#he barely comes to class and he’s on no sports teams or extra curriculars but he’s at the top of his classes and everyone know him

[inkykeiji]

hello good morning let’s all give him the forehead kisses he deserves ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

[matthewbeilschmidts]

It’s been a long while since I’ve posted but I’m so glad that I am :’)

This is for Day 1: of @prucanweek - Ordinary

Apologies for spelling errors, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy 😭💞

-

Matthew doesn’t mind that he’s living an ordinary life. Really.

He grows up near the coast, two parents, a fraternal twin brother, and their gangly hairless cat, Tony (picked curtesy of Alfred). Their parents take them everywhere they can during their childhood, the beach, museums, sports game. They focus on their interests, figuring out what the two like and dislike, as they encourage them both to be themselves and do what they love no matter what. Alfred debates between whether he likes wrestling or football more, while Matthew settles into hockey. In between family get togethers, community festivals, and endless sports training, they somehow have time for homework. (The two share answers a lot.)

He and Alfred each have their own rooms when they enter their teen years, a space to decorate and fill with their own mementos and awards. The sports continue, but later their parents find themselves a little bit busier than before. They do though, give them as much time as they can during the school year, never wanting them to go without someone by their side.

Matthew fades into the background a little bit as they get older, while Alfred puts himself front and center. Matthew watches once with a hand over his eyes as Alfred auditions for the school musical, and surprisingly he read and sings the lines well. “It’s always the rowdy ones!” their theater teachers says after he’s finished performing, a mix of anticipation from planning on putting Alfred on stage and dread at the thought of having to manage him.

Matthew silently supports him, after all he has his own things to do.

He’s the co-caption of the hockey team, the coach giving him the position to give him a little more of a voice, and his teammates verbally agree, considering on the ice Matthew has a lot more to show than he does in person. He accepts, albeit hesitantly.

By the time graduation comes by, Matthew can barely believe how the time has passed. His team even wins a championship under his watch. Some of his fellow classmates look so ready to go out and experience the world, and it’s scary to him because weren’t they all going at the same pace?

His parents talk him through picking his college of choice, and he decides to go. He needs to do what everyone does and experience the world.

And if he decides he wants to come home, that’s okay because at least he tries.

-

He’s in his first art class during his third year at university. The time has been going well, he’s got pretty decent grades and has managed to join a few clubs. But he’s not done yet. Extra curriculars, can’t finish without them. He prioritizes his general education first, and even slips himself into a few major classes early on, but humanities is on record now and has to be completed no matter what one’s studying.

He can get through one semester, he hopes.

Next to him, a student is snickering and the professor doesn’t look amused.

“Gilbert.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“If you’re done, I can introduce myself now.”

The professor goes in with complete, in-depth introductory slides with her name and credentials, and a briefing of all they will overcome this semester.

He’s never been an artist, at least not one that picks up a pencil and creates a realistic masterpiece with nothing but that and a pad of paper. Maybe some poetry contests in high school, if that counts. The written word has its own impact, its own set of colors to breathe out for the world to see.

There’s another snicker, interrupting his internal monologue.

He doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know the student, and it’s not his place to control others. But, if it starts to hinder the class, maybe he’ll tell him something. He’s paying to be there, too.

The man catches him staring.

“Yes?” he asks Matthew without being spoken to in the first place.

“Oh,” Matthew flushes at being caught, not that he was trying to hide it anyway. “Well, she didn’t say anything funny?”

The guys waves a hand, making a “psssh” noise as he does.

“I’m just laughing because of how formal this all is. She won’t be this dignified later in the semester that’s for sure. She’ll be ripping her hair out.”

Matthew glances back, he doesn’t want to say anyone looks mean but, he would believe it if she was.

“You look scared,” the guy laughs, which is rude because isn’t he the one that just put the thought in Matthew’s mind? “She’s not too mean just a sticker to the rules. Will get real pissy if something doesn’t go right.”

“And you still set her off knowing that?”

The man laughs again, but this time around he’s actually trying to contain it behind the thin art easel. He’s not very hidden.

“She’s my cousin’s wife.”

Ah, that makes sense then? Messing with family is normal, but also he shouldn’t be bothering her at work.

“It’s no wonder you seemed casual.”

“She taught both of the lower division figure drawing classes, too. This is my third semester in her class. She’s the only one teaching this specific class I didn’t have too much of a choice.”

“Art major?”

“Yep! And you?”

“Psychology major. I have to get in some cultural classes.”

“Ever taken art?”

“Actually no, not even in high school. I got through that stuff by working backstage in the theater department.”

“Well not to worry my friend, because you picked the best one.”

“Is it easy to pass?”

“Nope. Well, maybe if she likes your work,” Matthew deflates at the blunt response, “but don’t worry because I’m here to be your guide.”

Matthew perks up, but it takes him a moment. This guy’s gonna help him?

“Are you any good?”

“Am I good?” He looks perplexed Matthew would even ask. Matthew has to cover his own amusement. “I may not look it but charcoal and I go way back. I’ll show you my work later as proof.”

“Deal.”

“Gilbert, since you’re adamant on talking, you can be the first to introduce yourself.”

Even if his name wasn’t said, Matthew feels just as guilty. Caught, for talking on the first day of all things.

“Gilbert Beilshcmidt. Fourth year. I’m an art major and my favorite breakfast food is pancakes.”

Matthew looks surprised that he was paying attention, even to the last addition of their introduction. Matthew’s not sure he would have known considering he was distracted.

-

And so their friendship starts.

-

Gilbert sits next to him again. And again.

Where ever Matthew sits in the art room, Gilbert follows not too long after.

Some days they take the sitting desks, some they stand and lean against the stools.

And despite not even talking much, Gilbert treats him like a friend.

-

“Do you have any plans this afternoon?”

“Nope, this was my last class.”

“Do you want to get some coffee and work on our sketch books.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

-

Matthew finds himself meeting Gilbert in his downtime. Every Thursday after drawing for three hours becomes the day they meet. At first, all they do is draw, little more.

Gilbert is animated in all moments, but he has short spurts where he focuses exceptionally on his work. Matthew is no art critic, but he thinks Gilbert expresses himself quite well on paper. Graphite, charcoal, and pastels, all the utensils glide easily without a single stroke missing its mark.

Watercolor though, could use some work, which actually happens to be Matthew’s favorite. Even if the intention is to guide the colors with a brush, it’s okay for them to take a life of their own spreading across the thick paper.

They share snacks, art supplies, and their time.

Gilbert proves himself very useful as he promised. Matthew though never planning to be the next Van Gogh, has to pass this class. And it would be nice to pass it with flying colors, but some concepts are harder to grasp than others.

It’s obvious to tell he’s a beginner, while Gilbert excels. Matthew finds out he only now needs the intro class since it’s the first semester it became a requirement.

Gilbert helps him find the shapes he’s comfortable with, explains the processing for hatching and how it relates to shading. And while he’s no expert, he sees a subtle improvement over the next few weeks that makes some pride swell within himself.

-

“Do you want to come with me and my friends to this cool bar for dinner on Friday?” Gilbert asks about a month into the semester.

It’s the first time Gilbert and him will have spent time off campus.

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

-

Gilbert’s friends are just as animated as he, it’s almost hard to keep up. Overwhelming as they are, they’re extremely welcoming. Matthew eases into the atmosphere, joining in when he can but mostly pleased to be out and doing something different.

He’s made friends during his time, but like him they’re a little more reserved and pick quieter places on the town.

It’s fun. And he wants to go out again.

Matthew invites Gilbert and his friends to watch his next hockey game.

After their shock in finding out he plays such a violent sport, they’re all agreeing and planning to find the best seats in the arena.

-

“Are you serious. Are you hiding muscles under that red sweater?”

Gilbert pokes at him, it tickles when he gets closer to his biceps, but he knows he’s only teasing.

“You think I’m playing but I’m serious! You should have been there, well you were there. On the stands, I mean. We all screamed after you sent that player flying against the wall.”

Gilbert recreates the motions, but only slams himself into the wall and whines after he bounces back. He then plays it off like it doesn’t hurt. Gilbert’s not a very good actor.

People tell him it’s so much different watching him on the ice, but it’s still him. He’s always wondered how much different, he feels like himself. He just knows he goes into the zone when he’s in his gear. He just wants to win. And he will.

“It’s like night day,” Gilbert continues. “You were ready to kill a man down there.”

“You’re not the first to say that. I guess maybe, I could be a little more out there in real life, huh?”

Gilbert stops walking.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“You’re perfectly fine the way you are. I like the way you are, so don’t go change. I don’t want to be at risk of dying during art class.”

And as silly as it sounds, he’s pleased. He likes Gilbert a whole lot, too. Just the way he is.

-

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” Matthew takes the initiative.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, just you and me. I want to take you out.”

“Like you did to that guy on the court,” Gilbert laughs nervously.

“On a date. Gilbert, would you like go out with me?”

He says yes.

Later that evening when he’s heading home, Gilbert starts running through the courtyard cheering that “I have a date with the cutest guy I’ve ever met!”

Matthew’s window is open, he’s face is bright red and he slams head first into his pillow. He needs to plan the best first date ever.

-

Three months into dating, he’s finally heading home again for a school break. He wants to take Gilbert with him, who is waiting for the next major holiday to go back home. But isn’t it too soon? They haven’t been dating that long, after all.

