#intermural

[krethes]

Unfinished Friday

Got the idea from @tackytigerfic and lordy lordy lordy loo do I feel perceived 🤣

Soo this is a 7th year Marauder fic I started back in 2021 at the behest of the Wolfstar Discord that never quite got its feet off the ground.

“Oh, come on, Remus, it’ll be fun!”

He raised a brow and turned the page of his book without looking up. “No, thank you.”

A sigh. A familiar rustling of robes. The smell of rose and ginger. A flash of red hair. A press of pale fingers down the spine of his book. “Remus John Lupin, I hereby invoke the Favor.” Lily Evans regarded him with eyes like fresh spring clover, her free hand cocked on her hip as she leaned into his personal space. They were only about a foot apart now, and there was no escaping The Look.

He sighed, wrested his book from her punishing grip, and closed it neatly in his lap. “Of course you do,” Remus bemoaned softly, tucking the tome into the bag at his feet. There was nothing for it -- the Favor was one they traded often, something owed that passed between them almost as a joke. Normally, it was a quick glance over homework or something like ‘I can’t be arsed to get up and Our Boys are not around, so please could you fetch me a tea?’, not… this. “I’ve never played before.”

Lily smiled, her entire face lighting up with the gesture, light radiating from every pore. Merlin, but she was lovely, wasn’t she? Remus found himself swept up in it, and had to staunchly squash down the urge to smile back -- he was trying to be cross with her, smiling would ruin the whole thing. “But you’ve watched, haven’t you? Matches with your dad, right, on the telly? I’ll bet you know the rules better than I do.” She batted her eyelashes at him, long, mascara-dark things that got him every time. Girls.

She was trying to butter him up -- he knew this, knew her tricks after six years of friendship, and yet… It worked. Like a fucking charm. And it was The Favor, after all. 

“I do know the rules,” he admitted quietly, steepling his fingers together. His childhood had been rather lonely, after all -- mornings stretching into afternoons that lazed into evenings without other children to play with meant that Remus spent a great deal of his time reading or joining his parents at the television set. He’d been particularly fascinated by the game, of the men and women in peak physical fitness sprinting across a green field in shiny shirts and shorts, and it was the only time his father ever seemed to get excited about anything anymore. So Remus had been drawn to it, as much as he was to the sea, and absorbed the complexities of the game in his knowledge-sponge way.

“So…?” Lily wrapped her hands around his and pulled him to his feet with a little bounce, victory clear as day on her sunny face. At his nod of assent, she hugged him fiercely around the middle, her face tucked into his sternum in glee. “Yes, amazing! Right. So, you’ll be on my team!”

“Aren’t you...splitting them by genders?” He might be bent, but he wasn’t a girl. 

Lily shrugged. “Technically, but that’s just to foster some inner-team solidarity since we’re mixing the Houses.” She frowned faintly, the tiniest moue forming between her eyebrows. “Not much interest from some of the other students, I’m afraid. They don’t… want to be associated with a Muggle game.” 

She didn’t have to explain why -- it was plain. A Muggle game meant being labeled as a Muggle Sympathizer, as a Blood Traitor, even. They weren’t stupid -- they all knew there was a war on the horizon, about to come to a boil, but...they were still kids, weren’t they? Of-Age wizards, certainly, but only Peter and Sirius were eighteen in their little band, and they still deserved a spot of fun. 

“Besides,” she said, fixing him with a coy grin, “you’ll finally get to help me put Potter in his place! Black, too, I guess.” 

Remus snorted, shaking his head. “You can call him ‘James’, you know. You’re dating.”

“Don’t remind me,” she teased, though the look on her face -- doe-eyed and rosy-cheeked -- gave her away in a heartbeat. Their relationship was very new -- only a couple of weeks old, but Remus knew she was absolutely smitten with James Potter. “So, we’ll practice on Wednesdays and once McGonagall gets it cleared, we’ll have matches on Sundays! Potter-- alright, James, ugh -- was deadset we didn’t interfere with his ‘precious Quidditch’, but they’ll be early afternoons so don’t you start with me about your studies, Remus Lupin. I’m taking more N.E.W.T.s than you, I don’t want to hear it!”

Her rambling muted him, and he shut his mouth with an audible click. Well alright, then. Remus knew better than to argue when she was in full sail like this. The HMS Lily Evans was truly a force to be reckoned with. “Wait… the club hasn’t even been approved yet?” he asked, incredulous. It was unlike Lily to come into this half-cocked. Her sign-up sheet, though not as flush as she’d like to be, had an impressive amount of names on it. It would be a decent number of people to let down…

She pulled thoughtfully on her lower lip in a familiar nervous tic. “Well… Professor McGonagall seemed very confident she could get it approved… I trust her!” she decided, releasing her lip with a nod to herself. 

Remus grinned and ruffled her hair, earning him a well-placed jab to the ribs. “Alright, alright. Wednesdays and Sundays, then. I’ll clear my schedule.” 

***

Minerva had been delighted to hear about Lily Evans’s club idea -- football, indeed! Oh, she hadn’t seen a live match since she was just a girl, and even then, it was only the lads at the local co-op putting it on for a lark. She smiled to herself as she bustled down the corridors towards the Headmaster’s office, remembering those games. She announced the password -- ‘Curly Wurly’ -- and adjusted the fit of her hat. One had to look their best, after all.

Albus looked up from his desk and greeted her with a nod. “Ah, Minerva, welcome. You have a proposition for me, I hear?” He did not stop the quill scrawling across his desk, nor rise to greet her. That was fine, he was a busy man.

“Yes, Albus. Lily Evans would like to start an intramural football club.”

The quill came to a scratching pause, and he searched her face with pale blue eyes. “I cannot say that I can support a club that would only create more animosity between the Houses, Minerva -- Quidditch has done a fair enough job of that as it is, don’t you think?” 

She resisted the urge to tidy her hat again -- Albus had such a long way of speaking, never quite saying what he meant. Fortunately, she’d had decades of experience of dissecting his speech patterns, and had come prepared. “I agree, Albus,” she began, watching the flicker of light behind his eyes, “but this will be a mixed-House club. Miss Evans proposed a boys against girls game.”

“And do you think that to be entirely fair?”

Minerva frowned, drawing herself up a little straighter. “Albus, you are not implying that the girls cannot hold their own, surely?” It was 1977, for Godric’s sake!

The smallest of smiles unfurled across his lips and a familiar twinkle entered his eyes, one Minerva hadn’t seen in years. “Ah, of course not. I am certain Miss Evans will give anyone who thinks so a run for their money. Am I to assume you will be the faculty sponsor for this club, Minerva?”

Her schedule was quite full as it was, but perhaps she could convince Pomona to take on a bit more detention proctoring this term… “Yes, you assume correctly. Are we aligned?” She fixed him with a look of cautious anticipation, and only her rigid self-control kept her from Shifting into the cat at his nod of assent. “Thank you, Albus. I will keep you posted of the matches.” Minerva gave him a brief nod, took a cinnamon candy from his desk, and left his office feeling quite giddy indeed.

