#learn addition using number line

[gamesonyoutube]

Learn Addition Using Number Beads Maths With Lucas And Ruby | Learn addition in a fun way I am 10 abacus addition ideas to how to teach addition for kindergarten in a fun way :- Idea 1: Introduce the abacus as a special math tool that can help them add numbers together. Show them how the beads represent different values and explain that they can slide the beads to perform addition. Idea 2: Start with simple addition problems using single-digit numbers. Demonstrate how to slide the appropriate number of beads on the abacus to find the sum. Let the students observe and try it themselves with guidance. Idea 3: Provide opportunities for hands-on practice by giving each student their own abacus. Assign addition problems for them to solve independently. Encourage them to use the abacus to find the answers and check their work. Idea 4: Learn addition in a fun way Incorporate visual aids by creating worksheets or flashcards with abacus representations. Display addition problems and ask the students to draw the beads on the abacus to solve the equations. This reinforces the connection between the physical tool and the visual representation. Idea 5: Organize small group activities where students can work together using the abacus. Provide a set of addition task cards or word problems and let the students take turns using the abacus to find the answers. This promotes collaboration and peer learning. Idea 6: Introduce the concept of regrouping or carrying over with the abacus. Demonstrate how to slide beads to the next row when adding larger numbers. Guide the students in practicing regrouping on the abacus for a better understanding. Idea 7: Create a game using the abacus to make addition practice fun. Set a timer and challenge students to solve as many addition problems as they can within a given time. Offer rewards or incentives to keep them motivated. Idea 8: Use real-life scenarios to contextualize addition with the abacus. Present situations like counting objects or sharing items among friends. Have the students use the abacus to find the total or how many each person receives. Idea 9: Encourage students to explore different strategies using the abacus. Let them experiment with adding numbers in different orders or grouping the beads differently to find alternative ways to arrive at the same sum. This fosters critical thinking and problem-solving skills. Idea 10: Wrap up the addition lessons with a mini abacus project. Have the students create their own abacus using materials like pipe cleaners and beads. Let them demonstrate their understanding of addition by solving problems using their handmade abacus.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Roxette - The Look 1989

"The Look" is a song by pop duo Roxette; Sweden's second-best-selling music act after ABBA. It was released in early 1989 as the fourth single from their second studio album, Look Sharp! (1988). The album was an immediate commercial success in their home country, spending seven weeks at number one on the Swedish Albums Chart. "The Look" was written by Per Gessle as an exercise while learning how to operate the Ensoniq ESQ-1 synthesizer he had recently purchased, using a repeated A–G–D bass line as the song's core. The track's sixteenth-note rhythm was inspired by the work of ZZ Top. The original title was "He's Got the Look", with the lyrics using male pronouns. Gessle said this was done because he initially wanted Marie Fredriksson to sing the track. Both he and EMI Sweden had chosen to highlight Fredriksson as Roxette's lead vocalist. However, when recording the demo, Gessle realised the song "didn't fit her style that well, so I had a go and it sounded OK."

The singles from Look Sharp! at the time were only released in Sweden, Germany and France. However, an American exchange student from Minnesota named Dean Cushman returned from Sweden and gave his copy of the album to his local Top 40 radio station, KDWB-FM in Minneapolis. The station's program director Brian Phillips initially ignored Cushman's request to play a song from the album, leaving the CD unplayed in his office for several weeks. Phillips eventually listened to it after learning Cushman had come to the office requesting the return of his CD. Immediately impressed by the album's opening track, "The Look" was played by the station for the first time on US radio less than an hour later, and the response from listeners was overwhelmingly positive; the station immediately began receiving phone calls to replay the track.

KDWB began distributing the track to their sister radio operations, sending 500 copies to other stations throughout the United States. EMI America promptly signed the duo to a recording contract as a result of the airplay. The label had previously rejected Roxette as "unsuitable for the American market". The song had already entered the top fifty of the Billboard Hot 100 before official promotion began, peaking at number one on the chart eight weeks later. This made "The Look" the third number one single by a Swedish act on the Billboard Hot 100, following Blue Swede's "Hooked on a Feeling" (poll #152) in 1974 and ABBA's "Dancing Queen" in 1976.

The track went on to top the charts in 25 countries. It spent three weeks atop the New Zealand Singles Chart, and six weeks at number one in Australia, where it was certified platinum for sales in excess of 70,000 copies. It also topped the charts throughout Scandinavia. The song spent five weeks at number one in West Germany, and an additional five weeks at number two. It was a massive success in Spain and Switzerland, spending eight weeks at number one in both countries. It reached number seven on the UK Singles Chart.

"The Look" received a total of 80,5% yes votes!

[reasonsforhope]

"Chicago’s 82-story Aqua Tower appears to flutter with the wind. Its unusual, undulating facade has made it one of the most unique features of Chicago’s skyline, distinct from the many right-angled glass towers that surround it.

In designing it, the architect Jeanne Gang thought not only about how humans would see it, dancing against the sky, but also how it would look to the birds who fly past. The irregularity of the building’s face allows birds to see it more clearly and avoid fatal collisions. “It’s kind of designed to work for both humans and birds,” she said.

As many as 1 billion birds in the US die in building collisions each year. And Chicago, which sits along the Mississippi Flyway, one of the four major north-south migration routes, is among the riskiest places for birds. This year, at least 1,000 birds died in one day from colliding with a single glass-covered building. In New York, which lies along the Atlantic Flyway, hundreds of species traverse the skyline and tens of thousands die each year.

As awareness grows of the dangers posed by glistening towers and bright lights, architects are starting to reimagine city skylines to design buildings that are both aesthetically daring and bird-safe.

Pictured: Chicago's Aqua Tower was designed with birds in mind.

Some are experimenting with new types of patterned or coated glass that birds can see. Others are rethinking glass towers entirely, experimenting with exteriors that use wood, concrete or steel rods. Blurring lines between the indoors and outdoors, some architects are creating green roofs and facades, inviting birds to nest within the building.

“Many people think about bird-friendly design as yet another limitation on buildings, yet another requirement,” said Dan Piselli, director of sustainability at the New York-based architecture firm FXCollaborative. “But there are so many design-forward buildings that perfectly exemplify that this doesn’t have to limit your design, your freedom.”

How modern buildings put birds in danger

For Deborah Laurel, principal in the firm Prendergast Laurel Architects, the realization came a couple of decades ago. She was up for an award for her firm’s renovation of the Staten Island Children’s Museum when the museum’s director mentioned to her that a number of birds had been crashing into the new addition. “I was horrified,” she said.

She embarked on a frenzy of research to learn more about bird collisions. After several years of investigation, she found there was little in the way of practical tips for architects, and she teamed up with the conservation group NYC Audubon, to develop a bird-safe building guide.

The issue, she discovered, was that technological and architectural advancements over the last half-century had in some ways transformed New York City – and most other US skylines and suburbs – into death traps for birds...

At certain times of day, tall glass towers almost blend into the sky. At other times, windows appear so pristinely clear that they are imperceptible to birds, who might try to fly though them. During the day, trees and greenery reflected on shiny building facades can trick birds, whereas at night, brightly lit buildings can confuse and bewilder them...

Pictured: A green roof on the Javits Convention Center serves as a sanctuary for birds.

The changes that could save avian lives

About a decade ago, Piselli’s firm worked on a half-billion-dollar renovation of New York’s Jacob K Javits Convention Center, a gleaming glass-clad space frame structure that was killing 4,000-5,000 birds a year. “The building was this black Death Star in the urban landscape,” Piselli said.

To make it more bird friendly, FXCollaborative (which was then called FXFowle) reduced the amount of glass and replaced the rest of it with fritted glass, which has a ceramic pattern baked into it. Tiny, textured dots on the glass are barely perceptible to people – but birds can see them. The fritted glass can also help reduce heat from the sun, keeping the building cooler and lowering air conditioning costs. “This became kind of the poster child for bird-friendly design in the last decade,” Piselli said.

The renovation also included a green roof, monitored by the NYC Audubon. The roof now serves as a sanctuary for several species of birds, including a colony of herring gulls. Living roofs have since become popular in New York and other major cities, in an inversion of the decades-long practice of fortifying buildings with anti-bird spikes. In the Netherlands, the facade of the World Wildlife Fund headquarters, a futuristic structure that looks like an undulating blob of mercury, contains nest boxes and spaces for birds and bats to live.

The use of fritted glass has also become more common as a way to save the birds and energy.

Earlier this year, Azadeh Omidfar Sawyer, an assistant professor in building technology in the Carnegie Mellon School of Architecture, working with student researchers, used open-source software to help designers create bespoke, bird-friendly glass patterns. A book of 50 patterns that Sawyer published recently includes intricate geometric lattices and abstract arrays of lines and blobs. “Any architect can pick up this book and choose a pattern they like, or they can customize it,” she said.

Pictured: The fritted glass used in Studio Gang’s expansion of Kresge College at the University of California, Santa Cruz, depicts the animals in the local ecosystem.

Builders have also been experimenting with UV-printed patterns, which are invisible to humans but perceptible to most birds. At night, conservationists and architects are encouraging buildings turn off lights, especially during migration season, when the bright glow of a city skyline can disorient birds.

And architects are increasingly integrating screens or grates that provide shade as well as visibility for birds. The 52-floor New York Times building, for example, uses fritted glass clad with ceramic rods. The spacing between the rods increases toward the top of the building, to give the impression that the building is dissolving into the sky.

Gang’s work has incorporated structures that can also serve as blinds for birders, or perches from which to observe nature. A theater she designed in Glencoe, Illinois, for example, is surrounded by a walking path made of a wood lattice, where visitors can feel like they’re up in the canopy of trees.

Pictured: The Writers Theatre, designed by Studio Gang, includes a walking path encased in wood lattice.

Rejecting the idea of the iridescent, entirely mirrored-glass building, “where you can’t tell the difference between the habitat and the sky”, Gang aims for the opposite. “I always tried to make the buildings more visible with light and shadow and geometry, to have more of a solid presence,” she said.

Gang has been experimenting with adding bird feeders around her own home in an effort to reduce collisions with windows, and she encourages other homeowners to do the same.

“I’ve found that birds slow down and stop at feeders instead of trying to fly through the glass,” she said.

While high-rise buildings and massive urban projects receive the most attention, homes and low-rise buildings account for most bird collision deaths. “The huge challenge is that glass is everywhere.” said Christine Sheppard, who directs the glass collisions program at the American Bird Conservancy (ABC). “It’s hard to know what I know and not cringe when I look at it.”

Tips for improving your own home include using stained glass or patterned decals that can help birds see a window, she said. ABC has compiled a list of window treatments and materials, ranked by how bird-safe they are.

Whether they’re large or small, the challenge of designing buildings that are safe for birds can be “liberating”, said Gang, who has become an avid birdwatcher and now carries a pair of binoculars on her morning jogs. “It gives you another dimension to try to imagine.”"

-via The Guardian, December 27, 2023

[justmiha97]

The Sims 3 Material Painter Final Version

UPDATE

I've updated the painter, and with it, included some new things as well as a fully interactive tutorial on how to use it.

NEEDED Prerequisites:

Blender 4.2+

Blender Paint System Addon - HERE (you can donate to the original creator, or get it for free, great little plugin!)

THE TUTORIAL

The tutorial is extensive, done in numbered steps, and is UI and workflow oriented, allowing you to click on any relevant UI element to learn more about it, and how it relates to the complete workflow. There's an additional, advanced chapter, for people who are interested in learning more about blender texture painter's functionality and techniques.

PAINTER ADDITIONS

The Painter has been slightly fixed, with multiplier's lines and depth shading being shifted to the correct depth, and with AO being more pronounced. This will make multiplier output even more accurate. Added some new minor tweaks to UI and Color Palettes to accommodate for the tutorial.

DOWNLOAD

Get updated templates with new files HERE!

If you only want to access the tutorial, you can do it HERE.

You can access the original post below:

Been working on a tool that easily creates The Sims 3 material maps based only on a few texture layers, most of it derived from height data. This was done long time ago, but very sloppily, and it was not at all approachable.

Discovering THIS free blender add-on that lets you plaint layers in it, made me return to this project and finalize it for release.

The tool can export:

- Multiplier, RGB+A

- Normal Map, RGB+A

- CAST Map, RGB+A

- Specular Map

- Overlay, RGB+A

OLD VERSION BELOW!

//~~Get it HERE, and please, make sure to get THIS blender plugin, it's NEEDED for this to work. Blender 4.2+ is also needed for these to work together.~~//

[locusfandomtime]

Doing the maths: Grian's failure at getting a mending book

lots of talk about maths and probabilities below the cut! but there's a graph and simple explanation at the end if you want to get the gist of it and are bad at maths.

(I am still young and learning maths, critique/advice always welcomed)

What are the odds of getting a mending book in Minecraft?

(I am assuming Grian has been doing all his fishing with Luck of the Sea 3)

The probability of a mending book is actually a bit annoying to estimate. The Minecraft Wiki lists fishing up an enchanted book as 1.9% chance. This is for ANY enchanted book. The Minecraft wiki talks about how the chance of an enchantment being selected is calculated. Mending has a weight of 2. Using the table, mending has a probability of 2/135.

However, Grian is looking for any book with mending, not just a pure mending book. Additional enchantments are calculated in a different way, involving RNG, which means it won't be as easy to model. Due to this reason, I'll just be using the odds for a pure mending book throughout.

TLDR: a mending book has a 0.028..% chance (2/135*0.019*100)

Grian's Data

According to this screenshot, Grian has used a fishing rod 5679 times. This number may not be fully accurate, as it includes the times he's fished other players, rather than just fished for items, but it is a good estimate.

To help visualise this data, with a median waiting time between catches of 17.5 seconds, Grian has spent over 20 hours fishing so far! He may have a problem.