But Gilbert surprises him, and jokingly says he wants to go with him because he’ll miss him too much while he’s gone. And then, Matthew asks if he seriously wants to go.

“I do.”

So they ride the 3 hours train down to Matthew’s childhood home. He’s a little bit nervous, because he’s had dates to school dances, and brought friends over, but this is entirely different. This is someone he wants to take a serious step with, even if the time hasn’t been that long. They’ll never get anywhere if they don’t, so they’ll both take the leap and pray it works out.

“Mom, dad, Alfred, this is Gilbert.”

It’s the most timid Matthew’s ever seen him.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Matthew’s boyfriend.”

After he shakes all their hands, he takes his hand back to link pinkies with Matthew.

There’s not an once of regret in his mind as the long weekend passes.

-

Gilbert graduates the next year, and the year after it’s his turn. They’re going to move in with each other. Gilbert really has no irresistible urge to go back to his home town, satisfied with just visiting a few times a year. And Matthew thinks he would like to go back closer, just to figure out his next move. So, they go together.

It’s only a one bedroom, but is more than enough space for them both. Gilbert finds work as a docent while Matthew works for a second degree in education.

He still plays hockey for a local league, Gilbert becoming their number one fan. They find their own rhythm, a pace that works for them both, where they can settle down or speed up when they agree with each other. Dewey mornings, warm summers, chilly evenings they spend them altogether.

They decide move up North closer to Gilbert’s hometown. Matthew’s more nervous meeting his grandparents than he was introducing Gilbert to his own family, but Gilbert assures him again and again they’re just a stuffy old family who actually really care about each other a lot more than they let off.

Gilbert’s grandfather towers over him, despite being a hair above 6 feet. He’s silent, eyes boring into Matthew as he introduces himself. And to end all of Matthew’s worries, the elder man pulls Matthew into a hug and tells him he’s glad him and Gilbert are home. Gilbert, just as perplexed as he, stares, but he melts into a pleased laugh.

Yeah, this is his and Gilbert’s home now.

-

They stay, for a long while, contemplate moving a few times, but they’re satisfied for now.

Gilbert and him always make time for each other, continue their own respective interests with complete support of the other. They’re never afraid to complain, because they always work through it rather then let it simmer.

Gilbert’s vivacious spirit keep them going, and Matthew’s heart keeps them grounded.

His life at first seem a little bit ordinary, but how can he complain when the pieces of the puzzle fit themselves in and stayed locked in tight.

[beck-a-leck]

For the AU ficlets, I come begging for more shameless indulgence: Dr. Trent x Pastor Carter 48. meeting again at a high school reunion au 🥺

I live to provide all of the shameless indulgence in tumblr prompt form!

Have a little high school reunion Trent and Carter in a slightly modern-ish AU, maybe perhaps just some pre-moving to Mineral Town AU.

Enjoy!

Ficlet AU Prompts

Trent sighed for what had probably been the tenth time in as many minutes as he carefully smoothed the adhesive nametag over his right breast pocket. The woman who had been handing out nametags at the reception table had looked vaguely familiar, but Trent hadn't recognized her last name. Then again, she had most likely gotten married over the last ten years if the ring on her finger and the swell of her belly indicated anything. On the other hand, he was at his high school reunion – the likelihood that people were lying to try and impress their former classmates or save face was higher than normal social situations. He joined the small throng of people who were shuffling into the hotel ballroom. The same place, supposedly, that had held their senior prom. He hadn't gone, he wouldn't know.

He scanned the dimly lit room, half looking for any familiar faces, half looking for the promised bar. He saw the bar at the far side, across the dance floor where a few people rocked and swayed to last decade's top hits under the lights of a disco ball, past the extensive display of posters and pictures of their high school years. Faces taken from the yearbook, group and club shots, those silly little 'elections' they'd done, most likely to succeed, prom king and queen, et cetera, and then somber in memoriam of former classmates who hadn't made it to their tenth reunion.

Trent sighed as he scanned the poster for any faces he recognized, there weren't many, fortunately, but he still felt a twinge of sadness at those who were there. With an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach, Trent recognized the name and face of a former patient, a car crash victim that had come through the ER while he had been doing his residency.

Trent pulled his eye onto the next poster; someone had kept a mint condition program from their high school graduation and had tacked it up with a collection of photos of classmates in their caps and gowns. Trent had gone to a large suburban school, his graduating class had counted nearly 500 students – by his best estimate of people in the ballroom now and nametags left on the table, less than half had deigned to come to their reunion. Actually, Trent had thought fewer people would come. With people flung far and wide across the globe in their adulthood, high school reunions weren't really the local events they had been ages past. With modern communication people who wanted to keep in touch with each other were already in touch, and life updates were easy to keep up with.

Hell, Trent hadn't even wanted to come to the reunion, not really. When he got the invitation, he half filled out the RSVP email out of curiosity, decided against it, had to go take care of a patient, and then forgot about the invitation until he opened his email again and accidentally sent off a half-finished response to the organizers. By the time they emailed him back, asking for the rest of the necessary details and if he had any desire to contribute old photographs or help organize, it felt impolite to refuse the invitation.

Trent made his way to the bar, grabbed a beer, and not feeling in any particular mood to dance by himself, wandered back over to the collage of pictures. He scanned them, looking for familiar faces. He hadn't sent in any of his own, so he didn't expect to find his face in the candid snapshots of laughing friends. But he found his yearbook photo, stiff toothless grin, unenthused and too thin and pimply and his hair cut unflatteringly in a style that was popular back then, and already too stressed out not knowing what was to come though undergrad and then med school. Trent laughed ruefully at this photo of his younger mug, looking just as awkward and ungainly as the classmates surrounding him. They'd all felt so grown back then, seventeen or eighteen, and on the cusp of true adulthood, looking back, even just ten years later, they all looked like kids. Goddess knew what Trent would think of this photo in another ten or twenty years.

He scanned the group pictures, knowing he would be in a few of the club photos. There, science club, hiding in the back row with the other taller boys, and math club, the very small Asian-American club. Enough extra curriculars to round out his resume and look impressive, but still leave him plenty of time to dedicate to his studies. No sports teams, Trent had never been very athletic. His stomach gave a weak lurch when he saw the varsity football team, the quarterback had been Trent's first crush on a boy, but then again half the school was swooning over the quarterback so he wasn’t alone. Unfortunately for Trent and most of the school, Travis had dated the same girl from freshman through senior year, so the crush had stayed a crush. Then there, in the debate club was Emily, the first girl Trent had dated. They'd been together for six whole months sophomore year.

He scanned the photos one last time, smiling despite the painfully embarrassing recollection of his most awkward years. There was a photo of his homeroom class, in matching t-shirts they'd made for their last week of school. He scanned the faces and tried to recall their names and found that he couldn't confidently place half of them. The last time he'd spoken to most of those kids was the last day of school. He wondered if any of them had also come to the reunion.

Another body stepped up to the photo board, Trent shot the newcomer a sidelong glance. He held a cup of punch in his hands, he was wearing a black suit, his sandy brown hair was cut short, he was clean shaven, and – Trent felt another swoop in his stomach – quite handsome in an everyman sort of way.

The man grinned at Trent. "Goddess look at us, we were just kids back then, weren't we?"

"Yeah." Trent took a sip of his beer. "Find yourself in any pictures?"

"Oh. I actively avoided any group activities in school, and I didn't bother with school pictures. But I think there was one I couldn't avoid; it was one of the days I actually bothered to show up. There." He pointed to Trent's homeroom group picture. There was mirth in his voice as he pointed, "There I am, the scowling one."

"That was my homeroom..." Trent did a double take between the sullen teenager with shaggy hair that had been dyed black, with a number of piercings and a couple tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeves, and the clean cut, easily smiling man with shining eyes, standing next to him sipping punch. He hadn't been wrong; he'd barely attended school enough to avoid getting held back or suspended. He'd had no friends that Trent knew of, had been, as Trent's father liked to loudly complain about, a 'no good shit kicking gutter punk.' And it was probably only because he had stood out like that in Trent's memory that the man's name came back to him.

"Carter?"

Carter's grin widened, "One and the same. Trent, right? I haven't forgotten everyone, have I?"

"No, you've got it." Trent offered his hand, and they shook. Carter’s hands were warm, slightly calloused. "How have you been? What have you been up to?"

“Oh, all kinds of things. Last ten years have been full of change for both of us, I imagine.” They stepped away from the photo boards to take a seat at a table. Carter’s eyes swept over Trent. “Let me guess, you went to med school, became a doctor, didn’t you?”

Trent’s eyes widened, why would Carter remember something so small like his projected career path from high school? “Yeah. How did you know?”

“It’s on your nametag.” Carter laughed.

“Oh, right.” Trent’s cheeks grew a little warm. He’d forgotten that nametags included professional titles, if acquired. And Trent didn’t go through eight years of medical education to not be called Doctor. He took another sip of beer before asking. “What about you? What are you up to?”

“Would you believe I’m in the seminary right now?” Carter laughed and took a drink. “I don’t think anyone who knew me back in school ever expected the angry, goth, near-dropout would end up becoming a priest, but here I am.”

The laugh lines were deeper on Carter’s face than most of their classmates. The wrinkles by his eyes were a little more pronounced. There were hints of past gauntness, a hollowness that was beginning to fill out. He’d been prematurely aged, looking older than their twenty-eight years. Trent suspected that Carter’s last decade hadn’t been as easy as it had for a lot of their peers. He’d seen a lot of faces come through the ER, aged prematurely by one substance or another.

