#it's absurd to act like there's one correct answer because no the fuck there isn't

[mymarifae]

i think that you would be an amazing teacher and i wish i could be in your class

aw thank you so much!! i'm glad you think so.. hopefully i can make at least one student's high school career a little easier, and hopefully i can remind them why they should never stop loving learning, no matter how hard the school system tries to beat it out of them :')

[im-not-a-l0ser]

Her: Chapter One.

I haven't been able to decide if this is worth publishing, so here's chapter one of that story I posted the prologue for. This is from Richie's pov though, as will be the next one.

Please please give me feedback on this, please. It would mean so much to me.

CW- Blatant Gender Stereotypes, Boy Jerry and Girl Jeri being the worst, transphobia, queerphobia, impulsive decisions, parental arguing

She'd have to go to her uncle Jerry's just about every week. Her parents were working, and Jerry either wasn't, or could take her with him, being a journalist and all. 

She used to look up to her uncle Jerry. She thought what he did was so cool. 

In the summers, her parents took turns for who would go to work on the weekends, always telling her that Uncle Jerry was away. She didn’t know why. 

Until she turned thirteen. That was when Uncle Jerry decided she was old enough to learn about sex and gave her a pamphlet on abstinence. 

Nevermind the fact that half the shit in it was fear mongering, which she knew because she'd already gotten sex education from both her mother and her school. It was just a real weird thing to do. 

That's when she learned that those few weeks she was watched by her parents, it was because Jerry was off running an abstinence camp with Jeri, who she immediately figured out he'd had sex with. 

At this point, whenever she came over, she'd be bombarded by Girl Jeri, who claimed it was her job to teach her how to be a proper lady, since her mother obviously wasn't going to. 

She looked down at her clothes when girl Jeri motioned to today, as if they proved her point. 

What was so bad about what she was wearing?

"What's wrong with this?"

"Oh, darling..." Jeri's tone was inherently condescending. "Where did you get those shoes?"

"These?" She looked down at her blue and grey sneakers. "I dunno, they were a gift. They're cool though, I like them."

"Sweetie, look at my shoes." She did. She thought they were called ballet flats? 

"Those don't look very comfortable," She said, narrowing her eyes. Girl Jeri put her hand on her arm. 

"They're not," She said, her hollow voice filled with agony. "But that doesn't matter, since we won't be doing hard work anyway."

"We... what?"

"And these shorts."

"What's wrong with my shorts?" She asked, extra annoyed now. "You wore shorts and sneakers at Camp Idontwannabang, why is it a problem now!"

"Well, we're not in the forest right now, are we?"

"Jesus fucking christ..."

The room went silent at her mutter. She looked up to see both Jerys looking at her with wide eyes. 

"Jerry, why didn't you tell me it was this bad?" Jeri asked, stage whispering. She could hear it very clearly. 

"I didn't know! It's not my fault my brother married a-a seductress! I tried to stop him!" She covered her mouth to muffle her snicker. "I aughta wash her hands in a river!"

It wasn't the weirdest uncle Jerry threat she'd ever heard. 

"Okay sweetie, uh, what about this jacket then?" Jeri asked her, wrapping her hand around the hem. 

"Oh, this isn't mine. I'm borrowing it from a friend. I was really cold the other day, so he's letting me keep it for the weekend.”

“When you say friend, do you mean boyfriend?” Jerry asked.

“I dunno Uncle Jerry, when you say friend, do you mean Girlfriend?” She asked, eyeing the Jerys. 

This certainly threw them off, which definitely proved her theory further. She smirked as they sputtered corrections, saying how she was just so absurd and out of line.

So worth it. 

“That didn’t answer my question,” Jerry said stiffly. 

“I think it did,” She said, “And if it didn’t, maybe you two should talk about your relationship. I mean, who are you to have any dictation over my life and my relationships, if your very own closest relationship is undefined and messy? Won’t that just make my relationships undefined and messy?”

Her relationship with Max was already undefined and messy. They were dating, but they definitely weren’t actually dating. But they still acted like they were dating. They held hands and they held each other close.

Actually, no. She had to remind herself, her relationship with Max wasn’t undefined and messy. They were friends. But publicly, people would think they were dating so that she wouldn’t be harassed as much. 

She looked scrawny, even though she wasn’t. She was lonely, even though she was on the swim team. She often wondered why it was that men on a team together meant automatic friendship, but for women it didn’t mean anything. It just meant that they were on a team. 

