#and I have a paper due this weekend :/ I have all my sources gathered and I read thru them so hopefully writing it will be a breeze….

[cinnamostar]

working my 9-5 into doing normal human responsibilities into doing homework until 9:30pm is so plekdkekekdkke T - T my brain is fried im going to bed early tonight..

[writtenonreceipts]

I saw this prompt for feysand and i would love to see your take on it - I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

I've really been enjoying your writing!!❤

AN: I took it and ran, and ran, and kept running.  Thank-you so, SO much for sending it my way!  This was a great prompt that had fun with.  I’m glad you’ve been liking my stuff, it means a lot! ~5.5kwords

TW: Brief talk about death, anxiety, depression, fear.

 Worth It

Seated at a canvas with paints or pencils in hand, Feyre was unstoppable.  She could create landscapes with ease or depict a simple still life and turn it into something far greater.  Art was where she lived.

Not in a basement classroom learning about Prythian history.  

There wasn’t anything wrong with history, especially when it was as rich and vibrant as Prythia.  But talking about wars, treaties, and assassinations could only be discussed for so long.

Of course, it didn’t help that Feyre was dyslexic, but she didn’t talk about that.

She glanced around the room, trying to see if anyone else was as bored as she was.  It was the first day of class and she was the only one not taking extensive notes.  Well, she and a guy at the front of the room.  All Feyre could see was the back of his head.  His hair was dark as midnight and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up as he sat at his desk.  He didn’t even have a textbook with him.

Feyre forced herself to pay attention as the Professor finally shut down the slide show presentation.

“Make sure you look of the syllabus,” Dr. Wesson addressed the class.  She was a small woman with rich brown hair and a plain green dress.  “It outlines the schedule of tests and essays.  None of the dates will be altered.  My TA will be at your disposal.” 

Dr. Wesson nodded to the guy with the black hair and gestured for him to stand up.

And just like that, the class was the most fascinating thing in the world. 

He was tall, taller than he’d originally appeared.  His warmly tanned skin made his violet blue eyes bright and eager.  A sly sort of smile traced his mouth as he observed the class.

“Call me Rhysand,” he said, “I’m working on my masters specifically in the historical aspect of how literature was shaped by wars in the land.  I’m always glad to help with your questions.  Just make sure you email me to set something up.”

The girls next to Feyre whispered to each other, exchanging significant looks.  Feyre exchanged a significant look with the amount of reading and writing that was required.

Hell.  It was going to be a long semester.

The class dismissed right at nine o’clock, much to Feyre’s relief.  While most of the students flocked to the front of the room to either gawk at the TA or further discuss issues with the Professor, Feyre left the class.  Already she could feel her dread pooling into anxiety.  Her heart rate quickened and the muscles in her left hand twitched.  

She just needed to get home and sit down with a canvas and paint.

As soon as she made it outside the Humanities Building however, the dread continued to tug at Feyre.  It was far too dark.  With far fewer lights than she’d expected for a college campus.  Or maybe it was because there was a thick layer of clouds sagging down and threatening rain.  

“Feyre!” 

Snapping to attention, Feyre clutched her bag to her chest and found the source of her name.

Her friend, and roommate, Alis waved at her from a path diverging deeper on to campus.  Her dark hair hung in waves down her back and the jacket she wore was flattering against her curves.

Feyre let out a long, releieved breath and plastered a smile on her face.  Quickly, she moved toward her friend.

“Hey,” Feyre greeted and accepted a hug from the smaller girl. “What are you doing here?”

“I know you had a late class,” Alis explained, “and I knew it was with Wesson.  I heard the woman is miserable.  So intense.  But--I mean--you’re going to do great.  Your always so creative with everything I’m sure she’ll love you.  Anyway, I was finishing up buying my books for the semester and thought I’d meet up with you.”

Feyre smiled as Alis spoke, grateful for the small distraction.  Even if it was slightly horrific in thinking about trying to get on a professor’s good-side.

“Thanks,” Feyre said, “I appreciate it.  It was a bit intimidating.”

“I think everyone just likes making freshman miserable,” Alis said.  Alis was technically a junior, but had changed her major four times and couldn’t decide on a minor.  She was not on track to graduate when she’d originally thought, but wasn’t at all concerned.  

Feyre wished she could be more like that than the raging mess she felt she was.

Behind them, leaving the Humanities Building, the TA appeared leading an entire gaggle of girls.

“Let’s go,” Feyre muttered. “I’m exhausted.”

#

By the third week of the semester Feyre came to better understand her relationship with exhaustion.  And it was not a good one.

She was fairly certain her body consisted of ninety percent caffeinated beverages and ten percent hot pockets.  She’d never been one for eating much.  Growing up had always been a struggle in keeping food in the fridge and a decent pair of shoes on her feet.  Feyre knew by now how her body functioned.

It wasn’t healthy, not in the slightest.  And there was a part of her that recognized that.  And another part that ignored it.

Two nights a week, Feyre found herself stuffed in the basement with little enjoyment.  Other than getting to stare and Rhysand when Dr. Wesson turned the class over to him for brief instruction.

And looking at him was enjoyment.  He was far different from any other guy Feyre had encountered.  His hair was kept neat and short sweeping easily back out of his face, a charming smile, and warm brown skin.  Not to mention the tattoos. 

Feyre had never really considered tattoos as being attractive.  Perhaps it was the artistic side of her that couldn’t get enough of them.  On him at least.  The way the black in swirled on his skin and swept up his arms.  It was a shame he never wore short sleeves or unbuttoned one extra cutton at his collar.

Hell.

Mentally shaking herself, Feyre forced herself to pay attention.

Rhysand was discussing scores from the test last week.  And, to put it mildly, was not impressed.  Oh, there was plenty of good to say.  Some of the students were engaged in the topics at hand.  Some of the students displayed an obvious grasp of complicated topics.  Others did not.

Feyre found herself sinking deeper into her seat by the end of class.

He hadn’t called her out by name, but truly--it felt like he had.

“That’s it for today, enjoy the weekend,” Rhysand called out at the tick of nine, “and remember essay proposals are due by the start of class on Tuesday.”

There was a quick rustle of the students getting up and gathering their things.  It was a glorious Thursday evening and Feyre had somehow managed to keep her Friday’s clear of classes.  At least something had gone right.

“Feyre?” She whipped around to meet those stark violet eyes. Hell. “I needed to talk to you about the questions you had on the proposal assignment.”

Feyre bristled.  And not just because some of the girls shot her angry looks for being singled out by the hot TA.  She hadn’t asked any questions.  She was just trying to skate by on this class and be done with her prerequisites so she could get into her Art Major.

She set her bag on the floor once more and went to the front of the class.  Already most of the students were leaving, far too eager to be done with school for the night.

As Rhysand answered a few last questions and dismissed the rest of the students, Feyre approached.  Already she knew what she was going to say.

“I don’t have any questions.” The words fell from her mouth with ease. “I already know what I’m writing on.”

Lie.  But a well-practiced one.

Rhysand’s mouth curled in a smile.  He hefted a small stack of papers in one hand and leafed through them.  Feyre froze realizing that they were the tests from last week.  He pulled one of the stapled bunches out before setting the rest down.

“Honestly, I was surprised while grading this,” he said, “I mean, you’re obviously smart.  I saw that you were awarded the Starfell Scholarship, not an easy accomplishment.  Not to mention your always engaged and taking notes.”

Feyre wished her skin wasn’t as pale as it was.  Her skin flushed under his scrutiny, but she tilted her chin up and met his gaze.

“And?” she asked. “I take my education seriously.”

Somewhat.  When she actually liked the work.

Rhysand handed her the test.  And she saw the grade.

D.

D.

D.

Hell.

Her stomach churned.  Roiled actually.  Maybe she was going to be sick.  That was just what she needed.

“So?” she asked instead. “It was the first test of the semester.”

“And yours in the only outlier,” he replied.

His eyes never left hers and Feyre felt more and more inclined to throw something at him.  Who was he to talk to her about her grade?  He was just the damned TA.

“Dr. Wesson doesn’t like picking up the slack of grading or talking to students about it all that much,” he continued, literally reading her mind. “I’m just concerned about you falling behind.”

Feyre stiffened and pursed her lips.

“I grew up learning Prythian history, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said stiffly.  

Another lie.  She knew enough that basic education taught and what she’d heard and listened to.  But reading about it?  Her mind couldn’t grasp it.  It had been hard enough getting decent SAT scores to get accepted in the University let alone writing that damned Starfell essay.

“Of course,” Rhysand said slowly.

And Feyre had the sense that he was assessing her.  Analytically, carefully.  In the was that one would size up an opponent or scrutinize a strange recipe.  He was trying to understand her.

Feyre handed him back the test.

“Thanks for the concern,” she said, “but I’ll be fine.”

Perhaps he was just being nice.  Perhaps he was merely trying to fulfill his duties as TA.  But she had seen the way he acted in the class.  At times rebuffing boys and girls alike.  Not to mention seeing him around campus tossing a football around with two other boys.  She’d also seen him get kicked out of the library for a parkour prank challenge.  

In all honesty, Feyre had no idea what to make of him.  And she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

He didn’t seem to believe her.  Not with the crease forming between his brow nor the frown turning down one side of his mouth.  

Well, that was his problem.

“Have a good night,” Feyre said.  She spun on her heel before he could say anything and grabbed her bag and was out the door.  

Once she was outside, she could breathe again.  Strange.  She often found the darkness, the night, to be so suffocating.  It wasn’t long before Feyre realized something was off about the night.  And then she realized.  Alis was nowhere in sight.

Feyre dug her phone out of her pocket and found a missed text.

Sorry chica, caught up at study group.  Probs gonna spend the night at Nuala’s too.  See you tomorrow!

Of all the nights Alis could get serious with her girlfriend.

Feyre swallowed stiffly and stared out over the pavilion that stretched between the humanities building and out to the mathematics building.  A few pathways branched off to different parts of campus and then there was the main one that would take her to the dorms.  And of course, most of the streetlamps were barely flickering to life.

She’d never liked the dark.  Never liked what could hide in the shadows.  Nor what could sneak in silence.  Perhaps it was childish to still hold onto that fear.  She was almost nineteen years old after all. Nearly fifteen years later and here she was.

Feyre’s hands shook as she clutched her phone.  She could call Elain.  Nesta.  Even just to talk to as she walked.  Though Elain lost her phone even when it was in her hand.  And Nesta was at work.  

But it was fine.  Feyre knew it was fine.  Because all she needed to do was walk.  And shed been walking for long enough that putting one step in front of the other was natural.  Easy.  Simple.  Yet here she was.  Standing.

When Rhysand spoke, she didn’t even start.  

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

Myself.  “No.”

Silence.

“It’s getting late.”

“I know.”

Silence.

How strange it was, to hear only the hum of crickets and breath of night.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Rhysand asked.  

Feyre glanced at him.  Even in the shadows she could see him clearly.  It was like he was made of night, of dark, of the mysteries that she could never lay her hand on.  She shook her head.  Focus, Feyre.

“Of course I am,” she insisted, a little too sharply. “Maybe I like having time to think.”

“At nine-thirty at night.  Outside the least exciting building on campus.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  I heard that last year a group of boys nearly got suspended for trying to host a snowball fight, indoors.” Feyre couldn’t help but grin when she saw how Rhysand flushed.

“Technically, I’m not the one who brought the snowballs inside the building,” he said defensively.

“Oh, no, you’re just the one who built an entire fort in front of the main entrance to the building,” Feyre said.

It had actually been pretty hilarious when she’d heard about it from Alis. It almost made her wish that she'd been around last year instead of taking a year off.

“Technically,” he said again, the word making Feyre’s brow arch, “it was my brother who instigated the fight. He couldn’t let his reign be challenged.”

Feyre snorted a laugh and looked out over the quiet campus. It almost didn't look so dark and cold as she'd thought it had.  But still, she felt her heart continue to hammer out unevenly in her chest.  She couldn't walk home alone. Even the thought of taking one step forward had her clench and unclench a fist over the strap of her bag.

Rhysand continued saying something, but Feyre was only half listening.  She was mostly focused on the thought of walking home.  She could cut through the Science building.  If it was still open.  Or she could full out sprint.

“Are you alright?” Rhysand asked.

Flushing, Feyre pushed her hair out of her eyes and nodded. “Fine, yeah.” She knew she had to ask him.  Knew that it was her only option despite how embarrassed she might feel. “Could you--this is stupid, so you can say no--could you walk with me to the dorms?”

Rhysand was quiet for a moment.  And in that moment Feyre was certain he was going to sneer at her.  Laugh.  Tell her to get over herself.  Just like the others before him.

"Where do you live?" Rhys and asked suddenly, cutting Feyre off before she had the ch

“The dorms on the west side,” she said.

“Alliance Dorms?” Rhysaid confirmed.  When Feyre nodded, he flashed her a small smile. “Absolutely.”

Relief pounded through Feyre.

“If you tell me what the deal was with that test.”

“You’re an ass.”  The words were out before Feyre could stop them.  Not the best thing to say to the TA of a class she was likely going to flunk.

Scowling, more to herself than him, Feyre started walking towards the dorms.  She was a strong confidant woman.  She did not need him to walk her home.

But Rhysand with those damned long legs kept stride with her easily.  And he was laughing.  Feyre was half tempted to knock an elbow in his side for laughing at her, but his next words caught her off guard.

“I like you Feyre,” he said, “you are rather interesting.”

She glanced up at him.  Was he serious?  She’d insulted him.  She’d barely exchanged ten words with him at this point.  And was scared of walking home alone.  Granted it was a valid fear for a young woman on a college campus these days.

“Insane is the better word for it,” she replied, mostly under her breath.  That’s what everyone back home said at least.  In the small town where nothing was supposed to go wrong.  But everything did.

“Interesting, curious, vibrant,” Rhysand listed off. “Far better words I think.”

Feyre had never been good with words.  Like now.  She couldn’t find the energy to respond to him.  There was a spark in his eye that almost challenged her, begged her to continue the banter, the little game.  

She remained silent.

She’d heard it was a far better mask for her to wear anyways.

#

The first paper she turned in for the History class was returned with far too many red marks.  Far too many question marks.  Far too many.  So Feyre merely folded the thing in half and stuffed it in her bag.

She could burn it later.

Dr. Wesson ended the lecture right at nine and dismissed the class.  Feyre had almost disillusioned herself into thinking she could avoid a conversation with the Professor.  With Rhysand.  But just as she was trying to maneuver around the giggling pack of girls that sat next to her, Dr. Wesson’s voice called out for her.

“Oh Miss Archeron, a word please?”

Feyre froze.  She could feign a phone call.  But then next class session the same thing would happen.  So, Feyre braced herself for what was to come and went to the front of the class.

As usual, Rhysand looked perfectly unruffled.  Despite the fact that Fall was quickly slipping into the winter months, he still wore a simple black button up tucked into slacks, the sleeves rolled up.

“Feyre,” Dr. Wesson said as she approached, she reached out a hand and gave Feyre a firm pat on the arm. “I know Rhysand spoke to you last week about your test.  I wanted to follow up, especially in seeing how this essay went.  Now, there is still plenty of time left in the semester, but I worry you aren’t grasping the things you should be.”

Blood pounded in Feyre’s ears.  She could hear her heart beat throb, feel it in her veins.  Her entire body flushed with embarrassment, stress, horror.  Everything bubbled to the surface even though she’d tried so hard to tamp it down.

She tried to open her mouth but found her teeth were grinding together so bad that her jaw hurt.

“I think,” Dr. Wesson continued, “that you would benefit from spending a bit of extra time with Rhysand.  Just to make sure you’re where you need to be in the class.”

Feyre found herself nodding and agreeing.  Her voice was relaxed, calm even.  But far too close to breaking.

After thanking the Doctor for her uncharacteristic kindness, Feyre stared and the poorly erased whiteboard over Rhysand’s shoulder for a long moment.  With a slow exhale she finally met his gaze.

Rhysand met her eyes with such intensity that Feyre nearly lost her breath all over again.  She shook it off and rolled her shoulders.

“Shall we get started tonight?” she asked. “Or I’m sure you have plans.”

“Nah, only kicking Cassian’s ass at Mario Cart,” Rhysand replied.  He flashed her an innocent sort of smile.  Feyre wasn’t sure if it was one out of kindness or mockery of some sort.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and stuck it out for him. “Just give me your number and I’ll let you know when’s a good time to study.”

Rhysand hesitated on a moment before accepting the phone and adding his details.  As soon as she got her phone back, Feyre changed his name from Rhys to Prick.  It seemed to fit better.

“It’s not a big deal you know,” Rhysand said.  

He followed Feyre out of the classroom.  His steps were confident against the carpet that had to be at least thirty years old.  Truly Rhysand was an enigma with his ease, grace, and elegance when pitted against the drab interior of the Humanities Building.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Feyre said.

Once outside, the cold night air nipped at her skin and even through her jacket she could feel goosebumps rise.  Just like the night last week, Feyre waited just outside the building doors.  She stared into the night; across the courtyard she could see a few pale lights from the Math Building.  None of the lampposts had been fixed which left most of the walkways in shadows.

Nothing about the night was out of place.  It was calm, still, and everything lingered on Feyre’s mind.  And just like last week, Rhysand waited beside her.

Overhead, Feyre could just make out the stars.  Only a thin veil of clouds hung over the sky allowing a small bit of freedom to pierce her heart.  But not enough.

