#the other ap physics class was a pretty even split

[pussyandpetrichor]

i did #girlmath in my #girlAPphysics class (17 out of 23 students were girls) and got a #girl5

#the other ap physics class was a pretty even split #but this was the one full of atudents that were also taking ap calc and honors chem (though we all signed up for the ap chem test and all #but one of us got college credit for our scores)

[writingpaperghost]

For one of my classes the other day, we were doing this exercise where we were tasked with creating either a version of the human race where they've always been in the sky, or always been underground. The idea was that they would never come into contact with the ground and water/above ground. And we were split into four groups to do this.

Now apart of this assignment was determining, as a group, what you considered the aspects that made humans "human", which would obviously need to be kept in the final design of your alternate evolution humans. My group was tasked with making an underground human, and we presented our creation third. We made this sort of weird worm with four arms thing. The group that went first also made an underground human, and their's was the one that most visually resembled a human. Pretty much a slightly odd shaped ape with a tail, sort of deal. Because they defined human mainly on a physical level (mostly, I think, it was one particular member, who I will call E).

The next group had a sky human, it resembled more bird than human, really, and the important part, for this story, is that in the name, they had the "homo" prefix. Then my group came. We open our little presentation with the information that we chose to base what made something human more by it's social and non-physical aspects (our reasoning boiled down to the age old sci-fi take of "if a robot gained sentience and acted the same as a human, then it is human"). Once we're done showing off our presentation, our classmates get a chance for comment and questions. This is where E comes in. E's question was "what makes this a human?". Which, we'd already established our criteria, so I can only assume they weren't paying attention. But, beyond that, they kept trying to argue that this wasn't human, as it didn't at all physically resemble one, and the last group at least put it in the name (never mind that the name has jack shit to do with whether or not it's human. By that definition, I could name a house plant "Homo-sapian" and it would be human. By that definition, any other creature of the "homo" genus was human, just the same as you or me).

I guess there's not exactly a real... conclusion to this story, not of much interest. E's entitled to the belief that the scientific definition of human is the only one that matters (though I would love to learn what they think about the story of media that clearly tries to present otherwise). I don't agree with them, but that shouldn't surprise anyone given my propensity for jerking the physical humanity out from under characters in my fics.

As one of my group mates put it, the question we're really asking is "Would you still love me is I was a worm?"

And the answer is, if all the social and mental things stayed the same, yes. We'd all love each other, even if we were worms.

#talking paper ghost #this is one hell of a post #I don't really know what I was going for #or if I was going for anything at all #would you still love me if I was a worm? #storytime with paper

[dailycharacteroption]

Class Feature Friday: Angelic Bloodline (Pathfinder 2nd Edition Sorcerer Bloodline)

 We’re returning to the 2E version of sorcerer bloodlines today, and today’s subject is an interesting one, as today’s subject does have a First Edition equivalent: the Celestial Bloodline, but it also kinda doesn’t at the same time.

You see, back in the long-ago yesteryear of 2008, the outsider-influenced bloodlines for sorcerers included demonic, diabolic, and celestial. Two of the major fiendish groups got their own specific bloodlines and flavorful powers to boot, but the celestial bloodline was used as a blanket for all the goodly outsider types. Admittedly this was back in the times before they necessarily knew what they were going to do with other fiends or even the specific celestial types, but the trend stuck, and while the celestial bloodline had to juggle the entirety of the sorcerers associated with the upper planes, almost every major fiend type, and one monitor type (two if we count the impossible bloodline as inevitables) got their own specific bloodlines.

Now, admittedly, aside from the name change to angelic, not much has changed so far, but this does open the door to maybe seeing other divine bloodlines associated with other specific celestial types, though that may take a while since the current Paizo publishing plan with 2E is focusing on hardbacks with some scraps of material in the backs of APs, with no other softcovers in sight.

In any case, much like the celestial bloodline of old, the angelic bloodline implies that the individual’s sorcerous spark came from a place of goodly divinity or providence. They might be a literal descendant of a mortal ancestor and an angel, sporting aasimar and half-celestial ancestors or siblings, and might even be an aasimar themselves (though if you really wanna throw things for a loop, try making them a tiefling instead!). Alternatively, they or their family might have been touched by the aftereffects of prolonged contact with a celestial or the energies of the upper planes.

Physically, these sorcerers might manifest traits that they might see in an aasimar, ranging from small wings, feathers, halos, shiny hair, to the weird angelic stuff like extra eyes in strange places (but in a beautiful and terrible way, rather than being monstrous), burning auras, multiple heads of different species, and so on. Either way, these beings are certainly predisposed towards good in a similar way that an aasimar might be, but also like aasimar, they are fully capable of falling, and when they fall, they fall hard.

 Like most outsider-themed bloodlines, these mystics cannel the power of divine magic, giving them plenty of healing and support options. However, their spellcasting also includes plenty of attack spells as they draw upon, such as those that project blades of force, either as stand-alone weapons or barriers, blast foes with divine light, fire or spiritual wrath, invoke the divine word of their beliefs, wrap themselves in divine protection, and gain uncanny awareness of the future.

The focus spells of the bloodline include invoking a halo that boosts nearby healing, the ability to grow a set of flight-viable wings, and mark foes for punishment to make them easier to strike down.

Their blood magic also works with pretty much all of their spells too, surrounding them in an aura of protection.

There are also plenty of sorcerer feats that suit the angelic bloodline beyond the basic ones that further empower the bloodline. These included Blessed Blood, Counterspell, Dangerous Sorcery, Reach Spell, Widen Spell, Entreat with Forbears, Divine Evolution, Split Shot, Diverting Vortex, Energetic Resonance, Steady Spellcasting, Bloodline Resistance, Soulsight, Signature Spell Expansion, Greater Spiritual Evolution, Reflect Spell, Spell Shroud, Greater Vital Evolution, Bloodline Conduit, Bloodline Mutation, Bloodline Perfection, Ruby Ressurection, and Tenacious Blood Magic.

With their focus on healing, support, and divine blasting, this bloodline certainly rewards a classic mixed build with a little bit of everything, though you’ll probably want to pick spells that support and protect allies as a mainstay.

 Much like the celestial bloodline of yesteryear, these sorcerers can be incredible forces of good, but of course, their actual behavior is still up to the player, especially since they most likely had no say in inheriting this power. If you want to be a sorcerous servant of the goodly powers or a black sheep, or perhaps merely living their lives independent of the struggle between good and evil, you have that option.

  Angelic magic is actually very common among kitsune, which has cemented their reputation that many of their kind are celestial emissaries, which might even be true in some cases. Rumor has it that a wise council of such divinely blessed kitsune quietly safeguard the land from the shadows, always vigilant for evil.

 Deep underground, a xulgath warband is mustering, preparing to strike at the surface world. Seeing this in a vision, the sorceress Niavi contacts the party, asking for their aid in repelling the invaders. Canny adventurers will note that she seems to be hiding something, however.

 Not every mortal born with celestial blood is raised on the material plane, and such was the case for young Haavati, who has been trained from a young age to be a bastion for good. Now, the time has come for them to travel to the material plane for the first time, and even with all their training, they are still very nervous.

#pathfinder 2nd edition #sorcerer #bloodline #angelic #kitsune #xulgath #Core Rule Book

[minthara]

48, Ryan/Morinth. You know you wanna.

48. dancing with each other - oh god yes i do wanna

He’s a bad dancer, he’s heard it all his life.

His earliest attempt had probably been at his prom, an awkward affair set up on Arcturus Station by the Alliance for all the Spacer kids with parents currently serving for them. Most of the kids there he had only known from vid screens during their online classes, and even then there were barely fifty in attendance all in all, teachers included. He got drunk on a disgusting swill another student had smuggled in and then he’d danced with the prettiest girl he could find, someone from his AP physics course - he thinks he might have even done some group project with her early in the year.

He doesn’t remember her name, but he remembers stepping on her feet, and the way she had moaned his name, locked away in a room at the afterparty.

Funny to think he’d use that underdeveloped skill in his career down the line.

Samara hadn’t seemed impressed when he’d try to talk himself out of being the bait, citing his two left feet and that he might just as likely make Morinth run away instead of being drawn to him. But he’s standing here, in pants way too tight and a shirt that chafes against his nipples when he moves, and he knows she’s lurking in the shadows, watching him.

He finishes his drink, sets the bottle down (he makes sure to only drink out of sealed bottles, ever since the incident) and makes his way into the masses on the dance floor, batarians, turians and asari rubbing against each other, and he, the lonely human. The glances he gets seem split between interest and repulsion at his presence, and Ryan chooses to stare up at the ceiling instead of staring into the crowd, keeping his focus on an imaginary point far away as he tries to move as gracefully as he can to the intense beat of the music.

It doesn’t take long before he feels someone rubbing up against it, glad to see it’s an asari, though not the one he’s looking for. She’s pretty, her skin a pale blue and with intense face markings, further accentuated by elaborate makeup to make them pop more. She smiles at him before turning around, pressing her back against his front and swaying her hips to the music. He wraps an arm around her waist, sure Morinth won’t mind the competition as the asari grinds her ass against him, clearly well versed in human physiology already.

Ryan licks over his lips as he lets his hand roam over her front, stroking over latex clothing and then slightly tougher skin than his own, his other hand resting on her hip to hold her close. Over her shoulder, he can look into the crowd as his target approaches.

The crowd seems to part for Morinth without any real doing on her part, as if her mere presence bears such significance that they willingly step aside. She’s tall, and beautiful, looks so much like her mother but there is something so different about her.

Hunger, he realises. Mixed with power, self-confidence, and an innate drive to hunt.

Their eyes connect in the crowd of people, but he’s content to let her make the first move, interested to see how she’ll deal with the asari grinding up against him. Morinth starts dancing a little ways off from them, her body flowing like water to the dark and rhythmic pulses drowning out all other noises in the club. She’s dressed head to toe in black, so unlike all the other asari he’s seen, who seem to prefer pops of colour and relied on showing skin to draw looks on them.

The one in his arms turns around suddenly, almost knocking him off balance, her face dangerously close to his, and he dodges a kiss, landing on his cheek instead of its intended target.

“Sorry,” he says, as she looks up at him questioningly. “I’ve got my eyes on someone else.” Damn waiting for Morinth, he wants to get his over with and get off the dance floor.

The asari’s face falls and she rolls her eyes at him before dancing off, already scanning over the crowd to search for a new partner. It leaves an opening for Morinth, but when he turns to where she had stood just moments before he can’t find her face amidst all the others. Shit, he thinks, worrying that she had scuffled off the moment the other asari had made her move, but then someone bumps into his shoulder.

It’s her, looking up at him almost innocently. “Looking for someone?” she says over the music as she begins dancing next to him, her arm rubbing against his. “Did your friend run away?”

“I’m here alone,” he replies, shaking his head as if he doesn’t know what she is talking about.

She raises her chin, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Hook, line, and sinker.

“My name is Morinth. I’ve been watching you.”

She steps in front of him, their bodies bumping against each other as he tries to keep up with the music. If she notices his struggles she mercifully doesn’t dwell on it, instead wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling them even closer together as she sways her hips from side to side. Her nose grazes his chin, and he places his hands on her waist, stroking down to her hip and then to her ass, letting his fingers linger for a moment before stroking them up her back. He can feel her fingers feeling for his biotic implant, which seems to please her - he would make a suitable prey.

“You’re the most interesting person in this place.” He doesn’t doubt her sincerity for a second. “I’ve got a booth over there in the shadows. Why don’t you come sit with me?”

He licks his lips and looks down at her, then nods, letting her drag him off into the dark corner of the club.

At least his job didn’t get boring.

#mass effect #mass effect fic #petra.fic #morinth #commander shepard #shepard x morinth #morinth x shepard #ofc they dont have a ship name why would they. making one up rn. shmorinth. #userharps #oc: ryan shepard #im gonna post this on ao3 for the serotonin of 5 clicks #otp: ryan x morinth

[muwur]

idk if this counts as an emergency or comfort request but ive been havin a REAL bad body image week nsnnnsnnnsnn could i maybe request headcanons for either oikawa or kuroo (u can pick if u wanna) with an s/o who is rlly self conscious about being chubby/has a really hard time with food and mayb feels like worthless because theyre not the ideal body type? idk sorry if thats dumb aaaah thank u sm if u choose to do this

self-love

♡ scenarios ♡ for oikawa and kuroo

❧ gn reader

✎ 3.7k words

a/n: hey hun, im sorry to hear you’ve been having a rough time lately. this kind of request actually rlly hits close to home, and if u ever need anything, ur mor than welcome to reach out to me :) i can also help look for resources for help, anything really. this goes for all y’all! i dont want none y’all to feel alone with anything ur going thru cuz we’re in this together! and no need to thank me, the pleasure is mine luv 🥰💕 nothing about this is dumb, ur feelings are valid. i hope this will bring you n many others some comfort. also,, FUCK BODY STANDARDS MAKIN US BELIEVE THERE’S AN IDEAL TYPE BC THERE IS NONE N Y’ALL R BEAUTIFUL N IF U DUN THINK SO I WILL COME OVER DER,,, ok im done 🥰🥰 (more notes at the bottom of this, i talk a lot n think its important, didnt wanna add it up here bc it was too long lolol) tw: mentions of bad body and implies disordered eating behaviors

 oikawa

♡ Oikawa was pretty keen, so when he observed a gradual shift in your behavior, he definitely took notice

♡ One day when you showed up to lunchtime empty-handed and sat with your two friends, casually chatting, Oikawa and Iwaizumi gave you a questioning look

♡ “Where’s your lunch, y/n?” Oikawa asked

♡ “Oh, I, uh, ate it already, actually.”

♡ Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow and offered you some of his, but you declined, thanking him and stating you were already full

♡ Later that day in class, however, Oikawa couldn’t help but notice the absence of your boxed lunch container in your unzipped backpack

♡ The next day, you came empty-handed again, blaming it on your forgetfulness during your rush to get to school

♡ However, it became a normal occurrence over time, and while you seemed fine, uneasiness began to prick inside Oikawa’s stomach

♡ Those smiles you wore appeared fragile, and the laughter that rumbled from your throat felt restrained

♡ You seemed more tired and unfocused than usual

♡ Preoccupied, withdrawn, and distant

♡ He could sense something was bothering you, no matter how much you may (or may not) have tried to hide it

♡ On his way to school one morning, he made sure to stop by a convenience store to pick one of your favorite snacks, thinking it was a simple gesture to brighten up the somber aura he’s been detecting from you

♡ “I have a surprise for you, y/n~” Oikawa announced with excitement, rummaging through his bag to pull out the snack and show it to you. “Look, it’s your favorite!”

♡ You could only offer him an uneasy smile, “Oh, you shouldn’t have...” You really shouldn’t have...

♡ When he noticed the tension in your body and expression, a frown appeared on his lips

♡ “Y/n? Is something wrong?” He reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder but you swiftly flinched away

♡ ”I’m fine..!”

♡ Surprised at your sudden movement and outburst, you both felt a split second of apprehension crackle in the air before you started to gather your items in a rush

♡ Sighing, you repeated, “I’m fine.”

♡ He wasn’t sure whether you were speaking to him or yourself

♡ “Thanks for the snack, but I’ll pass. Have it for me. You need it more, anyways; you have volleyball practice. I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa,” you offered him a solemn smile and left before he could even reply

♡ Some time had passed before he could finally get you to open up to him

♡ And when you did, it crushed his heart to see how much your insecurities broke you

♡ It hurt to hear how low you thought about yourself; how you couldn’t see the beauty in your being; how you deemed food, your body, and yourself as your worst enemies

♡ Thus bringing you to the conclusion that maybe you’d be happy and like yourself if you could just give up that midday snack or your school lunch

♡ Even raincheck a cafe date you were supposed to have together

♡ Maybe also skip dinner, sometimes breakfast the next morning as well

♡ You could manage on just water

♡ Little sacrifices to shed some weight, feel better, and get closer to your ideal body goals

♡ You admitted, however, to questioning whether any of it was worth it

♡ The constant states of hunger, pain, and defeat you lived in

♡ Only to feel as though you were getting nowhere

♡ Oikawa was well aware of today’s beauty standards. I mean, he himself was often praised for his natural charm and beauty

♡ And you felt you could never reach that ideal

♡ “Oikawa, you’re too good for me.”

♡ His eyebrows knitted in concern as he lifted his right hand to caress your cheek softly. “And why do you say that?”

♡ Tears threatened to prick at your eyes. All you could was stare at the ground in silent shame

♡ When you still said nothing, he leaned in closer, his brown gaze softly pleading

♡ “Y/n, look at me.”

♡ When your eyes flickered up to meet his own, Oikawa asked, “You know I love you, right?”

♡ His question was met with a meek, “Yes.”

♡ From your clouded glaze, he could tell that you had a hard time believing in your own response

♡  “Do you know why?”

♡ But before you could respond, he was already answering his own question

♡ “Well...” he began, glancing up in thought and wearing a small smile

♡ “Something about you makes me want to be by your side. I love to see your smiles and hear your laughter, but I always want to be there to hold you when you’re crying and in pain.”

♡ “You’re supportive. You understand what I need, and I don’t always have to explain myself to you. You take your time with me and make me feel like I can be myself. Not many people have stuck around to actually get to know me. Because of that, you’ve never failed to make my day a little better with just your presence.”

♡ “You’re strong and caring. I can rely on you to have my back, and I hope I provide that same comfort to you as well.”

♡ “I love being able to lazy around with you or go on adventures and discover something new. It’s comfortable and exciting at the same time.”

♡ “Your hands feel like they were made to hold mine.”

♡ He reached down to squeeze your hand gently

♡ “Kissing you makes me forget about everything else on my mind. I can just live in the present with you.”

♡ He moved close and gave you a peck above your eyebrow

♡ “You make me want to work hard and be a better person. You help motivate me to try my best, and you never give up on me. Why would I ever give up on you?”

♡  “I learn something new with you everyday. Like right now, I realize that I’ve never met someone who could so easily make my heart race as they could make my heart break.”

♡ “When I look at you, all I can think about is how beautiful you are and how lucky I am to have you in my life as a partner and one of my best friends. Nobody else could fill the gaps within me the same way you do.”

♡ Leaning over to brush his lips against your forehead, he muttered, “I’m going to love every part of you, inside and out. You’re already my ideal. I couldn’t ask for anything more. I could go on about every detail on why I feel so strongly for you, but I’m here to show you everything there is to appreciate about yourself because you’re worth every ounce of care and effort. And if you can’t see it in yourself right now, I’ll love you more than enough for the both of us until you learn to love yourself. I’m here to help.”

♡ And after crying out your tears into his shoulder as he held you close and rubbed your back, you both went to his house to relax and have some dinner

♡ He was patient with you, taking into account how having a meal may have made you feel anxious

♡ It was something small and simple that you two agreed to prepare and share, after some tender coaxing from Oikawa

♡ He later made a list in his journal about tips to keep in mind:

♡ ‘Check up on y/n often to see how they’re feeling’

♡ ‘Encourage them to eat meals/snacks. Don’t be too pushy, but be patient. Try to have eat with them when you can!’

♡ ‘Remind them they don’t have to earn the right to eat, and that their body doesn’t define their worth‘

♡ ‘Look into some mindfulness techniques!’

♡ ‘Don’t overvalue physical appearance. Also focus on all the other redeeming qualities y/n has! But of course I’m always gonna tell them they look cutee--’

♡ True to his word, he remained understanding

♡ He’s there to listen to you, or to sit with you in comforting silence

♡ During lunch he would share his food with you, reassuring you that it wasn’t something you had to avoid

♡ Some days he succeeds in encouraging you to share a milk bun or your favorite snack with him

♡ And on days you really didn’t feel like it, he never forces anything onto you and instead made sure you at least hydrated

♡ Oikawa spends some time doing research and gathering tips on how to help you

♡ Always reminds you of your worth and how you bring out the best in him

♡ He’ll never hold it against you if you ever become hostile, irritated, or in denial. He knows you’re hurting and doesn’t take it personally

♡ Sends you cute memes with all those emoji hearts

♡ Also some food puns (Oikawa: “I’m soy into you. Please brie mine. We are mint to be. I ap-peach-iate you. You got a pizza my heart. Olive you--” ; You: *puts a hand over his mouth* ; Oikawa: 🥺 ; You: “...olive you, too”)

♡ Always ready to give up what he’s doing to make sure you’re okay

♡ Will stay up with you late at night to talk on the phone

♡ Reminds you you’re beautiful at least 8 times a day

♡ If y’all ever go shopping and you try things on in the fitting room,, Oikawa would be your #1 hype man

♡ One time you tried something on, and you were almost too ashamed to step out and show him

♡ But when you did, you were met with his surprise and excitement

♡ “dfghjklkuyfuh” was all you could process from his incoherent speech before he insisted on treating you by purchasing it for you (Oikawa: “Can you wear this for me, like, everyday?” ; You: *weird look* “Why are you like this??” you love it tho--)

♡ Gushes internally over how cute you are during your movie + cuddle sessions, mostly pays attention to you rather than the movie

♡ Mid-movie be like:

♡ Oikawa: “So, uh, what’s happening again?