Not that swimming was a team sport. Not like football, or soccer, or basketball, or just about any other sport Max was in. 

People thought she’d make a good victim. They didn’t think about how she was best friends with one of the strongest people in town, and that he cared about her enough that he’d fight people who he’d once considered his closest friends. 

In fact, most of the people who harassed her were close to Max. Well, close like guy friends, not close like she and Max were. She knew everything about Max’s home life, what went on with his dad, what happened to his mother, even that he wasn’t even that into sports.

She taught him how to play chess and she allowed him to be childish with her, since his childhood was stolen from him pretty early. 

“Okay, look, none of this is important!” Jeri said, swerving the topic with very little grace, “All I’m saying is that you’re a beautiful girl, why do you wear boy clothes and cover that up.” 

“Because I like ‘boy’ clothes,” She said, explicitly using air quotes to bother them.

“Does your mother wear boy clothes?” Jeri asked exasperatedly. 

“I mean, sometimes?” She responded. “I don’t know what boy clothes are!”

“At least your hair is still long and beautiful,” Jeri said, reaching out to touch her hair. “A woman's hair is her grace of god, you know?” 

“Sure,” She said sarcastically. 

“Maybe we can play with it a little bit. Make you more feminine.” 

“Whatever.” She was just so tired of this already. 

They set up a chair in Jerry’s bathroom, and Jeri dragged her in front of a mirror. The hairbrush pulled painfully and Jeri’s fingernails scraped against her scalp.

When she was dropped off at home, she was exhausted and nauseous. 

She never really had her ‘girlhood’ shoved in her face like that before. Her mom was never like that. Her mom always indulged in her interests and didn’t push anything. The most her dad ever did was nudge her in a girly direction. 

She hadn’t even considered her long hair a girly thing before now. Despite the length, people confused her for a boy all the time. 

Probably had something to do with her oversized clothes and constant layering, otherwise she’d be pinned as a girl immediately. 

“Oh my, pumpkin, you look so beautiful,” Her father said when she walked in. She looked down at the braids falling over her shoulders, one on each. 

“Thanks,” She mumbled. 

She didn’t want to look beautiful. Not like that. 

“Are you okay?” Her mother asked.

“I’m just tired.”

“Okay, well, why don’t you head up to bed. Jerry kept you far too long, you have school tomorrow,” Her father said. 

“One more week!” Her mother said, trying to cheer her up slightly. 

She smiled weakly before climbing the stairs to get to her room. 

When she got there, she plucked the stupid butterfly clips from the top of her dutch braids and let them fall to the floor as her hands moved down to take out the hairthings that held her braids in. Her jaw was tight and her throat hurt. 

She ran her fingers down the length of the braids before shaking her head violently to get rid of them. 

Jeri had recommended sleeping in them, to give them a pretty wave. She actually had curly hair, but it only started when it got down to her chin. 

Granted, she regretted it immediately. She couldn’t decide which was worse, the weight of braids sitting on her shoulders, or the feeling of her hair on her neck. 

She kicked off her shoes and fell onto her bed and tried to sleep. 

She couldn’t say how long she laid there, but when she left her room again, her parents were asleep and all the lights were off. 

She tucked herself back into her bedroom after walking around the quiet house. She shut her door quietly and turned the light on revealing her reflection in the mirror on her door. 

She didn’t feel like she looked like her anymore. She was at peace with her appearance before, but it was different now. 

Now, she associated her hair with femininity, not the warm feeling it gave in the cold michigan winter. She ran her fingers along her jaw, noticing its round appearance for the first time. Max didn’t have a jaw like that. Max’s jaw was square and strong. 

She ran her fingers through her hair, catching the knots. 

She didn’t realise she was holding back tears until her vision blurred. Tears rushed down her face, and she was once again reminded that life is not an anime, and tears don’t fall off your chin, they just drip down your neck. 

You know the fun thing about making your own bookmarks? You have scissors on hand. 

Her desk was right next to her door. And she knew she shouldn’t have done it, but she picked up a pair of scissors, gripped her hair and cut about a third of her hair away. 

And then, with a chunk of hair in one hand, and a pair of crappy craft scissors in the other, she looked at herself again. 