“Could you walk with me again?” she asked quietly, unable to look at Rhysand.

“Only if you talk to me this time,” he said.  That cheeky grin returning.  And despite how much she hated it, it put Feyre at ease.

“Fine.” She stuffed her hands in her pockets and began walking. “What made you pick history?  There had to be something else.  You don’t seem the type for old stuffy books or maps.”

“And who do you peg me for, Feyre?” His voice was practically a purr.

“High and mighty sitting behind a desk,” she replied drily. “Running some company somewhere.  You certainly have the personality for it.”

He laughed unamused. “If my father had any say in the matter.  A degree in history only puts off the inevitable.”

“That’s a rather bleak look on things,” Feyre said.  It sounded like something she would say.

“Only if I didn’t enjoy what I was learning so much,” he said.  In the flickering light of the lamps, they walked beneath, Rhysand’s expression brightened. “Between the wars and legends surrounding what shaped the country...it’s always been curious to see what we became.  What we can become.”

His response seemed so honest, so genuine, that Feyre nearly stumbled.  She barely knew him, had barely spent any time with him, yet she was beginning to feel that she knew him.

“So you devote all your time and attention to it?” Feyre asked.

They passed by the last of the campus buildings.  A brisk wind scattered fallen leaves on the sidewalks and crunched under their steps as they walked.

“Don’t you have something you love?  Something that you feel has changed you and you’d never want to give it up?”

A box of paints.  Brushes that she’d had since she was ten.  A canvas only half finished.  She’d thought she could complete the image but it had been almost a year since she’d even looked at it.  But art…art had changed her.  Art had loved her just as she loved it.

“I guess you’re right,” she admitted.  Tilting her chin up, Feyre caught sight of a small patch of stars amid the inky black sky.  Dim but shining still. “There’s always something.”

If he heard the sadness in her voice, he said nothing.  Which was partially surprising, but Feyre would roll with it.

“The tutoring,” Rhysand began.

“No,” Feyre cut him off.  “Not right now.”

“So you’re just going to ignore your problems?”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Seems to be.”

Feyre stopped causing him him to move a few steps ahead of her.  When he turned back towards her, he waited.  

“I’ll admit to needing a little extra help to help my tests and essays, but I don’t see what else you’d need to know.”

“It’s alright to talk,” Rhysand paused, something else on the cusp of behind heard.  But he restrained, his voice trailing off softly.

Feyre ignored the comment.  Talking had never been her strong suit.  She was more of action.  Less idle, more work.  Ever since she was a child it had been that way.  She knew why, of course.  It was obvious when she thought about it.  So she never thought about it.

“What are you planning on studying?” Rhysand asked when she made no effort to continue on the topic of her test.

“Art,” she replied immediately. “I’m an artist.  But my sister wanted me to get more of an education that could support me.  So I’m just working on my prerequisites.”

“Art,” he repeated.  There was a lilt to his voice as if he really were actually interested in what she was saying. “Sketching?  Sculpture?”

“Paint and canvas,” Feyre said.  “Since I was little.  After my mom died, my sister bought me my first set of brushes and paint and everything I could need.  She was only nine.  I think she stole my dad’s credit card to do it.”

The reality of that had Feyre laughing softly, but Rhysand gave her look that was a mix of horror and confusion.

“It’s fine,” Feyre said quickly, “I’m fine.”

It was a lie of course.  If she really were fine, she wouldn't have asked him to walk her home.  She would better know how to control her fears, her anxiety.  She would be happy.

“My mother died ten years ago,” Rhysand told her, his voice quiet and contemplative. “She’d been sick for a while and we knew it was coming.  But for a ten-year-old boy, it was hard to understand.  My father certainly didn’t.  Still doesn’t.”

They reached Feyre’s dorms then, floodlights illuminated the front street and made it seem as though it were day.  Feyre turned toward him and found herself smiling, just barely.

“Thank-you,” she said sincerely.  “And I’m sorry you have to be a part of the dead mother’s club.”

“You too,” he said.

Feyre wondered if there was something else she should say.  Wondered if he would even want to hear it.  It was strange, that little flame of comradery that she felt towards him.  But it was gone in an instant as Alis came running out from the building.

“Feyre!  Get inside, it’s movie night!”

Shaking her head, Feyre offered Rhysand a small wave and headed into the dorms.

#

With three weeks until the next paper was due in that miserable class, Feyre spent her free time studying with Rhysand.  It wasn’t as miserable as she’d been expecting it to be.  Not when she realized he was far more laid back than she’d assumed.  And then she’d met his best friends who were essentially like his brothers.

It was far easier to study in the relaxed environment that Rhysand created.  And far easier to be herself around him.  Of course, it had taken Feyre a while to decide that maybe they could be friends.  

“Summarize what the chapter from last night’s reading discussed,” Rhysand said one night as they were studying.  It was well after ten o’clock but they’d been given permission to stay in the building.  

Feyre pursed her lips.  She’d done the reading of course.  As well as she’d been able.  Most of had been hard to understand.  No matter how she tried to focus or train her mind, her dyslexia always got in the way.

“Right,” Feyre said slowly. “It was about the last king of Hybern.”

“And?” Rhysand prodded.

“And he was a jerk,” Feyre added.  

Rhysand’s fixed her with a look.  Long and hard but still underlined with compassion.

“Feyre,” he said, just a bit more seriousness to his voice.

She sighed heavily and tugged at the sleeve of her shirt. “I read it.  I just didn’t understand it.”

Silence.

Feyre shot him a scowl but didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m dyslexic.  And History tends to be a bit harder for me to understand.”

Rhsand blinked.  Once.  But nothing else.  No laugh or scoff of scorn.  Instead, he smiled and pushed to text book toward her.

“Then read.”

“Read?”

“Aloud, preferably,” Rhysand said.  He shrugged. “You want to be ready for the paper and subsequent test?”

“Prick,” she muttered.  But she dragged the book towards her and began.

It became habit.  A rhythm they fell into for the next several weeks.  Rhysand helped Feyre study and prepare for the paper, the test.  He walked her home, remaining the perfect gentleman.  And Feyre, Feyre relished the time.

It was because he was genuine.  Honest.  There was something about him, deeper than the intensity he displayed on the outside.  And for the first time in a while, Feyre found herself laughing with him.  For the first time in a while, she was living for more than just expectations.

He was actually turning into her friend and it was strange thought indeed.

“Alright students,” Dr. Wesson announced towards the end of class on the last day before Thanksgiving break. “I have your midterm tests and papers graded.  So now you can either relax or stress even further.  Depending on the grade.”

A weak laugh bubbled around the room.  Feyre gripped the underside of her chair tightly.  She wasn’t ready for this.  Not in the slightest.

Dr. Wesson slowly made her way around the room delivering both test and paper.  Feyre, by some stroke of cosmic affair, didn’t get her paper until last and the entire room was empty aside from Dr. Wesson and Rhysand.  Why was it they always ended up here?

“Well done, Miss Archeron,” Dr. Wesson said.  She handed two packets of paper to Feyre and smiled. “I love to see improvement.”

Gaping, Feyre looked between the two grades.  Heart hammering, she looked over the scores, brilliant red B’s shined up at her.

“I don’t usually offer extra credit,” the doctor went on, “but an exhibit is coming to the University about the Prythian Wall and it’s destruction.  If you can come up with a project to demonstrate what it entails, I might be convinced to help you keep your grade up.”

Feyre could only nod as the professor bid them goodnight and left.

“Well done.”

Feyre looked up to see Rhysand beaming at her and she couldn’t help but grin.  She leapt out of her seat and flung her arms around him in an embrace.

“Thank-you!” she whispered.  It took her perhaps a moment too long to realize that a hung might not have been the best of plans.  She hurriedly pulled back. “Sorry.  That was uncalled far.  I’m just really excited.”

“As you should be,” Rhysand said.  His smile hadn’t dimmed but there was something in his eyes that Feyre couldn’t quite read. “It wasn’t an easy test.”

“And now we have a full week off for Thanksgiving,” she said.  It was the best news she could have been given after getting her grades back.

“If you want,” Rhysand said, “my brother’s and cousin and I are having a game night, with pizza.  If you want to come.”

A spark of excitement ignited in Feyre’s chest.  She didn’t know when she’d developed a stupid little crush on Rhysand, but it was slowly starting to simmer out of control.  She should have said no.  Or come up with an excuse of some kind.  Insead she found herself nodding.

“I’d like that,” she said.

They collected their things and left the building.  Feyre took a few steps down the path they usually took to get to her dorm when she paused.  She turned back to Rhysand and frowned.

“Where do you live?”

Rhysand looked a little sheepish.  “Oh, I live over in the Court Apartments.”

Feyre blinked. “That’s in the complete opposite direction from my place.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been walking me home for practically a month.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Feyre asked, practically waving her hands in the air.  “It’s basically a two-mile walk from my place.”

Rhysand shrugged. “You asked for help and I wanted to give it.”

Feyre stared at him.  Her coat and scarf bunched around her neck, even though the night was perfectly clear.  It was clear enough that she could see the billions of stars overhead.  She could see them sparking in the black night.  And for one she wasn’t overcome with her usual anxiety.  Her usual fears.  Instead, all she would do was stare at Rhysand.

“Why would you do that?” she insisted.

Rhysand opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Because you were worth it.”

His simple words hung between them and Feyre had a hard time knowing what to say or how to react.  So she merely smiled and hooked her arm with his.

“Tell me about game night.  Am I going to wind up on some snipe hunt?”

“Oh no, you and I are going to gang up against Cassian and beat him at Mario Cart.”

Feyre laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”

And she realized that she wouldn’t mind if that’s how the rest of her nights played out.  Late hours of laughs and friends, being around people--one person--who made her feel better than she had in a long time.  

No, she wouldn’t mind it at all.

#

thanks so much for reading!

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[themilky-way]

Connections {s.r}

gif credit: nobravery on tumblr!

pairing: spencer reid x female! reader

summary: you work at the BAU and are best friends with everybody, except spencer. you think he just doesn’t like you until one day, he proves you wrong. 

warnings: just some minor hints of sadness, reader going through something, nothing major or specific. 

author’s note: ah yes I did miss writing and spencer reid has my heart entirely. stay safe guys! ALSO I’M BARELY ON SEASON 3 SO YA’LL BETTER NOT SPOIL ANYTHING ISTG LMAO

-------

working in the BAU, your job was never boring. five months in had changed your outlook on almost anything and everything in your life, and had your mind now racing at what seemed like a million miles per minute. it was an exhilarating  experience, regardless of how crude the crime scene could be, and it was about time you came to terms with that. 

the BAU team was just as thrilled to have you with them as you were to join. nobody expected-or wanted- a new member, and were ready to reject your application when they finally met you for the interview. however, after you demonstrated to everyone that you could profile a serial killer based on only the amount of blood at the scene and position of the victim, everyone basically wanted to give you the “welcome tour” of the headquarters. 

after you finally got an opportunity to get used to the layout of the job and your training ended, the team always looked forward to your “good morning” notes on their desk. being an early bird, you got there before everyone so you could get ahead on your reports, and always left small notes of encouragement on the person’s desk. it was a small and sweet gesture, and very much needed for the severity of the job. 

“seriously, this girl must be doing some type of hypnosis or something to everybody here. why is it that every time I see her, I just wanna hug her, huh?”

“not hypnosis, morgan. just plain ol’ appreciation,” jj said. they were huddled around his desk as they all read a note that said: “always keep your head up, champ. we appreciate the work you do around here :)”

by then, he was the last of the bunch to read his card. however, he didn't have a gold star attached to it, which meant he wasn’t the “agent of the day” as you liked to phrase it. derek flipped the sticky note over and attempted to find it, but stopped when he realized he wasn’t it. 

“wait, guys, so if I didn’t get a star, who did?” morgan asked, clearly puzzled. garcia shook her head and pouted, jj simply put a thumbs down, and prentiss muttered a “nope.” everyone knew hotch didn’t get it, because they figured he would call you in privately to thank you. everyone turned to look at you work in the conference room through the window. you were scribbling something on the whiteboard and had papers scattered everywhere on the table, unaware of the team’s puzzled expressions. at that moment, spencer walked through the double glass doors of the bureau and headed over to his desk as he normally would. as he did so, he found the team huddled together and looking at something, and when he followed their gaze he knew what this was about.

in truth, spencer never really cared for having a friendship with you. he looked at you as a coworker and just that, and developing a platonic relationship with you just wasn't anywhere in his mind. he did enjoy the words of encouragement and motivation every morning, though, and no matter how many phases of denial he went through, he looked for it as soon as he reached his desk. 

“hey, guys, wanna hear something I discovered about dolphins last night?” spencer teased as he made his way over to morgan’s desk. nobody turned their heads from your direction, and it wasn't until reid mentioned your note that everyone stopped profiling you and turned their attention to him.

“you guys wanna hear-yeah that’s what I thought-wanna hear my note (y/n) left me?” he held up the sticky note and everyone nodded eagerly. he turned the note so he was able to read it, and began. “ ‘the world is smart, but you’re smarter. have a great day, reid!’ how cool is this!” he smiled and at that point so did everyone, when they realized that the note still had more to it. 

“oh my god, reid! you got the gold star! congratulations sunshine,” garcia pointed out as she gave him a light punch on the shoulder. spencer’s mind started bouncing back and forth between thoughts when he looked at the tiny gold sticker below your comment. did this mean anything? should he mention it? 

the answer to that was yes, he should, but was he going to? probably not. pats on the back were given as the team got up from morgan’s desk and headed to their own when hotch came out of his office and told everyone to meet in the conference room in five to look over a new case. reid, as he walked back to his pile of reports, looked at you working on your own. he never really thought of you as a friend, and didn't want to for that matter. but the longer he looked at you he started to realize that maybe befriending you wouldn't be so horrible. as everyone entered the room and gave you a hug or cheery greeting, spencer opted to sit at the other end of you. but one thing was for sure: his smile was the brightest one in the room. 

the next few weeks went by quickly, and included a variety of new “agents’ of the day.” after reid, there was morgan, who practically wanted to kiss you after that. emily followed, who was beginning to turn into one of your closest friends. jj and garcia came next, and soon the four of you founded a girl’s night out every weekend. 

however, them being the best profilers in the entire bureau, they noticed that the notes progressively stopped. the team realized something was off with you, and they noticed that your demeanor was different. you began to come later than you usually did, at one point even later than derek. your hairstyle changed to a messier bun, your desk was worse than reid’s, and no more cute notes were seen for almost two weeks. 

“something’s wrong, you guys. she’s been here for months and she’s never once frowned or even forgot to put the cap back on her pen,” emily said, packing her files in her briefcase. jj nodded her head, “yeah I know, and I want to ask but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. I mean, what if we’re reading too much into it?”

“reading into it? jj, we profile murderers who we’ve never even met, I’m pretty sure (y/n)’s going through something,” morgan stated, standing up from his chair and pushing it in adequately.

“we know one thing: when she’s ready to vent, we’ll be here. in the meantime, we should go home and get some rest. we fly out to oregon tomorrow,” hotch said. everyone agreed, and they stood up and gathered their belongings and headed for the exit door. they waved and said their goodbye’s to you, who was seated at the other end of the room. 

you were the only one left at the bureau, and you were more tired than usual due to your lack of sleep recently. you closed your eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, and began to massage your temples with your pointer fingers. it’s been tough for you, taking care of your grandparents ever since they came to live with you. arguments with your mother always lead to the same thing: leaving. you loved them, and you adored having family with you, especially in a job like the one you had. but you had to sacrifice your sleep and wellbeing in order for them to be safe. 

you were so concentrated in your thoughts that you didn’t hear footsteps coming down the stairs, moving towards your direction, and finally coming to a complete stop next to your desk. it wasn't until a soft voice broke you from your thoughts, or more so from your nap at that point. 

“(y/n)?”

you lifted your head rapidly, and looked up to find the source of the voice, and when you did, you managed to slur, “reid, what the hell, I, uh, thought I was the only one left.

“no, I was just catching up on my reports and was about to go home. by the looks of it, you should too.”

“alright, catch you in the morning, spence. I still gotta finish this case file,” you were looking at him now, and as you spoke you gave a tiny nod to your opened manila folder. “wait you’re staying later? do you know how dangerous it is for girls of your type to be out at these hours of the night? I read a study once that determined women who wandered at night suffered the most danger between the hours of 1 a.m. to 4 a.m.. I mean you don't want to put yourself-”

“I'm not gonna be long, dr. reid, I think I’ll be fine,” you cut him off mid fact. you returned to your paperwork and picked up your pen to write some notes on the margin, and when you looked back up a couple minutes later, you found reid staring at you, confusion clearly manifesting over his features. 

‘I suggest offering you a seat, sir. that way you can look at me in distress as long as you like,” you let yourself chuckle a little bit, and even though it made spencer want to laugh too, he restrained himself and asked you what had troubled him for weeks now. 

“(y/n), what’s going on? you’re not the same since garcia got the last morning note from you. seriously, I-I’m here to help you.”

dropping your pen, you swiveled your chair so you were in his direction and looked up at him to answer him. “in all honesty, and by no means full offense, I don’t think you care what’s going on with me.”

in his mind, reid was going nuts, and his silence? not helping very much. all he could do was look down at you with a shocked expression and his mouth opened and closed before he finally rebutted your statement.

