doing his best to impress me.

“Here we are,” Hyunjin said, pulling into a parking spot lining the side of a very familiar building.

I realized immediately that it was the opera house which meant that the Hwang Hyunjin had brought me to a pretentious affair that certainly held no appeal to someone like myself. But I tried to keep my smile, nodding at him while he handed our tickets over to the attendant. Meanwhile, at the back of my head, all I could think about was the fact that Hyunjin might’ve been trying too hard with our first date. Especially as I observed the expensive theater.

“I heard it’s a classic,” Hyunjin whispered to me after we found our seats in the middle of the enormous crowd.

“Great,” I murmured back, trying not to feel so out of place.

Instead, I focused on the show in front of me, clapping along with everyone else because I had no idea when it was actually appropriate to do so. In fact, I was forced to laugh even though I couldn’t figure out what was funny, and I shifted uncomfortably when the older gentleman next to me started crying during one of the scenes. Apparently, the gathered crowd of patrons had rehearsed all of this before attending the show, and I was left pretending to understand the social cues that the others had already memorized.

It was actually rather draining, and I forced a smile at Hyunjin when he looked down at me. “You’re not having fun,” Hyunjin finally said during intermission.

“What do you mean?” I asked, but I wasn’t nearly as convincing of an actress as the people on stage.

Hyunjin sighed. “Honestly, Y/N, do you even like this?”

I swallowed hard, struggling under the scrutiny of his gaze. “It’s...alright?”

Hyunjin grinned, but it didn’t seem genuine. “Come on,” he said, rising from his seat. “I don’t think we’ll be missing out by leaving early.”

I reluctantly took Hyunjin’s outstretched hand, allowing him to pull me down the aisle before we trudged through the crowded lobby and into the refreshing night air. The parking lot was still full of cars, and Hyunjin had parked us somewhere near the back since we weren’t aware of the necessity of arriving to these shows several hours before start time. But I didn’t mind the walk because I was trying to think of something to say to a downtrodden Hyunjin who paused next to his car.

“Look,” I finally said with an endeared smile. “You don’t have to try so hard to impress me.”

“I screwed everything up,” Hyunjin said, and I was sad to see that he was genuinely upset as he leaned against the side of his car.

“No, you didn’t, Hyunjin,” I tried to tell him, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“I really like you,” Hyunjin said. “And this felt like my one opportunity to get something right, but I fucked up again.”

I took a deep breath, tilting my head to catch Hyunjin off-guard as I brushed a soft kiss across his lips. “I can tell you have a good heart, and that’s all I care about, okay?”

Hyunjin seemed completely taken aback, and I was worried that I had sent him into some kind of shock, but he allowed one hand to wrap around my waist as he brought us closer. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said, and our second kiss was reciprocated by both sides - a tender exchange of out deepest feelings. “Does this mean that I might get a chance at another date?” he asked, looking at me with sincere brown eyes.

“I think you’re worth it,” I told him despite how cheesy it sounded inside my head.

“This makes us official, right?” Hyunjin asked, and I should’ve known better than to expect something normal with him. Doing things by the book with all the cliches involved didn’t really seem like Hyunjin’s kind of thing - and I liked him even more because of it.

“Yeah, if you want labels or whatever,” I grumbled, but his teasing laugh was the best kind of medicine. Needless to say, our first night together was perfect in every way.

[bewarethewolfarmy]

I think I've responded to this before but I'd add to Idea 1 (about how curriculum works), as well as sort of recombine it with idea 2, that generally speaking from the perspective of someone who a) loves to read (like I was THAT kid, the one the teachers kept yelling at to stop reading under the table when they were teaching), b) loves the classics (Dracula is one I very much enjoy, and I had a lot of fun reading Frankenstein; I can understand old English well enough that I use to translate for my mom when we watched Shakespeare) and more recent YA novels (Keepers of the Lost Cities is a current favorite but I adore Cirque du Freak, 39 Clues, any graphic novel I can get my hands on), and c) was a TERRIBLE student in high school (not related to my constantly reading actually; I hated paperwork), one of the biggest issues of K-9 actually is the oversaturation I found of "classics".

It was most egregious in high school but for about four years I ended up having four English classes that all seemed to want me to read the Great Gatsby every year, with some How to Kill a Mockingbird and others to mix it up a bit (my friend got to read Frankenstein; I didn't until I got into university). Now I don't know about you, or anyone else, but I absolutely loathe the Great Gatsby, and a large part of that was because they kept making us read it. They kept making classes around it. They kept expecting us to actually give a fuck about the assholes who are the characters in the Great Gatsby. And I got to watch every year as my classmates would range from "absolutely bored with this shit" to "read that, did that, have the book report from last year to prove it" to "nope, not gonna read". I felt a lot of times that reading in school was treated more like the constant memorization that standardized testing made school have to be; it wasn't about being fun, it wasn't about being interesting, it wasn't about what was needed for growing humans who are developing their personalities and likes and dislikes and thought processes for the years to come. Kids in my classes hated reading, and I think adults oftentimes ignored that the very reason kids hated reading was because they were made to hate it.

Do I think Percy Jackson should be required reading instead? No, personally I never got very much into it (there are better stories in my opinion). But if those "youths" who are complaining about reading classics had been given the chance to choose the classics instead of having them thrown on them, if they had been given the chance to read what was fun as well as what could be helpful for mental development and understanding of humans and human nature, then I feel we wouldn't have this problem. They got told as kids that what they enjoyed wasn't important, by the books they had crammed down their throats in English classes, by the "acceptable book lists" that teachers gave for book reports, by the sheer fact that reading levels was such a big thing when we were young and have become more like a chain around the necks of bibliophiles everywhere (your reading level is university level but you CHOOSE a fourth grade reading level book? What are you, slow? No, you HAVE to read this book that is appropriate for your age not that book that makes you happy).

the last time disaffected 20-somethings decided they didn’t have to read anything by old people bc old people ruined the world and that this was a legitimate political statement, many of those 20-somethings ended up basically inventing fascism

[notfeelingthyaster]

Imagine (based on the incomplete fanfic Son of the Underworld) (Son of Hades! Percy AU) (5/5) or (5/10)

Hey so, this is the last part of PJO - I follow into HOO, so before you read this, check on the masterpost - and read the warnings before proceeding :)) Good reading!

Annabeth comes to him, at the end of his fifteenth birthday party, and shows her Daedalus laptop. There's a document open in it, and it's labeled Achilles' Curse.

Percy doesn't read it - he hates reading, in any way or form or language - but she does, out loud.

"I'll think about it"

They have a year. Most of them, even those who aren't year-rounders, are going back to camp, to draw battle plans and stock on the armory.

He feels kinda selfish - for a whole five seconds before he remembers he'll probably die next summer, so he just shrugs it off - Percy deserves this year.

They all leave to go back to camp. Nico seems conflicted over something - but Perseus doesn't question it, there's enough bad blood between them.

Paola is really cool - and Sally really loves her. It's kind of bizarre at first, to see his Mom dating his teacher - and of a subject he hates - but Paola is calm and well-tempered and she laughs at his stupid ass jokes.

He visits Persephone afterward - and it really feels like he has three moms to fulfill his lack of a father - well, he is absolutely grateful for the women in his life.

Percy isn't truly in good terms with his father. The man doesn't really seem to care much for him as a person - he is much more of a trophy son.

Perseus loathes being a trophy son, but at least he has someone to help with his powers - not something a lot of half-bloods can claim.

So he goes back to school with Rachel, and they pretend everything is normal. He tells her about his quests - all three of them. He thinks she understands him better now.

He opens up to her. Tells her about Annabeth - the adrenaline-fueled kiss - and Rachel stops talking with him for a week.

She apologizes when she comes back. She needed to figure some things up - firstly, the redhead tells him she is probably asexual - and maybe aromantic too, but she is not certain because the internet wasn't really clear about that.

Then Rachel confesses that she is not jealous of him in a romantic way - she is envious of his friendship with Annabeth. Percy is her first genuine friend that really appreciates her.

This is the first grudge Perseus lets go for real before it even takes place - Rachel didn't leave him because of teenage drama, she ignored him out of confusion. Everyone is allowed space - he knows this better than anyone.

They don't kiss anymore. Not because Rachel doesn't like it - no, she is all for it - but because Percy is starting to think kisses should mean something - he is saving them.

They kiss once - when Rachel father calls for the first time this year - not to ask about her, but to tell Rachel he found this amazing all-girls school. To Percy, kisses mean comfort.

They cuddle a lot, though. These past few years of fear have made Percy very touch-starved.

It's sophomore year - and Percy is in five AP classes: Macroeconomics&Microeconomics, Statistics, Calculus AB, Physics 1, and Comparative Government and Politics.

He is planning on taking both AP Computer Science classes, Psychology, Physics 2, and Calculus BC next year; leaving only Electricity&Magnetism, Mechanics, Chemistry, and World History for his senior year.

If he lives, he is working on a tight schedule here. He doesn't know what he wants yet - and if he is in constant danger, it's already pretty lucky he can do high school - but probably something with Math.

Rachel says fourteen AP courses are ambitious - that he'll burn out. But math comes to him easily enough - it's in his blood.

She is also overworking: She is taking AP Environmental Studies, Art History, Drawing, 2-D Art and Design, and English Literature and Composition.

They complete each other. Rachel is planning on taking as many Art, History, and English courses as she can - he is taking as many Physics, Math, and Science as he can handle.

(She is also going to take on Japanese studies for some reason - probably for her GPA, but Perseus just teases her that she is getting too invested in anime)

Perseus doesn't care about languages anymore - the only languages that matter to him are C++ and JavaScript now.

They study together, they take naps together, they climb to the roof together, they flee school to visit Sally together - he is the Pinky to her Brain, the Scooby to her Shaggy, the Lois Lane to her Superman, the Robin to her Batman.

They look like troublemakers - They are honor roll students, but she is always with ripped pants dirty with paint, and he is always full of flowers everywhere, even in his muddy converses - a cliche to kill all cliches.

They're both nerds - he is the classic one, all polo shirts now, the first chair for every number-related class - and she is the artsy one - there's a brush behind her ear and her hair is so messy that half the time it covers her face.

Paola gifts him a pair of cheap frames without lenses once - saying it adds to the aesthetic - he totally uses them.

Persephone just makes him flower-crowns, and giggles when he matches them with his polo shirts.

When winter comes, he goes back to his hoodies and sweaters and gloves - to find out he doesn't miss them a lot.

Rachel introduces him to polaroids - and they look eerily pretty in the winter, her hair looking like blood spilling over the snow - and he loves it.

If he survives - he can feel Rachel slapping him - when he survives, his college credits will be remarkable. The idea of doing SATs makes him want to cry - reading always does - but he'll get somewhere good - he knows it. Perhaps Stanford. Or NYU. Or the dream of his life, MIT.

He is living his life to the fullest - he starts reading comic books, he gets really (really) into Tony Stark once Iron Man 1 comes out (even if he has to kill at least three monsters just to go to the movies), he plants trees and Rachel starts teaching him how to play her ukulele - but half his mind is still on the upcoming war.

Christmas vacation comes - and he goes to visit Camp Half-Blood, before heading back to his mom. It's quite memorable, if only by the fact that Nico Di Angelo freaking betrays him.

He tells Percy to come to the Winter Solstice with him. Most of the campers are not going - the war effort is in an all-time high - but Percy has never gone before. Hades will be there - it'll be great!

Perseus should absolutely be less surprised with the outcome - seeing that Nico is inviting him in Cabin 1, post-dinner, and they don't even stop to talk to Chiron about it.

But Percy goes. Because Percy wants to make amends.

There's no time to really talk to anyone. They travel in Blackjack for the Empire State Building - and it's fine.

They go up to Olympus, Nico shows him everything in the god's land, the temples are a work of art, if not kind of old, and the meeting is kind of okay, even if the gods are squabbling children.

Then the gods leave, and Perseus thinks they're leaving too.

"My father needs a word with you"

Perseus feels the betrayal claw on him. There are no shadows in the white hall, there's no way for him to escape. Nico looks apologetic - Percy wants to clock him in the face.

"He promised to tell me more about my mother" Nico pleads "He will tell me more about where I've come from. Please, Percy."

Nico is cute. He is, for a soon-to-be fourteen-year-old. But his pretty face and exquisite white eyes don't make him any less of a freaking liar. All his handsome male straight friends betray him - it's a worrying pattern now.

He muses for a second that they also all have a crush on Annabeth - gods, the blonde attract the worst types.

It's double-crossing - Percy ends up in an all-white cell that burns his retinas without any weapons because Zeus wants praise in the middle of this freaking war - doesn't matter if a hundred demigods die, if he only has the glory.

Nico ends up with barely any information - Zeus didn't promise anything. The god of the skies is a lying-ass motherfucker - literally.

And Zeus justifies it - He says Perseus is a criminal because he awakened Typhon. So Hephaestus issues a quest so he can save a hundred demigods, he destroys a powerful titan weapon of doom, and he is the villain? Sure, Jan.

Perseus writes this grudge in his heart - that's where trust will take you. To a cell. Betrayed by a "friend". Again.

He flinches when Nico comes into his cell, pins him to the wall and promptly begins to try and strangle him. He wants to melt in the boy's shadow - to go and never give him a chance to explain - but he looks so guilty Percy waits for his repentance.

The son of Zeus saves him, but Perseus is still pissed off. The god of thunder has threatened to kill him off at least two times now, what is to say he wouldn't have killed off Percy for the sake of glory?

He half hopes Zeus had killed him off. The war is close, too close - Nico wouldn't be the Prophecy's child. There would be no child. Olympus would fall - and Percy would have seen it all from his very comfortable couch in Elysium.

He wants Kronos gone - but he kind of wants Olympus to fall with the Titan.

Nico flies him down to the Earth - the elevator is monitored. Zeus has left, like many others - not to bother with the war effort against his main enemy, but to go to the human world mess with people.

Some gods are doing something - He has heard from Annabeth that Artemis is leading the widest hunt ever, with her brother by her side; Hermes (with Hephaestus help) is delivering Celestial Bronze, other metals, old schematics and a whole lot of fuel to Camp Half-Blood every few weeks; Poseidon is fighting his own war, in the ocean; Dionysus is at Camp - and this time, he is really helpful with the battle formations; Demeter is on the Underworld - Chiron seems to think his father is preparing for war, but Percy sorely doubts it.

Percy is taking some people with him to Sally's Christmas dinner. Just Annabeth, Clarisse, Rachel, Connor, Travis, and Charles - people who don't have a present family to celebrate it with.

Grover is coordinating the dryads up in San Francisco with his second cousin, Gleeson Hedge - they are the first to fall if anything goes wrong in Mt. Othrys.

"I think you should stay." He tells Nico.

"You don't trust me anymore." It's not actually a question.

Percy doesn't trust the boy. Not at all - it's the third time he does something shady to achieve his ends based on emotional turmoil. But he is a good person - it's just his father's cursed temper and his grief.

"It's not that. You're needed for the war effort."

Both of them know it's a lie. Percy doesn't care - he deserves to be bitter a little longer.

Percy goes back home. Christmas is amazing - even if Rachel asks him where Nico is because he is talking about making amends with the boy for a while now.

He goes visit Persephone - but she is occupied, so he wanders through the Underworld after Bianca di Angelo - someone he, for some reason, never been able to reach. It's a pointless endeavor by now.

He finds her. Or else, he finds a shadow of her - she is blocked from his view. Bianca doesn't talk to him - they weren't close - but she guides him to a girl.

Her name is Hazel Levesque.

She seems lost - like most ghosts - but something in Percy calls for her. It's the color of her skin and the sparkle in her golden eyes - Hazel remembers him of himself.

He promises to visit more - even though he doesn't think she'll remember it - and leaves to go back to the surface - he will finish the sophomore year.

And Percy does. After a very distressing break, he is doing his best. His grades drop a little in English because he can barely focus - half his mind is on the war and Nico's betrayal and Hazel Levesque's golden eyes.

Miraculously, his GPA doesn't fall - he still is taking a ridiculous amount of AP classes, and barely has time to breathe - dark circles grow under his eyes, and he looks like a mess - but now he is a Junior.

That's why, as soon as the year ends, Rachel takes him on a road trip with Connor. They go all the way to Boston, then Portland, Quebec, Montreal, Ottawa, Syracuse, Baltimore, and Filadelfia, before going back to NY.