What had she done…

She dropped the scissors and the large chunk of hair and stumbled back onto the floor. She scrambled back until her back was against her bed, still staring at herself in the mirror. She didn’t notice the various items fall to the floor from her desk or her bookshelf or her nightstand as she scrambled back, but it was enough to draw her mother into the room. 

“What…” Her mother stopped talking once the door was open, seeing the sight of her child.

She was sitting with her legs up to her knees, her back resting against the drawers of her bed. Her Asuka pillow had fallen to the floor from her bed, along with trinkets from her shelves and pencils from her desk. 

“Oh my goodness,” He mother breathed, joining her child on the floor. “Honey…” She brushed her fingers along the ends of her child’s hair. “If you wanted to cut your hair, you could’ve just asked,” She said, a bit more lighthearted than it should’ve been. 

“I didn’t know until today,” She said quietly. 

“Oh,” Her mother said. “Well, that’s okay.” 

“I hate the Jerys,” She cried, falling toward her mom. 

“Oh, sweetie,” Her mother responded, “Me too.” 

She was able to laugh through her tears, but only for a moment. 

“Don’t make me go back next weekend,” She pleaded. 

“I won’t,” Her mother responded. “Your dad might fight me on it, but I won’t.”

They stayed like that for a while before they got up and fixed her room. They then moved to the bathroom, where her mom carefully cut off the remaining length of her hair. 

“We can bring you to a salon in the morning, okay?” 

“I…” Her voice creaked again. “Do I have to go back to school in the morning?” She asked. 

“I’m not going to make you go to school like this,” Her mom said, fairly stern. “If you want to, you can, but I won’t make you.”

“Thank you.”

Her mom followed through, taking her to a salon the next day. Luckily, there was no chance of any of her classmates seeing her, since they were all in school and not getting haircuts to help their mental breakdown from the day before. 

Her hair went over her forehead in a very late 2000s, early 2010s fashion, long enough to tuck behind her ear on one side, though she usually just let it rest next to her eye.

She didn’t go back to school the next day either. She mostly just stayed inside and slept. She’d read manga on her phone, despite having physical copies of them on her shelf. She’d eat instant ramen and cereal and whatever her parents prepared for dinner, all in her bedroom.

When her parents arrived home from their respective workplaces, she could hear them fight. 

“I don’t want her going over to Jerry’s anymore, it’s not good for her.”

“The Jerys are only doing what’s best for her. She needs to learn how to be a woman before it’s too late. You never did.”

“There’s no right way to be a woman— and not once has our child stated to us that they are a woman!”

She froze at that.

What else would she be? This was her, this is how she was born, she had to be a woman. 

Even though, when she looked in the mirror now, she felt more comfortable than she’d ever been. Not necessarily comfortable, but more comfortable. 

But, her lack of hair made her focus in on the other things that made her look girly. Her eyelashes and jawline and her figure. She didn’t like those things about her. 

“You have to stop trying to push that stuff on her, she’s going to get something in her head, and we won’t be able to fix it!”

“There wouldn’t be anything to fix! There’d be nothing wrong with them!”

“You already cut her hair, don’t go making her think she can call herself a boy for the rest of her life!”

“They can do whatever they want; it’s their life!”

You: Mom and dad are fighting again

She didn’t click send. She’d typed out many messages to send to Max, and never sent any of them. 

The next day, the fighting started gentler. She had to press her ear to the door in order to hear it.

“Maybe we should talk to your other brother.”

She furrowed her brows. Other brother?

“No, he’s riddled with sin.”

“Jesus— Being bisexual isn’t a sin, it’s just being bisexual.”

“If you can call it that,” Her dad said. “He says he’s bisexual, but I’ve never seen him interested in anyone.”

“I’m just saying, if our child is having trouble with their identity, maybe it would help to bring in someone who’s also struggled with their identity. I mean, come on, you cut him off years ago, just because he likes guys and girls? They’ve never even met, and they’re family.”

“I don’t want her getting sick too.”

“It’s not a sickness!” They heard their mother take a breath. “You don’t have to be a part of it, but I want them to meet.”

“Yeah, well, good luck getting in contact with him.”

Their mom approached them about it the next day.

Apparently they had another uncle named Paul, who their father had cut off when he moved out, for being bisexual. And apparently, it was very easy to get in contact with him. 

This was the same time their mother confided in them that she’d been talking to an attorney to help work through writing a divorce settlement. Which, would actually not be so hard, since their mom was smart enough to get a pre-nup.