“(y/n), I’m sorry I made it seem that way. I really am and the truth is I didn’t really care for your notes at first until I stopped receiving them.” he crouched down now to level with your height on the chair, a hand laying on his knee and the other on the ground for balance. 

“I didn’t really care for a friend, until I realized I wanted your friendship. I never even thanked you for giving me the privilege of being ‘agent of the day.’”

you realized he meant it, and it wasn’t some cheesy reponse you were so used to getting. he felt it, and you began to realize you could also trust him even a little.

“thanks, reid. sorry for lashing out too, it’s just things haven’t been so easy back home. do you mind?” 

“of course not. I’m all ears, (y/n).” you nodded and thanked him, standing up from your chair and kneeling down to ultimately sit down criss cross on the ground. he did the same as you, and his attention was fully yours.

you told him everything that had happened; the fights with your mom, your grandparents moving in, your lack of sleep and how you felt. you vented to him about almost everything in your life and he listened like his life depended on it. at the end, you were crying a little no matter how hard you tried not to. amidst everything, he had pulled you into an awkward sort of hug, considering your position and the fact he doesn't give much physical affection to people. nonetheless, he gave you the comfort you needed and you valued it. 

he pulled away suddenly, and lifted himself off the ground a little to get his phone from his pocket. he asked you to get yours, and you did so by reaching over to the top of your desk. the both of you exchanged phones and he wrote his rather rapidly, you still trying to think about your own area code by the time he was finished. 

you exchanged phones again, and when you grabbed yours from his hand, he held on to it as well. before he let go, he looked down at the ground and then landed on your hand on the phone. 

“you can call me whenever you want. even if you don’t have a reason too.”

his eyes flicked up to your semi-red eyes, and he smiled softly. you did as well, and he felt small butterflies forming in his tummy when you did. spencer reid didn’t care for affection, nor for personal connections with anyone. but perhaps you were beginning to turn into the only exception. 

and he didn't really mind it at all. 

[grazieschillivera]

A day off

Authors note: filled with randomness and comfort here and there, just wrote this to escape from studying

Word count: ca.2400

The third bang on your door, made you give up on getting your sleep.With sloopy steps you made it to your door, only to find Frenchie,Hughie and Butcher happily standing in front of you, once you your eyes could focus propberly.

,,There she is.Morning sunshine.'' said Butcher stepping past you into your dorm.

,,Is that a Star Wars poster?'' asked Hughie following Butcher.

You were far too tired to reacte, too overwhelmed with this situation.The long sleeves of your hodie hid your yawn.

,,Naww petite Y/N.All sleepy and cute.'' said Frenchie bringing you in his embrace petting your messy bun.

,,Guys!Its fucking Sunday what are you doing here?'' you asked with raspy voice, still hiding your face from the sunlight that came in, due to Butcher shoving the curtains away.

,,Right.Perfect timing for some quality time for the group.What could be better for that than a Comic Book Con?'' asked Butcher joining Hughie with getting through your stuff.

,,Fuck off boys.I need sleep.I finished my essays just four hours ago.'' you whined not at all convinced of that idea and resting in Frenchies arms.

,,Shut up Y/N I thought you were into this stuff.'' said Hughie while looking through your merchandise.

,,Can't I just go back to sleep and bring you some waffles later?That would have way more quality.'' you said but already gave in and pulled away from Frenchie.

,,Nope.Actually we have a little mission to do there.'' said Hughie turning with your lightsaber in his hands to you, looking amazed at it , when it turned out to be a green one.

,,Besides Frenchie makes the better ones.You were the one who wanted to join us, go get dressed.'' said Butcher taking the lightsaber from Hughie.

,,Fine.Just give me second.'' you said gathering up some clothes, your lightsaber from Butcher and your washbag and left your room.Only to come back after a moment to throw your weapon onto your bed, when you realised that you still had it in your hands.

,,Hey did you guys ever heard of privacy?'' you asked when you had entered your dorm again and saw Butcher at your laptop and Hughie still going through your merchandise stuff on your shelves.Frenchie layed in your bed, almost half asleep.

You walked strictly to Butcher and looked at your laptop's screen, seeing the text of your essay, but you could swear you saw the screen just had changed.Giving Butcher a daring gaze while you brought your washbag back into your vanity, trying to analyse his hidden grin.

,,What is that?I don't even know that.'' said Hughie looking at your gallyfreyan writing.

,,What ever this might be proves that Y/N is more of a fucking nerd than you are.'' said Butcher.

,,Its Gallyfreyan for fuck off.'' you said when you took the papers from Hughie to put them back into their box.

,,Can we go now?'' Butcher asked standing up from your desk and clapping on Frenchie's shoulder when he walked past him.

,,Just a second.'' you said, when you reminded yourself to do something you insisted on, now that you had Butcher here at your dorm.

You showed him a news article from the university, about your litertature club, writing about their performed works from last weekend praising especially your work.

,,Behind her creativity always lies an interesting critic to several current topics, that is clearly structured and could even knock out Homelander.'' you read out loud, while doing an awful job of hiding your pride.,,See I was right when I said I could at least put you over my knees rhetorically.Appearingly I can do that even with Homelander.'' you added.

Butcher continued to read the article.,,Homelander is a stupid cunt, who somehow managed to get taking serious while wearing latex.'' said he when he had enough of the reading.

,,I don't care about Homelander, I care about you Butcher.'' you said when you took the article and laid it back on your desk.

,,Now you're becoming soft on me again Y/N.'' said Butcher while walking outside of your dorm with the rest.

,,I mean it.Did someone wrote something like this ever about you?'' you said, insisting that this got accpreciated by him, since his critic on your arguments left you frustrated last time.

,,Listen love.I don't need an article that tells me I'm good in putting everyone over my knee.Even though I start to think you wouldn't mind if I did that to you – rhetorically of course.'' he added with a grin leaving you a bit irritated behind him,when he walked further down the hallway.

You were thankful for yourself bringing sunglasses for today to hide your tired eyes, since Hughie listened loudly the radio during the whole trip to the Convention, taking the last chance of sleep from you.

The plan was to talk with a supe about some former actions form Vought he should know of.Frenchie and Hughie were send to do this, while you and Butcher waited for them on the convention, that reminded you of a graveyard that came halfheartedly back to life.

,,Seriously ,did I really need to come with you guys for this?Its not that we do something helpful.'' you said still looking around.

,,We do.We stay here until Frenchie and Hughie are done with their part, I'll do the driving part and you can just take a break from studying.'' Butcher said.

,,Writing.About what?Failed artists or sexual frustrated fans?'' you asked not very convinced.

,,Funny that you mention that.'' said Butcher while he took out his mobile to show you something.

,,You asshole.How?'' you only managed to ask, mouth opened in disbelieve when you recognised your account with your posts.

,,I have my sources.'' said Butcher with a grin and started to scroll through your account.

,,I stayed logged in from last night.'' you said already knowing the answer while palming your face.

,,That answers my first question.All those thirsty posts from you are current?'' asked he while grinning down at his mobile.

,,No!They are in fact very old.Almost as old as you are.'' you said trying to stop Butcher from reading your stuff.

,,Screw this stupid article and you for that - I'm not that old.This is just pure smut- or is there also a perfectly argumented critic behind getting fucked by Eddie Vedder.I can't believe it you're writing texts to jack off to. '' said Billy still amused.,,Our sweet and intellectual Y/N does such naughty things in her spare time.''

,,My only texts to jack off to are my works, once they are approved by my professors.'' you said not interested in talking about your dark past.

,,And thats the problem.You need a day off, even I noticed that you have been fucking tense lately.'' Butcher said, you could tell that the last part was truly concerned.

,,With spending my day at this sad convention.Thank you Butcher.'' you said playing it down.

,,I can't let the guys be alone by themselves love.Besides I think I might can help with that, getting rid of some tension, you know?'' he said in his cocky voice.You eyed him up with a strange grin.

,,Is that an offer? I never thought you could be so generous yet so romantic.'' you said with a snort.

,,Same goes for you, in all this dirty talk and kink stuff I still can find your romantic side between the lines.Even though many seemed not to think so, according to your likes.'' said Butcher with a last look at his mobile while you gave him a last warning look.

,,That was not written from my heart nor my head, and I'm lucky my libido is not supposed to generate likes.'' you said.Butcher had to laugh at this genuily, before both of you continued you walk.

,,This is just fucking sad.When you read all those comics you can clearly read what people need right now and if you compare it to our reality it makes this whole shit even more worse.I hope Frenchie and Hughie can handle this guy.'' you said when you had stoped by a booth with comic books and looked over them.Butcher humed.

,,I guess they will be fine.The only special thing he can do his talk to animals.'' said Butcher and you noded with a chuckle, now you knew what Supe they wanted to meet here.

,,I thought you like this stuff, at least according to your shelves.'' said Butcher looking over your shoulder into the comic you held in your hands.

,,Since when do you look for people to interriogate that I could possibly like?'' you asked with smirk, before you put the comic back.

,,I'm not.That was just a lucky coincidence.Or unlucky - you still seem pissed.What's wrong?'' Butcher asked.

,,Honey I have work to do.Sundays are planed for studying.'' you explained tired but still had to smile since you thanked Butcher for his effort.

,,Honey huh? You really start to become soft with me.'' said Butcher with a smirk and followed you when you turned away from him to continue your walk.

,,You should know by now that I use those names when I just don't want to call you something mean.'' you said.

,,Well if you hate it here we can at least have a bit fun with your writing.'' Butcher said putting his mobile out again.

In the next minutes Butcher managed to get to know about all your preferences that your posts could reveal and he clearly seemed to enjoy that.You would also start to ask him out since you wanted to keep this interriogation fair, that leaded to the both of you having a very open conversation about sex and some weird stories about some experiences, almost in the middle of a convention.But you didn't care this entertained you clearly more than the comic books.

You got interrupted by a call you had to answer.After some time you came back to Butcher to tell him that you needed to go back to your dorm since a friend reminded you of the upcoming test next next week.

You already wanted to turn on your heel and call your friend back again, when Butcher reached out for your hand.A discussion started about wether you would leave this convention or not.

,,Are you mad you can't just forbid me to stay.'' you said after you gave up on explaining yourself properly.

,,When was the last time you just did nothing?You're completly stressed out Y/N.Have you at least eaten something today?'' asked Butcher.

,,No.Thanks to you guys I got kicked out of bed.'' you said, having Butcher cursing under his breath when he realised that.

,,I will make it up for you, just try to stay calm now.Your lips look terrible already.'' said Butcher still holding your hand in his.

,,What?'' you asked clearly a bit confused at this remark.

,,You always chew your lips when you're stressed out and they look awful right now.'' said he and you had to praise him again for being sensitive, recieving an grumpy look.But he was right when you gave him a smile in response you noticed how chapped they were.Great now you looked tired and terrible.

,,Maybe next Sunday.I still need to get a job once this whole detective thing with us is done.'' you said, tears started to fill your eyes caused by your rising stress level and even with the sunglasses Butcher could tell how you felt right now.

In the same moment Hughie and Frenchie ran to you , being completly out of breath but still managed to tell you that they messed up.The Supe had no interest messing around with Vought and called the security.You tried took calm down, that your tears would stay in your eyes and focused on the conversation between the boys.

,,This stupid eco- fucker.'' said Butcher.

,,Did you just asked him nicely or did you also brought some good arguments with you.'' you asked.

,,What should we havve against him? Sometimes you just have to hope that some people still have the balls to do something good.'' said Hughie.

,,Or you have to hope that they also just assholes.'' you said and pulled your phone out to search for something.

,,Here that's a list of women , who accuse him of sexual harassment, there are even videos and pictures on this side to prove their accusations.I thought you were prepared.'' you said and handed Hughie your mobile.

,,Where did you get this from?'' asked Butcher.

,,I have my sources.No matter how stupid the fandom we nerds stay together.'' you said a bit exaggerated.

,,At least something for today.'' you said now a bit satisfied when you looked after Frenchie and Hughie who walked back to the supes booth.

You even allowed Butcher to lay an arm over your should to pull you close to him.

,,That was fucking diabolical.Don't you ever think less of you love.'' said Butcher.

You pressed yourself against him and hid your face in his jacket, afraid that someone would see you start crying otherwise.A deep breath came from him and you could hear his smile out of it, while his hand stroked your hair softly.

,,Thanks.'' you said once you found your voice again, with your head buried in his shirt.

,,Come on lets get you back home.Guess the boys won't take long now.'' said Butcher and brought you to the car with his arm still around you.

While you were driving back you fell asleep.Butcher had decided to take you with them despite your saying but when you woke up after some nice hours of sleep and all cuddled up in your blanket you didn't mind at all.Frenchie had even made some waffles before he and Kimiko went away to spend the rest of the day together.

,,You know when you aren't tired or hungry you actually look kinda hot, even with those chapped lips.'' said Butcher when you stood next to him to you lay your empty plate on the kitchen island.

You gave him a smirk.,,Do you always flirt with women like this?'' you asked.Your gaze on him tried to stay unimpressed, when he pressed you against the table with his familiar smirk on.

,,Only if they are also into quickies on kitchen tables.'' said Butcher, his hands roamed over your curves carefully to test the waters.

,,You really needed my bad writing for this?'' you asked in disbelieve, when you already were sat on the table and started to kiss Butcher.

,,Don't worry love I myself have plenty of ideas for us.'' said Butcher before he started to kiss you again.

[nagisasstunningpersonality]

Korosuu Translation - Chapter One

Some notes before we begin: 

This is the only piece of official Ass Class content that - to my knowledge - is not translated anywhere. It doesn’t look like anyone has any plans to, so I’ve decided to take the task upon myself. This book is kind of like the korotans, but teaches maths instead of English. It also has a Chiba and Hayami focused short story, which is what I will translate here.

I am not fluent in Japanese. I’m a mere university student who has been studying for about two years now. Whilst I feel confident enough to get the general meanings of things, I have had to use a dictionary pretty heavily with this and some word meanings and grammar parts might be incorrect. I’m only making this because I want people to be able to enjoy the book, so it’s no professional calibre translation and I please ask that you take everything with a pinch of salt. I know there are mistakes and sentences that don’t feel right, but I think you can still get the general meaning.  

The tenses are weird because Matsui kind of wrote them that way, and I generally decided not to alter them. This is my first time translating prose (I’ve only done manga panels in the past), so I’m not sure if this is a common thing in Japanese books or not. 

Whilst I’ve naturalised some sentences, others are a little more hard for me to reword so a prewarning that they may come across as a little stiff and awkward in parts. I’m still learning with this. 

Okay now that’s out of the way, the chapter! 

Chapter One - Invisible Sniper Time

During the usual E Class’ usual lunch break, Chiba Ryuunosuke, Okajima Taiga, and also Takebayashi Kotarou are gathered together, and are enjoying chatting as usual. This was the usual scenery that happened every day.

However, the usual atmosphere was a little different that day. The trigger was something that Chiba murmured.

“That’s why Chiba, you’ve tried that method over and over again, yeah? I realised that it wouldn’t be enough, so right now I’m using it in combinations with other methods.” Okajima said with a dumbfounded face, whilst holding a camera.

“I get it, that’s why I wondered if you could do it.” Chiba answered in a way that might seem blunt to people who he didn’t know. Since he covered his eyes with long bangs, he was easily misunderstood by a few people, but his close classmates knew that with the same old warmth, he was a cool and collected guy.

Takebayashi heard that, and points out whilst fixing his glasses with his index finger “if you snipe with a single shot, the sound of fire will always arrive before the bullet. Korosensei will sense the trajectory in the direction of the sound and easily avoid it. Afterall, he’s a Mach 20 monster.”

“What are you talking about?” They were interrupted by Hayami Rinka. Alongside Chiba, she’s the girl with the highest sniper results.

“Nah, Chiba was saying there isn’t a way to assassinate Korosensei with just a sniper.” When Takebayashi answered, Hayami tilted her head.

That assassination had been tried many times by Chiba and two people. There were shooting results from the two top participants. However, it all failed due to the reason Takebayashi said, and the superhuman ability of the target teacher. A simple sniper alone cannot kill him first. That should be the conclusion made between the two of them.

Chiba saw Hayami’s expression and immediately understood her thoughts, and then connected them to words. “I know it’s impossible, but it feels regrettable to do nothing like this.”

“Yeah,” Hayami nodded.

“Class, please listen.” Karasuma Tadaomi entered the classroom, and stood on the platform as he spoke to everyone on the spot. “I’ll tell you whilst he’s gone. The government has hired a new assassin.”

They weren’t surprised, because this wasn’t the first time. The government has hired professional assassins several times, but it was the usual pattern to give advance notice when there was a risk of involving the students in the E Class.

“Karasuma Sensei, what type of assassin is coming this time?” Kataoka Megu, who was chatting close by, asks.

“A slightly famous person. According to the source, they’re called the ‘Legendary Sniper’.” When Karasuma answered, Chiba and Hayami’s faces immediately perked up.

“A nickname without a twist…” Okajima forces a smile.

“Their exaggerated name means they’re not ashamed of their great skill. In everything, they seem to have succeeded in sniping many times from an impossible position.”

“Impossible position?” Takebayashi shook his head at Karasuma’s words.

“If I’m talking specifics, they would be behind the building, but still hit the target on the other side with a bullet. Of course, without shooting through the glass or anything like that. Is that an interested face?” The last word that Karasuma spoke was directed to Chiba and Hayami, not Takebayashi.

The pair nodded at the same time.