♡ You: -.- “You might as well google the whole synopsis instead of watching it”

♡ Oikawa: “...it’s not my fault you’re distracting, babe”

♡ Always politely excuses himself from his fangirls to get to you. Also reassures you he much prefers to be with you than anyone else and that you’re the best catch ;)) (You: “Oikawa, no” ; Oikawa: “y/n, yes”)

♡ Suggested doing some meditation together once

♡ You listened to a recording and you sat side by side on a mat, but Oikawa thought the person’s voice sounded funny so he had a hard time focusing

♡ But it ended with y’all laughing and making jokes as he lay his lead on your lap and you played with his hair

♡ Y’all get better at it tho

♡ Cooking dates! To try to show you that food isn’t an enemy and can bring people together :)

♡ Puts music on so y’all can jam together (Oikawa: “Oh my gosh, y/n, this is my favorite song, you’re not even rEADY to see me perform-- ; You: “Oikawa, t-the food! It’s burning!!”)

♡ Cooking dates also show that you should never leave the stove unattended

♡ Every once in a while he suggests seeking professional help. He wishes he could take away your pain and help you all his own, but he knows this is more complicated and required outside help, too

♡ Has help resources READY

♡ As well as small snacks like granola bars for you if you ever feel faint

♡ He doesn’t hesitate to confront you when he feels it’s necessary and he’s worried about your habits

♡ He handles things well, though, and often convinces you to take care of yourself more, even though he’s there to look after you

♡ Has made it his mission to help you win against your battle with insecurities

♡ Overall, he’s very caring and empathetic, hoping one day you’ll see yourself the way he sees you 💖 : strong, amazing, breathtaking, & perfectly imperfect

kuroo

♡ Occasionally, you would think about the day you broke down in front of him

♡ Your body racked with repressed whimpers as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes and describe the recent state of your mind through choked sobs

♡ Lately, your thoughts were being especially relentless in making you feel miserable

♡ Oftentimes you’d be able to shove the negative thoughts to the back of your mind and carry on your day as usual, expertly acting as though everything in your life was going smoothly

♡ However, you found yourself fighting a losing battle against your own conscious, heavily preoccupied with thoughts of your own worthlessness

♡ And so you tried to cope

♡ But you were painfully aware of everything you felt was wrong with you

♡ You felt uncomfortable in your skin

♡ Every time you passed by your own reflection, you couldn’t help but mentally recoil at the image looking back at you

♡ Your clothes didn’t fit right

♡ Even when you opted for baggy clothes, you felt like you were taking up all the space in them

♡ Maybe it was the weight gain. You could see and feel it in your face, your arms, your stomach, your legs... everywhere

♡ You just wanted to hide away your shame

♡ Perhaps it was the dessert you allowed yourself to eat the other day. Foolish of you to think then that you wouldn’t regret it as much as you did afterwards

♡ As a consequence of those foolish actions, you made mental notes about anything and everything you ate. What it was, how much of it you had, etc

♡ Trying to restrict so that maybe you would lose some weight and come to like how you look

♡ Your obsessive thoughts of food and weight overtook your mind like a dark cloud

♡ Your favorite foods, which before would never fail to brighten your mood, taunted you with shame and guilt

♡ Exercise? Sometimes it was an activity you genuinely enjoyed. Other times, a chore that made you feel shitty or numb and reinforced your unhealthy desire to lose

♡ And you sometimes found yourself crying over your last meal, one you know you didn’t need. One you didn’t deserve

♡ And each time you released the reins on your self-control, you felt pathetic going against the vow you made to yourself  

♡ At this rate, you’d never be beautiful or be happy with yourself

-You’d remain unworthy, fat, disgusting--

-But before you could continue, your story was cut off by the impact of Kuroo’s embrace

-Your surprise silenced your sobs, and you could only stare wide-eyed at the space in front of you as you felt his arms squeeze tightly around your frame

-You both sat there for a few moments on your knees, with your back lightly leaning against a wall

- “I’m sorry for the pain you’re experiencing,” he begins softly. “Thank you for sharing with me. It must’ve taken a lot for you to do that.”

-He was right. It was your first time reaching out to another person about this. It was the last thing you thought you would’ve done today

- “I want to let you know that you shouldn’t be ashamed for feeling this way. Reaching out is important and brings you the help you need to get better. I know you might not want help right now or think that these thoughts and behaviors are a problem. However, telling me about all this shows that some part of you is recognizing there’s something wrong and you can’t always handle it on your own.”

-There were many reasons you kept this to yourself. You didn’t want to bother anyone else. Your problems seemed so trivial.  You worried saying them aloud would confirm your beliefs. You were scared people would see you differently. You--

-The intrusive thoughts never failed to make you feel ashamed

-However, it was oddly comforting to release the pent up emotions. To know you didn’t have to bottle up this burden anymore, and that you weren’t alone

-You were about to murmur in response when,

- “Also, you’re an idiot, y/n.”

- “Wow, thanks, as if I don’t already think that about myself,” you bit back in response

-You were about to shove him away just when he released his grip around your body and placed his hands on your shoulders

-His eyes shone with determination and a faint, inviting smile spread on his lips

- “You are the one of the single most important things in my life. I just mean you’re an idiot in the sense that you’re overevaluating one aspect to define your whole self. You’ve forgotten about all your other redeeming qualities that contribute to who you are.”

♡ “Your size, weight, shape; none of that matters. What matters is your health and happiness. Neglecting yourself in order to reach an ‘ideal’ that you’ve concluded is the answer to your self-worth is only bringing you farther away from what you truly want.”

♡ “I don’t mean to downplay any of your emotions or how significant this is to you. Your first step was to put your trust into someone else about this. That’s done. Now, I’m here to help you undergo self-evaluation and serve as encouragement on your journey to self-love and acceptance.”

♡ “I also want to remind you progress is not linear. There will be times when things are harder, and that’s okay; it’s part of the process. If you’re open to getting better in the future, I’m sure as hell going to be there every step of the way.”

♡ And with a soft peck to the forehead and another hug, he nuzzled into your neck and muttered, “I love you. And I want you to love yourself. So, please, allow me to help you through this and I guarantee that by the end of it all, it’ll have been so worth it.”

♡ Unsure what to say, you gripped his jacket tighter, buried your head in his shoulder, and muttered, “Thank you.”

♡ While the negative feelings about yourself remained afterward, you were relieved that your boyfriend was supportive and calm

♡ He treated you the same as always, teasing you over dumb things while making you feel like you stood among the highest peaks on Earth

♡ The day after, he had shown up to your house, weary-eyed and carrying his backpack

♡ “Kuroo? Why are you here? Also, why do you look so tired??”

♡ He stepped into your house with a yawn. He stretched his arms, then reached for his bag and whipped out his laptop

♡ “I stayed up a bit last night to do some research, babe! I also learned a lot about nutrition and molecular gastronomy, so I could help you come up with a meal plan that you’re okay with!”

♡ You were touched he was educating himself on how to help you

♡ But you drew the line at the science jokes-- (Kuroo: “You know you love them.” ; You: “‘Na’ I don’t.” ; Kuroo: :ooo “Did you just-- Marry me.”) (Na = sodium lol)

♡ His nutritional research helped you to learn the contents of food beyond calories; mans explains the vitamins, nutrients, amino acids, etc in them that you need and their benefits

♡ “Trout, avocados, and almonds have vitamin E, which is good for your skin! Oh, and don’t get me started on bananas. Yes, they have carbs (which your body needs anyway as a source of energy!), but POTASSIUM?? Shit’s gonna regulate your fluid balance, maintain heart health, stimulate normal muscle function, AND help your brain to communicate with the rest of your body!”

♡ ALSO cooking dates; just as chaotic (“Aw mannn, the egg exploded all over the microwave!” dont ask y it was being microwaved)

♡ Over time, he’s taken mental notes about your thoughts, feelings, triggers, etc

♡ He’s quick to pick up on your mood and will always ask you how you’re doing

♡ Tries to do something special for you on days you’re especially not feeling well, like taking you on a spontaneous date! (You: “Do you know how to ice skate?” ; Kuroo: “Uhh,,, after today, I will hopefully”)

♡ But will also opt for staying in with you and cuddling when you don’t want to go out (Kuroo: “I heard this movie is soooo bad! ...wanna watch it?”)

♡ Invited you to the beach with his team during the first week of summer

♡ You were unsure about this, since that meant going out in public, potentially with minimal clothing

♡ You initially sat on a beach towel under an umbrella, wearing the security of a T-shirt. He’d been aware of how you felt ever since he asked you to come, so he would sit with you and link an arm around your shoulder

♡ “I’m lucky I get to spend this day with you,” he’d say. “You look gorgeous. You always do. Now, I wanna see you smile and have fun. Let’s go take a dip, yeah?” He offered his hand, which you shyly took, and pulled you up

♡ Then immediately picked you up and started running to the water to get you soaking wet, and you were forced to ditch the heavy, waterlogged shirt

♡ However, you silently thanked him for his sweet words, making you feel secure enough to just forget your worries and enjoy the warm sun and cool water

♡ He also tries his best to lessen your anxieties over food and often shares/eats meals with you

♡ Reminds you everyday how much you’re worth to him and that there’s nothing about you that needs to change

♡ This sweet, protective, n smart boi will treat you how you deserve. It’s a guarantee he’ll be there through thick and thin, and he’s excited for the day you realize you’re just as amazing as he knows you are 💕

a/n: oop this was rlly long lol mb, i just may or may not personally know a bit about this so i went oFF

also neded to some som silly n fluff bc we all need dat

also, these r like kinda hc’s ?? but also a deconstructed oneshot/scenario?? bc they provide some rly brief bg story? one from more  of the character perspective while the other more on y/n before we get  to the hc’s about how he treats y/n. how everyone struggles w body image is different n i wanted to portray a bit of what it felt like and how it could manifest in ppl’s behaviors/thoughts. however, this is not to say that everyone feels exactly like this. what i wrote only represents a fraction of it all.

by providing some sort of bg i hope im not making u feel like this isnt u  or that u cant relate, pls lmk if i need to change anything to make it  right for u <3 ok now im actually done sry long author’s note  rfguhofe this is just rlly important to me y’all  , stay safe n take care, much luv for u <3

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x reader angst #oikawa x reader #kuroo x reader #oikawa tooru #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu x reader fluff #tw

[milkcartonbastard]

You, Me, (Eddie Get Your Foot Out Of My Face!) and Huckleberry Finn Makes Three

Fandom- IT

Pairing- Richie/Eddie.