Football!

***

"Moony-moon-Moony, wait-- where are you going-- and ...AUGH!!! You're not!" 

"Traitor!"

"Padfoot, Wormtail, we knew this was a matter of time."

"Just-- maybe he has an explanation. You have an explanation, don't you, Moonfish?"

"Oof, Pads, that one's not very flattering, strike it?"

"Ah, yes, too right, Mr. Prongs, and duly noted. Well, Mr. Moony, what do you have to say for yourself!?" 

Remus looked at his three closest friends from across the white line painted on the Quidditch-turned-football Pitch with thinly veiled ire. "I'm not sure I understand the question, Padfoot-in-my-mouth." 

Sirius scoffed and gestured wildly at Remus's uniform. "Why, Moony, is your uniform...white?" He gestured to his own, very black, shirt and shorts. 

"Well, I'll tell you," Remus declared, leaning in all conspiratorial-like until he was fully in Sirius's space -- not, he noticed, that he minded. He cupped Sirius's face in his hands and inwardly rejoiced at how he practically melted, and smirked. "I wanted to be on the winning team."

"Oi!!! Out of bounds, Lupin! Foul! Card! Whatever… that means. Moony, you have betrayed us!" James cried from a few feet away, his face aghast. "What makes you so sure the lads are going to lose?"

Remus looked at the black-clad boys scattered across the field and cocked an eyebrow. They were...a motley group, to be honest, and largely pureblood. Xenophilius Lovegood was trying to coax a bit of rogue heather he'd brought in his pocket to take root in the grass of the Pitch. Peter was missing his protective shin guards. Damocles Belby looked a bit winded already, his ruddy cheeks even more crimson than they usually were. The other six boys just...looked a bit lost. Compared to the girl's team, which held Remus, Lily, Marlene, Mary, Sibyll -- not their best get, admittedly -- and a few younger girls Remus was embarrassed not to know the names of yet, they looked a bit... lacking.

Lily appeared at his side and glared at James with her hands on her hips. "Oi, Potter, don't harass my goalkeep," she snapped, though her frown quickly tilted up into a smirk. 

"Moony's my boyfriend," Sirius muttered sourly, casting sad, gray eyes up at Remus that made him feel just a little guilty. Nevermind, he'd make it up to Sirius later, do that thing he liked with his 

His ?? Teacup? Tongue? Wand? Textbook? No clue.

If you wanna...and if you qualify (most of you are way more responsible than me...): @msalexwp @r33sespieces @theresthesnitch (shh shh I know), @second-sister @elder-millennial-trash @quietlemonhush @aqua-myosotis and anyone else who wants to out themselves as a procrastinator 🤣

[sycamoretrees]

(source)

this might as well happen

[faithfulcat111]

Might actually go to a baseball game sometime soon 😃

[appalachianapologies]

Compliment myself?? Hmmm I finished reading the book I’ve been working on for the past four months and I killed it at volleyball tonight ✌🏼😂

Drabbles… do you have any Jack Dalton lives thoughts for me??

oooh what book, if i may ask? 👀 and yo!!! that's so cool! i didn't know that you played volleyball!!! it seems like such an intense sport omg my knees could probably only handle like a minute of it

give yourself a compliment and i'll write u a drabble

Mac’s not sure if he’s actually ready to let Jack out of his sight. 

The sun had gone down hours ago, both of them making excuses to keep themselves up and in each others’ presence. But now that Jack has yawned and set off an infinite cycle of yawning between the two of them, there’s no denying that it’s time for bed. 

“The, uh, guest room’s all set up.” It has been for months. Nobody has stayed over at Mac’s place for a long, long time. “And I was just joking earlier. You can mess with the thermostat if it helps you sleep.”

A small, albeit genuine, smile comes to Jack’s face. Mess with a thermostat that’s been Mac-hacked? Don’t think I’m gonna chance that tonight.”

Mac grins back, but it feels too forced to keep up for more than a second.

Despite all the talk of going to bed, neither of them have moved from the couch, and neither have made any indication to do so within the next few seconds, either. Instead, Mac stays burrowed under his afghan, hip just barely pressed against Jack’s own.

Not only is Mac not ready to let Jack out of his sight, he doesn’t want to lose his touch, either.

The two lapse into silence for a few seconds, before Jack looks up at the TV. The movie had ended just a few minutes ago, but they hadn’t turned the TV off yet. Neither of them were ready for that type of commitment to the night.

“Heard they made a new Futurama while I was downrange.”

Mac nods back.

“You wanna watch it?”

Relief courses through his veins. The night isn’t over yet. “Yeah, why not.”

[strawberri-syrup]

love telling phantom abt my extensive list of injuries because xe gets so concerned. this is just my life adapt or die and all that

[iacyper9]

So we had intermurals today. Ultimate Frisbee. We beat Delta 7 to 5 but Delta made some BS up and got us DQ'ed for no reason. Here are some of the results from the Echo group chat.

They then went on to lose to Charlie 7:1.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

You Got It Bad 🏸 | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Headcanon

Edit posted on 2 Sep 24: omg when I posted this a few days ago America had yet to win a medal in badminton (Olympic & Paralympic) and today Team USA’s mixed doubles in badminton won the silver medal!! Congrats to Jayci Simon & Miles Krajewski for their win and making history!! The first ever medal in badminton for USA!!

Being married to Bob & becoming Olympians for the sport of Badminton would look like:

You and Bob met in flight school following your respected commissions into the Navy in 2011, became friends and colleagues, which them bloomed into lovers about a year later. You were the pilot, and he was your back seater---so it is no surprise your relationship worked so well considering you two were partners in the sky. After about two years of dating, Bob popped the famous question and you guys were wed within the year--the Navy sending you guys to bases as a package deal.

As most military instillations, there's a community gym and recreation center where active, reserve, and their families go to participate in intermural sports and activities. Many go for the typical bowling league and softball team or try a hand at flag football and ultimate. For you and Bob, badminton called yall's name.

Originating in British India and popular among countries in Europe and Asia, badminton made its Olympic debut in 1992 in Barcelona, Spain. Now while at first glance badminton may look easy in comparison to other court sports with a net like tennis and volleyball, but badminton requires just as much speed, agility, and precision. Especially when the shuttlecock is flying at record speed from one opponent to the other. The better the motor skills, the better you are.

Of course in the beginning you guys were a little rusty. Figuring out the rules and the best way for you and Bob to coordinate moves. You were the better server, but Bob was better handling the back while you stayed close to the net.

What started as a fun, leisure activity became more serious as you continued to play. Like we're talking you put up a net in your backyard. Whenever you hosted gatherings, you can expect that at some point in the night people migrated to the backyard to play a game or two. And boy would it get intense whenever you and Bob were on opposite sides of the court. "I hope you enjoy losing, pretty boy." "Darling, I know you're always right....but tonight you are wrong."

