#football and biochemistry? she's winning

[furoruisa]

Honestly I'm here for Whitney villain era BUT i love her storyline of finding herself like we are all gonna ignore that? she's now happy with HERSELF. So saying that they made her a loser because she didn't stay with Canaan? Nah you're the losers

[monster-addict]

Unexpected

Orc x Human!OC 

Multipart Fic - Part 2

I woke up early, and took a shower. I already had my bag packed for class, I had my textbooks on my phone, so I didn't need to worry about that weight. I had my notebooks and different colored pens for my note taking. That's mainly what these first few weeks are going to be, note taking.

I made breakfast for everyone again, but it was small, toast and sausage. I put some tea in my water bottle and waited for Nick. He came down not too long after I finished my food. We didn't really say much, but it was comfortable. We got to class and I sat in the front or the far left side of the class, no one really sat over by me, which I was glad about.

It was a small class in a big lecture hall, it was maybe 14 of us in the class. Nick sat directly across from me in the class, but later on during the class when our teacher wanted us to read. That was when a girl from the middle of the class went over and sat by him. I assumed it was his girlfriend, or a close friend of his. I continued to read and next thing I know, class was over.

"I forgot to show you my schedule yesterday." I went up to Nick after class.

"Yeah, you share my schedule except for the gen ed classes. I think Orlov has those classes though." He told me, the girl was lingering behind a bit.

We walked to the next class which was down the hall a little bit, him and the girl talked a little bit more before they parted ways.

It seemed as if it were the same class, fewer people too. It was mainly orcs in this class, three female orcs, and I was half the amount of human females. It was about 4 human males and 5 male orcs. This professor was orc, with long hair down his back. I took out a different notebook and started my note taking process. This class he mainly talk, our reading was to do on our own time. I made a note in my phone to read, as well as in my agenda.

Class was over and I had about an hour before my last class started for the day. I went to the library just to browse their collection. I was going to do all of my reading once I got in, it wouldn't take me long anyway.

"Are you new around here?" I heard a voice come from my right.

"Yeah, I just transferred actually." I turned to the male.

"Demetri." He stuck his hand out.

"Skylar." I shook his hand.

He wasn't as big as Orlov or Nick, but considering I'm only 5'2 most orcs tower over me. He has a slimmer figure should I say, but he's still very tall, maybe 6'3.

"What are you majoring in, literature?" He asked.

"No, I'm actually a biochemistry major." I laughed a bit.

"Oh I would've never assumed. Most of the girls around here found those classes to be boring or not really for them. Now if you were taking the regular classes to be a doctor, that would be different. Not a lot of people around here are doing biochem in the first place to be honest." He said.

"Yeah, I've noticed the lack of students in my earlier classes, on top of the fact that they are early classes. What about you, what's you major?" I asked.

"Take a guess." He said.

"Accounting, or sometime of business major?" I asked him.

"You hit it on the money." He said.

"Lucky me, so what year are you in?" I asked him.

"Well, technically my second year, I just switched my major around so these classes are new for me. I like them more than psychology." He said.

"That would've been my back up, psychology. Either that or dermatology." I said.

"Why dermatology?" He looked confused.

"I like extracting comedones." I said.

"Whatever that means." He rolled his eyes.

"Blackheads and whiteheads." I laughed at him.

"Come sit with me?" He asked.

"Sure."

I followed along beside him as best as I could. I could tell he even tried to slow his pace so I could keep up, but it didn't work too well. We finally sat down in a nice corner without too many people.

"How are you liking it here so far?" Demetri asked.

"I haven't been here long enough to have an opinion, but so far so good." I said.

"How's your dorm and roommate?" He asked.

"Well, honestly, my best friend is the one that convinced me to come here. She just got one of the houses they let you rent out. She said beforehand she was in the co-ed dorms, but her roommate didn't like her. She got along with the two dudes she shared the bathroom with, so they are our other roommates in the house." I told him.

"What's your friend's name?" He asked.

"Aria." I told him.

"Oh that's the one that helps out with our dance team, do you dance?" He asked me.

"Have you seen any of her videos?" I asked.

"Yeah, but not many, why?" He asked.

"Oh well, I'm in some of her videos, so yes, I do dance." I told him.

We talked a little more until I had to go to class, we exchanged numbers and he walked me to class.

I got seated in what is going to be my regular spot, for the rest of my college life. This professor was an elf, so that was a little change up from the rest of my routine. That class went by fairly fast as well, and before I know it I'm walking over to Nick.

"Hey, you mind dropping me off at the house. Orlov said you like to go to study hall after class." I said.

"You aren't going to come too?" He asked.

"No, I don't do well studying in groups, or around a lot of people. I'd rather be in the comfort of my own bed." I tell him.

"I get that, I can drop you off. And for the record, I only go to study hall to meet up with June." He said as we walked.

"June is?" I looked up at him confused.

"Oh right, June is my girlfriend." He said.

"I didn't want to assume, but it seemed like it." I said.

We didn't say much of anything walking out to the car, but I saw Demetri on the way out. I gave him a slight wave and he gave me a head nod. Once I got to the house, I gave Nick a quick thanks before he drove off. I went in the house, and no one was home, not yet at least. We need a group chat for the house, or at the very least, I need to be added to it. I went up to my room and got out my agenda, going in order by class. I opened the book on my laptop, so I can annotate it while I read. I then wrote in my notebook some things to better help me understand the subject.

I spent around 3 hours doing my work, an hour for each class, making sure I at least understand the material. I went online to check my work to make sure I didn’t forget anything. I heard the front door open and close with a little bit of force. It was hard to tell who it was, all orcs are really strong, and tend to over do things when not paying attention. It turned out to be Orlov, I figured by peaking my head out.

"Hey Sky, you need something?" He asked before he went in his room.

"Nothing major, I wanted to know if there was a group chat for the house? I wanted to cook dinner for everybody again. But I don't have you guys numbers, nor am I in a group chat." I said.

"Oh yeah, we do have one, give me your number, I'll add you to it." He pulled out his phone.

I gave him my number and he added me to the chat, I already had Aria's number, and Orlov just told me his, so that just left Nick.

"Hey, umm, do you think you could help me with something?" Orlov asked.

"Sure, what's up?" I asked him.

"I need some help with my math, and Aria would always say how you were a pro at math, and she would go to you for help." He said.

"OH, I remember you now, you play football right?" I asked him.

"Yeah." He smiled and puffed his chest out a bit.

"But yeah I can help you, you want to knock it out of the way right now?" I offered.

"Yeah, might as well get it over with." He lead me into his room.

He got out his workbook and textbook and showed me what he had problems solving.

"Oh this is easy, let me show you a different way to think about it." I told him.

He had some geometry like stuff so I was grabbing random objects around his room using them as examples. I could show him how to do the problem, but that won't mean he'll understand it. If I help him understand the process, then he can solve the problem himself.

"Oh man Aria was right, you are good at this. Thanks, I really appreciate it." Orlov tells me.

"It's no problem, anytime you need help with anything, just let me know. I'm happy to help." I tell him.

"You want to join me for a few games of COD?" He asked me.

"You have any other work you need to do?" I asked him.

"No, I got it all done in class and during my hour break period." He said.

"Sure, I'll play a little, then I'm going to go cook." I told him.

He put it on Blackout immediately this time around, a first we were dying a little bit. I blamed it on both of us just now starting to play. After the first 3 games, we started to place higher in the matches. In our last game, we got really far, 3rd team, before someone killed Orlov, so I was left by myself playing. I was able to take the last two teams out and win the game.

"YEEEEESSSS!" We both cheered.

Orlov picked me up and spun me around, before Nick opened the door, that's when Orlov put me down.

"Well, time to get cooking." I smiled and walked towards the door.

"What's going on in here?" Nick frowned a bit.

"Sky here just carried me to a victory." He said.

"Oh please. I'm making tacos that sound okay?" I asked them both.

"Yeah that's fine, corn or flour?" Nick asked.

"Well which do you want?" I asked.

"Corn." Nick said.

"I hate corn, it's all dry and nasty. FLOUR PLEASE!" Orlov said.

"How about I make both, I like both so they won't go to waste." I laughed at them.

They agreed and I went downstairs to brown the meat, that's when Aria came in.

"How was your first day?" She asked me.

"Nothing too exciting." I said.

"Meet anyone?" She asked.

"Someone named Demetri, but I get a playboy feeling from him, not that I'm looking for a relationship. I just--"

"Yes, the drama attached to the dick-- I mean man." She cut me off.

"Exactly." I laughed at her.

"Tacos?" She asked standing next to me.

"Yep, corn or flour?" I asked her.

"I'll gladly take flour, who eats corn?" She said in a fake disgust.

"I do, and apparently Nick does too." I laughed at her.

"You two are something else." She shook her head and went upstairs.

I finished making the taco meat, and I assembled all the toppings and tortillas out.

I sent a text out, letting everyone know that the food is done, shortly after everyone came down.

"Just taste it." I handed my taco out to Aria.

She hesitated for a second before she bit into it.

"Mmm, you know, that actually is good, what did you do to it?" She asked me.

"I warmed it up of course." I laughed at her.

"O, you really should try it." Aria took a taco off my plate.

"And convert me to your corn tortilla loving cult, I think not." He put up an argument.

"Please." I gave him a slight pout.

He stared at me, debating whether he wanted to take a bite.

"Man, you don’t play fair." He took the taco from Aria, biting into it.

"Damn, when you're right, you're right. This is good." He laughed nodding his head.

"Told you." Nick pitched in.

"I still love my flour though." Orlov hurried and added.

I shook my head and laughed at him.  We talked and laughed a bit before I got tired. I cleaned up and put away the leftovers. I went upstairs and took my shower, I checked to make sure my bag was packed for tomorrow and I went to sleep.

//Masterlist//

[palmettoes]

Aaron/Katelyn 61

(hehe this has only been sitting in my inbox for uhh 6 months i am so sorry! anyway !!!! never written aaron/katelyn before !!! also haven’t written m/f fanfiction since i was 13 but i love these kids thanks for giving me a reason to make up katelyn’s whole backstory)

disclaimer: if ur pro inc*st u are legally not allowed to touch anything i write

read it on ao3! | prompts are closed :(

61. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

Katelyn, eight years old, loses her mother to white lights and hospital beds. It’s preventable, low mortality rate, chance of survival looks hopeful. Katelyn knows this because she looks it up on her dad’s old box computer when he’s working late one night, her older brother playing outdated records too loudly to notice her disappearing into their father’s private study. Katelyn knows this because the doctors tell her so—not in so many words, because she’s eight, but enough that she knows they are optimistic about the results.

Katelyn, eight years old, wonders why doctors can juggle something so fragile as a life playfully among them and lie through their teeth when they catch the corner of an eye.

Katelyn, eighteen years old, is determined not to be like other doctors. Getting into biochemistry at university feels like winning the sprint but losing the marathon. Her professors crack down on the workload immediately, adamant that medicine is not for those who do not want to be there. And Katelyn wants to be there, maybe more than anyone else, but life has already dealt her so much weight and Katelyn is fast running out of strength to lift these stooped shoulders.