Warnings- Language warning- mostly because of Richie and Eddie. Fluff to make up for the IT: Chapter Two trauma I'm facing. Long title, I know. The only spoiler is the hammock, honestly. 

~~~

   Ms. Jeffords. The most annoying teacher in school- so of course Richie had been placed in her AP English class for the year. Ms. Jeffords, who was a short and round woman with the face of a horse, was going out of her way to load the "smart kids" down with homework. Read four chapters of this! Write an essay about that! I want your testicles on my desk tied neatly in a bow by the end of the class! All Richie wanted to do was hang out with the Losers- not do homework in the corner like a nerd. 

   But Richie cared about his grades, sadly, because they were his only hope of getting out of Derry. He needed good grades for a scholarship, just like the rest of his friends (except for Stan and Bill, who were riding on their baseball skills as well as their grades.) So Richie had the Huckleberry Finn book he was supposed to read when he got to the clubhouse. Beverly, Stan, and Ben were sitting in the clubhouse with music playing softly throughout their luxurious hideout. 

   The seven of them had worked all summer following Ben's directions and aspirations for their underground hangout. It was deep enough that their heads didn't touch the ceiling, but most of the boys were getting taller and that wouldn't last much longer. 

   The clubhouse had been made into a second home for the seven of them. Small things from their homes- the only good parts, in some of their cases- had been brought down into the Barrens to be placed on the shelves and the small tables in the squared hole. There was a portable stereo that Richie had bought, containers of snacks had been brought by Eddie, Ben had brought music as well as a few rugs for the ground, Bev had decorated with scraps of wallpaper and blankets, Mike had brought cushy seats- even though some springs were protruding from the cotton, they had made do-, and Stan had brought books to add to the small spaces on the shelfs. The best part was the hammock that Bill had snagged from his attic.

   They had placed the hammock between two of the sturdiest parts of the clubhouse, which was extremely sturdy minus the one pole towards the middle, and would take turns relaxing on it. Taking turns meant that Richie hogged it until Bev or Stan would come by and throw him out of it. Which was often.

   None of them were swinging in the navy blue hammock, just sitting around and talking. Richie dropped his backpack on the ground after descending the ladder and shedding his jacket. It was always warming in here than outside, which was an amazing thing in the fall. They hadn't faced a winter yet, but Richie had a space heater he was going to bring- if they could figure out how to get electricity down there. 

   The moment he sat back in the hammock, he felt his shoulders untense. This was a safe place to him, one to all of them. Unless you were part of their inner circle, you wouldn't be able to find this place. It was just theirs. Not anyone else's. It was theirs and Richie could feel- as sappy and dumb as it was to say- that this is his home. Not with Maggie and Wentworth Tozier. But with his friends in a hole in the ground. As long as he was with them- he'd be happy.

   "Richie Tozier? Reading a book? My, my, how Ms. Bitchfords had changed you." Bev teased, but she had her math book open and in her lap. Ben was behind her, scribbling something that looked like more building plans. Stan was working on a puzzle in the corner, a flashlight dangling from the ceiling above him.

   "You could say I've changed her. After all, I did bend her over he-"

   "Beep, beep, Richie." Stan said it softly and pressed one of the jagged edges together. It made a soft click noise and Richie fought off a smile. He grabbed at the flashlight above him and turned it on, angling it to hit the words on his book. 

   It was The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn. It was a banned book at the school, but Ms. Jeffords had talked the School Board into letting them read it. It wasn't too interesting, but only because Richie hadn't bothered to open the book yet. He wasn't too interested in much besides comics, but he had been known to read the occasional book. Gone With The Wind? Classic. Pet Sematary? Legendary. Cat In The Hat? Iconic. 

   Richie had barely gotten through the first lines of chapter one when someone else began to descend down the ladder. For a split second- which was always a fear- he was worried that maybe Henry Bowers or one of his goons had found their hideout, but that fear was squashed when he saw the familiar red and white striped socks.

   Eddie Kaspbrak descended the ladder's rungs. His red fanny pack was fastened around his waist like a shitty Lifeguard. The fist thing he did was sling down his backpack and toss the pack on top of it. His eyes fell on the occupied hammock and he frowned. Richie tried not to stare at him, but it just wasn't going his way. The door to the clubhouse let light in and it was pouring in around Eddie. His brown hair looked golden in the light and the freckles on his face looked like dirt. Richie bit the inside of his cheek. Dirt? Since when was dirt pretty?

   "No! You were the last one to be in the hammock last night. I want a turn!" Eddie toed his shoes off and kicked them towards his backpack. Richie rolled his eyes at the childish look on his friend's face. He looked like a grouchy toddler- which was Eddie in a nutshell. A cute, annoying, adorable, toddler.

   "I just got here! I'm too comfortable to move. Looks like you're out of luck, Eds." Richie made a dramatic scene of turning the page in his book. He hadn't finished reading the page yet, but nobody needed to know that. It was for dramatic effect, after all.

   "I hate it when you call me Eds. Let me on!" Eddie was tugging Richie's leg. He was trying to move him as little as possible, which was always what happened, but Richie never said anything. He knew that if Eddie really wanted the hammock to himself, he would flip Richie out of it like Stan and Bev did. Instead, Eddie usually wanted to sit with Richie.

   Richie didn't understand why he wanted to, but he didn't mind at all. In made Richie feel warm, physically and not. Eddie was like a human space heater, which was surprising since he only wore shorts and t-shirts. 

   Eddie picked up Richie's legs and crawled into the navy blue hammock. He got comfortable and let one of his legs stretch out towards the curly haired teen and the other folded up under Richie's knee. Richie rolled his eyes again, biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't smile and let Eddie know how much he enjoyed it. It might have been a trick of the light, but he thought that behind that annoyed expression on his friend's face, that one of his cheeks had a little indention now.

   Bev swore and crumbled up the piece of scrap-paper she had been working on. She chucked it toward the small trash can in the corner. It sunk into the basket effortlessly. She always had good aim, especially when it came to throwing rocks. Richie looked away from the corner and focused back on his book. He gently and subtly switched back to the first page. He read almost half of a sentence before Eddie's socked foot smacked him face.

   "I didn't know you knew how to read." Eddie's big toe poked into Richie's ear and he squirmed. He smacked Eddie's foot away from him with the hard-backed book. Eddie yelped and retracted his limb from Richie's immediate reach. Richie opened the book again and tried to read.

   Eddie hadn't said anything or moved around for a few seconds and Richie peeked up at him. He was pouting, looking off to the side. The Losers were split up into different classes during the day, so breakfast, lunch, and after school was the only times they got to spend together. Eddie must have been bored, because he was wanting attention and Richie wasn't giving it to him. Richie thought for a second about how to provoke his friend into a fight before deciding on something.

   "Don't be sad. Cause sad spelled backwards is 'das' and das not good." Richie pinched Eddie's leg that his own was propped on top of. Eddie's head snapped around to Richie's with a dumbfounded look on his face. He sputtered before moving his hands around.

   "What the fuck did you just say, Trashmouth?"

   "I said das not good." Richie enunciated and pinched Eddie again for emphasize. Eddie smacked his hand away from the skin on his leg. 

   "That's not even a real word!" Eddie exclaimed. Richie fought back his smile and instead went to pinch Eddie again. Eddie wiggled away from him, the hammock singing back and forth a little. 

   "Yes, it is!"

   "Oh, yeah? Use it in a word then!" Eddie challenged. Richie felt a grin spread across his face and Eddie's smile dropped. He knew what was coming. After all, most of their arguments ended up with Richie joking about his mother.

   "Das not what your mom sai-"

   "Beep, beep, Richie!" Eddie had launched forward and tried to hit Richie in the face, but something had gone wrong. Their legs had tangled up together and Eddie began to fall over the edge. One of Richie's hands shot out to grab him and the other grabbed the side of the hammock. Within the next few seconds, Eddie was pulled back on, grabbing onto Richie and somehow still managing to fall sideways.

   Nobody had been paying attention to the two until the posts holding up the wood above them creaked. Ben, Bev, and Stan looked up, hoping that the ceiling wasn't about to fall down onto them. It was not, thankfully. But the hammock was looking more like a cocoon now.

   The two teens had managed to twist the hammock around so they were wrapped up in the middle and being held upside down. They were tightly bound up and the ropes at the ends of the contraption were twisted up thickly, suggesting they had done a 360 degree spin more than once.

   "What the fuck! I can't- breathe-" Eddie's words were muffled by the fabric and the laughter barreling out of his friends.

   "I think I got motion sick..." Richie's words were strained and Eddie audibly gasped.

   "What?"

   "I think I'm about to vomit!" Richie's voice cracked and the blanket started bubbling with Eddie's frantic movement.

   "Don't you fucking dare! Richie, don't you fucking dare!" Eddie was screeching, making the hammock sway like crazy. Stan howled with laughter and Beverly was clutching her stomach. Ben was red in the face, slapping his thigh and trying to breath. Soon enough, Richie started making gagging noises and Eddie's warning screeches turned into ones of horror.

   With an ungraceful few flips, the two boys were tossed out of the hammock and sprawled on the dirt floor. There was no vomit, just Richie with tears streaming down his face and his chest shaking with laughter. Eddie still looked horrified, but his cheeks were turning rosy and he was trying to suppress his own giggles. Soon enough, the five of them were all howling with laughter, crying, and clutching their stomachs. 

   Eddie was smacking Richie gently, his laughter weakening his blows. Richie was trying to pinch Stan now, but he couldn't extend his arms without his stomach hurting from the laughter. They all calmed down soon though, and the hammock was once again underneath Richie. It wiggled a bit easier now, which was something Ben would have to fix.

   A sobered up Eddie crawled onto Richie, this time his back was resting against the taller one's chest. Eddie's hips were resting the split of Richie's legs, their feet tangled together. If any of the other Losers noticed- they did, but they didn't mind either- they didn't comment. Eddie held the Huckleberry Finn book up and Richie cracked it open again.

   "What's it about?" Eddie asked. Richie shrugged and found his place on the first page. He was one the second sentence, but he didn't remember what he'd read so far. His eyes flickered to the start of the paragraph, his brain trying to ignore the perfect way that Eddie's body fit with his. His chest felt like it would explode painfully any second, but that had nothing to do with Eddie's weight.

   Richie rested his chin on top of Eddie's hair. Eddie's hand wormed around the book and found one of Richie's hands that were propping it up. This was something that had been happening recently- it had really been happening forever but the two of them were just beginning to notice how the felt about it- and would send jolts of electricity pulsing through Richie's veins. Eddie's fingers rested over Richie's, not quite holding hands, but close enough to make their hearts skip beats.

   "How bout I just read it to you? Since you obviously won't let me read it myself." Richie talked softly, trying to spare Eddie's ears. Eddie made a sort of noise and Richie took that as yes. He looked at the top of the page and began to read aloud.

   After about a chapter and a half, Richie spared a glance at Eddie's face. His eyes were closed peacefully and for a second Richie thought he'd fallen asleep. Then the long, dark, eyelashes fluttered like wings and those warm brown eyes were looking up at Richie. Richie felt his cheeks go rosy and watched as Eddie's eyes flickered to his cheeks.

   "You quit annoying me, so I figured you fell asleep." Eddie grinned and shook his head.

   "I was listening. Now, get back to the ransoming of the women. Tom's got a point with the wooing." Eddie repositioned his head and closed his eyes again.

   "He's talking about Stockholm Syndrome, Eds."

   "Yeah and I'm talking about the disappearance of the female species. No offense, Bev- we'd keep you." Eddie was grinning and Bev rolled her eyes.

   "Yeah, but we give them Stanley." Richie offered and Eddie giggled. Without looking up from his puzzle, Stan flipped them off. Eddie giggled harder, the vibrations from his chest making Richie feel like he was holding onto a- well never mind that.

   "Alright, back to the ransoming then." Richie started reading the pages again. Soon enough though, he felt Eddie's breathing even out on top of him. He was asleep this time, but Richie didn't stop reading. He only curled his fingers around Eddie's palm, feeling smile overwhelm his face when Eddie curled his fingers around Richie's hand in response.

   Yeah, Richie didn't mind this. In fact, he thought he loved it. 

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #Stanley uris #stan uris #it chapter one #it chapter two #IT #the other losers are mentioned #losers club #reddie #Richie x eddie #fluff #fluff without plot #I threw this together quickly #more to come #toby writes

[centvr]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆

          [  mat bar/zal  .  20  .  male .  he / him  ] just saw 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐔𝐒 '𝐂𝐀𝐙' 𝐙𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐑 dragging their suitcase up the steps of 𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 .  good luck living with 𝐇𝐈𝐌 ,  word around campus is that they’re 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 ,  𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇  ,  𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄  &  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 .  makes sense they chose that house now  ,  doesn’t it  ?  let’s hope this new living situation doesn’t affect their 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐑 year of 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘   [  oliver .  22  .  they/them  .  est  ]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

          the son of one of the most prominent nflers not following in his father's footsteps, shunned for choosing the wrong sport ( perhaps his father should have known, naming him CASSIUS after the betrayer ) ; a graduate of the us national team development ( hockey ) program where he really came into his own as a TWO-WAY CENTER & continues to grow with his college team ; in his third and final year studying BIOLOGY, because if the nhl didn’t pan out he always wanted to be a vet ; a sharks prospect, but A MINNESOTA BOY through and through, from his love of frozen lakes to his love of hockey ; just someone who hides everything with a smile and a nonchalant attitude even when he’s about to break and knows failure is not an option when he's come this far.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

( tw for death & verbal / emotional abuse )

— cassius adrian zeckhauser was born on a chilly november day, the first snow flurries of the year fluttering outside the st. paul ( minnesota ) hospital window. star nfl quarterback robert zeckhauser at the tailend of his career and his beautiful model wife welcomed their newborn son into what should have been the perfect life — with a name like that though, it probably should’ve been obvious that he wasn’t destined to be happy.

— and it was extremely close to perfect for almost twelve years. time was split between st paul and a summer and vacation home in monterey, california. caz followed in his father’s footsteps playing football, and also hockey as all good minnesota children do. it was a snowy night not too long after his twelfth birthday when his mother passed away suddenly of what doctors claimed were natural causes. they never were able to identify what exactly it was that ended her beautiful life, all caz knows is that after that things changed.

— now in retirement from playing, his father sold their main home in minnesota and moved them permanently to monterey. grief changes people, and not always for the better. in the wake of the loss of his wife, robert zeckhauser threw himself into the bottom of a bottle and coaching rather than face his grief and became obsessed with what he saw to be his son’s god given path to nfl stardom.

— caz, to his credit, did show great potential at football. his father’s additional coaching only gave him an edge : no one could argue that he was talented just because of his father’s influence — unless they were just referring to him inheriting his genes. caz loved football actually, but that was before his father’s dogged obsession with him succeeding in it. then high school came and thing became much worse. the more robert zeckhauser became obsessed with his son following in his football career, the more caz began to hate it.

— the field was soon associated with negativity, even though his coaches did their best, it wasn’t enough to tamper the infamous temper of robert zeckhauser. he never laid a hand on caz, but that was only because he didn’t have to — caz was simply too afraid.

— and so caz began to spend more and more time at the one place that seemed to bring good memories for him : the ice rink. growing up in minnesota, caz knew how to skate and how to play the game, of course ; it was pretty much inevitable. he’d shown what same said could be elite PROMISE at that too before robert zeckhauser packed up ship and moved them to sunny california. hockey wasn’t just for the frigid sub-zero temperatures of canada. 

— with the extra time on the rink to calm his mind and escape the noise of the outside world, caz became even better, standing out boldly on his hockey team as the BEST by miles ( and that meant catching the attention of scouts for a certain program ). robert would yell at dinner about priorities ; for once, caz wouldn’t listen. it all came to a head when caz received an invite to try out for the us national team development program before his junior year of high school. and then caz finally saw a chance at salvation : a way out. ( all robert zeckhauser saw was his son personally spiting him by picking the wrong sport and throwing away millions and tainting the family legacy ).

— but regardless, caz ended up making the squad by the skin of his teeth, playing for them for two years — and best of all, being able to spend the school year back in minnesota away from the presence of his father. it was evident early on that he made the right choice, and under the usntdp coaches he made progress in leaps and bounds — going from barely making it into the program into one of their best. but with that came his father’s wrath — caz only went home to monterey when he had to, and sometimes not even then, preferring to stay with one of his teammates if they would have him. summers were near inescapable though, filled with loud, toxic beratements and even longer, more toxic silences.

— fortunately or perhaps unfortunately, caz was climbing the prospect charts though — and the only thing robert zeckhauser hated more than his son was bad press, and that meant all their arguing and deeply negative relationship was kept under tight wraps from the public eye. caz’s development and talent and increasing prestige was probably the only thing that kept his father from actually cutting all ties with him, which at least meant he never had to want for money to support himself.

— caz had plenty of schools clamoring for him to commit by his senior year, but most intriguing was a personal visit from the head coach and athletic director of the west coast halston university. meant to bring an east coast flavor to the west, they’d just recently received their division i designation for their men’s hockey team only the season past and wanted caz to be their defining piece to keep them there. there were other schools of course, boston university, minnesota, north dakota, a handful of ivies, and yet caz’s mind kept going back to halston and eventually he signed on the dotted line for them.

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂

— his major is bio because if the nhl doesn’t work out he always wanted to be a vet and has a deep love for animals. a dog is something he’s always wanted, but has never had the time of physical stability to adopt one. he doesn’t have much time during the school year but in the summer he volunteers part-time at an animal clinic.

— drafted before his freshman year in the 2018 draft 21st overall to the san jose sharks :) he’s a two-way, playmaking center with exceptional skating skills. centers the first line and plays on the powerplay, and more recently has become a fixture on the penalty kill as his defensive abilities have gotten better ( i’m thinking jack eic/hel in style, but like... if you walked jack back to an appropriate college level lmAO ). wears number 13 bc im lazy in edits and has an A.

— caz is in his third and final year of college. thanks to a heavy number of ap credits, summer classes, and a much sharper mind than most people give him credit for ( and far too much stress and sleep deprivation ), he’s close to pulling off his plan to graduate in three years. ideally, the sharks would have liked him to be playing with their ahl team this year, but caz had made it clear he wanted to graduate before joining the nhl, upholding a promise he’d made to his mother before she passed away. it was agreed caz would have three years, and he hopes to make the team straight out of training camp come next august.

— caz was sixteen, finally away from his father and thriving under the guidance of the ntdp, when he realized he liked guys just as much as he liked girls — maybe even a lot more. it’s something he had to come to begrudging acceptance with ; a difficult task for him at first. it was simply a fact and facet carefully explored behind locked doors and then carefully buried where no one could ever find out ( he doesn’t know which would be worse : his father or the media ). currently, he’s extremely careful about his approach with the same sex, often just sleeping with guys also in the closet or at least those who understand the sensitivity of the subject — often fellow athletes.

— when it comes to destressing, caz is unsurprisingly one to frequent the rink or go for a run. he has recently taken up yoga though which has had the added benefit of improving his flexibility so win-win, he guesses.

— caz keeps a pretty steady schedule somehow, rising at nearly the same early time every day even if the time he goes to sleep fluctuates and even if he doesn’t have a morning practice to get to. he believes it’s a good habit to establish. he’ll go down to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. that being said, that doesn’t mean he’s a morning person — he’s grumpy and near mute until he’s had at least two cups of coffee, but he will offer to make anyone who’s also up that early an omlet.

— any positive traits caz exudes are certainly in no way thanks to his father, but rather a series of people who stepped into that role when he left at sixteen. he didn’t realize it at the time, but running away from something also become running toward something else. his coaches stepped into fatherly roles in his real father’s absence. they and his billet family and the parents of his friends in the program kept him grounded and level-headed when he could have turned out much differently.

— he’s a regular at a cafe near campus that he stops at after morning workouts/practices before going to his first class. he drinks his coffee black.

— he’s no chef but he’s decent in the kitchen and very cognizant of the food he puts into his body. because of that, he’s also not a huge drinker either and rarely consumes soda.

— there’s a pullup bar on his door and he starts and ends his day with situps, pushups, and pullups.

— caz was raised roman catholic but his own beliefs have trended strongly toward agnostic as he’s gotten older.

— he goes by caz and pretty much caz only. he’s doesn’t make it very well known what his actual first name is, and almost everyone who does know has found out on accident be it a rookie mistake in the hockey team’s promoing ( doesn’t happen much anymore ) or a curious eye on his driver’s license. cassius is what his father calls him, and he’d prefer it if no one else did.

— the décor of his room is extremely minimalist. a photo of a night sky over a frozen lake in minnesota on his wall and one from his time at the ndtp on his nightstand are the only ones in his room. a sharks pennant hangs on the inside of his door as a reminder of what he’s working toward. it’s otherwise kept bare and clean. his sheets are gray, his comforter plain black. he keeps thinking about getting some plants but has never gotten around to it.

