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cambridge-nps · 18 days ago

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I wrote a silly little thing about Tommy hiding the fact he wears glasses from Buck. Unfortunately, since i'm incapable of writing sexy times this is gonna have to stay g :(

Here's a small snippet:

“Be honest with me,” Buck said, arms crossed, “do you think Tommy is seeing someone else?”

Ravi choked. “What?”

“I’m serious. He keeps sneaking off with his phone.”

Ravi wiped his mouth and gave Buck a look. “Buck. Buddy. That man has stolen two helicopters for you.”

Buck waved it off. “Light domestic terrorism aside, I’m just saying something’s up. You think maybe he’s bored? I’ve been working tons of doubles lately so I haven’t had time for my normal gym routine. I think my butt’s gotten flat.”

“Tommy talks about your butt like it’s a religious experience.”

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If you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know.

You can read the whole thing below or on A03 -> Clearly Into You

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Buck wasn't usually a jealous guy. Okay. That was a lie. It had all started early one morning, Buck was balancing a banana nut muffin in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other when he noticed Tommy ducking back into the bedroom with his phone. Again. It was the third time that morning. This was after the incident yesterday—Tommy had disappeared into the garage just to “check a message,” and when Buck rounded the corner with a fresh cup of coffee to surprise him, Tommy had nearly jumped out of his skin. Buck's gut had churned then. Now it was practically staging a rebellion. He didn’t want to be that guy, the paranoid boyfriend, the clingy one, but when your long-term, ruggedly hot firefighter boyfriend starts acting like he's guarding the Missing Link every time his phone buzzes, you begin to worry. And Tommy? Tommy was the definition of sketchy lately. Buck had mentioned it casually to Tommy that night in bed. “You’ve been kind of... phone-private lately, huh?” Tommy had just snorted and rolled over, kissing Buck’s shoulder like that was an answer.

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The next day, Buck strolled into the living room with a dish towel slung over his shoulder and a faint whistle on his lips, just in time to catch Tommy snapping his phone screen off like he’d been caught looking up something deeply illicit. The speed of it was unnatural. Almost Olympic-level. Buck stopped mid-step, eyebrow lifting. “...Was that the nuclear launch codes, or…?” Tommy, sprawled on the couch with an exaggerated air of innocence, blinked up at him. “What?” “You just closed your phone like I walked in on you sexting a senator.” Tommy made a face, scoffing. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was—watching a video.” “Uh-huh,” Buck said, folding his arms. “Why’d you practically throw it across the room like it bit you?” Tommy shifted, “Reflexes. I’ve got cat-like reflexes.” “Oh, is that what we’re calling ‘panic’ now?” Tommy sniffed, nose tilted. “You startled me.” Buck peered at Tommy suspiciously. “What are you hiding?” “Nothing.” “Is it porn? “What? No!” Tommy didn’t even look up. “It was an educational video on new fire safety procedures.” Buck snorted. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” Tommy grinned. “Hey, I know “movie night” is a shared activity and I take our joint research sessions very seriously.” “Oh, joint research, huh?” Buck said, crossing his arms. “Because I distinctly remember you fast-forwarding through the plot last night.” “There was a plot?” Buck rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “You know for a guy who claims he likes character development, you sure skipped a lot of dialogue.” “I’m just efficient,” Tommy said, smug. “Besides, I already know how it ends.” “Oh yeah?” Buck asked, stepping closer with a teasing smirk. “And how’s that?” “With both of us hitting pause because it got us a little too inspired.” “You know,” Buck murmured, eyes soft but sharp, “you’re very good at distracting me.” Tommy blinked, doing his best innocent face. “Am I?” “Mhm. Suspiciously good.” Buck kissed the corner of Tommy’s mouth, then pulled back just enough to look at him. “Almost like you’re trying to steer me away from asking what was going on with your phone earlier.” Tommy froze—just a flicker, just for a second—but Buck caught it. “It’s nothing, Evan. I promise.” And with that Tommy got up and walked into the kitchen.

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A few days later, another incident occurred when Buck showed up unannounced to Harbour Station to surprise Tommy with a sandwich from their favourite deli shop, which was the romantic equivalent of a bouquet of roses in firefighter terms. He spotted Tommy sitting alone in his truck in the back lot, hunched over his phone like it owed him money. Buck tapped on the window. Tommy jumped so hard he dropped the phone into the footwell. “Hey,” Buck said, peeking in. “What’re you doing out here?” Tommy looked mildly panicked. “Nothing! Just... decompressing.” Buck leaned into the window. “You know, when most people decompress, they don’t clutch their phone like it’s a cursed artifact.” Tommy fake-laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. “You're cute when you're nosy,” while casually sliding his phone back into his pocket. Suspicious. Very suspicious.

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After another non-answer from Tommy regarding his secretive phone use, Buck finally cornered Ravi in the kitchen of the 118, where Ravi was busy shoveling pasta into his mouth between calls. “Be honest with me,” Buck said, arms crossed, “do you think Tommy is seeing someone else?” Ravi choked. “What?” “I’m serious. He keeps sneaking off with his phone.” Ravi wiped his mouth and gave Buck a look. “Buck. Buddy. That man has stolen two helicopters for you.” Buck waved it off. “Light domestic terrorism aside, I’m just saying something’s up. You think maybe he’s bored? I’ve been working tons of doubles lately so I haven’t had time for my normal gym routine. I think my butt’s gotten flat.” “Tommy talks about your butt like it’s a religious experience.” Buck blushed. “Well. Still.” Since Buck’s falling out with Eddie—that argument in the kitchen that had left more than just words simmering—his friendship with Ravi had unexpectedly deepened. What started as casual conversation and shared beers had turned into real camaraderie, with Ravi naturally folding into Buck’s life outside the station. That meant spending time with Tommy too, and to Buck’s quiet delight, Ravi and Tommy hit it off effortlessly. The two shared an easy banter, trading dry humour and obscure movie references like they'd been friends for years. Ravi rolled his eyes. “Tommy’s not cheating. He’s obsessed with you. He just—sometimes he gets weird when something’s wrong with him. He doesn’t like looking vulnerable.” Buck narrowed his eyes. “So you do think something’s wrong.” Ravi shrugged. “Probably, but not something scandalous. He’s just not good at asking for help, you know that. Remember he tried to splint his own ankle last month with a clipboard and duct tape.” “…Yeah, okay. That tracks.” Ravi pointed a tomato sauce covered spoon at Buck’s chest. “If Tommy is hiding something, it’s probably because he’s the one embarrassed. You ever think of that?” Buck frowned. “I don’t like it when you’re right. It’s bad for our power dynamic.”

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The truth broke open like a scene from a soap opera. Buck walked into the kitchen one evening after a shortened shift to find Tommy squinting at his phone, held at arm’s length. Then—he reached into the drawer. Pulled out a sleek pair of reading glasses: Slim, black-rimmed, very distinguished. And slipped them on. Buck gasped like a Victorian man seeing a naked ankle. Tommy spun around, glasses in hand, caught red-handed. “Don’t say anything,” he muttered. “Please. I know. It’s awful.” Buck stared. “That’s what all this has been? The secret phone stuff? The whispering? The disappearing acts?” Tommy looked sheepish. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” “Like what? Sexy librarian-core? Because it’s working.” Tommy groaned and sank into a chair. “No, I didn’t want you to see this version of me. I’m officially ancient. Glasses for the phone. Next it’ll be pill organizers and orthopedic sandals. You’re going to realize I’m some tragic, washed-up old man and run off with someone who can read a menu without squinting.” Buck blinked. “…You think I’m going to stop loving you because you need reading glasses?” Tommy looked truly miserable. “You’re still in your thirties. I’m—well, not. And look at me. The greys, a back that makes that clicking noise when I get out of bed. And I didn’t want you to—” Buck took a step forward. “Didn’t want me to what?” Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. “Realize how much older I am than you.” Buck stared at him, heart lurching. Then he stepped in, gently took the glasses, and placed them back on Tommy’s face. “You look like a sexy professor who teaches Advanced Fire Tactics at the Academy. Honestly, I’d enroll twice.” Tommy snorted. “And for the record?” Buck continued. “Yeah, your body’s incredible. You’re all tall and muscly, with those ridiculous forearms and muscles on top of muscles in your biceps that’s not even fair. And the flecks of grey in your hair? I’ve been trying to act normal about it, but it makes me want to climb you like a rope ladder.” Tommy laughed, the tension cracking at last. “But even if you didn’t look like that,” Buck added, quieter now, “I’d still love you. Because of how you show up. Because of how you make me feel like I matter, even when I’m being annoying or insecure or irrational.” He cupped Tommy’s face. “You’re smart. Snarky. Kind. You give a crap about people, even when it costs you something. That’s what I fell for. And that’s not going away.” Tommy looked at him for a beat, the barest shine in his eyes. “So... you’re okay with the glasses?” “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Buck whispered. “Want me to keep wearing them?” Buck said, grinning. “You might wanna bring them to bed. Just saying.” Tommy kissed him — slow, smiling against his lips. “You’re a menace.” “But I’m your menace,” Buck said.