She tries out for the Vixens, Palmetto’s cheerleading team, mostly because her roommate, Marissa, waxes poetic about the nights she’ll spend huddled between football players in one of the downtown bars, and Katelyn figures she could do with the extracurricular.

(The exy team does not factor into her decision, but gossip travels far and fast and the idea of standing in close quarters to them puts her on edge for reasons that can only be explained through hollow whispers and stolen glances behind their backs.)

The Vixens are a rough and tumble team, from the figure eight pattern of cigarette burns on Marissa’s forearm, to the handful of Zoloft Anaïs throws up in her dorm toilet during Freshers’ Week, to the way Billie sleeps with their chin tucked over their shoulder so they can watch their own back. Katelyn is just scraping this side of nineteen, knows the weight of Prozac on her tongue better than that of a meal, and cannot remember the last time her father looked at her without looking right through her. Inexorably, Palmetto State University feels like home.

“How about that backliner though? He’s a tall, dark stranger I’d welcome into my crystal ball,” Marissa says, shaking her pom pom in Anaïs’ face as they stumble towards the bus the night after Palmetto’s first exy game of the season. Anaïs bats Marissa’s arm away, switching her duffel to her other shoulder to put an extra distance between them.

“Didn’t notice. It’s their offensive dealer that I was paying attention to.”

“Their captain.” (It sounds like an innuendo but almost everything does coming out of Marissa’s mouth.) “Anyway, I heard from Mick on the football team that Ainsley told Prati that Mia sits with two of the exy players at lunch on Tuesdays and apparently Mr Tall and Dark is hitting it with the captain. Isn’t that a sandwich you’d love to get between?”

“Not particularly.”

“Boo, you whore.”

Marissa shakes her pom pom again and Anaïs’ shove gains force.

“Don’t boo me because I’m gay.”

Billie taps Katelyn’s elbow and rolls their eyes at the other two, sweeping an arm out to offer Katelyn to climb ahead of them onto the bus. Katelyn hitches her duffel a little higher and climbs the steps. Anaïs likes the seat over the wheel so Katelyn chooses the row in front, tucking her bag under her seat so Billie can settle next to her. Anaïs and Marissa scramble in behind them, still bickering over the attraction of various exy players. Katelyn glances out the window and catches sight of an orange and white gaggle making their way to the other PSU bus parked outside Breckenridge stadium. Mr Tall and Dark backliner is holding hands with the captain but chatting to a lanky boy with a frown too many shades short of pleasant. Most of the Foxes move as a unit, a crowd collected behind their coach, but several steps and a whole chasm behind them trails the remainder of the team.

Katelyn recognises assistant coach Kevin Day because, as strong as her distaste for the sport, she grew up this side of the turn of the century. She doesn’t think she could miss Kevin Day if she tried. He is flanked by two identical blond men and an emphatic, dark-skinned man a head or so above the other two. Katelyn had watched one of the twins block the goal all night with a ferocity like he was exercising a personal vendetta against the ball, seen the other punch an opposing striker square in the jaw seemingly unprovoked. She shudders, remembering the rumours she’d heard whispered about the exy team and, for the first time, believing them. She turns away from the window and bumps Billie’s shoulder with her own, pushing blond hair and murderous glares from her mind.

*

The thing is, Katelyn has no reason to engage with the exy team. She cheers at their games and catches glimpses of them between stadium and parking lot, but she doesn’t learn their names or dance with them at college parties the way she does with the football team.

The thing is, Katelyn’s hands are full enough already. She is unofficially deemed in charge of the first year Vixens—some combination of the fact that Marissa listens when Katelyn tells her to shut up, and Anaïs trusts her enough to press a pill bottle into her hand after her second overdose in as many weeks, and Billie talks to her more than anyone because Katelyn is the only one who speaks ASL. Katelyn finds she doesn’t mind it. The constant demand for attention makes a welcome difference to the stony silence of her family home. With homework, cheerleading, and three new best friends keeping her busy, Katelyn barely has time to dwell on the hollow feeling that has been cutting her chest open for the past decade.

The thing is, the short blond boy from the exy team is hard to miss. (Well, one of them is anyway.) Katelyn figures out he’s the backliner, the one she saw punching that striker from Breckenridge, and not the one that sticks to Kevin Day like glue, or a prickly burr. He crops up in her biochem lectures, at her favourite campus café, tucked behind a bookshelf at the library across from her and Billie’s usual study spot. He is always accompanied by at least one of his little posse, usually the noisy one, except during their shared lectures. Katelyn finds herself seeking him out when she enters the room and, more often than not, she catches him blinking back at her.

They’re two thirds through their first quarter by the time she learns his name. He stops by her desk on the way out of the lecture hall, causing her notebook to slip out of her hand in surprise. He kneels to pick it up for her and doesn’t smile, but there’s a friendliness to his eyes that Katelyn has never seen before.

“Katelyn, right?” he asks. Katelyn has no idea how he knows this but she nods instead of questioning it. “Aaron. Did you get notes on Voltolini’s lecture this week? I missed it.”

She’s so caught out by the disruption to their routine, by the brittle edge to his voice that she hadn’t expected, by the abrupt introduction to the quarter-long suspense of wondering his name, that she almost forgets to answer. When she realises she’s been staring at him for coming on ten seconds, she shakes it out of her system and finishes zipping up her backpack.

“Oh. Yeah, did you want to borrow them? Or,” she swings the strap of her backpack over her shoulder and steps towards the door, Aaron falling into pace beside her, “we could go over them together?”

He is quiet for a moment, as if the question requires extensive thought. Katelyn wonders briefly if she should be offended by his lack of immediate interest, but decides she finds it endearing that the authenticity of his response matters so much to him.

“At the library?” he offers. “I have a study period now.”

“Sure,” she says. She’d been headed that way to meet Billie anyway and doesn’t suppose they’ll mind the small intrusion.

“So how come you missed the lecture?” she asks when it becomes apparent their trek to the library will remain otherwise silent.

“Andrew,” Aaron says vaguely, waving his hand as though this is sufficient enough an explanation. When Katelyn doesn’t look convinced, he adds, “My brother. You’ve seen him?”

She nods, not totally understanding but realising it’s personal enough that she doesn’t want to pry.

Billie is already sitting at their table when Katelyn arrives, Aaron in tow. They have printouts of various articles spread across the desk and a focused frown on their face, but they look up when Katelyn and Aaron stop in front of them.

“Aaron, this is Billie. Billie, Aaron. From the exy team.”

Billie waves at Aaron, then pierces Katelyn with their gaze, tilting their head slightly in Aaron’s direction.

“Do you speak ASL?” Katelyn asks him as she pulls out a chair and begins unpacking her bag. Aaron settles into the seat next to her, tapping the tabletop anxiously.

“No. Was that in the lecture?”

“No, no, of course not. Don’t worry about it.” Katelyn laughs lightly and makes eye contact with Billie.

“Since when do we hang out with exy players?” they sign, eyes flicking to Aaron.

“He’s borrowing some notes. What’s wrong with being friendly?” she signs back. Billie shrugs and turns back to their articles. Katelyn flicks open her notebook and grins at Aaron.

“Let’s do this,” she says. His responding smile is small and fleeting but Katelyn catches the hard upturn of his lips and her skin tingles all over.

*

Aaron falls easily into place among Katelyn’s friends. He becomes a regular at their study sessions, reading notes over Katelyn’s shoulder or catching her eye across the table with that same smile like a secret that hurts his throat on the way up. He never brings any of his teammates, but Katelyn can’t complain. Study Aaron and Exy Aaron, she decides, are two sides of the same coin. He’s softer around her and her friends, all secret smiles and nervous tapping. She can’t imagine Study Aaron punching anyone in the face.

He spills into her other routines intrinsically. She stops making excuses to invite him out for coffee or to lunch or on a walk around the campus green when she’s feeling antsy. She struggles to remember a time when the sight of him intimidated her, when she believed the rumours turning the air sour at his heels wherever he walked.

Katie he calls her from across the hall to grab her attention, and Kate when he talks about her to her friends, and K (intimate and familiar and warm in her chest) over text. Katie-Lyn he teases when they’re alone on one of their walks and he relaxes enough that his smile stops looking like barbed wire. She laughs and elbows him and writes Double-A-Ron on the back of folded notes they pass between them during lectures.

Katelyn doesn’t engage with the exy team, but every rule has its exceptions and Aaron is hers. Brilliant, beautiful Aaron, who keeps his smiles a secret and his family a mystery and who holds her gaze across a crowded hallway like it is the most fragile of things.

They never call it dating, though Katelyn suspects that might be what it is. She hardly qualifies as an expert but the shared lunches and secret notes and blushing eye contact feel too reminiscent of her high school girlfriend to be anything else. (She asks Billie, once, if they think Aaron thinks they’re a couple and they roll their eyes and wave her off. She cannot bring herself to put up with Marissa’s crowing long enough to ask for another opinion.) So it’s hard to say where he falls in the categories of her relationships, but when she invites him out for dinner he doesn’t say no and, though she doesn’t call it a date, it doesn’t feel platonic.

They go to an Italian restaurant on campus, partly because Katelyn figures everyone likes pizza and partly because Marissa says the sundae for two is a date-saver. (Not that Katelyn likes to think their sort-of-date will need saving, but it’s always nice to be prepared.) And she’s right, because Aaron does like pizza and the sundae is delicious and the date doesn’t need saving. Until it does.

“I had to beg Nicky to cover for me tonight,” Aaron is saying, no trace of the curl Katelyn has come to search for at the corner of his lips. “He doesn’t like disrupting the balance.”

Katelyn isn’t sure she follows but she doesn’t have to ask to know the only explanation she’ll get is Andrew. His name is the answer to every question, no matter how she phrases it. His name is the flat line of Aaron’s mouth and the fierce swing of his uppercut. His name is the undeniable truth behind the rumours that tail Aaron wherever he goes.

“We can’t do this,” Aaron says and the ice cream turns to dust in Katelyn’s mouth. She thinks bitterly that at least she can prove Marissa wrong; no sundae for two is saving this date.

“Do what?” she asks and her voice is too small for her mouth. She is eight years old and Aaron is the doctor dangling hope too far out of her reach.

“You, me, us,” he says, frustrated and lonely and scared all at once. “You can’t fall in love with me.”

It aches in more ways than she could have known it would. Because how do you predict the outcome when you’re missing the beginning? How do you prepare for the fallout when you aren’t part of the equation? When you’re just collateral damage?

“Says who?” Katelyn asks, and then, “Andrew” in unison with Aaron because, of course. Because, who else?

Aaron’s cheek dimples between his teeth and he lets his spoon clang against the rim of their shared bowl. Katelyn pushes hers through the half-melted ice cream, appetite fast disappearing. She wants to demand answers or argue the absurdity of their situation or maybe just cry. Instead, she folds.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay?”

“I get it. It’s okay.”

She doesn’t get it, but Aaron looks at her like she’s handing him the moon so she breathes through her nose, counts to five, and offers him a shaky smile. Moulding herself into the shapes other people need her to be is Katelyn’s specialty. She grew up a chameleon in order to survive. This is no different to her father looking at her like he needed a clinically detached housemaid more than he needed a daughter mourning the loss of her mother.