“From this standpoint, you can’t help too much, but there’s probably something you can investigate. Especially for you two and the others, it might be a reference for future assassination?”

“I don’t think there’s any reference if the sniper kills Korosensei.”

At the sound of Takebayashi’s voice, Karasuma shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think so. He can’t be killed by a human who doesn’t even know him at all. Even if this opponent is called the Legendary Sniper. Isn’t it better for you?”

-

Gathering information had never been so difficult. They searched their smart phones and their own laptops for sniper related incidents in the international news, and found many such articles. Most of it was written in English, but thanks to Nakamura Rio, who was close by to Takebayashi, it didn’t take long to read.

“That’s exactly what Karasuma Sensei said… Look at this, they were shot between the bullet proof limousine door the instant it opened. The line of fire should have been from this direction.” Chiba lifts the screen of the laptop he was looking at. Right there, there was an article that said the leader of a criminal organisation was assassinated under strict vigilance.

“Is that difficult?”

When Okajima looked at the screen, Chiba nodded.

“It seemed that it they were surrounded by bodyguards when they got out of the limousine, and the building they were trying to enter was an organisational building. There is no sniping point you can use to shoot into a limousine from over there.”

“Is it possible to hide and shoot?” Additionally, Okajima leant over.

Chiba shook his head. “They were only about ten meters away from the building. No matter how well they hid, they were probably able to shoot at such a distance. But this article isn’t sure where this sniper was.”

“That’s also true. They were shot from the front of the building whilst the police force were guarding. Not only the front, but all surrounding buildings were closed, and they were being monitored from above.” Hayami was looking at a case in Europe where a top enterprise was shot.

“The headline is also ‘A Magician’s Work? The Fear of the Invisible Sniper’. If this is a tabloid paper, I won’t do it anymore,” Nakamura said, looking at his laptop over Hayami’s shoulder.

“I found a number of different articles dealing the same case, so it seems like it really happened.”

“That’s right. But doing this is refreshing, hmm.”

Hayami thinks about Nakamura’s words.

“Hey, look at this. ‘Strangely, the bullets found on the scene were spherical, reminiscent of muskets’. Could this not be a hint?” At the point where Nakamura pointed, there was an English sentence she translated, and a small photo next to it was a silver bullet like a pachinko ball placed side by side with a rifle bullet for comparison.

Chiba also leaned to look at Hayami’s smart phone, and gave a big nod.

“Yeah, it helps, Nakamura. I think this is probably a really big hint.” Chiba, who usually doesn’t express many emotions, gazed at the screen whilst speaking with an unusually warm tone.

“Hey~, what have you been doing for so long?” Kurahashi Hinano called from behind Nakamura. When they explained clearly, Kurahashi replied with a smile. “Huh, it looks interesting doesn’t it? So, did you understand anything?”

“Originally, there isn’t enough information in online articles. I think we need to do something more.” Takebayashi answered.

Chiba nodded whilst Takebayashi was speaking.

“Right?” Kurahashi’s face perked up as she looked at Takebayashi’s laptop.

“If that’s the case, why don’t we go to the article and look at them?”

“That’s a good idea, but it’s all about Europe and America… right?” After answering Nakamura, Chiba looked at his own smartphone and frowned. “This article is in English, but it looks like the scene is in Japan.”

“What happened?” Nakamura used the smartphone and clicked on the screen that appeared. “Ah, there was also an article in Japanese. It looks like they did it for the news. It’s in Shibuya, Tokyo. It looks like they wrote about a mafia boss of the international expanding yakuza.”

“It’s decided~ This weekend, let’s have a picnic at the crime scene in Shibuya!!” Kurahashi pounded her hands on the table.

That’s the end! It took me quite a while to do this, so don’t expect the next chapter right away! I’ll try my best to complete the whole book, though! 

Chapter two

My comments under the cut 

I don’t really get why Karma and Nagisa are in the illustration, when they’re literally not even mentioned lmao. 

Karasuma acts like this is a regular thing? That they just get random assassins joining their class every now and then? I guess it’s OC time for those wanting to write missing episode fics! 

It’s really nice to get some proper Chiba and Hayami dialogue, I hope this will be helpful to those who want to write them. I also love the dynamic of Nakamura joining in. 

It seems like the students bring their own laptops to class? That’s an interesting canon addition. 

And can we just have a moment to talk about Kurahashi? Literally slapping the fucking table in excitement at the prospect of having an assassination picnic? Incredible. We stan. 

[missmalice202]

Designing Your Melody: Chapter 07 - Notes

Chapter 01 - Chapter 06

Giving her dress form one final once-over, Marinette decided that everything was perfect. She had finished her outfit for Jagged Stone a few days ago, but that didn’t stop her from agonizing whether or not it was truly done. Maybe there was something she had missed, or an aspect of the entire design that could have been improved upon. Quite frankly, she had been driving herself a little crazy looking for anything that wasn’t absolutely perfect. Her obsessive behavior got to the point that on Saturday night, a full day after she had “finished” it, when her parents had come up to let her know that dinner was ready they had found her standing in the middle of her room, staring unblinking at her creation. In the same exact position she had been in hours before when her mother had brought her up a lunch tray that had been left untouched on her desk.

Deciding that enough was enough, they had demanded that she cover up the dress form and take a break. Worrying about it wouldn’t do any good.

So, Marinette had grudgingly listened to her parents’ advice and left it alone.

After an agonizing weekend of trying to ignore her hidden masterpiece, Monday morning finally rolled around – the day she was due to deliver her creation to the record company for Jagged Stone’s photo shoot.

With utmost care, she removed the sheet covering up the outfit. She laid the custom embroidered garment bag she had prepared on her chaise lounge. Returning to the dress form, she gingerly removed the jacket, inspecting it one last time for any loose threads or stray pieces of lint. Black sequins sparkling in the light streaming from her windows, she carried it over to the garment bag and placed it on its hanger, smoothing the purple satin lapels to prevent any wrinkling from transit. She gave the black and purple military style cuffs a quick tug to ensure they hung properly in the bag.

Returning to the form one last time, she carefully removed the yellow snakeskin pants that hung there. Grabbing a second hanger, she clipped the pants delicately and slipped them inside the garment bag with the jacket.

A final inspection was made before she zipped the bag closed and hung it up on the clothing rack next to her sewing station.

It filled her with immense pride to see her initials emblazed on that garment bag. Knowing that the entire world would soon see the product of her passion was a heady feeling indeed. She rolled her shoulders back to ease the tension that had gathered there. It was too late now to turn back.

Grabbing the garment bag and her little pink purse, she climbed down her trap door and left her parent’s bakery to make her delivery.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

“I did it, Alya.” She said. “It’s out of my hands now.” Her hand gripped her cell phone as she strode through the lobby of Roth Records, her heels clicking a rapid tempo against marble floor.

“I’m so proud of you, girl. I can’t believe it! My BFF is Jagged Stone’s designer. I just can’t wait until I can see your clothes on billboards all across the city.”

She giggled loudly, the sound of it echoing through the lobby, catching the attention of a dark-haired man heading through the lobby on his way to the elevator bank, guitar case slung securely on his back. She was too focused on getting out of the building to notice him whip his head around, searching the surrounding area for the source of that clear peal of laughter. There was something about that voice that pricked his memory, but he couldn’t place where he had heard it before. Shaking his shaggy hair out of his face, he scanned the lobby one last time with his aquamarine eyes before gripping the strap of his guitar case and continuing on his way.

“Honestly, I can hardly believe it myself. When I delivered it to Ms. Rolling, I was so nervous I almost passed out. I don’t know why this is such a big deal for me. I wasn’t this nervous when I designed his album cover all those years ago. And I certainly wasn’t this stressed out over any of the other pieces I’ve made. What makes this so different?” she wondered as she made it to the entrance to the building.

“How about to celebrate your glorious success, I’ll treat you to lunch.” Marinette glanced at her watch before agreeing. “Good. I’ll meet you at that cute little café we went to with the boys a few weeks ago. It’s close to the record label, right?”

Marinette nodded before realizing that Alya couldn’t see the gesture through the phone. “Yeah, it’s right around the corner. I’ll see you there in 20 minutes?” After hearing confirmation from her friend, she hung up her phone, stuffed it back in her purse and walked down the street, looking forward to meeting her friend for a relaxed meal after the crazy couple of weeks she’d just endured.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Luka marched down halls of Roth Records, his impassive expression belying his irritation. It felt like he’d spent more time in this god forsaken building in the past week than he had at his own home, and he was getting a little tired of it.

For some unknown reason, he had been roped into some sort of power play between rock legend Jagged Stone and the CEO or Roth Records, Bob Roth. After he and Jagged had finished recording what the two musicians considered an award winning song, the CEO said that it wasn’t good enough and “would never sell”. The blowout after that conversation was having lasting repercussions and now there was tension between the two entertainment giants.

Jagged Stone was refusing to back down and sacrifice his “creative process” to make a “soulless, vanilla, cookie cutter money maker”. He knew what his demographic wanted and it pissed him off that even after all these years, Mr. Roth was still trying to undermine his talents to make a profit. The results spoke for themselves and Jagged would not sell out.

Roth on the other hand, was doing everything he could to mold the aged rocker into a package that he considered “hip and now” and was sabotaging any effort Jagged made to stay true to his carefully cultivated image.

Stuck in the middle of their cold war was Luka, who had done everything he could to stay out of their struggle for dominance. He kept his head down, did his recording sessions, and kept his opinions to himself. He just wanted to play the music he and Jagged created together.

He turned down the hall towards the recording studio he was due to meet his collaborator in when he suddenly found himself wearing someone else’s coffee order. He looked from the brown splatter covering the front of his white “Jagged Stone: World Tour” t-shirt to the unfortunate intern holding an empty to go cup in his hand.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” the timid intern cried as he looked around in a panic trying to find something he could use to help clean the guitarist up.

With a shake of his head, he assured the panicking boy that he wasn’t in trouble and that it wasn’t a big deal before walking away. Honestly, he just wanted this day to be over already so he could go home and just jam out by himself for a bit.

Footsteps echoing in the now empty hallway, he finally arrived at his destination. But before he could enter the sanctuary of the empty studio, he heard his name called from his left.

He watched as Jagged Stone’s agent approached him, her ever present tabled clutched tightly in her hands in a white knuckled grip.

“Good, I caught you before you got started, Luka.”

Her eyes widened as she took in his muddied appearance. “What the hell happened to you?”

He delicately peeled the coffee-soaked shirt away from his stomach, the shirt making a squelching sound as it clung to his skin. “I had a run in with the coffee gopher. Literally.”

She shook her head at his attempt at humor before tapping away at her tablet. “We’ve got some time before Jagged is done with his shoot. We’re running a bit behind because Mr. Roth found out he went behind his back and commissioned his own design to replace the one that the marketing team wanted to use. Why don’t you go to the dressing room and take that shirt off and I’ll get you a clean one?”

Not seeing any reason to object – especially since the coffee was starting to chill against his skin and was getting a bit sticky – he agreed.

Once in the dressing room, Penny disappeared to find him a replacement shirt.

Carefully setting his guitar on the counter, he removed his black riding jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. Peeling the soaked shirt over his head, he glanced at the mirror and froze. His eyes widened and he spun around quickly, dropping his wet shirt with a plop.

There, hanging on a hook on the wall, was a cream colored garment bag. However, it wasn’t the bag itself that had him rushing across the room. It was the three letters embroidered on the bag that had him so transfixed.

Reaching out his hand, he stoked his fingertip across the threads, calluses catching slightly. MDC. The same initials as those lazily scrawled on the paper still folded in his jacket pocket. The same initials that he had been obsessing over for the past few weeks. The initials of the designer of his dream outfit. The initials of his muse.

His heart pounded in his ears, for once drowning out the notes that endlessly played in his mind. Surely it couldn’t be a coincidence. How many designers had the initials “MDC” in Paris? He needed to know if his suspicions were true and he needed to know now.

He strode to the door of the dressing room and yanked it open, oblivious to the fact that he was still shirtless and sticky from residual coffee until he realized that he had scared Penny half to death by suddenly opening the door as she held up a hand to knock.

“I’ve got a shirt for you.” She offered the black garment to him, drawing his attention to the article she was holding. “You might want to put it on before you cause a stir around here.” She chuckled as he blushed and took the shirt from her.

“Can I ask you something,” came a muffled inquiry as he thrust his head into the shirt. “What’s that bag hanging up over there?”

Penny looked at the garment bag he had gestured toward. “Oh, that was Jagged Stone’s outfit for the photo shoot I was telling you about. You remember Jagged telling you about her the other day, don’t you? Why do you ask?”

Luka tried to remember the conversation he’d had regarding the designer Jagged had spoke so highly of. “What did he say her name was? M… Ma… Ma… Mary?”

Penny chuckled. “Her name is Marinette. She actually dropped that off for us a little bit ago. You may have passed her on your way in, now that I think about it.”

Luka couldn’t believe his luck. If she was who he thought she was, then he’d finally gotten her name. The first real lead to finding his mystery designer and it was finding out her name was ‘Marinette’. He smiled at his good fortune, unaware of the suspicious look Penny was giving him as she observed his pleased expression.

“Would you like to see what she made for Jagged?”

His head whipped up as he looked at her, eyes widening slightly in anticipation.

She laughed. “I take that as a yes.”

When they entered the studio where Jagged’s photo shoot was being held, Luka’s breath hitched as he took in the outfit that Jagged Stone was wearing. It was definitely hers. Even to his untrained eye, he could sense her style in every stitch. The way the jacket fell across the rocker’s slim shoulders, how it fell gracefully down his back, the way the tailoring made it seem almost fluid in the way the fabric moved. Everything about the design just screamed her.

As he watched the singer move from pose to pose as the photographer directed him, the song she had inspired inside Luka’s soul began crashing through his mind, once again driving him to distraction. With his fingers tapping out the notes on his left leg, he turned to Penny and asked her if he could get this “Marinette”’s contact information.

She’s a little surprised at the eagerness that Luka expresses in his question. She can’t recall a time that she’d ever really seen him express even a little bit of the passion he’s showing her now. But unfortunately, she has to deny his request.

“I’m sorry, Luka, but I can’t just give you that information. We keep the contact information of our employees - or in Marinette’s case, independent contractors – protected.”

Watching his face crumble in disappointment, she sighs. “I’ll tell you what I can do. I’ll contact Marinette and ask her permission to share her information with you.” He smiles a little before nodding his head.

Finally, finally he found her. Now, he just has to sit back and wait to hear from Penny. Feeling considerably lighter and with his fingers itching to press the strings of his guitar against the fretboard, he heads back to the dressing room where he had left his guitar unattended in his haste to see his Marinette’s designs in the flesh.

Chapter 08

*Thanks again for taking the time to enjoy my story. I appreciate all your likes and reblogs. I was so excited for this chapter that I just had to get it out and posted as soon as I could (and considering it’s 4am here, that should tell ya something). Luka knows Marinette’s name! Well, her first name at least. What’s he gonna do with this information? We’ll have to find out. Just keep in mind that I’m not going to make it easy for these two. mwahahaha!

Until next time, my lovelies XOXO*

[ticklikeabomb]

Some compromising video

Pairing : Tony Stark (Professor) x Plus Size Reader (Student doing her PHD) - AU

Warnings : Language ; Masturbation (18+) ; Mention of sexy times

Word Count : 902

Your life can be sometimes really stressful especially after deciding to return back to college and get your PHD. Days and weeks spend at the library gathering archives, sources and books to nourish your thesis. Besides that, you still have classes and papers to hand in due time. You were loving your classes but it’s an understatement saying that sometimes it could take a tool on your mental health and “beauty sleep”. You clearly didn’t have enough on your plate and put another matter in a corner of your head that kept surfacing: your new Professor, going by the name of Tony Stark. The man screamed sex appeal. How many times did you fantasized about him instead of actually taking notes? All the time. It was a whole: him in those well-tailored suits, his eyes, his smug smile and that voice. Lord that voice was poison.

Today was a particular harsh day. You were exhausted, stressed and late on your schedule. After taking a long shower you laid down on your bed, your towel wrapped around your soft and large figure. Even with the shower you still could feel your tensed muscles and decided to adopt another strategy. You grabbed your laptop from the nightstand and typed down the link of a porn site. After some browsing on the world’s largest catalogue, you settled down on a video. You made yourself comfortable and let the vibe settling in you. You began by caressing your lotioned skin, your hands reaching your nipples and pinching them before traveling further down your body. 

Your fingers moved in rhythm with the actor’s thrusts, feeling the heat slowly building up. You began circling your clit faster, close to your orgasm when the camera changed his angle and showed the actor’s face. “Oh fuck, holy shit”, you gasped loudly and came hard. When you descended from your high, your heart continued to beat frantically. “This can’t be”, you mumbled out of breath. “I’m projecting”. You clicked back on the video and saw you weren’t hallucinating. The porn actor was Professor Stark. “Oh god”, you whispered, heat creeping your cheeks. You closed your laptop abruptly and decided to sleep the rest of the night off, trying to forget what just happened.

Weeks passed and you couldn’t look at Stark the same way. He always caught you staring at his crotch and when he cleared his throat and you would look up, his piercing gaze would connect with yours, leaving you an embarrassed mess. It was enough for the Professor who was curious to know what was going on with you. “Have a nice weekend everyone. Miss Y/L/N may I have a word please? My office in 10minutes”, he said at the end of his lecture. You felt your body tremble for a fraction and swallowed the lump that was keeping you from breathing correctly. You arrived at his door and took a long breath before knocking. “Come in”, he shouted from inside. You stepped in, avoiding eye contact. “Please Miss Y/L/N have a seat.” You did as he said and sat down. He joined his hands and analyzed you with piercing eyes, hiding his smirk behind his hands. “Do you know why I called you here?”, he asked. 