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Tommy had been hesitant at first—wearing the glasses only when he was home alone, taking them off the second someone knocked at the door, and absolutely refusing to wear them during social gatherings. But Buck noticed. Of course he did. And over time, with quiet compliments and casual sincere praise, Buck chipped away at whatever insecurity was holding Tommy back. Now, Tommy wore them without flinching. Still a little self-conscious, maybe, still adjusting to the feel of them on his face—but the difference was noticeable. He didn’t hide anymore. Buck noticed that, too. Tommy adjusted his new glasses on the bridge of his nose, squinting at the mirror like the frames might suddenly shapeshift into something more flattering. “You keep looking at yourself like you’re trying to figure out who you are,” Buck said from the doorway, arms crossed, leaning just enough to make it obvious he’d been watching for a while. “I look like a dad trying to figure out how to work his own thermostat,” Tommy muttered. “You look like a sexy professor who could ruin my life in under ten seconds,” Buck said, dead serious. Tommy turned, raising an eyebrow over the rim of the glasses. “Ruin your life, huh?” “Oh yeah,” Buck said, pushing off the doorway and walking closer. “Like, ‘talk sternly to me in a quiet voice while handing me back my overdue essay face down’ kind of ruin.” Tommy smirked. “You have a whole fantasy worked out already?” Buck shrugged. “Not my fault you put those on and suddenly I want to sin in a public classroom.” Tommy laughed, cheeks a little pink. “You’re ridiculous.” “You’re hot,” Buck shot back, stopping just in front of him. “I mean—you were already hot. But now? Now I want to make bad choices with you in a very well-lit, academic environment.” Tommy leaned in slightly, eyes glinting. “So what you’re saying is… I should wear these more often.” Buck grinned, voice low and warm. “I’m saying if you don’t, I might start leaving textbooks around the house just to tempt you.” Tommy reached up, slowly removing the glasses and setting them aside. “Well. That sounds like dangerous encouragement.” Buck stepped closer, practically nose to nose now. “Good. I like a little danger.”

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#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #911 fic #tommy wears glasses #and buck likes it #tommy worries that he's getting old #some misunderstandings but mostly fluff

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bogleech · 1 year ago

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Also going to finally make a pinned post for all my stuff:

BOGLEECH - my tumblr blog is named after this website I created around 2002 and still update. Thousands of pages worth of content focusing on creature design as well as real biology. My review of the original Legend of Zelda monsters might be the most straightforward example of my articles.

Links to some of the most popular content:

POKEMON REVIEW ARCHIVE: - I rate and review each and every single Pokemon, in Pokedex order, on its merits as a creature design. I also do so as someone whose favorite animals are all parasites.

DIGIMON REVIEW ARCHIVE - same, but more chaotic.

CREEPYPASTA COOKOFF ARCHIVE - for several years I hosted a yearly writing contest before it grew too big for me to keep up with. There are over a thousand user submitted horror, fantasy, sci fi and surrealist stories here emphasizing unconventional, original ideas you seldom see from the "creepypasta" community!

The original "MORTASHEEN" Monster Archive - since the early 2000's I've created and illustrated more than 800 creatures and counting for my own monster-catching world, now set for release as a tabletop RPG setting.

AWFUL HOSPITAL: SERIOUSLY THE WORST EVER (page one): an interactive comedy-horror-sci-fi webcomic I started in 2014 about a medical facility that could maybe be better.

Some of my other internet stuff:

PATREON - constant work makes my patreon updates inconsistent, but the content backlog goes back years with a huge amount of exclusive art and writing. I try to put up new exclusive stuff whenever I can.

ETSY - I design all sorts of original enamel pins like these, plus I sell zero-maintenance terrarium plants (just leave them in a jar!), original books and other things!

COLOR THE ABYSS (available on the above etsy!) - a 30 page educational deep sea coloring book! Includes a few famous favorites like giant isopods and hagfish, but mostly focuses on less popular, often much weirder animals.

UNBELIEVABLE BUGS - also regularly restocked in the etsy store, 30 of the strangest and most surprising arthropods most people have likely never heard of, illustrated by myself and @revretch, written for even the youngest kids to understand (but will likely teach you something new at any age)

My Itch.io and Ko-fi - both sell digital versions of my books, including some creepypasta collections and my first novel, "Return of the Living," about a world of entirely ghosts suddenly dealing with the appearance of ghost-hunting monsters.

TWITCH CHANNEL - I now try to stream something at least monthly, sometimes weekly when possible, from horror games to books and art.

YOUTUBE CHANNEL - archives my twitch streams and other little things.

INSTAGRAM - look at pictures of my huge weird collection of toys and Halloween collectibles

BLUESKY - I'm going to put mainly just updates to my stuff on here.

SEE ALSO:

HUMANS-B-GONE - a science fiction animated series by my partner @revretch, about a world of kaiju-size, technologically advanced insects and arachnids to whom vertebrates like us are just pesky little "gubs." Also has a tumblr account @humansbgone

FINALLY, HERE'S MY GUIDE AND RESOURCE TO MAKING YOUR OWN INTERNET WEBSITE IN A FEW MINUTES WITH NO KNOWLEDGE OF CODING

#art #pokemon #digimon #biology #animals #halloween #monsters #creature design #creepypasta #horror

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contemplatingoutlander · 10 months ago

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This is an amazing compilation of 1056 awful things that Trump has said or done from Feb.10, 2011 to Jan. 20, 2021. (Although it does not include the hundreds of other awful things from the past 3.5 years, the list is long enough--the PDF version is 360 pages!)

The catalog starts with Trump's questioning Obama's educational credentials on Feb. 10, 2011:

During a speech to the Conservative Political Action Conference, Trump said, “Our current president came out of nowhere. Came out of nowhere. In fact, I’ll go a step further: The people that went to school with him, they never saw him, they don’t know who he is. It’s crazy.” This is false. Numerous accounts from Obama’s college classmates refute Trump’s claim, including Obama’s Columbia roommate, Phil Doerner. [color emphasis added]

And the catalog ends with Trump's behavior on Jan. 20, 2021:

On his final day in office, Trump did not invite Joe and Jill Biden to the White House, rejecting a longstanding tradition among presidents and their successors. Rather than attend the inauguration of his successor — making him the first president in modern history to skip the ceremony — Trump headed to Joint Base Andrews. There, a small crowd gathered to see him off. Not among them was Trump’s vice president. “We were not a regular administration,” Trump said in unscripted remarks. “Have a good life, we will see you soon.” As the Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.” played in the background, Trump then boarded Air Force One and returned to his resort in Florida. [color emphasis added]

After seeing the entire list, it is simply mind boggling that a huge segment of the American population STILL wants this guy to lead our nation--and STILL wants to give him access to nuclear codes.

Never underestimate the denial and willful ignorance of large segments of the American public.

#trump #gop #us election 2024 #catalog of trump's worst cruelties - collusions - corruptions and crimes #mcsweeney's internet tendency

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idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 9 months ago

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(3) So Special - Lando Norris

<word count - 5350> |part 1 - Nerd|part 2 - Rumours|

The weekend had gone by, and you and Lando had spent your time doing very different things. He had been productive, spending his two days in the garage with his dad, perfecting your DT project. He couldn't care less that you had told him not to finish it.

He had said he would do it, and now he was damned sure that it would be the best one in the class. Lando and his dad had come up with some genius ideas, even if it was only meant to be a simple little wood-work task.

It would probably be quite obvious that you hadn't done it in the workshop, but Lando had a feeling that you wouldn't care. Also with the help of his dad, Lando had gotten his homework rattled out within an hour.

It wasn't quite the same as having you there to help him through it, since your way of teaching him was a lot better than his dad's, but it was better than nothing, that was for sure.

You, on the other hand, had spent your weekend holed up in your bedroom, not wanting to come out for anyone or anything. Your parents had offered to take you out to any restaurant of your choosing, go somewhere with your friends, anything.

But, you had declined all of their suggestions. You simply didn't feel like going anywhere. All you could think about was how much you were dreading going to school on Monday, how much you didn't want to see anyone in any of your classes.

It genuinely seemed like your worst nightmare at the moment, but you still had to go in. The minutes ticked by slowly over the weekend, every single one heightening the anxiety of being back in school.

The most likely scenario was that people would have forgotten it by now and moved onto something else, but the feeling that that wasn't the case was overwhelming, crippling and soul-destroying.

Even doing your maths homework felt near on impossible. A task that would normally only take you a few minutes took you nearly 2 hours, since trying to work with the numbers made nervousness swirl in your stomach.

The ever present thought was Lando. If anything, you figured he had it the worst out of all of this. His friends mocked and ridiculed him at any chance they got, he couldn't even get the bus anymore without throwing in the towel and getting off early, and you didn't want to be around him anymore.

Guilt mixed into the cesspool of emotions that you were feeling, but the pure fear of being in school and getting the mick taken out of you overshadowed that. You just wanted to get your education and run as far away from that damned place as you could.

Once Monday morning had rolled around, you reluctantly got onto the bus, not wanting to walk in the frosty weather. Lando's mum would've given you a ride, but you didn't want to be seen getting out of his car. Now that would be pure social suicide.

On the bus, you saw that Lando wasn't there, which made things easier. But, you sure as hell weren't sitting at the back near his friends. You shuffled onto a seat next to some random kids in a year below you, but you'd much rather do that than be subjected to Lando's friends.

School was relatively empty when you got there, most people going to sit in the canteen before the bell went for their first lessons. You made a beeline to the lockers, hoping that no one would be there.

Thankfully, there wasn't a soul in sight as you quickly punched the code into Lando's locker. You knew the code since you'd had to leave his homework in there a few times in the past. You pulled his jumper out of your bag and stuffed it in. On the top, you placed a small note of gratitude, before closing the locker back up and going over to yours to put in some of your textbooks.

To your surprise, your locker wasn't empty like you thought it would be. Inside was a small, plastic bag. Just like you had put on Lando's jumper, whoever had been in your locker had put a note on top of it. 'I promised I'd get this finished, and I am a man of my word'.