— since caz’s start at halston, his father picked up a sports analyst job in the bay area where he also rents a lavish apartment. this means he’s thankfully usually absent in their monterey home which caz usually frequents in the summers save for the month he’s on campus for summer classes.

— accolades : silver medalist ( 2019 world junior championships ), 21st overall 2018 entry level draft, silver medalist ( 2018 IIHF world u18 championships ), gold medalist ( 2017 IIHF world u18 championships ) 

— i imagine that halston’s d1 hockey program functions very similarly to that of arizona state university in that it is an independent program not affiliated with any conference. upon creation of the program, they played a hybrid season against a variety of D1, D2, and D3 programs and transitioned to playing against exclusively D1 programs starting the season before caz arrived on the team ( 2017-2018 ). they have made the frozen four final once last season ( 2020 ) and lost in the semifinals.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

PRIVATE  ,  SELFISH  ,  AMIABLE  &  HARDWORKING

— caz is someone who puts a hundred percent into whatever he does : practice, homework, a friendly game of volleyball in the backyard. no one would call him a slacker by any means, except of course his father. his focus and motivation is unparalleled, and that’s helped him greatly through his life in school and his endeavors toward being a professional athlete. but there are times when he puts too much of himself into something. he’s terrible at multitasking, focusing on one thing at a time in full, and has a tendency to burn out if he’s not careful ( or if no one’s looking out for him — which in his first year at halston, probably was more common than not ). he doesn’t like people who don’t try their hardest, though he’s sympathetic to those who do and still do not seem to get the results they want — especially those on the hockey team, often offering to lend them a hand if they want it.

— in his life caz has come to learn that only person he can fully trust and count on is himself. that’s resulted in a rather selfish streak in him, though he works to not let that appear too much on the surface. he’s not an unkind person who would walk over others to get what he wants, and he fears growing into the arrogance and blunt forwardness of his father, but the ultimate bottom line is he will always chose to help himself over someone else. there are a few rare exceptions to this of course : a handful of his teammates and very close friends.

— still, he’s a friendly person, someone who’d give off fairly good and relaxed vibes ; some may even call him kind. there are plenty of people who’d consider him a friend, though the truth is they might not know all that much about caz. he has the uncanny ability to make people feel like they know him without revealing anything of substance. he’s very much a two-way mirror or the façade in that manner : caz sees out but no one ever sees in. to most he’s happy, he’s fine, friendly, amiable, and never gives anyone a reason to doubt that.

— caz has a way of appearing calm, cool, and collected even when he’s not, and a lot of effort on his part goes into that to come across that way. there’s a lot that can hide behind a smile and an easy-going attitude and caz has perfected that armor meticulously. the truth of course is that he’s under an immense amount of pressure and a lot closer to falling apart then he wants to admit  — he’s afraid if anyone did manage to worm their way in that he’d fall to pieces.

— he’s most reserved at parties, always in attendance and participating enough for it to be socially acceptable but never letting himself go completely. there’s still a lot he can lose, and he’s not in the business of doing anything that could jeopardize that further.

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

— 6′0″ & 189 lbs : caz is unsurprisingly very fit and strong, with the large quads and glutes 🍑 common in hockey players, though his upper body and core strength is nothing to snooze at either.

— black hair with a slight curl, usually kept to a modest length and styled to look effortless, could be described as fluffy or tousled ( pretty much as it looks in most of the gif icons and visage gifsets ). when he’s stressed he has a tendency to run his hands through it and it looks even messier. caz isn’t much on his appearance, but he is careful to tend to his hair. it does get quite long in the summer, seeing as he often doesn’t get it cut between the end of the season until right before pre-season ; often needing to be kept back in a bun near summer’s end.

— gray-hazel eyes : their exact shade depends on the light. they’re very much his father’s eyes over his mother’s warm brown ones ; it’s a fact he hates but he does appreciate the fact he also inherited his dad’s 20-20 vision.

— typically clean shaven or with some stubble when he misses a couple days or so or sometimes slightly more esp around exams and project due date. the exception to this of course is during the end of year tournaments during which he doesn’t shave and looks rather scruffy.

— on a normal day, caz has the fashion sense you’d expect from a college athlete, liberally employing the use of sweatpants, nike and adidas track pants, t-shirts, hoodies, and sneakers and slides. he does have the ability to look nice when he has to though, often cutting a sharp figure in a suit on gamedays and formals, or a slim fitting pair of darkwash jeans and a button down when the occasion calls for it.

— jewelry : he’s almost always wearing a rather non-descript necklace with a small circular pendent that belonged to his mother ; an analogue watch with a brown leather band that doesn’t seem to match with his college athlete look that was a gift on his eighteenth birthday from one of his coaches who became a father-figure in his life ; his right lobe is pierced ( the result of a some very poor judgement in the summer before he arrived at halston, but at least it wasn’t a tattoo of something embarrassing like his friend zac ), very rarely is anything in it and most people don’t know it even exists, but he puts something in it frequently enough that it still hasn’t closed up.

— scars : a small scar over his right cheekbone from an accident on a frozen lake when he was young, near invisible unless you’re close or know it’s there ; two longer scars about two inches long on his right outside elbow from when a cat scratched him at the clinic ; several other small ones he can’t recall the injuries they’re from

— tattoos : a butterfly and a moth in flight together on his left bicep, the butterfly was for his mother, the moth in a way to represent himself ( they mean self-acceptance, after all ).

—  PINTEREST BOARD HERE

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

          first and foremost, i love chatting and brainstorming with people. i think that’s where the most meaningful plots are formed, but here are a few ideas to serve as starting points :

— childhood friend ( any ) : someone who is also from a wealthy family, likely close to monterey or in the very least in california. they had to attend a lot of the same fancy diners and parties as him. perhaps this person is aware of his true relationship with his father and just how deeply negative it is.  — TAKEN BY BLAIR.

— the set up ( female ) : this was a last ditch effort from his father, not long after caz left for the usntdp when he was sixteen, his father set him up with this girl he deemed to be a suitable match, the daughter of another rich family ( perhaps sports related, or just wealthy ). most of their contact probably was over the summer when caz was more free. the nature of their relationship can be brainstormed, robert stopped pushing it when caz was drafted at eighteen ( two years ago ), but i think he still wants it to happen.

— the ex-girlfriend ( female ) : caz only has had one girlfriend in college from his freshman year. this is pretty open-ended but i do strongly believe that she broke up with him ( for whatever reason, but i imagine something along the lines of him not loving her nearly as much as she loved him ). 

— i hate your guts ( any ) : they were groomed to HATE each other, to carry on the stupid rivalry of their fathers that no one remembers the reason for — perhaps it’s as simple as there not being enough room for both of their egos. it doesn’t really matter what the reason that started this was. they don’t really know why they hate each other at this point, it’s just a fact as instinctive as breathing ; not a single conversation can be had without them clashing in some way  — TAKEN BY KIERAN.

— you know i’ve got your back ( male ) : honestly caz just needs a friend, guys...

— animal lover ( any ) : someone who’s run into him at the animal clinic over the summer or is just somehow otherwise aware of his love for animals. i just want to write something about that facet of him.

— the blind date ( female ) : someone his teammates keep trying to set him up with because they’re certain he’s lonely. i mean... he is but that’s not the point. honestly so open ended.  —  TAKEN BY FRANKIE.

— hookups, project partners, people on campus he randomly runs into, fans of the hockey team, fans of him, crushes on him, housemates, the world is our oyster lads.

— also i know the ratio is kinda off on this list but i’m a lot better of coming up with plots for males on the spot so honestly just come vibe w me. okay thank you 😔

𝐎𝐎𝐂

          hello everyone !!! i’m oliver or ollie, 22, they / them pronouns, and in the est timezone. i am very excited to be finally bringing caz off hiatus with the very sexy mat as his fc ( which if you know who he is u probably were like ‘ whiteguyblinking.gif ’ when you saw him on the list but i promise this is gunna work, i’ve been making gif icons like crazy ). he was always my first choice fc for caz but i was always too lazy to make it happen until NOW. also im censoring all actual nhlers names because i don’t need the mortification of this showing up in their tags somehow. anyway, i’m super excited to get things rolling and i hope we’re here for a good long time !!

#halston.intro #( in the instance u may recognize this character #pls know i rewrote most of this to be... #a lot nicer and more in depth so #kindly pls read ) #( new fc #MUCH better intro ) #( it went from 988 words to #3.5k #😭😭😭 )

[soulmate-game]

The format is slightly off because I hate formatting on this app, so if you want a better experience then read the chapter on AO3. Without further ado, Chapter 12 of The Heroes’ Game.

Chapter 12 AO3

—*—*—*—*—*

“So. This is the useless, goo-minded model of an ex-friend who decided to suddenly regrow the spine that had spontaneously combusted two years ago?”

“That was three insults in ten seconds, Marinette,” Adrien pointed out, eyebrows high on his face, the blond impressed.

“I forgot to say spoiled.”

“Wow. You weren’t kidding,” Adrien shook his head, smiling slightly. “We can never let him and Kagami meet. They would be unstoppable.”

Marinette, who finally decided to stop holding back her beaming smile, laughed cheerfully. “Also, this is Damian’s brother Tim,” she gestured to the slightly older man, who smiled politely and waved from his place in the passenger’s seat of the luxury car. Marinette was sat in the middle of the car’s back row, one rich green-eyed teenage heir to either side of her.

“Also, Marinette,” Damian took hold of the conversation as Adrien introduced himself to his elder brother. “I notice you are wearing a new necklace. Any particular reason? It does not look like your usual style.”

The pigtailed girl blinked, rubbing her hand over the simple silver chain that held Chat Noir’s ring under her shirt. It took all her willpower to not cast a glance at Adrien as she ran her fingertips over it.

“It isn’t, but a family friend gave me an heirloom of his for good luck,” she said slowly, testing out the lie that Tikki had helped her create the previous night. “I decided to put it on a chain and wear it under my clothes. Something tells me that I’ll need all the luck I can get this week.”

Plagg was a bit grumpy at his ring being told to be a good luck charm when the truth was the exact opposite, but he had been suitably ignored by both Tikki and Marinette. The cat Kwami took a little too much pride in his unlucky and destructive powers.

“So, I couldn’t help but notice you mentioned a Kagami. That wouldn’t happen to be the Olympic gold medalist fencer Kagami Tsurugi, who is rumored to be studying in Paris to improve her skills, would it?” Tim asked, turning in his seat to face the teenagers in the back. Marinette and Adrien both smiled widely, nearly blinding both Wayne’s present.

“Oh yeah, that’s her,” Adrien confirmed, nearly bouncing in his seat. “She and I actually became soulmates almost four months ago,” Adrien pulled up his sleeve to show the stylized foil in stunning maroon on his arm. “She says I’m one of the only people who can still keep up with her in a spar. She’s ruthless,” Adrien’s face just got dreamier as he spoke. “She isn’t the best at socializing, but me, Marinette, and some of our other friends have been helping her out. She didn’t exactly get the best childhood, being raised to be the best fencer possible and compete at the Olympics and all. Kagami’s mom isn’t exactly the most friendly person you’ll ever meet, but somehow Marinette worked her magic,” Adrien chuckled a bit at the memory. “She just has this— this natural ability, I guess. Marinette, I mean. She knows exactly what to say and do in order to get someone to realize the mistakes they’re making. She had two conversations with Tsurugi-San. Two. And even though Kagami’s mom hasn't completely changed, she’s a lot more lenient now and actually makes an effort to be more sensitive in how she treats Kagami. That’s why I’ve always considered Marinette to be our every-day Ladybug,” he turned and offered the girl he was trying to earn the forgiveness of a small, sad smile. “Even if I haven’t really expressed that enough lately.”

“Every day ladybug?” Tim asked, eyebrow raised. Marinette had her head in her hands out of embarrassment.

“Adrien, nooooo!”

She was ignored.

The blond in the car nodded, eyes wide and shining with innocent enthusiasm. “Oh yeah. So Ladybug is Paris’s hero, right? She always manages to save the day, turn everything back to normal, and always looks after the city. But Marinette is like our hero without a costume. She always cares about our emotions, does her best to solve problems even for strangers, and cares about everyone she meets. She put together this whole trip— sure, it was funded because of the contest, but we never would have been able to come without Marinette’s planning and foresight. She did all this even though the majority of the class isn’t on good terms with her anymore. She had no obligation to do any of this for us, she could have just asked to come by herself, but she did all of it anyway. Because she cares even for people who aren’t nice to her.”

“Nobody deserves to just stay in Paris when they have an option to escape for a while,” Marinette argued, frowning. “It’s a toxic prison with HawkMoth running around. Regardless of how the class treats me, everyone deserves a break from that.”

Adrien just gestured to Marinette with his eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘you see?’

“I didn’t realize you were this much of a boot-licker,” Damian sneered, eyes narrowed and distrusting towards the blond model. “Marinette may not have been able to tell me everything, but simple observation can fill in the blanks. You were a limp noodle around the liar just yesterday, and while I do not doubt that what you say about Miss Dupain-Cheng is true, it sounds far too close to flattery for my liking. She may be kind and forgiving, but let me assure you that I do not accept a traitor’s words so easily. You were clearly a cowardly slime just earlier this week, all fake smiles and weak assurances,” the Wayne heir leaned forward so his dark, piercing green eyes locked with Adrian’s own acidic ones. “How do I know you will not turn tail again? Abandon Marinette as soon as something difficult comes along again? Why are you here, Agreste?”

The fencer’s lips thinned, and he clasped his hands between his knees without breaking eye contact. “I was stupid,” he admitted, sounding far more tired than anyone their age should have to. “I was distracted. My home life isn’t the best, never has been. Pretty much all my experience in social interaction comes from these past three years in school with Marinette and the others. And no, that’s not an excuse. I knew Lila was lying, but I didn’t know how toxic it was. How toxic it would get. And when my father gave me the ultimatum to stay on Lila’s good side, I wasn’t brave enough to say no,” Adrian finally broke eye contact and looked down at his entwined hands. He clenched them tighter as he thought about the past week in Gotham. “But I got sick over the weekend. I’m still a little sick, but I’m getting better now. And I think it— the weakness, how bad I was feeling… suddenly waking up this morning feeling so much better physically helped me realize how empty I felt. I usually ignore it in Paris because I can’t afford to get Akumatized. I wouldn’t forgive myself,” his jaw clenched. “But here, far away from HawkMoth, I finally saw it. Life in Paris sucks right now. The atmosphere in the class is draining. And I realized the only light in it still was being hurt, and I had ignored it. I called Kagami, she helped me realize just how badly I screwed up. I didn’t even realize the environment I had just left Marinette in, pretty much alone. I made a huge mistake,” he raised his eyes back up to Damian’s, the acidic, verdant eyes burning with new, renewed, determination. “I won’t make it again.”

“Tt. See to it that you don’t, or I will.”

“Oh, you didn’t mention he’d make a threat in the first ten minutes! We definitely should never let him and Kagami meet.”

“Stay intimidated you damn inconsistent ape!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Everyone split up into teams. We’ll be going in groups of five, if you don’t want to participate you can stick to the top rows of bleachers,” the coach was instructing everyone gathered in the gym. Madame Bustier translated for those of the students who didn’t speak fluent English. It didn’t take long for Lila and her closest crew to move up to the topmost bleachers and away from the risk of being drafted to play basketball.

Why would Lila risk breaking a nail for sports, after all?

Marinette, on the other hand, still had a lot of energy to get rid of even if she had gone freerunning not that long ago with Robin and Red Hood. The ring sitting warmly against her chest did not at all help, its resonance with her earrings almost overflowing her with power and energy she was wholly unused to. She needed to vent it somehow, even if just a little.

She didn’t think about how a lesser person would have already been consumed by that energy.

The second the coach asked for volunteers for team captain, Marinette had never risen her hand faster for something. Nobody else had a chance (except Jon, but she didn’t have to know that. The kryptonian boy hadn’t made much effort anyway). The coach smiled widely.

“Good, someone with enthusiasm! Wanna make it a Paris against Gotham game? Choose your team Dupain-Cheng. Wayne, you’ll captain the opposing team.”

Marinette smiled widely in triumph, standing and immediately picking her team as her hand moved alongside her voice, pointing out her chosen teammates. “Alix, Kim, Ivan, Ad—if you’re feeling up to it, Adrien. If not, I can—“

“No, I’m good,” Adrien held up a hand to stop his pigtailed friend from devolving into stutters as he stood up. “I won’t get better lying around, anyway. Just go easy on me, Boss.”

Marinette chuckled at that, turning to see who Damian had chosen. Jon, to nobody’s surprise. Four other people Marinette only vaguely recognized from classes. They all looked athletic and not too intimidated by the Ice Prince, which made the Parisian designer suitably wary of the group as they went to the center of the court to get started.

“We’ll let the Paris team start this time, as a welcome to America,” the coach decided, handing the ball to Mari. He backed up until he was no longer in the way, and both teams got into their positions. “Ready… start!”

Marinette’s eyes flew, knowing everyone was waiting for her first move. Plan, plan— aha! Her lips curled into a smirk, and without warning she darted straight towards Damian’s team.

The ex-assassin wasn’t about to let her go that easily though, of course, and ran straight to intercept her. Only, she took advantage of the way Jon almost instinctively followed Damian to cover his back, and tossed the ball around her green-eyed pursuer straight at the spectacled boy. Jon’s eyes widened, and he smiled. He thought for sure Mari had miscalculated, and put forth a burst of speed to catch the ball headed towards his chest—

Only for a blur of yellow to fly right in front of him, snagging the ball and carrying it further into the Gotham team’s side of the court. Jon pursued Adrien, who passed to Kim. The seasoned athlete had already skirted around the distracted crowd to end up close to the basket, and dunked the ball as soon as he caught it.

Paris, 2. Gotham, 0.

Damian instantly whipped his head to stare at his soulmate, who had her arms crossed as she grinned at him smugly.

That kind of wordless teamwork didn’t come out of nowhere though, and Damian felt his eyes narrow. If Chat was Adrien, and he and Marinette had started off such a seamless play, then his suspicions just got another support beam to hold them up. Maybe he would put effort into this game after all.

“Jon, don’t follow me so closely. Marinette took advantage of you not watching your own back, stay observant,” he told his friend, a clear double meaning behind his last two words. Jon raised two perfectly black brows, as if silently asking are you telling me to cheat?

Damian only nodded, dribbling the ball he had been handed as the teams went back to the center.

Even with Jon tuning into his super senses to keep a better eye on the game, so to speak, they ended up tied at the end of fifteen minutes.

20-20

Both teams made swift scores, but it was clear Damian and Jon were carrying their team while the Paris team was well rounded with Marinette and Adrien just slightly advanced leaders that they took silent cues from.

Marinette was beaming widely as she breathed heavily, but wasn’t nearly as out of breath as her teammates. Adrien was so exhausted from his “illness” that he ended up sitting out the sudden death.

It was down to Marinette and Damian glaring each other down in adrenaline-fueled glee as the coach held the ball in one hand, counting down. At zero, he tossed the ball up and both secret vigilantes lunged.

Marinette jumped higher, managing to smack the ball first and get it into Alix’s grip. Their ball.

SHE AND Damian both races, following the skater as she ran towards the Gotham Team’s goal. Alix was blocked. Ivan was being covered by two of Damian’s teammates, Kim by another. Alix had no choice but to pass to Marinette, but Damian was able to pull forward at just the right time to snag the ball.

Marinette leaped backwards a good several feet, never taking her eyes off the emerald eyed teen. He put up a valiant defense, but Marinette managed to slap the ball away from him and dribbled it back to the right side of the court.

Only to stop dead. She was surrounded, the three point line was ahead of her, none of her teammates were free. If Adrian had been in play, maybe… Jon was closing in front her left, she had to move before he or Damian closed in on her.

So she took a deep breath, jumped straight up as high as she could go, and threw.

The ball swished through the net, and the students actually watching roared in surprised and impressed shouts of approval.

The Asian-French girl instantly got mobbed with hugs from her teammates, her head tilted back as she laughed in pure glee.

Bluebell met emerald.

Marinette winked. “Guess Paris is just better huh, Wayne?”

He would be lying if he said seeing her so breathlessly happy didn’t leave him similarly winded. Almost blinded by her brightness.

Yeah, he thought. You were pretty spot on back then. You must be my personal Angel. I don’t know what else you could possibly be.

—*—*—*—*—*

A Valkyrie, Damian decided. Marinette must be a Valkyrie. A warrior angel who chose the dead from a battlefield to be taken to Valhalla.

Why?

Because he was a Wayne, and as a Wayne he had several people (read: hundreds) who would like nothing better than to kidnap and ransom him to his father.

Like now. The Riddler had caught him, Jon, Marinette, Adrien, and several others as soon as school ended. He was the only real target, but Riddler never turned down extra bait. He wasn’t as tough on teenagers as he was adults, but that didn’t mean lives weren’t still on the line.

“Alright, kiddies. I’m a fair guy,” lies, “and I got a soft spot for kids. So, you can stay here obediently until Brucie boy up in his Tower sends me my money, or the Bats comes to his doom. Either way, you’ll be let out scott free afterwards. Or, you can leave,” he gestured towards the door in the lair they were in that proudly boasted a glowing red EXIT sign. “Any time you want,” he told them, smiling sinisterly. Because, of course, the only way to the exit was past a puzzle.

“In order to leave, you just have to possess at least two brain cells to rub together. I know, a hard feat nowadays to manage. To get to the exit, you have to find a way past the trick wall in front of you. Just fair warning, every wall is a trick wall so don’t try to pull any fancy tricks. Each brick is either safe, a deterrent, or a trick. And be careful, tricks can either give you a paper cut or a haircut a few inches too low to cut only hair, if you can understand my meaning. If you were smart, you’d just stay put.”

And Damian stared at his Soulmate, who didn’t even know he was right then, as she was the only one standing as the rest of them sat. Damian and Jon were seated because they knew Batman and co. Would be coming soon to bail them out, and neither boy could risk outing their identity. All of them had their wrists zip tied behind their backs, but that didn’t seem to stop Marinette from staying standing up defiantly and analyzing their surroundings.