“I want you to be able to talk to someone who’s gone through the same thing you’re going through,” Their mother said, “And someone else, in your family, who’s been borderline harassed by the Jerys about their identity? I think that’s pretty darn close.”

“Thank you,” They mumbled. “For… trying.”

“You’re my kid. This is my job.” She scooted closer to them. “The question is, how do you want to introduce yourself to Paul? Because we don’t have to use your name, we can use a different name. We could go for a neutral name for now, I’m sure that he wouldn’t mind if you changed it after that. I won’t.”

“I don’t know. Can I think about it?”

“Of course dear,” She said. “I’ll wait to contact him until you’re ready.”

The next day was the last day of school. 

They got many messages from Max asking where they were, extremely worried. They felt bad.

Not as bad as they knew they should.

What would Max think of them right now? They had no idea. 

That day, they spent on their bed, their laptop on their lap, scrolling through what must’ve been hundreds of neutral names before one caught their eye.

Kai.

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 4 (Nessian AU)

A/N: I know I haven't been able to update as fast as you'd want me to but I'll try to fix that. Your comments and feedbacks are very much appreciated. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: None really

1652words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to do something they liked. That was the only way Cassian kept from spiraling. Since sending the woman to her own house, Cassian had more than a few moments when he wanted to repeatedly slam his head against a wall. That’s why he spent most of his time sparring with Azriel. He won’t admit he was simping for that woman in his free time too. Or maybe that was always.

Now, sprawled on a couch in front of the TV, with nothing to do but stare at a blank screen, Cassian led his thoughts to the box he kept all unwanted thoughts locked in. He thought about Tomas, her ex-boyfriend. Funny, he thought. I know her ex's name but not hers.

It took him a little too long the other day to realise they didn't exchange names. Again. He once thought that maybe she was purposely not giving him her name. That maybe, for her, he was just a random stranger who happened to save her life. He snorted. Surely anyone would know the name of the person they saved or was saved by— stranger or not. He supposed he'll have to make do with pronouns for now.

After she left his home, it took every scrap of self-restraint not to beat this Tomas dude to pulp and let him rot in the same alley he had the misfortune of meeting him in. He may or may not have been the cause for some extra injuries. Cassian appreciated the woman’s attempt at mercy. He, however, didn’t trust Tomas at all. He was dubious about just handing him over to the police. Who’s to know he won’t frame him and the woman for absurd things? Anyway, he left a note in Tomas’s house saying something like “Step out of line, lose your favourite part of anatomy. Name it and have it for your meal.” He made sure he printed so that no one would recognise his writing. Yet, all this didn’t calm his nerves one bit. He presumed he’ll have to stay on guard for some time now.

Now, back to the girl. He sighed. He didn’t dare change the sheets in his guest bedroom. He didn’t even let Mor use the room when she came over last weekend— which he could bet created suspicion. No, that room was only open when he craved her scent. He even realised one of his shirts was missing. He shrugged it off thinking he would've left it somewhere and just couldn't find it. Once she came to his house, he was constantly thinking about her. So much that now he started pinching himself often. It was the only way he could stop thinking about her— by creating physical pain.

Cassian glanced at the clock on the wall. 2.30 in the afternoon. He walked to the refrigerator and checked his freezer compartment. Huh. No ice-cream. He sighed, grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the mall to get an ice-cream with a pout. He’ll have to leave for Rhys and Feyre’s first anniversary only around 5.30 to prepare everything. He has enough time to get an ice-cream and probably hang out for some time. Good enough to stop thinking about her. Or so he thought.

***

Nesta wasn’t sore anymore. Her headache was gone almost a week after the incident. Her nose didn’t hurt anymore. Okay, maybe a little bit. It didn’t hurt unless she bumped her nose against something. Today, her nose was dully throbbing because she hit her nose against a pillow yesterday. A very, very soft pillow and yet it hurt this much.

The man’s first-aid and medicines were really helpful.

It really wasn’t fair that he excelled at basic first aid too. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good. With black tattoos swirling over generously muscled arms and shoulder-length dark hair curling at the edges and gloriously tanned skin and hazel eyes with minute flecks of green and brown when taken a closer look at and dimples and—

A quiet “Who is it?” snapped Nesta out of her moping. She looked up to see Gwyn walking to her.

“Who is what?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. Gwyn's pursed lips and glare conveyed that her act wasn't enough.

