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outerbankspreferences · 3 years

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Into the Unknown - Sarah Cameron

Request: Can you please do a sarah x fem reader were reader is a pogue and they are oposites. Like the reader dresses more sweat shirts and mom jeans. And they are kinda rivals because she’s a pogue but they spend a day together and realize they have feelings for each other. Could you also add in somthing bout not really knowing if reader really like girls but descoverse she’s bi after talking with Sarah (sorry Ik this is vv specific but I’m feeling some sorta way towards sarah so yea)

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 1531

A/N: I hope I portrayed this the way you wanted!

You hated the thought tog going to the Kook academy, but when you got offered a scholarship your parents didn’t want you to give it up. You were an amazing artist, and your art teacher at your old school had helped you get the scholarship. You didn’t come from much. Both of your parents worked fulltime to help support you and your siblings. At first you didn’t want to go because you didn’t want to leave your friends. The Pouges were the closest thing to family you had.

You only agreed because Kie went there, and said she finally wanted to have some friends. She had a falling out with Sarah Cameron the year prior. “Come on Y/N, it won’t be that bad. You can hang out with me. At least you’ll know someone.” Kie said sitting around the fire. “Oh yeah, hang out with the one who was no friends. Probably not a smart move.” JJ spoke up. Kie slapped him on the arm, “it’s the Kook princess’ fault I don’t have any friends. She told everyone I called the cops on her party.”

“But you did call the cops on her party. I was with you when you did it.” John B interrupted her. “Okay who’s side are you on? She invited everyone in the school but me. The bitch got what she deserved.” Kie snapped at him. It was an unspoken agreement that none of you liked Sarah after what she did to Kie. They were best friends in grade 9 and then Sarah threw a party and didn’t invite Kie, so she got the party busted. You can still remember her calling you all the time crying, you felt so bad because there was nothing you could do to help her.

“I plan on keeping my head down until graduation, I don’t want to meet anyone. I’ve got all the friends I need with you guys.” You said leaning back in your chair, watching the fire. “Probably a good idea.” Pope said to you, he knew how nervous you were for this.

It was finally your first day at the Kook academy. You and Kie shared a room but didn’t have any classes together. She had showed the day before where all your classes were so you wouldn’t get lost, but this place was huge. You had been looking for you AP Art History, when you bumped into someone, “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking”- You cut yourself when you saw who it was, Sarah Cameron.

“It’s okay, you’re Y/N, right? I think I’ve seen you at the boneyard a couple of times.” She said smiling. You didn’t really know why but she made you nervous. It was something you’d never felt before. All sudden you had not idea what to say to her. You realized she was waiting for an answer.

“Uh, yeah that’s right. I’ve seen you there before too.” You confirmed, looking back down at your schedule. ‘don’t talk to her Y/N.’ you thought to yourself.

“What class are you trying to find. I couldn’t find my way around this place for like a month.” She said grabbing the schedule out of your hand. “Oh, AP Art History, I’m in that class too, follow me.” She said leading you the way to the class.

She was still looking over your schedule, “it looks like we have a lot of classes together, we should hang out I’ll help you find your way around. Who’s your roommate?” She asked walking fast through the halls, you were struggling to keep up. “Uh Kiara, and I’m sure I could find time to hang out.” You said trying to avoid the topic, Kie would kill you if you hung out with her. You guys made it to class right before the bell rang. “Kie would probably kill you for hanging out with me, it’ll be our little secret.” She said winking at you, and your heart flutter.

This kept up for weeks, always hanging out, you learned a lot about Sarah. She was an artist too, and you guys spent a lot of timing drawing each other. You would catch yourself sketching her when she wasn’t around, simply drawing her silhouette.

You’d never felt this way about another girl before. You always assumed that you were into boys, but maybe you were wrong. You and Kiara had gone down to the meal hall to eat supper, a normal night for the two of you. You hadn’t really been paying attention to what Kiara had been talking about, more focused on looking at Sarah. She seemed so confident with her friends, like she was on top of the world.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N.” Kie said waving a hand in your face, pulling out of your own little world. “Sorry, what did you say?” You blushed hoping she didn’t realize who you were staring at. “I said, Kelce asked me out for lunch next week, do you think I should go.” She seemed annoyed you weren’t listening in the first place. “I don’t know, he didn’t really have the time of day for back home so what’s different here? I think you should be careful.” You spoke honestly. She looked at you like you had five heads. It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but you were known for speaking your mind with your friends.

“Well, aren’t you a supportive person.” She said laughing. You felt bad for what you said, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry Kie, I didn’t mean to be rude.” You spoke not wanting to start an argument. “I think I’m just going to go back to the room, I’m tired from volleyball today.” She said getting up, you tried to stop her put she didn’t listen. “Smooth move L/N.” You look up to see Sarah sitting in the place Kiara was sitting.

“What are you talking about?” You asked even though you knew she just watched the whole encounter happen. “Kie, I know it can be hard living with your friend. We’re all going to the beach tonight if you want to come.” She offered smiling at you. “I don’t know Sarah; I’m not really dressed for the beach.” You gestured to the mom jeans and sweater you wore down to supper.

“Yeah, I didn’t really want to go to the beach anyways, let’s go down to the art room, I still have to finish my project for Mr. Willis’s’ class. You both grab some snacks and head down laughing to each other. You got your easel all set up and started working on sketch. Sarah but some soft music on in the background to break up the silence. It was the nice thing about your friendship, you didn’t need to speak, just each others company was enough.

It made you nervous to be alone with her. You were sure her friends didn’t like you, and yours didn’t. “So how did you get into the academy Y/N? I’m not trying to be mean, but I know you’re a Pouge, I thought your parents couldn’t afford something like this.” She asked, careful about how she worded things. “Uh, I got a scholarship, my old art teacher sent some of my work in without me knowing. It was Kiara who convinced me to come. It looks better to art schools apparently. I’m going to need a lot of help if I want to leave the Outer banks.” You explained not looking up from your drawing.

You weren’t normally this open with people, but with Sarah it was just easy. You never felt judge by her, she would let you talk all your problems away and never interrupt you. “Do you want to leave? The Outer banks I mean.” She asked sounding sad you didn’t want to stay. “Yeah, it’s every Pouges dream. I think I still want to live by the ocean, just not here.” You explained. “Sometimes I wish I could just get up and leave today, you know? No explanation just packs a bag and never come back. Go from town to town working a little when I needed the money.” You said looking over at her.

She was staring back at you. “I wish I knew that freedom. I know you guys think being a Kook we have everything we could ever want, but I would kill for your freedom. I see you guys hanging out having so much fun in the summer. Know cares if you guys are late, or what you wear, or who you with. You don’t have an image to uphold.” You could tell she was being sincere about it. “We’ll leave one day Sarah, just me, you and the open road.” You said giggling, falling in love with the idea. “Promise?” she asked laughing, “Promise.” You replied.

When you talked to her like this, it was when you knew you loved her. Sometimes you were sad because she was dating Topper, and clearly not interested in women, but you were happy you got to spend these moments with her. Just the two of you talking. Not a Kook and a Pouge, but two friends with a mutual understanding.

TAG LIST: @drewstarkey @fttayla @lemur46 @pita0402

#sarah cameron #sarah cameron outerbanks #sarah outer banks #outer banks #madelyn cline #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron x you #sarah cameron fic

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h-grangerstudies · 3 years

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val in america is 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ is there like a psychology class and an ap psychology class or something 🧍‍♀️ i still do not fully understand what ap is.

hi sara, btw you can always ask me about american school. anytime! i will answer to the best of my ability everytime love. this got long btw!!!

right! so ap, or AP, is short for Advanced Placement. it’s this whole track of classes offered in high school that are basically college level classes. they’re harder, more demanding, and culminate into an AP exam, which is sometimes required. at my schools they’re optional (and expensive!)

the exams are graded on a 0-5 scale, with 5 being the best score. you can get college credit (usually in the form of hours, because i’ve heard colleges may require you to take their prerequisites anyway) for a score of 3 in some colleges, while others will require 4 or 5. these exams vary in difficulty and in questions. last year, i has a multiple choice section with 55 questions in 55 minutes? and short answer question section and document based questions section. it’s a whole ordeal. all timed.

the rubrics for grading are weird and changeable too, or so my ap world history teacher says. they want only a certain percentage of test takers to get 5’s, so they’ll make certain questions harder or easier to get the point. it’s also impossible to cheat. i never tried, but i heard of students who did. i have heard that they actually cheat-proof they’re questions by seeing if it’s possible to google search a way into an answer. cheating also comes with the risk of college board (the folks who run it all) telling prospective colleges about you lack of integrity.

my school doesn’t offer any regular psychology classes. our tracks range from 4 weights to 7 weights. regular, advanced, honors, and AP. AP Psych is considered the easiest AP class though, mostly requiring you to learn vocabulary and names (from a senior in one of my classes)

i’m sure in other schools there are psychology classes! but i can’t say mine does. sometimes they do have both an honors option and an ap option. such as honors biology and ap biology. or honors physics and ap physics. i should’ve taken honors physics sometimes the honors version is a prerequisite, since the ap class goes into greater detail a lot faster.

yeah.. is that helpful? if not, lmk because i love to talk apparently

#v.answers #accio!moots #moot!sara #ilyyyyy #it’s confusing ik #they have your guidance counselor talk to all the freshmen about it #some freshmen take ap human geography #it’s the only available ap class #but i was too scared #flash forward to now #and i’m taking 5 ap’s #it’s a common understanding within my peers #“what’s the matter”#“i’m in 3 aps”#“ohhhh”#even teachers know it’s a lot #but we’re all competing for that gpa #we see the 7 and we get greedy

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whereisstevethestove · 4 years

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For the prompts: Could I *looks around nervously* get some Analogical with #10?