“Ready to call it a night?” she says, because there is something irreparable in the air between them.

“I’ll walk you back,” Aaron agrees.

They say goodnight outside Katelyn’s dorm building, but what they mean is goodbye. What they mean is this is it. What they mean is we had a good thing and neither of us are good enough people to deserve that.

Katelyn, nineteen-and-three-quarter years old, watches hope shatter in all too familiar shards.

*

They never called it dating, so they don’t call it a break up, but that’s what it feels like. It is broken where Katelyn can’t reach to fix it because she does not know what fractured it to begin with. There is a week between Katelyn’s return home for the holidays and her brother’s scheduled time off, during which the silence of her childhood home sits heavy on her shoulders. She passes the time under a mound of blankets, drowning out her father’s refusal to acknowledge her with television static.

When Antoni returns, so does the life slowly trickling out of the air. He wields noise like a blade to the abrasive reticence of their home, and goads Katelyn out of bed to help him make potato fritters.

“Chiquita, college has made you so mopey,” he says, watching her instead of the eggs he’s whisking. Katelyn slices onions and pretends they are the only reason her eyes sting.

“More like being in this house makes me mopey. College keeps me too busy for that.”

Antoni hums, and watches her, and whisks his eggs.

“And how is college? Top of your class yet?”

Katelyn rolls her eyes but tells him about her lectures and her friends and her cheer practice. She finishes with the onions and starts combining the second bowl of mixture while Antoni scoops the first into misshapen ovals. When the fritters are under the grill and Katelyn’s eyes have stopped stinging altogether, Antoni pours them each a glass of iced tea and leans across the kitchen island to smile at her.

“So has the little Vixen caught a Fox yet?” He pauses to consider her a moment. “Or another Vixen perhaps?”

Katelyn sucks in a breath but doesn’t answer the question, and the silence rings deafening in her ears. She tells her brother everything but she cannot tell him this. (They never called it dating. There is nothing to tell anyway.)

“Oh, Kitty-Kat. Come here,” Antoni says. He doesn’t wait for her to move, instead rounding the island to wrap his arms around her from behind. She leans her head against his bicep, turning so her face is mashed into his woolen jumper, and closes her eyes. They stay like that, his chest to her back and his chin against her crown, for as long as it takes her to stop holding air in her chest until she’s gasping and shaky. She doesn’t cry, but her throat feels raw enough that she could have.

“Ant,” Katelyn whispers, her voice shaking on the vowel, “do you think I’m broken?”

“Of course you’re not.” His arms tighten a fraction around her shoulders. “Why would you think that?”

“It feels like everything I touch shatters.”

She thinks of her mother’s life splintering to pieces in Katelyn’s eight year old hands, of her father’s voice splitting in two and washing away whenever he tried to speak to her, of Aaron’s face contorting as their date cracked and caved around them. She feels like a fractured bone, cleft down the middle, never whole as she is.

Antoni lets out a soft breath against her hair and presses a kiss to the curve of her skull.

“No, chiquita,” he says, “you’re not broken. The world is.”

*

Returning to Palmetto is easier than Katelyn expects it to be. Antoni only has three weeks leave, so Katelyn spends the last month of vacation alone with her father. She is almost ready to welcome the noise and clutter of her college dorm.

Returning to the Vixens is more of a homecoming than entering her family house. As sophomores, they’re expected to throw themselves both into their own practice and that of the freshmen, and Katelyn and Marissa’s room becomes something of a communal ground for the first and second years. Katelyn doesn’t mind so much, because it takes her thoughts off the scowl she hasn’t seen leave Aaron’s face since they returned from break.

She watches the exy team walk to and from the stadium on game nights, their divide in half somehow having become thirds, until she realises the centre group is actually a solitary affair: a dark-haired, rabbit-eyed boy curled in on himself, alone in the rift between his teammates. She focuses on him because it stops her gaze from betraying her resolve and straying to where Aaron walks several paces behind.

And it almost lasts; this painstaking stalemate, this mutual ignorance. Katelyn sits with her back to his table in the library and Aaron walks past her without pausing on the way out of their lecture theatre. It almost stops feeling like a bruise underneath her skin.

But somehow he trickles back into her life as easily as he did once before. Katelyn finds she can smile at him when they pass each other on campus and she can make eye contact when she waves his teammates onto the court during games. She remembers the way he cupped her name in the curl of his tongue as if it were reverent and fragile as glass. She remembers how he held her gaze like he was trying to keep her afloat, and how he saved his smiles to share in the privacy of her company. She remembers he did not build the wall between them, only said he wouldn’t climb it, and she can’t blame him for resting his weary hands.

So when she misses her morning lecture because Marissa woke with a bad taste in her mouth and a tremor in her hands, Katelyn catches Aaron on his way to the library, a hand in his path and a question in her eyes.

“I had to skip this morning. Do you mind sharing notes?” It’s a surrender of sorts, an end to their face-off. Aaron made the first move all those months ago, so this time Katelyn dresses in white armour and guides her pawn forward. They have come full circle.

Aaron’s smile is slow, a tentative curl that crawls quietly up his face, and Katelyn realises for the first time how much she has missed seeing it bloom for her.

“I’m headed to the library now if you’ve got time,” he says. The words are marrow filling the cracks of Katelyn’s broken bone and she feels herself coming together as their steps line up with one another.

It’s easier, after their not-breakup, to build their routine around honesty. Andrew is still an answer, but this time one that comes served with an explanation. Katelyn still doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand the chokehold that Aaron calls family, but she respects it. After all, she isn’t in a position to point fingers at dysfunctional.

They confine their dates to the library café and the medicine building, avoiding places that Aaron’s family are likely to haunt. And it isn’t perfect, it isn’t textbook romance, but for the first time it is something whole that Katelyn cradles to her chest and it does not shatter on impact.

When Aaron leaves for a weekend and comes home a broken man—brotherless, breathless, hands a bruised and bloodied mess—Katelyn does what she has always done best and builds him back together with her own chipped pieces. She fights his nightmares with nothing but her fists and takes his hands in her own when he cannot look at them without seeing blood beneath his fingernails. She does what she can but she is still just collateral, she is still on the outside looking in on a rupture that happened long before she became a spectator. There is still a tear that Katelyn does not know how to stitch up.

*

(The dark-haired, rabbit-eyed boy is called Neil and his hair isn’t actually quite so dark and he is fixing the broken parts Katelyn can’t reach and when he says Andrew’s name it sounds like a question, not an answer.)

*

Getting Aaron back is the gift Katelyn doesn’t think she deserves. Cutting him off feels like shattering her own hope. She watches the pieces slide between her fingers, shoves the remnants deep where she can’t cut herself on their serrated edges, and tries not to think of the way Aaron’s face split apart when she told him Andrew was the answer to a question he did not ask.

She tells Billie, late one night as they pass a bottle of Marissa’s claret between them from opposite ends of the couch, that she doesn’t know if she’ll be whole again. It is a vulnerability that no one but Antoni ever sees, but Katelyn is wine-drunk and fractured, too disheartened to care that her misery has an audience.

“Why not?” Billie says, holding the bottle between their knees to free up their hands. “You were whole before him. He didn’t take anything you can’t replace.”

“He was the first thing I had that I thought I could hold on to.” Katelyn’s hands falter as the weight of her honesty hits her. She doesn’t know who she is when she isn’t fixing other people and Aaron is a fissure that is out of her hands. “What’s the point if I can’t keep anything without breaking it?”

“You have us. You have the team. You have a career path you’re good at and a hobby you love. You have a brother who adores you and you have Marissa and Anaïs and me. You are whole on your own but you’re part of bigger things too. He’ll come back to you or he won’t and either way you’ll still be the person you always have been.”

It doesn’t seem appropriate to cry, but Katelyn is wine-drunk and fractured, so she does anyway. Billie hooks their ankle around hers on the couch between them and knocks the claret bottle against her knee. Katelyn alternates between drinking and sobbing, and loses the rest of the night to the breaking of her heart.

*

Aaron comes back to her piece by broken piece. He shows up at her dorm with his pain a palpable weight in his hands and tells her he’s trying, he’s breaking faster than he can put himself together but he’s trying. And Katelyn knows a thing or two about falling apart.

They pour their fragments into one another in Katelyn’s bed because Marissa is out with some of the older Vixens and they both know better than to waste an empty dorm room. Later, with his back to Katelyn’s chest and his legs slid between either of hers, Aaron finds the parts of his voice he has been missing.

“You were the first beautiful thing I ever called mine,” he says and Katelyn remembers midnight with Billie, remembers the saccharine claret slipping down her throat, remembers thinking Aaron was the first thing she could ever keep whole. “I won’t lose you for him.”

Katelyn slides her hand across the bare expanse of his stomach, presses her face into the base of his neck, and breathes and breathes and breathes.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she says, and means it.

They patch themselves up in tandem—Aaron knits one, Katelyn purls two—and they are old hands at this now. Katelyn watches their healing overlap in familiar stitches and she waits and she hopes and she breathes. Because this thing between them is chipped and bruised but it is whole. It is theirs.

When Andrew comes for her, Katelyn wonders if she should be surprised. She has heard his name in response to too many questions to be shocked when he treats his words like an arrow and her the target. He and Aaron are identical twins but when Katelyn looks at him up close for the first time, all she sees are the differences. He carries none of the regret that bleeds through Aaron’s teeth and too much of the horror that feeds behind his eyes.

“You won,” rabbit-eyed Neil says, gaze already chasing after Andrew like he might not be just any answer but the answer. “Aaron’s not in class now, if you want to call him.”

Aaron, Aaron, Aaron, her brain says and her fingers, though numb with fear, respond on reflex. He picks up while Katelyn is halfway through a choked sob and she hears his breath sharpen like a dagger.

“Katelyn?” His voice is a rush of concern, a spear and shield readying itself in her defence. “What happened?”

“Andrew,” is all she can say between broken breaths, and it is the answer to every question. After all this time, she gets it.

In the time it takes Aaron to get from his dorm to the library, Katelyn has found her breath but not her strength. She is still curled in on herself behind the bookshelf in the far corner and she knows her friends will be wondering but she doesn’t yet trust her legs to support her. Aaron sinks down next to her, an anchor holding her steady in the aftermath of Andrew’s storm.

“Did he hurt you?” he asks quietly and Katelyn doesn’t know how to answer. She thinks if she opens her mouth she might not know how to do anything but cry.

It’s enough of an answer though. Aaron vibrates with an anger that he almost never wears around her and Katelyn thinks of the Breckenridge striker who took Aaron’s fist to the face. He looks more like the other side of the coin, more like Exy Aaron, than she has seen him in a while.

“I told you not to fall in love with me,” he says. It is frustrated and lonely and scared, and Katelyn has heard him sound like that once before and she will do anything before she lets him shatter again.

“I didn’t listen.”

He falls into her at that, half straddling her lap, arms around her waist and face pressed hard to her shoulder. Katelyn raises her arms to cradle his body against her, rests her cheek in the nest of his hair, and thinks this is it. Thinks he is the answer. Thinks we won.