“Are you gonna just stand there, or do something, little girl?” Riddler’s voice came back over the speakers. He wasn’t in the room with them, communicating over an intercom and attached TV screen. “Is your bravado all for show, or do you actually plan to escape?”

Marinette turned her glare to the live feed on the flat screen.

“I’m not the one hiding in a separate bunker, Riddler,” she retorted calmly. She was in a room with only Damian, Jon, a few of her friends, and walls of potentially dangerous traps. There were no gunmen this time. No immediate threats. Marinette could let a little Ladybug through this time.

Her hands twitched with an urge to punch something that was just being amplified by the ring around her neck.

Maybe a little Lady Noir could come through too, for a change.

Riddler twitched, and Damian could only stare as his soulmate stared down a Gotham rogue and even insulted him without hesitation or fear in her stance or face.

“Marinette!” Alix hissed, tugging at the girl’s uniform pants. “Get down! We’ll get out of here soon enough, don’t upset the supervillain!” She begged her friend. Marinette looked down at the pinkette, frowning.

“No, Alix! He isn’t even brave enough to fight his own battles, he lets puzzles and traps and hostages do his dirty work. I’m not about to sit down and let him treat me like I’m some helpless little kid. I stay quiet enough at school,” she hissed back softly, not about to back down this time. The bit about their class made Ivan and Kim flinch, along with Max and Juleka, who had also been taken. Adrien would have flinched, but the basketball game alone had drained him of all his recovering stamina for the day. This added stress was getting to him.

The blond, who had been eerily silent, started to cough. The pigtailed rebel of the group instantly turned to him, her face paper white as the model couldn’t seem to stop coughing. Specks of blood dipped out of his palms that were covering his mouth. and onto the ground.

“Shit,” Damian cursed. Jon wrapped an arm around the smaller boy, trying to get him to calm down and take deep breaths.

“There. Slow and steady,” Jon whispered to Adrien. “I knew you were sick, bud, but I didn’t think it was this bad. No worries though, we’ll get you checked out as soon as we get outta here,” he assured the fencer before looking up and locking eyes with Marinette. She nodded.

“Even more of a reason to get out as soon as possible instead of waiting around. Adrien needs a doctor. Max, is Markov..?”

The techie shook his head. “Back at the hotel, along with my better tech. My phone was taken.”

The pigtailed teen sighed, but wasn’t surprised. She reached up and took out the ribbons in her hair, tying them together and ignoring the unusual feel of her hair being loose behind her neck. It was usually something reserved for bedtime, but she wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“Alix, you have your roller blades on you, right?” The pinkette blinked in surprise before nodding, pulling the objects out of her bag.

“Yeah, why?”

Marinette didn’t answer, taking only one shoe and popping off two wheels. Alix made a face, but didn’t complain.

“Ivan, you carry around extra hair supplies for Mylene, right?” She held out a hand without waiting for an answer. “Could you give me some rubber bands?”

Holding her tied-together ribbons in her mouth, Marinette quickly tied the two rollerblade wheels together with the rubber bands, and tied her ribbons around the rubber bands to make them into a sort of axel. Makeshift yo-yo. She grinned, rolling the improvised weapon up and turning to the wall.

“What are you doing?” Damian asked slowly, standing to cover her back. Jon could watch the civilians just fine, he wasn’t leaving his soulmate without an extra pair of eyes just in case. Marinette was rapidly scanning the wall separating them from the exit.

“The wall is a puzzle, which means there has to be a pattern. All the bricks look pretty much the same, but we should be able to find the pattern without touching the wall if we look hard enough. We don’t have that kind of time though, so I’m going the old-fashioned trial-and-error way.”

“What?” Damian barked, but didn’t get in her way. “You can’t be that reckless—“

“I’m not going to touch the wall,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “This is,” she used that moment to swing her makeshift yo-yo at a brick above everyone’s heads. It pressed in, and nothing happened. It just slid back to make a step. Marinette grinned, rewinding her DIY tweaking and swinging it at the brick right next to the safe one, which swung away to reveal a muzzle that shot a stream of fire above everyone’s heads. “Predictable,” she muttered with a triumphant grin. “If I’m right, anyway. This could just be beginner’s luck.” She rewound and swung the ribbon-wheel-rubber band contraption a few more times, setting off only a few more traps. The solution printed itself in her mind.

Damian’s eyebrows raised, recognizing the pattern she was creating— or tracing— with her weighted whip. For a long moment, though only the other people in the room noticed, the two soulmates wore identical smug smirks.

“You got it,” Damian whispered, impressed and pleased before he surged forward. “Here, Get the lower ones. Your whip won’t reach the top of the wall, I’ll climb up and get those,” he offered, turning to make sure he had her approval. The girl’s face twisted into reluctance, clearly not wanting to put him in danger. The youngest Wayne put a hand on her shoulder, offering her a solid nod of reassurance. “I’ll be fine. I know the pattern now, and I have a fast reaction speed just in case. We also need someone to make sure there aren’t thugs waiting on the other side just in case, and I have a decent background in martial arts. Riddler doesn’t usually lie about his puzzles, but you can never be too careful with a Rogue.”

Marinette’s lips thinned again, but she nodded. A few thuds of her improvised weapon later, and Damian had the footholds necessary to climb up and press the bricks that were too high to reach.

The pattern made a question mark right in the center of the wall, but the top two rows of bricks before the empty space above the wall were all trick stones, meaning Damian had to carefully heave himself over and onto the platform waiting for them on top of the trapped obstacle. He took a quick look around before nodding to himself and looking down.

“All clear! Send Adrien up first,” he called, holding his arm down so he could help the Agreste heir when he got high enough. “Be careful not to press against these stones, you’ll set off a trap. When you pull yourselves over, keep your body straight and away from the wall,” the civilian-dressed vigilante instructed after they all successfully helped Adrien over onto the platform. Behind them, Riddler was suspiciously quiet and the TV didn’t turn back on.

They soon found out why. Only Marinette, Jon, and Max were still on the wrong side of the puzzle wall when a hidden door was kicked in and Batman stormed in alongside Red Robin. Both vigilantes froze at the sight of the unharmed teens already almost out. Marinette waved to them sheepishly, and Damian groaned.

“You mean there was a door there the whole time?” He groused, annoyed.

“It’s for the best,” Red Robin told him, shaking his head. “The riddler’s bunker was back there, and it’s a dead end unless you wanna squeeze through broken windows. Red Hood is tying him up right now, he’ll come out behind us. Though, we didn’t expect you all to already be almost out.”

Batman shot his grapple at the top of the wall, beckoning to Max and Marinette as Jon scrambled up the solved puzzle wall. “Let’s make this go by faster.”

Ten minutes later, and everyone was out. Red Hood manhandled Riddler away to the cops, and for the second time on their trip Marinette and her friends found school blankets settled over their shoulders.

“Well,” Max started, blinking. “I kinda expected worse, actually.”

Juleka nodded, tilting her head. “Yeah, that was kinda… tame…”

Marinette sighed, looking over at the two. “Of course,” she answered shortly, no longer patient with her classmates (no longer friends) now that they were all out of danger. “Riddler has a known soft spot for kids, and this was just a ransom scheme. Riddler’s actually been reforming for the past few years too, he most likely just had a relapse. None of his schemes for the past two years have been nearly as convoluted as beforehand and they are all months apart. Which you would know if you did my suggested research into Gotham’s rogues that I gave you before the trip,” she told them monotonously. She was done coddling them, they didn’t seem nearly as phased by this Riddler fiasco as they did by the failed robbery the week before. Then again, no guns or deaths were involved this time.

“That is correct, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Though I was hoping we wouldn’t see each other again so soon,” Batman spoke, approaching the group of teens as Hood and Red Robin explained things to the cops present. “But the puzzle was still something that should have taken at least an hour to solve. Good work doing it so quickly. And your improvisation is also impressive.”

Marinette blushed, looking down at the contraption she still hadn’t taken apart. “It’s nothing. I know the kinds of things my classmates always carry around, and I knew we needed something weighted to trigger the bricks, so…”

Batman grinned, a quick and very small thing that Marinette was sure she hallucinated. “Still, good work using your brain and keeping a cool head. You made our job easier. But let’s both try to keep any more excitement like this from happening on your trip.”

Marinette laughed, nodding. “I don’t know what I can do to help with that, but I’ll do my best anyway.”

—*—*—*—*—*

That night, after their daily spar, Robin braced his hands on his knees and panted. He was exhausted despite the fact that their bodies weren’t actually real in their mental world, and the physical strain was all simulated. Marinette had actually won, for the first time since they had begun the daily practice.

“Woo!” Marinette raised her fists in sloppy victory, just as out of breath as Robin. “I must be on a roll today! Lucky!”

“You’re Ladybug,” Robin suddenly blurted out. Normally he would have tensed at the slip, but for some reason the admission of his suspicion felt normal. Casual. Right. So he remained relaxed. Marinette went silent, looking over at him with a straight face for a long second before her lips slightly curled up at the corners.

“And you’re Damian, right?” She shot back, her voice soft and gentle. They looked into each other’s eyes as they continued to pant, both of their accusations in the open between them now.

Neither of them claimed to be innocent.

And that was okay. For some reason, neither of them minded that their identities had been found out. Maybe they had known for a few days, now. But they spent every night together, every sleeping hour in each other’s presence. They sparred. They gamed. Marinette was trying to teach him how to cook, and he was trying to teach her swordplay.

They knew each other pretty well, for only having met twelve days ago. And they had a lifetime to keep getting to know each other. This was just the next step. The next piece of knowledge to fill out the puzzle of who their soulmate was.

And it felt right to have it filled in, officially.

—*—*—*—*—*

#maribat #mlb x dc #daminette #The Heroes’ Game

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #454

Top Ten Launch Games 

Oooh, it’s finally here!  

By the time you read this, the Xbox Series X/S consoles will be out, and the PlayStation 5 will be imminent if not already with us. At the time of writing I’ve yet to sample either console, although hopefully that will soon change. However, it’s a bit of a weird console launch, especially for Xbox owners, as there’s not much in the way of actual launch titles. PlayStation has the excellent-looking technical showcase (in that it shows off their sexy new controller, if not necessarily the excesses of the console’s visual prowess) Astro’s Playroom. But on the Xbox side, the only genuine first-party exclusive (not including the port of rather smashing PC title Gears Tactics) was to be the troubled Halo Infinite, which has now been pushed to next year to deal with some of its apparent graphical deficiencies. For what it’s worth, as a Halo fan, I thought the actual gameplay presented looked as good as it always has, so I’m still very excited, but it’s a shame not to sample something genuinely new and shiny at launch. For me, then – as someone not getting a PlayStation this year – I’m going to have to contend myself with updated versions of older games, and hopefully something like the really exciting-looking The Falconeer or, eventually, Cyberpunk 2077.  

Of course, it’s not always been like this; in the past, a landmark game has often been the core reason to upgrade to a new console. Certain titles have defined their hardware platforms, offering a taste of the experiences to come, be it through revolutionary control systems, previously-unimaginable graphics, or simply by shattering preconceptions and expectations. As such, this weekend I’m celebrating my favourite launch titles. 

Now, a couple of my usual caveats. I’ve hardly owned any consoles in the grand scheme of things; I was a computer gamer until the launch of the first Xbox, and even then was PC-first until about midway through the 360’s life. As such I came to a lot of these late, or played them on friends’ systems. I’m sure a videogame historian would give you another list, one that was able to put each title into its historical perspective. For my part, I’m mostly basing it on how much I like the game, but I am also trying to weight it in terms of its “importance”. I mean, one of my favourite “launch titles” of all time would be Lego Marvel Super Heroes on the Xbox One/PS4, but that seems a bit of a ridiculous game to call a launch title, especially as it doesn’t really show off the hardware or define the generation in any particular way. I just think it rocks. So I’m trying to judge it also in terms of how effective a given game was at being a launch title, as well as my personal preference; as such, some games, which I think are more emblematic of their time or their hardware, might end up higher in the list than if I was otherwise just ranking my favourites.  

Christ, that was boring. Look, here are ten games that I like that came out when a console came out. Have at it. 

Halo: Combat Evolved (Xbox, 2001): it’s not just that it made playing an FPS on a console as comfortable and enjoyable as on PC, but it revolutionised what an FPS could do. Expansive open landscapes, dynamic combat with intelligent enemies, an ingenious shield/health combo, two weapons, drivable vehicles, and frankly outstanding graphics. And for Xbox – a curious underdog, a big black sheep devoid of cool or class and feeling like Microsoft was trying to buy its way into the console space with a hefty dose of brute force – here was something unique, something incredible. I don’t think anyone quite expected Halo, and it’s arguable that it single-handedly changed not only Microsoft and Xbox’s fortunes but the entire game industry too.  

Wii Sports (Wii, 2005): the Wii was this strange outlier, a tiny white box that eschewed the grunt and girth of its rivals, and seemingly built around its unique motion controller. Would it work? Wii Sports proved that yes it would, a delightful bundle of games that perfectly showed what the console and controller could do. Immense fun in and of itself, but the Wii’s ability to lower the barrier of entry to non-gamers meant that your dad could thrash your brother at bowling. And that is a thing to cherish forever. 

Tetris (GameBoy, 1989): depending on where you look, Tetris may just be the best-selling game of all time. It’s on everything now, from the Xbox Series X to your watch. But there was a time when “Tetris” meant “GameBoy”; that four-colour greenscreen box of wonder that everybody had but me. It was beyond ubiquitous, and its short-form nature and simplistic styling made it ideal for the portable console, its chirpy and iconic music sounding perfect coming from those tiny speakers. And above all else, of course, Tetris is fantastic, one of the greatest games of all time. It was a perfect marriage of software and hardware. 

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (Switch, 2017): so here’s the thing: I like Zelda, but I’ve never fallen in love with it. I didn’t grow up with it, so coming to Ocarina of Time, there were too many old-fashioned trappings in the way; it just didn’t feel as enthralling or as fun to play as, say, Half-Life or Deus Ex. BOTW changed that; the limitations were gone, the world was blown wide open. It no longer felt like an 80s game in three dimensions, it felt new. Better than new – it felt like tomorrow. Despite the Switch being graphically weaker than its contemporaries, BOTW was and is simply gorgeous to look at, but it’s how it plays, how it feels like a vast but real world, how it has its own rules and they make sense instantly. It’s the greatest open world game of all time, and emergent physics sandbox, and yet it’s still unquestionably Zelda, emphatically Nintendo. Okay, it technically came out on the Wii U at the same time, but who the hell played that? This was the game that made you want a Switch.  

Super Mario 64 (N64, 1997): this is often the game people cite as being one of the great revolutionary launch titles, but I must confess its charms were lost to me at first. Taking what was great about Mario and converting it expertly into 3D was a heck of a feat; graphically for the time it certainly impressed in the scale of its worlds, and whilst back then I felt it lacked the detail and granularity of some PC titles, in retrospect it was a perfectly-suited art style, offering smooth textures even when right up close. But it was its precise controls and the open, hub-based nature of its worlds that was revolutionary; many games aped its style, but it took a long time before anything really matched it.  

Hexic HD (Xbox 360, 2005): not every game here has to be some genre-busting graphical powerhouse; they can be simple but quietly revolutionary. Hexic HD is a terrific puzzle game with a simple hook, brilliantly executed, and enough intrigue and nuance to keep you coming back for one more go, to beat your high score, to get to the next tricksy level. But the time and manner of its release, and what that signified, marked it out as something more important. It was the first Xbox Live Arcade title; Microsoft’s curated gallery of smaller, more indie-flavoured games. More than that, it was free, coming pre-installed on all Xbox 360 Pros (the ones with the removable hard drive). It was a taste of what was to come, introducing audiences not only to the idea of playing these kinds of smaller, less intense games on a console, but also the idea of purchasing and downloading them digitally. It was great and ground-breaking in equal measure.  

WipEout (PlayStation, 1995): I kinda missed the PlayStation generation. I was still, more or less, in my PC-centric “consoles are toys” mindset (which I wouldn’t fully shake off till the release of the N64). But I came to appreciate its qualities as a cool, exciting, super-fast futuristic racer. I’m pretty sure it’s not the first 3D hover-car racing game, but it was presented in such a groovy package that it ticket all the boxes, and helped show off just what the PlayStation was capable of in terms of its 3D graphics and CD sound. And, of course, it helped define the console as being a bit more edgy and grown-up than the previous Nintendo and Sega stalwarts. 

Super Mario Bros. (NES, 1988): what can be said about one of the most iconic games of all time? Mario Bros defined not only a console, not only a generation, but arguably an entire artform. Creating what we now know as a platform game, it expanded and surpassed the basic template of Donkey Kong into a roaming adventure, part twitch-gaming reaction test, part puzzle game. I played a lot of copycat games on my Amiga, but even then, as a whiny computer brat, I knew that Mario was better. Even when my cousins got a MegaDrive and Sonic, I knew – deep in my heart – that Mario was better. It's a deep game, an endlessly replayable game, a supremely fair game despite its difficulty. I think it’s hard to overstate just how good, or how influential, Mario was. 

Project Gotham Racing (Xbox, 2001): I tried hard to pick a different platform for every game in this list, but I couldn’t exclude PGR. This may be tied up with my biography a little bit, but my other half and I played this game to death. I never think of myself as a big racer fan, but every once in a while a title comes out that I just really, really get into – Jaguar XJ220 on the Amiga, Midtown Madness on PC, the Forza Horizon series nowadays – and PGR did that in spades. A gorgeous arcade racer, it was a great launch title to show off the sheer grunt of the Xbox; then, as now, the most powerful console on the market. It also offered a terrific four-player split-screen. But its Kudos feature – borrowed from semi-prequel Metropolis Street Racer – offered ways to win outside of sheer racing graft, awarding cool driving. I still love the original, and I kinda wish they’d bring back or reimagine its city-based driving for a future release or Forza spin-off. 

Lumines: Puzzle Fusion (PSP, 2004): okay, so this is a bit of a cheat as I've barely played the original PSP version, but Lumines is just phenomenal; the best moving-blocks-around game since Tetris, and probably the most influential one since then too (for the record, I've played it extensively on multiple other platforms). An excellent spin on a Tetris-a-like, its use of music and colour made it a beautiful, brilliant sensory experience. With Sony entering the handheld market, the PSP needed a USP, something vibrant and cool that suited a portable experience, and Lumines provided it in spades; also its funky visuals and music was a good fit for Sony’s brand.  

Well, that was fun, and a lot harder than I expected. If you’re enjoying a new console this Christmas, then hopefully you’ll have fun with one of the new launch titles too – even if I doubt any (apart from maybe Astro) would trouble a list like this in the future (although I do think The Falconeer looks all kinds of cool). 

#top ten #games #gaming #launch games #xbox series x #xbox series s #playstation 5 #nintendo #switch #halo #mario #zelda

[felix-tee]

lavender and mint | alo + fee

@alois-the-real-boy January 24th, 7:48pm

[He smells of lavender and mint, because he’d used his favourite body wash tonight—stuff he uses sparingly, especially right now, because it is his favourite one and because so far, though he’s not been at Colony 22 very long, he has yet to find any real reason to trust in the reliability or quality of this so called ‘Hub’. So what he currently owns of value is even more precious than usual. 

And no, he’d actually not had a motive when he’d messaged Alois, other than the other blond being someone pretty to keep Felix company. He could practically hear Dee’s voice now, nattering on about implications or time or setting—an evening ‘walk’, getting together, just the two of them, potentially under the stars that seem to have made an appearance tonight—but Felix rolls his eyes at the echo of her blathering while he futzes with his fringe a few moments more in the Delma toilet’s mirror. He is not going to over think this. Alois is interesting, charming and handsome, and the world may be half dead but Felix isn’t, and if he’s going to be here in this shit hole old school on a rock of an island in the middle of fuck-knows where, he’s going to make the most of it. And filling his time, doing anything fun instead of just moping around, (especially if it’s with someone as attractive and presumably high on the food chain as Alois) is pretty much the top of his list. 

He’s wearing low slung, slim fit trousers—a deep maroon red, not bright but bold—and a loose black top that’s cropped just above his navel. Just enough to show off a generous span of a flat stomach, and perhaps a couple modest inches of ribs when he lifts his hands above his head. He’s also put on the gold charm necklace he’d gotten at the Hub with Koda on his first day, and a couple of simple gold bands around his wrist. His nails are painted an alternating assortment of rose and gold (a gold polish which he’d paid a right fortune for, and so he uses sparingly as well), with a couple of his delicate fingertips stripped or split down the middle. 

Being that he doesn’t pay attention in class, and has yet to start AP training, he has a lot of free time on his hands, and clearly, a lot more self respect than most people here.] 

He’s too aware of how he’s standing after he texts Alois and is waiting by the door of Calyset. He wants to appear attractive and confident when Alois shows up, but he also wants to appear casual. He settles for leaning one shoulder against the wall and pretending to be occupied with something on his PDD. He’s mindful not to fold his arms over his chest—It’s important that when Alois sees him, he sees someone physically open, but unconcerned. Being this graceful and beautiful isn’t always easy, but it has to be appear as though it is. Number one rule of modelling.

Bright blue eyes flick up when he hears the door click open, and he rubs his subtly glossed lips together just before he flashes a row of white teeth in a sweet, casual smile.] Well, hey there, handsome. 

#'Alolix' #? #lol #sounds like alois only more sci fi #i dig it #the title has nothing to do with the plot i just liked the sound of it #haha #sorry it's so long #pls do not match #its just a set up #alois #alois: lavender and mint

[kotlc-oneshots]

Believing (Blind!Keefe AU pt 2)

Word count - 3551

A lot of soliditary between keefe and my other bbys

God I can’t wait to write from Tams perspective, next chapter y’all!

Anyways I hope you like it and that it’s not Bad™️ considering how tired I am

~*~*~*

Pt two

Keefe

The next morning, I wake up and go through my simplistic routine again. Get dressed, brush teeth, message Fitz, eat. When I hear the honking of Fitz car outside, I carefully grab my cane and walk out the doors, tapping my way yard and to the street.