They are stopped five times by the police - because Percy is black, and it's Rachel driving the Camaro, because she has a learner's permit and Connor is, somehow, an approved license holder.

They are on a pier, enjoying the view of the beach. They did the last week alone because Connor wanted to go check on one of his cousins - at least, that's what he said, with an over-exaggerated wink that both Percy and Rachel ignored for the sake of their sanity.

She tells him about Clarion Ladies Academy - but that her father is at least mildly happy with her GPA this year, even if he disapproves of her Art focused AP classes. Percy thinks Mr. Dare would love him, with his APs on Economics and Politics, if only he was rich. And white.

This time, when Charles Beckendorf arrives in a Pegasus to tell him it's time, Rachel doesn't kiss him - she justs hugs him and makes him promise to call her.

Perseus doesn't go to the Andromeda Ship - he is needed in Camp. He is useless on the water - but they do need him to improve battle strategy.

Charles Beckendorf is dead. Thalia is the one to tell them - she was in her father's palace helping with a monster under her Lady's orders - he went on the mission alone.

Percy talks briefly with Beckendorf's ghost - is his worst developed power, and he can barely hold the "seance" for more than a few minutes. He does it with only Nico di Angelo for witness - the others are the way to close to the situation.

There's a spy passing information to Luke.

They look at him. Doesn't matter how much he does, he is always the first suspect - he is a son of Hades. He was friends with a lot of people on the other side. He was gone for a year and a half, who knows where.

Perseus wants to say that he has helped to save their asses four times now - that without him in the Labyrinth, they would all be dead right now - and that Charles was basically his older brother.

Then he points out he wasn't even here - he had no idea of any plans of anything - and he told him about the spy, so he is not the freaking spy, go point fingers at each other instead of him.

When they start yelling, he stops them - this is not the time, he was just angry at their accusations. They have to burn Charles shroud. Silena is inconsolable - Percy is not very far from it, but he is not a public crier. The last time he cried in public, Luke was dead on a cliff.

Percy speeds up the line for Elysium to Beckendorf - his brother deserves it.

They read the prophecy together - Perseus already read it last summer, he doesn't even care anymore. They look at him anxiously - no one has forgotten that he abhors most of the gods.

Clarisse and Michael Yew fight, but Lee Fletcher - with a mechanical arm built by Beckendorf himself, still re-learning how to shoot arrows and forever incapable of playing the guitar again (but the keyboard is not ruled out yet) - stops them: They can share the chariot. The war is more important - is not the time for petty fights.

Chiron shows them Typhon - and Perseus has a sliver of hope that they can destroy Kronos and be free of the gods at the same time - It's a horrible hope, because he loves Persephone and some of them are even okay sometimes, but he really wants Zeus to go to Tartarus for at least a century, so Perseus doesn't meet him again in this life.

But he also wants the gods to win, because there's a lot of dead people - innocents, people who have nothing to do with this war.

He dreams of Rachel. Rachel is painting Luke - and Percy wakes up crying, for the boy the gods took away.

Annabeth takes him aside and reminds him of Achilles' Curse. He is off to May Castellan's house - the last place Luke has been - for it's his best and only chance, its what Annie thinks. And she is scarcely wrong.

Perseus hates the gods. They wrecked a family - and for what? May Castellan - forever waiting for a son that will never come back, haunted by visions of his future, plates of burned cookies everywhere.

Perseus doesn't pity her - he rages against the gods, who brought madness upon this woman and then left her to it. Where was Apollo, the god of health? Dionysus, who is supposed to control mental health? Artemis, whose job is to protect women?

Hestia is kind - but she is still a goddess. She could've prevented this - but she hides in her hearth and abstains - and that's enabling. Hestia enables the other gods to do as they please, even when she is the oldest. She says they ignore her - oh well, she ignores them right back! He has no time for the laments of another all-powerful being.

So he goes to his mother and asks for her blessing. Then, just to be sure, he asks Persephone's too.

He thinks about his anchor - where does he want it to be in his body. He doesn't want somewhere in his back - where he can't see it - or in his gut - where anyone can stick a sword. He settles for the bottom of his back - where he can at least touch it and it's well protected by armor - and dives.

Perseus hates water - and he has an uncanny fear of drowning. He feels pain - everywhere, horrible pain.

His vision now doesn't have Annabeth's face - the blonde is his link to the demigod world, Persephone is his link to the Underworld and his mom is his link to childhood - but the person who grounds him is Rachel.

He is stronger. He feel his powers at his fingertips - Perseus feels the Underworld as a whole, and it's overwhelming.

Green flames explode from his hands. Flowers made of shadows curve around his ankles - he has been training since he was 12, but now his body can sustain all of his power. This is all his.

He goes meet with his father - Perseus manipulates him. He tells Hades he'll be the hero, but the god himself can be praised for more than being his father. That he should join the battle against Typhon - That's his chance of proving himself. Also, there's less paperwork for him if there are fewer dead people.

His father is amused with his blatant bribing, but he thinks about it, Percy can tell. In a way or another, he excuses himself and goes back to the surface where he is needed.

Persephone stalls him. She asks him to stay, just for this night. He can go back in the morning - he sleeps, and dreams of Rachel again, drawing in the sand. In greek.

He is scared for her - she is having demigod dreams, but she is mortal. Something is wrong.

Typhon is getting worse - and Kronos draws closer to NYC. It's time - he calls for Blackjack and leaves - Mrs. O'Leary, who has become more or less of a mother to his own hellhound, follows. Persephone promises to convince Hades.

They have about sixty campers able to fight heading for the Empire State Building, and five healers. The ones too young to lift a sword or string a bow stayed back at Camp with Argus - fifteen children between 5 and 9 years old.

Percy knows he looks different - he looks just like his father. He has gained a godly aura - he has no scars anymore, no imperfections. Perseus looms over all of them - he went from 5'7'' to 6'2'' - it's a weird view, from up there. It's still strange when they look at him with a mix of fear and admiration.

Perseus Jackson is officially their leader. He hates Olympus - but he will give his life to defend every single one of his demigods.

The vision Hestia shows him just makes him want to tear this throne room with his bare hands - Luke was a kid. He was a kid - and the gods corrupted him. Thalia was a kid - and the gods took her life, twice. Annabeth is still a kid - they all are - and she is here planning battle strategies.

Annabeth missed an extra year of formal education - while Percy is a Junior, Annabeth barely qualifies for a Freshman - because the gods took this from her too.

Percy rages. The ground of Olympus trembles beneath him - he wants to kill something.

Then Hermes appears - like this whole war is not his fault in the first place, the literal bastard - just to relay a message from Athena that gives them a plan that Annabeth was already putting into works and tells Percy to stay away from Annabeth.

Like she cares. Like Athena has ever, ever, done anything for Annabeth.

Perseus can't punch Athena, so he punches the messager (also, because he freaking guilt trips both of them about Luke). He has nothing to lose - he is going to die by the end of the day anyway, and they need him too much.

He has punched a god before - Ares, in a desert in the middle of Los Angeles - but this time, it's satisfactory. He feels good after it.

Hermes seems strangely resigned - He feels guilty about Luke too, but Perseus doesn't think it's enough. It'll never be enough, not while the gods leave their children to rot in a cabin of rejects and May Castellan bakes cookies for a son that will never come back.

Hermes leaves, ashamed. It's only fair, Perseus thinks. They all should be ashamed.

They see the city asleep - the prophecy is in the works.

Perseus executes their strategy - every cabin is covering a tunnel, with the exception of Dionysus, because Pollux is with the Demeter kids, and the Hecate kids stay behind to use spells to overlook the city. Lincoln Tunnel is getting covered by Ares - who, this time around, is actively participating.

The undetermined who didn't desert are with Hermes - and the minor god's children are divided by specialty - most Hypnos and Morpheus children follow him directly, but the two sons of Iris go with the Apollo Cabin.

Annabeth executes Plan 23, automatons, mounting on Mrs. O'Leary (who has strict orders to take Annabeth anywhere she wants without stopping to play around) - she doesn't need his help with this, and Percy has a tunnel to defend.

That left the rivers uncovered - until Thalia appears, with magical sand money, and made the rivers cooperate.

The hunters join the Aphrodite kids - who are half a dozen children between 11 and 19 - the oldest being Silena Beauregard, who uses a crossbow that looks exactly like her immortal half-brother's one.

His bridge is completely covered on skeletons - but no monster comes, even if he hears explosions. He leaves an English Lieutenant from the Battle of Yorktown in command of the bridge - with Tyene, the oldest daughter of Morpheus, to be in alert and don't let Clovis sleep through the battle. Because he did it before - and while it is funny, it can't happen right now.

Perseus mounts Blackjack - and go see where the noise is coming from. It's the Williamsburg Bridge - where are most of Apollo's Cabin.

They fight - and Percy almost cries when he sees Luke, who is not Luke anymore. Luke, who is a puppet controlled by Kronos.

Perseus kills the Minotaur and the weight of his stone spikes collapse the bridge - and Michael Yew dies. This time around, the bridge falls silently into shadows, and he doesn't bother about searching for the corpse - he saw the boy falling, and his screams will haunt all of them, forever.

This time around, Annabeth is not there to protect him - Ethan also doesn't try to kill him. The Son of Nemesis doesn't leave Kronos side for a second - but there's regret in his eyes.

After the bloodlust is gone, Perseus collapses - Will has to bride carry him back. Overuse of his powers - he summoned skeletons and produced shadows, melted enemy swords (with the bonus of incapacitating them without killing), and sprouted stone spikes everywhere - there's even a vine or ten that he used to hold his friends from falling.

Perseus doesn't sleep quickly enough to not hear the yell of anguish that comes from Lee Fletcher - the pain of losing a brother and not being able to fight beside him.

But he does sleep - and he dreams. He dreams of Hades killing Maria Di Angelo, not Hera, like Zeus told Nico. He dreams of Zeus cursing the Oracle - and he seethes, because he also sees what happened to May Castellan.

He keeps getting angrier and angrier at the gods - it's building inside of him. But his friends are still here, still fragile. He can't let them suffer more.

Perseus wakes up, checks on everyone - most everyone is either injured and/or exhausted, but he checks on every camper. He knows all of their names, their ages, their cabins. - and promises to sit up to talk with Thalia and Nico - war makes him prone to peace - and promptly goes back to sleep.

He dreams of Rachel. He wants to scream for her not to come: but she'll anyway.

Perseus dreams of a boy. He is his age - maybe a little younger. His hair is blonde and his skin is whiter - but Percy glances at his eyes, and there are waves in them.

There's a girl by his side - she is familiar to Percy, somehow. They're climbing a mountain.

The dream ends and Percy can't make heads or tails of it. He asks Thalia if she has a brother, but she says that she doesn't, looking wistful.

Prometheus is tempting - but he knows there's no Luke anymore, there's only Kronos. And the gods are horrible, vile and immature - but they never killed any of Percy's friends. Some of them died for the gods - but never by their hands, so for now, Perseus would toe the line.

He does want to punch Hermes again. He takes the Pythos - if everything goes wrong, he will not hesitate in going down for the sake of his friends - but there have been six deaths, and it's enough.

"Was it worth it?" He asks Ethan.

"Alabaster is alive" And it's all the answer Percy needs.

He dreams of Ethan and Alabaster. Alabaster is alive, yes, but he is missing half a leg - courtesy of Clarisse herself. Luke - Kronos - is indifferent, and Ethan curses the daughter of Ares - "The sword that took from us will take from you"

He contains Hyperion with his shadows. Then he helps Grover (who was half asleep, because of Morpheus) to make the Titan into a tree. It's a pomegranate tree - then he sets hellish fire to it and sacrifices it to Hades and Persephone.

A pig is in the sky - this time around, Annabeth and her frightening army of automatons kill it with Nico's help.

Perseus laughs - because Annabeth has about two hundred automatons under her command, Martin Luther King and Alexander Hamilton leading the charge with a giant bull being ridden by the Mad Hatter behind them.

It's weird to see historic figures Percy admires - like Jane Bolin, Sylvia Mendez, or Abraham Lincoln - fighting alongside people he downright despises - Thomas Jefferson and the goatfucker, herpes-ridden, Colombus. His Comparative Government teacher would have a field day.

Annabeth and Nico's pair up is amazing - They fight alongside like they have been doing it all life.

Nico is a force of nature, flying and commanding the winds to do his bidding - His eyes shine in the midst of the stormy clouds. His specialty is weather manipulation - he hasn't had much success with direct energy or electric discharges.

Annabeth has her mother's tenacity for war - and her clever mind for strategies. It's clear in her eyes - she is racking the weaker points of the Clazmonian Sow in her mind and destroying it. The automatons hold the pig in place - and she makes bacon of it.

Hercules couldn't do it. Nico and Annabeth can, because they have the power and the mind.

Perseus is still fighting off monsters - but they're too widespread, so they retreat to the doors of the Empire State Building.

Percy does a mental tally: of sixty-two campers, six are confirmed dead, twenty are injured and nine are out of commission on exhaustion. There should be 27 orange shirts here - but there's only twenty.

Percy wonders if the seven missing are injured, or dead, or under a pile of rubble somewhere with no one to help them. Is there someone being slowly eaten by monsters? Is there someone alone and injured and abandoned? He doesn't know.

He prays that those seven deserted them - at least that means they probably are alive and well.

Perseus looks at Phoebe's grief-stricken face, and he knows it's not probable - she had almost three dozen hunters with her, and now there's barely fifteen still fighting, Thalia nowhere to be seen.

They prepare for their last standing - Percy keeps conjuring skeletons, but they're no match for the sheer strength of the hyperborean giants. Nico is shoulder to shoulder with the Stoll brothers against a group of telkhines - Clarisse is bringing down a whole giant by herself.

After the Party Ponies save them - Chiron leads the charge against his own father, and Perseus is so proud of his mentor he can't even put in words how much - he goes to sleep. Fighting gets him tired quickly, and they'll come back.

He dreams of Dionysus. Perseus is not fond of any god who is not Persephone, but Dionysus is mostly okay sometimes. He seems to care about his children.

Perseus couldn't care less about the Western Civilization - but he'll care for Pollux. It's one of his demigods, after all, and Underworld people are possessive of theirs (i.e. Hades and Persephone).

He dreams of Thalia, in her father's palace, begging Poseidon to leave the underwater war and help with the invasion - His wife is none too happy with the presence of his immortal bastard daughter.

He wakes up to Rachel's helicopter falling - how is Rachel even awake, is a mistery.

The improbable pair Nico and Annabeth strike again: The girl knows how to fly helicopters, and the boy can fly himself. They save the redhead and the pilot - everything is fine.

"You're not the hero"

"Why did you risk yourself to tell me something I already know?"

Rachel doesn't explain - she can't. But she has a vision that says that he is not the hero. The hero of what? Perseus has no idea. But there's no way any of his cousins is dying for this stupid prophecy.

Suddenly, there's a drakon there. Rachel has another prophecy - Perseus fears she will walk the path that led May Castellan to destruction - that only a child of Ares will be able to kill it.

Bad news: All children of Ares are otherwise out of battle.

Clarisse is resting after a nasty concussion - and her brothers and Apollo's children are fighting yet again because Lee Fletcher is in no condition to stop them and Michael Yew is dead. Ares' side refuses to fight without the chariot - which Cabin 7 has hidden somewhere.

The best they can do is fend the drakon off until a miracle occurs. And it does: Clarisse, in full armor, manages to lead her brothers into battle.

Clarisse is dead. Something shatters inside of Perseus - and he leaves the drakon for the Ares' children to solve - he can't kill it anyway - and starts to vaporize the army behind it.

He is so caught up in bloodlust, that he almost misses Clarisse slaying a dragon. Clarisse, who has no armor. Clarisse, who is alive.

Ethan's curse rang true - Clarisse's weapon took something from her.

Silena is a traitor. She is also dead - which makes her a martyr, and probably going to reunite with her boyfriend in Elysium.

He remembers how easy is to fall for Luke's charm - he was - is - still in love with the guy. Percy thought the son of Hermes could do no wrong - and he wonders how much of his rage against the gods sprout from his influence.

Something evil inside of Perseus's mind tells him she deserved it. It tells Perseus that better her than Clarisse - but he shuts it down, and concentrates on his shining red friends.

He hates Ares. But he might just have an okay side if he can produce such a magnificent daughter.