“A priest? How did that happen?”

“Oh, a little of luck, a little divine intervention, and a lot of therapy.” He laughed again. Trent really liked the sound of that warm, easy laugh. “I didn’t exactly join up right after graduation, really it’s a recent development.”

They spent almost the entire evening sitting at that table, taking turns getting fresh rounds from the bar. They mingled with other classmates, making polite if mildly awkward small talk. Trent heard “wow, a doctor!” more times than he cared to count. But at the end of the night as he got into his car, he thought fondly that tonight wasn’t a complete waste of a Saturday. He left with Carter’s number and a plan to get lunch together on his next day off.

[donghyuckcuyhgnod]

a jock’s cupid bow

becoming best friends with park jisung was completely accidental. your first two years of high school, neither of you really knew each other. it was a simple, “oh, yeah. he’s in my class,” type of acquaintance, a mere friendly smile in the halls and an occasional question about the homework. he had his own group of friends, and you had yours.

jisung had always been the athletic type. he was always the star of the game, playing a different sport every season. he was a jock, yes (and popular), but not the typical kind. he was never rude or obnoxious, and he never met the stereotypes of a popular jock. he mostly kept to himself, other than his small group of friends, consisting of five other boys—similar to him.

you were a bit different, however. you weren’t necessarily athletic, but rather spent your time doing extra curriculars like joining the art club, drama club, as well as the journalism club. you, as well, had your own group of friends who were interested in similar things to you.

however, no matter how unathletic you were, physical education was a class you and the rest of your peers were required to take. normally, you would try your hardest to make some sort of excuse as to why you couldn’t play whatever stupid game the students were participating in. whether it was a headache, too much homework, or a sore ankle; anything to get you out of it. but unfortunately, you had used those excuses too many times, and so, you were forced to play a round of dodgeball on this particular day.

you had seen how aggressive the boys in your class could get during this game, especially the competitive ones. they would whip the hard, rubber balls at whoever was in their way, with absolutely no mercy and no speed control. you would blink and a ball would be right at your face. judging how you were when it came to sports, you knew this was a bad idea.

for a while, you had been doing alright. staying in the back corner was your form of defense, away from the middle and the front where the balls came at full speed, and too high above the ground to be accidental. by the time they got to you (in the back), they were slower and lower, and easier to dodge. and you didn’t dare try to hit anyone on the opposing team; you weren’t that idiotic.

and somehow, your whimpy, pathetic survival strategy had gotten you through most of the game. after a few minutes, you found that you were one of only two people left on your team. the other being a boy named lee jeno. the three people left on the opposing team was park jisung, na jaemin, and huang renjun. who, coincidentally, were all part of the same friend group. which initially led to a bit more aggressiveness when throwing the balls; it was a simple case of you’re my friend—therefore, i can hit you as hard as i want without feeling bad for laughing.

and just as park jisung went to throw what seemed like an extremely aggressive throw, renjun and jaemin had been goofing around and mocking their friend who happened to be your only hope in winning the game. you knew you were useless, so you figured that getting hit on purpose was probably the best option. and just as jisung went to throw the ball at jeno, his two goofy friends bumped into him; causing his arm to go sideways just as he let go of the ball.

and before you knew it, you were thrown back right onto your bottom. you squeezed your eyes shut in displeasure, a series of gasps coming from the other students at your hard fall. laying on your back, you felt a sharp pain in your bum, as well as a painful pressure right between your eyes, where the ball had initially went flying into you at full speed and full strength.

when you said getting hit was the best option, this was not what you meant.

“oh, fuck!” you heard a deep voice yell, before you realized that your teammate was standing over you, a worried look in his eyes. “jisung, what the hell!?” he shouted, your ears catching rapid footsteps that seemed to be approaching. you could tell by the way the floor nearly shook.

“holy shit, i-i’m so sorry! i was aiming for jeno, not you! oh, god, you’re bleeding!” a frantic and panicked jisung had popped into your vision, his voice laced in pure worry and disbelief. you quickly lifted your hand up to your nose, and sure enough, you were bleeding.

“nice job, jisung! you gave her a bloody nose!” jeno said, sarcasm laced in his voice.

“wait a minute- i- my hand slipped- i’m sorry!” jisung whined.

you groaned in pain, a sudden pressure overcoming your nose. you quickly sat up, shocking the two boys that were knelt beside you.

“holy fuck, i feel like i just got a nose job!” you shrieked, causing jeno to laugh out loud at your unexpected reaction. jisung, however, was overcome with guilt as he offered to take you to the nurses office. of course, you had told him you would be fine, but your teacher had insisted you take up jisung’s offer.

in the nurses office, jisung couldn’t seem to stop apologizing.

“y/n, i’m so sorry. really, i wasn’t aiming for you. if it wasn’t for jaemin and renjun, the ball wouldn’t have hit you! i didn’t mean to, sincerely!”

“jisung, it’s alright! it’s not like i’m dying or anything, it’s just a stupid bloody nose. an ice pack and i’ll be fine. really, you don’t need to worry,” you had said, which ultimately shut him up. after reassuring him several times throughout your nurse visit, he had finally come to terms with the fact that you weren’t mad at him. and so, with your head tilted back and your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose, the two of you had started a conversation about the homework from your shared chemistry class.

fast forward two months later, and you and jisung were practically attached at the hip. you found yourself sitting with jisung and his jock friends at lunch, and hanging out with them after school and on the weekends. instead of spending your time at your normal after school clubs, you now spent your time at school games and practices in support of your new friends, especially jisung. you no longer wore baggy knitted sweaters to keep you warm, but rather jisung’s letterman jacket that he loved oh, so much. you weren’t sure how or when it happened, but you found yourself falling for him in just a mere two months.

and it seemed that everyone could clearly see he felt the exact same way about you. his friends (now yours as well) had constantly made you aware of his feelings towards you but you always denied. there was no way someone like park jisung could like you as more than a friend, or so you thought. even your classmates outside of your friends—old and new—had seen the obvious adoration the two of you felt for each other. it was so blatant, and so insanely obvious how much you liked each other.

and when jisung had asked you out for the first time, despite your constant denial of liking him, you simply couldn’t say no. a feeling of overwhelming excitement had overcome you, a ginormous, full-teeth smile taking over your features as you said the words, “yes, of course i’ll go on a date with you.”

and just a year later, your relationship with jisung was going strong; your feelings for him increasing every single day, your bond only strengthening as time went on. you truly felt that you were dating your best friend.

and fast forward to now, just two days before your highschool graduation. somehow, you convinced jisung to help you set up the football field for the upcoming event. it took a lot of begging, but he ultimately agreed with a roll of his eyes, a small smile on his face nonetheless.

“jisung, can you pass me that banner?” you say, reaching your hand out as he hands you the said item. as you begin pinning the banner to the fence, jisung hums in curiosity.

“i wonder what chenle is going to say in his speech at the graduation. y’know, being class president and all,” he says. you laugh at the thought, causing a smile to appear on jisung’s face.

“who knows what he’ll say? probably something stupid about the cafeteria food,” you respond. jisung laughs in agreement, helping you step off of the ladder you were standing on just a moment ago.

you sigh in satisfaction, looking around the large field at all of the decorations you and a few others students had put up. “i can’t believe we’re graduating soon,” you say, turning to your boyfriend as he nodded his head.

“yeah, i know. it feels like just yesterday when i hit you in the face with a dodgeball,” he says. hitting him on the shoulder, you laugh.

“holy shit, i forgot about that!” a smile makes it way to your face, your eyes widening in remembrance as the memory floods through you. “you were so worried—you thought you killed me or something!”

“i thought i gave you a concussion! we barely knew each other at the time. how was i supposed to know you weren’t gonna sue me!?” he says, his arms flailing in the air for dramatic affect. you smile at him, pure adoration and bliss reflecting on your eyes.

“y’know, i’m glad you hit me with that ball. our lives would be completely different right now if you didn’t,” you admit. he silently agrees, and you can’t help but think that he looks so beautiful in this moment. his eyes lightly squinted from the brightness of the sun, his dark hair unkept and a bit messy from the wind. his cheeks red with cold, his lips slightly chapped, but still so kissable. his scent fills your nose, not only because he’s right next to you, but also because he had given you his jacket to wear just a few minutes prior.

an overwhelming amount of gratitude and love overcomes you in the moment, and you pull him by the hand closer to you as you look into his dark eyes, that holds so much love for you. you smile at him.

“i love you,” you say. jisung returns the smile, squeezing your hand a bit as he leans down. his lips connect to yours in a sweet kiss, only lasting a few seconds before he pulls away with a giddy look on his face.

“i love you more,” he responds. and the truth is, he didn’t need to say it back. because you know he loves you. you know that he will always choose you, and that you’ll always be beautiful in his eyes. you know that oddly, he doesn’t regret giving you a bloody nose in physical education class. and you don’t regret it, either.

you know he loves you. and thats all you need.

[kaijodono]

↳ 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 ⮞ 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 !

eliteimperialism said:  ❝Shitsurei shimasu,❞ Light honey brown eyes would approach the other for an inquiry. Out of the others around him, he seemed like the most responsible of the two. ❝Can you direct me to where I can sign up for kendo?❞ (Hiromi).