You looked up and shook you head, “I don’t Sir.” You noticed his eyes shine a little before he continued. “Lately I feel like you aren’t a hundred percent invested in the class. Your grade is still impeccable but your lack of participation is noticeable. Well of course that and the fact that you keep being more interested on my lower body part than on the course itself.” At this point, your skin was boiling in embarrassment. “I’m…”, you tried to excuse yourself but he cut you off, “Tell me, are you the type of student that sits there fantasizing about their Professor teaching them a lesson while their ass is up and face down?”, he said smugly. You opened your mouth in shook. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Answer me Miss Y/L/N.” You couldn’t believe how forthgoing he was being and decided to give him a run for his money. You sat properly and fixed your gaze on him, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m the kind of student that can’t focus because she saw her Professor in a porn film.” You saw him flinch for a second not expecting the answer. “Hmm. And what did you thought about it?”, he asked intrigued. “I think that just as I found the video, by accident, others could too and that could be very compromising for you and your career in this establishment.” He nodded before standing up and sitting in front of you on his desk. “Are you going to snitch on me?”, he asked with a deep voice. You looked up on him and declared, “Why would I do that and deprive the university of such a good Professor. What you do or did in your private life is not of my regard.” He chuckled and bit his lips. “I like you. Even before this info came out.” You stood up and closed the gap before whispered on his ear, “Really?” His hands landed on your hips and squeezed them. “I feel we’re gonna have a really good time together.” “Oh I can feel that too”, you deadpanned and looked at his already hard member brush against your tight.

* gifs not mine, credit to owners*

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[yourfaveisamunkid]

Percabeth are MUN kids

P e r s e U s 

- He’s got the charisma and quick wit to be a worthy delegate at any conferences.

- His dad’s Poseidon, so he LOVES doing GAs about marine life.

- Every power del (Except Annabeth) hates him because he slacks off all the time yet always ends up with a gavel.

- His STREET SMARTS make him very helpful in committees.

- He talks to horses, who help him gather information.

- He’s definitely fallen asleep in campaign before.

- But when he gets scary... he. Is. Terrifying.

- His eyes get all stormy and he actually develops a good posture.

- “With all due respect, that’s incorrect.”

- “Hey, wise girl, are you hearing this?”

- A Hawaiian shirt is essential with every suit he wears.

- Definitely says present and voting to make fun of Annabeth because she always says present and voting.

- “According to Frederick II, the working class in Ukraine in 1965 was HORRIBLY oppressed.” “Uhh... who was Frederick-” “-An appaloosa I interviewed. That’s a primary source. I will be taking no more questions.”

- “What do you mean a dolphin doesn’t count as a primary source? HE WAS THE ONE CHOKING ON PLASTIC.”

“Present.... and voting.”

- “Hey, I brought Jolly Ranchers! Anyone want one? What color do you want? Oh, well, I’ve only got blue, so...”

A N N Abeth 

- I shouldn’t even have to say this, but power del.

- She polishes all her gavels and lines the Athena cabin with them.

- As a child of Athena, she loves to compete in order to show of her intelligence.

- She secretly loves to double del with Percy, though she’ll never admit it.

- Has an extensive amount of research in literally every topic.

- Remember that one time she identified a shotgun on SIGHT? Total MUN kid move.

- Her obsession with architecture makes her great when representing Classical figures from Greece and Rome

- She always, ALWAYS questions sources.

- She loves to say “Present and Voting” because she knows it aggravates the mortals.

- Athena loves watching her and Percy compete with Poseidon. 

- In a crisis, she’s always got the most dramatic arcs.

- She doesn’t play by the rules. She WILL attempt to assassinate Stalin 3 times after selling U.S. secrets to the Russians.

- In GAs, she gives the best speeches.

- All her outfits are color coordinated.

- She uses her Yankees cap to snoop on the other delegate’s papers.

- She will hurt you if you make her a signatory.

- She’s the excec board leader at Camp Half-Blood.

- “Me? A signatory? [Laughs].

- “My source? COMMON SENSE.”

- “For a Renaissance philosopher, you sure are stupid.”

- “Brothers and sisters, the time for a rebellion is nigh.”

- [Passes a gossipy note to Percy.]

- “I can’t start a cult? We’re in CRISIS.”

- “I know a bit of French, so allow me to read a letter from a humble French Shepard who wrote during the Revolution.”

- “Present and VOTING.”

- “Alright, let’s skip the small talk- what’re your thoughts on Socialism?”

- “Seaweed brain, wanna team up and impeach the chair?”

- “Man, Dionysus should just hurry up and claim literally EVERY CSMUN delegate.”

- “Point of order?”

- “Yes, are you aware of the effects that this could have on the children who rely on the bread that comes from the wheat from the very fields you’re planning to nuke?”

- “SKIP THE PREAMBS. We’re not in DISEC, for gods’ sake.”

P e r c a b e t h ????????

- Separately, both are good. 

- Like Solangelo, however, when together... they are unstoppable

- Since Annabeth and Percy are both charmers, they take turns giving speeches and pass notes.

- They both love double delling

- When they’re together they are the most chaotic

- They’ve definitely started a cult during Salem witch trials

- They assassinate the same kid every Crisis because he talked down to Annabeth one time

- Both are very passionate, very scary, and very angry

- Percy loves coming up with acronyms for papers

- In a Crisis, they always try to outdo themselves

- They come up with the most hard-hitting, thought provoking questions during Q&As.

- “I’m sorry, WHAT did you say to my partner?”

- “Good evening, dishonorable delegates.”

- “Okay, only you five are allowed in our bloc.”

- “A signatory? Me? Why not just ask us to GIVE you the gavel?”

- “You can make me a signatory, but I’m taking all our clauses. Oh, don’t worry- I have a printed copy of them all.”

- “I may have gotten all the ladies accused of witchcraft to join me and overthrow the judicial system.” “I love you.”

- “ThERe’s A GREEK MYTHOLOGY COMITTEE???”

- “Off policy? At least we DID something, unlike the whole Eastern European bloc over there.”

- “Fellow comrades, I think we can all agree that this was NOT the play.”

- “See? The Jackson-Chase Insanity Postulate never fails. Do the craziest thing possible, win the gavel.”

- “Okay, I’ll take the gavel on Monday through Thursday, you can get it on the weekends.”

- “So, even if I punched a political enemy of ours, that would still be illegal, right?”

- “Hey, best dressed! Sweet!”

- “Dating? I think you mean one, united, powerful country.” 

[clericofthebalance]

Life Needs Things to Live, Chapter Three

Class was going to be less of a struggle for Percy today.  Percy settled into his seat in his MW Lit class, one of his final core classes until he could fully focus on what he needed to graduate.  This was the only class he absolutely had to take at the university, something he couldn’t sub with community college classes for a much cheaper rate.

Only one thing made this class tolerable given the 8 AM start time and boring material.  He glued his eyes to the door, sipping his thermos of coffee, waiting patiently.  Finally, she floated in.

Long dark hair captured in a braid, the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, warm eyes that brought flames and autumn and the forest to mind.  She had a sharp and wickedly clever look to her face, joy radiating off every movement and gesture, unique to her very bones.  He adored how she wore blue feathers woven in her hair, how piercings lined her ears, how she emphasized her expressive eyes with perfect eyeliner, how she always had a giant zoology book under her arm.  She was beautiful and clever and just shone in the depressing classroom.

Fuck, he was pathetic and weird.  He really needed to get over his crush and focus on his life, not idolize some poor woman like she was his manic pixie dream girl.  Ugh.

Percy focused on his book, thinking about the two applications he had handed off yesterday. One to Gilmore, to work the counter in his coffee shop, the other to Keyleth for the apartment.  Hopefully, good things would come of it.  They both hinted that he would be accepted.

Maybe Asum could come visit soon, see Beau again.  It would be nice to see his old friend and savior.  To have something to celebrate rather than to mourn.

“Alright, class, we’re going to do a project instead of a final paper.  You’ll be working in assigned pairs to create a presentation and paper on a modern version of any classic novel and how it compares to the source material.  Your initial proposal is due to me in one week.  I’ll call out your assigned pairs now.”

Percy grimaced, praying he’d get someone tolerable that would do their share.  He couldn’t handle working with a freshman who left everything to him again.  He would commit murder.

“Percival and Vex’Ahlia.”

Wait, what?  He stared at Professor Shura blankly and she pointed to the back.  At his crush. Oh, shit fuck.  He was going to humiliate himself.

***

Vex stared at her notes, blanking out.  She hated core classes.  This English class was her absolute last one and it was a misery.  She wished she was out at the zoo or in a lab.  She only wanted to read what she wanted to read. Not this shit.  She sighed.

“Um, excuse me?”

She started and looked up, flushing at the quizzical brow and brilliant eyes on her.  The guy standing over her was hot.  White hair in a messy undercut, heavy brows, a strong yet elegant jaw.  It was the eyes that got her, though, blue as a winter sky and shining with intelligence. Vex easily mustered her most charming, most flirty smile for such a pretty guy.

“Yes, Darling?  How can I help you?”

The questioning frown lifted into a slight smirk, cocky and charming and matching his posh accent, one full and pale eyebrow going up, “Well, we’re partners on our final project according to the professor.”

“Project?”

“Oh, you checked out, too? Apparently we have to do a presentation comparing a classic novel to a modern adaptation while analyzing universal themes,” he rolled his eyes.  His unfairly pretty blue eyes, “And we have to work in pairs.”

“Shit!  I have labs to do! I thought this would just be a paper I could bullshit.”

“I was hoping for that as well,” he dropped into the seat next to her, looking unfairly comfortable in his formal slacks, a neat button up, and a tailored vest in royal blue. No tie, but he did have a black turtleneck underneath.  A little odd for a college student and very high class goth, but whatever.  He was still hot as shit.

“Vex’ahlia, but you can call me Vex.”

He tilted his head, chuckling, her knees going weak as the earrings up his ears sparkled in the fluorescent light of the classroom, “Percival de Rolo, Percy.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Percy Dear.”

“An even greater pleasure to meet you, Miss Vex’Ahlia,” he leaned forward with a charming smile, “So, exchange work and class schedules?  Find a time that works?”

“Schedules? You are a fancy one.”

“I have to plan every minute or I would crumble under the load,” she laughed as he pulled out an honest-to-goodness planner, “Yes, it’s color coordinated.  I was not joking about my life.”

“Okay, okay,” she giggled, grinning, “I get it.  Your girlfriend must keep you busy.”

“Oh-I-Uh-No,” Percy’s pale skin flushed and she noticed some light scarring around his eyes.  It almost looked like droplets, light pink against the lovely red of his cheeks, “I don’t have a girlfriend.  I just work two jobs, a double major with a minor, and a lot of responsibilities.”

“No girlfriend? Really?”

“N-no.  Oh, my phone is ringing!”

She barely held in her laughter at the Star Wars theme coming out of his backpack.  Vex ran her eyes over his profile, appreciating the fine jaw and strong nose, the disheveled hair and two-day scruff, the delicate metallic glasses that gave him a distinguished look only emphasized by his elegant outfit.  An outfit she could tell had seen quite a bit of wear judging by the precisely stitched repairs and fabric fade.  His phone was also an older model, older even than her three generations behind smart phone. So, he was posh but maybe not rich. Just particular about his clothing.

Damn, but he was a fine specimen of a man, his voice soft and refined and lovely.  She wanted to pin him down and see how far that lovely blush went.

“Oh, shit,” he sighed, looking absolutely devastated at whatever the person on the line was saying, “Well, good thing I put in a few applications.  It’s fine, ma’am, you don’t have the time to keep the place open anymore.  I had a feeling this was coming.  Take care and keep me updated.  I’ll be just fine.  You know me.”

He hung up and rubbed his temples, pushing the glasses up, “Sorry about that.  Former job.”

“That’s fine.  Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. This doesn’t even make the top ten of worst things to happen to me,” Percy smiled, but still looked strained, “So, free days?”

“Wednesday after 3 and all weekend except for Saturday morning.  Me and my housemates are interviewing a potential new renter.”

“Oh?  I’m inter-wait, do you live with Kiki?  Keyleth?”

“Yeah, I do!  Are you her Percy?”  Vex lit up at the prospect of getting to spend more time with him and leaned over to look at the organized but packed schedule.  Shit, he wasn’t kidding, “That’s an insane coincidence. She’s told us all about you and Beau. I work at a café just down the street from the house, Laina’s.  We could study there or at the house.  And you could bring Beau and Pepper along.”

“Honestly, that would be great.  I actually just put in an application at Laina’s,” Percy smiled back, “I really appreciate the offer.  You sure you don’t mind?”

“Only if you don’t mind my dog.”

“Deal,” he offered his hand with a wink, beaming, “I-Thanks.”

“Not a problem, handsome,” he flushed to his ears, those spots standing out once more against the red, blushing at her new nickname for him, “So, we can meet up around 4 at Laina’s and I’ll see you Saturday?  I see you’re free from 4 to 7 tonight.”

“I’ll be the one with the black Zemian Shepherd and small child.”

“Sounds great,” she winked, gathering her things, “I’ll see you then.  I need to get to my next class.”

“B-bye,” Percy was frozen, flushed, and staring at her like she was the most gorgeous thing in the world. She strode off with a confident swing to her hips, head held high, and a triumphant grin.  A study date with a handsome man and his babies.  Hopefully, she and Beau would get along.  Kids usually liked her.  Then, she could hunt down that sexy shy bastard.

But first…

She dialed Vax as soon as she was outside the building, knowing his first class wasn’t until noon and he was off this morning, biting her lip.

“What’s up, Stubby?”

“Morning, shitbird.  I met the potential roomie today.  He’s apparently in my lit class and we got assigned a project together.”

“You sound entirely too chipper for this early.”

“Well, he’s absolutely gorgeous and looks like a good guy.  He got fired while we were talking and didn’t even react.  Was just as pleasant as before the call.  I liked him,” Vax made a disbelieving snort, “Really! He color-coordinates his schedule. It’s absolutely adorable.”

“Are you thinking with your head?”

“Yes!  I promise, you’ll like him.  His phone is older than mine and he has definitely patched his clothes a few times.”

“Fine.  I’ll go a bit easier on him.”

“On that note, I’ll be studying at Laina’s tonight.  With him. While you’re working.  I’ll get Grog to walk me home.”

“Wait, what?”

She hung up with a smug smirk.  That would drive him crazy all day.

[redhoodssweetheart]

Dance the Night Away

Genre: High School AU

Pairing: Tony x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2K

Requested: @fashionforward23

Warnings: fluff

Description:  Tony wants to ask you to prom, but he’s not sure if you’ll say yes.  Your best friend Peter is certain that Tony will ask you.

Taglists: Are open, please send an ask and see this post for more information.

Banners had gone up all over school letting the students know that it was prom season and to get your tickets now.  It had even been announced on the morning announcements by the two hosts.  You had merely shrugged off the event, dances has never really been your forte in the first place.

You were more of a wallflower at those events just because you tended to be shy in large groups of people.  You were more comfortable at intimate gatherings with your friends.  Plus, the guy you wanted to ask you probably wasn’t going to even ask you because you doubted he even knew of your existence.

Tony Stark was the most popular guy at school.  He was constantly surrounded by other girls and his close-knit group of friends.  You didn’t think he had ever looked your way once in about four years.  You had berated yourself when you started liking him because it was only bound to get your heart broken.

You were currently at your locker getting ready to head home for the day when your best friend Peter heading your way.  He was a few grades below you, but the two of you tended to spend more time in the library or science wings of the school that you became fast friends.  “I have news,” he said excitedly.

“What?”  You asked with a smile.  Peter was easily excited and it was honestly refreshing to see one who seemed to be happy to be at school all the time.

“Tony is going to ask you to prom,” he beamed thinking the news would make you happy and excited except it didn’t.

You blinked at him, feeling stunned at what he had just said to you, “You’re lying.”

“I would never!”  He said with a huff.  “I heard it from a reliable source.  His friend Natasha was talking with Steve and I heard your name.  She was saying that Tony was planning on asking you to prom!”

You shook your head, “You’re hearing things Peter, Tony’s not going to ask me to prom.  We never have anything to do with one another.”

“Well let’s wait and see who’s right,” you said.  “But if he doesn’t ask me to prom I’m not going.”  You shut your locker door and headed for the entrance.  

Peter followed you, “You won’t even go with me?”

You looked at the look on his face and sighed, “I’ll go with you if no one asks me.”  You couldn’t say no to Peter.  He was your best friend after all.  “But if I get asked you have to ask MJ.”  You nodded your head toward the girl in question.  Peter had talked to her on a few occasions and you knew he had a crush on her.

Peter chewed on his lower lip, “Deal.”

Tony watched as you and Peter passed him by.  Steve noted his friend watching you go, “You gonna ask her to prom?”

Tony tore his eyes away from you to Steve, “I don’t know, maybe.”  He finished gathering his things and closed his locker door.  “We never talk, wouldn’t that be odd?”

Steve shook his head, “I don’t think so.  You all share a few classes together, it’s not like you don’t know she exists.  You said she was smart too, and Peter talks about her all the time to you which tells me she likes you too.”