“My Katie,” Aaron whispers into her skin and it is the glue drawing her broken shards together.

[monkeydluffy19920]

Straw Hat pirates in the modern world?

Many of  us have probably pondered that what if Straw Hats were living in a different dimension, wandering in the modern world instead of being pirates. Oda-sensei kind of replied to this question in SBS 76. Those were based on the suggestions and this has been something I’ve been pondering quite often, just for fun so here are some headcanonish thoughts about the Straw Hat gang in the modern AU.

(it’s going to be a (semi)long post so sorry beforehand for covering the half of the dash *laughs*) Anyway feel free to share thoughts!

Luffy: A man who lives and breathes for action? A physical job is definitely something Luffy would require and fire rescuing sounds like a very diverse area and since he has quite irregular sleeping rhythm (he sleeps whenever he feels like) so probably he wouldn’t feel innerly messed after the shifts unlike most of us

I remember reading long time ago in a forum that in someone’s opinion fireman wouldn’t support Luffy’s willing to be free and that he doesn’t want to be seen as a hero but would those details be an obstactle in the long run?

In my opinion the bigger questionmark about that occupation would be that as far as I understood, fire rescuing degree requires medical studies and Luffy doesn’t seem like he’d have patience for such complicated stuff but maybe he’d barely pass the courses and later be focusing more on the other tasks and of course gets help from other colleagues?

Well, the writer in that forum long time ago was right that Luffy also craves for freedom so another choice could be something that requires travelling without limitations. Hmmm? I personally don’t see him as a tourist guide but would it be possible that he only worked half of the year or as in seasons and maybe would spend the rest of the time getting to know new places?

Actually once I pondered that one hobby Luffy could have is being a Youtuber. I know it sounds a bit funny but I think his (and perhaps the rest of the dork Trio’s) pranking and humoristic videos, similar with comedians like nigahiga or doing some other things. Anyway, since he is an entertaining person, those videos would probably get lots of watches.

Zoro: This suggestion probably is based on his past as a bounty hunter which is good indeed but somehow I would see him more as a guard than a police officer. I really don’t know why, maybe (as someone who doesn’t know much about neither of them) could think that guarding would require less paper work (it’s hard to imagine him writing long reports)?

Maybe he could also do some sort of physical work and perhaps at the outdoors.  Zoro could chop woods with hands or with chainsaws or other working machines or work at a mine or maybe digging graves? The chances are unlimited!

Nami:  Based on her personality and what happened in Punk Hazad, nursery school teacher would sound plausible but I kind of have a feeling that she could be something else too because of her skills and interests so this was actually something I asked from my mate @namibean because she has roleplayed Nami and written a modern AU fanfic.

In her response, our thoughts about her working somewhere in the weather field and us (and probably many other fans) think it would be very possible to see her as telling the weather forecast on tv in a modern AU. Why not? She has the skills and good looks!

I think she would do good in modelling too, she seems to enjoy posing for the cameras (her wanted-posters speaks for that) and she loves fashion. Hard to say whether she would become a super model or just modelling for smaller business but she would be famous for sure! (Fashion designer also crossed my mind just a minute ago)

From the dream perspective, perhaps a cartographer? but somehow I’ve always thought this more as a hobby of hers than a vacancy, in modern world. Like namibean said, the technology keeps developing  so maybe this would be more of something she’d do for fun (or just to sell them for some pocket money)

Another thing based on her skills would definitely be in the area of finance like namibean said. Not because of her love to money but because Nami is really good with numbers, knows the values of the currencies (she was the one who noticed how they were almost fooled in Water 7 when they brought the treasures to the bank) so it would be very plausible if she did work with money.

One more thing that popped into my mind was that Nami could be an actress too. This was based on the third TV Special (”Protect! The Last Great Performance”) and the thought of her being a model. Well, why not? She is the Dorobo Neko who has used to costumes and knows the stuff.

Usopp: Graphic designer is really good suggestion and on point because Usopp is very good in arts but maybe even better in storytelling (he used to tell tales to cheer Kaya after all) so maybe he could write books about adventures of Captain Usopp or why not both? like a freelancer author and an artist?

Sanji: This has been always a questionmark since it’s really hard to think out of the box since I just see him as a cook who becomes an owner of a successful restaurant and nothing else *laughs*

I also asked my mate @chefalier what are his thoughts about it since he has roleplayed and mused Sanji a lot. His first thought outside the box was a professional footballer which is good in my opinion, especially if we think about the football tv special where Sanji kicked the winning goal wth a badass shoot. Yes, as a footballer he could be famous for being having feet quicker than the lightning and shooting goals sharply. Even if he wasn’t a professional I could imagine him doing it as a hobby, whenever he’d be able during his busy restaurant or beauty saloon businesses *thumbs up*

Another one chefalier suggested was model and well, he has the looks and the charm. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind seeing Sanji posing for some suit-companies or perhaps also for the charming fragrancies.  *many thumbs up*

Chopper: He would be great with the kids for sure but somehow I’d see him more in a job related to his current vacancy. If doctor wasn’t in the “modern AU-list” then he could be a biologist specialized in biochemistry or researcher. It would at least be linked into his dream of curing all the diseases.

Robin: I would honestly pay anything to hear and see flght attendant Robin dropping some dark jokes in her shifts above the clouds *laughs* but somehow it feels like flying is sort of a far fetch if we think about her interest in history and arceology. It doesn’t mean that she couldn’t do that but I just can’t imagine her there.

If archeologists wasn’t a choice then maybe she could be a historian specialized in cultural history or civilization history. Perhaps she could first do research work and then later work also as a lecturer in an university? Another place where I could see her working would be the library, her devil fruits would be so handy there (although in modern world there probably wouldn’t exists those powers).

Another one based on her interests would be a gardener or the one who makes flower boquets (is it called florist?). She is crafty and enjoys flowers so it’s perhaps a good maybe?

Franky: It wasn’t  specified that would Franky be an aircraft pilot or a maritime plot. Anyway, it’s a very good idea because Franky is good with mechanics and has experience in piloting too but  another choice that popped into my mind was  a youth worker.

Based on chapter 437,  Franky would be excellent in that, after all his unselfish nature and willing to help the people of the backstrees did pay off. He received lots of friends and the members of Franky Family later found their potential for good deeds (shipwrighting) after being treated with respect by Franky.

If shipwrighting wasn’t a choice he could stll fit into the construction world. He could be the guy who owns a company that builds houses or aeroplanes or whatever he desires,  his skills probably would be in good use.

Brook: Hmm this is also th same case as with Sanji, it’s somehow hard to imagine him doing anything else than he is known to be good at. Detective would be good though especially when thinking of his Devil fruit’s skill where he can peek around as a ghost. Well, if Brook lived in the modern world he could also be a music teacher? Or why not a stand up comedian? He is the master of skull jokes, yohohohoh!

[the-fauxpas]

six / spice night

uni AU co-written with @ineffably-styles

a story of late nights, unorthodox household plants, and a trip to Vegas that changes everything

“All right then!” Niall clapped his hands, a dangerous spark in his eyes. “Hope you're ready," he grinned and Savannah thought he looked almost sadistic. "Never have I ever..." he trailed off glancing carefully at everyone in the room. His eyes lingered slightly longer on Savannah and Harry before his lips quirked up into a semi-smirk. "Let's start off with an easy one. Never have I ever slept with anyone in this room."

chapter five / story page

“Someone please remind again me why we’re here,” Savannah groaned, reaching over and swiping a drink from Reyna’s bag. She’d come packed with bagged sandwiches and everyone’s favourite drink along with bottles of water in a neatly organised backpack that she’d made Zayn carry.

“I want to be here about as much as you do,” she grumbled in reply, trying to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. “And I forgot my sunglasses too, can you believe how shit this day is already?”

“Hey, cheer up,” Zayn laughed, also grabbing a drink from the bag. “Look, we just scored a goal.”

“We did?” Reyna squinted at the scoreboard, where sure enough, the point tally had risen by one in favour of UCL. “When did that happen?”

“I’m guessing just before our side of the field started cheering,” Alexa mused sarcastically as she finished off her sandwich, earning herself a swat from Reyna. “Hey! You’re the one who asked.”

“I didn’t appreciate your tone of voice,” she replied as Zayn chuckled.

“I feel like bringing you guys here was a big mistake on Louis’ part,” he said thoughtfully.

“You got that right,” Savannah replied tiredly, eyes trained on the field. The only thing that she could gather was that the side she was supposed to be cheering for were in the blue and that one of their players was in possession of the ball. “Look, something’s happening!”

“That’s Harry,” Zayn explained. “He’s got the number 10 jersey on.”

“That makes him the attacking midfielder, right?” Reyna asked, biting into the sandwich she had in her hand. “What?” she asked, when the others shot her an astonished glance.

“Since when do you know anything about football?” Savannah asked, glancing at the field when the opposing team’s supporters started cheering.

“That was bullshit!” Reyna yelled in return. “Louis didn’t even tackle him! The twat faked it!” she grumbled. “I couldn’t sleep last night,” she explained to her friends.

“So you ended up on Wikipedia,” Alexa supplied.

“Figured I might as well learn something for today,” she shrugged. “You know how I hate not knowing things.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got Zayn to teach us,” Savannah pointed out.

“Uh, yeah,” Zayn scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, I could try and explain things to you, but chances are I’ll be wrong. I told you guys I was never any good. I used to always accidentally scrape the ball with a part of my hand and that’s like an automatic free kick for the other team. Eventually they ended up putting me in goal. They figured I couldn’t cause much damage from there. Too bad I’m like super skinny and have next to no muscle mass, so I was a pretty shit goalkeeper too,” he grinned.

“So when you said you stopped playing, did you actually stop playing or were you dropped from the team?” Reyna teased, making Zayn laugh.

“Nah, I actually quit. They threw me a party and everything, but I always suspected that was more because they were glad to be rid of me than for anything else.”

“Well, it’s -”

“That was a blatant penalty! What the fuck is the ref doing just standing there. There’s a whistle in your mouth for a reason, BLOW IT!” Reyna suddenly yelled.

Savannah looked towards the field, noting the way a group of players had huddled around a fallen body, they moved apart a little and she was able to spot that it was Harry who was wincing a little as someone prodded his ankle.

“Is he all right?” she asked worriedly.

“I think so,” Zayn replied, equally worried. “Yeah,” he sighed in relief, the worry clearing from his face as Harry clambered back onto his feet. “He should be fine.”

“What happened to him?” Alexa asked, settling back into her seat as a free kick was handed to their team.

“Illegal tackle,” Reyna answered, still scowling at the field. “The twat should have been given a yellow card for that.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Rey,” Zayn laughed.

“Harry could have been hurt,” she insisted. “It was dangerous,” she crossed her arms across her chest.

“Got a bit of a crush on him, do you?” Zayn joked, making Reyna scoff.

“According to Louis, Harry’s their best striker. I’ve got money riding on this game and if Harry’s hurt then we’re not very likely to win, are we?” she grumbled, cracking open a bottle of coca cola.

“So you’re more worried about losing the game than an injured friend?” Alexa asked, her tone holding a little bit of judgment behind it.