MAKING HIS ROUNDS ABOUT THE HALLS OF KAIJŌ, the disciplinary committee member assure that students lingering outside of lectures weren’t a thing.  Coeds proceed to their designated classrooms before the chime of the tardy bell, making for his work to be minimal for the day.  Blue eyes blink, taking in the sound of approaching steps.  Prompted to turn, he gazes over toward the culprit——only to turn his weight on a heel and INSTANTLY avoid eye contact.  Just his luck, usually the female students weren’t the types to avoid classes and make trouble in the halls.  Though, this one didn’t seem the type either.  What did she want from him ? Kaijō-Koko being one of the top national schools in regard of sports held many powerful sports teams.  Come the prompt of the newcomer, he is reminded that Kendo was always a practice there——a sport different than the one he thrived.  From the aspiring thought that people were gathering interest around the school for variety of extra curricular activities, the male felt a deeper sense of pride in his being a proud member of the student body.

But, he shouldn’t keep her waiting for a response.  He knew very well where all of the clubs were located for sign up this year; this shouldn’t be an issue for him.  But, something was … an Achilles Heel that often demonstrated his unbridled pour of testosterone even held properties of bounds.  In his case: girls——argumentatively, females in general.  He’d find himself stuff, stuttering, making an utter fool of himself should he allow words to expand.  Kasamatsu responds in ways he knew how. ❛ Un, ❜ finally, he voices ( barely ), lifting his hand to point down the east hall.  Shameful as it seemed, it were the best he could do——especially with all the bubbling anxiety overtaking him.

[nan2daisy]

It has been a long time since I have put pen to paper...erm...fingers to the keys...anyway. Six months ago our world stopped moving in many ways. COVID-19 has changed how our family works, and it some cases, how it fails. Never in a million years did I think my job would let me work from home, but it did. I was told on a Wednesday at noon to grab my work computer and go home. Never in a million years would I have thought my husband would be laid off after 30 years with the same company, but he was. He was told not to come in. He was asked if he wanted to use any of his earned time. He said no, thinking of the road trip to visit family out of state we had planned for the summer. The next day he received a phone call that he was fired and that vacation time was gone. Never in a million years would I thought I’d be my children’s school teacher or for some classes their tutor, or with some classes, a crying lunatic basket case staring at their computer screaming “WTAF,” but I have and I still do. I have been their counselor too. Hoping I am saying the right things and not making them feel worse.

We spent the first month completely quarantined in our home. Then we had to venture out for food and supplies. I am sure our story is similar to millions of other families so I will stop the play by play. I know we were not the only ones who thought this would be over soon. But six months in and my state has 36 other states on the travel restriction list. I am still working from home and my sweet, loyal, dedicated, hard working husband is still unemployed and job searches daily. Our kids are in a “hybrid learning mode” for school (virtual for three days and in person for two.)

I am not complaining, I am not here for any political arguments or even any advise. I know we are still part of the lucky. We still have each other, no one has the virus, we still have a house, food, clothes. We can still maintain most of we had seven months ago. We have learned to be more frugal. We have learned to give up plans we had, events, celebrations and road trips. We have learned to cook again, really cook, from scratch. We have planted and harvested a large garden this year. We have learned how to freeze part of that harvest for later. Next we will learn how to can. We have learned how to fix things ourselves, if we can, and how to negotiate a better price or barter for those things we can not.

I miss my friends. My best friend moved 11 hours away by car in June, to a travel restricted state. Sure we Zoom but it is not the same. And on the rare occasions where my family does social distance meet with friends (usually in someone’s yard with chairs six feet apart) it ALMOST feels normal. Same goes for visiting family...no hugs is a hard rule for me to follow. Especially with my parents. And I know my kids feel the same. My niece was born in July, we visited with masks and lots of hand washing for just a little while when my brother and SIL invited us. I have only touched her clothing or blanket, I have not touched her skin. I have not gently kissed her hand or played “this little piggy” on her toes.

I miss the extra curricular things too. My sew group meets by Zoom. We barely get to share a few stories before we run out of time. My sons Scout Troop meets outside and masked up. No camping. No handshakes. No high fives. Six feet apart. I can tell it is hard for them. At my daughters dance studio before the pandemic, a bunch of parents would wait in the waiting room sharing what was going on in our lives. We discussed how the team was preforming, what design we wanted in our parent shirts for competition, and what we were doing for the weekend. We would comfort each other in times of sorrow or uncertainty. We would support and congratulate each other when appropriate. Now we are not allowed to go in. Our ballerinas are temperature checked, six feet apart, masked, and have to stay in their box marked on the floor. I have ZERO problem with following these rules. If I did, I would switch troops or studios or not send my children. We have choices and this is what we choose.

I miss the hellos at the grocery store. No one recognizes each other in the masks. I am ultra polite to cashiers and delivery people. I have always been polite but now I feel as if I have to make up for people who are not. I miss the theatre, comedy shows and concerts (mind you, I have never been rich so I am talking local theatre and one concert of a well known band every few years [2020 was supposed to be my year and Night Ranger was the band], but mostly just local artist shows at local places). I miss the local festivals and craft shows. I was never really into sports besides watching Jeff Gordon in his prime in NASCAR but I sure do miss the photos of my friends kids in the games that they used to post on Facebook/Instagram.

There are some things I want back and there are things I never want to see again. I have tried hard to find what little good I could, spread what good I could. I have watched people and I have observed some of the worst behavior before and during all of this. My circle tightened just a bit.

My resolutions for 2021 are already made. They are just waiting for an all clear that seems to be out of our reach right now. So I will make them my resolutions for the rest of 2020:

Be kind. Be consistent. Be helpful. Be mindful. Be courteous. Show love. Show respect. Breathe. Learn. Stand up. Stand in between if necessary. Grow. Repeat.

[rikkuwritestuff]

Happy Accidents Ch 2

Locating Prompto was not a grueling task. His dedication to photography landed him the head photographer position not only on the school newspaper but also Chief Photographer in yearbook. Was he over loaded with extracurriculars? Yes, to the point that he had turned to one of the few exchange students to help him with his foreign studies and Niflheim language class while the other was his science partner. He needed these extra credits, the volunteering references, top grades, and the best test scores he could get if he was ever going to be accepted into the Royal University of Art in Tenebrae. Sure it would be far from home, but that did not matter since his parents where rarely, if ever, home when he was, and RUA at Tenebrae had the only Photography Department worthy of prestige and affordable outside of Accordio University. With all this extra work he had to do, it was becoming a real pain in his ass to get into. Prompto had dreams, and those dreams including attending RUA Tenebrae.

Even if it was a long shot, Prompto would not count himself out even if he did apply to The South Insomnia Institute, whose tiny underfunded fine arts department was still better than the nonexistent one at the University of Insomnia. After all don’t count your chocobo’s till they’re hatched; to reach his dreams Prompto placed his chocobo eggs in any basket he could find even if he had two years to go to prepare, that was two years for him to build up volunteer hours, extra curriculars, and even sports which was just another reason he had went to Loqi Tummelt, the Niflheim student that had not just exchanged into the school, his family happened to be the Imperial Ambassadors, the face of Gralea in the country of Lucis.

Oddly enough, for being of noble birth the young Tummelt and Prompto had turn out to be fast friends, Loqi once commenting that Prompto reminded him of someone and of his country nor did it hurt that Loqi was not to terrible to look at and that accent.

Oh Ifrit, that accent.

Prompto shook his head, lifting the 8x10 from the acetic acid careful to not drop and ruin the developing image. It was a beautiful shot one that he would treasure forever and that’s why Prompto felt the need to take his time and properly develop the image, not just fiddle around in IMPShope to adjust the tone, saturations, and hue. Noctis, Prompto smiled remember the thin fog that had risen from damp earth a few days ago, always made a perfect subject. Even if the Prince was not aware that his picture had been taken but that morning had been perfect. A late summer rain shower had rushed in, a heavy squall, that instantly cooled the air with full droplets of rain before it moved on. In the aftermath the warm earth, littered with early autumn leaves, steamed puffs of fog rising and casting an ethereal scene over the school quad, the Prince and another student having taken refugee under one of the trees that clung to its barely green leaves.

Staring into the finishing wash at the image as it cleared, Prompto breathe in and held the breath for a millisecond, respiring his crush on the Prince. His future was physically laying before him, Photography, so his dedication to it came before his dumb crush on Prince Noctis. With that went his obsession of being good enough, thin enough, perfect enough for Noctis which had taken over once, so now these next four years where dedicated to him, his self and elevating Prompto to reach those goals. Admittance to Tenebrae’s Royal University of Art and whatever else may come, not only would he reach that goal, but he would smash it.

His biggest hurdle would be the extra curriculars, track tryouts were tomorrow afternoon, and even with his growth spurt and the exhaustive workout routine, Prompto could only hope to get on the competition team. On top of that the Ardent High Photography Club was going to be him and two senior girls, Luna and Stella Nox Fleuret, twins and guest of the crown city that had decided to continue their education as well as the photography club from last year. Now all they needed was a fourth member to qualify for the school rush later in the week and become a full-fledged Ardent High Club.

He would work out how to fit in the school newspaper, it may be hard with track, photography club and his regular academics, but his needs and the newspaper’s had aligned and having a photographer that was eager to take on any assignment, even if that meant staying later on Friday nights for football games, was nothing if it got him closer to an acceptance letter.