“What makes you think that?”  They were outside now and Tony’s eyes found you as you and Peter stood by Peter’s car.  He knew Peter drove you to and from school most days.

“Because why else would her best friend be talking to you about her?  You know he doesn’t like her like that, he has a crush on MJ,” Steve was almost absolutely certain that you liked Tony back, but the two of you were too shy to ask the other out.  “This is the perfect opportunity to get to know her.”

“You’re not gonna let this go are you?”  Tony asked his friend as they got into his car.

“Nope,” Steve told him with a grin.  “I think you should rather than going to with some random girl who is bound to ask you.”

“Should I do it at school?”  It was now officially the weekend so he would have two whole days to overthink it.

“That’s up to you,” Steve shrugged.  “I’m not going to tell you how to ask a girl to prom.”

Monday came and you were anxious.  When was Tony going to ask you?  Was Tony going to ask you?

You wanted to bang your head against your locker because that had been all that was on your mind the entire weekend.  Peter was sure that Tony was going to ask you.  He was so sure that Tony liked you back.  You didn’t want to get your hopes up either.

You went through the day still thinking about Tony.  When you had your classes with him you would glance at him as discreetly as possible, but he was too busy focusing on the teacher to notice you looking at him.

But Tony had noticed you looking, he had become more aware of you now.  Steve’s words from Friday replaying in his head.  He had a plan.  After the final bell, before everyone headed home he would catch you before you made it to Peter’s car and just ask you.  Or maybe he should ask you during lunch in the library when he knew you’d be alone.

Why did asking you to prom have to be so hard?

At lunch, you broke off from Peter and headed into the library to look for a new book to read and also get some books for your history project that was due in a few weeks.  You were walking up one of the aisles, your eyes skimming the titles, your finger tracing the spines when you bumped into someone.

“I’m so sorry,” you froze when you looked up and saw Tony standing there grinning at you.

“Hey Y/N,” he said with that easy going smile.

“Hey Tony,” you did a double take, did he just say your name?

He leaned against the bookshelf, “I was wondering if you wanted to go to prom with me?”

Your breath caught in your throat.  Peter was right, he had been planning on asking you to prom.  “I’d love too,” you finally managed to get out once the initial shock had worn off.

“Great!”  You went back to looking at the books trying to think of anything else to say to him.  “What’re you looking for?”

You glanced back up at him, “Just some books on Ancient Greece for that history project that we have to do for Miss Carter’s class.”

He motioned for you to follow him and he led you deeper into the library to a section in the back, “This is probably going to be your best bet.”  The books he had led you too looked older and were leatherbound compared to the regular paperback and hardcover books.  “You can’t take them out of the library because they’re worried we’ll destroy them, but they have really good information in them and they’re a lot better than the others.”  He hesitated and then added, “I can help you one night gather up information for your paper.”

You smiled at him, “I’d really like that.”

He looked at his watch and sighed, “I need to go, give me your number and we can discuss prom plans more, okay?”  You quickly jotted down your number and handed it over to him, he flashed you one last smile before darting off to wherever he needed to be.

In the weeks leading to prom, you and Tony were talking constantly, both over text and on the phone.  Peter was ecstatic because Tony had asked you and two because MJ had agreed to go with him.  

“So I’ll come to get you around seven and we can head to the hotel,” Tony told you.  Your school was holding prom in a hotel this year because of flooding in the gym.  You didn’t mind, the gym was smelly and would probably ruin the mood.

“All right,” you had just gotten out of the shower and were doing any adjustments to your hair and makeup that needed to be done.  The clock told you that you had an hour before he would be there to get you.  “I’ll see you then.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said before hanging up the phone.

You quickly slipped your dress on and put on your shoes, checking yourself out in the mirror to make sure everything looked all right.  Once you were done you waited for seven o’clock to finally arrive.  Tony arrived a few minutes early and your parents insisted on taking photos.  Tony was more than happy to pose for a few photos.  

After a few minutes Tony was helping you into his car and the two of you were off on the road heading for the hotel.  You talked about school and any plans after graduation.  You found talking to Tony really easy and you liked spending time with him.

When you arrived at the hotel the party was in effect and there were already couples dancing.  Tony greeted his friends and shared a few words with them before pulling you out onto the dancefloor to dance with him.  He held you close and twirled you around like a pro.

“My mom made me take ballroom dance classes when I was younger, I guess even after all these years I still haven’t forgotten how to do it,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well, I’m glad she made you take lessons because I’m pretty sure I have the best dance partner here,” you told him.  He seemed to become shy at your compliment and tried to hide his face so you couldn’t see him blushing, it didn’t work but you were polite enough not to bring it up to him.

At one point Peter came over and asked if he could cut in.  Tony didn’t mind and told you he would be over by the punch table waiting for you to be done.  You and Peter laughed together as you did silly dance moves.  Tony watched the two of you together and couldn’t help the smile that formed.  

When the song was over you joined Tony at one of the tables for a break.  Peter and MJ joined you along with Steve and Natasha.  The six of you had a great conversation and Natasha even invited you and MJ out shopping one day with her and several of the other girls she hung out with.

When the dance ended and people slowly started trickling out of the hotel and back to their cars Tony linked his hand with yours and walked with you back to his car.  “I had fun tonight,” you told him once you were on the road heading home.  “I’m really glad you asked me.”

“I’m glad I asked you too,” Tony said.  “To be honest I was a little nervous asking you to prom.”

“Really?”  That shocked you.  “You seemed so cool and confident.”

He shook his head, “I was freaking out inside.”

He pulled up outside your home and you could see a light one, someone was waiting up for you.  You tore your eyes away from the house to look at Tony.  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Tony promised before leaning over and kissing your cheek.  “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

“Good night, Tony,” you whispered as you got out of his car.  He waited until you were safely inside to pull away and head home himself.  

As he drove he thought about how he would ask you out again and where he would take you this time.  Maybe something more intimate than a school dance, he knew some great spots around the city where he could take you.

As he laid down that night to go to sleep he couldn’t wait for the morning to come so he could talk to you again.

[wewillwriteyou]

Friends Will Be Friends || Chapter 1

Prologue

A few elements from the main plot: A very special group of friends: early days, drama, laughter, booze, success, rock stars life, girl power, friendship, love, sex, music, misunderstandings, some more drama, family. Pairings in the tags

Summary Chapter 1: Introduction of some of the main characters (Melissa, Roger). We don’t wanna give away to much, just read it lol

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: mention of alcohol, a little bit of swearing and angst (blink and you won’t see it)

A/N: We’re sooo excited to share with you the first chapter of our story. Please feel free to comment below and let us know what you think. If you need more information, click on the link at the beginning of this post. If you want to be tagged, our tag list is always open 💕

Giggles. That’s the thing that woke Mel that Saturday. Well, that and almost every other Saturday morning of the year, actually.  She slowly got up from the bed, rubbing her eyes and walked towards the source of the noise, which she already knew it to be some floozy girl sitting on the kitchen counter. And there she was, in fact, legs dangling on the counter and sitting on a stool right in front of her, Mel’s brother, Roger, the reason for the girl’s presence.

She was all giggly and flirty, while not so subtly caressing Roger’s arm and thanking him for the previous night and for the impromptu breakfast he had so kindly made for her. Meanwhile, Roger was literally on another planet: he was nodding along with what the girl was saying, barely paying attention and writing something on a scrambled piece of paper.

They were too busy to notice that Mel had made her way into the room and was now standing on the other side of the counter, preparing some coffee to go. She gazed at her brother, giving him a look that said I wish I woke up one Saturday not feeling like we live in a bed and breakfast for one-night-stands. He scrolled his shoulders and kept on writing. That was their way of saying ‘Good morning’.

They performed that same routine since Mel had started uni and moved in with him and his roommate. They grew up in a small city in Cornwall and since Roger moved to London to study biology, it seemed a logical decision for Mel to attend university in London as well. She was into Physics so her high school professor encouraged her to submit for a scholarship at the Imperial and that’s exactly where she ended up.

From where she was standing, Mel noticed a mass of wavy brown hair lying on the couch, feet on the coffee table and book on the lap, trying his best to concentrate on his reading. That was Brian, the third roomer of the apartment. He studied Physics as well but was almost four years ahead of her. He was one of Roger’s best friends and co-founder of a band named Smile, which the two of them had formed a few years before: Roger played the drums, while Brian was on the guitar. They had struggled for a while to find a new singer since their former one left, but eventually another friend of Roger’s, Freddie, joined and things started to work out okay again. The only thing missing was a bass player, but they were working on that.

“I think I should go, thanks again for last night Rog” the girl smirked at Roger “Give me a call sometime”

He smirked back at her as she went toward the door, but Mel knew he would not have called her. That’s just how Roger was like different girl every weekend, sometimes two, one incredible night of passion and then they would never hear from him again. Mel could not understand how those girls put up with him being such a jerk. Although she might have understood why they fell for him at first: he was actually handsome and he was in a band, so that did half of the work.

“Just when I think you could have changed and actually cared about that girl enough to make her breakfast, you ruthlessly shrug her off like that” she teased him.

Roger ruffled her hair passing behind her “There’s no hope for me, little sister” he said jokingly “and also, Brian made breakfast. Thanks mate, by the way”

Brian flipped him off without even lifting his eyes from the book, then added “What time do you get off work tonight Mel?”

“I have a shift from 9 am to 1 pm and then from 2 pm to 7 pm. As usual. Why you ask?” she said, already picturing the answer.

“Do you have any plans after that?” Brian said casually.

“Why. Do. You. Ask?” she repeated more forcefully.

“Well,” he said cautiously “we’re playing at the Riz tonight and you know it’s always kinda… well, it’s not popular, we were wondering if you wanted to come see us. You know, so that we have at least one person in the audience”

Mel snorted “No Bri, you know I hate that place: there are only middle-aged men that make unflattering comments to every young girl who enters the bar”

She didn’t have to look at him, she knew he was making puppy eyes at her, so she sighed “Fine! If – and I say if – my afternoon shift doesn’t kill me, I’ll try to stop by…”

Brian joyfully thanked her, and she excused herself to go get ready for her job.

She worked on Fridays, Saturdays and basically anytime she could at a local shop called Biba: they stored famous and expensive clothing, which she could only admire the beauty of, not being an expert on the subject. It was just a small job to make some extra money and help out Roger with the rent.

As she walked through the doors she was welcomed by her co-workers Mary and Chelsea: all three of them were hired on the same day and had been working there since summer. They often chitchatted during breaks but weren’t properly friends, well Mary and Chelsea were, but Mel never hung out with them outside of work, which was why she was surprised when Mary asked her

“What are you doing tonight?”

“I kinda promised a friend I would quickly stop by the bar where they’re playing, before heading home. But I have all the intention to blow them off in favor of sitting in front of the telly, watching Coronation Street” she answered, already picturing the warmth of the blanket and cup of tea in her hands. “You doing anything special?”

The two girls exchanged a look and Chelsea said:

“Well… a friend of ours is throwing a party near Ealing’s main building and he asked everyone to spread the buzz. Apparently, someone challenged him to gather the biggest number of people he could. There will be music and, hopefully, a lot of alcohol. You interested?”

She almost denied the offer, but she had to admit she was actually pretty tempted and then realized she hadn’t been to a party in a bit.

“I’m in” she finally said with a smile.

The three of them worked peacefully till closing hour and then headed to the party together. She had to admit they were quite good company and they seemed to get along pretty well.

The party was held in the exhibitions area in the Design department of Ealing College, which was unused at that time; Mary and Chelsea knew their way around since they both studied design there. The place was not that crowded but there must have been at least three hundred people, mostly students and half of them was already tipsy due to the pints of beer that were being distributed at the entrance. The girls grabbed one each and dove into the crowd, making their way towards the dance platform.

They chatted for a bit, laughing and starting to feel the alcohol inebriating their mind as they begin to feel the rhythm of the music. While they were dancing Mel felt someone passing behind her to reach Chelsea, grabbing her by the waist and almost making her spill her drink.

“Oh my God Tom I almost spilled all of this on the girls” Chelsea screamed.

He apologized quickly, gave her a kiss and offered to get rid of their empty glasses.

“Are you okay?” Mel asked, seeing the annoyed look on her face.

“No… Yeah… I’m sorry about Tom, he’s – well he’s my boyfriend but we’ve been through a rough time and I didn’t expect him to be here.” she said and thought I hoped he wouldn’t be here.

Chelsea didn’t exactly know how or when it had started but for the last couple of weeks, things between her and Tom had been… different. They had been together for almost three years and known each other since grade school, but all of a sudden, they were unable to communicate with each other without fighting. That’s why she had hoped to have fun that night, trying not to think about the fact that she was considering the idea of breaking up.

“Don’t worry doll, we’re gonna make sure you have fun tonight.” Mary said “C’mon, let’s dance” and she dragged both of them on the dancing floor.

They danced a couple of songs, then the band announced the end of their set, so the girls decided to go for another drink.

“Go find a place we can sit, I’ll go get the drinks” Mel offered, and she made her way to the counter and ordered three more pints. She thanked the bartender and fumbled to keep all of them in her hands when suddenly someone bumped into her back and she lost grip of one of the glasses, pouring the drink on the floor and on the shirt of a guy next to her at the counter.

“Hey would you mind looking where you’re going?” she furiously said. But the person who hit her was already mixed with the crowd.

“What a jackass”

Mel turned around to meet the eyes of the person who just spoke and realized that was the guy she had spilled the beer on.

Her eyes widened as she said “I am so sorry for your shirt”

She grabbed some towels from the counter and added “Here let me help you”

“Don’t worry I was headed home anyway. My band just finished the set so that’s a wrap for tonight” he said jokingly

She grinned “Wait you were playing just now? You guys were good! What do you play?”

“I’m the bassist” he said smiling “It’s very kind of you, but I know we’re not that good” he chuckled.

“Well my brother’s in a band and they replace the bassist almost every two months because they’re all shitty and I was there every time… So trust me when I say that you are actually pretty good”

He flushed and quickly answered “Well in this case, thank you”

They were standing really close, while she was dabbing the towel on his shirt and when she looked up he was looking at her.

He smiled at her and she could feel her cheeks flush bright red, as she smiled back, thinking he had the most handsome smile she had ever seen.

She was brought back to reality by the new band coming up on stage and making the crowd cheer.

“I should go find my friends” she said picking up the pints

His smile vanished and he tried to hide the disappointment “Sure, I think I’ll head home anyway”

She saw him smiling slightly before she turned on her heels and headed towards the tables. She was still smiling when she sat beside Mary.

“How come you only have two?” she asked.

“Oh, well I didn’t feel like drinking another one all by myself” she shrugged her shoulders, restraining a smile.

“What are you all smiley about?” Chelsea asked smirking.

Mel couldn’t help but picture his smile again and chuckled “It’s nothing, I think a drank too much of that stuff, I feel all tipsy” before realizing she hadn’t even asked him what his name was.

Chelsea was not at all convinced, but she decided not to investigate.

She was startled by hand over her shoulder and when she looked up she saw Tom, who said: “We need to talk”

She got up, already knowing how this would have ended up, but decided to confront him once and for all.

“I’m all ears” she said when they distanced themselves enough from the crowd

“What’s going on Chel? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks”

“I’m not avoiding you… I just – I just need a bit of time”

“What for? Don’t you trust me enough to tell me what’s bothering you?”

It was always like that with Tom. Everything was about him. She was so sick of that.

“No, Tom, it’s not you” she snorted “I just think I need a bit of time to sort things out”

“What does that even mean? Are you telling me you want to break up?”

“NO! I didn’t say that! Christ Tom, you are always pushing my buttons!” she yelled, scoffing and rubbing her forehead. She continued calmer “Look, I love you, but you can’t deny we’ve been fighting a lot recently and seem to have lost the ability to communicate properly.”

He looked her dead serious in the eyes and she cautiously carried on “Don’t you think we need a break? I don’t mean breaking up.” She quickly added seeing the look on his face “I just think – carrying on with our lives trying to sort things on our own and then maybe-”

“Maybe what Chelsea?” he blurted out “Are you suggesting we see other people? Oh fuck, is there someone else?” he said running his hands in his hair “Please tell me it’s not John” he added pointing an accusatory finger at her.

“What? No Tom no! We are roommates but he’s my best friend and yours too by the way.” She replied, hurt by his insinuation.

“Tom there is no-one okay? I just want to be by myself for a while, God why can’t you understand that!”

“Well maybe you should stay on your own forever” he spat out “I’m done with this shit. Call me when you’re back being yourself Chel”

He said that with a poisonous tone however she couldn’t help but think he was right. He left, and she felt tears stinging her eyes. She had to get out of there: she bolted through the crowd excused herself with the girls and rushed out in the hallway before they could catch her.

All she wanted to do was scream from the top of her lungs she had had enough. As she walked rapidly towards the apartment where she hoped to find John’s comforting arms, tears started to stream down her face.

Chapters: | next ⤑

[socialworkerbee]

7.24.22 5:08 PM

Yesterday was really nice and what I needed. Between work and school, I got overwhelmed this week and ended up snapping at some colleages I deeply respect. I felt so bad and it was so embarassing.

So, I needed a nice weekend while still accomplishing important tasks.

Yesterday, my amazing partner "dragged" me from the apartment to the farmer's market. We got some amazing fresh veggies and fruits. We also stopped by the stand that sells amazing brats. It's one of my favorite stands.

