#you have no idea how many words i have written. i think about shape biology far more often than the average human does

[potatobugz]

i love having complex headcanons and thoughts about jsab it is so funny because i can look at a character and say "this ones full of self loathing and also is a giant snake that lives under a volcano" and in game its the guy who shows up and tries kill you, refuses to elaborate, and dies, and they never show up again.

and then you look at the character and they look like this

[wuxiaphoenix]

Book Review: The First Tail

The First Tail, by Taniko K. Williams and Outback Quill. I’m giving this a solid three out of five stars, and a definite warning of avoid if you’re feeling the black dog nosing around. Particularly if, while you may or may not belong to a church, you do think religion is Serious Business. Because this is technically well written, on the surface a fantasy adventure story, and yet if you think about it both disturbing and harmful to morality.

The sample was a promising story. Dystopia, yes; and I saw a severe logic hole with, “our world is short on resources so we’ll put everyone not economically valuable into cryosleep and let them ‘live” online”. First, how much resources does it take to do that, and how many people are employed that way? Second, deciding who is “economically valuable” is a really, really slippery thing. Is a musician of economic value? A writer? An artist? The guy who cleans the office trashcans? I guarantee any organization thinks they can cut janitors, and they are all wrong.

But Kadia and her situation sounded interesting, the classic “evil stepmother gets daughter of former marriage out of the way so her child can inherit”, and I wanted to see how she fought back. And the first, oh, quarter of the book was interesting; the net of betrayal, ending up online, learning to deal with the world around her, getting a message out to her own lawyer, and trying to deal with the reality of having been nearly murdered and in no shape to be taken out of a capsule any time soon. Okay, doable, and the financial revenge she intended to take on her father and stepmother were entirely justified.

Problem is, the character goes downhill in morality from there - and yet I can see most people not noticing when they read. Kadia goes from wanting to experiment with the world around her to wanting to experiment on people and torture some of them to (temporary) death in the process. And these were people who, while they plotted to betray her, hadn’t actually had the chance to do it. There’s a big jump from giving a scammer the actual venom they’re claiming to have an antidote to, to “hmm, this other separate adventuring party in my own guild ticked my fellow party members off, for reasons I do not know, let’s burn them to death anyway.”

The story itself is giving a jumbled mish-mash of what’s considered correct behavior and what’s not. For example, near the start Kadia is firmly warned against deliberately poisoning herself, dying too often damages you irreparably. Yet later on we get characters in her own adventuring party joking and placing bets on how long it will take Kadia to die on an expedition, and Kadia (who was nearly murdered for real) is considered irresponsible for taking offense to this and leaving without a word. Kadia’s also expected to experiment with things everyone knows are hideously explosive, so long as she does it as safely as possible. She did exactly that, something went wrong and large sections of a camp burned down.... And the guild duns her for all of the damage. The guild whose upper members know she has brain damage that leaves her attention scattered and impulsive.

The capper to that is that the game world is one I would fight to the death not to be trapped in. Not because the setting is bad, it’s a great fantasy setting - but the rules about “not breaking immersion” mean you can’t bring in any outside books to read. If I can’t have my history, biology, folklore, fiction, heck, math - what is the point? The idea of being trapped for life in a world with no libraries and no one out to create knowledge, just hoard it... ugh.

Aaand last we get to the religion bit. This online world has gods, that can mess with people in serious and scary ways, and the way the god of alchemy demands tribute and worship just... no. No, this is no world to be in if you value your faith, or even just “my soul is my own, hands off”. Combine that with the lack of moral compass besides “do what benefits your guild”, and this is a truly barbaric place.

Definitely not getting any follow-up book.

[britcision]

Eeeeh it was WIP Wednesday… and I’m thirsty for attention, so have a snippet from chapter two of Danny Fenton, Dead and Loving it!

(And I had to check I could paste obscene amounts of words from my notes into tumblr, since I’m not writing this in drafts for now - I lost too many sections to not hitting ‘save’ before putting my phone down)

Prompt and First chapter! (I guess I cannot make neat links on mobile, woe is me)

And the fic on AO3

@welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith

@someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones

@starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost

@akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159

@littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife

@serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf

————————

“Hang on a second, does that mean your ghost writer friend is also an actual ghost?” Because yeah, he had googled book collectors around Gotham and came up blank.

Danny took a moment to work out what he meant, then perked up and nodded.

“Oh, yeah! That’s his actual name too, I’m not sure he was ever a living person, and I wasn’t kidding when I said he had every book ever written. A lotta first editions too. I think he’s a spirit of literature?”

Jason took a quick peek around to see if any giant and possibly book shaped palaces had appeared.

Place was covered in floating islands and purple doors, there was a chance.

“Could we… could you introduce me?” Cuz he wasn’t gonna actually ask if Jane Austen was a ghost, not on his first day.

He had some damn self control. Even if the pit was fucking purring in the back of his head and this whole weird place felt more like home than anywhere he’d been before.

Flying beside him, Danny nodded cheerfully and shot him a thumbs up.

“Oh hell yeah, he needs more friends. Probably not today though, he’s not really around this part of the Zone, and we wanna make it to the Far Frozen and back before New Years. Next time,” he added before Jason could even begin to feel disappointed.

He’d known the odds of heading right there weren’t great. Fuck, he wouldn’t have wanted to; it was just hard to remember they were here to get the pit out when it was filling him with a buzzing, humming contentment down to his toes.

Part of him wanted to be a whole lot more suspicious. Did not like how easy it was to trust Danny, to relax into this undead realm.

But it was usually the pit that nagged at him not to trust anyone. And the pit was in heaven, and Jason had spent so long fighting that constant suspicion.

If things went as well as he hoped… well, he wasn’t gonna be going easy on any of the assholes fucking with his turf.

But being able to talk to the bats without the pit’s constant paranoia… yeah, he did a little hope he’d be a bit tighter lipped.

Feelings just kept spilling out of him around Danny, apparently literally if what the kid told him about his core was to be believed.

Jason could feel enough of Danny’s emotions in return to know the kid wasn’t lying. Hopefully that was what made him trust him.

Today, he nodded and looked around.

“So, the Far Frozen. Called that because it’s far?” He asked casually, definitely not letting on any concerns.

Flying hadn’t been hard so far, but he had no idea how long this was going to work. He couldn’t even tell if it was using a muscle, but it was sure as shit one he hadn’t used before.

Danny snickered and shrugged, clearly not even a little concerned.

“Well, I opened the portal pretty close in this case, but yeah, it’s far from the more populated areas of the zone. The yetis like it, it means they can keep to themselves.”

This was kind of the problem with Danny, Jason was coming to realise.

He’d told Jason where in the zone they were going, and why. They needed to see a guy called Frostbite, because he knew the most about ghost biology.

He’d probably know what to do about Jason’s pit problem, and what Danny and Jason could do to deal with the pits themselves. Fun, exciting, Jason was 1000% up for that.

Fucking yetis had not come up.

“The what?” He asked, striving for nonchalance and wondering again if he shouldn’t have shot someone a text before leaving.

And potentially never being seen again.

Danny hesitated for a moment, brows furrowing.

There was definitely more snow ahead than there had been behind.

“I totally mentioned the yetis?” Danny said carefully, like that would somehow make it true.

Jason stifled a snicker.

“You did not mention yetis. You mentioned ghosts.”

“Yeah, they’re ghost yetis.”

“That doesn’t actually make it any better, y’know? The yeti part is still kinda important.”

Not that Jason would be hugely surprised to find an alive yeti at some point. The world had a habit of saving up its weirdest bullshit to dish out onto him.

At least he wasn’t Constantine.

Danny pulled a face and shrugged, turning so he was flying backwards.

“Well, I mentioned it now? They’re yetis. So is Frostbite, but he’s like, bigger. And their leader. I mentioned that part, right?” Danny asked hopefully.

It was pretty clearly a fair question.

Jason nodded, scanning through what he’d been told so far.

“Yeah, and that they had the ghost hospital? I guess it’s a good thing as ghosts we’re not gonna feel the cold,” Jason added idly, glancing at their increasingly frosty surroundings.

He could feel the temperature dipping, sure, but nothing serious. They hadn’t even grabbed coats.

Danny stopped flying so quickly that Jason actually overshot him and had to turn, coming back to rejoin his guide. Who looked guilty.

Jason pulled on his best deadpan face.

“Let me guess. You definitely mentioned it?” He asked dryly.

Danny groaned and slapped himself in the face, then dragged his hand slowly free.

“Okay this one’s totally not my fault? I mean. I don’t need a coat there? And usually if anyone else comes with me, we have the Spectre Speeder, and it always has coats, so it’s not like we pack?”

He gave Jason a sheepish smile, half wincing like he expected a punch.

Jason did consider it, but not seriously.

“Okay, focus up Danny. What do we need to do? How cold am I gonna get?” Cuz the longer they were sitting still, the more the chill was creeping in.

Danny let out another lingering groan then closed his eyes, calculating.

“Okay… so I can call Frostbite when we get a bit closer, and he can come meet us, and he’ll have some spare coats? And I don’t think you can technically freeze to death anymore, but you don’t have a core? So I dunno.”

Jason took a deep breath of his own, fighting a half smile. Good to know he wasn’t the only one with a bad habit of rushing in.

But even he tried to be ready for everything.

“Great. Love this plan. Especially the part where I probably can’t freeze to death,” Jason snarked.

Danny squinted at him.

“Look, it’s better than my other plan, which is I freeze you solid in my ghost ice and tow you the rest of the way. You wanna show up walking and talking or in an iceberg?”

The fact that he seemed to be serious probably should have concerned Jason more, but he was having fun.

Just imagine, Jason Todd as the responsible one in a superhero team up. Dickie would be so proud.

It’d be just like his old Robin days, except that suit was thermally regulated out the ass.

“Ooh, frozen wastes or frozen in iceberg, I’m definitely seeing the difference. Let’s just get moving so you can call your buddy before I turn into a popsicle.”

Danny stuck his tongue out at Jason, but did indeed get moving again.

“Hey, both of those are still better than our last option,” he snarked back, and maybe Jason was imagining it but they were kinda going faster.

Lucky for Jason, apparently it was willpower that made you fly in the Ghost Zone, and being a stubborn bitch had always been his stock in trade.

“Oh gee, what’s the last option? Shoot ourselves from a catapult? Build a snowman and have it carry us? Or do we close our eyes real tight and wish ourselves there?” Jason asked as sweetly as he could.

Made Danny laugh anyway, before his expression became deadly serious.

“You’re literally wishing your way there right now, smartass, but no. The last option is we call my regent and he stops time and you spend the next eighty relative years of your life listening to lectures about why I need to be fully crowned.”

Which did sound pretty last-resort-y, in Jason’s opinion. And raised an important question.

“Why are you so against being fully crowned? You seem pretty in touch with all the king shit.” Certainly willing enough to talk about it, although now that Jason thought about it, mostly to complain.

Danny pulled another reluctant face.

“Just cuz I know I can’t get out of it doesn’t mean I gotta give myself up right away. The last king was a bloodthirsty tyrant, in an enchanted sleep for thousands of years. Do you have any idea how much paperwork that stacked up?”

Danny let out a shudder that had nothing to do with the increasing cold. Thinking to the amount of report forms he’d be facing if B found out about this particular jaunt, Jason joined him.

“Yeah, okay, that sounds like it sucks,” he agreed, and Danny shot him a relieved grin.

“Right? Like, I want to live my actual life first. Do something more than struggle through college and fight ghosts. Everything worked just fine while the other guy was in prison, so what’s the rush?”

They flew in silence for a moment, Jason struggling with an entirely unexpected lump in his throat.

Danny broke it, drifting closer until their shoulders bumped.

“Sorry man. Didn’t think.”

There was a perfect snappy comeback in there about it not being the first time, but Jason didn’t have it in him. He managed a nod and gentle bump back.

It was getting cold enough now that the moisture on his cheeks stung.

From condensation. Or air resistance or something.

The Ghost Zone had high humidity, explained all of the snow.

They continued in silence for a while, then Danny sighed and slowed to a stop once more. Jason copied a little more reluctantly, brushing trails of ice from his face.

“Okay so this is gonna be just, stupid loud?” Danny said with a slightly strained cheerfulness, like they’d never stopped bantering. “You’ll probably wanna put your hands over your ears.”

Jason complied, wondering just how literal the “call” part of Danny calling ahead was gonna be. Stupid loud implied it wouldn’t be on a cellphone.

He’d not had any messages since leaving Gotham actually, and it had been a couple of hours. He should probably check…

He clapped his hands back over his ears just in time as Danny sucked in a huge breath and bellowed like a thunderstorm.

“HEY FROSTY! PHANTOM INCOMING, BROUGHT A FRIEND. HE NEEDS A COAT!”

And then Danny gave Jason a cheery grin and nodded in the direction they’d been travelling as he cautiously removed his hands.

“He can’t get quite that loud, so we’ll have to get closer before we can hear him. Might as well keep going, right?”

Jason took another moment just to stare at the ghost. It was beginning to actually kick in that… yeah. Danny wasn’t human.

And Jason knew plenty of metahumans, people with powers. He knew Black Canary, so what the line should be is a bit fuzzy.

But.

Danny’s not fully human, not anymore. So what the hell was Jason?

The exact same asshole he was yesterday, obviously. Just with… well, his baggage compartment had already been overstuffed.

Even the thought of getting to dump the pit baggage meant that even if he was now a zombie or a ghost or whatever that was still a net loss unless he had to eat people.

Which, again, what the fuck was his life?

He almost laughed, but didn’t want to try explaining that thought process to anyone else, even if the odds were pretty good Danny’s life… existence was at least a little fucked.

He gave a smile instead, nodding and following Danny’s lead off into the frost.

Doing absolutely nothing to reassure him, Jason was no longer sure it was reflections off the ice now catching the corner of his eye.

The longer they were in the Ghost Zone, the more he kept thinking he saw stars passing across the black of Danny’s suit.

***

Frostbite did in fact come to meet them, and did in fact bring Jason a coat. The fact that said coat REALLY looked like it came from a yeti…

Well, Danny had long decided never to ask, and Jason was following his lead today. His new friend was all wrapped up again, and wasn’t even shivering anymore!

Yeah. Danny fucked up.

And he also felt a little bad even after Jason told him it was fine, a damnably cocky smirk on his lips. It felt like he’d been holding onto that “Not the first thing you’ve conveniently forgotten” line for a while.

Which, to be fair, they’d met twice ever, so how the fuck would Jason know?

Just because it was accurate didn’t mean he had to say it.

They’d had to make quite a trek back to the depths of the Far Frozen along with Frostbite since the yeti had come to meet them, but they’d made good use of the time.

Frostbite still understood more about ghost biology and even specifically halfa biology than Danny himself did, and he’d immediately seen something was up with Jason.

Reassuring him that Jason wasn’t actually fading and that his core just hadn’t formed yet hadn’t taken long; apparently, yetis could smell core formation.

Delightful fucked up information Danny wished he’d never learned, but at least he’d been right.

Surrounded by the ambient ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone, Jason’s core was already coming along in fits and bounds. Something which had alarmed Jason to hear too, but hey.

About half of his ghost problems were probably related to that slow forming core, and the other half…

Yeah. Frostbite had a Lot of questions about the Lazarus Pits. And Jason had basically nothing by way of answers beyond what he’d already told Danny.

Which, aww, he’d really been putting everything he had on the table, which was nice. The longer they spent together, the more Danny figured Jason hadn’t been honest with anyone in a while.

He kept getting this surprised look on his face, these moments where he stopped like he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Like he thought he should be more careful.

Danny could relate. Frostbite was weirdly easy to share things with, even if Danny couldn’t get him to stop calling him Great One.

The second Danny had protested, Jason got a real sneaky grin on his face that Danny wasn’t sure he liked. He knew a Bastard Little Brother face from his mirror.

Jason being older than him? Meant nothing.

For now though, they’d made it to the medical center and Jason was looking at the scanning pods with a sceptical but weirdly unsurprised eye.

Danny still hadn’t stopped making Star Trek jokes when he saw them, but. Robin. What the fuck did Batman have access to?

Frostbite gave them both a very proud smile, patting the tube fondly.

“With this, we shall determine how much corrupted ectoplasm is within you, and how best to separate your mind from its affects. Already some of it is being purged by contact with our Saviour, but for it not to be gone already shows there is a deeper problem,” the yeti explained happily.

Jason shot Danny another shit eating grin at “saviour” and Danny bit back a groan, making himself smile at Frostbite instead.

Insistent and slightly patronising hero worship aside, he really did like the guy. He always wanted to help, and usually could, which was a nice change.

“Yeah, about that? Do we know what I’m doing that’d change his corruption?” Because it’s not that he didn’t want to help too, but it might be easier if he knew how.

Frostbite gave Danny a cheerful pat next, sending the smaller ghost stumbling a little.

“Oh, some of it will happen merely from your presence, Great One. As the King of the realm, you have far more ectoplasm and it is far stronger, which will help Jason’s ectoplasm to heal on its own. But we must find the root for the problem to be solved.”

Jason chuckled and shook his head, stripping back out of the thick yeti coat.

“There’s always a catch, right? Is this gonna hurt?” It sounded like he expected the answer to be yes, and even Frostbite looked suddenly concerned.

“You should not feel anything at all, young Jason. Perhaps the feelings from your contaminated source will become stronger, but they are not negative at present?” It came out as a question, mostly tied to that concern.

And Danny could kinda see why; from everything Jason told them, he was usually only swamped by rage. Neither of his auras felt angry now, but the pit’s had jumped to betrayal pretty consistently every time it spiked.

Needing to be told that something wasn’t going to hurt him sort of pointed where those feelings might have come from.

Danny nudged closer on impulse, letting his own trust-reassurance-done this before wash gently over Jason’s aura.

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

Welp! Today is my birthday, and I’m another year older. It’s crazy to think about how much time has flown by since I joined fandom well over a decade and a half ago and how that has shaped me as a person. But hey, I wouldn’t have it any other way. My past self wouldn’t have thought I would still be making things to this day. But inspiration and motivation needs to come from somewhere, and it’s thanks to all of you lovely fandom folks for being the reason why I still make art, and why I started writing again! If it wasn’t for fandom, I have no idea where I would be. Fandom holds a very special place in my heart because it’s a community where I can be myself and feel at home. The support I’ve received on my many crazy initiatives, and each friendship I’ve made over the years have all been truly special. As a thank you, I’m presenting a throwback rec list of 22 Drarry and rare pairs fics dating back between 2003-2017. Each and every one of these have impacted me in some way, have pulled me through some really difficult times and/or I still love to reread to this day. Maybe these are ones y’all love too, or have yet to read. I’ve added some tags where applicable just in case, since not all of these have extensive AO3 tags. Don’t forget to give these authors some love by leaving kudos and/or comments! [If you do want to see more detailed rec posts for these fics, send the word by commenting or sending a request in my inbox!] Without further ado, here ya go and enjoy!

Drarry

🧁 >>> Waters of March by geoviki (T, 21.6k, 2003)- Canon-Divergence, AU, Post-War, Order of the Phoenix, St. Mungo’s, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, brief mentions of Torture/Violence, London, Coffee Shops, Banter, Getting Together, Alternating PoVs

Summary: Voldemort's final victim resides with the other spell-damaged wizards in St. Mungo's Hospital.  Harry suffers survivor's guilt and finds an unusual beta.

🧁 >>> Tip of the Icing by megyal | @megyalwrites (M, 32.6k, 2007)- EWE, Post-war, Pre-DH, Fluff, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Magical AU, various OCs, Baking, Kid!fic, Past Relationships, Mentions of Past Affairs, Jealousy, Banter

Summary: Harry's successful cake/pastry career brings an old nemesis as a new client.

🧁 >>> Small Blessings by oldenuf2nb (M, 37k, 2009)- EWE, Post-war, Adopted Children, Found Family, Dad!Harry, Model!Draco, Pureblood Culture, Expectations, Attempted Kidnapping, Getting Together, Snogging, Humping, Falling in Love, Parenting, various OCs, Alternating PoVs

Summary: After the war, Harry opens an orphanage with the help of a surprising friend. When he adopts an infant left on his doorstep, he has no idea what fate has in store for him.

🧁 >>> Taste of Magic by Romaine | @romaine2424 (M, 10.1k, originally written in 2009)- Auror!Harry, Unspeakable!Draco, Banter, Goblet of Fire, Magic Vanishing, brief mentions of deaths, Drinking, Sex, Muggle World, Bittersweet, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending

Summary: As the world's atmosphere changes, magic starts to disappear.  Only a "lucky" few will stay in the magical world until the earth begins to heal.

🧁 >>> Symbiosis by fireflavored (E, 20.2k, 2009)- Post-war, 8th Year, Quidditch, Humour, UST, Flirting, Arrangements, Bullying, Prejudices, Wanking, BJs, Rimming, Sex, Christmas, Getting Together, Happy Ending

Summary: sym·bi·o·sis (sĩm'bē-ō'sĩs) n. Biology A close, prolonged association between two or more different organisms of different species that may, but does not necessarily, benefit each member.

🧁 >>> The Charm Conundrum by dysonrules (M, 8.3k, originally written in 2010)- 8th Year, Awkward Flirting, Humour, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Courting, Misunderstandings, Crushes, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Banter, Teasing, Sneaking Around at Night, Sex, Happy Ending

Summary: Harry misplaces an interesting "self-help" manual. Draco finds it and discovers some fascinating insights into Harry Potter.

🧁 >>> Sæglópur by femmequixotic | @femmequixotic (M, 34.3k, 2011)- EWE, First Person PoV, Break-up, Affairs, Fuckbuddies, UST, Idiots in Love, Banter, Holiday, Travel, Old Magic, Iceland, Lack of Communication, Feelings, Banter, Public Sex, Jealousy, Meddling Friends, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together

Summary: After a difficult breakup, Draco finds himself dragged to the land of magic, law, and natural wonders where, of course, nothing goes as planned.

🧁 >>> Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day by faithwood (E ,37.4k, 2012)- 8th Year, Mystery, Enemies to Lovers, Injuries, Felix Felicis, Temporary Memory Loss, Cuddling, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Handjobs, Rimming, Feelings, Curses, Misunderstandings, Deception, Memory Potions, Happy Ending

Summary: Even though he's unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

🧁 >>> Phoenix Rising by tuesdaymidnight (M, 25.6k, 2013)- Post-war, EWE, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Music, Trauma, Prophecy, Divination, Muggle world, Holidays, Friendships with Gryffindors, past break-up, Feelings, Idiots in Love, Getting Back Together, Song!Fic

Summary: Twelve years after the war, Draco is a successful organ tuner living in London, but he is still burdened by the effects of the war. Dark magic left him with a crippled body and, he sometimes worries, an empty heart. By chance he spots Harry in Muggle London, and the old feelings he once had for him rush back. When mutual friends express concern about Harry, it prompts Draco to seek him out. Draco is surprised but intrigued by Harry's interest in prophecy and seers, and he finds himself falling for Harry all over again. The only problem is figuring out if Harry could possibly return his feelings.

🧁 >>> Falling Stars, Catching Lightning by daftfear | @13pawns​ (E, 6.6k, 2015)- Post-war, Magical Tattoos, Symbolism, Flirting, Lust, Banter, UST, Sex

Summary: Draco’s talent and skill as a tattoo artist are without equal, but when Potter comes in asking for a custom piece that’ll take several sessions to complete, Draco finds his abilities and professionalism tested.

🧁 >>> Solder by Oakstone730 (E, 34.5k, 2015)- more tags on AO3

Summary: Seven years ago, Harry disappeared out of Draco and Scorpius's life without a trace after Harry's addictions destroyed his and Draco's marriage. Now, Harry’s back, and Draco wants to believe he’s changed. But Harry isn’t the only one haunted by the past.

