#to be fair i have been studying for this specific exam for almost 3 weeks

[seungminotes]

Broken Noses and Potted Plants (pt.1)

w.c. ~2k

warnings. some cursing I believe, gender neutral (please notify me if anything suggests otherwise!)

desc. high school au, love triangle w/ student body president! seungmin and reckless and lazy! jisung

a.n. hello! I am getting back into writing! this will be part of a series updated weekly, for now please enjoy part 1 and tell me if you're liking it? any and all feedback appreciated.

For someone as lonesome and timid as you, Kim Seungmin was what you'd call your savior.

Him being Class President and the longest standing place holder of the first rank of your grade, you would think he was the solitary and studious type of person. No one would think such a straightforward and driven student was so popular and well-liked as he was.

You being only second to him, knew it was difficult enough to balance academics with a few simple extracurriculars, imagine having a social life on top of that, it made your head spin.

And yet, somehow Seungmin managed to do it all. He was class president, captain of the baseball team, and on the officer committees of at least five clubs and honor societies. On top of all that, he was one of the most popular and well-known students in your year.

Sure, Seungmin had lots of friends and acquaintances, but some he would consider a lot closer than others. You weren't really one of those, let’s face it. You knew that much.

In fact, you and Seungmin were mostly just "friends" for the academic benefit of it all. You'd sat near him all year long, were his vice class president, and were also in numerous of the same honor societies. It just made sense that you'd be at least academically close, a lot more would get done that way.

For instance, you two would often study together at the school’s library after classes, specifically on Fridays, when no extracurriculars were occurring to keep you busy. Lunch time was strictly student government briefing for you two. And in the time between lessons, you’d regularly check each other’s classwork and homework for each other, catching any errors either of you made before it was time to submit, not that Seungmin made many errors anyway. To say that you two spent a lot of time together would be a bit of an understatement.

Despite all this time though, you could hardly say you really knew Seungmin, at least not on a personal level. You knew he always preferred chicken at lunch, and how math was undoubtedly his best subject, whereas he struggles a bit more with language. You knew he was an amazing leader and how his decisions were always very well rounded and well-received amongst the student body. You knew he was an exceptional baseball player.

But that was about it really. Yet you somehow still managed to develop some huge crush on this guy. This boy who would never feel the same towards you surely, because you two were merely classmates with similar goals and no intentions of building upon this acquaintance-like friendship.

Knowing this, you still sometimes tried to get closer to Seungmin, you really did, out of the sheer possibility that one day he may notice and you’d have an implicit agreement of friendship at the very least.

-

One of these attempts was made with the founding of the club you’ve always wanted the school to have, but were sure hardly anyone would join unless prompted to do so.

The morning you had asked Seungmin to take into consideration a new club proposal, he had initially rejected it quite harshly.

“Who would join this?” he smiled. To be quite honest he had found the idea of a gardening club maintaining potted flowers and vegetables on the school’s old rundown rooftop greenhouse to be pretty wholesome, but did not think it held quite the right formality to be taken as seriously as other clubs if presented to the rest of the student government. Everyone was way too stressed and busy with exams to waste time playing with dirt.

He eyed the proposal form meticulously, looking for the student’s name, but to no avail.

“Who submitted this?” he asked, looking up from the table for the first time since lunch began.

“I just thought it’d be a nice stress reliever for everyone,” you replied, now feeling a lot less confident than when you had slid the piece of paper in front of him.

Your shy look told Seungmin he had probably hurt your pride just now, something that he would never mean to do on purpose of course, and now he felt the remorse creeping up on him. Perhaps the club wouldn’t be such a bad thing, he thought over. Maybe tweaking the name just a bit would make it sound more worthwhile to students.

He sighed.

“Put your name on it and change the name to an Environmental Awareness Club, something along those lines at least. We can present the idea at today's meeting.”

Headstrong and confident as always, Seungmin brought a smile to your face as you reached over into your bag to fish out a pen and correct the form.

Seungmin had always been this closed off and serious, never speaking informally to you, and never wasting his words, he was the most concise and careful speaker you had ever met. And for some reason this only drew you in. His big brain energy was just that attractive.

On the other side of the table, Seungmin took notice of your surge in mood and smiled to himself, relieved to have boosted your spirit.

-

The board hardly agreed to the proposal until Seungmin cut in and beautifully explained the benefits of gardening and plants on stress relief and the ideologies of being environmentally conscious at your age.

After that everyone was pretty much sold on the idea with just one condition. Miroh High’s new Environmental Awareness Club would have to be established in time for the annual club fair in two weeks. Meaning, recruitment of leading members, supplies and set up on the rooftop would have to be set by at least next week to be considered for the school’s extensive list of beneficial extracurricular activities for students.

The condition was enough to falter even Seungmin’s confidence. He was unsure if you’d manage to do all that on your own in just a week, especially with your rather quiet tendencies, he doubted you could recruit many students in such a small amount of time.

He looked over at you, almost as if asking for your approval, to which he caught your lingering gaze on him, a look he had never seen coming from you. You slightly nodded your head once in agreement to the ruling and Seungmin politely shook his head towards the rest of the government board members, bowing as he took his seat once again.

Seungmin had made your dream gardening club a hopeful reality, you just needed more people now, that was the only problem. Still, you imagined having Seungmin join and coming along to your gardening club, gently taking care of a flower. No, a vegetable, you decided. Seungmin would prefer a vegetable, it’d be more practical of him.

-

The day following your ‘environmental awareness club” approval was a Friday. Your designated study session with Seungmin was as always to take place in the library after classes had ended, only today he had opted to stay behind a bit and insisted you meet there in thirty minutes instead.

“I’m helping Han with cleaning duty today, so I’ll meet you there,” he explained, before he stood up from his seat making way for the desk behind you.

Behind you, a certain Han Jisung had sat for the last 3 years of school in which somehow you two were always assigned the same classroom and the same seating order, you in front, him right behind you.

Today Jisung was dead asleep, as he usually was after a math lesson. The sight made you smile, Seungmin lightly shaking his friend awake as a very disoriented Jisung began to stretch and groan from his interruption.

Jisung was actually a very close friend of Seungmin’s. Very unexpected given their contrasting qualities. Sometimes opposites just attract huh. Seungmin could never sleep in class, for instance, while Jisung might as well have brought a pillow on the daily.

You knew Jisung wasn’t exactly the most driven student either, but his rank had miraculously never sunk below 10, he was just naturally smart that way. He also never bothered with extracurriculars much, claiming music was all he cared enough for to ever sign up for. Overall, Jisung was an unexpectedly exceptional student with lazy tendencies and not much academic ambition, a striking polar to Seungmin.

After watching the scene unfold, you stood up yourself and made your way towards the vending machine to pass the time waiting for Seungmin before heading to the library. You decided on a small bag of chips and two cookies. You also decided to save one for Seungmin, even though you weren’t supposed to eat in the library, you figured he could save it for afterwards or something.

Unbeknownst to you, Seungmin would later take this small offering in a different light.

Because you see, Seungmin had experienced a fair amount of admirers in his time and had been used to the small gifts given to him by more brazen ones before. In combination with the lingering gazes he felt you giving him both yesterday and now today, he was worried the same was occurring once again. Only this time he didn’t know to go about it. Usually he would simply refuse their gestures with a polite apology and it’d be enough to kindly reject them. But he was unsure this time. Not because he felt anything of the sort towards you, no, Seungmin was much too busy for romantic gestures and feelings to eat up his time, but rather because you were simply so close to him. Not in the personal sense, but in the academic proximity sense of closeness. If he were to “kindly reject you”, would you avoid him like his other past admirers often decide to do? That would make a lot of student government stuff difficult. He suddenly wondered if he could have led you on at all, had he been too kind towards you lately? His racing thoughts spiralling into a mess of ‘what ifs’ were fortunately cut short.

“Are you alright Seungmin? You haven’t finished the problem set yet.” you inquired. Seungmin was usually the one to finish long before you, especially if it was math.

He’d looked over at the fully scribbled page of your workbook, realizing his distraction.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“No problem,” you replied, glancing towards our watch briefly. It was just nearing the time the school’s library closed and you had planned to leave a bit earlier to make a quick trip to the plant nursery just a few minutes off your route home, you had thought your study session would have ended by now.

“Do you need to go,” Seungmin voiced, noticing a slight impatience in the bounce of your knee.

You thanked Seungmin’s impeccable attention, you couldn’t find it in you to excuse yourself when he still hadn’t finished.

“I’m heading to the nursery today for some supplies for the club,” you unconsciously checked the time once again.

“We can look over the answers Monday if you like? I got a little distracted today…” Seungmin trailed off.

It was unusual for Seungmin to trail off his sentences and get distracted and for a second you worried for him and wanted to ask if anything was bothering him.

Only, you stopped yourself. You didn’t know Seungmin like that. It would be inappropriate and insensitive to ask him something like that, right? You decided it was best to let it go, everyone has off days after all. Even the amazing Seungmin isn’t immune to them.

“I’ll leave first then,” you offered, bidding him a polite bow of the head before slinging your bag over our shoulder and making your way out of the library.

Seungmin watched you walk towards the door, unconsciously biting his inner cheek, he felt... worried, that was the best fitting word, he would say, only he wasn’t completely sure that was what the heavy weight in the pit of his stomach really was.

When you had disappeared down the hall, Seungmin slumped his head down onto the table heaving a deep sigh.

[twokinkybeans]

Seven Inches - Starker Tailor!AU

Find it here on AO3

Wrote this piece for the lovely bean Lien for a very unplanned fic exchanged that somehow blew itself into existence! <3 She needed a tailor!au in her life. Well, here ya go sweetie!

Summary: Peter's hands are a little shaky as he wraps the tape measure around Tony’s chest and huffs a frustrated breath when the tips of his fingers slip past his ribcage. “Kid, it’s okay. You can touch me,” Tony smirks, clearly amused at Peter’s awkward attempts to avoid touching him.

-

Aside from being in college and keeping his neighborhood safe in the evening hours, Peter Parker works in May's Tailoring shop as a Tailor In Learning. One day, Tony Stark, Peter's all-time-favorite idol, sets foot in the shop. It doesn't take long for Peter to figure out Tony wants more than a suit.

---

Seven Inches

Peter hums along with the soft beat of Señorita as he hits the ‘send’ button for yet another order. The man that had been here earlier had wanted a special jacquard wedding suit. Peter loves tailoring wedding suits. Loves it when his customers have specific requests. In the end, they opted for a black tropical print as that matches the man’s dark slicked-back hair perfectly. The print is going to look perfect on the jacquard fabric and he can’t wait to see the end result of this particular piece. He hopes the man will love it but he feels pretty sure about this one. He glances at the clock behind him and smiles. Two more hours to kill before he gets to go home and finally play that new video game with Ned. His best friend had been bragging about for weeks in a row now. It’s hard balancing working in May’s shop, attending lectures, and studying to pass his exams and on top of that also being Spider-Man at night. Ned understands that Peter doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with him, but whenever they do it’s definitely some high-end quality time. 

Peter looks up startled at the jingling noise indicating that another customer has walked into the shop. Peter looks up from his clipboard and a smile immediately finds its way onto his face. After years of working in May’s shop, it has become an automatic reaction. A Pavlov reaction to the bell. Peter grins at the thought. “Good afternoon, Sir, welcome to-” Peter’s voice catches in his throat when he sees that the man is no one other than Mr. Tony Stark. He gulps and mentally kicks himself for his reaction. “-welcome to May’s Tailoring, how may I help you?” Mr. Stark sends him his characteristically charming smirk and doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he eyes at Peter, causing the boy’s cheeks to flush. “You’re not May Parker, are you?” Peter is dumbfounded for a moment until he spots the man’s playful demeanor and laughter bubbles up in his throat. He shakes his head sheepishly and relaxes. “No, Sir. Peter. Peter Parker. I work here every now and then.” “How convenient. You’re her son?” “Nephew.” “Fair, fair-” Tony teases and walks up to the counter, still eyeing him. “We must’ve missed each other the other times I’ve been here, I-”

“You’ve been here?” Peter blurts only then realizing his mistake. “I-I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to pry, I just-” Peter cuts himself off before he makes this situation even worse. He always told himself he’d act cool if he would ever meet his idol. Well, so far for keeping it casual. Mr. Stark must get this all the time and Peter wishes he’d been able to contain himself instead of exposing his inner fangirl from the very first second. Tony waves it off nonchalantly. “Don’t stress it, kid. I’m flattered.” He clears his throat to break the slight tension. “I need a new suit, obviously. Do you take measurements too or are you only in here for sales?” “No, no I do. Aren’t your measurements in our system already, Mr. S-” “No.” Peter cocks an eyebrow at the man and the billionaire rolls his eyes. “Well, they are. However, I’m not exactly consistent in my health habits so,” he gestures at his own body. “-I want to make sure it actually fits.” “Of course. What are you looking for?” Peter opens the right tab in the computer’s system to fill our the information and have a quick check at the old numbers anyways. Any reference would only make his job easier. He can’t believe May never told him about this. She knows just how obsessed he is with the CEO of Stark Industries, or Iron Man. Both. The dark-haired man in front of him is both genius and hot. Peter looks up to him, only hoping to ever be that smart or handsome. He sighs quietly and a faint smile plays on his lips. This, this is exactly why his aunt kept it in the dark.

“Well, I have this stupid gala coming up and I’m looking for a royal blue lounge suit. Preferably with three buttons, single-breasted. The linen May used last time was perfect, is it still available?” Peter quickly scribbles down the man’s requests on the little notepad he keeps at the counter and then glances up at the screen to figure out what exact fabric the man’s talking about. “Oh, I’m afraid that one only comes in either burgundy, black, or a cloudy gray. We do have a very similar fabric that might come in blue, let me check, and-” “Burgundy.” “What?” “I’ll go with burgundy. I love that fabric and I don’t think I own any piece of clothing in that color yet.” “Are you sure, Mr. Stark? It really is no big deal to find something blue,” Peter tries, not wanting to make the man feel as if there are no options to choose from. Heck. The options are endless for a man so wealthy. Tony shakes his head adamantly.  “I want this one.”

Peter shrugs as he decides not to question nor judge the man’s impulsive choice and he picks up his pen to cross ‘royal blue’ and add ‘burgundy’ instead. He opens the top right drawer to take the tape measure - which of course isn’t there. Tony snorts at Peter’s displeased face. “You’re exactly like your aunt.” “She’s the only reason things are never where they’re supposed to be.” Peter sighs, his tone playful though. He loves his aunt, and there should be enough tape measures around the shop to make up for the one he can’t find right now. They’re scattered everywhere. “I should be able to find one… Here!” Peter grins triumphantly as he grabs one from the bottom shelf in the closet behind him.  “Let’s get to the back, Mr. Stark.” “Tony, call me Tony.”

Peter has to force himself to not stare at Mr. Stark’s gorgeous body in front of him. All the man is wearing now are the tight black boxers and it has Peter half-hard in his jeans. He can’t stop glancing sideways as he expertly takes the necessary measurements for the sleeves and shoulders of the lounge suit. Blushing every time his finger’s brush past Tony’s warm skin. He tries. He really tries to keep his hands from touching but completely dodging it is simply impossible with this job. He scribbles down the numbers on his little notepad and bites down his lips as he realizes the next step is the man’s chest. His waist. His hips and then, oh god, his thighs. Peter gulps as he steps towards Tony’s right side. He’s a professional. He’s done this countless times. Fuck, May trusts him to run the shop by himself, and here he is, thinking the most inappropriate thoughts about the richest man of the States. He has to get a grip on himself, but it sure doesn’t help that the man stars basically all of his dirty little fantasies. His hands are a little shaky as he wraps the tape around Tony’s chest and huffs a frustrated breath when the tips of his fingers slip past his ribcage. “Kid, it’s okay. You can touch me,” Tony smirks, clearly amused at Peter’s awkward attempts to avoid touching him. “Mr. Sta- Tony. I’m so sorry. I don’t usually get like, well, this-” his cheeks flush even more and he groans. He couldn’t even keep his mouth shut if his life would depend on it.  “Mmh-” Tony hums playfully. “-get on with it then.” Peter looks up at Tony’s face and the blatant flirtatious grin knocks the air out his lungs. Oh, God. This isn’t happening. He feels the little surge of arousal in his groin and licks his lips, casting his eyes down at hands. At the number that indicates the perimeter of Tony’s chest. Right. He’s taking measurements. The sooner he finishes this, the sooner he can forget about his embarrassing behavior.

“I’m just gonna…” his voice trails off and he bites down on his lip as he sinks down onto one knee at Tony’s side. Peter wraps the tape around Tony’s thigh shakily and he’s ashamed to admit he loves the strong, lean muscles underneath his touch. Tony shifts his weight, causing the muscles to tense, and Peter nearly gasps. “Boy, you alright down there?” “Yes, yes Sir. I-” “Tell me, kid. How old are you?” Peter’s head shoots up at that, searching the man’s face. He isn’t exactly certain why the man is asking him that. He has an idea, though, and the mere thought has his breath hitch in his throat. “I’m nineteen, Sir.” “Good to know. Now, finish up.” “Of course,” Peter rushes out and scribbles down the number. The stern order finally clearing his mind a little and his hands find back their usual rhythm. It doesn’t take long for him to finish. His eyes scan past the page quickly to see if there’s anything he’s missed, but nope, he’s all good like that, so he gets up from the floor, taking a step back.

“Alright, Tony, you can uh, dress again. I’ll see you at the counter to discuss the details.” “Sure thing, Peter.” The man doesn’t move though and Peter wonders what would happen if he’d drop to his knees again. Would Tony take the offer? He wants to ask. He’s so close to actually going for it. He can’t, though. He wouldn’t be able to stand the rejection. This is Tony fucking Stark, and he’s just some kid working in his aunt’s shop. Surely Tony must’ve had better offers. Without another word, he turns his back to Mr. Stark and makes his way to the counter to fill out the digital form to complete the order.

He almost asked the man to fuck him, and he’s not sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed that he didn’t. 

-

“May?” Peter squeaks and he groans at the way his voice betrays him. He hopes May will simply see it as his usual nervous babbling and won’t blink an eye. “Can I work this Thursday?” May looks up from her iPad and smirks, rolling her eyes at him. Peter blushes. She knows what he’s up to. “This is why I didn’t tell you, Pete.” “I know, I know!” He exclaims and sinks into the couch. “But now that I found out, surely you can’t deny me that little bit of pleasure?” May grins at him, shaking her head. “Fine, fine, I’ll take a day off. God, he’s sexy isn’t he?” His aunt wiggles her eyebrows at him. “May!” She laughs and Peter blushes. She found out just how deep his obsession with the billionaire ran one day a couple years ago when she walked in on him jerking off to one of his many posters. It’s hands down one of the most embarrassing moments of his entire life. She didn’t judge him for it, though, Peter is still very grateful about that. It also had been his coming-out to her, the first time he ever told anyone he’s gay. She simply gave him time to get dressed and then they talked about it for a bit. No matter how mortifying the start of the conversation had been, the moment definitely made him grow a stronger bond with her. She’s so much more than his aunt now. She’s his big sister. His friend. Maybe even his parent - something he still finds hard to wrap his head around but it’s the truth.

“Well, isn’t he? I don’t believe you didn’t watch at his abs.” “Hnnngh, I did actually.” “See?” “Fuck, he’s hot, May.” Peter groans, hugging a pillow into his chest. “Should I even help him again? Isn’t that like, against tailor-ethics?” “Oh you, don’t worry so much about it. Just don’t do anything stupid.” She pauses for a moment and Peter figures he shouldn’t tell her how he almost offered the man to fuck him right there and then. “No matter how cocky the man presents himself, he’s not like that at all.” “What do you mean?” “I can’t say I know him, but… I’d say deep down he’s genuinely a sweet man.”

Those are the words that echo in his mind when Tony walks into the shop that Thursday. Peter musters a smile onto his face and can’t help the tingly feeling from spreading through his chest when he sees Tony’s eyes light up as he spots Peter behind the counter. “Morning, kid!” “Good morning, Sir.” Peter beams, knowing he doesn’t have to address Tony like that. He wants to, though. It has a nice ring to it. “You’re too polite for your own good, kid,” Tony grunts, walking up to him. “-good to see you again though. I was hoping you would be here.” “You were?” “Yeah.” Tony sniffs and leans forward on the counter. Peter’s breath catches in his throat. The man’s face mere inches away. His eyes so daring and playful that Peter is almost dreading the next string of words. “You’re cute.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn up and he swallows, a sudden bold feeling overcoming him when he too leans on the counter and grins. “What exactly are you implying here, Mr. Stark?” The man grins at the question.  “I like boys like you, Peter. Young. Handsome. Cute.” Tony licks his lips and stands up straight again. “I’m no predator, though. I’ve laid out my cards, and I’m leaving the choice up to you.” Peter can’t believe what he’s hearing. Can’t believe how straightforward Tony is. Oh God, Mr. Stark thinks he’s handsome and cute. Fuckable.  “I-I-” he stutters, fingers digging into the counter, only to let go quickly. He doesn’t want to accidentally break the wood with his super strength. Tony doesn’t give him time to answer. “So, how’s my suit?”

Peter inhales sharply, trying to recompose himself. He’s at work. He should do his damned job. May wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t.  “You can try it on in the back. There’s a large mirror directly on the right. Call me if you need me.” Peter picks the right suit from the rack behind him and hands it to Tony. Smiling innocently. Two can play a game. He knows the man has worn so many suits in his life that he would never actually need Peter’s help. He hopes Tony will pretend, though, pretend not to know how it works. Calling for Peter to rescue him. He sighs out loud, glancing at the doors. Peter isn’t usually very confident with things like these, but Tony is so clearly hitting on him that he wants their little game to continue. Please, please call out for me.

“Peter? I think I need some help.”

-

Ever since that day, Peter checks May’s work schedule obsessively. She notices but doesn’t really comment on it. She’s sweet like that. Peter knows Tony could drop in without an appointment as well, like last time. He tries to work as many shifts as he can with his college schedule. Just in case. Just in case the man will step in to demand yet another suit. Peter’s not gonna lie, he’s been watching the new interview with Mr. Stark where he actually wears the burgundy suit they had with him right before the gala. The color just fits so well with the man’s tanned skin and his dark hair. Watching him wear it makes Peter’s mind flash back to the teasing that occurred in the shop and he can’t help think of it as his suit. Peter’s.

Peter is actually splayed out on his bed now. He’s got half an hour to kill before he leaves to the shop again so he scrolls through Tony’s Instagram account, gawking over the beautiful pictures from the same night. He remembers his fingers brushing past the man’s skin. Remembers kneeling, feeling his strong thighs flexing underneath his touch. Most of all, he remembers the soft “Pretty boy,” the man had whispered, fingers dragging through his curls while Peter had checked how well the suit fits him.  It’s been three weeks. Three long weeks in which Peter has jerked off every single night just thinking about those words. Imagining how it’d feel to have the man pushed balls deep inside of him. His fingers swipe up on the phone screen and tap on his contact list, scrolling down until he sees Tony’s name appear on the screen. He knows it’s not exactly fair but he saved it in his phone from the information Tony gave them for the shop’s clientele system. Tony’s only one call away.  However, Peter can’t bring himself to follow through. He hates it. He hates how he doubts everything. He isn’t sure whether he just wants to fuck the man or go on a date with him. Perhaps both. Maybe nothing at all. He’s worried he only likes the man because he’s been idolizing him for years now. Because when he thinks about it, even in the store, they haven’t actually talked much. Some jokes here and there, some basic information he needed for the suit and the sexual innuendo from last time. That’s it.  But then, people fuck actual strangers. Peter at least knows who this is. That’s already a plus, right? Gosh, sleeping around has never been this difficult. Not that he’s done it often but it’d definitely been different.

He sighs, dragging his ass out of bed to leave for the shop. The longer he waits here the more he’ll start to doubt himself. At least work will distract him for a bit. With Valentine’s Day coming up there are more requests than usual and Peter loves keeping busy. He fastens the shoelaces tightly and smiles at himself in the mirror, readjusting the collar of his white button-up shirt.  “May, I’m off!” “Wait- Pete hold up!” May’s voice comes from the kitchen and he cocks an eyebrow as he waits for her to catch up with him. “I just got a phone call. Guess who?” Peter’s eyes widen. Either it’s Mrs. Cortes from the apartment beneath them or Mr. Stark. Seeing the shimmer in May’s eyes, it’s the latter. “No way!” “Yes, Peter. He asked for you, specifically. He’s coming in at two for a new suit.” Peter’s mind is spinning. He’s seeing his crush again. Tony Stark asked for him. “Peter, is there something going on that I should know about?” “No? I mean? I don’t know?” May raises her eyebrows at him and Peter groans. “I think he wants to fuck me?” “What?! Peter!” “I know! I don’t know!” He exclaims and adjusts the backpack sliding off his shoulder. “He’s been hinting at it?” “And you want him to, that’s why you’ve been working at the shop so much lately.” May groans and shakes her head. “Peter, I don’t even know what to say. Did something happen?” Peter shakes his head frantically, blushing. “Just… Flirting.” “Flirting. You’ve been flirting with our most important customer.” “He started it!” May huffs at his words and Peter knows he fucked up big time. “Look, May, I’m sorry-” “Peter. I don’t… I’m not angry with you. It’s just...” May sighs and Peter presses his lips together. “Mr. Stark is handsome. Sexy. I know that he’s your superhero and all that. He’s charming and sweet, but I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

What?