“Who are you thinking about?” Gwyn clarified.

“What makes you think I'm thinking about someone?” Nesta retorted.

Gwyn sat on the chair next to her and started assisting with classifying the unceremonious heap of books on the table to be kept back in its correct positions on its own rack.

“Nesta,” Gwyn sighed, “Clotho assigned you this stack almost an hour ago. And you've barely finished a third of the stack. Normally, you'd finish stacks bigger than this in an hour. So there's clearly something.”

“It wasn't anyone,” Nesta mumbled.

As usual, Gwyn saw through her lie. “You were twirling your hair,” she said flatly.

Heat inched up her neck. “I was not!”

Gwyn murmured a “uh-huh” and they lapsed into an easy silence till they were almost over.

Gwyn's eyes lit up as it normally did whenever she got an idea. “Is it him? The guy you came with that day?”

Nesta scowled, “How do you know…” she broke off when she realised which 'that day' Gwyn was talking about. Nesta fought back a blush. “No, no, this isn't about him. We don't know each other. Much. Like, we've seen each other a number of times? That's it. Nothing else.” Cauldron, the first part was a complete lie. But at least the rest are true. Will Gwyn happen to know his name? Maybe I ought to ask her. Or maybe I shouldn't.

She should, she decided. She cleared her throat. “Uh, Gwyn? Do you happen to know his name?”

Gwyn frowned and asked, “He hasn't told you yet?”

Nesta shook her head and answered, “No, we, uh, forgot. I guess. We haven't really exchanged names.”

Gwyn nodded and smiled. “Well, he is—”

“Gwyn!” a voice called. “You can't expect me to come over to you and beg for you to help me. Help me only if you want to or don't work under me.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened. She abruptly stood up and mouthed, “Merrill. I gotta go. I’m so sorry.” She all but ran to Merrill, the very strict librarian Gwyn was working under.

Nesta sighed and continued her work. There wasn’t much left so she was able to finish fast. She picked her things and left the library with a word to Clotho, heading to the mall.

***

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to also eat something they liked. So, ice-cream it was. After having his ice-cream, Cassian was aimlessly walking around the mall. Here, not more than a month ago, he met her for the first time. Almost a month ago. He huffed out a breath. The fact that he was pining for her this long blew his mind off. He—

“This is your fault— not mine. I’m not taking the blame for this,” he told her. They bumped into each other. Again.

Her lips quirked up. “It is kind of my fault. But blame this—,” she poked his chest, “— for making my nose hurt again.”

Just like that, his mood sobered. “How are you?” he asked.

She pointed at the cafe to her left. “Coffee?”

He nodded. Who was he to say no to her?

So they ordered coffee and talked about everything and nothing. He grinned and she laughed. He laughed and she smirked. He wouldn’t say he knew her well but he’d never seen her so carefree. Her laugh was like nectar for a starving man. Her eyes bright and welling up with tears from laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much,” she said.

Cassian put a hand on his heart dramatically and said, “I know, I know. I’m very funny.”

Her lips kicked up a notch. She straightened as if she just realised something. He was about to ask when she drawled, “So I just realised that we still haven’t exchanged names.”

Oh. Right. Of course. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Usually, when people meet, they start with introductions but in our case we’ve literally bumped into each other three times and still we don’t know each other.” He shook his head and extended his hand. “Well, hello there. I’m—”

His phone rang in his pocket. Fuck. He was going to kill whoever was calling him now. He was so close to knowing her name. He pulled out his phone to see an incoming call from Azriel. He apologetically looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could choose not to take this call and instead kill this idiot but I can’t. Just give me a moment, okay?”

She nodded and he picked up his call.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

“It’s 5.30 already, you idiot. We’ve got to get the things ready for the party. Mor already went to get the cake and you’re not even at home. Where on all earth and hell are you?” came Az’s faint voice.

“15 minutes only? Mother above, I’m coming.” he said.

Az’s “make it fast” was the last thing he heard before hanging up. “I wish we could stay here and talk forever,” he said to her, “but I have something up in a short while and I totally didn’t realise time was passing this fast. I’m so sorry. It was nice talking to you. Really. And I wish we could meet again. Though without the bumping part.”

He grinned when she smiled and said, “Bye. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” he called back. He didn’t want to think he imagined the subtle look of disappointment on her face because hell, he was a walking epitome of disappointment right now.

taglist:

@shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella