#i remember listening to this in p.e freshman year

[veryluckyclovers]

obsessed with this song once again, it's like a 3 year cycle

[emonaculate]

AOT Freshman v Senior Year headcanons (Eren, Armin, and Mikasa)

❥ AU: Highschool!AU

❥ Genre: Fluff

❥ Rating: Everyone can read

❥ Pairing: hinted at Eren x reader

❥ Warnings Include: Profanity, mentions of violence, manipulation, mention of weed, and slight angst

❥ Author Note: I'm making this an entire series for the main cast or my favorite characters from AOT

Eren Yeager

Freshman year

Extremely fucking loud for no reason

Runs to class and somehow always manages to be late

Tries to pay attention in class but due to his ADHD would always spaces tf out

Despite being loud, only talks to Mikasa and Armin

Smells like nothing but AXE body spray, its not even a bad smell, its just too much

That kid that takes P.E. TOO fucking serious

"Eren you know why you're in trouble right?"

"No."

"...You hit your classmate in the face with a ball."

"He could have dodged."

"Eren it was a basketball, you broke his nose and chipped his tooth."

"He shouldn't have gotten so close to me."

Im sorry but totally dresses like this

Constantly compared to his older brother.

"Yeager... Are you by any chance related to Zeke Yeager?"

"No way, your brother is THE Zeke Yeager?"

Makes a name for himself rather quickly

Listens to heavy rock/metal music

He loves My Chemical Romance and Three Day Grace.

Learned how to play the guitar just so he could play "Teenagers"

Forced Mikasa and Armin to also listen to the bands

They ended up all deciding on making a small little garage band; Miki on vocals and drums, Min on bass, and Eren as lead vocalist and electric guitar.

His style changed randomly but no one questioned it since his personality remained the same.

Senior year

180 personality

Completely mellowed tf out

Either he is in class on time or not showing up at all

Senioritis is strong within him

Works better when he is completely out of it

STONER

This mf always high as shit

Either you love him, hate him, or respect him there is no inbetween

MANBUN

Smart as hell but usually on the low

His music taste has changed a little

LOVES POLITICAL RAP

J.cole and Kendrick stan; it is not up for debate

His favorite songs are Neighbors by J.Cole and Alright by Kendrick

Listens to throwback RnB when high

Still godly at the guitar

Has a couple stick and poke tattoos; He has one behind his ear matching Min and Miki.

He has the sun, Armin has the ocean waves, Mikasa has the moon

PIERCINGS

A total of 8; 4 in his left and 2 in his right + the industrial

Has a tongue piercing

A two slices in his eyebrow but only got them as a dare

Most of them minus the industrial piercing was done at home because he has an abnormally high pain tolerance.

Dresses like this

Doesnt really play sports but is super good at soccer and basketball

He's actually good at most sports just refuses to join because why would he want to support a corrupted system??

Still more of a loner but has a rather nice friend group

Looks mean asf but is actually really nice

Goes the hardest for his friends

You fuck with them = you getting your shit rocked by him

100% the friend that hits you for forgetting to eat

Despite being hot as shit; never really has a girlfriend

Its only because hes oblivious or just not interested

Deathly scary when hes pissed

If you guys got beef; there is no talking

Its on sight bro

Be prepared to get beat the fuck up

A few things that makes him go from 0 to 100 is racism, mocking disabled people, and domestic violence

He's an activist

If you need help organizing a protest; he'll help and somehow manage to get people to come.

Basically a really good guy just hot headed as hell

Armin Arlert

Freshman Year

The kid who looked up those lame videos on how to survive highschool.

Panicked when it came to speaking in class

Stuttered like hell

AP CLASSES

He's way too advanced like could graduate early but refuses to so he can stay with his friends

Super sweet but extremely naive

People definitely took advantage of him.

"Hey Armin, my dog got in a car accident so I wasnt really focused in class, can you give me the homework answers?"

"Yeah sure its no problem."

Sends them a whole ass powerpoint on the entire lesson and teaches them better than the actual teacher.

Band nerd

Can play the Piano, Bass, and Trumpet

Listens to Mother Mother and Queen religiously

Only joined Eren's garage band after he agreed to watch Bohemian Rhapsody

Dresses like this

Moved in with Ren and Miki after he went through some shit with his family; he came out as bisexual after realizing he was attracted to one of his classmates.

Sometimes worries that Eren gets uncomfortable but relaxes after he remembers who Eren really is.

Wouldn't trade his friends for the world

Senior Year

His glow up took awhile because he didnt really feel the need to change

He was always rather cute; just shy and timid

VALEDICTORIAN

Slightly because he manipulated his runner up into become a burnout gifted kid lmao

Everyone has his Snapchat and Instagram so they can get help

Now he knows when people are using him and he still lets them; the only difference is you fuck with him and he can make you end up repeating the same grade.

Lets people copy his test and at the last minute pauses and erases all his answers before putting the correct ones.

No one has realized his plan.

His fashion sense changed a lot

Subconsciously tries to match Eren all the time

The only person that noticed was Mikasa; she thinks its cute

Is in love with Russian foreign exchange student, Annie.

He talks to her from time to time before gathering enough courage to ask her out

Doesnt realize how popular he is.

Oftentimes volunteers at the aquarium to study the ocean life as well as help out.

Helps plenty of organizations clean up the ocean.

A total of four piercings and the tattoo that matches his friends.

Two in his ears and nipple piercings.

It was a dare he sobbed through

Mikasa Ackerman

Freshman year

Basketcase

Follows Eren and Armin around

Super quiet

Doesn't really have much of a personality

She is cute though

Dresses like this

Like I said no real personality at all

Well except she was the girl who thought she was in a romance novel

Especially when Eren would get into a fight.

"Eren look at me... This isnt you."

"Mikasa move."

Most times it wouldnt work.

It was just cringy man...

Can play the violin, flute, piano, and cello

Only learned the drums so she could play with Eren and Armin

A secret pop stan

Loves Ariana Grande and Doja Cat

Thank god she manages to grow out of that yucky phase.

Senior Year

GOTH GF

Track, Gymnast, and female basketball player

She mellowed out as well and became her own person

Still heavily in love with Eren

Confessed to him during a karaoke session to the song Baby I by Ariana Grande; he didnt realize.

Sang her heart out and was a blushing mess but still got no where

Has deep down accepted that she may never be more than just his friend

Is okay with it and NOT toxic when he's crushing on someone else

Just wants him to be happy

Saw how he looked at some girl during a fundraiser to raise money for animal shelters and realized that he may never look at her like that.

Turned a guy down because Armin had a crush on him

The ultimate wing girl

Introduced Eren to her opponent after a track meet after realizing it was the girl from the fundraiser.

Dresses like this

Super sweet despite her look

However pick on her friends and you're fucked

CAN and WILL whoop your ass

The only person who can get Eren to not fight.

Pissed them both off at the same time and you're screwed

Has a total of three piercings

Her ears and nose

Loves her boys more than anything

Stays with Eren while her parents travel to help with natural disasters

Noticed that Armin's ideal type is Eren but never mentioned it because she knows Armin would overract

Very observant

Just wants the best for her friends even if she is the one who ends up happy

Eventually falls for the guy that asked her out junior year.

Still close to her boys because they come before anyone.

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet uglies, sternclay 60 sfw? OwO

Here you go!

60 Sterncly SFW. we’re both on a reality show (like the queer bachelor) where we’re told to be friends but the first time we met, you were incredibly rude and judgmental and I don’t know if I can do this for the damn cameras

“So, Barclay, now that we’re a few days in, what’s your impression of the other contestants?”

“They, uh, they all seem like great guys. We come from a lot of different backgrounds, so that’s kind of interesting to be around but, uh, I live in a place that’s like a big, chosen family, so being in a house with a bunch of types of personalities is kinda, uh, homey.”

“There’s no one you think you’ll struggle with?”

“Uh. Well. I, uh, I don’t like Joseph too much. He came in and he’s so, like, phony from all the years in the FBI. It’s like he’s trying to be polite and charming but really he thinks we’re all idiots for being here. Which, like, buddy, last I checked you signed up for this the same as the rest of us.”

------------------------------------------------------

“Joseph, any worries about the other contestants?”

“No. I mean, we’re competitors on a dating show, not enemies. I think we’re all trying to show Vincent the best versions of ourselves.”

“There’s no one you’ve had conflicts with?”

“........I, um, Barclay and I got into a small argument earlier about the house rules. But I’m sure if we both stick around long enough we’ll come to an understanding.”

----------------------------------------------------

“Gentlemen, this cannot continue.” Ned, the producer, sits on the couch across from them. Barclay glares at Joseph, but the other man keeps a cool demeanor. Great, he’s making Barclay look like the big, angry mountain even off camera.

“I thought reality shows needed conflict to thrive.” Joseph cocks an eyebrow.

“They do, but about big things, like love and rivalry. Not how to properly load a dishwasher.”

“I’m just trying to be efficient.”

“My way is perfectly fine.” Barclay snaps, “jesus, I worked in kitchens for years, I know how to get clean plates.”

“That doesn’t make it optimal.”

“Do you have to be right about everything?”

“Gentlemen, you recall we have a housekeeping staff, right?”

“It doesn’t matter” Barclay doesn’t take his eyes off Ned, “we’re supposed to all get along, not all try and prove we’re the smartest guy in the room.”

“See, this is your problem, you need everyone to like you, to see you like a big brother, but you’re missing the fact that at least three of them have decided your gentle giant persona is a threat and they’re trying to oust you.”

“It’s not a persona, it’s just how I am. We aren’t all government shams disguised as men.”

Joseph’s facade cracks for a moment, blue eyes trying to light Barclay on fire.

“Enough.” Ned shakes his head, “you may despise each other as much as you please behind the scenes. In front of the cameras, please try to act as if you’re not ten seconds away from coming to blows. Agreed?”

They trade a final, furious look.

“Agreed.”

------------------------------------------------------

They’re a little over three weeks in; Vincent is still doing lots and lots of short, individual dates between the group outings, so the contestants have ample time to hang around the house and get on each others nerves.

Case in point: Joseph was right when he warned Barclay that others saw him as a threat. Chad, Alex, Nico, and Rich have all decided to go after him. Just this morning he’s been told he’s not man enough for Vincent (he shooed a wolf spider out of the kitchen with a broom instead of squishing it), too girly (he offered to make cupcakes if people wanted), and too big (who'd want to fuck a six foot tall puppy).

His mood is not helped by Joseph chatting away on the couch about his former job with the FBI. Barclay swears it’s all the asshole knows how to talk about. Maybe it’s time for Barclay to play a game of his own.

“Hey, Joseph.”

The other man turns, black hair perfectly slicked back like he thinks he’s some kind of movie star.

“I bet you ten bucks you can’t make it until eight tonight without talking about your job.”

The other contestants in the room snicker, several even giving Barclay a thumbs up.

Joseph adjusts his shirt sleeves, “You’re on.”

Ten hours later, Barclay is forced to get his wallet. The other man never mentioned the FBI once. In fact, he did Barclay an even bigger favor; he didn’t talk at all.

He finds the agent sitting on the back steps leading into the garden. Stays standing as he holds out the cash, “you win fair and square.”

Joseph looks at the money, then looks away, “I did it to show I could, not for the bet.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to go, uh, quite so hard on the silence thing.”

“I didn’t mean to. But, um, every time I was going to open my mouth, I realized it was somehow related to work. So I kept quiet.” He sighs, stretches out his legs. He’s in slacks, because of course he is, “I must have been so tedious to listen to, no wonder I was driving you up the wall.”

“Joseph-”

“I really am married to my career. I guess it’s not surprising my last chance for love is on a T.V show.”

“Hey, I get it.” Barclay sits down next to him, “when I was first working in commercial kitchens my hours were crazy; I barely saw my apartment, my friends, my boyfriend who pretty quickly became my ex. But it was what I needed to do to build the career I wanted for myself. To do what I loved.”

Only the crickets and the distant waves reply. Then, “You said you were a private chef now, right? Along with writing cookbooks?”

“Yeah. Kinda surprised you remembered.”

“Listening is a major skill in my profession. Besides, it’s polite to pay attention to what people tell you.”

“What’s your job now? You only ever talk about the FBI stuff?”

“Paranormal investigation. I never bring it up because people assume I’m out chasing Bigfoot with a shaky-cam or trying to communicate with haunted dolls.”

“So...what is it instead?”

“Helping people figure out they’re homes aren’t haunted or the monster on their property is just some owls. I like the challenge of solving the mystery, and I like helping people feel safe in they’re homes.”

Loud voices form inside; the caterers must have refilled the bar. He doesn’t really want to go in. It’s too nice out here.

“You wanna hear about the restaurant my coworkers swore was haunted?”

Joseph perks up, turning to face him, “Yes, please.”

-----------------------------------------------------

He’d been really looking forward to beach day. Six guys are already gone, and Vincent has taken his fleet of suitors to the sunny San Diego shores. Barclay is dismayed to find all but three of the other guys have waxed their chests. Joseph hasn’t, but his happy trail is nothing compared to fucking black forest on Barclays torso. Nico’s gotten half the guys to call Barclay “bigfoot.”It makes him feel like he’s back in high school P.E freshman year, and his body image is rapidly sliding into that of a shy fourteen year old.

“Barclay!” Joseph comes jogging out of the surf towards the towels they lay down side by side when they arrived, “you should come in, it’s really the perfect weather for swimming.” He drops onto his towel, black hair a bit mussed. The swim-shorts that he thought were blue with green spots turn out to have not dots, but tiny UFOs on them.

“I, uh, I’m good. I, uh, I burn easily and I don’t think anyone wants to rub sunscreen on my hairy back.”

“Hey, Bigfoot, what’s wrong? Scared of what’ll happen if the cameras get a load of your gut?”

Barclay growls, stares at his toes. Joseph tracks Nico as he finishes jogging by. Then he calmly picks up a frisbee, aims a throw, and knocks his snapback off his head. He’s sitting down before the other man can work out who threw it. Barclay chuckles, but doesn’t get up.

“Bigfoot’s my favorite cryptid.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“And who gives a shit if you have a stomach.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re cut.”

Joseph grabs his sunglasses, “because I like that for my body. I happen to like yours just as much. Um I, I mean, it seems like Vincent likes it.” He tips his head towards the Bachelor, who gives them both a long once-over.

“...Will you do my back?”

“Of course, big guy.” The nickname sounds so right on his tongue it makes Barclay want to set his head in his lap and ask him to pet it.

It’s late afternoon when Ned herds them all onto a boat which promptly steers towards some cliffs. Joseph stays close to Barclay, pleasant expression noticeably tightening the closer they get to the rocks.

“I’ve been dreading this. Cliff diving is not something I’d pick to do on my own.”

“Heights?”

He shakes his head, “Deep water. I know it’s not rational, and I even checked to be sure there hadn’t been large shark sightings in the area, but I can never shake the feeling there’s something waiting just out of sight, ready to surge up and eat me.”

They all climb up together, Vincent staying on the boat to watch them jump (this is technically a friendly competition to show off how brave they are). As they’re turns get closer, Barclay sees Joseph doing deep breathing exercises.

They hit the edge. The agent freezes.

“Shit. I don’t think I can do this.”

“C’mon, where’s my daring special agent?”

Joseph still doesn’t move.

“You, uh, you wanna jump together? Maybe the megaladon or whatever will eat me instead.”

“Megalodons are extinct; we’d know if they weren’t, same as we know Whale Sharks aren’t.”

“They you are.” Barclay murmurs, smiling.

Joseph manages a smile back, “On three?”

“Yep. One, two” he grabs Joseph’s hand “three”

The water rises to swallow them with terrifying speed, but nothing is waiting for them except one very startled fish. They surface together, Joseph laughing triumphantly, hair plaster to his head and sun shining in his ocean eyes.

If Vincent doesn’t pick him, he’s out of his mind.

--------------------------------------------------------

“Ohmylord, we have to play this.” Joseph cannot believe his luck; he figured the barcade group date would mean a lot of solo time, but here’s his favorite game in the whole wide world.