“You’re not going to fire me?” “No. I guess I’m not. I probably should, but, you’re old enough to decide who and who not to fuck. And I can’t blame you for wanting to ride his di-” “May!” Peter’s cheeks are glowing hot with embarrassment now. “What? I’ve been young too. You think I never did anything like that?” Peter squeezes his eyes shut to banish the intrusive images from his thoughts. He did not want to know that. “Just be careful. He’s more than twice your age. I want you to really think about this.” May sighs, shaking her head. “And please lock the door, I don’t need to lose customers to this.” Peter can’t believe what she’s saying. Is she really telling him to go for it?  “May, I don’t-” May simply grins at him and presses a kiss on Peter’s forehead.  “Have a good day at work, honey!”

It’s safe to say Peter anxiously waits for 2 pm to come around. He’s a wreck. Now that May knows about this it’s so real. So very real that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s an easy day, only one appointment at 10 am for a simple black tux. The man bought one by himself but the sleeves were two inches too long. He promised the man it would be ready tomorrow and Peter was thanked for the quick service. Peter mindlessly worked on both sleeves and stored the jacket away carefully when he was done. May still needs to teach him a lot, but the sleeve work is something he can do himself. He stares at the clock. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes until Mr. Stark will walk in here again. God. Peter is horny. And scared. What if it’d been nothing more than a silly game? But then, the man had told him he’d wait for Peter to make a move. That seemed to be a pretty serious offer. 

Right?

The door jingles and Peter jumps up startled, his head whipping around only to find the devil himself standing in the doorway. Peter gulps. He’s wearing the burgundy suit. Tony Stark is wearing his suit. “H-Hello, Mr. Stark,” he stammers. “You’re early.” “I arrived precisely when I meant to,” Tony joked, referring Lord Of The Rings, and Peter can’t help chuckling at that.  “Didn’t take you for such a nerd.” Peter snorts and visibly relaxes now that Tony is actually here. The man fake-gasps. “Did you just call me out on my fantastic taste in movies?” “I may have.” “Well, then you’re a nerd too. Knew that from day one though.” Tony jests. Peter raises an eyebrow at him and shakes his head slightly. “What gave it away?” “Are you aware that you wear batman vans to work?” Peter blushes and glances down at his feet. Dammit. He wears the pair so mindlessly that he hadn’t given it a second thought. Ever. Okay, he is a nerd. 

“So, how can I help you, Gandalf?” Tony snickers and shakes his head.  “Need a new suit.” “Something wrong with this one?” Peter waves at the burgundy one he’s wearing now. “No, I love it. I’ve got a little press conference coming up though, and well, I need to spend my money on something now don’t I? I was thinking a deep blue tweed suit. Do you two work with that?” “A tweed suit? I- Yes, we do.” Peter scribbles it down again and then searches for all the possible options in the system. “Alright for deep blue we have two options.” Peter turns the screen around so Tony can see. “The first one is woven using the herringbone structure. The color is slightly darker than… This one, woven using a twill structure. It might feel more sturdy but the color is lighter.” “Which one do you recommend?” “Depends. Herringbone is classier, twill more casual. Most people won’t see the difference...” “But you do.” “I do.”

It’s silent for a moment. Somehow, those words were spoken like a confession and they both feel it. Peter looks up at Tony and sends him a little smile before reaching for the tape measure that’s dangling from his neck this time.  “Peter,” Tony breathes, his nostrils flaring. “-is this you making your choice?” “Well, Mr. Stark…” Peter grins and walks to the entrance. The loud click when he turns the key is his answer. He turns the sign, stating that the shop is now closed. When he turns around again, he tilts his head slightly.  “Follow me.” Peter walks past Tony, not waiting for the man’s response. This is his chance. He knows the man wants him.

“Alright. If you would please undress yourself, Sir? I can take your measurements.” Tony raises his eyebrows at him. “You already have my-” “Wouldn’t want to risk your suit not fitting due to your fluctuating health habits now would we.” Peter teases, repeating the words Tony had spoken to him the first time. Tony licks his lips and moves his hands up to unbutton the burgundy jacket. Peter watches how Tony undresses himself slowly. He’s not even trying to be sexy about it. Quiet. Practical. Almost authoritative and Peter’s already hard again. When the man pushes the pants down, Peter’s pleased to see the man is hard too. And fuck, he’s… Well, big. “Get to it, boy.”  “Yes, Sir.” Peter rushes and he takes the tape between both his hands to work through the little measuring ritual. Just as he did the first time. As he always does. Starting with the wrists, lower arm length, upper arm length. This time he doesn’t try to minimize the contact with Tony’s skin. The opposite. He takes every chance he gets to trails his fingertips past the man’s body.  He deliberately steps in front of the man when he measures his chest. It’s unprofessional to stand in front of a customer instead of at the side, and yet that’s why it feels so exhilarating. He takes a step closer as he wraps the tape around the man’s hips, his hands lingering just above the hem of Tony’s underwear. He doesn’t cave in yet. Instead, he looks up at Tony who’s staring back at him, eyes full of lust. “I just need to measure your legs, Sir.” “Get on your knees, then.” Peter moans and obeys, slowly sinking down until his knees hit the floor. His face is just inches away from Tony’s crotch but he doesn’t break eye contact with the man towering over him. “That’s it,” Tony coos, his hand reaching out for Peter’s curls. The boy gasps when Tony grabs a handful and tugs slightly. “Such a pretty boy.”

The sparks that rush down Peter’s spine have him gasp. For the first time he realizes how this man will be a complete different fuck than than the handful he’s had. This man is older. Has a shit ton of experience. He’s impatiently patient. He’s going to make Peter work for it and the thought alone sets off another surge of desire coursing through his veins. His hands are sweaty and trembling as he brings them up to circle the tape around Tony’s strong thigh.  “You’re so strong, Mr. Stark.” “You like that?” “Mh-mh, I do.” “If you’re good for me and finish the measurements, I may just allow you to kiss them.” Peter whines at the blatant promise and his hands move down, mindlessly finishing up his measuring series. He can’t really concentrate on it. All he notices is how the grip in his hair changes, tugging more, making him tip his head to expose his neck. Pushing him down, making him bow. He’s a puppet, Tony controls his every single move. He’s never submitted to someone so easily and he’s never loved it as much as he does now.  “Peter, look at me.” Tony forces Peter’s head to tip back and he gasps, staring up with his big brown eyes. With his free hand, Tony pushes his boxers down and Peter nearly chokes at the sight of just how big he actually is. It’s a beautiful cock. Hard, fierce, massive. Peter wants to taste it. Wants to lap his tongue at the hot skin to taste the salty precum.  “Measure it.” “Wh-” “I’m not repeating myself.” Tony smirks and Peter shuffles closer. Bringing his hands up carefully. He whimpers when his fingers touch the cock as he presses the tape against both the base and the tip. “Tell me how big it is, Peter.” Peter moans as he looks at the number. Oh god, that’s bigger than average for sure. “S-Seven inches, Sir.” “Have you ever had anyone that big?” “No, I haven’t.” “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you, sugar.” Tony growls. He opens his free hand and curls his fingers in a demanding motion. “Give me the tape measure.” Peter easily complies and gives it to Tony. The man grins and wraps it around Peter’s neck to pull him in closer. Peter wants to lean in, wants to take that pretty cock into his mouth so badly, but the grip in his hair holds him back. “You sure you want this, Peter? Do I have your full consent?” Peter nods furiously. Yes, he wants this. Wants everything. “Yes, Mr. Stark. I do.” “Good. Suck.” Tony yanks the boy forward using both the tape around Peter’s neck and the grip in his curls. Peter gasps, scrambling forward and parting his lips to catch the man’s cock in his mouth. He moans, lips closing around the soft flesh and drags his tongue across the tip, eliciting a moan from Tony. Oh god. He just made Tony Stark moan. For him. The thought spurs him on and he sinks deeper onto it, loving how it fills his mouth. He’s got the worst gag reflex, already knows he won’t be able to take it fully, but he sure as fuck knows how to work his tongue to make the man’s knees buckle.

“Oh, oh damn, boy, you’re so fucking good at this. Been wanting this the second I laid my eyes on your pretty face.” Peter whines around the cock and shuffles closer. He doesn’t use his hands, somehow he knows Tony wouldn’t allow him to if he tried. He’s bobbing his head up and down, the musky smell pleasing him to his very core as he manages to suck deeper and deeper with each thrust the man makes. “I want you to touch yourself, dear. Take that cock out and stroke it for me. Don’t go slow. I want you to wreck yourself, understood?” Peter nods as much as he physically can in this position and moves both his hands down. Quickly unbuckling the belt and shoving the fabric down just enough for his hard-on to jump free. His right hand wraps around it and he strokes. Hard. And fast. And rough. Making himself see stars the way Tony told him to. His eyes flutter shut. It’s overwhelming. The rumbling grunts rolling of Mr. Stark’s tongue while the grip in Peter’s hair tightens. The burning pit in his stomach that only burns up more and more and more the faster he strokes himself. He wants to swallow every last bit Tony will give him. He swirls his tongue around the head, sucking and hollowing his cheeks. Gasping, moaning, taking and taking and taking what the man gives him. 

“Are you close, boy?” Peter nods desperately. He doesn’t stop, though, doesn’t stop from flicking his thumb around the head, squeezing his own shaft with every little pump. Hips bucking wildly into his touch. His moans muffled by Tony’s hips thrusting forward in a fast, unforgiving pace. “I want you to come like this, baby. Desperate and needy and without shame.” Peter mumbles a short please around Tony’s cock. He’s not sure if the man got it, but, his eagerness as he keeps going down on the man clear enough. “Fuck, sugar, ‘m gonna cum inside of you. You’re gonna take it all, uh? Isn’t this what you’ve been dreaming of? Being used by me? I can hear the fucking awe in your voice when you speak my name. You were ready for me before I even met you.” Yes, yes, yes! Peter gasps, abs clenching tight as he collapses forward. His hands moving up and down in a killer pace until-

“F-fc!” His broken curse around Mr. Stark’s cock when he spills his cum on the tile floor. Another spurt leaves him. And another. His thighs are trembling and his mind is spinning. The explosion in his stomach is so wonderfully sweet and he feels so filthy and good and used in the exact way he loves it so much. Tony growls at the sight.  “Good boy, Pete. Fuck, good boy. ” Peter doesn’t exactly follow what happens next, but suddenly Tony is no longer holding the tape around his neck. Both his hands tangled into his hair tightly to fuck his mouth, pounding into him relentlessly. Peter just submits to the complete and utter control the man has over him. Moving his face where he wants him. Setting the pace. “Yes, oh, you’re going to swallow for me, pretty little thing. Feel so good, so hot around me. Prettiest mouth I’ve ever had. You’re perfect, Peter. Fucking p-perfect, I’m go-” Tony’s voice breaks off into a loud growl, hips stuttering and rolling forward desperately. “Take it, take it! I- Aaah!” Peter’s eyes widen when he feels the hot load spill into his mouth. The familiar taste exploding on his taste buds. He whimpers, swallowing. His mind hazy and floaty and he just wants to devour every single drop of it. Make the man proud. Please him. 

Peter moans quietly when he feels the man’s cock softening up in his mouth. He’s not sure why he’s still on his knees. Still gently suckling on the hot, sticky skin. All he knows is that he feels good. That he doesn’t want this feeling to end. He’s never had such good sex and jokes on him, it’d been nothing more than a quick blowjob. It’s only when Tony gently tugs on his hair that he opens his eyes again, staring up at the man when the cock slips out. A soft breath leaving his slightly parted lips. His jaws ache and he loves it. Loves the enamored look the man sends his way. “Peter, sweetheart…” Tony whispers. “Are you alright down there?” Peter nods, a smile playing on his lips as he closes them. He nuzzles his face into the man’s leg. Only vaguely aware that he might be displaying a tad too much affection for someone he barely knows. He simply feels so happy. “I feel good, Mr. Stark.”  “God, you’re precious.” Tony kneels down as well, cradling Peter into his arms. Stroking his back, whispering the sweetest praise into his ears until slowly the veil lifts from his mind and he becomes aware of his surroundings again. The tape measure dangling from his neck once more, the cum staining on the tiles. The fact that he just fucked Tony Stark in his aunt’s tailoring shop. Oh my- “W-We should probably get dressed before anyone wonders why we’re closed,” Peter mumbles and he slowly leans back from the embrace, smiling at Tony apologetically. He slides his cock back into his jeans and buckles his belt tightly. Tony nods. “Of course. I… Should probably get dressed too.”

They don’t speak when Tony dresses, when Peter grabs a towel and soap to clean up the little mess he made. Not when they walk back to the counter and Peter finishes Tony’s order for the tweed suit. He’s not so sure what to say. Doesn’t know why he’s so silent all of a sudden. What could he say? Thank you, Mr. Stark, that was the best fuck of my pathetic little life. See you never? It’s Tony who breaks the silence. “Are you alright, kid?” “Y-Yes. I’m just finishing up this section of the form and then I can send-” “Peter, look at me.” Peter looks up reluctantly. The man is so fucking gorgeous in the burgundy suit. Peter doesn’t know how he’ll ever find someone to live this up with. “I… Here, this is my business card. It uh, has my phone number on there in case you- well.” Tony sniffs. “I guess I’m telling you to call me if you ever want to come by my penthouse.” Peter’s eyes open wide.  “You’d want to do this again?” Tony nods.  “I like you. You’re pretty, funny, nerdy enough for my liking. You’re smart, I can tell. And that mouth of yours…” Tony grins. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that, Sir.” “I like it when you call me that.” “I like calling you that.” 

They’re silent again for a moment. Now that the sexual tension is out of their system - already building again a bit - Peter feels so many things and he can see the same emotions cross Tony’s eyes. He wonders what it means. Wonders how badly he wants to find out. “Please, Peter. Give me a call.” “I will,” Peter whispers, but he looks up at Tony and smiles widely. More resolutely, he repeats himself. “I will.”

“So,” Peter chuckles as he hands Tony the receipt for the tweed suit. He doesn’t tell Tony he completely forgot to write down any of the measurements he did, but he’s fairly sure that the man’s body didn’t change that much in just three weeks time so he used the once he took before. “-what are you doing tonight?” “Oh, it’s nothing. Some shit for the Avengers.” Peter’s cheeks flush. Oh, how he wishes he could ever be a part of it. He never thought he’d get the chance, but now that he knows Tony Stark personally. Who knows if he ever has the guts to ask. “Avengers? Is there a threat?” “No, no, nothing to worry about. There’s someone I want to recruit. You may have heard of him, some dude calling himself Spider-Man? He’s…” Peter freezes. He doesn’t quite follow what Tony says next. So casually. So- unwavering. He should come clean. He has to, he has to, he has to!” “I-I’m Spider-Man!” He squeaks. The look on Tony’s face is priceless. “Fuck, well kid, welcome to the team.”

---

Part Two: Inch By Inch

Are you curious about the Stripper/Prostitute!AU Lien wrote for the fic exchange? Find it here! Seriously, it’s amazing.

[basia2002ib]

Profile & summary of my CAS

Learning outcomes

All in all I can say I achieved all learning outcomes. 

1. I identified own strengths and developed areas for growth. I got involved in activities that based on my prevailing skills but opened new ways to develop. Language can be deepened without limits; although I have got a certified C2 level in German I can still develop my skills and I continued to do so throughout my CAS.

2. I have undertaken a range of challenges, for instance passing a C2 exam in German seemed outlandish at first but then I got used to the idea and focused all my efforts to pursuing this goal. And I did it, even though it might seem abstract. I wanted to challenge myself to spice up my life a little bit and grow personally from the process. Now I can see a difference - my German language skills developed to such degree that when I am reading literature in German now I see an immense difference - now I can easily spot nuances and extract the deep meaning.

3. I initiated and planned CAS experiences thoroughly. I am a pragmatic person who tends to stick to the plan because it gives direction. CAS stages came naturally to me, I did not have to force them because they are inherent parts of planning process. My intellectual challenges undertaken in German - 2 competition and one language certificate required detailed planning for adequate preparation. Also my internship in the foundation required planning and time-management skills as I had to combine it with my various initiatives and rigorous IB programme. CAS stages were useful to plan my CAS project as well - I was in MUN staff, which means I coorganized WawMUN 2019.

4. Commitment and perseverance are prerequisite for success. I understand it therefore in every action I take these factors resonate. Otherwise I would accomplish my goals such as honours in German, I would not be able to play volleyball in the first-line up or I would not fulfill my demanding duties throughout my internship effectively. These are only examples of actions where I used my commitment and perseverance to succeed.

5. I saw benefits of working collaboratively during the WawMUN 2019 conference, which I organized as my CAS project but also in my internship in the foundation and my service as a student goverment vice president. In the student government we need to rely on one another and have each other’s back. We do share responsibilities to make sure nothing is neglected. We help each other and in case of emergency may replace one another either during a debate or while discussing issues with the head mistress. Throughout my internship I served as an assistant therefore I needed to adjust to the current responsibilities. I was instructed by more experienced employees all the way and assigned tasks. WawMUN conference is the biggest MUN in Poland therefore the organization process is complicated and required the division of tasks. If we did not trust each other and if we did not share responsibilities, the effect would not be so spectacular. The results showed the benefits of the team work from its best side.

6. I engaged with issues of gloabl significance throughout my CAS project which was co-organizing the MUN conference. Practising debating skills is crucial in today’s world and new generations of politicians have a chance to challenge their capabilities on the conference. The topics discussed in individual commitees touched upon issues of global significance. It is great to give my peers a chance to gain skills, delve into controversial subjects and defend their position. Some of them would probably pursue politics further in life; MUN conferences are truly inspirational in this respect.

7. One of the ethical issues I adressed during my activity as a student government vice president was the animal consumption. To relieve the environment, make my own step to reduce cruelty against animals, at least at the local level, I negotiated with the canteen supervisor to introduce vegan food. Unfortunately it was not possible to serve vegan dinners because of technical diffuculties but vegan sandwiches appeared in the canteen soon after our proposal. This is the way to satisfy needs of people on a plant-based diet but also a way to promote environmentally friendly food, with no associated cruelty.

Creativity

I love literature and foreign languages. Throughout my CAS, I combine this two effectively to follow both of my passions simultaneously. I read and write a lot in German and do far beyond what is required in my school. My goals in German are wide-ranging and not confined to my German B classes, but I challenged myslef to take part in competition and to read German literature. Once I have read “The Sorrows of Young Werther”, “Faust”, “The Visit”, “The Trial” in original and it commenced my relationship with German literature. I was captivated by it to such extent that I made a German classic “The Magic Mountain” the center of my Extended Essay. I also chose “The Metamorphosis” by Franz Kafka to use in my oral exam. Thomas Mann and Franz Kafka are one of my favourite writers of all time and they allow me to trace different nuances of German language. Close analysis of these works of art should involve in my opinion delving into the original work. A valuable experience might be to compare it with the translation, which I did throughout my independent study.

My tangible achievements in German (the evidence for my skills) were: a C2 certificate in German, a disitinction in the translation contest “Juvenes Translatores” organized by the European Commision and a finalist title in the National German Olympiad. I reached my aforementioned goals in 2020. They involved CAS stages. 1. I investigated the area I wanted to deepen my skills in and specific aims I wanted to pursue and these were competitions in German. 2. I prepared my strategy, researched the most respectable competitions and exams I wanted to take part in, signed up for them and planned preparation which was necessary because of huge amounts of school work and limited free time. 3. I took specific action, exposed myself to the language days before the exam and throughout multiple months I was doing practice papers, reading and watching a lot. 4. I realized that by pursuing my passion in German and going beyond the curriculum I freed myself and could really delve into the language. The experience provided me with the sense of purpose - my life was not only concerned with my Diploma syllabus but I could get acquainted with literature and recognized the power of translation in terms of its strong influence on the reception of foreign texts. 

From then onward I worked to maintain my German on the same high level. I should not take it for granted - I am not a native speaker. My accomplishements required huge amounts of work and also talent but might disappear if not cared for properly.

Activity

In the course of my CAS journey I have been active in many disciplines. Sport is one of my few ways to unwind and stop stressing about reality. I think that the limited possibilities to practice sport were one of the major obstacles during the pandemic. I was deprived of my only way to switch off and relax. Before the pandemic I used to swim and play volleyball in a school team every week plus I attended 3 Physical Education classes per week. Now my prefered activities are not possible to pursue because of lockdown which entailed school, sport halls and swimming pool closures. Moreover I am concerned with the virus. At the start of 2020 we managed to take the fouth place in district-wide volleyball competition. My team and I wanted to improve next year but the pandemic unexpectedly shattered my plans. I am grateful, however, for having been given a chance to represent my school in the first line-up. Moreover, I would attend volleyball practice every Saturday.

My PE classes give me a chance to play volleyball, football or do fitness. I enjoy almost every activity that is physically demanding. And I am also great in sport which boosts my motivation. Beyond school, I used to exert myself a lot in swimming and have difficulties to find enjoyment in it. However, I am a really good swimmer and it strengthens my determination, improves posture and health.

Throughout the pandemic, I have been practising sport independently, as it is an extremely important part of my life. However, in the first lockdown in the spring I used to overexert myself doing long and intensive workouts every day on an empty stomach to the point when I got health problems. I had to give it up and switched to another physical activity, less demanding but equally fun: walking. Never before have I taken walks so often as during the pandemic. Now, in the winter lockdown I also go for a walk sometimes.

Service

I began my CAS journey in 2019 with giving tutoring to a primary school student from a underprivileged background. Teaching subjects I am comfortable in (English and German) and his improved grades were reasons for my satisfaction. It required a lot of patience and perseverance as it was extremely difficult to teach him something because firstly he lacked motivation and secondly he had difficulties memorizing. This made it a huge challenge but turned out to be rewarding.

The second half of my first IB year (2020) I sacrificed for my internship (voluntary work) in a foundation.  My scope of activity consisted in the cooperation with the Fundraising Director and the Spokeswoman of the foundation; I had duties related to fundraising and media such as: preparing summaries of the reports from humanitarian missions for fairs in Dubai, translating posts for English social media profiles, collecting data for media reports, translating official requests for the sponsorship, gathering contact details of potential sponsors i.e. big companies and Presidents of the biggest Polish cities, monitoring press mentions.

Throughout 2020 I have also been fulfilling duties of the student government vice president. My team was elected in February 2020 and until now (beginning of 2021) I hold this position. I resolve current problems with the head mistress, co-organize and participate in events e.g. open days, control social media, coordinate logistics. In March we attended an event for student governments across Warsaw. I also tried to organize the Physics conference with my 2 friends in my school but it was cancelled last-minute due to imposed school closure, one week before it was scheduled to take place. Everything had been arranged with lecturers and we had to cancel feeling miserable.

My wide range of CAS activities - other examples

Apart from my core activities which I described, I got involved in numerous other CAS experienced described on this blog. One of the most enriching ones was my participation in the process of creation of a book. I wrote my own essay to a book published this month by my former class teacher. I entitled my work: “School is people: about sparking authenticity and breaking patterns”. I also cooked a lot and published some of my recipes on the blog, wrote to my school newspaper, took part in environmental protests, wrote some poems, some diary entry, practiced Frech, including writing, took many beautiful photos on my trips abroad,... 

I also co-organized WawMUN2019 conference as my CAS project.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

New Kids - Kakyoin Noriaki x Fem!Reader

Yes, I finished my exam session. Yes, it was 1 month filled with so many exams, and my brain is shortcircuited. Yes, I watched 4 parts out of 5 from JoJo. Yes, I regret nothing. Yes, I got only top marks. Yes, I love Cherry Boy Kaky, Dio, Caesar, Rohan, Joseph, Jotaro. Yes, I will write about JoJo from now on.