Everyone’s asking for the ships with virgil cause they all know what i can fucking write well XD

Prompt: #10: “Excuse me. Excuse me! Yes, you. You’re sitting in my seat.” With Logan and Virgil from the 200 follower special (X)

Logan appreciates order. As a teacher at a high school, it’s something that’s needed to keep the students in line as he lectures through PowerPoints and creates class assignments like the day when he and Roman built a fully functioning mining stream for their combined classes of geology and history.

So when he walks into the staff break room to see that Roman is sullenly sitting next to a new teacher, he is confused.

“Logan!” Roman instantly perks up as Logan wanders over, wary of the new teacher, who is currently ignoring him as he looks down at his phone.

“Roman, what the hell is going on?”

“This dude! Won’t give me his name!” Roman waves his hands at the newest addition, who doesn’t look up, even when Roman snaps a finger in front of his face.

Logan spares another glance before sighing and pulling off his glasses. “Excuse me Mx.?”

The teacher looked up finally and Logan froze because, holy hell...

They were incredibly attractive.

Logan’s sentence died in his throat as the teacher stared at him, seemingly waiting for Logan to continue what he was about to say.

“umm.. I’m Logan. I teach AP World History and AP US History.” Logan extends a hand and the teacher shakes it.

“Mx. Tempesta. I’m going to teach math I think. That or physics, they haven’t told me yet.”

“Very formal.” Roman grumbles as he stands. “I’m Roman, I teach Geology. Sorry I called you a dude.” He shot a look at Logan that meant we’ll talk later and then he’s gone, singing some obscure showtune as Logan takes the seat next to Mx. Tempesta.

They’ve certainly become less tense in the short amount of time that Roman’s been gone and they turn to Logan with a cocky half smile.

“Now that Princey’s gone, My name’s Virgil.”

Logan blinks a couple times, and he nods as his heart rate speeds up. “That’s a very nice name.”

“Thanks. So, do you have any tips for here? Which teachers to avoid, who do I need to talk to, what student is most likely to sneak a full sized pizza into class?”

“Make friends with Patton- he’s the secretary and it’s honestly a lifesaver if you have him on your side. We all avoid Janus... he’s the librarian but he’s chill. If you’re going to be in the science hall I should probably warn you about Roman’s brother..” Logan trails off as the door to the lounge swings open and Remus walks in, his face covered in black soot as he walks and throws a moonpie into the microwave.

“Hey fuckers!”

“Remus.” Logan says evenly as the microwave beeps and the chaotic teacher pulls it out.

“who’s the new guy?”

“Not a guy.” Virgil calls back as they tilt their chin at Remus as a slight challenge. Remus laughs and points.

“Had me in the first half, m’theydy. See you two around!” with that, he pops open the moonpie and leaves, undoubtedly to go torture Roman during his lunch break.

“He’s...” Virgil shakes their head. “Eccentric.”

Logan can’t help but agree.

...

Virgil ends up teaching physics. Logan walks by their class one day to see that Virgil’s standing on the desk in the front of the room while the students around them help secure a bowling ball to some sort of pendulum thing, all of them chattering excitedly.

Another time when Logan’s grading over three hundred DBQ’s, Virgil comes in to keep him company, laying on the floor and messing with a rubix cube as Logan reads out the stupidest lines that students write in panic.

It’s quiet moments like these when he realizes that he maybe, kinda sort of fell in love with Virgil Tempesta.

It’s during a staff meeting that really seals the whole thing together though. Logan was sitting next to Roman when a perkyly annoying English teacher walked up to him.

“Excuse me. Excuse me! Yes, you. You’re sitting in my seat.” She smiled, all pointed teeth and Logan shot a slightly confused glance at Roman, who shrugged.

“I’m confused?”

“What is there to be confused about? I always sit next to Roman.”

“What are you, five?” Virgil asks as they slide into the seat next to Logan, glaring up at the teacher. “I’d think that we were all full grown adults, but now I’m not so sure.”

The teacher huffs and crosses her arms. “What do you have to do with this Mr. Tempesta.”

“It’s Mx. to you. And Logan’s just sitting here, but I guess we can move if you really want to sit next to the dude who’s dating the librarian.”

Roman gasps. “Am not!”

Virgil tosses a wicked grin over Logan. “I saw what I saw.”

By now, the poor teacher is so lost that instead of trying to continue the argument, she slinks off. Logan glances at Roman.

“So, you and Janus?”

Roman’s cherry red blush is enough confirmation for him.

...

About a month later the school is closed for a week due to a... ahem.. science experiment that showed that apparently there was a high amount of meth in a certain band teacher’s room.

It’s not enough time to set up an online learning alternative and so everyone is grateful for the long needed break as the school is searched and decontaminated.

Logan finds himself at Roman’s apartment with Patton and Janus, all of them playing video games while gossiping about their coworkers.

“Where’s Remus?” Patton ends up asking at one point, it’s odd not to see both of the brothers together after work ends, even though both claim to hate the other sibling.

“He made bottle rockets with Virgil, they’ll be around in about an hour.” Roman checks his phone before going back to the game.

When Virgil and Remus come stomping in a few hours later, covered in dirt, Logan tries not to stare and fails.

Virgil comes and flops next to him on the couch once they’ve changed, looking absolutely amazing in one of Roman’s dresses that they borrowed while their dirt covered clothing was getting washed.

“Heyo.” Virgil mutters as Logan looks away, blushing.

“Hi.”

“wanna go out on a date tomorrow?”

Logan nearly dies at how casual the question is. “what?”

Virgil looks at him and wrinkles their brow. “Did I read our friendship wrong, I’m sorry.”

“No, a date sounds great.”

Logan ignores the knowing look that Roman shoots from the other side of the room.

Bastard probably gave Virgil the dress on purpose to fluster him.

...

“Y’know, my legal records still say that I’m female. We could get married and bypass all the homophobic laws that won’t let an agender person marry a guy.” Virgil looks up from the quiz that they’re grading and Logan sighs.

“You haven’t had them changed?”

“I can barely pay off my college debt. And besides, I got top surgery ages ago and so it doesn’t really matter.”

Logan finishes the quiz that he was grading and flips to the next one. “I don’t see why not then. But I would like to propose to you properly.”

Virgil grins. “After dating you for almost two years, I guess I can see why.”

“Hmm.” Logan agrees and when he looks up again, Virgil is standing, one hand out for Logan to take.

“Dance with me?”

“This is an empty classroom and there’s no music..” Logan trails off as Virgil fumbles with some earphones.

“Better?”

“Of course.”

And together they dance in an empty classroom, the promise of the future hovering between them.

#agender virgil #not countdown #analogical #ask #200 follower special #sanders sides #fanfic #logan #virgil

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inkofamethyst · 2 years

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March 9, 2022

So I started binging Absolute History’s Wartime Farm series and first off, I expected it to be a WW1-based show, to follow the Victorian Farm and Edwardian Farm series, but no, it’s WW2-based, which means that they can bring in not only guests who are academically knowledgeable about the topic but also people who lived through it! And it’s so interesting and so lovely to hear their stories. And ~with everything going on right now~ (aka the Western World is feelin a lil shaky because it turns out that white people can, in fact, still be belligerent against white people in this day and age (I’ll talk more of this in a bit)), it does feel somewhat timely. UGH I just adore Ruth and Alex and Peter they’re so great. I feel engaged. I hope they have more of these series planned.