“Monster Hunt?” Barclay laughs as he lets himself be lovingly shoved down into the seat of a cut-out Jeep, “very on brand.”

“They had this at the bowling alley near my house. I’d play when my parents had league night but couldn't get a sitter. I never could beat the Mothman level without a player two.”

He doesn’t have that problem tonight, even with Barclay distractingly delighted and handsome in the seat beside him. After that, they make it their mission to find every two-player game in the thrum of flashing colors and tinny music. He finds they both like the Bowser Bourbon Smash, and somewhere around their fourth, heated game of air hockey they each polish of one too many of them to stay upright without the support of a game, a helpful show staff member, or each other.

When they get back to the house (their fellow contestants all in a similar state to themselves) they manage to make it to Joseph’s room before collapsing into a giggling heap on the bed.

“That, hic, that was fun. Games are, hic, fun.” Barclay blinks at him, “what’re you laughing, hic, at.”

“You, you got the hiccups. S’funny because you’re so big, like, like watching a, a pitbull with a, um, a” he makes a squeezing motion that his sober self would recognize as “squeaky toy.”

“M’not big” Barclay pouts, “I, hic, maybe everyone else is, hic, just small. Ever think of th--hic--at.”

“S’not a bad thing.” Joseph shifts so they’re facing each other, “like how big you are. Makes you sexy.”

Barclay blushes, “you’re, hic, one to, to talk. You’re hot, so, hic, so fucking out. Got, got those eyes. That, hic, that face” He touches Joseph’s cheek, “love your face.”

“Love yours too.” Joseph says, stroking his beard. Then they’re moving in inelegant tandem, grabbing at each others shoulders and faces as their mouths find each other. Barclay is so warm, whimpering when Joseph rolls him on top, nipping his lips and pawing at him like a puppy hoping for a treat. Joseph is going to hold him close and let him have it.

A clatter from below, one of the other men knocking something over in the kitchen, breaks the spell.

“Wait, wait” Joseph reluctantly slides his hands of Barclays ass, “we, drunk, we’re drunk, too drunk.”

Barclay blinks down at him, pouting a little even as he groans “fuck, you’re, you’re right. Wanna, gotta remember this. Don’t wanna” he yawns, “regret it.” The instant he flops onto his back Joseph climbs into his arms and falls asleep to the slow rhythm of his breathing.

-----------------------------------------------

After that night, they agree to be more careful; they’re here for Vincent, to see if one of them is his true love. That’s what the contract they signed says.

“More careful” turns out to mean watching their alcohol intake around each other and only touching platonically (including falling asleep on the couch together. They wake up to cameras recording their nap. Barclay isn’t sure what Joseph threatens Ned with, but the footage never sees the light of day).

But unless they’re on a solo date with Vincent, they’re by each others side. Barclay teaches Joseph dominoes and how to make biscuits. Joseph introduces him to terrible old horror movies that they watch on his laptop and compliments his cooking every chance he gets.

They must be doing something right, because they move to the next round week after week, Vincent clearly enamored with both of them. Barclay certainly understands the feeling. Just not for the person who he’s supposed to.

“Joseph? If, uh, if neither of us win, what are you gonna do after this.”

“Go back to work. Maybe pitch my book about U.S cryptids.” Joseph’s smile goes shy for a moment before recovering, “but I wouldn’t worry, big guy; I think you’re the front runner for sure.”

Barclay knows for a fact that Joseph is a fan favorite and the suitor most people think will win. Which is why, when Vincent selects his final four, he’s not surprised Joseph gets the first rose. Then everyone but Barclay is holding one and Vincent is touching his shoulder.

“Barclay, please don’t take this as a sign I’m not deeply fond of you. This wasn’t an easy choice but I, well, I feel like your heart may not be in this anymore.”

He takes Vincent’s hand and squeezes it, “It’s okay. It was wonderful just to get to know you. All of you.” He looks at the final four, at Joseph’s calm, polite expression. He meets blue eyes as he says, “I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that he turns, all too aware of the cameras tracking his exit, his face, how he’ll have to do a final interview and not reveal that he’ll hate Vincent forever but not blame him in the slightest if he marries Joseph.

“Wait!”

Every eye, lensed or no, turns back to the gazebo. Joseph is at the edge of the steps, poised to run. When he sees Barclay stop, he turns to Vincent.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.” He hands the bachelor the rose, “I hope you understand.”

There’s no soundtrack on set, but strings swell in his ears all the same as Joseph descends the stairs and leaps into his arms, kissing him so hard he still has stars in his eyes when he opens them.

“It’s not a marriage proposal” Joseph whispers, kissing his cheek, “but I do have a question for you.” He pulls back, all cameras on them but his attention for Barclay alone, “would you like to be my boyfriend, big guy?”

Barclay rests their foreheads together, “Yeah, babe, I really, really would.”

[css1992]

could u do more high school au's pls? I was thinking maybe rich popular peter who seems untouchable and then grungy tony who just doesnt care for appearances and hes been pining after peter his whole school life

+

could u make it so that tony is rich and everyone knows it but he just doesn't care about his money and doesnt act rich so it's one of those things that u know but dont acknowledge. also if tony's daddy issues made an appearance id be so happy ty.

I’m so sorry for the delay, but I really do hope this scratches your itch! 

***

He had that sort of beauty that almost hurt to look at. So pure and soft. Pink cheeks, small eyes that squinted when he laughed – which was often –; brown, wavy hair, so shiny and silky-looking; thin, pink lips, always stretched in a smile. He had the most beautiful smile Tony had ever seen, too. Honest and wide, happy.

He was never alone. Of course he wasn’t. He was too magnetic, there were always people drawn to his light, following him around, laughing at his jokes, making him laugh in return. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, a scrap of his attention. And he, being the lovely human being that he was, made room for anyone who wished to bask in his light.

Jocks liked him. Peter was great at team sports, he was light on his feet and good with his hands. He wasn’t in any teams, though, claimed he didn’t have the time, but he was always picked first in P.E. group activities. Tony knew, watched him at practice way too often – from a distance, of course, as he did his stretches and sit-ups with Rhodes.

Nerds liked him, too. He was really smart, an asset to the Decathlon team, and was always willing to help anyone having trouble in class. Even the weirdos from drama club, glee club and the school band loved him – he never made fun of them, on the contrary, he was always very vocal about how talented they were and how he wished he could be a part of their clubs, too.

Girls swooned at him. He was kind and sweet, a good listener, and gorgeous. Guys weren’t immune to his charms, either. The ones Tony knew for a fact that were gay or bi didn’t even try to pretend they didn’t watch him when he walked down the halls, but even supposedly straight guys, like Steve Rogers, sneaked a peek now and then, face flushed, if he was wearing specially tight jeans.

Tony was jealous of all those people, but he learned to deal with it. He’d been, well, admiring him from a distance for years. He was used to seeing people make passes at him, ask him out. Peter was discreet, though. If he ever dated anyone, nobody ever heard anything about it. He was a mystery, Tony wasn’t even sure if he was gay, straight, bi or whatever – there were rumors that he had made out with Wade Wilson in freshman year, but neither of them confirmed or denied it. Tony hated the guy anyway.

“If you keep staring, people are gonna know you’re in love and not actually dead inside,” Rhodey spoke up right next to him, taking a huge bite of his tuna sandwich. Tony averted his gaze from Peter’s table for a minute and looked at his friend, annoyed. “It’s gonna ruin your whole aesthetic.”

“Very funny,” He rolled his eyes and looked back at Peter. There were so many people around him he could barely catch a glimpse of his smile, which was annoying.

His dad’s company, Parker Innovations, had just released a new phone a few weeks earlier, it was ridiculous how many people thought they could get one for free if they kissed his ass hard enough. At least Tony didn’t have to endure that kind of nonsense anymore. People in that school learned very early on that even though he was related to Howard Stark, he wanted nothing to do with the guy – or his company, or his money. They also learned sucking up to him did nothing but annoy him, so they kind of just forgot he existed over time and he blended right in with everyone else – a blessing in its own right.

“Rhodey is right, you’re drooling, it’s a little embarrassing,” Natasha looked at him with boredom as she nibbled on her fries. “You should just ask him out, you’ve been pining for ages.”

“I’m not pining,” he huffed, irritated, and the redhead smirked, raising a perfectly manicured brow.

“Right, yearning might be more accurate. Bruce?” She glanced at their other friend who scratched his chin, pretending to think about it.

“I think obsessing sounds more like it. Rhodey?”  

“Fuck you guys,” he barked before they could keep the game going, and all three laughed at him. Someone got up from Peter’s table and he caught a glimpse of his beautiful face, their eyes made contact for half a second and Tony looked away.

“No, but seriously, Tones. Just go talk to him, he’s a great guy, I’m sure he wouldn’t be an ass about it.” Bruce adjusted his glasses and said that like it was simple. Like he would have the guts to do it if he was in Tony’s position – he wouldn’t, he’d pined for Thor, an exchange student, for a year, and never worked up the courage to ask him out. The guy went back to Norway or whatever and Bruce never even said hi to him.

“I know, of course he wouldn’t, but I don’t wanna be one of those people begging for his attention, just look at that.” He pointed at the little crowd around him, people were almost literally fighting for his attention, the poor guy could barely finish his lunch. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you’re not them,” Natasha said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world and Tony frowned.

“How am I different?”

“You’re a certified genius, you and him have similar interests and you look hot in a ‘I’m gonna fuck  you raw in the back of my car’ kinda way. I don’t know, maybe he’s into that.” The redhead shrugged, again, saying all that like it was obvious and an unquestionable truth.

“Yeah, right, sounds just like him,” Tony scoffed.

Peter was perfect in so many ways – perfect face, perfect body, perfect grades, Tony was sure he pooped out candy or something – of course he wouldn’t go for a guy like him. He had a bad reputation, he was in detention more often than not and people in general considered him an asshole – all because he didn’t partake in their little games of social climbing or whatever. No, Peter wouldn’t go for his grungy ass. He’d probably go for all American, apple pie, boy-next-door Steve Rogers.

“No, she’s right, I’ve seen him looking at you several times.” Bruce pointed out, not for the first time, and Tony scoffed.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“AP chemistry class. I’m his lab partner, remember?” How could Tony forget? As Mr. Erskine called out their names, Tony prayed to a God he didn’t even believe in that he’d be paired up with Peter, but no such luck. “He stares at you whenever he has a chance or an excuse. You know, when you blow things up, for example.”

“Yeah, which is why he must stare, he must be afraid for his life.” Tony hated to admit that he was way more prone to causing explosive accidents when Peter was in the room. It was fucking embarrassing.

He sighed, drinking the last of his coke. No matter what his friends said, he knew he didn’t stand a chance with Peter. He was… Untouchable. He was too good for him, Tony wasn’t even sure he’d want to taint him if he had a chance –  no, scratch that, he definitely would.

He chose to watch him from afar, allowing himself a few fantasies and daydreams. He had this really stupid and lame one, where he walked up to Peter in the hall, people just parted to let him through, then he gave him his trademark, lopsided grin and asked him out. Peter smiled brightly up at him, holding his books to his chest, cheeks flushed, eyelashes fluttering as he whispered a shy “yes” and leaned up to kiss him. Yeah. That was the whole fantasy.

Peter was so untouchable to him that he didn’t even dare to dream further than that. Of course when he was alone in his room, late at night, relieving himself, a few… less pure fantasies popped up unsolicited, but he felt so guilty then, dirty even, like he was disrespecting him somehow. It was all very confusing, but he still came, shamefully, to the thought of his beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure as dream-Tony fucked him.

The bell rang and everyone hurried to get to their next period, Peter was no different, he gathered his things and stood up, looking around the cafeteria like he was looking for someone. Their eyes met again for a second, but Tony quickly looked away, grabbing his backpack in a hurry to leave.

It was Thursday, the worst day of the week for him, none of his friends were free to hang out with him until later, so he either had to head home and deal with Howard or he had to find somewhere to be for a couple of hours, until Rhodey was done with football practice so they could go to his place. That day, Tony decided to just stay by his car, smoking a cigarette and singing along to Black Sabath’s Iron Man, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go. He was so distracted watching the smoke dissipate into thin air that he didn’t notice when someone approached, and jumped almost a foot in the air when they spoke.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught smoking on school grounds?” Tony almost dropped dead when he registered the angelic voice. He was already having a heart attack as it was, but the boy was so close and he had that beautiful smile in place, blushing cheeks and all. It took almost a full minute for him to calm himself down.  

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” The older teen answered when he finally found his voice and got his breath under control enough not to make a fool of himself. Peter smiled wider, biting his lower lip.

“Your secret is safe with me.” He fake whispered, leaning a little into the older boy’s space and he almost choked on nothing. Peter’s smell was inebriating, expensive and sweet, but not overly so – perfect. He recomposed himself quickly, though, and nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t sure why Peter was talking to him and, frankly, he was too fucking nervous to think of anything cool to say. The younger teen deflated a little faced with Tony’s silence; he looked around, seeming a little lost. “You’re Tony, right?”

Fuck, the way he said his name. His name. It was fucking music to his ears, the most beautiful tune. But how did he even know his name? Sure, he was Tony Stark, so not really anonymous, but people often forgot about it.

“Yeah. And you’re Peter.” Tony didn’t play games, he didn’t even try to pretend like he didn’t know who Peter was. It would be dumb anyway, everybody knew him. The other boy nodded shyly, it looked like he wanted to say something else, but he kept biting his lips and looking around nervously. Tony frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I mean, yeah, sure, it’s fine, it’s just, uhm. I have a flat tire and the wheel bolts are really tight and I couldn’t get them off, so I thought – I mean, could you, uh –“ He gestured wildly as he stuttered out his answer, looking in the general direction of his flashy, cherry red sports car. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re busy, but I –“

“Sure, I’ll help, don’t worry.” Tony threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. He was a little more at ease now that he knew why Peter was talking to him – he just needed help – and the best thing was, Tony was really good with cars. Of course, one didn’t need to have a PhD in mechanics to change a tire, but it still made him feel really good that he would be able to help properly.

“Thanks, you’re a life saver.” The chirpy attitude was back, as well as the smile, it made Tony’s heart flutter. He nodded sharply, looking away from his face, and gestured for Peter to lead the way.

When they reached his car, Tony whistled lowly, crouching down to look at the completely flat tire, as he tried to find the source of the problem. He was surprised to notice a two-inch cut on the surface of it, and it didn’t seem accidental.

“Fuck, Peter, it looks like someone sliced your tire.” When he looked up at the younger boy, he didn’t look surprised, but nervous. It was an odd reaction. Tony wondered if Peter already knew that – maybe he knew who did it and was scared of them? It made Tony’s blood boil. Why would anyone do that to Peter?

“Wh-what? How do you know that?” He bit his lower lip nervously, scratching his arm, and Tony frowned, worried.

“Here, look.” He gestured for Peter to crouch down next to him and pointed at the cut. “This is clearly a stab mark. Judging by the size and shape of it, I’d say this was probably done with a pocketknife.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Clearly.” He face-palmed, like he felt stupid, maybe for not seeing it before, but Tony still worried.

“If you want, I could go with you to the administration. We can ask them to check the security cameras. I think that one might have caught whoever did this.” He pointed at a security camera nearby, Tony knew where all of them were in the parking lot area – he’d been caught smoking way too many times not to know.

“What? There are –? I mean, look, it’s okay, it’s probably just someone trying to play a prank, it’s no big deal, it’s fine.” He stood up quickly, shaking his head, and Tony was positive he felt threatened somehow, he was acting so weird.

“If you’re sure… But if you change your mind, I’ll go with you, ok?” Tony stood up and took off his leather jacket. The weather was nice, just a bit chilly, so he was wearing a thin, white t-shirt with short sleeves underneath. He thought he heard Peter’s breath hitch for a second, but it was probably just his imagination. “Can you hold this for me?” He held out his jacket and the boy blushed, blinking rapidly.

“S-sure.”

Tony bit his bottom lip to refrain from asking, again, if everything was fine. Peter looked so freaking nervous, he was even sweating a little at the temples. Tony was positive he knew who did that to his car, but didn’t want to tell him for some reason. Maybe he wanted to protect whoever did it, maybe it was a boyfriend, or an ex. He gritted his teeth, hands closing in fists, but didn’t say anything, just crouched down and got to work.