“How goes it?” Fitz’ voice calls, and a smile splits across my face at the inside joke.

“I don’t know,” I reply, laughing at the memory it brings. “I can’t see.” Fitz laughs in response.

“You’re sitting up front today; Biana took Sophie to get coffee early, so it’s just us boys.”

“Dex sat in the back?” I questioned, as he normally was quick to jump on shotgun. I reach the car and pop the door open, and am greeted by the familiar smell of Fitz’s car.

“More like laid in the back,” Dex pipes up, while I thud my bag to the ground and shut the door. I shake my head.

“You’re supposed to be the responsible one, Dex. Shame on you.” I chide, and Fitz peels away from the house. I roll my eyes and laugh; they’re so dumb. We’re so dumb. And I’m grateful for it.

“We're here—part two!” Fitz exclaims in the seat next to me. “Well, for half of my classes this’ll be my first day. I missed a lot yesterday—freshman presentations are ass,” he grumbles as he parks the car. I chuckle and shake my head.

“Your fault, man,” I taunt him, and he scoffs as a response. “Hey Dexxxxx… wanna walk me to class?” I say, fumbling around in the back, trying to hit him.

“Hmrrghh. Yeah.” I hear him shift around, and we step out of the car together.

As soon as we're both out, Fitz locks the car. “See y’all later!” he calls, jogging off- likely to some lifting or meeting or something. I chuckle; whenever I think of Fitz, I imagine he’s either very ugly, or really attractive. From what I heard, it’s the latter—he's the epitome of perfection to the entire school, and many other schools as well. I, however, know better—he’s a complete and utter dumbass. He once chugged half a gallon of milk on a dare, and another time got himself locked in a dog kennel—and that list can go on. I don’t quite understand how he keeps the guise of perfection and stability when he’s oh-so-clearly not. Him running off to a meeting or club isn’t a surprise, but it’s hard to imagine, knowing what he’s actually like.

“How the hell does that man manage all that shit?” Dex grumbles, also acknowledging that Fitz is definitely insane. I shake my head.

“A very, very large amount of crack,” I state solemnly, as if this is a sad, but true fact. Dex laughs loudly.

“I don’t doubt it. Better not let his coach find out,” He replies, just as sincerely. “What room number are you in, by the way?” He asks, just as I detect the curb with my cane. Gently stepping up, I tell him. “Nice—we aren’t that far from each other- you’re going straight there, right?” he asks, and I nod.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you—is there anything new with the Stina situation?” I bring up the topic gently—Stina Heks was Dex’s early on bully. Before Sophie brought Dex into the group halfway through their Freshman year, she would nag on him relentlessly—he was attending the school on a partial scholarship, and his family has a bit of bad history of being… odd. His dad runs a small pharmacy, and it’s mostly alternative medicine. She used to take any opportunity she could to point out anything about him that wasn’t strictly ‘normal’. I absolutely love it there with Dex. Mr. Dizznee is the kindest, most loving person ever—a huge contrast to my barely around, statue of a father. Plus, it always smells really nice in the store.

“Oh… well, we have precalc together, but she hasn’t said anything to me. She hasn’t said anything all summer—I feel like she's matured, a bit. Probably.” He sounds fairly put down, and I use his voice to guide me in the direction to wrap him in a one armed hug.

“Sorry I brought it up. But let me know if anything happens,” I say and he chuckles and pushes me away. From those few moments, I can tell he’s almost taller than me—which doesn’t feel right.

“No worries. Let's get you to class,” he says, and I can tell he’s being honest—it doesn’t bother him. Which is good, in my opinion. He’s growing up. Sometimes I feel like such a dad.

We walk into the main doors of the building and make our way down a few hallways. I use my photographic (ha) memory to make my way, but Dex still stays close to me, not letting me bump into kids or trip. I appreciate it, because I don’t have to use my cane—I might not be able to see them, but I can feel the people staring at me when I have it out.

“Well, we're here. We have, like, 15 minutes before class starts, though,” Dex states.

“I know- I always show up early,” I reply. “I mean, the other option is sitting in the cafeteria.” I shrug.

“Well, I might as well go to my class then. Brech told me yesterday I should come in if I had questions- and she assigned a couple starter worksheets. I gotta deal with that.” Even though I can’t see it, I can practically hear his frown.

“No worries,” I tell him, and he gently pats my shoulder before walking off. I pull out my cane, letting it guide me into the still unfamiliar classroom. The milky blobs of color offer little help as to finding a seat, so unfortunately this tends to be necessary.

“Hey! You should sit here.” A familiar voice says from the back corner. I rack my brain—Linh!

“Oh! Hey,” I reply. “Umm, where are you, exactly?” I ask, sounding really cool, I’m sure. I hate needing help.

“Just back here- this chair would be great.” She knocks on what I presume is the chair next to her. I use the sound to guide me, as well as the cane.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling. “You know, it's really hard to find a seat around here. Like, I literally can't see any! Must be budget cuts,” I say, grinning. There's a pause, then a small laugh.

“Some private school. They can't even afford chairs.” I chuckle.

“I mean- where’s the proof that there's even a building. Or classrooms! You gotta see to believe, and I certainly don't see, so…” I trail off and nod seriously. She laughs- I’m grateful. Blind jokes don’t go well with everyone. “Anyways, how are you?” I change the topic with a grin. “Long time no see.” This pulls out another laugh.

“Well, I’m ok. My schedule has been pretty stressful—but other than that, good. I’m still trying to make friends. I didn’t mention it yesterday, but this is my first year at Foxfire,” she says. I nod in acknowledgment.

“So, kinda on your own then? That’s not easy,” I reply, wondering if I should introduce her to the group. She seems nice enough, and, I hate to admit it, but half of being a part of our group is not being a piece of crap about me being blind. And all of us secretly being idiots.

“Well, there’s my brother—we’re twins. But other than that, yeah.” She sighs softly.

“Oh! You have a brother. That’s always nice,” I say.

“Well, yeah. He’s super over-protected. We got sucked into the foster care system, because… of some things, and there was a lot of bad things, which he always felt he had to keep me from. But we found a really great family now! They’re very nice, and actually acknowledge me and Tam’s ability. We’ve always been considered smart, but nobody really cared. They we're just in it for the money. Our new parents, however, have money, which is nice. So when they found out our test scores, they sent us here.” I nod in acknowledgement—Sophie went through some similar things before she got adopted by Grady and Edaline.

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry you’ve been through that,” I say, trying to find the right words. “It’s really good that you’re here now. Even though I’m pretty convinced there isn’t an actual school, I’ve been told that it’s nice.” She laughs at this.

“Yeah, so have I. Oh! I almost forgot. I’m in your stats class. Frer was just being rude the whole period, so I didn’t have a chance to say anything,” Linh says. I grin.

“Nice! Now that I know, you officially have to help me prank him at least once this year.” I tell her, very seriously.

“Oh…I don’t know about that.” she sounds apprehensive.

“I mean, you don’t have to. But I’m going to do it, so you may as well help.”

“I’ll think about it.” She says, and the door opens.

“Oh! Hello, you two. Early again?” A feminine voice—our teacher’s—says.

“You know it,” I tell her, smiling.

“Alright, well. You have a little bit less than five minutes before class starts, so go ahead and continue what you we’re doing.” Based on her tone—the bright, too cheery one that I hear a lot- I can tell she’s a little annoyed. I try not to let that affect me.

“Hey—I’m gonna work on some AP physics stuff,” Linh says, and I can tell she doesn’t really want to talk with the teacher there- even if its casual conversation. I nod, and let my thoughts be my own for the moment.

At least I’m used to it.

*****

Not much happens the next couple of periods—Fitz and I work on English together, and Dex and I use morse code to ‘pass notes’ in AP physics. He’s really good at science (like, really good), so he skipped a year and is in APP2 as a junior. I appreciate it- he’ll be a help for when I actually feel like studying. During Lunch, Dex and I sit at our table and Linh came to sit with us, introducing herself to Dex. In Government, I sit on my own and listened to the online assignments. In Stats, Linh manages to find a spot next to me and helps me out with the worksheet.

I find myself needing to go to the bathroom, so I ask to be excused. On my way there, a familiar voice calls my name.

“Keefe! Hey. Um.”

“Foster! Uh… what’s up?” I ask.

“Oh! Nothing. But, hey, do you think that you could come over tonight? There’s… there’s something I really want to talk to you about.” Just from her voice, I hear she’s slightly frazzled. Nervous.

“Are you ok, Sophie? Is someone bothering you again?” My mind jumps back to when she was first adopted by Grady and Edaline, and all the crap other kids gave her.

“No! It’s not like that. Just, something I wanna talk about. I need advice.” I smile.

“Ah. You need the wise old Keefester to help you out. Well, no worries, m’lady, I will do what I can. You want me to come over?”

“Yeah. I’ll just have Fitz drop both of us off at my place, Biana can ride on her own—sound good?”

“As long as you have food, I’m okay with anything.” She laughs softly.

“Of course. See you.” I hear her walk away, and smile to myself—I think back to when I had feelings for her, and can’t help but think about how they’ve changed- she’s like a younger sister to me now. It’s odd.

I go to the restroom and return to class, thinking about what Sophie might have to tell me that made her that nervous.

Stats class ends (for me), and my minds swimming with Frer’s stupidity as I go to Latin. I get there around when the bell rings to dismiss everyone else, and I find a seat close to the door. People filter out and in the classroom, and then someone speaks.

“Dude! Keefe, I forgot you we're in this class.” Fitz says, and a grin spreads across my face.

“Yeah, you had that Freshman help thing yesterday. You know there’s only one AP Latin 2, dumbass.” I respond, and he chuckles. I hear him put his stuff next to me.

“How was this class yesterday?” He asks, and I shrug.

“We barely did anything. Got a list of vocab and grammar to review.” I tell him, pulling up my bag to get my computer.

“That’s valid. Not gonna lie, I’m glad I missed it.” This makes me laugh.

“Oh, no—Wonderboy didn’t want to go to class? That’s a fuckin abomination.” I reply sarcastically, and the bell rings. I can hear Fitz scoff, but our teacher starts talking so he can’t respond. We get a reading prompt, and I have to go into the hall and listen to it. The teacher doesn’t let Fitz come out and help me, which sucks- but I have to consider the situation. Which also sucks. I hate having to be worked around.

One thing that really bothers me about our teacher, Sam, is she never lets me leave early. So Fitz has to help me through the crowd of people. The kids don’t really acknowledge me, but having so many people around that I can’t see, don’t know, that don’t care sends massive spikes of anxiety through me. Fitz does a really good job at helping me, his steady hand on my shoulder the whole time, making sure we both get through the crowd.

I’m so damn grateful for him sometimes.

We finally manage to get out of the building and to Fitz’s car. He unlocks it, and I climb into his car carefully. I can hear as he types on his phone, likely texting someone.

“How’s shit at home been going?” He asks, somewhat startling me.

“Oh. Well, not much has happened, really,” I admit with a shrug. “He’s been out a lot lately- I don’t have to interact with him much.”

“Good. We’re not gonna let him give you shit this year, got it?” I laugh.

“You’re so overprotective, Fitzy. I can handle my dad.”

“I’m serious, Keefe. None of this is your fault. Especially now with your mom gone… we-”

“I get it, Fitz. I know.” While I do love Fitz with my whole heart, he can be… overbearing. I reach out and search for his shoulder. “I’ll be okay.” I give him (what I assume to be) an award winning smile. “Besides, I got this year in the bag. All my pranks? Planned out to the t. I won’t get in trouble all year, I swear.” Fitz scoffs, but it’s lighthearted and followed by a chuckle.

“All right Keefe. I’m sorry.” He sounds genuine and I lean into him, letting my head rest on his shoulder. He can be a stubborn little shit sometimes, but he’s… a good friend.

“Oh my god, that’s fucking adorable.” The door crashes open and Dex steps inside. “You guys are gross, though.” He adds.

“PDA is not the Foxfire way.” Sophie says, jokingly.

“I will kiss him, right here, right now. Fight me,” Fitz says, joking but aggressive. Protective as ever. I laugh and push away, settling back into my normal seat.

“I think once is enough, isn’t it?” Dex laughs, but there’s something in his voice… I ignore it, and grin.

“Not when I’m involved. Trust me, even Fitz Vacker wants a piece of this.” I say, grinning and indicating myself.

“Not that you would know,” Fitz responds, ruffling my hair.

“Dude, I don’t even have to see to know how incredibly attractive I am,” I inform them.

“No need to argue with that.” Dex chuckles.

“Oh!” Sophie popes up. “I forgot to mention. Keefe’s comin over, could you just drop us both off at my place? I can get him back, Edaline normally doesn’t mind.” I’m actually the only one of the group that lives in town- everyone else lives in the country, because their parents needed or liked having the land.

“That makes it easy for me. Let’s go, brethren.” I don’t know when Fitz started referring to us at that, but I still think it’s hilarious. I snort at his idiocy, and we head off.

“Dex, are you doing debate this year?” I pipe up. I’m EXCITED for debate season.

“Yeah. I’m actually writing some stuff right now, on how to not be a little bitch.” Dex says, laughing.

“Dex, PLEASE. You’d do really good,” I argue. “Just write an oratory on veganism or something!”

“Dude, you’ve been trying this for the past two years- the meetings clash with robotics. Besides, why would I want to right an oratory when you’ve placed first twice now.”

“Not that that mattered,” I contest. “Considering my dad didn’t let me go.”

“Pleeeasseee. For me.”

“FINE. I’ll go to one meeting. Only because there’s no robotics and Sophie’s going. No offense Keefe, but you suck.” I stick my tongue out at him, but grin happily. I’ve been trying to do this for YEARS.

“You guys are such nerds,” Fitz inputs, and I hit his shoulder. “Oh, you know it’s true.” I scoff.

“Says the president of the chess club.” Sophie states, laughing.

“We don’t talk about that.” Fits says, and I feel the car pull to a stop. “We’re here, Sophie. Keefe, you too. Dex- get up here you little shit.”

“Hey. Don’t disrespect my son like that.” Sophie tells, and I hear Dex grumble a bit.

“Fitz, if you’re not busy, wanna do something? Like, I dunno, egg some annoying blondes?” I snort. Dex has learned well.

“Um, yes to the first part, no to the second. That’s a lot of work. Also, aren’t you vegan?”

“Oh! Yeah, that.” Dex says casually. I laugh, and step out and away from the car carefully.

“Have fun, nerds!” Sophie calls as they drive off, and I grin in her direction.

“So, Miss F, what was it you wanted to tell me?” I ask, and I can practically feel the shift in her mood.

“Oh. Um. Yeah. Come inside?” I nod, and she guides me to the doors.

“Sounds serious,” I tell her.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Just… something that’s been on my mind for the past few months. Especially… I dunno.”

“Wanna go to your room first?”

“Yeah. Um…” I can tell she’s nervous, and likely picking at her eyelashes- what many people have told me to be her nervous tick. We walk over to her room in moderate silence.

“What’s the sitch?” I ask, and Sophie laughs- and replies with the Kim Possible beep. “Seriously though, what’s on your mind. Unless you wanted me over just to admire how incredibly handsome I happen to be.”

“Well, um, no… uh.” She sighs. I search around for a chair and sit down.

“Hey. It’s okay. Whatever it is, I’m here for you.

“Well, I. I think. I’m gay, I think. Like, maybe not full gay, but pretty gay. Like, girls are cool gay. Really cool. But maybe not, I don’t? Know If I’m Actually Gay Gay. Maybe I’m just thinking and stuff, but I’m probably gay? I think? I don-”

“Sophie. Hey. It’s okay.” I interrupt, to keep her from going insane. “Take a few deep breaths.” I hear her do so. “You know none of us will judge you. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I guess, I just don’t want to make a big deal of it.”

“I get it. I’m glad you told me, though.” I smile at her warmly.

“Well. That’s all I really wanted to tell you. I guess.”

“Wanna play Smash?”

“Yeah.”

****

That night I get home relatively late- Sophie feeds me and we play video games for quite a while. We didn’t talk about what she told me- I want to respect her space.

“Where have you been?” My father, voice stern, says. I haven’t even closed the door yet.

“Sophie’s.” I respond, automatically pulling on a calm expression and heightening my posture. I shut the door softly.

“And what, may I ask, were you doing?” His voice is condescending.

“We were playing video games and I lost track of time- I’m sorry.” He scoffs.

“I’m sure. Do you have any homework?” There's the implied ‘that you didn’t do’ at the end.

“Not really. I have some reading I can do, though.” I admit. I’ve learned that lying to my father doesn’t work. Ever.

“You better get on that.” He sneers, and I try to keep my expression respectful and blank.

“Of course. I’m sorry.” I say, and walk in the direction of my bedroom. “Debate starts Thursday, by the way.”

“Convenient. The day that I have off.” He scoffs back.

“I’m sorry dad. Do you want me to come home? They won’t mind if I miss the first meeting.” I try not to yell, or say anything that will anger him.

“I don’t care. Go finish your reading.” He says. I can tell that he’s not lying- he doesn’t care.

I bite my tongue and nod. Then I go finish my reading.

#keeper of the lost cities #dex dizznee #kotlc #keefe sencen #kotlc pride month #sophie foster #tam song #this is intense #blind!au #fanfiction #kotlc fanfiction #fitz vacker #biana vacker #linh song #also everyones gonna be gay sorry #yes i am implying that keefe and fitz have kissed theyre best friends and truth or dare is a thing guys

[wistfulcynic]

Another Brick In The Wall, Chapter 12

a/n: This one is short and sweet, just a little bit of fluff and plot development. It was going to be longer, but I decided to split it and I think you’ll understand why... 

Summary: Emma Swan, sheriff’s daughter, mayor’s niece, quarterback’s girlfriend, is the undisputed princess of Storybrooke High. She is smart and confident and used to getting what she wants. What she wants is Killian Jones, the new boy in school. But Killian is not easily manipulated, and reluctant to allow the dark secrets in his past to touch the girl he is rapidly falling in love with. Rating: T Read it on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Tags for: @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @hollyethecurious @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @bonbonpirate

Chapter 12: 

“Swan, I have somthing to discuss with you,” said Killian one lunchtime at the beginning of April. They were sitting outside, enjoying an early spring day that was both bright and warm; fortunately so, as neither of them was quite ready to return to the library at lunch. Emma still turned pink whenever she saw Miss French, and frankly the quiet and solitude there offered too much temptation to repeat the activities that had embarrassed them in front of her in the first place. Better to stay away from the library, and out in public. 

“That sounds ominous,” Emma replied.  

“I hope not, but it is serious. You remember I told you that I had a provisional place to study at Oxford, that I could start there next year if I got high enough AP scores?”

“Yeah,” she replied, ignoring the twist in her belly at the thought of him being so far away. They could survive a few years long-distance, she knew, she had complete faith in the strength of their relationship, but that didn’t mean she was looking forward to it. An ocean between them meant months of not seeing Killian except for his face on a screen, months of not being able to touch or hold or kiss him. As happy as they had been together over the past few weeks, that future separation loomed large and depressing.   

“Well, a few months ago Miss French suggested that maybe I might be able to stay here, in the US I mean, for university. ‘College,’ I suppose I should call it.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah. She contacted the Oxford tutor I’d been planning to work with, and he contacted a colleage of his at Harvard, and well, the gist of the tale is that they’ve offered me the same deal. Get the AP scores and I can start there next year.” 

“At Harvard?”

“Yeah.” 

“Thats— that’s fantastic!” Emma threw her arms around them, oblivious to the other students in the yard, overwhelmed by the relief and happiness surging through her.

“I’m pleased with it.” Killian smiled, returning her hug and kissing her temple as she snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder. “There is a condition, though,” he continued, “and that is for me to return to Oxford for any graduate degrees, which honestly would be my preference regardless. Oxford is really the best place to study languages on an advanced level. But the more I think about it the more I realise I’d quite like to go to an American college. At British universities you focus only on your chosen subject, but I’d like the chance to explore some other subjects besides languages.” He thought for a moment. “My maths and physics classes here have been really interesting, maybe I’ll try engineering. Or architecture. Having a hand in building something would be amazing.” 

His eyes were bright with enthusiasm, his expression open and eager, and as she listened to him she felt a rush of pure love. He was such a nerd. Oh, he hid it well behind his smart mouth and occasionally almost Brontë-level moodiness, but underneath all that he was passionately devoted to his interests, and in the end wasn’t that what made a nerd?

“Did I tell you I got into Columbia?” she asked casually. 

“Architecture might be something I could— wait, what?” 

She grinned at his delighted expression. “Got the email last week. Off the wait list and in. Mom’s thrilled, of course, and taking all the credit. Says I’m a ‘legacy.’”

“That’s nonsense, love it was all you. You’re brilliant, and amazing.” His voice brimmed with pride. 

Emma resisted the urge to point out that if anyone was brilliant and amazing it was the seventeen year old who’d secured a special deal to go to Harvard. But that would only embarrass him, and there were more important matters to discuss. “You know what this means, right?” she said eagerly. “With me in New York and you in Boston we’ll only be a few hours away on the train. We could see each other every few weeks.” 

“I’ll confess that this was not a minor factor in my decision to stay here for school,” he replied. “The idea of being an ocean away from you was not one I cared to contemplate.” 

“Me neither. Oh, this is incredible, babe, I’m so happy.” 

“As am I, love.” 

And she could see that he meant it. Although his dark cloud still sometimes fell, although the shadows occasionally still lurked behind his eyes, he was happy. They were happy, together. And she wanted more people to have a chance at what they had. 

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

Emma Swan had always known, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, that she had what any objective observer would consider a charmed life. She had been raised by loving parents in a town where everyone knew her and cared for her, and she had grown up smart and athletic, confident and charming,  pretty and popular. The circumstances of her life combined with her natural gifts had always reliably ensured that she didn’t have to work too hard for anything, and that the work she did do produced satisfactory results. She had good grades, tons of friends, and had never failed at anything she’d tried to do. 

Not that she didn’t also have her flaws. As much as she was kind, considerate, and determined, she was also complacent, shielded by privilege, stubborn, and self-satisfied in the way that only a pretty, pampered girl can be. As a result she had never really examined anything about herself or her life, never questioned her place in the world or challenged the expectations placed on her. She had led her clique, become a cheerleader, dated Neal, all because everyone else seemed to expect it, and she’d had no reason to object. She’d had no reason to ask herself if those things were actually what she wanted or simply what other people wanted for her, figuring that it didn’t really matter, everything would work out in the end. Why wouldn’t it? She was Emma Swan, after all. Things always worked out for her.

All that had changed when she’d met Killian. For the first time in her life Emma had wanted something she couldn’t have, for the first time she had found herself truly empathising with another person, putting herself in his shoes, feeling the pain that he felt. She had made the decision to put his needs first, the hardest decision of her young life, and that had changed her. Killian had changed her. By not obediently falling into line, by making her work for his trust and friendship, by calling her out for what she was and making her see that there were things in this world that didn’t simply fall into her lap because she was Emma Swan, Killian had challenged her preconceptions, broadened her horizons and made her take a hard look herself and her life, for the very first time. 