🧁 >>> (The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (E, 34.5k, 2015)- Post-war, Flashbacks, Best Friends, Feelings, Idiots in Love, Pining, Heartbreak, Sex, UST, Infidelity against an OC, Engagement, Wedding, Confessions, Meddling Friends, Jealousy, Denial, Confrontations, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

Rare Pairs

🎂 >>> WAGs to Riches by nqdonne (Perciver, E, 8.8k, originally written in 2007)- Non-Magical AU, Reunions, Rugby, Offices, Wooing, Flirting, Getting Together, First Dates, BJs, Sex, Crushes, Fantasies, Humour, Puns

Summary: How the boy Percy had idly daydreamed about in school had ended up one of the country's top rugby players was something Percy left up to bad karma.

🎂 >>> What Pride Doesn’t Know by igrockspock (Perciver, G, 3.7k, 2012)- Getting Together, Coming Out, Canon-Compliant, Misunderstandings, Anxiety, Family, Apologies

Summary: How Percy Weasley came to dance with Oliver Wood at Ginny's wedding is a long story, and he may have forgotten to tell his family a few parts of it -- like how he's gay, and in a relationship with a man.

🎂 >>> A Root So Deep by wook77 (Deamus, E, 13.8k, 2012)- DH Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Roommates, mentions of other relationships/hook-ups, Separation, Travelling, Pining , Snogging, BJs, Sex, Miscommunication, Apologies, Getting Together, Falling in Love

Summary: There is an Irish proverb that states, "when the root is deep, there is no need to fear the wind". Seamus is about to learn how deep the root of his friendship with Dean truly is.

🎂 >>> Willing to Be Proved Wrong (Or, How Percy Weasley Fought the Magic of Christmas and Lost) by Eleos (Perciver, M, 5k, 2014)- HBP, Christimas Eve, Leaky Cauldron, Snogging, Reunions, Awkward Flirting, Conversations, Hook-up, Hopeful Ending

Summary: Percy Weasley didn’t believe in fate. He didn't believe in luck, destiny, or serendipity, and he certainly didn't believe in the magic of Christmas. A surprise encounter with Oliver Wood may just change his mind.

🎂 >>> you had time by mixtapestar | @mixtapestar (Perciver, E, 13.2k, 2015)- Post-war, Future-Fic, Reunions, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Roommates, Friendship, Getting Together, Crushes, Misunderstandings, Light Angst, Snogging, Handjobs, Happy Ending

Summary:  Oliver isn’t quite sure what convinces him to go back to the Hog’s Head on the 4th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. He had never gone to any of the official celebrations that happened over the past few years, but he knows that Aberforth isn’t one for ceremony. Here he can have a quiet drink to commemorate lives lost and to celebrate what was won without anyone making a big show of things.    What he isn’t expecting is to run into Percy Weasley at the pub.

🎂 >>> Grazed Knees by montparnasse | @montpahrnah​ (Linny, T, 5.5k, 2015)- EWE, Post-war, Hogwarts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Snogging, Anxiety, Nightmares, Reassurances, Growing Up, Hopeful Ending

Summary: The war is over, except that it isn't, and Ginny is done fighting, except that she's not.

🎂 >>> A Little Like This by bansheee (Deamus, M, 5.5k, 2016)- more tags on AO3

Summary: “I wish there was a way to practice first,” Dean commented. “Y’know, before the real thing.” “We could,” Seamus said. “We could practice together.” Dean balked, and Seamus held up his hands. “No, no, hear me out,” Seamus’ cheeks flooded with red and Dean felt like his were just as hot. “Ya don’t want a girl to think you’re a shit snog, because she’ll go tell all the other girls, and then you’ll never get another one.” “But I’m not—” Dean lowered his voice. “You’re my best mate. My best guy mate. I’m not gay.”

🎂 >>> keeping count (losing count) by oliverwvvd | @oliverwvvd (Flintwood, T, 1.2k, 2017)- Kissing, Getting Together, Anxiety, Post-War, Confessions, Falling in Love

Summary: Marcus uses numbers to manage anxiety. He keeps count of their kisses. One day, he slips, and he says the number out loud.

🎂 >>> tied and true by slyther_ing | @mxrcusflint (Flintwood, M, 14.9k, 2017)- AU, Soulmates, Soulbond, Red String of Fate, Pureblood Culture, Expectations, Hogwarts, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Feelings, Anxiety, Fear, Quidditch, Hogwarts, Lack of Communication, Misunderstandings, Confessions, Hopeful Ending

Summary: There are two routes of action.    Three, if he were really desperate, but Marcus doesn’t think anyone in history has ever successfully dissolved a soulmate thread before without dire consequences and he’s not willing to die over Oliver fucking Wood.

🎂 >>> Terms and Conditions by maraudersaffair | @maraudersaffair (Luna/Pansy/Ginny, E, 7.7k, 2017)- more tags on AO3

Summary: Pansy can't get over super fit Ginny Weasley. Too bad Weasley is now with Loony sodding Lovegood.

[savefrog]

Funny to me how people will invalidate trans people solely on their warped idea of it “not being biologically true” and assert that physical biology should be the only thing that dictates a social/cultural identity like gender.

And then don’t stop and think about how they might proudly and strongly identify as US American or British or even funnier, something as specific as Texan, and how there is NADA, NOTHING biological about their nationalism.

I don’t know if they know this, but the lines on the map? Don’t exist. “Made in China” isn’t written on rocks. There are geological trends (like how mountains, rivers and oceans provide boundaries that can shape how life develops there) but oftentimes state and nation lines ignore these. Even accents and language blurs these lines, not to mention how much those change over time. People move too! The pledge of allegiance WAS MADE UP! Citizenship is a concept, the rules by which it is determined can VARY! Their identity is NOT biological.

Texas is only about 175 years old (laughably new compared to lgbt historical existence). Your state? Probably just “bought in a contract” (Yknow, after some genocide). How BIOLOGICAL. Chances are, if you go back far enough, the people living on the soil you are on now called the land something COMPLETELY different, and had completely different values. In fact, depending on where you live, the people living on that soil generations ago were likely chased or killed off. There are countries that were named and had their shapes formed by people not even on the same CONTINENT. Rome was a empire made of SO MANY different ethnic groups, because it was so large, that you probably wouldn’t be able to pick out an ancient Roman from a lineup.

Even if we went back through your genealogical ancestors…they probably ALSO had different words for things and different views of what makes them belong in some larger group - before widespread communication and fast transportation people didn’t really think about nationality the way we do now! They were restricted to much smaller communities, they probably didn’t really think of themselves as belonging to a larger country, at least not nearly as strongly as US Americans flying American Flags in their yards and painting it onto their lawn furniture and arranging US Flag themed fruit bowls for the 4th of July.

It’s almost like it’s absurd to pretend that “physical visible biology” is the only defining factor of people’s lives, and that trying to live with it being the only determining factor for things is not just silly but IMPOSSIBLE. We can’t see people’s DNA or chromosomes on the bus, and even if you could, you’d learn that ACTUALLY biology is way more complex than that. And even then, it’s not the ONLY thing that defines human existence; social and cultural factors are also HUGE. People who scoff when you tell them “Uhh gender isn’t the same as Sex” might as well have a haystack in their brain.

And what’s worse, is that people who imply “biology” determines everything think they’re being REAL scientific, when every scientific person I know is aware of how multifaceted existence is. I feel like people who pull the “biology” argument are essentially putting on pretend goggles to play smart, when really they haven’t even stopped to question how the world works around them - a very unscientific way to go about life.

[whispersatdawn]

on the rebound | jeong jaehyun social media!au | part 8

↳ In an attempt to finally move on from his ex-girlfriend, basketball star Jeong Jaehyun reaches out to Y/N, who he knows has a crush on him.

prev | next || masterlist

a/n: i wasn’t gonna include a written part, but here we are

word count: ~3k

This... feels strange, you thought mindlessly to yourself, as your gaze fixed on the boy seated next to you. He was busy on his phone taking photos of the fading sunset that he barely noticed you staring, which you were quite thankful for because it allowed you to take a look at him just a little longer.

There was no denying that Jaehyun was attractive. To be honest, his beautiful features slightly intimidated you. When his perfectly shaped brows raised in surprise. Or when his dreamy dark brown eyes looked like he was trying to figure someone out. You especially liked it when Jaehyun smiled or laughed. You were confident Jaehyun’s dimples were the culprits of stealing many people’s hearts; those cheek indentations were truly fatal. However, for you, it was simply the occasional, cute nose scrunch. Unlike the dimples, the latter came and went quickly, but it still had an impact all the same.

Despite having been on few casual dates with Jaehyun in the past week, it was difficult to wrap your head around the time spent together, especially since the past two years consisted of you pining over him, after missing the opportunity to act on your feelings and confess to him.

Two Years Ago (First year of college)

"We should rent an apartment and be roommates next semester!”

Your eyes widened at Sujin’s suggestion. “All four of us?” you asked, swiftly spinning your finger once to point at yourself as well as the group seated around you. It was a clear day, so after class, you had a picnic with your friends at the university quad. “My parents helped me pay for campus room and board this year. I don’t know if my part-time job at the fitness center can afford rent.”

After meeting Sujin at the freshman orientation and running into Ten and Johnny in line at a food stand during the school organizations event, you had never had more fun nor felt more comfortable with anyone than you did with them. You remembered studying for hours often with Sujin since you both were biology majors and shared some courses. There was also the time when you attended the university dance team’s fall show and watched Ten’s first solo performance. Of course, though you almost always refrained from physical altercation, you could never forget the day you confronted Johnny’s ex-girlfriend at a party after she cheated on him and showed no remorse, which resulted in hair-pulling as well as Sujin and Ten dragging you out before further troubles. With what you all had gotten through together, there was no doubt that you considered the three to be your closest friends.

“Aren’t you going to apply for the research position with Dr. Kim? I’m sure it pays more,” Sujin said before taking a bite out of her sandwich.

“That’s the plan, but she hasn’t opened applications yet, so I just have to wait,” you sighed, laying down Johnny’s lap. “I think it’ll be fun to live together though!”

“I’ve actually been thinking about living off campus, too,” Ten said, grinning, “so you’d all be saving me from looking for roommates. I’m in.”

“Johnny?” you asked in a sing-song voice, looking up at the handsome male, waiting for his response. You opened your mouth as Johnny fed you a grape and then he leaned back, probably considering the idea.

“Hm... if I say yes, can I bring people over to spend the night?”

You grimaced at him before sitting back up right away while Johnny let out a laugh due to your reaction. “No thanks for the image,” you deadpanned, “though I guess it’d be cruel to deprive you of sex. We’ll all need to obviously talk more about housing and details later...”

“Y/N, behind you! He’s here.”

You instantly froze after Sujin’s announcement. “He’s here?” you mouthed, heart rate picking up, and Sujin confirmed with an eager nod. Pushing the conversation with your friends to the side, your ears were now focused on the sounds behind you. Multiple shoes against pavement. A ball dribbling. Familiar as well as unfamiliar voices chattering. When you tried to discreetly turn around, you found some members of the basketball team on the open court. You immediately spotted Jeong Jaehyun, casually wearing a black hoodie and maroon basketball shorts, playfully shoving a teammate after a teasing remark.

“Oh my god, how did he get even hotter after Spring Break?!” you muttered before turning back to your friends.

Johnny scoffed jokingly. “Hey, hey, keep it in your pants.”

“Also, aren’t you forgetting something?” Ten asked you, nudging his head back to the basketball court.

Oh. Right.

The actual reason you coincidentally (not) picked this day for a picnic at the same time Jaehyun and his friends played basketball.

You and Jaehyun took a Calculus class together the previous semester, and in a room with a little more than 100 seats, you ended up sitting next to Jaehyun. The two of you barely exchanged much words other than when one of you had questions about assignments, but you could not help but be drawn to him anyway. And although he did not have to talk to you outside of class, you always appreciated his greetings whenever you ran into each other at parties or after his basketball games. You thought your feelings were just a temporary infatuation, but your crush only seemed to grow after months, so you made a vow. After Spring Break, you would ask Jaehyun out.

However, now that you saw Jaehyun standing a few feet across from you, you felt like you were going to throw up. You wanted to back out. Abort. “Oh, look at the time!” you laughed nervously, pointing at your wrist that was definitely not wearing a watch. “I forgot I have to study for an exam tomorrow.”

You started to stand up, but Ten yanked you back down to the ground right away, causing you to land on your butt. “Nuh-uh. Don’t think so. Hey, Yuta!”

You shot a look at Ten, sending a quick telepathic message along the lines of Are you fucking serious? before turning back to everyone on the court. Almost all of the guys faced the direction of your group after hearing Yuta’s name called. You found Yuta who waved once he spotted you and your friends. I guess I’m doing this, you thought to yourself, breathing deeply and then mustering the biggest smile you could in that moment.

“Good luck, babe,” Sujin cheered as soon as you stood up and started to walk towards Yuta. The group had already dispersed to different parts of the court, ready to start a game.

“Is there a reason why you texted me if I would be out at the quad today?” Yuta asked as you ran into his arms for a quick hug.

You pulled away and then playfully punched his arm. “Maybe there’s just something about you playing basketball that makes me swoon,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

Yuta rolled his eyes, punching your arm back lightly. “Please. I can assure you that from middle to high school, when your parents worked, you had to wait after my practices so my dad could take us home. You’ve definitely used the word miserable to describe it.”

“Okay, but it’s obvious that my presence at your practices have made you into who you are today, right? This university has to thank me for their best shooting guard.”

Yuta grinned. “Alright, just tell me what you want.”

You hummed, rocking back and forth on your feet as you glanced around for the one who has been on your mind. “I actually wanted to talk to Jaehyun.”

“Jeong Jaehyun?”

You nodded your head. Yuta leaned closer, eyes narrowing as if he was trying to assess you. After a second, your friend straightened back up and called for his teammate. “Jaehyun!”

Jaehyun stopped his conversation with another player and turned his attention to you and Yuta, slightly confused, but he walked over to you both. “What’s up?” Jaehyun questioned, catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Y/N wanted to talk to you, so I’ll leave you two to it,” Yuta explained, ruffling your hair as a goodbye before he left you alone with Jaehyun.

You let out a nervous laugh, fixing your hair. It was now or never. With the close distance between you two, you got a whiff of Jaehyun’s cologne—wood, also kind of spicy. “Hey, Y/N. Sucks we don’t have a class together this semester.”

“Yeah, sucks. How was your break?”

Jaehyun shrugged. “I went to Cabo.”

You paused. “Oh.” The wealthy be different. “Cabo. Must’ve been a hell of a time. I thought Haeun’s pool party was something. Not even close.”

"Yeah, Cabo was a great time. So... what did you need to tell me?”

“What?”

“Um, you said you wanted to talk?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, feeling shy after remembering why you were there in the first place. Your eyes shifted to your shoes, unable to keep eye contact with the boy in front of you. Nervousness as well as excitement rushed through you, and your body felt like it was tingling. It kind of scared you what his reaction would be, but it was what it was. The worse he could say was no. “About that. I—”

“Jaehyun!”

Suddenly, a feminine voice called out his name. You whipped your head around to find a girl with a black long bob and bangs waving excitedly to Jaehyun and then running straight into his open arms. You took a minute to process what was happening. Your first thought was that she was very pretty. Her makeup suited her, especially the burgundy red lip tint. Her body also fitted well in her white tank top and black skinny jeans.

“Hey, babe. What’re you doing here? I thought you were working on your journalism project,” Jaehyun said, happiness evident through the way his face lit up, smiling in a way you had never seen Jaehyun smile before. Arms still around the girl, Jaehyun leaned down to give her a peck on the lips. You quickly averted your eyes, feeling as if you were intruding on the intimate moment.

“Yeah, but I missed you, so I decided to take a break and hang out with you,” the girl answered in the sweetest tone as she pulled away from Jaehyun. She then looked over at you as if she noticed you for the first time. “Who’s this?”

“This is—”

“I was just leaving,” you interrupted.

Jaehyun brows furrowed. “Wait, I thought—”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said a little too quickly, waving your hand dismissively. “It was nothing important. I had a question, but the answer just popped into my head, haha. I, uh, actually have a thing, so I’m gonna go now. Yeah. Thanks, Jaehyun. And nice meeting you—”

“Hyejin.”

“Hyejin. Nice meeting you, Hyejin. Okay, bye!”

You spun around, and your feet picked up pace as you walked away from the basketball court, out the quad, towards the direction of the dorm. Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, likely a call from one of your friends, but you could not help but feel slightly embarrassed after the incident. The last thing you wanted to do was talk about it.

Babe. Definitely way worse than being rejected.

End of Flashback

When you snapped out of your thoughts, you realized that Jaehyun was now staring back at you, with those captivating eyes that sought for answers. “Y/N?” he called out softly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, slightly flustered that you zoned out while looking at him. “Y-Yeah?” Shit, you cursed to yourself after you choked on the reply, and you cleared your throat before answering more clearly. “Yeah?”

Jaehyun leaned back and chuckled. “I just wanted to let you know I really appreciate you coming to the basketball games again. It’s nice seeing your face in the crowd.”

You smiled. “Of course. None of my roomies except Ten really enjoy watching basketball, but he’s been busy and it’s been fun attending with Mark and Lucas. Also, don’t tell Yuta but I think I gradually started to like basketball because of him. Watching him for so many years, I can’t help but get into it when I see him find so much delight in the sport. He’s insane on the court.”

When you caught Jaehyun’s pout, you let out a laugh. He wanted his ego fed for sure. “I mean, obviously, he’s nothing compared to you, Captain. Come on now.”

“Obviously,” Jaehyun replied, giving you a smug look. Then for some reason, in a few seconds, you caught his expression when his smirk fell. “You know, my ex,” Jaehyun started, absentmindedly grasping at the sand under his hand and letting them fall through his fingers, “she never really attended my games.”

As the sun was about to fully disappear, you heard the sound of thunder rumble in the sky. Looking up, you noticed that dark clouds started to roll in. Was it supposed to rain today, you wondered. “Hyejin?” you asked, returning your attention to Jaehyun. He nodded. Since he brought her up, you might as well have asked your questions and got them over with now. “If it’s okay, can I ask what happened between you two?”

Silence settled between you and Jaehyun when he did not answer right away, which made you feel bad because you did not want to open those wounds again. Another wave of thunder roared. You two would have to return back home soon. You were about to try and change the topic, but Jaehyun spoke first. “She said that the way I loved her bored her. I don’t know. Something about how I always agreed with her and that I never confronted other guys when I felt jealous. Or when I didn’t argue with her, it felt like I didn’t care at all.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You did not know what else to say. Breakups were hard. Before you realized, your hand reached over to Jaehyun’s, and you placed yours over his, squeezing it softly. “It’s not place to say... but she didn’t deserve you.”

Jaehyun turned his hand over so that his palm held yours, squeezing back. His lips stretched into a small smile. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You then felt a droplet of water tap on your leg. Then the top of your head. Then your cheek. Suddenly, the pitter patter of the rain became louder as it hit the sand and water. You and Jaehyun looked at each, mouth opened in awe at such misfortune, before the both of you bursted into a fit of laughter. “Wait, did you not check the weather before planning this?!” you exclaimed to Jaehyun with a huge grin on your face as you jumped up, barely covering yourself with your hands above your head.

“Listen,” Jaehyun explained as he also stood up, grabbing the jacket that he brought with him. “did you not check the weather?”

You were not sure if the rush your body felt was due to the unforeseen weather or the way Jaehyun stared at you like he was waiting for you to make a move. With your adrenaline and curiosity, you stepped closer to him. “Are you seriously trying to blame this on your date right now, Jeong Jaehyun?”

Jaehyun leaned closer to your face. You sucked in a breath, aware of the lack of space between you two. Jaehyun took his jacket and covered the top of your head to protect as best as he could from the rain. You grabbed the outerwear, but Jaehyun’s grasp was also still on the jacket. Despite the rain drenching Jaehyun from head to toe, a smile remained on his face. “I’m sorry. You’re right. This was my bad. How can I make it up to you?” Jaehyun asked as his eyes fell onto your lips before looking up to read your eyes. His lips pressed together, and his next question almost turned you into a puddle. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” It was all Jaehyun needed to hear to release his hold on the jacket and moved his hands to cup your face. Jaehyun’s lips brushed against yours. Soft. His lips were soft. You smelled the familiar scent of his cologne, and it made you even dizzier as you continued to kiss Jaehyun, letting the blossoming warmth consume you. You could not help but smile into the kiss, and when his tongue pressed between your lips, you started to part your lips for him until a loud crack of thunder struck in the sky, prompting you both to pull away from each other.

“As much as I’d like to keep going, I think I should get you home before you catch a cold,” Jaehyun said with a chuckle.

Like a gentleman, Jaehyun walked you all the way to your front door. Though you offered Jaehyun shelter from the rain inside your apartment, he declined, assuring you that his fraternity house was not too far from your place. “Really sorry we couldn’t get that fancy dinner,” Jaehyun apologized. “I knew you were looking forward to that the most.”

You shook your head, reassuring him with a smile. “No worries. I had such an amazing time, Jae.”

He leaned in to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Next time. Now get inside and change into some dry clothes. I’ll text you later.”

“Drive safe,” you told him, and he nodded. As soon as Jaehyun walked away from you, you grabbed your key and unlocked the door to your apartment, calling out to your roommates. “I’m home!”

Sujin was the first one to greet you in the living room. Her eyes widened when she spotted you in your wet clothes, droplets of water dripping from your hair to the tiled floor. “Geez, Y/N! I thought you two were just going to watch the sunset, not get into the water fully clothed.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and passed by Sujin to get to your room. After you closed the door, you ran to your bed and plopped on the mattress, not even bothering to change out of your clothes right away. You unlocked your phone and opened Instagram to view the most recent photos of you and Jaehyun from today, recalling the event that occurred hours ago. Today really happened. Jaehyun kissed me.

taglist: @fluffyjaes @hwangful @seeking-faces @urlocalnctstan @justineasian @127-jaehyun @dearjaehyxn @taesty-jams @jeneyesmile @taeiluv127 @mango-bear @marklexleaf @generantionct @tyxsaturn @247byun @yourchasingsunsetslove @ajhdr @jaeficrecs @bitchenderyy @thorscrown @leaurcitee @erisxczenie @minavenue @phoenixes-and-wizards @renjunf00ls @notminniie @sanisms @sunflowerhae @smileyyuta @ohmy-fandoms @artfulbarnes @anotherfullsun @moons00 @nctlovesme @unmanageable-day @raywishii @thejungjaehyun @venusprada @doyobun @nshitae @andrea-chanel @llamabouquet

[who-is-page]

Digital Bloodsports and Inked Paws: What I Love About the Alterhuman Communities

Author: Page Type: Personal Essay Words: 1,663 Summary: A look into what I love about the alterhuman communities. Author's Note: Topic suggested by a friend.

[Part of the Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Project for NaNoWriMo 2021. If you don't want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedpaws]

It’s easy to talk about what I find aggravating or difficult to deal with in the alterhuman communities—complaints are a dime a dozen, especially since I’m rapidly approaching my ten-year anniversary of activity (is that the barest hint of salt-and-pepper I spy in my muzzle?) But even with all my criticisms, there’s a lot to love about the various different parts of the alterhuman communities. I don’t stick around in these circles just out of habit, after all.