I started eating some of the fresh fruits and my already pleasant mood brightened even more! And the peppers smelled like actual bell peppers! I hadn't even realized the peppers from the store don't have a smell. I made stuffed peppers with them last night and it was delicious!

We also ended up at goodwill and the dollar store and I got the PERFECT green sweater for fall and I am so excited.

As far as schoolwork. I was able to finish and assingment and get it turned in on Friday night. My professor let me re-do it for as high as 75% so here's hoping I passed it!

I have a small paper and video due tonight. I actually started it last night, gathering all my sources and one was actually a pain in the ass to find but I found it!

I am feeling pretty confident about it since I was able to get so much done last night and I'm starting early enough today.

Wish me luck!

[2-for-a-penny]

A Name or an Apartment Number- Chapter 1

This is my first fic so please be gentle with the criticism. I’m just a smol child that wants to write about her gay children.

Includes: JackxDavey, Newsbians, SpotxRacer, ElmerxAlbert, SpecsxRomeo, and some other assorted pairs

Rated: M for the fact that I might attempt to write some “steamy” stuff. It will not be good though.

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                                                  CHAPTER 1

   A sudden crash caused Jack to whip his head to the source of the sound. His eyes focused on a group of kids staring at the ground, with one lone child rushing to clean up the spill. Jack casually walked over to the child and the spill. The kid was frantically grabbing paper towels, attempting to wipe up the mess. Jack bent down to eye level of the panicking kid.

   “Matthew.” Jack said soothingly. “Matthew, it’s okay buddy. Spills happen. No need to panic little guy.” Jack smiled reassuringly to him.

   “Let me help you.” He gently took the paper towel roll, and began to wipe up the paint that had splattered across the tile floor. He swiftly cleaned up the mess and helped the child back to his seat. As he did, the bell rang for the group to leave the class.

   “See you next week guys!” Jack called to them. He smiled as he walked around the tables, collecting the materials they had used that day. Jack hummed quietly to himself, as he pursued his task.

   Working with kids was something Jack always knew he wanted to do. Being around little kids all the time at Medda’s theater, made him feel like a mentor. It just felt right to be with them, teaching them. After he discovered his aptitude for art, he was convinced he was going to be an art teacher. Here he was now, 26 and living his dream, teaching elementary school kids to love art. He was content with his life, and was scanning the artwork they had created as he heard a cough by the door.

   “Jack,” He turned to see Sarah Jacobs, his principal, in the doorway. Sarah was sweet, she was also quite scary when she wanted to be, which was great considering she was a principal. Sarah was also dating his ex girlfriend, Katherine. They had been together senior year of high school, but the flame quickly died out as they realized things about themselves. First, that all they ever did when they were together, was fight. And second, that both of them were queer as hell. This led to the swift ending of their relationship, but allowed a strong friendship to form between the two.

   “What’s up Sarah?” He grinned as he leaned against the small art table, getting paint on his arm in the process.

   “It’s Ms. Jacob in school Jack.” She stated sternly, but with a smile playing on her lips. “Anyways,” she began. “I need a favor from you.” She strolled into the room, and sat down at his desk with a ‘plop’.

   “Anything for a lovely girl like yourself” Jack replied. She shot him an angry look, but let out a small laugh.

   “My brother,” She casually stated as she leaned back in his chair, to prop her heeled feet up on a nearby stool.  “He’s going to start teaching here.” Jack cocked his head as his brows furrowed in confusion.

   “And this has what to do with me?” Jack questioned her.

   “Patience child.” Sarah said looking playfully offended. “My brother is going to start teaching here next week, and I want you to help him out a bit. You know?” She looked at Jack hopefully. He rolled his eyes at her puppy dog begging and crossed his arms.

   “Come on Sarah.” He replied with a roll of his eyes. “A grown man doesn’t need me to “help him out” around an elementary school. It’s pretty easy to figure out.”

   Sarah sighed dramatically as she kicked her feet off the stool so she could lean forward on the small wooden desk.

   “You really have to make everything as hard as possible don’t you Kelly.” She sighed again and explained further. “My brother is quite shy. I don’t expect him to make friends with any other teachers any time soon. And contrary to popular belief, you are actually decently easy to talk to, and get along with. I think that if you became friends, it would make his transition easier. So can you stop being a pompous ass for long enough to be nice to him?” She gave him a stern stare and quirked one eyebrow up, daring him to not agree to her wishes.

   “Fine!” He groaned as he wiped his face with his palms. “I’ll help your stupid brother, just get out of my classroom.”

   “I knew you’d see it my way!” She smiled cheerfully as she rose from the desk, and went to pat him on the shoulder.

   “Really, Jack, thank you. He’s really going to appreciate this.” She headed for the doorway, then turned back to Jack before she left. “I’ll introduce you guys on Monday, have a good weekend.” She turned away but called over her shoulder, “By the way, you have paint all over your shirt.” With that she was gone.

   Jack looked down to his shirt, that was now splattered with a range of colors due to the paint on his arm.“Damn it.” He muttered under his breath, as he wiped the remaining paint from his arm. His shirt was now stained. It was one of his favorites too, a simple white Henley. Oh well, another ruined shirt. Tis’ the life of an artist.

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

   Jack pulled open the door to his apartment building. He was thinking over what Sarah had said. He really didn’t want to try and be buddy buddy with her brother. He didn’t really have the time, nor did he want to put in the effort. He was friendly with his coworkers, but they weren’t exactly his type of people. They were all too formal with each other, and made the most mundane jokes. Jack would much rather spend time with his real friends. The crazy guys that he has spent his whole life with.

   His mind was in his thoughts as he approached the wall of mailboxes in the lobby of his apartment building. He absent mindedly put the key in the lock of his box and opened it to grab the mail. He flipped through the different letters, mostly junk mail. He saw a few bills, utilities, phone, the usual. He cursed under his breath and began to open one until he heard a small laugh come from beside him.

   He looked up from the mail and caught the eyes of another man standing a few boxes away. He was smiling at Jack and gesturing to the mail in his hand.

   “Bills? Or threatening letters from your mother about how you are acting in the big city? Or is it maybe a death threat? Who did you manage to piss off? The mob? Does the mob send threats by snail mail anymore?” The man spouted out his theories with a bright smile and a laugh. But it wasn’t just his smile that Jack noticed. The man was tall and well built. He wasn’t a bodybuilder, but you could tell he worked out and took care of his body. His muscular arms were propped up against the wall, causing his shirt to stretch and emphasize his biceps. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes, and framed is sharp, angular face. His bright smile was paired with a set of twinkling green eyes. Jack felt as if he could get lost in them for hours.

   Jack was jolted from his thoughts at the sound of the man speaking. “So which is it then? Do I need to be watching the door in case any mobsters try to walk in here with a baseball bat?” He questioned Jack.

   Jack finally gathered his thoughts enough to respond to the question he was being asked. “Oh, haha, no.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly and shifted his weight. “Just some bills, you know. The usual.” He smiled, tried to keep from looking at the man. Shuffling the mail in his hands, messing with his key. He glanced back up to meet his eyes, the other man was just watching with a soft smile.

   “Well,” The man pushed himself off of the mailboxes and put the mail in his hand into a neat stack. “I gotta go, stuff to do” He began to walk away as Jack got the sense to speak.

   “Wait.” Jack turned to the man as he was preparing to walk out the door. “I’ve never seen you before. Did you just move in or something?” Getting over his initial shock, he finally felt like he had control of himself as he flashed the man his signature smirk, and crossed his arms over his chest casually. “Because I know I would remember someone like you.”

   The man smiled and color began to creep onto his cheeks. “Moved in yesterday. I’m new to the area.” He pushed the door open and moved to walk out.

   “Maybe I could show you around sometime?” Jack said almost more like a statement than a question.

   “Maybe you can. See you around.” The man walked out the door and let it shut behind him. Jack smiled to himself and began to walk to the elevator before he realized. He never got the man’s name or which apartment he was in! He wasn’t paying enough attention to see which box he got his mail from, so that was a lost cause. A great opportunity missed by a name, or an apartment number.  

[jafreitag]

Grateful Dead Monthly: Oxford Plains Speedway – Oxford, ME 7/2-3/88

On Saturday and Sunday, July 2 and 3, 1988, the Grateful Dead played two shows at the Oxford Plains Speedway in Oxford, Maine.

Oxford Plains opened in 1950 as a half-mile track, but was later shortened to three-eighths. According to the Wiki, it’s the largest sports venue in Maine, seating 14,000. The Speedway has hosted events in the NASCAR Busch Series (sort of the minor league for stock cars), but back in the late ’60s, it hosted three NASCAR Cup Series races – two won by Bobby Allison and one won by Richard “The King” Petty.

Yes. That’s Richard Petty in his trademark powder-blue #43 Plymouth. If you had 1960s motorsports figures on your GDM bingo card, right on!

In June of 1988, the Monsters of Rock tour with Van Hagar, die Schorps, Dokken, Metallica, and Kingdom Come stopped in Oxford.

And if you had Van Hagar and/or Dokken on the bingo card, sweet!

The following month, so did the Good Ol’ Grateful Dead for two nights. Our very own GD Editor (and Lester Bangs wannabe) ECM attended. Here’s his extended and incredibly awesome personal reflection.

Thirty-three years ago Deadheads flocked to Oxford, Maine for two days of peace, love and music. The weather was great, the scene was chill and the Grateful Dead played dream set-lists for what would be their last shows in Maine and yours truly was fortunate enough to have been there. It was one of the very best experiences I ever had seeing the Dead and I often wish I could relive it again. So, gather ‘round the campfire and let’s get started, shall we?

PROLOGUE: Summer’s here and the time is right

I had just graduated from college in June 1988 and after treating myself to a 2-week backpacking trip to Europe I dutifully hopped on tour with the Grateful Dead, because like… isn’t that a rite of passage? The mail order Gods were very kind to me which was no small miracle when you consider the huge influx of new fans on the scene in the wake of Touch-mania due to the commercial success of In the Dark. Another factor that contributed to making tickets tough to score was the fact that the band opted mostly for small, outdoor sheds for this tour instead of the ginormous stadiums they had played the previous two summers. I scored tickets for Pittsburgh (6/26), SPAC (6/28, my 22nd birthday) and both nights of Oxford Plains (7/2-3). The latter was a venue the band had never played and it also happened to be the tour closer which raised the stakes even higher. In addition, there was a rumor that the band might add a “surprise” extra show on July Fourth (alas, that never happened). And, of course let’s not forget about the band’s storied history of playing legendary shows in Maine such as 9/6/80 (Lewiston) and 10/12/84 (Augusta). Needless to say, the Oxford shows were highly anticipated by everybody.

Prior to Oxford, I attended Pittsburgh and SPAC with my brother Dan and a bunch of friends. I could write a separate essay on those incredibly fun adventures alone but I will save that for another day. I attended Oxford with my childhood friend, Brad, whose family had a house in Whitefield, New Hampshire which is a tiny, rural New England town near the White Mountains.  We used that as home base to travel back and forth to the shows which is only about an hour and a half drive. The plan was to stay for the July Fourth holiday after the shows and then return home to New York.

BACKGROUND: Jumping queues and makin’ haste, just ain’t my cup of meat

Before I review the shows, I must first describe the scene/vibe since it was such a big part of the overall experience.  Like most of the surrounding area, Oxford is a small, rural, New England town with a population of about only 4,000 people. It is quiet, serene and wooded. Within that setting is an unexpected attraction – the Oxford Plains Speedway, a car racing track that was established in 1950 and seats 14,000 people. In 1988, the Speedway decided to dabble in rock concerts – something the tiny town was ill-prepared for. Here are just a few obstacles that quickly come to mind:  A single, one-lane road was the only access to the Speedway, very few local hotels and a police force of one(!)

On June 25, 1988, Oxford hosted the Monsters of Rock Festival featuring Van Halen, Scorpions, Dokken, Metallica and Kingdom Come. A torrential downpour combined with rowdy fans left the site trashed.

Now, before we get all judgy about metal-heads, let’s acknowledge that the Grateful Dead scene was not without its own problems. As I mentioned, the commercial success of the album, In The Dark, resulted in an incredible influx of newbies known as “Touch-Heads.” The show at SPAC on June 28th was a disaster as ticketless fans crashed the gates and rushed the ramps that led inside the pavilion. As a result, there were scuffles with security and lots of arrests. It turned out to be the last straw and consequently, the Dead never played SPAC again.

The town of Oxford had good reason to be concerned about the Grateful Dead concerts that lay ahead just one week after the Monsters debacle and the news about the Dead show at SPAC just a few days prior. Fortunately, the band and its fans sent around a plea to leave nothing but footprints. The 90,000+fans that descended upon the tiny town of Oxford not only gladly complied with that request but harmoniously co-existed with the residents. Maine papers reported that it was a most enjoyable weekend for all people especially the towns people.

THE SCENE: Strangers Stopping Strangers

Grateful Dead archivist, David Lemieux, had this to say about Oxford:

“It seemed a little out of the way, which is why it was a good place to end the tour. It was a nice mellow place. I was bummed that they never played there again because everybody I knew who went to the Oxford show, to this day, will say it was one of the most fun Dead shows they ever saw. They were great shows musically, but they were just fun��It was extremely easy-going. It was a West Coast vibe on the East Coast. I heard from so many people who said it felt like an Oregon Dead show. That’s the highest compliment for a concert on the East coast.”

David Lemieux thought so highly of the Oxford shows that he included July 3, 1988 as the show to represent the year of 1988 for 30 Trips Around the Sun, the special 50th anniversary box-set that featured one complete show for each of the thirty years the band performed. Note that the box-set also includes a second Maine concert – the Augusta Civic Center show on October 12, 1984. Supposedly, the Lewiston show on September 6, 1980 would have also been included if a better audio source existed.

My friend, Brad and I arrived in the town of Oxford in the early afternoon on July 2nd. Getting there was slow. There was a lot of traffic congestion because of the one-lane road leading to the Speedway. Many people abandoned their cars and opted to walk. Enterprising locals let Deadheads camp and park on their lawn for a small fee.  As our car inched along we were able to check out the scene. And what a scene it was! The town of Oxford had been transformed into a little Dead village. The vibe was incredible – perhaps resembling a latter day Veneta or Woodstock.  Deadheads were grooving everywhere — swimming in streams, hanging out in fields, playing hacky sack, tossing Frisbees, hiking along the local route through the small town. Everybody was friendly, smiling and having fun together. Strangers stopping strangers just to shake their hand…

The parking lot itself was nothing more than a giant, dusty, plowed dirt field but the scene was outrageously good. The weather was perfect and the Speedway parking lot circus was in full swing – thousands of happy people, tents, cars, hissing nitrous, tie-dyed flags, loose dogs running around, fireworks going off, Hibachis, ice chests and goo-ball hawkers everywhere.

The “Shakedown Street” was enormous – two huge avenues of merchandisers selling everything legal and illegal from bagels to ‘shrooms. Everything was “kind.” Kind beer for $1, kind water for $1, kind cigarettes and kind bud… Kind, kind, kind.

Cops ignored just about everything. To be fair, they were greatly outnumbered. Supposedly, the town’s sole police officer was aided by about 30 officers from the Maine State Police and neighboring communities, but the sheer number of people was overwhelming.  

Fortunately, the Dead had the foresight to set up a field office out in the parking lots. People from the Grateful Dead office were out in the trenches all weekend long handing out garbage bags, keeping their pulse on the rhythm of what was going on and even scolding destructive trouble makers when necessary. This turned out to be crucial in keeping things peaceful, clean and safe for everybody.

SATURDAY JULY 2: Life may be sweeter for this, I don’t know

The scene inside was mellow – a giant field surrounded by a racetrack and bleachers. Delay PA towers placed behind the soundboard made hanging out in the back of the field pleasant – you could dance or lie down on a blanket and hear the concert perfectly. In fact, a lot of tapers set their rigs up directly behind these towers and were able to get very good audience recordings of these concerts.

We went into the show early so that we could see the opening act – Little Feat. They had recently reformed after being inactive due to the death of Lowell George in 1979. Now in 1988, they were opening for the Dead to support the release of their new album, Let it Roll. It was exciting to see them rekindle their magic for fans both old and new. Some clever vendors sold bumper stickers on the lot that said “DEAD FEAT.” The band was in fine form and they turned in a really strong set consisting of everything you would want to hear from their live album, “Waiting for Columbus” mixed in with songs from the new album.

After Little Feat finished their set, Brad and I decided to upgrade our spot. Unfortunately, between the sea of people and the big open space, we got separated. I knew that finding him would be almost impossible and I wanted to get some good real estate for the show so I decided to make my way up towards the front. It was still early and there was plenty of space. I eventually settled in front the soundboard where I knew the sound would be perfect. I mingled with some friendly Heads while we waited for the band to take the stage. They were a bit older than me and took me in when they heard that I got separated.

At one point, we noticed a hippie girl in a long flowing dress gracefully floating through the crowd. She was wide-eyed, smiling and clutching a single red rose. She eventually made her way over to our area. She stopped and stood directly in front of me, staring and smiling. She was in a state of euphoria, radiating beauty and kindness but not saying a word. I stood there paralyzed with awkwardness not knowing what to do except smile back. Ever so gracefully, she held the rose out for me to smell, which I did, and then she was off. It was a beautiful moment that encapsulated the entire weekend at Oxford.