Aware of the long nights and days ahead of him, Prompto poked the picture, submerging it down into the bath. I can do this, I got it down. Beside the extra curriculars, and school work and his weekend job at his neighborhood Bakery and fresh meat deli, a job he wasn’t legally allowed to have due to age but got anyway due to ‘familial connections’, Prompto wouldn’t have time to worry about Noctis and his disgustingly perfect face or if he was thin enough for the Prince to even glance at. Prompto was already running at twenty-seven out of twenty-four hours, no time for Noctis or to even think of just becoming his friend.

As the picture bathed, Prompto leaned against the wall a small notebook in hand as he added up his calories for that day. He may not need to be thin for Noctis, but he needed to get thinner for track.

Tropical Kale Smoothie, Peanut butter and crackers, egg, and avocado sandwich. Three plus four plus one ninety. Prompto winced, “Eight hundred…that whole bottle of sweet green tea, one thousand and twenty. And it’s not even lunch.” Pen scribbling over paper, face contorted in disgust as himself for eating two many calories, Prompto scrutinized the drying ink with unhidden disgust. “No wonder.” His arm dropped, hand brushing his sides where he still had some layer of fat on his stomach. Lost in thought, hand still rubbing over the rolls of his stomach and the upper half of thick thighs, Prompto did not hear the knob jiggling until it was to late and the door was slammed inward. The highest pitched scream erupted from his mouth, eyes wide as he stared at his assailant.

Aranea Highwind, a new resident transfer from Niflheim, stood in the doorway narrowed eyes glaring into the darkened room trying to locate him. “Oh, there you are.” She smiled, her ears moving back and up, although her tone sounded like finding Prompto was the least interesting thing she had done all day

“Uh… hi?” Prompto swallowed, tucking his note book into the back pocket of his pants. “Can I help you?” Face cast in shadow, Arena’s smile fell as stepped into the room. Behind her he could see a group or girls but could not hear their muffles whispers only their laughter and giggles. The girls tried to peer around the imposing senior even as Aranea kept her figure in front of Prompto.

“Um,” cheeks burning from the sudden attention he was getting and didn’t want, Prompto rubbed at his wrist, “Is there something you need?” He stood on his tip toes to look past Aranea, the girls beamed at him and waved. With his sudden change, even if it was not as drastic as it felt now, Prompto knew he would garner some attention, a few of the guys in P.E. gave him high fives, some asking what he had done to lose so much weight so fast. But this, at least ten girls if his quick sweep of the room outside the black room was accurate, was not what he had expected.

Aranea leaned against the wall, her red nails tapping the wall between them, “Rumor has it that you and Prince Noctis are attending the Festival of Shiva Friday.” Prompto raised a brow, of course he was going. He needed to take pictures of one of Insomnia’s largest festival for the school newspaper.

“Well, yeah.”

The loud gasp, heard around Eos, filled the room behind Aranea. “Together?” Arana leaned in, whispering the word between them.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

What the fucking, fuck fuck?

Prompto coughed, brain running wild with this news. For a moment he felt like he was dumping information, like tiny Prompto’s where running through his brain setting everything but his ability to experience shock on fire. His throat tightened and he inhaled deeply remembering to breath. As calm as he could voice trembling still, Prompto leaned forward, “who told you that?”

“Noctis did!” One girl shouted as she dissolved into a mess of giggles.

“Oh” Prompto’s face turned red, thankfully the red light of the dark room was still on so none of those girls saw him flushed. “Noct, he told you that?” He stuttered, even if they could not see his blush, they would hear his embarrassment.

“Right after he told us you were his boyfriend, shortcake.”

What the, Prompto looked up at Aranea, Noctis told the female populace of the school that they, Prompto the fat chubby chunk and Noctis the Prince of Lucis and his wet dream, where dating. Prompto’s hesitation and the way his eyes darted from Aranea to the floor and back, he hoped his hesitation came off as shyness of being found out, not that he had no idea what was going on. As Prompto wondered why Noctis would pick him over one of the two Adonises he was normal seen with, Specs and Muscles, a little part inside of Prompto would always be carved out for Noctis – tiny and insignificant- Noctis would always have a place.

With that little place threatening to grow ten times in size, Prompto couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave Noctis to the devices of these girls. Brows furrowing together, Prompto looked up at Aranea, tears forming along his lashes, “he said we were going to keep it secret.” Aranea had to lean in to catch what Prompto had said, so he stated it louder, this time for all the girls to hear his heartbreak. Their secret, even if it was not real Prompto would surely act like it was.

Aranea nodded, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder, it seemed to satisfy Aranea at least. Turning to the group of girls behind her, she waved them out. “Let’s leave him be, ladies.”

Once the door was closed again and Prompto stood in the red light of the room slumped again the wall, Prompto rubbed at his eyes to dry them. “What the fuck is going on?”

[stvictoriasrpg]

FULL NAME: Alex Harris. DATE OF BIRTH: March 16th, 2001. SCHOOL HOUSE: Riccal House. DORMITORY: 8C. A LEVEL SUBJECT CHOICES: Biology, Chemistry, Physics, Maths. EXTRA CURRICULAR ACTIVITIES: Captain of the Football Team. TOP THREE TEXT CONTACTS: “gabbs” (Gabriella), “poLILitical” (Lily) and “sam my man” (Sam). STATUS: TAKEN, by KATIE. FACECLAIM: Michael B. Jordan.

BIOGRAPHY:

Fair play to the guy, honestly. He dated the “it” girl for two whole years before they finally called it quits. It’s no surprise he’s totally gone into hiding since her death.

Being a bouncing, cheeky lad from Winchester, Alex Harris was born in a somewhat “naive” society - surrounded by middle class Historians and a way-too-friendly family. He was the youngest son out of three, which meant he grew up a hell of a lot quicker than he originally expected to - siblings do that to a person, y’know? The society he grew up in was dominated by community; everyone knew each other, and while this was generally a good thing, it also meant gossip spread like a wildfire. You had to learn to find people to trust carefully and be skeptical before you opened up your heart to someone.

Going to St. Victoria’s Boarding School came as a shock to the family. No one expected Grandpa Jake to suddenly start talking about boarding school and funding the money himself - yet a few months later? Alex was sat on the train, flicking through comic books and awaiting a new adventure elsewhere. On his first day he ended up getting lost and having to ask a total stranger - who turned out to eventually be called Gabriella Davies - for directions. They became fast friends; their chemistry coming naturally, yet they waited until they were beginning Year Ten before they finally started dating.

It was the kind of “head over heels” love that Alex never even knew existed. They were both smitten with each other; sitting next to each other in classes, going on “weekend visits” to Brighton on the beach and making future plans together. The whole school would talk about their relationship, watching as they sat in classes making goofy eyes at each other.

Two years later, and things had gotten a little more…sour. But it was only in the summer of Year 10 that things completely changed. Alex had made the decision to stay at the Boarding School over summer to focus on his grades and sports without distraction, and it was at a random party that he met Amelia Nelson; it was an instant connection. Out of loyalty to Gabriella, Alex and Amelia’s summer ‘fling’ was never physical; it was never cheating, but Alex definitely fell for Amelia. She made him feel light, and safe, and happy; something Gabriella never had done before. Call it whatever you want; but Alex took the easy way out; he was too much of a coward to admit that his relationship was failing, or to break things off with Gabriella. Summer ended, and so did the fling. Even now, Alex wondered what happened to Amelia and looks back at their time together with regret and guilt.

Being mixed up in the life of Gabriella was toxic. She was bitter; manipulative; and would spend hours sitting with Alex plotting the downfall of other people. They would start arguing about silly things, especially when Alex would challenge her on some of the awful things that she would do to people. She grew jealous; screaming at him that he was flirting with other girls and forgetting about her. After months of fighting, going on breaks, and spending more time apart than together, Alex finally called things off. Truth be told, it felt like a relief to Alex. He could finally focus on the more important things, rather than treading on eggshells around his own girlfriend. There was something…twisted, and suspicious, in the world that she lived in that Alex was scared about. Maybe this was a good thing.

Gabriella’s death, however, hit him hard. It was so unexpected, and out of the blue, and it honestly felt like the end of everything - yes, he was a little dramatic sometimes. The overwhelming support that he received from the student body felt like too much. He couldn’t handle the sympathetic glances or the “i’m sorry for your losses”. His first love was gone, and had been brutally ripped from everyone’s lives. It especially didn’t help with the added guilt of what went down with Lily, and the fact that they were both at the apparent place of Gabriella’s death when she was murdered and they didn’t see anything. It made no sense.

When everyone returned to school in January, Alex requested a few weeks more to stay at home - his head was all over the place. He could barely comprehend what had even happened. Now, however, he’s finally ready to make a return and face the music.

[scribomaniac]

As Natural As Breathing: I

For most seventeen year old's, senior year was the be all, end all of teenage life. It was the end of many an era for the normal high school student. Most students knew where they'd be going to college the next year, or what career path they intended to pursue. Trivial matters like classes and grades took a back seat so students could focus on more important matters, such as friendships, relationships, parties, and, of course, drama. The year would be long, and would most likely drag, but most students looked forward to the first day of school with a jittery hum of excitement coursing through all their veins. For the students of Nassau High, that was exactly the case. The campus was swarming with all sorts of teenagers happily reconnecting with their friends in varying levels of pitch and squeals, groups hugs and fist bumps. Almost everyone was happy to be back at school. Everyone except for the new kid in town: John Silver.