And if there’s one thing that I don’t think the alterhuman communities are given enough credit for, it’s our collective ability to never shut the fuck up and I mean this in the best way possible: in the alterhuman communities, people are always doing, or saying, or creating something. In some ways it reminds me of college, with something always happening somewhere, no matter the weather, time, or day. Whether dead of night or coldest winter day, you’ll find a party, or study group, or sportsball match, or bonfire, or a bunch of marine biology students out at the pier bemoaning how many shrimp got caught up in their net when they’re trying to hunt specifically for something else—and in the same way, no matter where you are in the alterhuman communities, there’s always something going on: a debate or discussion, a convention (big or small), a newbie asking for help with their identity, a bunch of older alterhumans shooting the shit, a new term being banged out, art and games and comics being created and commented on, collaborative projects or surveys or groups being advertised. The list goes on and on—someone, somewhere, is always dipping their paws in ink, it seems.

Our community thrives off of our interactions with one another, and that’s fundamentally shaped both the subcultural elements—such as the way we so highly value content creators and writers, and people who have been in the community for long periods of time and can share stories and experiences that we might otherwise have no knowledge of—and the bizarre forms of (n)etiquette and discourse that we constantly see evolving and changing. It’s a beautiful thing to witness in real-time, watching the customs and terminology and language we have change and shift over the years, and watching the wheels of discourse turn their spokes into previously uncharted waters, a new subject to be written and examined by an invested collective.

It’s a testament to the diversity and fluidity in alterhuman experiences and identity, the fact that so many people with so many different experiences and different explanations can come together time and time again; space and space again; all to hash out their ideas and their thoughts and their differences and their similarities. All to share in the beauty of being other with one another. It’s a sight to behold, like an ocean of a thousand different blues all forming wave after wave of colors, and I get to be a lucky painter who’s too stunned to even figure out where to look first.

Our community’s perchance for debate (or, more accurately, for digital bloodsports) is also something I absolutely adore. Maybe I’m just a young hooligan who’s ready to fistfight the first person who comes through my door at any given moment, with my Ye Olde Discourse days still singing through my veins, but I love the willingness of so many people and groups in this community to throw down over what they believe and their opinions. It’s an admirable fighting spirit that I see in so many alterhumans, and whatever the reason for it, it’s something I feel a deep kinship regarding.

People in these communities care with their whole chest. It gets us in trouble often, I won’t lie, but it’s something that I don’t think these groups and subcultures and identities would be the same without: we’re loud. We’re stubborn. We inevitably butt heads, it’s what makes us, us. But it’s more than just our tenacity that I’m talking about here; being alterhuman in the spaces that I personally inhabit and find myself in, is about being unabashedly yourself, in whatever wacky, interesting, bizarre, wild, feral way that might translate to. It’s reminiscent of the queer spaces I find myself drawn, both in how it harnesses a sense of aggressive pride sometimes, with attitudes of “Yeah, I’m not human—if that’s a problem for you, feel free to get fucked!” and #KeepKinWeird abound, and in how it just purely makes me feel unafraid and unashamed to be nonhuman. It’s something I experience especially at Howls or Gatherings or other forms of group meet-up.

When I spend time in-person with other alterhumans, it’d be silly to say there’s outright some sort of spark on connection or feeling of family—but there is a feeling of recognition. Of not an “us vs. the world” energy, but of an “we can all be ourselves here,” energy. It’s so much less dramatic than some accounts I’ve heard, but it’s still a powerful, comfortable, enjoyable feeling. It’s knowing that you can go chasing after a squirrel with reckless abandon without getting judged, or can stop to roll in a pile of especially crunchy leaves just for the sensation of it, and isn’t that its own form of freedom?

And then there’s the beauty of individual identity. One of my favorite parts about my archival work is getting to learn and hear about identities that I’ve never seen before, especially if someone’s written a lot about the “how”s and “why”s. I love getting to not only see how other people experience things differently than I, myself, do, but I love getting to watch the gears in their brain turn as they explain how they got to one conclusion, or other possibilities they’ve considered, or any number of detail-oriented information. Getting to hear about shifts, especially shifts from identities we don’t often see like species-specific fictionkin, conceptkin, machinekin, and phyanthropes, is always such a treat. Hearing how it feels to experience phantom shifts as Southern Live Oak tree, or getting to read about mental shifts from an Alolan Marowak, or any other number of things I’ve been lucky enough to learn about in these communities, is sincerely, genuinely just the absolute coolest. Group experiences and concepts are amazing, but individual experiences are just as, if not more, spectacular.

And speaking on individuals…as a young, teenage nonhuman, I probably would have included a section about how much I admire or value the efforts and works of older alterhumans who are still in the community, and how much I especially enjoy getting to see their content in the communities. How they’re such “inspirations” for me and other such cheesy words. But that feeling has grown and changed a lot as I’ve gotten older: while I still appreciate all the greymuzzles and oldfruits in the community (shoutout to all you grey-furred and grey-scaled rapscallions out there), I feel like the individual age group I particularly appreciate is a lot of the younger folks and ‘new blood’ I’ve seen pop up in the communities.

It’s such a strange feeling to look at someone and go, “Oh man, you’re going to be an absolute force to be reckoned with when you’re older!” but that’s something I’ve definitely experienced. It’s a strange mixture of wistfulness, thinking about my own budding years in the alterhuman communities with probably rose-glassed fondness, and of before-the-fact pride, watching how passionate people are and already being proud of them: for achievements they haven’t yet made, and goals they haven’t yet realized, and selves they’re just now discovering. It’s genuinely great to see the new, uncharted directions that a lot of the older teenagers are starting to pull and shove the communities in, bringing up old ideas in new ways or just throwing out new perspectives entirely. It makes me feel excited, filled with anticipation for what the future holds and how everything will look like in ten, twenty years.

It also does make me feel a little left behind and out of the times, admittedly, but that’s not a wholly bad thing: times change. Communities change. Our communities are based almost entirely on evolution, where they either continuously change, or they stagnate and die out (like what we’re arguably seeing happen to sections of the therian community). The fact that I’m feeling a little out-of-place more and more these days just means I’m settling into the aspects of my identity and the language that I grew up with for describing it—it just means that I’m getting older, and taking on a different niche than I inhabited when I was younger. When I was still a teenager in the community, I was the teeth-bloodied, hot-headed discourser who was willing to shout down and fight anything with a pulse, who was always in the thick of it no matter what “it” was. Now, I think I’m a lot closer to a scholar; jokingly a warrior-scholar, like my patron, if you had to reference the way I came into these communities, but overall a lot more content to sit it out on the sidelines these days and focus more on my own research and creation.

I wouldn’t stick around these community spaces if I truly didn’t want to be in them, but there’s so much I love wrapped in them that I don’t want to go, anyways. For every physical shifter that drives me up the wall, there’s a million more things that make me want to keep interacting with other nonhumans and alterhumans, and make me want to keep being a part of specific alterhuman spaces. I love getting to be here, getting to watch how these communities evolve, getting to hear everyone’s stories; I’m glad I get to be a piece of it all, and I count myself lucky for any positive changes I can help affect just by being here.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Beast Mode {One Shot}***

Florian Munteanu x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warning: Cursing, NSFW AT ALL, SMUTTTTTY, DO NOT READ AT WORK 

Summary: You’re in a relationship with Florian who has come to the end of his training period in prep for his long-anticipated and publicized match with “Elias “Cutthroat” Morales. The two of you haven’t seen each other in three months because of his trainer’s brutal training practices. You fly in a few hours before the match to wish him luck.

Note: I’ve said this before, I am terrified of this man but here we are. I don't know what that/this says about me but oh well.  This was not asked for at all. SMH

**I have never written Florian, I have no idea about his mannerisms, body language or personality. I am writing this because I cannot stop thinking about it and it is driving me nuts. So, excuse me if this does not fit him exactly. I hope you enjoy the terrifying ride. As always, thank you for reading!!!!

**Image not my own

 ***Not Edited/proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What training would restrict visits from his girlfriend for three months? His trainer. No matter how much he’d protested, begged and bargained he was not budging.

 “No visits until fight night. You need to stay objective and vicious.”

 It was logical but he missed the hell out of you. FaceTime calls were not cutting it anymore, especially when he saw your posts on social media. As an influencer, it was your job to play everything up but from what you posted it looked like he was out of sight and out of mind. It didn’t help matters the comments he’d read under your pictures. They were all from thirsty dudes who loved using their internet fingers to make it seem like they were big and bad. Little did they know he was big and nasty. He’d easily break every bone in their body over you. There was no limit to his possessiveness.

 “Focus!”

 The drill Sergeant like sound of his trainer’s voice snapped him right back to reality. He zeroed in on his sparring partner and bobbed and weaved around the ring evading punches and firing them right back. He’d trained like a beast for the last six months. The last three he’d been pushed past the brink of sanity. He was now so ready for this match that all he saw was him standing victorious covered in his opponent’s blood. Was it vicious? Yeah. Did he care? Nope.

 “Good. Yes! Don’t give him a chance to recover. Yes! Always in kill mode.”

He did one of his fancy moves spun behind his opponent then hammered his sides with everything he had. As they turned to him, he then delivered the final blow, a jaw crushing right hook. Everyone around him cheered and clapped. He ripped the gloves off his hands and checked on the guy he’d just knocked out. The doctors gave him a reassuring look to tell him he’d be fine. Taking their word for it he slipped out the ring and made it over to his trainer who had a pleased look on his face.

 “Morales has no idea what’s in store for him. You’ve shaved off eighteen seconds off of your recovery time, added a full twelve minutes to your stamina, you’re faster than I’ve ever seen you and not to mention that mean in you is at the right level to blow. This match is yours.”

 He felt it too. He felt like he was in the best physical shape of his life. He was focused and had his eye on the prize. The only thing missing was you.

 “Hit the showers, get back to the hotel and I’ll send over the massage therapist to loosen up those muscles and have a good meal. Tomorrow you go from sixty-eight and ten to sixty-nine and ten!”

 As he packed up his bag he nodded he liked the sound of that. Deciding to just grab a shower at the hotel he ducked into his waiting car and stretched out in the backseat. He was ready for a little break. At the thought of that, he thought of you. he took out his phone and found your contact to see your recent message from last night, a picture of yourself cuddled in the bed of the house you shared together. He could tell you weren’t wearing anything and every muscle in his body flexed aggressively.

 “Push it away, focus,” he chanted to himself. It was a chant whenever he felt biology taking over. He was but a man.

 MSG: I’m sorry I missed this last night. I had to be up for my last practice. Don’t be mad.

 A few minutes passed before a response came in.

 MSG Y/N: It’s okay. I get it, Big Nasty has to be aggressive, be be aggressive.

 He snorted.

 MSG: Really?

MSG Y/N: I’m your biggest cheerleader babe. I miss you.

 Your words felt good to know. Usually, when he went into disappear training mode your relationship struggled. You wanted him around to share everyday things with, to be with but he wasn’t anywhere there. You said sometimes you felt like you were single and hated it but maybe you should go act like it too. It was the root of many arguments between the two of you, but neither of you ever let go.

 MSG: I miss you so fucking much it’s insane.

MSG Y/N: How much?

MSG: I can’t even use words.

MSG Y/N: Then what would you use to show me?

 Again, his muscles tensed and all he could think about was showing you how much he missed you. In seconds he was hard.

  “Fuck!”

 He resisted the urge to palm his length and tried to focus on his breathing.

 MSG: Chill, babe. I’m already hard.

MSG Y/N: Really? Show me. Please. I haven’t seen a dick in months.

 He could hear the whine in your words. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he did it anyway. Slipping his sweats a few inches lower he allowed his hardness to flop out. He was getting harder. He took a picture of himself and sent it to you.

 MSG Y/N: Damn baby. It’s beautiful. I miss it so much.

MSG: He misses you.

 A groan escaped him and showed him how close he was to losing himself. Slipping his meat back inside his sweats he sat up and worked to shrug off the arousal you’d brought on him.

 MSG: When this is done let’s take a trip. Anywhere you wanna go.

MSG Y/N: Okay. Let’s do it.

 You were always down to indulge his love of traveling. He worked hard and took a lot for the job and liked to unwind just as hard. As he approached the hotel he let you know his intentions for the night before ending your conversation.

 When he made it up to his room he wasted no time getting in the shower and letting the hot water work magic on his muscles. You were still on his mind and made it even more difficult to get through without touching himself. He caught himself three times. The first he didn’t even realize it until he grunted out your name. He looked down to find his cock in his hand. The second time he caught himself before he gripped his length and the third he stopped the thought.

 He didn’t know what the hell had come over him, but he had better find a way to get a grip especially this close to the match. His coach and trainer were both unanimously against any sort of pleasure while training and before a match. They didn’t care about the toll it took on his relationship, they cared about the end goal. He’d done this before and each time you were a trooper with accepting it, but this felt different. This time was harder for you, harder for him too.

 When he got out of the shower his meal was waiting. He settled in front of the tv and watched videos of Elias Morales fight. This was his pre-match routine the biggest plate of pasta and studying his opponent. You didn’t have a record like his by just floating through matches. He was meticulous if nothing else, he trained, plotted, and prepared then executed.

 An hour later he got a message letting him know his massage therapist would be there soon. Pausing the latest video, he stripped down and went over to the massage table and laid there waiting. As he waited he continued the video. He was so focused on it he didn’t hear when the masseuse entered. It was only when he saw her feet it registered.

 “I think deep Swedish should work tonight,” he suggested. She didn’t answer. He was about to turn around when he felt the hot oil drip across his back. The next thing he felt were small hands begin their work of rubbing him down and kneading out knots.

 Every night this week there had been a different masseuse, a different one he had to tell just what he liked. As he was about to open his mouth to let her know he liked some pressure along his spine but not at the tail of his spine she beat him to it by doing just that. A long moan slipped from him, it felt good. The masseuse continued her work and expertly kneaded his back muscles with the right amount of pressure and the right alternating techniques. It was like they knew just what he liked. Small hands went lower to his waist and gently massaged him there. The next place he felt her hands were his calves, she squeezed as her hands slid down to his ankles.

 “God yes!” His body was quickly relaxing.

 Thirty minutes more found him completely relaxed with muscles that didn’t hold an ounce of tension in them.

 “Turn.” Not paying attention he flipped over to find a hot towel drop across his face.

 “Breathe it in, eucalyptus, rose, lavender, coconut oil, and lemon. The right recipe for relaxation and optimal pore health.” He laid there and inhaled the aromas coming from the towel and found himself relaxing even more. This was almost just what he needed. It would have to do.

 The same small hands began rubbing his chest down spending focus on his pec muscles before slowly gliding over his abs. This is where the hands slowed even more. There was no massage patterns to her movements now. When he began to move to take the towel off she moved her hands to his thighs and forcefully massages into them. It was enough to throw him off. Another twenty minutes passed before he heard a feminine moan in the air, a moan that did not belong to him. Quickly he ripped the towel off his face and sat up to see you standing beside him.

 “Y/N?”

 “Surprise!” Seconds passed before he pulled you into his arms and hugged you.

 “Oh my god, what’re you doing here?”

 “I missed you like really missed you. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow night. I needed to see you, baby.” He smiled and pulled her back into his arms. He felt the same way.

 “I missed you too. Shit, this one was worse than all the others before,” he expressed as you pressed your forehead to his.

 “It was. I hate this, but I love you so much.” Your lips met for a sweet peck, but one peck turned to two and three and before either of you knew it you were full-on making out. You moaned on his mouth and his hardness instantly returned with a vengeance. You bit his bottom lip and softly raked your nails up and down his back.

 “Don’t do that babe, please.”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “If Hugo found you here he’d be so pissed.”

 “I don’t care. I’ve followed every rule for two years. I’ve never protested. I’m protesting now. I want to see my man.” He smiled, he loved hearing you call him that. When you introduced him he always felt cocky when you called him your man. He didn’t know why.

 “You’ve been a good girl,” he said as he stroked your hair down your back.

 “I’ve been such a good girl, baby. What do I get as a reward?”

 A smile spread across his face and every nasty thing flashed through his head.

 “What do you want, love?”

 You tipped your tongue out and licked across his lips then softly nibbled his bottom lip all while staring in his eyes.

 “You. I want you, baby. I always want you—just you.”

 He didn’t need to hear anything else. He crashed his lips to yours and took control of the kiss. He only intended for it to be a kiss, only intended for it to go so far. After a few minutes, he stood and lifted you into his arms. When you wrapped your legs around his waist his body made the decisions from then on. He turned and dropped you onto the massage table and quickly pulled off the dress you wore. He lost it when he realized you had on his favorite colored lace.

 “Fuck!”

 You spread your legs wider and bit your bottom lip. You were giving him access and permission. He couldn’t think, any possibility for logical thought was gone. He kissed you briefly then dropped his lips to your neck and sucked and teased the skin there. He knew you liked when he did it. You smelled incredible, a scent he hadn’t smelled in months, a scent that was making it impossible to control himself. His lips moved lower over your skin and latched onto your lace-clad breast. He sucked and bit your nipple through the material and enjoyed every mewl that fell from you.

 When your hands hugged his head to you he sucked more forcefully.

 “Yes baby. Oh god yes.”

 He wrestled with the hooks of your bra and normally this would have been an easy task, but right now he didn’t have the patience it required. Gripping the material, he pulled it apart popping the clasps but freeing your breasts. He cupped them in his hands and feasted on each pert nipple for several long minutes. When he crouched between your legs he pulled your ass to the edge and stared at you.

 “Don’t stop baby, please. Put your name on it.”

 He growled out and grabbed a fistful of your underwear and ripped it clear off of you. Your moan of approval sent him over the edge of control. His lips connected with your sex and sucked. His intention was not to go slow, not to tease and not to waste any time. He needed this and he knew you did too. He slurped and devoured your flesh and relished in the unique taste of you. He’d missed your taste, missed the sounds you made when he did just what he knew would drive you crazy, missed how you reacted to him like a flame. At the root of it, he missed you. Your screamed signaled your orgasm. He was pleased you’d found your first release, but he had plans for many more.

 He stood but before he could sheath himself you slipped off the massage table and to your knees. You pulled the towel from around his waist and came eye to eye with what you wanted. The look on your face spoke of how ravenous you were. You lowered your mouth over his length and took him fully into your mouth as far as he could go. He growled out again and held your head in place. His hips moved thrusting in and out of your mouth slowly at first but when goosebumps broke out across his skin he sped up. soon you were gagging and slurping with every snap of his hips. You were always good at swallowing every inch of him. Before he lost it he pulled you up and threw you over the table with your ass poking out to him.

 They say the first touch is the sweetest but for him, the first feel of you around him was almost too much for him. He hovered over your back and letting the shake go through him. With each inch he slipped inside of you, you clenched around him. With a few more inches to go, he slammed into you making you scream out.

 “Fuck Flo!” Your body shook through its second release. He was just getting started.

 From the start he set the only pace he could, the only pace his body could tolerate—fast. He slammed into you with bruising thrusts that had purpose. He had to remind you who was daddy, and who truly owned this pussy.

 “Fuck Y/N, you’re so fucking tight. Yes! This pussy missed daddy?” You nodded but he wanted to hear the words.

 “Tell me. Did my pussy miss me?”

 “Fuck, yes, it missed you, daddy. It missed you so much.” He pushed your head lower with one hand and gripped your hip with the other then jackhammered into you. your screams were loud, but soon they turned raspy and desperate. You were always the only one that could take all of him. The only one who came close to crippling him with pleasure.

 He grabbed your thighs and twisted you around, so you laid on your back with your thighs spread wide. God, he loved this view. He pulled out and sucked on your clit for a few moments before he tasted you as you came right in his mouth. You wrapped your thighs around his head and rode the wave of your third orgasm. When he tried to untangle himself, you weren’t having it. He almost laughed, you wanted to get rough. Forcefully he obliged, pulling your legs open, pressing them back to the table. He lined up his throbbing cock with your core and locked eyes with you. From the look in your eyes, he knew you knew what he intended to do.

 “Whose pussy is this Y/N?”

 “Yours baby.”

 “Whose?”

 “Yours daddy. Fuck this pussy—own this pussy.”

He snapped his hips forward and connected your bodies to the hilt. He could feel every inch of you inside and the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head you loved it. From the pace and force of his thrusts, the massage table shook as if it were on its last legs. He didn’t care. He was voracious.

 “This pussy is mine, mine, mine, mine!” his only focus was finding that release, he knew he’d taken care of you. Changing the angle, he held you, he turned you to your side and held your leg in the air but continued plowing into you.

 He wanted to come so bad, but he couldn’t. It was something he’d experienced before. He was so backed up that physically and psychologically he wasn’t in sync. It was normal for training and competing and normal for the first few weeks after. He held tightly to you and held you in the air and continued pumping into you.

 “Shit, shit!”

 “How does this dick feel baby?”

 “So fucking good.”

 You kissed him and began bouncing on him using his body as the anchor. He groaned and leaned against whatever he found close by and allowed you to fuck him. His moans and grunts fell from him one after the other and he didn’t care if you knew just what you were doing to him. It was never a secret. After a few minutes, he rose his hips up meeting you halfway.

 “Oh my god! I’m gonna come, baby, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming!” He loved hearing those words. Using both hands he held you still and plowed into you and chased the release he’d denied himself for six months. The closer he got the louder he was, the louder he was the harder he fucked you. It was all a chain reaction that fueled and fed you both.

 In a matter of minutes, he was having tunnel vision and knew he was close. He turned and pressed you against what he thought was a wall but was really one of the floor to ceiling windows. He didn’t care enough to stop. You helped him and rode onto him as he thrusted. It didn’t take long before you came again and pulled his long overdue orgasm from him. He shouted loudly as he came and filled you up with every last drop of the love he’d been saving for you.

 A few minutes later when you both had come down a little from your release, he realized though he’d come he was still rock hard. He needed more. When you realized it, your eyes filled with excitement and a hint of tease.

 “Can you take what you’ve unleashed?”

 “I can take this dick anytime, anywhere, for however long daddy.��� His smile was wide. He didn’t expect anything less from you.

 “You’re daddy’s nasty girl. Let’s see if you remember how nasty daddy likes it.”

 “Beast mode daddy?”

 “Make sure you can take it.” You didn’t answer, instead, you kissed him and clenched around him giving the only answer he needed. It was going to be a long night.

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[itsafanficthing]

The Paper Boy - Chapter 9

Queue Meme "It's been 84 Years".

I knew how I wanted this chapter to go, but getting it out of my head and onto the page was a struggle. Thank you for your comments and messages, thank you for sticking with the story.

I truly hope you enjoy it!

A03 Link here

---

Jamie sat in his usual seat beside Claire and set out his books. The teacher began speaking and Claire immediately started taking notes but Jamie’s mind was far beyond the classroom. He’d never really put much thought into a school dance before. He’d never really put much thought into asking someone. He wondered if Claire expected him to ask her. Did she think that it was unspoken that they would go together? They were friends after all. It wouldn’t be out of the ballpark for them to go together. Should he still ask her though? If she was expecting it, would she want him to ask her? It was more than likely that she would. He remembered dances past and hearing Geillis and Mary chatter away about the boy they hoped would ask them, and the others that had already asked and were now “off the market”. He should ask her. Clarify that it was just “as friends”. It didn’t need to be anything more than that.

Jamie glanced beside him. A curl had already escaped the confines of her hair tie and she was tucking it behind her ear in frustration before she felt Jamie’s eyes on her and she turned her head. Jamie looked away quickly and tried to focus on what the teacher was writing on the board, but he was distracted as Claire nudged his arm and looked pointedly at the corner of her book.

Are you alright?

The words were written in her clean handwriting and Jamie felt a swell of affection bloom in his chest and explode down his spine for her. She would never know the depth of his feelings for her- Jamie barely understood them himself- and why simply reading her words, asking if he was alright would have such an effect on him. He nodded briefly before he focused back on the whiteboard at the front of the room, and started to copy down some of the notes that he had in no way-shape or form been paying attention to.

Claire nudged him again and he looked back at her book.

What’s wrong?