Is this statistically significant?

Hypothesis testing (p-value approach):

H0: p = 19/67500 (the null hypothesis - he has no mending books because of chance)

H1: p < 19/67500 (the alternate hypothesis - he has no mending books due to different odds)

5679 trials, 0 mending books

X ~ B(5679, 19/67500) (binomial distribution, 5679 tries with a probability of a mending book being 19/67500, where X is the number of mending books)

p(X=0) (what is the probability the number of mending books being 0)

p = 0.2021473392

Now, the point at which data becomes significant is subjective. For instance, you *could* get a million heads in a row flipping a coin, it's not impossible, but at a certain point, you can begin to say "okay there's something not normal about this". For this approach, the closer the p-value is to 0, the more evidence there is against the null hypothesis . The p-value here is far above a significance level of 0.01, or 0.05, or 0.1. There isn't a clear line between significant/non-significant, but this is answer is quite a bit far from 0

With this, I cannot reject the null hypothesis.

Personal conclusion: this is not statistically significant, Grian is just unlucky.

Are other values statistically significant?

Gem's proposed 9000: results in a p-value of 0.079... more significant than Grian's number but I don't imagine Mojang would be too concerned. As said though, it's all subjective.

I am bad at maths, what does all this mean?

Here is a graph, showing what number of mending books you might have after 5679 tries. The height of the bar represents the probability of getting that amount. The numbers at the top are the (rounded) numbers I used in my calculation

The pink column is 0 mending books - like what Grian has! As you can see, it is less likely than getting 1 or 2 books, but not too uncommon to happen.

End conclusion: Grian has bad luck. Like, not as hilariously bad as he thinks, but still bad. If he keeps going, chances are he will get a mending book, but I think he should probably stop fishing because at this point he has a problem.

[study-diaries]

How To Study Anything At 10x Speed

This is not a bs guide, these are some tips that have actually worked for me and they can work for you too. The thing is, it's fairly really easy. I have sometimes managed to prepare for a test before 15 mins by just reading through it. It's fascinating if you break it down.

Mindset Change

A mind set change is everything. If you think it is easy. The topic will be more bearable. If you think it's tough, it's going to be more tough. So, first thing is first. Be open. You are not dumb, you can easily understand everything if you just remove the concept of "It is too hard or boring"

I once heard that the subject isn't boring, you are bored. So, change your thought process. Start with, "I can handle this"

Break It Down

Not your chapter. I mean the topic itself. Line by line if you have to. I did this exact thing for accounts whenever i had to do ratios. It was a pain. An unwanted pain. I couldn't understand anything. But i sat down one day and read every single line of the textbook for that topic. I made what i call "Line Visuals". This is simple.

You read a paragraph => You don't understand anything.

Read every line => Draw it

Understand the key terms used there

And then draw a single visual representation for that entire topic.

I'll guarantee you, you will understand it. Review it once a day for a week and then once a week.

Story Method

People remember stories more than normal facts or random pieces of data. Stories allow you to link different facts together and make it easier for you to process.

The easiest way to do this is using "FTF" (First, Then, Finally).

First, the main character (you or anyone else you imagine) will start on a journey. That's scene one. You will need to associate some points to this scene. This will mostly include the overall concept. Basic understanding.

Then, the main character will face a problem. This will include all the major questions revolving around the topic.

Finally, the main character will find the answers. Let's break it down more.

What i love about this is that it can be used for sudden test/ pop quizzes because all you need to do is just remember the story.

If you want to read more about it, check out: How To Study Using The "Story Method"

Use Mnemonics

Learn with this. It helps you to remember easily. Make catchy phrases to remember points/facts. These are like the building blocks of studying anything. Stick small notes to your books writing the phrases beside the topic so the next time you want to revise it, it's easy.

Connect Similar Topic

Connect all your related subjects. Everything in school is somehow connected. I usually used to connect economics and business studies concepts. Sometimes even computers so... Connect them.

Active Recall

Active recall is like the number one tip i'd recommend. It's easy and most of you probably do it already. You just have to keep revising and testing yourself at the materials periodically. It's easy and effective.

Teach What You Learn

You learn the most when you teach. I had taken my friends for this. Study and teach it to them. This helps because you have to have a clear understanding of the material first rather to teach them and you may end up with some important feedback. Your friends might ask a specific question you didn't know the answer to and now all of you are trying to perfect yourself with the material.

___________________

Additional Tips:

Tips for understanding complex topics

How To Self Study

Tips To Study Concept-Oriented Subjects

How To Study For Longer Hours

How To Study Multiple Subjects

___________________

I hope it helps! :)

By the way, all of these tips are from my previous posts. But honestly this is what i do to actually study faster. It actually works for me and i hope it works for you too :)

__________________

[dilly-dahlia]

iii. Homecoming Hassle

pairing: Gene x popular!Reader

content: pdh, drill team!reader, opposites attract, sunshine/grumpy, angst, suggestive but not explicit, mentions of blackmail, images used are NOT an indication of the reader's appearance

summary: A sleepover with Sasha and Katelyn reveals that you really don't think Gene is all that bad, but your encounter with him at the homecoming dance was not what you meant.

word count: 8.4k

masterlist

The Problem With Popularity masterlist

previous part

There were many things you learned about Gene while sitting next to him in Physics for a month and a half that surprised you. One of those things was that he actually showed up to class (at least Mr. Vega’s class) every day. Another was that he always insisted on walking you to lunch and lingered at the hallway opening to watch you meet Katelyn in line.

The most surprising thing, though, was the fact that he hadn’t once mentioned you joining the Shadow Knights. Or brought up anything he might be able to use against you to do what he wanted. In fact, he was a lot nicer than you’d anticipated.

Sasha was right. Once you got to know him and talked to him a bit, he really didn’t seem all that bad. If you weren’t friends with Laurance, you might have argued he was just like anyone else in the school.

And, despite every single sign and person pointing you in the opposite direction, you were starting to like him. Not exactly like that, but he was beginning to grow on you.

But maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t have found a photo of him (courtesy of Dante’s Instagram profile) to print and cut out for the hear me out cake Katelyn had brought to your house. Sure, there were some . . . out of pocket characters and objects already pressed into the store-bought cake, but you were almost positive that your choice in particular would top the pi symbol.

“A stop sign,” Sasha said, taking one of her picks and pushing it towards the front.

Katelyn furrowed her brows. “That’s an object.”

“You put the number eight.”

“Okay.” Katelyn threw her hands out in defense, though she didn’t say anything else.

“Why a stop sign?” you asked, leaning against the counter. Sasha flipped her straight hair behind her shoulder, pressing the tips of her fingers together in front of her like she was an evil villain. The pose was something you had seen her do before, but it seemed odd in addition to her clean face and baggy pajamas. She was facing Katelyn’s phone camera like she had rehearsed this.

“It has a commanding presence. Like . . . Stop.” She held her hand out, biting back a laugh. “You know. It’s like. Commanding.”

Katelyn snorted, which then turned into a fit of giggles. She had gotten more comfortable with Sasha since the school year started and now considered her a friend. You were glad for that, because you would say that Sasha was one of your best friends now.

“Okay,” you said, nodding in agreement. “Okay, hell yeah. I hear you.”

“Right! It just . . . You just don’t get it, Katelyn.”

Katelyn raised her brows. “You’re right, I don’t.”

“Which I don’t understand how you don’t because you put the grim reaper from the Sims.”

“You agreed with me!”

“Of course I agreed! Have you seen me?”

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over to hold your stomach. It was not that funny, but it was late and the fatigue and exhaustion from the day was starting to get to you. The official homecoming game had been that day, and it ended later than usual. Not to mention you spent literally the whole day decked out in your heavy drill team gear to show team spirit. You’d invited both Katelyn and Sasha to spend the night at your house along with the following day. The plan was for the three of you to get ready for the actual homecoming dance together, and then you would drive everyone there and back to your house.

They would decide then if they wanted to stay Saturday night, but you didn’t care if they did.

“Okay, Y/n. What’s your last hear me out,” Katelyn asked, leaning against the counter. Sasha shuffled back, away from the center focus of Katelyn’s camera. You replaced her.

“Okay,” you began, picking up the next toothpick and holding it against your chest so they didn’t see. “This one’s out of pocket.”

“It can’t be more out of pocket than Papa Louie,” Sasha said.

“Or the camera from Barbie: Life in the Dreamhouse,” Katelyn added. 

You gave a strained smile, tilting your head. “Well. This is definitely one that’s . . . Surprising. Uhm. I don’t think you guys will agree. And before I put it in I just need you guys to understand-“

“Just put the pick in,” Katelyn said. Sasha came closer to you, leaning against the counter on your other side and squinting into Katelyn’s phone to clearly see what you put down.

Her jaw dropped, and she turned toward the cake to see the picture better. “Is that Gene?”

“What?” Katelyn yelled, her head snapping to look at the cake. You covered your face with your hands, already feeling the hot wave of embarrassment coming over your face.

Katelyn covered her own mouth, her gaze flicking between you and the blurry picture of Gene you’d found on Dante’s profile. “Oh my god.”

“Listen!”

“What the hell.”

“No, you don’t understand it’s- It’s not about him, it’s about like . . .” You trailed off, making vague motions with your hands. You didn’t even know what you were trying to say.

“You think he’s hot?” Katelyn exclaimed.

“I thought you were joking when you said you hated him because he’s cute,” Sasha said, running her hands through her hair like she was experiencing a midlife crisis.

“Okay. I said it’s unfair that someone as rude as he is is that attractive,” you corrected, throwing your hands out. “But it’s.”

You cut yourself off and hummed, covering your mouth and thinking through your next words carefully. Sasha and Katelyn both looked at you expectantly, their arms crossed like disappointed parents.

“Taking out the personality part,” you started, talking slowly and acting like that would somehow validate what you were going to say. “Like, if we’re pretending he’s not a bad person, I would totally . . .”

You trailed off again, making a certain hand motion and immediately regretting it when it made Sasha gag.

“Oh my god,” she said.

“Jar.” Katelyn pointed to the front door, where your school bag and the bedazzled d-bag jar was.

“What?”

“Yes!”

“I think that warrants the jar,” Sasha agreed, nodding.

“Twenty dollars?” Katelyn suggested.

“I was thinking more like twenty-five . . .”

“Sasha you aren’t even part of the d-bag jar lore!” you yelled. If your parents were home, you definitely would not have been as loud as you were. But, both your parents were out of town for some work thing and Julie always stayed up until ungodly hours of the night anyways. You could hear her music playing from her room.

“I feel like you finding one of my best friends hot and saying you would totally”—she imitated your vulgar hand motion—“is reason enough for me to say jar.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, covering your face again. You were never going to live this down. “I didn’t mean that, I- It- Sometimes- Ugh!”

You gave up trying to defend yourself. You whined as you retreated to your room for your wallet, counting out twenty-five dollars before dragging yourself back to the kitchen.

Katelyn shook her head disapprovingly as you trudged across her line of sight. She clicked her tongue. “I can’t believe you think Gene, of all people, is cute. I think I’d be less surprised or judgemental if you said Dante.”

“Or literally anyone else.”

“Just . . . Gene? Are you okay, Y/n?”

“Oh, my god, I get it!” you yelled. The lid of your bedazzled jar clicked against the glass container as you shoved your portion of the money into it. The jar was nearly full after almost a month and a half of use. You were thinking about putting the money into an envelope and starting anew until it filled again. “You guys are not hearing me out on Gene.”

“Did you honestly expect us to?” Katelyn asked, tilting her head.

“Well, no, but I also wasn’t expecting the reaction to be that.” You sighed, finding your place back beside them in your small kitchen. “Also, just saying, I think you guys are being dramatic. I’m not gonna date him. That wasn’t me being like, oh my goodness I’m in love with him.”

Katelyn hummed in disbelief. “Isn’t that what you said about Laurance last year?”

You scoffed. “Okay, that was different.”

“You said you wouldn’t date Laurance last year?” Sasha asked, furrowing her brows.

“Well-“

“Yes. And then guess what she turned around and did.”

“So basically she’s setting herself up to date Gene.”

“I am not! The thing with Laurance was different. For one, he’s never blackmailed people for fun,” you stated, counting off the differences in the situations on your fingers. “Two, when I said that I was literally lying straight to Katelyn’s face because I already had feelings for him. Three, we had way more classes together and way more opportunity to like each other. I only have one class with Gene this year.”

“You do hang out with me a lot,” Sasha pointed out, raising her brows. “Basically by extension you spend a lot of time with him.”

“You guys are unbelievable. I think you want me to like Gene at this point.”

Katelyn shrugged, moving her hands up and down in an exaggerated motion. “I dunno. All I know is that you told me the other day, Y’know, Gene really isn’t all that bad.”

“He’s not! Sasha agrees with me!”

“I’ve also known him since I was six.”

You sputtered, trying to come up with another defensible claim for yourself. You really didn’t like Gene like that, you were just reaching a point of being friendly with him. You smiled and waved whenever you saw him in the halls and briefly greeted him whenever he was close enough for you to talk to. That was normal for two people that were lab partners in physics.

“Whatever,” you finally settled on. “Katelyn, how’s it going with Jeffory?”

Katelyn squinted at you. It was her own little way of telling you this conversation was not over and that she wouldn’t be swayed into a different topic so easily.

But she smiled widely anyway. “It’s going good. He got me just because flowers the other day.”

Sasha hummed. She had seen them on Katelyn’s desk in homeroom. “Those were really pretty flowers.”

“I know,” Katelyn mused. “I don’t even know how he found out lilies are my favorite.”

You shrugged, but you knew. Jeffory had awkwardly approached you the day before Katelyn got flowers to ask what her favorites were. You’d told him without much complaint, and the sigh of relief he breathed out made it seem like he had been expecting a fight.