She wasn’t entirely sure she liked what she saw. It astonished her now to think, for instance, about how she’d allowed Neal to treat her, how she’d just accepted his microaggressions and petty digs like they were something normal and to be expected. She had buried her reservations, her distaste, her outright dislike of him, because of what other people had thought. Because the head cheerleader dated the quarterback, that was just how things were done, and the lack of chemistry, common interests, even basic compatibility between herself and Neal made no difference. She had come to realise, slowly and painfully, that many of things she’d thought she wanted, the things that had always come so easily to her, were perhaps not what she really wanted at all. That perhaps the things she really wanted would be harder to obtain. Like Killian. Like the future she was beginning to envision with him. 

The one thing that Emma had always known was what she wanted to do with her life was to help people, to find something she could do that would make other people’s lives better. Like her father the law enforcer, like her mother the teacher. They were leaders and guides and she admired them, wanted to be like them. But she saw now through her newly opened eyes that if she wanted to make a real difference she couldn’t live the rest of her life in a small town surrounded by people who were basically just like her. Killian had made her see that there was a great wide world beyond Storybrooke, a world full of people whose lives and experiences she couldn’t even begin to fathom. If she wanted to help them she would need to understand them, and to understand them she would need to meet them, to see firsthand what they were dealing with. 

Her parents expected her to follow the same path they had taken. And she intended to, if not quite in the way they anticipated. 

“Forensic psychology,” she said firmly, ignoring her mother’s worried brow and her father’s stern concern. “That’s what I want to do. I want to help victims of crimes, help people who suffered trauma to get their lives back, like Dr Hopper did with Killian. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time but now I’m sure. That’s what I’m going to study.” 

“But that’s… that’s years of school, isn’t it?” said Snow. “That’s advanced degrees.” 

“You have a master’s degree, Mom!” 

“Which I did online from home after working for several years! You’re talking about a PhD, that’s at least an eight year commitment before you can even get started! Do you really want to be away from Storybrooke for eight years?” 

“Yeah,” said Emma, bracing herself. “About that.” 

“About what?” asked Snow, in a voice that suggested she already knew. 

“I don’t think I’ll be coming back to live in Storybrooke anytime soon.” 

Snow closed her eyes and sighed. Somehow she’d known this was coming. 

“If I want to really help people I have to live somewhere where people need help,” said Emma. “And no offense, Dad, but SB isn’t exactly a hotbed of violent crime.” 

“Violent crime,” echoed Snow faintly. David remained silent, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“Plus, Killian wants to be a linguist, and that’s not really an in-demand job here either.” 

“Is Killian behind this decision, then?” asked Snow sharply.

“Well, he is, but probably not in the way you think. He’d be happy to live anywhere I wanted. If I wanted to stay here he would find something to do.” 

“Well, then, I don’t see any reason—”

“But that’s not what I want, Mom! I don’t want to hold Killian back, I don’t want to hold myself back. And I don’t want to live forever in the small town I grew up in.” 

“But— you never said before—”

“I never actually thought about it before. But now I have and I know what I want. I want to see how other people live, and I want to learn about other ways of thinking. I don’t just want to be complacent in my little box of other people’s expectations. I want to challenge myself and find out what I’m really made of.” 

“Oh, Emma,” Snow sighed, recognising the stubborn set of her daughter’s jaw and realising that all her plans for Emma’s life were about to go up in smoke. “David, talk to her!”

David had sat silently throughout the discussion, and he considered his words carefully now before he spoke. “I’m proud of you, Emma,” he said finally. 

“David!” 

“You know that I will always support any decision you make,” David continued, placing a calming hand on Snow’s knee. “We’ve tried to raise you to make good ones, and I trust your judgement. But I admit I never expected you to make a decision like this, and I could not be more proud. You’ve chosen a path that will be hard, harder than many alternative paths you could have gone for. But I think it will be a rewarding, and more importantly a worthwhile one.” 

“But David, everything we’ve worked to give her!” cried Snow.

“We worked to give her everything we could so that she would have the freedom to live her life as she wished to,” said David. “That’s what she intends to do. We have to respect her choices, Snow.” 

Emma rose from where she had been curled up in an armchair and sat on her father’s lap, something she hadn’t done in years. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she squeezed him tightly and buried her face in his shoulder. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered. 

David squeezed her back. “I love you, Duckling,” he replied, turning his head to shoot his wife a significant look. “Snow?”

“Oh, you know I love you both,” said Snow, shifting on the sofa so she could embrace both husband and daughter. “I’d just hoped— But never mind, Emma, if this is your decision and you’re happy with it then I am happy for you.” 

Emma and David each put an arm around her, and the three of them sat that way for a long time, thinking about the future. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

One sunny afternoon in early May Killian and Emma were walking from Granny’s to the school to pick up Emma’s car which they’d left in the school lot after fencing club, preferring to walk to Granny’s and back in the warm sunshine. They walked arm-in-arm, their custom now, their strides perfectly matched and the silence between them easy and comfortable. Killian loved their comfortable silences; although when necessary he could talk with the best of them, he was not a person who was naturally inclined to a lot of noise and chatter. He preferred quiet more often than not, and always needed some peace after spending time in a noisy environment, even one he enjoyed like a concert or open mic, or a rowdy family dinner of the sort he and Emma seemed to find themselves at every weekend these days. He loved that they could just be together, just enjoy each other’s company without needing to fill the silence with talk. Her presence calmed his often turbulent mind, made him feel grounded and happy, and even better, content. He didn’t think he’d ever known simple contentment before in all his life and he treasured it.

Yet that afternoon the silence would have to be broken. 

“Swan,” he said. 

“Hmmm?” Emma was clearly still caught up in whatever thoughts she’d been thinking before he spoke. 

“What are you thinking about?” He was suddenly curious to know what had put that little smile on her face, and what he had to say could wait. 

“Just thinking about this summer. School’s going to be over soon. Do you think you’ll get a job?”

“I have one already. I’m going to be helping Liam with some work at the docks, and also it seems I’ll be tutoring your cousin Henry in maths.” 

“Yeah, he told me. Would you call that a real job, though?” 

“It’s real pay, Swan. Quite a bit of it, actually, your aunt is very determined for him to succeed. And hark at you, daughter of a teacher, thinking tutoring’s not a real job! What would your mother say?”

“Ha ha. I just meant it can’t be many hours.”

“Three per week, which I suppose isn’t many as far as jobs go but is at least two and a half more than Henry would prefer.”

“He’s such a smart kid, but hopeless at math. He’ll keep you on your toes.” 

“I’ll be prepared. I assume you’re asking me about this because you have a job of your own?”

“Yeah, I’m going to be working at the ice cream shop. They have extended summer hours and they get really busy. And my dad says I can shadow one of his deputies a couple of days a week. He says if I’m going to be working with law enforcers, even as a psychologist, I should know what they do from the ground up.” 

“That sounds like a solid plan.” 

“And it will leave plenty of time for us to do stuff together,” she said, pulling her arm from his so she could wrap it around his waist and lean her head on his shoulder. He draped his own arm around her waist, his hand casually on her hip, brushing a kiss over her hair as they continued to walk, their movements so in sync that their pace never faltered. Killian smiled to himself. As wonderful as the comfortable silence was, the casual intimacy might be even better. That he could touch her freely and she him was one of the great joys of his life. 

“I very much look forward to hearing about these summer activities that I can tell you’re planning, love, but I have a more immediate concern that we need to discuss.” 

“Oh? And what’s that?” 

“You have to promise not to laugh.” 

She was indignant. “Killian Jones, when have I ever laughed at you?”

“You laugh at me all the time!” 

“I laugh with you, which is not the same. You can’t blame me for laughing when you’re trying to be funny!” 

“All right, I suppose that’s fair. But this time—” 

“I promise not to laugh, Killian.”

He nodded. “Good. Well. Okay.” He drew a deep breath. “God, I feel like a right git asking this, these are words that I never in all my life thought I’d need to say, but… well, um…” 

“Spit it out, Jones, I’m losing my will to live here,” teased Emma, burying her grin in his shoulder. She was pretty sure she knew what was coming, and despite her promise was very tempted to laugh at him. After all his snarky comments about American high school clichés he was finally being forced to eat his words. 

“Are you really going to make me say it, Swan?”

“I absolutely am, and also I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you have something you wanted to ask me?”

He groaned, and she swallowed a giggle. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, “though I think that if you really loved me you wouldn’t put me through this.” 

“Love is pain, babe, isn’t that what Fergie sang?”

“Another right git, so the quote seems apt. Okay, look. Emma. Will you— oh, God, I absolutely cannot say it!” 

“Yes you can, and you’d better or I’ll go with someone else! Surely you don’t think you’re the only one who’s asked me. Or hasn’t asked me, in your case.”

“Someone’s asked you to the prom behind my back?” he snarled, bristling in indignation. “Who? Tell me so I can flatten the bastard.” 

“Asked me to the what now?” She blinked at him, eyes wide and innocent.

The look on his face was priceless. “Bloody hell, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” 

“For a smart guy you are so dumb sometimes. Just ask me, it’s not like you don’t know the answer.” 

He shot her a smirk that was second cousin to a leer. “I would never consider you a foregone conclusion, my darling.” 

“Just ask me, Killian!” 

“Argh! Fine! Emma, will you go to the prom with me?”

“Yes, of course I will. I thought you’d never ask. Like, literally, never.”

Further notes: Yes, we will see them go to the ball prom. Naturally. 

#cs au ff #high school au #teenage captain swan #daddy charming #David being a real dad is my new favourite thing #another brick in the wall #profdanglaisstuff

[frostythefelix]

Lost in a Cornmaze With Jisung

Spooktober 10th

Word count: 2375

Genre: super fluff lmao

Summary: you lose your friends in a cornmaze and come across an equally lost jisung.

This story is dedicated to my wonderful editor and friend @eccentricpineapples she has helped me out tramendously since the beginning of this month and she deserves the biggest shout out!

This was written to fit her and her personality for a gift of sorts? Anyway, thanks Aliese! Idk what I’d do without you lmao

•••

When you woke up that cold Saturday morning to a text from your friends inviting you to a corn maze, you were excited. Fall may not have been your favorite season, but you couldn’t deny that place in your heart for oversized sweaters, pumpkin spice, scented candles, and fallen leaves. That said, there was not a place in your heart for abandonment.

Upon arriving at the makeshift parking lot of the maze, you make the observation that there was no one there. Besides your vehicle and your friend’s mini van, the only other cars were a couple of expensive-looking black Sedans. The lack of people surprised you; this place was all over the typical white-girl’s instagram page.

“Hey, Y/N!” Your friend Karen greeted, leading the rest of the group to the entrance of the maze. You jogged to catch up with them, an excited smile on your face.

“Ready to have fun?” Another friend, Annika asked. You grinned.

“As ready as I’ll ever be!” With those words, your group of five made your way into the maze. As time passed, your group became three, and then suddenly one. The group split due to a stupid disagreement between your friends Ariel, who insisted you go right since that was her “lucky” direction, and Karen, who was having none of that after the sixty-seventh turn. Not that you were counting. You were sick of the bickering, and instead of going against your fear of confrontation, you went off ahead of the group until you couldn’t hear the argument anymore. After taking some breaths to calm down, and a few sips from your half-exhausted water bottle, you decided it was time to head back. But there was one problem. You couldn’t find your friends.

You tried to calm your anxiety. Being alone in an unknown place was not something that brought you happiness in any way. Seeing that you only had a whopping 16% battery life left didn’t help your situation at all. You began to wander, hoping you could find your way back by yourself. Having no signal anyway, you put your phone on airplane mode and stuffed it in your pocket. You were sure you’d need the flashlight at some point, so you had to preserve the small amount of battery you had left. You silently cursed yourself for not charging your phone before you left the house. You walked for a solid fifteen minutes, not hearing a single sound other than the corn stalks rustling in the wind. How big is this place, you wondered. It’d been over an hour since you lost your group, and if you were honest with yourself, you thought you would have found them by now.

“This maze sucks!” You sulked, kicking the corn to your left. Though you felt less stupid when you came across a porta potty in the maze. Clearly, this must happen a lot if the owners had to put a bathroom in there. You continued to walk by yourself, thinking of a strategy to get out when you remembered the other cars. There were more people in there, unless they already got out and left. You shook the negative thought out of your head, convincing yourself that they had to be in there with you somewhere. The cars looked expensive, and expensive cars meant rich people. Rich people meant fancy phones, and with a smile, you came to the conclusion that fancy phones had service. All you had to do was find one of those rich people, and you could use their phone to call your friends. You sped up, hopeful. Your plan was foolproof! Although, in reality, the only accuracy in that sentence was ‘fool’. You couldn’t even find your friends, what made you think you’d find anyone else?

Lost in thought, you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching you until they were almost rounding the corner. You paused, your heart rate suddenly picking up. You thought you were going crazy at this point. You’d been lost for two hole hours and you were almost out of water. A male voice sounded over the footsteps, recognizing the language immediately as Korean. You’d never heard it in person, only ever on youtube and in all the kpop songs you listened to, but you could distinguish it immediately.

“Hello?” The voice called, the english words echoing throughout the silence. Hesitantly, you repeated his call.

Earlier that morning, Jisung woke up to chaos. All eight of his members were crowding his bed, throwing themselves at him and laughing joyously. Seungmin shoved a piece of paper in his hands and it took him a moment before he could actually comprehend what it said. The nine of them would be going to a corn maze while in America for an episode of The 9th. He was excited to say the least. He needed the break from everything. Don’t get him wrong, he loved his life, but he needed a break from all the chaos being an idol brought.

Each line was given a camera to share between the three of them. Whichever group made it out first would win a prize of sorts. They weren’t allowed to know what that prize was until the end, though, they knew it was something big. That brought out the competitive side of all the members, each determined to win. The moment they were given the go, Chan grabbed Changbin from his conversation with Hyunjin and Felix by his arm and dragged him into the maze at sonic speed, assuming Jisung was right behind them. He was not. No worries, he thought, I can do this on my own. He chuckled at the thought of his friends arriving at the finish line first, but losing because he wasn’t with them.

Jisung had been wandering for a while, with slightly more success than you. He almost caught up with the vocal line, but Seungmin was blasting Day6 so loud that Jisung’s calls never reached them. He never regretted leaving his phone behind more than he did at that moment. His luck changed suddenly at the sound of footsteps. He raced toward the sound, calling for help in his native tongue before coming upon the realization that he was in America, and statistically, the person he was chasing did not speak Korean. Not a problem for our multilingual prince. He called out in English, finally receiving a response. Rounding the corner he came face to face with a terrified you.

You weren’t terrified, you were surprised. Right in front of you was a face that you had plastered on your bedroom wall. A face that you watch constantly on youtube and vlive. Han Jisung, a member of your favorite kpop boy group, Stray Kids, was stood right in front of you. You even made a remind account that morning, to remind all your friends to vote for Stray Kids on mnet. But you couldn’t freak out. No matter how excited you were, Jisung was your only way out of this place.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. Is there any chance you saw a group of dumb ass girls all shorter than me?” You asked, hopeful. He shook his head, a sorry smile on his thin lips.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jisung. Any chance you’ve seen a group of dumbass boys pretty much all taller than me?” You took a deep breath. The rest of Stray Kids were there, too! But that doesn’t help that you were both lost, although now you had a companion. It’s awkwardly silent for too long before Jisung breaks it suddenly.

“Hey, so my friends and I are doing this video where we’re competing as teams to get out of the maze-” He started, you interrupted with a laugh.

“So, you’re losing?”

“Well, yeah, but not for long.” he replied, leaving you a bit confused. “There’s no way my friends will win. They’ve got, at most, six brain cells between the two of them and the older one has most of them.” You want to ask which of the members he was teamed with. They never had specific groups they’d team with in any of their The 9th episodes. “Anyway, even if they did get out first, they can’t win without me.” You say nothing, still confused as to why he was telling you this story, not that you didn’t want him to tell you. If you were honest, you would listen to him talk about a garbage can all day and never complain.

“What are you getting at?” You asked.

“Well, why don’t we become a team and win the prize instead?” He suggested. You didn’t really have to think about it. His proposal wasn’t something you could say no to. You would escape the maze an idol, albeit an idol that didn’t know you knew he was an idol, and you could make your friends jealous. It was an easy yes. You nod, determined.

“I think we’ll make a great team, Jisung. Let’s get out of here!” Suddenly both of you had so much energy, sprinting off in the same direction. Jisung decided the best plan would be to “become the maze”. The two of you began trudging through the corn walls, avoiding the actual paths. The two of you chat to pass the time, asking each other questions and talking about your hobbies.

“Oh, you rap?” You ask, you know, like a liar; as if you didn’t bump to Matryoshka on the daily. You tell him about your classes, advising he never take AP Physics, not that he would ever have to. The two of you opted to playing other games like two truths and a lie, but facts version. You had to feign innocents when you guessed facts correct, insisting you were just a great listener. At this point, you were having so much fun that you completely forgot the revenge plan, laughing and joking together like you’d been friends forever. It wasn’t until you pushed through the last wall of that stupid maze that you remembered.

“Why’d you leave me?” You shout angrily. All four of your friends were waiting at the entrance of the maze, remorseful expressions covering their faces. The audacity.

“Y/N, we thought you died-” Karen shushed your friend Ariel.

“Oh, gosh! We’re so sorry. Once we realized you were gone it was too late.” You wanted to roll your eyes at her. “We figured it was our best bet to come up with a meeting place outside of the maze, but then you didn’t show, and our calls weren’t going through-”

“It’s okay, guys. I mean it really hurt my feelings, but we can talk about that later. Meet my new friend!” Jisung, who has an impeccable sense of timing, pops out from behind you with a cute squirrel-like smile. You’re completely prepared to rub him in their faces, but they aren’t even fazed. Annika smiled, a small yeah-about-that smile that made your heart drop. Before you could question her though, a shout resignated from behind you. A group of boys, easily recognizable as Stray Kids themselves, come running out of the main building. Jisung huffs at the sight of them, but you’re frozen in your place, shocked to your core.

Woojin is the first to make it to your group. He started to apologize profusely and you were proud that you at least could grasp that. When Jisung started to respond, you turned towards the rest of the group as the began to surround him. You’re mouth hung open at the sight of your bias, sweet and soft, right in front of your face.

“Oh my g- it’s Felix Lee!” You shouted before you could stop yourself. Felix is caught by surprise, mumbling a shy hello, but before you could get anything else out Jisung’s hurt face appears in front of Felix, having put two and two together.

“You knew who I was the entire time, but didn’t say anything?” He asked, a prominent frown etched on his face. He knew Felix was more popular than him, but did you just not like him or something? Why hadn’t you reacted that way to him?

“I just didn’t want to sound like a creep and you’re just really cool.” You tried to explain. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.” Jisung couldn’t help but appreciate that. His smile was so wide, but it dropped when he realized something.

“So you cheated in Two Truths, One Lie?” He practically yelled.

“It wasn’t cheating!” You insisted. “You really do have a Virgo vibe!”

For the next hour your two groups interact as much as you can. There was a lot of translating and confusion, but by the time you had to go home it felt like communicating got much easier, and you scored at least twenty photos with the group.

It came time to say goodbye and suddenly the atmosphere became somber and cold. You didn’t want to say goodbye to Jisung. You avoided it the best you could, saving his goodbye for last. After having a borderline mental breakdown in front of Felix, telling him how pretty he was with his freckles, how he shouldn’t let anyone edit his beautiful skin, and how proud of him you were for graduating early and not being afraid to cry, it was Jisung’s turn. You frowned at him, not ready for this.

“Don’t be sad!” He said, pulling you in for a hug. He was sad too, but he wouldn’t admit that to anybody. He gave you a tight squeeze, leaning back to smile at you. “Today was really fun, even if I did get totally abandoned-” Changbin shrieked in protest behind you causing Jisung to laugh. “Anyway, even if we were lost in a corn maze, I’m glad it was with you.” He let go of the hug with one last smile before walking away with the rest of Stray Kids. When he was out of earshot, you finally could breath, letting out a loud, strangled shout of excitement. Your friends laugh at you as you all make your way to your cars as well. It isn’t until you sit in the driver seat that you feel something in your pocket.

Pulling out a small piece of paper, your eyebrow furrowed. On the piece of paper, scrawled in messy pen, was a simple tumblr URL and a smiley face. Your jaw dropped, eyes ogling the paper. All this time you thought it was Chan sneaking around the interwebs of Tumblr, but it was that sneaky snake Jisung all along. As much as you wanted to go home, you couldn’t. Before retreating to your car, your friends had made dinner plans. You were to meet them at your favorite pizza place as an apology for abandoning you. As thankful as you were, you wanted nothing more to get home and search up the URL. You couldn’t believe it. The fact that it was Jisung this whole time boggled your mind.

Finally, around ten o’clock PM, you opened the door to your home. You ran up the stairs to your room, skipping two steps at a time. Yanking your laptop open, you impatiently typed in your password and watched as Stray Kids popped up on your screen. You chuckled at the irony, clicking the Google Chrome icon before going straight to Tumblr and typing in the URL Jisung gave you. You couldn’t help but snoop around his Minho blog for awhile before clicking the message button.