---

“Hey, Jotaro? Do you have any chores to do? Or any homework? Can I help you out with anything at all?” I ask Jotaro as I lean on his bedroom’s door frame. “You’re at it again?” he asks with a bored look from his bed. “Yeah...Sorry about that. I’ve already cleaned the whole house spotless and did my homework for all subject...And even studied in advance. I’m getting restless.” I sighed, looking down at the floor. “Maybe you should find a better coping mechanism. You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping properly?” he asks once again, raising his cap to take a better look at me. “...There’s no point in lying to you, you’d find out anyway. No, I haven’t really been able to sleep. I’m always on the edge, and I feel like if I don’t keep my mind busy all the time, I’m going to go insane.” I explain, scratching my arm lightly. “Have you spoken to Mum about this?” he suggests, but I merely nodded. “Yeah...She took me to the therapist, but honestly, she pisses me off more than she helps, you get me? Or maybe I’m just not meant to go with this type of healing. Well...Holly said she’ll take me out to the cinema and shopping this weekend, so I’ll take my mind off things, so I think I should be good, at least for this week.” I speak as I instinctively tidy up his study desk. “Yare Yare Daze...Have you tried using your Stand? Find out how you can perfect some moves or combos?” he suggested, which made me stop in my tracks and shift my gaze to his turquoise eyes. “You know...That’s not such a bad idea. Maybe it would be a good way to meditate and clear my mind. I’ve been so frantic these past weeks that I haven’t even thought to see my dear Kitsune. Thanks for the idea, Jotaro. I think I know what I’ll do. But...If you have anything to do and you’re not up to it, tell me anyway. Just in case.” I shrug, getting out of Jotaro’s room and going outside, taking out my Stand and trying to meditate a bit, under the tree shade.

The next day, at school, for some reason, I’m called by a random student to Jotaro’s class, only to find out that a new kid transferred to our Highschool last month. Well, no wonder I had no idea about this...I’m in 3rd year, while Jotaro and this guy are in their 1st year.  But even so, I wonder what’s it got to do with me? I got in the class as soon as the bell rang, and only the new kid and my old Biology teacher were there.

“Ah, Kat, it’s so good to see you! You look as beautiful as ever...But it’s no wonder you look so exhausted...What happened must have hit you quite hard. Is Mrs. Kujo  taking good care of you?” Miss Yui asks, petting my long, red hair. “Well...Yeah. She is a great mother. I was quite lucky, to be fair...Under different circumstances, who knows how much worse it could have been. But...Anyway, why have you called for me?” I scratch the side of my neck nervously. “Well, dear, this is Kakyoin Noriaki, Jotaro’s new classmate. He moved here from another city, and he has been doing great for all subjects, except Biology. Now, you were my best student, and I remembered about your ambitions to become a Vet, so I thought that maybe you’d like to tutor him. It might also be a great opportunity for you to be more sociable and take your mind off of the bad things that have happened.” Miss Yui’s dark eyes sparkled with kindness as she spoke, but I could only gasp in shock at what I was hearing. “Wh-Wh-What?! M-Me, a tutor? I-I-I think you’d chosen the worst possible person. I’m not patient and I don’t know how to explain stuff for others to understand...And I’m really bad at making friends or...Talking. Are you sure I’m not just going to make it worse for him? Th-There’s always Aiko, and she’s an extrovert...And she went to the Olympics!” I suggested as my cheeks became rosy from embarrassment, but she only smirked at me with a knowing look. “Oh, please, Aiko has nothing on you. You’re much smarter than her, and honestly, she would scare Kakyoin-kun here with her volcanic personality. You, however...Let’s just say I’ve never met a calmer person before.” the teacher praised me, which made me look away and bite my lip, feeling my heart about to burst from emotions. “I really don’t want to bother you, Miss, but I would appreciate all the help I can get. I promise not to give you trouble.” Kakyoin soothing voice called out all of a sudden, and I had to cover my face in embarrassment. “O-Okay...Okay...I don’t mind...Just...I hope you won’t be disappointed. I’m VERY bad with people.” I sighed, side-glancing him. “I truly appreciate you going out of your way to help me out, Senpai.” he smiled softly, bowing at me. “No no no no, don’t do that, it’s fine, it’s no big deal. And, uh...You can call me Katrina or Kat. I’m not exactly Japanese, so it’s really weird when people don’t call me by my first name.” I scratched the back of my head awkwardly, but he didn’t seem to have any problem with what I was saying. “See? You’re already getting along! Their next exam is going to be in a month, from the Nervous System, just so you know what to teach him. Good luck!” she waved at us cheerfully, as we nodded at her and left the classroom. “So, uhh...When and where?” I ask, already trying to make a plan for how to go with this. “Tomorrow I finish pretty early, so maybe...Tomorrow, 2pm, in the park?” he proposes simply, while I thought about the things I had to do. “Well...Tomorrow I finish at 3, so if you don’t mind waiting a bit by yourself...Then sure, I have nothing else to do.” I smile gently at him. “I don’t mind waiting. I actually quite enjoy my alone time, to be fair. I’m not a people person either.” he smiled back. “Well, then that’s perfect! I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care.” I give him a military salute before taking off.

Hmm...Kakyoin Noriaki...Not bad...Maybe this will actually be fun and I’ll manage to forget everything that happened.

As soon as I get home, I take out all the notes I have from Year 1 and start making a battle plan on how to tackle every lesson properly, how will every scheme and drawing help and so on. Gods, I sure hope I won’t stutter, I’m so nervous... The only people I’m actually comfortable around are Jotaro and Holly, and now, I have to do this... But maybe it’s for my own good, right? What could go wrong?

The next day, instead of paying attention in class, I doodled random things in my notebooks, as a way to cope with how incredibly nervous I was and afraid of screwing up and embarrassing myself, but thankfully enough, hours passed by faster than imagined, and I found myself already walking towards the designated place, where I found Kakyoin sitting down at the base of the tree, looking peaceful, and seemingly drawing in a notebook. He looked very...Pretty... He inspires me such a relaxing vibe, that I almost feel at ease just being around him. His voice is so calm and gentle... He really is cute.

“Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting.” I speak out softly, sitting down next to him. “Don’t worry about that. I enjoyed myself. The weather is very nice today, don’t you think?” he continues the small talk. “Yeah...It really is. I mean...The Sakura season is supposed to begin soon, I think?” I mention, looking up at the fluffy cloud. “I think it’s in 2 weeks. I heard there’s a pretty big festival, right?” he smiles simply. “Hmm...I think so? I remember Holly making Jotaro take me to see the Sakura bloom, but other than that, I don’t know. I mean, it was really beautiful, but with someone like Jotaro...I guess you can’t stay much and admire stuff, you get me?” I chuckled, remembering how much the boy would scowl at all the girls trying to cling on him. “I see you’re close to Jotaro. I didn’t really see him as the type to make friends easily, especially with girls.” he noted, making me giggle in amusement. “It was...Kind of a forced situation, in a way. The whole deal is pretty complicated, but we had to stay a lot together due to family circumstances, and now we’re like siblings, so to speak. I really want to say that he’s like my little brother...But considering how I look like a Pomeranian when I’m next to him, I guess everyone would say I’m the little sister.” I bite my lip, trying not too laugh to hard, but it greatly amused Noriaki. “I would actually kind of want to see that, I bet it would be pretty funny. Then, how about we go to the festival together, all 3 of us? It would be nice to experience all the new things around.” Kakyoin looked at me with a soft expression.  “Sounds good to me! Maybe this time I will actually get to SEE the festival too.” I chuckled, getting out my study materials from my bag. “So, here we go. I was thinking we could go with a bit of a different order to learning, seeing that the way things were taught is a bit broken and irresponsible. So, instead of first learning about the brain itself, I think actually learning about cells, the Neurons, more specifically, then go up the chain list with tissues, organs, organ systems, and their functions. Sounds good?” I suggest, already opening the notebooks at said lesson. “I have no objections. I’m in your hands, Katrina.” he leaned in closer.

Wow...My name, spoken by him, sure sounds good...

I begin explaining the first lesson, with every little detail possible and correlations that would help him understand things easier, and I didn’t realise how time flew so fast.

“Is this how you remember things? By doodling cute little things around the pages of your notebooks?” he smiled tenderly, making me gasp. “A-A-A-Ah...! Ignore them, please! I just like cute things and they kinda make me smile when I see them! S-Sorry, I know they’re silly!” I looked away, blushing faintly. “No, no, I think they’re really nice. I like doodling in my notebooks too. Makes me feel more at ease while studying. Say, would it be okay to ask you to lend me your study materials for a while so I can copy them?” he leaned back on the tree. “O-Oh, yeah, of course! Sorry, I completely forgot about that! Yeah, sure. Uh...They’re a bit heavy, sorry about that, will you be okay?” I bite my lip, taking out all the notebooks and portfolio filled with drawings. “Yes, nothing I can’t handle. Thank you so much for going out of your way to help me.” he helped me get get up as we walked towards the school. “So, when is the next time we can meet up? It’s uh...Kinda the longest and most difficult chapter, and it took me about half a year to understand it 100%...And we have a month now.” I explain, concerned. “Then, as often as possible, correct? I think tomorrow after class we can do this again, what do you think?” he took the bag from my shoulder, carrying it. “Here, let me carry it. It’s the least I can do to thank you for your trouble.” he smiled charmingly. “I’m not sure if you’re an angel, or if I just met a lot of mega-jerks, but I guess I’m glad I got to meet someone as nice as you. Yeah, tomorrow is perfect.” I grin at him.

He walked me to my home, and the whole day after this I could only think of how cute and kind he is.

Boy, I have it bad.

So bad that the whole weekend, Holly kept trying to make me speak, and when I finally managed to say something, she was fangirling so much...So much, even at home, that even Jotaro realised I have a crush on his classmate...

How V E R Y tragic...

Well, at least I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be better than last time.

And so, 2 weeks of meeting almost every day passed by, and in the weekend, we were supposed to go to the Sakura festival.  Of course, Jotaro wouldn’t be caught dead to that place, so it’d be only the 2 of us. Fuuun~!

Of course, Holly wanted to buy me a cute, pink Kimono and made sure that I look extra pretty for the day, but damn, I was a nervous mess. Jotaro was nice enough to walk me to the festival and wait with me until Kakyoin arrived, which was at 6 sharp, and made sure that he’ll walk me home, which was very nice of him, to say the least.

“See? I really look like a Pomeranian next to him, and now you had the opportunity to see it for yourself.” I chuckled as we started walking through the festival, carefully looking at each booth and what it has to offer. “It was quite the sight. I didn’t realise you lived with Jotaro. He must be a nice big brother, despite how cold he seems with everyone.” he chuckled, looking a bit absent minded. “Oh, yeah, he is. Well, if you’re curious, I can tell you why I live with him, but it’s quite a complicated story.” I shrugged slightly, walking up to him. “If you want to tell me, I would gladly listen. It does seem like an interesting story.” he spoke, before turning to me. “You know...Pink looks very good on you.” his tender smile seemed to light up the night like the Moon, as he put a very pretty pink flower hair ornament that made my side fringe stay out of my hair. “There, now I can see your beautiful eyes better.” he spoke, but my cheeks for so red that I had to hide my face with my hands from how embarrassed I felt. “C-Come on, don’t say that, it’s nothing of the sort...” I tried to say, but to no avail. “What are you saying? Well, I guess you can’t see how amazing you are, but I assure you, being in this position, able to see you, is the best. Oh, I heard there will be fireworks soon. Why don’t we go up the hill? I bet the view will be great.” he spoke nonchalantly as he put his arm around my shoulder. “S-Sure, sounds great...It’s really pretty, this place. And being able to enjoy it with someone else...It’s really nice. I haven’t been this happy in a while.” I bit my lip, looking away, smiling. “Then, I’m glad I have the honour of being the one by your side.” he chuckled lightly, as we leaned on the big Sakura tree up the hill. “Say...Kakyoin...Don’t you think something weird’s going on?” I ask in a soft voice. “Hmmm...? What do you mean?” he asks, looking down at me with a raised eyebrow. “The wind is blowing softly...And yet...There’s no Sakura petal. And...There’s nobody here. I mean...Don’t you think other people would like to see the fireworks from up here? Or...Put those love charms on the tree branches?” I walk forward towards the middle of the hill to look around properly. “Just relax, you’re thinking too much into it. Look, down there, everyone has smiles on their faces, so there’s nothing weird that could’ve happened, right?” but just as he said that, a pair of hands shot up from the tree, strangling Kakyoin. “Wh-What the hell...?!” I gasped, looking around. “It can’t be...Where is he...?!” I muttered under my breath, as a monster-like humanoid figure got out of the tree and slammed Kakyoin on it. “K-Katrina...Run...!” he tried to warn, but I merely shook my head. “Hang in there, Kakyoin, I’ll save you!” I tried to reassure him, but a dark voice from behind me called out my name. “Awww, look at her, how she grew up! You look even better than you did some years ago. Now you’re actually worth looking at! And to think that you’re all mine...Why, Kitten, what’s with that face? Aren’t you happy to see me after all this time?” the voice that I hated with every fiber of my being spoke, and I could only clench my fists in anger. “Let him go. He has nothing to do with this. If you want me, attack me, but don’t be so cowardly as to take hostages. Honestly...You’ve never been a man, and you’ll never be. Jotaro’s barely 17 and he is much more a man that you will ever even dream of being. You’re just a whiny and bratty little boy who always gets mad when he doesn’t get what he wants. Pathetic.” I turn around to face the man in front of me...My ex. “Stop looking at me like that, you’re ugly. Just be an obedient little girl and smile for me, that’s all that you’re good at. But you’ve been whoring around with other men while I was away...What a naughty girl, you deserve to be punished...” his smirk was so wide, it almost seemed like his face will split in two. “Jeez...Disgusting as ever...” I tsked, before taking out letting my Stand, The Trickster, attack him. “How do you want to die? By attacking your Stand, or attacking you directly? I will let you choose.” I rolled up my long sleeves so I would have better access to my hands. “Pshh, as if some weak bitch like you can ever defeat me. Remember how you used to squirm underneath me? You’ll look just as pitiful now!” he started laughing hysterically, but I could only smirk. “Man...You see...My Big Bro made sure to teach me how to take care of myself. Guess I’ll have to show you not to mess with me anymore....Kitsune, come!”  I said in a stern voice, as I and Kitsune’s hand touched, as we fused together. 

I made a huge circle of fire surround us, and from my hands, two huge snakes of fire came out, lunging themselves at the jerk.

“H-Hey...What the hell...Since when are you a Stand user too?!” he shouted at me with rage and shock. “Since before you knew how to speak, fuckass. Now go away and burn in hell like you deserve!” I let out an amused breath, before chasing him away. “Urgh...Lame as usual...” I rolled my eyes, before rushing to Kakyoin’s side. “Kakyoin, are you alright? U-Uh...I...I’m not sure what happe-” I tried to think of an excuse, but I was cut off. “You’re a Stand user too?!” Kakyoin’s eyes widened in shock, as so did mine. “Y-Yes...! Can you see Kitsune too?!” I leaned back a bit, shocked to hear that. “Clear as the day. What a pleasant surprise...Ah! Watch out!” Kakyoin put his arms around me, shielding me from something. “Hierophant Green: Emerald Splash!” he called out his Stand firmly, as I heard another scream. “Weakling never give up, do they?” he said in a softer voice. “I heard idiots never give up. I guess both are right, hm?” I gave him a side-smile, as he let go of me slowly. “Think he’ll come back again?” he asked, taking a deep breath. “Hopefully not. I’ve seen enough of him for a lifetime. Ah...Come on, I can’t believe it...You have hand marks on your neck...Damn, I’m sorry. Come here, let me heal you.” I spoke gently as I loosened the kimono from his neck area and put his own hands around his neck gingerly, closing my eyes and concentrating my powers towards my palms. “Is this your power?” he asks in a bewildered voice. “Yeah...I can heal people...My stand is called The Trickster. Her name is Kitsune, because she’s a fox and...And people used to nickname me that a long time ago. Mainly Joseph and Suzie, I suppose...Well. She can mostly create illusions and trick people a lot...But this is her actual, primary power. I supposed that’s why I wanna become a Vet, I don’t know....But...I’m sorry you had to be caught up into my problems like that...You deserve better than this. There, you’re all good. I will go home now. I’m sorry, again.” I sighed, about to get up, but he caught my wrists before I could. “Don’t say that. I’m glad I got to spend more time with you...And learn more about you. You’re a beautiful woman, Katrina, inside and out. You’re very kind and lovely...And I think your stand really suits you. I’m glad that I met you, Katrina.” he smiled softly, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on my lips, which made my cheeks flare up. “A-Are you sure about that? You may regret your decision...And the last thing I want is you hating me.” I scratched the back of my head awkwardly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure about a decision. Will you be my girlfriend, Katrina?” he asked me sweetly, fixing the hair ornament from my fringe. “Man...I really scored the blackjack today, didn’t I?” I chuckled softly, looking at the ground, before shifting my gaze back at him. “How could I say no? You’re an angel, I told you before, didn’t I?” I joked before kissing him back. “Also...There actually aren’t fireworks today, they’re supposed to be on Sunday, but...” calling out my Stand once again, I make a Firework show up on the dark sky. “That can be easily solved.” I smirk slyly, leaning on his side. “You’re a work of art...” he muttered, as he put his arm around me, kissing the top of my head.

---

“Okay, so? How’d it go? You got your exam results today, right?” I ask Noriaki incredibly anxious, as we took out our bento, laying at the base of a tree in the highschool park. “Well...I guess it was decent.” he spoke mysteriously, reaching into his bag. “What does that mean? Come on, tell me, don’t leave me like that!” I whine, making him laugh. “Honestly, you’re more invested in this than I am, it’s amusing. Here, I hope you’re proud of me.” he took out a paper and let me take it. “Whoa! That’s amazing, yo got a 95%! You’re the best, I’m so proud of you!” I squealed in glee, throwing my hands around him, kissing his cheek. “It’s all thanks to you that I was able to get this mark, so thank you. Which reminds me...I wanted to give this to you, as a thank you gift. I hope you like it.” he smiled shyly at me, before he took something else from his bag...It looked like a dark green frame. “I began sketching it the day we first met up at the park...But as I got to know you better, I kept adding things, or changing them. Your face became much kinder, instead of the anxious one from the first time I saw you. You are dressed in the beautiful pink Kimono from the festival, instead of the school uniform, and you have the hair accessory I got you. You hold a fox in your embrace, as your stand is, and on the sky, the fireworks that you created are shown. You’re my muse, Kat. I love you, and thank you for putting up with me.” he put his hand on the back of my head, pulling me closer to him as he kissed me lovingly. “Man...You’re an amazing artist. Thank you, I love it...And I love you. I’ll hang it in my room, so I can see it every time I wake up. You’re the best, Nori.” I smiled at him with a soft giggle, before an angry noise was heard. “Could you keep that in private? Yare Yare Daze...You’re annoying...” Jotaro’s annoyed voice called out from above us. “Aww, how cute, Jotaro! But, you see, instead of complaining about us, I think you should run away before those girls catch up to you and go all over you. It’s not like Star Platinum can help you in that situation.” I winked at him, as he shot me a dirty look, going away. “Isn’t he adorable? What a cute little brother I have.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Ah, that reminds me...Today that video game you talked about is getting promoted in our nearest game shop. Wanna come get it? It’s no big deal if we skip class and play video games all day, right?” I shrug nonchalantly, feeling over the moon with happiness. “I like how you’re thinking! Let’s go!” he took my hand and we sneaked out of that place, to the game shop, and thankfully enough, we managed to get the game just before they all ran out, so we hurried to his place to try it out, and thankfully, it was worth the wait and money since it was super fun and entertaining. That evening, as he walked me home, I remembered that I promised to tell him the story of how I got to live with Jotaro, and I started chuckling.

“Oh that reminds me...Remember when I said I’ll tell you why I live with Jotaro? I guess I kinda forgot to tell you about that. Basically, my family and his family have always been closed. I’m half-British, half-Italian, and my grandma is the sister of Jotaro’s grandpa’s best friend. Caesar Zeppeli...He died when Joseph Joestar was 19, while trying to save the world from some monsters, but Joseph, since then, has been very close with grandma...And in turn, I’ve been very close with my grandma too, and she’d tell me all kinds of stories, and she would take me see Joseph and Suzie very often in New York. It was always super fun. When I was in my first year of Highschool, I managed to score a scholarship and finish the whole year at this Higschool right here, and my grandma made me promise to speak to Holly, Jotaro’s mum. We kinda became very close, since she’s very sweet and all...But well, around the time we met, my own mother died, and my grandma asked Joseph to let me stay at his daughter...So, she’s been very sweet to take care of me ever since. And Jotaro has been trying to help me cope with the loss of my mother. He’s a nice guy, once you get past that snowman attitude. Besides...His Stand looks scarier than him!” I laughed merrily, having him join with a chuckle, and a kiss on my temple. “Poor dear, you have been through so much already, and yet, your smile shines brighter than the Sun. You’re a true work of art, Kat. Thank you for trusting me with your story. Honestly...I’ve always been such an introvert that even my mum would get annoyed with me. I’m really glad I met you. And I hope Jotaro won’t use his Stand on me...Ever.” he showed a side smile as we got in front of the house. “Thank you for walking me home, Nori. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” I kissed him softly, before going into the house, only to be greeted by Holly, whose hands were on her hips, and her foot was tapping on the ground frantically. “Well?!” Holly asks with a frustrated look. “Well...? JACKPOT!” I said in a loud voice, high fiving her. “YES! That’s what I’m talking about! You go, girl, you got him!” she grinned at me giddily, as we went to the kitchen to gossip and do some sweets. “Yare Yare Daze...The two of you together are horrible...” Jotaro’s annoyed voice called out, leaving the place.

[flamestoflight]

candid.

this is a breaking point

i really have not been taking care of myself lately. i’ve been neglecting my physical health and my mental health to an extent that i haven’t done in years. everything is just happening so fast and all at once. graduation, a new job, a new city, a new apartment, a hard and painful breakup, an exciting new relationship, an upcoming trip, trying to get my licensure in order before I leave, dealing with all the new employee stuff.....it’s just a lot. it’s a hell of a lot. and i’ve been neglecting every aspect of caring for my physical and mental health for the past month.

it started after i finished my last rotation in early December. I was in the mindset of “fuck it, I’m finally done with school, I have 2 months until I start a real job, I’m just going to let loose and not care during this time period because it’s an opportunity i won’t have again.” And I was right about that, I will never have 2 months like this again. I will likely never even have a full week like this again - free to do whatever with my days, no 8 hours a day/5 days a week work. and at first it was in the name of mental and physical health. a rest from nonstop grinding for yearssssss. A rest from 4:30am alarms to get to the gym before work, of working 10 hours and then coming home and studying, of 5 hours of class followed by 3 hours of clinic followed by studying for my exam the next day, of meal prepping and skipping the dinner outing or the trip to the bar in the name of discipline, of working like an absolute dog to get to where I am. 

But it’s turned bad. It’s turned into a blatant neglect for my health. I’ve stopped taking my prescribed meds, I’ve stopped working out, I’ve stopped eating well....some days I don’t eat at all and others I eat like shit for every single meal. My weight has fluctuated like crazy these past 2 months, low to high to low to high. I honest to god cannot tell you the last time I had a fruit that wasn’t a garnish on a drink. I haven’t cooked for myself in 2 months. I haven’t eaten brown rice or quinoa or spinach or chia seeds or oats or literally any vegetable or fruit or anything that used to be a staple for me. 

I haven’t spent time outdoors. I haven’t read a book. I haven’t organized my space, I haven’t been washing my face, I haven’t had any semblance of a sleeping schedule. 

and to a certain extent, that’s okay. You know, that’s living life and that’s being flexible and adaptable and understanding that your life isn’t supposed to fit in a box and you aren’t supposed to be a solid mold. I understand all that, and in a way I am proud of my ability to break out of my routine time and time again, and choose friends and late nights and beer and a weekend trip out of town over rigidity and strictness and anything that I am used to.

But it’s gone too far and it has been for a few weeks now and I’m just ignoring the problem as if it’s going to go away. To be fair to me, I have been emotionally all over the place and gone through ups and downs that I never saw coming. and i’ve been trying to handle this emotional whirlwind, trying to handle the nighttime depression that has started creeping back in, trying to handle the couple of panic attacks i’ve induced over the past month, trying to handle my tendencies to use food as a weapon against myself, to use self-deprivation (water, sleep, vegetables, fresh air) as weapon against myself. Trying to handle the overwhelming pressure I feel to be good at my new job, with my fancy new degree at a fancy new hospital and not let everyone down and not let myself down. 