Anyway... you know I just kind of thought that we didn’t care about war. Like I thought, culturally, in the United States, we were in general sort of just like “eh, war sucks or whatever but it’s not on our shores so it’s not that big of a deal” or something. I mean, the US was over in The Middle East fighting a war or something for basically the first 95% of my life, and that was something we barely acknowledged ever, so I thought we didn’t care. Sure, we’d thank our vets and send them cards or whatever during the holidays for service hours, but then it’d go away, and even during those times we never really thought about war. Taking care of our veterans is absolutely important but, like, it sure seemed like we weren’t all that pressed about why they were vets in the first place. And then I’d occasionally hear about some civil war somewhere in Africa or wherever, but no one talks about those so I thought we didn’t care. And, honestly, yeah it was sad to think about those people in those situations but no one made a fuss over it so I thought we didn’t care and so honestly I didn’t care. But no, apparently we do care about war but only when the people who are suffering look like us. And by “we” I mean white Americans and by “us” I mean white Americans.

I don’t expect people to be sad all of the time because that’s not healthy for anyone. I don’t want people to spend their days pitying every single group that’s experiencing hardship because that’s honestly a waste of time. And I’m not upset about other people being upset. What’s happening over in Ukraine is upsetting. I’m upset about this weird, I dunno, double standard? that I’m feeling right now.

I remember being in Spanish AP senior year and our teacher would share news stories from Latin and South America with us and there was so much happening. Important things, sad things, beautiful things. But we never heard about any of it in the States--our country is so huge that we didn’t have the time to fit in the coverage, I reasoned. Even then, I probably knew better.

A few weeks ago my english prof posed a question related to whether people in the class could empathize with something that did not look like them. But he posed it as like, can you empathize with an unfeeling robot that is being abused while it attempts to do its job. Out of twenty or so students, I was one of three or so who were admitted that we could and would feel bad in a case like that. And my english prof said, granted it was jokingly, but he said that the people who didn’t raise their hands scared him. And I get it now. Then I was thinking about Data from TNG (and “Measure of a Man” specifically) and Siri on my phone (whom I thank after every interaction). But now I’m thinking about our collective ability to empathize with people who don’t look like ourselves. Or our lack thereof. And I don’t put myself above any of this. I know it’s a privilege to not have to care. I didn’t question the culture.

And maybe there’s something I’m missing. Maybe I’m overreacting, reaching.

Maybe we care right now because it’s fresh which makes it newsworthy. Everyone’s worried, CNN gets their views, et cetera. Maybe it’s because Ukraine was almost in NATO which makes them sorta allies.

I thought we didn’t care about war. Is there something else that makes this one different?

I did find out the point of the sanctions, though. It’s because we’re scared. Russia apparently has a huge nuclear arsenal, and Putin is real twitchy. So we’ve declared sanctions as a sort of “plz putin plz stop we don’t wanna go to war with you but we also don’t want to make any grand gestures that would poke the bear” especially since Putin has said that any interference would be considered an act/declaration of war. Ukraine is begging for help, but they’re not truly part of NATO yet so there’s no obligation to help them, and every country is sort of just standing by because no one wants to risk a nuclear fallout. I... I don’t even know where I could go on campus if something like that were to suddenly happen.

Anyway we’re playing this game of war by the rules against an opponent who is very much not playing by the rules and honestly I never thought I would ever relate to the American government so much. In theory, I, too, would attempt to be the bigger person for the morals of it all or whatever.

This is kind of a weird thought but when... when I am in pain, emotionally, I don’t go numb. You know how people sometimes are like “I’ve gone numb to the pain” or something? Well, that doesn’t happen with me. Every feeling becomes sharper, more intense. I could wax poetic about any and all sorts of personal pain for days on end. I mean, just look at me in my college application phase. Instead, I go numb when I’m happy. I find it difficult to describe moments of joy. I just sort of experience them and let them wash over me. I couldn’t even properly express how my first performance in literal ages made me feel outside of the most basic description at first (though part of that could have been the stress of having upcoming assignments and assessments).

I wonder why that is. I wonder if it’s significant. I wonder if it’s normal.

Spring Break cannot come soon enough. Only a week and a half to go. Unfortunately, my Spring Break is busy as all get out. I am very tired.

Today I’m thankful for.. idk I suppose right now I’m just thankful that I’m no longer in the jazz club.

[edit: After a day’s thought and decompression, this may have been a wee bit of an overreaction. I think my reaction is more toward the (probably conservative) news narratives I’ve seen than real people’s reactions. It’s the whole “I cannot believe that white people could do such a thing to other white people! This kind of act is something we’d expect between, well, not-so-white people.” (said with more innocent language, of course) that frustrates me. Time will tell how long this aggression and its accompanying sudden outpouring of care will last.]

[edit 2, about a week and a half later: After even more thought and consideration, I don’t want to “All Lives Matter” or “men experience domestic abuse too” this thing (the invasion still has not ceased at this point, and prez poot seems to be doubling down). I don’t want to seem disrespectful with my comments, and I don’t want to seem dismissive to the pain and suffering at all. Plus, I can understand that a big part of the fear for Americans with regards to this issue is (or may be) that, you know, Putin has access to nuclear weapons, and no one wins in a nuclear war. So it’s a whole cold war type deal (except, you know, not lasting for decades this time (so far)) again. Anyway that’s getting away from the point. Feeling upset or anger is fine and valid, obviously.]

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paranetics · 4 years

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hiya could you do a kiadam for 17. and 22.? if your not too busy. thanks !!

17. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” 22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

He’s completely minding his own business, being friendly with his physics textbook, all pressed up against the end of the bookshelf in the library, successfully having a love affair with headache-inducing math equations, when Mira ambushes him.

“Hiya,” she says, suddenly right in his face.

“Aisghls!” he gurgles, in a completely manly way, thank you. She sits back on her heels and laughs at him, loud and mocking. He scowls at her.

Her braces are blue now, matching the streaks in her hair. She looks nice, he decides, all neon green and blue. The loudness of her wardrobe suits her -- she’d be strange to him if she ever tried to tone it down.

“Oh, man, you should’ve seen your face.”

“Fuck you,” Kai snaps, smoothing out the pages of his book. “I am busy learning how to destroy the AP Phys exam. Stop being a distraction.”

She pouts at him. “Come on, you're seriously not still mad at me about the ceramic pig.”

“I’m always going to be mad at you about the ceramic pig,” he says primly. Then he sighs, unable to resist. “What’s up?”

Her smile turns bright, and his heart does that familiar little stutter. Kai has always, always loved her. Sure, she’s Adam’s best friend and has inclinations more Reeve-based, but there’s always going to be something about her that just catches him in the right spot. He’s over it now, and he has erm, other areas of interest, but she’ll always be special.

“Nessa’s having a party--”

“Ugh,” Kai interrupts.

“--with alcohol--”

“Double ugh.”

“And cute boys will be there,” Mira wheedles, whipping out her best puppy-eyes.

“I don’t care,” Kai says, shuffling away from her and looking back at his textbook. The particles will... he reads.

“Adam will be there,” she tries. Obvious trump card. Goddammit.

He cuts his eyes toward her, calculating. She’s grinning, triumphant, confident that she’s got him. He groans internally, because it’s either that he goes to this party and enjoys at least twelve percent of it, or Mira and Adam will wake him up from a dead sleep sometime in the AM, drunk and needy.

Part of his resistance is a lie, he always likes parties. He doesn’t like Vanessa, but she’s Reeve’s friend, and by proxy, Mira’s friend. He can pretend to like her for one night, especially if he gets to hang out with people. What can he say, extroversion. It’s a disease.

It’s just, recently, there’s been this trend. It’s like he’s been cursed.

Kai pretends to think about it.

“Fine,” he grits out.

“Yay!” Mira says, standing up and doing a little celebratory wiggle. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and unlocks it. “I’ll add you to the group text. Also, I want Reeve to drive me so you’re taking Adam alone okay bye.”

“Huh,” Kai says as she speed-walks away from him. “What? Hey!”

But she’s gone, vaguely eucalyptus-scented-shampoo left in her wake. Alone? With Adam? Fuck.

His phone buzzes.

Group: party 🎉🥂🥳🎊 time

mirakat added humantorchkai to the group

abeaverdam: Oh he’s coming?

lochnessa: Damn I didn’t know he left his house anymore

mirakat: ya i cornered his ass in th library

mirakat: hes a total slut 4 skool

mirakat: kais my bitch tho lol so ya hes comin

mirakat: dam hes drivin u

abeaverdam: Is that ok kai?

humantorchkai: yeah

humantorchkai: when?

lochnessa: Friday.

Kai’s late to first period on Wednesday, which Reeve notices, and bugs him about for ten minutes straight. He rolls in twenty minutes after the bell, wearing the clothes he left on his bedroom floor, all rumpled up and disorganized, and without a note. He drops into his seat and makes it approximately two minutes before Reeve leans over, into his space, and starts the interrogation.

“Oh my God,” Kai says to the ceiling. “For the last time, my alarm didn’t go off.”

“My Spidey-senses tell me you’re a liar,” Reeve says, and seriously, what does Mira see in this complete dork? He’s so nosy.