John Silver frowned, barely holding back a grimace, as he made his way through the crowded halls towards his new locker. He was used to being new. The new kid in the neighborhood. The new student in school. The new freak to point and jeer at. It came with the territory of being a foster kid, after all. Especially one with only half a leg. He'd lost the lower half of his left leg several years ago, when he was only thirteen, back when he'd been in his first foster home. Now, at age seventeen, and on his second foster home, he'd grown used to the looks, the questions, the fake concern, but that didn't mean he didn't like it any less; and while everyone around him was enjoying their first day of school, and the seniors counting down the days until they were free, he was counting down the days until he ages out of the system. So, after side stepping a group of what looked like freshman girls, he grit his teeth and reminded himself that this was the last time. This was his last new foster home, his last new foster parents, and his last new school.

Finding his locker and opening it, John stored away several textbooks and his lunch, leaving only a few notebooks, some pens and pencils remaining in his back pack. Closing his eyes, he took a long, deep breath to settle his nerves and closed the locker door with a satisfying slam. John stretched his neck this way and that, then reached up to pull his dark, curly hair into a small bun. The late August heat in the town of New Providence was almost unbearable, and John could feel the small drips of sweat making their way down the back of his neck and into the collar of his shirt. He hoped the school's air conditioning system worked better in the classrooms than it did in the hallways. If it wasn't, John feared for his nose.

The locker next to him opened quickly, with a sharp creak. A boy with a shaved head and the beginnings of a spotty beard stood next to him. John wasn't sure how, but somehow the boy's locker was already overflowing with scraps of paper and several other bits of junk. “Shit,” the boy muttered as an avalanche of paper and notebooks fell out of the locker and onto the floor. John blinked several times before kneeling down stiffly to help him clean everything up. Brown eyes flickered up to him and the boy mumbled, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” John shrugged, handing him the last of his papers. Bracing himself on his good leg, John stood back up and adjusted his backpack straps on his shoulders.

“Hey, you're new, aren't you?” The boy asked, shutting his locker but keeping his eyes on John. “I'm Batholomew Muldoon,” he extended his hand and John took it. Bashfully, the boy shrugged, “But everyone just calls me Muldoon.”

“John—John Silver,” John gave Muldoon's hand a solid shake before letting go. Smiling charismatically, he added, “And you can call me whatever you'd like.”

Huffing out a laugh, Muldoon nodded, “Well all right then. What's your first class, Silver?”

Brows furrowing, John bit down on his lower lip and hummed to himself while he rummaged through his back pack for his class schedule. “Spanish with Mr. Raja,” he read, his words ending in a questioning tilt.

“Same here!” Muldoon exclaimed happily. He grabbed his back pack from off the ground and started walking down the hallway. He waved for John to follow, “I should warn you, though. Raja's a hard ass. I mean, you'll learn a lot since Spanish is actually his first language, but you do not want to piss the guy off, believe me. Oh, and never be late with him. He considers it, like, sacrilege or something.” Muldoon frowned, noticing John's slower gait and uneven steps and looked down to see what the trouble was. At the sight of his prosthetic, Muldoon's brows shot up and his jaw dropped ever so slightly, making his mouth look like a small 'O'. John quirked a brow, just waiting for the questions to start flooding from the boy's mouth, but Muldoon never asked them. Instead, he snapped his jaw shut, slowed his pace and continued on like nothing had changed. Clearing his throat, he asked, “So what's the rest of your schedule like?”

Looking back down at the schedule still clutched in his hand, John told him, “Second period, Calc with Hornigold, third, Anatomy with Mapleton, fourth, Econ with Guthrie, then lunch, fifth is Gym with Gates, sixth, art with Pretorius and seventh, English with Hennessey.”

Muldoon whistled low, “That's one hell of a schedule—lots of A.P teachers on that list of yours. What are you, some kind of genius?”

John barked out a laugh, “Hardly,” he said. Truth was, John was an average student. There was nothing spectacular in his educational history to support his placement in these advanced classes, but, after years and years of shuffling around, he'd learned a trick or two to beat the system that was standardized testing. Never one to show his hand, though, he merely said, “I just test well.”

“Lucky bastard,” Muldoon said with a cheeky grin. “Raja's room is this way,” he jerked his head to a classroom to his left and led them to a pair of desks in the back of the room. “Thinking about joining any sports?” He asked after they settled in to their seats. John pulled out a notebook and a pen and leaned back, glad that Muldoon had chosen seats in the very back where his prosthetic would be blocked from view. He knew eventually someone would ask him—the fact that Muldoon wasn't the first was a pleasant surprise—but why run to that bridge when he could easily walk? “I'm on the swim team, myself,” Muldoon continued, rummaging through his own backpack for a pen, John guessed. “We have open swims every Wednesday to get in shape for season if you're interested in checking it out.”

John eyed Muldoon's shaved head. That was not a look he thought he could pull off, so with an easy smile and short laugh, he said, “Nah, I'm not any good at swimming—barely know how to float, really.”

“Ah,” Muldoon nodded, “Oh well—what sports are you into, then?” He finally found his pen and smirked proudly at it before heading back into his backpack for something else.

John shifted his left leg self consciously. He knew there were plenty disabled people who excelled at sports. He just wasn't one of them. He never took a strong interest in any sport, and it wasn't like any of his foster parents ever took an interest in his extra curriculars. “Not really a sports guy, I guess.”

The teacher, Raja, walked into the room, shutting the door behind him before walking to his desk. The bell rang, and a moment later a dozen students filed in. “You are all late,” Raja said, his words clipped. “Since it is the first day, I will forgive it, but never again. Now, how many of you retained any Spanish over the summer, hmm?” Only three people raised their hands. Spanish was actually one of the subjects John was good at—one of the few. He was much better speaking it, though, than he was at writing it. That being said, however, he was not one of the students to raise his hands. That would lead to unwanted attention. Extra unwanted attention in John's case. “So none of you,” Raja said. “Very well,” he opened a drawer in his desk and placed a stack of work books atop it. “Come, claim your books and turn to page five.”

John grimaced, bracing himself. This was it. The moment the murmurings and stares began. He could feel it. Standing up with the rest of his classmates, John walked to Raja's desk and grabbed his copy of the work book. He saw the exact moment Raja's eyes landed on his leg. The man pursued his lips—clamping down on his own curiosity, John was sure—and he cleared his throat. “Class, we have a new student.” He looked down in his planner and nodded. “John Silver, is it?”

“Yes, ah—sir.” He said, staring at the man with wide eyes. He hunched his shoulders inwards and placed more weight on his good leg, really putting on a show for the man. He didn't know Raja from a hole in the ground, but Silver knew people. He understood them. He knew how to play them. And from what Muldoon had told him on their way to class, he had a pretty good idea about how, exactly, to play Raja. The honorific—playing to the man's ego—the slight hesitation—playing to the protective instincts every teacher had—the shy, nervous body language—it was all too easy.

Raja's gaze softened and he nodded towards John's seat, “Welcome to Nassau,” he said, and that was that. To John, that bridge was looking ever so lovely, off in the distance.

After that the class went by quickly. Since it was just the very first day of school not even Raja could get away with making the students do anything too mentally strenuous and before John knew it, he and Muldoon were on their way to their second class. “I've got Gym next,” he told John as they left Raja's class. “But we've got lunch together. Find me then, yeah?”

Something within John uncoiled with Muldoon's invitation. He'd spent plenty of lunches by himself before—it was old hat to him by now—but all the same, having someone to sit with would make these last few high school days much more bearable. “Yeah, sounds good man.” And with a final nod from the two high school boys, they went their separate ways down the hallway.

Calculus was next. John liked Calculus well enough. He wasn't as good at it as he was at Spanish, but it was a close thing. He could coast easily in the class, which he soon realized he'd have to bank on considering the teacher, a long winded bore of a man, made John's eyes droop faster than NyQuil. Next was a class taught by a woman with a fake beauty mark on her cheek and the scent of mothballs covered with some perfume surrounding her. The class was interesting, though, and they got to handle castes of bones. Their first quiz was in a week, though, and would count for thirty percent of their grade which was not something John looked forward to. Then was Economics. It was taught by a shrewd man named Guthrie whose daughter was apparently in John's class. Neither of them looked very happy about it. All Guthrie did was hand out their syllabus and explain the rules of his class room. Then situated himself behind his desk and began to read a book, his class all but forgotten. Eleanor, his daughter, scoffed at his behavior, gathered her things, and left the class room with no hesitation or fear. John marveled after her, but didn't follow. He already had enough people whispering about him—they weren't very quiet whispers—John didn't need to feed the fire.

By the time he'd gotten to the cafeteria, John felt blessed. Like he'd dodged a million bullets. He figured he'd make it until fourth period before someone asked him about his leg, or about his past. He knew he could dodge most of the teacher's inquiries either by charm, beguile, or their apathy, but Guthrie's blasé attitude took the cake, and so far most of his peers had been too shy to even talk to him. He knew his luck wouldn't hold out, but he'd savor every moment it did. As soon as he entered the cafeteria, lunch in hand, he spotted Muldoon sitting at a table with three other boys over by the windows. When he was only a few paces away, the bald headed teen looked up and smiled, waving him over. “Silver!” He waited for John to sit down and then introduced him to the table, “Silver, this is Joji,” he pointed to an an Asian boy with dark eyes and long, straight hair. “Billy,” he pointed to what John could only describe as a giant with puppy dog eyes, “Most call him Bones, but your choice,” Muldoon added with a grin. Billy rolled his eyes and a flush overcame his cheeks. “And Dufresne,” he pointed lastly to a boy with curly locks and the thickest glasses John had ever seen.

“Hey,” John nodded in greeting.

“Hey, what's up with your—ouch! The fuck, Billy?” Dufresne growled, rubbing his ribs.

Billy blinked at him owlishly, looking completely innocent. “Sorry, man,” he said, eyes wide. “Did I hit you?”

“Yeah!” Dufresne yelped, an angry flush settling over his cheeks and ears. “Lumberjack,” he muttered, returning to his meal and completely forgetting his unfinished question. John locked gazes with Billy and the larger man's lips quirked into a smile for a just a moment before he turned back to Muldoon.

“Did you hear Vane and Flint got into a fight already?” Billy asked around a mouthful of chips.

“What?” Muldoon asked, incredulous. “Already?” He looked at Joji who confirmed it with a nod. “Christ, we're not even done with the first day yet!”

“Any idea what it was about?” Dufresne asked.

“Eleanor, probably,” Muldoon speculated.

“Eleanor Guthrie?” John clarified, his brows raising high up on his forehead.

“Yeah,” Billy nodded, “you meet her yet?”

John shook his head, “Not really. We have Econ together—her dad's the teacher, I guess?” Again, Joji nodded. “She bailed early. Just up and left. It was weird.”

Muldoon nodded with his eyes closed, looking like some sage. “Yeah, well, she hates her dad so that's not very surprising.”

John wanted to ask why the blonde girl hated her father, but asking questions could open himself up for questions. He didn't want that. And besides, he figured he learned the reason why soon enough.

“I don't think it was over Eleanor,” Billy said thoughtfully. “If it were Vane and Max, then maybe . . . but not Flint and Vane.”

“Whatever it was, it was probably mind numbingly stupid,” Dufresne said, and the three other men nodded in agreement. John couldn't help but wonder who these men—Flint and Vane—were. They sounded exciting, interesting, and if they were feeding the rumor mill, thus taking attention away from John himself, then he was all for them.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, John chimed in with a, “I believe I heard someone say it was over some money.” John had, in fact, heard no such thing, but he knew money was always somehow involved one way or another.

“Could be,” Billy nodded, “I think there was some betting happening over the summer.”

“Yeah! I heard Vane lost big!” Dufresne added, and John knew the boy had heard nothing by the slight hitch in his breath before he spoke, but he definitely wasn't going to call him on it. “Like, over five hundred dollars, big.”

“What?” Muldoon's eyes were the size of saucers, and then he gasped, “Oh shit, here comes Flint now.”

Joji continued eating as he'd been doing this entire time, but Dufresne slouched in his seat, trying to disappear, Muldoon averted his gaze out the window, and Billy shoved half his sandwich in his mouth. Silver, curiosity piqued, glanced over his shoulder to see what this Flint character looked like. Mean, that was the first thought that came to John's mind after he laid eyes on the boy walking his way. He figured 'Flint' must have been nickname—since no one here seemed to go by their actual names—because there was no way someone with that red of hair was actually named Flint. He accidentally caught the boy's eye—so green, John thought he was looking into a forest—and all of a sudden John felt as if he were falling. His heart raced in his chest, working it's way up into his throat, and his mouth dried up faster than a California drought. With every ounce of his will power, John looked away from the red headed boy and tried to regain control over his senses.

Flint scowled and sneered at anyone that got too close to him before settling into an empty table and eating his own lunch in solitude. It looked like he preferred it that way, too. “Oh yeah,” Muldoon said, more to himself than anything else, “Thomas and Miranda graduated last year, didn't they?”

“Yeah,” Billy said, his face blotchy and his eyes full of tears from shoving his sandwich down his esophagus. “They're both at Whitehall University, I think. Right?” He looked to Joji. Joji nodded.

“He has other friends though,” Dufresne said sullenly, scowling down at his soup. “He's just being stubborn.”

“Flint? Stubborn?” Billy blinked, faux innocence returning, “You don't say.”

“He doesn't look like he's been in a fight,” John found himself saying. It was true, though. Flint's face looked normal—no cuts or bruises or swelling.

“Vane tends to fight . . .dirty,” Dufresne said delicately.

“He hits below the belt,” Muldoon clarified. Joji hummed in agreement. “On the other hand, though, Flint definitely doesn't—Vane's face is probably all sorts of messed up.”

John hummed, then stood up to throw away his trash. When he returned to the table, he realized his mistake. He should have waited until they were all leaving to do that, but now, having done it alone, he placed himself in a vulnerable position. He'd left the pack, and now, thank to his leg, there was a target on his back. He could see it in Dufresne's beady little eyes. His interest was renewed, having seen the prosthetic again. In sight, in mind, or something like that. And this time, Billy was to busy drinking his water to stop the question that came rushing out of the curly haired boy's mouth, “So how'd you lose it? You're leg?”

Billy snorted, water coming out of his nose. Joji closed his eyes, as if he were praying for patience. And Muldoon rolled his eyes, while hissing, “Christ, Dufresne!”

John knew the question was coming, though. He'd known it all day. He always knew, really. He just didn't know where the question would come from. So without even having to think about it, an easy smile—one crafted from years and years of practice—slipped across his lips, and with a slight shrug, John answered, as easily as breathing, “Car accident.”

And it was a lie.

[coalhill-rp]

Welcome to COAL HILL, CHLOE! Watch out, sweeites RIVER SONG and we should all… well… SPOILERS, can’t ruin all the fun now can we? Please make sure to read the newbie checklist and send in your account within 24 hours.

OOC INFO

Name: Chloe

Age: 19

Timezone: BST

Activity level: 6 until the 12th of May as I have exams then up to 8

Previous RP experience: Ihave a River Song blog at knownconsortofthedoctor and I’ve been a part of this group before. 

Anything else?: Not really 

IC INFO

Desired Character: River Song

Character’s birthday:4th of June

Second teachable: History or PE. As she has a degree in archeology she adores history but also likes to keep fit so would be open to taking PE

Sexual and romantic orientation: Pansexual; she thought she was bisexual until she realised she was very attracted to a non-binary flatmate whilst travelling. 

Ships you’d pass: River/Doctor River/John River/Clara River/Missy any chemistry 

Ships you’d flunk: River/Amy River/Rory or no chemistry

Character bio/history: River was born as Melody but really? Melody Song? She changed it as soon as she could at the age of seventeen.

She knew her parents loved her however she hated the enclosed feelings of boarding school and holidays were barely better and so she found herself craving attention or affection from anyone. To begin with she did this by trying very hard at school getting straight As in every subject and joining in the school sports team and debating team etc. Despite this the praise she got from teachers were lacking and her parents barely noticed at all. 

Her good behaviour changed when she was fifteen and her Father (after many promises that this job was the last he’d take abroad) signed on to a marketing job in Germany. After this Melody -River to friends- saw that good behaviour got no rewards and so began acting out. It never affected her school work but in class she became a lot more boisterous and dropped out of her extra curricular groups. The only adult she’s behave for was her history teacher who managed to keep her on track enough to get into university. 

River loved the freedom that came with University, she loved the attractive people more, and got her PhD with ease. On her first expedition River met Anita and fell head over heels in love. They were together on and off since River was twenty-three getting a civil partnership when it became legal in 2005. 

They were happy, being part of the same team that travelled the world together. At times that work was slow River and Anita lived in London close by to their team and River attended colleges/universities.

However four years ago River and her group were at an expedition and it all went wrong. The man running it, Lux, lied about them he safety regulations and a wall collapsed. By the time the rescue team found them River was close to death and Anita and the rest of the team weren’t so lucky. 

River left archaeology due to this stating to anyone who asked that the reason was boredom. She hadn’t thought about teaching seriously until one of her lecturers when she was taking a class told her they thought she’d be very good at it.

The psychic traits come from her Mother who always use to say that she had it too. River didn’t believe her until she was twenty-six and had a, she hated to admit it, vision of her Father falling ill and got a call the next day to say he’d developed pneumonia and could she come right away. Most of the time they’re little things that don’t do anyone any harm. She’s still got her fingers crossed for getting the lottery numbers.

Character traits: Positive: Optimistic, cheeky, smart. Negative: Calculating, a little too honest, sarcastic. 

IC RESPONSE

What are your character’s last three texts sent? And to whom?

[To: Mother Dear (Amy) ] I’m being serious you ask Rory out and I will never make you be my wing lady ever again. 

[To: Mistress Missy] I want a night of trouble and you seem to be the girl to go to. Any suggestions?

[To: Sass Sister (Donna) ] Please tell me you’re working soon? I need my Donna dose and I need it soon!

What would be your character’s last three social media posts?

A collage of her latest travel photos from the Easter break when she went to Costa Rica (instagram)

Reblogs of the latest GIF sets for her favourite shows; Agents of SHIELD and Criminal Minds (tumblr)

A tweet of some description of what silly things her students have presumed that really shouldn’t be on social media. 

What are the very first three things your character does when they get up in the morning?

1- She gets up and puts the radio on to listen to the news as she’s in the shower. 