I kind of feel like I’ve lost myself a little bit. I haven’t been engaging in the things that have always been important to me. At least not the ones that only involve me. I’ve been very present in my relationship, present in my family life, present when it comes to making plans with friends. But I’ve lost the part of me that cares about the food she puts into her body, who respects her body and moves it every day, whether that be stretching and handstands or squatting and pressing or walking and hiking. I just haven’t been. 

Yesterday I went with my boyfriend to get his hair cut and he said it was going to be about an hour and for 5 minutes I sat in the car mindlessly scrolling through my phone and that’s how I was planning to pass the time....and I instantly started getting anxious and antsy. Because that’s not me, that’s not what I do. I got out of the car and walked a little less than a mile to the local library and grabbed myself a latte and perused some books, sat down at a table and opened one at random and started reading. I walked!! outside. and I read!! a book. while i sipped my latte. THAT is me. That’s what I do, that’s the Lauren that’s engaged in her life, engaged in her surroundings, takes care of her mental stimulation and moves her body a bit.

It’s very tough for me to be in this state of transition. Nothing is permanent right now, everything, everything is about to change. And in order to deal with the impending change and the stress that’s associated with it, I’ve become lost in the moment. (as a side note, I think that living in the moment is extremely important and valuable. I, however, have become completely lost in it...directionless, unsure, lacking confidence, losing myself kind of lost). And I want to change that. I need to change that.

this is a breaking point.

And this breaking point comes at a really unfortunate time. I’m leaving in 2 days to fly to Tanzania, I’ll be gone for 10 days total in the wilderness with zero semblance of routine and zero control over any of it. Two days after I come back, I drive to my new city and start the move-in process. I’ll be in Baltimore for 5 days, I’ll be back home for part of the next week where I’ll be trying to figure out how to get my stuff out of storage, how to get my furniture from my ex, how move into my own place...and also trying to cram in seeing my boyfriend who will have started classes and has more limited time. I have to figure out how ad when to get the cats to Baltimore, I have to figure out what furniture I need and how to get it, where to get it, how much I can afford to spend. I have so little control over anything the next 2 weeks, my opportunities to work out will be slim to none, my opportunities to cook for myself and meal prep will be slim to none, my opportunities to decide how much time I get to spend with the people I care about and those that give me comfort will be slim to none. 

but I can’t fight this breaking point anymore. It;s been a longggg time coming, and I’m almost relieved it’s here. Time to break out the journal, the planner, time to break out the attitude that gets shit done, time to break out the side of me that is fed up with my current bullshit and wants to be better. I can’t let this go forever. It’s grind time again. It’s time to sleep better, eat better, move better, treat other people better, engage more, work harder, get shit done. I cannot start my new job in this slump. I have to be on my A+ game from day one, out the gate. I have to show them why they hired me and what I can do for them. And that starts with reminding myself what I can do for myself. 

And there’s balance to all of this. I’m not done drinking wine or eating ice cream or taking rest days or choosing to live in the moment with others. I just need to find my balance again. Restore the scales back to where they were, restore myself back to where I was. Bring myself back from the brink that I have been standing on for weeks and weeks and weeks. It’s not easy, the opportunities in the next 3 weeks will not be handed to me. I will have to fight for every single one of them, and make it a priority. 

It starts tonight. It starts with getting my ass out of bed, drinking some water, making a salad for dinner, meal prepping some breakfast for tomorrow, getting to bed at a reasonable time. It continues tomorrow, when I get up at a reasonable time, get my ass to the gym, pack my bags for Tanzania, get all my travel documents in order, make the last purchases I need to make. Make my bed. Get outside. Take a fucking walk. Breathe some fresh air, read my book. 

I’ve always been an all or nothing person. The last month, taking care of myself has been off my radar, it’s been at nothing. Tonight I start to bring it back. I don’t want to go back to “all,” because I know that side of it isn’t good for me. I know what I can end up doing when I put my everything into “bettering myself” - I know that that pendulum swings waaay to fast and too hard in the other direction. I’m gonna play some video games tonight still, I’m gonna facetime my boyfriend tonight still, I’m going to probably have a small glass of wine tonight still. I’m just going to also do better, be better than I have for the past month. Better to myself and better to others. 

There is SO much I haven’t even covered in this post, but it’s a semblance of what I’ve been laying in bed for the past 3 hours thinking about. And it gets me going the way I need it to. I know what else is going on in my head, I know what else I need to address besides this ^. But this is a start. This is a breaking point. And even though I’m mentally tired and emotionally strained and physically under-nourished and dehydrated and my skin hates me and my body feels worn down and my motivation is close to zero....I’m walking headfirst into this.

My phoenix tattoo was inspired by a quote I saw: “in order to rise from its own ashes, a phoenix first must burn.” And at the time I got the tattoo there was a specific moment in mind, a specific time frame of my life that I was thinking of, I have come to realize that it can apply in many ways. I’m going to have a lot more downs in my life, I’m going to be burned in my life, I’m going to be reduced to ashes. But we rise up. That’s all we can do. We hit our bottom, we hit our breaking point, we gather ourselves, and we rise.

this is a breaking point. and i will rise.

[pumpernickel-simswood]

A Devoted Friend: Pt 3

Part 1 Part 2

Marinette got up and quickly helped set the table. 

Adrien, polite as ever, ended up sitting between Sabine and Marinette. He waited for everyone else to begin eating before he started.

"So," Tom said between bites, "what were you kids studying? Is there a big exam coming up?"

"No, actually, it was a business plan Adrien made for me." Marinette replied, sounding equal parts proud of Adrien and blown away that it was for her.

Both sets of parental eyebrows went up.

Adrien swallowed and smiled politely, "Well, I overheard Marinette discussing opening an online store for her designs and I… I have access to a well of knowledge about that, especially for fashion, so I don't see why I wouldn't help her."

"That's very sweet of you, Adrien." Sabine smiled, "Thank you."

"It's nothing, really." Adrien looked down, feeling his cheeks warm.

"Even if that's true," Marinette began. He glanced up to find earnest eyes peering at him. She continued, "I'm incredibly grateful you put any time into helping me."

"Of course, Mari," Adrien said immediately, "we're friends."

Marinette canted her head at that, slightly.

***

"Thanks so much, Marinette!" Rose hugged her tightly.

"Of course, Rose." Marinette grinned and hugged back.

"We'll see you at school." Juleka smiled.

"Of course." Marinette waved.

"Bye~!" Rose waved back and they descended the stairs.

"And now, Adrien." Marinette muttered as she turned to look at him with an analytical eye. She let out a long sigh, "You got taller again."

A chuckle escaped Adrien, "Sorry?"

"Let's hope I made the pants too long." Mari shook her head in amusement. 

"Capris could work if they aren't." Adrien suggested easily. 

"Uh-huh, sure. Just go try them on, long legs." Marinette laughed.

Adrien snickered and took the clothes, "Be right back."

Marinette made some notes as Adrien changed. The wiki was gonna have to get updated once she actually checked his height. She was pretty sure his shoulders had gotten a bit wider too but she'd have to check.

"So, good news and bad news." Adrien said, stepping from behind the screen, "Good news, the pants fit perfect."

Marinette turned to him, "What's the bad ne- Oh my G-d."

Adrien's shirt was a good inch too short, his midsection showing, "I mean, it's not that bad."

"Adrien, it's at least an inch too short." Marinette put her hands on her hips.

"Truuuue." Adrien chuckled. 

"Alright, let's get measurements." Marinette laughed. 

***

"Alright, I just gotta make you a new shirt." Marinette said, looking up from her notes.

"I can buy replacement fabric if you want?" Adrien offered.

"No, I have enough left over, but thank you. Hopefully neither Ivan or Luka hit a growth spurt before next week." Marinette laughed. "Also, do those colors work for you?"

"Green and black?" Adrien's lips pulled into a playful smirk, "Yeah, I like to think so."

Marinette's brow furrowed but she nodded and made another note, "Okay, good. You can change back, by the way. At the very least, I need the pants back. Not sure how I'll repurpose the shirt yet…"

"Well," Adrien stepped behind the screen to change, "if you just shorten it, then I could have an awesome crop top."

"You want me to?" Marinette asked, surprised. 

"Yeah, the material is awesome and super soft. Plus, may as well make it a crop top when it's already short, right?" Adrien replied.

"Fair point." She shrugged, actively pushing down the desire to imagine him in it.

"Pretty please?" Adrien offered the shirt, redressed.

"Okay." Marinette held it up to his chest, "Where should I cut it to?"

"Uh, here." Adrien indicated. 

Marinette grabbed a marker and made a quick mark. And shortly she handed him the shirt back, now officially a crop top.

"Thanks Mari." Adrien beamed and kissed her cheek, "You're the best. See you later."

Marinette blinked after him as he climbed down the stairs. She raised a hand to her cheek then melted into her chair, "Yeah."

***

"Ugh, and they want Cat Noir specifically to show up for their birthday party." Alya groaned.

"To be fair, that's not that far of a stretch to get. You do actually know Cat. Plus he's pretty good with kids from what I hear." Marinette shrugged, hands in pockets. 

"I know but I dread asking him a favor like that. It seems like small potatoes compared to what he does daily." Alya argued.

Marinette snorted, "Alya, their patrols literally involve getting kittens out of trees and retrieving balloons most days. Just ask. I'm positive he'd love to."

"How can you be so sure?" Alya squinted at her friend.

"Cuz I've met him? And we did work together for Evillustrator, remember? Besides, I've seen how many pics you've gotten of him for your Instagram." Marinette started walking away. "And if you don't ask him, I'll do it for you."

"Hey! No! Don't you dare!" Alya bolted after her.

"I think his solo patrol comes by my balcony tonight, actually." Marinette hummed thoughtfully.

"Why on Earth would you know that? They always randomize their patrol schedules." Alya frowned.

"Because I keep track of everyone's schedules due to my anxiety and I noticed he does what might appear to be a random pattern but is actually just an extended rotational schedule. It, of course, varies based on akuma attacks, but he should pass my balcony tonight on his patrol." Marinette explained with an air of discussing weather.

Also he'd told Ladybug on their last patrol, but it did fit the schedule she kept so.

"Girl, can I just say I'm glad you're not on Hawkmoth's side?" Alya said.

Marinette shrugged, "So, sleepover?"

"Yes!" Alya grinned.

***

Cat Noir bounded across rooftops,delighted by the feeling of weightlessness at the apex of every leap. Things had been quiet so far tonight. A few strays to feed and that one shelter that needed an extra set of hands, but nothing big. Which was great.

He grinned as he raced across the top of his school. He could see the familiar and inviting balcony lights shining tonight. He was going to have to figure out how she always seemed to know when he was out and about one of these days.

As he got closer, he noticed Alya was up there with the princess tonight. Huh. Maybe tonight was a coincidence. Either way.

A well timed jump and flip landed him neatly atop the railings.

Alya jumped and yelped.

Mari simply glanced up, a playful smile pulling at her lips, "Hey Cat."

"Good evening, ladies." He bowed deeply. "Sorry to startle you, Alya."

"N-no, it's okay. I just didn't see you coming." Alya mumbled.

"He is pretty fast." Marinette shrugged. Her eyes returned to Cat, "Aren't you, showoff?"

Cat chuckled at that and crouched, "Oh, so you did see that awesome flip."

"I've seen better." Marinette said.

"Meowch, you wound me, Purrincess." Cat dramatically placed his hands over his heart.

"Mm-hm." Marinette was clearly trying not to laugh. It egged him on more than he cared to admit. She, sadly, turned to a very confused Alya, "Anyway, Alya wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?" Cat canted his head toward the blogger.

"Oh, uh, right." Alya took a deep breath, "I was hoping that you could maybe put in a quick appearance at my sisters' birthday party?"

Cat blinked, "The tall, kinda scary, buff one or the twins?"

Marinette snorted.

"Hey! You try fighting a boxer with spider powers!" Cat objected.

Marinette fell into giggles, "No, not that, just the idea that Anasi would want you at her birthday party."

"It could happen." Cat crossed his arms and scowled.

"Uh, for the twins." Alya interrupted, though she was looking curiously between them.

"I would love to. When is it though?" Cat turned back.

"In two weeks, on Sunday." Alya replied.

Cat hummed, trying to remember if he had anything scheduled, "I think I'm free. I'll message you on the forum when I get home and double check."

"Thank you!" Alya grinned.

"Of course." Cat smiled easily.

Mari nudged Alya, "I told you."

"Fine, you were right. There was nothing to worry about." Alya sighed.

"Hey, if you need anything Alya, seriously, let me know." Cat said.

Alya smiled, "Thank you, Cat."

Marinette picked up a plate of cookies that had somehow escaped his notice and handed them over to the hero.

Cat beamed as he took one, "Y'know Princess…"

"If it weren't for the Bug having your heart, you'd marry me for my baking alone?" Marinette raised a brow and practiced recital, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled, wrapping the plate back.

"Well! If that's all I'm good for!" Marinette crossed her arms with a huff, though her playful air never truly left her.

"Oh, c'mon, Purrincess, if that was all that drew me here, I'd just buy from the bakery mask off." Cat leaned his face close to Marinette's, sincere and earnest, "You know you're one of my best friends."

She turned her pursed lip glower to stare intently at him. She sighed and turned away, cheeks pinking some, "Yeah, I know. You're one of mine too, Kit."

His heart filled with warm delight. He really loved her caring so much about him. It made him feel so full of light. He knew he was grinning ridiculously but couldn't bring himself to care, even with their audience.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Go fall off a balcony, Prince Ali." Marinette snorted.

"Oh, as the princess wants." Cat saluted and fell backwards off the balcony.

With quick, well honed reflexes, he bounded back up with his baton onto the next roof, never losing grip of the plate of cookies.

"I want that plate back when you're done!" Mari called after him.

He turned, bowed one last time and bound off. He was almost out of earshot when Alya spoke.

“Girl, what the hell was that!?”

Part 1 Part 2

@ijustwannabecanadian @rianoel @hellolovelyscientist @theworldslittlesis

[rusalkii]

Pretty good week all in all from a productivity angle, kind of miserable from all other angles.

Keeping with my trend of solid (quite good for me, mediocre compared to what I’d like to have) not-procrastinating/keeping on top of my work/etc. Did both of the major aversive things I’ve meant to do, still have some I’m avoiding but these are very good to have done and I’m unironically proud of myself. I’ve been good with daily lists and mostly actually completing them. Did the textbook reading for the class where it was most strongly recommended, should for others as well. Been paying... any? attention in lectures, which is better than literally none, I guess. Tree app is very helpful when I actually use it. If I’m completely ignoring the lecturer there’s no point in going, I can just save my time and read the textbook. I can do that, but let it be a conscious decision instead of my lack of self-discipline. I’m giving Stat another week to not be useless, and then I can skip those lectures whenever I want without guilt as long as I maintain an A in the class. Otherwise I think going to lectures in the other classes is something I actually want to be doing at the moment. 

Did not make a schedule homework/studying this week, I’ve just done that now. I’ve put in 3 hours each for the three classes for which this makes sense, not counting the class where I have mandatory lab time that fulfills this function. I expect to spend more time than this on large assignments or before exams, but this should be a minimum unless something major comes up. I expect I might want to reduce the amount of time for stat, which is fine as long I’m maintaining a solid A.

Need to follow up on scheduling the interview if I don’t get an email from them by next Wednesday. Should start with looking for internships for next summer more broadly, too. Need to think about what I actually want - my worst option is going back to the firm I was at this summer, which is not bad at all except for the chance to see something new. General class of thing: Software (like this interview), econ research with a professor (need to talk to R to get a timeline on that), econ in industry (not really sure where to look here honestly), econ think-tanks, ??. Research would be very good if I’m seriously thinking of a PhD, also would probably be fun, but also is least likely to actually pay its interns real money. I’m quite confident that if R gets me an intro to 2-3 professors who want a research assistant I’ll be able to charm them into keeping me. (An option here is to do this over winter break/the school year and something else over the summer, but I’m not sure if I want that workload.) My job for this week is to mediate on this and update my resume.

I’ve been pretty good about eating, dropping my worries about that fully. I think my problem is that I don’t know how to make food that’s both easy and has enough nutritional variety for me. It would be good to try to learn to cook properly next break, but that’s a worry for later.

The problem with going back to college is that I am surrounded by college students. This is probably unfair of me but it nevertheless does seem to be my main issue at the moment. The only social activity I do regularly on campus (ballroom) hasn’t started up yet, so I’m just not interacting with people and slowly turning into a ball of concentrated resentment. This is not a great dynamic, actually. There exist people on campus I like, trying to interact with them more would be good. Otherwise, the club fair is in a week. I’m going to pick at least one (more) club I expect to have a significant social component and try to attend meetings at least once a week. (Board games? Climbing? Trail club? Philosophy? is there a Russian-language club? Improv? There are Options, is my point.) Interacting with not-campus people would be good too but has less obvious action items.

On a related note, the solution to aimlessness is to do things, not spend your free time lying around with your phone moping or napping. I want to do at least one of starting a crochet project that isn’t a scarf (hat out of the dusky blue yarn would be nice), start a weaving project, finish the seams on the damn green dress, and reading a non-fiction book. Something else in this category would also be fine, but these would be a good place to start.

Started check-ins with more specific weekly goals with @evolution-is-just-a-theorem and others. I expect this to be a good complement to this. Need to fully update that with weekly goals. 

Meta: Dropping separate “next week” section in favor of bolding action items. Took almost exactly 40 minutes to write because I don’t know how to shut up. And now I get to go on a quest for overpriced coffee as a reward for this and also sending the terrifying emails.

[imaginingteamiplier]

You Don’t Know Me (4)

Highschool!Ethan Nestor x Reader

Word Count: 1,255

Written By: Cass

Summary: The first tutoring session comes around and it goes shockingly well

Warnings: Language (very slight), Ethan’s a prick (but just a tiny bit and only in his head)

Part 3 | Masterlist

The ring of the bell was typically something that brought a wave of relief to students all throughout the school, but that day it was your worst enemy. You took your time, carefully putting your things in order and slipping them into your bag. You walked out of the classroom, your eyes locked on your phone as your feet carried you down the familiar halls towards the library.

The crowded high school halls were probably your least favorite part of school. It was loud, everyone was bumping shoulders, and some students simply couldn't figure out how to walk on the correct side of the hallway. You heard your name over the crowd and peeked around for who had called out to you.

Ethan nudged through the crowd, calling out to you again until he could finally get to you. He ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

"(Y/N), hey, you said you'd walk me to the library." Ethan reminded you with that irksome smile. You rolled your eyes, thinking back to that morning. You nodded a little, but kept walking, expecting him to keep up with you. And he did, keeping close enough that your shoulders bumped anytime that one of you was jostled.

Neither of you spoke anymore until you'd escaped the crowd and made it into the safety of the library. It was so much quieter inside than it had been in the hallway. Mr McCarthy looked up and smiled at you.

"Hey Mr M." You greeted with a bright smile. "How was your day?" You pause in front of his desk and Ethan follows your lead, though he looks a bit uncomfortable. 

"Not too bad, Thanks for asking. Finally found someone to tutor?" He nodded towards Ethan. You nodded yes in response before mouthing the word help. This made the man laugh and shake his head. You headed back to the few chairs hidden behind a large bookshelf of mystery books. Ethan followed like a lost puppy, looking around as if he'd never been so deep in the library before.

"Hey," Selorm looked up from her book, some romance probably, and put on her normal charming smile. You put your things down.

"Hey, Sel." You replied, already digging through your things. You pull out a simple blue folder with all of your tutoring plans in it. "Ethan, this is Selorm. Selorm, Ethan Nestor." You introduced as a quick side note. Selorm gives you a smirk only to receive a pointed glare from you. You heard Jordan's voice as he entered and greeted Mr McCarthy just as you had. He stopped when he reached your little nook, looking at the boy that stood with you. He nudged past and took a seat.

"Hey, ladies." He spoke up and looked over at Ethan. "Nestor." He left that as his greeting. Ethan gave an awkward wave.

"Shouldn't we be doing math or something?" Ethan pulled the strap of his bag higher onto his shoulder and you reluctantly nodded. You led Ethan towards a small square table in the corner. He sat down in one of the creaky chairs and you took the one to his left, shifting it so you were sitting more at the corner and less at the side. You laid out your notebook and folder. Upon flipping it open, you pulled out the schedule you'd made and the materials you needed to cover with him so he'd pass his classes.

"What is all this?" You were drawn out of your careful organizing by Ethan's voice. You turned to look up at him.

"All this is your tutoring plan." You explained. Being around him in your element, on your terms, definitely made you more comfortable. "These are the classes you need to get your grades up in," You explained, pointing to the classes on the page. Then you showed him the specific things he seemed to be struggling with. That he needed to write a couple of essays, work on polynomials and functions. The more you went on, the less he seemed to understand.

"Are you crazy? There's no way we can get through this by exams." He whined. You sent him a sharp look, silently daring him to test your skill.

"Are you even listening to me? The more we get done, the easier it'll be. The only reason you're struggling in math is because you fell behind here," You jabbed your finger into the paper at the beginning of your math lesson plans, "and it threw you off for everything afterwards. And you just need to write a couple essays, those are easy peasy."

Ethan chuckled at the way you worded it and you shrunk into your seat a little.

"But we still have to get it all done in a month and a half." He complained. You grinned and tapped the next paper you'd laid out.

"Schedule. We meet three times a week after school. The two weeks before exams, you join my study group." You told him, running him through the plans you had made You knew it wasn't entirely fair to be making his schedule, but he was right; there was a lot of work to get done. He started to protest, but it was as if something inside of him clicked. His education really mattered to him, and he'd be damned if he was going to let you get through this whole thing without falling for him.

"Alright, so I'm gonna give you a list of assignments that you need from your teachers. I need you to get them by our session day after tomorrow, yeah?" You dug through the papers until you found one with 'Brit Lit' scrawled at the top, and another with 'Algebra 2' on it. You passed those to him. He nodded and you glanced at your phone. An hour had already passed and you cleared you throat.

"You can go now. I'll see you on Thursday, same time." You said. You didn't wait for a reply, just stood up and gathered your things. You left a couple of papers for him, carefully tucking the rest into your bag. You started to leave, to head back to your friends and beg them to take you home. You were stopped by a hand resting your arm. Ethan's hand.

"Thanks (Y/N). You don't know how much I need this. He flashed a smile, no, a grin, at you. You nodded and mumbled a response that he couldn't even hear. Your head stayed down to hide the blush that crept into your cheeks at his touch.

This was something new.

You returned to your friends who had clearly been waiting to see how it went. You flopped into the free chair beside Jordan and groaned.

"That bad?" Sel asked with a small giggle. You looked over at her.

"That's what's so strange about it. He listened to me, didn't complain about the schedule. He even thanked me." You rambled quietly, almost as if you were trying to prove to yourself that he really was being nice to you, the he really saw you as a human being and not some play thing.

"Sounds like he's not so awful after all." Selorm stated, looking down at her perfectly manicured hands. You wanted to throw something at her, but all you had were the contents of you bag and you couldn't risk their safety like that.

"Yeah right." You argued. But maybe she was right. And maybe that's exactly what was bothering you so much.

Tag List: @iimtyler // @theashofwkm // @mirandaisntcool // @piper345678 // @anothershorthuman // @thesleeplessfangirl // @sanity-is-overratedxp // @miscellaneoustoasts // @livingwithgoober // @glorious-idiot // @allensnotofficial // @the-real-lightningscar

[realtalk-princeton]

Hey Maybach. Your long response was great. Thank you for putting thought and time into this blog. Could you elaborate on the problems unique to Princeton mentioned in the following section?“Are there problems that are unique to Princeton even if it’s only 10% of its total problems? Yes. And pre-frosh should be aware of them and I’m happy to talk about them.”-a different 2023 prefrosh

Thanks for stopping by. Sorry, it took me a week to get to this, I just had a lot of other things I also needed to take care of in addition to answering the questions before you.