She’d crossed out the words above and underlined these ones, looking at him with her eyes narrowed. Jamie fought the urge to roll his eyes at her persistence as he pulled her book toward him and hastily scribbled back a reply.

Nothing, just zoned out for a second.

He watched as Claire’s hawk eyes scanned the words quickly before narrowing on him again.

Tell me about it after class.

She made sure that Jamie saw her reply before she pulled her book back and began taking rapid notes again. Jamie couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched her. Not much got past Claire when it came to Jamie, apparently. Except perhaps the way that he truly felt towards her.

He would ask her to the dance, he decided- and not just as friends.

The morning seemed to fly by and before Jamie knew what was happening, he and Claire were walking side by side to her Biology class.

There was somewhat of an awkward quiet between them. Claire was evidently waiting for Jamie to say something and Jamie was very deliberately avoiding her eyes.

“Are you nervous about the dance?” Claire asked, breaking the silence and nudging Jamie with her shoulder.

Jamie chuckled and shook his head. No, it wasn’t the actual dance he was worried about. It was the asking of a date- asking a friend, that had his stomach in knots.

“You seem off,” Claire pressed, unwilling to let it go. “Was it the messages you were getting? Did something happen to your father? Is everything alright? Did you forget to do your homework? Did morning tea upset your stomach?” Claire started throwing rapid fire questions at Jamie and he had to speak over her to stop her from talking.

“No, no, Claire, shh, no.” Jamie fought the urge to roll his eyes at her as she gave up with a huff. “The messages were from Laoghaire. She’s excited that I have a phone I guess,” Jamie said with an uncomfortable half shrug. “Excited about the dance as well,” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh. I see. Yes. Well. Yes, of course.” Claire shook her head, as though she was trying to clear it, but Jamie didn’t see that. He was avoiding looking at Claire and instead watching as Frank Randall walked in a direct beline toward them.

“Hi Claire, James,” he greeted them both happily, his cheeks flushed lightly.

Jamie nodded in response with a tight lipped smile. Mr Randall insisted on calling Jamie “James” no matter how many of the other teachers called him Jamie and no matter how many times Jamie asked him not to. It seemed that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

“Hi Frank,” Claire replied happily, completely missing Jamie’s discomfort. Or perhaps she was ignoring it. For how impressively Claire managed to pick up on Jamie’s moods, she seemed to be particularly obtuse about his current disposition.

“Interesting about the dance. They don’t usually do one so close to school starting, do they?” Frank fell into step with them as they continued across the courtyard to Claire’s classroom.

“Oh? How many dances do you usually have? Is it a constant thing? Every month or something?” Claire asked curiously.

Jamie opened his mouth to answer her but Frank beat him to it.

“Well, there’s usually the welcome back to school dance, but that’s, what... normally a month after we’re back. Not two weeks. And then there’s the Samhain dance- you know Halloween. That’s not really a dance. It’s more like… a gathering of sorts. Christmas obviously. And then nothing again until the Seniors have their farewell towards the end of the school year. But there’s also the fete that happens on the weekend, usually in May. Raises money for the school, with games and rides and things.”

“Quite a lot of activity then,” Claire commented. Jamie could feel her eyes on him, but he just shrugged and continued to look forward.

“I suppose so. Keeps everyone quite busy through the year,” Frank continued, calling Claire’s attention back to him. “Seems that they are blending a few of the class years together for this one. They usually stagger it out so that they don’t have so many students all at once. But it looks like they are doing it in sections this time- the Juniors and then the Seniors. More options for the grades to mix I suppose.”

Jamie groaned internally. Perfect. That meant that Laoghaires’ year would be attending the dance with his- no wonder she was so excited. Jamie felt his phone buzz in his pocket again. So far he was not completely enjoying having a mobile phone. Though the one person that he did want to text was walking right beside him, so maybe he would reserve judgment for the time being. Jamie’s mind drifted as they walked to Claire's class and as they arrived at the room he focused back to whatever Frank was prattling on about.

“- expect that there will be a lot of fuss over finding dates for this particular one.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed as Claire put down her bag.

“What with the years mixing I mean. Which leads me to ask…”

“I didn’t realise you had Bio with Claire,” Jamie stated, well aware of the fact that Frank did not in fact have Biography with her. Frank started to answer but Jamie interrupted him again. “I’ll see you after class, Claire. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

There were several reasons why Jamie did what he did next.

1- The fact that Frank Randall was surely about to ask Claire out to the dance.

2- That he’d been wanting to reach out and tuck that stray curl back behind Claire’s ear since it had escaped her ponytail during class.  

3- He wanted Frank Randall to see that there was something between Jamie and Claire even if Jamie didn’t know what it was.

However, if you asked Jamie directly why he did what he did, he would very honestly say that he had no idea what made him do it.

Carefully Jamie reached out and gently brushed the curl from Claire’s cheek, feeling his fingers tremble as they feathered against the soft skin of her face. Time seemed to slow down as he tucked the curl, Claire’s eyes met his and it was like molten gold churning and bubbling away and the urge to kiss her had never been stronger. Carefully Jamie dropped his hand to her shoulder and squeezed it briefly.

“Right here.” He repeated before he adjusted his own backpack and stalked off to class. His hand tingled, feeling like he had just received an electric shot. He chanced a quick glance back to where Frank and Clare were standing. Claire looked shell shocked at the intimate gesture and Frank was looking frantically between the two of them, trying to get Claire’s attention back.

—

Jamie was exactly where Claire had left him, breathing a little heavier than normal after sprinting across the courtyard to be there as she left her class. He noticed that her cheeks pinked slightly when she saw him but she grinned nonetheless.

“Everyone won’t stop talking about this bloody dance,” she said casually as they walked toward the field to have their lunch. “Geillis was a steady stream of consciousness throughout Bio about who had already asked who, what she was going to wear, what I was going to wear. It was ridiculous.”

“Aye, the lasses seem to get excited by it,” Jamie agreed as they walked to their lunch time spot together.

“What about the lads?” Claire asked as she tried to mimic Jamie’s accent. “Do they enjoy it as much?”

“Ye’d have to ask them. I’m sure Rupert and Angus dinna mind it so much... if they’re able to snag a date that is,” Jamie answered as he dropped his bag into the ground.

“Will they get dates? Is that a thing here? Everyone has to have a date?” Claire asked as she delicately placed her own bag on the ground and sat next to it, removing her lunch.

“They dinna have to,” Jamie said as Angus called out his name from the field. “Ye can go stag if ye wish.”

Claire hummed in reply as Louise, Mary and Geillis plopped themselves next to her, immediately calling her attention to their own conversation.

Jamie looked down at the group of girls as Angus called his name again, waiting for Jamie to go and kick the ball with the other lads.

No, you didn’t need a date, but that didn’t mean that Jamie didn’t want one.

—

Jamie realised that he hadn’t actually eaten anything by the time the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. He shook his head as he grabbed an apple from his bag and hastily stuffed it into his mouth.

“Don’t choke,” Claire called as she was pulled away from him by Geillis. Jamie smiled back at her, his mouth full of the fruit with juice dribbling down his chin, making her laugh in response.

“See you after class,” she waved as Geillis shook her head at the both of them.

—-

It seemed that Tom had a personal vendetta against Jamie in that afternoon's PE class. He pushed himself harder, ran faster and played more aggressively than Jamie had ever seen him, and Jamie had no idea why. He raised his hand for every question in the class and threw specific looks at Jamie when he was picked.

Jamie didn’t particularly care that Tom was hogging the spotlight, Jamie’s mind was far too preoccupied wondering how he was going to ask Claire to the dance- well, that and he hadn’t had anything apart from his apple for lunch and he was starving.

As soon as class was over he dug around in his bag for his forgotten lunch, disappointed to realise that in his haste to get to Claire’s in the morning and show her his new phone he had actually forgotten to pack said lunch. He finally pulled out a long forgotten muesli bar and inhaled it.

“Fraser!” Jamie turned to the sound of Tom calling out to him. “Wait up.”

Rupert and Angus both paused as well, not sure if they should hang back and wait for Jamie. He waved them away with a slight shrug. Since when did Tom want to talk to him about anything?

“Ye were’na keeping up today,” Tom said as he fell into step with Jamie.

“Missed lunch,” Jamie shrugged back. Did Tom just want to rub in that he’d got the best of him?

“Heard yer taking Laoghaire to the dance as well,” Tom continued as if Jamie hadn’t spoken.

Jamie inhaled sharply and an oat from the muesli bar he had just demolished wedged itself in the back of his throat and he spluttered helplessly.

“Ye did’na want people to find out?” Tom guessed. There was something about the way he was looking at Jamie that made him all the more uncomfortable but after coughing and spluttering and finally clearing his throat, with his eyes streaming with tears Jamie could actually respond.

“Who the hell told ye that?”

“Laoghaire’s been spoutin’ off ta everyone that ye’ll be going together. Thought ye’d already asked her.”

“I’mnae takin’ Laoghaire to the dance,” Jamie disagreed vehemently.

“Oh,” Tom replied in genuine surprise. “I just thought… that… everyone thinks that there’s something going on with the both of ye.”

“Who- What- who thinks that? Why?” Jamie stuttered. He would kill Laoghaire for making things up about the two of them. Especially if word got back to Claire.

“She’s always around ye, and ye canna deny the way that ye look at her.”

“I look at her?” Jamie repeated incredulously. “Christ, she’s a child. There is nothin’ goin’ on with me and Laoghaire.”

“Oh right, it’s just that… Nah, never mind eh. I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

“It’s what? What, Tom!” Jamie tried to stop him from leaving and to spit out whatever he’d been about to say but he was cut off feeling a tap on his shoulder. Lord help him if it was Laoghaire, he didn’t know what he was going to do.

“You alright?” Claire stood beside him, her eyebrows furrowed as she watched the retreating figure of Tom Christie.

“Aye,” Jamie answered absentmindedly before shaking his head clear and focusing on Claire. “Aye, just wanted to have a word after a class.”

“Yes, he seemed to run circles around you this afternoon. In fact, at one point I think he literally was running circles around you,” Claire laughed as they headed out of the school front gates together.

“I thought ye were supposed to be payin’ attention in class,” Jamie scoffed as he nudged her with his shoulder.

“I was. But it’s awfully distracting when you hear the whistle being blown out on the field and a lot of yelling.”

“Sorry to distract ye from yer class then,” Jamie scoffed with laughter. “What were ye learning about?”

“I don’t know honestly. Frank kept trying to get my attention and between that and you playing out on the field I have no idea what Mr Randall was talking about.”

“What did Frank want?” Jamie asked cautiously, not really sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Who knows,” Claire sighed heavily as she pulled her hair free of its tie. “Mr Randall got fed up with him and sent him outside for a bit. Imagine having your own father as your teacher and him sending you outside for playing up. Definitely can’t call favouritism there, can you?”

“No, I suppose not,” Jamie said, letting out a brief sigh of relief that Frank hadn’t beaten Jamie to the punch in asking Claire to the dance before Jamie had the chance.

“I think I’d ask to be in a different class if it were me. Not that my dad was a teacher. Even Lamb though. Imagine the pressure if you got something wrong. There’s no break in your day. You wake up and there’s your dad. You go to school and there he is again. You get home, boom- Homework on the table with the one and only. It would be exhausting.”

Jamie merely grunted response as Claire continued.

“Imagine if he gave you detention. I can’t imagine dinner would be great after that. I wonder if Frank feels that kind of expectation? That he has to be perfect for his father? I bet he does. I would. If it were me. Or maybe that would make me act out? I don’t know,” Claire continued as they walked to her house. “I guess it depends on the kind of person your parent is. I think my mother would have let more things slide than my father. She could have been a teacher. What did your mum do? You’ve never told me.”

Jamie shook his head trying to trace how Claire had landed there in her musings.

“She was an artist- a painter,” he answered eventually as Claire’s house came into view with Lamb on the front lawn. “She ran the household of course and helped Da on the farm, but if ye asked her, she’d say she was a painter.”

“Oh, the art in your house?”

“Aye, some of it’s hers. The uhh… the paintin’ of Jen and me that’s in the living room. She did that one.”

Claire’s eyebrows furrowed and she squinted her eyes as if she was trying to see something very far away. “Oh, as children,” she said in understanding, “I remember. She’s very good.”

“Aye,” Jamie said through a sigh. “She was.”

Lamb was waving at them as they edged closer to Claire’s house. He looked excited by something. Jamie couldn’t help but be a little frustrated that Lamb was clearly waiting for them. He’d wanted to ask Claire to the dance but he didn’t want to do it in front of her uncle. How awkward that would be!

“Claire. Thank goodness you're home!” He said excitedly as Claire opened her front gate.

“Is everything alright?” Claire asked cautiously, perhaps with a tinge of fear in her voice. Jamie was sure that Lamb hardly noticed, such was his excitement, but Jamie could hear it.

“Marvellous, bumblebee. Marvellous. Come inside.” He said in a rush before he walked, no, skipped back indoors.

Jamie looked after Lamb in curiosity as Claire rolled her eyes. “I’d better go in. He might combust.”

“Aye,” Jamie agreed half heartedly. He couldn’t ask her now.  It would be rushed, and he hadn’t at all planned what he was actually going to say.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Claire asked expectantly. There was something else that flashed across her face but Jamie couldn’t quite tell what it was. One second it was there and then it was gone. Maybe she did want him to ask her to the dance?

“Aye,” he repeated. “I’ll be here.”

Claire looked at him for a moment longer than was strictly necessary for saying goodbye to someone and Jamie took a deep breath. He may as well just ask her.

“Claire!” Lamb yelled from inside the house impatiently and Claire threw Jamie an apologetic look before she replied that she was coming.

“See you!” She said brightly before she turned and headed inside the house, closing the front door carefully behind her.

Jamie felt his phone buzz in his pocket with a new message. He didn’t have to guess who it would be, he already knew.

—

Jamie was late.

Jamie was never late.

Jamie woke up with the crow of the rooster.

Jamie was never late.

This morning- Jamie was late.

Either the bloody rooster hadn’t crowed or a night of fitful sleeping dreaming of all the ways to ask Claire to the dance, only for her to turn around and tell him that she was going with Frank Randall, had exhausted him so much that he didn’t hear the stupid rooster.

He sent Claire a message from his phone at the time that he would usually be turning onto her street.

-Running late. Meet you at school.-

He’d actually spent too long thinking about how to word his first actual text message to Claire Beauchamp and had wasted more time that he didn’t have.

Claire responded almost immediately and Jamie felt an unwarranted thrill go through him as he read her response. Short as it was.

-No worries. See you there.-

And then a moment later another message from her. A sleepy face emoji.

-Something like that.- Jamie responded as he grabbed a piece of toast from Jenny’s outstretched hand, grunting in thanks.

“Better pedal hard, braither,” Jenny shook her head, grinning at him as he shoved the bread into his mouth, chewing furiously.

“Aye, thank ye Jen,” he mumbled around a full mouth as he ran for his bike.

It was days like these, not that there were many, that he wished he already had his licence and could take his motorbike. He knew that his Da would have a heart attack if he took the dirt bike out on the road but it would certainly be better than having to pedal furiously to school.

—

Jamie locked his bike up on the racks as the first bell rang. He would make it just in time. He hoped that Claire had saved him a seat in Homeroom.

—

Breathlessly Jamie arrived at the back of the line of students as they were heading into class. He could see the back of Claire’s head as she walked through the doorway and Jamie tried to slow his breathing. She was talking with someone, Geillis more than likely, and laughing at whatever the other person was saying. Jamie wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, still trying to calm his breathing as he followed the line into the classroom.

Perhaps it was worth being late just to see Claire’s face as he walked in. Jamie was sure that he looked a dreadful sight. He’d ridden his bike as fast as he could, he hadn’t had time to brush his hair or his teeth. He could almost guarantee that his cheeks would be red and flushed with sweat brimming along his hairline.

In contrast, Claire sat at their usual desk, her hair was in two braids, taming the riotous curls. She smiled at him as he entered the room, her cheeks pinking slightly as he smiled back. Her skin looked particularly glowing, pale as she was, and when she smiled at him, Jamie felt his heart stutter in his chest. He didn’t know that hearts did that.

“Mr Fraser. If ye’d like to take yer seat,” an impatient voice said from behind him and Jamie looked to see the thoroughly unimpressed Mrs Fox waiting for him to move from the front of the room.

“Aye, sorry,” he mumbled, ducking his head and moving to the spare seat next to Claire. The sounds of the other students laughing at his embarrassment was unheard by Jamie as he slipped into the chair next to Claire and she whispered a quiet hello to him.

Jamie tried to pay attention to the morning announcements from Mrs Fox but he could help stealing furtive glances at Claire sitting next to him. She seemed to be doing the same thing and a few times they accidentally caught each other’s eyes. Blushes from both of them quickly followed whenever that happened.

The bell finally rang and Jamie wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. Perhaps he could ask her to the dance on the way to their first classes.

Just as he picked up his bag he was accosted by Rupert and Angus.

“Ye wake up late, ye numpty?”

“It’s not like ye to sleep in.”

“Maybe he finally figured out what that phone was for?”

“Kept him up all night?? Found a few choice websites??”

“He does’na look dehydrated to ye, does he Rupe?”

“Nah lad, but his eyes are bloodshot. Must’na’ha slept a wink.”

“Shove off,” Jamie groaned at their adolescent banter.

“So did ye use any of the sites I sent ye? Messy Bessy?” Angus continued despite the withering glare that Jamie was giving him. “I remember my first phone and unmonitored internet privileges.”

“Aye, ye could’na write for a week,” Rupert laughed loudly as Angus shoved him.

“Will ye two give it a rest!” Jamie growled as Claire walked half a pace in front of them with Mary. So much for asking her to the dance in the walk between classes.

“But ye’re never late Jamie,” Rupert said in mock outrage. “Especially since that lass has come along,” he continued tiling his head pointedly at Claire.

“Aye, well I was this mornin’, so ye can shut her mouths about it.”

“Seems a bit grumpy to ye, doesn’t he, Rupert,” Angus asked innocently.

“Aye, I’d say he woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Angus,” Rupert replied casually.

“Ah, but ye’re assuming he got any sleep at all.” With that Angus and Rupert lost themselves in laughter, dodging away from Jamie’s fists with an infuriating practised ease.

Claire turned around to see what the boys were laughing at and she raised her eyebrows, waiting for Jamie to explain. He shook his head quickly but could feel the stupid flush coming to his cheeks as she looked at him. She smiled back before turning to Mary and engaging her in conversation again.

—

He didn’t really get a chance to talk to Claire again until their break and even then he barely managed to get a word in as Geillis and Louise monopolised her time. Jamie wasn’t sure what they were talking about but Louise kept giggling and Claire was blushing, so maybe he was glad that he wasn’t privy to that particular discussion.

Jamie earned a few hard nudges from Rupert who was trying to talk to him about something and Jamie was very clearly not listening.

However when the word “dance” caught in Jamie’s mind, he stopped watching the girls and turned to hear whatever Rupert was saying.

“I’m going to ask her at lunch,” he finished and Jamie shook his head at his friend as he tried to catch up.

“Yer sure she’ll say yes?” Angus asked doubtfully, his eyes darting over to the group of girls quickly and back. “What about Jamie?”

“What about me? Who are ye askin’?” Jamie asked quickly, his heart skipping a beat as he hoped it wasn’t Claire.

“I thought he was taking Laoghaire? ‘Asides, Jamie, ye did go wi’ her a’fore. I didn’t think if ye’d want to again,” Rupert answered nervously.

“Go with her again?” Jamie repeated. “Oh Geillis!” He suddenly realised. “Nah I was’na gonna ask her to the dance. Yer welcome to.”

The bell rang, indicating the end to their break and Rupert looked cheery again.

“So ye’r not taking Laoghaire?”

“No!” Jamie shook his head violently. “I need to have a word with the lass. I dinna ken why she’s telling everyone and their mother that I’ve asked her.”

“Aye, I was curious about it. I assumed ye’d be takin’ the lass,” Rupert answered, inclining his head towards Claire and the other girls.

“Aye,” Jamie mumbled in response. “I suppose so.”

“Ye dinna want to ask her?” Rupert asked in astonishment as they headed to the classrooms.

“Aye, I do. I just… I dinna ken how.” Jamie shook his head. He hadn’t had any trouble asking Geillis to the last dance they went to. But Claire was different. He also didn’t really know if Claire actually wanted him to ask her. Maybe she didn’t want to have any date at all.

Rupert grunted in agreement, though his eyes were firmly on the back on Geillis’ redhead and he fiddled with his tie uselessly.

--

Jamie didn’t love Tuesday’s. While Claire headed to Biology, Jamie had Physics. They did have Math together in the afternoon, but the middle double period on Tuesday’s in their separate classes, seemed like the longest part of the week to Jamie.

They hadn’t even been back at school that long, even more, with Claire at his school, and already he was very attached to having the same classes as her. As a studious note-taker in all of their classes, she encouraged him to be a better student. He could have used her influence in Physics if he was honest. It was one of the hardest classes he’d ever taken, he wondered if it was even worth it.

The other issue was that Tom had Biology with Claire. That’s where they had first met and struck up a friendship. Jamie could see Tom now, walking beside her to the classroom, making her laugh at something. That should be Jamie walking with her to class, making her laugh- asking her to the dance- Not Tom.

Tom looked back as if he could head Jamie’s thoughts and Jamie thought that he saw him smirk, but it could have been nothing. Jamie shook the look off with a sigh as he dropped his bag to the ground and entered his classroom. If he wasn’t in such a huff, he would have seen Claire look at him as well, a look of longing on her face.

---

Sometimes Physics just didn’t make any sense. Jamie looked at notes written on his page about the module they were concentrating on.

“Analyse the motion of projectiles by resolving the motion into horizontal and vertical components, making the following assumptions; a constant vertical acceleration due to gravity, and zero air resistance.”

Jamie looked at the words. Sure, they made sense, and he knew in theory what he was meant to be working out, but it was like his brain was full of sludge, struggling to connect the dots and work out what it was he was actually meant to be solving. Jamie shook his head, continuing to copy down the notes the teacher was making on the whiteboard, but he still wasn’t any clearer in what he was actually meant to be doing. Truth be told, his mind wasn’t really in the Physics classroom, it was a few doors down, where Claire was in the Biology lab.

Was she sitting with Tom? Was she worrying about the dance like Jamie was? Had she heard the stupid rumour that Jamie was apparently taking Laoghiare to the dance? Was Biology a hell of a lot easier than Physics? Should Jamie have chosen that instead of trying to test himself with a Science that he didn’t think that he would ever use in his real life?

Finally the bell rang, signalling the start of lunch and Jamie nearly groaned with relief. The teacher was calling something out about the upcoming assignment, but their voice was drowned out by the scraping of chairs and general chatter of the other students.

Jamie knew he had to just buck up and ask Claire to the dance. What was the worst that could happen? She could say no. He’d feel like a bit of an idiot, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Hopefully she hadn’t heard the rumour that Laoghaire had started and hadn’t said yes to someone else before Jamie could ask her.

Jamie absentmindedly picked up his bag and made his way to their usual lunch spot, near the sporting sheds and the soccer field. He would pull her aside or something, see if she wanted to go for a walk with him and then he would ask her.

Jamie dug his lunch out of his bag, but barely noticed what he was eating. Each swallow seemed difficult as he tried to get the food down around the lump of nerves that had currently wedged themselves in his throat. Then he saw her walking the field towards him. Geillis was howling with laughter at something, Louise was beaming and Claire was blushing profusely. Even at a distance, Jamie could see that. He tried to swallow his mouthful of food, but coughed and gagged at the half chewed sandwich. Jamie watched as Rupert jogged up to the group of girls, separating Geillis from the other two. Louise and Claire exchanged a look before they continued on to where Jamie was sitting.