Kai drags his gaze from the ceiling to stare at him. “I think your janky-ass ‘spider-sense’ needs a psych eval.”

Reeve crosses his arms and sniffs at him. “Rude. I thought we were friends.”

“We are--” Kai scrubs his hands through his hair violently, frustrated. He catches the smirk on Reeve’s face. “Hey! That doesn’t work on me anymore. I’ve evolved.”

The smirk doesn’t leave Reeve’s face.

The truth is, Kai’s late because he had a nightmare. Or a wet dream. Depends on your definition of either thing. It’s been reoccurring pretty consistently, and Kai always wakes up from it breathing hard, adrenaline in his veins, and a hard-on. Today just happened to be shittier, and he couldn’t get back to sleep right away, so he overslept when his alarm went off.

It’s pretty much the worst, been happening for almost a month, and Kai is slowly losing his mind. But. whatever, the important part is this: he’s with Adam, and Adam kisses him. They could be in space, or in a submarine, or whatever Kai’s subconscious feels like cooking up. They could be anything, pirates, elven rebel warriors, it doesn't matter. In every dream, Kai’s with Adam, and at some point Adam leans over, the smell of Hennessy whiskey on his breath, and kisses Kai.

It’s why Kai’s been so rigid lately, avoiding his friends and refusing to go to parties, because of what happened Last Time he’d gone.

Mad Libs! Fill in the blanks, Sherlock.

He’s so totally, totally, totally screwed. And no one is allowed to know, not even Reeve, who knows Adam’s a flirty drunk and that Kai’s pathetic, and hasn’t even told anyone any of Kai’s other secrets, because this? This is world-ending levels of FUCK.

So, when the bell rings, Kai basically sprints out the door to avoid Reeve.

Group: party 🎉🥂🥳🎊 time

speedyskeet: should i bring da weed

reever: ohhh shiiiit hell yeah

lochnessa: No LSD though

speedyskeet: :O

speedyskeet: um ok MOM

reever: wtf ness

reever: psychedelic rights!!!

speedyskeet: let me get us fkd up!!

mirakat: wait didnt we hav 2 call an ambulance 4 coop last time u brought more than weed to a party

mirakat: or was tht a different school

speedyskeet: .........

speedyskeet: ok so im assuming edibles and my bong right

Kai takes his lunch to Mr Tucker’s room.

Mr Tucker is the APUS history teacher for the senior class, and he is the only non-STEM teacher that Kai likes. Mira is also his favorite student, so he lets them eat lunch in his room. It’s better than fighting for a spot in the crowded cafeteria, and Kai likes hiding from the rest of the student body.

Adam, Reeve, and Mira are sitting at one of the table groups when Kai walks in with his plate of chicken nuggets, Vanessa and Skeet nowhere to be seen. They’re probably getting high in the parking lot.

Mr Tucker is scrolling through youtube, his computer desktop displayed on the projector screen.

“Why’d you look up Nyan cat?” Kai asks, tilting his head as he watches Mr Tucker scroll.

“It’s stuck in his head,” Mira pipes up, helpfully.

Mr Tucker grunts confirmation and apparently selects the version he likes. Reeve groans when it starts playing, slumping forward over his tuna salad. Mr Tucker picks up his normal vegetable-based salad, his bushy mustache wiggling in that way that means he’s smiling.

Kai sits next to Reeve, across from Adam. Mistake, Kai realizes too late. Big mistake. Because now they have to make eye contact, and Kai’s belly catches fire at the memory of drunkAdamhe’sKISSINGMESOMEONEHELP when he looks down at his plate of chicken nuggets. It’ll be obvious on his face in a few moments, he’s never been able to fight off a blush well, and then there’s going to be Questions. Capital-Q Questions.

But Reeve’s talking about, like, whatever drama majors talk about, and when Kai chances a peek up, Adam’s not looking at him. So.

Kai can’t help it, okay? He’s creepy. Sue him. No wait, that’s not-- ugh.

Kai studies the contours of Adam’s face while he’s not looking. His high cheekbones and his sharp chin. His heavy eyebrows that are shaped perfectly (”Ugh, you’re so fucking gross,” Reeve had said when Kai had voiced this thought aloud. “His eyebrows? I think you need to ask him out. Get it out of your system.”) and his eyes are that warm shade of brown, almost gold, soft and kind.

His hair is longer now, and errant curls flop over his forehead and around his ears. Kai watches the long line of Adam’s throat when he tilts his head back from the force of laughing at something Reeve said. Kai’s transfixed by the inviting stretch of dark skin, entertaining a thought of leaning over and just biting down so it’s not his fault he doesn’t see it coming when Reeve violently jabs him in the rib.

Kai jumps. “Ah! What the fuck?”

“Language,” Mr Tucker says in the toneless inflection of someone who doesn’t really care but responds on reflex. He’s now scrolling through Seasame Street videos.

Reeve shrugs, unrepentant. “You were gone there, dude.”

“Yeah,” Adam agrees, eyebrows raised in polite curiosity. “Planet Zenon gone.”

Kai ducks his head. “I’m, uh, stressed about AP physics?” he tries.

“Uh-huh,” Reeve says, “and are you asking us to confirm that for you?”

“Leave him alone,” Mira interrupts mildly. “Only, like, a hundred people a year get above a three on that exam.”

“Wow, how is that class still funded?” Adam asks.

“Elitism?” Mira guesses. “Maybe it’s like, a torture thing. Like, a test within a test.”

“What,” Reeve says, “like, if you pass you can become a super-secret spy?”

“Or I can, like, do another Chernobyl. Or I’m allowed secret access to government secrets. Ooh, maybe they’ll tell me the moon is a projection into the sky.” Kai says, warming to this idea.

“Then how would they explain waves?” Reeve asks.

“Uh, giant wave pool,” Kai answers.

“Hot take: the world is in a giant wave pool,” Mira grins at him.

Adam blinks almost in slow-motion, the sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks, a smile growing on his face, and Kai is once again caught like a fly in honey. Just like that, all the saliva is gone from Kai’s mouth, and he’s completely lost the thread of whatever’s happening around him.

Okay, so, recap: totally, totally, totally screwed.

adam: U sure you’re ok driving me?

kai: dam i swear its fine

kai: i’d say something if it was a problem

kai: my parents have been trying to kick me out basically every weekend, this’ll make them so fucking happy

adam: Lol

adam: [A stock photo of two white parents sitting on a beach towel in a tropical location, smiling adoringly at each other. In the blurry background, a toddler with similar skin color and hair is being attacked by a seagull.]

“There is a PROBLEM!” Kai announces, flopping heavily onto his bed, tossing an arm dramatically over his forehead. Mira doesn’t even look up at him.

“Hm?” she says from the floor, knees drawn up to her chest, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. She’s looking more at her iPad than at him.

“Oh my God,” Kai groans. “You don’t even care. I’m nothing to you. You enjoy my suffering.”

“Die white man,” Mira says tonelessly. “I’m trying to beat my old high score in Tetris. What’s your damage.”

“I have nothing to wear on Friday,” Kai moans, pained.

“What? Why do you even care? Your regular clothes are fine.”

“Oh my God, Mira! It’s a party,” Kai breathes the word like its holy, a precious thing nestled in the crook of his tongue, not to be defiled by people who wear school clothes to special events. “And I want to get hit on.”

“I’ll hit on you,” Mira promises. The iPad makes a wah-wah-wah sound. She sighs, setting it aside and looking up at him, expression thoroughly unamused, clearly blaming him for her high-score loss.

“I did not do that,” Kai says. The blood’s started rushing to his head, so he sits up and blinks away the black spots as they dance in front of his vision. “I just wanna be hot,” he whines.

“Okay, so, wear that stupid blue button-up with the tigers on it, and the black skinny jeans. It brings out your eyes,” she elaborates. “And tucked-in button-ups are hot on dudes. Oh, and--”

“If you’re gonna Queer Eye me, I swear to God,” Kai complains.

“Will you just... I was gonna say you should wear a tiny bit of eyeliner. It’s like, accentuating your features or some shit.”

“Why should I trust you?” Kai asks playfully. “I’ve never seen you go anywhere near a make-up in my life.”

Mira shrugs. “I saw it on Instagram. Anyways, Reeve said I have ‘good bone structure’, what does that even mean?”

“That he’s an idiot and I can’t believe you’re into him?” Kai ventures. Mira glares at him, so Kai leans back on the bed, rolling his eyes up to the bedroom ceiling at the glow-in-the-dark stick-on stars that have been there since he was seven. “Okay, okay. He was probably trying to compliment you, but since he’s a robot sent by aliens to infiltrate the earth he did it in a really bizarre way.”

Mira perks up. “You think?”

“He said ‘good’.”

“What should I say back?”

“Erm, that you’ll have his babies?”