As I’ve stated previously, most of the concerns students have at this school are largely similar to the concerns students have at all other elite schools (whether they know it or not).  However, one issue that I think Princeton has that is uniquely “strong” is a cultural preoccupation with prestige primarily through the lens of exclusivity and image. By this, I mean that the campus seems to foster this idea within students that they need to be constantly in the most visible and public elite and selective positions. This somehow permeates all throughout almost all aspects of student life whether it be in performing groups, clubs, work experience, academics, etc. I’ve talked to ivy league students from pretty much all the schools and this last point of this obsession with prestige in almost all facets of the student experience is what is uniquely problematic. For example, while people contemplating self-harm due to not gaining entrance to a social club is not unique (frats and sororities at Dartmouth and Vanderbilt have the analogous issue), what is unique is that this idea of NEEDING to be in these exclusive circles outside of just one particular area is what I find particularly troubling. I can’t tell you how many people come here and they have a passion. Just to give you an easy story, I know a person who was good at playing their instrument and tried out for “performing group x” (avoiding specifics here), but she didn’t get in (they accepted like 3 out of 100 applicants). Now because group x is the most “prestigious” and special group on campus this person lost motivation to practice their instrument because performing group y (the second best group) is not “good enough” to warrant spending time on when Princeton already makes us so busy. As a result, this horrible recursive loop happens where people no longer want to put effort into their passions and the next time they apply they do even worse because of this. There’s a culture of not being able to let go and just do things for the sake of fun or enjoyment. Same thing with internships. “I’m only making $15,000 next summer, but someone I know is making $20k at a company with better name recognition.” People just can’t stop comparing themselves to each other and constantly forming a culture and system of exclusivity based on trying to define as many of our interactions in this sense (whether consciously or unconsciously). Even more ridiculous is that people often base comparisons off of faulty data sources such as social media, which only strengthens feelings of inferiority. I actually read a really good article in the Daily Prince a while ago that was something like “you won the Princeton lottery, now play again to get into exclusive clubs” or something like that. Pretty much it was just talking about just this issue in a better way than I’m describing and how people who just want to do say “good” stand-up comedy vie for like 2 spots with 100 people applying and it creates this terrible binary huge win or huge loss, nothing in-between culture. However, I would like to state 2 big notes about this issue. While it is a problem, luckily it is not competitive between students, only from within. In other words, it’s not like people will go out of their way to denigrate people in less “prestigious” groups and people aren’t cutthroat about it generally. Secondly, there are still a number of people who literally give NO attention to any of this nonsense. They are the minority, but it’s certainly possible to ignore all of this and just be part of casual stuff. For example, there are now numerous clubs on campus that are non-audition based and allow people to put in as much effort as they want.

Another unique problem, I think we have is an excessive academic system at times. However, I think this issue is becoming less and less a problem year after year and certainly was not big enough of a factor to make my experience here bad. As previously stated, grade deflation was quite a bad system, but grades are now reaching all-time highs and the average GPA of each new class is significantly higher than the last. Another old systematic problem was the calendar, which I loathed, which put breaks before finals. This encouraged people to work super hard during the time for family in order to “beat” the kids who didn’t study on Christmas Day to do well in intro classes. It was horrendous and hearing stories of CS kids spending 80 hours on an assignment over the break and still not finishing was just terrible. Luckily, you will not have to deal with this though lol. Our academics were also too rushed with the old calendar and material moved SUPER fast. It’s still pretty fast, but that is expected. However, overall, I would say that Princeton is probably harder and more rigorous than most of our peers. I’ve taken courses abroad and at NYU, and for sure the standard was noticeably lower. I will say though that I learned more at Princeton as a result though. However, for some people, it’s too much and they feel overburdened by our system’s rigor and of course the independent research process. If you hate the idea of research and don’t change this perspective by your second year of college here, I can imagine that your academic life would be quite stressful.

The last major unique issue I think Princeton is a little bit too uptight at times. What do I mean by this? It’s probably a combination of the academic system, modern age, and students’ own egos, but the culture is sometimes not chill enough for my liking. For me, I’ve had to make my experience chill and more relaxed at times and it can suck when friends around you are just stressed out and don’t want to also make time to just you know… have fun. Have people forgotten about that concept? (joke) This is a bubble and at times that is problematic because like I said before, everyone has no sense of comparable reality and thinks they need to be overloaded with work. Obviously, it doesn’t apply to everyone (case and point me), but it’s still worse than most of our peers I think (except Columbia and University of Chicago and a few others that are totally insane). It’s shocking for me sometimes how “in the zone” people are and totally overfocused on their classes, a particular club, and getting an internship. I remember I told someone “did you hear the big news?” in reference to North Korea last year and the person replied “Yeah I know! It’s crazy! my math exam got rescheduled.” People seem to have commitment problems as a result of being super busy. LDR’s are rarer than leprechauns compared to other universities and people just seem to not prioritize things like maintaining familiar and friend relationships enough. This is not to say this isn’t a problem at other universities, but just a little worse here.

Anyway, so I hope you got something out of my candid answers. To be honest, it was hard coming up with unique problems. Only the first one I listed is REALLY unique. The other two are just noticeably a little worse than at the “average” elite school. So don’t think that by going to say Columbia over us is going to make your academic life way easier. Trust me, it won’t.

Edit. I forgot to add one more thing because I personally don’t consider it a “problem” lol. But I thought I’d be fair and put it in. Princeton is uniquely anti-drug compared to other universities. I’ve pretty much never seen weed here (except at Terrace after 2am when all the other clubs close) and hard drugs are extraordinarily rare. Compare this to say Berkeley or Brown and it’s like comparing night and day. We also actually punish students who openly use things like marijuana in their dorms and students have been turned over to the police and/or expelled for infractions such as this. Simple and to the point, we don’t have a very heavy drug culture. People still do them, but generally in more secret and secluded places like a private eating club, Poe field, etc. Now, I don’t consider this a “problem”, but if in the spirit of total transparency, those of you pre-frosh who like the kush ought to know this haha.

[maraudersmessrs]

Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban--- Chapter 33: Simple Failings

Ao3 link

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34

A week or so later, a knock came on his door as sleet began to spatter the window, pulling his attention from packing his case up for his upcoming class. 

“Come in,” he called.

Cedric Diggory opened the door, stuck his head in and said with an uncharacteristic grimness, “Could I talk to you for a moment, Professor?”

Normally a pleasant and smiling boy, he seemed strangely tense and uncomfortable, though he did manage a small smile of greeting. It was a bit perplexing to Remus, not only for the fact that he had only ever seen this boy good-humored in the halls and class, but also for the fact that he was scheduled to be with the rest of the 5th year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in his classroom in 10 minutes. Puzzled, he stopped packing and leaned a hip against his desk with a wince as he turned to give the boy his full attention; focusing was hard over the dull throbbing that permeated him, courtesy of the very-nearly full moon. “Of course, Cedric. What can I help you with?”

“Thank you, sir. I…” he hesitated, then said, “I wanted to let you know that I’m not going to be in class today.”

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh?”

Cedric nodded uneasily, yet met his gaze squarely. His grey eyes were clearly troubled but resolute--Remus had noticed that he had informed him of his absence instead of asking his permission. “You told us last week that today is going to be the boggart lesson, so I’ve been looking up the theory and spell behind it, even practiced a bit on my own and I think I’ve got it down well enough for the O.W.L.s. I just...I already know what my boggart is and...I don’t want to give people the wrong idea. So, I think it’s best if I skip today.”

It was a trouble with the fear, then. He folded his arms thoughtfully, one hand rubbing absently across his mouth as he studied the ground before Cedric’s feet. The sleet picked up, rolling against the window in hard spats that punctuated the silence, and the chill rising from the glass crept around the heat from the fire, needling into his joints, his bones. Was this a trauma or merely embarrassment? Cedric had never struck him as a particularly prideful person, nor a very troubled one; though, he cautioned himself, that didn’t mean anything. His judgement had been incorrect or incomplete before and trauma was not always readily apparent from the outside. How much to ask? How much to insist? To approach the situation as a compassionate adult or an insistent defender for education? Could he do both? He looked up again, seeing the boy watching him almost warily, still standing tall and guarded. “You’ve encountered a boggart before, then?”

Cedric sighed and said, “Yes, last summer. We were cleaning out the basement and--” he stopped and considered Remus a moment, seeming to size him up.

Remus stood there, calmly, and let him decide. When he watched Cedric chew pensively on the inside of his cheek, he merely gently offered. “I’m not going to tell anyone anything you say, unless you’re in some sort of danger. Not even Dumbledore.”

“No, that’s not…” He shook his head and blew out a breath. It seemed he reached some sort of resolve because he suddenly lost his apprehensive edge and lifted his hands, palm up, as if requesting understanding. “I thought it was my dad.  It looked exactly like him, but he just stepped around this stack of boxes and started in on how disappointed he was in me and how he had wasted all his time and trust on me, that I would never be as successful or famous or talented as he wanted me to be, that I was worthless, a disgrace. How he used to be so proud of me but--”

Cedric stopped when his fists seemed to involuntarily clench and he swallowed, the line of his jaw hard. A weak smile flashed across his face. “Sorry. Harder to talk about than I thought.”

He took a breath. “It tore me up for days; I couldn’t even talk to him about it because I was just so...upset that I’d done something to lose his trust like that. And, of course, he never brought it up, though I didn't know why. I thought he was just too ashamed of me to say anything more. It wasn’t until my mum started yelling one night and came bolting upstairs saying we had a boggart in the basement that I realized the reason he never talked about it was that it wasn’t him. It was just... what I was most afraid of, I guess. But he works in the Ministry. A lot of the parents know him and I just don’t want people getting the wrong idea and start rumors, you know? Me stepping to the front of the class and my boggart’s my dad---they’ll get all sorts of horrible ideas and I don’t want anyone thinking he, I dunno, hits me or scares me or something, because he doesn’t. He loves me. He just wants the best for me. I just...I just don’t want to take the chance that it will reflect badly on him.”

Remus had known Amos from afar, at school; a few years older than his group of friends, a Hufflepuff Prefect, loud and rather boastful, yet still amicable enough. It was very easy to imagine the man inadvertently settling his immense pride on his son’s shoulders, like a weight. “That’s a very...mature attitude and a thoughtful response to your problem. Let me see….” He gazed out the window for a few moments, thinking, until, at last, he turned back to him. “I’m willing to allow this if you write me a one scroll essay on the practice of the Riddikulus Charm; give 3 examples of the transformation from object of fear to one of comedy, specific to your Boggart and circumstance. You must also have a private lesson with myself or another teacher you trust before your exams in order to ascertain that you can successfully perform the Charm. Does that seem fair to you, Cedric?”

Immediately, the stiffness melted from Cedric's shoulders and the familiar, brilliant smile flashed back on in his relief. All at once, he was no longer a steely defender; just a boy. “Oh, yes! Thank you, Professor Lupin, I really appreciate it. I know you have to get to class, so I'll get out of your hair.”

He spun to the door, pulled it open, but something in Remus possessed him to say, “Cedric?”

“Hm?”

He was silent a few moments, searching, as if he could find some sort of phrase to assuage this boy’s fears--as if he had the means or the right. He was no father and he wasn’t quite sure exactly how much weight his opinion held in the mind of a 16 year old who hardly knew him. The boy watched him think, slightly puzzled, waiting as a flash of wind beat the sleet in a sudden hard splatter against the pane. Finally, he said, slowly, “Your loyalty to your father is admirable. I hope I am not overstepping when I say that your loyalty to yourself is just as important---it is your life to live.”

Cedric’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he considered this, hand on the door. Then, he nodded slowly. “Thank you, sir. I’ll...think on that,” he said agreeably before he left, pulling the door shut behind him.

Remus stayed where he was, watching the door sightlessly, leaning on his desk with a introspective hand over his mouth. He should have thought of it before, honestly. It should have occurred to him the first time he had stepped in front of the class to stop Harry’s boggart manifesting in front of all the students. Too caught up at the time, trying to save Harry from himself and the class from boggart-Voldemort to realize the way he was going about this was wrong. If you were a student now and a Professor told you they would reveal your greatest fear to a class full of your peers to ridicule, mock, and torture you with, would you trust that Professor or run screaming from the classroom? God. He dropped his chin, running a hand up his face, through his hair, down the back of his neck. Idiot. Didn’t even think to put yourself in the student’s place, did you? You’re not the only one with secrets. Immediately, the path made by his palm ached like a sunburn, skin crawling before the Change, but he ignored it.

How on earth could children be asked to trust him if he didn’t act trustworthy?

He looked down at the dormant cupboard beneath his ancient and ponderous desk, demurely concealing the boggart he had been about to hound into his packing case once again. Would using it in class still be feasible, then? Would he have to rewrite his curriculum, his exams, his entire lesson plan? Cedric was the first to protest, but Remus mustn’t assume he was the only one; that was rarely the case. And what if Neville’s boggart had been Frank? Alice? Too busy forcing the tools into their hands to ask how they would like to receive them. The watch at his wrist ticked steadily, reminding him of his impending tardiness. Decision time. He opened the door to the cupboard.

As he stepped through the door to his classroom, the students were chatting amiably, but shushed each other as eyes fell on the case. He looked, really looked out into their faces and saw apprehension and excitement, curiosity, determination, doubt. Fear. With a wave of his wand, the case slid neatly onto his desk and he turned to face them behind it, trying to disguise quite how heavily he was leaning on it. “It has…” Come to my attention? Too incriminating; Cedric is absent. “Dawned on me that in planning this exercise, I wasn’t being too terribly bright.”

A small ripple of indulgent laughter burbled across the class at that. They think I’m joking, bless them, he thought with wry affection and continued. “Boggarts, fears, anxieties, and phobias are heavy subjects that affect us each in different and, sometimes, unforeseen ways. It is my job as your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor to help you confront your fears, navigate around them, and even use them to your advantage. It’s not easy and there are many adults who haven’t mastered this skill, but as young people, we have a duty to you teach you how to protect yourselves from such an attack, whether it’s from a boggart or someone trying to use your fear to control you. It would be...irresponsible of me to create a classroom environment where you as students did not feel safe to focus on your tasks. Therefore, I’m offering the chance to remain here to utilize this time as a study hour while the rest of us use the vacant classroom in the 7th floor West wing. I will be trusting your judgement and I won’t ask you to justify it--I only ask that you use your time here wisely and meet me after class to discuss when you will have your one-on-one make-up lessons with either me or another trusted staff member. There will also be a writing component that you must turn in, to show your comprehension, whether your meeting is with me or another Professor. This isn't a ‘get out of class free’ pass, but I’m open to a discussion about meeting your needs.”

For the most part, all the looks that met him were thoughtful or even slightly surprised, but there were one or two pale faces that had relaxed enormously. Like looking back in time…. It truly shamed him that it took this long to empathize; his first year and a half ago a student had been living in a constant state of terror that he would be discovered, that he would be found and rejected, or worse. Some sort of sympathetic echo of it hooked the edge of him, ringing out from his adolescence, the hypothetical challenge to his deepest secret making his skin crawl in retroactive horror. How easily he forgot the exhaustion of hypervigilance, to not immediately see through the student’s when asking them to reveal their greatest fears. To think he had contributed to the same sort of panic he had felt….He kept his chagrin off his face as he waved his hand in an invitation to rise and follow him, taking hold of the case handle.

“I will be the last one out, if you please,” he called over the clatter of the students repacking their bags and saw 3 spots of calm amid the rustling, 2 Hufflepuffs and one Ravenclaw glancing around surreptitiously, not packing. “7th floor, West Wing, remember. Quiet in the halls, please, there are other classes in session,” he continued as the rest left, chatting amongst themselves.

He turned back at the door and looked at the remaining students; 2 Hufflepuff girls, Thora and Madeline, and Ashok, the Ravenclaw boy. Remus smiled. “You understand the assignment?”

While Thora nodded firmly, the other 2 seemed far more diffident. True to his word, Remus didn’t ask; he merely nodded back, said, “I’ll meet with you after class, then,” and left.

Despite an immediate regret of making them all trek to the 7th floor when one of his knees gave a loud and distinctive pop, the rest of the class proceeded fairly well. There was only one instance where someones Riddikulus-boggart was another boy’s greatest fear and another where a girl named Ophelia burst into hysterical tears when confronted with a giant moth. Not exactly perfect, but no diving interventions on his part, no nausea or pain spikes, and everyone was in good spirits when they left, even Ophelia, who reassured him that she was merely caught by surprise instead of scarred for life. Luckily, the boggart seemed to be as exhausted as he was by all the activity and slunk back into the case instead of fighting, making his life a whole lot easier. A quick check in with his 3 odd-students out back in the classroom had Thora meeting with him, Madeline meeting with Professor Sprout, and Ashok with Flitwick. Briefly, he considered scheduling his meeting on a Thursday, the same day he was to meet with Harry to give the boggart some sort of working week it could then retire from on the weekends, but then figured he shouldn’t push his luck or his energy limit; not with the full moon drawing so near. Instead, they were to meet the following Monday morning, during her free period. He made a note to himself to talk to the other teachers about transporting the boggart for their lessons after his transformation and dismissed the lot of them.

The Great Hall was in his sights when a sharp voice caught him by the ear. “I’m not some sort of guerilla strike force, you know. It’s not my job to find and somehow capture you to inflict healing.”

Bemused, he turned and took in Poppy’s sour scowl as she came off the stairway to his right. “But, I’m f--”

“Remus, let me tell you something; I have hundreds of children to look after and dozens of adults. We are in a school where inexperienced students try to do magic--very rarely am I bored or unoccupied. Is there some reason that you think I should have to hunt you down and remind you that you have a chronic, debilitating illness?”

Alarmed, he looked around, but she seemed to be more tactical than she claimed, for she seemed to have chosen to strike at the height of the lunch rush, when everyone was in the Great Hall and being quite loud about it. He turned back to find her much closer, disapproving face intensifying at close range. “I don’t think you should do that--in fact, I’m trying to stay out of your hair.”

“You’re trying to stay out of my hair.”

“Well...yes. I’m--it’s not going to go away, so what’s the point of me coming back and complaining about the same aches and pains that will happen anyway?”

“Oh, so that’s your justification for letting yourself hobble around?”

“Hobble--?” He started, indignantly.

“Oops,” She said dryly, pushing him hard in the shoulder with 2 fingers. It surprised him enough that he staggered back a step, a starburst of pain shooting immediately from his shoulder, hip, and knee, which promptly buckled. Remus sat down on the flagstones, hard.

Poppy looked down at him. He looked up at her. “Hobble...is a strong word,” he said, with great dignity.

“You’re an idiot,” she answered just as deliberately, folding her arms. After considering him for another moment, she said, tartly, “Aren’t you going to get up?”

“I’m...comfortable.”

“You can’t get up, can you.”

“You don’t know that. I don’t know that.”

“You aren’t going to try?”

“Well, then we would know, and I’m beginning to suspect that I wouldn’t like the answer.”

“Do you need help?”

Remus heaved a sigh, “More than I thought I did, apparently.” He took her small, hard hand and levered himself up with her surprisingly strong pull; it left his hand sore. His spine still ached from the impact of falling. “Thank you. Though, now that I think of it, you were the one that pushed me down.”

“I tapped you.”

“Potato, tomato….” he shrugged and dusted off his robes--not that it did much to make them look less threadbare and used.

She raised her eyebrows at him with the first small smile he had seen on her all day. “Aren’t we in a good mood.”

“I’m feeling...effective. It helps.”

“Well, I’m sure it doesn’t hurt. What does hurt, on the other hand, is you not refusing medical treatment.”

He sighed but held up a warding hand when she put her hands on her hips. “I’m not refusing it, I just don’t see the point. I’m taking the potions you gave me, I just overexerted myself last week and--” a gaggle of students walked by, talking loudly, so he rephrased, “The, er, big day is 2 nights away. I’m not expecting to feel good.”

“Well, stop it,” Poppy snapped, sounding harassed. “If a treatment isn’t working, get a better treatment.” A faraway look came over her and she rubbed her chin, musing,  “I’ll have Professor Snape brew you up a Draught of Raqiuel’s Relaxation-- it should help with any overworked muscles and hopefully make the Change not much worse than it would be.”

Remus schooled his face away from the grimace that had tried to twist his mouth. “Oh...I don’t want to bother Severus, actually...and perhaps this isn’t the best place for this particular conversation?”

Giving him a sharp look as she focused back on him, she accused, “You would rather not have this conversation at all, which is why we’re having it here. You will find me before the full moon?”

He jumped and glanced furtively back at the doors to the Great Hall, “Poppy--”

“Oh, I can see when someone’s coming,” she said, grimly. “You will then?”

“Does my promise count if it’s under duress?” He asked incredulously, edging backwards toward the Hall. It remained to be seen that she wasn’t some sort of guerilla strike force, specializing in interrogation, considering this had to be the second or third time he had been subject to such a forceful application of affection.

“It does in my court; you will?”

“I will! No more hunting!” He waved a binding hand of oath in the air and fled to lunch.

[written-rebellion]

Perfect Distractions

A/N: Thanks so so much to everyone reading! I get deliriously excited whenever I see another like or reblog, especially since this is my first time posting any sort of fanfic on tumblr <3 <3 Extra special thanks to @scotsmanandsassenach @annalisedemoodboards @aruza83 @laythornmuse @fishermanslass @marshmallow0810 @rancar47 @underhillhobbitgirl @leftcoaster88 @annagoober for the reblogs and lovely messages and comments! I’m so glad you’re all enjoying the story :D 

Also! Tiny bit of housekeeping, I’ve figured out a completely arbitrary (but now set in stone) schedule, to posting the next few chapters - just so my writing can stay ahead of the posts going up. You can expect new chapters every Thursday and Sunday (until/unless I hit some fatal attack of writer’s block). :)

Claire hates magnets, Jamie hates autopilot, and as always, all the facts of this fanfic are contrived specifically to make fluffy university/modern-day au scenarios. Please let me know what you think! #MurtaghMadeMeDoIt

Part One: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] | Part Two: [Chapter 1] 

Part Two: Separation Anxiety | Chapter 2

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was mulling over five different edits of a text message and seven different ways to make Joe Abernathy’s murder look like an accident.

She was leaning against a pillar just outside the lobby of her residence, thankful that most people were already either huddled up in their room or away at dinner. Or on dates. Like her.

Or not like her. Or possibly like her? She stomped her heel with a grunt, and then straightened her back, inhaling quickly through her nose as she hit send without another thought.

>          Sorry for texting out of the blue. No worries if you already had plans…

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Beauchamp. And just what exactly did that ellipses mean to imply? That she’d be disappointed if he did have plans? That there was room to reschedule? That she was getting her hopes up for a date that wasn’t a date — that she didn’t even mean to ask for — but was now altogether dismayed and excited and no small amount of mortified at the very notion?

“Your man will be here,” Joe had said. Her man.

“Far bloody from it,” she murmured, thumping the back of her head against the pillar, feebly trying to stop him from coming to mind.

James Fraser. Jamie. That absurd red-headed idiot who threw pebbles into her third-floor window. He was infuriating and persistent, that one. And Claire was loathe to admit that their last impromptu study break had resulted in a well-rested mind and a shining grade on her midterm.

Her phone vibrated in her hand and she almost dropped it. Not a great sign for a future surgeon, she thought derisively as she opened the message.

>          Dinna fash lass, I cancelled those. I’ll be at yer place in 5

Her lips curved upwards involuntarily at the thought of him cancelling his plans, but she snapped out of it and scowled. Christ, what was happening to her? Why was this happening to her? She was a far cry from the dream-headed teenagers of Lifetime original movies. And yet, she’d woken up snuggled bodily against her pillows more times this week than she’d care to admit.

He was like a disease really, metastasizing and invading her every thought and action.

And not a bad-looking one, at that, said the more defiant recesses of her mind. She could still feel the phantom echo of his thumb against her cheek, making them flush of their own free will.

If she was being honest, she liked him. She liked him a lot. He was charming, almost to a fault, and was always so earnest in his actions that she found herself forgiving his small idiocies as if he were a child. He was also most gracious after she tackled him that first day in the library, which was as sweet as it was maddening. She’d said as much to him before, but whenever he was around, the constant buzzing in her brain seemed to shut down. His smile calmed even her stormiest thoughts.

What she hated was this: these moments apart where her mind was free to dream up all manner of anxiety, like the minutes before an exam but so much worse. The white noise came back tenfold, as if to make up for lost time. It was like the tension between two magnets just before they clicked together.

She also hated how much she wanted to click together.

She hated that the most.

---

He knew it was a mistake exactly 0.3 seconds after he clicked send. With no John to backseat text, Jamie had typed whatever came to mind before that same mind had the chance to walk him straight back to his room, let him cocoon under his blankets and slowly die of shame.

Why in God’s holy name would he tell her he cancelled his plans? So much for not looking too eager. He wanted to slow down his pace to think it over, but goddammit, he’d said he’d be there in five minutes. He was grateful for the autopilot his body seemed to operate on, willing his legs to move before the rest of him – stumbling around thoughts and scenarios and topics of conversation – could follow.

She’d texted him. She did. There was no more lingering doubt that she was only humouring his antics, and she’d told him so the other night. She needed him.

Or well, something akin to that. He couldn’t exactly remember the phrasing at the moment. His heart was singing too loudly to hear.

An icy jolt ran through him then and would’ve stopped him cold in his step had he not been oath-bound to make it to her door in the next 2 minutes and 34 seconds.

Jesus, he’d been so utterly spellbound by her saying his name that he’d touched her face without thinking. It seemed so natural to do so, to rub his thumb across the arches of blue pen painted on her cheek. And – curse that autopilot after all – he’d reached out and made contact before the rest of him even realized.