Silena is the Patroclus to Clarisse's Achilles, and the Drakon is Hector - and the daughter of Ares is sure to parade its dead body.

It's the first time they feel like they are winning. It doesn't last - but as he hugs Clarisse tightly, he thinks he might cry of relief.

Clarisse looks tough - but she is a wonderful human being. She loves Silena with her whole heart - even more than she loves Chris, her best friend. Silena might've been in love with Charles - but she and Clarisse? They are soulmates.

The damned Pythos is following Perseus - and he is done with it. He knows where hope will survive best. Rachel wants him to give it to Hestia - but he owns the fire goddess nothing.

She has never interfered, not once, to help the dozens of demigods with no family that is abandoned in Cabin 11, and he won't forgive her for it.

He sacrifices hope to Persephone because that's what spring is. Spring is the hope of a new life. Maybe, Perseus thinks, it'll convince his father to come.

They go down to make their final stand against the forces of Kronos. There's not a lot of them - but they're not getting through those doors.

Well, his father doesn't come. But Poseidon does, with his whole army, Tyson and Thalia behind him, and the scales seem to turn.

And then Kronos cuts the barrier. Perseus can see his Mom (why is his Mom here with a handgun?!) and Poseidon fighting against the monsters under the eyes of extremely confused mortals.

Some are trying to break the barrier - but it's futile. Kronos has corraled them like sheep for the slaughter.

It's just him, Grover, Annabeth and Nico, fighting against Kronos vanguard - which is big, but not as strong as they are.

Kronos passes him without resistance - Ethan follows, but there's anger in his eyes - not for Percy, but for the monster he is leashed to. Alabaster is not there.

As soon as Kronos powers stop working on them, the four follow the titan - and some things never change, no matter the universe.

This time, it's Nico who falls because of Hera - it's her curse over all of her husband's bastards.

Ethan takes one look at Perseus, and they don't even need to fight. They have been friends for longer than they have been enemies - and they both loathe the gods, but Kronos is as much of an all-powerful controller being as any of the Olympians.

They battle against Kronos - Perseus has only his ax against his scyther - a true Underworld fight.

Ethan dies. And Perseus bloodlust consumes him - it clouds his eyes and he can only keep fighting.

"If... if we've had cabins... and they had thrones"

It's true, and more than ever, Perseus wishes Kronos wasn't such a bastard. He wouldn't bother killing the gods - but the titan is a way worse option.

"LUKE, PLEASE" It's Annabeth. He doesn't have her faith - she didn't saw his transformation. But he tries anyway because he loves Luke just as much as he hates Kronos.

"Luke, remember our summer" But his words are caught up in his throat when the titan throws him against the wall.

But the amalgamation of his friend and an all-powerful being looks confused, so props for his genius best friend.

Kronos shows them a rainbow message of Typhon - and that's where Perseus it's pretty sure he starts liking his father.

Because the Lord of the Dead opens up the earth and gets out in a black chariot guided by skeletal horses like a king. By his right side, is Persephone, in armor battle as a queen should be. By his left, is Demeter, who looks every single bit like the matron she is supposed to be.

Behind him, a hundred thousand dead roars. Charon is mounting Cerberus - and literal hell is unleashed upon the Father of Monsters.

The gods strike down Typhon, sending him back to be locked away - this time, in the depths of Tartarus instead of Mount Etna.

Kronos gets mad. Utterly, undoubtedly mad. He talks about burning Luke's body. Then he hurts Annabeth and breaks two promises in one fell swoop.

"Luke.... remember family" It's what Annabeth utters, but Perseus, already certain of their own demise, is crying now.

"That summer Luke, you promised to never hurt her again. You remember it? YOU PROMISED LUKE!!"

Annabeth's promise was already broken - he had hurt her, all those years ago, in Mt. Othrys. But the promise he made to Percy - that he would never hurt her again - is new and broken, in the river Styx no less.

Luke regains his own body, for a minute, and Perseus runs to him like a man in a desert with no water.

"Please, please tell me there's a way to undo this, Luke, please, please"

"There isn't one, Percy" And it's the first time he hears Luke call him Percy, Percy and not Perseus, in his own voice, in two years. Percy cries.

"We... we don't have much time, hellebore. Give me Annabeth's dagger. Before he... before he takes back"

Luke calls him hellebore and it makes him start crying all over again. He gives him the dagger - and Luke kills himself, taking Kronos out with him.

Luke doesn't need to ask if Percy has ever loved him - Percy kept loving Luke, one-sided as it was, even when Kronos was there.

He still crying over Luke's body when the gods arrive. Luke is dead. Ethan is dead. Silena is dead. Michael Yew is dead. Charles is dead.

He lost three of his best friends in two days. Ethan is dead. Luke is dead. Luke is dead.

Perseus can't stop crying. They take Luke's body away - but he can't stop. Annabeth explains what happened to the gods - most of it, anyway. Apollo says he is in shock - his father says he is a hero.

Perseus doesn't feel like a hero. Was this all worth it? Was it worth it the pain and the death and the suffering?

Persephone touches him - and he has no tears to cry anymore. She can't hug him here, but she'll do so later.

He stares at the walls, listening to his friends being awarded - compensated by their siblings and friends' deaths - with a blank stare. Perseus wants his mom.

They call for him. He raised his head but doesn't bother getting up. He just saved their asses - for the fifth time in a roll. He deserves to grieve.

They offer him immortality. A place between the gods.

He laughs. Zeus looks murderous, but he can't stop laughing.

"My apologies, but I have to refuse," he says. But in his mind, he is thinking about how could they even think he might want to sit between them and be an all-powerful being, be another god ignoring his children and messing with mortal lives while thousands die for him.

"Promise me, on the river Styx, that you'll give me the wish that I want."

They promise him, that if it's within their capabilities, they shall grant him his wish.

"I wish for every child at the age of twelve to be claimed. I wish for cabins in Camp Half-Blood, for every single minor god, and my own father. I wish for Calypso to be free, and to the demigods from the opposite side of this war to be given amnesty. It's not their fault. It's not any of our faults."

"You dare to-" Zeus begins, but Percy is really tired of Zeus.

"We fought your war, we won your battles. We, the unclaimed and rejected stowaways of Cabin 11. We, the children of minor and Underworld gods. We deserve respect. Just like my father deserves a throne, just like the minor gods deserve justice."

"Don't you fear us?" Athena asks, something weird shining in her eyes.

"I thought I would be dead today. At least if I die now, I'm dying for something I believe in."

It stays unsaid that he doesn't believe in them. The other demigods look at him worried - but he is not afraid of the gods.

They grant his wish. Some of them aren't happy with it, but they have to do it. He meets Calypso at the front gates of Olympus - and her smile can brighten the pits of Tartarus. He sees Alabaster talking with Lou Ellen - they are both crying.

He thinks it's the end - it's not. Thalia tells him Rachel left for Camp in her Pegasus - and his father has lift the curse, the Prophecy is gone, but he fears for his best friend.

Perseus is too tired for shadow travel - he does it anyway. He flickers, but anyway, he is too late.

It works. Rachel - his best friend - is the new Oracle. Someone jokes they can't be together anymore and Rachel lifts an eyebrow.

"We never were. Didn't you see the last few hours?" Well, he did out himself. Mostly - they might say it's just friendship, and he will hate the way they twist it. Luke wasn't a villain, and Perseus isn't a pure hero with a heart of gold.

Perseus is healing from lost love - and Annabeth is too. His crush on her was only a crush, he thinks - She is his best friend first and foremost. They cry together at the bonfire that burns away the shrouds of 43 demigods - from both sides - and 16 hunters of Artemis. Their souls all rest in Elysium now.

Alabaster comes back to Camp and helps his siblings to build the new Cabin for Hecate, full of spelled blocks and magic chimneys. Clovis and Tyene have their hands full with their own cabins - it doesn't help they keep getting sidetracked with naps.

Somehow, Nico, Thalia, and his bond over helping construct Cabin 13 - They are both way too invested in the goth vibe, mostly because Cabin 1 looks like a temple, and Cabin 3 looks like a beach cabin. And both of them are so over it.

Perseus doesn't want a goth cabin - he is fighting against the aesthetic for years - but sometimes, there are no arguments. His Cabin is made of black marble, and there are skulls everywhere, with torches shining with green fire. Outside, at least. Inside, it looks like Persephone's garden, with input from the queen herself. It's ready just shy of the end of summer vacation.

Rachel tells the next Great Prophecy. Perseus isn't such a positive person to think it won't affect him - he hopes at least it'll wait until he is done with High School.

That night, he dreams of the blonde boy again - it's his first night without nightmares since the battle. He has a scar in his lip, and his green eyes pierce Percy's soul. Perseus wonders if they'll ever meet, wonders if this boy is one of the Seven of the Prophecy.

But alas, Perseus lets it go. The summer is over - he is sixteen, somehow. He is alive and going to go back to his mortal life and his junior year, and grief. Not everything is fine - but eventually, it will be.

It's not the end. Not yet.

[mayfriend-archive]

Totally understand if you're not up for it and fully recognize the ronald mcdonald dom/sub anon vibes which is an AMAZING post btw but like...now i'm curious, what the hell did Lord of the Flies anon DO that got him blocked for the discourse? like...i just can't wrap my head around high school lit being...uh...that inflammatory i guess?

Okay so, I'll start by saying I've had a new anon from apparently the same anon saying they are NOT the person I blocked, just a rando making the same points, but I'll answer your question anyway just to set out why this person in particular got blocked, out of the several thousand who reblogged/commented on that very successful addition to the LoTF post I made.

First off, I added the 'real life Lord of the Flies' story because I thought it was a good story. I had read about it only a couple days beforehand in Humankind and, after reading out the entire chapter to my parents who weren't very interested, I was excited that there was not only a post where it would be relevant to post, but that I wouldn't be hijacking it, as it was already rejecting the widespread interpretation taught in many schools, that humanity is inherently savage.

When making the addition, I a) did not think it would get more than a couple reblogs, because the post was already at 50k notes and I figured anyone that might be interested would already have seen it, and b) I did not know the very specific context that prompted William Golding to write the book; all I knew was that he had been a teacher at a public school (basically, the poshest schools in the country - think Eton, Harrow, very 'old money' places that pump out Conservative politicians by the bucket-load 🤢) who hated his job and the boys he taught (which, valid), and new information I'd been given in Humankind - that Golding had said to his wife one day, "Wouldn't it be a good idea to write a story about some boys on an island, showing how they would really behave?" - which had no mention of The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne, which I have since learned was the text that Golding loathed enough to write an entire novel in refutation of - and included what I considered a very telling letter from Golding to his publisher, in which Golding wrote of his belief that 'even if we start with a clean slate, our nature compels us to make a muck of it.' Another Golding quote that I believe portrays his belief in humanity's 'innate savagery' is that "man produces evil as a bee produces honey."

Obviously, the author of a book putting forward the case for humanity's inherent goodness was going to oppose Golding's hypothesis; Bregman not only noted Golding's literary accomplishments and beliefs, but his personal life.

When I began delving into the author's life, I learned what an unhappy individual he'd been. An alcoholic. Prone to depression. A man who, as a teacher, once divided his pupils into gangs and encouraged them to attack each other. "I have always understood the Nazis," Golding confessed, "because I am of that sort by nature." (Humankind by Rutger Bregman, p. 24-25)

I have bolded the part about him as a teacher, because it is incredibly relevant to the original post that I commented on, which begins with a comic of a teacher locking her class in to see them 'recreate' Lord of the Flies, something which the follow up comments before mine staunchly reject as both misunderstanding the point of the book, and the fact that it took the kids in Lord of the Flies a significant amount of time without adult supervision to go 'savage'. This misreading of the text is widespread enough that when Golding won the Nobel Prize for Lord of the Flies, the Swedish Nobel committee wrote that his book 'illuminate[s] the human condition in the world of today'. Whether or not they misread it is beyond my expertise - they do at least mention the factors of the outside world neglected by many when analysing the book, but still seem to believe it says something about human nature as a whole rather than just, to quote thedarkbutbeige 'British kids being rat bastards' - but Golding quite happily took his Nobel prize on this basis. Which, in fairness, I would too. It's a fucking Nobel prize.

It was with this knowledge, and this knowledge alone, that I stated in my now very, very widely read comment that Golding 'wrote the book to be a dick', in response to the tags of the person I reblogged from. As I said, I now know that Golding did not write the book (solely) because he hated the kids he taught, but as a response to The Coral Island and the general idea that clearly the British were inherently civilsed, whilst the people they colonised and enslaved were inherently savage. So. That's the background.

The anon - or rather, the person I thought was anon - was the sole exception out of dozens of replies, who instead of telling me about The Coral Island politely decided it was time to go ALL CAPS and regurgitate points already made by thespaceshipoftheseus, and implied that the only reason that the real life Tongan castaways didn't go all Lord of the Flies was because they weren't British. Not because they weren't surrounded by violence like the boys in Lord of the Flies, or there wasn't a World War ongoing, or that they weren't the upper, upper, upper crust of a class-obsessed society like Britain - but because they weren't British. A complete inversion of the concept that Golding was trying to get across - now, instead of all of humanity being equally prone to savagery in the right conditions, it was solely nationality that determined it. As in, the British were inherently savage, but nobody else was.

I, trying for humour, made the terrible mistake of replying to them.

I won't lie, I was absolutely blown away that this was real life. What I think they were trying to do was be that Cool Tumblr Person who, after somebody's been shitty on a post, goes to their blog and sees something Damning in their about/description. In an ideal world, I imagine I'd have gone nuts or done something Unforgiveable. In what I can only call the rant that followed, they stated several times that I needed to go back to high school to get some 'proper literary analysis' skills and that the story of the Tongan castaways was completely unrelated to the point at hand which. I mean, I disagree, considering that I made the addition, but I couldn't get my head around how commenting on a post that was already rejecting the thesis that the 'point' of Lord of the Flies was that humanity was inherently savage and was, in fact, about how kids - British or otherwise - learn how to function from the adults around them, and that traumatised, terrified children aren't going to create a mini-Utopia, and put forward a real life example of how without the key additions of an ongoing world war, a colonial Empire and the subsequent mindset of thinking you are 'inherently civilised' and therefore can't do anything wrong, actually, people just want to take care of each other.

A friend has since asked me why I even have 'england' in my description. To be honest, it's a timezone thing - I talk to a lot of people online who don't share my timezone, and it generally makes me feel like if I don't reply immediately because it's 3am, they have the tools to see that I'm not in their timezone and not just ignoring them. I did consider changing it to 'british' or 'uk' after it was... 'used against me', I guess, simply because I didn't want to deal with it, but you know what. No. Not gonna do that. I am from England, and I have never hid that fact. I have a tag called 'uk politics', during Eurovision I refer to the UK's act as 'us' (even if I really, really don't want to. Because James Newman slaughtered that song and it was downright embarrassing), I regularly post stuff in my personal tag about where I live (and mostly complain about this piece of shit government). If people really think my nationality makes every point I make null and void, then they don't have to follow me or interact with my posts; tumblr is big, and I am one medium-small blog very easily passed over.

I did reply to them, trying to explain the above, but their next response really just doubled down. Because I used the word British instead of English - foolishly because the posts above mine focused on Britishness, and also because although Golding was English and taught English kids, the pro-Imperialism author of The Coral Island, R. M. Bannatyne was actually Scottish so, ding ding ding, falls into the 'British' category - they then decided that I was somehow trying to pretend I wasn't English and made all the same points, before ending with this doozy:

At this point, I knew there was nothing to be gained from replying, because if we're whipping out conditions like they're pokemon cards then there's no actual conversation anymore, and I'm not going to start mudslinging like an identity politician. They made up their mind, and I figured there could be no harm in letting them think that they 'won' by blocking them instead of replying.

Until the ask. INNATE ENGLISH SAVAGERY did, I'll admit, make me think it was them, back again. I even thought up a really good response approximately 12 hours after I replied, I was that sure. Until the second message came in, and said they were just someone who came from the post and made the same point by chance. So the saga draws to a close... for now.

It may have been them, it may not have been - the anon feature makes it impossible to be sure, but as the second message I got said, we're in a heatwave. It's too hot to argue. And I've just written a goddamn essay about a book I dislike anyway.