You didn’t tell Katelyn you were the reason, though. She would be able to put two and two together if she really tried.

“That’s really sweet,” you said.

“Yeah.” Katelyn softly sighed, something between a tired and a dreamlike one. “I feel bad, though. I mean, he’s always doing this really nice, amazing stuff for me and I just . . .”

“Don’t?” you offered, though you didn’t mean to say that she didn’t care. She just wasn’t good at this stuff.

Katelyn nodded. “And I’ve told him before, and he says he doesn’t mind, but to me it just feels like a give and take relationship.”

Sasha hummed, resting her cheek against the palm of her hand. “And you feel like you aren’t returning the favors enough.”

Katelyn nodded. “And I know that relationships aren’t supposed to be an exchange of actions, he just . . . Jeffory does so much for me.”

You shrugged. “Well, his love language is gift giving, Katelyn. You’re more of a quality time girl. I would say that Jeffory knows this and that’s why he tries to spend every waking moment with you.”

Katelyn huffed out a breath of amusement, though it seemed forced. “I guess . . .”

The atmosphere was thick, but not because it was awkward. It had a more somber feel to it, and to lighten the mood Sasha cleared his throat.

“How’d we go from berating Y/n for thinking Gene is cute to deep relationship talk?” she asked.

“Okay,” you said, shaking your head. “Can we just pretend the whole Gene-being-my-hear-me-out thing never happened? And like never bring it up again?”

“But Y/n, it’s so weird. Gene?”

“Oh, my goodness I get it! We don’t like Gene like that, just like-“ you waved your hands. “Forget about it. And Katelyn, do not ever show that part of the clip to anyone.”

“But that’s the best part!”

“No.”

Katelyn rolled her eyes, reaching for the picks on the cake. “Fine. I guess I won’t show it to anyone.” She sighed sadly as she began removing the pictures from the cake so the three of you (plus Julie, if she decided to come down) could finally eat it. Katelyn picked out the picture of Gene, looking it over. “Where did you even get this? Why is he dressed so nice?”

“Dante’s profile,” you said. Sasha looked over Katelyn’s shoulder at the photo.

“Oh, that was their aunt’s wedding,” she said, rolling her eyes as she recounted the memory. “Gene called me that day and asked me to do his hair, and then continued to ask me to be his fake girlfriend so he didn’t have to suffer his family asking when he would finally get laid.”

You giggled. “He said that?”

Sasha shrugged. “Basically. I went and then regretted it because his grandma kept saying and asking things about him that I never wanted to know.”

“And Dante didn’t expose you?” Katelyn asked, tossing the handful of toothpicks and cut out paper in her hands in the trash.

Sasha shook her head. “He was surprisingly very compliant about it. He announced it right before we left, though, which Gene was not happy about.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It’s 100% Dante, though,” you said, walking back down the hall to call Julie. She looked up from her bed and paused her music when you knocked loudly on the door. 

“You want cake?” you asked. Julie was up at the speed of light. She was so fast you weren’t even sure you saw her pass you to reach the kitchen.

“Why is there holes all over it?” she asked, pointing to the dozens of holes in the frosting.

“Did you not just hear us yelling about hear me outs?”

Julie made an O shape with her mouth, slowly nodding as she realized why.

Julie didn’t stay long. She received her quarter of the cake and made an off handed comment based on the glimpse she got of the trashed photos before retreating back to her room. You could tell she had been waiting to be offered a piece of the cake, since after she got it she closed her door.

Afterwards you and Katelyn and Sasha huddled in your room and spent an embarrassing amount of time talking about practically nothing. There was not a single thought put behind any conversation and the three of you said the first things that popped into your heads for hours.

—

The acrylic stars clicked against each other as you slipped the accessory over your tight fit black dress. The stars were dark blue and connected to each other at their points by jump rings and they shone with an iridescent coating when they caught the light. It was heavy, but the way it made your outfit look made the weight worth it.

You gave yourself a once over in the mirror. Katelyn was finishing up curling her hair and Sasha was knelt in front of your full body mirror to complete her makeup. Your hair was pinned out of your face with a midnight blue bow and the swipes of silver across your eyelids added the minor bits of magic you needed. The body shimmer you’d added really completed the look though, you thought.

“Guys, I might regret wearing this with my entire soul later,” you said as you adjusted the stars to fit better on your body.

“I told you not to get it,” Katelyn said, tilting her head slightly to glance over at you. Her dress was a shimmery white color and made of gossamer fabric. It cut off mid thigh and had poofy Snow White sleeves. She paired dainty silver jewelry (that she was borrowing from Sasha) and white flats with little bows on them with her outfit.

You sighed in response to what Katelyn said, letting your arms drop to your side as you gave yourself another once over in your mirror. “It’s iconic, though.”

“Yeah. It also weighs a million pounds.”

You rolled your eyes, turning and hitting different poses to test the flexibility of the outfit in the mirror. “I don’t know. Sasha, any thoughts?”

Sasha hummed, her gaze flicking up from her face to glance over your body in the mirror. While she did that, you assessed her own crouched down figure. Her straight hair was slicked back and pulled into a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her deep red silk dress reminded you of the same type of dress old Hollywood stars would wear to red carpets and the black kitten heels with straps wrapping around her ankles only served to perfect the image.

She shrugged. “It’s cute.”

“Wow, Sasha, that is so helpful.”

She laughed, looking back down at her mascara as she capped it and dropped the tube back into her makeup bag. “I don’t know what else to say. Keep it, I guess? You do look really pretty.”

You smiled at her, twirling slightly to show off the dress more. “Thank you for the input, Sasha.”

The three of you continued to get ready in the bright light of your bedroom. You didn’t normally have the big light on, but considering the three of you were doing makeup and hair and the whole process of getting ready, you’d decided to turn it on for once.

Julie was already waiting in the living room by the time the three of you emerged. Her curled hair framed her face in a way that made her seem like a fairy, and the butterfly clips she had in her hair did nothing to remove the image. She wore a frilly sage dress that went just below her knees with white lace stockings and her favorite pair of red Mary Jane’s.

She looked up when she heard your footsteps and sprung up from the couch. It was her first school dance, and she was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

“You look like a garden fairy,” you commented, though it was more of a compliment than anything.

“Uh, thank you?” Julie furrowed her brows, thinking for a moment before shaking her head. “Anyways, mom said-“

“Wait! I want pictures!” your mom called. She came rushing out of her bedroom, fumbling with her phone as she worked to open the camera.

Julie deadpanned. “I was about to say that. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Your mom scoffed. “Oh, like you haven’t run from a photo before. Now come here.”

Julie rolled her eyes, begrudgingly walking over to where your mom was clearing off the counter for a decent backdrop.

A photoshoot ensued. It didn’t take all that long, but it felt like it took hours. First your mom wanted solo portraits of everyone from more angles than you could count, and then she wanted ones of you and Julie, and then you and Katelyn, and then Katelyn and Julie, and then you and then she played mix and match with all four of you. You were surprised the sun still hadn’t set by the time she was finished.

“See you later, Valentina.” Katelyn waved to your mom, who was standing in the doorway, before closing your car door behind her. Your mom waved at the four of you from the driveway, only going back into her house once you had started down the street.

Julie was sitting in the passenger seat, and as a result connected her phone to your car’s stereo and started playing a 2000s pop playlist. It was the influence of your mom, you knew. As much as she wanted to pretend she didn’t like the same things as Valentina, you knew better.

The venue for homecoming was the large Yggdrasil tree by the sea. It was one of the historical landmarks Phoenix Drop was most known for and attracted many tourists. Over the centuries it had grown to unimaginable heights. There were stairs leading up into the trunk of the tree, but they were barred off for homecoming. If you went to the top, you would see a museum rich with the history of Phoenix Drop. It would be the same venue used for prom later in the year.

The four of you found yourselves waiting in the line, tickets in hand ready to hand to whatever chaperone was standing at the entrance. Katelyn was looking down at her phone, aggressively typing at her keys.

“Katelyn, straighten your back. You look like the letter C,” you said, gently grabbing her shoulder and pushing her back forward to straighten it.

She scoffed, looking up and swatting your hand away. “Shut up. You’re so rude. I’m texting Jeffory to see if he’s here.”

You scrunched your nose in disgust. “Ew, your boyfriend.”

“I don’t wanna hear it because Laurance just texted me saying he’s been texting you trying to find where you are,” Katelyn said, shooting you a glare.

“Does he still like you or something?” Julie asked. “I feel like he’s always hanging around you.”

You shrugged, pulling your phone out of your purse and scrolling through the messages Laurance had sent you. “I doubt it. He’s had his eyes on Aphmau lately.”

You quickly sent Laurance a text back telling him you were still in line. He replied with a slightly blurry picture of him and Garroth leaning in for a kiss in front of a food truck. They were already inside, based on the X’s written on their hands.

You rolled your eyes and pocketed your phone just as the four of you reached the entrance, finding that the chaperone there was your art teacher. You pulled your ticket out and handed it to Mr. Smith, and he let you and your friends in after marking your hands without problem.

Almost instantly Katelyn was being whisked away. Jeffory had grabbed her hand and offered you a brief greeting before walking off with her. Katelyn seemed to pay no mind to the fact that she had practically been kidnapped, since she was already laughing with her boyfriend.

“Wow, I can’t believe she just ditched us,” you said, your tone flat. You turned to look at Sasha and Julie, only to see that Julie had already started walking away. “What? You, too?”

Julie shrugged, vaguely motioning in the direction she was going. She opened her mouth to say something, but ultimately decided not to say anything as she continued to meet her small group of friends.

“Unbelievable,” you scoffed. You turned to Sasha, raising your brows. “Are you gonna go find Zenix and Gene and leave me, too?”

Sasha laughed at the disheartened look in your eyes and shook her head. “No. I doubt they’re even here. School dances aren’t really their thing.”

“Or yours,” you noted. “I assume they aren’t, at least. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at homecoming or winter formal.”

“Yeah, this is my first time. Gene usually invites me and Zenix over to his house to watch a movie or show until Dante gets back. That’s probably what they’re doing right now, to be honest.” Sasha thought for a moment before she shrugged. “None of us are really party people, to be honest.”

“So what made you decide to come this time?”

She gave you a smile. “I have friends to enjoy it with now.”

You returned her warm smile, reaching for her hand and interlocking your fingers with hers. You gave her hand a firm squeeze before leading her further into the venue.

If this was her first time at a school dance, then you were going to make sure it was enjoyable.

—

“Garroth, no.”

“Garroth, yes.”

“Garroth, do not.”

“You already agreed.”

“You’re going to knock my head off.”

“Just stay still. You’ll be fine.”

“Oh my god.”

You sighed, trying to stay deathly still as Garroth balanced a can of Sprite on your head. He used the way your hair parted as leverage, trying to make the can rest perfectly against it. You sharply inhaled when a drop of condensation fell on your scalp.

“Garroth, it’s cold.”

“Get over it.”

“What even is the goal?” Sasha asked, her brows furrowed as she watched you and Garroth. Laurance stood beside her and was recording the whole thing with both his phone and yours. There was no doubt in your mind that he would post it later.

“Garroth wants to see if he can knock the can off of Y/n’s head with a stick,” Laurance said, to which Sasha’s eyes widened.

“Oh, my god. He’s gonna give her a concussion.”

“That’s what I said!” you exclaimed. More cold drops had fallen into your hairline and it was taking every single sense of patience you had to not physically react. Garroth grabbed the side of your head to keep you still because you had moved just a little.

“Then why are you just standing there?”

“I was offered thirty dollars to do this.”

“Okay!” Garroth stepped away from you, holding his hands out in a hold on motion. His eyes were trained on the Sprite can resting on your head, making sure it didn’t fall to the ground. You stared at him with your eyebrows furrowed and shoulders tensed. You did not want to move and have this can fall and explode all over you.

“Okay!” he repeated, though the tone was higher and more proud. He moved his hands in a more I did it pose before standing back and picking up a large stick from the ground.

“Oh, my god,” you said, probably for the millionth time in less than five minutes when you saw the absolute mammoth of a stick Garroth had grabbed. It was almost as big as his baseball bat.

“Relax.”

“I’m going to die.”

“You’ll be fine!”

Laurance giggled from where he was. You glared at him and he stopped, but he kept an amused smirk on his face. Sasha was covering her mouth with her hands, ready to watch whatever disaster might ensue.

“Garroth-”

“Y/n. I’m the baseball team’s captain.”

“You’re a pitcher.”

“That is also really good at batting.” He smiled at you matter-of-factly. “Calm down.”

You sighed again, though your shoulders (and entire body, really) remained tense. Garroth got into position beside you, feet shoulder width apart and knees slightly bent. He tapped the end of the stick on the ground in front of you three times before lifting you and trying a practice swing.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were not about to watch your inevitable doom as it approached you. As much as you had been complaining, though, you trusted Garroth to not absolutely blow your head off. You had seen him play. He nearly always hit the ball, and the ball was flying at him at like seventy miles per hour from like sixty feet away. He could hit a nonmoving object two feet away, right?

Right?

You heard the stick make contact with the can and let out a shriek, instinctively crouching down and lifting your hands above your head protectively. Garroth cheered when the bent and now empty can landed on the concrete a couple feet away. After a moment you lifted your head and looked back at where the can was now sadly resting.

“I’m suing for emotional distress,” you said, turning back to Garroth. You were still in your defensive squatting position, so you had to look up a million feet to actually meet the tall boy’s gaze. Laurance and Sasha were stepping closer to you, and hovered over the two of you when Garroth bent down beside you.

Garroth scoffed as he pulled out his wallet. “Whatever. You had fun,” he said, handing you three tens.