You knew that handwriting off by heart, since it was one you often plagiarised. Opening the bag, you saw your fully finished, absolutely faultless DT woodwork project. You were baffled by how clean the cuts and joints were, and it was surely going to get you the best mark you had ever gotten in DT.

The first genuine smile that you had cracked in days grew across your face, truly touched by the gesture. You had told him not to bother, that you'd do it yourself, even if you really didn't want to. "I did it right, yeah?" a voice suddenly broke you out of your small bout of happiness.

Lando was leant against his locker, hands in his pockets as he looked at you. His face was tired, it didn't have the life to it as it used to. His eyes were equally as lethargic, no longer holding that cheeky spark that they always had. It was like the colour had dulled out, leaving them more greyed over than blue.

"Yeah, you did. It's great, thanks," you mustered up a small smile, barely even a fraction of the one you had earlier. For some reason, your brain still couldn't make you look him in the eyes as you talked to him.

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze fixed on your side profile. He was thinking the same about your appearance too, your face had sunken and your eyes weren't as bright as he remembered them being.

"I don't think anyone's going to say anything, you know..." he mumbled, half hoping you'd heard him, half hoping you hadn't. The words sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you, since he wanted to believe that they were true.

He didn't want to see you upset anymore, he didn't want to have to distance himself from you, he didn't want to have to change his entire routine. All he wanted was his life right back to the way it was.

The life when you two were friends, where he'd get to spend time with you. The life where he got to be Lando Norris, the cocky little shit to the rest of the year, but a softie for you. The life where everything was perfect again.

"I don't think it's that easy, Lando," you said, your eyes still glued to your feet as you avoided eye contact with him. Even the sound of his name on your lips made his heart flutter uncontrollably. He wanted to hear more of it, he wanted to hear it every goddamn day of his life if you'd let him.

"Please? Can we just... just try to ignore it and still be friends? I just want to be your friend again, I mi-" he started to plead, the desperation evident in his tone. His face fell as he was cut off, knowing that both of you were in deep shit before the day had even started.

"You what, Lando? Bit of trouble in paradise for our most prolific love birds?" some random guy in your year interrupted him, standing beside Lando. He had never seen fear in a person's features like he did on yours in that very moment.

You didn't think you could handle hearing another word of it, so you dashed past the both of them and down the hall, trying not to let the tears fall down your cheeks. He hadn't even said anything overly hurtful, but the panic of what he could have said had set in.

"Not gonna run after your girlfriend, Lando?" he further teased, and Lando could feel his fists clenching at his sides, his knuckles turning white due to how hard he was holding them. He knew that a comment like that wouldn't have normally set you off, but it just showed how bad the situation had gotten.

"Go fuck yourself," he spat, walking to the canteen and sitting down on a table away from his friends. They had seen him come in, but he didn't care. They were the last people he wanted to talk to.

For the first time in his life, he was desperate to get to lessons and have some much wanted distraction from everything that was going on. As soon as the bell had gone, he jumped out of his seat and took the shortest route that he could think of to the science labs for biology.

Not to his shock, you were already sat in your seat, hunched over your textbook and exercise book. Lando took his seat, a few down from yours on the long, wooden benches. The start of the lesson was silent to begin with, before you were all assigned to do some questions with the people sat around you.

Lando tried to keep focused on the questions, but he couldn't help but hear his own name coming from your side of the table. As he discretely watched from the side, he saw as your head snapped up to the girl next to you. Lilly.

Goddamnit, of course it had to be Lilly. The one girl who Lando was for sure certain was desperate for him. "Sorry?" you said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You hadn't been listening to a word she was saying, so you had to do a double take now that she was suddenly talking about Lando.

"You spent the weekend with Lando, no? Since he's your boyfriend and all, I assumed what I heard was true," she said, her voice laced with a sickly sweet venom. The jealousy she felt was obvious, and it did give you a slightly masochistic sense of satisfaction.

"No," you curtly answered with a small shake of the head, before returning to answering the questions by yourself. Lando couldn't see Lilly's face since she was looking at you, with her blinding mop of bleached blonde hair being the only thing he could see.

"What? So it's not true?" she pressed, clearly looking for a reaction that you weren't willing to give her.

"No, no it's not," you declined again, your leg bouncing up and down nervously. Lando grinned to himself, proud of you for sticking up for yourself and not giving in. He just hoped you had the willpower to carry on being as strong as you were, since he knew how sensitive you were at the minute.

"So the two of you didn't spend this weekend, practically locked in his parent's house by the lake while the bed was creaking-"

"Right that's enough." you said, your voice firm and leaving no room for disagreement. Lilly looked a tiny bit shook by your defiance, but Lando was sat there, wide-eyed. He never told anyone about the house by the lake apart from Max, and the likelihood of him telling Lilly of all people was slim to none.

But he was more taken aback and impressed by your steadfastness. He had expected you to be in tears by this point, but it was a more than pleasant surprise. He still couldn't see Lilly's face, but he could imagine the annoying pout as her lips were pursed together.

"I don't know who you heard that from, but that is complete and utter bullshit. I spent my weekend at home. As for Lando? I couldn't really give a shit, but he wasn't with me. Much to your dismay, he wasn't with you either," you carried on, and your conversation had pricked up some of your class' listening ears.

Lilly looked like you had just slapped her, her mouth agape and eyes wide as she looked at you. "I... you..." she stuttered, unsure of how to respond. As much as Lando was glad that you were sticking up for yourself, he was also feeling a slight stabbing pain in his chest.

You 'couldn't really give a shit'. The worst part was that he couldn't tell if you meant it or not. He doubted that you did, but there was always the small question of what if? What if you had meant it?

If he was being honest, the thought of you not caring scared the life out of him. It wasn't something that he wanted to believe, not at all. He knew that the two of you weren't on the best terms, not by either of your faults but you still weren't friends, yet that didn't warrant you not caring at all, right?

The one person whose opinion he idolised, the one person who he wanted to see everyday, the one person who he could be himself around didn't care. It simply didn't register in his mind that that was even possible.

By the time Lando had snapped out of his thoughts, the teacher had resumed his lesson and you and Lilly were sat in silence, a scowl still plastered on her face. The rest of the lesson wasn't focused on biology, at least not for Lando.

Both of you left as quickly as you could and went to your favourite respective places to spend your break times. Lando didn't know where you'd be this time, since you moved just about every five minutes.

He knew that your little outburst would get back to his friends by the end of the break, and he didn't want to be there when they inevitably found out. He couldn't figure out what they'd say to him or how they'd react, but he knew there would be more teasing.

He was upset enough as it was, and he didn't need them to make it worse. Lando stayed away from the canteen, just aimlessly wandering through the near-empty halls. As he approached the lockers on his third lap of the school, his ears picked up the sounds of a familiar voice.

"You think you're so special, don't you?" she said, and he could have sworn that all he could see was red. Lilly. And there was no doubts in his mind over who she was talking to.

"I bet you're loving all of this attention, aren't you? You probably started these rumours yourself, didn't you?" Lilly carried on, Lando staying behind the wall while he listened to her onslaught. He hadn't seen you, but he could picture the look on your face.

"Why the hell would I make up such awful things about myself? I'm not an attention seeker like you, I don't want this happening," you retorted, a smirk growing on Lando's face as he heard you. He was glad you weren't running off and crying anymore, but he assumed you were bottling it all up as a way of coping.

"Please, you're just annoyed that Lando would never actually date you, aren't you?" she said, and you were both gobsmacked. You knew that that was why she was getting pissy with you, but you didn't think she'd spell it out point blank.

"What, like he'd date you either?" you shot back, stunning Lilly into silence. Initially, she was right to assume that her saying all of these things would reduce you to tears, but today you had built a shell around you - one that almost seemed impenetrable.

But, hidden beneath the tough exterior and firm words, Lando could hear the faintest of a wobble in your voice. Lilly wouldn't pick up on it, but he had. Maybe it was just because he knew you so well already, or maybe it was just because he liked you so damn much that he noticed all of the tiniest little things about you.

"Please, I think anyone would rather date me over you," she said after a few moments, the come back taking longer for her to think up than she would have liked. You nearly laughed in her face, nearly told her what a massive bitch she was and how most people would rather be dead than date her.

However, someone swooped in. "I know I wouldn't."

"Oh, hey Lando, we were just talking about you," Lilly instantly stepped in, her voice suddenly turning nauseatingly sacchariferous. She stepped closer to him, batting her false eyelashes at him as if it would put him under her spell.

"Yeah, I heard." he said, his voice betraying none of his emotions. Lilly could tell that something was up with him, but she chose to ignore it and carry on trying to woo him.

"I was just saying how-"

"I heard it. And I don't think you have any right to say any of that about Y/N. She is a much better person than you, and you're stupid to think she'd make those rumours about us. That's something you'd do. Also, I'll reiterate. I would rather date her than you any day of the week." he said, not missing a beat between sentences.

Lilly stayed quiet, that familiar scowl finding its place back on her face. "Fine, yeah, whatever," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stormed away from you.

You let out a breath that you hadn't realised you had been holding, finally feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you. You had done so well to keep it all bottled up as you stood up for yourself, but now it felt like the adrenaline had worn off and your resolve was crumbling.

Once she had gone, Lando turned to you and saw the tears in your eyes. "Hey, no, don't..." he softly said, approaching you. He was unsure whether he was allowed to hug you or touch you or if he was supposed to just leave you alone to cry.

He contemplated it, but he couldn't force himself to walk away. You had let all of the fear and the upset of the weekend and the past couple of hours to build up, and now it was finally too heavy for you to hold up.

"Can I... can I please just..." he started, not knowing how to ask the question. He didn't want to outright ask if he could hold you, but he didn't know what else to say. Instead, he hovered his arms awkwardly around you as if he was gesturing at hugging you.

"Mhm," you hummed, your arms going around his neck as his wrapped around your waist. It was nice to be close to you again, to have you again. He also felt a rush of affection. He didn't know how long to hold the hug, how tightly to hold you, where to put his head.

Did he rest it on top of yours? Bury it in the crook of your neck? Just... keep it there?

Despite his inner turmoil, his instincts took his hand up the the back of your head, fingers tangling in the strands of hair. "Please don't cry, c'mon, it's OK," he mumbled, hating the way you shook with silent sobs in his arms.

He knew you had kept your emotions all bundled up inside all day, but he couldn't handle you being so upset. "I'm sorry..." you mumbled, but he couldn't make out the words as they were muffled by his chest.

"Hm? What did you say?" he gently asked, looking down at you as you looked up at him. It had just dawned on him how close you were, and how easy it would be just to lean down and kiss you like he- no, no. Not the time. Not yet, at least.

"I said I'm sorry," you repeated, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for... avoiding you, not being your friend, being a complete and utter bitch to you, and-" you started to ramble, more tears falling from your eyes.

"Hey, no, no, I won't hear it. None of this is your fault, absolutely none of it. OK?" he reassured you, needing you to know that you hadn't done anything wrong. All you did was nod, before hugging him tighter and resting your head back on his chest.

His white button up was slightly see through with tears, but he'd be able to hide it with his blazer no problem. "Shh, please don't cry," he carried on trying to soothe you, his mind going through thousands of other things he wanted to say.

'You're too pretty to cry...' was the first thing that came to the forefront of his brain, but that was too much too soon. He felt your shudders against him stilling as you opted to just stand there in his embrace. He wasn't complaining, he would stay like that for as long as you'd let him.

From down the hall, he could hear the faint pattering of footsteps. Lando didn't want to say anything, he just wanted to let them walk by and they'd likely ignore the two of you. Once you heard it too, you pushed back from him so that there was a sizeable gap between you both.

He was disappointed, to say the least, but he understood your trepidation. It was a good job that you had stepped away, since the person that walked by was one of Lilly's friends. She was probably already floating around, spreading as many lies as her single-celled brain could muster.

"I'll... see you later, yeah?" you weakly smiled, checking the time and seeing that it was nearly time for your next class.

"Yeah, course. You getting the bus or do you need a ride?" he asked, confident that his mum would happily pick you up down the road and take you home.

"A ride would be nice," you nodded, and he was slightly taken aback by the fact that you hadn't argued with him. You were as stubborn as the day was long, but he was happy you had relented quickly on this occasion.

"You just start walking home and we'll find you somewhere along the road," he told you and you nodded.

"Sounds good," you lightly chuckled, the sound welcome to his ears. He hadn't heard any semblance of a laugh from you in nearly a week, and he was unbelievably grateful that he had gotten to hear it again.

"See ya," he smiled as you walked away, a wave of contentedness washing over him. Even if it has come as a result of some of the toughest days of both your life and his, he had gotten to hug you. To actually hug you, to touch you more than your fingers just brushing together when you handed something to each other.

It was what he had wanted, and he had finally gotten it. The price was hefty, but he had gotten it nonetheless. Now, he was counting down the seconds until he'd get to drive you home, spend more time with you, talk to you again.

The rest of the day wasn't actually too bad. Just the odd comment or two, but it was nothing compared to what the pair of you had been getting over the past few days. Lando actually found a few of them quite funny, when he thought about it.

"Hey Norris, your girlfriend is feisty, eh? Bet that makes her fun for you," one of the boys in your year said, as if it was meant to hurt or upset him. Instead he just laughed, shaking his head.

"Feisty? Very," was all he could get out before walking away to get to his next lesson. Lando had never been so prudent with getting to his lessons, but he found that it was the best way to spend his time.

Hour after hour went by, and before he knew it, Lando was practically running out of the front doors of the school and towards his mum's car. She was parked in the same spot that she always was, and he hopped in the back in preparation for you to get in too.

"Why are you sitting back there?" she asked, looking at him in the rear view mirror.

"We're picking Y/N up down the road," he said, leaning over the center console to turn on the heated seats on your side, as well as leaving his jumper from the day on your seat. He had found the one that you had returned to him in his locker, but he wanted you to have the one he had already worn.

There was something strangely intimate about you wearing his jumpers as a source of warmth and comfort, but he wasn't opposed to it. He knew that a lot of girls stole their boyfriend's hoodies, but this wasn't quite that scenario.

He wanted it to be, there was no doubt about that, but this made him feel like you two were a few steps closer to that. You were always happy to wear his jumpers, but he sometimes wished you wouldn't return then just so that he could ask for them back. Not that he wanted them back. If you wanted them, they were all yours.

"Oh are we now?" she smirked, finding her son's actions towards you as endearing as hell. He was shaping up to be the boy she wanted to raise, and she was so proud of him. She could tell his crush on you was definitely developing, and the distance between you clearly made him want you more.

"Yeah, we are," he said, leaving no room for her to say no. Well, she wouldn't have said no since it was cold and she didn't want you walking such a distance in such cold temperatures.

"Does she know we're taking her home or have you just decided?"

"I asked if she wanted a ride and she said yes, so we're picking her up," he reiterated, plugging his seat belt into the socket and getting comfortable against the leather of the seats.

"OK, OK," she chuckled, shaking her head. Igniting the engine, Lando's mum pulled away from her parking spot and started driving down the road, looking out for you. As she glanced at the rear-view mirror, she could see Lando's eyes glued to the window, searching for you on the pavement.

She knew he had seen him by the way his eyes lit up and a small smile crept its way across his lips. Pulling up on the pavement, she rolled the passenger side window down as she called out to you. "Your chauffeur awaits,"

Clambering in the passenger side, you saw Lando's jumper on your chair, instantly taking your blazer off and replacing it with the garment. It was so much warmer than your coat, and you felt so much more comfortable in it too.

You didn't fail to notice the heat that emanated from the seat as well, the added care making butterflies spark in your stomach. "You really don't have to go to the effort of picking me up, you know." you said, feeling slightly bad that she was going out of her way to take you home.

"Well it was Lando's idea. He just told me we were picking you up and here we are," she told you, and you could sense the blush that coated Lando's cheeks.

"Mum c'mon, don't..." he mumbled, crossing his arms and avoiding her gaze in the mirror. He had a slight pout on his face, and it reminded her of when he didn't get what he wanted when he was little. He was always adorable.

You just giggled at him, and it was music to his ears. Seeing you warm and cozy in his hoodie was definitely something he wanted more of, and he wasn't sure how much more waiting he could do before he cracked and acted on his impulses.

Yet, he didn't know what he'd do if you rejected him, or said you just wanted to be friends. He never wanted to be just friends with you, he wanted it all with you. He wanted you to be his first real girlfriend, the one you can never really forget.

And he could only hope that you wanted the same from him. His gut feeling told him that it was obvious that you were feeling the same. Why else would you hug him, accept a ride home from him, wear his jumpers?

He didn't care, all he did care about was the fact that his heart was dead set on the notion that you did like him back, but his head was throwing doubts at him.

After a short drive and light conversation, you pulled up outside of your house. Instead of his mum this time, Lando wanted to be the one who walked you to your door. Getting out of his seat and taking a few steps forward to your door, he opened it forward and stood to the side.

Grabbing your bag out of the footwell, Lando carried it to your front door as you walked together. "Do you think we could go to the library tomorrow at second break? I tried to use the textbook to do the biology, but I really couldn't understand. Plus, I think my knowledge of female anatomy could really be helped out by you," he joked, and it was refreshing to see a bit of Lando's regular cheek coming to the fore.

If someone else had made the comment, you would've been pissed off, maybe a little upset. But not when it was Lando. His usual sense of humor was coming back, and it was like things were slowly returning back to normal.

"I think the textbook is a better help on that subject than I am," you countered, and Lando just smirked at you.

"Probably, but I'm much more of a hands-on learner. I'd like to have the real thing in front of me, you know?" he quipped, and you couldn't help but laugh at him. Now this was how things were meant to be. Just you two, laughing and enjoying being in each other's company.

"Sure," you agreed. Well, not to the hands on learning, just to teaching him the stuff he didn't understand. Your way of explaining things was good for Lando, it made him understand it a lot better than the teachers could.

"Can I get a hug before I go?" he tentatively asked, his brain working overtime to try and think of a joke to play it off in case you said no.

"Course you can," you said, your arms finding their place back around his neck as you leant into him. Just the feeling of you in his arms was enough to get his heart racing, and he felt the ever similar urge to just lean down and kiss you.

A soft smile found its way onto his mum's face - who was watching on from the car. Seeing the both of you so miserable was dreadful, so now seeing you making up and going back to the ordinary was more than enough for her.

There was no missing the fond, soft look in her son's eyes. It was nothing but pure affection and admiration, and it was clear how much he cared for you. She had never seen such adoration from him, and she should have guessed that it'd be you.

From the first time your name had ever slipped past his lips, she should've known just by the way he spoke about you. And now, there you were. The two of you, as you were meant to be.

You and Lando bade each other farewell, and he waited until you were safely inside the confines of your own home before walking back to his mum's car and getting in the passenger seat. "You two seem to have made up," she said, a slightly teasing tone to her voice.

"Yeah, something like that," he agreed, knowing it was more than that. Or so he hoped. If only he knew that things weren't that simple, that the rose tinted glasses would be ripped from his face just as quickly as they had been put there.