And her face. Dhia, that creeping blush and small quiver in her lips. His body ached to still them with his own, but thank heaven for small mercies, he’d managed to regain a semblance of control, managed to instead get lost in the lilt of her voice and the pools of whisky in her eyes.

Eyes that were now searching around for, presumably, him as she leaned against the front pillar of her residence. His legs finally slowed to a stop.

“Sassenach…”

Attention caught, she turned to him immediately with a wide doe-eyed expression that melted into a small smile of recognition. She walked towards him, closing the gap between them.

She was pulled towards him like the magnets she adamantly refused to liken them to.

Click went her heels as they hit the pavement and stopped right in front of him.

“We’re back to that name, are we?”

“Aye.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned down at her. “If ye like.”

“I did sort of miss it,” she said, feeling suddenly quite dull. How long had it been since she’d been on a date, let alone a first date? C’mon Beauchamp, you can do better than this.

She opened her mouth to say something – anything – but, he’d already drawn in a breath to speak so she let him.

“How was yer exam, by the way? Did ye do alright?”

“Oh well, y’know…” She brushed her hair back, letting her feigned humility last for less than a whole second before the honest joy poured out. “I got a 93!”

“That’s fantastic, lass!” he said happily, and he meant it. The strikingly warm hand now pressed into her arm told her so. “I’m verra proud of ye!”

Her smile shrunk, not wanting him to know how pleased that made her, nor how his hand on her arm was warming her whole body.

“And ye’re welcome too.” That startled her, pulling her head down from its rapid ascent into the clouds.

“For what, exactly?” Smile gone, eyes narrowing.

His hand left her as he crossed his arms, grin widening.

“For takin’ ye on a walk the other night, to clear yer heid.” He nodded, setting off Claire’s more familiar – and oddly comforting – urge to smack him.

“As I recall, I was the one taking you out for a walk that night.” She held her scrutinizing glare for half a second more before breaking into laughter. “No dogs on the premises, remember?”

He laughed too, shoulders relaxing as he let his arms fall loose from his chest.

“Ah well,” he said. “I suppose we’d best get off the premises then, aye?”

“Where did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I dinna ken, Sassenach. You were the one who called me here, weren’t ye?”

No, actually I wasn’t, but God bless Joe Abernathy, the nosy little bugger.

“Fair point.” One slim finger found her chin as she weighed their options, surveying the campus grounds behind him. “Food?”

When their eyes met again, he was staring intently at her, the same way he’d done that night before he reached up to touch her cheek. She could have sworn he’d meant to kiss her then and – for fuck’s flying sake – she was terrified of the fact that she would have let him.

“W-what?”

The look was gone as quickly as it came. He shook his head, ruddy curls swishing about.

“Nothin’, just my favourite word, that.”

“You and every other student on campus.” She snorted, turning from him to start in the direction of a small diner she’d taken a liking to. “I know where we can still find a table though.” With a look over her shoulder, she allowed herself to smile at him as widely and honestly as she’d like.

“Are you coming?”

“Aye,” he said softly, and a chill ran down her spine. “Aye, I’m right behind ye.”

Read Chapter 3

[warsoflaw]

General advice for those pursuing a career as a barrister specialising in areas traditionally funded by legal aid

 Why become a barrister?

Although lines between the professions have somewhat collapsed with the advent of public access (for barristers) and higher court rights (for solicitors), barristers do tend to focus more on advocacy and/or the point of conflict/serious (potential) problems. There tends to be less client-facing work (e.g. taking witness statements, providing general legal advice) and more legal research.

One of the major differences between barristers and other lawyers is that, from the outset, most barristers are self-employed. This is a very different experience to work in a firm as ultimately you are responsible for running your own business.

I’ve previously said that working as a barrister is kind of like being a student except you write an essay/take an oral exam nearly every day instead of once a week/year and somebody's life/home/family depends upon it! It can be very stressful but feeling useful and effective is also very rewarding.

Which chambers?

There are some sets who specialise heavily in publicly funded work but it’s not always easy to tell which those are - a chambers may look like a ‘human rights’ chambers but in fact works mostly for the government, against individuals. Look at the reported cases on chambers websites to see who their barristers are normally representing. Also check Chambers & Partners and the Legal 500 to see who is ranked and for what kind of work (although bear in mind these suffer from almost the same level as self-reporting as chambers’ own websites). Also if there is a particular line of cases you have been following/interested in, try to see who is acting in them.

Remember to look outside your city, especially if you live in London. Opportunities in other cities can be really good, especially as many chambers outside London aim to take on any pupils that are up to standard (as opposed to some London chambers who do not have as many tenancy places as pupils). With a lower cost of living and less competition, it can also be easier to establish your practice.

Many chambers will do legal aid work in criminal and family law but for other areas it might be harder to identify key sets. Some areas are so specialist (e.g. social security) there maybe only one or two barristers in an entire chambers with a significant amount of work in that area. Other major areas include:

Immigration and asylum:

London: 1 Mitre Court Buildings, 10 KBW, Doughty Street Chambers, Garden Court Chambers, Goldsmith Chambers, Lamb Building, Landmark Chambers, Matrix Chambers, One Pump Court

Birmingham: No 5 Chambers, No 8 Chambers

Leeds: KBW Barristers Chambers

Manchester: Garden Court North Chambers, Kenworthys Chambers

Newcastle: Trinity Chambers

Housing:

London: Arden Chambers, Doughty Street Chambers, Garden Court Chambers, Landmark Chambers, One Pump Court

Manchester: Garden Court North Chambers

Birmingham: St Ives Chambers

Scholarships (for the GDL/BPTC)

Each Inns of Court has a scholarship scheme, but they vary slightly in the way they are administered. For example, Inner Temple interviews everyone that applies and modifies the amount awarded by your financial needs. Lincoln’s Inn has set awards, and probably the largest financial pot.

Academics

There is no doubt that having higher grades will be (often literally) a point in your favour, as will having further academic qualifications e.g. a masters. Do not underestimate the usefulness of having worked hard at this stage - push yourself to get the best result possible and make good use of your tutors who can guide you to achieve your full potential. 

Remember there is space on the pupillage application to explain any out of character lower marks (e.g. a bereavement) and you can also compensate for a 2.1 at undergraduate level (while this is obviously not a bad result, a lot of your competitors will have firsts!) with good results in a masters, GDL or BPTC so do not see the latter two in particular as simply a hoop to jump through.

Mooting/debating

While not all chambers are interested in this, I would strongly advise any prospective barrister to do some mooting or debating. Firstly, mooting in particular can really help you with your academics e.g. by making you think out tricky private law problems or practise the advocacy skills you will need for your BPTC exams. Secondly, achievements in this area are a tangible sign that you have some talent in advocacy. If you are able to put that you won something or even advanced to the final stages, this could be a point in your favour. However, I do not advise listing a number of competitions you’ve participated in if you did not make it past the first round - this will not look good.

For mooting opportunities, check with your Inn, law school and local law society. International opportunities include the Phillip C. Jessup International Law Moot Court Competition.

Mini-pupillages

Opinions on this vary but doing more than 3 mini-pupillages, especially if you are pretty confident about which area of law you would like to do, is likely to have diminishing returns as you should have a pretty good idea by then of whether you think this would be a good career for you, which at the end of the day is the mini-pupillage’s real function as few offer much in the way of tangible work experience and even if they do it is only a few days, making a marginal difference to your overall work experience history. In practical terms it can also take up a lot of space on your pupillage application (unfortunately there is not a separate section for this on the standard pupillage portal applications) and distract from more substantive work experience. Think also about what your mini-pupillages reveal about your interests - if you have done 3 mini-pupillages in personal injury/commercial sets and then apply to a human rights chambers, the person reading your application may think you are not really interested in their areas of law.

Work/volunteering experience

Unfortunately, work experience is more and more relevant to applications to human rights and legal aid sets, where applicants are often older and those recently out of university may find it hard to compete. The younger generation are impressively switched on to the need to start getting relevant experience at an early stage and are taking advantage of student opportunities such as law clinics, miscarriage of justice projects and Amnesty International student groups. If your university does not offer this, consider setting up one yourself - and check if there are funds available to support that.

Internships and volunteering are good CV builders but can be difficult to access for those who have caring responsibilities or need to work to fund their studies. Look out for:

Funded/expenses paid internships

Evening/part time opportunities - law centres/university law clinics often offer flexible hours that you could fit around other commitments. 

Bursaries e.g. the Human Rights Lawyers Association, Inns of Court internships, university study/internship scholarships for the academic holidays

Paid roles e.g. legal assistant to a barrister, paralegal in a law firm, county court advocate

Remote volunteering e.g. writing articles for legal oriented websites like the Justice Gap, the Student Lawyer or joining one of YLAL’s sub-groups

Also if you see somewhere asking for 4 days a week for 3 months, go to them and ask if there is any possibility they can be flexible and accommodate your constraints - can you offer them 1 day a week for a year, for example.

One good tip if you are not sure where to look for volunteering opportunities is to check the profiles of junior barristers at chambers that you want to apply for - they will often mention different schemes they have done.

In general, organizations that may offer opportunities include:

Multiple locations: Bar Human Rights Committee, Citizens Advice Bureau (CAB), law centres (see Law Centres Network list), university law clinics, Streetlaw, Amicus, Personal Support Unit, Shelter, Independent Custody Visitor, Appropriate Adult, Refugee Action, Magistrates, Independent Parental Special Education Advice, National Centre for Domestic Violence

Leeds/Bradford: Bradford Women’s Aid, Manual Bravo Project, Palm Cove Society, Solace

Liverpool: Vauxhall Community Law and Information Centre

London: Free Representation Unit, Reprieve, Justice, Liberty, Privacy International, Amnesty International, Minority Rights Group International, ATLEU, Joint Council for the Welfare of Immigrants (JCWI), Article 19, Redress, Fair Trials international, Howard League for Penal Reform, Howard League for Penal Reform, The Prisoners’ Advice Service, African Prisons Project, Release

Manchester: Greater Manchester Law Centre, Manchester/Bolton/Rochdale CABs, Urban Lawyers North, ASHA

Newcastle: Families in Care

Sheffield: Ashiana Sheffield, ASSIST Sheffield, City Hearts

Applications

Make sure work experience descriptions are concrete - would anyone reading your application understand what your role entailed? If it’s relevant to the areas of law in which you would like to practise, make sure you explain exactly what work you were doing e.g. drafting applications or witness statements, preparing court bundles and what areas/issues it covered e.g. debt, domestic violence. 

Try to be precise and give specific examples to questions such as ‘What would make you a good barrister.’ Just saying I am good at public speaking is not as effective as pointing out you’ve won 2 mooting competitions.

Remember the application has to be read as a whole, it’s not just a box-filling exercise. Will somebody reading it understand why you want to be a barrister and why that area of law? This is especially important where you do not have much work experience, or all your work experience is in another area.

Get as many people to read your application as you can and do not be defensive about their feedback - just listen and try to take it on board. If you can’t do that at this stage (or, also crucially, during BPTC/pupillage), you will be holding yourself back from professional development and success.

Interviews

While interviews are daunting, there are lots of things you can do to prepare for them:

Read about current affairs related to law and your proposed areas of work. It is surprising how unprepared candidates are for really obvious questions related to the big issues of the previous year. Actually reading the Commission’s report on a UK Bill of Rights will mean you can deliver a much more detailed, impressive answer to a question on that topic, for example. YLAL’s facebook page and twitter account post many news articles and YLAL delivers a monthly summary by email which is also available on the website - it’s not hard to catch up.

Read up on recent cases from the areas of law you are interested in. Blogs like Free Movement, Nearly Legal, Pink Tape, Suesspicious Minds, The Secret Barrister, the UK Criminal Law Blog, the UK Human Rights Blog, Public Law for Everyone and the UK Supreme Court Blog are great resources

Think about ‘classic’ issues such as freedom of speech or religion and read around the major debates and cases in those areas

Be ready for commonly asked questions such as which law would you change (check the Law Commission’s website for examples of issues) 

Take stock of what you have learnt from your academic/work experience so far - jot down some examples of things that stood out and shaped your professional ambitions and understanding

Be prepared to answer questions about how you propose to run a business in the current legal aid landscape - read up on major developments in funding such as the Bach Commission report and the government’s legal aid review and think about what you want your practice to look like and how you could diversity/supplement income streams

Be prepared to answer ethics questions - the BSB Handbook is available free on their website and contains the full Code of Conduct with lots of commentary. If you are a student, even if not on the BPTC, you can probably find the OUP’s Professional Ethics book in your law library.

If you don’t have a question at the end of the interview, that’s fine.

If you have to do an advocacy exercise, some tips are:

Have a clear structure

Prepare a summary of the facts but ask if this is needed - the panel may not want to waste 5 minutes going over facts and prefer to get right to the issues

Really think about what your best argument is, and put that first. Think about what it is the judge needs to know to come to the decision your client wants

Don’t panic if you get interrupted, this an opportunity to show you can really engage rather than just read off a script. Depending on how much prep time you have, try to think about what these questions might be

If you get the exercise the night before, play it out in your mirror so you can check how your submissions flow, whether you are having trouble following your notes etc.

If something in the interview really stumps you, like you do not understand the entire premise of a question, then just ask. However, give yourself a couple of seconds to think first, don’t ask unnecessarily and don’t rush into an answer then realise you’ve misunderstood the question. 

If you are asked to give two sides of an argument, then don’t give some rubbish arguments for one side assuming the left-leaning chambers you are at wouldn’t want to hear that anyway - the point of the question is to test your overall advocacy skills, and anticipating the other side’s arguments is a key barrister skill.

Young Legal Aid Lawyers

This (free-to-join) organization offers support to students and other aspiring legal aid lawyers of all ages (young = junior!) in terms of advice, job posting and mentoring but also offers opportunities to volunteer from organizing events around the country to contributing to research and campaigns. It is particularly useful to join for those not based in London or big cities because it provides remote opportunities to gain work experience.

http://www.younglegalaidlawyers.org/

Other professional organizations

Other organizations you may want to join include:

Bar Human Rights Committee

Criminal Bar Association (BPTC students only)

Discrimination Law Association (£15 for students)

Family Law Bar Association (£15 for students)

Haldane Society of Socialist Lawyers (£20 for students)

Housing Law Practitioners Association (free for students)

Human Rights Lawyers Association (free for students)

Immigration Law Practitioners Association (£90 for students)

[mushstudies]

A-Level Advice From A Newbie

So I’m (almost) done with my final AS exams, and having at last completed my first year of college, I feel like I’ve picked up on a lot. I know that there are a LOT of GCSE students on here - particularly in Years 10/11 - who are planning to start their AS Levels in September, so I thought I’d make a post of things I’ve learned (both through success and a lot of failure) that might be helpful!

1. MAKE SURE THAT YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SIGNING UP FOR

This definitely sounds pretty basic, but you would not believe the amount of people who either switch their subjects around or drop A Levels entirely within the first month or so. As much as the change is definitely okay and it’s great to switch to what works for you, if you make these changes after a week or two, you’re going to have a LOT of work to catch up on regardless of what course or subject you move to. In regards to A Levels as a whole, here are some aspects that could be helpful to consider based on how you work:

AS moves fast; content is covered extremely quickly and although you’ll be eased in gently, you’re expected to keep up.

There’s a lot of content. I struggled more revising three AS subjects than 11 GCSEs.

They’re very academic; although some subjects have coursework, a lot of this is written (essays, investigations, etc), and there’s a big reliance on exams.

It’s much stricter on homework. In my college, if we don’t keep up with work, there’s a pretty high chance we can be kicked off the course.

In terms of individual subjects, I feel like there’s a big misconception that all of your subjects should relate to one another, which isn’t true at all! If you have a specific career plan in mind, sometimes similar subjects can be helpful (for example I know people taking chemsitry/physics/biology or drama/media/film), but having a backup plan is always nice! A couple of things to consider with subject choice are:

How will you be assessed? This is a pretty important one; if you don’t like writing, but take three subjects which evaluate you on your essay writing ability, you’re going to struggle.

What’s the content of the course? You may think a subject sounds great, but not the actual curriculum and topics!

Do you like the teacher? This is an iffy one, but if you meet the teacher and absolutely 1000% can’t get along with them, it’s going to damage your motivation. Just make sure you can tolerate their class.

2. USE  A L L  OF YOUR INDEPENDENT STUDY TIME

I am telling you now that you will be told this by every single adult you meet in college. every. single. one. And you’ll probably argue that you don’t have enough work to fill all of the time, or that you’re too tired, or, you know, something that seems reasonable at the time but regrettable three months later.

At my college, we’re expected to put in five hours of study per subject per week, not including homework or in-class time. For most people, this’ll mean around 15 hours a week, which doesn’t seem much, but whEN YOU DON’T USE IT, IT IS SO MUCH TIME LOST. I don’t know anybody who puts in 15hrs/week, but now that it’s exam season we’re all regretting it real hard.

Get your homework done, and find a way to revise your work. Flashcards. Posters. Past papers. If you don’t have any new content to learn, put in the time every week to study the stuff you do have, and I promise you it will pay off.

3. BE NICE TO YOUR TEACHERS

Honestly this shouldn’t even have to be something that I have to remind people, but here we are.

In sixth form and particularly college, there’s much less of a power imbalance between students and teachers than there is in school; we’re on the same grounds, we’re both pretty independent, and we’re both there doing what we’re doing because we want to be. So have some respect.

A lot of the time at colleges, teachers have actually had experience in the field that they’re teaching and they’re so genuinely excited about the topics; one of the best things I’ve found at my college is how enthusiastic the teachers are, and how much interest they have in anything you have to say, especially if it’s relevant to the subject.

Also, when you show respect to teachers, they show respect to you. Many a time I’ve been given a short but extended deadline on a piece of work just because I’ve dropped a teacher an email or spoken to them before/after class, and in the words of one teacher, ‘the fact that you’re concerned enough to ask is enough proof that you’re putting effort in’.

But yeah. Talk to your teachers. Let them know if you’re missing a class. They’re human beings; don’t be a dick.

4. GO TO ALL VISITS / EVENTS / WORK EXPERIENCE

Not all places do a lot of these, but I know my college has done a few bits. What I mean by this is things such as higher education/career fairs, work exploration,  and visits from people in specific careers. Even if you think that it isn’t relevant to you at all, you could learn or come across something that could be beneficial or helpful to your future, a qualification, or even just enjoy an hour or so.

I did an afternoon at the StonePillow Homeless Shelter in my town; I didn’t change my mind about my career, I didn’t gain any qualifications from it, but I definitely found it interesting and it certainly had an impact on my worldview.

On the same note, join a club. Not only is this something which can be later used on CVs and personal statements, but you can learn a lot of skills which can help you in your actual subjects.

5. REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE NOT SUPERIOR

Not exactly a tip, but something that I really think A Level students need to keep in mind.

There’s a big thing that I keep seeing of A Level students joking about being better than people doing other courses (BTEC, apprenticeships, vocational, etc), and it’s not true at all. Everybody is working equally hard to get the qualifications that THEY need to get to where THEY want to go.

If you’re thinking like this, just stop.

I really hope this was helpful to anybody considering A Levels - best of luck to anybody currently sitting exams!

[shercockadoodledoo]

ballet shoes and ice skates (1)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

also on ao3

Summary: Shion is a world famous five-time gold medalist ice skater who just completed his eighth season of ice skating and is already training for his ninth. Nezumi is a ballet performer at a theater in Tokyo who has just been discovered by a film producer and promptly cast in his first feature film - a film that requires him to learn to ice skate. Nezumi's agent hires Shion to coach him, and Shion agrees, swept away by Nezumi's beauty and ignoring his lack of any actual coaching experience.

**

“Absolute silence from the audience, the anticipation is tangible – Everyone at the edges of their seats to see what Japan’s four-time Grand Prix Final gold medalist will bring to the ice this time. Safe to say Shion’s gold in this year’s final is almost guaranteed. The music, You Make Me Strong… Five quads planned in his program, the most of any skater in this year’s line-up. His quad Salchow is even part of a combination jump in his program’s second half. But first up, a quad loop – that leading step sequence, eased into a lift…outstanding! Nothing but perfection from Shion! Incredible!”

**

As the tape fast forwarded, the figure skater rushed over the ice, his jumps four times faster than real time until Nezumi pressed Play.

           “I don’t feel as if I’m being dramatic when I say this is probably the best figure skate program of all time. The audience is ecstatic, flowers raining on the ice. Shion must be so proud, a true phenomenon, without a doubt he’s broken yet another world record – five perfect quads, a truly amazing sight we’ve seen tonight, this is huge, this is record breaking, this is history being made.”

           When the video paused again, it was on the figure skater’s smile, a breathless exhaustion creasing his features, pinking his cheeks. Nezumi leaned forward, examined the shine of sweat, the clumped strands of hair freed from the rest of his slicked back locks, whiter than the ice he skated on. The lips parted, a grin softening the features that had been focused for the entirety of the program.

           The figure skater – Shion – would win a gold medal. His fifth consecutive gold, his eighth consecutive Grand Prix medal overall. Like Nezumi, he was twenty-five. One of the older skaters, but an end to his career did not seem near.

           His eyes were redder than the roses thrown onto the ice. His eyelashes a startling white. Even frozen, there was something enchanting about the figure skater.

           Nezumi dropped his gaze back to the figure skater’s breathless smile for a few more seconds, then pressed Play again.

           “Ladies and gentlemen, it is safe to say that you have just witnessed a perfect performance from the most incredible figure skater in the world – Shion!”

*

“Shion!”

           Straightening up from his cantilever, Shion found Safu waving her hands by the edge of the rink. He weaved his fingers through his hair to keep them from blowing back into his eyes as he skated towards her.

           “You need a haircut. And you’re late,” Safu said, when Shion stopped inches from the edge of the rink.

           “Sorry, I got – ”

           “Distracted, which is why I came all the way here to collect you rather than wait for an hour at the diner. Come on.” Safu turned from him, beckoning over her shoulder with a curl of her fingers, and Shion hastily skated to the door of the rink to follow her.

           “I’m really sorry about that,” Shion insisted, catching up with his best friend, who wove an arm through his. “Please forgive me!”

           Safu laughed, bumped Shion’s shoulder with her own. “It’s only been three weeks since you left me at that diner on my own, I retain the right to be bitter for an entire month.”

           “That’s fair,” Shion conceded, as Safu steered them to the dressing rooms.

           “I stopped by the bakery to see your mother before I came here,” Safu said, in a nonchalant way that made Shion immediately suspicious.

           He didn’t say anything, as they’d reached the dressing room, and Shion pulled off his joggers to change into jeans. Halfway into his jeans, he peered up at Safu to find her leaning against the row of lockers across from his, eyebrows raised at him and arms crossed.

           “And when did you change your mind about this? Why didn’t you tell me?” Safu asked, as Shion had known she was going to.

           He straightened up to zip his jeans before sitting down on a bench to pull on his sneakers, glad to be distracted by tying the laces so he didn’t have to look at his friend when he replied.

           “I haven’t got time. I need to train.”

           “The last season just ended. New excuse.”

           “I’ll need an entirely new training regime if I’m going to incorporate a quad axel into my new program.”

           “Again, the season just ended. You have time to learn the impossible quad.”

           Shion pulled his laces tight and looked up, resting his elbows on his knees and again pushing his bangs from his eyes. “It’s not impossible.”

           “In that case, it won’t be difficult at all for you to master it, and therefore you have extra time on your hands,” Safu said, uncrossing her arms and lifting her chin, her grin too smug.

           Shion laughed, standing up. “Safu, it’s just not the right time.”

           “Your mother agrees with me,” Safu replied, as she led the way out the dressing room down the hall to the exit. It was Shion’s hometown rink, where he’d been skating since he could walk. It wasn’t infrequent for his mother to laugh as she told the story of how Shion’s first steps had not been on solid ground, but ice.

           “Of course she agrees with you,” Shion muttered, checking his phone to see with a cringe that he was indeed fifteen minutes late to his dinner with Safu. “She always does.”

           “You could use a break. All you do is skate.”

           Shion opened the door for Safu, followed her out into the sunlight that had him squinting, the sun always brightest right before it set. “I’d still be skating if I did this.”

           “You’d be teaching. There’s a difference. It wouldn’t be for the purpose of competition. It’d be for fun. Remember when you used to skate for fun?” Safu prodded Shion’s side gently with her elbow.

           “I still skate for fun. I find competing fun. It doesn’t have to be one or the other.”

           “He requested you specifically,” Safu insisted.

           “His agent did.”

           “So? This is the actor’s chance to break out of the theater scene and make it big in the film industry. Don’t you want to help him? I know you love helping people,” Safu said, smiling when Shion glanced at her.