“Heyy, I’m Y/N. Is there any chance you’ve seen a smol squirrel rapper boy with a secret tumblr, is there?” You typed, a smile on your face. His response came faster than you thought.

“Nope, sorry, but have you seen a cute anxious girl that got abandoned by her friends around here?” Your eyes widened at his words. Cute? You squealed, rolling around on the floor before getting up, taking a deep breath and typing back a response.

That corn maze debacle actually resulted in something amazing: the start of a beautiful friendship accompanied by memes, eventual late night facetimes, group hangouts whenever he was in town, and maybe a little bit more than just friendship. All you knew was that that night was the best thing to ever happen to you, and little did you know, Jisung felt the same.

masterlist

#stray kids #hyunjin #kpop #bang chan #seungmin #jeongin #felix #jisung #stray kids imagines #woojin #changbin #leeknow #lee minho #stray kids trash #stray kids scenarios #stray kids art #stray kids fic rec #kpop fic rec #kpop imagines #stray kids x reader #jisung x reader

[fuck-bowers]

Derry Queen (Patrick Hockstetter x Reader) Chapter One

A/N: This is an experimental little thing I wrote recently (and I definitely didn’t write it just for the pun… 😂) Let me know what you think!

“You got nominated!” Your friend Shirley cried, pointing at your name on the commons bulletin board. Her excitement was infectious, although you were so physically exhausted from that day’s cheer practice that even smiling hurt.

You couldn’t believe you’d gone the whole day until six-thirty at night before learning that you had a chance at being Homecoming Royalty - more importantly, homecoming queen, as the newly posted paper indicated.

“Oh, wow, I really was.” You muttered to yourself with a slow-forming grin, staring at your name in the typewriter font. You were allegedly competing with Laura Tillman and Jacqueline Werner. You had a feeling you’d win.

Shirley turned to you with nothing but happiness in her expression. “I bet you’ll win, Y/N. How exciting, my best friend might be homecoming queen!”

As the two of you headed to the front exit, Shirley continued talking about who was likely to win in every grade when you wondered whether this was a good thing or not. You were already on the homecoming committee, and would have to make posters and help fundraise for it, specifically during the ‘Fall Fair’ that weekend. You had an ASB zero period every morning of next week, as well as cheer practice every evening preparing for state competitions. Combining that with your AP Bio, AP English class, and every night’s homework from a day full of classes, you weren’t sure you even had time to make it to the homecoming game, much less enough energy.

“… And Clint Cameron’s cute, and nice, so I bet he has a good shot at being king. You know him, right?” Shirley asked.

“I know everyone at Derry High.” You said, with a sarcastic smile. “He’s very nice. I can see him winning for sure.”

Walking out the front doors, you were reminded how little your cheer outfit protected you from the cold. The journey home would certainly feel much longer than usual.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N. Good job on that nomination.” She teased, walking down the sidewalk and leaving you standing below the glow of the streetlamps. Summer had certainly come and gone, the autumn chill surrounding you.

“Thanks.” You bid, quietly.

Alone, in front of the school, you stood and waited for no one. Debating whether or not you should walk home, or maybe even hitchhike to some other city and start a new life, your responsibilities silently strangled you.

Other students dubbed you ‘The Derry Queen’, and that night, it was clear why that had become your moniker. Between your mother’s constant pressure and the occasional enjoyment everything brought you, you’d done everything imaginable (aside from run for mayor) to be involved in your small Maine hometown.

“Fuck.” You murmured under your breath, wishing there was some sort of way you could get out of walking. You were physically and mentally exhausted, and the night had barely even begun.

Maybe if a fellow cheerleader or classmate drove by, they’d be willing to help. You weren’t lying when you said you knew everyone who went to Derry High, and that basically extended to every resident. Maybe someone would drive you and rescue you from the cold walk alone. But still, who’d be aimlessly driving around this late, with the freedom to take someone home on the fly? Your answer purred up beside you in the shape of a blue Trans-Am, filled with the most notorious boys in town.

Car exhaust filled your nose as you grimaced, eyebrows knit, immediately making eye contact with Patrick Hockstetter.

“Hey there, cheerleader.” The delinquent said, sticking his head out of the passenger side window, resting crossed arms on the door. He smiled, looking up and down the sidewalk. “You workin’ the street tonight?”

The back window was down, and you noticed Henry Bowers sitting there, giving you the once over multiple times. You narrowed your eyes at the passenger.

“You can’t afford me, Hockstetter. Keep driving.”

As the two of you held eye contact, the other boys ‘ooh'ing at your reply, something changed in his eyes.

“Huh. You remember my name.” He said, a sarcastic smirk growing on his face. Anger sprung a leak within you.

“I can’t remember a day where your name didn’t come over the intercom. Didn’t you have detention today?” You nearly spat. The smirk became smug.

“It’s tomorrow.” He replied.

After a near stare-down, you took a single step toward your typical route home, and he spoke again. “Come on, Belch is dropping me off anyway, and we both know it’s too cold for you to walk that far, in that little dress you’re wearing.” Patrick insisted, eyes moving over your skirt. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t do me any favors, okay? I’m fine.”

As sore as you were, as cold as it was outside, it was still difficult to say yes. It was rumored that the girls who got into that Trans Am ended up getting a lot more than just a ride home. And you didn’t want to be around Patrick any longer than you had to, anyway.

Quietly, he said something that made you change your mind.

“Well, I owe you a favor, don’t I?”

Holding eye contact, you could see a flicker of genuine care, something you never thought you’d find in his eyes. Memories that you were so sure had faded with time suddenly threatened to invade your thoughts.

A freezing breeze pushed your hair past your shoulders, and you took a deep breath in. You looked down the street. It seemed he wasn’t going to let up.

“Fine.” You said, quietly. He still heard.

“Henry, make room for Y/N.” Patrick said, stepping out and moving the seat forward.

“Gladly.” Henry flirted, and you made your way over to sit uncomfortably beside him. The way he looked at you put a terrible taste in your mouth.

After Patrick pushed the seat back and got in after you, the car drove off into the night.

The low rumble of the engine was about the same volume of the AC/DC on the stereo. It was the only thing filling your head for a moment, until Henry put his arm around your headrest, and placed the other one on your thigh.

“How was cheer practice, baby? You sore?” He mused in a voice soft and saccharine, tenderly squeezing your leg. 

The bad taste in your mouth turned into a full-fledged knot, keeping you from saying a word. Your cheeks turned bright red.

Before you could muster up the courage to speak, the driver’s voice split the air.

“Henry, could you ease up on the royalty please?”

Henry turned to look at Belch, but didn’t move either of his hands.

“Royalty? What do you mean?”

A laugh. “She’s nominated for homecoming queen.”

You furrowed your brow, surprised that he knew your name, and doubly surprised he cared enough to look at the roster of those nominated at all. Maybe word got around about it - though how would it reach him before it reached you?

Henry smirked, turning back to face you, much too close for comfort.

“Aren’t you the ‘Derry Queen’ already?”

You wondered if the only reason they knew about you in depth like this was because of Patrick. You’d rather be the biggest name in the rumor mill than have Patrick tell them everything he knew about you.

“Yeah.” You sarcastically huffed, turning away from the boy leaning in so close.

“How do you know her, Patrick?” Vic asked, and you nearly forgot he was in the car. Vic seemed less scary than the other guys, but because you knew so little about him, the air of mystery made up for it.

“We’re neighbors. We used to be childhood friends.”

Maybe he hadn’t told them enough about you. It was a relief, but at the same time, now they knew.

The two of you were once friends, sure, but things change. People change. And now, you couldn’t be more of a polar opposite from your next door neighbor, in far more ways than one. No one else knew about it, and if you told them, they probably wouldn’t believe it.

The car slowed to a stop directly between your houses.

“You’re that white house?” Belch asked, looking out the passenger side window. Patrick opened up the car door, stepping out.

“Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime, lady.” He said, without the same flirty nature that everything Henry said to you carried. He began to light a cigarette as you stepped out from the back. Henry followed, getting into the passenger seat.

“See you around, Queenie.” The leader of the gang called after you.

You wished Belch had never said anything about homecoming. Getting out of the car, you slammed the door shut and quickly stalked off toward your house.

Patrick followed, the car driving off.

“Hey, wait up.”

You quickly turned around, your nerves releasing.

“Stay away from me, Patrick.”

The tone in your voice surprised him. He leaned on one leg, standing a few feet away from you.

“That’s all I’ve done the past few years. I’m pretty fucking good at it.” He bitterly mused.

Looking him up and down, you noticed how much he’d changed, how he’d stayed the same. His dark brown hair framed his face neatly, those piercing eyes both terrifying you and calming you as he stared. You remembered the days you’d spend tearing through your backyards, pretending they were jungles, up through elementary school when you’d help him with his homework, until middle school, when things started changing. Now, the mere sight of him made you feel sick - yet you could still see the boy inside that you’d once called your best friend.

He almost made you feel nostalgic; but it was only for a moment.

“Not good enough.” You said, turning back around and walking away without another glance behind you.

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

#idk if this is good or not whoops #patrick hockstetter #patrick hockstetter x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #it movie #it movie 2017 #stephen king #it movie 2017 fanfic #it movie 2017 fanfiction #hockstetter #patrick #the bowers gang #henry bowers #bowers gang #bowers #belch huggins #vic criss #derry high #derry #derry queen #homecoming

[for-the-love-of-life-lads]

Progress Report

No weight today.

I did pretty good, similar diet to yesterday. I drank less coffee and similar or less amounts of water than yesterday. My lunch was definitely less calories than yesterday just purely based on the fact that shrimp is less calories and more protein. 

I got my abs workout done as well, I think I might need to start increasing reps just because it seems to be getting easier than it was previously. However, I am seeing results when I look in the mirror which is encouraging. I went to get in a shower and started to see some definition in my tummy! That was a nice feeling.

(trigger warning suicide mentioning and explaining, just don’t read this please)

Feeling pretty low today. I just... I don’t even know. I guess I just wish I was dead a lot of the time. I feel like I’m always in trouble, I get in trouble even when I am trying to do the right thing. For example, I had missed a seminar for intro to college living that I needed to go to, and it was because I had to teach our class. So, I had gotten done with my calculus homework early and had decided that I should take a look at that seminar which was recorded and take some notes so that I would know what I need to do once some deadlines came up. My dad then asked what I was doing, and I explained what I was watching. He started yelling at me about how I needed to choose these specific dorms over the other, and kept asking which dorms had the least amount of freshmen. I told him that I wasn’t sure, that this seminar hadn’t said how the college students were split up, but that it was telling me some good information about the dorms in general. He then immediately started screaming about how I was dismissing him, and that I was ungrateful to him for his advice and that he had gotten me into this college in the first place. I hadn’t disagreed with him at all in the first place, I had actually been trying to take notes to see if they would tell me how many first years there would be in each dorm.  Second, I can’t believe he was taking credit for my acceptance to college (this is an ivy league school). I had maintained a 4.0 my ENTIRE high school career (without tutoring or help) was in all honors  classes my entire life, took algebra and geometry my freshmen year so that I could take AP calculus my senior year, filled out the applications and questions for over 20 different colleges, nailed the alumni interview with only my own notes, and maintained an excellent status in my sport for the past 8, soon to be 9, years. My dad hasn’t even SEEN an ivy league school, much less attended or had the right stuff to get there. He wasted his entire first thirty years of his life, and he is mad at me because I couldn’t immediately give him the exact statistics of the number of freshmen living in the dorms? And to top it all off, he then spent the rest of the day freezing me out and telling me what a disappointment I was to him, along with fighting with my mom to the point where it almost became physical because she couldn’t give him the statistics either (she had been watching over my shoulder. Why? Not clue.). So yeah, my entire day was ruined because apparently I am an ungrateful idiot that couldn’t make it into the Ivy League by herself. At leas according to my dad.

Sometimes I wish I could just go to sleep and never wake up. No more setting alarms, no more 3-a day workouts, no more getting yelled at or being a disappointment, no more taking diacritics everyday to try and maintain weight loss. No more being alone, no more taking care of everyone else. Just rest. Just getting to be someone who could have been great. When people would hear about my death they would be like, “Oh Kate? That’s so sad. She was so talented. One of the best in her sports, she was going to an Ivy league school you know. Yeah, she was pretty smart. Real respectful kid too. Addressed everyone as ma’am and Sir, even when they were her age. What a shame.” I could just leave them to wonder what I could have been, leave them with hope. You know, there’s no way to be a failure if you’re not here. I’ve even thought about how I would do it. I’ve slowly been collecting my mom and dad’s sleeping pills for the last two or three years. I also have been collecting Tylenol. I know that taking too many sleeping pills can’t  necessarily kill you unless you had an ungodly amount. However, if you do have enough Tylenol you can go into kidney or liver failure, can’t remember off the top of my head. Then I would lay down on my back, that way if the Tylenol and the sleeping pills don’t work then I’ll choke on my own vomit from my body trying to force everything out. Hopefully, I’ll be too sedated to turn over to spit it out. I’ve also thought about silting my wrists and then downing all those sleeping pills so that I would be too heavily sedated to do anything about the blood loss. I could do it too, I close my bedroom door at night and I take super long showers so no one would notice for a while. I just don’t have anyone but my sister to hold on for you know? I literally don’t have any friends (we did online school from home and train by ourselves, and we aren’t allowed to leave the house and we don’t have any clubs or anything) I’ve never even had the chance to have a meaningful relationship that I care about. With everyone, I’ve always had to put on a front to uphold the reputation of our family (my dad gets self-conscious of what others think about us).

I do have one place in my head where I feel happy. I have different daydreams that I go to when my family is watching TV or when I go to sleep. The settings vary, but they all involve a guy named Nate, and we’re together. Mind you, Nate is not a real person or even based off a real person (more a culmination of all the crushes I had formed when I read books like PJO, HOO, and One of Us is Lying) . In the daydreams, Nate is kinda rebellious and just super confident. Something I could never be. He kinda breaks through my tough exterior just like I have in real life, and just becomes my friend at first. He actually wants to talk to me and cares about my opinion, he teases me in a playful way that most boys would be scared to tease me in, but doesn’t take it too far because he wouldn’t want to hurt me. I don’t originally want to tell him everything in my life or my head because I want to be a happy place for him, I don’t want him to worry about me because he’s always seemed to just care about me and has been one of the only people that has made me feel like I’m worth anything in this world. But eventually, he notice how I avoid topics in conversation, and that I won’t ever let myself cry in front of him, or anyone else for that matter, and how I model myself and idealize emotionless characters like Logan from Sanders Sides, Spock from Star Trek, and any robot that comes on the screen. On day or night I finally just breakdown, I can’t keep myself together so I try and get away and ask him just to leave me alone so that I can cry. But he doesn’t let me go, he just wraps his jacket around my shoulders and hugs me close to his body. He tells me that I don’t have to be alone anymore, that he just wants to be there for me. He doesn’t want me to hurt by myself anymore. That I don’t have to hide in locked bathrooms anymore.

I can’t help it, its the only time I’ve ever felt safe with anyone and its not even real. But I can almost feel the warmth of his hugs and him rubbing little circles on my back. Its almost painful to type (crying currently) because I am so scared all the time. I’m scared for my sister, my mom, about money, about grades, about being alone all my life, about never getting to actually be an independent person, scared of men, scared of commitment, scared of trusting (since I’ve seen how well that’s worked out for my mom and just living with a man for the last 18 years), I’m scared that I won’t ever be enough for anyone, I won’t ever be beautiful, or smart, or strong. I am so scared all the time, so just that feeling of safety he gives me is so sad because it’s not even real. and to be honest, I don’t know if it ever will be. I wish I could just die in my sleep because my last fleeting thoughts could be of Nate just holding me, telling me that I was safe. We could dance, we could be snuggling on the couch on a rainy day, or just laying in bed one Saturday morning laughing together. At least if I died,  my final feelings would be of safety and happiness that I’ve never had in my real life.

I’m not going to do it tonight, I have to get ready for my Calculus text tomorrow. I’m going to go for just an 8 hr sleep, maybe Nate and I could cuddle up with a movie. He can chose, I don’t really want to watch. I just want to lay against his chest for a while, forget about the stress and fear for a while.

Have a great night everyone.

[alden-jaakola]

What is art?

The definitional argument of art has been around since art was invented in Europe four or five hundred years ago. It defines a category of craft that often given value beyond its material components if it has any. The things that fall into the category of art have changed over time, tending towards an increasing number of things. It's not just oil paintings and marble busts that are considered art. It is now common for fiber arts, long seen as “women's work” and therefore not art, to be considered a fine art. Music too is sometimes considered art.

How do we define art?

I took one art philosophy class and we spent a ton of time going over different types of definitions for art. The first is the institutional definitions, meaning that museums or people with proper training decide what is and isn't art. I think that is so wrong that and there isn't much more to say about that. There is the aesthetic definition, which basically says that an artwork is something meets this criterion: A person fashioned this with the belief that it would be possible for it to impart an aesthetic experience on a person. Which is nice because it doesn’t have to be good or bad, and it can be something different for different people. The problem with the aesthetic definition is that you need to have a definition for an aesthetic experience, which is just as hard to define as art without just trying to use examples.

The definition that I personally like the most comes from an interview with Brian Eno. He talks about art as if it's the foil to functional objects, but ever present. His idea is that everything that is meant to serve some mechanical function is not art, and everything else is. So you might say that a tool is not art but painting is, but it's more interesting than that. Eno uses the example of a screwdriver throughout his explanation, it works well because it's linear and represents the spectrum from art to function. When you think of objects as multiple parts you can see that the head of the screwdriver that fits into a screw is the functional end, and if you look at all the Phillips screwdrivers in the world they are all pretty much the same. The closer you get to the opposite end, the handle, the more the screwdrivers differ from one another. The handle is the part that is art; it has a color that most of the time doesn't serve a purpose, it has shapes and knobs and divots. You could add that some of these features are “ergonomic” but a lot of them are not. A different way to address the ergonomic idea would be to say that the non-art part of the screwdriver doesn’t come from a mechanical need, but an ergonomic fact. The screwdriver is scaled to the size of our hand, and the screw to our fingers. They twist into objects because our wrist is suited to that movement, and the hardness of the materials used in the screwdriver tend towards what they contact, metal and flesh corresponding to metal and plastic.

Could you say that everything is either ergonomic or aesthetic (art)?

Maybe. (This next part is an attempt to follow this line of reasoning to some conclusion, to investigate for myself whether or not this idea makes sense to me)

Maybe not, when I think and talk about ergonomics it comes with the romantic feeling of something that is art. I'm really not sure but I think I like the distinction.

The breakdown of the screwdriver into parts goes even farther than the handle and the head, the fact that the + shaped head is symmetrical or perpendicular is partially aesthetic and partially due to manufacturing constraints. Every object can be broken down infinitely into its constituent ideas, forms, colors, and patterns and arranged somewhere between aesthetic and ergonomic, and that mix along the spectrum is rich and complicated like soup.

What about machines?

Real machines — machines that don't have any interaction with actual humans, that just ka-chunk away making widgets and cogs for other machines—don't have either ergonomics or aesthetics. They are alien to our tangible (Tangible: perceptible by touch) world.

I contend that these machines are in one way like a natural process, apart from civilization. This assumes that art (and ergonomics) requires intent, you can go into the forest and find something beautiful, ugly, and powerful, but it is not art. While I do believe that everything is Nature — nothing is outside it — consciousness is a rare anomaly within it and only from it do the immediate and personal creations like screwdrivers and paintings arise. Tool making and art making require consciousness, a biological process can not result in these (memes). It's not only humans that have this, to some extent we stand with apes, elephants, octopi, crows, dolphins, and others. From here on I will use capital N Nature to refer to everything in the universe, and lowercase n nature to refer to the things only affected by biological and physical processes, not conscious molding. If we take it that objects in nature cannot constitute art —or fall on the aesthetic-ergonomic spectrum — then we should also take it that machines ought not to fall on this spectrum either. I think that there we are so far down the line of machines making machines to make things that they have no ergonomic relation to humanity, and they are certainly not aesthetic that they are their own kind of reality. They are ONLY functional. This is where the distinction between function and ergonomics matters. Ergonomics deals in molding the world around us to fit ourselves, leaving a human imprint. The machine, functionality,  is an inhuman process which operates on its own to deliver products and consume resources. If it's not clear by now I don’t only mean drones and cog-makers, I really mean capitalism as a massive machine. The stock market is run by machines that have long ago surpassed humanity in their ability to trade millions of times every minute, controlling economies as the business operates with the goals of profit, unable to follow any other program.

So it seems that Nature could be split into three categories: nature, machine, and the ergonomic-aesthetic spectrum, which might be more aptly called the sentient imprint.

I’m really not sure if this is too convoluted, but to me, it serves to partition out this kind of area I am interested in which is the interactions between aesthetics and ergonomics and to define it in relation to the natural and machine ecology.

#umnxlab