Mira throws one of her glittery highlighter pens at him. It bounces off the center of his forehead and onto his lap. He laughs, picking it up and tossing it back.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe say that you like his bones, too.”

Mira takes out her phone.

adam: [A picture of a pina colada sitting on a kitchen counter in a pool of sunlight.]

adam: Winky face

kai: you could just like, use the emoji keyboard instead of typing it out

adam: Don’t make me frowny face

Kai spends fifteen minutes messing with his hair in the mirror. He gels it sticking up, twists his mouth critically at his reflection, and wets his hands to wipe it out. Nothing’s working for him today. It’s just one of those things, his clothes seem to hang off him awkwardly, and nothing looks right.

He makes a sound of frustration, and his mom pokes her head into the bathroom.

“Oh,” she says. “I thought you were going to a party?”

“Mom,” he growls. “I’m getting ready!”

“Hm.”

She pushes the door all the way open, surveys him from head to toe, and reaches over to run a hand through his hair, leaving parts sticking up in her wake. Kai looks in the mirror. Now, instead of awkward ‘trying-too-hard’, he looks artfully tousled. He unbuttons two top buttons of his tiger shirt, and messes with the collar to make it look like someone had grabbed it and reeled him in for a kiss. He grins at himself.

“That’s better, I think,” she says.

“Thanks Mom,” he says, shuffling past her and out to the hallway.

“Limit yourself to three drinks!” she calls as he stuffs his feet into old converse. “If you get too intoxicated to drive, spend the night! Just text! Don’t forget to wear condoms and--”

Kai shuts the door in her face.

His car is a silver Prius, owned five times prior to him. The interior always smells a little bit like shamrock shake and in the winter requires a prayer and three engine turnovers to start. Kai loves it.

He pulls up to Adam’s street and texts without looking that he’s close. He parks in the street, and jogs up to Adam’s front door. He raps his knuckles on Adam’s door, the red one with caterpillar decals, and a blue handprint on the doorknob.

Adam throws open the door. “Gimme a sec, gotta grab my jacket.”

He’s wearing a white shirt and Kai’s favorite jeans of his (do Not judge him, okay, liking your crush’s ass is basically a given and is no longer considered a sin under the New Testament, so really Kai’s not weird for liking this pair of Adam’s jeans because it accentuates his butt.), the ones with rips in the thigh and at both knees, because Adam lives reckless and dies reckless.

He jams his feet into vans and grabs the heavy olive jacket off the coatrack and follows Kai out to the Prius.

“You look nice,” Adam says, offhand. Kai feels how hot his face immediately gets and hopes it isn’t ugly, sometimes his blushes look like a rash.

“Thanks,” he says, rubbing his neck, right hand fumbling for his keys.

They slide into their seats, and Kai is hit with the violent-sense memory of Hennesy whiskey, and dark streetlamps, and Adam’s soft voice and brown puppy-dog eyes imploring Kai, look at me. Look at me, please. And. And.

His phone buzzes.

“Oh, Vanessa wants us to pick up some soda,” Kai says through the rock in his throat.

“Ooh, ooh. Cherry 7-Up, Jarritos Lime, uh like, a ton of Mountain Dew... and Coke! We’ll need Coke,” Adam rambles as Kai pulls away from the street and heads toward the local general store.

mira: WHERE

mira: R

mira: U

mira: 2

mira: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kai frowns at his phone. They’re in the check-out line, waiting for their turn with about three tons of soda on the conveyer. Kai’s got a fifty dollar bill from his parents, because they’re stupidly open-minded, but he’s still gonna make Vanessa pay him back. Adam’s inspecting the tabloids, making comments about all of the covers and whatever he thinks about them.

kai: WE’RE

kai: FUCKING

(Not sent !) kai: GETTING

(Not sent !) kai: DRINKS

mira: FUHDUK WHATTTT!!!?????????

Kai groans.

The party’s already alive by the time Adam and Kai get there, music thrumming against the walls of the house, the glass panes of the windows shaking with the vibrations. Weighed down by plastic bags full of drinks, and a little bit anxious, Kai fumbles with the door handle three times until Adam reaches over him and opens it.

The crowd is huge. He didn’t even know that Vanessa and Skeet knew this many people. There’s a wall of heat that hits them when they step inside, the difference between the inside and outside must be a solid ten degrees. Most people are crammed in the living room, near the speakers, where a sort of impromptu dancefloor has evolved. There are plenty of people lining the hallways, sitting on the stairs, and spilling over into the other places of the house.

Vanessa has changed the lightbulbs to fuschia, cobalt, and teal colors, so the house looks almost like a club from a TV show. There’s this haze over everything - and, yep, definitely Skeet’s weed - that makes it seem smoky and mysterious. Adam kicks the door shut behind them as they begin to navigate the crowd.

Skeet’s leaning against one of the walls, talking to a tiny girl with piercings and too much eyeliner. She tosses her head, her hair flying up like a halo for a moment, luminescent in the multicolored lights of the house, and leans closer to Skeet. She’s holding a red solo cup, Skeet’s holding weed, and Kai’s arms are starting to hurt from all the soda.

“So, your, like, real name is Skeet? What kind of name is that? I mean, like, who does that to their kid?” she’s asking, valley girl accent and everything, even twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Skeet shrugs, unbothered. “My parents are hippies.” he spots them, then, and lifts his joint in a get over here gesture. Kai and Adam shove some people to stand in front of him. He grins. “Oh, dudes, nice. You got drinks. I wasn’t sure if you would, since Mira told us that you, uh, made a pit stop.” he waggles his eyebrows.

Kai groans, flushing.

“Uh, yeah,” Adam says, lifting up his bags. “for drinks? Hello?”

Skeet leers, grin stretching bigger. Kai scowls. He’s going to eat her one day, all Hannibal-Lecter style.

“Where is Mira, anyway?” he cuts in before Skeet says anything weird. “Where should we put the drinks?”

“Oh, just, you know,” Skeet makes a vague gesture with his hand that doesn’t really mean anything. “I think I saw her in the kitchen?”

“Thanks,” Kai mutters, shoving through the crowd and deeper into the house.

Mira and Vanessa are leaning against the sink, Reeve’s standing at the counter, completely covered in bottles of alcohol, thumb and forefinger at his chin like he’s surveying fine art.

“Oh! You made it! I hate vodka without coke,” Mira says, striding forward and grabbing the bags from Adam.

Kai followers her back to the counter, and shoves the receipt into Vanessa’s limp hands without looking at her. Together, Kai and Mira start to set up the drink line, stacking up all the empty red cups at the edge of the counter as they try to make sure all the soda and alcohol are equally accessible. How Skeet even gets this stuff... he shudders to think.

Kai waits until Adam and Reeve have wandered out of earshot to lean into Mira’s space. Vanessa had vacated the premise the moment it looked like any physical work would be happening, so he doesn’t worry about her particular brand of nosiness. He takes his phone out of his pocket and tilts the screen so she can see it.

“My texts didn’t send,” he tells her in a low voice. “We weren’t actually, you know.” he flushes violently.

Mira shoots him a grin. “No, I guessed that something had happened. It was just funny. You look nice.”

He smiles at her, genuinely, which means his gums are probably showing. She looks nice too, in her little black dress with a flared skirt and combat boots. The neon green streaks in her hair glow in the weird light of the house.

“I like your outfit,” he says. The din in the background is starting to grow. More people have probably showed up.

She nods at his jeans. “Cuffed jeans. The true mark of a bisexual.”

Kai nods very seriously. “I can’t leave my house without announcing every aspect of my sexuality to the entire world.”

Adam’s talking to a group of people at the other end of the kitchen, his smile is blindly white in the pink light, skin pitched a shade darker, a stark difference against the glow of his white shirt. Staring, unable to look away, Kai steals Mira’s cup and takes a swig. It’s straight vodka, so Kai coughs immediately when it hits his tongue.

Mira laughs at him.

Group: party 🎉🥂🥳🎊 time

speedyskeet: do any of u know anyone named travis montery

mirakat: no

lochnessa: No

abeaverdam: Nope!

humantorchkai: no

reever: nah

speedyskeet: fucking L lmao

speedyskeet: im kicking this fool out then

Kai’s wandering around, pleasantly buzzed from two Cherry 7-Ups with a tiny bit of vodka, looking for any familiar face. Mira and Reeve had abandoned him pretty much straight away, he’d left Adam alone in the kitchen, and he’s actively avoiding Vanessa.

He stumbles around, moving his shoulders a bit in time with the music, his body gone languid and loose from the heat and the alcohol and the atmosphere.

His phone beeps at him again. He really hopes it's not Skeet checking with them before he bounces a guy again. It’s just Mira, he sees, when he’s fumbled his phone out of his back pocket. He has to squint to read in the pink light amid the thrumming bodies of people all around him.