“No, actually, I didn’t. That was probably the least fun thing I’ve ever done in my entire life,” you snapped, snatching the money from his hand and shoving it down the top of your dress. Sasha was currently holding the purse you’d brought, but you knew you’d forget about the money if you put it in there. So, your dress was the next best option.

Garroth looked appalled at what you’d just done. You rolled your eyes and playfully tried to push him, though the attempt was fruitless because he was practically a rock. “Please. I didn’t flash you, so calm down.”

“Uhm, you basically did,” Garroth said, pushing you back. He’d done it gently, but you were unsteady in your heels and unfortunately fell over. Garroth softly gasped, not realizing that would happen.

You let out a soft gasp, accepting your fate as you tumbled over. He really hadn’t pushed you that hard, but you wanted to make it more dramatic by laying down on the floor.

“Oh, my god, he pushed me,” you said, and then you heard the shutter of a camera and glared at Laurance, who was laughing his ass off like he’d just seen the funniest thing in the world. “And to make it even worse that guy is basically kicking me while I’m down.”

Sasha laughed, squatting beside you. She gave you a once over before poking your shoulder. “You’re fine.”

“Just say you hate me,” you said, not moving an inch from where you lay on the floor. Sasha gave your shoulder another poke before Garroth started talking.

“Y/n, I am so sorry. I did not mean to push you that hard. I thought you were steady.”

You playfully glared at him. “Obviously not.” You then sighed dramatically, pressing the back of your hand against your forehead like you were sick. “Oh my. I suppose the only way to help it is bribery, or something.”

Garroth furrowed his brows. “Are you trying to milk me for what I’m worth?”

“Yes. Call me a gold digger, if you will,” you said, though it was all jokes. Everyone in the friend group did this. They were always teasing each other and blowing small little mishaps way out of proportion. Most of the time it was settled by the purchase of a small snack or drink.

“Fine.” Garroth rolled his eyes before standing up. He reached for your hand and pulled you to your feet with little effort, though he grunted dramatically.

You smacked his chest when you were back on your two feet. “Shut up, Mr. I-can-bench-three-hundred-pounds. You’re so dramatic.”

“Only because I have to buy you a drink now.” You stepped in front of him and Garroth followed, dragging his feet against the ground as you led him to the concessions stand.

“Aren’t you like a millionaire?” you teased, furrowing your brows and sparing a glance back at him.

“My mom and dad are. I, unfortunately, am not.”

“I don’t think a three dollar Dr. Pepper is gonna damage your bank account, Garroth.”

“This will actually do irreparable damage to my bank account, so I hope this Dr. Pepper makes you happy. You better marry it, actually.”

You laughed as you got into line. Luckily, there was only one other person in front of you and you only had to wait thirty seconds max until you were requesting a Dr. Pepper from the kind looking woman running the booth. She happily handed you a cold can of Dr. Pepper, and you watched as Garroth coughed up the money. He then continued to buy himself two bags of two dollar chips and a box of M&M’s.

Just as you were walking away from the stand, Laurance came barreling into Garroth. Neither of them were knocked to the floor, but you stepped out of the way so as to not accidentally bump into them. Laurance shook Garroth by the shoulders.

“They’re playing our song,” Laurance said, his eyes bright. Garroth’s eyes lit up as well, and he replied with something you didn’t listen to because you were straining to hear the song playing. Your brows furrowed when you recognized the tune.

“Your guys’ song is Love Story by Taylor Swift?” you asked. Laurance snapped his head to face you, seeming offended.

“Of course our song is Love Story by Taylor Swift. Are you a Taylor Swift hater?”

You rapidly shook your head. There was a certain venom in Laurance’s tone, and you thought he might attack you if you said anything wrong. Or if he perceived anything you said as wrong in his mind. “No, not at all.”

Laurance hummed, but pinned you with a nasty glare. It didn’t last long though, because he and Garroth began skipping hand in hand toward the dance floor.

“Wait! Where’s Sasha?” you called after them, not knowing if they’d hear you.

“Bathroom, or something!” Laurance called back. You tried asking another question, but he and Garroth had already disappeared in the sea of bodies. They were probably slow dancing together, based on what they did at the last school dance.

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head at the memory. You found an empty spot at one of the wooden tables and sat down, popping open the tab on your Dr. Pepper and drinking it as you scrolled on your phone. You were waiting for Sasha—or any of your other friends, really—to find you.

Someone slid into the seat across from you, and when you glanced up you were met with a familiar sapphire blue gaze. You furrowed your brows and set your can of Dr. Pepper down.

“Gene?”

He motioned to himself, leaning forward against the table. “The one and only.”

“I didn’t think school dances were your thing.”

“Not usually, but hey, it’s my senior year. Might as well try everything once, right?”

You side eyed him, clicking your phone off and setting it face down next to your drink. “Your mom forced you to, didn’t she?”

Gene rolled his eyes, quietly scoffing. “Yes, she did. What about it?”

You tried biting back a short laugh, but failed miserably. You covered your mouth in an attempt to hide your amused smile, but really only ended up stifling your laugh. Gene’s glare didn’t help in quieting it either.

“What’re you laughing at, bunny? It’s not that funny.”

“Nothing. Stop looking at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m an idiot or something. Stop it,” you laughed. He raised his eyebrows at you, like you were an idiot.

“Well . . .”

You scoffed, your jaw dropping in disbelief as you reached across the table to swat at his arm. “You are so rude!”

“I didn’t even say anything.” Gene leaned back and lifted his hands in surrender. You scoffed again and properly sat down again. Gene’s eyes flicked to somewhere behind you and he raised his brows. “Looks like your boyfriend’s dancing with someone else.”

Your brows furrowed, and you craned your neck to glance behind you. You had no clue what you were looking for, though. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You aren’t dating Prince Charming?”

You turned back to Gene. “Garroth? Oh, my god. No.”

Gene raised his brows again. “Really? I saw you two getting pretty close in line . . .”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “We aren’t dating. He was just buying me a drink.”

“That sounds like boyfriend behavior to me.”

“What? No, he-” You cut yourself off and shook your head. Explaining it would sound like a fever dream. “It’s none of your business. Why do you wanna know?”

Gene blew out a breath. He stared at you for a moment, the corner of his mouth quirked up like he had some sort of secret to share. He stood from his seat in favor of the empty space beside you, and leaned in.

“Word on the street is Prince Charming and the casanova still have the hots for you,” he whispered. His breath brushed against the shell of your ear, and you almost shivered. His words stopped you from doing so, though, and you turned to him with a confused look on your face.

“What? No, there’s no way. There was so much drama with it last year we decided-”

“Just because you decided not to like one of them anymore doesn’t mean they fully agreed. Haven’t you noticed Ivy and Michi are still being bitchy toward you?”

You rolled your eyes, lifting the aluminum can to your lips and taking a drink. “They’ve always been bitchy to me. Aren’t they like that to everyone?”

“Not if they don’t think you’re a threat to their relationship.” You met Gene’s gaze again. He seemed completely serious, but you could feel a pull in your gut telling you this was part of an elaborate ruse he had created in his head. What was he trying to get from you?

He’d been friendly with you, so you wanted to give him the benefit of doubt, but you couldn’t forget everything he’d done to your friends. Or other people, for that matter.

“Why would I be a threat to their relationship with Garroth and Laurance? Laurance and I literally broke up last year because of girls like Ivy and Michi,” you said. You were speaking with your hands, which you never realized you did until interacting with Gene. He was practically a stone wall.

“All Ivy and Michi see are the looks Garroth and Laurance give you,” Gene said. You rolled your eyes again.

“They don’t give me looks.”

Gene raised his eyebrows at you. He might not have talked with his hands like you did, but his eyebrows were always a look into his thoughts. “Don’t they?”

“Love Story” had ended and a more upbeat pop song you’d never heard before started playing from the DJ booth. You scoffed. If he were one of your closer friends you might have considered what he was saying a joke and playfully pushed him away. But he wasn’t one of your close friends, so you settled for waving your hand to dismiss his statements.

“I don’t know what kind of rose-colored lenses you’re looking at life through, but neither Garroth nor Laurance still like me.” They had even told you as much. They’d told you they liked Aphmau, and in response you’d playfully said, Wow, you guys really have the same taste.

You weren’t about to tell Gene how you knew they didn’t feel that way, though. That would only spark a flame that would end up turning into a giant wildfire, and you were determined to finish high school as drama free as you could.

“If I were looking through rose-colored lenses, wouldn’t I be saying something more in tune with you liking me?” Gene asked. You scoffed, but he was right.

“Okay, so what is the point in telling me this?” you asked, leaning forward against the table. 

“I just thought I’d let you know.” Gene shrugged, lifting one of his legs over the bench so he was straddling the wooden seat. He leaned forward slightly so he could lower his voice. “I would be careful. I know how protective Laurance has been over you.”

“Only because you do weird stuff like finding me at homecoming—an event you’ve never attended—to tell me some of my closest friends still have a crush on me,” you snapped. “I’d be protective if I were him, too.”

But how did he know Laurance had been protective? You hadn’t told anyone, not even Katelyn. And you doubted Laurance told Garroth. His pride wouldn’t let himself admit to anyone in any way that he cared so deeply for someone. So how did Gene know?

Gene’s lips curled into an amused smirk. He huffed out a breath of amusement and looked toward the dance floor as the music changed to a softer, slower melody. His gaze met yours again, and this time he held out his hand.

“Well, may I offer a dance as payment for my oh-so-troubling actions?”

You raised a brow, staring at him in disbelief for a moment before chuckling. “You want to dance with me to “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley?”

His lips curved into a more genuine smile, one you hadn’t seen before. It showcased his perfect white teeth, and you felt yourself falling just a bit. “That’s the song playing, isn’t it?”

You laughed, thinking he was joking. But he didn’t lower his hand and kept looking at you expectantly. You hadn’t rejected him yet, so it was clear he was waiting for your acceptance.

You sighed. “Oh, what the heck. Sure.”

You placed your hand in his and willingly stood when he helped you out of your seat. “Have you ever danced before?” you asked, continuing to hold onto his hand as he led you through the sea of bodies both getting on and off the dance floor.

“Yeah, at a couple weddings,” he replied.

Maybe his aunt’s, you thought. You thought back to the blurry photo of him that you’d printed out and realized he looked just as charming now as he did however long ago that picture was taken.

Once Gene had found a fairly open space, he placed you in front of him and wrapped a hand around your waist. He took your other hand and pulled you closer to him, moving the hand on your waist to rest against the small of your back.

“You’re very close,” you commented, gently pressing your hand against the bend of his shoulder. You looked down at your feet, making sure your steps were in time with him.

“Well sorry. Do you want me to clear the dance floor so I can hold you at arm’s length, bunny?” he teased. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. With how much you did it around him you were surprised your eyeballs hadn’t gotten stuck. Gene let go of your hand to place a finger beneath your chin and lift your head up. “Look up, bunny. I know how to lead a dance.”

“I’m gonna step on your feet,” you protested, but Gene shook his head.

“I frankly don’t care. I know the second you feel my foot beneath yours you’re going to trip all over yourself trying to adjust.”

Your jaw dropped dramatically. “Are you calling me clumsy?”

“No, I’m saying you’re nice. You wouldn’t hurt a fly, and as much as you might say to your friends, you’d apologize if you thought you so much as inconvenienced me.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but bit your tongue. As much as you wanted to say he was wrong and that wouldn’t happen, you knew the chances of that happening were significantly higher than that not happening. You had apologized to the plant in the hallway of your house when you ran into it more times than you cared to recall.

Gene noticed your surrender and chuckled. “Besides, you stepping on my foot will be tremendously better than some little six year old jumping around.”

You laughed. “What?”

Gene rolled his eyes at the memory. “My aunt’s wedding. The kid was from a family friend of the groom and she had a crush on me.”

You were failing miserably at the attempt you made to hide your smile. It still shone on your face clear as day and when Gene met your gaze again you couldn’t help but laugh.

“What? Is it so hard to believe someone might like me, bunny?”

“First of all, any six year old girl would have a crush on any older boy she thinks is cute.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Second,” you began, ignoring his question despite the burn of your cheeks, “if she knew what a terrible person you are she definitely would not have liked you.”

Gene pouted. “Oh, it hurts that you think so low of me, doll.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you blackmail people for fun, Gene.”

Gene’s pout was gone and in its place was a sly smile. It really showed you how quick he could be with changing his emotions. “I haven’t blackmailed you for fun.”

“That doesn’t mean you haven’t blackmailed people I’m close with.”

“Yet you still chose to hang around me.”

“We sit together in physics. I can’t not sit next to you.”

“You could have rejected my offer to dance.” You were stunned silent. You’d hoped he wouldn’t bring that up. “But you didn’t. You could push me away any time I walk you to lunch, but you don’t. I wonder why that is.”

You scoffed. “If you think it’s because I have the hots for you then you’re dead wrong.”

Gene still had that stupid smirk on his face. He glanced over your shoulder, and his gaze darkened. “The boyfriend’s jealous.”

Your brows furrowed. You turned to look behind you and saw that Laurance was staring at you. Garroth was talking to him, but it was clear Laurance wasn’t listening.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said, turning back to Gene.

He raised his eyebrows and let you go, his hands dropping to his sides. “Sure seems like he is. I’ll go now, since he’s not too fond of me. See you Monday, Y/n.”

Gene raised his hand in a halfhearted wave before he turned and walked away. You were left just watching him, wanting to say something else to him but not knowing what. It wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you were snapped out of your stupor.

“Why were you dancing with Gene?” Laurance asked. His brows were pulled together in annoyance. Garroth wasn’t behind him, but you could see his blond head maneuvering through people to reach you.

“It’s nothing, he . . .” you trailed off, still trying to gather yourself after Gene abruptly left. It was like he put a spell on you. “He offered.”

“And you said yes? God, Y/n, why would you say yes?”