“I think Rupert is asking Geillis to the dance,” Louise said as she sat delicately on the grass. “He said that he wanted to speak to her privately.” She glanced back at the pair, both of whom looked incredibly awkward with each other.

“I think she’ll say yes,” Claire said, studying them for a moment before meeting Jamie’s eyes briefly and then looking down quickly at her lunch. “She said that she wanted to go with him in Bio.”

“Do ye sit next to each other?” Jamie asked, his voice trembling a little bit. He hoped Claire didn’t notice.

“No,” Louise answered for her. “Claire sits with Tom, I sit with Geillis. But she was saying when we sat down. I think she was going to ask him at the end of the day if he didn’t do anything.”

Jamie nodded along, but the sandwich he had just eaten felt like a block of cement in his stomach. Claire and Tom sat next to each other. Not that that really meant anything in particular, but Jamie didn’t like it all the same. Claire also wouldn’t meet Jamie’s eyes now, so he wasn’t entirely sure how he was meant to ask her to the dance, especially with Louise so close.

“They’ll be good together. I’m glad he asked her,” Claire said quietly. Jamie tried to study her face, tried to read what she was thinking but she refused to look at him. Was that a hint? Did she want Jamie to ask her.

Jamie opened his mouth to get her attention but was interrupted by the arrival of Angus and Mary.

“Rupert just asked Geillis to the dance,” Angus announced loudly. “Pretty sure she said yes, they’ve gone for a walk together, so might have to wait a bit to kick the ball around.”

Jamie nodded carefully, not quite trusting his voice.

“We were just talking about that,” Louise continued on with the latest gossip. “She was going to ask him at the end of the day, if he didn’t ask her. Oh, and Frank asked Claire.”

Jamie looked up at Claire quickly to see her cheeks flaming red.

“Frank? Frank Randall?” Angus scoffed loudly. “When did that happen? What did ye say?”

“He asked me this morning; before homeroom,” Claire answered quietly, purposefully avoiding Jamie’s eyes.

“What did ye say?” Angus pushed, his eyes lighting up with mischievousness.

“I said no,” Claire responded haughtily, clearly uncomfortable to have the entire conversation now focused on her.

Jamie almost sighed in relief.

“I didn’t think… that was before I found out…. Never mind. I said no. I thought we are better as friends.”

Jamie was itching to know what she had found out. He needed to ask if she wanted to go for a walk with him.

“I wish I could’ha seen his face,” Angus laughed joyously. “Perfect Frank Randall having someone say no to him. Ah, it’s better than my wildest dreams.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Claire shook her head. “He’s a nice guy, just… misunderstood. Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

Claire still hadn’t looked at Jamie and he couldn’t figure out why.

“Ah,” Angus laughed again, “Could’na happened to a better lad.”

“Hush yer gob,” Jamie said under his breath. Jamie knew that Angus and Rupert didn’t like Frank Randall, but he was sure that was just because his father Mr Randall was such a twat of a teacher that they were more than a little prejudiced.

“Come on, let’s go kick the ball,” Angus said, still grinning. Jamie nodded but paused before he stood up. “Claire, can I borrow ye for a moment?”

“I’m just finishing my lunch, can it wait until after?” She replied, still not looking at him.

Christie sat next to her in Biology, what had he told her about him?

“Aye, it’s uhhh… yeah, never mind.” Shaking his head, trying to clear it, Jamie followed Angus out onto the field.

--

She had said “no” to Frank, did that mean that she was waiting for Jamie to ask her? Jamie ran after the ball after a misplaced wide kick from Angus, trying to get rid of the nagging feeling that something had happened in Biology that Jamie was unaware of. As far as he knew, no one else had asked Claire, but that didn’t mean that someone else wouldn’t. It could be Angus, or Adam McLean, Simon O’Hara, or heaven forbid, Tom Christie. There was almost a line of lads in the school that would be more than willing to take her to the dance. Jamie needed to ask her before it was too late.

Jamie booted the ball back to Angus, pleased to see that Rupert had finished his discussion with Geillis and was now running onto the field. Geillis was grinning from ear to ear as she joined the other girls. Jamie’s eyes automatically went to Claire, expecting her to be caught up in the gossip of Geillis and Rupert going to the dance together. Instead she was watching Jamie carefully. She looked away as soon as she realised that he was looking back. There was something in the way she was looking at him. He was too far away to actually see her facial expression, but it felt like it was more than just curiosity, more than just watching them kick the ball around to each other.

He needed to talk to her.

But how? How was he supposed to get her on his own? Maybe when they were walking home together, though he did ride his bike today. That wouldn’t matter, he would push it beside him, and then he would ask her. He just needed to get through the afternoon. He also needed to get to her before any other lad in the school could try.

--

The bell rang and Jamie was glad. Now that he had decided that he would ask her after school, on their walk home, he more than anything just wanted the school day to end.

They did have a double Math class together, so at least Jamie knew that he would be with her, and no one else would be able to ask her before he had a chance. Even if it was just as friends, that would be fine with him. He wasn’t totally sure if she had any feelings for him, beyond their friendship, but a lad could dream couldn’t he?

So caught up in his thoughts about asking Claire to the dance after school, he almost missed the way she packed up her bag and was walking to class without him. She’d never done that before. Sure she’d only been there a couple of weeks, and yes she knew her way around the school now, but they had class together. Why didn’t she wait for him?

Jamie quickly ran to collect his bag and catch up with their retreating figures.

“Now I just need to figure out what to wear,” Geillis said to Claire.

“Do people usually get dressed up for these kinds of things?” Claire asked curiously.

“Somewhat. Not as much as when we graduate, ye ken, but still, it’s a nice chance to show off,” Geillis answered. Jamie followed behind them, listening eagerly.

“I suppose so. I don’t think I actually have anything that I could wear to a dance. It’s not a jeans and t-shirt type of affair, is it.”

Geillis scoffed with laughter at Claire’s response. “I suppose I’ll have to take ye shopping with me. Not one of the ones in the main street. I’ll get my Ma to take us to one of the major centres. What about Saturday?”

“Oh,” Claire answered in surprise. Jamie could imagine her blushing, though he couldn’t see her face. “Shopping, yes, of course. Would your Mum mind? Do you need to ask her?”

“Nah, she ken’s it’s comin’ up, so she’ll be expectin’ it. We can ask Mary and Louise too, make a girls day of it.”

“A girl’s day,” Claire repeated. “Sure. Why not.” She giggled nervously as they arrived at the classroom.

“Have ye told Jamie yet?” Geillis asked, her voice dropping dramatically in volume. Jamie almost missed it as Simon O’Hara bumped into him.

“I don’t see why I have to,” Claire answered her question pointedly.

“Weel, Rupert seems to think that he was going to ask ye.”

“How many dates does he need?” Claire replied and Jamie could almost see her rolling her eyes. How many dates did he need? Just the one he had thought, preferably Claire. Unless… Laoghaire. The rumour had spread. Well, that was fine, right? All he needed to do was explain that he wasn’t taking Laoghaire. No harm done!

“Ye might want to check with him, Rupert seemed pretty certain,” Geillis said nervously. Whatever Claire’s response was it was lost to Jamie as the teacher arrived and everyone started to enter the classroom.

--

Thankfully the seat beside Claire was still empty. She hadn’t decided to sit next to Geillis, though Geillis did give him a pointed look as he sat down.

“I did’na get a chance to talk to you properly at lunch,” Jamie said breathlessly. “And ye left before I had a chance to catch ye up.”

“Sorry, I guess I was just caught up with Geillis,” Claire said, not even sounding remotely sorry. She didn’t look at him either, rather she sat stiffly, facing the front of the room while the other student took their seats.

“Aye, weel, I was wondering if I could talk to ye after school,” Jamie continued, aware that the voices around them were hushing and Mr Sandringham had started writing the day’s lesson outline on the whiteboard.

Claire nodded stiffly before she started to copy the same thing into her notebook.

“After school then,” Jamie mumbled as he opened his own book.

--

A double period of math had never felt both so long and like the time was flying by. Jamie could barely concentrate, all too aware of the girl sitting beside him. Every shift in her chair, every sigh from her mouth, even when she answered questions, sticking her hand up in the air, Jamie barely felt like he could breathe. It felt like he had done something grossly offensive to her, but he had no idea what. It was the first time that he had truly felt very awkward around her. When he looked up at the clock, barely ten minutes had passed. Then he planned out what he would say to her. How he would explain that he wasn’t going to the dance with Laoghaire, that he really wanted to go with her, and that it was all a big misunderstanding, and the feeling of concrete would come back to his stomach, and then he would look up at the clock and see that almost forty-five minutes had passed.

It was lucky that the maths class was easier than his physics class. He couldn’t imagine how he would be able to concentrate if Claire was in that one with him. The final ten minutes of the school day dragged by. Claire was tapping her fingers on the desk, no longer taking notes as Mr Sandringham droned on.

Eight minutes left and he could explain things to her and they could work out whatever this weird energy was between them.

Five minutes left and he had to remember to pick up his bike from the racks before he left with Claire.

Three minutes left and he hoped that Claire would actually wait for him to pick up his bike and then walk home with her.

Two minutes left and the lump of concrete made its way back to Jamie’s gut. What if she laughed in his face? What if she didn’t believe him about Laoghaire? What if she said yes?

One minute left and Claire was packing up her things. She never packed up her things before the bell. She was traditionally one of the last students to leave the room. Jamie had teased her about it on Friday and she had rolled her eyes at-

The bell rang and Claire shut her textbook with a snap.

“I have to get my bike,” Jamie said quickly, quickly closing his own books, trying to match her speed. She nodded in response and Jamie quickly rose out of his chair. He would sprint to the bike rack if he needed to. Just so long as she didn’t leave without him.

--

He was puffed and breathing heavily as he waited by the front gates for her. She was walking slowly, talking to Tom Christie. Damn it, Tom Christie. Would the two minutes that it took Jamie to get his bike be enough time for Tom to ask her to the dance? Who was he kidding, of course that would be more than enough time for Tom.

Claire was smiling at something Tom was saying and Jamie felt an unfamiliar stab of jealousy in his wame.

“See you later,” Claire waved before she looked up to see Jamie waiting for her. She was still smiling, but it seemed a little bit forced now.

“Ready?” She asked, and without waiting for a response, exited the school grounds.

--

Well- It was awkward. It was awkward walking back to Claire’s house. Jamie had it all planned out in his head but now that it was actually time to open his mouth, he felt like it had been glued shut.

“What was the news yer Uncle was so excited about yesterday?” Jamie asked finally.

“Oh,” Claire said, sounding surprised, “he uh, he’s been writing a book and he got a call back from a potential publisher. He needs to go down to Edinburgh in a few weeks to meet with them.”

“That’s amazing!” Jamie exclaimed. “I had no idea!”

“Well, he’s been working on it for a long time. I had no idea that he’d even sent anything off to anyone. So it was a bit out of the blue.”

“What’s the book about?”

--

Things seemed easier after that. Claire spoke about her Uncle and then her garden most of the way home. Jamie barely could get a word in and that suited him just fine. It was when they rounded the final corner onto her street that his palms really started to sweat.

“So,” he began, trying to take a deep breath and instead coughing slightly on his own saliva. “There’s a rumour going around that I’m takin’ Laoghaire to the dance.”

Claire made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything further.

“Which, to be clear- I am’na taking her to the dance. I have’na asked her, I will’na ask her, and I dinna ken where she got the ridiculous notion to begin wi’,” Jamie continued, feeling himself getting angrier. “I barely even speak to the lass and she’s got all these ideas in her head. I dinna ken what to do about it.”

“Are you asking for my advice?” Claire asked quietly. She sounded shy and Jamie wondered if it was because she knew what was coming- That he was going to ask her.

“No, not so much, I’ll… I’ll ah, deal with the lass myself. But it, uh, I was wonderin’ if ye’d thought about the dance.”

“It’s hard not to think about it when it’s all anyone talks about 24/7,” Claire answered, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes.

“Aye, people do get excited by it. What I meant was, have ye thought about going with anyone?”

“I… erm have thought about it, yes.” Claire said. Their walking had slowed down now, as if they each didn’t want to arrive at her house. As if they were both trying to prolong the moment, to give Jamie the chance to actually finally ask her out.

“Weel, I was wonderin’ it maybe, perhaps, ye would like to go to the dance wi’ me?” Jamie asked nervously. He felt like he was going to vomit. He may as well go the full hog, lay it all out on the line, put their friendship out there and properly ask her for a date. “Ye ken, as my date.”

“Oh… Jamie… I erm,” Claire stumbled over her words and Jamie felt his heart drop somewhere to his feet, or maybe he had left it a few steps back.

“It does’na have to be a date, if ye dinna want it to. We can just go as friends,” he backtracked quickly. He felt so stupid. Of course she didn’t feel that way about him. She was just being nice, as nice as she was to anyone else at school and he’s misread the entire thing. He felt like such an idiot.

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that… Tom said that you were taking Laoghaire and he seemed very certain of it, and then he asked me this morning in Biology and I… well, as you were taking Laoghaire… I said… I told him that I would go with him.”

Jamie felt his jaw drop open. Tom Fucking Christie. That worthless little shitbag, bod ceann of a human. Yesterday he had confirmed the rumour with Jamie wasn’t true and then turned around the next morning and jumped at the chance to ask Claire.

“No problems,” Jamie said automatically, his left fist gripped the handlebar needlessly roughly. “That’s fine. Just ah… ye’ll save me a dance then? There’s always next time.” The words were coming out of his mouth, but Jamie didn’t at all believe that he was the one that was saying it.

Claire seemed to sigh in relief as she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes of course, I’m so sorry, I should have checked with you first. But as you hadn’t asked me yet and so many people were saying that you and Laoghaire-”

“It’s fine, Claire, really,” Jamie interrupted her. “Don’t put yerself out.”

“It’s just that-” Claire tried again before Jamie cut her off once more.

“Truly. I’ll ahh, I’ll see ye tomorrow then.”

“Oh, ok.” Claire nodded but Jamie didn’t see. He swung his leg over his bike. He had to get away from her. He could feel his eyes stinging and while he didn’t think that he was going to cry, (why would he cry over something so stupid) he couldn’t be sure and he sure as hell didn’t want Claire to see that.

Claire turned around to wave goodbye, as she always did when she reached her front door, but Jamie was already gone.

[snakebites-22]

Heylo! I saw that you were asking for requests, and I have one if you want to write it! What if the reader is always drawing on the boards after school, and students don’t know who does it, and one day Peter catches her drawing? Idk, I kinda liked the idea! I love your writing hun!!🥰💕❤️

Peter Parker and The Dry Erase Board Artist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: And here it is! Almost a whole month after I said I would have it done! I am so so so sorry for how long this took and also sorry for how shitty it also is. I hope you enjoy this trash fire that I just spent almost 4 hours on and finished at 1 am. Oh, I also made this gender neutral using they/them pronouns. 

Warnings: uh language, slight death threat?, stupid teachers, numbers, fluff ig, idrk 

Word Count: 2279

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: There’s a new mystery in Midtown, and it’s the creator of the dry erase board drawings. Peter is desperate to find out who it is even if it means losing sleep and missing assignments. What will it take to find out who this secret artist is?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter knew all about mysteries. He used to stay up too late reading those mystery novels by flashlight when he should have been sleeping. He grew up loving them. The amount of times May would walk into the living room to see him once again binge watching Scooby Doo was uncountable. Even now, he prided himself on being one of the biggest mysteries in New York: Spider-Man. He had to hold back a grin whenever he heard people discuss who the masked hero could possibly be. The craziest one so far was that Spider-Man was actually an alien being used by the government. He wasn’t sure who came up with that one, but props to them for their creativity.

He just absolutely loved mysteries of all shapes and sizes, and now, he had a new one to solve: the drawings. He called it Operation Dry Erase Board, and yes, the name did need improvement. Both MJ and Ned made sure to tell him that every single time he brought it up. Ned had suggested The Search for the Hidden Artist, which MJ just said sounded even worse. 

It had started a couple weeks ago. He had walked into his first period calculus class to see everyone whispering and taking pictures of the board. His first reaction was panic － his teacher was prone to surprise pop quizzes － but it soon turned to awe as he stared at the array of color across the board. It was a beautifully detailed portrait of the sea. He gazed upon the scene of manta rays and fish and even the silhouette of a shark. There was coral and shells of every color, and the lines and swirls of blue captivated him.There was no signature. Nobody knew who had done it. 

At first, Peter just tried to brush it off. There was somebody in the school who was skilled with dry erase board markers and was very artistically gifted. Not the biggest deal, but good for them. It became a bigger deal when the next day a gorgeous rendition of Starry Night was covering the board of the biology classroom. Once again, no signature. That’s when Peter started to become invested. 

He questioned MJ first. She was one of the only artists he knew, but she just scoffed. “I’m good, but dry erase markers are shit for me to work with.” 

He started paying more attention in art class, looking for anyone with a similar style. Nothing. Everyone was your typical high school artist who was just there for the credits, meaning people like him. Don’t ask about how designing the first spidey suit went.

 The drawings just kept coming. He soon saw space, dinosaurs, a jungle, The Mona Lisa, even each of the Avengers all spread across the dry erase boards. Each one of these was so beautiful and so alluring that it made his eyes sting and shouts of protest to erupt from the students when the teachers had to erase them. Even if they didn’t erase them, they were gone the next day. Whether it was the Hidden Artist or the janitor, Peter didn’t know. It was just another part in the mystery.

A lot of the drawings weren’t done in any classrooms that Peter had, meaning he would have to take field trips during his lunch period to go and find them. Most of the time he already knew where he was going. There was now a whole Instagram page dedicated to the art. It was run by Daphne, who was in both Yearbook and the Art Club. He had asked her if it was her, but she had just giggled and said she was a fan. Honestly, Peter was too. 

He would stare at the art for as long as he could each time he saw it, and he stared at the pictures he took of them even longer. He was consumed by the art, by his love for it. He needed to find out who the artist was, but unfortunately for him it would have to wait. He was so preoccupied with being Spider-Man and now also being a shitty detective that he was falling behind on both his work and his sleep. He had now fallen asleep a total of five times over the course of a week and a half, and he was close to failing both AP Government and Spanish, simply because he wasn’t catching up on his workload. 

Now, he was passed out in AP Lang, the one class that everyone knew not to fall asleep in. He couldn’t help it. He was running on a total of 4 hours for the week, and it was a Thursday. Not even his spidey sense could have prepared him for the crash of a ruler against a metal trash can right next to his ear. After nearly falling out of his chair and almost decking his teacher, Peter was given two weeks’ worth of detentions. 

“Hopefully that’ll teach young Mr. Parker here to pay attention instead of dozing off in the middle of class. Maybe he’ll catch up on his missing assignments, too. Speaking of, would you like to tell the class which rhetorical devices you’ll be utilizing in your essay, Mr. Parker?” All Peter could do is stare back at his teacher, horror written over his face. 

————————

It was 3:30 on a Wednesday, and Peter was losing his mind. Each of his detentions were an hour and a half long, lasting from 3:15 to 4:45. He had managed to catch himself up on his work and raise his grades a bit, but that didn’t change his predicament. He couldn’t go home or skip detention, meaning he was stuck at school for another hour and fifteen minutes. When he asked if he could do something, he was told he could go help the janitor. With a sigh, he got up and went in search of the janitor’s closet. 

During the time spanning over his punishment, he had nearly forgotten about his obsession with the Hidden Artist. Of course he still saw and heard about the drawings and he would still stare when he saw them, but now with the need to focus on his assignments being drilled into his brain every day on top of trying to stop bad guys each night, he was forced to move on. He didn’t want to. God, if he had the chance he’d stare at those drawings for hours on end, but he didn’t have that chance. It fucking sucked. 

After a couple minutes of searching, he finally found the closet. He grabbed a broom and looked around, and to his left, there was a classroom with the door slightly open. With a heavy sigh, he walked towards the room and pushed the door open, only to stop dead. There, across the room, was a brand new drawing, and it was a drawing of him. Not him him, of course, but a drawing of Spider-Man. It was a drawing of an event he recognized from yesterday when he had walked a lost kid back to their parents. The drawing showed him crouched down in front of the kid who was crying, and he had his hand out as an offer for the child to take it. 

Upon closer inspection, the drawing seemed incomplete. There were too many white spaces which wasn’t the artist's style. As he stepped closer to it, he heard the door creak and a gasp behind him. He spun around, nearly falling over in the process, and looked up wildly. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw Y/n L/n, a student in his grade. They stared back at him with wide eyes. 

“Did...did you do this?” Peter asked slowly. Y/n hesitantly nodded. 

“If you tell anyone about this, Parker, you’re dead.” 

He was slightly taken aback by this. Not the death threat, necessarily, he got those all the time, but it was a bit of a surprise coming from Y/n.

“I won’t. I promise,” he said softly. 

Y/n nodded slightly before striding towards the board and taking out a marker, beginning to fill in all of the white spaces Peter had noticed earlier. 

After a moment, Peter asked, “How do you do it?”

Y/n turned towards him, black marker clutched in their hand. “What?”

“The drawings. They’re so beautiful...I didn’t even know you could draw like that.”

“Everyone has their secrets, Parker. I’m sure you have yours.” 

Peter almost laughed at that, because yeah, he did, and Y/n was drawing it across the Physics dry erase board. But he didn’t laugh. He just smiled a little and kept watching, forgetting all about the broom that was now leaning against a desk.

“So...Spider-Man huh?” 

Y/n sighed and turned to him. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be sweeping or something?” 

Peter shrugged. “Or something. Look, this is probably gonna sound super weird, but I’ve been trying to figure out who you were for weeks. Your art is super amazing and cool and I just wanted to know so badly who was talented enough to pull it off. And now I know.”

“Are you disappointed?” It wasn’t a question out of fear, but more out of curiosity. Y/n sat themselves on a desk and waited for the answer. 

“I don’t think so,” Peter said. “This was just unexpected, I guess. I didn’t even consider you for a suspect.” Y/n chuckled at this. 

“Nobody suspects me. That’s the fun part of all of this, actually. Did you know people actually thought that it was Ms. Rosemary for a while?”

“The crazy teacher’s aid?”

“Yup. The theory, I think, was that she was so crazy that art became like her therapy or escape or whatever. I mean, it can be like therapy, but I think Rosemary needs a little more than some doodles in order to help her.”

“These aren’t just ‘some doodles,’ Y/n. They’re-”

“Beautiful. Yeah, you’ve said.” They shrugged. “It’s just scribbles on a board, Parker. Scribbles that, for whatever reason, make our brains happy.”

Peter didn’t really have a response to that, so instead he just watched as Y/n went back to work. 

————————

That was how he would spend his detentions. He would offer to go help the janitor, and then he would run around the school trying to find Y/n. Eventually, on the days where the drawings took less time to create, Y/n started to try to teach him how to draw. Basic things at first, like flowers or trying to break things down into their simpler shapes. He could barely do either of those things, but he enjoyed trying anyways. On other days, Peter would just sit and watch in silence as they drew. It was mesmerizing, and only he got to witness it. 

It became their thing. Even after detentions ended, Peter would stay after school for an hour or so just to go hang out with Y/n. They would have snacks and play music and have a good time. Peter learned that Y/n stayed after school since their parents were never home until the late evenings, so they stayed back just for the hell of it. He also learned that they were good friends with the janitor and that his name was Roger. He was the reason that they were even able to stay for as long as they did. It was pretty cool. 

It was a Friday, and Peter was spinning around in the teacher’s chair while Y/n drew a forest scene. Peter watched them for a while, a small smile on his face. They were also so concentrated when they worked, their eyes narrowing and jaw tightening as they drew the different lines and curves that made up the masterpiece. Unbeknownst to Y/n, Peter had a surprise for them. 