The first bolt came off easily, it wasn’t tight at all, so he thought maybe Peter had already loosened it when he tried earlier. The second and third ones came off just as easily, though, only the fourth one was a little trickier, but nothing the younger teen couldn’t have handled himself. Tony thought maybe he hadn’t tried too hard, maybe he was afraid the person who did that would show up or something. He was so glad he was there to help, he wondered if Peter felt safe with him around, and the thought made him feel oddly proud and protective of him.

He made quick work of changing the tires, making sure not to screw the bolts too tight, then put the sliced one in the trunk of the car. When he turned around to look at Peter, he was looking intently at him, almost hypnotized, holding his jacket close to his chest like it was a puppy.

“All done.” Tony smiled and the boy seemed to snap out of a trance.

“Oh, thank you so much, really, you’re too kind.” He smiled broadly and the older teen scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it.” They were silent for a few seconds after that, but Peter kept holding his jacket and didn’t make any move to give it back to him. “Uhm, could I–?” He gestured towards the jacket and again the boy jumped up in surprise.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, here.” He handed it to him and quickly crossed his empty arms over his chest. “So, uhm,… Your dad is having a gala this weekend, right? Are you gonna be there?” Ah, so Peter did know who he was, not just his first name. The older teen leaned against the car and stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

“Not if I can help it.” He smirked, trying to act cool, but now that he didn’t have anything to do with his hands, he was growing nervous.

“Oh,” Peter looked… disappointed? He dropped his gaze to the floor, shuffling his feet, and Tony stood up straight, frowning.

“Why?”

“Nothing, it’s just – my parents are going, so I thought I’d tag along to, you know... but it’s okay.” He kicked an imaginary rock and avoided Tony’s eyes. The older teen stared at him with wide eyes, heart beating fast – what was the end of that sentence? Peter couldn’t possibly mean–

“I don’t – what, you’d go to, like, hang out with me or something?” He felt stupid when he stumbled on the words, but Peter didn’t seem to notice, his cheeks were burning red and he was looking anywhere else but at Tony.

“I mean, you must have much better things to do, of course, I was just –” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head, finally looking up at Tony. “Sorry, just forget about it, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No, wait!” He rushed to interrupt him and Peter looked back at him with huge, Bambi eyes. Tony coughed awkwardly, blushing a little. “I mean, like, uhm… If you – would you wanna go as my date? To the gala?” He blurted out, finally, because what the hell. The worst that could happen was Peter say no, and he could deal with it. He would survive, for sure. It wouldn’t be a big deal. Really. It wouldn’t.

But he didn’t say no, he smiled broadly, eyes twinkling in excitement.

“I’d love to!” He answered quickly, and Tony’s heart fluttered, Peter looked genuinely happy.  “Could you – uhm, text me what color of tie you’ll be wearing? If you want! I understand if you think it’s lame, but I thought–”

“No, it’s fine.” His heart was beating so loud, Peter Fucking Parker wanted to coordinate ties with him, it was fucking corny and cliché and he loved it. “Uhm, here, give me your number.” He fished his phone from his back pocket and gave it to the younger teen.

“Cool.” Peter typed in his number and as soon as he gave his phone back, Tony sent him a smiley face so he would have his number, too. “Cool, cool, cool...” He rocked on the balls of his feet and looked around, like he was looking for something else to say.

“So… Do you have to be home soon or…?” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets again, wondering if maybe he was pushing his luck, but Peter shook his head quickly.

“Not really, no, my parents don’t really mind what time I get home as long as I let them know. You?”

“They don’t really care.” He shrugged, taking one step closer to Peter. “So… are you hungry, by any chance?”

“I’m starving.” He nodded, looking up at Tony in anticipation. It drove the butterflies in his stomach crazy.

“I know a place where they serve great burgers. We could go in my car and I could drop you off here on our way back, I’m just a little worried someone is gonna try to fuck up your car again. I mean, what if they’re targeting you or something?” Just the mention of what happened earlier made Peter nervous. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket and shook his head.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.” He didn’t look worried, though, at least not anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, trust me, I am.” Tony found the sudden change odd, but thought maybe he was just trying to play it cool, so he let it go.  

“Okay, then, c’mon, my car is right there,” Tony gestured to his car and Peter smiled, taking his hands off his pockets. When he did, though, something slipped out and fell to the ground with a metallic noise. Tony quickly crouched down to get it for him, when he noticed what it was. “Wh – is that…?” He frowned, examining the pocketknife as if it was alien material. He was confused at first, because Peter didn’t seem like the kind of guy to carry one around, but then it dawned on him. When he looked at the younger teen, his face was so red it looked like he was about to explode.

“Uhm… If I told you I’ve never seen this before in my life would you believe it?” He chuckled nervously, scratching his arm, as Tony stood up. The older teen raised a brow at him.”Sorry, I just – I wanted an excuse to talk to you.” He said quietly, dropping his gaze.

“You know, you could have gone with the weather or whatever.” Tony answered, amused, and it made the younger boy look up at him.

“You’re just very intimidating,” He looked at him with huge, scared eyes, and Tony cocked his head to the side.

“Me?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah.” Peter answered pointedly, and Tony smirked, offering him his knife back.

“You do realize you just sliced your own tire so you’d have an excuse to talk to me, right? And I’m intimidating?” He joked, but Peter didn’t seem to find it funny. He winced and covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed.

“You must think I’m such a freak,” He groaned, voice muffled by his palms.

“Hey, hey, yes, I do think you’re a freak.” He grabbed Peter’s thin wrists and marveled at how perfectly they fit in his hands. He definitely saved that thought for later. “But you’re a really cute one.” He grinned and Peter chuckled, a delicate flush rising onto his cheeks.

“I feel stupid.” He admitted, worrying his bottom lip, but Tony shook his head, working up the nerve to cup Peter’s face in his hand.

“I feel flattered,” He said, honestly, and Peter’s breath hitched. He stared up at Tony, eyelashes fluttering, moist, pink lips slightly open. The older teen leaned down slowly and when the Peter closed his eyes, their lips touched. Just like in his fantasies, Peter tasted sweet, his lips were soft and his arms circled Tony’s neck in a warm embrace. When they parted, Tony smiled down at him, stroking his blushing cheek. “Just promise that if this doesn’t work out you won’t, like, key my car or something.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, but they both laughed out loud, as they walked hand in hand across the parking lot.

[the-demelza-robins]

american high school!jily (i)

hi! here’s the first chapter of my american high school au! it’s also on ao3 and ffnet! 

LILY EVANS DOES NOT THINK OF JAMES POTTER. She does not think of him — loud, funny, arrogant — as she walks to the bus stop each morning (she does, however, regret the fact that she doesn’t have her driver’s license yet). She does not think of him as she gets her textbooks from her locker (she does think of Roger Davies, though). She does not think of him as she moves from classroom to classroom, notebook to notebook, assignment to assignment. She does not think of him as she takes yearbook photos and attends Feminists of Northwood High meetings. She does not think of his eyes (hazel) or his hair (dark brown, almost black, always ruffled does he even try) or his face (a mishmash of features that, admittedly, only he can pull off).

There are, however, plenty of other people — girls, especially — who do think of James. Girls who think of his eyes (captivating, intense) and his hair (perfectly messy) and his face (jawline, glasses). Girls who watch him sit at the best table in the cafeteria with Sirius and Remus and Peter, trading jokes back and forth and smiling easily, and wish, fervently, that they could be pulled into his vortex, into his charisma, into his confidence. 

Lily doesn’t look down on these girls — no, that would be borderline misogynistic of her. She just doesn’t understand the appeal, because, to her, James Potter has always seemed a little too sharp around the edges, a disco ball made of jagged glass, to provoke any feelings of fondness or… more. Her impression of him is no doubt colored by Sev, who, despite now being the poster boy for fucking Brietbart, used to tell her things. Used to tell her what James would do, how his friends — “they call themselves the Marauders, Lil, how presumptuous is that” — would take a laugh at his expense. James Potter is smart, the thing is, and observant, and he knew just what to say — just what buttons to push — in order to get Sev where it really hurt.

Whatever. The point is, James Potter is sharp, and Lily doesn’t want to prick her finger. 

So, when James walks over to Lily on the first day of October and asks her to go out with him, ignoring the fact that she’s fulfilling her very important duties as yearbook editor-in-chief by taking photos of the soccer team — Roger Davies is the “keeper,” which Lily has learned means goalie, and James is a striker, whatever the hell that means, and Lily thinks it’s unfair that James gets all the glory when Roger is the backbone of the team, but whenever she tries this argument on her friends, they dismiss it on the grounds that she has a not-so-tiny crush on Roger and therefore is biased — Lily says no.

“No?” James repeats, and for a second Lily feels almost bad for him, ruffled hair and eyes blinking at her from behind those glasses of his. 

“No,” she affirms. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.”

He nods, and twists around to look at Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who are all laughing — at him or at her, Lily can’t be sure, but either way it makes her skin prickle — from the sidelines. “Hey, she said no!”

“Fuck,” Sirius says, his voice carrying in a way he must be aware of. “Sorry, Evans!”

Lily is a little surprised that Sirius knows her name. Surprised, perhaps, because she thinks of him only as Marlene’s fiercest crush, the reason why so much Taylor Swift leaks out of her friend’s aging Toyota. No, Sirius is not a person, not in Lily’s head. The collision of these two worlds — Marlene’s and reality’s — makes her very uncomfortable. 

“For what?” Lily yells back, rolling her strained neck (that camera weighs heavier than she remembered — technically taking photos is below her paygrade, but fucking Lucius skimped out again because of a “family emergency” and she has to get them in in time, and besides… a plausible excuse to look at Roger is certainly not something she would ever pass up on.

“Sorry for unleashing James on you, it was a dare,” Sirius shouts, and one of the practicing soccer players tells them to either shut up or go somewhere else. Lily rolls her eyes and makes a decision. She could walk towards them, cross the social line, discover what “unleashing James” means. 

She doesn’t. She shrugs and walks away. 

“See you around, Evans?” James calls, voice strangely strangled-sounding. She thinks she imagined it. 

***

The next time she sees him, he’s probably drunk, holding a red solo cup in his left hand and high fiving Sirius with his right. She watches him from across the room — it’s not intentional, she tells herself, but she does— as he chats with his friends.

“Lily. Lilylilylily,” a drunk Dorcas whines, tugging on Lily’s sleeve like a four year-old.

“What?” Lily asks, recalibrating and facing her friend. 

“Mary. It’s Mary. Mary from P.E.”

Following her friend’s gaze, Lily confirms that Mary from P.E. is indeed also in Sirius’s house for this random party, chatting with Romilda Vane, a sophomore a year younger than her. “I see her.”

“Why is she talking to Romilda?” Dorcas asks, way too loud, and Lily drags her friend up the stairs and through the nearest door. The abundance of death metal memorabilia tells her that they���re in Sirius’s bedroom.

“I thought you were done with Mary.”

“I never started with Mary,” Dorcas says petulantly, plopping unceremoniously onto the unmade twin in the corner. “Mary is pretty. Mary is sweet. Why is Mary speaking to Romilda Vane?”

“Maybe Mary likes Romilda Vane,” Lily suggests gently, sitting down on the bed next to Dorcas. 

“I thought Mary liked me.”

“I don’t —”

“I think that Romilda should go home. GO HOME, ROMILDA.”

“Don’t shout, someone might hear,” Lily replies, thinking of the cracked-open door.

“Then they can join me in telling Romilda to go home.” 

Lily is about to formulate some response to this when the door swings open, and who but James Potter steps in, arm slung around Gretchen Prewett’s waist, hair messier than usual. He’s whispering to the girl, smile tugging at his face, and just as he’s about to lean in, he sees Lily. 

Is it just the lighting, or does his face go slightly red? Lily knows hers did. James opens his mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

Gretchen’s eyes shift from Lily to James and back. Lily grabs Dorcas’s hand and pulls her friend past them and down the stairs. 

Around a half hour later, James and Gretchen follow. 

***

“Evans!” 

Lily slams her locker door shut and turns towards the voice. “What do you want, James?”

“Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he responds, that annoying, way-too-full-of-himself grin on his face. 

“I’m betting you did, considering that your hair looks like that,” Lily shoots back, shouldering her backpack. She has plans to meet Sev, plans involving ice cream, and doesn’t want to be late because James Potter decided he wanted a verbal sparring partner. 

James whistles. “Nice one. Listen, Lily…” he pauses, and for a second she sees something like vulnerability on his face. The halls are basically empty now — it is a Friday, after all, and no one lingers if they can help it — and for a second it feels like the air has compressed around her, around them, until the only sounds in the world are James’s intake of breath as he prepares to speak again. 

“There’s — my mom has a garden that she’s working on, and I remember you saying that you like flowers, and — well — do you want to garden with me? Sometime?”

“Lil?” The air expands again.

Lily turns, and there’s Sev, standing with his too-long hair and his messenger bag, looking confused and angry and betrayed, most of all. 

“Of course it’s Snivellus,” James mutters, and all of the vulnerability is gone, the mask of self-assurance pulled firmly back into place. 

A lot has happened in the past five minutes, but those words are the only ones that Lily latches onto. “What do you mean, ‘of course it’s Snivellus’?” she snaps, turning back to face James in full, with all of the fiery self-righteousness only a seventh grader can possess. 

James opens his mouth and closes it again, eyes shifting between Lily and Sev. “Of course,” he says, voice cool and measured, “it’s Snivellus. Your guard dog, huh, Evans? See the big bad James Potter and he’ll come running, because God forbid you talk to anyone — hang out with anyone — but him.”

“You’re out of line, James,” Lily says, feeling her cheeks coloring and hoping that Sev won’t notice. “I would never pick flowers with you.”

With that, she turns on her heel, towards Sev, towards ice cream, towards the planned banality of the afternoon. 

When freshman year began, things shifted. Sev joined the Alternative Media Club and started spouting shit. People noticed James, and he stopped noticing Lily. Roger moved to their town from Seattle. Life seemed more pressing, more tangible, more present. And that was that. 

***

Besides, Lily has other things — other boys — to worry about. She’s had a massive crush on Roger Davies since freshman year, and for good reason: he’s kind. Considerate. Talks to the frosh even though he’s a senior like her and has every reason to ignore them. Has a killer smile, the right height, and broad shoulders. Perfect. 

If only — well. She and Roger are perfectly friendly, but she doubts he knows anything about her; she doubts he thinks anything about her. Logically, Lily has known this since freshman year, but, still, she stays within his sightline. She wore makeup tonight, more than usual. She hopes he’ll look up and see her, like the male love interest does in all of Marlene’s favorite movies; hopes he’ll realize that the one he’s been looking for has been right in front of him the entire time. 

Lily knows how stupid she’s being. She also knows that, when he does (finally) make eye contact with her (once, but she swears he held it for a second longer than normal), her heart starts to race. So there’s that. 

***

James joins yearbook, with means that Sirius, Remus, and Peter join yearbook. Lily was tempted, when they first showed up outside room 304, to tell them to leave — she knows their respect for authority is basically natch, and she needs order if the yearbook is going to be any good this year — but she bites her tongue. James ignores her, anyway, or at least he does until discussion of the theme comes up. Roger and Lily had already settled on Outer Space, and the rest of the staff were on track to agree — that is, until James stands up and makes an impassioned speech in favor of Animals, egged on by Sirius shouting “hear, hear!” every few minutes. Lily shuts it down and sends the so-called Marauders to take photos of the Bible Study club as punishment. James bounds out of the room, camera bouncing against his chest in a way that makes Lily want to tear her hair out because he’s gonna break it. 

When the meeting’s over, Roger walks out of the building with her. 

“You were good with them,” he says. “James and — the rest.” 

“Oh,” Lily says, and she’s definitely blushing now. “Thanks.”

He smiles — an easy grin — and walks towards his car. Marlene honks from hers, and Lily hops in. Later, when Mar drops her off at her house, she has a text from an unknown number. 

Potter broke the camera — Roger

Lily knows she should be mad about the camera, but she can’t quite summon the emotion. Instead, something glittering flutters through her. 

Roger Davies’ number is now in her phone. 

***

James doesn’t have an excuse at the next meeting. He just stares at the floor when Roger asks how the camera broke, and Lily can’t help but notice that it’s unlike James to be quiet. Ever. 

She shrugs the thought off; she has work to do. Important work, like getting official pictures of every club, affinity group, and forensics team in her sprawling, one-thousand student high school. Later, walking down a back stairwell and marveling at her luck at being able to get the photos for both the presidents of Cheese Club and the cohort leaders of Girls Who Code in the same fifteen-minute time frame, Lily hears voices. Familiar ones. 

“Why didn’t you just tell them?” the first one says. Lily immediately identifies the lazy drawl as Sirius’s. 


“What kind of friend do you think I am, idiot?” James’s voice — sharper, yet friendlier, even as he insults his friend — replies. Lily looks over the banister and sees that the pair is standing on the steps a flight down, (new) cameras around their necks.

“It’s just Peter,” Sirius snorts. “Not a big deal. His dad would’ve paid for it anyway.”

“You know how Roger is with Peter,” James says in a hushed tone that makes Lily lean even further over the bannister. “He’d tear him to pieces. Besides, it’s just a camera. Mom’ll be happy to reimburse the school when she hears why I said I did it.”

“Will she, though? You know how she gave us that whole speech about responsibility and digging our own graves and stuff like that.”

James stiffens slightly, the lines of his jaw and the straight of his back becoming slightly more pronounced as he fiddles with his hands. “I’ll talk to her.”

“But she said —”

“I know what she said, Sirius.”

“But soccer —”

“I’ll figure it out!” James says sharply. After a second, he buries his head in his hands. “Sorry. ‘M really tense. It’ll all work out.” 

Sirius stands. “It better.”

Lily’s phone starts to vibrate, and she hurries back up the stairs before she’s discovered, mind reeling. 

You know how Roger is with Peter. He’d tear him to pieces.

The Roger she knows — thinks she knows — would never hurt someone, and definitely not over a stupid camera. Right?

***

“I can’t believe — he’s insufferable — the camera —”

“We have insurance,” Lily says, watching Roger pacing the room. 

“That we had to fight to get the school to sponsor! Ms. Rodriguez is going to freak the fuck out and… Jesus, Lily, why aren’t you more upset by this?”

“Because it’s not a big deal! We’ll get the new camera and chew James out, and he won’t go it again.”

At this, Roger stops pacing. “No. We need to kick them out.”

“What?”

He puts his hands on a desk between them, leaning in ever so slightly. “Lily. They broke a camera. They’ve cost this school — us — hundreds of dollars. And they’re not even good at yearbook! They only joined because —”

“Because what?” Lily asks, annoyed. 

Roger purses his lips. “Not my secret to tell, but it’s so fucking obvious.” 

“Then tell me.” 

He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. “No. Can we at least… put them on probation?” 

“Yearbook probation?” Lily says disbelievingly, trying to reconcile this version of Roger with the one in her head, puzzle pieces mashing against each other but not sliding into place. She doesn’t understand why Roger is so upset, but James’ words keep echoing in her head. He’d tear him to pieces. “I didn’t know that existed.”

“You’re right. It’s fine. I’ll email Ms. Rodriguez.” 

Lily exhales. “Thank you.” 

He shoulders his bag, takes a deep breath. “Okay. I have practice, but I’ll text you once I’ve sent the email.”

Lily knows she should be ecstatic at the promise of more communication with him, but, as she watches him go, she can’t quite summon the excitement. You know how Roger is. No, she doesn’t. 

read part two here!

[rosedavid]

If At First You Don’t Succeed...// A Tyrus one shot

Or, Cyrus gets his first ‘F’ and struggles to cope with it.

also, if you couldn’t tell, this was me hardcore projecting my feelings lol. I hope you enjoy this bursting of my emotions on the page. 

...

Cyrus has always prided himself on being the perfect student. Even if he isn’t athletic like Buffy, artistic like Andi, or musical like Jonah, he’s always been the teacher’s pet. In elementary school, Cyrus helped clean up the classroom at recess. He was always the first student entrusted with the class pet, or the student who was always “in charge” when the teacher left for a minute. This continued into middle school, as well. Things changed a little, but for the most part they stayed the same. Cyrus still always got his work done on time with impeccable grades. He still always raised his hand in class and was the first to volunteer. His teachers praised him for his dedication. So, even though Cyrus may not have a niche like his other friends, he has a sense of self that’s based in his academic achievement.

Of course, like any other proactive student, when Cyrus reaches high school, he strives for more. He fills up his schedule with honors classes and extra curriculars, hoping to get a head start toward his future. Walking in on the first day of freshman year, he expected classes to be harder. He thought he was completely prepared for the challenge, prepared to rise to the top once again. After all, academics has seemed to be his specialty throughout his life. As it turns out, though, he was wrong. 

It starts and ends with a test. One stupid test, his first test of the year. It’s a history test, a subject which Cyrus hasn’t taken much since elementary school. Nonetheless, he doesn’t worry too much about it, at least not more than normal. That’s why he’s so surprised when, a few days later, his teacher hands him back his test face down. He turns it over.

F

He got an F, meaning fail.

Cyrus failed his first high school exam. The familiar A at the top of his sheet has been replaced with a grade he’s never gotten in his entire life, not even in P.E. class (which doesn’t even technically count since it’s not truly academic).

The paper shakes in his grasp. His fingers tighten their hold around the paper, wrinkling and crunching the smooth page. Students chatter in the background, but all Cyrus hears is the noise of crinkling paper and his breath quickening. He crumples the test into a ball of paper, but it doesn’t get rid of the mark it’s already made on him. The big, circled letter continues to taunt him.

When the bell rings, Cyrus rushes out of classes faster than ever before. He’s thankful that this is his last class of the day, as he isn’t sure if he could manage to sit through another class after what just happened.

It feels so stupid to get upset. It’s just one test grade; he can do better next time. But to Cyrus, it’s more than that. It’s like his entire identity is at the risk of crumbling. He can’t be the teacher’s pet or the top of his class with a failed test. What does he even have if he doesn’t have this? Sure, he’s got interests and hobbies like anyone else, but he has no other talents like the rest of his friends other than this.

Suddenly, the air around him feels too thick. There are too many people with too little space. All Cyrus wants to do is curl up in his bed and cry, probably followed by constant studying for the next week. He chokes up a bit, barely containing his sobs as he stares at the paper still clutched in his hand.

His phone buzzes. It’s the group chat with all of his friends, reminding everyone about their weekly meetup at The Spoon. Crap. Cyrus completely forgot, but there’s no way he can go, not in this state. Even though he knows everyone would understand if he told them the truth, he feels too ashamed and embarrassed about it. He can’t face that right now, so instead he makes up an excuse about feeling sick and not being able to come. His friends’ message him back “feel better soon” messages, but Cyrus doesn’t have the heart to read through them. Actually, he realizes faintly, that he is starting to feel kind of sick. His stomach churns uncomfortably, and he the world spins around him. His hands are still shaking, and his throat feels dry.

Somehow, though, he manages to make it open one step at a time. The sense of relief he feels when he steps in his front door is indescribable. Thankfully, no one is home for now. Cyrus drops his backpack at the front door, not bothering to put it away. He then climbs the stairs to his room, still holding his test, and collapses across his bed with a sob.

Once the first tear drops, he can’t prevent them from flowing. He doesn’t know how long he cries. He remembers throwing his test at the wall in anger, sobs shaking his shoulders violently. He remembers falling into his pillows, sobs ebbing off and eventually morphing into silent tears. At some point, he gets too exhausted to cry. Instead, he lays there in misery, feeling disappointed in himself and wondering how disappointed his parents will be in him. After all, they’ve always praised how smart he is. A’s are not just something to strive for, but something to expect in his family.

Sometime later, between his anxious thoughts, the doorbell rings. Cyrus doesn’t want to move; he just wants to lie there, comprehending what happened. But then the doorbell rings again, followed by knocking. Cyrus figures he needs to get up just in case it’s something important. He rolls out of bed tiredly, rubbing at his eyes as he heads down to the front door.

What he doesn’t expect to see is TJ, standing outside the door with a container of what looks like soup. Out of all the people Cyrus doesn’t want to see him like this, TJ is probably at the top of the list. Andi, Buffy, and Jonah have all seen Cyrus at some of his worst, but TJ? TJ definitely hasn’t, and Cyrus worries what will happen if he does. Now, it seems he’ll find out.

“Hey Underdog, since you said you weren’t feeling well, I decided to bring you over some soup,” TJ explains nervously.

“Uh,” Cyrus beings, clearing his throat, “Thanks for the soup, but you should probably go. Wouldn’t want you to…get sick.”

Of course, TJ sees right through Cyrus’s lie. Curse TJ for knowing him so well. As TJ inspects him closer, he notices that something else is up. After all, besides from the gritty voice, Cyrus isn’t really acting that sick. Normally, Cyrus is completely incapacitated when he’s sick as well as whiny and complaining. Now, though, he’s acting the complete opposite; withdrawn and quiet.

“Cy, what’s going on?” TJ asks softly, a voice only reserved for him.

He swallows, “I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Have you been crying?”

The now familiar burning sensation behind his eyes starts again. His vision blurs, turning TJ into a blob of colors.

“I—” Cyrus chokes off, not able to continue.

“Woah, hey,” TJ shushes, coming in and closing the door behind him. “You’re ok.”

Cyrus shakes his head. “No I’m not. I’m a failure.”

“What—why would you say that?”

Unable to answer, Cyrus just lets a few tears escape from his eyes. The tears leave scorching trails across his cheeks as they fall. TJ steps closer, gently moving his fingers up to cup Cyrus’s cheek. With the pad of his thumb, he reaches out and swipes away the wetness.

“Let’s sit down, okay?”

Numbly, Cyrus allows TJ to guide him over to the couch. As they sit, TJ keeps a firm grasp on Cyrus’s hand, caressing the backside of it.

After a few beats of silence, TJ asks, “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I’m embarrassed,” Cyrus admits in a quiet tone, face already burning at the outburst of emotions he’s been displaying.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, not around me. I won’t judge you, I promise.”

TJ meets his eyes. Although Cyrus knows that TJ would never judge him, he doesn’t truly breakdown until they make eye contact. The lovingness and support evident in TJ’s eyes makes Cyrus feel more comforted already. Even though he’s still embarrassed and scared and feels stupid, looking at TJ makes him want to talk about it. He needs to talk about it.

“I failed my history test,” Cyrus finally admits timidly with a sniffle, “and now I just don’t know who I am anymore.”

TJ squeezes his hand. “What do you mean?”

“I just…I’ve always been the perfect student. I’ve always been great at school. But now that this happened, I feel like I have nothing else going for me. I’m not athletic like you or artistic like Buffy or musical like Jonah. School was my talent…but now I’m scared that it’s not anymore.”

“Failing one test isn’t the end of the world,” TJ says. “You’ll work hard, harder than ever. I know you. You’re smart, Cyrus, and one failed test will not change that. But that’s not it. School isn’t your only talent!”

“But—”

“But nothing. Cyrus Goodman, you are talented in so many ways. You’re talented in being a friend. In fact, you’re one of the most supportive, kindest people I’ve ever met, and I’m sure everyone else would agree. You’re talented with how much effort and care you put into everything. No matter what, you always try your best to succeed. You are so talented, Cyrus, and that’s why I like you so much.”

Now, Cyrus’s eyes water for a different reason. He scoots closer to TJ so their shoulders are rubbing against each other. He leans down to rest his head against TJ’s shoulder, nose nudging into his neck. In turn, TJ wraps his arm around Cyrus’s shoulders, tugging him in closer. Then, they just breathe.

“Thank you,” Cyrus whispers fondly. “I’m sorry I was spiraling.”

“It’s okay,” TJ replies. “It happens to all of us. But you were there for me when I was struggling with my dyscalculia, and I’ll always be there for you, too.”

Cyrus snuggles deeper into his side, nuzzling into TJ’s sweatshirt. TJ chuckles fondly.

“I love your sweatshirts, they’re so soft,” Cyrus murmurs. “You’re soft. You’re the best.”

“You’re the best, too. And listen, I can help you with History. I just so happen to be really good at it. We could do study sessions together after school. You help me with math, and I can help you with history?”

The previous tension building inside Cyrus diminishes. Although he still feels anxious about his grade, he feels more at peace with it now. The looming terror from before has all but disappeared because TJ is here. TJ is here to help him and comfort him and support him. His friends are here, too, to help him along the way. With them all by his side, he feels like he can accomplish anything.

“That sounds great. Do you want to start now?” Cyrus yawns.

TJ smiles. “As appealing as that sounds, I think you need a nap. And I am not opposed to taking one, either.”

Cyrus goes to argue, but then realizes just how heavy his eyelids feel. A sigh escapes his lips as he relaxes further, adjusting himself until he and TJ are leaning against each other in a comfortable position on the couch.

“Tomorrow?” Cyrus wonders sleepily, eyes already drifting shut.

“I’ll be there.”

Read my other Andi Mack Fanfiction here!

[jasiper]

listen.......... just listen to me.......... a to all the boys i loved before au........

piper mclean, although a total babe, is very self-critical and she saw what heartbreak did to her father, so she wants no part in love. she also thinks her older sister, silena, creates such a shadow that she will never be noticed. she likes people, though. so instead of speaking up (her father never listened to her, so she started staying quiet) she wrote love letters to her five crushes throughout her life

letter #1: percy jackson. he was piper’s childhood best friend, and for a solid week, she thought she liked him. she was twelve and lonely and probably hormonal, and by the time she sealed up the letter, she realized that she did not like percy in the slightest— they were like siblings, and plus, percy liked annabeth chase since the sixth grade anyways.

letter #2: charles beckendorf. he liked silena for as long as piper can remember, and they were high school sweethearts. he was very sweet, helped out their mom when she were car troubles, and adored silena’s sisters. when they were freshmen and piper was in eighth grade, she had a fat crush on him. that faded pretty quickly when she realized he was destined for silena.

letter #3: will solace. when piper got hit in the head with a volleyball during her freshman season, will was helping the doctor at the game. he got her water and an ice pack. he smiled at her, and she felt a lot better even though she got a nasty concussion. he was cute, kind of like a puppy, and they spoke maybe one time after that game.

letter #4: reyna ramirez-arellano. (piper is bisexual, thanks!) she was in piper’s p.e. class freshman year. she was always the first person to complete the mile, and she broke the school record for most pull-ups. she was gorgeous and took shit from no one. she was the first girl piper had a real crush on. but the feelings went away when reyna moved to a different school.

letter #5: jason grace. varsity lacrosse player since his freshman year, student council member, honors student. he was piper’s lab partner in chemistry sophomore year. he was seriously attractive and nice and laughed at all of her jokes. he brought her coffee every friday and before finals, he brought her a bagel. he was that kind of nice boy with no ulterior motives. if not for him, she would’ve flunked chem.

silena goes off to college and breaks up with charlie because of distance. piper enters her junior year, and drew, her younger sister, won’t stop bugging her about finding a boyfriend. i don’t need a boyfriend apparently wasn’t a good enough excuse for drew

piper is on her way to psych when jason grace stops her in the hallway. he’s holding up the letter and he’s confused because they seemed to be decent friends, and he’s asking if she’s liked him the entire time when he didn’t even notice. at this time, she sees will across the hallway with the letter in hand. in a moment of panic, piper grabs the front of jason’s shirt and kisses him. he’s shocked, and she promptly breaks away and makes a beeline for the bathroom.