Not only did you build a sweat when a game got intense, but you looked forward to spending time with your husband outside of work. Not having to deal with the stress of flying or anxiety of running missions. Badminton was a great way to relive the tension and stay active. After every game you shared a sweet kiss with your husband, exchanging praises of 'Great job,' and 'We'll get 'em next time."

You both were competitive and roughly a year after playing you drew attention when you decided to join a local circuit outside of intermural on base. Winning match after match, you guys came in second in your first tournament. A great introduction to the start of your athletic career in mixed doubles badminton---which by the way, shoutout to RedBull and Dunkin Doughnuts for the caffeine supply when balancing a military and sports career.

Now the Olympic Games....the greatest sporting stage the world has ever scene...was never something you envisioned when you and Bob picked up your rackets for the first time. You'd only been playing badminton for a few years, having started in 2014. By the time the Rio Games came around, you guys were no way in Olympic level standings. Sure you'd been in a handful of local tournaments, making the podium in all, but you'd only recently won your regional title for mixed doubles, set to compete in nationals. You had yet to play an international tournament.

That time would come in 2017, and while you came home with third place at you guys were motivated to do better. You wanted to win a World title. Especially to prove to people who thought badminton was not a sport of high popularity like tennis or volleyball--and something you only play as a unit in high school P.E. You and Bob were motivated to bring more eyes to badminton in America. And what better way than to dominate a world tour.

So, when you guys weren't in the sky you were on the court. In the gym. Coaching each other, studying competition, working on technique, rewatching matches from previous Olympics. The Tokyo Games became a goal. And you were determined to make them. The pressure was on considering the United States has never won a medal in any event in badminton. "So, the Olympics...pretty darn big if you ask me." "Baby, you should know that when we put our mind to something, we make it happen."

It got to the point where your family members and friends were asking y'all about progress and even buying you equipment as birthday presents. And with the amount of shuttlecocks you go through monthly it was a blessing to a whole bucket of them in your garage. Your rackets had y'alls callsign's on them and of course you had matching outfits. And soon you guys had to invest in a nice cabinet to display your medals, plaques, and trophies from your competitions. Having the 2018 BWF World Championship right in the center.

You and Bob became a household name in the sport in the American circuit. Not only because you two were dominated the competition, but also the fact you guys were married and Naval officers brought a lot of attention. People who followed the sport became fans and viewed you guys as a love story out of romance books. Friends/coworkers-to-lovers who become teammates and an unstoppable duo in their sport. Yeah, it wrote itself.

When the 2019 detachment came though that became the priority. As much as it pained you to put training for the Sudirman Cup on hold, you had an obligation to the Navy. Nonetheless, you packed up your equipment and made the drive down from Lemoore to San Diego. Once settled, you both were spending any free time at the base rec center, practicing even for 30 minutes if you had it.

Soon the rest of the team picked up your love for the sport and became intrigued. Natasha especially, who became invested in watching you two play against each other. Shocked to see how heated it got and the fact you were able to move so fast to save a rally. "You guys are really into this, huh?" "Yeah. We just started for fun years ago and well..it took off."

After the whole shit between Jake and Bradley where Mav did damage control by taking y'all to the beach for dogfight football, you and Bob whipped out the equipment and soon all 12 of ya paired up to play games. It pretty much turned into a bracket situation where duos were eliminated until two remained for the final round.

And who's suprised....you and Bob won. And because you guys were so good, the team practically interrogated you two to which the reveal of your side career surfaced.

"You mean to tell me," Jake squinted against the sun, "You two are pretty much famous badminton players and are on the road to making the Olympics next year?" "Yep, that's about right. We want to be the first Americans to win a medal in the sport."

Fast forward to the success of the Uranium mission and unexpected world pandemic that followed, you and Bob are homebound due to the Navy restricting all work to remote settings, leaving you all the time in the world to perfect your craft. You won the Sudirman Cup, putting your names once more as contenders for the Tokyo Games and had one more year to train due to the postponement. In that time you and the rest of the Top Gun detachment transferred to Fightertown permanently, further bonding the friendships formed and the team became y'alls biggest supporters.

Qualifying for the Olympics had to have ranked in your top three moments in life. Right in the middle between marrying Bob and the Uranium mission. You jumped in his arms, screaming in joy while he spun you around and let the tears flow, bringing his lips for a passionate kiss not caring who watched. Never had you thought picking up a random badminton racket to pass time and relieve stress after a long work day would lead you to competing in the greatest sporting event alongside the love of your life. Experiencing it with Bob made it all the better. "We're going to the Olympics, baby!!'

Stepping onto the court in Tokyo officially titled you and Bob as Olympians, and while you competed for the gold across the pacific, back home your friends and family gathered to watch it unfold decked in red, white, and blue. The Hard Deck, your hometown, Bob's hometown, the rec center back in Lemoore where you first began playing badminton, the entire damn Navy was cheering you on.

Goal #1: Become Olympians - Achieved. Goal #2: Become the 1st Americans to win a medal in badminton - Achieved. Goal #3: Become the 1st Americans to win a gold medal in badminton - Achieved.

Yeah, you read that right. Not only did you and Bob accomplish everything you set your eyes on, but you cemented yourself in history as the first Americans to win a medal in any event in the sport of badminton and it was the gold. You guys became Olympic champions. And you can best believe the whole world was shocked to their core during the intense, heart pounding, sweat inducing, on the edge of your seat gold medal match against the #1 team in the world. You had already proven yourself to be the team to watch out for after knocking out the other leading pairs in the quarter and semi-finals, but to walk away with the gold after losing the first match, winning the second and tying the score each time until it ended with you scoring the golden point of 30.

Put it in the history books.

And three years later in a sold out crowd with your friend and family in the city of love, you and Bob continued your romantic journey of love, dedication and partnership when you defended your gold medal, adding a second to your cabinet with the promise of a third when the Games return to the Los Angeles 😉

[voidartisan]

It's a bit overdue, but, another semester has passed, and so I present

Incorrect Quotes from AJ's Real, Actual Life

Aayla: If you were stranded on a desert island and could only bring three objects, what would you bring? Quinlan: One 500 lb. block of uranium. No further questions. Anakin: DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE FISH LADIES????? Obi-Wan: ... Obi-Wan: ...elaborate. Padme: I may or may not have had a crush on a literal otter, but in my defense, he had a Scottish accent. Obi-Wan: Actually, I think I have one of those fold-out seats in the back. Ahsoka: Well you could have told us that BEFORE we stuffed Rex in the trunk Fives: He was an interm--- intermur--- intermule-- Echo: Intermural? Fives: Amen. Jesse: Hallelujah, praise the Lord--- Obi-Wan: I'm going to get some ibuprofen. Anyone else? I've got the good stuff. Fives: Shaak Ti is my favorite council member. I can't wait for her to die so they can name something in the Temple after her. Echo: Rex: *attempting to suppress laughter* Fives: Wait that come out wrong--- bby!Aayla: *crying* Quinlan: Que pasa, Mufasa? Jesse: I volunteered Fives for latrine duty. Echo: Dang. That's messed up. Echo: I also volunteer Fives for latrine duty Kit Fisto: He doesn't deserve this. Mace is the mitochondria of the Order Jesse: I'd better be getting paid for this. Jesse: I want... two mung beans Jesse: Never had a mung bean Anakin: I'm an idiot, not stupid Kanan, addressing the Ghost crew: If you would like, you may drizzle some of my queso on your tacos. However, if you steal all of it, I will ugly cry in your room for the rest of the night. Fox, sighing: Will someone teach our favorite dingbat to sleep on a blanket? Thorn: I sleep on blankets all the time! >:( Fox: I was talking about Grizzer. Thorn: Oh. Hound: I also assumed you were referring to Thorn Rex, looking Jesse dead in the eyes: Get. Thee. Hence.