“Hey, N/n?” Peter asked. All he got was a hum in response. He rolled his eyes. “Come here.”

Y/n sighed and got off of the stool that they had been sitting on. “What do you want, Pete?” they asked as they strolled over, leaning over the desk when they got close enough. In response, Peter held up a small, wrapped up bundle. Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed as they picked it up. 

“What-”

“Shhhh!” Peter said with a soft giggle. “Just open it.”

Y/n narrowed their eyes at him before slowly tearing the paper away. They smiled softly as they stared at the multipack of dry erase markers, enough colors to make practically any drawing that happened to cross their mind. 

“Why?”

“A simple thank you would have sufficed. It’s an appreciation gift for all of your art. I figured by now you’ve probably killed most of the markers in the school, so I got you some new ones.”

Y/n chuckled a little and looked at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course. You deserve it.”

“I literally just make colored lines one a board.”

“And I appreciate those colored lines! They give me serotonin as do you.”

“I give you serotonin?”

“Yes.”

Y/n blinked in surprise. “Alright then...you also give me serotonin.”

“Really? Awesome.”

They both laughed for a moment, Y/n glancing back down at the markers as Peter continued to look at them.  

“Hey, Pete?” Y/n asked as they looked back up at him. “What?”

“Would you...would you like to continue to provide me with serotonin and go out with me?”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, but soon it was his smile that was widening instead. 

“Absolutely.”

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Tagging:  @tommysparker @bebbeb @stixnstripesworld @orowit @dreamerinthesun @ididntseeurbag @bruhelpimgay @yikes-n-bikes @becausewhatiam-iswhatimnot @thespydersargon @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @th0ttie4tommy

[sparkleofpizza]

Burn book - Tim Drake x reader

A/n: hey guys, so I’ve had this idea in my mind for a while now, since I watched Mean Girls on October 3 and I thought it would be nice to finally write it and see how goes. Hope you like it!

Warning: the names Bradley, Valerie and Carmen are all made up names to fit in the story. Language, mentions of blood and violence.

Requested: no

Summary: Y/n grows suspicious of her boyfriend activities, something happens at school that only fufil her suspicions.

Word count: 2.368

A movie scene. Your school looked like a movie scene right now. A scene from a movie you’ve seen countless times before. 

You stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed watching the scene unfold in front of you. Lips slightly parted as a small laugh escaped your throat. You felt like Regina George watching everyone go crazy after their secrets got spilled.

Someone had decided it would be funny to recreate the Burn Book from Mean Girls, and printed the pages trowing them at the hallways for everyone to see. Everyone’s secrets were on those pages and you were a bit afraid that somehow it said something about you - although you didn’t have any secret that would make you want to dig a hole and bury yourself into it.

Everything was a bit funny until you realized that it wasn’t so cool at all. You were enjoining seeing things in real life like one of your favorite movies of all times, but things took an aggressive turn when you saw people punching each other. Suddenly you felt very uncomfortable being in there. It wasn’t cool to spill people’s secrets like that.

You reached for your phone on your pocket, deciding to text your boyfriend Tim, trying to know where he is. It would make you feel a lot more comfortable having him by your side. But you didn’t even know if he was at school at all, lately he was very absent and distant, making you wonder if you did something wrong. Even his brothers seemed to be ignoring you. 

Someone yanked you by your arm, dragging you and making you stumble down the stairs, falling to your knees. Bradley Walters hovered over you, face red from anger as he gripped tightly on your arm, you knew there would be a bruise there tomorrow. You were honestly scared, you sometimes hung out together and got along very well since he was part of the football team and you were a cheerio. 

“How could you not tell me?” He yelled, pulling you up so you were face to face “You knew Valerie is into girls and you still let me make a fool out of myself trying to get her to date me! You’re such a bitch!”

You yelped helplessly as you knew no one was coming to your rescue since everyone was too busy fighting with each other to even notice Bradley being a jerk. 

“I- It wasn’t my place to tell you!” You replied, trying to reason with him “I couldn’t out her to you, she was’t ready to tell anyone yet.”

“Then how come you knew?!”

“She’s my best friend, I was the first one to know!”

Bradley huffed, letting go of you only to shove you against the lockers and walk past you. You massaged your shoulder, trying to ease the pain from the impact of hitting the lockers. You had to get out of there before things got out of control.

You walked past people, trying to blend in and not call unwanted attention. Hearing stuff like teachers hooking up with students was honestly disturbing. The principal was trying to calm everyone down, but no one was having any of it, they wanted caos. They wanted to get at each others throats and demand explanations out the secrets that were out there.

Carmen Diaz showed up in front of you, yelling because she had just found out you were the reason why she was cut out of the cheerios, because you had told the captain she was flirting with her boyfriend. At that point, you were regretting every gossip you had ever made as you swiftly left the girl hanging and yelling on her own. 

But as you left Carmen behind, you saw it. You saw something you wish you had never did, but at the same time it made so much sense. Everything just clicked together in your head. The absence, being ignored, leaving early and ditching you lately, it all made perfect sense. You grabbed the fallen paper, examining it in your hands. 

Sweet Tim Drake and nice Stephanie Brown are two cheap cheaters. Jerk and hoe. 

And bellow it there was a photo of the two of them. 

You felt your heart shatter at this. Stephanie was one of your closest friends, but apparently she wasn’t your friend after all. And Tim, you didn’t even know what to think of him. You always thought he would never ever break your heart, but he did, and he did the last thing you excepted him to do, but it made so much sense now. Everyone knew, all of his brothers and probably his friends that became your friends knew as well, and they left you in the dark, left you to keep making a fool out of yourself. 

There was tears pricking in your eyes, but you refused to cry in front of all of this people. Too engrossed in your own sad thoughts you didn’t see a flying bottle made of glass, aimed to someone else, but that hit you straight in the head, soaking you in both water and blood as it shattered, making you fall backwards and loose your senses for a while.

Oh God, how did all this shit happened?

After way too many accidents like yours happened, the police finally arrived at Gotham Academy, restoring the peace. You watched Tim’s older brother Dick talking to some of the students and you knew all of his brothers were probably there, because they always showed up at things like this. You walked out of school trying not to get attention to you, but it was kind of hard since there was a lot of blood coming out of your forehead and you were way too light headed. 

Your presence, however, did not go unnoticed as Tim’s best friend was the first one to see you, being in front of you in a blink of an eye. Conner Kent eyes were wide when he saw you. 

“Y/N, holy shit! I didn’t think the situation at school was this bad! We need to get you to the hospital, you’re bleeding too much!” He gently grabbed you by your shoulders and started guiding you towards people “Tim is over there, he’s worried sick about you when you didn’t answer your phone. We weren’t in school today and...”

He stopped talking when you abruptly stopped walking. He glanced at you, worried that maybe you were going to pass out from blood loss.

“I don’t want to see Tim.” You whispered

“What?” He frowned

“I said that I don’t want to see Tim. Ever again. Or you, or any of you ever again. Fuck off and leave me alone. You’re all a bunch of liars!”

You stumbled away from him, trying to find someone else to take you to the hospital. Honestly, right now, you pretty much rather pass out on the floor than take any of their help. 

But that was when Tim saw you, and damn didn’t that make his heart beat too fast out of panic because of the way you looked. Your skin too pale, a hand shaped bruise on your arm, your white uniform blouse stained in red and oh, the amount of blood in your forehead. Before he knew it, he was sprinting towards you, pulling you in his arms. He was so grateful you were safe, and now you were with him so nothing else was going to happen to you, he is going to take you to the hospital and then he’s not leaving your side.

You struggled against his grip, making him release you as he though he might has been hurting you, maybe there were others injuries. But there was hurt and betrayal in your eyes, aside from the tears. You did not look happy to see him at all.

“Sweetheart...”

“Don’t.” You cut him off “You’re free to be with her, I’m breaking up with you.” 

Tim opened and close his mouth. Too shocked and confused to even say something. Be with who? Why were you breaking up with him? What did he do? What actually happened inside of the school? He only snapped out of it when he saw you leaving, running right back to you, holding you in place.

“What- What are you talking about?”

“Go be with Stephanie, you don’t have to sneak behind my back anymore. I already know about the two of you. From all the things I excepted when you started drifting away from me, being a cheater wasn’t one of them.”

“I- Y/N I didn’t cheat on you! I could never to do that! Look, you’ve lost too much blood and you’re not thinking straight. Come on, let me take you to the hospital.”

He was desperate, trying to understand what was going on. Did he neglect you so much this past month that it made you doubt his love for you? He loves you more than anything else in this world, he would do literally anything for you, so what did he do wrong for you to stop believing in it?

You dryly chuckled, shoving a paper in his hands before stumbling away from him as he read what was written in it.

Tim tried calling, tried texting, FaceTiming, visiting, but nothing. You wanted nothing to do with him. He just hoped you would give him a chance to explain himself, to tell you everything and by everything he means including the fact that he’s Red Robin and that’s why he’s been absent and also about that picture.

Conner tried to stop by to convince you to talk to Tim and fix things up, but you ended up slamming the door at his face.

Figuring enough is enough, after almost a month you decided to let Tim explain himself. You were hurting way too much and honestly just wanted to move on, but you couldn’t if you didn’t properly end it. So on a Friday, for the first time, you looked him in the face as you walked past him on the hallway. You actually acknowledged his presence during Biology and even offered you the tiniest of smiles. You told Valerie she could stop glaring at Stephanie and being mean all the time. So he knew you were ready to talk.

After school he went straight to your apartament. Knocking on the door and hoping he didn’t get the wrong signals today at school, but when you opened the door for him, for the first time, he felt relief wash over him.

“Hi.” He said awkwardly “Thanks for... opening the door.”

You nodded your head, letting him in before closing the door and sitting on the couch across from him.

You couldn’t help but notice how tired he look, with bags under his eyes and a even paler face than ever. Was he hurting just as much as you were? It kind felt impossible, he had Stephanie, why would he be sad?

“I am so so so sorry for the way I treated you lately. I never thought it would lead you to believing I didn’t love you anymore or that I could cheat on you.” Tim started, fighthing back the urge to wrap his arms around you when he saw tears in eyes “Sweetheart, you’re the best thing that has ever happened in my life and I love you more than anything. I could never cheat on you, nothing happened between me and Stephanie, we’re just friends.”

“How can you expect me to believe in you when all you ever did lately was ditch me?” Your voice sounded so broken, he himself started crying

“The reason why I’ve been so distant lately is because I am Red Robin.” He said

You stood still, staring at him like he had grown a second head. Tim Drake, your ex-boyfriend, was Red Robin? He worked with Batman. Tim Drake, the same boy standing in front of you, fought bad guys every night to make the city safer.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He pulled out a domino mask out of his jeans pocket, holding it up to his face, right at his eyes and you sucked in a breath. Holy shit, he is Red Robin.

“Stephanie and I are just friends, Y/N. We work together as vigilants, but nothing more than this. You’re the one that I want, the one that I love. You’re the first person I think about when I wake up, and the last person I think about before going to sleep. Everytime I’m fighting some bad guy I keep thinking I have someone to come home to, and that someone is you.”

You sobbed, trowing yourself in his arms, allowing him to hold you. You buried your head in his chest as arms went around your waist, carresing your sides. Tim kissed the top of yout head, feeling at ease after a long month. He ached to have you back in his arms and he never planned on letting you go.

“I’m so sorry I doubted you.” You sobbed into his chest

“Hey, this is not yout fault.” He lifted up your chin so you were looking in his eyes “This is all on me and I primise to make it up to you everyday for the rest of our lives, if you take me back.”

You nodded your head, standing on your tip toes to press your lips against his. It’s been a long month and all you wanted to do was to make up for the time you’ve missed with him.

You both layed on the couch, you pressed against his chest and tangled legs.

“Whoever did this burn book is a bitch.” You said quietly, drawing patterns on his biceps

“Yes, everything is still a chaos. And you never told me how you managed to get that amount of bruises beside the bottle of water that was an accident.”

“Oh, Bradley Walters did that to me. I though you knew?”

“What?!” Tim exclaimed, tighining his arms around you “I guess I’m paying him a visit during patrol tonight.”

You chuckled, kissing his jaw. Everything was falling back to place

[hannahwaterman]

Type and Language 1 - Choosing a quote, planning my project, brainstorming.

Selecting a quote for this briefing was something I tried to get done very quickly so that I could begin making work fast. At first I thought of doing the following quote by Bill Hicks:

“The world is like a ride in an amusement park, and when you choose to go on it you think it's real because that's how powerful our minds are. The ride goes up and down, around and around, it has thrills and chills, and it's very brightly colored, and it's very loud, and it's fun for a while. Many people have been on the ride a long time, and they begin to wonder, "Hey, is this real, or is this just a ride?" And other people have remembered, and they come back to us and say, "Hey, don't worry; don't be afraid, ever, because this is just a ride." And we … kill those people. "Shut him up! I've got a lot invested in this ride, shut him up! Look at my furrows of worry, look at my big bank account, and my family. This has to be real." It's just a ride. But we always kill the good guys who try and tell us that, you ever notice that? And let the demons run amok … But it doesn't matter, because it's just a ride. And we can change it any time we want. It's only a choice. No effort, no work, no job, no savings of money. Just a simple choice, right now, between fear and love. The eyes of fear want you to put bigger locks on your doors, buy guns, close yourself off. The eyes of love instead see all of us as one. Here's what we can do to change the world, right now, to a better ride. Take all that money we spend on weapons and defenses each year and instead spend it feeding and clothing and educating the poor of the world, which it would pay for many times over, not one human being excluded, and we could explore space, together, both inner and outer, forever, in peace.”

It’s very long, but I think it’s a very beautiful and well meaning piece of spoken word. Bill Hicks was a comedian-philosopher, and he was a very influential person in the formative years of my life from about 10 years old onwards. Definitely too young to be listening to Bill Hicks, but hey - his words really stuck with me and I think this quote is a very important one in my life.

I thought I could do something funny like this quote from Come Dine With Me: 

Dear Lord, what a sad little life, Jane. You ruined my night, completely, so you could have the money, but I hope now you spend it on getting some lessons in grace and decorum because you have all the grace of a reversing dump truck without any tyres on.

But ultimately, I didn’t have faith that I would really be able to get excited about it!

I finally settled for this quote by Robert Sapolsky, a human behavioural biologist:

I am not worried if scientists go and explain everything. This is for a very simple reason: an impala sprinting across the Savannah can be reduced to biomechanics, and Bach can be reduced to counterpoint, yet that does not decrease one iota our ability to shiver as we experience impalas leaping or Bach thundering. We can only gain and grow with each discovery that there is structure underlying the most accessible levels of things that fill us with awe. But there is an even stronger reason why I am not afraid that scientists will inadvertently go and explain everything--it will never happen. While in certain realms, it may prove to be the case that science can explain anything, it will never explain everything. As should be obvious after all these pages, as part of the scientific process, for every question answered, a dozen newer ones are generated. And they are usually far more puzzling, more challenging than than the prior problems. This was stated wonderfully in a quote by a geneticist named Haldane earlier in the century: "Life is not only stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine." We will never have our flames extinguished by knowledge. The purpose of science is not to cure us of our sense of mystery and wonder, but to constantly reinvent and reinvigorate it.

It’s very long, so I chose from it the most effecting and important sentences, and I was left with the following.

I am not worried if scientists go and explain everything. It will never happen. It will never explain everything. As part of the scientific process, for every question answered, a dozen newer ones are generated. And they are usually far more puzzling, more challenging than than the prior problems. Life is not only stranger than we imagine, it is stranger than we can imagine. We will never have our flames extinguished by knowledge. The purpose of science is not to cure us of our sense of mystery and wonder, but to constantly reinvent and reinvigorate it.

Robert Sapolsky lectures on human behaviour, taking information from many different scientific avenues, including biology, endocrinology, sociology, criminology, neuroscience, etc, to build a massive and complex picture of why it is humans behave the way we do, looking at our behaviour through multiple lenses and disciplines, and combining them in order to answer some of the biggest philosophical questions, including questions about free will, about love, about hatred and forgiveness and family. 

He is one of the biggest influences on my outlook towards life and my trauma and mental health recovery, because not only are his teachings grounded in extremely interesting research and knowledge, but they are able to explain and open up discussions some of the most confusing and difficult parts of the human experience. Sex, love, violence, free will, tribalism, trauma, fear - Sapolsky tackles all of these terrifying and wonderful parts of our lives with such grace and poise and intelligence - his lectures have coloured my world with a newfound respect for myself and those around me. 

He delivers this quote or similar at the end of one of his books and in his lecture series, to help clear up some of the biggest fears that people have of scientific knowledge, and it is a sentiment that I hold very dear to my heart. We should not fear advancement and knowledge. It can only enrich our lives, and a better understanding of myself as not just another person in society, but my very own series of complex and intricate biological mechanisms, has completely enriched my life.

I began by experimenting with very basic black and white type designs on Procreate on my iPad. I tend to jump straight into making before I do research, or much thinking at all, because it is often the case that I can come up with some very raw, messy, and interesting visual ideas. The first few attempts I have at a task like this can really inform where my project will go, what I would like to work on over the duration of the project, and what techniques will or won’t help me. 

I often start projects in black and white because it is a very basic and simple building block foundation for the shapes in the work, and makes it so that more complex parts of a visual identity can be added later, giving me more time to think about colours and textures before going ahead with them.

I had fun warping text like this - it makes the writing mysterious and mostly illegible. It did not yet communicate effectively, however, and I had a talk with Sarah to better discuss where to go with this project.

Sarah told me to really think about WHO said the text, and WHY. To ask questions about WHAT I am trying to convey. How will I bring the message of the words to life? How can I use type to emphasise and better explain the language being spoken? How can I use typography as not just a fun image, but a visual tool to really hammer home the intent behind the words being spoken?

Sarah advised me to sketch out “how to quote acts”, how it moves and it feels. Also to question, how do I want people to react to this type?

With this higher level of specificity, I was able to think much more clearly about the task at hand. My plan now was to take certain important words from my quote, and do visual research surrounding them. To really give this project a microscopic view to begin with, I am going to focus on smaller fractions of the text, to begin to build up a catalogue of how those words really feel, act, and speak to a reader. I need to bring into question, how can I communicate better using type? How can I make somebody listen with my typography? How can I use my skillset as a designer to translate information into something visually consumable and interesting to look at? 

Once I’ve done visual research and sketches focusing on the very zoomed in parts of this quote, I am going to try to visualise those in context of Sapolsky’s life and teachings. He started off his practice as a field scientist, living amongst primates, and studying their movements. He went on to combine this knowledge with laboratory work, studying hormones and neurodevelopment in rats and analysing other studies. He now, on top of all of this, lectures at Stanford, and has written multiple books on the subject of human and animal behaviour, for the casual reader and scientist alike.

How can I represent Sapolsky’s life with design? Can I start off the quote as rough and messy and dusty and animalistic, representing the time he spent amongst apes in the jungle - then developing it into something very neat, tidy and clinical like his lab studies are? Can I make 2 different designs to represent these, then overlay them? Use colours to represent the two different stages of his practice? Can I make this into a screenprint? A series of 2 or 3 posters? 

Or could I make a typographic mural to go on the wall at Stanford or another institute of science? A series of posters? A small book or leaflet? An animation? Who am I aiming it at? Over the next few days I am going to collate visual research and express it as a series of typographic works.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Day 21 : Dance - Kizami Yuuya

“Mitsuki, no! No way! Nuh-huh, you can’t make me do this!” I sweatdropped in my chair, looking up at my friend. “Awwww, c’mon, Kat, what’s the harm? It’s gonna be your first party with us! You’re gonna love it! There’s gonna be pretty lights and...Music and sweets and snacks and drinks! And so many people! Who knows, maybe you’ll catch someone’s eye and you’ll get a boyfriend!” Tohko fangirled, making me lean on my chair seat, stealing a glance at Kizami, who was getting convinced by Kurosaki as well. “What are we gonna do with them?” I whispered, as he looked at me with an annoyed expression. “Kill them.” he muttered, making me nod in agreement. “Don’t be such party poopers! We have only 2 parties left as a class together, why not spending in a nice way? What could go wrong?” Tohko pouted, making my heart hurt, as a grimaced. “Don’t...Use that puppy face on me...” I glared at her, but she only continued. “And besides, it’s 1 day after White Day, so if you gave anyone chocolate, he’d have to invite you to dance, right~? And as a matter of fact, I am VERY sure you gave chocolates to someone from our class!” my eyes widened and I could feel the blood draining from my face. “I don’t have any fancy clothes, and the dance is in a week. How are you gonna solve that, hmm?” I crossed my arms triumphantly, but both girls only grinned evilly at me. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Mitsuki, you make sure you get Katrina at my house before the dance so we could get ready together, okay?” Tohko fist-pumped in victory. “End me please...” I mutter, hanging my head in defeat. “Same.” Kizami sighed behind me.

It wasn’t long before March 13th came and Tohko forced me and Mitsuki to sleep at hers, so we could look extra pretty for White Day, so that meant no extra sleep for me, unfortunately.

“Okay, so, who did you give chocolate too? I made a box of heart shaped chocolates and put it on Kizami-kun’s desk. Think he liked it?” Tohko asked, applying make up. “I gave chocolate to Fukuroi. He’s the only guy I’m super close to. And we made it a tradition all these years, so it’s cool.” Mitsuki shrugged, brushing her hair. “I left some for Kurosaki too, though. Hope it wasn’t weird.” she continued, putting her hair clips on. “Awww, that’s so cute! I’ve been thinking for a while that he may be into you, but I can’t be fully certain.” Tohko grinned at her friend, as I looked in the mirror with a bored expression, brushing my long red hair, as I saw them apply make up. “Why are you putting on make up? I thought it wasn’t allowed?” I rise my eyebrow in confusion. “Oh, right, we didn’t tell you. Since it’s the last week, it’s White Day today and we’re gonna have the end of the semester dance soon, we are allowed to wear whatever make up and nail polish we want. Isn’t that cool?!” Mitsuki winked, giving me her make up stuff. “Woaw...Yeah, I guess it’s pretty refreshing. I forgot the last time I wore make up.” I smiled softly, applying red lipstick, to bring out my dark eyes. “Hey, Kat, you didn’t tell us who you gave chocolate to!” she gasped, as she stopped mid-way helping Tohko with her eyeshadow. “Uhmm...Well...Remember how everyone kinda pressured me to give a boy chocolate for Valentine’s? And I got super panicky? And Shit-mada kept trying to kiss me and whatever?” I stutter slightly, knowing that the little secret would go away. “Yeah, why? Oh-...Oh my God, did you give Shit-mada chocolates?!” Tohko gasper in horror, but I shook my head. “I...Sorry, Tohko, I know you like him...But Kizami was the only one in the classroom when Shit-mada kept pestering him, and I knew it would annoy him the most if I would choose Kizami over him...So I gave Kizami the chocolates. Of course, I told him the circumstances, so he doesn’t think I like him or anything.” I try to explain the story, but I could see Tohko’s unease as she laughed awkwardly at my tale. “Oh, haha, that’s cool, don’t worry! I understand why you’d do that, Kizami-kun is a very reliable person! And who’d want Shit-mada over Kizami-kun, huh? Besides, Kizami-kun never gives back chocolate.” she tried to laugh it off, but I could feel she was feeling down.

And what’s worse, she doesn’t know that I lied shamelessly through my teeth, and only Kizami knows the truth.

Back then, I was extremely anxious about everything going on, and before even Tohko could fangirl about Valentine’s and her crush on Kizami, Kurosaki came to me to hang out one weekend and he told me about all the habits of our class, which, to say the least, weren’t few.