           He took her hand, led her across the street after making sure no cars were passing.

           “You saw his headshots. He’s gorgeous. He doesn’t need help making it big in the film industry, his looks will easily carry him to the top. Besides, I’m not the only one who can help him. There are tons of figure skaters in Japan who could teach him. And logically, it should be a coach who trains him, I don’t know anything about teaching people how to skate.”

           Safu squeezed Shion’s hand lightly as they turned the corner of the block. “You taught me.”

           Shion sighed through a smile. “That was different.”

           “How?”

           “We were kids! And I wasn’t training for my next competition or trying to learn a new quad. And you weren’t about to star in a feature film about a figure skater’s star crossed love story with his arch nemesis on ice.”

           “The plot does sound interesting. If you helped him, I bet you could get us free tickets.”

           “A movie ticket is ten bucks. I’ll buy yours if you really want to see it,” Shion said, shaking his head as they reached the diner they’d been going to since they were in grade school. One of their many havens in their small rural town, and Shion felt a rush of warmth towards his best friend, towards the life they used to live before Shion got famous, towards the life Safu still allowed him to live between competitions, as if Shion was still the same boy she’d made dutiful flashcards with to study for their spelling tests, and years later, college entry exams, though of course, Shion had not ended up attending college.

           While Safu had filled out applications, Shion had entered his first senior division league, and he’d won each competition until landing a silver medal at the Grand Prix Final at seventeen, earning himself a fame that had only escalated in the eight years since.

           “The point isn’t the movie tickets,” Safu said, as they collapsed into a booth at the corner, glad to find their preferred table empty and waiting for them.

           Shion rested his elbows on the table and looked up at his best friend, who was pointing at him.

           “This will be good for you. A break in your routine. Since you started competing, it’s been all you’ve allowed yourself to focus on. I’ve always admired your committed nature to that which you are passionate about, but it’s not like you wouldn’t be figure skating. You’d just be doing something different for once in eight years.”

           “I’m not unhappy with my life, Safu. I don’t need change,” Shion sighed, reaching out to pick at the sugar packets beside him. “Besides, the agent’s request makes very little sense. Why pay so much money to hire me as a coach? Why not just hire an actual coach?”

           “For publicity, obviously, Shion. If the world’s number one figure skater trained the actor, it’d be incredible press for the film.”

           “I’m not the world’s number one figure skater,” Shion argued.

           “Oh? Then who is?” Safu asked, smiling around her question, and Shion was glad when a waitress came to their table, smiling cheerily at them and telling Shion to thank his mother again for the pies she’d delivered to the diner that morning.

           When she left with their orders, Safu resumed the topic that Shion had been hoping she’d drop.

           “Just give it a try. Don’t sign the contract if you don’t want to commit to it, but try at least one day of lessons. What’s the worst that could happen? You said so yourself, the actor is gorgeous if his headshots are to be believed, it can’t be that painful to have a day full of him.”

           Shion rolled his eyes and sipped the water the waitress had brought over. “My mom could train him,” he suggested. “She’s the best coach I’ve ever had.”

           “She’s the only coach you’ve ever had. And you know she looks forward to the off season where she can take a break from the ice. You can’t really suggest pulling her from the bakery.”

           Shion rested his elbow on the table and his hand on his palm. “I guess not. Can we change the subject? Tell me about the clinic. All we’ve done is talk about this actor since we got his agent’s offer in the mail.”

           “Because that’s more interesting than anything going on in my clinic. But fine, yes, we can change the topic, just one more thing,” Safu said, sliding her hand under the table, from where it reemerged holding two strips of pale orange paper. “Surprise!”

           “What is it?” Shion asked, reaching out for the strips, reading them twice before realizing they were tickets for The New National Theatre in Tokyo. “Aren’t these expensive?”

           “Nope. Your mother gave them to me, they were sent by the actor’s agent. Apparently, the agent had an idea that you might need some coaxing. We can drive into Tokyo tonight after we eat, sight see around the city in the morning, then attend his production in the evening, what do you think?”

           Shion eyed his friend’s exuberance warily. “Don’t you need to take off work?”

           “Already did.”

           “Safu!”

           “Come on, Shion. We haven’t done something together in so long.”

           “We’re doing something together right now,” Shion reminded, but he glanced back at the tickets. “It’s a ballet,” he read, surprised. “I didn’t know the actor did ballet.”

           “It’ll help for his figure skating, don’t you think? Please, will you come with me? And don’t say you can’t take a day off from training, because I know you can, don’t make me remind you that it’s only January.”

           Shion ran his finger across the side of his cup, catching dew on his fingertip that he wiped on his jeans before looking up at his best friend. He smiled at her hopeful eagerness. “All right, all right, I need to pack some stuff after we eat, and then we can go. My car or yours?”

           “Mine, of course, you’re a terrible driver,” Safu replied easily, not seeming at all surprised that Shion had agreed to her impromptu plan, but after twenty-five years of friendship, Safu must have known Shion would always end up going along with her schemes.

           After Shion’s grudging agreement, Safu allowed a change in topic, and the actor was not mentioned again as they feasted on blueberry pancakes, bacon, and eggs for dinner, settling into the worn seats of the booth that felt more comfortable to Shion than even the ice he loved to skate on.

*

It was the morning after Nezumi’s last production of Swan Lake that he got a text from his agent.

           The figure skater had agreed to a week of preemptive training, completely out of contract and cost-free, before Nezumi and the figure skater could both decide if the official training should continue as written out in the contract for the agreed upon price and timespan the agent had listed.

           I told him you agreed. Taking the train out to his hometown rink this afternoon. Pack your stuff. I’ll call around noon with details and have a car collect you at three.

           Nezumi didn’t bother replying to the text, seeing as apparently, he had little say in the matter entirely. Not that he had any inclination to disagree. He was surprised that the figure skater was even bothering to extend a week of his time to train him, amazed that his agent’s longshot plan had led to any fraction of fruition at all.

           Nezumi hauled himself out of bed, throwing his phone on the mattress and pushing his bangs from his eyes. He needed to pack, though it occurred to him, after he took a quick shower, made himself a slice of toast, and stood in front of his closet nibbling on the corners of it, that he had no idea what he was supposed to wear during his figure skating training.

           He gripped his toast loosely between his teeth, pulled his duffel from the top shelf of the closet, and threw random articles of clothing into it, thinking that rinks were probably cold and opting for sweats and sweaters, then remembering the sparkling skintight outfits Shion wore in the videos Nezumi’s agent had given him to watch, and threw in a few pairs of tights and leggings from the costumes of his previous ballets along with the sweats.

           By noon, Nezumi had packed and repacked his bag three times, and took a break to take the call from his agent, who briefed him on the schedule she and the figure skater had arranged for the next week.

           Ten-hour practice sessions daily, from nine in the morning to six at night, allowing for an hour lunch break.

           Nezumi was accustomed to longer days of practice for his ballets that often extended to late hours of the night, and didn’t protest.

           By five, Nezumi was in a train across from his agent, who rambled on until Nezumi dug his script out of his duffel and opened it to indicate to his agent that he had no desire for conversation. He did not actually read the script when his agent finally stopped talking, but flipped the pages in a lazy act, having already read through it twice.

           The working title was Hearts of Ice. Catchy enough, but Nezumi hoped it would be changed by the end of production. Nezumi had been cast by a film producer who’d come to one of his ballets and got it into his head that Nezumi would be perfect in a feature film, which Nezumi had never been a part of in his life.

           He preferred live shows. The endless toll of it, the constant labor, the back-stage crew flitting in and off the stage decked in black, invisible to the audience whose eyes followed only the spotlight and the thespians illuminated by it. There was the demand for perfection, no first, second, or third takes, no chances to redo a scene – just right then, that moment. It required precision, complete focus, and Nezumi thrived on it, living in the exact moment in which his audience watched him with bated breath.

           He could tell, watching the videos of the figure skater, that competitions were much the same as the theater. One mistake, and the illusion was shattered, the magic was gone. A second too late, a hesitation after the cue, and there was no longer magnificence.

           A film would be nothing like that. But Nezumi’s agent was insistent, and once Nezumi saw the figure on his paycheck he’d been offered even before his agent’s negotiation for more, he couldn’t rationalize refusing it.

           “Nezumi.”

           Nezumi glanced up from the script wearily, which he’d flipped to the end pages by then. He’d been contemplating taking a nap, and hoped his agent wasn’t about to go on another monologue.

           “We’re almost there, get ready.”

           Nezumi glanced out the window of the train, saw little in the darkness, and stooped down to pack his script, sitting back up to stretch while his agent typed something on her phone before pocketing it.

           “We’ll go to the hotel tonight and meet Shion in the morning. His mother works at a bakery and offered to treat us to an early breakfast before your training started in order to get acquainted.”

           “His mother? Thought she was his coach,” Nezumi said, tying his hair up and recalling the woman on the side of the rinks, beaming at her son in the videos he’d watched.

           Nezumi’s agent shrugged. “Guess she bakes in the off season.”

           The train slowed before stopping, and Nezumi stood up, followed his agent out the carriage and down the corridor until they were stepping off the train.

           His agent reached out and pulled Nezumi’s sleeve.

           “Nezumi.”

           “Kiyoko.” Nezumi freed his arm gently from his agent’s grip, and she allowed it.

           “Be nice tomorrow. Remember, Shion hasn’t yet agreed to train you, this week is a kind gesture on his part to meet you and see how you work together. So try to cooperate.”

           “I’m always nice,” Nezumi replied.

           “I didn’t score this opportunity for you to waste it.”

           “I’ll be nice, I’ll cooperate, I’ll flatter the mother, I’ll flirt with the figure skater. Happy?”

           “Don’t flirt with the figure skater.”

           “That might win him over,” Nezumi pointed out, his lips pulling up as his agent glared at him.

           “Please do not take my career as a joke.”

           “I would never.”

           “Keep in mind the paycheck you could get from this film if it gets the publicity of this guy as your coach and behave yourself.”

           “Yes, ma’am.”

           His agent shook her head, muttering something under her breath that sounded a lot like, Nuisance, before hailing a cab, the door of which Nezumi opened for her with a grand gesture.

           “Save your manners for tomorrow,” she snapped in response, and Nezumi laughed, throwing their bags in the trunk before following her into the back seat, closing the door, and watching the night slip by out the window as the cab began to drive.

*

Shion woke early to head to the rink before he’d have to be at the bakery to meet the actor and his agent.

           He was just getting warmed up and setting himself up for a quad loop when he heard Safu.

           “I knew I’d find you here. Don’t you worry you might have an addiction to the ice?”

           Shion slipped from his arabesque into his quad loop, landing squarely and closing his eyes as he skated an easy figure eight. “It’s not an addiction if I can quit when I want to. I just don’t want to.”

           “That’s what all addicts say.”

           Shion smiled, opened his eyes to find his best friend with her hands on her hips. “Why are you up so early?”

           “Like I said, I knew I’d have to collect you from the rink and force you to the bakery for our meeting.”

           “You’re coming?”

           “Of course I’m coming!” Safu said, and Shion didn’t know why he’d expected anything else.

           “I have a few minutes.”

           “That could be spent helping your mother in the bakery. Come on, let’s go,” Safu said, so Shion skated towards her, slipping out the door and pulling off his skates.

           “I felt a little jittery. I thought skating could relax me,” he explained.

           “Jittery,” Safu repeated slowly, and Shion could tell she was watching him as he pulled on his sneakers, which he hadn’t bothered to leave in the dressing room.

           “There was something about him, don’t you think? Magnetic,” Shion murmured, straightening up and recalling the actor on stage, almost glowing, almost magical.

           “That’s the nature of the ballet, Shion. He was supposed to draw you in, that’s his job. He won’t be like that in real life. It’s all lights and make-up and talent.”

           Shion left his skates on the bench, figuring he’d be right back for them, and he had the entire rink booked for the week since he’d need privacy to train the actor. “What do you think he’ll be like in real life?” Shion asked, walking with Safu to the exit.

           Safu glanced at him. “Normal,” she replied, as if surprised by the question, but when Shion tried to imagine the actor who’d been almost supernaturally beautiful on stage the night before as normal, it felt impossible.

           “Normal,” Shion repeated, testing the word, finding it didn’t fit in describing the actor at all.

           “He’s just another guy, Shion,” Safu reminded, nudging Shion’s hip gently with her own. “Don’t be so enchanted by him. If anything, he should be the one captivated by you, Mr. Gold Medalist.”

           Shion laughed at the thought of the actor who’d had Shion’s heart racing during the entirety of his production being captivated by himself. It was almost ridiculous. It almost warmed Shion from the inside-out.

*

The bakery was small and warm.

           “Stepping in here is like getting a hug,” Nezumi’s agent said, almost wondrously as she walked in after him, and Nezumi glanced at her.

           “Should you be saying such stupid things right now? I thought we were trying to make a good first impression.”

           “What did I tell you about being nice?” his agent snapped, and Nezumi smirked silently in response.

           He looked around. There were several tables of different shapes and sizes around the room, with different types of stools and chairs surrounding them. Three of the tables were occupied by customers, some talking to each other, others reading newspapers. The place smelled incredible, and Nezumi could immediately see the source of the smell showcased in the glass display counter beside the register.

           “Do you think we should sit down, or – ”

           “Oh, hello!” A cheerful voice interrupted his agent’s, and Nezumi’s attention was stolen from a row of pine tarts to a woman he recognized from the figure skater’s videos.

           The figure skater’s mother and coach. Karan.

           “Hi. You must be Karan. I’m Kiyoko, we spoke on the phone.” Nezumi’s agent stepped forward, held out a hand that the figure skater’s mother shook with both of her own.

           “Kiyoko, hi, it’s so lovely to meet you. And you must be Nezumi, it’s so great to finally meet you as well. Let me collect my son, he’s just in the back. Would you like to have a seat? Any table is fine, we’ll bring out tea and snacks.”

           “Do you need help with anything?” Nezumi asked, smiling at the woman as she shook his hand. Her palm was warm and soft enough that he was surprised by it. He smiled warmly at her, knowing he could be charming when he wanted to – or more typically, when his agent demanded it from him.

           “No, no, that’s all right, do sit down.”

           When Karan left them, Nezumi followed his agent to a table by the window.

           “Where do you think the red eyes came from? His mom’s are brown,” Nezumi asked, leaning back in his seat until his agent slapped his arm.

           “Sit up! And don’t you dare ask Shion about his appearance.”

           “All right, all right, you’re the one who should learn to be nice,” Nezumi muttered, sitting up and resisting the urge to rub his arm.

           It was not the figure skater who appeared from the back door first, but a young woman Nezumi guessed was around his age. She had shoulder-length hair, a smooth expression, and a gaze that slid slowly over Nezumi’s face like he was not a person at all, but a calculation to be unraveled.

           Nezumi watched her back until his gaze was caught by the man who walked out from the back door behind her.

           The figure skater. Shion.

           Behind Shion came his mother, but Nezumi had already met the mother, didn’t care to look away from the figure skater, who didn’t seem to want to look away from him either.

           Nezumi was used to this. He knew what he looked like. He wondered if the figure skater was used to stares as well.

           Beside him, Nezumi was aware of his agent standing, so Nezumi stood as well while their hosts walked towards the table, the young woman the one to extend her hand first.

           “I’m Safu, Shion’s best friend. We saw your production of Swan Lake last night. You are very talented.”

           Nezumi made himself look away from the figure skater to offer the woman – Safu – a quick smile. “Thank you, I’m flattered.” He had not known that the figure skater had seen his production, and glanced at him again even before he’d freed his hand from the woman’s. “And what did you think?”

           The figure skater smiled easily, the same smile Nezumi had examined longer than he cared to admit, pausing the videos his agent had given him for educational purposes. “I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen in my life.”

           Nezumi blinked, forgetting to extend his hand.

           “I’m Shion, but you probably figured that out. And you’re Nezumi. It’s an honor to meet you, you have incredible talent.”

           Nezumi was vaguely aware that this was what he was supposed to be saying to Shion, the world’s most famous and celebrated figure skater, winner of five gold medals, eight medals total. He found, however, that it was difficult to say anything at all.

           “I believe the real privilege is ours. We’ve been watching your tapes, Shion, you really are incredible on the ice,” Nezumi’s agent said, in a voice Nezumi heard vaguely. “I’m Nezumi’s agent, Kiyoko. It’s an honor.”

           Nezumi reminded himself to focus. Straightened out his charming smile, unsure what his expression had been falling into but not caring to know.

           “Shall we sit?” Safu asked, and Nezumi glanced at the table to see it covered in mugs and baked goods, a small pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar cubes amidst the rest. He had not noticed these items being placed there, wondered vaguely where they’d come from as he sat back down.

           The figure skater was separated from him by Safu, but she had a small frame, was easy to disregard.

           “Milk and sugar?” the figure skater asked, holding out a mug of tea he’d poured, and Nezumi took it carefully, not allowing their skin to touch.

           “No, thanks.”

           “Nezumi doesn’t like sweet things,” his agent supplied.

           “Oh, really? You’re lucky. I love sugar, it makes it hard to stay in shape for the season,” Shion said, smiling again, another easy smile that Nezumi drank in as he sipped his tea, filling with warmth that he fully attributed to the hot drink and nothing else.

           “Why are you choosing to do a feature film? After seeing you in the theater, I’m surprised you’d want to leave the stage,” Safu said, and Nezumi glanced at her.

           “The money,” he replied, not thinking. He received a swift kick in the shin that he tactfully ignored, not even bothering to glare at his agent.

           “He’s joking,” his agent cut in.

           Nezumi couldn’t remember why his agent was even there. Why anyone else was there but him and the figure skater – weren’t they the only ones who really needed to be acquainted? Wasn’t everyone else superfluous?

           “Why would you agree to coach me? Aren’t you busy training for the next gold medal?” Nezumi asked, and the figure skater tilted his head while Nezumi received another kick in the shin. He’d be properly bruised by the end of the meeting, but found it hard to care.

           “The money,” Shion said, and then he laughed so abruptly he nearly cut himself off, a giggle that erupted into the palm he lifted to stifle it while Nezumi stared at him, feeling his own lips quirk up, lifting his mug to hide them.

           “He hasn’t agreed yet, this is preliminary,” Safu said.

           “A test run,” Nezumi’s agent added, and Nezumi knew it was a warning for him to behave himself, but he didn’t care to behave himself in the slightest.

           He felt reckless. That must have been what his pulse vibrating under his skin meant. That must have been what the stifling heat over his body meant.

           “I wasn’t going to agree,” Shion said, as if no one else had spoken. He’d collected himself, though his breathless grin lingered. “But then I saw you yesterday.”

           Shion spoke simply, as if the words could suffice as a reason, and he didn’t offer any additional explanation.

           Nezumi narrowed his eyes, tried to understand him, was not given a chance to as Karan was offering him muffins. Nezumi agreed, mostly to have something to do with his hands, which felt shaky, itchy, much like the rest of him.

           The figure skater was unsettling, but Nezumi found that he had no desire at all to be settled.

*

Shion expected the actor – Nezumi – to be graceful the way he’d been on stage. He ran through a few instructions as Nezumi tried on skates on the bench beside him, long fingers lacing up one after the other.

           “The balance is in your hips and knees, not your feet,” Shion said, not thinking about the words, more focused on the way Nezumi’s hair fell forward as he bent down, the way he’d reach a hand up, tuck his hair behind a pale ear every few seconds only for it to free itself half a moment later, dark as a curtain of deep seawater. “Have you been on the ice before?”

           Nezumi tightened the bows of his laces, stood up in a careful way. Shion looked up at him, the length of him. He was tall, long-limbed. He wore a baggy sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows that fell loosely over the black leggings clinging to the length of his legs. The sweater was sky blue and said Cinderella on the front with pale pink letters. The back said CAST – NEZUMI.

           “No,” Nezumi said. He had a low voice, but it projected, as if he was always on stage, whispering for an audience. Shion found himself leaning forward with each word Nezumi spoke. He leaned forward at the silences between the words. He leaned forward with every breath he took and released.

           “Are you scared?” Shion asked, though he’d meant to say – It seems scary at first, but it’s not that bad once you get used to it.

           Nezumi looked at him in a quick way. His eyes were like lights in that Shion felt as though his skin glowed with every look of them, felt himself become illuminated until his entire body radiated.

           “Should I be?” Nezumi asked, though it didn’t sound like a question.

           Shion stood up as well, also in his skates. He did not answer Nezumi’s question. “You’ll have to break in the skates. Your feet might hurt, get blisters.”

           “I’m used to blisters,” Nezumi replied, and Shion thought about ballet shoes, how the dancers would balance themselves on the flats of their toes with the ease as if they walked on clouds.

           He nodded. “Good. There’s no use stalling out here then, let’s get on the ice.”

           Shion led the way to the door of the rink, pushing it open and stepping onto the ice, smooth from the Zamboni that had cleaned it that morning. He skated backwards a few feet to give Nezumi space and watched the actor come to the door, step out carefully with one foot, then the next. He closed the door behind him just as he nearly fell, his feet shooting out in front of him.

           Nezumi grabbed the wall of the rink, and Shion could see the tightness of his grip as he stopped himself from falling flat on his ass, pushing himself up as his skates scrabbled over the ice.

           “Shit,” the actor hissed, while Shion skated over, hesitant to reach out but unsure of his own hesitance.

           He had a feeling Nezumi would not welcome help, but then, he had come to this rink for that very purpose, and Shion reminded himself of this as he reached out to grip Nezumi’s arm through his sweatshirt.

           “Take a breath and steady yourself,” he said quietly, not looking at Nezumi’s face but his skates, which stopped scrabbling gradually and came to a stop.

           Shion was about to let go of Nezumi, but the actor pulled his arm away first, not jerkily, but gently, as if Shion had not been touching him at all.

           Shion stepped back, watched Nezumi’s hard breaths and narrowed eyes, the crease between them hidden when he looked up and his bangs fell over his forehead.

           “Now what?” he asked, as if he hadn’t nearly fallen.

           “You’ll have to let go of the wall,” Shion said. He’d never coached anyone, at least not professionally, and tried to remember his mother’s advice when he’d been a child, though it was hard to conjure memories from when he’d been so young.

           His mother had been a figure skater herself, making it to the Grand Prix Final only once and winning the sole gold medal of her career before retiring. Not eight months later, Shion had been born.

           Nezumi had not let go of the wall. He was looking down at his feet again, his hair falling over his face, and Shion thought about recommending he tie it up, but he liked the silk of it, how it grazed over the pale of Nezumi’s cheeks and neck, how it stuck on the sky-blue shoulders of his oversized sweater.

           “What do I do after I let go?” Nezumi asked.  

           Shion remembered his mother holding his hand. The way he’d only let go of the wall because he’d known there was something – someone – else to hold on to.

           He bit his lip, then skated forward again, closed the distance between himself and the actor, held out his hand.

           “Hold my hand.”

           Nezumi wore gloves that bared the top segments of his fingertips. He looked at Shion’s hand for only a second before reaching out with his own. Shion felt the fabric of his glove, the cool of his fingerprints where they poked out from the fabric and pressed against Shion’s skin.

           “You can let go of the wall now,” Shion reminded, and Nezumi’s hand tightened around his own before the actor released the wall.

           Nezumi’s grip was strong. Shion wanted to wince but didn’t. When he looked into Nezumi’s face, it was to see complete composure, and Shion wondered if he was imagining the feel of Nezumi’s fingernails digging into the back of his hand.

           “I don’t want you to learn anything today but how to be comfortable on the ice. We won’t bother with steps or jumps or combinations. None of that will matter unless you can trust yourself to stand,” Shion said, speaking slowly, watching Nezumi tuck his hair back behind an ear, watching the hair fall forward across his cheek again.

           “Okay,” Nezumi said, and Shion was surprised he hadn’t objected, expected Nezumi to be opposed to taking his lessons slowly.

           Shion reminded himself that he didn’t even know Nezumi. They were strangers. It was irrational to even make assumptions about the man and what he might want, what he might feel, what he might desire.

           “I won’t let go of you. Let’s take a few steps. It’s not like walking, but I doubt I need to tell you that. I expect it’s a lot like taking steps in ballet, where you glide, where you allow yourself to be weightless. I think we should start out lapping the rink, close enough to the wall where you can reach out to it if you need it, but I don’t want you to rely on it. Rely on me, I’m right beside you.”

           Nezumi nodded, and Shion pushed forward for their first step, instructing Nezumi to watch his feet, to copy him, to trust himself and not concern himself with balancing, but with going forward.

           “If you pretend it’s as easy as walking, you forget that it’s not,” he said, and Nezumi slid forward, tentative, slow, not at all graceful as Shion had expected.