[gabessquishytum]

Dream feeds the birds in the park near his apartment (he bought special seed, he doesn't want to hurt his bird friends); it's his quiet time, time to relax and recharge.

Well it seems like some city intermural football (or rugby) leagues have decided to use his park as their pitch. For the next few weeks, Dream's calm will be broken by kicking noises.

Dream missed the first time Hob's team played, but he's caught all rest of his games. Dream noticed Hob right away - his team's kit were really teeny white shorts (at least when wrapped around Hob's thighs).

How do you talk to a man that hot and fit, when you work inside all day and most days look consumptive.

HMNNNG loving the vibes of this. Is it mean of me to tag @arialerendeair and say the words Rugby Hob 🤭 it's an au that we both happen to be very fond of. I won't tease you all too much but I hope one day it'll make it into fic form (it currently only exists as us going feral in a discord thread).

Anyway!!! I adore the image of Dream sitting there gaping at Hob’s magnificent thighs, week after week. The birds are lowkey confused as to why they're not getting his attention (they still get nice seeds, but Dream is so distracted he sometimes puts the seeds in his own mouth instead).

Of course Hob has noticed the cute guy in black who's got those sickly victorian vibes. Hob thinks he's adorable and sometimes he's so busy looking at Dream, he ends up tripping over his own feet! He just loves thinking about how easily he could pick that cute twink up and press him against a wall... or maybe just let him get off against the meat of Hob’s thick thigh...

Hob just needs to find the courage to talk to the guy! But at the end of each game, Dream skuttles off shyly, leaving only birdseed and daydreams behind. Hob is starting to lose hope...

Until he takes a blow to the head in the middle of one of his games and comes back to consciousness with his gorgeous consumptive crush kneeling over him like beautiful, emo angel <3333 as soon as he's over the concussion, Hob is getting his man.

[agentem]

Some dude was complaining "The Marvels" is a terrible team name. Not "cool" enough.

But I dont' think it is a team. Team up names are like the name of your intermural sports team. You pick something kind of scary or tough.

I think "the Marvels" is a family name. Or clan name. It's a group of people who are now interconnected. They could call it "The Khans with Two Glowing Women, A One-Eyed Man and an Alien Cat That They Are Now Somehow Associated With" but it didn't fit on the poster.

ETA: Goose and All the Humans He Tolerates was also in the running.

[mysteriesmuse]

UA University Sports and Spirit Team

Coach Yagi - UA’s head football coach and legendary former graduate with an impressive career who went back to teaching after a career-ending injury 20 years ago. Is a watered down version of his former self, still buff but more more lean. Can still absolutely throw down with the boys and can be seen getting into the practice matches on the field often, but suffers from severe asthma issues — so he’s trying not to as much anymore.

Is adored by the team and university student body. Often takes the time to make small talk with the students in the cheer team, dance team, and marching band while the boys clear off field.

Absolutely abuses his coaches whistle during practices and he has a watch, but never uses it. Always causing awkward and profuse apologizes to the PE Professors, Intermural sportsmen, and espically the directors of the Spirit Teams. Plus Ultra! is his favorite catchphrase — and also no one on the team has any idea what “plus ultra!” actually means, but they still step it up a notch whenever Coach Yagi starts yelling “Go plus ultra on them!” from the sidelines nonetheless Overall a lovable, fierce, and effective coach who has a LOT of school pride . . .

————— Shouta Aizawa - defensive coach for the football team and another former graduate. Was a rotating player for multiple national football leagues before having an off-season where he helped coach from the side-lines and fell in love with it. Came back to his alma mater to work alongside Coach Yagi and despite his gruffy personality, they’re practically brothers. Is hard to recognize because he dresses the same as the footballers — sweats and hoodies all day baby! Loves to work the defensive boys until they’re a tired heap on the floor. It’s always extra reps, extra sprints, and extra tackles working under Aizawas regiment. Despite this he’s still regarded as an effective, if definitely unorthodox coach in some respects. How zig-zagging through the marching bands box drills is allowed or even permitted is beyond the defensive teams understanding. They just know that brass is coming for them! Frequently seen chit-chatting with director of said UA marching band while the boys are otherwise preoccupied by his crazy expectations. Furthermore, is known for having a very distinctive glare whenever one of his players gets flagged for being too aggressive (which happens way too often)

Overall respected by his team and the other directors around the field. —————

Hizashi Yamada - UA Marching Band Director. Another alum come to return to the university. Is famous for his music podcast on the side of work and has an astonishing amount of followers. The most personal thus far, loves to tell stories over the field speaker about what happened to him at the grocery store last Thursday. Is always cracking jokes into the DM’s headsets during game time. Even more so loves to go walk the stands and hang out with his favorite players aka the principals, leadership team, and that years seniors. Only dresses as loud as possible and constantly commanders fan merchandise to throw into the band stands. Everyone owns at least 3 foam fingers and a half decent pom by the end of their first season. Is always carrying a megaphone bc otherwise he’ll simply loose his voice. Occasionally forgets that’s he’s not on the field bc he’ll pick it up and shout into it all the same outside of the marching season. Got passerby’s on the brink of a heart attack at! all! times! Is best friends with former classmate and Cheer Coach Midnight and is consistently seen talking to the new Defensive Coach. Thus leading to the marching kids to awkwardly mingle with the other cheer and football students — like kids whose mom has found another mom in the grocery store and have to pass the time.

Actually, that would explain why his Thursday grocery stores stories are so longwinded. —————

Midnight - UA Cheer Coach and alum from the same graduating class as Yamada and Aizawa. Actively participates in her teams cheers at all times, super spirited, and super supportive. Actively enjoys trying to play matchmaker in her friends and students lives. She the cheer team swears she’s got a nose for crushes and it’s utterly terrifying when she uses that infomation — weirdly effective too. Always shouting the teams crushes-code-names into the microphone up in the press-box. Yes, she made them all up herself. Yes, it makes everyone a tad uncomfortable. Does she have a surprisingly successful wingwoman count though — also yes.