“Basically, Tohko’s desperate over Kizami, but she thinks she’s discrete...She’s not. Yamamoto and Fukuroi are great friends, so they’ll gift only each other, kinda. Urabe tries to skip this day, or gives Ohkawa chocolates. Shimada’s gonna try to kiss all girls around, going by the Western tradition that...Well, you’re more familiar with than us, anyways.” Kurosaki explains, making me sigh in annoyance. “Then, what do you suggest I do? It’s such a drag...” I shrug, putting my hands in my pockets. “Hmmm...Oh, why don’t you give Kizami chocolates? I mean, it’s either him or Shimada who get the most chocolates, but Kizami usually shares the chocolate with everyone ‘cause he’s not that much into sweets. I mean, I think from the boys, you’re closest to him and then me, right? He seems to have a soft spot for you too, so it would work, I think.” he smiles, giving me a thumbs up, as I started pondering the situation. “I see...So Kizami is a safe bet...Ah, wait...Do you like...Hand the chocolate over in person, or make it secret?” I ask again, shifting my gaze to my brunet friend. “Oh, that’s mostly up to you, but since we’ve been classmates for so long, we either hand it in person, or let it on the person’s desk, with our names written on a card or something. Go wild, I’m sure Kizami will like it either way.” he chuckles cheerfully, making me nod in understandment. “What a drag...” I sigh, looking up at the snowy sky. “Thanks for this, Kurosaki. It’s really nice hanging out with you.” I finish, smiling softly. “Any time!” he shows my a thumbs up sign, before he said in a softer voice, thinking I wouldn’t hear it, but incidently, I did. “No wonder he likes you.”

Now that we are are at school, I sat anxiously in my chair, not knowing what to expect. To be fair, I was only half-sure Kizami realised that I gave him chocolate, since I signed it in a code, and it’s up to him if he realises that or not. And besides...Urgh, what a bother. He received so many chocolates that day, why would he bother to bring ME back? He’s never one to actually do something for White Day, as Kurosaki said.

Wait...

Why am I getting so bothered up anyways?

I was barely able to focus much at Biology, and to make things worse, almost everybody from the class left to socialise, leaving only me and Kizami, so to make things less awkward, I got up to leave, only to get called out, but not by my name, but by a code.

“I was expecting a Scarlet Princess, not a Crimson Knight on Valentine’s.” Kizami’s deep voice echoed through the room, making me chuckle in amusement. “I’m not sure I can be a proper princess, I’m sorry.” I turn around with a small smirk on my face, leaning on the lockers in the classroom. “You’d be more than perfect.” he got up, taking a box of chocolate from his bag and towered over me, handing it to me, making my eyes widen in surprise. “I...Thought you never give chocolates back to those who give to you.” I take the box slowly, not knowing what else to say. “Nobody deserved so far. Besides, that was a rather clever play on words. Kurosaki thought it was one of Shimada’s stupid pranks, but I knew better. KiShi. the equivalent of Knight. Kitsune Shinozaki. That’s been your Japanese alias since you came here, so we won’t have a hard time pronouncing your name. Very clever...Kitten.” he smirked mischievously, seeing more emotion in his eyes than I’ve ever seen since I met him. “Should I feel flattered, then...Yuuya~?” I mimicked his tone, earning a low chuckle. “I have a proposition for you, my little Kitten. Since you and I have both been tortured into accepting to go to tomorrow’s dance, why not go together? It would spare us a lot of trouble, don’t you think?” he asked, making me hum in approval. “Not a bad idea. I accept, Yuuya, dear. And...I think this is going to piss a lot of people. Even better~!” my smirk grew wider, thinking of Tohko’s and Shit-mada’s faces when they’ll see us at the dance. “Glad to see we’re thinking the same way.” he huffed in amusement, walking back to his desk behind me, urging me to rush and hide the box so nobody else would see it.  “Did you do them yourself, Yuuya~?” I put my elbow on the chair rest, resting my chin on my palm, looking at the brunet boy with a knowing glint in my eyes. “Why don’t you tell me that?” he let out a short, amused chuckle, as the bell rang and everyone got back in the class. “Kat? You got no chocolates? Wait, did you even leave the room?” Tohko looked confused, but at the same time, suspicious at I and her crush. “Nahh, nothing. I guess nobody wants to hang out with the new girl.” I laughed softly with a fake smile on my face. “Awee, that’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that.” she faked sadness and pity for me, making me shake my head and turn to my desk, nonchalantly.

That night, I was extremely satisfied with everything going on, but I had to decline going to Tohko’s place for the night, since I had everything ready for the dance at home, thanks to my mum.

The next evening, Kizami and Kurosaki came to pick me up from home, like the gentlemen they were, and Kurosaki apparently invited Mitsuki to dance, and she accepted, so this is super nice.

My long dark green dress emphasised my foxy appearance, highlighted by the red lipstick and cat wing, my red hair falling over my shoulders in waves of fire.

By the time we arrived at school, I hooked my arm with Kizami’s, and we went inside where the party already started and the loud music was blaring. 

“Is that...Kizami? With the new girl?” whispers and gossips were heard all around us, making the both of us chuckle in amusement at their shock. “Hey, we make quite the Dynamic Duo, don’t you think?” I smirked, looking around swiftly, seeing everyone dance. “I...May have made a slight miscalculation.” I put my hand up to my mouth, a habit I took as I pondered what to do next. “And what is that?” he towered over me, amused. “Well...I came here mostly to make fun of people...But I didn’t count on what I would ACTUALLY do, which seems like it should be dancing...Which...Isn’t my forte, to be fair. It’s...Embarrassing.” I sweatdropped, looking away, my cheeks flushing a bit. “Hmmm...I have an idea. Follow me.” he took my hand in his and guided me outside to the courtyard, where the Moonlight illuminated the trees and the little water pond filled with koi fish very beautifully. “Woaw...I never realised how pretty this place is until now. It’s almost like everything is a matter of perspective.” I gaze at the landscape before us, but I didn’t realise the cold nor the music until Kizami put his blazer over my shoulders, and it got significantly warmer. “In case you were cold.” he muttered, looking down at me. “Thank you, Yuuya. I wasn’t really paying attention to the cold, but...It is pretty chilly.” I hummed in thanks, leaning on his chest. “I guess they could have put better music...But for a party, it’s not half bad.”  “Do you want to dance?” he asked all of a sudden, making me look up at him in slight shock. “I...Don’t really know how to dance. Never got the opportunity to.” I explain, barely above a whisper, but he just shrugged, holding both my hands. “I don’t know either. It’s not like anyone is watching.” he said nonchalantly, making me nod in understanding, getting closer to him, putting my hands on his shoulders, and he put his on my waist, and we swung around the place like we owned it, with no inhibition or shame, and it was...Quite enjoyable. “Thank you for this night, Yuuya. I guess...It’s a matter of perspective, after all. Even a dance with someone can be fun if it’s the right person.” I shrugged simply, smiling passively. “I got rid of Kurosaki and Kirisaki, so I’m good. That girl especially kept pissing me off good. Glad a little fox appeared to change my view. A matter of perspective, as you say.” he huffed in amusement as he explained that. “Guess we’re the best thing that happened to each other, hmm, Yuuya~?” I drag his name in a lower voice, my fox-like smirk never fading. “Saying my name like that...You don’t know what you’re doing to me, Kitten.” his face inched closer to my, teasing me as our lips barely brushed each other. “Is that Kizami-kun and Katrina?! What are they doing here?!” Tohko’s shrill voice made both of us growl in annoyance, knowing full well that the whole squad was going to give us trouble. “This is impossible...” Kizami’s vein almost popped from the rage he was trying to hide inside. “Ah, fuck it, let her burn with envy.” I mutter, cupping Yuuya’s face and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, but it didn’t take long for him to reciprocate with just as much emotion...If that could be said even for someone like him. “N-No way...I-I thought Kizami-kun liked me...” Tohko’s voice echoed sorrowfully, almost crying, which made both of us chuckle at her misfortune. “Who lied to her, I wonder~?” I smirked slyly, tilting my head slightly to the side, foxily. “She’s been lying to herself all this time. After all...Who’d choose her, over a fox like you?” he smirked in pride, like a predator would at his prey. “Yes!! Finally, I knew it! Give me the money, Katayama!” Kurosaki’s chipper voice sounded loudly just after Tohko ran away. “I give up. Let’s go home, this is getting annoying.” I chuckle, hooking my arm with his, walking away. “Just a bit more and we’re done with Highschool. That’s a relief.” he sighed in aggravation, walking away with me, not even sparing a glance to his friend or to the girl who was crushing on him for so long.

[sandersstudies]

Quirky - Chapter 6

A High School Superhero AU - Sanders Sides

(Will add tag list in a reblog! If I miss you, please let me know ASAP - As always, asks, comments, messages, reblogs, and keysmashes are more than welcome.)

Chapter Seven ->

<- Chapter Five

<<- Chapter One

You can now also find the fic with the same username and title on AO3 :) Fell free to stop by and leave kudos!

***

Logan leaned over the edge of the guardrail to gaze into the ruined city below. He squinted, but without his glasses he couldn’t see much more than the blurry shapes of the buildings. Virgil and Roman were just smudges on the ground, and both vanished from sight as they walked under overhanging beams.

A moment later there was a faint groaning from below which rose suddenly to a roar as one of the massive beams began to slide to one side. Logan felt a cry rising in his throat just as the beam suddenly froze in its path and went lumbering through the air in the other direction and smashing against a building, where it broke and fell to the ground as rubble. A cloud of dust and debris rose so wide that Virgil and Roman were totally hidden from view. Logan turned to look for Mx. Stokes and Mr. Picani, but several other students were already screaming for them

Logan squinted, but there was no chance of seeing to the ground. He started down the stairs as quickly as he could. It was difficult to see where each step ended, so he ran with a guess. He tripped once, but caught himself with a wild flailing of his arms. He could hear the teachers trying to restore calm, and hoped they weren’t watching him. Without his glasses even his quirk was weak. Well, even weaker than usual.

The dust was beginning to settle when Logan reached the bottom of the steps, but it didn’t help much with his blurry vision. The beam had made a depression in one of the buildings, but the other damage was minor. Logan resisted a cough.

“Virgil? Roman?”

A sudden blast of light emerged from the buildings, and Logan saw Virgil’s silhouette (too short to be Roman’s) illuminated for a moment before Roman followed his glowing hand into the open. He was using one arm to shield his mouth and nose, and the other to light his way; he seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled through his arm after two throat-clearing coughs. The dust was settling, and Logan could see Virgil standing between him and Roman. Both boys were so dirty from the settling dust that their blue uniform jackets were now khaki in color. “What the hell did you do?” Roman insisted. He dropped his arm and even through his blurry vision Logan could tell that the other boy looked vaguely shell-shocked.

Virgil was shaking wildly as he tried to gesticulate an answer. “You..you hit the buildi— you knocked down the beam.”

“Knocked down?” Roman yelled. “That thing went flying through the air, you maniac! You could have killed somebody!”

“I saw it,” Logan said.

“Oh, so you’re here now,” Roman said, noticing Logan for the first time. “You didn’t see jack shit without these.” He chucked a blob at Logan, who caught it and looked down to recognize his glasses inside a sphere of Kai’s polypeptide gel. The durable nature of the material made it difficult to break into, but the glasses seemed unharmed

“Logan, what did you see?” Virgil asked.

Logan tried to break through the outer layer of gel to his glasses. “Unfortunately, not much. I was at a height of multiple stories and without my usual lenses. The beam did certainly behave outside the law of gravity. It began to slide downward, and then suddenly jerked upward and into that building.”

“Mess up halfway through trying to crush me, huh?” Roman growled. “The hell kind of quirk do you have?” He was very near Virgil, and had one finger raised as if to jab him.

Virgil was bristling. “Shut up, lightbulb,” he said, still unsteady but no longer stuttering. “I just saved your stupid life.”

“You just better stay out of my way, pipsqueak,” Roman said. “And you.” He reversed his finger to point to Logan. “Don’t lose your damn glasses again, okay?”

Logan didn’t have a moment to come up with a response before he was interrupted by a shout from above. Mr. Picani was almost falling down the stairs, and came to the base out of breath.

“You boys okay?” he asked, hands extended as if prepared to shield them. “Mx. Stokes said that all the safety settings are still in operation, no idea what happened.”

“We’re fi-,” Virgil said.

“We don’t know what happened either,” Roman said over Virgil. “But we got the glasses back. Sir.”

“All that matters is that everybody’s fine,” Mr. Picani insisted, ushering them toward the stairs. “We can replace glasses, but we can’t replace our students.”

Virgil and Roman didn’t speak on the trek back up the stairs, but even without his glasses Logan could see the tension between the two.

“Are you really all right?” he asked Virgil once they’d come out of the building and Roman had jogged a few steps ahead. Mx. Stokes has quelled the students’ panic and was escorting them onto the bus.

“Fine,” Virgil said. “Just real sick of Roman.”

“I can tell you don’t like him very much,” Logan said. He finally ripped his glasses free of their gooey prison and then leaned down in a confidential whisper. “To be completely frank, I share your sentiments.”

Virgil stifled a laugh. “Thanks.”

Mx. Stokes repeated Mr. Picani’s concerns as they got to the bus, and then smiled broadly once they confirmed they were all right.

“You kids will get to play in the zones soon enough,” Mx. Stokes promised, brushing dust off of Virgil’s shoulder. “But I don’t need you guys down there without training.” They checked the boys off their checklist and gave a friendly wave. “Last thing we need is another UA accident!”

Mr. Picani paused outside the bus to say something to the other teacher as Logan and Virgil climbed on. There was only one empty pair of seats left near the front of the bus, and Logan stepped aside in the aisle. Virgil paused, and then slid in first.

“You don’t want the window?” he asked.

“You didn’t seem to like the aisle on the ride here,” Logan said. “Would you like to switch?”

“No, that’s fine.” Virgil shrunk a little and stared out the window. Logan hoped he wasn’t offended. He glanced out the door of the bus. Mx. Stokes was patting Mr. Picani on the shoulder, and the two parted as the bus’ engine started.

Logan wasn’t sure if the other students thought the same, but it was nice to see two professional heros with such a friendship. In the media heroes were often in hot competition, or at the best participated in work-required teams. In the real world, however, Logan had now seen the great Glass pat Mesmerman on the shoulder like an old friend.

He settled against his seat as the bus pulled away. He was tempted to ask Virgil more about what had happened in the Ruins Zone, but wasn’t sure how to begin, so they rode in silence for several minutes as the students behind them babbled about the visit.

“Hey,” Virgil said after a while.

Logan glanced up.

“You have…” Virgil tapped his temple. “Some goo on your glasses, still.”

***

Despite the unanticipated loss of Logan’s glasses and collapse in the Ruins Zone, the class arrived back at UA just as lunch was beginning, and Logan and Virgil were joined by Remigius, who offered them sticks of gum which they refused before he popped three into his own mouth.

“Pretty wild what happened down there,” he said. “I saw that beam go flying. You got your glasses back though, I see.” This last part was to Logan, who nodded. Remy blew a bubble, and there was a moment of pause before it popped. “You must have some quirk, little dude,” he said to Virgil. “Because I know that wasn’t Ro’s handiwork by a long shot.”

Virgil shrunk and laughed stiffly.

“Let’s get in the line before it gets too long,” Logan suggested, and Virgil followed. Remigius had a paper bag in one hand, and split off to seat himself at a table.

“You don’t seem to like Remigius asking too many questions,” Logan said as they waited.

“He’s a fine guy,” Virgil said. “Just...yeah.”

“I understand.”

“Thanks.”

When they filed back into the classroom after lunch, Mr. Picani was writing in large strokes on the board: UA SPORTS FESTIVAL. A few students oohed and ahhed.

“Before you begin your final classes of the day,” Mr. Picani said, “I wanted to remind you all that next week begins the annual sports festival here at UA. I’m sure you’re all familiar with it, but we’ll be going over a few details today and discussing it in more length in your Hero Studies classes this week.”

The UA Sports Festival was televised every year; with the most prestigious hero program in the country, it was hardly surprising that so many people tuned in. Professional heroes and scouts often contacted the school following the festival with early offers for apprenticeships and nominations to high-ranking students.

“Preliminaries will be after lunch on Monday,” Mr. Picani said. “The top forty-two students to complete the preliminaries will pass into the main festival rounds. Remember that not only hero students, but also students in your grade from the support, management, and general courses will be participating. Therefore, no hero suits will be permitted on the field.” Several hands had flown into the air. “Hold your questions for now, as we’re a little short on time,” Mr. Picani said. “But begin thinking about your plans for the festival; as first-year students, you’ll be presented as heroes-in-training to the public for the first time.” He underlined the words he’d written on the board. “I’ll get out of the way of Mx. Talyn for your science class now.”

Logan found that even he had trouble focusing on biology while thinking about the sports festival. He stared at a Bunsen burner on the windowsill and began drawing its component parts absentmindedly in his notebook. He began making lines to start labeling the drawing, and realized that they looked like a sports bracket. He turned the page. He usually enjoyed Mx. Talyn’s lessons, but now he could only hear a vague chattering in the background as he drew a full bracket, beginning with sixteen contenders. Of the forty-two entrants to the first round, only sixteen proceeded on to the one-on-one rounds. Those would be the students to receive the most media attention.

The hero course was divided into two sections, 1-A and 1-B, with 1-A being Logan’s class and both classes containing twenty students. The support, management, and general classes were of the same size and almost equally prestigious, but didn’t focus on hero techniques or quirk use. There were occasionally dramatic underdog stories, like a strong-quirked general student making it into the semifinals, but usually the other classes were trumped by the hero students. Logan tapped his pen against his desk. If classes 1-C through 1-K contained twenty students each as well, then there was a total of 220 students attending UA, and only forty-two slots in the festival.

“Putnett squares are an excellent display for genetic odds,” Mx. Talyn said, drawing a two-by-two chart on the board. “We can see how likely an outcome is using this visual.”

If we’re going to talk odds… Removing other benefits and deficiencies, any individual student had a 19% chance to conquer the preliminaries, and a 7% chance to enter the one-on-one rounds. Logan tried to remember previous years. Hero students were far more likely to pass the preliminaries, but that was no guarantee. He also had no idea about the quality of the second hero class, 1-B, who had the benefit of not losing their homeroom teacher in the first week of the school year. Logan wished he had the previous years’ data in front of him. Making it to the festival would be an excellent initial promotion into his hero career.

Of course, Logan mused, every other student would be thinking the same thing. Virgil was splaying pencil spirals in his notebook, and Roman had spaced out in the direction of the board. Kai’s nose was running again. Logan sporadically took off his glasses to clean them against his shirt.

The rest of the school day was much the same. Students were quiet but unfocused in class, and loud and with a single goal between classes. Roman’s posse sans Roman were an especial contributor.

“My mom remembers seeing Mr. Picani at the festival when I was a baby!” Rafaela announced. “She told me as soon as she heard he was one of our teachers.”

“That’s crazy, Mr. Picani and the other teachers were just like us not so long ago,” Kenny responded.

“That was the year the villain Spite threatened the city,” Kai said. “That was what first made Multiman famous.”

“He’d only just graduated, too,” Rafaela said.

Virgil turned in his seat to stare at Logan. “Sports festival, huh?”

“It’s a great opportunity,” Logan said. “What are you thinking?”

“Thinking I’ll be lucky to make it past the preliminaries.” He swung his feet back and forth under the desk and swiveled to look at the empty seat behind him. “Too bad Terrence is sick, he won’t hear about it.”

“We’ll fill him in tomorrow,” Logan said. “He and I are from the same neighborhood. We walk home together and I can tell him about it.”

“So you won’t be walking with him today, then,” Virgil said.

“Not today, I’ll miss him.”

“Well...I wouldn’t want to replace Terrence or anything, but I’ll walk with you. If you want.”

Logan blinked. It was a kind offer, but Virgil always left the school in the opposite direction; they weren’t from the same neighborhood. “Don’t you go west when school ends?

“Right, nevermind, sorry,” Virgil said. “I was just thinking I could walk you home and then...turn around and go back. It’s silly.”

Logan suspected the arrangement was not for Virgil’s convenience, and supposed that the only alternative motivation was that Virgil enjoyed spending time with Logan. It would be rude to crush his suggestion. “You can’t live too far from school,” he said. “Are you near West Midoriya Hospital?”

“Just a few blocks from there,” Virgil said.

“My mother’s studio is near there,” Logan said. “We could walk to your house and she could come to get me when she leaves work.”

“Oh, you don’t want to come to my place,” Virgil raised his hands defensively.

“Well, you wanted to come to mine.”

“Isn’t that a little out of your way?”

“Not as far out of the way as your walking me home and turning around would be.”

“You got me.”

***

Logan didn’t walk often on the west side of town, so he tried to take in the route Virgil walked by rote, in case he ever needed to find his way again. A text from his mother confirmed she could pick him up at five, so he only regretted he hadn’t put a snack in his backpack in the morning.

He and Virgil had plenty to talk about with the upcoming sports festival, so the subject of the strange event in the Ruins Zone did not come up again, and the walk — longer than Logan’s usual one — did not seem long at all, and they soon arrived at a small brick apartment building. Logan followed Virgil through the lobby and up a flight of stairs, where Virgil let himself into apartment 208.

There were many photos on the walls of the apartment, most of them of Virgil and a women Logan assumed was Virgil’s mother. One recent picture, of Virgil’s middle school graduation, was placed prominently near the front door. The other photos stretched back through Virgil’s childhood. There was one of him staring grumpily at the camera in corduroy overalls and a fresh haircut on his first day of kindergarten, and a photo of the haircut itself; young Virgil’s eyes squinted at the clippers as they sheared off several inches of his dark hair and left behind buzzed sides. There was a photo of his first birthday, his mother crouched over his shoulder to blow out the candle of a cupcake for him. Baby Virgil’s eyes were wide in admiration of the tiny flame, the same color as his lacey birthday dress.

“Ugh, ignore those,” the teenage version of Virgil said to Logan. “My mom sure likes taking photos.” Virgil’s mother looked a lot like her son, with dark hair and a thin but lively face.

“They’re nice,” Logan said. “Thanks again for having me over.”

“It’s no big deal.” Virgil slumped his backpack off next to a coat rack before wandering toward the kitchen. “Do you want, uh...soda?”

“Sure,” Logan said, following. The kitchen connected to a small living room and held a two-chair table with folded leaves. There were two doors across the room, one slightly ajar to reveal part of a bathroom sink and mirror. More photos were on the wall, some of a younger version of Virgil’s mother sans Virgil. Her hair had been longer back then. There were also some of Virgil’s childhood drawings in frames and two pride flags pinned on the closed door, one bisexual and one, smaller and newer, trans.

“Sorry, I don’t host much,” Virgil said. “That’s the bedroom over there, and I sleep on the foldout. That’s about it. Do you want a cream soda or a Hero-Cola?” He squatted in front of the fridge.

“Cream soda,” Logan said. “Thank you.” He glanced back at the photos on the wall, trying to think how to continue the conversation. “What’s your mother like?”

“She’s cool,” Virgil said, getting a Hero-Cola for himself. “She’s just busy. She went back to school and all a couple years ago, so now she studies and writes her management thesis every night after work.” He snapped his soda open with a satisfying crack. “She wants to build a better life for us and all, you know?”

Logan nodded. “She sounds very nice.” He fumbled again for a way to continue the conversation. “My mother is a photographer too.”

“That’s cool,” Virgil said as he sunk into one of the two chair seats. “Do you want to…”

“Sure,” Logan was already moving to sit, and set his backpack on the floor. “Um...is that one yours?” He pointed at the bisexual flag.

“My mom’s,” Virgil said.