A/N - Hello lovely people! Chipping away at all the stuff I have half finished, which is part 2 to Hotel Girl, the requested part 2 of Ceilings, a little old Charlos thing, a Lando thing and Max's birthday special! I have to do one for old Maxie since we have the same birthday so we can roll our birthday specials into one. Have a great night, love y'all! 💖

tag list: @oh-austin @avni-sarai @cheriladycl01 @mariedeyes223 @daemyraforever56 @toriiez @robotchickenmerp

|masterlist|the full series|

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ordinorultor-if · 1 year ago

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Welcome to Ordinor Ultor!

You’ve ruled the Duchy of Akize, the southwesternmost duchy in the Kingdom of Ribaur, for 15 years, since the year 1107 ME.

15 years ago, your Liege had your parents executed for a plot they had no part in.

Despite becoming a ruler while only a teenager, your lands have done well - no thanks to your Liege’s proclamations. Despite the annoying interference, you would have been content to just administer your lands and pay your taxes.

But one day, your Liege goes too far, and wrongs one of your siblings - personally.

You’ve had enough. You and your siblings will chafe no longer under the yoke of that tyrant. You will be free from oppression - whatever it takes.

Choose your character's name, the name of their noble house, and whether they are a Duke (male), Duchess (female), or Dux (enby).

Choose which foreign land your mother hailed from - such as the northern court of Ostroway or the island nation of Sayland.

Pick the type of education you received - were you taught how to use the shadows of Intrigue? How to construct Martial strategies? Or something else?

Interact with your friends and family, possibly including your foreign cousins.

Choose how to deal with your Liege - will they be put on Trial, will you lead an armed Rebellion, or will you take to the shadows to have them Assassinated?

Pick from four gender-selectable ROs - two fellow vassals and two foreign nobles.

Deal with various interest groups - such as the Peasants you rule over, your fellow Vassals, the religious head known as the Hierophant, and more.

Ordinor Ultor takes palce in a low(ish...) fantasy world, with the protagonist's home country of Ribaur being inspired by medieval France.

I'm relatively new to coding, so I can't promise a concrete update schedule yet (also, if anyone has any advice and/or resources for me to use, I'd be very grateful!). That being said... VERSION 2 - RELEASED 5/4/25

VERSION 2.5 - COMING NO LATER THAN 8/8/25

I hope everyone enjoys!

If you would like to gain one week early access to updates and support me at the same time, you can do so on Patreon.

#interactive fiction #ordinor ultor if #intro post

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inky-duchess · 1 year ago

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Fantasy Guide to Education

I'm always asked what sort of education different people recieve throughout different historical eras and since I'm heading back to college soon, I thought it was high time I made this guide.

Disparity

Education is viewed as a right by many but for some and thoughout history it was a privilege. For the wealthy and those of high status, education can be easily accessed. They can afford to tailor an education to fit their needs, they can hire tutors, and they can afford tuitions to top schools. For the poor, education was a luxury. However this doesn't mean that it was available. Some communities would fund a school or send their children to a local teacher - usually they had to pay a daily fee or at least bring kindling for the heating. Many poorer children also worked so they could not attend school consistently or were pulled out very early into their education. However, some poorer students could gain access to high level education if they were extremely bright or caught the attention of a wealthy benefactor who could fund their education.

Education as a Weapon

Education could also be banned for certain groups in society. It could be illegal to fund schools or host gatherings for students of a certain background, race, religion or gender. Education against the law could be punished by imprisonment, exile or execution. This is a measure usually taken by oppressive governments in order to follow a moral code or restrict the betterment of a certain group. An example would be the Irish Catholics under the Penal Laws.

On the otherhand, there is education that is influenced by the state to inject certain values, moralities and Opinions into a population. This is the intense restriction of reading material, removal of books that contest the teachings of the government or the kidnap of children from their culture, in order to forcibly educated them in alignment to their beliefs. An example would be the residental schools of North America and Canada and the AHS schools of Nazi Germany.

Content

As above, content of what children learn usually falls into a certain category. This is also true for the education offered to the wealthy and the poor. The poor would be offered a basic education, learning literacy and arithmetic, usually with an expectation that the children would not go on to any jobs that needs a broader education. Any higher education would be hard to obtain because of cost and the discriminatory view of the enrollment panels. The wealthy would have access to an array of different subjects including: The arts (drawing, music, painting, poetry, dancing), sports (riding, martial skills, rowing, hunting), arithmetic, geography, languages, geography and history. While progression to higher education will still be difficult, any affluent families are legacies of prestigious colleges or can make a donation to grease a few palms. These schools would be where the wealthy make lifelong connections and get springboarded toward opportunities.

Private Tutoring

Whilst some affluent, aristocratic and Royal families send their children to schools, private tutoring in the home was a popular choice. Children would be educated at home but tutors who either lived in the home or come to the house. The children would be educated alongside siblings or the children of courtiers or neighbours. Private tutoring sessions would often be the only education for upper class women recieved, taught by governesses and tutors.

Premises and Equipment

As mentioned above, wealthy and aristocratic families would usually attend established schools or attend school at home. They would be provided any equipment they needed. If they attend school, they would often wear a uniform. Some schools had multiple variations of the uniform for different activities. Many of the schools attended would be boarding schools. Boarding schools offered education to those who boarded and day students, however day students were often looked down upon as lesser than.

Poorer schools would be relient on donations and fees paid by students. As mentioned above, there may be a building reserved for classes - sometimes an designated schoolhouse or a teacher's home or a public building such as a gathering house or sometimes even outside - hedge schools. Equipment would be provided by the school. Uniforms at poorer schools were not a thing but students were expected to show up neat and tidy.

Corporal Punishment

Corporal punishment at schools was the go to punishment for students. Teachers had free rein to strike children for mistakes and bad behaviour. Punishments include insolation, physical stress positions such as standing on a chair all day, getting objects thrown at them, being slapped on the back of the legs with a cane, being rapped on the palms or knuckles with a crop or ruler. Students may also be humiliated by teachers through the use of dunce hats, encouraging other children to bully them or by the use of verbal abuse. Corporal punishment did extend to all classes except for royal children since that was either taken by proxy by whipping boys or left up to parents.

#Fantasy Guide to Education #Fantasy Guide #writing #writeblr #writing resources #writing reference #writing advice #writer #spilled words #writers #Writer's research #Writer's resources #Writer's reference #writer's problems #Writing help #Writing resources writing reference #Writing reference writing resources

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reasonsforhope · 1 year ago

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Since the 1960s, the world has seen a spike in the number of natural disasters, largely due to rising sea levels and an ever gradually increasing global surface temperature.

The good news? We’re getting better at helping each other when disasters strike.

According to a recent study from Our World In Data, the global toll from natural disasters has dramatically dropped in the last century.

“Low-frequency, high-impact events such as earthquakes and tsunamis are not preventable, but such high losses of human life are,” wrote lead authors Hannah Ritchie and Pablo Rosado.

To conduct their research, Ritchie and Rosado gathered data from all geophysical, meteorological, and climate-related disasters since 1900. That includes earthquakes, volcanic activity, landslides, drought, wildfires, severe storms, and mass floods.

In the early-to-mid 20th century, the average annual death toll from disasters was very high, often climbing to over a million.

For example, the study cites that in 1931, 2.7 million people died from the Yangtze–Huai River floods. In 1943, 1.9 million died from the Bangladeshi famine of 1943. Even low-frequency events had extreme death tolls.

“In recent decades we have seen a substantial decline in deaths,” Ritchie and Rosado observed. “Even in peak years with high-impact events, the death toll has not exceeded 500,000 since the mid-1960s.”

Why has the global death toll from disasters dropped?

There are a number of factors at play in the improvement of disaster aid, but the leading component is that human beings are getting better at predicting and preparing for natural disasters.

“We know from historical data that the world has seen a significant reduction in disaster deaths through earlier prediction, more resilient infrastructure, emergency preparedness, and response systems,” Ritchie and Rosado explained in their study.

On April 6, [2024],a 7.2 magnitude earthquake rocked the city of Hualien in Taiwan. Days later, as search and rescue continues, the death toll currently rests at 16.

Experts have praised Taiwan for their speedy response and recovery, and attributed the low death toll to the measures that Taiwan implemented after an earthquake of similar strength hit the city 25 years earlier. Sadly, on that day in 1999, 2,400 people died and 11,000 were injured.

In an interview with Al Jazeera, Wang Yu — assistant professor at National Taiwan University — said that event, known as the Chi-Chi earthquake, revolutionized the way Taiwan approached natural disasters.

“There were lots of lessons we learned, including the improvement of building codes, understanding earthquake warning signs, the development and implementation of earthquake early warning (EEW) systems and earthquake education,” said Wang.

Those same sensors and monitoring systems allowed authorities to create “shakemaps” during Hualien’s latest earthquake, which helped them direct rescue teams to the regions that were hit the hardest.

This, in conjunction with stronger building codes, regular earthquake drills, and public education campaigns, played a huge role in reducing the number of deaths from the event.

And Taiwan’s safeguards on April 6 are just one example of recent measures against disasters. Similar models in strengthening prediction, preparedness, and recovery time have been employed around the world when it comes to rescuing victims of floods, wildfires, tornados, and so on.

What else can we learn from this study?

When concluding the findings from their study, Ritchie and Rosado emphasized the importance of increasing safety measures for everyone.

Currently, there is still a divide between populations with high gross national income and populations living in extreme poverty.

Even low-income countries that infrequently have natural disasters have a much higher death rate because they are vulnerable to collapse, displacement, and disrepair.