It was still daylight when the band took the stage for the first set. Since I was up so close I could see how relaxed they looked. The beautiful scenery was clearly agreeing with them. I remembered what Phil said at the beginning of the Veneta show – “This is really where we get off the best.” I hoped and prayed that this was one of those times.

The band surprised us by opening with “Iko” which juxtaposed the mellow vibe we were feeling with a celebratory one. I looked around and watched people laughing, dancing, and hugging. This was not a typical high-energy East Cost rocking version. Rather, this was band easing into the first set in the late afternoon on a summer day in Maine with a “feel-good” purpose.

The band continued that easy-going vibe into the next song – Jack Straw. It started out almost too mellow. However, by the second jam we have lift-off as Phil carpet bombs  the Speedway, taking no prisoners.

Next up is a copacetic West L.A. with a slinky groove that acknowledges the “Speedway.”

While the band is tuning for “Memphis Blues,” the audience starts a “Let Phil Sing” chant. This was the norm at most shows following the “Box of Rain” bust out in Hampton in 1986. However, what wasn’t normal was for Phil, who is notoriously reserved on stage (at least in the latter years), to respond to those requests as he did on this occasion.  Cleary in good spirits, Phil has some fun with the audience:

Phil: “Don’t you think the guys in the band are going to get jealous if you yell for me all the time? I want you guys to yell for Mickey, Bill, Jerry and Brent, alright> Next time you see somebody yell ‘We want Phil’ you yell ‘We want Brent’ or ‘We want Mickey’ alright? Thank you.”

That brings Jerry and Bob to the microphone, who add that we should extend our requests to the crew – “We want STEVE! We want KIDD!” – and even to volunteers from the audience(!) This naturally draws lots of laughter and applause. Everybody was having a good time.  

With that that band tears through one of the best renditions of “Memphis Blues.” Bobby’s Pepto-pink Strat lit up the Maine sky. Once again, the crowd begins to chant Phil’s name.

Bobby: “Phil can’t hear you. He’s been stone deaf for eight or ten years now. If you hold still he can read your lips. Brent can’t hear you ‘cause he’s run for it.”

Jerry: “Don’t listen to Weir. He’s been crazy for years.”

“Row Jimmy” is superlative. Although it was played at SPAC just three nights earlier, who could complain when such a great song is repeated? Jerry’s notes blissfully echoing into the cosmos. The audience gently swaying to and fro…not too fast and not too slow…it’s the common way to go. Weir uses his guitar to do his paddling shtick during one of the choruses. Classic Bobby.

The band closes the first set with three of the new songs that were introduced earlier in the tour – “Blow Away”, “Victim of the Crime” and “Foolish Heart.” All were well received. Everyone listening intently.

The setlist for the second set is of what dreams are made. Although nothing the band played could be considered a “best of” performance, everybody who attended would agree that this was a delightful set of nighttime, outdoor music.

The sun begins to set behind the band as they gently ease into the opening notes of “Crazy Fingers” creating a breathtaking visual and aural landscape. “Life may be sweeter for this, I don’t know…” The outro jam was everything you could want in “Crazy Fingers” starting with Phil’s lead lines on the high neck of his bass as Jerry picks away in the background. The instrumental journey builds to the next level as Jerry takes over with a delicate lead that flows into the Middle-Eastern flavored jam.

The “Playin’ > Uncle John’s > Terrapin” sequence that follows is divine. Bobby delivers the verses in Playin’ with oodles of confidence and then the band drops into a luscious spacey jam led by Phil’s bouncy bass lines. This drifts into an anthem-like version of “Uncle John’s Band.” Garcia’s mid-song solo is pure bliss. Smiles abound everywhere. The song oozes with kindness and joy and melts into “Terrapin” – Counting stars by candlelight…and eventually we come to the Drums/Space segment of the show.

Supposedly, all the fans that had travelled without tickets were “miracled” when the doors opened as the band went into “Drums.”

Post-Space, the band finishes in fine form with short, but solid versions of “The Wheel  > Gimme Some Lovin’ > Watchtower.” The audience cheered when the band sang, “so glad you made it” since Oxford was not easy to get to.

Then, we get the Holy Grail – Morning Dew. Jerry goes deep with his vocals – especially the final Anywaaaay…Phil and Jerry trading melodic licks in the quiet part…the song building momentum… and then the kind of triumphant, powerful  ending  that makes your hair stand on end….Magical, Electric, Spiritual.

Instead of ending the show, we are treated to a rocking “Sugar Mags’ as a bonus show closer. Rock Star Bobby strutting around the stage with his long, shaggy hair and getting the crowd all fired up. The “Quinn the Eskimo” encore is basically an audience sing-a-long that leaves a big smile on everybody’s face.

There is a video of Set 2 on YouTube if you are interested.

The post-show parking lot scene picked up where it left off. Fireworks and bonfires burned, lost dogs wandered everywhere, people were passed out in the dirt and thanks to the Dead’s crew, a slew of Deadheads scurried around with garbage bags trying to clean up.

SUNDAY JULY 3: All I know she sang a little while and then flew off

On Day #2 the band turned in two sets of music that were inspired and full of energy but the game ball rightfully goes to Brent Mydland for his outstanding performance. Over the two days at Oxford, he played some of his best songs and was a very conspicuous presence in the 2nd set on this evening.

The band comes out raging with “Hell in a Bucket” complete with the same motorcycle effects that were used on the album, In the Dark.  Bobby thoroughly enjoys this ride and gets off on Healy’s vocal effects. “Sugaree” is competently performed. Brent lights up “Walking Blues” with a fierce B-3 organ solo.

Bobby then steps to the microphone and continues the joke from the day before by saying: “There’s a guy down there saying let Mickey sing. Now he’s obviously never heard that. You can have it if you want it.”

Garcia delivers the first real highlight of the day – a funky and twangy “Jed” which benefits greatly from Brent’s bouncy keyboard work. Garcia growls some of the lyrics.

Queen Jane fills the “Dylan slot” nicely and features heavenly solos by Jerry and Brent.

The set-closing “Bird Song” at sunset is easily the highlight of the show, and perhaps of the entire weekend.  This one gets jazzy and goes way out there into a scary meltdown before building to a huge peak. An added bonus to those who were in attendance was the ultra-light plane that appeared during the jam and circled around overheard. The audience cheered in delight and started pointing up to the sky. The band looked confused as they noticed the audience’s attention being diverted from the stage to the sky. Alas, the distraction probably killed the jam. However, the pilot took a perfectly timed graceful swoop over the stage as Jerry sang the last verse.

Like most people, I was expecting one more song since “Bird Song” rarely was a set closer (at least in 1988), but I’m guessing that the distraction of the plane combined with the potential danger it presented caused the band to err on the side of safety and prematurely end the set after just 6 songs. However, they would make up for that in the second set by playing 6 songs before “Drums ,” which was also pretty unusual. Another unusual aspect of that set was the absence of a Garcia ballad but I am jumping ahead of myself.

In between sets, there was an epic drum circle at the back of the Speedway. Also during the set break Brad and I ran into an old friend from high school, Kevin, who we hadn’t seen in years and we wound up hanging out together for the rest of the evening which was a lot of fun.

As the band took the stage, the audience started a Help/Slip/Frank chant (not played since 9/12/85) but….paradise had to wait until the fall ‘89.

Set two starts off with a highly charged “Touch of Grey” that gets the crowd’s energy going. Immediately afterwards, Bobby strums the chords to “Looks Like Rain” but stops suddenly and instead the band breaks into “Hey Pocky Way.” What a great call! This is an immense version that showcases Brent. The dance party is in full swing.

Bobby eventually gets his way with “Looks Like Rain.” He delivers passionate vocals while Jerry delivers a textbook performance of the noodly musical “raindrops” that was a trademark of this tune in the 80s. The band breaks routine with “Estimated Prophet” by giving us a double dose of Bobby instead of the usual alternating Jerry/Bob sequence of songs. The mid-section jam builds to a nice head and Bobby gives his best screeches before the final jam which is fluid, if not standard.  

“Eyes of the World” is short but sweet. However, the real buzz about this version of “Eyes” is Brent’s piano solo(!) which was fantastic and a very rare treat since that was not a song where he would typically take a solo. He should have done it more often!  Brent really brought his game to Maine. Phil also steps up for the jam. Everyone is pitching in and listening to each other making for some really strong interplay.

Normally, “Eyes” would wash out into to “Drums” but on this evening the band made the unusual decision of tacking on another song. In addition, it was very unusual for the band to play 6 songs before “Drums.” Here, Brent performs his new song, “I Will Take You Home” for just the third time. His vocals and keyboards are delivered tenderly. 

During the “Drums/Space” segment, Mickey ups the ante with The Beam. Just when things can’t possibly get any weirder, Jerry brings us back to earth when he starts picking the notes to “GDTRFB.” Each of the instruments fall into place and soon we are chugging along at an upbeat pace. Brent takes a B-3 organ solo and hands it off to Jerry who builds things to a thrilling peak. Bobby continues the high energy streak with a segue into a raging “I Need a Miracle” complete with audience participation.

The show has an unusual close to it. The double-barreled rocker, ”Dear Mr. Fantasy/Hey Jude” ends with some very funny, over-the-top vocal stuff. Bobby and Brent trade incoherent screams/yelps that may be technically deficient, but the energy is amazingly high.

The “NFA” encore has a cold start with just the vocals before the music kicks in which makes for yet another unique aspect of this show.  Full crowd participation goes on for five minutes long after the band has left the stage and probably the Speedway

Mmm-bop mmm-bop bop bop…

Epilogue: Never had such a good time

Brad and I returned to the White Mountains in New Hampshire to celebrate the July Fourth Holiday with his family. We stopped in Springfield to check out the Basketball Hall of Fame on the way home. A few weeks later I traveled to Boulder, Colorado to visit some more friends in the mountains. We visited Red Rocks even though there was no concert. I wanted to experience the vibe and imagine what it would have been like to see the Grateful Dead perform there.

A month later I was working at a “Big Eight” accounting firm in New York City. It certainly was a reality check but it didn’t stop me from attending 7 of the 9 shows the band played at Madison Square Garden in September. The memories of Oxford and that summer are some of the best in my life. Ah, to be 22 years old again…

Thanks, Ed. That was great!

Transport to 7/2/88 on the Live Music Archive HERE.

Transport to 7/3/88 on the Live Music Archive HERE.

Video Sources:

7.2.88 – Set 2 (voodoonola2)

7.2.88 – Set 2 (Kevin Tobin)

7.3.88 Lot Scene

Finally, if you had bad fan dvd art on the bingo card, you’re welcome.

And if you had “the original” Jerry plane dropping a Phil-bomb on your bingo card, you win. Seriously!

[Ed, we sent GDM bingo cards to all the blog followers, right? Right? Dude, idk. I didn’t, did you?? Omg. This was a thing in a zoom meeting mid-Covid. You don’t remember that. Ok. Cool. I know that 31 Days gets way more likes than LN on the ‘gram, and that’s great, really. But bingo was my idea to juice the audience. And now what. What? We are so busted. Corporate is gonna be pissed. WFH is totally over. I hope the bathroom remodel is done at HQ.]

Bingo plan aside (apparently), I will send something random – could be a snapshot, a stick of gum, a two-dollar bill, or basically anything that fits in an envelope and requires one first class stamp – to the first three people who post something substantive about this show below the line. Get to work, hippies! Free sh!t is the best

NOT kidding. Mail will be sent.

More soon.

JF

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[orbemnews]

Another Unlikely Pandemic Shortage: Boba Tea A panic erupted on the West Coast this week. Over a drink. It happened when beverage aficionados learned that tapioca, the starch used to make the sweet, round, chewy black bubbles — or pearls — that are the featured topping in the popular boba tea drink, was in short supply. “I was shocked,” said Leanne Yuen, a longtime boba drinker and a student at the University of California, Irvine. “What am I going to do now?” The impending boba shortage is yet another sign of how the pandemic has snarled global supply chains, upended industries and created scarcities of goods from toilet paper and ketchup to electronics. In this case, a surge of pent-up demand for products assembled abroad, coupled with a shortage of workers due to coronavirus cases or quarantine protocols, has caused a monthslong maritime pileup at ports in Los Angeles and San Francisco and left ships delivering goods from Asia — including tapioca — waiting out at sea. Boba or bubble tea, a drink that can be made with milk or fruit-flavored green or black tea, originated in Taiwan and has grown in popularity and prominence in the United States throughout the 2000s. Boba suppliers in the San Francisco Bay Area who are running low on tapioca said their shipments of fully formed boba came from Taiwan, while supplies of cassava root, which is used to make tapioca, came from Thailand and islands in the Pacific Ocean. “It’s all being held up at the docks,” said Arianna Hansen, a sales representative for Fanale Drinks, which is based in Hayward, Calif., and supplies boba to thousands of stores around the country. Ms. Hansen said that shipments had been backed up for several months, and that the company’s existing stockpile of tapioca was running dangerously low. “It’s definitely been frustrating — some people have been upset with us, but at the same time it’s not really our fault,” Ms. Hansen said. There’s no sign that the ship delays will abate anytime soon. The number of container ships waiting at anchor to dock in Los Angeles or Long Beach peaked at 40 in February, according to data from the Marine Exchange of Southern California. That declined to 19 ships on Thursday, still a far cry from the usual zero or one ship that was the norm prepandemic, said Kip Louttit, the exchange’s executive director. Massive cargo ships can take a week or longer to unload, Mr. Louttit said. Five additional ships are drifting out at sea, because there is no room to fit them in the bay. He said it was a nearly unprecedented backup; vessels have not had to drift while waiting since 2004. The situation is similarly cramped in San Francisco, where 20 ships are waiting at anchor and 19 more are “cruising around” offshore, compared with the usual eight or nine at anchor, said Capt. Lynn Korwatch, the executive director of the area’s marine exchange. “The situation is extremely unusual,” she said. Leadway International, another large boba supplier in Hayward, also said its stock of tapioca was low because shipments were coming in slower than usual. The company’s business development director, Edward Shen, said he did not want to call it a “shortage” over fears that might spook boba shops into hoarding tapioca and make matters worse. “Store owners get panicked, so they probably order more than what they need,” Mr. Shen said. Ms. Hansen said she expected supply to return to close to normal by the summer. In the meantime, anxious boba store owners are scrounging for tapioca anywhere they can. “It’s very stressful — no boba means no sales,” said Aaron Qian, the owner of Tea Hut, a boba store with three locations in the Bay Area. “If you don’t have boba, they don’t want the tea. They just leave.” Mr. Qian, 32, said that two of his suppliers were already sold out, and that the other two had been rationing the tapioca he could buy each week. If he does not find more boba soon, Mr. Qian said, his stores will be out within two weeks. Updated  April 16, 2021, 3:55 p.m. ET Despite the pandemic, Mr. Qian said, business had been booming, because with other entertainment venues closed, drinking boba is one of the few avenues for “cheap fun.” Now, he might have to temporarily close and lay off employees. Brian Tran, a co-owner of Honeybear Boba in San Francisco, said he had also been searching desperately for more tapioca. He expects to run out by the end of next week if he cannot replenish his supply. “A boba shop without boba is like a car dealership without cars to sell,” Mr. Tran said. “It’s like a steakhouse without steak.” Boba Guys, one of the most successful boba chains in the country, said in an Instagram post this month that some boba shops had already run out of tapioca balls and that others would follow in the next few weeks. The owners of Boba Guys also operate the U.S. Boba Company, which produces and sells tapioca pearls to other stores around the country. The boba shortage, which was reported earlier by The San Francisco Chronicle, has boba fans in a panic. A post sharing the news in the Facebook group Subtle Asian Traits, a gathering place for Asian people around the world, attracted 10,000 comments and messages of dismay and sadness. Boba is “something that translates across a lot of Asian cultures,” said Zoe Imansjah, a student at the University of California, Santa Barbara, and an administrator of the Subtle Asian Traits group. “Something so simple can bring a lot of people together.” Ms. Yuen, 21, gets boba once or twice a week and sells boba stickers online. She said she had grown up visiting a boba shop near her house in South San Francisco with her parents, and now considers getting boba a great way to socialize with friends. “A lot of my Asian-American friends will bond over boba,” said Ms. Yuen, whose family is from Hong Kong. “Hong Kong has a lot of good milk tea. It brings us back to our roots, in a sense.” Boba isn’t just a California treat, however, and news of a shortage reverberated around the United States. Khoa Vu, a 28-year-old Ph.D. student at the University of Minnesota, said he drinks boba two or three times a week — peach oolong tea with boba is his go-to order. He was dreading having to break the news of the shortage to his 4-year-old daughter. “It’s a weekend thing after we’re done with dinner; I tell my kid, ‘If you eat well, I’ll take you to the boba shop,’” Mr. Vu said. “It’s going to be a shock to her.” All hope is not lost for boba fanatics. Smaller boba suppliers like iBEV, which sells to about 100 stores, might be able to weather the shortage. Carley Olund, an office manager at iBEV, said the company had prepared for shipping delays and had enough tapioca stockpiled to get through it. And Sharetea, a boba chain with dozens of stores across 20 states, said it was not experiencing a shortage. For those boba drinkers who are affected by shortages, this may be a chance to try different toppings in their tea, like cheese foam, fruit jellies or egg pudding. “Maybe I’ll try to take a break from the tapioca to relieve that pressure,” Ms. Yuen said. Source link Orbem News #Boba #Pandemic #shortage #Tea