Eventually, he escapes the crowd and heads down the stairs to the “game room” and finds another living room, with a soft white carpet and a couch in front of a big flatscreen. There’s a group of about a dozen kids, plus Kai’s friends, sitting on the carpet in a circle by the couch, with a beer bottle laying on a Monopoly game board. Kai blinks, the lights here aren’t fun colors, and everyone in the circle raises their arms and cheers when they see him.

He walks over to them. Mira grabs his arm and begins to drag him onto the carpet beside her. The group begins to chant.

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!”

Oh, no fuck, Kai thinks, beginning to resist Mira’s grip on his arm. His drink is sloshing about, and Kai holds it away from his shirt and pants as he tries to reverse his crouch and pull his arm back. Skeet reaches up and confiscates the cup, downing the rest of it in one go.

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!”

But he’s buzzed and his coordination is spotty, so when Adam reaches out with his hand and spins the beer bottle, Mira tugs once, hard, and Kai crashes onto the carpet, and the bottle spins,

and spins,

and spins.

And points the neck straight at Kai’s disheveled spot in the circle.

So, let’s revisit that cursed theory, shall we?

Kai looks at Adam, and Adam looks at him. He’s got that dopey half-smile on his face, and his pupils are blown wide, iris a thin gold ring around them. Kai knows when Adam’s drunk, or blackout, and he’s tipsy right now, just like Kai. And... oh no. But the kids in the circle are jeering, giggling delightedly.

“Uh,” Kai says.

Adam licks his lips, and Kai tracks the movement of his tongue helplessly. His eyes are moving on Kai’s face, like he’s cataloging everything, like he can’t keep them still. Kai’s mouth is very, very dry, and he misses having the cup in his hand.

“So, uh,” he says, and the tension buzzes even harder. “Is this, like, a kissing thing?”

Skeet grabs him by the arms and manhandles him up. Reeve and Vanessa grab Adam and start frogmarching them down the short hall toward some rooms and closed doors.

“No,” Skeet says, “This is more like a seven minutes in heaven thing.”

“Wait,” Kai says. Skeet reaches past him and opens a door. “Wait.” Skeet pushes him in, and Adam follows behind. “Wait.” The door clicks shut, then there's a clunk, then the sound of something heavy being pushed against the door.

Kai tries the knob, but it's locked. He jiggles it, but his muscles won’t cooperate and yank hard enough. Adam could probably break it open, but Kai has the vague thought of Vanessa’s parents and property damage, and underage drinking.

“Guys!” Adam yells. He pounds on the door with his fist. “Guys! This isn’t funny!”

But they don’t answer.

Evil. Mental note: make sure your friends aren’t evil next time.

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while,” Kai sighs, giving up on the door.

They’ll just have to wait out the seven-minute sentence. It’s simultaneously worse and so much better than the alternative. This way, Adam won’t have to kiss Kai if he doesn’t want to. But also: he won’t have to kiss Kai if he doesn’t want to. It’s a testament to how drunk all of them really are.

Kai turns, presses his back against the door, and slides down it, pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his hands around his shins, and resting his cheek on his knee. He surveys the room. It’s small and dark, Kai doesn’t have the wherewithal to search for the light switch, but from what Kai can see it looks like a guest room no one ever uses and has accumulated with old junk. There’s a tiny window at the opposite wall that leads up to the lawn. Adam groans and drops onto the ground beside Kai.

The night is clear the moonlight is touching the window and peeking into the room. Adam’s shirt is glowing against his skin from the moonlight, his eyes a bright point in the semi-dark of the room. Kai locks eyes with Adam, and the tension from earlier crops back up tenfold.

This situation is... stupidly pointed. Kai’s pretty sure Reeve is the only person in the world who knows Kai thinks Adam is kinda hot, but he’d also have to be massively stupid to ignore the strain in their friend group lately.

Adam’s looking at him the way he does right before he reaches out to touch Kai’s hair, or brush his fingers against Kai’s freckles, or leans over to kiss Kai’s cheek. He’s looking at Kai like a hungry man, like he’s about to make the stupidest decision of his life and never look back. Kai can feel the pull of that look drawing him in, the temptation to run his hands against Adam’s chest, touching his shoulders or his mouth.

So Kai does the only thing he can think of.

“What did you think of that new Hey Arthur episode?”

Adam blinks at him. “Uh. You mean that kids show?”

Kai bites his lip and nods vigorously.

Totally. Totally. Totally screwed.

reeb: [A video of Mira on the dancefloor among a huge throng of teens. The song in the background is completely drowned out by people attempting to sing along drunkenly. She’s grinding against Vanessa, who’s wearing Skeet’s sunglasses and drinking a mimosa with a cocktail umbrella in it.]

(Not sent !) kai: let us out of here!!! its been like 15 mins!!!! guys!!! dam’s phone is dead!!!!!

(Not sent !) kai: goddamn it COME GET US

(Not sent !) kai: NOTHING IS SENDING!!

reeb: lol wya we cant find dam either

(Not sent !) kai: YOU LEFT US IN THE BASEMENT

“Ugh,” Kai says, flopping back down onto the pillows beside Adam. At some point during their imprisonment slash debate on the ethics of twenty-three seasons of the same children’s cartoon, they’d moved from the floor to the twin bed. “I’m pretty sure they forgot about us.”

“Well, it’s been like thirty minutes. And they’re drunk.”

Kai’s starting to sober up. He has to pee, and his mouth tastes like cherry coughdrops. He stands up on the bed, bouncing a bit on the mattress. He reaches up and touches the seam of the window and the sill.

“What are you doing?” Adam asks, trepidation in his voice.

“Uh, escaping?” Kai says.

Kai presses his foot onto the upside down elliptical that’s propped precariously against an old wardrobe. He puts some of his weight on it, testing. Satisfied that it won’t give, Kai lifts himself up onto it, closer to the window, and pushes against the glass pane. The window opens out suddenly, making Kai wobble. The wardrobe groans.

“Careful!” Adam barks.

Kai glances back at Adam, his worried eyes watching Kai from the bed, sitting up on his knees in a half crouch. Kai sticks his head out the narrow window, then his shoulders, and manages to drag himself up and out.

He turns back around and offers his hand to Adam.

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll help you out.”

Adam climbs up onto the elliptical like Kai had, reaches his right hand to Kai’s left and uses his left to leverage himself closer to the window. The wardrobe and the elliptical make that sound again, like they’re scraping together.

“Hurry!” Kai says, afraid of the whole makeshift apparatus falling apart. Adam’s left palm slaps against Kai’s right and Kai pulls.

The elliptical falls over as Kai yanks Adam up, a great big crash resounding in the room they just escaped. Kai’s momentum and Adam’s weight makes Kai step back once, then twice, then his footing goes and he sprawls onto his back, Adam on top of him, in one big undignified heap.

Adam looks down at him. He looks more sober, too, like he hasn’t had much to drink. Kai should really be pushing Adam off of him. Or trying to sit up. But his hands are on Adam’s waist, and Adam’s looking at Kai’s face like he can’t quite look at anything else, and Kai cannot, for the life of him, break this moment.

Adam’s hands are on either side of Kai’s face, boxing him in. His breath puffs against Kai’s mouth over and over as he breathes shallowly. His eyes flick all over Kai’s face, and Kai’s thinking kiss me, please so hard he’s pretty sure NASA catches the brainwaves.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” he says, voice soft and vulnerable, like Kai has the power to hurt him with whatever Kai says next.

Kai’s hands tighten on Adam’s waist. He’s thought about this a lot. Like, a stupid amount. Who doesn’t daydream about confessing to your crush? But Kai cannot dredge up any words to say. He’s dry, completely dry, and he can only think about how good Adam’s weight feels on him. He dips his eyes to Adam’s mouth and thinks This is where I kiss him, right? and Adam’s eyes slide shut as he leans in, towards Kai, and Kai loses his mind.

The backdoor opens, the sounds of the party spilling out into the night air, pink light washing over them. Adam scrambles off Kai so fast that he’s pretty sure he breaks the world record for speed, and stands up.

Kai props himself onto his elbows and squints at the silhouette in the doorway.

“Vanessa?”

“Oh my God, there you guys are!” she leans back into the house to yell, “Guys! I found Adam and Kai! They were fucking around in the backyard!”

“Hey!” Adam snaps indignantly. “You locked us in the basement! We had to escape!”

Vanessa rolls her eyes at them.

adam: hey uh

adam: sorry about what i said when i was drunk lol

adam: i didn’t mean it

Kai turns his phone off and stuffs it into his bag, frustrated. He hadn’t meant to not talk to Adam all weekend, he’d just needed to think things through, and then his dad had asked him to help paint the deck, and he’d had to finish up some code for robotics and time had kinda slipped away from him without really meaning to.