“Bones heal,” was all Reyna said, before glancing at the disapproving look on her friend’s face. She rolled her eyes. “Fine, if you had to pick between a painting from eons ago that no one’s ever seen before, preserved in pristine condition and Harry not breaking a leg, which would you pick?” she asked.

“The painting,” Alexa replied without blinking.

“Exactly my point.”

“Yeah, but Lex’s choosing a priceless painting, you’re just choosing yourself,” Savannah cut in, the three of them completely tuning out of the match, leaving Zayn the only one who was paying any attention to the field.

Reyna snorted. “Please, if you were given the choice of never owning another plant again or Harry breaking his leg, you’d choose the broken leg,” she said to Sav.

“While that may be true,” Savannah paused. “Yeah, I’ve got no defense. I’d choose the broken leg. Like Rey said, bones heal,” she smiled sheepishly.

“All I got from this conversation,” Zayn mused, interrupting the three of them, “is that you’d all let Harry suffer from a broken leg if it meant getting what you wanted.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Savannah challenged as Reyna crossed her arms and stared him down. Alexa was the only one who seemed to have any sense of shame for her choice.

“Let’s put it this way, if I was given a choice between passing my biochemistry unit and Harry not breaking his leg, I’d pick passing.”

“So basically, we’re all selfish.”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “At least we’re all in this together.”

“Don’t you dare start singing High School Musical,” Alexa glared at Sav and Rey.

“Us? Never,” they said simultaneously, donning an innocent expression.

Lex merely shook her head. “How long until this game is over?” she asked Zayn, leaving Reyna and Sav to grin at one another happily.

“There’s another 15 minutes game time, so maybe around 20 minutes?” he posed it as a question.

“So that’s at least another hour till they’re out of the locker rooms,” she sighed.

“That was a bullshit call!” Reyna yelled suddenly, making her friends jump in response.

“You’ve really gotta warn people before you yell like that, Rey,” Alexa sighed.

“It’s not my fault the referee is shit. I bet he went to a public school.”

“Hey! I went to a public school!” Savannah said indignantly.

“Yeah, but you’re different. You’re going to college, that shitty ref is not,” she grumbled, pulling out a bottle of water.

“Actually,” Zayn squinted down at the field. “I think he’s a professor at King’s.”

“That’s bloody worse! Bias is a real thing people,” Reyna ranted.

“You don’t even like football,” Sav said, exasperated.

“That’s not the point. Do you want us to lose against King’s?” she glared at her friends, who shot her equal looks of disdain at the mention of their rival university. “Exactly, then I think it’s time we cheer because Harry’s just about to score another goal,” she said happily, just as the crowd around them erupted into applause.

-

“So, what did you guys think of the match?” Louis asked, bounding up to them as he, Harry and Niall finally walked out of the locker rooms.

“It was good,” Reyna shrugged. “Glad we won.”

“How’s your ankle, Harry?” Zayn asked, before Louis could say anything in response to Reyna’s less than enthusiastic response.

“Just a little banged up,” he shrugged.

“It’ll match his face soon,” Niall grinned gleefully.

“Piss off,” Savannah glared at him, her cheeks pinking up as everyone glanced at Harry’s bruised face.

“So, where to now?” Alexa asked, while Harry glared at them all, seeming thoroughly unimpressed.

“I need to head home to shower,” he muttered. “Dunno about the rest of you.”

“You didn’t shower in there?” Reyna gestured roughly behind them as they all began to walk towards their respective vehicles.

“God no,” Harry screwed up his face in disgust. “It’s a mess in there.”

“Also, last time he showered, his clothes were stolen,” Louis pointed out helpfully.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry scowled. “Bloody King’s students. I don’t understand why anybody would go to that rotten college in the first place.”

“Rotten,” Louis snorted. “My nan uses that phrase when she’s talking about teenagers. You know what I predict for you, Haz?” he held his hand up to his head the way Sav had seen psychics do at carnivals. “I predict that you’re going to be an angry old man yelling at children to get off his lawn.”

“Shove off,” Harry grumbled. “I love kids.”

Alexa sighed loudly, garnering everyone’s attention. “Is anyone actually going to come up with something to do because if not, I’ve got a couple of tv shows calling my name on Netflix.”

“We’re going down to the bar to celebrate,” Niall said quickly.

“Now?” Reyna put her hands on her waist. “It’s barely mid-afternoon. I’m not going to the bar at this time like some sort of alcoholic. Give me a week or two more of classes and then you’ll find me day drinking,” she joked.

“We can meet at Zayn and Niall’s?” Louis mused. “For pre-drinks.”

“Why at our place?” Zayn frowned, thinking back to last week’s party.

“Because, it’s closest to the bar,” Harry backed Louis up.

“So it’s decided, then. We’ll meet there around five-ish?” Savannah waited until everyone was in agreement, albeit grudgingly in Zayn’s case, before she turned to face Louis. “We carpooled with Zayn, think you could drop us off home since you’re heading that way anyway?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure,” he smiled, twirling his keys around his fingers before unlocking the door and allowing them all to climb in. Savannah swore mentally as Louis cut Harry off as they made their way out of the parking lot and watched as Harry flipped them the bird in return.

It was going to be a long drive.

-

“Never have I ever…” Niall began, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Fuck no,” Louis spoke up, taking a swig from his beer bottle. The group had all reconciled back and Zayn and Niall’s for a couple of drinks before heading out to a bar down the road. Where they had managed to find the energy after a football match, Savannah didn’t know, but she kind of wished she had that come exam time.

“Why not? It’ll be fun,” Niall argued, watching the random cricket match that was playing in the background.

“I agree with Niall… it’s better that watching that rubbish that he and Louis have got playing,” Reyna spoke up, shooting daggers at Louis who was not listening to a word that she was saying, his eyes trained on the TV. “Besides, it’ll let us all get to know one another on a more personal level,” she grinned.

“Right, cos knowing that Niall wet the bed until he was twelve is really something we can all bond over,” Harry rolled his eyes sarcastically.

“Oi!” Niall yelled. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!” he grumbled, before switching the subject back to the game - much to Sav’s disappointment. “So, are we playing then?”

Savannah glanced around anxiously at everyone else. If there was a drinking game that she hated, it was Never Have I Ever.

"I'm in," Harry spoke up, distracting Savannah from her thoughts. She turned her head sharply towards him, her eyes wide. She couldn't believe he'd just agreed to a game Niall had suggested - she couldn’t believe Reyna had either. From the short amount of time that she’d known Niall, she’d pretty much gathered that he and Louis’ suggestions often went ignored...except for tonight, apparently.   

"I’m in too, I guess," Zayn shrugged, rolling his eyes. "Not like I had anything important to do before you lot hijacked my flat," he said sarcastically.

"Fuck off, Z," Niall scoffed. "You’ve been sat in your room playing with paint since we got back."

"I wasn't playing with paint, you tosser," Zayn crossed his arms. "I was working on an art project."

"Really?" Alexa turned towards Zayn, her attention piqued at the mention of art. 

"Not now Lex," Reyna groaned from where she was frowning over at Louis, her eyes flicking from him to the television remote in contemplation. “We know how much you love art, but once you start you’re pretty much dead to the world for the next few hours.”

"I can show you some of my stuff later if you'd like,” he said, glancing at Lex. “They're not very good though," he warned as an afterthought.

"I'm sure that's not-"

"Excuse me," Alexa was cut off by Niall, and Savannah felt her shoulders slump. "You two in?" Niall asked Savannah and Alexa.

“Yeah, ok,” Alexa nodded, making Savannah sigh when everyone turned to stare at her. “Don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” she said bitterly.

“Louis,” Reyna tapped him on the shoulder. “Turn that bloody game off and join in with the rest of us.”

“It’s England versus Australia, Rey,” Louis said, barely glancing away from the television screen.

“All the more reason to turn it off, England sucks,” she snorted. “Cricket is worse than football, if you ask me,” she retorted, trying to grab the remote that Louis held away from her reach.

“You are the most uncultured person I know,” Niall muttered, re-entering the lounge with a tray filled with various alcoholic drinks - Savannah hadn’t even realised he’d left the room.

Louis turned away from the screen long enough to roll his eyes. “The only sport you’d willingly watch is the tennis,” he raised a brow, daring Reyna to argue with him. When no argument came, he continued, “And personally, I’d rather stick pins in my eyes than sit through another year of the Wimbledon.”

“You can always check the score later, mate,” Zayn said from where he’d taken a seat beside Alexa. They’d all rearranged themselves into a small circle in the middle of Niall and Zayn’s lounge room after Harry had moved the small coffee table to rest against a wall.

“Bloody hell,” Louis huffed. “Fine. But I’m only agreeing because it’s looking like England is getting their arse handed to them.”

“As usual,” Reyna commented, only to be ignored.

“So you’re playing?” Savannah asked miserably.

“That’s what it looks like,” he grumbled, grabbing a beer from Niall. “Budge up,” he ordered, before dropping onto the floor between Savannah and Reyna.

“Who’s going first?” Alexa asked.

“We’ll go in a circle,” Niall grinned, pouring everyone a shot and handing them out evenly.

“Shots? Really, Niall?” Savannah rolled her eyes, taking her glass from Louis. “You’re going to poison us all.”

Niall let out a loud laugh and Savannah found herself wondering if he’d maybe snuck in a few drinks beforehand. “That’s just to loosen us up, Sav,” he explained. “We’re not going to take shots after every question. That’s what the beers are for. Bottoms up,” he said cheerily before knocking back his glass. “I’ll go first then Zayn, Alexa and so forth,” he waved his hands dismissively, eager for the game to begin.

Savannah sent out a silent prayer before following suit, making a face as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. She considered asking for another shot, but decided that getting piss drunk probably wasn’t in her best interests tonight.

“All right then!” Niall clapped his hands, a dangerous spark in his eyes. “Hope you're ready," he grinned and Savannah thought he looked almost sadistic. "Never have I ever..." he trailed off glancing carefully at everyone in the room. His eyes lingered slightly longer on Savannah and Harry before his lips quirked up into a semi-smirk. "Let's start off with an easy one. Never have I ever slept with anyone in this room."

"Wait," Louis interrupted loudly. "Do you mean shagged or actually slept? Because if it's just slept then I've slept with most of you at least once. Sometimes twice, if you're lucky," he stated slyly.

"Shagged," Niall said immediately. "I definitely meant shagged." And Savannah was sure he had momentarily glanced over at her as he said so.

She bit her lip to hide a groan as she took a swig from her beer, refusing to look over at Harry. She knew, theoretically that everyone probably already knew about the two of them but confirming it during a drinking game just seemed a lot more confronting to her; as if she was sealing the final nail on her own coffin, dramatic as that may be. So when she took a swig of her beer, she might have taken a little bit more than was necessary.

Zayn was next and she felt like she’d be a lot safer with anything he could throw at her. “Never have I ever,” he paused in the contemplative manner that she thought only he could pull off, “gotten into a physical altercation,” he shrugged.

“Fight. You mean you’ve never had a fight,” Louis rolled his eyes. “There’s no need to be so bloody formal while we’re playing a fucking drinking game.”