“Because he’s been nice to me,” you snapped. You normally wouldn’t have been so irritable, but now that Gene said Laurance and Garroth might still like you . . . You didn’t want to take any chances with that. Not after the notes that got left in your locker last year. “And I know that you don’t like him, Laurance, but he has done nothing wrong to me.”

“Gene is not the person for you to have your little I can fix him complex about, Y/n. He’s bad news.”

“I do not have an I can fix him complex!” you exclaimed. You threw your hands out and accidentally hit someone in the arm, to which you immediately apologized before turning back to Laurance. “I’m just not a jerk to someone because they’re rude to other people. Until Gene is an asshole to me, I’m going to treat him like my friend.”

“You don’t-” Garroth placed a hand on Laurance’s shoulder. The gaze exchanged between them said a million different things you couldn’t decipher, but whatever got conveyed made Laurance take a breath and calm down. Laurance turned back to you, his celestite eyes clear, but still concerned. “Stop hanging around him, Y/n. He’s bad news.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. The points of the acrylic stars on your dress dug into the flesh of your arms, but you didn’t care. “This is childish, Laurance. You can’t control who I am or aren’t friends with.”

“Gene-”

“I’m going,” you said, cutting him off. “You have to realize that you can’t control who I let into my life, Laurance.”

You turned and walked away, turning to fit between people, and made your way back to the concessions bar. Your phone was gone and the half empty can of Dr. Pepper had been trashed. You groaned and walked back to the venue entrance. Maybe someone had been kind enough to take your phone to the officer standing up there.

You thanked the stars when the officer handed your phone to you after you accurately described the background and were able to use your fingerprint to unlock it. If you had lost your phone you might have lost it. After recovering your phone, you went off to find Julie and ended up hanging out with her and her friends for a bit.

A little more time after that and you were in your car with Julie, Sasha, Katelyn, and (reluctantly) Jeffory. Katelyn had asked if you could drop Jeffory off at his house after the dance, and you accepted because . . . Well, you weren’t exactly sure why. He was already there, so it would have been awkward for you to say no.

After you dropped Jeffory off you went back to your house. Katelyn and Sasha were staying the night again and would probably leave the next afternoon. It was late, though, so the three of you didn’t get up to anymore shenanigans like another hear me out cake. You all practically knocked out the moment you set up the palette on the floor of your room and landed on top of it.

You stayed up a little longer than Katelyn and Sasha, though. What Gene had said about Garroth and Laurance was still plaguing your thoughts. Did they really still like you? Was what they told you about Aphmau a lie?

But why would they lie about that? Yes, they lied about the stupidest things sometimes, but you couldn’t think of a reason they’d lie about that. Besides, the three of you had agreed that there would be no romantic advances made after you broke up with Laurance. That was for the best. So even if they did like you and you were to ask about it, they probably would just keep lying.

So why would Gene tell you? You still couldn’t help but think that it was part of an elaborate ruse to get you to join the Shadow Knights, but if it was then wouldn’t he have used something more  . . . Harmful to you and your reputation? What would silly rumors about boys liking you do?

You didn’t want to think about it anymore. You’d had enough thinking about it to last you a lifetime, probably. Besides, if Garroth and Laurance did still like you, that knowledge would make itself known eventually.

You huffed out a breath and closed your eyes. You’d ask Katelyn about her thoughts on it another time.

this is a behemoth of a chapter sorry guys 💀

anyways this was kind of a filler? sort of? idk but we’re getting to some plot stuff now so i hope you enjoyed!

TAGGING: @garrothswiferealnotfake @wasting-away-on-the-internet @mellozhi @pushingdaisies1 @orinlin @luckygirldotgov @snowblossomsx if you’d like to be on the taglist, comment, DM or send in an ask to let me know!

next part >>

[noisylime]

Form and Figure

1. Registration

parts: next

battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

(eventual smut)

Art 111: Intro to Drawing

4 Credits. Lab & Studio

Instructor: Wayne, Bruce [email: b.wayne@gu.edu]

Course Description:

In this class, you will learn the basic elements of artistic composition, including line, shape, form, value, and perspective. Theory learned in lectures will be applied to various still life drawings using charcoal, pencil, and marker. This course is highly interactive, with each class requiring participation in studio time. Professor Wayne teaches a mixed lab and lecture course with availabilities for additional studio time outside of regular class hours. Materials not provided.

Course materials estimated price: $145.

To browse GU Bookstore bundles click here.

The phone alarm blasted through your skull, sounding like one of the commuter trains that rattled over your apartment had derailed and crashed through your ceiling. That actually sounded preferable to waking up at the ungodly hour of 6:30 am. The course calendar for Fall term at Gotham University opened in five minutes and you still hadn’t decided what classes you were going to take. It was your first term back in a long time.

Going to an out-of-state school had seemed like a way to find yourself on your own terms, and Gotham was far enough from home to feel like another planet. Two years of general education classes with a smattering of electives hadn’t quite been the elucidating experience you expected, but it had been fun. That had all gone to shit when you’d had to leave Gotham at the end of your sophomore year, taking an extended break from school to care for your dad. You’d called it taking a ‘gap year’ but it was closer to three.

Well, that was all over. Now you were a super-senior-aged-junior with enough trauma to stop your academic advisor from pushing you too hard to declare a major and almost enough credits to cobble a degree together.

You were currently waffling between majoring in civil engineering and English lit, both of which felt equally uninteresting. Last night you had planned out schedules for each option and decided to literally sleep on it, putting sticky notes with class codes scribbled on them under your pillow.

Rubbing sleep out of your eyes, you cracked open your laptop. You still had a few precious minutes to make a decision. The clarity you had wanted hadn’t miraculously come overnight, both options still sounded unbearable. You reached under your pillow and decided to go with whichever one you grabbed first. Civil Engineering, on a yellow crumpled 3x3 sheet.

Well, at least you were being decisive, which Titus would say was an improvement. Your friend since freshman year at GU and roommate for the past three months, he worked nights as a bouncer at a club, Mora’s.

Typing the codes into the school’s course registration system was a race to see if you could finish before the website crashed. Once you had double checked the numbers you clicked ‘submit’ and held your breath.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” you blurted as the schedule notification popped up. You’d gotten in to three of your four classes. And the fourth… “Waitlist full? It hasn’t even been two minutes!”

You closed the laptop and carried it out to the kitchen, sitting at the counter and pouring yourself a bowl of cereal. Crunching on Honeycomb violently expressed your dissatisfaction at the college experience to anyone who would listen.

“Damn, you’re up early,” Titus said, closing the front door behind him. He was wearing a smart black leather bomber over a white tee shirt, some gold jewelry accenting the outfit. He didn’t dress like your stereotypical idea of a bouncer, choosing to match the glam and glitz of the interior of the club. On the rare occasion a patron got on his bad side, misjudging his strength based on his appearance, they found themselves thrown to the curb in the blink of an eye.

“Hey,” you said.

He stomped off his military boots at the doorway and walked over to you, giving you a side hug which you accepted gratefully despite the glitter that transferred onto your black tee.

“What’s going on?” he asked, detecting your sour mood.

“Trying to sign up for classes. Everything’s full,” you said around a mouthful of cereal. You tapped the spoon on your closed laptop thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s not worth it, you know? College? It seems overrated.”

Titus plonked his backpack on the counter and pulled up onto one of the barstools. When Mora’s had remodeled over the summer he’d grabbed them from the dumpster, polished the stainless steel and conditioned the leather. You’d told him you could buy a set of stools that weren’t so beat up. He had waved your offer away, saying they had ‘character’ which apparently included the metallic squeak from the chair when he swiveled to face you.

“Honestly?” he said. “Yeah, it is. So overrated.” He grabbed a handful of cereal and popped a few of the hexagons in his mouth, crunching loudly. “My marketing degree does come in handy working at Mora’s, though.” He elbowed you playfully when you laughed.

Moving back to Gotham, getting this apartment with Titus, it hadn’t come cheap. You were lucky to not have to work through college for the time being, but it came with a catch. Your inheritance from your dad was locked behind a condition: finish school, get a degree.

“How was work?” you asked, wanting to think about anything other than the upcoming term.

“Broke up a few fights, had some drinks thrown at me, nothing crazy.” Titus pulled a handful of cards out of his pocket and slid them across the counter to you. “Some kids tried to pass these off as legit.” He crossed his arms on the countertop and laid his head down on them, closing his eyes.

You thumbed through the small pile of cards. The IDs were obvious fakes, the lamination had blistering from a defective card printer and the photos looked like they might be from a high school yearbook. “‘Drew Peacock?’ No fucking way. That’s so funny.”

“Yup. Droopy Cock, ha ha,” Titus said dryly, voice muffled from underneath his crossed arms. “And get this, there was a guy at the bar trying to tell everyone he knows the Batman. Like, actually knows him personally.”

He put on a faux sleaze-bag voice, dripping in slime. “’Hey lady, if you come back to my place I can ask him to come too.’ That type of thing.”

The Batman. Gotham’s resident vigilante, the Dark Knight himself. He was practically a myth, taking the law into his own hands.

“Are people into that kind of thing?” you asked.

“You’d be surprised,” Titus chuckled. “People are into all kinds of crazy shit. There’s something about the mask, the mystery. Gets people going.”

“Yeah, well, not me. Someone who gets off on beating the shit out of people in dark alleys? No thanks,” you said. You’d never seen the Batman and you never wanted to, the whole thing creeped you out. You preferred your men nice, bubbly, and vanilla.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Titus said. He stood up off the bar stool wearily and stretched, limbs creaking and cracking from a long shift. “Anyway, I’m going to crash. Get a good schedule for me, ok?”

Titus headed to his room, shedding layers of dark leather on the way. You opened your laptop and begrudgingly returned to the registration portal. Clicking through the remaining open classes, you hoped for something to catch your eye. Pottery? Yawn. Statistics? Please.

While you were browsing the course catalog, an email notification popped up in the corner of your screen. An announcement from the school’s Fine Arts department.

“Due to the high demand for Professor Wayne’s Art 111 course he has graciously agreed to open up another slot, available now. Seats are first-come-first serve. The course is open to all students, regardless of pathway.”

You were desperate to be done with registration and had no better ideas, so you took the email as a sign. You copy-pasted the course code into your schedule, clicked ‘submit,’ and waited while the loading icon swam laps around your cursor. Once you got a confirmation email of your Fall schedule change, you let out a sigh of relief.

It was only after you had signed up you started to wonder what you’d just gotten into. You skimmed through the course summary. Taught by Professor Bruce Wayne. That name rang a bell, but you couldn’t quite place it. The only catch was that it was a night class. That would have been nice to know before signing up. Too late now.

“You will learn the basic elements of artistic composition, including form, shadow, value, line…” you mumbled, reading the course description. The class sounded slightly better than abusing Titus’ goodwill to get a job at Mora’s washing dishes, spending the next fifty years paying back your loans while your inheritance sat in a trust fund you couldn’t access.

It hurt, knowing that your dad was making you jump through hoops for support even after he was gone. You’d taken care of him more than almost anyone, wasn’t that enough? Well, Dad, I’m doing it, you thought.

You closed your laptop and checked the time. Still painfully early. Going back to sleep might have been nice, make up for some of the stolen time, but you were too wired after the stress of registration. Instead, you tossed on a jacket and boots and headed out into the soggy Gotham morning in search of a real breakfast. One week left of break, you might as well try to enjoy it.

* * *

Standing in the checkout line at the GU bookstore, you again wished that you had looked at the course description of Art 111 a little more closely. Your arms were wrapped around a stack of art supplies carefully balanced atop two massive pads of paper, one was something called “newsprint,” and the other was “medium weight dry media cold press drawing paper.”

“What’s the difference, paper is paper,” you grumbled to yourself as you moved forward in line. The bookstore had just opened for the term and the line was as slow as you remembered it being back before you left Gotham. Some things never change, and apparently the number of cashiers at the GU bookstore was one of them.

You studied your pile of drawing implements, hoping you had gotten everything Professor Wayne’s syllabus had listed. Charcoal (vine and compressed), a kneaded eraser, a vinyl eraser, a set of sketching pencils in hardnesses 2H, HB, B, 2B, 4B, and 6B, a pencil sharpener (“please make sure your sharpener has a receptacle so we can avoid shavings on the ground”), a ruler, tape, and some other items buried underneath that you couldn’t remember. It was so much stuff that you’d resigned to a second, later trip to the bookstore for your actual textbooks once you had seen the size of the paper pads.

There were a few things you’d added that weren’t required, but you thought you might need. A pencil case, a few colored pencils just for fun, and a portfolio case to fit your supplies in. Wandering around the notoriously rainy campus with a big glob of wet paper sounded awful, so you’d splurged for the portfolio that was specifically labeled as waterproof.

When you finally reached the cashier, they eyed your mess of supplies warily. You plopped them onto the checkout counter, wringing your hands that were sore from holding it all for too long.

The cashier tallied up your total, beeping each item with a handheld scanner. You watched with unease as the price on the screen kept going up. Thanks, Professor Wayne, you thought. Real nice first impression, making me pay two hundred bucks for your class before I even get in the door.

“Student ID?” The cashier asked. She pointed at a sign hanging from the back of the cash register advertising a promotion. “It’s 10% off if you have it with you, this week only.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you said and dug through your wallet for it. “Here you go.”

They took the card and turned it over, inspecting it. “This is from three years ago.”

Shit. You hadn’t had a chance to get a new one yet since moving back. “I’m getting a new one soon,” you said. “Like, tomorrow. I’m getting back to school after taking a break for a while.”

“Sorry, the discount only applies with current school year ID,” the cashier said.

“What? It doesn’t say that anywhere on this,” you said, pointing at the sign. “It just says ‘with student ID.”

The cashier gave you a look that said “I don’t make the rules.”