My pasty English ass is going to go melt. If there's Disk Horse, do not tell me. I am Done™

[jasperwhitcock]

01. AN IMPOSSIBILITY

i stumbled upon a post you can read here from @bellasredchevy​ from like a year ago where she expanded on an au where bella & edward switch places where bella is a vampire in the cullen family and edward is a human. we’re all social distancing (or we all SHOULD be unless u have work so if ur out partying take ur ass home boo) so i had time to kill & i thought i’d write a chapter hehe.

It was an impossibility for me to have missed the presence of my adopted brother entering the room. What with my astute senses, my supernatural sensitivity to everything – the microscopic details of the book page’s porous beige paper, the length of his shadow stretching onto the floor beneath the novel in my hands, cast from the golden light of the hallway, the smooth, feathery finish of the paper under my frozen fingers, the whooshing sound of air caressing his mountainous stature as he appeared, the soft yet heavy thud of his feet against the floor – a sound nearly imperceptible, the impossible to place scent of something like bergamot, white cedar, rose, and sandalwood perfuming the room at his appearance. An impossibility, and yet, my focus was so invested in the words inked on the page, enamored with a story I’d read a hundred, a thousand, a million times, that I found myself shocked when the novel surprisingly ripped down the spine into two perfect halves before my eyes, another one of my novels that he had plucked off the shelf barreling towards my face. He had thrown the other book with such force that in the process of his attempt to grasp my attention, he knifehand-striked a book I had taken from my mother Renee’s sad little toilet-reading, bathroom basket collection of a library.

I was on my feet hunched towards him infinitesimally, the book that had been less than a centimeter from crashing into my face tenderly clutched in my right hand, my lips pulled back over my teeth to let out a snarl. The right half of the original novel I had held fell onto the floor with a thump a moment later. He stood crouched as well, a wicked smile spread on his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He loved provocation – eliciting this kind of response in me fueled him. A fight with some authentic irritation, a fight with an edge.

“Time for school, baby sister,” He raised an eyebrow, inviting the challenge.

“Emmett,” I hissed through my teeth, tensed to launch myself at him. Part of my mind sifted through a dozen plans of attack, strategizing what would be my most successful method of taking him down since he was pretty much insurmountable. He had all the strength and all the size. Stealth would be my greatest chance. Another part of my mind pulsed with irritation, an irrational, furious mood swing sweeping over me. The kind of emotional response only our kind could experience...or handle. I nearly saw red as the rest of the words flew through my lips. “Couldn’t you have told me that without destroying a priceless artifact of my human life, big brother?”

I made the name sound like a curse word.

“Artifact?” Emmett snorted. “Please. How many times have you read that same damn story in the past few years? I did you a favor,” he smirked as he feigned right and left so fast that it was as if he hadn’t moved at all.

I tensed to hurl myself forward at the opportune moment before a tsunami tide of calmness washed over the room along with an earthy aroma of citrus, patchouli, musk, and leather. “We really should be leaving now,” my other adopted brother Jasper murmured in his lightly southern accent as he appeared.

“Restricting as it may be, vehicles only allow up to a certain speed, and Esme wouldn’t like for us to be late,” my tiny sister materialized by his side in a blur of porcelain skin and inky black hair. “Although, maybe she’d get a kick out of a call home for tardiness,” Alice laughed, a sound like windchimes. “I can tell you who would have won or you could have your fight later.”

“Ugh,” Emmett groaned in disappointment, dropping his stance. “It’s so hard to get her that riled up. Fuck!” He complained, grumpily disappearing from the room in a flash.

“Later,” He promised under his breath from the garage.

“You would have won,” Alice mouthed, her beautiful lips stretching into a secretive smile as she winked. She picked up the other half of the novel I had purposefully dropped to catch the meteor Emmet had propelled, tossing it in the air towards me in one fluid motion.

I grinned to myself, gently tucked the other book back into its rightful place on the shelf across the room, and caught the ruined piece before it hit the ground. My face immediately dropped into a frown as I analyzed both halves. Fortunately, Pride and Prejudice was not beyond repair. I could mend the division by sewing it back together down the spine later. I set the injured book down and flew downstairs not a moment later. As I passed my adopted mother on the way to the door, I pecked her on the cheek before exiting the house and sliding into the dark leather backseat of the pearly white car next to Alice. Without checking the mirrors, Rosalie sped out of the garage as soon as the door lifted enough for us to clear.

The trees outside the windows were a green haze as we flew by, our speed only decreasing when we arrived in the main part of town among other drivers. We could have ran to school much, much faster – and thus not had any concern about tardiness – but without our cars for appearance, our show might prove unconvincing. It wasn’t abnormal to walk to school in the unrelenting pouring of rain in our small town of Forks, Washington. However, though few people in town knew the location of our home, perhaps the front office ladies might find it concerning that a group of teenagers trekked a half marathon to their classes. It was unlikely they’d care to look up the address from our files, but we were never too cautious. 

I liked running. I had been characterized as very clumsy in my human life, so it was a welcome change to feel graceful and coordinated. It was a welcome change to feel powerful. It was, however, unwelcome to participate in the daily charade of masquerading as exactly the opposite of that. As much as I had enjoyed my afterlife, I loathed the same thing many teenagers did, a hatred that may be my greatest commonality with the humans that surrounded me.

High school. I didn’t mind school prior to my immortal life. I had been decent and even above-average in most subjects. I had been a responsible, diligent, and quiet seventeen year old: I paid attention, I completed assignments in time, I spent most of my time in solitude which allowed me ample time to study. There were subjects I enjoyed far more than others that kept things interesting enough for me. Unfortunately, after a number of graduations, high school lost any potential interest and became something of a purgatory. Even classes like English lost their charm over time. Once you had spent years studying literature from the greatest professors, scholars, and writers both living and dead, it was immensely rare for a small town high school English teacher to offer a new take that would make my attendance worthwhile.

Attending high school provided us with the opportunity to remain in one place longer, so complain as much as I want, I suppose it’s something to fill the endless amounts of time. Still, that didn’t make the obligation any more tolerable.

Rosalie hummed along to a song playing quietly through the speakers while Emmett sulked in the passenger seat over having missed out on a fight. I smiled, a bit smug. On the other side of Alice occupying the middle seat, I sensed Jasper’s head jerk slightly in my direction to see the expression that reflected my slight change in mood. I shook my head, still smiling, and he smirked a bit himself before returning his attention back to his window. His scarred hand traced affectionate circles onto Alice’s hand in her lap, and she stared forward, her unfocused eyes seeing not what was in front of her, but the potential realities of the future.

They were a gifted couple. We become immensely enhanced when we’re transformed from being human, and as a result, some immortals are equipped with a special gift on top of their already unparalleled supernatural senses. Our creator and father figure Carlisle theorized that our strongest traits from our human life develop in even stronger ways once we’ve been changed. Jasper’s influential nature flourished into a skill of sensing and manipulating the emotional climate of those around him. Alice’s gift was even more unique. She could see into the future. We didn’t know what in her human life this had developed from. Her past is a secret to not only us, but Alice as well.

I too was gifted. For some time, we had no idea until I had met our cousins. In Denali, Alaska, there was another coven similar to us not just in kind but in diet and ideology who we considered extended family. Another commonality we share is that they also have gifted immortals among their coven. One of the only males, Eleazar’s, gift was sensing the abilities of other vampires, and he had detected my ability. He revealed, to all of our surprise, that I was something called a mental shield. It’s a talent of blocking out any powers that could invade my mind, and it is absolutely, entirely useless to me. I didn’t have a need for this kind of protection. My gift was a complete waste.

The drizzling rain was picking up into a steadier shower as we pulled into the small parking lot of Forks High School. Scenting the earthy, fresh stormy air was the tempting fragrance of the students’ pulsing blood as they ran for the dry cover of the maroon brick buildings. I was entirely satiated from my most recent hunt. Still, my throat burned with the slight dryness that would never completely go away. Jasper sighed.

There were only a few late stragglers hurrying from their vehicles towards their classes that could potentially see us, but as Rosalie parked, we moved at the frustratingly slow pace of the humans around us as a precaution. No risks. After exiting the car, Alice tossed me my backpack of useless school material from the trunk. I slid one strap over my shoulder and departed from my siblings for my first class.

The rest of the morning dragged along like a slow, drawn out sigh. I spent most of the time in my classes thinking of ways I could reorganize the book shelves in my room again. By genre, by author name, by theme, by year published, by year the story takes place, by favorite author, by alphabetical order of the location the story was set, by date of author’s death, by favorite to least favorite protagonist, by which accumulated the most pieces of literary criticism, by section that each family member might enjoy the most, by order in which I first read each, by order of which I read most to least, by order of which my family had read most to least, by alphabetical order of the antagonist’s name, and by which was least to most realistic were all ways I had structured my personal library in the past few years. I was toying with the idea of organizing by order of the birthday of the first character introduced, but a lot of the birthdays had not been established throughout the plot. I would have to decide where they would fit throughout the year based on which zodiac sign I might consider them to have depending on their character traits. Not that I held much stock in astrology – horoscopes did me no good when I had a future-telling sister.

The only difference in this day than any other day was that the trivial gossip I unintentionally overheard throughout the hallways concerned a new addition to the student body. This stirred up a lot of interest seeing as the majority of the children here knew each other for the entirety of their lives. What I had gathered in passing was that it was a junior boy named Edward Masen from Chicago who had recently moved from living abroad with his family. The girls were very excited – they considered him a very attractive potential new love interest. Attractive, though those who had been brave enough to speak to him found him to be impenetrable despite his charm. I wondered what the boy would make of me and my family.

I joined my siblings at our lunch table, the farthest table from everybody else in the room. In front of each of us was the prop of a lunch tray piled with unappetizing food. Alice sat, staring forward with empty eyes again, living in her own ever-changing reality. Jasper and Emmett made a hacky sack out of an apple and subtly kicked it back and forth in the air beneath the table, the apple moving too fast for human eyes to detect. Rose twirled a piece of her golden hair around in her hands, disinterested. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere. As were all of ours. Occasionally she participated in their game by intercepting the apple with her foot.

“The new student’s going to ask about us in approximately fifteen seconds,” Alice chirped, her face returning to the present.

Emmett chuckled quietly.

“What will be said, and how will the boy respond?” Rosalie asked, her foot sending the apple reeling toward the ceiling.

Alice caught the apple in her slender, white hand before tossing it back to Emmett to end the game. “No different than anything else that’s been said, and no different than anybody else.”

I scanned the cafeteria to find the new student, so I could place a face to the upcoming conversation I’d be listening in on.

My eyes locked with a pair of soft green eyes set in a pale, angular face beneath an untidy mess of strange bronze hair. I looked away immediately but caught the beginning jolt of shock lighting up those surprisingly wise eyes.

“Who are they?” The boy gasped. So it had been my gaze that brought Alice’s vision to life. No doubt he’d immediately recognize the subtle differences that distinguish our kind from his. Emmett and I exchanged a glance, laughing under our breath as another junior student I recognized as Naomi Parker provided the common knowledge of the strange Cullen children. The story was complicated. In Forks, the explanation for our family was that Carlisle had adopted his twin niece and nephew, Rosalie and Jasper Hale, after the unexpected passing of his much older half-brother. Similarly, after a tragic car accident took the lives of Esme’s parents in addition to her aunt and uncle, she took in her younger siblings, Emmett and I, along with her niece Alice to look after us. Bonding over the shared experience of so much responsibility so young, Carlisle and Esme eloped, and we formed one giant, misshapen family.

Instinctively, I caught the apple in my hand just as it nearly turned into applesauce by means of collision with my stone face. I snarled at Emmett’s hysteric expression, hiding my hand from view so that anyone watching would have missed the entire catch. “Would you quit doing that today!?”

Rosalie shot Emmett a disapproving look. He shouldn’t be so irresponsible when we were clearly on display for the new Masen kid. I shot a minute glance towards his table to make sure they were no longer watching us. The boy seemed to be focused on the information he was receiving.

“This,” I snarled, sneakily disintegrating the apple into a pulp in my hand below the table where the humans couldn’t see, “will be what happens to you at home.” I made a show of letting the mush slide off my hand onto my tray.

My brother guffawed, and my other siblings joined in the laughter.

“In your dreams!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well. I also couldn’t help but feel the intensity of watching eyes.

“Who’s the girl with the really long dark hair?” The soft, low voice of the boy asked quietly from across the room.

Reflexively, my eyes met his stare once again. He looked away quickly.

“That’s Bella. She’s insanely beautiful obviously, but if you’re thinking about trying to talk to her, forget it,” Naomi shrugged.

Once lunchtime was over, we disbanded to head off to the last half of yet another monotonous day. On my way out of the cafeteria, I purposely bumped into the trash can for Emmett’s benefit as he and Rose followed close behind. The action was a little more violent than I intended, and the plastic container bent slightly at the force.

“Oops,” I bit my lip to keep from smiling as he erupted into laughter. Upon our move to Forks, it had become something of a joke between Emmett and I for me to feign clumsiness. I didn’t participate in this joke daily, but every once in a while I’d sprinkle in an elaborate fall for his sake.

When I reached my junior level Biology class, I settled into my seat at the lab table I shared with no one. I laid the books devoid of any information relevant to me out on the table, and propped an elbow on the surface to hold my head up in my hand, awaiting the oncoming tedium. 

The room filled as students returned from lunch. I paid them no attention, my eyes fixated on counting the snow-like particles of chalk dust floating in the air likely from Mr. Molina writing on the board prior to the end of lunch.

“Ah, welcome, Mr. Masen! We’re so glad to have you join us. You can take the seat next to Miss Cullen,” I looked up to find the biology teacher pointing in my direction. Next to him was the new boy. Standing up, he appeared very lanky – several inches taller than our teacher – though his physique was still slightly muscular.

I pulled the books closer to my side of the table to make room for him, feeling bad that he had the misfortune of being assigned the seat next to me. He would probably feel more comfortable anywhere else. Not only because I didn’t go out of my way to interact much with my classmates, but because their long-buried survival instincts told them what their brains didn’t totally understand: we were dangerous.

I had never been more dangerous than I was in that moment. Because after the Masen kid politely thanked the teacher, he turned down the aisle, directly in front of the heated airflow that blew towards me.

His scent washed over me like the most vicious, violent wave, a wall of unrelenting water in a heavy thunderstorm in the middle of the ocean, drowning me, taking me down, down, down, further and further away from the traces of humanity I had once clung to.

In every direction of this blackest of depths, there was no escape that could lead me back to the light; I resurfaced as the monster I pretended not to be.

The sweet enticing smell of Edward Masen’s blood compelled my throat to rupture into a burning, aching fire. I had never been ablaze with such need. My mouth was pooling with venom as my prey approached. Since he spoke, he had only taken another step forward. He would not take another.

As my muscles begged for the release that would send me springing forward, stealing the first life of my existence, those sage eyes glanced at me, widening in bewilderment at the vicious expression contorting my features.

With great difficulty, I emerged from my horrible, repulsive compulsion. The look on his face was enough to spare him another moment.

His scent perfumed the air around me; I was encompassed in this irresistable cloud of bloodlust, eager to leap up and put an end to this unexpected torture.

In all my years of immortality, I had never experienced a desire this overwhelming. I had never been so vulnerable to committing this kind of atrocity. My record was clean. With guidance, I had been able to restrain myself from the temptation of human blood. Of course, instinct is not easily fought. Sometimes the abstinence was painful. But never like this.

A dozen scenarios on how to kill this poor human boy crossed my mind, and I combatted every single one with the last miserable shred of self control I had left. I had never exerted so much effort. The toil was something hazily reminiscent of human exhaustion, weighing heavily onto me.

I had no choice but to end his life. There was no other way.

He awkwardly settled into the seat next to me, aware of some unknown hostility, but unaware of the ferocity raging within, unaware of the way his blood sang to me, inviting me in, inviting me to betray all my years of discipline, effort, and tolerance. Inviting me to betray my family.

Despite the absolute consumption, by some miracle, I resisted.

I desperately clung to the thought of my family. Rosalie. Esme. Carlisle. Alice. Emmett. Jasper.

They loved me. They would forgive me for this detestable, inexorable act. They would understand. They wouldn’t harbor any judgment.

But how could I let them down in this way? Everything about who we are, everything about what unites us and bonds us is intricately traced back to the compassion that rules over our lives. It’s what makes us different from others of our kind. It’s what allows us to retain some remnants of the humanity we’ve lost. So just as I’ve done before, I would withstand human blood now. No matter the agony that accompanies the resistance.

I took one last deep breath. The scent washed down my throat, burning me alive from the inside out.

I wouldn’t dare to breath for the next torturous hour. It was uncomfortable to forgo the sensation, but the consequences that would follow if I did breathe had far worse implications.

Could I last that long? What was I trying to prove? Was the possibility of a lapse in the best of my judgment worth not succumbing to the honest truth – that I had more weakness in the face of human blood than I thought?

Perhaps Emmett might make fun of me. Perhaps Jasper might secretly appreciate someone else struggling more than he did. But Carlisle and Esme wouldn’t see any weakness in leaving. They’d be proud of me for making this decision. They’d understand.

The last of the students were arriving from lunchtime. Now was the greatest opportunity to escape without drawing too much attention. In my peripheral, I saw the boy open his mouth to begin to speak to me.

If I didn’t leave now, I never would. My resolve was slipping away with every thud of the boy’s heart.

I got up and walked to the front of the classroom a little too fast.

“Mr. Molina?” I asked, my voice tight. The biology teacher looked up from a lesson plan he was reviewing, his eyes startled as he registered my face. I heard his heartbeat pick up from the surprise.

“I’m feeling a little... unwell. May I be excused?” I utilized the last of my breath, hoping the subtle begging in my voice didn’t prompt more questions.

Mr. Molina recollected himself, his eyebrows pulling together in slight concern along with confusion. The Cullens were never sick.

“Of course, Miss Cullen. Do you need a nurse’s pass-” He began before I cut him off, resentfully taking another tormenting breath. The scent sent my mind reeling. I fought for coherency in my thoughts.

I didn’t need to work to put on a show; I probably looked pale and sick enough.

“No thank you,” I spoke quickly, desperate for the relief of fresh, untainted air.

“Alright, then. I hope you feel better-” I was out of the room before he could finish the rest of the statement. The bell for class rang. The hallways were empty, so I risked the charade and began to move at an inhuman speed around the corner. Only when I had exited the building did I allow myself to breathe again. I gasped, nearly choking on the mouthfuls of clean air when I reached the car. My head was still spinning as I climbed into the drivers’ seat. I gave little thought to worrying if my quick movements in the classroom would reveal too much. I hoped that the students were too focused on finishing up their leftover conversations from lunch to notice. 

With a jolt, I realized I was not alone in the car. In the passenger seat sat my tiny sister.

“Bella?” She asked, her pitch-black eyes unable to convey the concern that was etched on the rest of her pixie-like features.

“Alice,” I breathed. I had been so distracted with my own thoughts I hadn’t even paid any attention to the proximity of the familiar vanilla and jasmine fragrance of her skin. What was wrong with me today?

“Are you alright? I saw…”

I winced, knowing what she must have seen.

“I’m fine. I just… I-... I don’t know what happened…” The words flew rapidly out of my mouth.

“Do you need help? Should I grab the boys? Or would you like to leave-”

“No! No. It’s really not...a big deal. I’m just going to… I promise I’m fine. I won’t go back there-” I gulped, the venom filling my mouth as I even considered returning to the class where he sat. Alice’s eyes widened, so I stopped the thought in its tracks. “Rosalie has a free period right now. I think I’ll go find her. I’ll see you when school is over.”

I reached for the door, turning away from her, shame filling me, making me unwilling to face her any longer. Her slender hand grabbed my other wrist, pulling me to a stop. “I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t. I’m fine, Alice!” I pulled my hand away too defensively. Regret replaced the shame for a moment. “Sorry.”

I left her alone in the car, feeling guilty.

I knew it was risky to utilize my sense of smell, but following the sweet, warm aroma of orange blossom, marshmallow, and roses – and avoiding anywhere remotely near the science wing – I found my other sister alone in an empty classroom. Now that it had been distinguished from the rest, I could still smell the boy, but with more distance between us, I fought the temptation off.

“You’re not in class?” She asked as she typed into a computer, her back turned to me. It looked as though she was searching for some car parts. Even though I helped her in the garage sometimes, after all these years I was still no better at identifying anything related to automobiles.

“Rose...” I began, before stopping short, unsure of what to say.

She turned around in an indiscernible millisecond, her breathtaking face worried at the tone of my voice. “What’s wrong?”

She reached for me consolingly. Though I didn’t need the rest – I could stand still for hours on end and never feel tired – I sat on the floor beside her chair, hugging my knees to my chest, my eyes fixated on the dust deep in the roots of the rough, outdated carpet.

Her silky hands smoothly brushed through my hair, patiently waiting for me to build up the courage to speak. It felt nice.

After a few seconds, she spoke up. “Bella, you’re worrying me.”

I sighed.

“I’ve never...struggled this way before,” I admitted, exasperated with myself.

I could see that she was nodding out of the corner of my eye, immediately understanding. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about, Bella.”

I didn’t need to see her face to know her perfect lips were set into a deep frown. She wasn’t lying to me, but I knew to her, this existence was everything to be ashamed about.

“I won’t pretend that I don’t find myself...repulsed with...well, what we are. That’s no secret to anyone.” Her musical laughter had a dark edge to it. “But I’ve spent enough time for all of us hating myself for the impulses we have and the tragedy of our existence. You needn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s alright to...” She trailed off, selecting different words. “We’ve chosen an abnormal path in this non-life of ours. The terrible consequences of what we are are normal” – her hands froze in my hair briefly saying the word – “so try to let go of the shame I know you’re feeling, though I don’t blame you for feeling that way.”

She paused for a moment before adding, “you know we won’t allow you to harm anyone.”

I bit down on my lower lip. I was glad I came to Rosalie. She didn’t think I was being overdramatic the way Emmett might have.

Though I deeply loved my mother from my human life, there hadn’t been much maternal guidance. We had a strong bond, but I was far more of the caretaker than she was. I had been very lucky in this immortal life. Esme treated me as her own daughter, and I became truly taken care of. Just as Esme became the most loving mother figure in all the ways that counted, Rosalie became the very best protective older sister. My life had no shortage of supportive femininity and womanhood.

I heard a springy, featherlight approach of fast footsteps.

“I told you not to follow me,” I grumbled.

Alice poked her tongue out at me as she entered the room and fluttered to my other side, joining my other sister in stroking my head. “You’ll forgive me. I didn’t want to be left out of a sister moment.” 

Her words brought half a smile to my face.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be comforted by Rosalie’s words and the soft feeling of my sisters’ hands in my hair.

Yes, it was undeniable what I was. I could never change the fact. But I could change the fate of this boy, and I could deny myself the instincts that identified me this way. I could deny myself Edward Masen.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

so prompted the other day from someone commenting on one of my personal posts lamenting on my poor time management skills and how I was a good-ish student without studying etc during early high school and then by year 10 I had fuck all idea how study..... I decided to look up adhd in girls. like obviously i am not self-diagnosing myself with it bc i know that it’s a super common and serious behaviour condition. but holy fuck, i just read something about it that hit me so fucking hard that.... fuck me. i just feel so attacked:

obviously I don’t relate to the softball practice bc I never did extracurriculars and I hated sport lmao. but the writing/writer bit. and “working overtime” to get a high grade on my english assignments..... as well as over-practicing my drama stuff at home and wanting my performances to be perfect.... i was known to basically everyone as a student who should’ve been in the top English class. but it was wrested away from me bc of my lack of understanding and appreciation for shakespeare in a year 8 in class assessment on Romeo & Juliet “being starcrossed lovers” that I basically failed bc I came out with a D instead of an A or a B. like fuck. this hit me hard.

they had another point about how the girl with adhd is usually the class helper- like I was in my english classes. bc I would edit everyone’s work, be their living thesaurus & dictionary, as well as giving everyone answers on the assigned texts, because i was the only person in my class who was bothered enough to read the texts in full and enjoy them. then I never received much thanks for it.

but my maths homework? never done. or my very occasional maths take-home assignments? done by my dad at the last minute when I remembered that excel was, in fact, an actual thing. hell I didn’t even do my CLASS WORK most of the time. i instead either half wagged my maths classes (I have several posts on this behaviour lmao) or purposely “fell asleep” in my maths classes as a joke for everyone to “wake me up (wake me up inside)” like Jeff from the wiggles. bc I thought it was funny. but now I’m 24 and never (really) learned how to read a graph or learned how to calculate the mean/median and average & range and mode or whatever the fuck, etc etc. like yeah. my maths is absolutely abysmal.

my geography homework and assignments? barely ever done. and again, at the vexation of the poor kids who were assigned to sit next to me and my year 9 geo teacher who liked me, my geo class work was never done to standard. and I would pull the same “wake up Jeff” routine in geography. even though I could’ve easily done well with that year 9 teacher and my year 10 geo teacher too bc at least we also got along.

my history homework and assignments? done, depending on the teacher, the topic and the type of history. like I was useless at modern history (bc I disliked it- especially australian history lmao minus Vietnam and maybe a bit of the Cold War era spy stuff... it was the politics lmao). but, on the other hand, I was pretty good at ancient history (until I had to try and write a historical essay- and that fucked me up big time in years 11/12 and also uni). i was also mega good at aboriginal studies (like aboriginal cultural history) when I swapped schools. but I dropped out of it, due to my fear of the major project which I knew I wouldn’t meet.... bc it was literally like 50% of the total subject mark at the end of year 12.

so then my focus aside from english & ancient history in year 12 became community and family studies/cafs/social studies and my technical theatre and events management course. which both ended up with marks near the 70s, I think, at the end of year 12. my teachers were good so I went okay.

my science homework? done sometimes, depending again on the topic and the teacher.... but also that one time one teacher wanted me to go to the regional science fair bc he thought my project was good.... but I didn’t do it bc i thought my work wasn’t that good and I didn’t want to do the extra effort of the boards and presenting it.... ESPECIALLY since I’d written that coke/coca-cola was “burp fuel” in my intro. like. burp fuel??? at the regional science fair? oh god. no. no thank you. that’s mortifying both back then AND now, looking back at it. but then again, maybe that’s the part my teacher wanted me to omit in the “clean up”/editing of my work for the science fair lmao. my biology stuff in years 11/12 though? awful. so much so that I solely passed year 12 bio with the miracle of mark scaling. and this was despite the efforts of one of my friends trying to tutor me in our shared free periods.

and obvs my PE stuff was never done.... even that one assessment that was writing/illustrating a kids book about how to be healthy. which if I’d done it, I would’ve probably gone well. but it was my utter distrust of the PE/sport faculty and loathing of sport, and also the fact that when I tried to write it; it didn’t seem authentic or genuine.... that drove me not to do that assignment.

aside from academics/grades.... the other thing that hit me was that adhd girls are typically seen as the “funny/loud/tomboy” etc girls but are also exceedingly shy. like that full on attacked me too. bc it’s exactly like my flip from catholic school to public school. going from being the loud & funny sailor mouth girl who sometimes asked crass questions in PE due to the shows she watched and to see if people would laugh and did whack shit in her drama classes..... but with mostly topsy-turvy marks. to being the quiet shy and suddenly high achieving former private school girl at public school who never did any loud shit out of the blue. like. yeah. like now when I look back at my facebook statuses about me in drama class or other dumb shit I did outside of drama class in catholic school I’m like “hmmm, can’t relate” and “what the FUCK that was ME??? I don’t know her.” bc of the nervous wreck that I actually am lmao.

there was one more point to that was like “adhd boys will typically sit “with one foot on their chair in class”. and I was like. “hmmm. why does that remind me so vividly of my year 7 geo teacher/year 9 commerce teacher frequently labelling me as a “health hazard” bc I’d sit cross legged on my chairs during class????”

I also had a flashback while reading that particular article, to how, in primary school, my teachers regularly encouraged the kids who were assigned to sit beside me on table groups or whatever in class; to put a ruler between us to mark out our separate sides of the desk; so that whoever sat next to me had their own desk space and I had mine.... all bc my side was frequently unorganised/messy. that’s because when I physically handwrote things, I’d tire quickly and so slouch in my seat a bit and put my head on my other arm to write (this is my condition hypotonia/developmental coordination disorder).... so I took up a load of desk space doing that. while the other person’s side of the desk was usually neat and ordered and they obvs didn’t have my posture etc when physically handwriting something. like I’d try to have my side neat & ordered like everyone else, but it always ended up in a state of disarray somehow. like HOO BOY IT’S ALL ADDING UP.

but also yeah. I’m not self-diagnosing bc that’s such common thing on this site. but. like. yeah I need to get to a psychologist or a psychiatrist and see. because so many things are adding up and maybe I do have some overlapping traits from adhd???? bc as ive said before, my condition hypotonia/developmental coordination disorder, has some links with adhd apparently, from what I’ve read recently on it. and it’s really starting to interfere with my life bc I can’t use a diary properly etc and don’t know how to hold myself accountable with deadlines other than doing everything to the last minute until I burn out, monumentally.

anyway.

don’t reblog this please. lmao. it’s just a musing.

[bravadoseries]

All the evens for Audrey and all the odds for Margo!

thank you!  this got super long so i’m putting it under a cut hehe

audrey: 

2. why is your oc problematic?

audrey is problematic because she has no clue what she’s doing when it comes to anything and when it comes to being a hero, she relies almost entirely on trial and error.  

4. what crossovers with other ocs have you talked about?

i have talked about crossovers with you for leila, @emiliachrstine​ with jacqueline, and @notaboutcat​ with grace barnes!!!  

6. if your oc were to have superpowers, what would they be? if your oc has superpowers, what are they?

so audrey has super soldier strength as her primary superpower, and also there’s some other stuff that will be revealed during the thor: tdw arc

8. alright, be honest—whether or not they get the chance to prove it, is your oc worthy?

so i think that audrey does become worthy eventually during endgame, but i think that all the avengers are.  

10. what’s your oc’s fight song? (e.g., immigrant song for thor, just a girl for carol)

girls just wanna have fun!!! i think is the biggest one.  but i have actually picked out songs for the main fights in all of the movies audrey is in: 

avengers battle of new york: “mama talking” by parov stelar

moscow fight against bucky: “bad guy” by billie eilish which i know wasn’t technically released yet but it’s okay

thor: tdw final fight: “big god” by florence and the machine

tws final fight: “seven nation army” by the white stripes

avengers: aou battle of sokovia: “glass & patron” by fka twigs

captain america: civil war airport scene: “bad blood” by taylor swift

angels of mercy final fight: “tomboy” by princess nokia

thor: ragnarok: “the future’s so bright, i gotta wear shades” by timbuk 3 

avengers: iw: “yellow flicker beat” by lorde

avengers: endgame: “girls just wanna have some” by chrormatics and “lights up” by harry styles and “boys wanna be her” by peaches 

12. what was your oc like in high school?

audrey didn’t officially go to high school because she was tutored privately until she started just going to college but she was generally bored with her tutors.  when she went to high school in the 80s, she was jarred.  even though she’d gotten several degrees by that point, she was like freaked out by being with other people and having to have a social life because in college she just didn’t talk to anybody.  so she was nervous and quiet but she did have one good friend!

14. your oc meets thanos. what’s their first move?

omg audrey’s first move is to spit on him, i think, and then she just like attempts to tackle him and scratch his eyes out ngl

16. your oc gets married. which canon characters are in the wedding party?

yesss braudrey wedding time!! natasha is one of her bridesmaids, tony is the officiant, and both steve and darcy walk her down the aisle.  steve and darcy have a young daughter by this point who is a flower girl with morgan, and they’re super cute.  i could talk about the braudrey wedding for so long though i have so many little plans

18. what are your oc’s bad habits or vices?

audrey loves sweets, i think is one of her vices. she also tends to know she’s making bad choices but go through with them anyway. 

20. your oc wears the gauntlet (without any detrimental effects on their health) and gets one snap to wish for anything they want. what do they ask for?

audrey asks to destroy the infinity stones, i think most likely.  she doesn’t want that energy to be condensed into such a powerful form because that’s like a nightmare.  i think it changes from film to film, but by the end, her final wish is for everyone to not be so powerful all the time

22. what does your oc’s bedroom look like?

audrey’s apartment is very minimalist, because it’s easy for her to get overwhelmed.  before she moved into the tower, she was a workaholic because she would get so bored with her freetime that she always had case files everywhere.  once she joins the avengers though and kind of like starts building a life for herself, she starts to settle into her place more and have details that reflect her life more—photos on the walls, little things that she collects from good memories, and a lot of books on the shelves!  audrey likes big windows and keeps them open, but the space is mostly like white with dark blue accents.  

24. which characters from other movies or shows is your oc a combination of?

excellent question!  so audrey reminds me a lot of like the most chaotic combinations of mike schur main ships?  she’s both chidi and eleanor, and both jake and amy.  she’s anxious but also impulsive, awkward but also extremely loving, strong but also scared.  

26. which canon character would they go to for advice? why?

audrey goes to different characters for advice about different things!  with moral problems, she goes to steve.  with fighting advice, she heads to natasha, obviously.  with relationship advice, she heads to darcy.  and later, post aou, audrey actually spends a lot of time with wanda and pietro becoming more politically active.  

28. what’s your oc’s biggest flaw?

audrey is scared of everything! i think is her biggest flaw.  it’s hard for her to overcome that fear.  

30. what movies or shows is your oc featured in?

audrey is in agent carter, she has cameos in iron man 1+2, thor 1, captain marvel, and captain america: tfa.  she’s a main in avengers, thor 2, tws, avengers: aou, captain america: civil war, thor 3, and avengers iw and endgame!

margo: 

1. how did you pick your oc’s name?

margo is short for margaret! i think peggy is kind of an old-fashioned name (technically so is margo) but margo is cute and short too 

3. besides their main ship, who else do you think they would work well with?

i think margo could have a relationship with magnus (thor and jane’s older son) but it probably wouldn’t be super healthy.   also i think she and calliope could have had a cute relationship which coulson would have lost his mind about lol.

5. what’s a crossover with another oc that you’ve wanted to do, but haven’t officially discussed or planned?

i feel like it would be cool to talk about margo with @cassercole​‘s queve family ! i think an audrey and q crossover would just slap in general because i think it would be angsty and cool and i can imagine q being like . i did not sign up to be a stepmother, but thanks, but then the two of them actually becoming friends eventually.  

but anyway, i can imagine bonnie and tristan teasing margo and making them call her aunt and uncle but them all getting along well and hanging out at family reunions and getting into trouble . having a vision of the three of them stealing a blunt or something from tony’s jacket pocket at thanksgiving and then all of them being high and paranoid about getting caught by steve. 

q catches them and margo is like please don’t be mad and please don’t tell my mom and q just rolls her eyes and closes the door to the room they’re all in after telling them dinner’s in 10 minutes, and she won’t tell but it’s up to them not to get caught.  

7. rank their compatibility with the marvel teams: avengers, guardians of the galaxy, agents of shield, defenders, runaways

okay so: 1) avengers, because they’re her family.  2) gotg, because she thinks they’re all super weird and cool.  3) runaways, because i think she’s scrappy and has a similar sheltered background to them.  4) aos, just because found family time.  5) defenders.  super brutal and she’s just like ummmm i am scared . 

9. which other mcu characters would your oc really get along with?

i think gamora and margo would get along super well.  also margo’s close with carol because she likes how she’s not too serious about herself as a hero.  i think she’s also probably gets along well with wanda and pietro.  she’s super close with her dad, also.  

11. post a snippet of the next chapter of an oc’s fic!

okay to be honest i have not written any of margo’s fic yet so i will have to pass 

13. what’s a secret about your oc that they would never admit? feel free to be as angsty or as silly as you’d like!

margo would never admit it but she has a slight schoolgirl crush on thor, who is one of the strength instructors slash english teachers at the academy.  

15. if your oc has a costume/were to have a costume, what does it/would it look like? what colors? cape or no cape?

no cape, but sometimes she ties a towel around her neck and dances in her dorm room.  margo’s costume would probably look a lot like helena bertinelli’s costume on arrow—very classic, infinity mask, etc. 

17. after a battle, how does your oc recover?

she cries into her pillow for several hours and enters a period if intense self loathing and eats ice cream.  

19. what were some other faceclaims you considered for your oc?

when audrey was shipped with pietro, margo was played by josefine frida petersen!

21. if your oc survived the snap, who do they miss the most?

in an au where audrey has margo before infinity war and the snap, margo would be devastated to grow up without her mother

23. what’s their love language? what’s the love language of the character they’re shipped with?

i think margo’s is words of affirmation, and leo’s is quality time! 

25. which characters annoy your oc? why?

margo gets annoyed with her mom, a lot.  audrey and bex are really close and so she feels left out of that relationship.  i also think that margo doesn’t get along super well with pepper because she thinks pepper doesn’t like her.  she doesn’t like peter quill that much, even though she likes the rest of the guardians.  and she never meets loki, but i think she would absolutely hate him.  

27. what’s your oc’s biggest strength?

i think her biggest strength is her big heart!  she feels a lot and she’s kind of intense but she’s a very loving person.  

29. team cap, team iron man, team i don’t care, or team please stop fighting?

team please stop fighting!! she’s like why is my life an episode of family feud . i know she doesn’t exist then but she looks back on it and brings it up sometimes and they’re both deeply embarrassed about it in hindsight and also like . okay BUT and she’s like okay nevermind!!!!

[antique-darling]

12 steps backwards

Hi, I’m Carys and I’m an alcoholic. 

It started the same way as practically everyone else; understanding the intoxicating beauty of alcohol, a true social lubricant - and a firm willing suspension of disbelief that it’ll ever happen to you. 

The whole sordid affair began around Christmastime 2006. I was extremely young and very beautiful, and dressed the part of a perfect outcast with my various studs and spikes, my facial piercings mostly resembling that of one who has headbutted a box of map pins. But I was horrifically shy, the shackles of post-puberty still lingering. 

We’re in the UK, so I was handed a bottle of Smirnoff Ice at a house party. The more I drank, the more confident I became. I felt vibrant and stunning, although I was most likely being annoying. Even caught myself my first boyfriend that night, something which I’d never successfully been able to do. I managed to forget the two-day hangover which ensued. 

Thus began a bitter relationship with alcohol, my best friend of over a decade who betrayed me, in the end. 

I lived a 3-minute walk away from my high school, so I would frequently nip home at lunch to swindle some booze my mum had unsuccessfully ‘hidden’ away. She worked every weekday, and my parents had just separated at this point, which definitely made the whole debacle easier. In retrospect, the separation and eventual divorce probably affected me more than I realised.

A string of failed relationships, including an engagement, before I’d even turned 18 shaped me more into this polyp of self-loathing, and a glass of wine would ease the hatred a little more, or I’d down a bottle of something stronger.

By the time I’d reached 16, I decided that I was an adult, and panicked because I wasn’t getting pregnant. Somehow, in my mind, I neglected to recall that stress and abusing alcohol is the opposite of a good environment for a foetus. Over the past decade, I’ve lost count of the number of dead babies to drop out of me. 

 I’m fairly certain I fell in love with the devil when I was 17. He was strong and handsome, and an alcoholic himself. Although at this time, my true alcoholism had not yet fully manifested. This man made it a reality. 

He told me to stop taking my pill because it was making me “moody”. I acquiesced, assuming I was barren anyway. Discovering I was around 6 weeks pregnant was a shock, to say the least. 

I was still in school and he was jobless due to a health condition I like to call chronic laziness and taking all of my money to supplement his drug and alcohol habits. I’d been in abusive relationships before him, and they’re honestly what I probably deserve. I’m constantly drawn to the same sorts of people, despite my better judgment. The problem, therein, lies in me. 

But this man was king. I have endured nothing like the hell he dragged me through since. 

So, the option he gave me was crystal clear; “it’s not very nice being a single mum”. I had just turned 18, and I was so very vulnerable. I had already been corrupted by the 4 men who had came before him, so my self-worth was absolutely nothing. Again, I acquiesced to his demands. 

If I knew all those years ago what I know now, I would have left him and had my child. But he took my choice away from me, he forced a child into me and forced it back out again. He caused me to betray every part of my moral integrity, every single belief that I held dear. And it still feels, to this very day, as painful as it did in 2012. I wish I’d killed myself instead of my baby. I haven’t spoken to this man in many years, but he haunts me daily. The saddest truth is that I’m sure he doesn’t even remember I exist. I know he never loved me, but I loved him with a ferocity which I’ve not felt since.

And I so desperately wanted a child. I still do. It still won’t happen - I’ve cursed myself and I am dealing with the wrath of eternity. Hell is on earth and I have created it. 

So, to absolutely no surprise to anyone, I hit the bottle hard after that. I had to take a week off after the abortion due to antibiotics and opioid painkillers, but the minute I could, I drowned. 

After all, I was 18. I had a drinking permit. 

I spent my entire university career after that point getting blind drunk daily. At my peak, I’d drink cheap bottled cider (but not Frosty Jack’s or White Lightning - I had some class) as if it was cola or something. I’d have wine on a Friday and Saturday night, typically two bottles, and a bottle of vodka every day. This went on for 5 years. 

During this time I was engaged again, to someone I’d met at university. We were together for 4 years, living together, and I remember virtually nothing of the relationship. It was the longest relationship I had ever been in, and sometimes I forget his name. I certainly don’t remember what he looked like. 

Naturally, that relationship broke down when, on the 11th of September 2018, I surrendered. My 12-year relationship with alcohol was over. 

I would wake up next to my partner every day, and the more time I spent not drinking, the more I realised he was a total stranger in my bed. After a month of sobriety, I awoke to the fact I had absolutely no recollection of this person at all, apart from the two times we traveled to Belfast to see his family and friends. Even then, I only remember the actual traveling part. 

We had to live together a month after we had separated, during which time he constantly demanded to know why I’d left him. Simply, “I sobered up”. He had been the most violent, piggish creature of all the men I had ever been with, memories which have only been returning to me in the past year. Sometimes I think, he wasn’t looking for a partner, he was looking for a sex slave. And he still wasn’t as bad as the devil of my younger years. 

Probably ‘coz I was really drunk the whole time. 

So I’m 16 months sober, as of Saturday of this month. I still can’t sleep, I still have headaches and I’ve put on so much weight I can barely recognise myself. It’s bittersweet. I have achieved great things in my life, but I feel like a stranger looking in. I feel like a confused 12-year-old, shy with no confidence and no place in the world. Like the degrees I have are someone else’s, and sure I have my graduation pictures but that’s a different me. That’s not me, surely. My day job is, ironically, bartending. I know I’m fantastic at my persona, but the customers see through the cracks. They’ll ask me “What’s the nicest x? What mixer goes with y?”, and I can never just say “oh, it’s z”, I always have to say “other people usually have this with z”. 

I don’t keep my alcoholism a secret, and most of my regular customers know. And I’ll get the typical diatribe of “oh aren’t you strong and brave, working here and struggling with your recovery??”. I know they mean well, and it’s a lovely compliment to pay. But I don’t feel strong, although it is cathartic when I get to pour drinks away. I feel like a failure. 

I am a fully qualified English teacher in the process of doing my Master’s degree. Staying up til 3am cleaning, after spending 6 hours serving poison to toxic people (although a lot of my regular customers are genuine angels), makes me believe that, despite my achievements on paper, that that is all I’m worth. 

I want to end this monologue on a positive note. In over a year of sobriety, I have learned to go out with my friends, or hang out after work, and not feel so left out. Coffee is now a luxury, opposed to a brown liquid to fix my constant hangover. I even know when coffee tastes burnt now, which is something my former self would never have even considered. I’m eternally grateful for my family of Alcoholics Anonymous. I haven’t been to a meeting in months due to work and uni, but every time I manage to go, it’s as if I’d not missed a single one. 

My family have been nothing but supportive, although my dad still doesn’t really understand it (we were great drinking buddies for a while). My friends are mainly my colleagues at work, and without their support I wouldn’t be alive, most likely. Also they will refuse to serve me alcohol - not that I’ve tried, but I’ve been told so, in order to continue supporting my recovery. 

Since being sober, I’ve surrounded myself with good people. The bad things don’t seem so bad, and every day I’m working on hating myself less. 

Alcohol and/or substance abuse feels like something that won’t happen to you. Unfortunately, it can happen to all of us, and so very quickly. Or, so slowly that you didn’t even register it until you’re sleeping on a bench in the middle of February. 

There is help, free help, and there are probably millions of people suffering too. If you’re suffering, you’re not alone. You never have to be alone. 

https://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk/

https://www.samaritans.org/

[extrovedteen]

In Sickness And In Health [pt.1]

Warnings: None. 

A / N: This may as well be a cliche best friend, love story. But it’s good (I promise) 

Word Count: 4.6K 

AU: Childhood Bestfriend! Tom + Reader 

masterlist tba - 

“Will you marry me?” Tom’s hand was on your lower back, his plump pink lips had just pressed the smallest peck against your lips, his chocolate brown eyes looked into yours and you couldn’t believe that you had just experienced your first kiss. 

“Oh little Tommy, we’re too young.” Your younger self let out an angelic, giggle. Your parents were watching the two of you with looks on their faces as if they knew this was only the beginning. 

“Ask me when we’re eighteen, and I’ll say yes.” You replied, confidently. A hopeful glimmer played on your soft child-like features. Just as Tom’s face turned from an eager look to a look of approval and you could have sworn that you head him whisper the quietest-

“one day.” 

- 

That was seventeen years ago. You were now in your fourth year of university. Majoring in media studies and you hadn’t seen Thomas Stanley Holland since he left to film Spider-Man: Far From Home. Yes, he was now a famous actor playing the newest Spider-Man. His name was brought up through the halls, not because he was popular. No, he didn’t attend university. It was because every girl in school had a celebrity crush on him and the boys that talked about him, absolutely LOATHED him. 

You still lived next door to The Holland’s. In fact, you had since you were four years old. You had lived in Kingston your whole life and one summer afternoon you heard a truck pull up, you knew it was a truck from the noise it made and you were always a curious child. You found yourself jumping off your trampoline and climbing the fence to see a little boy alongside his two younger brothers and their two parents. 

“Mummy, There’s a girl sitting on the fence. LOOK!” Tom called out as he noticed you. You jumped off the trampoline quickly and ran inside. You pulled on your own mother’s hand. 

“Mummy! People moving in next door.” You spoke in your adorable four-year-old,  British accent. Your eyes glance above the counter behind your mother to see a basket of goods just before she answers with a 

 “I know. I know. I made them a ‘Welcome’ basket. We will go over when your father gets home, okay?” Your mother asked you as she picked you up and placed you on the counter. You had a pout on your face and your mother couldn’t help but chuckle. “Munchkin, He’ll be home in a few hours.” 

“But I want to make a new friend.” You whined, crossing your arms as your little alien space buns made you look like Boo from Monster’s Inc. “Please, Mummy?” You asked, dragging out the word ‘mummy.’ as your puppy dog eyes glanced up at her. 

“Okay, go grab your shoes then.” Your mother caved with a tsk sound as she shook her head. Her deep purple, bob cut bouncing along her shoulders as she placed you back down onto the ground. You ran to your room and slid on your purple ballet slippers before walking back out. 

“I’m done, mummy. Let’s go! Let’s go!” You called, excitedly as you jogged on the spot in excitement. Your mother picked you up, placing you on her hip as she walked out of the door, locking up the house before making her way next door. 

Your neighborhood was quite fancy, the houses all modern, two stories with fresh green lawns and friendly faces. Your parents were friends with all of the neighbors and so you were always greeted at least twice before leaving. 

Your eyes were locked onto the moving truck as you noticed a little boy carrying a small box inside. “Wait! Wait!” You called to him, wiggling out of your mother's arms as you run up to the little boy. “I’m (Y/N) (L/N)! You’re my neighbor.” You introduced yourself with a kind smile as you tilted your head to the side.

The little boy stopped in his tracks and turned to the source of the voice, placing the box down as his eyes locked with yours. “Hi, I’m Tom but you can call me Tommy.” The boy introduced himself, he was just as extroverted as you.

“Tommy, that’s a cool name.” You giggled, pulling your new companion into a hug to which he returned with no hesitation. You were both pulled away with the noise of giggles coming from Tom’s two younger brothers. 

“These are my brother’s Harry and Sam. They’re twins,” Tom explained, introducing you to the two boys who were both quite introverted as they ran behind their mother’s legs, shyly.   

“You must be, little (Y/N)” The boy's mother greeted, kindly. “I’m Nikki. Tom, Harry and Sam’s mum.” She introduced herself, her hair was red and it intrigued your curious eyes, you had never seen someone with red hair before. 