“Oh, piss off,” Zayn retorted. “Fight, then,” he rolled his eyes.

Then came Alexa’s turn. Savannah assumed that most people would feel comforted knowing that it was their best friends’ turn, feel safe even. But Sav found herself breaking out into a nervous sweat because while they were her best friends, they were also the ones who knew the most about her - which meant they could, with a single sentence, essentially ruin her life.

“Never have I ever pretended to regret sleeping with someone,” Alexa said quickly and Savannah breathed out a breath of air as not only she but Louis, Niall and Harry also took sips of their beer.

It was her turn next and she was determined to make Niall drink again - not that it seemed like he cared. She rather thought he was hoping he’d get to drink himself. “Never have I ever failed to make someone orgasm,” she smirked, raising a challenging brow as all four boys glanced down and away from everyone else. She was delighted when they all brought their drinks up to their mouth and took long drawn out gulps. She was even more giddy when she spotted the significant pinkness she could spot on Niall’s usually pale cheeks.

Louis cleared his throat. “Right,” he said awkwardly. “My turn. Uh, never have I ever made friends with a one night stand.”

As expected she and Harry took sips, Reyna doing the same and collectively surprising everyone in the room.

“What?” she shrugged. “He was a nice lad.”

“Who was it?” Lex asked curiously.

“Someone from uni,” she waved her off, returning back to the game. “My turn,” she said cheerfully. “Never have I ever had to ask someone if we’d shagged because I wasn’t sure.”

Savannah, Zayn, Niall and Harry all took a sip, sparking a discussion as to with whom and when and how it had happened. The only one who had been willing to disclose any of the details was Niall who launched into a detailed story about a girl he’d met named Olivia.

Harry and Savannah shared a mutual grimace - whether at Niall’s story or the reminder that neither of them had been sure what had happened the first night they’d met, she wasn’t sure - before turning away and back to Niall who was still in the middle of a story. She sighed, tracing the neck of her beer as she waited for Niall to finish his tale complete with hand gestures and sound effects that no one really wanted to see or hear.   

“It’s my turn, innit?” Harry spoke once he was done in that deep, slow drawl he had. “Never have I ever,” he paused for a second, as if choosing his words carefully, “lobbed a textbook at an innocent person’s face.”

He turned to grin at Savannah, his face expectant.

“I hate you,” she deadpanned before taking a long gulp of her beer, glaring daggers at a smug Harry. “Can’t leave that in the past, can you?”

Harry scoffed, pointing a finger to the bruise that was still quite prominent on his cheekbone. “I’ve been walking around looking like a tosser who’s been socked in the face. I’m never letting you hear the end of it.”

“It does look pretty bad, mate,” Louis piped up unhelpfully. Harry’s attempts at telling the story to Louis himself had completely failed - Zayn had already texted him earlier about what happened - which meant that Louis had given him shit for getting hit in the first place, and also for not telling him about it as soon as it had happened.

“Thank you so much, Lou. Thanks for your input. It was appreciated greatly,” Harry said sarcastically.

“Alright, this game looks like it’s pretty much over,” Alexa interrupted them. “Are we ready to head off?” she asked, checking her phone for the time. “It’s almost half eight and we want to get good seats.”

Everyone started to get up and gather their things. Savannah helped Reyna pack away the empty bottles of beer, and lingered behind the group while everyone filed out of the door. Harry was still by the kitchen counter, shrugging on his jacket.

“I really am sorry about this, you know,” she said, waving her hand in the general direction of his cheek.

“I know,” he replied. “It’s ok, really. I’m just taking the piss,” he reassured her upon seeing the worried look on her face. “Come on, we should go. Don’t wanna be late.”

-

The atmosphere around the bar was buzzing by the time they all got there and Louis and Reyna immediately disconnected from the group to find them a table large enough to fit them all. In the end, they managed to all squeeze in a booth towards the front of the room, right in front of the mic stand after Reyna had done some negotiating with the previous two occupants. 

“Look, we’ve got a perfect view of the stage,” Louis commented, setting a handful of beers down on the table and seating himself beside Harry. 

“They are pretty good seats,” Harry agreed. “We got lucky.” 

“Yeah,” Savannah snorted. “Lucky is one way to put it. What’d you promise them, Rey?” 

“Nothing,” Reyna shrugged. “I asked nicely if they could pretty please move so we could sit.” 

“Right,” Lex dragged out the word, “‘cause that always works, doesn’t it?” 

“So I might have bribed them a little,” Reyna shrugged. 

“With what?” Savannah asked, sipping on a beer while she watched the guy up on the stage try his hand at some standup comedy. 

“Told him Louis would buy them a bottle of whatever they want,” Reyna shrugged, following Savannah’s line of sight. “This guy sucks.” 

“You did what?” Louis demanded. “And yeah, he does suck. Even I could do better than him.” 

“I told them to put it on your tab,” she grinned. “Not like you can’t afford it.”

“Can we go back to the part where Louis claimed he could do better than the lad on stage?” Harry cut in. 

“Yeah,” Zayn nodded. 

“I’d pay to see that happen. And for the inevitable show that would follow from the crowd’s reaction.” 

“Oh please,” Louis scoffed, “I’ll be the best act up there tonight.” 

“Oh no-” Alexa muttered under her breath, predicting what was going to happen before it did. 

“Then prove it,” Harry said simply, challenging Louis with a smirk while the others watched on gleefully. 

“You’ll have to do better than that, Styles,” he huffed in reply. “I’m not doing this without some form of payment.” 

“500 quid.” 

“Deal.” In a flash, Louis got up and disappeared amongst the tables, no doubt on his way to find the sign up sheet. 

Reyna sighed. “Look what you’ve done!” she glared at Harry and Zayn accusingly. “You’re paying the tab if he embarrasses us all.” 

“I’m out, I’m already five hundred quid down because of this mess,” Harry replied, looking stubborn. 

“Like that was anyone’s fault but yours,” she replied, rolling her eyes before looking over at Zayn. 

He sighed, “Fine.” 

“Is that how you rich kids play?” Savannah spoke up sarcastically. “Bet away the amount of a person’s life savings?” 

Everyone at the table looked away uncomfortably, the silence broken by a loud screeching coming from the microphone as the owner of the particular bar got up to introduce the next act. 

“Wasn’t that just incredible?” he yelled encouragingly to the crowd only to be met with a light splatter of polite applause. “Now our next act is someone a bit more local to us. Enlightening us with his favourite one-liners and punny jokes, we have Louis Tomlinson!”

Louis’ entrance on stage was met with loud, raucous applause - which, Savannah thought, might have been due more to the fact that he frequented the bar every Thursday night rather than his success as a local comedian.

“Good evening, fellow comrades. I hope you’ve been enjoying the acts so far,” Louis began into the microphone. He waited for the cheering to die down before continuing, “Now I’m going to start off the night by asking you all to honour one of our own, Mr Harry Styles.”

“Oh no,” Harry muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing as Louis smirked in his direction from the stage.

"Harry's been having, well, let's just say he's been having some 'performance' issues lately. So I just wanted to reassure him - publicly - that it’s completely normal, and yes, there are medications out there to help with that. A moment of silence for Harry Styles, everyone."

“I’m going to kill him,” Harry muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Well, can you do it after he’s done?” Reyna requested, casually sipping at her drink with one hand and holding her phone up with the other. “I’d really like to get this all on video in case he’s shit.”

“I dunno, he seems to be doing pretty well up there,” Savannah shrugged, as the crowd started laughing at something else Louis had said.  

“For now,” she shrugged, looking quite confident that he’d mess up soon.

“So anyway,” Louis was saying, “it’s quite hard thinking of a funny joke when I’ve got the friends I’ve got. You know, since they’re the biggest jokes anyone will ever come across.”

“I’ll help you kill him,” Reyna leaned over to whisper to Harry.

“No, no, but really,” Louis spoke into the microphone, trying to quieten the crowd’s laughter a little. “My friends can be funny sometimes. Once, when I was quite drunk, I texted Reyna - she’s the one with the phone, guys and gals. I told her that she was my moon and stars and she texted me back - and this is a direct quote - she said, ‘thank you. You’re my pluto’, then she linked me to an article about how pluto no longer existed.”

“I remember that,” Savannah snorted.

“Yeah,” Alexa agreed. “Reyna was quite proud of it. She showed it to everyone who’d listen.”

“Louis did the same thing,” Zayn leaned back, draping his arm over the booth behind Alexa.

Savannah smirked into her drink, turning her attention back to the stage. “Look’s like Louis’ done.”

“Thank god,” Harry snorted. “If I had to listen to another one of his jokes, I was walking out of here.”

“Then you wouldn’t be able to kill him,” Zayn said casually.

“Reyna would do it for me.”

“True,” she agreed. “I probably would have.”

“What would you have done?” Louis asked, sliding back into the booth.

“They’re planning your murder,” Alexa answered him.

“I can’t believe that was actually funny,” Savannah piped up, completely taken by surprise and ignoring the current conversation. “Like, people were legitimately laughing at you.”

“I like to think they were more laughing with me,” Louis shrugged.

“They’ve got shitty taste then, don’t they?” Harry grumbled in reply, still slightly annoyed that he was the first one to be roasted out of the group.

“Aw, don’t worry Harrykins,” Reyna started, cooing at him as he glared at her. “Erectile dysfunction affects about-”

“-please stop talking,” he groaned, running his hands through his hair as he sunk deeper into his seat.

“Alright, alright,” Alexa tried to calm the group, always the voice of reason. “Let’s all just agree that Louis surprised us all and that he did something that none of us would be willing to do.”

“Pft, I could do that,” Harry said stubbornly.

“Really?” Zayn perked up, leaning forward interestedly.

“No, not this again,” Savannah cut in. “We’re going home now,” she told them all decidedly.  

“We’ll talk about this later,” Zayn told him as they all made their way out of the bar, leaving Louis behind to pick up their tab.

“We’re not going to be talking about anything,” he said, charging in front of the group as they made their way down the street back towards Zayn and Niall’s.

“What’s the plan now?” Louis asked, catching up to them as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

“We’re going home,” Reyna said, gesturing to herself, Sav and Lex.

“That’s no fun,” he grumbled in reply. “You guys are grandmas.”

“Come again?” she challenged in reply, the cogs turning in her head as she prepared for a fight. Savannah quickly pulled out her phone and ordered an Uber, just in case they needed to make a quick escape.

“Let’s just pretend I never said anything,” Louis said quickly while Harry snickered at his response.

“That’s what I thought,” Reyna replied smugly. Savannah waved to the car pulling to the kerb, before walking up and greeting the driver.

“Let’s go,” she said quickly, opening the door and moving to get in.

“Hold up,” Louis called, halting her mid-movement. “You guys are coming to the party next weekend, right?”

“What party?” Alexa questioned curiously.

“The one at Harry’s,” he replied matter-of-factly, shrugging slightly.

“What? What party? I didn’t plan a party,” Harry piped up quickly, eyes darting from his phone to Louis.

“I did,” Louis said casually, hands in his pockets as he turned towards the street and headed in the opposite direction.