“Your total is two hundred and thirteen dollars and forty three cents,” they said flatly.

You scoffed. Typical GU, pinching pennies despite somehow pulling endless tuition out of their students. You didn’t like it on principle. If you were stuck taking classes here, you wanted to do it as cheaply as possible.

Someone behind you cleared their throat. You turned to see a student, probably four years your junior, wearing a flat cap and stiff brown sweater over a button down shirt. A collection of supplies that looked suspiciously similar to your own selections were organized in a shopping basket on the ground in front of him. Since when did they have baskets? He raised an eyebrow then moved his gaze to your scramble of items on the counter disapprovingly.

“What?” you said.

“Are you done?” the kid asked. As if you, and not the lack of cashiers, was the reason the line was stuck at a snail’s pace.

“Excuse me?” 

“I said, aren’t you going to check out? There’s a line,” he said, gesturing behind him at the ever-growing retinue of students, some of which were turning away awkwardly to avoid your gaze. He smiled smugly. “Or are you going to keep arguing about the senior discount?”

You just stared for a second, not believing what you’d heard. He waited for you to retort back, then when he realized it wasn’t coming, rolled his eyes and turned away.

Silently, you pulled out your card, paid the full price, and left with your armful of stuff.

* * *

“Seriously, when did people get so rude?” you asked Titus the next day, at Mora’s. You were eating together before his shift started to celebrate your first day of the term. Since you still had Art 111 class later in the evening, you’d brought your massive portfolio bag full of supplies with you to Mora’s, garnering a few looks on the way in from patrons you had almost smacked.

“Tell me about it,” he said, mid-bite into a hot Italian sub slider. “They’re fucking awful. Not us, of course.” A pickled pepperoncini fell off the sandwich onto his plate. You’d gotten a seitan pork roll and a slice of pie. It was your dinner, but for his schedule the meal was closer to brunch.

“I don’t know how you can eat those,” you said, pointing at the stray pepperoncini. “They’re way too vinegar-y.”

“Says the person having a Hot Shot,” he retorted. The drink was a Mora’s staple, half tequila half jalapeño brine. “The most brine-y drink on the planet.”

“Hey, there’s something about it, okay? We all have our vices,” you said, sipping the small glass. It was not a drink necessarily meant for sipping, but you liked to make it last.

A handful of Titus’ rings sat on the booth table from when he’d taken them off to eat. You picked up one of the pieces of jewelry and found that it was surprisingly heavy. It was meant for two fingers, the thick bands tapering to a slight point at the tip of each knuckle.

“Aren’t these illegal?” you said, turning it around in your hand. Titus grinned.

“What do you mean?” he asked coyly.

There was a third loop on the bottom, a wide oval that sat in your palm, giving you some grip. You glanced around to make sure no patrons were within hearing distance, then slipped it on and made a fist, miming a boxing jab. “Brass knuckles? Right? Aren’t these kind of retro?”

“That, my friend, is a gold statement ring.”

“It’s pretty heavy for a ring.”

“Maybe it moonlights as a paperweight.”

You chuckled. “You ever use it? Like actually on someone?”

He leaned back in the dark green velvet seat and sipped his blackberry lemonade. “Do you really want to know? I thought you didn’t like people who beat up bad guys in alleys,” he teased.

“Just wondering if they actually work,” you said, feeling the weight of the ring in your hand. It felt reassuring, the grip in your palm felt like it could do some real damage. “This kid on campus might need a good whack.”

Titus got serious and sat the four legs of his chair back on the ground. He held out a hand and you dutifully slipped the ring off and handed it back.

“Honestly,” he said. “It’s pretty brutal. It doesn’t look like much but it will fuck you up. And not just on the receiving end. You can shatter your wrist holding one wrong. You gotta really straighten out your hand, use your whole arm. It’s more of a threat than anything. If someone thinks I’m gonna pop them in the face with this then they might rethink trying to pick a fight.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick with my taser.”

Titus nodded. “Probably a good idea.” He twirled the ring around and held it up, showing you some detail you couldn’t make out.

“What am I looking at?”

“Right on the knuckles here, see that?”

You squinted and bent over your plate, finally seeing a small symbol embossed on each point of the ring.

“Is that, what is that? A ’T’? And a snake?”

“It’s ’T. S.’,” he said. “If I ever do have the misfortune of using these on someone, they won’t forget who did it in a hurry.” He downed the rest of his lemonade. “I’ve really only used them once or twice. It’s more for show, you know, fit the ‘tough bouncer’ look.”

A woman came over to the booth and Titus pocketed the ring in a flash.

“Hi Nicole,” Titus said. “How’s it goin’?”

She flashed you a business-womanly grin. She was dressed fashionably, a look fitting for the club’s manager.

“Hello Titus,” Nicole said. “You’ll be at the door at five, right?”

“Yes, of course. I was just about to head down there in a minute.”

“That’s great, I’m just making sure.” She turned to you and noticed your half-eaten plate of food. “How is everything, darling? Can I get you anything? On the house, of course.”

“Oh, no, everything’s delicious. Thank you! I’m just nervous, can’t eat that much. I’ve got class tonight in a bit, and I haven’t been to school in years, so it’s, you know—”

“Scary,” Titus finished. “School’s hard, always stressful.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Oh, night classes! That’s exciting, what school?” Nicole asked.

“GU.”

“That’s so nice. Well, I hope you have a good first day. And Titus, make it 4:50 if you can, would you please?”

He agreed, and Nicole left the two of you to talk to a table of patrons across the room.

When she was out of earshot, Titus said, “Four fifty? Come on. We aren’t even busy until six.” He shook his head and sighed. Then, after a pause, he picked up his fork and pointed with it at your plate. “Do you want that pie?”

“Go crazy,” you said, and pushed the plate across the booth table. Titus had comped the food, taking it out of his paycheck at the employee discount. As far as you were concerned, it was all his anyway.

“So, what’s this class tonight?”

“It’s this ‘intro to drawing’ course,” you said as you fiddled with your silverware. “I just had to pick something random to fill out my schedule. It’s basic stuff, I think, but it sounded interesting. Professor Wayne something.”

“You know, that actually sounds fun,” he said, then stopped in his tracks. “Wait a minute, did you say ‘Wayne’?”

“Yeah. Why, do you know him?”

“Do I know him?” He let out a quick bark of laughter.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“You really don’t know who he is?”

“No? Should I?” You dug in the recesses of your memory and came up empty-handed.

“Damn, that is so wild.” Titus ran a hand along his close cropped hair. “You’ve been away from Gotham for way too long, girl. The Waynes are old money Gotham, the family’s been around for, like, ever.”

Old money Gotham brought to mind art deco buildings, caviar and expensive wine, limousines with private drivers. Your mind filled with a vague picture of an old man, possibly bald with a beard, wearing an expensive old-fashioned suit and a pocket watch. You couldn’t stand the upper crust types in town, throwing charity galas that only benefitted themselves.

“What, so he’s rich?” you asked.

“Beyond belief. He’s a billionaire, I think.”

You scoffed. “He had me buy all this stuff, like two hundred bucks of supplies on top of tuition. Must be a cheapskate.” You gave the portfolio bag a tap with your foot.

Titus shook his head and downed the rest of his lemonade. “That’s rich types for you.”

“But he teaches at GU? I don’t get it, what would be the point? Some kind of vanity project?”

“No idea.”

“If I had that much money, I wouldn’t do shit. No school, no teaching, just relaxing.”

“You and me both.” Titus checked his phone and saw the time. “Shit, I’ve got to run. Look, tell me how it goes, okay?”

You said goodbye to Titus, lugging your portfolio bag and backpack out the side door of Mora’s. You headed to the nearest subway station and boarded the line headed for Gotham University. Well, you thought, I guess I’ll see what all the hype is about.

Shoutout to @ellesthots for letting me borrow her creation, Mora's. This fic is not related to Fateful but I wanted to include a piece of it since she's inspiring me to write this. Thank you Elle!

Thank you for reading, more coming very soon! Thoughts & comments are welcome and appreciated <3

[another-goblin]

I'm not a fan of how they treat the Intelligentsia Guild.

Their major achievements, like the synesthesia beacon, are implied to either be acquired from Genius Society members at best or just stolen from them at worst. Their supposed good qualities, like having a goal of spreading knowledge or admitting everybody who wants to learn, aren't emphasized at all.

And it's not like this faction is too unimportant for the writers to care about. They kind of dedicated a whole Simulated Universe update to it, right?

But instead, the main goal of the Unknowable Domain, IG-wise, seemed to be to just hammer in the idea of how awesome the GS's members are by showing how worthless the IG is, even despite getting access to the scepters.

That whole story was mostly about their pathetic inner squabbles. And culminated in the revelation that the IG's best mind, with her brainpower multiplied thousands of times by the scepters, wasn't even close to being a match for a genius.

Like yeah, we get it, geniuses are born special, and there is no way for a normal person to get even close no matter what they do. Don't even try. Awesome moral, I love that. But did we even need a whole Simulated Universe update to prove that? (BTW I'm not a big fan of that idea, it undermines both the achievements of the GS member and the struggles of normal people)

GS members are basically immortal demigods with their powers rivaling (if not surpassing) the powers of Aeons (can Nanook or Lan destroy a galaxy like Chadwick did? Can Yaoshi create intelligent life, like Ruan Mei did?) So I'm not surprised that the writers don't even try to compare them to the normies from the IG them in any meaningful way.

So they are kind of worthless as a faction by themselves.

But the IG doesn't even work as a narrative foil for the GS:

We never see them achieving anything through teamwork as opposed to the GS's rugged individualism.

We don't see examples of their willingness to share knowledge or being interested in humans' affairs, as opposed to the GS's dedication to science for science's sake and to Nous personally.

We don't see them doing something useful, as opposed to the GS's members' epic vanity project.

We don't see them achieving things through hard work, as opposed to GS's members just being gifted.

We don't see them showing strength through sheer numbers, as opposed to the GS only having several active members.

So why does it exist at all as a faction?

I mean narratively? They are tainted by their close association with the IPC. But the IPC has a perfectly functioning Technology Department, and the IG currently functions just as its additional external version. They are hardly an independent faction at this point, but rather an appendage of the IPC.

It doesn't work as Dr. Ratio's home faction either. With the exception of a couple of lines in his character stories, nothing would have changed if he was in the GS or wasn't a member of any faction at all (guess who made a whole post about it). I mean him being in the IG might finally play a role in Dr. Ratio's story one day (see below) but what are the chances. I mean we don't even have a "Dr. Ratio story" to begin with.

And one last point. Nobody blames Herta for what Dr. Primitive has done. We understand that the GS is a group of separate individuals.

But the IG is seen as a homogeneous mass to the point of people side-eyeing (or even directly blaming) Dr. Ratio for what the IG did millennia before he was born.

(Small spoiler for 3.3 below, maybe:)

(I wrote this some time ago. I haven't finished 3.2 yet, but I've heard a Scepter is involved in 3.3. But I don't think that would change anything for the IG. Besides, they made the IG so bland and unappealing that I doubt a single person would be excited to see more of them. Even I, as a fan of Dr. Ratio, am only interested in the council of Mundanites, as a small part of the Guild, and only because of him)

[judasgot-it]

Dr Ratio x Reader

Dr Ratio tries to teach y/n basic algebra (and cries doing so, they are just that stupid)

"You do what's in the parenthesis first,"

This was too hard.

With great regret, you had asked Dr. Ratio to help you with understanding algebra. You didn't even really care for the subject that much, but apparently you had to understand it in order to learn the cooler math. Which sucked - why couldn't you just do the interesting stuff first? This doesn't really seem related to anything, honestly.

But according to him, this was a basic foundation of mathematics.

Which sucked. It was so stupid. Why were there letters in this? You were pretty sure math is about numbers.

How does x even equal a number? You wouldn't know, because you were stuck on this problem for over twenty minutes now.

This was question 3 on the quiz he gave you. A simple one. He just wanted to go over the basics he had lectured you about. Which left you stuck in the same seat you had watched him lecture from, your ass already sore from sitting for so long. Unfortunately, freedom was far away as you got completely lost on how to solve any of these problems.

5(x+1)=2(x-5)-6

You tried to subtract the 1 out of the parenthesis, to bring it to the other side. This was how it's done, right?

Looking up, you saw his mask covering his face. So you didn't know if you were doing what you should be. So you just kept going.

Somehow you got 1/5.

That probably wasn't the right answer. But whatever.

Dr. Ratio was making weird noises at this point. He loomed over you, his abs almost hitting the top of your head as he watched - once in a while his thigh would hit the back of your chair, reminding you of whatever thought process he had. However he saw what you were doing from underneath that mask, you just knew he was judging you.

Carefully, you focused on the next problem.

The seething professor behind you hadn't allowed you to use a calculator - according to him, it was far too easy. Something one can easily do in their head.

It felt a little more embarassing to have to do the subtraction on the side. You don't remember 54-12 off of the top of your head, and you weren't a math god. So you had to do this each time. The side of your paper was riddled with lines that broke down or added numbers.

"That's not right."

He placed his hand on your shoulder, leaning down even further as he took his other hand and scrutinized the paper in front of him. The mask on his face brushed against your head, and it was unexpected - it didn't feel cold nor warm, simply just room temperature. It wasn't as hard as stone either.

"I thought the point of a quiz was for me to figure it out, not the teacher."

There was no point in arguing with him though. You were tired and your hand hurt.

"You can't even figure it out. At this point, this is a form of torture," The way he said that made it sound as if he was in more pain than you.

"Did you listen to anything that I had said?"

"Yeah." No the fuck you did not.

"None of your answers should be fractions. You also can't even follow the order of operations."

"I did the parenthesis like you said-"

"You just keep doing addition and subtraction. Not even well, since you make very simple mistakes."

You looked to where he was pointing; 39+42=71. That looked pretty correct to you.