Encourages body positivity among her group because hey yes your outfits are a little skimpy, but every body is a beautiful body! And NO ONE is allowed to tell her team otherwise. The standard she upholds is you ought to be good at cheer — that’s it. Is an excellent role model for her students and a good mentor to her assistant Dance Team Coach.

—————

Mt. Lady - new directive assistant and assistant coach for the Dance Team. Recent business graduate from a former university and works with Midnight to promote the Cheer and Dance Teams better. Always a huge sweaty pile on the floor after making up new choreo. Is seen loosing everything all the time, but she’s purchased a new water bottle bag which is working. Loves to get student input on the choreo. Always an open invitation to choreo night and she likes to see what the students have come up with. Frequently misplaces her keys to the storage closet and is always sending Mina over as a runner to borrow them from Yamada instead of Midnight. However, misplacing things is a serious problem the entire Dance/Cheer team struggles with — because none their costumes ever have pockets! Is rallying a protest for pockets or lockers that are closer to the field areas. Because seriously has anybody seen anyone’s phone within the past hour?? A little bit of a ditzy clutz, but young vibrant and lovable all the same.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

15 Questions, 15 People

I was tagged by @conkers-theficwriter and just now got around to it. Thank you Lola!

Are you named after anyone?

First name, no. But my middle name is Ruth and that's a generational name that goes to the firstborn female in my family for the last 4 generations.

2. When was the last time you cried?

On Saturday! I remember because I had just read this question at the time wondering when the last time I cried was and then a feel good story came on the news and I bawled like a baby! 😂😭

3. Do you have kids?

Nope. I think about having them, but not right now.

4. What sports do you play/have played?

In HS I played softball, basketball, golf, and track. In college, I played on an intermural volleyball team, and then of course: backyard football. 😆

5. Do you use sarcasm?

No...never. 😏

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

I notice their eyes. Not necessarily eye color, but what their eyes are doing.

7. What's your eye colour?

Blue

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Most definitely, happy endings.

9. Any talents?

I've been told cupcake making is a talent so I'll own up to that. And then I like to sing.

10. Where were you born?

Oklahoma

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing, baking, reading, gaming, and tumblr because that's definitely a hobby on its own!

12. Do you have any pets?

Yes! Below you can see Millie, a 3-year old German Shorthair, and Cody is 2 months old and a mix between mini Aussie and a border collie.

13. How tall are you?

5'10"

14. Favorite subjects at school?

Math. 😆 It's why I got my degree in it and became a teacher in it.

15. Dream job?

I would LOVE to be a curriculum director and really push student-driven, relevant math curriculum to all the teachers in a district K-12.

Tagging: @lordoftherazzles @fantasyinallforms @ahufflepuffhobbit @dimdiamond @starthecozy @yacrimago @tra-golden @mordellestories @shantismurf @tickles-ivory @middleearthpixie @smolestboop @lucigoo @hobbityalse @sleepysandwichguy

[greymouse42]

#I swear good things happen to Mal sometimes#like.#2002-2012 was a good decade for him#I promise lol

prove it. name two happy memories from Mal's time in the aughts

(the tone of this ask is joke combative, but also i am asking with love and kindness)

had not thought about this; enjoyed thinking about this

He was on an intermural sport team in 2005, so he actually had a bunch of folks to go out with for his 30th birthday.

He finished a long-term restoration project on a super banged-up 1970 Jeep Cherokee in 2008ish and wound up in a weird-but-pleasant penpal situation with the older guy in Arkansas who bought it off of him for a few years.

[nonbinary-eddie-munson]

Took a walk to take a picture of this sign and all i can think about is:

Dustin takes Eddies dying request of protecting the lost little sheep of Hawkins very, very seriously. After Vecna is defeted and the town rebuilds, Dustin plans for the creation of a youth center to be built in the town so that kids have a safe place to go where their interests can be nurtured. They have art and music classes, tutoring services, intramural sports, and of course a TTRPG club with campaigns and one shots for players of all levels. Wayne is instrumental in the building, planning, and running of The Eddie Muson Youth Center, and The Party all volunteer there when they can.

Mike, Will, Lucas and Dustin create an extention of the AV club and do differnt activities involving science and technology, Lucas (and Steve) help coach intermurals, Max teaches skateboarding, El helps with arts and crafts and teaching kids to read, Erica hosts "Girl Empowerment Sessions" where young girls can gather together to learn, do activities and bond. Jonathan teaches photography classes, Nancy helps with organizing tutoring services and building study skills, Argyle does gardening and cooking classes, Robin helps with language and music classes and Steve dedicated to helping Dustin in anyway he can, gets a buisness degree like his father always wanted, only instead of joining the family buisness he helps manage the center and its finances which runs mainly off government grants, donations and fundraisers.

The center becomes a safe haven for kids in Hawkins, student retention goes up, and cases of bullying go down. Nancy as a junior writer for the Indianapolis Star does a report on the center that makes headline news, the Munson Center becoming a model for youth centers across the state of Indiana and soon spreading to other states. Eddie Munson may be gone, but his mission to protect other freaks doesn't die with him.

[sun-stone-r-ain]

Existential Dread

I just woke up from an apocalyptical nightmare where everyone I knew had a “let’s eat the last of our food” party so that we could die together.  After I woke up, I remembered that we ARE all going to die (one day) and that climate change is real.  So here’s a Welcome to Nightvale fanfic rec and a link to Ecosia to soothe some of that existential dread.

Title: Love is All You Need to Destroy Your Enemies

Author: shadydave

Fandoms: Welcome to Night vale; The Dresden Files

Pairing: Carlos Ramirez/Cecil Palmer

Author Summery:

There are a few things that Carlos may have neglected to tell Cecil.

Like his last name.

Or how he hasn’t actually dated anyone since his junior year of high school.

Or that he’s a wizard of the White Council and the regional commander of Wardens in the western United States and not, in fact, a scientist.

You know. Minor details.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207475?view_full_work=true

My notes: The reason I thought of this fic is the following quote:

If there's one thing he learned in the desert otherworld (besides rock-based field medicine and how to repeatedly repair a Power Macintosh) it's that you can't just metaphorically live in the present. It's easier to survive there, focusing only on immediate problems or threats or mysteries. But to truly thrive, part of you has to metaphorically live in the future, planning for the hopes and dreams that don't exist now, but may exist, one day. The exact details aren't so important; what's important is that you're headed somewhere and you know who you want walking beside you.

**********************************************************************

The Climate Change Crisis

Obviously what we really need is political action.  One person deciding to get the child size paper cup from McDonald’s instead of the large plastic cup isn’t going to save the world.  We need regulation to cut carbon emissions globally.  We need to switch to other power sources.  I think nuclear power might be our best bet if we can deal with the NIMBYs.