“Wait, Louis-”

“We should go,” Savannah said quickly, climbing into the car. “Good luck,” she said to Zayn, gesturing towards the image of Harry scrambling after Louis while the latter seemed to not notice him.

“Thanks,” he replied sarcastically, waving as he jogged after the pair.

AN: hi guys, sorry again for the one-day lateness but it’s up! let me know what you think xx 

[sasupk-blog]

32 nameplate Saturday night

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[infernalkrp]

HERE YOU LEARN KNOWLEDGE BEGINS WITH FEAR.

STUDENT FILE. KANG, Iseul.

PERSONAL. Kang Iseul, born on 22/11/1999 ( age 18 ) in Busan, South Korea. Currently receiving no scholarship.

ACADEMIC. Third year. Registered in the Science Department, coursing biochemistry and human anatomy. Currently ranking in Alpha Tier, assigned to dorm room AF-03.

SOCIAL. Participates in the Science Club, as member, and the Red Football Team, as member. Associated with the Project Deus, as member.

RESTRICTED ACCESS.

CAUTION: mentions of mental disorders and blood

HISTORY.

busan born and raised. at the mere age of 26, her father was well on his way of becoming a successful scientist. her mother, 24 years of age at that time, had a future that was far less promising. she was a writer, never found without her notebook, but had yet to sell her first piece. the pregnancy was unplanned, yet not unwanted. her father made enough money to support the three of them, and her mother could take care of her at home. for a while, they were happy.

few years pass, and her father has made quite the name for himself. he becomes very well respected in the field of human anatomy. he starts to earn more money, and then more and more, and becomes so involved in his work that he seems to forget all about his family.

her mother, on the other hand, starts to slip away into a place much darker. she had been diagnosed with depression before, as well as some vague signs of schizophrenia that had been easily ignored in the past. they become more obvious as time passes, and with the lack of care from her husband and the constant attention she has to give to her daughter, it was bound to go wrong. she breaks.

the stories she used to tell to iseul before bedtime lose their spark. they become stories filled with horror and suffering. stories one would tell around a campfire to keep you up at night. they have the same effect on iseul. she barely closes her eyes at night, yet her mother remains the one person she holds dear.

her mother starts to lose touch with reality. can’t distinguish what is real from what is not. everything is just in her head, but not to her. not to the voices that tell her that her husband is evil. that her daughter is no better than him. the voices that tell her to hurt them. to run away. and she does run away. multiple times, but she always comes back. her father covers up her existence. to the outside world, she is good as dead.

iseul inherits her father’s talent and interest for anything science. her mothers outbursts don’t bother her much, her father’s absence doesn’t either. frankly, she seems to be rather numb. always studying books, or out and about to inspect animals. dead animals. cuts them open and studies their anatomy in hidden places, then writes about all her discoveries.

not all her hidden places are as hidden as they seem. classmates have found her before and labeled her a freak and murderer. surely, she would never hurt a live animal, but she doesn’t fight the insults and rumours either. she simply does not care what they say about her–or if she does, she is very good at hiding it.

there were many more rumours about her at her previous schools and in her neighbourhood. some went as far as to say she would make blood sacrifices to the devil or that she had already sold her soul to him. iseul finds it to be rather funny.

she hates when people touch her without permission. it wouldn’t be the first time she seriously injured someone who wouldn’t stop bugging her or touching her. in fact, she broke the wrist of the first (and last) guy that ever confessed to liking her. it is not so much fear as the fact that she just really dislikes people touching her.

she was sent to amji by her father when both her parents did not seem able to provide her with the care she needed. he, too, had heard about the rumours about his daughter and did not want to harm his reputation any further than had already been done. amji could guide her to put her scientific talents to better use and rid her of her mother’s bad influence (or so her father thinks). it’s a win-win to him.

amji is good to her. she is finally able to study fully not only the anatomy of animals, but human anatomy too. she doesn’t really care about her classmates, or teachers, or anything else, still. she has never really been close to anyone and does not have any desire to be so in the near future either. humans are far more useful when dead.

she doesn’t really see the line between good and bad when it comes to science. science is just that. science. and whatever the outcome of an experiment, whether morally right or not, it is a gift to the world.

LIMITATIONS.

It is not because she finds her mother standing next to her bed in the middle of the night that she is afraid, nor is it the blood stains she notices on the white of her clothes. Any child would have been screaming or crying at just the sight of it, but not Iseul. What she does is highly unusual for a kid her age, or anyone in general (and frankly, that should be cause enough for concern). Calmly, she sits up in her bed, eyes raising to meet those of her mother.

‘Whose blood is that?’ It is the first question that echoes into the room, but is just as quickly followed by another, ‘did you hurt yourself?’

Despite the various violent outbursts her mother has had before, Iseul knows she means no harm. She is smart–oftentimes too much so. At times like this, she knows her mother is long gone. She is smart enough to know that there is a chance that she might get hurt, but that is not what scares her.

No, what scares her is what comes next.

Her father comes storming in and far too roughly grabs hold of the woman. As expected, the blood had been his. How, or why, or what–it doesn’t matter. It’s when she finds his eyes that her heartbeat rises. This might not be the first time his mother has struck out, but it is the first time she doesn’t recognise the look in her father’s eyes either. It scares her. ‘Don’t hurt her, it’s not her!’ This time, her flat voice finally raises, and it catches his attention for a moment. Iseul notices, and uses it to her advantage. ‘Please.’ Begging, too, is very unlike her.

The silence in the room is one that still gives her the chills. Her mother is as unresponsive as Iseul had been just moments ago–her father’s tight hold does not seem to get through to her, let alone bother her. It is at that moment that Iseul realises there is no saving her mother anymore. Not even her own husband seems to be willing to try; he finally lets go, and storms off right after. No words are spoken, but she knows that her mother is far too gone to come back to her. And that, even to a kid like Iseul, is something very hard to comprehend.

ASPIRATIONS.

No conscience. No morals. Careless, but remarkably perceptive. She might not care much for the rumors whispered whenever she passes her classmates, but that does not mean that she does not enjoy a little fun of her own. Sometimes. Especially when this one girl in particular does not ever seem to shut the hell up. She spits out false news like she owns the world, and everyone else just falls at her feet. Naturally, she is one of the most popular girls at the school, and Iseul just cannot seem to understand why.

Is it jealousy? Not so much as the simple wish for Iseul to get under this girl’s skin for once. Just this one time, she wishes for her to feel terrified just the same way in which she has made others around her feel terrified.

Well… not exactly the same way.

See, this is where Iseul and her classmate are different. Their brains do not at all function in the same way (or, as Iseul would like to say, hers simply does not seem to function at all). It comes as no surprise that her little gift is far from being appreciated. High-pitched screams can be heard all the way through the school building. They light up Iseul’s face in the slightest; it is almost creepy to see the constant cold look in her eyes fade away for just a minute.

Of course, there is only one person in the school that would go as far as to leave the heart of a rat in someone’s locker. She knows it; the school knows it; even her father knows it. Her action goes not without consequences at home, but the school has no proof and her father knows how to make them go mute.

Nobody ever mentions it again, but Iseul will never forget the satisfaction that fluttered inside of her.

BEHAVIOR.

Whether or not her acceptance to Amji has been positive is uncertain. She appears to be a model student. Studies when she has to, never gets into trouble and always manages to keep her grades up high. On the exterior, she seems without flaw. Take a closer look, and anyone would realise there is no bigger mistake.

Within Amji, within Project Deus, she is allowed far too much freedom for someone with this big a lack of morals. Experimenting has never been so much fun to her, and it shows in the way her expression has changed. It is not unlikely for her to be found smiling to herself; but it only fuels to the rumours that have followed her all the way to Amji. Some even say that she is not quite human anymore, but one of the ghosts that has roamed around the building for years. Some mention that when one would go around the campus at night, they can find her in the labs, experimenting on her fellow classmates. That last one quite amuses her, and it would not be beyond her to go ahead and try to do so in the future–but for now, it is complete and utter nonsense.

She is a model student only because she has what she always wanted, and because she loves to soak herself up in it. What would happen if that were to be taken away from her is something worth pondering about; but perhaps it is best not to dig that deep.

If she is anything like her mother, things are bound to get much, much darker.

[hottytoddynews]

Fifteen freshmen in the UM Sally McDonnell Barksdale Honors College have received a total of $466,000 from five of the university’s most distinguished scholarships. Photo by Thomas Graning/Ole Miss Communications

One is an award-winning poet. Another is an archer with a love of biology. And one is a violinist who also runs cross country.

These are just three of the 15 freshmen at the Sally McDonnell Barksdale Honors College at the University of Mississippi who received a total of $466,000 this fall from five of the university’s most distinguished scholarships.

Four of the freshmen earned McDonnell Barksdale Scholarships, six were recipients of Doris Raymond Honors Scholarships, two were awarded Harold Parker Memorial Scholarships, two were honored with Annexstad Family Foundation Leaders for Tomorrow Scholarships and one was presented with an Everett-Williams Memorial Scholarship.

“These citizen scholars represent some of the best and brightest students not only at the University of Mississippi but also in the country,” said Douglass Sullivan-González, Honors College dean. “We can’t wait to see what they will accomplish.”

Those students receiving McDonnell Barksdale Scholarships are Anahita Behrouz of Ridgeland, William Ray Bradford of Tupelo, Lawson David Marchetti of Jackson and Robert Cade Slaughter of Hattiesburg.

Doris Raymond Honors Scholarship recipients are Ainsley Parker Ash of Meridian; Nathan Lancaster of Ridgeland; Madeleine Louise McCracken of Austin, Texas; Tyler Jesse Moore of Little Falls, Minnesota; Kylie Elizabeth Rogers of Texarkana, Texas; and Alexander Lawrence Watts of Columbia.

Receiving Harold Parker Memorial Scholarships are Margaret Lee Baldwin of Birmingham, Alabama; and Sarah Marie Peterson of Fenton, Missouri.

Laurel Ashley Lee of Canton and Gloma Marie Milner of Boaz, Alabama, are recipients of Annexstad Family Foundation Leaders for Tomorrow Scholarships.

Receiving the Everett-Williams Memorial Scholarship is Yasmine Malone of Clarksdale.

Ash is a graduate of West Lauderdale High School, where she was president of the student council (and four-year member of the council) and received awards in AP biology, Spanish and personal finance while being named to the National Honor Society. She also graduated from Leadership Lauderdale Youth and the Mississippi Governor’s School, and was an all-district cross country runner. She is majoring in psychology.

A graduate of Spain Park High School, Baldwin was a National Merit Semifinalist; National Honor Society president; member of Mu Alpha Theta, Rho Kappa and National Spanish Society; and earned awards in English, chemistry, algebra, pre-calculus and U.S. history. She also volunteered at Children’s of Alabama hospital and the Birmingham Zoo, and was a math tutor. She is majoring in biochemistry.

Behrouz is a graduate of Saint Andrew’s Episcopal School. She was a member of the National Honor Society and received summa cum laude and maxima cum laude honors on the National Latin Exam. She is an archer, and she served as a youth ambassador at the Mississippi Children’s Museum and as an educator at the Mississippi Museum of Natural Science. She is majoring in biology.

Bradford, a graduate of Tupelo High School, was the valedictorian of his class and also president of the student body. He was a National Merit Semifinalist, an AP Scholar with distinction, twice chosen as student of the year and a member of the National Honor Society, which he served as vice president. A violinist, Baldwin also participated in cross country and track and field. He is majoring in biology.

Lancaster graduated from Saint Joseph Catholic School, where he was a member of the National Honor Society, National English Honor Society, Mu Alpha Theta and twice earned summa cum laude on the National Latin Exam. A Questbridge Finalist and Scholar, he was a member of the varsity football and bowling teams, along with the Gaming Club and the Astronomy Club. He is majoring in civil engineering.

Lee won awards in Mississippi studies, Spanish, geometry, zoology, world history, human anatomy and physiology, chemistry, nutrition and wellness, and algebra during high school. She also was a member of the All A’s Honor Roll for four years, was captain of the Germantown High School dance team, and was a member of the Beta Club, Spanish Club and Art Club. She is majoring in biology.

A Clarksdale High School graduate, Malone was a member of the school’s marching/concert band, student council and newspaper, and sang in her school and church choir while serving on the principal’s advisory committee. She also was a member of the National Honor Society, National English Honor Society and Mu Alpha Theta. She was on the Delta Innovative Youth Council. She is majoring in political science.

Marchetti, an Eagle Scout, is a graduate of Jackson Preparatory School, where he was a member of the National Honor Society, Cum Laude Society and Mu Alpha Theta, and served as Patriot Man, the school’s mascot. A poet, he was a Poetry Out Loud state finalist and Poetry Out Loud state champion, earning a national honorable mention. He co-founded the Jackson Prep Film Club. He is majoring in music.

A Veritas Academy graduate, McCracken was a member of the National Honor Society and earned multiple awards in English and Latin, maxima cum laude honors on the National Latin Exam and was selected as an AP Scholar. She was a member of the Veritas Academy Speech and Debate Team, where she was a state finalist. She also played on the varsity soccer and tennis teams. She is majoring in classics.

The salutatorian of her class at Albertville High School, Milner was a National Merit Commended Scholar, AP Scholar and a member of the National Honor Society and Mu Alpha Theta. An Alabama All-State Chorus participant and member of the show choir, serving as president and section leader, Milner also was a member of the Math Team and captain of the Scholars Bowl team. She is majoring in pharmaceutical sciences.

Moore graduated from Little Falls Community High School, where he was valedictorian and a member of the National Honor Society. He earned academic all-state honors in cross country and track and field – also serving as captain of the teams – and was twice named the St. Cloud Times Runner of the Year. He also played in the school’s jazz band and brass quintet. Moore is majoring in engineering.

Peterson is a graduate of Rockwood Summit High School, where she was a member of the National Honor Society and a Gold Scholar. Captain of her varsity golf team, Peterson earned all-conference and all-district honors in the sport while being a state golf qualifier her senior year. She also served as a counselor at Camp Rainbow, an overnight camp for children with cancer. She is majoring in biochemistry.

Rogers is a graduate of Pleasant Grove High School, where she was the salutatorian and an AP Scholar, while also being a University Interscholastic League Prose and Poetry Medalist and Literary Criticism Medalist. She was a member of the National Honor Society, Quill and Scroll Society, Science Club, student council and yearbook staff. She also was a varsity soccer player, serving as captain. She is majoring in English.

The valedictorian at Sacred Heart Catholic High School, Slaughter was a member of the National Honor Society, Beta Club, Mu Alpha Theta, Future Business Leaders of America and Hattiesburg’s Dream Youth Leadership Council. He also was a member of the yearbook staff and student council, serving as president his senior year, and played on the school’s varsity tennis team. He is majoring in public policy leadership.

A graduate of Presbyterian Christian High School, Watts was a member of the Key Club and Mu Alpha Theta, and was a district and state winner at the Academic Betterment Competition. He also participated in the show choir and in drama, and was a member of the annual staff, chemistry club and Beta Club. He played in the Mississippi Baptist All-State Youth Choir and Orchestra. He is majoring in public policy leadership.

For more information about the Sally McDonnell Barksdale Honors College, visit http://ift.tt/19h52gd.

Story courtesy of University of Mississippi, special to HottyToddy.com

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[infernalkrp]

HERE YOU LEARN KNOWLEDGE BEGINS WITH FEAR.

STUDENT FILE. LEE, Minsik.

PERSONAL. Lee Minsik, born on 05/14/1999 ( age 19 ) in Geoje, South Korea. Currently receiving full scholarship.

ACADEMIC. Third year. Registered in the Science Department, coursing biochemistry and human anatomy. Currently ranking in Alpha Tier, assigned to dorm room AM-04.

SOCIAL. Participates in the Science Club, as member, and the Red Football Team, as member. Associated with the Project Deus, as member.

RESTRICTED ACCESS.

HISTORY.

born in washington dc, to a highly prolific neurosurgeon and a retired, tetraplegic astronaut. moved to geoje at age 17 to live with his grandparents who have him enrolled at amji.

his father becomes dependent on caretakers, which has his mother file for divorce and remarry in the same year.

his paternal grandfather became a very successful real estate mogul in the late 80s, during which he either sold or repurposed family owned property land as rentals. his grandmother has roots in north jeolla, and married young, coming from an established family of academics and politicians. they’ve tried to instil a sense of filial piety into him, by having him humbled through ridiculous academical demands. friendships were never meant to become a source of comfort, but rather means to end. networking became a skill made important early on.

has a long history of being a cutthroat overachiever who places academic achievements above interpersonal relationships. this is due to parental pressure, and an apathetic and clinical upbringing. he’s never learned how to understand and connect with others because no one has ever bothered to connect with him.

barely interacts with his parents, since he arrived at amji. this is deliberate on his mother’s part.

LIMITATIONS.

There’s a recurring theme to his nightmares. It starts off tame enough. Long winded corridors, the usual, general lack of light, the occasional flash of teeth. It never goes anywhere. Just the same stretch of busted carpet he’s come to associate with his childhood.

It’s scarier when it’s brightly lit. He can see through the large, open glass pane into the living room. The carpet looks new, and whenever he manages to startle himself awake, heaving into his bed sheets, he can almost smell the cleaning agent off it. His mother’s always sitting primly in her love chair. Hair neat behind her ears, so he can see her delicate earrings. And then the walls start to drool. Fat, wet chunks of wallpaper adhesive in nauseous yellow. The usual headache kicks in. And then she hurls for his throat.

Sometimes her nails are a pretty baby pink around his neck. Sometimes they are blue. Whenever he gets a call from his stepfather, in his dreams, her nails turn green. They have somehow become his very own cosmical oracle. Like a shitty mood ring, but less gimmick-y.

She’d been a prodigy. Quick fingers, agile, resilient; and a calm demeanor highly regarded. Her diplomata took up most of their living room. Nothing of her had carried over to Kyungsoo. Just physical aspects, he thinks she probably dissected enough times to reassure herself he really came out of her.

The awards, the photographs, the long white coat but there’s something missing.

It’s not the never ending suffocation that really scares him. Death, he’d always considered alien. There are stages to asphyxiation. The first couple of seconds are without consequence. After up to a minute, acute dyspnea sets in. Then convulsions, loss of consciousness, coma and ultimately clinical death. He’d tried to visualize it. But it’s never about a state of being. It’s always the moment of clarity when he’s awake staring into the darkness of his room, unsure whenever he’s alone. A few times, he’s sworn he’d picked up the vague scent of nail polish remover in the mess of his pillows. He’s unsure of when it started, exactly. Just that he felt the desperate need to hold onto the belief that there was something out there set on saving him. That’s why he studied his horoscope religiously and occasionally phoned spirit mediums on late night TV, asking for guidance. He also consulted a shaman priest once, but felt empty after the seance and developed a profound fear against drums.

ASPIRATIONS.

It started contrary: an ordinary family, an ordinary childhood, and an ordinary upbringing. Throughout his childhood, he’s unable to shake the feeling that they are paid actors, that he’s a different kind of animal altogether. The family photo albums a carefully constructed narrative, the family dinners at his grandparents’ clumsy rehearsal, his mother’s affection a shallow performance, unspooled. He’s different, special somehow. A strange sense of self manifests itself in an arrogant streak he’s unable to tone down. He doesn’t know how to form meaningful interpersonal relationships because he’s convinced that it’s just all fluff stuffed inside of suits made of skin, mimicking human behavior.

Success is a rough estimate of how relative numbers are to social accessibility.

His father would say it’s an aversion, the way a child pulls away from their mother, his tame way of loving his mother. It translated well onto paper.

It’s stupid. He’d never wanted anything more.

His grandmother sends him to a therapist. He’s supposed to talk. Drawl. Rinse, repeat. There’s something calming about taking the back seat in conversations. Long intervals between words, a coherent selectivity. Passively. Pulling sentences taunt like fisted hair. Lead of awkward burrows. Self-help starters. It’s the only way he knows how to rotate between topics. Successive events that aren’t really all that descriptive anymore. Or of economic importance. And semantics are important. He doesn’t think he’d have survived a modicum of pseudo-personal “misfortunes” if he hadn’t stressed over manuals.

It’s always been, more of less, about coming home. Being hugged. Someone patting his hair down after a long night.

It’s better to repress.

BEHAVIOR.

He’d always considered the conceptual idea of space in passing. An abstract image, if anything. People he knew well, whose opinion he respected, considered it their livelihood, an opportunity. A choice. But his daily five hours of sleep were unsettling enough. His body would inevitably fold and dry if left alone for so long, inside a one hundred and forty kilo heavy suit, wrapping around him like a claustrophobic casket. Arteries shriveled, and lungs weak not knowing how to pump, trying to catch up with stale oxygen pumping through the cold grills of the air tanks. Muscles seized up through disuse. Face shrunken, reduced to a vague visual. His father didn’t mind the idea as much. And he knew his father to be resilient from experience. All his childhood he refused to bend, a skewed version of outwardly, confucian masculinity. Like reflex, the body unaccustomed to the backdrop of gender construction. He’d never been significantly close to his mother. Both his parents had always been very preoccupied with themselves and very little with him. Sometimes he thinks he sees something in the way his father articulates with his numb throat, coughing up words in between the grainy filter of his laptop screen. Their skype calls never exceed an hour.

It’s weird, sometimes. Thinking about his life removed of Amji. Or Hwang. He’s at the bottom of Amji’s social food chain for a sobering amount of time. He contends with an inability to communicate. So while school is never exactly challenging, most of his classmates are irritatingly competitive. He learns to maintain a polite distance. It’s only after he wins a national science award for something he barely remembers submitting, that his school life establishes itself a pace.

He joins Hwang’s petshop of horrors. Sometimes, he swears he can feel the rancid breath of death fawning over his nape. He thinks about the cusp of space, the immense weight of minus two hundred and twenty celsius beating his body dormant. The way two hundred light years away no one knows him as the son of a drooling mess of ruined nerves, or as someone with unassuming presence. A schoolyard reject preceded by his family’s shortcomings. There’ll be no trace of Lee Minsik. Or of Amji.