"That's right though?"

"No. No, it's not. You missed an entire ten. It's 81," he sighed as he said this as if talking to a stupid child, curt but not able to truly express how he felt. Maybe he was justified in that response.

"Oh." You didn't know how he got that answer, but he was certainly right. Oops.

"You can't do algebra since you can't even do the basics. Do you even know how to multiply?"

"Yeah, I can-"

"Without a calculator. With double digits,"

He had taken off his mask, placing it to the side as he really started to scrutinize you; the hair on his forehead stuck to his skin slightly, having one bang that stubbornly clung to his nose and batting close to his eyelashes. The man even took a seat next to you, his eyes looking at yours and then back to the paper. As if he was in disbelief.

You could only shake your head. This was hard, and you could feel the frustration build up in your eyes as he only looked and scrutinized your paper further.

"You need to learn the basics again."

"This is the basics, right?"

"No. You can't even multiply or divide. That is elementary."

In shame, you put down your pencil and tried to hide your face behind your hands. You were never going to be able to do the cool math, were you? Like how to calculate the burger number. That's the cool math.

You heard the pencil be picked up by another hand, one that is a little too close to you - Dr. Ratio's shoulder brushed against yours, his bare and slutty arm taking up more than enough of your personal space.

"Let's go over this next problem. I'll explain it as you go along."

He was already giving you tips while you did the quiz, but that's fine. You have already dug yourself into a pit of shame and despair as you failed to do, apparently, basic math. So what would be one more embarrassing failure?

Taking the pen from his rather warm hand, you went back too it.

"So, how would you start this problem?"

At this point, his finger was just pointing at hieroglyphs. The letters with the numbers made it rather hard to comprehend what you were looking at.

"The parenthesis."

"There is no parenthesis in this," he frowned at you, continuing his streak of major disappointment. "Order of operations, PEMDAS, so what is your next step?"

"...multiply?"

"0 points. You do the exponents."

"So, the x with the little two."

You were sure that he blanked out on that one. His face had fallen into a strange expression, as if he had seen shadows move in his peripheral vision, as if he were followed by shadow people; a sort of pre-horror look.

"You do know what x squared means, correct?"

"How does x become a square? I still don't get that."

His face morphed into something else. Frustration, shock, agony. It could mean a lot of things, but his reaction was so strong you could taste it.

"You don't know what exponents are, do you?"

"...no."

You would think he would have understood this given how you were apparently bad at everything else. But it looked like you had slapped him and kicked his dog, from the look he gave you.

"By aeons what do you know!?"

"...1+1?"

He slammed his hands against the table. Your pencil rolled away from you from the shockwave, hitting the floor with a clatter as Ratio made loud facial expressions from underneath his hands. It looked as if he were a Shakespearian character who had been stabbed in the heart.

His breaths were heavy, his chest heaving with every attempt. One of his amber eyes peaked at you from underneath his slender fingers, staring at you as if you were a stubborn puzzle that did not wish to be solved.

There was something he wanted to say, but instead there was only a small noise that came from his throat. The stare he gave you could shatter glass.

"Are you okay, professor?"

He shook his head. The man turned to look at nothing, his face cradled in the palm of his hand.

"I have never met anyone like you."

That wasn't a compliment. But you were going to take it as one. That's the best you could do in this situation, honestly.

The man put his head down onto the table, one of his hands threading through his hair. You reached your hand out to his shoulder, patting him lightly in order to comfort.

You didn't see it, but there were tears pooling around his eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down.

Authors note: I don't know what this is, I'm just trying to grasp ratios character. If it's OOC then that's cause i haven't even gotten to penachony yet.

Also the burger number is real it's called whopper and was literally named after the burger King sandwich. The more you know.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Hands up!

Hello everyone!

I continue on with my Christmas stories, they may be shorter than the last ones I made, but the pace may be a little more regular! Tell me what you think and let me know your requests if you have any:) I will try to respond quickly.

Enjoy!

TW: None!

The spirit of Christmas being something important for the Catalan club, it's not with great surprise that the team learned that in addition to the usual games to animate the different social networks, a mini-tournament for different associations was organized. The squad of the women’s team sufficient to create four different teams, they were all picked at random that day.

You smiled when you heard your name being shot on the first team, giving you Cata, Mapi, Lucy, Ingrid and Salma as teammates. If Mapi had fun seeing that even fate didn't separate her from Ingrid, you quickly noticed the competitive look Alexia gave you. It amused you a lot and you gave her a provocative smile when she came to the second team, when her name was shot. Having Ona, Patri and Aitana on her team, she seems to have an advantage. But you are here to have fun and you intend to enjoy these moments of relaxation after a rough end of year.

After a little warm-up to avoid a stupid injury, you found yourself with your teammates of the day at the edge of the field, your blue bibs on the back. The organisation put you at rest for the first game, so it's with jokes and laughter that you watch two of the other teams play against each other.

Matches are usually held in the stadium dedicated to indoor football, so that the spectators are not too cold. It adds a different atmosphere to what you’re used to, but you don’t find it unpleasant. Quite the contrary actually.

You won your first match against Caroline’s green team and now you have to face Alexia’s reds. Always with her playful face, Alexia stands in front of you, separated by the line of demarcation of the field, waiting for Aitana to shoot in the ball to start the match.

"Ready to lose Y/SN?"

You laughed mischievously, bowing an eyebrow before answering her.

"Count on it baby" you simply answer, quickly taking your place on the field when the ball is put into play.

The game is dynamic, but good. You don’t know what impression the spectators have of your match, but between the small playing comments launched between the players, there is something to laugh about. If you and Alexia don't hesitate to tease you, Ona and Lucy are not left out either.

During a corner for your team, you feel someone sticking against your back and you recognize your girlfriend without any difficulty. Her hands sit on your hips and her lips are just up to your ear when she speaks to you, in a whispered voice.

"I prefer when you only sweat because of me"

You know that you are the only one to have heard what she said and it's with an amused smile that you turn your eyes slightly in her direction, ignoring the heat wave that reverberates throughout your body, because of her comment and her chest against your back.

"You wanna play that way?"

Alexia doesn’t answer anything, just smiling at you. Her little game is nevertheless noticed by Lucy who calls her.

"Hands up, Putellas!"

Alexia raises both hands in the air, trying to prove her false innocence, which again amuses you a lot. With this story you completely miss the corner that Mapi sends into the box, which was obviously Alexia’s goal. While taking your place on the field, you wave to her with your hand that you keep an eye on her and she sends you a kiss.

A few minutes later, it’s your turn to call her when she has the ball in her foot to try to score.

"Nice ass, Number 11!"

Of course, the ball pass far from the goal and it's in front of your laughing face that she finds herself when she turns in your direction.

"Can we swap numbers at the end of the game?" you add mischievously as she passes by you, maliciously pinching your ribs as you pass. "Hands up Lucy said" you add, smiling.

Alexia pulls out your tongue and you laugh again. An amused smile appears on the captain’s face, after struggling a few seconds to mask it.

A few minutes later, the bell rang, announcing the end of the game. You lost by a goal, but again you don’t play to win today.

After the match, having once again to wait for a confrontation between two other teams, you find yourself leaning against an advertiser, in discussion with Salma. At least that was before two arms grabbed you by your waist. You drop a little cry of surprise, triggering Salma’s laughter, but you willingly let Alexia draw your body against hers.

"You’re not bad either, number 3" whispers Alexia against your cheek before kissing her.

Alexia seems to be more relaxed too, her mood impacted by the general atmosphere. And you love seeing her like that.

"Maybe we can exchange our jerseys in addition to our numbers?" you answer maliciously.

It makes her laugh and you add your laughter to hers when Mapi looks disgusted and asks you to find a room. But you don’t change position, enjoying Alexia’s embrace. Few people in the audience can see you from where you are but since the Spanish doesn’t seem to care, you either.

"So, do I have a nice butt?" asks Alexia playfully in a low voice after a few minutes watching your teammates play.

You laugh softly, turning slightly in her arms so you can look at her better.

"It’s even the part of your body that I prefer, if you want to know everything."

Alexia answers you with a thoughtful exclamation, having fun again. You put a kiss on the corner of her jaw, taking advantage of your position.

"Needless to say, I love everything about you, hmm?"

Alexia’s face turns to you again and tenderness has replaced the provocation in her gaze.

"I love you" she whispers gently before kissing you tenderly.

And, at the end of the tournament, when you and your team step on the second step of the podium all dressed up with your Christmas hats, you can’t help but give Alexia (On the first step of the podium, of course) a little slap on her butt. Who slaps you in the back of the head.

[transfaguette]

always sucks when one of the biggest companies in a space is also The Worst

Unity, which for a long time the majority of indie games and several AAA titles have been developed in, recently announced a new “Runtime Fee” that would charge developers $0.20 per install of their game, starting January 2024. Retroactively!!!! Yes you heard that right. Got a new computer and want to reinstall your favorite game you bought 3 years ago? That’ll cost the dev $0.20, when they themselves make no additional money. A bad actor could, in theory, install a game hundreds of times just to hurt a developers bottom line. But even just in benign scenarios, its enough to threaten the viability of small indie studios. Even if devs wanted to jump ship now, number one they’d have to port all their games to a new engine, a monumental task on its own, and they’d have to learn a new engine and new workflow, new pipeline, etc. This is catastrophic to the indie scene.

And this isn’t handled through the platforms they sell their games on like steam or itch.io, it’s woven into the backend of the engine itself. Unity claims they have systems to detect piracy (but they’re proprietary and secret!) and developers won’t be charged for illegitimate installs. But none of us can be actually sure of that. They are literally making “piracy costs the devs money” a real actual legitimate argument.

And to top it all off, their ghoul of a CEO dumped his shares right before the announcement. They Knew this would be hated and they’re trying to get away with it anyway.

Do note, this only applies to games that already meet the threshold for profit sharing. If you are a hobbyist or making a project for school etc, this won’t affect you.

What can you do? Keep in touch with your favorite developers and indie publishers on social media. Hopefully with enough backlash and support for indie developers, they will retract.

[notdefendingtaylor]

i used to defend the "asylum" line (unfortunately) because taylor's childhood house is honestly very common in southeastern pa. there are lots of developments cropping up with similar square footage and house prices, but... if she lived near reading, and traveled at all to philly or allentown, it's crazy to refer to that as an asylum. like those cities are actually so depressing. that's an asylum if i've ever seen one. there are some super sharp contrasts in wealth and quality of life in that area (i guess all regions are like this though).

because even if she intended for the line to be symbolic of growing up in the spotlight... no, you didn't? she first hit it big at around 16-17, and as far as i'm aware, grew up/was raised private and normal? and it's understandable for people to be taking that line literally when she sings about a christmas tree farm, "kitchen table bills" and all of these country/lower class experiences ad nauseam, people are going to be surprised when they see a near 4k square foot house in a nice neighborhood relatively close to a city... in addition to a comfortable and safe salary from her father's (arguably stable) job as a financial advisor. i know people who would have loved to grow up in that "asylum" with that stability.

i think her family did a massive number on her - it's clear everything was about her market value and not her personal value, if that makes sense. from her mom saying "no one wants a fat pop star" to her face on film, to her dad demanding 9 paths to her superstardom from her manager, to the narratives around how she learned to play guitar changing based on what might seem more 'charming' to the public, to her being marketed as country and adopting a fake accent... that's just a whole recipe for someone who doesn't know who they are or how to manage their own identity and emotions.

HOWEVER. while i relate to that, having had a mom who controlled everything about my childhood due to my ongoing, acute health problems, there should be a moment where you look around and realize that it's time to develop as a person and create healthy boundaries and peace within yourself. it's time to take accountability for what works in your life and what doesn't, to build the skills and confront the social acceptance hang-ups you had from having that unusual childhood, and most importantly, recognize that your billions of dollars can make you very much a bully when you wield it against your 'enemies.'

it's time to realize boyfriends were never the problem. and until she acknowledges her own role in the 'asylum' of her life, she's just stuck in a cycle that will hurt others.

[nycterisg]

“Once, Celebrimbor got it into his head to fly to the stars. He said he wanted to steal one and give it to his mother,” he recounts, gazing distantly at an imaginary horizon. Maglor often has that far-off look—whether he is introducing them to the secret arts of the ancient world or merely reminding them to brush their teeth after eating. Perhaps he thinks it lends him an air of gravitas, as if to emphasize the overseas origins of his pearls of wisdom. Normally, and despite his age, Elros would whip around and demand, What? What? What’s behind us? But as it happens, the matter of stars and how to reach them is one that deeply interests him.

“Is it possible?”

“Of course not,” Maglor scoffs, stroking the strings of the lyre cradled in his arms. “He did come up with quite the contraption, though. Built himself some kind of wings, even a platform, and obviously—”

“How? How did he build them?”

“That’s not important,” he hisses irritably. “Lists in stories bore everyone. And they ruin the narrative.”

The narrative is everything to a minstrel. Many things are done, said, or entirely ignored for the sake of the narrative. Sometimes, Elros likes to joke that Maglor stopped his brother from disposing of them once and for all because it would have ruined the narrative. Elrond never finds these jokes funny and glares sternly to make him stop.

“Obviously the Ambarussa lent a hand,” Maglor continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “And even the neighbor’s cat got involved. Imagine, it claimed to know Varda personally and boasted that she had, in full confidence, revealed to it a secret passage leading straight to her finest stars. Bah! A terrible liar.”

The twins exchange puzzled glances.

In truth, Maglor oversees their education with dedicated precision: there is no book in the library they haven’t read, no song they haven’t learned to play on at least one or two instruments.

It’s either that he thinks the addition of a cat was a suggestion from the narrative, or he still sees them as little children.

“They were all so young! They couldn’t have been more than twenty, maybe a little older.”