the bell rings, and she accepts the fact that she’s missing psych, and will solace enters. he’s really nice, and he tells her that she’s very sweet, but he was more into boys than he was girls. she’s mortified, and she explains the situation to him

the next day, jason approaches her again and asks what was up with the letters. she tells him that in order for the whole thing to blow over, she needed an excuse to show she didn’t like the people anymore. she comes up with the idea to fake date, and she doesn’t think he’ll agree but he does. as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he kisses her before going off to lacrosse, telling her “see ya later” over his shoulder

there’s no formal contract (sorry, piper is definitely not as detail-oriented as lara jean) but they decide a good stopping point is the annual student council beach trip. jason hardly ever has a plus one anyways, so he says that he’ll take her as a goodbye

piper’s best friend leo is convinced they like each other, to which piper denies completely. leo starts making bets with percy and annabeth to see when piper would get with jason. percy thinks the whole thing is hilarious. he and annabeth are ecstatic that it’s jason grace who’s in on the fake relationship. 

they do stereotypical couple things— they hold hands in the hallway and she goes to all his lacrosse games. he drives her and drew to school, and drew is stunned that piper managed to get the school’s golden boy.

piper doesn’t realize she likes jason until a few weeks into the act. they go to a party, and while jason is the sober one, she drinks a little too much. he wraps his arms around her and drives her home, and even though it’s late, he follows her inside and gets her into bed. he makes sure she’s safe and that she has water and advil on the table before ruffling her hair, wishing her a good night before leaving. the next morning, piper thinks oh fuck because she actually likes the guy

she tries to distance herself, because there is no way varsity lacrosse player, student council member, honor student jason grace could like her back. she remains oblivious to the fact that he really likes her back. this poor boy is head over heels and she thinks she’s the one in puppy love

the beach trip arrives, and piper is so excited because since annabeth is in student council, she’s going along with percy. she tries to stay away from jason, hanging out with the couple until they finally convince her to talk to jason

she finds him on the beach, and he finally tells her straight up that he likes her. she crawls onto his lap and although they don’t have sex, they definitely fool around under the stars.

she hears the whispers on the bus the following morning. people are whistling and high-fiving jason. the girls are giving her judgmental looks, and she feels sick to her stomach. jason is just as confused as her, but he tries not to let it bug him. she wishes she could brush it off like he did

some girls are spreading a rumor that jason was the one who bragged about it after they left the beach. piper overhears this and once they arrive back at school, she tells him to stay away from her. she was so scared to be with someone, especially after watching silena dump charlie, and jason broke her trust.

people keep calling her a slut. nothing like silena is what she hears. two guys stop her in the hallway and won’t let her get to class when jason shows up, making a scene when he demands that everyone leave piper alone. she rushes off with leo and it isn’t until later they find out that a few people thought it’d be a funny prank to record them

drew admits to having sent the letters. piper is about to pulverize her sister when drew tells her that because of the letters, she was happy with jason even though it was a fake relationship

but she refuses to talk to jason because she’s so ashamed of blaming him without letting him explain himself. it isn’t until charlie comes over and tells her that jason is a good guy that she considers talking to him. silena calls unexpectedly so the story comes out. silena tells piper that if she lets jason go, it’ll be a big mistake

piper shows up right when practice ends. she stands on the field and jason meets her in the middle

she tells him that it wasn’t fake for her, and that she wanted to be with him, but she was scared. she saw how love didn’t last between her parents, saw so many of her friends with divorced parents. but jason tells her not to be scared because he’s in love with her too

“are you gonna break my heart, mclean?”

they kiss!!!! leo is so smug because both percy and annabeth owe him money.

[punknerdmusings]

Being Ace

I first came into contact with asexuality because of someone wearing rainbow suspenders. It was my freshman year, and he (they? I can't quite remember, it's been a few years and this person was a senior... I'll stick with 'he' to avoid confusion) was wearing rainbow suspenders. In my illustrious way, I bluntly asked if he was gay. He did seem a tad offended (duh), but he answered in a relatively kind tone. He was asexual. And that was my first encounter with asexuality.

My second (of course, these two experiences could have been swapped, I do no have a stellar memory for the order of things, but these incidents and their impact will be in my memory forever) run-in with asexuality was when a popular girl asked me about my relationship status in P.E. my freshman year, and then, when I replied that I was single, she asked if I was asexual.

Regardless of the order these two events happened, they were the ones that began my questioning into thinking that just maybe, I wasn't straight. And by the time sophomore year rolled around, I was nearly certain. And it was National Coming Out Day that I was brave enough, even to myself, to say that yes, I was ace. And I was proud.

However. I was Christian at the time. And ny parents were very much so Christians. So I was very, very afraid of them finding out, even when I looked up if the Bible said anything about asexuality. I kept it a secret from them, for as long as I could. I had a feeling it wouldn't go over well.

And I was right. When my parents demanded my phone (I had no privacy under my stepfather's roof, although why they took it was unrelated to what I did wrong) they went through everything. Including my then newly formed Discord. And they found two messages that they didn't like: "I'm here", and "I'm queer". And when I rushed to 'reassure' them, to try to save my ass, this is what they said.

"It's okay to be asexual, just not to say you're asexual."

I could feel myself getting shoved back in the closet, any hope for being accepted crushed. Those eleven words scared me, and it was clear that they didn't want a kid who didn't feel sexual attraction.

Now, I wonder if they thought their 'daughter' would be poisoned by the gays and lesbians, and drawn to the 'dark side' (Their views, not mine.)

And then, my friends. One of them my best friend. None of them understood, except for a select few. One said "Isn't that just basically being straight?" And it hurt. Because my experience was fundamentally different from theirs.

When I turned to Tumblr, it was to find people who would accept me. After all, it's known as an LGBT+ friendly place. But it wasn't that long before I found out that the plus had an asterisk, and that people didn't want aces included. Calling them 'cishet' and 'asexies' and worst of all, 'damaging'. Saying we didn't belong in the community of misfits, we weren't 'oppressed enough'. And as a confused, lost, lonely teen, it hurt to know that I wasn't good enough. That the people I wanted to turn to for help and support and friends didn't want me in their community.

After all, the 'other' cishets didn't want me. They thought I was weird, and while I had not personally experienced this because my social circle was small, I knew aces had heard the phrases of 'I can fix you' or 'you'll change your mind' or 'you just need the right person'. Phrases that I know gay and lesbian and bisexual people have heard. So why is it okay for it to be said to aces?

And we were told to create our own community. We are still told to create our own community. We did, or so I heard. I wouldn't know except by word of mouth, because it was torn to shreds, invaded, called cringey. Mocked. I hadn't even heard of being ace yet.

So when I see posts like "Aces aren't oppressed, they don't belong in the LGBT community", or posts mocking how our discourse tags are all about cakes and dragons (Because I guess telling aces to die is better for you exclusionists), or telling us to make our own community, or the best yet, saying we're just special snowflakes who are basically straight, this is why it hurts. This is why I get upset, why I want to scream at them, why I want to cry. This is why I want to shove the evidence in their face, pull their fingers out of their ears and make them listen to the facts. We are oppressed, from both sides. We aren't straight, and y'know what, even straight people are allowed in when they're trans. And you like to say "The 'A' stands for ally!!!!!!!" Which literally means you're letting cishets in!!!! You're letting cisgender, heterosexual, heteroromantic people in. You're letting the people who oppress all of us in, so you can exclude aces. So I have a question for you exclusionists: What do you have against us?

[wonderhwalls]

50 questions tag

tagged by @notsunwoo​ thank you friend!

1. what takes up most of your time?

giffing, spacing out and watching videos

2. what makes your day better ?

honestly i don’t even know

3. what’s the best thing that happened to you today?

my mom brought me durian smoothie 

4. what fictional place would you like to go?

either pokemon or digimon world or pokemon ranger oooo

5. are you good at giving advice?

never

6. do you have any mental illnesses?

can’t say bc i haven’t been tested. i usually say I don’t though

7. have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?

nope

8. what musician inspired you the most?

no one?? sounds mean but it’s usually songs that inspire me, not the musician. and i’m saying this based on being inspired by the musician itself, not song wise. Does that make sense?? I don’t even know

9. have you ever fallen in love ?

I have once and never again.

10. what’s your dream date?

just chilling at home

11. what do other people notice about you?

people assume i’m very serious and some say I look intimidating.

12. what is the annoying habit you have?

saying literally a lot in my sentences..... literally....

13. do you still talk to your first love?

HA no, i hate his personality.

14. how many ex’s do you have?

online: 2

offline: 0

15. how many songs are on your playlist ?

too many bc i have multiple playlists

16. what instruments can you play?

the flute and very little piano

17. who do you have the most pictures of?

let’s say victon bc that’s what i remember and I don’t want to take out my phone

18. where would you like to go before you die?

in general, korea and vietnam.

19. what is your zodiac?

aquarius

20. do you relate to it?

from what I read on the internet, sorta.

21. what is happiness to you?

me being able to do what I want without being judged.

in general, me doing things alone.

22. are you going through anything right now?

i’m always going through something mentally

23. what is the worst decision you’ve ever made?

sitting next to my crush in middle school and accidentally breaking his reed

24. what is your favorite store?

this store called little thingamajigs. it’s not because of all the kpop albums they have (which is where I get my albums physically) but all the stuff they have makes me happy. especially the plushies that they have.

25. what is your opinion on abortion?

Honestly, I don’t even know. you can say i’m pro life and pro choice??? but like there are definitely exceptions.

26. do you have a bucket list?

nope

27. do you have a favorite album at the moment?

ateez treasure zero to 1 album!

28. what do you want for your birthday?

i don’t know to be honest

29. what are most people’s first impression of you?

no idea, people say i’m hella serious

30. what age do you seem according to most people?

i don’t know, my teacher didn’t know i was not a 1990s child.

i was assumed I was a senior as a freshman and a freshman as a senior

31. where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping?

next to me on my mirror stand thing

32. what word do you say the most?

i don’t know to be honest

33. what’s the oldest age you would date?

2-3 years older than me

unless the person is nice and i actually wanna date them then i make exceptions

34. what’s the youngest age you would date?

my age

35. what job/career do most people say would suit you?

i’m skipping this question

36. what’s your favorite music genre?

anything that’s upbeat (i’m very open)

37. if you could live in any country in the world, where would it be?

korea to be honest

38. what is your current favorite song?

flower/you by vav

39. how long have you had this blog for?

OH IT’S ALREADY BEEN A YEAR SINCE I HAD THIS BLOG

40. what are you excited for?

ab6ix, the boyz comeback

41. are you a better talker or listener?

talker

42. what is the last productive thing you did?

the introduction paragraph of my essay (I DID THE REST OF THE PARTS FIRST OKAY)

43. what do you want for Christmas?

i don’t know

44. what class do you get the best grades in?

p.e and asl class

45. on a scale of 1-10 , how are you feeling?

5

46. what can you see yourself doing in 10 years?

nowhere

47. when did you get your first heart broken?

i technically didn’t experience a heartbreak, unless i can’t tell the difference between heartbreak and sadness

48. at what age do you want to get married?

i don’t want to get married

49. what career did you want to have as a child?

a vet

50. what do you crave right now?

ice cream!

i tag @stellars @chaeunwoo and those who want to do it.

edit: i’m adding @skizmin bc i’m a terrible friend and i was brain dead by the time i finished this eriughurgh

just the questions will be under cut

1. what takes up most of your time?

2. what makes your day better ?

3. what’s the best thing that happened to you today?

4. what fictional place would you like to go?

5. are you good at giving advice?

6. do you have any mental illnesses?

7. have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?

8. what musician inspired you the most?

9. have you ever fallen in love ?

10. what’s your dream date?

11. what do other people notice about you?

12. what is the annoying habit you have?

13. do you still talk to your first love?

14. how many ex’s do you have?

15. how many songs are on your playlist ?

16. what instruments can you play?

17. who do you have the most pictures of?

18. where would you like to go before you die?

19. what is your zodiac?

20. do you relate to it?

21. what is happiness to you?

22. are you going through anything right now?

23. what is the worst decision you’ve ever made?

24. what is your favorite store?

25. what is your opinion on abortion?

26. do you have a bucket list?

27. do you have a favorite album at the moment?

28. what do you want for your birthday?

29. what are most people’s first impression of you?

30. what age do you seem according to most people?

31. where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping?

32. what word do you say the most?

33. what’s the oldest age you would date?

34. what’s the youngest age you would date?

35. what job/career do most people say would suit you?

36. what’s your favorite music genre?

37. if you could live in any country in the world, where would it be?

38. what is your current favorite song?

39. how long have you had this blog for?

40. what are you excited for?

41. are you a better talker or listener?

42. what is the last productive thing you did?

43. what do you want for Christmas?

44. what class do you get the best grades in?

45. on a scale of 1-10 , how are you feeling?

46. what can you see yourself doing in 10 years?

47. when did you get your first heart broken?

48. at what age do you want to get married?

49. what career did you want to have as a child?

50. what do you crave right now?

[speedytimemachineflower]

wish you were here

I dont think a song has ever touched me so much as when I listened to wish you were here for the first time. It was almost five years ago, It was my freshman year of high school. I was fourteen, the month was September. Life was fun, there was no pandemic, and an awful government was a concern, but not an ever-present reality. My school was clean, not any of my friends were doing lines of cocaine on the weekends quite yet. The football games were an opportunity to flirt with the boys that I liked. Buy some snacks and gossip about the wheres and whats. Schoolwork was even fun. Easy really. I could get away with a lot. I felt as if I finally was in a period of my life where I was going somewhere, becoming something great. I had this friend group, and by the end of the school year, they had all moved or gone home schooled. I read a lot then. Lots of Vonnegut, and books on quantum mechanics and such. I loved my physics class. I loved my after-school tech theatre extracurricular. I had friends who I really felt connected to. Whenever I hear this song, I always think of a few scattered specific memories. It almost makes me cry. I remember a day, going to a football game. I had a crush on one of the boys in the team. My friend and I stayed after to maybe get a word in. We never did haha, but I remember listening to this song on my headphones and walking with a little drizzle around 10pm on a Friday night. I remember driving to school and listening to it. I used to get to school so fucking early for no reason. It would be 50 degrees Farenheit outside, and the sun was coming up. I got there at around 6:30 in the morning, sometimes earlier. My friends would trickle in. I remember this one, and he was very memorable. Sorta quirky but memorable. He told me how he hacked some assholes wifi and shut it down or something. I remember it freaking me out. I used to read Vonnegut, Plath, and Hawking on this table every morning before school. I had this friend, she used to come in and join me. I had this other friend and him and I would ditch P.E. to listen to Pink Floyd in our school's bleachers. It all comes back when I listen to this song. When I listened to it I never thought that I missed anything, but I was still moved by it. Now I wonder if it was a wink from the future of how I feel now about that time.

[pop-pop-pop-popculture]

If a genie appeared out of fucking nowhere and told you that you have three wishes, what would you wish for? (And you can't wish for more wishes!)

I wish I was 5'10.

I wish I played volleyball throughout middle and high school.

I wish I attended either FiDM or LIM College straight after high school (and actually got a salary paying job of my desired career job title (whatever that is) prior to graduating).

There are quite a lot of wishes I have, but these are my top if I'm being totally honest. Now for some stories!