“Your hair is on fire, Mrs.” You gasped, pointing at her head but as she giggled you couldn’t help but giggle back. Tom’s eyes were still looking at you as you turned your attention back to him. 

“Come meet my dad, his really funny,” Tom explained, taking your hand into his as he walked towards the truck and as you looked inside sure enough there was an older man inside. “Dad. This is (Y/N) She’s our neighbor.” Tom introduced. 

“Oh why hello, (Y/N) I’m Dominic.” He introduced himself before cracking one of his many dad jokes. “Why are frogs so happy?” He asked you to which you shook her head and raised your hands into an ‘I don’t know’ gesture. “Because they eat whatever bugs them.” He laughed at his own joke. It took you a few minutes to process it but once you did you looked at Tom and the two of you burst into a fit of laughter.

“I like your dad.” You told him, agreeing that his dad was funny. “My dad is funny too, he can do impressions.” You explained, helping move the small boxes inside with Tom by your side. 

“(Y/N)! Tom! Come out here, for a minute.” Nikki called out to the two of you from outside, where she had stayed with your mother. “How do you feel about having dinner together tonight?” She asked and all eyes were on the two of you. 

“Yes! Yes!” You and Tom exclaimed in sync, both as ecstatic as each other that you’d be able to spend more time together. Your hand hadn’t left Tom’s hand since he had offered it to you. “We can watch Spider-Man!” He grinned as his brown eyes look at you. “Have you seen Spider-Man before?” He asked Spider-Man was clearly his favorite movie. 

“Yeah, I like that one.” You replied and before you knew it the two of you had full belly’s, filled with delicious pizza and juice from juice boxes that still rested in your free hands. 

Harry and Sam were sleeping, toe to toe on the lounge while you and Tom were snuggled up together on the couch, as your eyes were glued to the TV watching as your idol swung from building to building. 

“You can be Spider-Woman,” Tom grinned as he looked at you with a tired yawn. Once the movie had finished, your parents were surprised neither of you had fallen asleep. 

“(Y/N) Say goodbye now it’s time to go home.” Your father called from the kitchen and you looked at Tom, a mischievous smirk on your face. 

“Hide me! Hide me!” You whisper yell before the same mischievous smirk appeared on Tom’s face. Tom hid you underneath the blanket, giggling as Nikki entered the room. 

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Nikki asked as she forced herself to hold in an ‘awe’ because she knew what the two of you were up to. “Is she under the blanket, Tom-” Before Nikki could finish her sentence the two of you were back into your usual fit of laughter. You popped out from under the blanket with a smile. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, we can go to the park.” You told Tom, your eyes now on him. He pulled you into another hug as if you’d never see each other again, even though you lived just next door. 

“Okay, Goodnight.” He yawned again, watching as you hopped off the couch and found your shoes before putting them on and looking back at Tom. 

“Goodnight, Tommy.” You replied, your own yawn escaping your mouth, You walked into the living room. Nikki following behind you as she and Dominic showed you and your parents out. See You Soon’s were exchanged before the three of you left, walking back to your house. 

- 

[HALLOWEEN PARTY. 2002] 

You and Tom had both turned six years old, meaning you had known each other for two whole years and you were attached at the hip. You had been ever since you saw those brown curls from over the fence. It was Halloween, your favorite time of the year other than Christmas, of course. Tom was dressed up as, you guessed it, Spider-Man. While you were Spider-Woman which consisted of the same suit but without the mask. Instead, your mother had painted the Spider-Woman mask on your face, letting your (H/C) hair flow down your back. 

“You look awesome!” Tom exclaimed as he opened the door, letting you and your parents inside. You had all been invited to a Halloween party hosted by your father’s boss at the firm. Your father was a lawyer while your mother was a high school, English teacher. 

“You look more awesome, Spider-Man.” You replied with a lazy smile, your parents ushered you to get closer together before they snapped pictures of the two of you in your costumes. Before you knew it Harry and Sam were included in the action. Harry was dressed up as Iron Man while Sam rocked Captain America. It was clear to say that both of your families were HUGE Marvel fans. 

“Okay kids, let’s go.” Dominic clapped, getting everyone’s attention. Everyone was soon out the door and headed to their cars. Like always, Tom was coming in your parent's car with you. 

“Buckle up!” Your father called from the driver's seat and once the car signaled that everyone had their seatbelts on he started the ignition, leaving for the party. 

After half an hour of playing I spy with my little eye, you had arrived at the Halloween party. The Holland’s parked alongside you and before you knew it you were headed inside. “Maybe there’ll be another boy who matches marvel with us.” Tom beamed at you, little did you both know that inside awaited Harrison Osterfield wearing a Hulk costume. 

When everyone was inside Harrison’s eyes wandered over to the four of you, dressed up as the other Marvel characters and he instantly ran over to you and Tom and introduced himself. ‘Hello! Spider-Man and Spider-Woman I’m The Incredible Hulk.” He chuckled. “No really, I’m Harrison. Harrison Osterfield.” He greeted. 

“I’m Tom, but you can call me Tommy and this is my best friend (Y/N).” Tom introduced the two of you. The three of you then turned to Iron Man and Captian America. “And these are my twin brothers Harry and Sam,” Tom added, grinning as he had found himself another mate to hang out with. 

“Do you mind if I hang out with you?” Harrison then asked. You and Tom were more than happy for that to happen as you both nodded eagerly.

“Of course, Hulk.” You beamed, before running underneath a table and away from the large crowd the four boys following behind you. 

“We have to solve a crime.” You started, whipping your hair out of your face with the flick of your wrist. 

“Bad guys, four o’clock,” Tom continued as he lifted up the table cloth to peek out at the older people that were gathered around the table. 

“We get him,” Harry spoke, taking Sam’s hand as they ran out from under the table just to bang into a waiter and send food flying all over the ground. “Oopsies,” Sam mumbled as he looked at the food that had been spilled onto the ground. 

The waiter looked down at the two boys, soon finding you, Tom and Harrison under the table cloth. “Please go and join your parents.” He asked, remaining calm as he cleaned up the mess. The five of you making your way to your table, Harrison’s family were seated at the exact same table. 

And just like that, you had added another member to your party of four. It turned out that Harrison’s father was the boss of your father and so it was easy to get his phone number. Harrison was now a familiar face that you both saw almost every day. Especially, when school started. The five of you grew up together watching Marvel movies and playing Dungeons and Dragons. 

- 

[GRADUATION. 2014] 

You, Tom and Harrison, had gone to the same school together since you added Harrison to your party. The three of you had grown extremely close together over the years, helping each other through your best highs and your lowest lows and today was graduation day. 

Tom had been diagnosed with dyslexia in the first grade, You and Harrison had been there for him throughout it all, creating your own study group and after completing each assignment the three of you would celebrate by playing a round of Dungeons and Dragons. Tom had discovered his love of acting after getting cast in Billy Elliot and many other productions since then. 

Harrison had also found a love of performing and had become Tom’s manager, following Tom as he filmed his many different movies, the two of them becoming closer than the three of you were together but you understood, after all, they’d always come back home. 

And you, well you hadn’t found your interest yet, you thought about being a teacher like your mother but weren’t completely set on the idea and so you decided to take a gap year, maybe even go to Paris and write a novel. 

Another member had been added to your party since then, Paddy Holland. He was absolutely adorable and you enjoyed helping him with his homework and getting to know the little guy. Though you were envious that Tom had three brothers and you were an only child, though you found yourself thinking of The Holland’s as your own family and this was only confirmed when Tom had found you crying in your bedroom. 

“(Y/N), What’s wrong?” He asked you, your face was red and your eyes were bloodshot and blotchy so even when you told him it was nothing he forced it out of you. “You’ve been crying, please tell me what’s wrong?” He asked again, kindly with those chocolate brown eyes of his.  

“It’s just... You have so many brothers and I don’t have any siblings at all.” You admitted in defeat. Tom’s hand wiped at your tears as he kept his eyes locked with yours, moving a strand of hair out of your face. 

“It’s okay, love. You can share mine with me. They all see you as a sister, already. I assure you.” He spoke, seriously. “They all love you, we- all love you.” 

“I love you all too.” You giggled before being pulled into Tom’s embrace. 

“I don't want you to leave.” You whispered almost inaudible but Tom caught it nonetheless. 

“I’ll always come back to you, (Y/N).” He tried, he knew this wasn’t easy on you but he also knew that this was his dream and he had to go after it. 

“Promise?” You asked, your foreheads rested against each other‘s and you found yourself fearing to lose your best friend.  

“Promise.” He grinned, locking his pinky with yours. “Where else would I go?” He asked, kissing your forehead as you found your face muffled into the crook of his neck and just like that the fear was gone... For now. 

You fell asleep together, in your bed that night and that was the night that you found yourself falling in love with your childhood best friend. 

_ 

“(Y/N) (L/N), taking a gap year.” Your principal called out as you stood up in your blue gown and cap, You couldn’t believe that you were actually graduating. And of course, Tom and Harrison were hollering and cheering, loudly as your name was called out. “That’s our girl!” Tom and Harrison shouted in unison as if they had rehearsed it. 

You found yourself giggling as you took your diploma and took a bow, shooting a web gesture at Tom as he caught it and laughed, his nose crinkling up, cutely. You found yourself blushing and you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other. It was your very own version of blowing a kiss. 

“Thomas Holland, off to our big screens, filming In The Heart of The Sea.” Your principal called out and of course this time it was You and Harrison’s turn to holler and cheer. “That’s my best friend!” You shouted, clapping your hands like a mad-man. After Tom gracefully took his diploma he followed you out and pulled you into a hug as you both waited eagerly for Harrison’s name to be called out.  

“Harrison Osterfield, off to become Tom’s manager and become an actor.” Your principal called out as you and Tom hollered and cheered for your other best mate. “Harrison!” Tom shouted. Harrison had kissed your principal’s cheek as he took his diploma, typical Harrison. When he joined the two of you. You all walked back to your seats together. 

When it was time to throw your caps into the air, you did just that before running out of the gym together, hand in hand. Your parents had tears in their eyes as they had just watched their babies graduate and a graduation party was waiting back at The Holland household for the three of you. 

“You know, I am so proud of us,” Harrison admitted, he had celebrated by having quite a lot to drink. He was absolutely wasted and Tom wasn’t far behind while you had stuck with a simple glass of champagne and a few jello-shots. You knew that you had to watch out in case the boys tried posting on their social media, knowing they had a reputation to uphold.  

“Me too, mate” Tom agreed, burping as the smell of alcohol escaped into the living room. Tom’s face turned green. You and Harrison knew that was coming next. “Guy’s, I-” But before you or Harrison could do anything, he vomited all over the floor just as you stood up to grab a bucket, earning Tom’s vomit all over your blue dress. 

“Thomas Stanely Holland.” You screamed, feeling yourself turn green as you vomited all over the rug beside you and of course Harrison was next seeing the two of you vomit. He vomited all over the floorboards and seeing Harrison vomit made you vomit once again. 

For the rest of the night, you found yourself looking after your two best friends. After changing into one of Nikki’s sets of pajamas and ridding yourself of vomit.

You were playing with Tom’s curls as he was crouched over the toilet, resting his head on the toilet seat. “(Y/N)?” He asked you as if he had something serious to say.  

You nodded your head. “Yes, Tom?” You asked him and he looked into your eyes, his eyes were bloodshot and you knew he was drunk, maybe not as drunk as Harrison but he was still wasted. Anything he said, he wouldn’t mean it. 

“We’re eighteen, now.” He murmured before he vomited once again. But you knew exactly what he was talking about. You found yourself tearing up as you escaped to find Harrison asleep in the living room. 

You walked into the kitchen and searched through the cupboards to find Advil, you took two into the palm of your hand and topped a glass cup up with water, making your way back to Tom. “Take these.” You whispered, not making eye contact with him as you keep your eyes on the Advil in the palm of your hand. Once Tom took the tablets and chased them down with water. You sat back down beside him. 

“I meant what I said.” He tells you and you know, now that he was sobered up, but you refused to believe it as you shook your head. “I should get going.” You told him but before you could get up he caught your hand into his. “Stay... Please.” He pleaded, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours and you found yourself nodding your head. “Okay, Okay. I’m staying.” You promised him as your voice cracked.

- 

That was a year ago. It hadn’t been brought up since. Tom had come home from filming In The Heart of The Sea and the distance between the two of you had made you grow even stronger and so when Tom was auditioning for the next Spider-Man you were there for him every step of the way. In fact, when they posted the results to Instagram you were the first to see them. 

You were scrolling through social media when you came across the link to find out who the next Spider-Man was. You instantly clicked on the link, Tom hadn’t got the call back at you were ready to start a riot about this ‘New’ Spider-Man until a loud squeal left your lips. 

“Thomas Stanley Holland!” You shouted making the man jump out of his skin as he looked at you. (Y/N) (M/N) (L/N)!” He shouted back, shoving you playfully. “You’re Spider-Man.” You told him, looking at him seriously. 

“Have been ever since we were four, Spider-Woman.” He chuckled, not understanding what you were talking about and it wasn’t until you shoved your phone into his face when he saw it. His own scream leaving his mouth as he read it over and over again. 

“This can’t be real.” He whispered to himself and before you knew it he was running downstairs, you followed closely behind him. 

You had never seen Tom so excited. “I’m Spider-Man! I, Tom Holland am Spider-Man!” He shouted, you watched him as you leaned against the door frame, you had never been more proud. You knew he belonged in the Marvel universe, especially as Spider-Man. Tom’s dog Tessa was barking loudly, worried for him. You were able to quiet her down with a good belly rub as The Holland’s kept their eyes on Tom.  

Harry went online and followed the link before he looked up at his brother. “Dude, they’ve probably been hacked, bro,” Harry spoke as he looked at the link, it was quite sketchy how they hadn’t called Tom first. You had to agree. But you knew he deserved this so instead, you replied with a- 

“Let him have this.” You kept your eyes on Tom who sat down at the kitchen table and you sat down at the table with him as Harry continued.

“I’m just saying, they would have called you, right?” Harry asked before both Nikki and Dominic suggested that Tom ring his agents to which Tom agreed. He called up his agents whom all congratulated him. But it wasn’t until a few hours later when he got a call confirming this news that everyone truly believed it. 

Once Tom had ended the call, Congratulations were shared and Celebrations started. “Congratulations, Tommy. I always knew you would be Spider-Man one day.” You assured him, the biggest smile on your face. “I am so proud of you, you deserve this more than anyone I know.” You whispered, kissing his cheek. 

“I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you, love.” He stated, pulling you into a tight hug. He was lucky to have you by his side. The one person who always believed in him no matter what and that was the day that he found himself falling in love with his childhood best friend. 

-

And that is how you got here. 

END OF PART ONE 

[scato006-blog]

Searching for a title and feedback.

New to this, would appreciate any feedback. 

All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2019 Stephanie Catozzi

My mother’s hand squeezes around my infantile one, small, petite, and plump even for a 12-year-old. I feel the cold, hard shaft of the metal handle, the gun weighty in my hand. My mother’s breath, laced with Bacardi rum and stale Marlboro lights, coaches me to squeeze harder, my tiny fingertips biting under the pressure and turning light purple at the tips from being held so forcefully.

“You have to hold it like you mean it, steady.” She coaches.

“I don’t want to,” I whine, almost silently.

               The wind kept biting my plump cheeks, and I felt my legs, bare in the November air, tingling and pocking with cold bumps.

               This has become a routine, my mother getting intoxicated or high, and taking a sudden interest in her children and choosing the worst time to suddenly teach us some life skills. My brother, with his autism, is too heady a project to undertake. So, it is me, who at 11 pm is hauled from my kitten covered sheets and dragged outside for an impromptu lesson on protecting myself, undoubtably due to some loosely based on a true story Lifetime network film where a girl, most likely Tori Spelling, is victimized.  

               Thankfully, she loses interest surprisingly fast this time, and when she loosens her grip on my hand, I am able to wrestle past her, knocking her to one knee as she curses and I bolt back into my bed and lock the door. She staggers in and pounds for several moments, calling me names, before I hear her door shut and know she has passed out.