He hadn’t meant to ignore everyone else, either, but they weren’t in a Situation with Kai on Friday night, and he’s not in love with them, and they didn’t seem to mind so much.

Kai had spent all weekend staring at the texts, in between being too busy to answer them, but he can’t figure out what to say back. He’d gotten them Saturday morning after the party, probably because he hadn’t stuck around long enough to be left alone with Adam again.

Kai had left because.

Well, because.

Because he feels played.

Is that it? He can’t tell. He just feels so hollow about it. Adam doesn’t mean to, Kai knows that, but it still feels like he’s being led on. Adam has kissed him once while black out and almost kissed him while tipsy and flirts pretty outrageously, and it’s all too much for Kai’s head, which is designed for building robots and lying to his English teachers.

So at lunch, instead of going to Mr Tucker’s room, he lets Freddie from Calc drag him to the auditorium to help build the drama department’s Spring play set.

He’s not avoiding anyone. He’s just... helping his friends.

Fuck.

reeb: ok i give

reeb: wtf is going on

kai: ?

reeb: don’t “?” me mfer

reeb: adam is sulking n shit and u’ve been sorta MIA

kai: i’ve been busy, sorry

kai: i am the captain of a team u know. its not personal. i’ll hang out with you guys soon

reeb: spidey sense says there is something u are not telling me

kai: i really do think your spidey sense is actually overactive bladder syndrome

reeb: [An image of the caveman spongebob meme.]

He’s in the library, sitting in his favorite spot nestled in the bookshelves, brow furrowed over The Great Gatsby, his English journal, the notes Hannah lent him, and the Sparknotes page for the novel, surrounded by every color highlighter and pen, just trying to get his homework done, when Adam ambushes him.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, out of nowhere.

Kai jumps, sending his highlighters and books flying. Adam is standing above him, eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed. He looks a little bit light a superhero, all righteous indignation at injustice, his muscles buldging slightly. You’re dead. Goodbye. his brain supplies.

“Holy shit,” he says, gathering his stuff back up slowly. “You scared me.”

Adam’s eyes soften. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

Kai shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

The silence hangs there as Kai avoids his gaze, reshuffling Hannah’s notes back into their correct order. He’s lost his page in the book, so he opens it to the middle and starts looking for the correct page number. There’s no sound in this corner of the library except for Kai’s over-loud breathing and the turning of pages.

Go away go away go away, Kai prays, wanting the world to end so he won’t ever have to face this moment. He thinks about the echo of Adam’s voice in his memory, Kai, look at me, the feeling of Adam’s weight in his lap, the ache Kai feels when he looks at Adam, and wishes that he could just stand up and run.

Adam clears his throat. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he says again, only this time it comes out more like a question.

Kai keeps his face as blank as possible, schools it into something politely curious unlike the shattered glass mosaic he feels like. “Am I?”

Adam rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “Look, I’m sorry,” he says haltingly, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I shouldn’t have... come on to you like that. It was inappropriate, and we were both drunk. And I didn’t mean it.”

Kai looks at him for a long moment. He can feel it, a rock on his chest, crushing him. He feels the ball in his throat, the hot prickle against the backs of his eyelids. “I know,” he says eventually. His voice comes out steady, even though he feels like he’s falling apart.

“So... we’re cool?”

Kai forces himself to nod. “Okay.”

“Really? Because I still feel like I fucked up somewhere here.” Adam takes his hands out of his pockets to open them, palms up, like he’s pleading. “Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

And it’s now or never. As much as Kai abhors the idea of talking about his feelings in the school library at 4 PM, as much as he wants to just lie through his teeth and stitch this all back up into one big internal bag of FUCK and pretend like nothing happened, he’d be leaving Adam hanging, and Kai’s not a dick.

He takes a deep breath. Then another one. He tries to channel his internal Reeve, but decides against it because Reeve’s kinda an asshole.

“I just... wish you did,” Kai says eventually. If he wasn’t himself, he’d slap him. Adam stares at Kai like he’d just spoken another language, like he’d just spat out part of a puzzle to piece together.

“Wish I did... what?” he asks slowly.

“Mean it,” Kai grits out, the words dragged from him. He feels ridiculous. This is stupid.

“Mean...?” Adam says, like he’s stupid. Kai scowls at him.

“Do you remember the St Eve’s party?”

Adam shrugs, looking helpless and confused.

“I drove you home that party. I drive you home every party. And every time we’re alone, you say that you like me, that you want me to go inside with you, that you think about me all the time,” Kai’s stomach is churning and Adam looks like he’s about to faint.

“I didn’t...”

Kai can’t hear him say it again. “And I know that you’re just drunk, and that’s just what you’re like when you’re drunk, but I just... I just wanted it to be true so bad. Part of me kept driving you home because I wanted you to be like that with me, part of me just wanted to pretend. But then you kissed me, and I just...” Kai makes a helpless gesture with his hands.

Adam licks his lips. He’s breathing a bit hard.

“...Fell apart,” Kai finishes.

Adam’s looking at him, wide-eyed, deer-in-the-headlights look, pure panic. Kai’s fucked it up, ruined their friendship, destroyed their friend-group, and will probably be unable to look anyone in the eye for a very long time.

Adam didn’t want to hear this. Kai should’ve just lied, shut it all up and let himself wither up inside. He should’ve avoided Adam harder, or refrained from falling in love with him in the first place. He should’ve just dated Jesse when she’d asked and made himself get over Adam.

“How long?”

Kai blinks. “Huh?”

“How long have you wanted...?” he shrugs.

Ah. The million dollar question.

“Officially? Middle of junior year. If I’m honest with myself? Probably since middle school.”

Adam’s mouth opens and closes nonsensically. Kai asks God to strike him down, just so this can end, just so Kai can go back to trying to figure out what the fuck is up with Gatsby and Jay, just so Adam will stop looking at him like that, like Kai’s killed his puppy.

Adam drops to his knees in front of Kai.

“Okay. Since freshman year. And I’m a liar. I did mean it. I kept thinking, you know, maybe you’d like me back, because I could see you looking, but I just couldn’t make myself say anything. And I meant it. I mean it. I do. I want to kiss you.”

Kai swallows. He’s feeling that dangerous thing again, like there are snakes in his chest, or his feelings are in a bucket that’s about to overflow.

“Okay,” he squeaks out.

Adam leans down and fits their mouths together. It’s chaste, and Kai’s lips are a little bit chapped, and he didn’t close his eyes, but when Adam pulls back Kai smiles so hard his mouth hurts.

And he leans up to kiss Adam, insistent, insistent, tasting Adam without Hennessy whiskey (and he does taste fantastic), and something electric happens to Kai’s spine when their tongues touch. He feels like he’s going to burn up, burst into stars, create a fissure in the earth that goes down to the core, or all three at once.

Adam licks along the roof of Kai’s mouth and yeah - that’s the one thing he’d like to never, ever, ever forget.

He’s about to be totally, totally, totally screwed.

Group: dandilyin hoes MFERsssss!! skeet DONT CHANGE CHAT NAME

mirakat: omfg

mirakat: k & a suckin face in library

mirakat: [A blurry creeper picture of Kai pressed against the bookshelves, Adam leaning over him. Their silhouettes are blacked out against the sunlight streaming in through the window, so they almost look like one body. It’s taken at an angle and half of a wooden shelf is in frame.]

speedyskeet: arent they in this GC too

lochnessa: Lmfaaooooooo

speedyskeet: they r gonna see this.....

reever: WTF ADAM’S INTO KAI???

reever: ?????

lochnessa: What planet do you live on

speedyskeet: fuckin jesus christ reeb

locknessa: Literally no one knew KAI was into Adam. EVERYONE KNEW ADAM WAS INTO KAI

reever: WHY AM I THE LAST ONE TO KNOW STUFF

mirakat: s2g i tld u this whn we were @ fortescue’s u nvr listen 2 me

“I hate them all,” Kai announces.

Adam looks up at him from where his head is pillowed on Kai’s thighs, Pride and Prejudice held aloft.

“Don’t worry, I set all their ringtones to Maroon 5.”

send me a ship + a prompt and i’ll write you a drabble!

#The Hollow #My writing #answer #kaidam

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ms-demeanor · 4 years

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After reading your "ultra-long postivity post", now I have kind of a weird feeling because i relate a lot to pretty much everything you said, but i ended up approaching the "not everyone can x" from the opposite side, being the "gifted kid" teachers used to hold everyone to unrealistic standards (that i knew most couldnt achieve in the given timeframes), and now i get frustrated when i dont develop skills immediately, because i have done it before and feel like i should be able to and aaaaaaaaaa

Funny story: when I was a kid my parents had both my sister and I tested for learning and developmental disabilities. This testing included IQ testing.

It identified that we were both “gifted” kids* and that I’m dyslexic.

It totally missed my ADHD, though!