#2: I really don't know why I didn't do volleyball in middle school, especially since because I played it in 2nd grade through 5th grade. All you had to do was walk up to the coach and tell her that you wanted to be on the team, and you were (more than likely) automatically on - no tryouts or anything. I don't recall if volleyball was an option in 6th grade, but it was in 7th and 8th. You had to tryout for 9th grade and going forward, though. Anyways, get this: I attended freshman orientation during the summer and everything went fine. Pretty big school. Well, as I was heading out, I passed the gym, and there was a sign on the gym. Fast forward to the first day of school -> I had 'VOLLEYBALL' written on my schedule, which totally excited me, and it was first period. As I was sitting in the gym with my mates listening to the coach talk about how the class will go, she asked all of us to turn in our forms. A confused me looked around at the other girls handing her the forms, wondering where it came from. I told the coach that I didn't get one, and she said she handed them out at tryouts. Um . . . "... When were tryouts," I asked her with slight anxiety. During the damn freshman orientation. After being told, I then remembered what the sign on the gym door read: VOLLEYBALL TRYOUTS. I saw the sign as I was heading out to the car to leave. Nobody told me the tryouts were during freshman orientation! So, due to not trying out, I had to get my schedule changed and ended up getting put in P.E. . Dude, I was so fucking pissed. #3: I took fashion marketing my junior year and fashion design my senior year in high school. One of the admission counselors from FiDM lives in a nearby city of the state I live in, and she came to visit my fashion design class to talk about FiDM. I've always been interested in fashion, and after taking these two classes and meeting her, I knew I wanted to go there. I had everything I needed in order to apply as well as got a letter of recommendation from each fashion teacher, so all I needed to do was complete a few more steps and then I was set. Well, I brought up wanting to apply to the parents, and instead of being supportive and excited for me, they chose to argue and made it clear that they were against me attending. Aside from tuition (and everything else that came with it regarding expenses), they did not want me to live in California by myself. There are four locations in California, by the way, and the main one is in Los Angeles, which is where I was wanting to go. I ended up not applying, and it really pissed me off. I was super depressed the rest of 2012, because, unlike most everyone else, I was not going straight to college after high school. As for LIM College, which is in New York, in 2013, my mum told me about their one week summer camp program and asked if I wanted to attend (she knew damn well that I was interested in fashion), so I happily signed up. I loved the experience as a fashion student and the institute itself! At that time, I attended a community college prior to graduating high school since I was now unsure of what I wanted to major in and where I wanted to attend after being told that FiDM was unacceptable. So ... this is totally my fault and I still don't understand why I didn't think of it at the time, but applying to LIM to start in the fall 2014 did not occur to me, and I have no excuse as to why it did not. Unless I'm just making this up, I could have sworn that the parents asked me if I wanted to apply (and attend), and I responded that I wasn't because I was more interested in the creative aspect of fashion rather than business side. If that did happen, then I absolutely 100% regret saying that and hate myself. Including the summer camp, I've been to New York twice (first time was my senior graduation gift), so it's not like I would have been a complete stranger to the state. To this day, I still wonder if the parents would have been okay with me attending if I got accepted. I mean, I know how classes work at the institute and I've been to New York more than once, so I don't really see what other argument they could have used against me.

Soooo yeah... that's my three wishes. Great question!

[duckybeth99]

Choice (Past Fic)

hullo this fic is backstory for Marianna, Johnny, and Jared here we go. very long tho be warned

——

She knew him since they were kids. Primary school, to be exact.

She remembered when he was introduced to the class, the teacher asking him to say something about himself. Of course, he went by a different name back then and looked different. He identified differently. He told everyone how it was his first time in school. He told that his dad was a teacher, too. He said he liked baseball and video games.

She didn’t really pay too much attention to him back then. She already had her own circle of friends. But Marianna felt bad a few times, in those early weeks, when he ate lunch alone. Mariana introduced herself first.

Johnny eventually found friends on his own, but he thought about Mariana on occasion. The first one to talk to him.

He had plenty of guy friends in middle school. A small ring of them, and Mariana had her friends, a small ring of girls. The two groups hung out and made trouble on occasion.

High school was when things started to become different.

She visited him over the summer, and that’s when he told her he was a boy. He was now Jonathan Bosteau, Jr., and Mariana instantly started doing her own research to find things to help him. Bought him nice binders for his birthday. They looked at style magazines for new haircuts for Johnny, looking at different ways he could do his hair. He seemed to like the experimentation.

That whole summer, though, Johnny had a suspicion about Marianna Wilson.

Why was she suddenly spending more time with him, one on one?

“Hey, Johnny? You there, man?”

Johnny blinked, shutting his locker. He looked to two of his friends, standing beside his locker. Johnny flashed one of his signature big grins.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just thinking about later today.”

“Baseball tryouts!” the first guy cheered. “Dude, this school has like, the best sports, man. You get in, everybody’s gonna notice you.”

“I heard talent scouts came last year in the spring and recruited some guys,” the second boy thought. “I think they recruited Jones and Callaghan.”

“They’ve got school records,” Johnny shrugged casually, walking with the boys to class, “I’m not surprised.”

“They won’t have those records for much longer.”

Johnny and his friends stopped, looking to another boy. He was older than them, a little bit taller than Johnny’s friends—but about equal height to Johnny himself.

His growth spurt was nice for trying to look older.

“Jared Morrison,” the older held his hand out with a coy, confident smile. “Although, I’m sure you’ve already heard of me. Junior class president. Number four on the field, best pitcher and batter on the school’s team. And, ahha—“ Jared checked his nails, puffing air onto them then brushing it coolly on his shirt, “assistant coach and team captain.”

“Wow,” Johnny smiled. “That’s—that’s awesome. I’m Johnny. My friends and I are going to try out later today.”

“Good luck, guys,” Jared smirked, turning away. “We don’t normally take freshmen on the team, but maybe you’ll change that.” He left the boys in the hall, walking with his own group of boys, presumably the other baseball players.

“I have to get on that team,” Johnny grinned, determination on his face. “And I’m gonna.”

Later that day, at the end of school and plenty of time for the boys to change into their gym clothes, Johnny stood tall and proud, stretching out his arms. His two friends sat beside him, stretching their legs. Johnny watched the coach and Jared talking further away.

“I’m gonna blow all these guys away,” Johnny smirked, “you guys just watch.”

“Hey, I think Jared wasn’t kidding about no freshman on the team,” one of the boys murmured, squinting and looking around at all the other boys trying out. “The only people in our grade are us.”

“Well then,” Johnny stretched his legs, shrugging calmly, “just easier for us to break that record, huh?”

“What if it’s a school rule or something?” the other boy piped up. Johnny rolled his eyes.

“You’re too paranoid about that shit,” he mumbled. “Besides, it’s a stupid rule if it is one. I doubt it.”

Johnny glanced over to the hill beside the field, seeing a group of students taking pictures. He assumed it was the photography class. He saw Marianna among them.

She spotted Johnny and gave him a friendly wave and a thumbs up for good luck.

The coach blew his whistle, sunglasses and baseball cap on, the sun shining on them, “Alright boys, line up.”

As the boys were told what to do for their tryouts, each boy got a chance to prove their skill (or lack thereof) to the coaches. Johnny rooted loudly for his friends, enough to warrant sideways glances from the coach and Jared.

“He’s, uh... spirited,” the coach mumbled. Jared nodded.

“He’s just a freshie, though,” he whispered. “Don’t have too high hopes for him.”

Shortly after, Johnny himself was called up. The coach noted his speed, his accuracy with catching, and his sheer strength and skill at pitching and batting. The coach wrote down on his clipboard what he noted.

As Johnny finished his tryout, he glanced over his shoulder and caught wind of Jared glaring at him. His mouth twitched.

Johnny blinked at it initially. Then, feeling his pride rise, he gave a smirk, stuck out his tongue and winked at him with a cocky wave. He saw Jared’s pale face turn a deep red and his frown turn more apparent.

——

“Did you hear?! He broke the record!”

“What? No way!”

“Go look!”

“He’s the first freshman on the team!!”

Johnny pushed open the door to the freshman building, on his way to get his books from his locker, when everyone stopped and stared at him. He looked a little confused for a moment, then everyone started cheering and clapping.

“What’s all this about?” Johnny blinked, as his friends and Marianna ran up to him.

“Haven’t you seen the results for the team yet?!” Marianna asked. Johnny shook his head.

“I came in late so I couldn’t stop by the—“

“You made the team!!” his friends exclaimed. “You’re a Wolf!” Johnny beamed.

“I told you I would!” he laughed. As his friends continued to congratulate him, Johnny noticed a boy watching him as they all walked away to class.

They passed by the senior building, and there, leaning against his locker with a glare, was Jared watching Johnny. The younger boy stopped and let his friends continue on their walk.

“Hey,” Johnny jogged up to Jared, “I wanna say thanks for putting me on the team, and talking to us earlier that day. Challenging us like that was really great, and—“

“I didn’t put you on the team,” Jared spat. “Coach did. But listen to me, kid, you’re on thin ice. We added one more extra person on the team by putting you in. So if you screw up enough, if you get enough of a bad rep, or you’re nothing but a benchwarmer, you’re out the minute I can get you out.” Johnny felt his hands ball up into fists.

“What’re you gonna do if I stay? You’re just assistant coach.”

“Trust me,” Jared turned to walk away, “I’ll find something on you.”

“I’ll tell coach—!”

“He won’t believe you, freshie. Best advice is to stay in your lane.” Before Johnny could say anything else, before he could pick his fight, the bell rang. He knew his dad would be mad at him if he started a fight and missed class. Again.

————

“I need something on him,” Jared vented in the back of class, under hushed voices to his friends. “He’s gotta have some dirty secret, some shit I can expose him for.”

“Y’know, I heard a rumor from my little cousin,” one of the guys began. “He’s in the same grade as Johnny. He said that when they change for P.E., he always goes into the stalls to change. He never does it in front of anyone else.”

“Gee, maybe he’s takin’ a piss or a shit at the same time,” Jared sarcastically groaned. “C’mon, that means nothing!”

“No, no, no, listen,” the friend continued. “He told me that he talked to at least his gym teacher before they started anything, and pretty much all his other teachers about something. Always in private.”

“Maybe he’s shit in class.”

“Maybe he’s a trouble maker?”

“No, man,” the first friend shook his head, and in an even lower voice, a more quiet whisper, “Someone says his name isn’t right on his papers. First day, he stopped all his teachers before they called his name. After that, was when he talked to them.”

Jared thought for a moment. “I want dirt on him,” he decided. “Anything and everything. I stop by the office all the time for leadership stuff. One of you guys just distract the front desk lady and I’ll go snooping.”

“Why not us?”

“You’ll fuck it up. Best way to get this done is to do it yourself.”

“Mr. Morrison,” the teacher spoke up, his voice high and strained in annoyance. “Is there anything you’d like to share with the class?” Jared smirked.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Wanted to tell everyone to come to our opening game in a few weeks. You can see that new freshie there. He’s really great.”

“Please leave your extracurriculars outside of class,” the teacher sniffed. He turned back to the board and proceeded with his lecture. Jared glanced over his shoulder at his friends with a mischievous smirk. His friends looked at him with intrigue and gave him a thumbs up on his plan.

In his leadership class, Jared did exactly as he planned. He headed down to the office, texted his friends as he delivered papers, and as he started heading towards there, his friends distracted the secretary. Jared snuck into the back office and looked at the cabinets, labeled by first two letter of last names.

B, b, b...

Bosteau.

Jared pulled out the record file and crouched to the floor as he read it.

Bosteau, Johanna. NOTE: Legal name change in progress. Refer to as Johnathan Bosteau, Jr. in future paperwork. Permission granted to use private restrooms and private space in locker rooms.

Jared reread the name and the note.

Slowly, he grinned.

He quickly pulled out a camera borrowed from the photography class, and snapped pictures of the record. As fast as he could, he tucked the camera away, put the file back as he found it, and slipped out of the office casually. His friends waited before following him out of the office to deter suspicion.

“So? What’d you find?” one asked. Jared smirked and showed them the preview of the photo. “No way. What’re you gonna do with that?”

“I got one more piece of evidence I want to find before I pin the creep. You guys are gonna help me. Then, I’ll send this to Marcy in the journalism class.”

“What if she doesn’t post it?”

“Then I’ll make someone else do it. I got plenty of things to bribe ‘em with.”

———

With Marcy out sick, Jared had to resort to another plan. When he called her, she told him what to do: put in the password on her computer in the lab, upload the photos to it. When he asked about deletion, she told him that with everyone in that class constantly needing photo and video files for projects, they manually deleted everything, not the school. She warned him that there was another student she shared the computer with and to make sure she didn’t see the files. Hide it, if you have to, just make the file name something stupid, she said. She warned, If we get caught, we’re in huge trouble.

So as his friends found out the ‘special space’ Johnny changed in every P.E., they snuck into the area during their gym class, and hid a video camera. Jared uploaded the photos quickly during lunch period.

As he left the lab, he passed by Marianna.

Making up for missing the other day, she came in to catch up on her photography project. She booted up the computer and got set to editing, when she noticed a new, odd folder on the desktop. It had a weird name.

Just numbers. 12345678.

Normally, people put in their last name, first initial, then the project name. At least, in the photography class.

Marianna clicked the folder.

As Jared met up with his friends at lunch, they handed him the video camera. He played back the footage, looking at it intensely.

“Hey, man, I’m... I’m not totally sure about having video on him,” one friend piped up, arms crossed, though he didn’t look confident in his words. “I mean, how old is he even? This could be considered porn, Jared. Of a kid. He’s undressing—”

“Will you stop calling her a boy?” Jared glared. “Besides, we just need the evidence of the chest.”

Right as Jared expected, Johnny had a binder on. He grinned a wicked, cruel smile.

“I’m gonna put this on Marcy’s computer,” he said. “She can take a screenshot of this for the paper. We got the tranny.” Jared started to leave the lunchroom.

“You’re just gonna dip?!”

“I got bigger fish to fry, boys. I’ll catch up.”

Jared jogged back to the lab, as the clock was ticking for lunch to end. He knew video always took a while to upload. Cheep ass computers.

He sprinted inside and pushed the door open, and was relieved to see no one there. That was, until Marianna’s head poked out from behind one of the large computers. Jared felt his smile drop.

“Um,” Marianna piped up, “the other computer lab is for everyone else. This is for photography, video, and the journalism classes—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jared replied, waving his hand irritatedly. “I just have to upload something. I’m helping out Marcy.”

“Well, this is her computer,” Marianna blinked. “Uh, I could move aside. I’m pretty much done with all I can do.”

“Thanks,” Jared forced a smile and slid to the chair next to Marianna. He grabbed a cable and connected it to the computer. Marianna still sat there, waiting. He glanced over his shoulder at her, “Uh. What’re you still doing here? Don’t you have to get a head start to class?”

“Well, I have to shut down the computer after you.”

“I can do that, don’t worry.”

“It’s the rules that kids in the classes have to be the ones to—“

Jared felt himself growing more annoyed by this brat. He took a quiet, slow, deep breath. Just do what his dad did. Charming smile. Just do what his mom did. Butter up people.

He flashed his charming smile, and shrugged coolly at Marianna, “Aw, I admire you for trying to do the right thing. It’s rare to see, especially in freshmen. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. But really, I’ve got this. I’m a junior. Don’t you think I’m experienced in this sort of stuff? I help Marcy all the time!” Jared saw Marianna blush when he smiled and complimented her. Perfect.

“W-well, I guess—“

The computer let out a quick beep to let Jared know the file was finished. A preview played of the video. Marianna glanced at it then gasped.

“Th-that’s Johnny changing!” She looked to Jared, now a glare on her face. “What are you doing?!” Jared smoothed his light brown hair and flashed another calm, cool smile.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he chuckled. “I really am helping Marcy with something. Biggest story she’ll have in the paper.”

“Y-you’re going to out him,” Marianna looked disgusted and enraged at Jared. “Y-you’re awful! Some team captain you are! I’ll tell the teacher, everyone that you did this!”

Jared quickly swooped to Marianna, holding her back and kissing her deeply. Marianna’s face turned red. Jared slowly released the kiss and looked at her.

“There can be more of that,” he murmured, “if you don’t tell anyone about this.”

“But Marcy... sh-she’s your girlfriend,” Marianna began to argue, but was stopped as Jared held her hand.

“What she doesn’t know won’t kill her. Besides, she’s done the same thing. Just keep this all between us.”

“But—“

“What do you want, me? Any other boy? Cash? Popularity? Drugs? I can get you anything, Marianna. Any single thing.”

The bell for lunch rang. Marianna glanced up at the clock. Jared quickly ejected the camera and signed off of the computer.

He kissed Marianna’s cheek, whispering in her ear, “I’ll let you think about it.”

———

Another day went by, and Marianna didn’t say anything to Johnny about the article. She wasn’t sure how to. Besides, she would rather take care of it herself and not get him hurt or worry about it.

Then came the text.

[txt] hey mari. it’s jared. soooo marcy is out sick again n i can’t figure out how the fuck her newspaper software works. but she said u helped her figure it out so meet me after school b4 practice. xoxo

So, she did. And in one more attempt, she tried to convince him to do the right thing.

He didn’t.

Making her tell him what to do, he formatted and wrote the entire article himself. He saved it to the week’s edition of the school paper. Again, he kissed Marianna for her help and promised to pay her back with more than just kisses.

With the lab empty, Marianna felt her heart pound. This wasn’t right. But the article was already saved and it was going to be printed and seen by everyone that Friday. Tomorrow.

There wasn’t another article written to replace it, to get it deleted and off the paper.

Or was there?

Marianna looked through the newspaper, passing by the ads for the school dance that Saturday. She looked through the student images for the yearbook and grabbed hers. With shaking hands, she image searched for a flag with three colors.

She typed up the story as fast as she could, and replaced Johnny’s story with hers.

Jared would hate her. Make her life a living hell. What would Johnny think? Her dad? Both her parents, her family, the whole school when they found out?

She didn’t care. It was better than Johnny being exposed without his consent.

At least this was her choice.

The next day found Johnny walking into the freshman building, giving high fives, and flashing a smile to the boy who watched him weeks ago when he first made the team. His name was Harry. He was part of the drama club.

He was... kinda cute.

He turned his gaze away from him, and stopped dead in his tracks at what he saw next.

There, stood Marianna in the hallway, staring at her locker. Her hands were balled into fists. People were laughing at her. Johnny slowly walked over to her locker, and saw what happened.

All over the blue lockers, in bright red spray paint, were the words sprayed all over it. Dyke. Homo. Greedy bitch. Whore. Johnny looked at his friend’s face. It was red and she held back crying. Johnny whipped his head to the people laughing.

“Which one of you did this?!” He shouted so loud, it rattled the hall. The laughing stopped immediately. “Who?! You got no fuckin’ right to call her that shit, and I’m going to beat the ass of whoever did it!!” Marianna felt her hair stand on end and static crackle from the lockers.

“Does it really matter, Johnny?”

The young boy glared at Jared and his friends, including Marcy. Jared shrugged with a cocky, proud smile, “I mean, all that shit’s true. Didn’t you see the school paper? She’s a fuckin’ lesbian.”

“I’m not,” Marianna whispered, voice tight with tears. “I said I’m bi.”

“She’s a greedy little slut,” Marcy’s nasally voice whined. “Jared told me she made moves on him! Oh girls, watch out, or she’ll take your man! Or you! Kiss you when you don’t want, force you—!”

Johnny grabbed Marcy by the shoulders and slammed her into the lockers.

“Take that shit back right now,” Johnny growled. Marcy nervously pushed up her glasses, blonde curls bouncing as she tried to break free from Johnny’s grip.

“Whoa, you can’t hit a girl,” Jared peeled Johnny off of Marcy. “I mean... I guess for you, it doesn’t matter.”

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

“I mean, since you are a—“

“What is going on here?!” a teacher rushed to the scene. Harry was behind her. “Jared, Johnny, Marcy, and Marianna, to the principle’s office, now!” She looked to the students, “And all of you with those newspapers, throw them out! That’s an order from the vice principle!”

Johnny was used to this part. His dad driving in from work, begging for the principle to overlook his son’s aggressive tendencies. He’s a good kid, really, he does well, he means well, really, I swear.

This time, Marcy’s dad, Jared’s mom, and Marianna’s dad were joined in the meeting. It was easy to get Mr. Wilson since he worked there anyway.

“The school paper is not to be used for this sort of content,” the principle lectured. “Student’s identities is a private matter, and frankly, it’s a sensitive topic for a lot of students and parents. Now what I want to know is this: who published the article?”

“Wasn’t me,” Jared crossed his arms and relaxed. “I’m telling the truth.”

“I didn’t,” Marcy mumbled. “I was out sick.”

“You think I’m the kind of person to do that sh—“ Johnny glanced up at his dad. John shook his head. Johnny went into an annoyed silence, pressing his cheek against his hand, glaring away, annoyed.

“It was me,” Marianna whispered. “I... I outed myself.”

“While I’m glad this isn’t a matter of someone else publishing this,” the principle began, “this still is a misuse of the paper. Marianna, I’m going to have to suspend you from using those computers outside of your photography class and you’ll have to be monitored while you do it now. As for the locker situation,” and she cleared her throat, “who did that?” Silence fell. “Jared? Do you know who?”

“Probably Wyatt,” he shrugged. Johnny glared at him. The rat didn’t even try to protect his friends. “He’s bought spray paint before.”

“My son hangs out with the wrong kind of people,” Helen Morrison began, “but his father and I have been trying to work on that.”

“Mhm,” the principle looked with clear doubt on her face. “Then there’s the matter of Johnny’s threat and physical attack. Mr. Bosteau, I’ve talked to you plenty of times about Johnny already, and so has his middle and elementary school teachers. We’ve given him a lot of leeway, but if this continues, I’m going to have no choice but pull him from the baseball team, and suspend him. You’re lucky we haven’t done any of that already. And you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get expelled.” John nodded and looked at his son with worry. Johnny sunk in his chair and glared at the floor, away from his father’s gaze.

“I demand some sort of punishment now for Johnny for attacking my daughter!” Marcy’s father frowned. “She could be bruised, and that bully did it.”

“If you want to accuse Johnny of bullying, I can accuse your daughter of the same thing,” the principle looked seriously at the father. “We have records of it since day one of her freshman year, all the way to now as a junior. Now what Johnny may have done wasn’t right, he was defending Marianna from her verbal attacks.”

“Is there anything else or do we have permission to leave?” Helen glanced at her phone. “I have things to attend to.”

“Of course, Mrs. Morrison,” the principle nodded. “One more thing to note: why this happened.” She pulled out the school newspaper and flipped to Marianna’s article. “If you haven’t read this to the end, you’ll not know why this was published. But here it is.” She cleared her throat and read from the page, “‘The reason I’m sharing this is for one reason and one reason only. Jared Morrison. He’s threatened to reveal secrets of one of my friends, he’s manipulated me and who knows how many others for this. To protect my friend, I’m doing this. I wasn’t ready to say I’m bisexual, but I had to be to protect them.’ Now, I don’t know about you, but the person who deserves the most punishment is Jared Morrison.”

“Whoa, this is a he-said, she-said thing now!” Jared shouted. Helen frowned at her son’s outburst.

“What were you going to do, Jared?”

“You can’t make me tell anything.”

“I can, and I will,” the principle folded her hands on her desk. “I’ll stay here until you say what was going on, and so will everyone else.” Helen placed her hand on Jared’s shoulder. John saw her clench it tightly.

“Johnny’s a girl,” Jared scoffed. “I was gonna prove it.” Johnny’s face dropped. It quickly turned back to rage, and John quickly grabbed his son’s shoulders to hold him back before he did anything.

“Jared, that is a private matter,” the principle scolded, “and he is not a girl. He is a young man, just as you are. For your involvement in this, you are no longer on the baseball team for this year.”

“What?! That’s not fair!! I was telling the truth!!”

“This school promotes tolerance and acceptance,” the principle sat straight and tall. “I will not allow this sort of bullying at Riverview High. Understand?”

Jared felt his face grow hot. He glared at Johnny, and Johnny glared back. John kept the hold of his son’s shoulders. With the principle dismissing the parents and children, Marianna gave her father a quick hug. He spoke to her gently for a moment, before releasing her. He saw her mom come into the office, taking her home for the day.

“I’m sorry all that happened to you, Johnny,” John held his son’s shoulder. Johnny shook his head.

“Nothing happened to me,” he murmured. “‘Cuz of Marianna.”

———

That Saturday, everyone knew Jared was kicked off the baseball team. Another boy, Brennan, a senior, was promoted to be the team captain. People congratulated him at the dance. Jared stood in the corner brooding.

Johnny walked around the gym, music and lights showing off for the back to school dance, and he looked around for her. For Marianna. He hadn’t talked to her since yesterday.

He spotted her leaning against the wall in the corner, talking to Harry. Johnny grabbed three sodas and walked over to them.

“Hey,” Johnny spoke up. Marianna blushed and gently played with a strand of her hair.

“Hey.”

“I, uh, brought some sodas. You guys want some?”

“Sure,” Harry piped up. Johnny smiled and handed him one. He held out another for Marianna. She shyly took it.

“Hey, uh,” Johnny looked at Harry, “you don’t mind if I borrow Marianna for a minute, yeah?”

“No problem,” Harry smiled shyly a Johnny. The taller looked at Marianna and nudged his head towards the dance floor.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened,” Johnny murmured. Marianna shook her head.

“I... asked for it when I published the paper,” she said. Johnny shook his head.

“No, you didn’t,” he spoke gently. “And, look, maybe some people at the school aren’t ready for people like us. But... there’s plenty of others who are. That Harry guy’s nice to you.”

“He’s... yeah,” Marianna gave a small smile and nodded. “He is. Well, part of it was because he knows what it’s like. He lived in a different town last year. Came out there and had the same problems. Lot more people were against him than were for him. But... he says people are a lot nicer here. I just got involved with really bad people I guess.”

“Hey,” Johnny smirked, “so did I. At least I had you to defend me.”

“I can say the same thing about you,” Marianna giggled. A slow song came on. Marianna looked shy, almost embarrassed as it came on. Johnny only shrugged and went ahead with placing his hands on Marianna’s hips. She slowly placed hers over his shoulders.

“But if I’m being real for a minute,” Johnny began, “you really didn’t have to do that. I could have handled it.”

“Even if you could have,” Marianna sighed, “you shouldn’t have. But... thanks.”

“Thanks to you, too,” Johnny smiled. “For, uh... I don’t wanna say keeping a secret, but keeping my stuff safe. At this point, though, I have a feeling Jared’s verbally blabbed about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Marianna murmured. Johnny shook his head.

“You know what?” he smirked. “I’ve never felt happier until I’ve started being the way I feel. There’s gonna be shit people who don’t like it, but guess what? I don’t give a fuck.” Marianna laughed.

“I wish I had that confidence,” she said. Johnny shrugged.

“Best way to get that kind of confidence is to just go in, full throttle.” Marianna felt her face flush. “I mean, that’s just me.”

“I think you’re right,” Marianna slowly nodded. She glanced at a girl standing in the corner, a wallflower.

“Can I ask you something, though?” Johnny asked. Marianna nodded. “You... do you have a thing for me?” Marianna held back a snort.

“Don’t get a bigger ego than you have,” she giggled. Johnny rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Okay, okay, here’s the truth. I did, for a while. I liked you a lot. Before you came out, too. But... I realized I was more into the friendship than being a couple. Especially when I picked up that you were eyeing somebody else. And, uh, I was, too.”

“You’re into Lily, huh?”

“You’re eyeing Harry, aren’t you?”

The two friends laughed.

“Let’s be real with ourselves,” Johnny smiled. “Alright?” Marianna grinned.

“Alright,” she said. “And then we tell each other how it went.” Johnny nodded. The two left each other in the middle of the song. Johnny crossed back to Harry and held out a hand to him. Marianna shyly approached Lily and asked her to dance.

Jared glared at the couples on the floor, and some people whispered to each other. But others smiled. Johnny’s words were right. Some people wouldn’t like them. Some people would.

But what mattered was their own happiness.

[talvin-muircastle]

Post from May 19, 2005.

I am in the process of (finally) deleting my old LiveJournal account.  I am archiving stuff, letting the very few people who still follow me on there know that I am closing the doors, etc.  Effective December 1, I will cease to have a LiveJournal presence.    I am not sure if anyone will even notice.  Sad, because LJ was my first Social Media account.   First for many of us, I think.

I went back to look at my very first entry on LJ.  So much has changed in my life since then.  So much has not.  I have learned that while you never really get rid of your demons, you can learn to harness them and put them to work on your agenda.  

I still laugh because it hurts.  I try to help other people laugh as well. Because I know it hurts.

Please note that 45-year-old me does not advocate the solution that 14-year-old me tried. 45-year-old me doesn’t even feel the same about it as 32-year-old me did--not exactly.   Talk to me.  I’ve been there, I will listen, and maybe we can find a better way.  

Going to put it all behind a cut, because it is long, and a bit harsh.  Have a care: if you look behind the cut, you may never see me the same way again.  If you treasure your illusions about Talvin, leave it be.

Why do I laugh? I am told by many that I am considered a "wit".   Some have used the term "smartass" as well.  OK, let's face it...alot of different terms have been used to describe me, some more complimentary than others. Why?  What is so funny? Pain. I laugh because it hurts.  And you know, alot of things hurt.  I won't list them all, but they run the gamut.  I have physical pain, emotional pain, spiritual pain.  I even have intellectual pain...I know that things can be different, and yet they are not, and the reasons for this make no sense to me.  The world I live in, as a Vulcan might say, is highly illogical at times.   So I laugh. There is an incident in my past that I have quietly related to several people of late.  Perhaps it is time that I set it down for public consumption.  Perhaps someone will listen.  I do not, as you will soon see, hold out much hope of that. Maybe ONE of you will listen.  Just ONE.  If I can reach just one person with this story, perhaps the event that inspired it was not so senseless and meaningless after all.  If it can just do some good.... Let it do some good.... I was 14 years old.  A Freshman in High School.  Already well accustomed to being the "nerd", the "outsider", the "punching bag".  I was borderline suicidal, I felt I had very few friends, I felt I belonged nowhere. Before P.E. one day, one of the Usual Suspects got me down on the floor.  And something inside...you thought I was going to say "snapped"?  Been there, it's not just a cliche, but that is not what happened this time. Deep down in my soul, something very softly went "click".   I was not angry.  I distinctly recall a sense of rational detachment.   Emotion had simply ceased to have any relevance to the problem before me.  It was most definitely a problem.  A problem that needed a solution.  The solution became obvious, and I acted on it.   I came to the rational decision that it could only end one of two ways: either I would kill him, or he would kill me.  Either way: the pain would end.  Either outcome was equally acceptable.   I wrapped my hands around his throat, and locked them there.  I squeezed.  It took him and all three of his pals to disengage me.  I did not curse, scream, cry out...I just kept determinedly trying to get my hands back around his neck.  I felt like a machine.  Finally, they just beat me until I gave up fighting.   I was required, at that time, to keep a Journal for English class.  So, I wrote out exactly what had happened.  I stated that I had had the intention to kill a fellow student, or else be killed by him.  I said that I was very afraid of how I had felt, of how far I had been pushed.  I wrote that I feared greatly that it could, that it probably would, happen again.  I turned this in to my English teacher. I got an 'A'.   I did not go to the office. The police were not called.  My parents were not called. I did not speak to a counselor.  I was not called aside after class.  For my excellence in writing... I got an 'A'.   That was 18 years ago.  I am still angry. I think I shall always be angry about that.  [31 years ago, now. And yes, I am still angry. But I have found others with similar stories, and so I am not alone.] When Columbine happened, they said, "We had no idea anything like this could ever happen!"  I went and found a place to be alone, and I screamed, and I cried, and I railed against a world run by fools.   Now, whenever I hear of another school shooting, another student rampage, I stop and ask myself quietly, "Did they get an 'A'?" You will now forget what you have read here. It makes you uncomfortable, and you don't want to think about it.  It is a truth you cannot endure. I am glad that, unlike me, you have a choice. I don't mean that sarcastically.  I don't want more people like me. Or maybe you listened.  Maybe you will remember.  Maybe you can put a stop to this cycle that goes on every day.   Maybe you will give them more than an 'A'. That is one small part of why I laugh.  It is not the worst part, in fact.  I am not ready to write about all of it.   You are possibly confused.   "Jill, Jill my darling!  Too much Martian has rubbed off on you.  Of course it wasn't funny; it was tragic. That's why I had to laugh.  I looked at a cageful of monkeys and suddenly I saw all the mean and cruel and utterly unexplainable things I've seen and heard and read about in the time I've been with my own people--and suddenly it hurt so much I found myself laughing." --"Stranger In A Strange Land" by Robert Heinlein Do you understand now? I laugh, because despite the best efforts of the world I live in-- I am still a human being.     Next time, something that won't give you nightmares.  Something you can laugh about, perhaps.

There you have a glimpse into what made me who I am today.  

I have been told more than once, “You have a problem with Authority.”

Well, DUH!  Of COURSE I do!  How could someone survive something like that and NOT have a very cynical, distrustful view of Authority?  

Oh, and I am not a SmartAss anymore.

You get to be my age, you can lay claim to being a WISEAss.

[5secondsofdreaming]

Physical Education - Ashton Irwin

Description: Luke’s little sister, Ashton’s ex-best friend, Y/N gets forced into taking P.E. her last year of high school, only to realize that her brother’s enemy is teaching her class.

Warning: None.

Request: No

(Part 1 / ?)

__________

~Y/N’s POV~

Pulling up to the familiar parking lot in front of the familiar building made me cringe just by the look at it. I looked from the sheet of paper in my hand to the road, scanning the painted numbers on the pavement for the parking spot number I was assigned for this year of school.

138. Found it; directly in across from the practice football field. Once I turned the ignition off, I took one last deep breath before forcing myself to walk to short distance from my car to the entrance.

“Jenny! Jenny!” I heard girl from the opposite side of the lot scream at the top of her lungs, her arms flailing around in the air in attempts to get the Jenny girl to acknowledge her. They made eye contact and that was it, all I could here for the rest of my dreaded walk into the building was freshman or sophomore girls gossiping about whatever underclassmen talk about.

“Y/N.” I heard a deep voice call out from the side of the brick structure. Not recognizing the voice that said my name, I ignored it and kept my attention on the double doors ahead of me. “I know you heard me Y/N. You are honestly just like your brother.” The guy scoffed, this time causing me to give him the attention he desired.

My head turned in the direction his voice came from, when I looked over the only person I saw was a guy who looked like was still in university. Walking my way closer him, we finally made eye contact and I knew right away who it was, instantly regretting my decision of coming over. “Ashton.”

“You remember me!” He snickered evilly, a huge smirk spread across his lips as he noticed my posture switch from slightly cocky to uncomfortable and awkward. “Looks like Luke still talks about our lovely friendship, doesn’t he?”

I took that as rhetorical question and just stood a few feet from him, awkwardly moving my weight from one foot to another, just wanting the conversation to be over already. “Can I go now?” I mumbled, avoiding looking at his face.

“What grade are you in this year?” He chirped, completely letting my question fly through one ear and straight out the other.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I looked him up and down. “Why, have you decided to come back to get a GPA that’s higher than a 2.0?” I raised an eyebrow, my normal cockiness slowly seeping back into play. My remark caused Ashton to flush and start shacking slightly from anger.

We stood there for a solid three minutes, Ashton trying to come up with something to say to me the whole time. “You know what Y/N!?” He growled, pointing a finger at me, opening his mouth to start ranting off but he was interrupted by the second school bell.

“Looks like you might be late getting to English One. You better get going so you can make some new friends with the janitors on the way to class.” I smiled widely, turning on my heel and heading into the school and towards my first period, leaving Ashton in the dust.

__________

~Ashton’s POV~

“Irwin, get over here!” Coach Philip yelled at me from across the gym, waving his hands in his direction. Nodding, I pushed myself off the bleachers and jogged over to where he wanted me. “Listen Ashton, I know you’ve always felt at home in this gym but if you’re going to be taking over my place here you need to pay close attention to how I roll with things.”

Sighing I mumbled and apology that I knew he didn’t care the slightest about, listening to him then start telling me the plans for the next group of high schoolers coming in.

Once everyone from his first class was out, I was rushed around. Philips would give me cones or balls to lay out and I had to run the mm around the gym to their designated area for the period.

“They’ll be here in five, I’m going to go in my office and work on my retirement paper work. Do you think you can hand this group of students all on your own on day one?” Coach asked, handing over his attendance list and lucky pen.

I grabbed the items out of his hands, forcing a fake smile onto my lips, I nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve got it under control. You’ll be right outside anyways.” I shrugged as if working on my own on my first day wasn’t nothing.

At my words, he patted my back and speed off to his office. As soon as he walked off the gym floor, my heart sank, and I didn’t have time to recover myself either as his second period started filing in in little clusters.

The bell rang soon after the first few students walked in, the bell being my signal to introduce myself to the kids and instruct them on where to go.

“Hey everyone!” I shouted over all the chaotic noise echoing around the open room, my harsh and new voice instantly causing everyone to hush and look my way. “I’m Ashton Irwin. As you all know, Coach Philips will be leaving in a few weeks. I’ll be his replacement, so for now on call me Coach Irwin.”

Right after I finished my small talk that I had memorized for every class last night, I flipped the class sheet to the current class period and start rook call. The list was organized by lowest grade to highest. The majority of the group was freshman because they wanted to get this class out of the way at the beginning.

There were seniors in the class though. Four exactly.

“Jona Andrews.”

“Jameson Green.”

“Toni Hathaway.”

“Y/N Hemmings.”

At her name, my head snapped up and our eyes met. Y/N’s eyes were as wide as baseballs, I could visibly see her gulp from across the whole bunch of students. “Here.”

[virtuissimo]

tagged by @kit-kat-ronnie  thank u so much for the tag

Rules: Answer the questions and then tag 10 followers who you would like to get to know better.

Star Sign: Aquarius

Height: 5′6-ish? 5′7? something like that

Put your playlist on shuffle and name the first four songs that play:

Re:Re:- Asian Kung-Fu Generation (also known as Erased opening theme)

The Feeling- Sammy Rae (I dont even like this song)

Mrs.- Leon Bridges

Almost is Never Enough- Ariana Grande & Nathan Sykes

Grab the nearest book next to you, turn to page 23. What is line 17?

"In fact, their sexuality is clearly important, as well as their motherhood: the meaning of

nymphe

 is after all ‘bride,’ ‘nubile woman’.”

Ancient Greek Religion by Emily Kearns

Ever had a song/poem written about you?

I don’t remember exactly, but probably. I had a friend who writes terrible poetry about everything around him. If he never wrote a poem about me………that would be something wouldn’t it.

When was the last time you played air guitar?

I have really terrible and unsightly dancing that resemble air guitar, but I haven’t intentionally air guitared since I was a kid.

What’s a sound you hate? One you love?

Any and all eating noises are a big fat no for me, I DEMAND SILENCE…

This is super specific but . in ghibli’s castle in the sky, right after the robot comes to life and destroys the military stronghold and shit is blowing up, sheeta is knocked off her feet and her pendant goes flying off her neck and falls off the tower right. The sound the etherium crystal makes as it bounces off the rock ledge. That’s one of my favorite sounds. I rewound that scene a million times when I was younger just listening to that.

Do you believe in ghosts? The rational person in me doesn’t believe in typical ghosts but my mother’s influence says otherwise and tb him a lot more superstitious than I like to think LOL so yea imma say yes.

Do you believe in aliens? Yyyyea I have complicated feelings about this due to an abiding anger at my astronomy professor from freshman year, short answer is HARD YES. But, as others have said, ancient aliens is bullshit. 

Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? I have driven, but I do not in general no. Closest I got to a crash was when I made a full stop in the middle of a busy intersection due to being a bad driver.

Do you like the smell of gasoline? YES

What’s the last movie you’ve seen? Uuuhhh in theatres was spider-man, at home was shrek, including tv shows is naruto. 

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

HANDS DOWN my injury from when I was twelve. I was running backwards during p.e., I was getting too competitive, and I fell right on my tailbone, my arms were braced so my left forearm snapped, iv had wrist and ankle and spine problems ever since. It may have exacerbated my growing depression and weight gain since exercise has been a grueling task ever since, and I may actually subconsciously blame every problem in my life on that injury LMAO

Do you have any obsessions right now?

NARUTO hands down. Animorphs is usually up there but right now im focusing all my attention on nart

Do you tend to hold grudges?

Eeeh depends what kind I think. I’m very good at not letting it affect how I treat that person though in my opinion.

In a relationship?

nop

I’m tagging 

@shoujonas @issageorgiapeach @interstellarsentinel

Also obviously ignore me if u want

[damnedpuck]

WHEN: Wednesday, May 24th WHO: Noah Puckerman + Officer Evans NOTES: Puck is brought out of his 3rd period English class for an ‘interview’ (an interrogation, he argues), and it’s safe to say he’s a suspect.

His interview goes as well as Puck expected it would. 

His first instinct upon initially pulling up to school on Wednesday morning is that he’s glad he’s an experienced dealer at Pierview, and as the cops circle around in the high school parking lot, Puck is thankful that he does not keep his stash inside of his locker, but instead, inside of a duffel bag with all of his football equipment, the smell of sweat and dirt easily covering the scent of weed and uppers from a dog’s sniffer.

While he says he’s unaffected by the presence of an entire police force to his friends on the team, arguably, he holds his bag a little tighter as he steps up to the front doors to be checked like all of the other students. He’s got his switch blade in the inside pocket of his leather jacket -- which he wears even in the blazing heat of the beginnings of an Ohioan summer -- so he’s not worried about them finding weapons in any of the pockets of his bag. 

When they let him through, Puck lets out a breath despite knowing he has nothing on him to get him pulled aside. A man from the station still guns him down with a stare that says I know you’re a piece of garbage, Puckerman, and he recognizes him as the man to retained him after his run in with his neighbor’s mailbox and a baseball bat. He only stayed overnight for destruction of property, which seemed like overkill to Puck anyway, and for drinking underage and in public. The defense team seems to have it out for him because they seem happy to pin anything they can on him despite Puck having a favorable reputation with most parental figures in the Pierview neighborhoods.

Beating on the door to his locker, it pops open with a loud bang that no one seems to even notice within the bustling hallways. There’s whispers and pointing toward the doors where police officers are removing things from a girls’ purse, and Puck’s glad that nobody is stupid enough to talk shit about him while he’s standing in proximity of them. 

He shoves what he can inside and only takes one notebook out of the confines of his shitty, broken down locker, which he doesn’t even bother to lock anymore because no one is insane enough to go through Noah Puckerman’s locker without wanting to lose their teeth, and he uses the same worn pages for every class he has. Nearing the end of the school year, mostly everything is studying for the finals that Puck knows he won’t pass, so he doesn’t bother trying to put the effort in when he shows up to homeroom in the first place. Announcements are late due to all of the bag checks at the door, and when the first period bell rings, Puck has to stifle a yawn already.

Surprisingly, no one calls for him until 3rd period. He’s in English, half-listening to the rest of the class learn about the proper use of a semi-colon, something Puck couldn’t give less of a shit about seeing as he hardly ever types in full sentences, and he sure is hell is never gonna write anything important enough to use a semi-colon, when someone comes knocking with a little white piece of paper in their hand that everybody knows as a summon to the office. Puck recognizes the girl from his Spanish class Freshman year, and he’s happy to note that she’s filled out a little bit in the chest area. A solid C cup, if he’s not mistaken.

Sliding out of his seat, he gathers his only notebook under his arm and meets the eyes of Dave Karofsky from the other side of the room. He tips his head and snatches the white paper from the girls’ fingers with a wink. He leaves the room as quickly as possible, just in case his teacher tries to call him back in for papers he should take home to review with, and makes his way to the conference room that he knows he’ll have to step foot in and play a role he was born to play.

He’s a little surprised to see Sam Evans’ dad waiting for him on the other side of the table, where the principal usually sits during these meetings. There’s two German Shepherds in the corner of the room as well, so they must have read Puck’s file. They assume his aggressive nature will be paralyzed by the avoidance of two canines, but they thought wrong. Puck has a quick temper and quicker reflexes, years of fighting and making his way out on the streets shadowing the corners of his mind like the dogs shadow the corners of the conference room.

“Noah. Good to see you, son.” Sheriff Evans gives him a reassuring smile, and Puck really feels that the man trusts him despite of his record, as according to his friendship with his son. He and Sam don’t actively hang out often, but they are part of the same social circles, so he’s met Sheriff Evans out of uniform many times in the past.

Puck plops down in the plastic chair provided, a matching grin forming to meet the officer’s, “Hey, sir. A mess out there, huh? What happened?”

Evans quirks an eyebrow at him and folds his hands around the pad of notebook paper he’s got laying on the table. “Haven’t watched the news this morning?”

Shrugging, Puck leans back, hearing the worn plastic squeak under his weight and improper posture, “Don’t got any cable right now.” He leaves it at that, not giving any information away about his personal life or what else he does in the morning before he arrives at school.

The officer nods and pulls out a pen, “Sebastian Smythe’s body was identified last night, the person found at the lake.” Puck nods along, keeping a blank face. He didn’t know Smythe well. Just of what the school has seen as they crossed paths throughout the day. “How well did you know him?”

Puck mentally pats himself on the back -- he can answer that. “Didn’t really know him at all. We saw each other at school, and that’s that.”

Evans gives him a second to elaborate, but when Puck doesn’t, he continues with his questions, “Do you know if Sebastian had any enemies? Anyone who would want to harm him or his family?”

The urge to say Sebastian Smythe was a bully and an asshole -- it’d be easier to tell you who did like him instead was strong, but Puck holds it in at the last second because he’s trying to not look like the guy who killed Sebastian. “Like I said, didn’t know much about him. He is -- er... was, a pretty popular dude who knew lots of people. Not sure he was popular for the right reasons, but everybody’s gotta know of ‘em. It’s a big school.” Puck picks at his nails as he keeps his cool in front of Sam’s dad. He’s had plenty of practice at playing innocent.

Sheriff Evans doesn’t look impressed, and Puck can’t blame him considering he’s given the man absolutely nothing to go on so far. He’s writing down on his pad the answers Puck has given him, repeating them back under his breath. “So you hardly know him, don’t know any of his friends, and he was popular.” The room is oddly quiet, the only noises are the panting of the two dogs and the ringing of phones and talking officers in the next room over. “Noah,” he starts and Puck tries to quell the grinding of his teeth in irritation of being spoken to by his first name by someone trying to power trip him, “As far as you know,” he continues, “is there a drug problem here at Pierview?”

Puck desperately wants to roll his eyes at the question because its so cliche. There’s drug problems everywhere. On every corner of every city, in every high school, and in every prison where people ultimately end up when they’ve got an addiction. Or at the bottom of a lake, he adds to himself. “Not that I know of, sir.” He ends his sentence as politely as he can. It sounds flat and bland to his own ears, and Officer Evans lets out a sigh of irritation, clearly getting nowhere with a delinquent who was schooled at this.

What Puck doesn’t expect, is for Evans to pull out a zip-locked bag of ballots that look like they’ve been through the ringer. When they’re slid across to him, Puck can see more clearly that they have the name Blaine Anderson written neatly among them, and his stomach drops out.

“The fuck are those?” 

The words slip out before he can stop them and finally Evans looks a little more satisfied that he’s managed to get some emotion from Puck. He smiles reassuringly and Puck can feels the anxiety and nervous aggression bubbling inside of his gut at the words to come. 

“These were found in a grill in the park in Sebastian’s neighborhood. Do they look familiar to you?”

Puck frowns. “I just asked what they were -- of course they don’t look familiar.”

He watches as the officer writes his words down on his pad, clearly seeing something worth remembering in their interaction. It spikes Puck’s nervous anger further and he wants to leave the room before he makes a mistake.

Evans continues, “As the sheriff of this town, Noah, it is my duty to find out who did this to your classmate.” Sheriff Evans leans forward on the table, getting too close to Puck for his own comfort and says, “We will do everything we can to find out what happened to him. You’re safe in this room so if there’s anything you wish to tell me, you can. Anything you need to get off your chest?” He smiles, “Anything at all?”

Puck can’t stop the grinding of his back teeth, and when she shakes out a “No,” he quickly stands from his seat and notes the amount of time that’s gone by. “I gotta get out of here. It’s almost P.E. and today’s pull up day. I’m the reigning champ, so I gotta make sure I’m there to beat everybody’s high score.”

He salutes Officer Evans and slips his notebook back into his arms. “Good to see you, sir. Good luck.” 

Puck walks out before another word can be spoken to him, and he tries not to outwardly appear as angry and as shaken as he feels inside. He pulls out his phone and his fingers ghost over the ‘Anderson’ contact in his phone. The hall is empty, as the bell had rang again only a few minutes ago. “What the fuck, Anderson?” He whispers quietly into the ghostly halls, feeling the creeping sensation of Sebastian Smythe crawling out of his grave and staring down his back to make all of their lives hell, even as a dead man.