My mother hasn’t been quite right since my father died. I see her leaving often to doctors’ offices, complaining of ailments ranging from pains to depression and anxiety disorders. Her pills litter the tops of our 80’s style maroon kitchen counters; every consistency you can imagine from syringes to tiny multicolored capsules. In the mornings, we see her guzzling down the liquid medications, never using the tiny, clear ridged top that is supposed to serve as a barbie sized measuring cup. Instead, she uses that as a pseudo lid when she gets too inebriated to remember where she put the child proof cap the pharmacist carefully clicks into place. Her arms are littered with pock marks from needles. Some self-inflicted and some from all the blood draws ordered by her physicians. She has become obsessed with this idea of teaching us how to protect ourselves since my father passed. Which later I will realize is terribly contradictory, since the basis of most our inflictions come from her blatant negligence.

               It isn’t until I start having sleepovers with girls outside my neighborhood that I will realize this isn’t a normal occurrence. I spend time with girls whose parents bake them cinnamon buns in the morning slathered with extra crystalline icing, whose mothers collect little figurines cased in glass cabinets without fingertips smeared on them and father figures who go off to work, kissing cheeks instead of backhanding them like the other dads in my neighborhood would do. It’s a foreign world to me, and oddly, it makes me surprisingly uncomfortable to be in such a serene environment. Almost mundane as wild as that may seem to some. Beige. I always notice this common color scheme in these safety net homes, everything was always varying shades of beige from the carpets to the placemats to the sheets. Beige everywhere.

               In the morning, it’s as if nothing has happened, as she bustles around the kitchen getting my brother’s routine down to match the Velcro pictured descriptions that are supposed to help with his over stimulation. I can tell there is something tangible and tense in the air, the blatant ostracizing of me from our tiny family unit. I will learn later that it is due to embarrassment over her own actions, but in the moment from my young perspective, I have somehow failed her.

I gather my things, my teal Jansport backpack smeared with pen marks and patches, and dig in the back cabinet, shoving expired bags of chips and soup out of the way to find a long lost granola bar and walk out the door, pausing before turning the silver knob to look back slightly out of my peripheral at my mother to see if she pauses at the sound of me leaving. She doesn’t.

The bus stop holds a sense of comfort for me, knowing that I will be headed to the one safe institution I have in my young life, school. There are rules, teachers, consistency, and scheduled mealtimes. I know what is coming and when. I know what is expected of me and it isn’t laced with alcohol and substances, or parties in my home with strange men who grab in places they shouldn’t and burn your arms with their cigarettes when you try to yell in protest for someone who is too inebriated to come to your rescue.

Teacher’s take special interest in me, I must exude some sense of chaos at home, my behavior is mildly disruptive with chattering to my fellow neighboring classmates, often causing my desk to be moved adjacent to the teachers to curve my “social butterfly” antics.

Years later, I will run into my favorite English teacher, Ms. Mueller, and she will subtly hint at the signs of abuse she saw from my rumpled clothes to my bruised arms and vacant expression from exhaustion. She will tell me of a time she went to my mother’s store, at the height of our home tsunami during my high school years, and the words heatedly exchanged between them. From that point on, in school, before I have this knowledge, I will choose to spend an hour every day after school with her and be exposed to various forms of literature. She will bring books with her and give me deadlines throughout the year, hoping to keep me driven and expand this world I escape to through books.

Oddly enough, my thirst for books came from the very person I was trying to escape.

In fifth grade I had a teacher I absolutely loathed. It was truly, the first person I had a deep hatred and resentment for. I remember the feelings of rage and a craving for the demolition of our high-ceilinged classroom. Ms. Symzick was a small, petite woman who would prance around her classroom in various shades of loud pinks and magenta, shouting in her irritatingly shrill, chalkboard scraping screeching voice. She had a serious inclination to class favorites, and those favorites tended to be the children of affluent parents she co-vacationed with in the Bahamas and Jamaica, frequently referencing scuba diving explorations and inside jokes she had created with the kids poolside while they showed off their attempts at underwater hand stands. She accused my indifferent attitude towards her and my inability to pay attention to her reading “out loud” to the class on comprehension issues. My mother responded, in typical Tammy fashion, and greeted me that afternoon with a stack of VC Andrews books. Her philosophy was that I needed something to read that could hold my attention in a mildly traumatizing way. Make the book risqué enough for me to care, and it would cure my non attentive approach to active listening. It certainly worked.

While my classmates were reading books about bridges crossing into Terabithia to conquer exciting pretend lands, I was obsessed with mentally trying to connect the incest family trees of wealthy families stuck in attics, toiling away pasting together paper flowers to create gardens. I craved reading about these fucked up families, and was elated to find that not only where the books thick with small font which meant they lasted longer than my classmates small flirtations with literature, but they also were in series so I could follow these families for generations. I would blow through a book a day if it was the weekend, absorbing finally, every comma and black small printed letter flowing into my mind through an osmosis of obsessive reading.

I sit next to Holly and hold her hand under our jackets in solidarity. Holly has the same house as I do, which is baffling and comforting for my young mind. Her brothers shout and throw things in their drunken rages, blaming their parents for their adult failures and losses of custody over children. Her father sits on the couch, sleeps on the couch, drinks on the couch, argues from the couch, he exists on the couch, never intervening. When he would winded from yelling, he would clutch a small, metal vile necklace he always wore. I would learn later it contained a single pill that would melt under his tongue because he was prone to panic attacks from his time in the military.

Holly will sneak into my room, late in the night, when things get bad and she climbs into my bed, cold hands and feet pressed against my calves for warmth. She rustles under my sheets and presses her perfect little bud lips against my cheek and snuggles into my neck and falls asleep fast, just as our thermostat registers the drop in temperature from the window being pried open for her to come in and the furnace clicks on, as always, I fling my leg out from under the blankets, so as to not wake Holly and soak in some cool air as her body heat radiates against my own. I love her and want to protect her, as she is the only one who has ever expressed a kindred likeliness to what I experience behind closed doors. She protects me as well, when my mother opens the door slightly to see if I am awake or when she is under the influence ready for another “life lesson,” she will always close the door and slither away when she sees Holly’s body next to mine.

Holly knew about these moments, in the dead of night when my mother would make her way into the room. She was the one who saw the handprint makes in shades of black and blue, purple then fading to yellows and lime greens. She would take my arm, and lay her hot, brown palm slowly and softly on top of the blue and purple marks so gently, brushing the tops of the soft baby arm hair then would turn over, as if nothing had happened. It was the act of acknowledging, that would transition into acts of protection. She knew if she was there, those marks wouldn’t appear. Holly became an ever-present staple in my life, it was truly as if she was holding me together, fastening my frayed edges to keep them from being burned by my mother and faceless men’s lighters.

This is my day to day, and night to night. The seeking of comfort in concrete things and people outside my home and struggling to find a purpose outside of myself.

Years pass, the same abuses remain constant, even after the school nurse contacts my mother over concerns she has when she sees my bandaged fingers from a screaming hot iron. The difference is the older I get, the more I learn to fight back, slick mouthed and learning to block hands quickly with forearms. I develop the internal switch, for numbing and hardening emotions to dispel any sense of misery or hopelessness, I don’t allow myself to be vulnerable around her and show any form of pain or exaggerated anger. I treat her with complete indifference, which in her drunken, high moments causes absolute meltdowns. Her emotional levels skyrocketing due to inebriation, and my disconnect growing more profound with each outburst. I start to want more, more than these walls and house. I want to sleep peacefully, quietly, and safely. A concept I had never visualized for myself that I thought was coveted for children with two parents and yards without brown spots and littered with dog feces.

I sit, at 15, in my English class, the scared space I have carved out for myself. Ms. Mueller, walks past, having just kicked Gary out of class for shouting at her.

“Dyke gave me a F,” he rages after we are returned our midterm grades.

“Out!” Ms. Mueller declares, stunning me at how she so gracefully and passively dismisses him and his hate slurred words.

As she passes back to her desk, I feel a blue piece of paper get slid under the flesh of my forearm. I slide it under my notebook, I can tell through its delivery, she doesn’t want me to attract any attention through receiving it. She looks pointedly at me, and when the bell rings I rush out to see what it is she has slipped me.

She knows I am not happy with her today. Ms. Mueller detests Holly. There is this just under the surface acknowledgement that they don’t address one another, ever. Holly feels Ms. Mueller is trying to come between us and take time I should be spending time with her and instead am choosing to spend it reading, which is the most boring thing in Holly’s mind. Oddly enough, Holly has detention or make up tests almost every day after school, so her time wouldn’t be spent with me regardless. Holly is known to have her behavioral issues, shouting at teachers and authority figures much in the same fashion as her older brothers do to her and her parents. It is a cycle that has already began its inheritable rotation.

               “She’s not good for you, you have too much inside you for that one.” Ms. Mueller had told me suddenly, interrupting me reading silently beside her while she worked on the summer reading list for the class, and my own which had easily an extra fifteen books added to it. At the time, I didn’t really understand what it was she meant.

“Too much inside me? What the hell?” I thought. I glared defiantly at the top of her head, wishing I had the nerve to reach out and rustle her short, cropped hair out of its artfully tousled with hair paste landscape just out of spite. She didn’t look up, nor acknowledge my anger filled face, and after some time I set my mouth in a taught line and kept reading. Leaving that day without saying a word when our hour was up.

I open it up and see it’s a flyer, for some summer program called Upward Bound and kids interested in colleges. I had never imagined myself being on some pristine collegiate campus. That was also reserved for the cinnamon bun kids whose parents showed up to every sporting event, cheering them on from the sidelines and pumping their fists in the air, visualizing college scouts coming with hefty scholarships and grants. Not for me, who begged for rides to and from practices, relying on my grandparents for transportation sparsely, so they wouldn’t see the state of our house. My mother would always get angry when her parents came to drop us off, always insisting on coming in to survey the

damage in the house from holes in walls to dirty dishes crawling with critters and cats licking dirty pans for burned egg pieces.

I folded the flyer in half and hastily shoved in under my stack of books on the bottom self in the locker I share with Holly. I am always the bottom shelf, to take my lacking height into consideration. She can’t see it; she will lose her mind. I know this, our codependency has blossomed into a full relationship of unhealthy proportions, two emotionally crippled humans attempting at something far too adult.

I wait, as always, for her to come meet me briefly, and she does. Angry brown eyes, jet black hair, browned skin from her native American heritage, and slanted eyebrows. I forgot she was angry with me from this morning when I pulled my hand away from hers when Kim snatched the jacket up that hid our weaved fingertips.

“Mr. Mason is such an asshole,” she huffs slamming her books in the locker, standing on her tip toes to launch them to the back where we hear them ding as they hit the metal back.

“What happened?” I ask, gauging her temperance to see where we are at. Holly drives the emotional state of our relationship; she being the more volatile of the two of us.

“He gave me detention for missing all that homework,” she huffed as she slammed the locker shut. “I just want school to be done already, I hate it.”

I watched her stalk off, wordless, now definitely wasn’t the time to broach the subject of an academic summer camp that focuses on colleges. Holly was not interested in anything remotely studious, let alone something that would separate us for an entire summer.

I watch her turn the corner of the light seafoam green colored hallways, waiting until I can be sure she is completely out of sight before slamming my elbow into the door right above the turn lock, causing it to pop open, a little trick Tommy showed me last year when he had this locker. I hop up on the toes of my sneakers and grab the flyer out from my Roman History classes textbook.

It is in that moment; I realize I don’t want to stay closeted with Holly and hide holding hands. I don’t want to stay in a home I feel constantly threatened in, showing all the scars on my skin and inside of my flesh. I don’t want to be stuck slinging burgers at the diner down the street, or as a cashier at the grocers. I don’t want to struggle against the New England seasonal depression of grey skies to salt crusted and frost heaved roads. I don’t want to be tied to this place where I feel like a hamster on a spinning wheel, never moving forward and back, just in one constant place.

The flyer announces the meeting is today, in Ms. Mueller’s classroom of course, but an hour after we usually meet. I know Holly has detention, so if there was ever a time I could go and take a glance at what this whole thing is about, it is today when she will be occupied for a definite set amount of time.

I watch the clock anxiously for the last two periods, bouncing my leg in anticipation, choosing to focus more on the seconds hand than the other two since it moves at such a faster pace. Holly isn’t in my last two classes; they are AP and she is sequestered into the more remedial ones where they mostly watch movies instead of getting lectures from young teachers who still feel they can make a difference and impact our lives.

Ms. Mueller is at the door, leaning against it with her arms crossed, her cuffs folded up at the elbow, creased slacks and pointed shiny ebony dress shoes, almost as if she was waiting for me. Now that I look back, I think she was.

“Well here she is, take a seat.” She gestures to the open door.

I look in and see every seat is filled mostly with kids from other schools and a couple familiar faces of girls I have barely exchanged two words with. I slide into a seat near the door, resolving that if I need to make a quick getaway, I will at least have an easy shot to the door. Ms. Mueller positions her chair in the doorway; it’s like she can sense what I am thinking and gives me another one of her pointed stares.

A young man with a lot of vigor and energy and radiant brilliantly white smile bounds up to the front of the room. I will learn almost immediately that his name is Craig when he finally stops bounding around and announces who he is, that he went to Bates College, and dives into a lengthy description of what Upward Bound really is. There are other individuals up there as well, all standing in a line with various colleges strewn on their tee shirts and sweatshirts: Colby-Sawyer, Keene State, UNH, Plymouth State, are some of the names I spot.

The program is a six-week summer session that focuses on preparing students for college and even offers opportunities to take college level classes that can be accredited. Six weeks on a college campus, right in my hometown, sleeping in the dorms, going to classes, they even offer sporting events and excursions to local spots for day trips. It sounded too good to be true.

I looked around the room and saw most of the kids had that same look as I did, clinging to every word. “Give me an escape, please. Tell me I won’t fall through the cracks and be left right here where I started.” Their faces all seemed to say.

Craig took the basic Q&A after his dialogue of wonderous academia enchantment and promise, everyone asking the same things I was wondering. I wouldn’t raise my hand and attract attention to myself, no way.

I saw her then, Jodie, sitting with her hand up to ask more about the sporting opportunities offered, field hockey specifically. She sat with her blonde hairspray scrunched hair, long eyelashes and friendly, wide open blue eyes. I was amazed at how drawn I was to her instantly, like she was the bright glinting Christmas tree of hope in contrast to Holly’s darkness and shadowing pessimistic outlook on life and humanity. There was also this underlying feeling emanating from her. She was wearing adidas snap pants and her field hockey jacket, I knew without knowing, I knew she had the same attraction to females as I did. When Craig answered her question to her satisfaction, Jodie thanked him, and I saw her sign the sheet to enroll and receive more information. I watched that sheet for the rest of the presentation and when we were wrapping up, Ms. Mueller caught me at the door, the sign sheet in her fingertips.

“You forgot something,” she stated, a black pen in her other hand, held out to me.

I stepped aside, opening my mouth to let out a string of excuses, all based in fear and simultaneously worried that if I failed at this camp, I would disappoint her.

“Don’t.” She held up her palm that held the pen. “Sign the paper.”

I realized in that moment; this was my chance. I was on the edge of something, a choice. I knew what I would lose, and I quickly sobered to the reality that what I stood to lose, didn’t outweigh what I had to gain.      

So I made the choice, to take a chance, put the pen to that blue paper, and signed my name, choosing to take that chance, choosing something so much bigger for myself than I could have ever imagined and taking the first step to end the cycle that would have ensnared me just as it did many others. It even would claim Holly in the end, leaving her to browning pine trees, closeted and affairs in secrecy, the shame and impending alcoholism, cursing from her couch just as her father did.

[himboholhorse-moving]

I was thinking about high school and while it blew for the most part, one of my most favorite moments was when my friend was telling me about this guy that was super in love with her - she had a boyfriend and just loathed this dude - and kept texting her and trying to walk her into school, being a real creepy guy, and it's around Christmas now and she's reading me a text from him which said something like, "Aw, c'mon, I know you want to see me wrapped up in a little box under your Christmas tree."

and I'm listening to her, but I'm also working on something on my laptop and I didn't consciously decide to say what I did, it just sort of came out without my knowing, and I said: "The only box you want to see him in is his fucking coffin."

we both freeze. I'm shocked that even came out of my mouth and didn't realize I was saying it until it was already out. she probably didn't expect me to say something like that because I was the "quiet kid" in high school. we turn and look at each other and just absolutely lose it, because holy shit, what did I just say. it's a highlight of my high school years, as was when the news broke the prior spring that two of the teachers were getting a divorce and the husband had cheated on his wife with an English teacher at the school.