However, I’m nervous at the thought of talking to a hairdresser, let alone my senator.  So here’s a link to Ecosia.  It’s a chrome extension where the revenue goes towards planting trees. Their website mentions Brazil (remember that farmers are setting the Amazon rainforest on fire?) and Indonesia (there’s a video called “why boycotting palm oil is not the solution’)

Link: https://www.ecosia.org/?c=en

*****************************************************************

Death

Here’s a link to donate to the Cancer Research Institue: https://give.cancerresearch.org/site/Donation2?df_id=2560&mfc_pref=T&2560.donation=form1

The other leading cause of death is heart disease.  Healthline recommends that I eat a healthy diet, lose weight, and exercise for at least 30 minutes everyday.  Great.  I guess the dog is going to be walked more now?  Or I could join intermural sports.  Go golf with my dad.  IDK.

[psychic-refugee]

Prompt: Wednesday allergy to colour.

The new Principal volun-told Wednesday she had to help with Spirit Week decorations. The school colours were Nevermore Blue and Midnight Black. No one seemed to notice how uneasy the vast amount of blue paint that dominated the posters made Wednesday and she was too proud to show any fear.

Wednesday had a legitimate reason for her special grey and black uniform.

Werewolves were vulnerable to silver, aconite, and mountain ash.

Vampires were vulnerable to garlic, any wood to the heart, and their powers did not work while in direct sunlight.

Gorgons were vulnerable to beheadings, mirrors, slowed in the cold, and could be mesmerized by a melody played on a pungi.

Sirens held a fatal weakness against beeswax, the substance Odysseus used to bypass the lure of their song.

Every Outcast had its vulnerability.

The Addamses were a clan onto themselves. They defied death and were rushed into its arms in equal measure. They could survive the electric chair, poisons of all varieties, blunt force trauma; but had succumbed to angry mobs, firing squads, and premature burial, otherwise known as being buried alive.

Most wrote off these deaths as something that had to happen eventually. Others simply thought that they were means of death that no one could possibly survive.

The Addams family secret was that they were blessed by Chaos. No two Addams were vulnerable to the same thing as they were given at random.

If Aunt LaBorgia had been sentenced to hanging or lethal injection, she would have walked it off.

If Uncle Fledge had been before a firing squad, it simply would have tickled.

The Addams that filled their graveyard had succumbed only to their specific vulnerabilities.

Morticia was a Frump witch and vulnerable to iron.

Gomez could be felled by the Cocobolo, a rare tree found in Central America. Luckily, there was an embargo on the wood, and it was prohibitively expensive for most. He did have a cane wrought by the fragrant and red hued wood. He loved to dance with death, and it was a beautiful species.

Pugsly would only succumb to death on a Tuesday of an Odd year in a month ending in Y.

Wednesday was allergic to colour…specifically blue. There were shades of Cyan she could tolerate with naught but watery eyes and a runny nose, but most purples were right out. She was not being hyperbolic when she told Enid that she would break out into hives and the flesh would peel off her bones. Blue felt like battery acid upon her bare skin.

The family told people she was allergic to colour as a strategic red herring. There were eighteen-decillion, that was 18 followed by 33 zeros, known colours in the universe. If someone wanted to harm Wednesday, then they had a good chance an enemy would choose the wrong colour and therefore let Wednesday escape unharmed.

In a turn of bitter irony, Nevermore happened to have one of the most deadly variation of blue in their school uniform. She had to get a uniform specially made for her and had to divulge a legitimate reason for the change.

On any given day, she was not accosted with the colour blue upon her bare skin. She rarely touched anyone, so the regular school uniform rarely got close enough to even make her eyes water in irritation.

The new Headmaster at Nevermore was irritatingly involved in student life, and due to a misunderstanding, Wednesday had dropped a cannon ball on a Satyr who had gotten too handsy, had ordered her to help with Nevermore Spirit Week once they returned from their long break. The school did not have a football team, or any intermural sports team, but they celebrated the school regardless with all the trappings of a Normie Homecoming.

They were in the great hall, the dining tables cleared out and replaced with long tables to accommodate the various craft projects. There were posters, banners, and pom poms aplenty. The Nevermore Raven was painted onto everything that could be pinned down, with splashes with blue and black.

The vast amount of paint, crepe paper, and construction paper in Nevermore Blue made her pulse quicken, so close to death and everyone went about their day. She did her best to work solely with black and kept her face neutral so that no one could tell how close she was to her undoing.

Wednesday Addams never got nervous, she also never showed weakness. She would not be scared off by a primary colour, no matter how painful a death it would subject her to.

It was actually rather inspiring, she wondered how Viper de la Muerte would handle being next to a vat of sulfuric acid.

Xavier was there, and she was uneasy for other reasons.

Social media was soul sucking meaningless affirmation, and she stood by that. Texting, however, was a convenient and efficient way to communicate. She especially liked the blocking feature and how she could delete unnecessarily apps from her phone. She ignored all pleas from Enid to get on whatever vapid app the Werewolf preferred. She really had no desire to post pictures, much less comment on them.

She also suspected her eyes were sensitive to the blue light modern electronic devices gave off, but she would never admit to that. She figured out on her own how to put on a filter.

She actually found that she didn’t mind texting Xavier over the break. He never made a mention of how slowly she responded, and she rather liked how there was no rush to give an answer. She had always had an easier time expressing herself through writing rather than with spoken words.

Xavier was also respectful of her time. He never texted during her quiet time, and he helpfully told her how to disable any incoming texts or calls during certain hours. He also walked her through downloading music she liked. She could admit it was more convenient to have her favorite Mexican musicians play through her phone than cranking a record player.

She still much preferred her typewriter, and still refused to get a computer.

She found out that Xavier was talented at calligraphy. He wrote her beautiful letters in addition to texts. He also drew her lovely portraits and still-lifes of deadly spiders and poisonous flowers. He wrote of how she inspired him, of how he found beauty in the darkest and deadliest of things.

She could admit that his written words and art made her heart flutter. Xavier had also not been good with spoken words, his lousy attempts at warning her against Tyler or expressing his desire for her had failed spectacularly. With his texts and art, he was much more eloquent. She felt like they understood each other much better.

In return, she was inspired to write a short story of a tortured artist who had succumbed to madness and rage, and killed his father. Xavier in turn had drawn his favorite scene, one where the artist, Alexander du Sang, had cut out the still beating heart of his father and used his blood as paint.

If Vincent Thorpe turned up missing or dead, her short story and his drawings would certainly be Exhibits A and B at their trials.

She blushed at the thought of a double murder trial, she had never felt such a way about a boy before.

He understood her disdain for public displays of affection. He kept his distance, but kept his cocky smirk, happy to just be in her presence. He got to know her better over the break, and she had her own language through the minute expressions of her eyes and small smiles that he was becoming fluent in.

He had been roped into helping with Spirit Week, as the most talented artist at Nevermore. The new Headmaster had been told it was Xavier who was responsible for the Raven mural in the quad, and so naturally was recruited to waste his talents on trivial things such as posters.

“I’ve painted so many ravens I may just commit a murder,” he joked as Wednesday held a can of black paint that he used. She didn’t want to be there at all, so she did the bare minimum of appearing to be helping.

“A flock of ravens is called an unkindness.”