Perhaps those words bring him back to the present because, suddenly, he widens his eyes at the two youths before him, evidently surprised to find them there. The twins are in that delicate phase every half-elf goes through, where it’s unclear whether they’ve finished losing their baby teeth or if it’s time to put swords in their hands and send them on their way. Elros has started drawing a firm line through his name and these days prefers to be called Ros, the only part that sets him apart from his twin and where he can carve out a story of his own.

Maglor still expects to find them clinging to his legs (likely because their sudden growth ruins the rhythm of some stanza), and Maedhros has developed an abrupt interest in them, pushing—or forcing—himself to teach them what he knows: an immense amount about the art of war.

(Elros enjoys these lessons immensely, though no matter how tall he grows, he still fears that beneath Maedhros’ cruelly scarred lips lie virulent fangs.)

“Someone’s birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it? Twenty-five!”

It would be an impressive number if they were mortal. Most of them, at that age, are already married with at least two brats to feed. The cook’s sons are only slightly younger but have been working in the forges for ten years, their hands hard and nearly impossible to clean of the dirt caked under their nails.

The eldest, Balgrer, claims to be “seeing” the milkmaid who delivers cheese to the fortress every first day of the week. Only, the twins hadn’t understood what “seeing” meant in that context, so they discreetly asked Maglor—hoping to keep what seemed like a secret—for an explanation. Staying true to their paternal legacy, the brothers rarely scruple over what avenues of knowledge to open for their wards; of course, there are exceptions: the star in the sky, the trembling earth—such things remain unspoken. Judging by Maglor’s hiss, seeing someone is one of these exceptions, and he hastily removes an entire collection of scrolls from the library, the contents of which the twins still don’t know.

“This year, I’ll have to work hard to find a suitable gift.”

“Oh, Maglor. We don’t need gifts,” Elrond protests calmly. This is no metaphor: what little Maglor has left, he has offered to them with a moving generosity, anticipating every need before they even realize it themselves.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Elrond. It would be improper not to celebrate the birthday of not one but two princes. I’ll think of something—and now, up, up! Let’s continue with our lessons,” he declares as the ecstatic glaze falls over his eyes again.

(In truth, much of what happens within the fortress walls is improper. It’s improper for the twins to have grown up in the arms of the monsters who destroyed their home. It’s improper for them to learn healing from someone whose hands are so steeped in blood they’re no longer capable of it. But much is overlooked—for, evidently, it’s not good for the narrative.)

[mistydeyes]

there is no cure for jealousy

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summary: While there are definite perks to being a military pharmacist (a steady job, respectful patients, and a comfortable income), there are some downsides. At first, you don't mind the newest addition to your routine, a recruit who visits and makes light conversation, but the 141 recognizes he might not be just an innocent patient.

pairing: Task Force 141 x pharmacist!Reader

some other parts of the pharmacist!series:

counseling the 141 - first part to the pharmacist! story

weird dreams when they are injured on the field

being sick and having the 141 come to the rescue

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds and violence

a/n: okay first! i ran out of gifs fo use so i’m trying this new header idea :) also the pharmacist is back! I was so surprised that next to the stripper!reader, this one was almost as popular :) thank you for all the love you bring to this series

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Week 13, the last to final week for the newest Army recruits. It was better known as Attack Week. Everyone was familiar with the time as it was an entire week the recruits would put their newly learned skills to the test and experience the adrenaline of the battlefield. This was your 5th one as a pharmacist so you knew the drill. You hummed as you checked over your items. It was all hands on deck as the number of injuries was high and you were preparing for the newest scripts and deliveries to the infirmary. "Here they come," your technician called out as you heard the printer whir with the amounts of newly verified scripts. "Just on time," you said as you looked down at your watch. "You fill and I'll verify," you commented to him as you settled down at the computer, "hopefully there isn't too many DUR's and I can help with the queue." Through the corner of your eye, you could see the tech say a silent prayer before he went to retrieve the medications from the aisle.

Thankfully, there hadn't been too many scripts requiring extra clarification or absolute contraindications. You took the bin of recently filled prescriptions and walked over to the window filled with waiting young faces. "Good morning," you smiled at the teenager who couldn't be more than 18 standing in front of you. "Morning, Captain," she replied formally, "Alexandra Davidson." "Alright, Alexandra give me a moment and I'll give you your goodie bag," you joked and you could see her serious expression crack with a smile. That was how the majority of the morning went, fresh new faces and minimum conversation as they all feared their superiors. You knew the experienced soldier avoided the pharmacy unless absolutely necessary. Around 12, you saw some familiar faces and gave a small wave to the 141 as they passed to the mess hall. "Doin' great, Cap," Soap called and you forced a smile on your tired face. Around 1:30 you closed for a break and quickly scarfed down a sandwich and cup of soup before the clock struck 2.

When you walked back to the window, the line had gone down significantly and more familiar faces began to appear in the queue. "Hello there," a young man said and you recognized he was one of the newest recruits. His eyes scanned your figure as he looked down at you but you just brushed it off. "Good afternoon," you replied, "name?" He smiled and leaned on the counter before replying, "Jason Powell." "Alright, Jason," you smiled as you pulled up his file. You looked to the right and saw the bin his bag right on top. "I have yours right here," you said and handed it to him. "Must be my lucky day," he smirked as you gave him the bag. As he looked at it, he had a curious expression on his face. "Is something wrong?" you asked as he opened it to hold the small blister pack. "This is embarrassing, Captain, but I've never had to go to the chemist's before," he said sheepishly and you listened intently, "how-how do I take these?"

You were no stranger to patient counseling and in fact, loved giving your mini-lecture whenever someone needed it. "Oh don't worry!" you replied as you looked up at him, "this is paracetamol probably because of an injury on the field?" He nodded in response and you continued. "It'll help with any aches or pains you have. What you want to do is take one of the capsules and drink it with water," you explained, "You can take it every 4 to 6 hours but remember to take no more than 8 in a 24hr period." With that, you smiled and he thanked you before leaving. After a few more patients, Gaz finally came to the front to pick up some paracetamol and antihistamines. "The young recruit had a lot of questions," he remarked as you went to retrieve his prescription. "Never took a pill before so I was happy to explain," you said and handed him his bag of pills. "Watch out for them, this new batch is something else," he commented and left the pharmacy with that ominous statement.

He might have been correct as the same recruit kept appearing at your pharmacy for the next week. First, it was for a dose change because his pain was still severe from his sprained wrist. "Still the same way to take these," you joked as you handed the bag to him and he held your hand gently. "Thank you as always, Captain," he replied and you ignored the confused look from Soap who was right behind him. "Just a nice kid," you sighed before you entered your own long conversation with the Scotsman.

The next day, you sighed as Jason appeared at your window. "Another dose change?" you asked as you hated seeing repeat customers, especially for something that wasn't a prophylaxis treatment. He shook his head before replying. "Heard this was the place to let you know I think I have a penicillin allergy," he responded and you sighed. Price was only behind him in the queue and nodded as you apologized that adding an allergy would take a moment. As you typed it into his file and marked it so the appropriate individuals would note it, you couldn't help but wonder why he was here. "The medical wing does know they can add this in themselves? Hate to have you come all this way," you muttered and you failed to catch his small smirk. "I don't mind at all, just means I get to see you!" he replied happily and you returned his cheery demeanor. "Well you'll all set now, shouldn't need you to come down unless you need a refill," you replied and he waved before exiting.

"I thought it was a rumor, but I believe my sergeants when they say that little one fancies you," Price joked and you rolled your eyes before finding his bag. As you checked to verify the correct amount of bottles, you couldn't believe he was feeding into this. "He just has lots of questions and wants to get the best care the military can offer," you corrected but Price raised an eyebrow. "Captain, there's a fine line between stupidity and acting like an idiot to flirt," he clarified, "you should've seen what recruits do when they see Lt. Riley walking their way." You both shared a laugh as there were plenty of stories of those who fancied the tall, mysterious man. "They may like Lt. Riley but that changes on a dime when Ghost appears," you added and Price nodded in response. "Took the words right out of my mouth, Captain."

The final straw was when he returned for a fourth time. "Hello again, Jason," you said with a tired smile, "what can I do for you?" "Just wanted to say hi to my favorite pharmacist," he mused and you tried to hide your slight annoyance. "Well, here's your hello," you responded and his optimism faltered, "sorry, just been a long day." "Can I do anything to make it better?" he flirted and smoothed out his non-existent short hair. "You can by leaving them alone," Ghost suddenly spoke and you realized he was next in the small queue. "And why would I do that?" he challenged as he turned to Ghost. Ghost was in his uniform exercise gear and there was no display of his rank. You couldn't help but smirk when Ghost walked forward and stood a full head above him.

"What are you a recruit?" Ghost commanded and he nodded with fervor. "Then, I expect you to get out of here," he continued but the receipt stayed in place. "You're not my commanding officer so I don't see why I need to listen to you," he replied and you could practically see the veins appear on his forehead. Before he could say anything further, the rest of the 141 entered with Price in uniform and Gaz and Soap in their gym attire. "Something a matter here, gentleman?" Price asked as he walked up to you. Before you could respond, Ghost spoke up. "This recruit here thinks its funny to bother our pharmacist," he muttered and the recite stood taller and straighter seeing the Captain rank on Price's uniform. "Well then," Price began, "I don't think it's appropriate for you to be here any longer, Jason." He was just about to reply when Price cut him off. "And you should show some respect, your pharmacist is not someone to be flirted with and is an out-ranking Captain to you," he said, motioning to you, "and this here is Lieutenant Riley." Jason looked like he was about to cry when he said that. "So if you don't want your life to be a living hell, you should leave," Soap interjected and the recruit ran out of the pharmacy.

When he was gone, you all shared a long laugh. "I thought you were about to pummel him with your paracetamol,"' you said through giggles as you began to relax. "Is this a good time to say I told you so?" Gaz questioned with a smirk and you rolled your eyes. "Thanks for saving the day as always," you breathed out. You noticed the time and saw it was right when you closed the pharmacy for lunch. "I'm actually off to lunch if you would like to join," you offered, "could use the company!" They all nodded and you went about closing the pharmacy down. As you grabbed your lunch bag and pulled down the gate, you smiled seeing them waiting for you. You walked in stride with them to the mess hall before someone spoke up. "You should wear a wedding ring, it'll save you the trouble next time," Soap piped up and you shot him a look. "No, I think that'll invite more questions unless one of you lot can reasonably act like my spouse," you said as you laughed slightly. Before anyone else could respond, you added to your initial statement. "On second thought, I don't think I could marry any one of you," you mused, much to their disappointment, "heard that KorTac guy has a pretty successful sibling that's a doctor."

[scotianostra]

Scottish writer, Sheila Burnford was born on May 11th 1918.

Sheila was born and educated in Edinburgh then Harrogate College in Yorkshire, England.

She was one of the first women in Scotland to receive her Aviation Certificate. During the Second World War she worked as an ambulance attendant and driver. Sheila married David Burnford, a surgeon in the Royal Navy, and in 1948 the Burnford family emigrated to Canada, settling at Port Arthur in western Ontario.

Sheila loved the great outdoors, particularly walking and hunting. She became friends with local artist Susan Ross. The two shared an interest in the lives of indigenous people and they inspired each other in creative endeavours.

Both Sheila and Susan were members of the Port Arthur Puppetry Club. It was during her time with the Club that Sheila began writing – scripts at first and then articles describing life in Northwestern Ontario for English magazines and newspapers such as Punch and the Glasgow Herald.

Sheila was a great animal lover, although she always said she had a practical view of them. After the death of her Bullterrier, Bill (who had kept her company during the Blitz in the Second World War), she decided to write a book, in part to memorialize him.

That book became The Incredible Journey.

The animals in the book were based on the personalities of her own animals. In addition to Bill, she had a Siamese cat (Simon) and a Golden Labrador (Raimie). She researched incidents similar to the ones in the book and used the area around her home and cottage (Loon Lake) to describe the terrain.

The book was an international bestseller and was eventually translated into more than 17 languages. It would win a number of awards, including the Canadian Library Association Book of the Year for Children.

In 1963 the Walt Disney adaptation of the film was released. The premiere of the film was held in Port Arthur with over 10,000 people lining the streets for the parade preceding the showing. Actors from the film and the film’s director, Fletcher Markle, attended the premiere. Although the book was based in Northwestern Ontario, it was actually filmed in the Toronto area.

In 1964, Sheila published her second book, The Fields of Noon, a collection of essays on life in Northwestern Ontario. It included a number of essays that had previously been published in English periodicals.

In the late 1960s, Sheila and Susan Ross spent a great deal of time visiting native reserves in Northwestern Ontario. Both women had long held interest in native life and found the opportunity to actually learn about native life to be irresistible. While there, Susan Ross drew sketches of the people and Sheila observed. As a result of these visits, Sheila published Without Reserve, using some of Susan Ross’s drawings as illustrations.

Sheila and Susan next travelled up to Pond Inlet and experienced the life of the Inuit, including travelling by dog sled to see the narwhal. From this experience came One Woman’s Arctic. This book also included illustrations by Susan Ross.

The Incredible Journey was acclaimed as a children’s book, even though Sheila herself did not think of it as a children’s book. In 1973, she published an actual children’s book, Mr. Noah and the Second Flood. The story focused on the impact of consumerism and waste on the planet.

Sheila’s last book, Bel Ria: Dog of War, was the story of a little dog caught up in the horrors of the Second World War. In writing the book, she drew upon her own experiences in the Blitz and used research to maintain authenticity.

In 1984 Sheila Burnford died of lung cancer. She had moved back to the UK to live with her second husband, Dr. J.D. Loughborough.

In 2017, a documentary of her life, Long Walk Home: The Incredible Journey of Sheila Burnford, was released by Sheba Films.