           While he gave no indication of it other than the unyielding grip on Shion’s hand, Shion knew Nezumi was scared. He fell several times, often taking Shion down with him, but he never reached out for the wall of the rink, and Shion never let go of his hand.

           They did nothing but lap the rink, over and over while Nezumi continued to fall and Shion continued to encourage him. Nezumi said nothing when he fell but for hissed curses under his breath, but he always got up quickly again, was the first to pull Shion forward to finish their lap, to start another.

           Hours were spent this way until Shion felt Nezumi’s grip loosen from his, and then Nezumi’s hand was gone, and they skated beside each other, Shion telling Nezumi how to move his arms with his body for more balance, Nezumi following the instructions wordlessly. He fell only once more after that, but soon when Shion glanced over at him, it was to see hints of the grace Shion had at first expected.

           Shion had a feeling they’d long since passed the time he’d planned for them to break for lunch, but Shion said nothing, and Nezumi didn’t either. The neck of his blue Cinderella sweater was soaked in sweat, and his bangs plastered to the sides of his face, but Nezumi did not stop, and Shion matched every step he took.

           Shion was not wearing his watch, and by the time he remembered to squint at the clock on the wall as they passed it, it was to see that it was three in the afternoon.

           “Nezumi.”

          ��Nezumi made no sound, but Shion assumed he’d been heard.

           “We can stop. We should stop, take a break, it’s been six hours. Your feet must kill you.”

           Nezumi said nothing for a second, kept skating, and then, quietly – “I don’t know how.”

           “How what?”

           “To stop.”

           This surprised Shion, who stared at Nezumi for a moment, then laughed. “Oh. I forgot. Is that why you haven’t stopped all this time?”

           This time, Nezumi did not reply.

           “Well, all right, it’s simple. You sort of tilt your foot so that you can push the flat part of the blade against the ice, and the friction will stop you. It helps to bend your knees in order to keep your balance. Does that make sense?”

           “Sure.”

           “Okay, ready?”

           “Okay.”

           Shion stopped first, glancing at Nezumi, who did not stop at all, kept gliding forward for a few more seconds before he stuck out his foot abruptly and fell back, arms waving until he was flat on his back.

           “Ow, shit.”

           Shion skated towards him, offered a hand that Nezumi did not take, pushing himself off the ice on his own instead.

           “I guess my explanation wasn’t thorough enough, and maybe I should have given a better demonstration. I’m sorry about that.”

           “It’s fine,” Nezumi replied, pushing his fingers through his bangs before peering at Shion.

           A swiftly burning feeling jolted through Shion. To have Nezumi’s unfocused attention on him all at once was a jarring thing, shook his pulse in an unfamiliar way, an incredible way. “You did well. Really. I wouldn’t just say that, you’re a quick learner. We can work on stopping after we take a break, you must be hungry.”

           Nezumi only shrugged, turning to the wall and skating slowly towards it before stepping carefully along it to the door, where he let himself out of the rink. Shion followed him, sat beside him as they changed out of their skates.

           When Nezumi stood up again, Shion saw his wince just barely, in the slight narrow of his eyes. Shion knew he only noticed it because he’d been searching for an indication of discomfort. It did not surprise him that Nezumi did not easily show pain.          

           “My apartment is near to here, we’ll ice your feet so the swelling goes down for our afternoon practice. And we should have something to eat. Do you like sushi? There’s a place right next to my apartment where we can stop in.”

           “That’s fine,” Nezumi said, and he was silent as he followed Shion out of the rink into the cool afternoon.

           Nezumi was not talkative. When he spoke, he did so quietly, sparingly. Shion was not used to being around people like Nezumi. He was not used to stretches of silences, but he did not find them uncomfortable, and did not work as hard as he could have to fill them. He let them stretch between himself and Nezumi, wondered how long he himself could go without speaking, felt as though it was something he had to practice at, something that Nezumi would teach him while Shion taught the actor to skate.

           The rink was a block from Shion’s apartment – one of the reasons he’d moved to that particularly location – and they stopped to get sushi before Shion led them to his place, taking the elevator to give Nezumi’s feet a break even though it was only on the third floor.

           In his apartment, Shion emptied the ice trays in his freezer into a mixing bowl and instructed Nezumi to sit at the counter and shed his socks, noting that there were indeed blisters on the sides of his feet by his toes. Nezumi’s toenails were incredibly short, cut almost meticulously in small squares.

           “They’ll get worse throughout the week,” Shion said, while Nezumi dipped his feet in the bowl of ice with a murmured, Thanks.

           “I know,” Nezumi replied, and again, Shion remembered he did ballet.

           “When did you start practicing ballet?” Shion asked, grabbing plates and chopsticks for them. He knew from the file Nezumi’s agent had sent that Nezumi was twenty-five years old like himself.

           Nezumi was quiet, and Shion didn’t think he was going to reply until he did. “When I was seven.”

           Shion pushed his luck, knowing it was more likely that Nezumi would not keep answering his questions than that he would. “How did you get into it?”

           He slid a plate to Nezumi, sat beside him on a stool, and watched the top of Nezumi’s head, as Nezumi was still looking down at his feet in the bowl of ice.

           “My mother was a ballerina.” As he spoke, Nezumi looked up, and Shion froze in the midst of opening his tray of sushi.

           There was a softness to Nezumi’s expression that took Shion’s breath away. He had no desire for his breath to ever return. He would allow his lungs to be remain deflated forever, if only for the softness of Nezumi’s expression to linger.

           “Did she coach you?” Shion asked, keeping his voice gentle as if Nezumi were a deer in his path he wasn’t bold enough to coax forward but would do anything not to scare away.

           At this, Nezumi almost seemed to flinch, an expression like confusion crossing his features as if he were startled by the question, and Shion tried to think of what could be so startling about it.

           Shion himself had been coached by his mother. It wasn’t an unexpected thought.

           By the time Shion blinked, Nezumi’s features had smoothed again. No longer soft, but his usual expression of composure, calm detachment. “No,” Nezumi replied, and nothing else.

           Shion didn’t press the topic. The conversation felt completed, though Shion was left with more questions than before.

           Even so, he allowed them to eat in silence, and then their hour was up. Nezumi was the first to stand, replace his socks and shoes, and lean by the door in wait of Shion, who hurried to put on his own shoes and follow Nezumi back to the rink for the rest of the day’s lesson.

*

There was a ballet studio on the outskirts of the small town where Shion lived that Nezumi found after his third day of lessons.

           His feet were sore and blistered the way they hadn’t been since he’d broken in his last pair of ballet shoes. Even so, Nezumi ended his walk immediately to return to his hotel room to collect his ballet shoes and change out of jeans into leggings.

           On the way back out of the hotel, he found his agent at the bar, flirting with the bartender from what Nezumi could tell as he intended to walk past unnoticed.

           “Nezumi!”

           Nezumi contemplated not turning around. Was still contemplating when his decision was made for him by a hand on his arm.

           “Hey, don’t pull, Kiyoko.” Nezumi jerked his arm back to free himself.

           “Have a drink with us,” his agent said, smiling widely, and Nezumi glanced at the bartender, who winked at him.

           “No, thanks,” Nezumi replied.

           “Where are you going? Aren’t your lessons done for the day? How are they going? Are you being nice to Shion? Did he say if he would sign the contract and take you on permanently?”

           “I’m going out,” Nezumi replied, ignoring the rest of the questions and turning again to leave, relieved when he was not stopped.

           The air outside was dark and cool. It was only seven, but winter stole away the afternoons to quickly replace them with night. Shion’s lessons left Nezumi exhausted, but he preferred exhaustion to being cooped up in a hotel room. He was well-accustomed to exhaustion. His body craved it, and he found sleep nearly impossible to come by at night without it settled deep into his bones.

           He walked quickly to the ballet studio, only remembering that he didn’t have free reign over this studio as he had the ice rink after he let himself in and was greeted by a teenage girl behind a counter, chewing a piece of gum that seemed too big for her mouth.

           “Hey,” she said.

           “Hi,” Nezumi replied, walking forward slowly.

           “You’re not from here,” the girl said, leaning forward, chewing loudly.

           Nezumi didn’t argue. It was a small town. The kind of place where everyone knew each other, and everyone knew who wasn’t supposed to be around.

           “Is the studio available for open practice?”      

           “There’s two studios. One’s occupied for Seiji’s last practice, but the other is free right now. We don’t normally just let anyone come in and use it, though, it’s usually Amaya’s room, but she doesn’t have night practices,” the girl continued.

           Nezumi ran a hand through his bangs, watched the girl’s eyes follow his movements, smiled briefly.

           “Could you make an exception?” he asked, letting his smile spread.

           “I don’t think so,” the girl hedged.

           “If no one’s using the room, there’s no real harm, is there? When does the studio close?”

           “Nine,” the girl said, looking tentative.

           Nezumi smiled wider, watched her faint blush. “I’ll give you five bucks an hour. Technically, it’s seven fifteen, but I’ll give you ten bucks anyway.”

           “I’d have to ask,” the girl said, after a moment.

           Nezumi leaned forward, rested his forearms on the counter between himself and the girl. “Make sure you tell them I said please.”

           The girl stared, nodded, then nearly ran from the counter through a back door. Nezumi leant against the counter, and soon enough the girl was back, a man following her.

           “I’m Seiji, hi. Nagisa tells me you’re interested in using the free studio?”

           “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Nezumi replied, straightening up.

           The man seemed to examine him. “I haven’t seen you around.”

           “I’m here temporarily. At least the next four nights. I’d like to use your studio from seven to nine. Nightly, preferably, if that could be arranged.”

           “We offer lessons, there’s room in my class.”

           “I’m not interested in lessons,” Nezumi replied, and the man crossed his arms.

           “Can I ask why you’re in town for these few days?”

           “Job research.”

           The man squinted. “What’s your name?”

           Nezumi restrained his sigh. All he wanted was to do a few pirouettes, but it hardly seemed worth dealing with all the hassle. “Nezumi.”

           Immediately, the man’s expression shifted to recognition. “Shion is teaching you.”

           Nezumi shrugged, unsurprised of Shion’s fame in the town. The figure skater was famous worldwide, of course everyone around him would know his personal business. “Guess so.”

           “In that case, that’s perfectly fine. Is it part of your training? Feel free to use to the studio whenever you want, Nagisa is here in the afternoons and will let you in.”

           Nezumi narrowed his eyes. “You don’t want payment?”

           “Of course not!” the man said, laughing, though Nezumi couldn’t see the joke.

           Still, if this idiot didn’t want money, Nezumi wasn’t about to go around giving out charity.

           “Great, I appreciate it,” Nezumi said.

           “I can show him. Can I show him?” the girl, Nagisa, apparently, asked the man, who nodded.

           “I’ll be in the adjoining studio if you need me, feel free to join any lesson you’d like.”

           Nezumi nodded at the man, who disappeared out the back door, and then Nagisa was running around the counter, beckoning to Nezumi, who followed her through another door, which led straight to a studio.

           “The dressing room is through that door back there, if you need it. Lights are here, you can dim them too if you want. That’s it, I think – Did you need anything? Ballet flats? We have rentals, but I’m sure you could borrow them for free.”

           “Got my own, thanks,” Nezumi said, lifting his bag.

           “Oh, wow, so you’re, like, a pro then?” the girl asked, leaning forward.

           “Something like that,” Nezumi hedged, stooping down to change his shoes, but also to give the girl a hint that he hadn’t gone through the trouble of getting access to this studio in order to chat with her.

           Thankfully, the girl got the hint, and bid Nezumi goodbye with another reminder that she’d be just outside the door if he needed her.

           When she left, Nezumi glanced around the studio. Small, but Nezumi didn’t mind small. The walls were lined with mirrors, the floors a smooth and shiny wood, and there was a bar across one side – all that Nezumi required from a studio.

           He tied his ballet shoes up his calves over his leggings, then lowered down to stretch, closing his eyes and breathing deeply into his stretches. With each inhale, he took in more oxygen, let out more air from his lungs with each exhale.

           If he breathed deeply enough, he was certain, he could finally calm his heart that been beating much too quickly since he first came to this rural town, since he first set his eyes on their beloved figure skater, since he first met Shion.

*

[theibblog]

How Valuable really is the IB?

It is hard to know, amongst the keen IB promotion and equally enthusiastic critique, exactly what the true ‘third-way’ picture is, regarding the value of the IB. However, in this post, we hope to offer you a realistic look at just exactly where the IB can take you, where it sits in comparison with other qualifications and why it really is more than ‘worth it’, if you’re willing to put in the effort.  

The question ‘Do universities hold the IB in high regard?’, receives famously mixed responses and for good reason. Admittedly, the entry requirements for universities can, in some instances, seem a little harsher for IB than for its equivalent counterparts; particularly in respect to more competitive universities and courses (as we recently discovered at a UCAS careers fair).

However, there are a number of reasons, some of them alterable, for this anomaly and, regardless, IB students consistently challenge expectations and produce unprecedented results in the face of slightly higher boundaries, or are accepted into universities based on the fact that they appear to have a lot to offer and have undoubtedly ‘unique prepositions’ (I will explain)

Why are entry requirements higher? - And why it’s not necessarily a problem.

A points system, as opposed to separation by 6 distinct grades, provides universities with greater scope for differentiation between abilities and, in particular, provides visible differences between the often almost indistinguishable ranks of the ‘most able’.  Hence, the higher grade boundaries. Although this may seem, initially, like a downside to the IB, a points system also has its pros, for the very same fact that universities are able to categorise students more comprehensively. 

Universities are more trusting of your abilities and feel they have a more reliable indication of your potential. Someone is more likely to invest in a student of specifically, say, 34 points, than someone with a set of possibly lower-end A’s - for example.

A point score allows you, yourself, to be more realistic about your choices and determine, earlier on, a range of likely options. You are less likely to face disappointment because of a mildly overoptimistic prediction, which pushed you from one grade to the next, and hence into an entirely different range of universities. Missing out by one point, is, for sure, less dramatic than losing a whole grade.

You are only in competition for places with individuals that are truly of your ability and are less likely to pipped to the post because of a weak interview or slightly less than average entry test

Entry requirements are also perhaps higher because there is not yet a recognised basis for comparison between differing qualifications. A grade certainly cannot be viewed as a direct translation to 7.5 points, as division would suggest, as this grade boundary is higher than even possible. This is where universities diverge – some come unstuck and ask for too much comparatively; whilst others have recognised the true merit of the course and we watch as admission grades continue to go down across the board since its introduction in 2006.

Generally, entry requirements are not higher, as such, but the nature of the IB’s point system means that universities are simply able to pinpoint these higher grades and ask for them.

Things can only get better, and have gotten continually better, in this respect, and entry requirements are now entirely achievable.

In our experience, the only very minimal issue with the IB, is that not enough people know about it! The subsequent fear of the unknown and lack of awareness, we believe, is the only factor that places the IB at any sort of disadvantage, and certainly not the individualism of the course which, heretofore mentioned, prove invaluable in any application process

Although grade boundaries look harsher, this is not a reason to shy away from the IB; we hear many success stories, our school has IB students going on to the best unis and on to exciting and often more diverse, niche careers, not just as a result of grades and exceptional intelligence but because the IB also suits 1) Organised people, 2) All-rounders and 3) A University-style education

Furthermore, universities, apprenticeships and employers, alike, want evidence of keen interest – an obvious investment in a subject, field or area of interest, beyond the curriculum of 6th form qualifications and beyond that which you have been taught in school.  This is where the less prescriptive curriculum of the IB comes into its own.

In the future, you may need:

An example essay or portfolio of work

Examples of research

Evidence of interview skills

Ability to cope with impromptu testing

Evidence of Extra-curricular involvement

An obviously curious mind and unique way of thinking

An original and academic approach to study

Luckily for you, these skills are all a part and parcel of the IB course; you will have the correct levels of ability and required pieces of work readily at hand, meaning less stress in the application process and, in many cases, more time for revision

In fact, studies have found that IB students make the best prospective Uni students. IA’s, CAS and TOK, alone, already account for their measures of success and students are already having to produce uni-style essays, formulate titles and hypotheses, give presentations etc.

Finally, you are, in fact, statistically more likely to achieve the university place that you want. Exams are over early and you have more time to prepare if the worst were to happen and you did not meet your requirements. There is plenty of time to look into clearing offers and alternatives if everything were to go wrong on the day.  

In summary:

Universities all differ, but there are now many top universities, in fact most, that offer entirely reasonable comparative entry grades

Students are better prepared for university-style study by the IB and university admissions teams are realising this fact increasingly in their considerations of placing

Last week, I was told by countless universities that IB begins you on, at least, an equal footing and this fact does indeed seem to ring true.

Is it worth taking 6 subjects – do I sacrifice depth for breadth?

It is commonly assumed that the IB offers quantity at the expense of quality. However, this is not the case:

For starters, higher subjects are certainly parallel to A-level standard and particularly in sciences and maths, cover and go beyond the content of other curricular.

Furthermore, the IB encourages wider reading and work outside of the classroom – as I see it, the IB simply asks for more groundwork to be covered, in less time.

Mark schemes, as in any other case, penalise vagueness or brevity; hence, depth is an as essential part of the course as in any other instance.

And the dreaded question arises, ‘Why take 6 subjects when you could only take 3?’ – connections between subjects, a wider knowledge and broader study, in fact, promote greater depth in each subject. You acquire more methods of thinking, are more adept at puzzling out answers in subjects that you find difficult and ‘learn to learn’. Don’t let your neurones die! (or something like that, I don’t take biology)

Will I learn any skills different to other courses? What am I missing? What am I gaining?

You gain life-skills, as well as text-book knowledge. You learn to handle, interpret and make meaningful a set of information, rather than just funnel it into a text-book answer. You have a global mind-set, which is increasingly valued in the world. You have an awareness of inter-connectedness, of opportunity and a unique insight into culture. You are more likely to travel and to experience the world. Your choice to take the IB, is perhaps indicative of your tendency to take unconventional routes, to challenge yourself and of your ability to explain yourself and your decisions. The only thing you may miss is time, straightforwardness, security and clear direction – but this only makes life more interesting, you more uniquely employable and more invested in your areas of research and you are given more room to develop personally and academically – (This is a fortune-cookie-esque, magazine-maze-style answer, I am aware, but it’s all true.)

You are prepared for the real world of work and the realities of life, and not just modelled to pass an exam.

Where you lack in ‘time’, you gain skills, you are motivated to do the things that you have always wanted to do (e.g. play guitar, visit an old people’s home) and you learn to reach a balance of habits that will carry you with relative ease into life outside of school.

How much harder is it?

Hard is what you make of it – I mean, yes, it’s harder to manage perhaps, but once you learn to make decisions and learn all the relevant skills the work is no harder, there is just more of it, in less time. The IB does not have to be difficult, it is wholly achievable, and it certainly makes the next steps easier. (After all, procrastination is the worst enemy in any stage of life)

Am I risking something that is not worth it?

It depends what you hold as valuable – for us the process of developing as people in the long-term is equally as important as the end results. In this respect, it’s certainly ‘worth’ sacrificing a few hours of procrastination a week, for personal development and a broad, comprehensive education.

How can we promote the IB and help others to see its comparative worth?

Make it a CAS project

Tell people!

Get involved with projects such as Lanterna, or other IB promotion networks (There are plenty out there)

Essentially, take any chance you get to explain the IB, to talk about its worth and prove through your actions that the IB shapes considerate, international and ambitious people.

For more info: Take a look at these websites – or google ‘pros and cons of IB’ – there’s a tonne of information but it’s probably wise to take IB memes with a pinch of salt – we all like to exaggerate, to an extent, it takes the edge off the work-load:

http://university.which.co.uk/advice/ucas-application/international-baccalaureate-ib-students-top-tips-for-applying-to-university

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/education/secondaryeducation/10017618/International-Baccalaureate-is-it-any-good.html

http://ibo.org/en/benefits/benefits-for-students/

[gawaine]

Halo, if this is invasive then feel free to ignore, but I was wondering if you are able to shed some light into your education path, please. I'm kinda interested in how the education system works in England. If you dont mind, I'm intrigued by the years you spent in each level of education and what you took for tertiary until your current med school, please. You don't have to, but if you do I thank you very much :)

Sure! No problem. [under the cut bc it’s long]

I was actually home-schooled until I was about 6/7, but people here usually start primary school (we have a tertiary system out here) a lot younger than that. You stay in primary until 11.

Secondary school is from 11-16 for compulsory education. In the last two years of compulsory secondary, I sat my GCSEs (General Certificates of Secondary Education), which is about... 13 subjects? If you’re on AP programmes for the Cores (aka science, maths and english)? 

After that, you can choose if you want to do your A-levels, which is another 2 years, and something most secondary/high schools offer. 16-18. You study and sit these exams for entrance to university (there are other ways, but this is the ~straightforward path~).

So I did that! GCSEs, A-levels at the same high school and then I got accepted to one of the constituent colleges of the University of London for my joint honours degree in English Literature and Linguistics.

Now, usually, medicine is this country is between 5-7 years long (how good your A-levels are determine how good a uni you can apply for, whether you’re converting arts A-levels into a medical foundation year, the course specifically at that uni, if you want to do an extra year for an extra degree, etc), at undergraduate level aka straight from high school. But I didn’t do that because I was having health problems, so I did my other degree instead and chose to wait and see if it was still something I wanted to do if I got better.

And that’s because there are 4-5 year programmes in medicine for graduates. They’re extremely competitive, quite expensive and often have a lot more requirements than you’d expect. Graduate streams are in two categories (or were when I applied): science background and open to all. Science is just that: it means that you have to have a relevant science undergrad degree in healthcare or whatever (so a lot of people who didn’t get into med right after school choose biomed instead, with the aim of applying to programmes like this), or people from any discipline (such as myself), or at least science A-levels, of which I have neither, so I obviously applied the other way.

Most medical schools in the UK require a medical admissions test. There are a few; off the top of my head, the BMAT (which is similar to the American test, I think), UKCAT (which is a computer-based version of... an exam you probably haven’t heard of in the UK. Verbal reasoning, non-verbal reasoning, that kind of thing. Grammar secondary schools have it for entrance, too, it’s called the 11+) and then some not as popular ones, such as what I did, which is called the GAMSAT, which is an exam used for courses in Australia and Europe. 

Unlike the other exams, the GAMSAT (Graduate Australian Medical Schools Admissions Test) is open ONLY to graduates, for specific graduate entry programmes (each uni decides which test it wants its applicants to take). It’s chosen as the main exam for open to all grad-med courses, but it’s notoriously difficult, is a 9 hour day and requires you to study science to almost a first-year undergraduate level... So a lot of people don’t bother. I remember during my first sitting, that I saw people walk out. And it’s expensive to sit, too. 

I passed during my second sitting (I tried to boost my score for a third time, but it didn’t work, unsurprisingly). It really is a horrible exam!

BUT, if you pass, it begins to work like any other application (and the same goes for passing the others). Depending on your percentile ranking, you get offered interviews at the unis of your choice, and then depending on how well you do at interview, you get ranked again before being told their decision. This process can easily take up to six months - and that’s just getting the exam results and waiting to hear about interview. I ended up taking a year out after graduation, just waiting for my application to go through, and building up my volunteering roster some more.

You can apply to 4 med schools through the government here. I only applied to 3, because I only wanted to sit one exam, and my choices were limited to courses open to arts graduates. I applied to one in London to stay close to my family, another a little further out, and one in Wales.

Long story short - 2/3! London didn’t work out. I thought it was my dream school, but when I visited Swansea Uni (the one in Wales), I realised it wasn’t. It took me a while to get over that, actually. I got into the other one, Nottingham, which is well-reputed, but by then I’d already been offered Swansea. By some miracle, I was in Swansea’s top 10% of interviewees! :))))

And then everything kind of... Fell into place? When I got the offer from Swansea (a very nice, personalised phone call. Usually you just get an email), it was named no.6 in the country for medicine and two weeks later, after the new rankings came out, it was named no.3, after Oxford and Cambridge. The people were lovely, it’s an amazing hospital, it’s a course designed just for graduates (as opposed to other unis, who focus more on their undergrad medics) and it’s concentrated in one place. 0% fail rate, 0% drop-out rate, state-of-the-art hospital just built and almost 100% student satisfaction rating.

So that’s where I’ll be in September! I don’t think you needed that last bit, but I’m a) very proud and b) terrified to leave London, so I keep reminding myself of why I am, haha.

I will say this: people say that arts graduates find it harder to sit exams like the GAMSAT and I’d actually disagree. It’s a fair paper - there are three sections, on different topics - and so everyone has a chance to play to their strength. But it’s a long, incredibly nerve-wracking and stressful process.

Totally worth it, though.