“Then it’s unkind to make me do so many,” it was a lame joke, but his smile made something ache in her chest. Xavier smiled enough for the both of them, he figured she found his joke amusing since she didn't openly mock him.

Enid was off on the other side of the hall, ordering many about as she took school spirit seriously. Ever since she finally wolfed out, and had taken down a Hyde at that, she had quickly established dominance of the Werewolf packs. For the most part, the decoration committee was a well-oiled machine and Enid ruled with a fur covered iron fist. If she wanted yards and yards of bunting, she would have it placed exactly where she wanted it, with not even a millimeter of deviation. If she wanted crepe paper roses in black and blue, the wolves would make enough to fill a florist shop.

If she wanted the school crest painted in gold against a backdrop of stripes of Nevermore Blue and Midnight Black, then they would ask how high.

Her exact words were “I want to see it from space,” so the wolves had immediately bought out enough paint to fill the pool Wednesday had released piranhas in to teach some Normies a lesson.

Despite Enid’s firm hold on the wolves, they were a rowdy clan by nature. They followed Enid’s detailed instructions to the letter, but they would do it while rough housing and generally having a good time.

Two wolves thought to use a can of Nevermore Blue as a football and had tossed it to each other, getting further and further apart and in more awkward positions to make the game interesting.

That was until the receiving wolf had missed the catch, and the can had dropped in Wednesday and Xavier’s vicinity.

The can exploded on impact, Xavier hadn’t enough time to even flinch as he was sprayed down with a deluge of blue paint that covered him from head to toe.

When he realized what happened, he was ready to yell at them for not only ruining his uniform, but the mural he had been working on.

His anger had stopped in its tracks when he heard Wednesday scream in agony.

This is a girl who had been stabbed, hit with an arrow, and nearly killed by the reanimated corpse of Jericho’s founder, and he had never heard her scream like that.

Wednesday didn’t even get a chance to yell at the wolves or try to wipe off the muck, she went down and started to convulse.

“Wednesday!” he dropped to his knees, desperately trying to figure out what was wrong.

She had blue paint staining her neck and face, the uniform she wore was a bit oversized and nearly covered her from the neck down. Because she wore the uniform correctly, it had saved her from being doused by the paint on her bare skin for most of her body.

Her normally pristine pale skin had started to turn red and blister, her voice becoming horse from the pain and tears running down her face.

Enid had rushed to her best friend and roommate, she seemed to know what was happening,

“Rolf,” she ordered the fastest wolf in the pack, “go to the nurse’s office and tell them Wednesday Addams has been exposed to colour, she’ll know what that means. Go!”

The wolf obeyed and used his supernatural speed to get help.

“Ajax, call 911. Tell them there is an Outcast having a severe allergic reaction.”

The Gorgon had obeyed as well.

Enid then took a bottle of water that Nevermore had provided for its students. She poured it onto Wednesday in hopes of washing off the paint.

It had only served to spread the paint more and Wednesday had instinctively struck the bottle out of Enid’s hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” tears of remorse pooled in her eyes, her friend was in pain, and she had made things worse.

“What’s happening?” he demanded of the Werewolf, who had seemed to know.

“She’s allergic to colour,” her voice bordering on hysterical, hating to see her friend in such a state.

“What?” that made little to no sense to Xavier. “You mean she’s allergic to dyes or pigments?” He wasn’t aware of what went into Nevermore Blue as it was a specialized colour made just for the school, but they could find out for the paramedics and hospital to know and hopefully know how to deal with.

“I don’t know, her mother just said colour.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he figured that was why Wednesday wore a black and grey uniform instead of the normal Nevermore colours.

“It can’t just be colour, she was fine when those Normie’s had put red paint in the sprinklers at the Rav’n.”

That was a good point, something that Enid hadn’t really thought of at the time. She had been too upset that not only was her outfit ruined, but the Normie boy she had brought had seemingly betrayed her after having a good time, she had thought.

“Wednesday,” he spoke to her gently, “You’ve got to tell us what you’re allergic to. Is it dyes or pigments? Woad, indigo, or ultramarine?” he tried to think of every dye or pigment the paint could have contained. “Is it the binders?”

“Blue,” she weakly said, but the pain of her skin blistering and starting to weep pus and blood had made her face scrunch in agony.

“We know it’s the blue paint, but what in paint are you allergic to?”

Wednesday cried in frustration, they didn’t understand.

“Blue…not allergic…vulnerable.”

Enid did not understand, but Xavier had quickly worked out what she meant. He knew the Addams were singular and unique, even among the Outcast.

“You’re vulnerable…your weakness is to blue?”

Wednesday nodded as speaking was too painful.

“Is it just blue?”

She nodded again.

He worked quickly and gently let Wednesday go, entrusting her to Enid. He headed over to the table that held all the paints.

Enid had been very exacting in what she wanted. The school’s colours had been Nevermore Blue and Midnight Black, and they had those in abundance. Enid had wanted a very specific gold for the school crest and had not been happy with any of the local suppliers. As a result, she and Xavier had worked together to create the gold she wanted, so they had a supply of the other primary colours, in addition to magenta and cyan, with bags of mica to give it a shimmer.

He quickly put together an exact orange, using his knowledge of the colour wheel and hoping it worked.

Enid was confused when Xavier came back with orange paint and was about to yell at someone to ask where the nurse or paramedics were. She had wanted to stop him when it was soon obvious, he planned to put the paint on Wednesday. She worried that he was about to make things worse, but she had recoiled back when she saw that he had a darkness in his eyes she had never seen before.

Ajax had warned her that his roommate had a dark side, getting between him and helping Wednesday had brought that out and she felt a chill run down her back; her inner wolf almost whimpering in submission, anything where he would stop looking at her that way.

It didn’t help that in his anger, all the paintings of ravens around them had started to flap their wings and sinister caws started to echo through the hall.

He gently poured the orange paint where there was visible blue, and by some miracle it was working. Wednesday had sighed in relief and had stopped hyperventilating in pain.

He had neutralized the blue, but the blisters and burns had been left behind. Enid was glad that it hadn’t gotten to the point where her flesh had started to peel off of her bones. The nurse and paramedics had finally come, and no one questioned Xavier when he invited himself to ride along in the ambulance.

“Enid, call her parents and let them know what happened. It’ll be quicker to contact them through the crystal ball. Tell them I’m with her,” he told the Werewolf as he got in the ambulance to go with Wednesday to the hospital. She nodded, so glad he was able to help Wednesday.

“Please text me as soon as she wakes up,” she begged, fear and adrenaline still pumping through her veins.

He promised and the doors were closed, they were on their way to the hospital.

Wednesday Addams was hospitalized for three days. Xavier had been her advocate for proper Outcast care until her parents came. He adamantly kicked out any doctor or nurse who wore blue scrubs. He threw out any blanket or décor that held any hint of the deadly colour. Luckily, blue was not painted on the walls, else they would have found Xavier with a roller brush and a bucket of orange.

They kept her hydrated, gave her pain meds, and Grandmama had come up from New Jersey with a poultice made from witch’s hair and mud from their family swamp. The blisters and open wounds healed nicely, without scars. The only evidence left was a bit of redness which would go away.

They wanted to keep her for another night of observation. Wednesday felt rage, self-pity, and self-disgust that she had shown such weakness in front of her peers and now they were aware of her vulnerability. She barely tolerated her family’s attention, but she had nearly died, again, so perhaps a bit of coddling was therapeutic for them. Enid had come by with a black crocheted blanket and some of Wednesday’s favorite snacks.

Eventually, their concern had become overbearing, and she could no longer bear their presence. She kicked them out and they knew to stay away until she was discharged.

Xavier had gently knocked on her doorframe to let her know he was coming in. He ignored her low growl, slightly amused that she reminded him of an angry kitten.

He came with a gift, however, and soon her mood had lightened.

“I didn’t want to risk your typewriter, so I got you an electronic keyboard with round glass keys like a typewriter with supposedly the same tactile experience. Along with a paper-white tablet, with literally no other function or app other than the writing program.”

It wasn’t a typewriter, but it was the closest equivalent that wouldn’t irritate her. She appreciated that he respected her things enough to simply not take it from her room. She tested the devices, and while it wasn’t the exact same as her typewriter, it would do while she was in the hospital. And it might be a good mobile writing device if she ever wanted to venture outside of her room to write.

“This is…very thoughtful. Thank you,” her features were softened, and she was as closed to relaxed as she got.

He nodded, he understood that Wednesday was not one to be coddled. He brought a chair to her beside, and it reminded him of the first time he spoke with her at Nevermore. They seemed to be attracted to sick beds.

In this instance, he was much closer to her bedside, his side flush against the side of the bed and she was easily within his reach. He suppressed a satisfied smile and his heart ached sweetly when she did not oppose how close he was.

“Most do not understand what happened,” he told her of what was going around in school, he figured she would want to be made aware of who knew of her weakness. “Enid had started a rumor on her blog that the paint had been tampered with by Normies. I think a lot of our peers are highly suggestible, because some swore that I went to the hospital too with burns when I traveled with you. I think some overheard that you were allergic to colour, but not specifically blue. If they do, then I made this for you,” and he handed her palm sized vials with a fine mist pump. They were three varying hues of orange.

“I figure you can carry this with you, like someone who has to carry an Epi-Pen. They should cover warm, neutral, and cool tones to neutralize all shades of blues. Luckily, paint doesn’t really expire, but if they dry up then I can teach you how to mix paints.”

“This is very clever,” she also appreciated that he wasn’t trying to assure her that she was safe. No one was ever safe, it was a truth she knew since she could toddle. He was offering a pragmatic way to save herself if she encountered blue again.

“It’s knowing the colour wheel,” he shrugged, in a rare moment of humility.

“You kept a cool head and came up with a practical solution during a medical emergency. Others would have panicked and possibly made things worse. That is something to be proud of. Most are too brainless to think clearly under normal circumstances.”

That he wasn’t a complete idiot or useless was high praise from Wednesday.

“Then I think you’ll like this next gift. I know you well enough that you’re probably…unhappy, to say the least, that some might know your specific weakness. The truth of it is that every Outcast has a vulnerability. Here is a reminder for them if any idiot forgets that,” he then placed a small pocket knife in her hands.

It was beautifully wrought, a smooth onyx handle with the silver crest of the Addams family and its family credo.

“Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc,” she whispered reverently, they were not just mere pretty words. Instinctively she pressed the crest and it gave way, the blade of the knife appeared and it was not a typical metal.

“One half is a silver-iron alloy, the other is lignum vitae wood. It’s supposed to be as hard as iron. The wood is polished with beeswax, and the metal is laced with mirror dust.”

“All the ways to kill the most prominent clans,” her voice hitched, Xavier had managed to understand her in ways that no one has. “How were you able to get this made so quickly?”

“The Thorpes are not as wealthy as the Addamses, but we are well off enough to know that with enough money, it can solve pretty much any problem…Seeing you in pain, learning you had almost died…again…I was inspired and designed this the first night after you got into the hospital. I told the blade maker that money wasn’t an object and he had it made in two days.”

“It’s beautiful,” it was well made on top of aesthetically pleasing.

There was some compulsive, sadistic part of her that no matter how fond of someone she was, she couldn’t help but test them.

“And psychics, does it work on them?” she, quick as lightning, had placed the blade against his throat. A quick slide, from his ear to his jugular, would be cut as easily as butter.

He did not flinch, and he did not cower. He even leaned slightly against the blade, not enough to break his skin, but to show that he was not afraid of her moving it. They were just a breath away from each other.

“Psychics are practically Normie when it comes to vulnerabilities. We easily die in just as many ways as they do…Grandmother Thorpe says it’s the tradeoff for looking so Normie, we can easily blend in and mask ourselves among them.”

Almost chameleons, and probably the greatest tool against the Normie threat. Psychics rarely ever came under direct threat, only when they revealed their powers did they become targets.

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes, a lovely hazel. A perfect mix of brown that reminded her of burial earth, and green, her favorite shade of moss on a tombstone.

As fast as she had placed the blade at his throat, he had placed a hand on her wrist of the hand that held the blade. She felt a sharp spike coming from one of his fingers. She looked down and saw he was wearing a ring she had never seen before.

It was a simple silver band, with what looked to be a small cabochon sapphire. He moved his hand so that it would catch the light, and she noticed a minute air bubble that danced with the movement.

It wasn’t a sapphire, and he gave her a knowing smirk. It was a spiked ring filled with blue, if he pressed any harder, she had no doubt that the spike would pierce her skin and blue dye or ink would get into her bloodstream. It could potentially cause sepsis or any array of allergic reactions, ones she could not easily assuage with the orange dye spray he had gifted her.

She raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I know who you are, you are a scorpion. But I am not a frog, only a fool would think they were ever truly safe with you.”

That was the sweetest and most beautiful thing anyone had ever said about her. And he respected her enough to protect himself from the very real threat she presented. He didn’t have any lofty or idiot ideals of how love would soften her.

She kept the blade at his neck, and she brought her lips to his.

Her first kiss with Tyler had been a moment of carnal weakness. Too much adrenaline surging through her, desperate to find the Hyde. Perhaps she kissed him as some subconscious effort to parse out the real Hyde, and actually wanted to trigger her visions to get her proof.

Kissing Xavier felt like kissing chaos and darkness.

She dropped the knife, and he moved his hand to her face. She did not feel the sharp spike as his large hand and long fingers cradled her cheek. He knew when to be deadly and when to be gentle. She could do the same.

This kiss she did not want to stop, but true to her nature she could not help the nip at his lip that drew blood. He had drawn back in pain, and she feared that perhaps she had gone too far. He smiled, however, manic and dazed. He leaned down to kiss her again, the tang of his blood setting hers aflame.

She did not get a vision, but she saw a future with him.