“Those at low incomes are often the most vulnerable to disaster events; improving living standards, infrastructure, and response systems in these regions will be key to preventing deaths from natural disasters in the coming decades,” surmised Ritchie and Rosado.

“Overall development, poverty alleviation, and knowledge-sharing of how to increase resilience to natural disasters will therefore be key to reducing the toll of disasters in the decades to come."

-via GoodGoodGood, April 11, 2024

#good news #hope #climate change #hope posting #climate news #climate crisis #climate anxiety #climate emergency #natural disasters #disasters #earthquake #wildfire #hurricane #cw death #taiwan #tsunamis #building construction #climate action #climate hope

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hyperlexichypatia · 9 months ago

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What some of y'all call "recovery" and "healing" is just... growing up.

The theme I keep coming back to, the theme I keep writing about over and over, is the inextricability of ableism (specifically neurobigotry) and ageism.

The pathologizing of youth. The infantilizing of disabled adults. The structuring and micromanaging of childhood leading to ever more opportunities for "deviancy" to be classified as "disordered." The "neurological" push to raise the age of majority. The constant framing of disabled parents and caregivers as "unfit" or "bad influences" on children. And on and on.

Ageism and neurobigotry are such an interconnected tangle loop mobius strip that people are using the "healing"/"recovery" framework for basic human maturation.

When you were little, you uncritically accepted the worldview of your parents and other adults in your life, but now that you're older and "recovered," you see it differently?

That's called growing up. You grew up.

When you had less information and experience informing your worldview, you saw things one way, and now that you've "healed," you see things differently?

That's called learning. You learned new information and changed your perspective accordingly.

Look, learning and change and growth and maturation are (or should be) lifelong processes with no endpoint, and one of the cultural factors making people so weird about "maturity" and age of majority issues is the assumption that a "Real Adult" is in their fixed final form. So people think "If I've changed and grown in the past 5 years, that means that 5-years-ago Me was Still A Child and should not have been allowed to make major life-altering decisions," and also think that once they reach An Endpoint, they can or should stop changing. And that's a problem.

But. But. Changes in one's relationship to oneself and one's family of origin are especially common during times of major transition. That's not pathological. That's not even abnormal. If you see the world differently than you did before a major life transition, that does not mean that you went from a diseased state to a nondiseased state ("recovery"), or from an injured state to an uninjured state ("healing"). Time passed. You got older. Everyone else got older. You changed. Other people changed. Your family changed. The social context in which you live changed. The pathology paradigm has no place in this phenomenon.

People are out here saying that "People should heal themselves before they have their own children," and then when asked, what they mean by "heal themselves" is "learn how to effectively communicate with children." That. That is a skill. Learning a skill is not "healing." Lack of a particular skill set is not a disorder you have to "recover" from. You just have to learn the skill.

But that's also why when we say "You don't have to recover from your disabilities, recovery isn't a moral obligation," people say things like "You want to use your disability as an excuse not to change and grow."

My good bitch, what does change and growth have to do with recovery?

And this isn't even a new observation, because people have talked about how parents of developmentally disabled children will credit "therapy" and "recovery" for their children's natural developmental trajectory (if your child gained a skill after a year of intensive therapy, that doesn't mean "the therapy worked," that means they got older and developed the maturation to acquire that skill). A lot of the rhetoric around early childhood education does the same thing (the reason your 6 year old can hold a pencil now and he couldn't last year is because his bones got stronger and his fine motor skills improved, not because his high-quality preschool made him ready to compete).

But this. This is adults doing it to themselves! And it's so very original-sin-coded. You are born Unhealthy, but through continual effort and right practice, you can Recover and Heal.

No! You just grew up!

#ageism #ableism #youth liberation #youth rights #mad liberation #neurodiversity #mad pride #anti recovery #anti psych #antipsychiatry

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roc-haze · 27 days ago

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Continuation from “I Was Neon”.

Southern Sun | WillNE

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

After spending the day exploring the local cafe strip in the CBD, the boys raiding Y/N’s pantry and taking over the pool in her apartment complex, they were ready to explore. Y/N had changed out her footy gear for tourist clothes - decked out in linen, Birkenstocks and a dad hat she’d copped from one of the players she worked with. She was determined to squeeze in as much Perth as she could.

The next morning, the crew was up early. Y/N and Lachie had planned out their day to a tee. First stop was a drive up to Cottesloe Beach for a walk along the water and coffee from the local food trucks.

Lachie was determined to teach them AFL, and had them kicking a footy around while Will disappeared. Y/N and Lux sat on the wall along the stretch of beach, laughing to themselves as she explained the rules. Will wandered over with two drinks, handing her one without asking. “Flat white, almond milk. I remembered,” he said, a smug smile tugging at his lips. She gave him an exaggerated gasp, before following up with a sincere “thanks”.

Lachie had somehow wrangled the boys into the respective cars, the original late night Maccas crew in the same car with the others following. The rest of the morning was spent exploring the rest of Freo. They ran around the markets, bought tickets to see the old Fremantle Gaol, tried a matcha from the cafe strip and the local boutique stores.

Ethan and Harry got stopped by a street interviewer, who was quick to ask them their opinions on the current political climate - to which Y/N and Lachie immediately ran in to pull them out. Harry would manage to finally be cancelled. Josh and Freezy immersed themselves in the music scene, dancing around the buskers and stopping to chat with the local gallery owners. Lunch rolled around and they found themselves by the water yet again, yapping away. Y/N and Lachie were busy educating their guests about the existence of drop bears (or lack thereof). Will had picked a fight with a seagull, copping a chip to the face from his new favourite roommate.

“Oi, what the fuck?” He laughed, whipping around.

“You can tell she works in footy. Look at the aim on her.” Lachie high fived the other Australian.

Late afternoon rolled around and they found themselves back at Y/N’s apartment complex, rotting away in the pool. Will and Simon sat on the edge of the pool as the rest of them swam around. Will had a disposable camera in hand, snapping photos of his mates.

Y/N swam up, holding her hands out.

He looked over at her, the wind tugging at strands of her hair. She didn’t say anything, just reached out and took the camera, turning it to face him.

“Want me to pose?” he asked.

“Nah. Might make the head look squarer.”

—

Dinner reservations were made for 6:30pm. Lachie had pulled some strings and gotten a table at a rooftop bar overlooking the Swan River. The dress code was smart casual - the boys were all decked out in nice linen shirts and out of hoodies for the first time since they’d arrived. Y/N had traded in her work polo for an actual dress.

As they went through appetisers for the table and shared their first round of drinks, Simon started looking around the table. “Do you think we should do a toast?”.

Simon raised his glass. “To Australia and to our local tour guide.” He gestured to Y/N. “Thanks for not kicking us out of your house. And for keeping the boys from getting kicked out of the country today.”

Everyone took turns clinking their glasses, and Y/N flushed but raised hers in return. “Just wait till you hit Melbourne.”

Will, sat to her left, leaned in closer. “I don’t think the trip could get much better. You’re setting quite a precedent.”

“Oh, I never disappoint.” She winked.

By the time the dinner plates were cleared, it was almost dark outside. Tiramisu was ordered for the table, the cocktail menu was brought out and Will took it as an opportunity to grab Y/N away from the group.

The view was incredible. The lights made the water look almost iridescent. She leaned on the railing of the rooftop balcony, unbeknownst to Will’s staring beside her.

“Don’t want to leave tomorrow,” Will admitted.

Y/N looked at him. “You’re not going far.”

“No,” he said. “But it’s not the place I’m worried about.”

Her breath hitched slightly. “Yeah?”

Will didn’t look away. “It’s weird. I’ve known you for three days. But it doesn’t feel that way.”

She smiled softly, teasing. “That’s because you live in my house.”

He laughed. “That’s probably it.”

They stood in comfortable silence, Will eventually deciding to break it.

“I’m glad I came here,” he said quietly.

She met his eyes. “Me too.”

Back at the table, Lachlan leaned over to Freezy, nodding towards the two leaning over the railing. “Told you.”

“Told me what?”

“That someone was gonna fall for her.”

Freezy took a sip of his drink, watching the two interacting.

“You may be right,” he said. “But I think she might be heading that way too.”

—

Y/N was curled up by the plane window, a hoodie tucked under her chin, one AirPod had fallen out and the other was being used to watch the newest episode of the MomTok ladies.

Will was beside her, flipping through the in-flight entertainment book. “As if these planes don’t have screens,” he’d complained. Most of the group had crashed hard the moment the plane had taken off, but Y/N had Will next to her wanting to yap for the whole 4 hour flight.

Will glanced sideways. “Do you think Melbourne will top Perth? From a tourist perspective.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Not a chance.”

“You’re biased. Wanna back that statement?”

She stretched her legs out and yawned. “Perth’s my home. You don’t beat home. Plus, this next leg is a bit chaotic for me. I’ve only got tonight with you guys, then I’m off.”

He frowned slightly. “Where to?”

“Meeting with another footy club tomorrow morning. They’ve got a media seminar thing on that I can’t miss.” She gave him a pointed look. “I’m in the room next to you and Lux, please no noise after I put myself to bed.”

“No promises.” He winked.

She rolled her eyes .

They both sat quietly for a moment, but the peace didn’t last long. Will jabbed her shoulder gently. “Alright. Explain it to me again.”

She blinked. “Explain what?”

“This whole 2025 AFL premiership thing. Who’s winning?”.

Y/N laughed. “Okay, so it’s Round 11. At the moment, Sydney and Brisbane are top four material. The Pies are dominating. Carlton’s had a shocking start, Essendon’s somehow overachieving, and the Cats have snuck their way back into contention. Again.”