“Oh.” Logan’s brief playground romance with Corbin meant he’d never “come out” to his middle school friends, but besides Terrence he wasn’t sure how many of his A-1 classmates had taken the hint yet.

“I’m actually gay,” Virgil said suddenly, shattering Logan’s mental image of strutting into UA wearing a rainbow flag as a cape.

“Oh!” Logan said, so loud that Virgil flinched. “No, that’s great! No, no, I mean, me too!”

“Oh,” Virgil said, quieter and longer than Logan had.

Logan felt heat rising in his ears. “So, about the festival, I think you said you taped last year’s competition?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, leaping onto this new topic. “On a VHS, can you believe it? Surprised the machine even still works. Want to watch it?”

“I was just thinking today how helpful it would be for my notes if I could analyze previous competitions.” Logan reached into his backpack and fumbled for a minute. “I was running the numbers today and — oh here it is.” He produced the notebook and flipped a few pages. “Any individual student has a 19% chance to pass the preliminaries, but as hero students, I’m almost certain the chance is much higher, but I just don’t have the data.”

“Eleven years ago, only seven non-hero students passed, and only two made it to the one-on-one,” Virgil mused.

“Eleven years ago?”

Virgil rolled his eyes as he stood to cross into the living room. “My mom taped that one for me when I was little. I watched it so many times the tape broke, but I remember every detail. Picani was in his final year then, you know. He’s only twenty-nine now.” He knelt down and shuffled DVDs under the TV. “Here’s the one from last year.” Virgil glanced over his shoulder. “We can watch it for uh...your notes.”

“That would be excellent.”

[hecohansen31]

Hey Gorgeous!

Frat Boy! Jim Mason+Insecure! Reader:

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I hope everything is alright and I hope that you are having a fun day, because here comes bad writing at its finest...

I know I have already said it in the teaser but like this was written in a period in which I felt very self-conscious about myself (I still am, but I mean... I literally was at my lowest).

I honestly don’t have anything bad about my body... (except the entire ensemble suck...)... but I costantly feel like I am a passable beauty, like... “you are ot ugly, but also... you are no supermodel... so move over”.

Which I know it’s stupid, because people have it worse, but hey... my fics my fantasies... so...

ALSO NO GIRL ON GIRL HATE, PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS BEAUTIFUL... NO MATTER WHAT...

Also... you don’t need male validation to feel pretty... you don’t need nobody opinion, except your own...

And now that I got somethings off my chest...

HEART IT, REBLOG IT OR PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT IT... because I am anxious and insecure also in my writing.

Love you, lovelies!

SUMMARY: After your insecurities get the worst of you, you manage to get an handsome frat boy to make you feel better.

WORDS: 2,7K

WARNINGS: Body Image Issues, Insecurities and (Frat Parties, alcohol consumption and lingerie party so a bit of butts being show) Rejection (angsty but with a fluffy ending).

She always known that some words didn’t belong with you and with your body.

She would never be called gorgeous and sexy, because you didn’t belong in the slightest to those categories, since she hadn’t what it took to be seriously “beautiful” or “sexy”.

She had a kind of beauty which most people described as cute, described as something that made her friends want to pet you and gave her a lot of annoying compliments, but actually they were backhanded insults, such as “you are such a cutiepie” which was clearly “you look like a child”.

And it had never really bothered her, although she couldn’t help but feel like it went a bit too far sometimes and sometimes she felt a bit insecure about her own appearance and no matter what she did: a new hair style, a lot of make-up a change of wardrobe.

Still, she wouldn’t be able to change that opinion people had about her.

So, she had stopped.

It was just another type of beauty and she was beautiful in her own way.

But it didn’t matter how much she told herself that, when her roommate was strutting in her room wearing nothing but a white piece of lingerie, barely covering her ass, for the “lingerie party” they had been invited to, meanwhile she hid herself in the scrap of lace she had wrapped around herself to hide the lacey body-suit she wore underneath it.

At first she had just wanted to stutter into the party with her flying squirrel shaped pajama, since it completely matched her style, no matter the fact that it was so big that she barely could walk in it and it wasn’t lingerie, but her roommate had swiftly brought up that there was no way she would be making her way to the party with her dressed as that.

She honestly loved Erika, but she was the typical girl you couldn’t help but find sexy: effortlessly beautiful, with long blonde hair and a tanned completion which spoke of nice summers out and sweet plump lips, which, instead, told it all about soft kisses and wild nights.

She honestly didn’t blame her roommate, but she couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t know so many of her struggles.

She was very uncomfortable for her entire staying at the lingerie party, constantly clinging onto Erika, and covering herself with the silky shawl, meanwhile she didn’t dare to meet a single boy’s eyes.

Not that they would have been fixed on her, when Erika was there.

The difference between sexy and cute was also visible in the way you interacted with people: she, for example, had an hard time talking and if she did it would have been focused on making your laugh and whisper about common interests, whereas Erika had a more direct approach, gaining the immediate interest of her audience as a true magician.

But at least she had something to hold onto for the entire night: Timothy, from of one of her classes and the latest of her crushes, had promised her to actually be at the party and absolutely come there to talk to her and “save her from public embarrassment”.

Timothy was a nice guy, the type that typically didn’t flirt around and had nice interests she shared, so she had always felt like he was a safe place to crush on, and he had seemed interested in her, suggesting they always worked together for some group projects, alongside always holding the seat next to him for her.

She really hoped not to have read too much into this, scared that he might have been interested only in a friendship, so she had waited for him to do the first move…

And she was still waiting…

“Don’t worry (Y/N)! He will come” reassured her gently Erika, holding her hand, meanwhile she giggled with the latest of her suitors, and she tried to smile a bit and relax herself.

… and finally, she eyed him, just coming out of the door, waving shyly at him, meanwhile he immediately moved towards them; Erika moved off, with the guy she had been talking with, in order to give her some privacy, for which she was grateful.

She moved away the silky shawl and although she knew sexy wasn’t her thing, she tried to do her best to assume an unbothered expression and smile brightly (but not too creepily) at him.

Timmy was at her side, immediately, a red solo cup in his right hand and his other gently and softly moved around her waist and she couldn’t help but blush.

-… you are finally here! – she whimpered, meanwhile she moved her eyes to the ground -… I thought you would be missing the chance to see a lot of girls in panties! -.

He giggled at her bad attempt to break the ice, before he leaned closer into her ear.

-I promised you to be here, didn’t I? – a thrill of adrenaline moved down her spine and she was unable to stop herself from blushing -… and I had to ask you something…-.

Now she was going to melt in his arm, her heart beating thunderously in her chest, meanwhile she tried to calm her whole body from shaking, immediately raising her head to meet her eyes…

She could already picture it: he would confess he had had a crush on her for the longest time and she would say that she felt the same, he then would tangle gently an hand between her hair and push her closer, till their lips touched and fireworks started…

…but her idyllic vision was stopped by his question:

-Is Erika single? – he looked at her with a face that told her he wasn’t joking in the slightest -… I have honestly had a bit of a crush…-.

She honestly tried her best not to react in the slightest, but she immediately felt so so humiliated and his touch was unbearable.

She wasn’t having the heartbreak of her life, but it was the eternal confirmation that she wasn’t… well what people looked for…

She broke away from him, immediately hearing him call her back, but it didn’t seem to last long because she saw him with the corner of her eyes move towards Erika and all she was able of doing was push herself away from the party set in a college brotherhood.

She was in search of the bathroom (third door on the left, they had told her) but a bit shocked by the situation, she took the wrong turn and ended up entering in the second door, finding a guy sitting on his bed, papers all scattered around, headphones in his ear.

He immediately unplugged them from himself, seeing her, eyeing her curiously behind a pair of reading glasses, meanwhile he passed a hand around his messy hair.

She honestly couldn’t believe she had just seen the cutest guy ever.

(And she was halfway through crying her heart out for Timothy…)

-Hey gorgeous! – he called out to her -… are you in or are you out? –.

And he motioned to the door she was keeping halfway open, showing her the little notebook from which he was reading, clearly studying, during a party.

She knew the torture.

-Sorry… I was…- and then it got her: he had just called her gorgeous -… did you just call me “gorgeous”? -.

She should have just closed the door after she had exited the room, leaving him alone and leaving some dignity to herself, since she honestly didn’t want to bother him, seeing his hazed glaze on the notebook.

-… yeah…- he mumbled, and she was sure that he had thought she was a weirdo -… you are probably the prettiest girl at the party-.

Was she having hearing trouble?

-You are not at the party so… I don’t think you can judge that well- she mumbled, still standing on the threshold getting a little smirk from the boy, meanwhile she sniffed slightly, trying to shush her emotions.

-… I literally know each girl at every part in here, except you- he mumbled, looking at her victoriously.

-So, I am gorgeous to you, only because I am new- she replied pointedly, making him roll his eyes and throw his notebook on his bed, which bounced slightly.

-Is it so bad to just take a compliment? – he mumbled, faking annoyance, meanwhile he made some space for her to sit down -… because I swear it wasn’t intended with any ill-willed thoughts-.

She laughed a bit, mostly because the boy wiggled his eyebrows jokingly.

Still tears shone in her eyes and she couldn’t help but let a few fell on her cheeks.

-… maybe it’s better for me to leave…- she mumbled, cleaning her hand over the lacey fabric of her body suit -… you need to study...-.

-I am honestly thinking it’s stupid for me to continue studying- he admitted, throwing his hands up in the air, getting another giggle from her -… I am not even sure that I can pass this exam… “do marine biology, you won’t have to study anything!” -.

She knew it was a bad idea to spend her time with a frat boy, half naked, but honestly she didn’t feel even in the slightest in danger with this boy with the prettiest eyes and the softest smile, clearly trying to comfort her and slowly, she moved towards the end of the bed, clearing a little space of papers, in order to sit down.

-I am sure you will do great- she tried to smile slightly to convey a sense of assurance, getting a slight thankful expression from the boy.

-That’s why I said that you are gorgeous…- he insisted again -… you have the prettiest smile I have ever seen-.

Now she blushed trying to hide her face in her hands, before trying to move his focus away from that matter, although she was thankful for his soft smile and honest compliments.

-… what about you stop with giving me compliments? And start with giving me your name? – she mumbled and got a laugh from him.

-Oh yeah… probably sounded like a creep…- he scratched the back of his head, nervous -… I am Jim, Jim Mason, studying marine biology and surfing in my spare time-.

And she could see it, since he had a lot of photos of himself and another girl on surfboard with a beautiful background.

-(Y/N) (L/N), studying (Y/S) and when I am not doing that, I like intruding into guys’ room to cry in peace- she joked, pointing out her tears, and Jim passed her a roll of hygienic paper to dry her tears getting an immediate big laugh from her.

“You are in a college brotherhood you can’t expect us to have silk tissues…?” he joked and from then on it was on: a battle of brotherhood jokes and legends, with her actually being the strongest disbeliever meanwhile he gingerly made fun of her and the brotherhood system.

In the end they were both laid down next to each other on the bed, she had told him about Timothy, getting a very annoyed laugh after a huff, meanwhile he ranted about how stupid college guys were.

“You are a college guy” she had quickly replied, getting a little smirk from him.

“… and a frat boy” he had added, meanwhile she just rolled her eyes “It couldn’t get much worse”.

They started laughing again and he gently brushed the hair that had fallen over her face, meanwhile she suddenly found face to face with the prettiest eyes she had ever seen, the ocean in it, shining brightly although she wasn’t anywhere near it.

It brought her to imagine what a date with him would be like.

But guys like Jim didn’t ask for her number: she was honestly surprised he was taking his time to comfort her, without trying anything, although he had been flirty in each of his affirmations, complimenting her.

But he had been a gentleman, nonetheless.

He had charmed her and made her immediately forget about Timothy and that awful night, coaxing her out of the place she had put herself in: maybe she was perfect, for somebody…

… or at least “gorgeous”.

She knew it that she didn’t need a man validation to feel gorgeous but at the same time… it helped… to feel that way, to know that there was someone who saw that in her…

… it made things easier…

So as soon as she saw him lean closer she completed the little gap between them, a bit ashamed of the velocity with which everything had wrapped itself, when she knew just that his name was Jim, he would be failing his marine biology test and he thought she was gorgeous.

She was definitely blushing like a schoolgirl, meanwhile he gently brought and hand to tangle in her hair, softly, another gently moving onto her neck to caress it, meanwhile she felt the slight pressure become stronger till a fresh feeling coated her lips and she awoke form her embarrassed trance just to discover it was his tongue, asking for permission.

And she didn’t know what to do, but to open her mouth to him seemed decadently natural.

He softly caressed her, comforting her and she couldn’t help but melt in the gentleness of the kiss, meanwhile his tongue explored her mouth and although she would have found that description disgusting…

…the way he swirled his tongue with expertise… she couldn’t help but moan in the kiss.

And he separated himself from her, softly, looking at her shiny eyes: she could see herself smile under the stars near the ocean, a future that might not be so impossible, because of the beautiful smile linked to his eyes.

-Well… I mean… I might not have gotten much study, but I kissed the prettiest girl of the party-.

-Flattery won’t get you anywhere, with me- she joked, linking and brushing their noses together, meanwhile he kept caressing her hair, passing them through his fingers softly, attentive to the knots.

-I already got a kiss, and I am sure that with the right amount of marine fauna knowledge I could also convince you to give me your number- although he seemed all cocky she couldn’t help but identify a tone of shyness in his voice, which clearly spoke greatly about his true feelings.

-Pass the exam and I might consider it- she mumbled, meanwhile she reached out for her discarded robe, covering her bodysuit, but giving Jim a last cheeky look which he took thankfully, almost reverently, as if she was his favorite goddess.

At that same time, a knock on the door was hear and a male voice called out drunkenly to know if the bathroom was occupied, to which Jim replied dramatically:

-I am trying to get a very pretty girl’s number, do not come in! – she giggled, before moving to grab his phone quickly, typing her number quickly, before giving it back to him.

-Call me just if you pass the exam…- she warned him, before kissing gently his check, making sure that her lipstick smudged a bit on his cheek, hearing something about him “never ever washing that cheek again”, before grabbing back the phone, winking at her.

He then gentlemanly offered to accompany her outside, where she immediately met Erika.

She was pretty sure that now that he had seen Erika, Jim would have realized that maybe he had done the wrong choice, but he just linked their hands together, which didn’t pass unnoticed by her roommate.

She smirked and suggested they stayed a bit longer, but she honestly felt like she had taken already too much of Jim’s time, considering that he had an exam (they had ever tried to look over her notes, but the boy’s handwriting was just the messiest).

This time it was him who kissed her cheek, before whispering huskily in her ear “goodnight, beautiful”.

And the blush on her cheeks didn’t lessen in the slightest, on their way to their dorms and Erika made fun of it.

But, at least, the following day she had a date with the prettiest of the frat boys.

---

Hello, lovelies!

As always... if you have liked this please: heart it, reblog it and let me know with an ask or anything else if you liked it or not (gently, thank you very much) so I can write and do better for the next fics!

(Also I don’t know if I will be able to upload a fic next week, because I will be on a trip, so... but just so you know, I will then be back to my usual posting, with amazing ideas!)

And here are some people who wanted to be tagged into this! (Also if you want to be added to my tag list just let me know, with a DM or an ask!).

@emmyrosee @blakewaterxx @1-800-bitchcraft  @rocketgirl2410  @liliesandforgetmenots @dyns33 @loveableasshole @kleineshaschen @lovelylangdonx @ahsx97 @hexqueensupreme @ napping-is-my-favorite @vampirefairyestelle @ miss-diamonds @lexamarie93 @kelncurls @ annabisgroovy @ crispygiantsaladgarden @ iamhereforthefanfic @lucy245 @langdonsoutpost @chloewinchester13 @ thecravetobethin @thesmutisstrongwiththisone @ladynuwanda @mega-combusken

[takivvatanga]

review.

It’s ok to ask for help!

says the poster on the wall, in a room like so many others. Assire is no longer intimidated by rooms like this one. Two chairs, sometimes three. A table. The carpet patterned, a little bit threadbare. Water cooler in the corner. Sometimes there’s even plastic cups. Today, there’s none. It doesn’t matter. She’s not thirsty. A box of tissues on the table, right in the centre. In case you need to cry. Assire has set herself the challenge to never, never cry in one of these rooms, in front of one of the endless strings of people whose names she never remembers, but who are always so glad to meet her. Why do people say that, she wonders. Why say that when everyone knows that this is work, that she is work,nothing more than a name and a number written on a government form, an entry in a database, a bunch of papers in a file.  

“Assire? Are you listening to me?”

The teenager looks up, startled. There are dark circles under her eyes. Assire nods briefly, folds her hands in her lap.

“You look very tired.”

“I’m fine.” 

She tries to fake a smile, fails miserably. She’s never been good at pretending.

“I’m just… it’s hard. To be alone.”

It is, in fact, the hardest thing she has ever done.

Assire is not used to being alone. Back in the Community, there were always others. Her sisters, her parents, the other families. She remembers having meals at the big hall, the children at their own table, separated from the adults. She remembers the noise, the cramped space, sitting shoulder to shoulder between Jovanna and Cecilia, with Eviva curled up on her lap, a curly-haired toddler with chubby cheeks and sauce stains on her shirt. She remembers standing up, way up on the stage, holding her sisters’ hands while their voices soared, remembers the people below growing misty-eyed, their hands raised towards the skies. Like angels, people used to say. Those sisters sing like angels.

There’s a pub across from the boarding house where she now stays. They have concerts sometimes. In the summer, they open all the windows, the music drifting across the road and into her room. They are popular songs that people in the pub sing along with, rowdy and out of key, more shouting than singing. Assire doesn’t know the words, doesn’t recognise the melodies. Sometimes she tries to hum a harmony but she can never find the right key.

The woman’s name is Penny. At least Assire thinks so. Or is it Jenny? She has short blonde hair and reading glasses on a colourful lanyard. Her nails are painted red, perfectly shaped, not too long, not too short. Assire is ashamed of her own hands, dry and cracked, nails bitten almost to the quick. Penny’s (Jenny’s?) hands move quickly, clicking the pen, writing something down on an official looking form.

Assire can just make out the words Unsupported Youth - REVIEW printed along the top.

“Young people like you often feel lonely. You’re dealing with a lot, Assire. I want you to know that you don’t have to do it all on your own.”

It’s ok to ask for help!

But I do. I don’t have anyone else.

She nods again, smoothing out the folds in her sweatshirt. It’s too big for her, the colours are dull, washed out. The hem is starting to fray. She’s going to need to apply for a clothing allowance soon.

“Tell me about school.”

Assire’s eyes light up at the word, even though her body language remains guarded. She loves school and at the same time she loathes it. It is another world, full of discoveries, of surprises, but it’s not without danger. It is here that the feeling of not belonging, of being somehow displaced in a world that she can never quite make sense of is the most acute.

“It’s fine.”

“Your grades are very good.”

“I just like learning things.”

It is an understatement. Every day there is something new, another layer of lies that she used to believe peeled back. The earth is round, and it wasn’t created in seven days. Assire marvels at history, at geography, at biology. Literature made her feel guilty, at first. She never thought that such books, dealing with such matters could exist and that people should not only read them but discuss them so openly. Of course, she never joins the discussion, for fear of sounding stupid, of going red in the face, of stumbling over her words, of giving away the fact that she is, for lack of a better way of phrasing it, not from this world.

But it isn’t at literature that Assire excels – it’s mathematics. “Maths will likely be a struggle for you”, she was told when she started. “Given that you’ve always been a homeschooler. On such a restricted curriculum, too. You have a lot of material to catch up on.” In the end, she did much more than just catch up. She can’t explain how exactly it happened, it is as if she is being strung along on an invisible thread that runs between the numbers, the operations, a delicate web that Assire delights in untangling. Numbers don’t care where you came from, what you know of society, of people, of human nature. Numbers are absolute, perfect, logical. Numbers are black and white. Assire is good at black and white. She’s always been taught to think in absolutes.

“I’m trying for a scholarship. For university.”

As soon as she has said it, she feels stupid. The teenager looks up, furtive, half expecting Penny (Jenny?) to laugh at her. But she only smiles before writing something else down on her form.

“That’s fantastic, Assire. A really, really good idea. What do you want to study? Have you thought about that?”

Assire shrugs, feels her cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.  

“I really like… I don’t know. IT. I’ve been teaching myself a few things, just in the library.” ”What kind of things?”

Assire inhales sharply, her eyes growing wide. Is she in trouble? Should she have said that? Is this something bad, something wrong, something forbidden? She shifts in her seat, suddenly on edge.

“Just a few things nothing bad I swear! Just… a bit of C, Basic, Java. Languages. Honestly I’m not doing anything wrong I’m just-“

“Assire. It’s fine. I’m glad you’re doing something productive in your spare time. Something you enjoy.”

Penny (Jenny?) smiles a reassuring smile, reaches out to touch Assire’s arm with a reassuring gesture but thinks better of it when she sees the way the girl’s face closes, the way her body seems to fold in on itself as she flinches away from the touch.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re safe, alright?”

“I’m okay.” Assire repeats. “I’m okay.”

“I don’t really know much about computers”, Penny (Jenny?) shrugs, twirling her pen between her fingers. An attempt to lift the mood. “It’s all a bit too complicated for me. Nothing wrong with pen and paper.”

“I think technology is important. Like, really important. For everyone.” Assire covers her mouth with her hand as soon as she says it. “Sorry. I… That was rude of me.”

“Not rude in the slightest. I think it’s really important that you speak your mind. You know. Have an opinion, and not be afraid to express it.”

It’s Assire’s turn to shrug. She wants to know why this is important. It’s not like she talks to anyone anyway. Beyond the people she meets in rooms just like these, of course.

“How are you getting on with, you know. Making friends. What we talked about last time.”

Of course. Of course it had to come down to this. Making friends. All Assire knows is that making friends is most definitely not her forte. She never knows what to say, how to behave, who to be. She is endlessly awkward, her mind full of thoughts that she doesn’t dare voice, ideas that she doesn’t dare share.  

“Good. Yeah, really good.”

Penny (Jenny?) gives her a look, over the rim of her glasses, sharp and more than just a little annoyed. She’s been working with young people for a long time and knows exactly when she is being lied to.

Better than you have tried, sweetheart.

“Don’t lie, Assire. Please. You’re better than that. Listen, you’re not in trouble. This… this talk isn’t about getting you in trouble. I’m not sitting here expecting you to answer my questions a certain way. All I want to know is how you’re getting on. Honestly. So I can find a way to support you. Do you know how many kids we get trying to get onto Unsupported Youth every month? A hell of a lot. Do you know how many can maintain it? Bugger all. Because it’s a lot to ask of a teenager, all these rules and all these appointments, keeping a roof over their head, keeping up with schoolwork, budgeting… I mean, you know how it is. And most kids, well, they don’t have to learn how to do all of these things first. They’re not trying to understand what is basically another world on top of everything else.”

“I’m not lying I’m just… I’m just…” This is a losing battle, and Assire knows it.

“I’m… I just need some time. I want to focus on school. And work. Other people… it’s too much.”

I’m too different.

“Can I… can I please go now? I got a paper due that I need to finish, and I got work tonight.”

“Sure. Would you like a ride home?”

”No. No thank you. I’ll walk.”

“Alright.”

Assire, visibly relieved, pulls on her jacket, picks up her backpack. The weight of the books stashed inside is solid, comforting. Something real, something to ground her. The girl takes care to push her chair close to the table, brushes a strand of greasy curls off her face as she makes her way to the door. She stops with her hand on the handle, casts a quick glance back over her shoulder.

“... Penny?”

“It’s Jenny. But never mind that, I been called much worse I can assure you. What is it?”

This time, Assire’s smile is genuine. It’s small, timid, tightlipped, awkward as anything, but it is there and it is real. 

“Thank you.”