2- Quite often she’ll go through her schedule for today (a habit left over from expeditions) making sure she’s got what she needs. 

3- Try to remember to eat something before she leaves for work. 

PARAGRAPH SAMPLE

removed.

[exitiumparit]

To make a cheesy comparison for the sake of effect, Jack was the Ced.ric Digg.ory of his high school and college lives. Really no one disliked him. He was definitely popular and outgoing and everyone knew about him and had a good time talking to him, and whenever he was talking to you, he never really showed like he cared about any kind of social clique. (Really his one social blemish was that he was Lily Wright’s brother, but you didn’t talk down to Lily in front of Jack and vice versa, they always, always, always, had each other’s backs.)

Jack was highly involved in high school extra curriculars--student government, yearbook, newspaper, radio club, choir, as well as playing soccer. (He would have played track and soccer, but unfortunately, they were stupidly in the same season, if you asked him.)

The kid made himself fucking busy.

When it was time to go off to college, though, Jack ‘cut down’ on his extra activities. Choir was dropped and while he had to take a couple of multimedia journalism classes for his degree, Jack honed in on radio as a focus. As for soccer, he could have gotten an athletic scholarship at a smaller school, but he didn’t want to go to school to be an athlete, and decided to stop pursuing soccer to follow his dreams of going into radio at a bigger school on an academic scholarship.

However, Jack Wright has a lot of fucking energy, and although he was a vain kid who enjoyed working out, he missed the mental and physical exercises of being a part of a team, but didn’t want to go back to soccer and lean too much on high school nostalgia. A mutual friend from high school who he’d played soccer with but went to a different college joined a rec rugby team, and Jack did some light googling, then joined a team on a whim.

Jack fucking fell in love with the sport and continued to devote time to it until adulthood and past his career, rarely missing practices. Rugby became his energy release, time to get out of his own head and be a part of a team, be a part of something greater than himself that didn’t have the stress of a paycheck tied to it. When he moves to Florida after finishing his master’s, Jack settles in with a local team and quickly becomes captain.

-Note, now we’re getting into more specific explanations of Jack + rugby, i.e, sports, something Haley barely knows shit about-

At the get go, Jack kind of tried a little bit of everything when it came to positions. Due to his smaller size, speed, and tactical eye, Jack gravitated to one of the ‘back’ positions that focus on passing and strategy rather than straight domination and tackling with the larger bodies. Within a couple of years, he’s got a preference for playing half-back, specifically #10, the fly half, the position that’s more or less the strategical liaison between the tackling forwards and passing backs. Jack is captain of his Florida team from this position and has the nickname fly boy from his teammates.

-Random specific sports jargon ending-

Now rugby has a penchant for a fuck ton of injuries, and Jack is no stranger to his share of them. He’s got tons of small scrapes and scars scattered all over his body from practices and games that he doesn’t think much of. All of his coworkers and peers are totally used to the fact that, hey, sometimes Jack Wright just comes into work with a black eye, yes we’re allowed to tease him about it. Some notable injuries

1. Jack’s had his right shoulder dislocated twice, once at eighteen, once at twenty seven 2. He has a thick mess of scars between his shoulder blades from when he was tackled, cleets-up by an opposing player that dug his cleets into Jack’s back and dragged them down 3. There’s about a three inch scar near his left elbow on his outer forearm from where he had a bad collision with a guy and had to get stitches 4. He has NOT broken any teeth, thank you very much, he wants this noted, but he gets sticky about anyone being mean to any of his players about it

No one on any of Jack’s teams knows that he’s gay. Jack’s not really all that comfortable with the idea of ‘coming out’ in the first place, and he really loves the sport and being active and doesn’t really want to compromise that. It’s a hypermasculine sport, he knows, and he’s wary of any toxicity brewing around there being a gay guy around, so he’d rather ‘wait for a better time to bring it up’ with his teammates.

In note: Jack really cares about rugby and it means a lot to him! You’re totally allowed to give him a bit of hell and fretting for when he’s injured, but Jack’s a grown adult and knows the risks of what he’s doing and he’ll get prickly fast if you press too hard or too fast about rugby being ‘reckless’ and what not. But, please, feel free to come to a game, he always loves cheering fans! : D

[thecreativecomposite]

Improve Your Dentistry With a Sports Mindset

Adopting the mindset of professional sportsmen to improve your dentistry

Professional sportsmen such as footballers or F1 racing drivers often get a lot of flack because their level of financial reward for “90 minutes work each week” seems incomprehensible when compared to almost any other line of work.

However personally I take a different viewpoint. World class athletes and other individuals at the top of their respective fields deserve a good financial reward, not because of their statistics on the field, but rather because of their adherence to a whole life commitment to a personal development mindset and it is this mindset that allows them to perform at the level that they do.

In this article I will be discussing this idea and why I think it is vital to apply it to dentistry.

Take the wage of an F1 driver as an example;

There are 21 races per year that last 90 minutes each and a qualifying session lasting another 30 minutes. This equates to just 42 competitive hours per year. The best estimate for an average driver salary across the top teams for this work is approximately £10m per year.

On top of that, the best drivers also get paid at least the same again by their sponsors and for other advertising deals that require very little effort on their part. This means that as a ballpark figure a top F1 driver gets paid approximately £500,000 per hour while “working”.

Now, this calculation is quite obviously flawed because an F1 driver cannot just turn up 5 minutes before a race, jump in the car and go. A lot of time undertaking physical and mental training regimes are required as well as team meetings etc.

But even if you take all of this time into account, the £/hour figure would still seem very healthy indeed and I can understand why some would call it extreme.

  My Viewpoint

My viewpoint, however, takes into account another factor which is much harder to quantify. Namely that the reason top drivers can expect to be paid vast sums of money comes from their attitude during both their preparation time and every minute of their time that is not spent racing or preparing to race.

Those that rise to the top of this highly competitive field and can remain there for many years are consistently the individuals that not only have high aspirations but are also prepared to dedicate their days, weeks and months to bettering themselves knowing that it is this personal development mindset that will allow them to have any chance of achieving their goals.

This means that although they may be among the fittest, strongest and fastest reacting individuals on the planet, they still strive every day to improve in these as well as numerous other qualities.

Without adopting this mindset it is possible that occasionally a “naturally-talented” individual may do well enough to rise to the ranks of joining an F1 team, but they would have little chance of remaining competitive there for very long as all those around them that do have the personal development mindset continually improve and leave them behind.

  Sports Meets Dentistry

Now let’s see if it is possible to equate this to dentistry. In our field, an individual will spend 5 years full time to study to qualify as a dentist, then during their first year will be involved in a mentoring scheme and regular meetings equating to roughly the equivalent of 1 day a week in the personal development mindset.

This is a big upfront time and energy (as well as financial) investment so not surprisingly after this, in my experience many individuals then do barely more than the required minimum hours of CPD per year as set out by the GDC. Under the new system that equates to about 3 days per year of “personal development”.

I am the first to admit that I definitely fell into this category after my VT year. I was enjoying life having recently got married and becoming a father and for a few years, I did very little CPD.

However, I realised after a couple of years that there was so much more I wanted to learn and more complex dentistry that I wanted to be able to do.

So slowly I changed my mindset and my regular habits and now I can honestly say that I think that adopting a personal development mindset has been one of the best professional decisions I have ever made.

It has opened so many doors for me, dramatically improved so many aspects of how I carry out my dentistry and has also come with added benefits spilling into the rest of my life with improved overall health, interests in healthier eating, meditation, Tai-Chi, reading, work-life balance etc.

  The Tools of Success

In terms of how this mindset influences my extra-curricular dental activities it means that I now use some or all of the following tools on a regular basis:

books and audiobooks on a whole range of topics

podcasts

dental magazines, journals and online scientific journals

Dentinal Tubules for study club meetings and CPD videos

multiple online forums

blogs from individuals I respect

webinars

mentorship programs/discussing cases with more experienced clinicians

conferences

training days and short courses

and maybe in the near future even more advanced courses such as a diploma or an MSc.

  I’m Not Perfect

I don’t always get this balancing act right. At times I can fall into the trap of setting my sights too high and subsequently getting a little burnt-out. At other times I can fall into procrastination habits of old.

However, overall I would say that this is one aspect of dentistry that was never talked about enough when I was training and I wish that it had so that I could have started on this path at uni.

  If this has sparked your interest and you want to find out how to have any chance of becoming the Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso or Sebastian Vettel of dentistry (not that I am in any way suggesting I am, but I aspire to continually improve and who knows where that will take me) I would suggest 2 books for you to consider reading;

Peak Performance by Brad Stulberg and Steve Magness which talks about how to achieve your best without overworking yourself.

How to be a productivity ninja by Graham Allcott, which has great general life habit advice and explains in detail how to create a second brain to allow you to make the most of your time and attention both of which are very limited resources.

Reviews of these books can be found here:http://www.drchrisharper.co.uk/blog/category/book-review

  Dr Chris Harper graduated from the University of Bristol in 2009 and has gone on to work in Devon in general dental practice. He is passionate about providing high-quality dentistry for his patients and also really enjoys teaching others to help them also do the same both locally via study clubs and worldwide via online dental forums and his blog >>> www.drchrisharper.co.uk

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from The Creative Composite https://thecreativecomposite.co.uk/improve-your-dentistry-with-a-sports-mindset/ via https://thecreativecomposite.co.uk