Will looked intrigued. “And your lot? West Coast?”

She let out a short laugh. “Bottom four. We’re rebuilding. But not in the way that Man United are rebuilding. We’ve got a fairly new lineup, they just need the game experience.”

Will quirked an eyebrow. “Well. In your expert opinion, where do you think you’ll end up?”.

She grinned. “Harley Reid’s basically dragging us up the ladder kicking and screaming. We’ll find out.”

Will rested his head back. “So who’s winning?”.

“Might be too early to tell. Brisbane are starting to look like flag potential. Collingwood has the best culture, they play the best consistently. The Daicos brothers plus Steele and a strong midfield? Game over.”

“Alright,” he said, pointing at her, “if I pick a team, you have to buy me merch from them.”

“That’s risky. But then again, you are a Newcastle fan.”

A/N: Finally a part two to the Aussie series! ✨✨

Taglist for this series:

@jonnybernthalslover @breaboo @asmoothoperator @valntynebaby

#willne #uk youtuber #willne x reader #roc haze #will lenney #Spotify

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noisylime · 1 month ago

Text

Form and Figure

1. Registration

parts: next

battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

(eventual smut)

Art 111: Intro to Drawing

4 Credits. Lab & Studio

Instructor: Wayne, Bruce [email: [email protected]]

Course Description:

In this class, you will learn the basic elements of artistic composition, including line, shape, form, value, and perspective. Theory learned in lectures will be applied to various still life drawings using charcoal, pencil, and marker. This course is highly interactive, with each class requiring participation in studio time. Professor Wayne teaches a mixed lab and lecture course with availabilities for additional studio time outside of regular class hours. Materials not provided.

Course materials estimated price: $145.

To browse GU Bookstore bundles click here.

The phone alarm blasted through your skull, sounding like one of the commuter trains that rattled over your apartment had derailed and crashed through your ceiling. That actually sounded preferable to waking up at the ungodly hour of 6:30 am. The course calendar for Fall term at Gotham University opened in five minutes and you still hadn’t decided what classes you were going to take. It was your first term back in a long time.

Going to an out-of-state school had seemed like a way to find yourself on your own terms, and Gotham was far enough from home to feel like another planet. Two years of general education classes with a smattering of electives hadn’t quite been the elucidating experience you expected, but it had been fun. That had all gone to shit when you’d had to leave Gotham at the end of your sophomore year, taking an extended break from school to care for your dad. You’d called it taking a ‘gap year’ but it was closer to three.

Well, that was all over. Now you were a super-senior-aged-junior with enough trauma to stop your academic advisor from pushing you too hard to declare a major and almost enough credits to cobble a degree together.

You were currently waffling between majoring in civil engineering and English lit, both of which felt equally uninteresting. Last night you had planned out schedules for each option and decided to literally sleep on it, putting sticky notes with class codes scribbled on them under your pillow.

Rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you cracked open your laptop. You still had a few precious minutes to make a decision. The clarity you had wanted hadn’t miraculously come overnight, both options still sounded unbearable. You reached under your pillow and decided to go with whichever one you grabbed first. Civil Engineering, on a yellow crumpled 3x3 sheet.

Well, at least you were being decisive, which Titus would say was an improvement. Your friend since freshman year at GU and roommate for the past three months, he worked nights as a bouncer at a club, Mora’s.

Typing the codes into the school’s course registration system was a race to see if you could finish before the website crashed. Once you had double checked the numbers you clicked ‘submit’ and held your breath.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” you blurted as the schedule notification popped up. You’d gotten in to three of your four classes. And the fourth… “Waitlist full? It hasn’t even been two minutes!”

You closed the laptop and carried it out to the kitchen, sitting at the counter and pouring yourself a bowl of cereal. Crunching on Honeycomb violently expressed your dissatisfaction at the college experience to anyone who would listen.

“Damn, you’re up early,” Titus said, closing the front door behind him. He was wearing a smart black leather bomber over a white tee shirt, some gold jewelry accenting the outfit. He didn’t dress like your stereotypical idea of a bouncer, choosing to match the glam and glitz of the interior of the club. On the rare occasion a patron got on his bad side, misjudging his strength based on his appearance, they found themselves thrown to the curb in the blink of an eye.

“Hey,” you said.

He stomped off his military boots at the doorway and walked over to you, giving you a side hug which you accepted gratefully despite the glitter that transferred onto your black tee.

“What’s going on?” he asked, detecting your sour mood.

“Trying to sign up for classes. Everything’s full,” you said around a mouthful of cereal. You tapped the spoon on your closed laptop thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s not worth it, you know? College? It seems overrated.”

Titus plonked his backpack on the counter and pulled up onto one of the barstools. When Mora’s had remodeled over the summer he’d grabbed them from the dumpster, polished the stainless steel and conditioned the leather. You’d told him you could buy a set of stools that weren’t so beat up. He had waved your offer away, saying they had ‘character’ which apparently included the metallic squeak from the chair when he swiveled to face you.

“Honestly?” he said. “Yeah, it is. So overrated.” He grabbed a handful of cereal and popped a few of the hexagons in his mouth, crunching loudly. “My marketing degree does come in handy working at Mora’s, though.” He elbowed you playfully when you laughed.

Moving back to Gotham, getting this apartment with Titus, it hadn’t come cheap. You were lucky to not have to work through college for the time being, but it came with a catch. Your inheritance from your dad was locked behind a condition: finish school, get a degree.

“How was work?” you asked, wanting to think about anything other than the upcoming term.

“Broke up a few fights, had some drinks thrown at me, nothing crazy.” Titus pulled a handful of cards out of his pocket and slid them across the counter to you. “Some kids tried to pass these off as legit.” He crossed his arms on the countertop and laid his head down on them, closing his eyes.

You thumbed through the small pile of cards. The IDs were obvious fakes, the lamination had blistering from a defective card printer and the photos looked like they might be from a high school yearbook. “‘Drew Peacock?’ No fucking way. That’s so funny.”

“Yup. Droopy Cock, ha ha,” Titus said dryly, voice muffled from underneath his crossed arms. “And get this, there was a guy at the bar trying to tell everyone he knows the Batman. Like, actually knows him personally.”

He put on a faux sleaze-bag voice, dripping in slime. “’Hey lady, if you come back to my place I can ask him to come too.’ That type of thing.”

The Batman. Gotham’s resident vigilante, the Dark Knight himself. He was practically a myth, taking the law into his own hands.

“Are people into that kind of thing?” you asked.

“You’d be surprised,” Titus chuckled. “People are into all kinds of crazy shit. There’s something about the mask, the mystery. Gets people going.”

“Yeah, well, not me. Someone who gets off on beating the shit out of people in dark alleys? No thanks,” you said. You’d never seen the Batman and you never wanted to, the whole thing creeped you out. You preferred your men nice, bubbly, and vanilla.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Titus said. He stood up off the bar stool wearily and stretched, limbs creaking and cracking from a long shift. “Anyway, I’m going to crash. Get a good schedule for me, ok?”

Titus headed to his room, shedding layers of dark leather on the way. You opened your laptop and begrudgingly returned to the registration portal. Clicking through the remaining open classes, you hoped for something to catch your eye. Pottery? Yawn. Statistics? Please.

While you were browsing the course catalog, an email notification popped up in the corner of your screen. An announcement from the school’s Fine Arts department.

“Due to the high demand for Professor Wayne’s Art 111 course he has graciously agreed to open up another slot, available now. Seats are first-come-first serve. The course is open to all students, regardless of pathway.”

You were desperate to be done with registration and had no better ideas, so you took the email as a sign. You copy-pasted the course code into your schedule, clicked ‘submit,’ and waited while the loading icon swam laps around your cursor. Once you got a confirmation email of your Fall schedule change, you let out a sigh of relief.

It was only after you had signed up you started to wonder what you’d just gotten into. You skimmed through the course summary. Taught by Professor Bruce Wayne. That name rang a bell, but you couldn’t quite place it. The only catch was that it was a night class. That would have been nice to know before signing up. Too late now.

“You will learn the basic elements of artistic composition, including form, shadow, value, line…” you mumbled, reading the course description. The class sounded slightly better than abusing Titus’ goodwill to get a job at Mora’s washing dishes, spending the next fifty years paying back your loans while your inheritance sat in a trust fund you couldn’t access.

It hurt, knowing that your dad was making you jump through hoops for support even after he was gone. You’d taken care of him more than almost anyone, wasn’t that enough? Well, Dad, I’m doing it, you thought.

You closed your laptop and checked the time. Still painfully early. Going back to sleep might have been nice, make up for some of the stolen time, but you were too wired after the stress of registration. Instead, you tossed on a jacket and boots and headed out into the soggy Gotham morning in search of a real breakfast. One week left of break, you might as well try to enjoy it.

* * *

Standing in the checkout line at the GU bookstore, you again wished that you had looked at the course description of Art 111 a little more closely. Your arms were wrapped around a stack of art supplies carefully balanced atop two massive pads of paper, one was something called “newsprint,” and the other was “medium weight dry media cold press drawing paper.”

“What’s the difference, paper is paper,” you grumbled to yourself as you moved forward in line. The bookstore had just opened for the term and the line was as slow as you remembered it being back before you left Gotham. Some things never change, and apparently the number of cashiers at the GU bookstore was one of them.

You studied your pile of drawing implements, hoping you had gotten everything Professor Wayne’s syllabus had listed. Charcoal (vine and compressed), a kneaded eraser, a vinyl eraser, a set of sketching pencils in hardnesses 2H, HB, B, 2B, 4B, and 6B, a pencil sharpener (“please make sure your sharpener has a receptacle so we can avoid shavings on the ground”), a ruler, tape, and some other items buried underneath that you couldn’t remember. It was so much stuff that you’d resigned to a second, later trip to the bookstore for your actual textbooks once you had seen the size of the paper pads.

There were a few things you’d added that weren’t required, but you thought you might need. A pencil case, a few colored pencils just for fun, and a portfolio case to fit your supplies in. Wandering around the notoriously rainy campus with a big glob of wet paper sounded awful, so you’d splurged for the portfolio that was specifically labeled as waterproof.

When you finally reached the cashier, they eyed your mess of supplies warily. You plopped them onto the checkout counter, wringing your hands that were sore from holding it all for too long.

The cashier tallied up your total, beeping each item with a handheld scanner. You watched with unease as the price on the screen kept going up. Thanks, Professor Wayne, you thought. Real nice first impression, making me pay two hundred bucks for your class before I even get in the door.

“Student ID?” The cashier asked. She pointed at a sign hanging from the back of the cash register advertising a promotion. “It’s 10% off if you have it with you, this week only.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you said and dug through your wallet for it. “Here you go.”

They took the card and turned it over, inspecting it. “This is from three years ago.”

Shit. You hadn’t had a chance to get a new one yet since moving back. “I’m getting a new one soon,” you said. “Like, tomorrow. I’m getting back to school after taking a break for a while.”

“Sorry, the discount only applies with current school year ID,” the cashier said.

“What? It doesn’t say that anywhere on this,” you said, pointing at the sign. “It just says ‘with student ID.”

The cashier gave you a look that said “I don’t make the rules.”

“Your total is two hundred and thirteen dollars and forty three cents,” they said flatly.

You scoffed. Typical GU, pinching pennies despite somehow pulling endless tuition out of their students. You didn’t like it on principle. If you were stuck taking classes here, you wanted to do it as cheaply as possible.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. You turned to see a student, probably four years your junior, wearing a flat cap and stiff brown sweater over a button down shirt. A collection of supplies that looked suspiciously similar to your own selections were organized in a shopping basket on the ground in front of him. Since when did they have baskets? He raised an eyebrow then moved his gaze to your scramble of items on the counter disapprovingly.

“What?” you said.

“Are you done?” the kid asked. As if you, and not the lack of cashiers, was the reason the line was stuck at a snail’s pace.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, aren’t you going to check out? There’s a line,” he said, gesturing behind him at the ever-growing retinue of students, some of which were turning away awkwardly to avoid your gaze. He smiled smugly. “Or are you going to keep arguing about the senior discount?”

You just stared for a second, not believing what you’d heard. He waited for you to retort back, then when he realized it wasn’t coming, rolled his eyes and turned away.

Silently, you pulled out your card, paid the full price, and left with your armful of stuff.

* * *

“Seriously, when did people get so rude?” you asked Titus the next day, at Mora’s. You were eating together before his shift started to celebrate your first day of the term. Since you still had Art 111 class later in the evening, you’d brought your massive portfolio bag full of supplies with you to Mora’s, garnering a few looks on the way in from patrons you had almost smacked.

“Tell me about it,” he said, mid-bite into a hot Italian sub slider. “They’re fucking awful. Not us, of course.” A pickled pepperoncini fell off the sandwich onto his plate. You’d gotten a seitan pork roll and a slice of pie. It was your dinner, but for his schedule the meal was closer to brunch.

“I don’t know how you can eat those,” you said, pointing at the stray pepperoncini. “They’re way too vinegar-y.”

“Says the person having a Hot Shot,” he retorted. The drink was a Mora’s staple, half tequila half jalapeño brine. “The most brine-y drink on the planet.”

“Hey, there’s something about it, okay? We all have our vices,” you said, sipping the small glass. It was not a drink necessarily meant for sipping, but you liked to make it last.

A handful of Titus’ rings sat on the booth table from when he’d taken them off to eat. You picked up one of the pieces of jewelry and found that it was surprisingly heavy. It was meant for two fingers, the thick bands tapering to a slight point at the tip of each knuckle.

“Aren’t these illegal?” you said, turning it around in your hand. Titus grinned.

“What do you mean?” he asked coyly.

There was a third loop on the bottom, a wide oval that sat in your palm, giving you some grip. You glanced around to make sure no patrons were within hearing distance, then slipped it on and made a fist, miming a boxing jab. “Brass knuckles? Right? Aren’t these kind of retro?”

“That, my friend, is a gold statement ring.”

“It’s pretty heavy for a ring.”

“Maybe it moonlights as a paperweight.”

You chuckled. “You ever use it? Like actually on someone?”

He leaned back in the dark green velvet seat and sipped his blackberry lemonade. “Do you really want to know? I thought you didn’t like people who beat up bad guys in alleys,” he teased.

“Just wondering if they actually work,” you said, feeling the weight of the ring in your hand. It felt reassuring, the grip in your palm felt like it could do some real damage. “This kid on campus might need a good whack.”

Titus got serious and sat the four legs of his chair back on the ground. He held out a hand and you dutifully slipped the ring off and handed it back.

“Honestly,” he said. “It’s pretty brutal. It doesn’t look like much but it will fuck you up. And not just on the receiving end. You can shatter your wrist holding one wrong. You gotta really straighten out your hand, use your whole arm. It’s more of a threat than anything. If someone thinks I’m gonna pop them in the face with this then they might rethink trying to pick a fight.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick with my taser.”

Titus nodded. “Probably a good idea.” He twirled the ring around and held it up, showing you some detail you couldn’t make out.

“What am I looking at?”

“Right on the knuckles here, see that?”

You squinted and bent over your plate, finally seeing a small symbol embossed on each point of the ring.

“Is that, what is that? A ’T’? And a snake?”

“It’s ’T. S.’,” he said. “If I ever do have the misfortune of using these on someone, they won’t forget who did it in a hurry.” He downed the rest of his lemonade. “I’ve really only used them once or twice. It’s more for show, you know, fit the ‘tough bouncer’ look.”

A woman came over to the booth and Titus pocketed the ring in a flash.

“Hi Nicole,” Titus said. “How’s it goin’?”

She flashed you a business-womanly grin. She was dressed fashionably, a look fitting for the club’s manager.

“Hello Titus,” Nicole said. “You’ll be at the door at five, right?”

“Yes, of course. I was just about to head down there in a minute.”

“That’s great, I’m just making sure.” She turned to you and noticed your half-eaten plate of food. “How is everything, darling? Can I get you anything? On the house, of course.”

“Oh, no, everything’s delicious. Thank you! I’m just nervous, can’t eat that much. I’ve got class tonight in a bit, and I haven’t been to school in years, so it’s, you know—”

“Scary,” Titus finished. “School’s hard, always stressful.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Oh, night classes! That’s exciting, what school?” Nicole asked.

“GU.”

“That’s so nice. Well, I hope you have a good first day. And Titus, make it 4:50 if you can, would you please?”

He agreed, and Nicole left the two of you to talk to a table of patrons across the room.

When she was out of earshot, Titus said, “Four fifty? Come on. We aren’t even busy until six.” He shook his head and sighed. Then, after a pause, he picked up his fork and pointed with it at your plate. “Do you want that pie?”

“Go crazy,” you said, and pushed the plate across the booth table. Titus had comped the food, taking it out of his paycheck at the employee discount. As far as you were concerned, it was all his anyway.

“So, what’s this class tonight?”

“It’s this ‘intro to drawing’ course,” you said as you fiddled with your silverware. “I just had to pick something random to fill out my schedule. It’s basic stuff, I think, but it sounded interesting. Professor Wayne something.”

“You know, that actually sounds fun,” he said, then stopped in his tracks. “Wait a minute, did you say ‘Wayne’?”

“Yeah. Why, do you know him?”

“Do I know him?” He let out a quick bark of laughter.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“You really don’t know who he is?”

“No? Should I?” You dug in the recesses of your memory and came up empty-handed.

“Damn, that is so wild.” Titus ran a hand along his close cropped hair. “You’ve been away from Gotham for way too long, girl. The Waynes are old money Gotham, the family’s been around for, like, ever.”

Old money Gotham brought to mind art deco buildings, caviar and expensive wine, limousines with private drivers. Your mind filled with a vague picture of an old man, possibly bald with a beard, wearing an expensive old-fashioned suit and a pocket watch. You couldn’t stand the upper crust types in town, throwing charity galas that only benefitted themselves.

“What, so he’s rich?” you asked.

“Beyond belief. He’s a billionaire, I think.”

You scoffed. “He had me buy all this stuff, like two hundred bucks of supplies on top of tuition. Must be a cheapskate.” You gave the portfolio bag a tap with your foot.

Titus shook his head and downed the rest of his lemonade. “That’s rich types for you.”

“But he teaches at GU? I don’t get it, what would be the point? Some kind of vanity project?”

“No idea.”

“If I had that much money, I wouldn’t do shit. No school, no teaching, just relaxing.”

“You and me both.” Titus checked his phone and saw the time. “Shit, I’ve got to run. Look, tell me how it goes, okay?”

You said goodbye to Titus, lugging your portfolio bag and backpack out the side door of Mora’s. You headed to the nearest subway station and boarded the line headed for Gotham University. Well, you thought, I guess I’ll see what all the hype is about.

Shoutout to @ellesthots for letting me borrow her creation, Mora's. This fic is not related to Fateful but I wanted to include a piece of it since she's inspiring me to write this. Thank you Elle!

Thank you for reading, more coming very soon! Thoughts & comments are welcome and appreciated <3

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