The problem with that is that my parents. Hm.

Okay my parents both grew up in very poor families. VERY poor. And they both wanted to go to college and knew the only way that they could was through scholarships. So they became debaters. They met at a tournament in high school.

Debaters are weird. You need an efficient working memory and strong recall and the ability to think quickly on your feet. Being witty and kind of an asshole are also good traits for debaters. Basically you’ve either gotta be really fuck-off smart to be a competitive debater or you’ve gotta at least *seem* really fuck-off smart.

And my parents were champion debaters at a national level. The Whittier College debate trophy has my mom’s name written directly under Richard goddamn Nixon. My dad was on the USC debate team and competed against Harvard and won. Not only that but he ended up coaching debate for USC and Cal Tech.

So as kids who grew up in extremely poor families and were able to go to college and get middle-class jobs and buy a house because of intellectual ability my parents placed A LOT of importance on intellectual ability.

So that IQ score became a large part of my life.

First we attacked the dyslexia. The approach was basically teaching me a bunch of sight words because sounding out phonics doesn’t work when the letters get screwed up. And because I was *gifted* we did a lot of really BIG sight words.

It took about six months to get me up to speed from “memorizing the pages of a story to match the pictures because I couldn’t read along in class” to “the first book I read on my own was The Hobbit.” I guess that counted as “cured” because that was the last time I got any kind of educational assistance.

At that time I was at a gifted school, a really tiny private school that was also an after-school daycare where we did full-day classes and then did gymnastics and swim from 3-6pm. I also was there over the summer because my parents worked.

So going from “tiny private school where the teacher has you stand up in class to read your failing grade in front of everyone so that she could shame you into performing better” to “fine public school in a suburb wealthy enough to have arts programs” was a major, major change. They did an aptitude test because I was transferring in from a different district and there was much discussion about whether or not to move me directly from the second to the sixth grade.

The district refused, thank fuck.

The public elementary school didn’t *have* a gifted program so it took very little time for me to become the Certified Weird Kid. My third grade teacher had me read aloud to our class for twenty minutes a day. I taught the class the multiplication table.

When it got to be time to go to the junior high school my mom went to a meeting for the school’s gifted kids program. APPARENTLY one of the kid’s dad’s basically said “I don’t understand why you’re wasting school funds on field trips for the stupid kids, the school should spend more of its resources on kids who have a chance of actually meaning something to the world” and my mom decided that while being gifted was important it was less important than making sure I wasn’t exposed to assholes of that caliber on a regular basis.

(thanks mom, I actually do really appreciate that reprieve)

Several teachers pushed me into advanced classes - my math teacher insisted that I take the advanced algebra classes in the seventh and eighth grade.

The GATE kids *WERE* assholes and were extra bonus special assholes to me because math was the only advanced class that I was in. (At my junior high school you had to pick your elective based on what level of classes you were in - to take the GATE classes you HAD to take a music elective; if you took art, drama, shop, or home ec you couldn’t take the smart kid classes. The algebra class was a new, separate addition to the program so *some* of the kids in the “electives for dropouts” program could take algebra. Schools are really fucked up, guys, in case you didn’t know schools are really fucked up and that was BEFORE No Child Left Behind).

I got a C in that algebra class and sat in my room for literally an hour screaming at myself for being such a selfish, distracted idiot that I let myself read my books instead of studying harder for the class. (clearly very healthy, normal twelve-year-old behavior)

When it was time to go to high school my teachers made a united plea to the district to transfer me into honors/IB/AP classes.

The kids in the honors/IB/AP classes continued to be kind of awful to me. I got extremely depressed and basically started doing the lazy-but-brilliant thing of completely ignoring homework or in-class work but performing spectacularly well on tests or essays in the classes that I wasn’t catastrophically failing

I was the only person at the school who got a perfect score on the vocab part of my SAT. I was the only honors kid who hadn’t been in SAT prep classes. There was only one other kid who graduated with the same number of units as I had, we’d outstripped the valedictorian and salutatorian but three classes each. I only applied to one college - I got accepted for painting but my interviewer urged me to move to the writing program and I got accepted for that too.

My financial aid didn’t come through and my dad wasn’t willing to cosign for loans on “an art program at a trade school.”

I got accepted to Pratt Institute on their Writing for Publication track which included an internship with the New York Times for third-year students in the program.

At that point I had a Columbia Scholastic Press award for my work on my high school yearbook.

Let me tell you, the community college that I went to and spent five years variously failing and succeeding at had a fucking *killer* newspaper and magazine when I was there. The local community newspaper that hired me when I was 21 was also much better designed and edited than it had any right to be for the three years I worked there (getting paid a whole eight dollars an hour and sometimes working 20 hours straight to get it in to the printer on time).

When I transferred to the state school I got perfect grades and worked full time and won every contest offered by the school’s English Honors society (which I couldn’t join because I was a transfer student and hadn’t done honors classes my freshman and sophomore years). I started a literary magazine with some friends when I graduated; we published four full issues online before it fell apart.

You know what’s also funny?

Even the food-service job I had to pay my way though the community college I felt terrible about attending was a skills test. I was a barista, so of course for a while I was a competitive barista.

I disappointed my parents a lot. I heard a lot of “we know you’re better than this.” I got told I was too smart to be screwing up this bad. I mentioned it a couple weeks ago but my results from that IQ test got compared to my sister’s and that was the justification for holding me to a higher standard. “You’re measurably brilliant, why aren’t you acting like it?”

Here lies the corpse of a gifted kid. Look on my works ye might and despair.

I am the perfect picture of a twice exceptional gifted kid and the reason I wrote all of this out is to tell you one thing:

“Gifted Kid” is a label that someone applied to you, it has nothing to do with who and what you ARE.

It’s very, very unfair that the adults in your life used you that way. I have an exceptionally terrible memory of being singled out as the only one who passed the first test in my IB World History class; “Why is Alli the only one of all of you who is writing at grade level? You’re supposed to be the smartest kids in the school, why did you all fail?”

That’s awful for the kids around you, that’s awful for you. It doesn’t do anybody any favors if people around you are being informed that you’re setting the curve they’ll be judged against. And it really, really doesn’t do YOU any favors because it doesn’t take long *at all* for your brain to learn that that’s all you’re good for. If you aren’t the best at a thing then what’s the point, you HAVE to be best because they already SAID you were best and if you aren’t then all these other people hate you for setting a standard that even you can’t keep up with.

You end up competing with past versions of yourself and focusing on those things that make the grownups in your life praise you because the grownups in your life has praised you in such a way that it’s turned all the other kids against you.

You know who bullied the fuck out of me? The kids I taught the times tables to, the kids I read to for half an hour a day.

Those kids were MEAN to me but the teacher who told me to read Boxcar Kids to the class after lunch everyday was NICE and she told me not to worry, they were just jealous and I should be proud of my gifts.

“Anon did this in three minutes. What’s taking the rest of you so long?” - what a terrible weight to put on a child. You’re right. Not everyone can do everything.

Fucking hell.

Adults what the everloving shit is wrong with us? Please don’t treat kids like that.

Okay.

But here’s the other thing:

If there’s any time in your life that it’s easy to acquire skills with no apparent effort it’s when you’re a child surrounded by a support system that is engaged in making sure that you can acquire those skills.

It took three adults, two dictionaries, and several hours a day to teach me enough sight-words to throw me into “look at baby genius*” territory but from my perspective as a little kid I was just reading cool stories.

I spent four hours a day in the yearbook room and ditched and failed other classes so that I could work on the yearbook. I collected hundreds of magazines to get an eye for layout. But from my perspective as a teenager it was a fun activity that I did with the closest thing I had to friends.

I’m sure that there are some skills that you had a natural aptitude for, some things that came naturally. But I’m also sure that you didn’t learn those skills with no effort, it’s just that now as an adult with a life and other shit going on it takes more effort to learn to do things.

In all likelihood you weren’t a savant who did everything perfectly the first time you tried. It just seems that way because even really smart kids don’t know when they’re bad at things and are mostly being compared against other kids (with the few rare exceptions of music prodigies or math prodigies or those kids who end up in science grad programs at 12 and boy howdy do I think there’s a whole other can of worms when it comes to the way child prodigies* interact with the world).

You wanna know what probably saved my life in the last few years?

That “anti-capitalist love notes” tumblr post.

You are worth more than your productivity.

I was actually kind of offended the first time I saw that post on my dash. “No I’m not,” I thought. “You’re only worth what you can do, everyone knows that. People care about what you do for them.”

And why the hell would I think anything else? That’s what I’d learned for pretty much my whole life.

It took me a really long time to understand that I was wrong. I matter outside of what I can do for people or how well I perform. I matter more than being able to perfectly recite poetry from memory or do calculations on command or sit down at a piano and play a piece I’ve never played by sight-reading it.

And you matter outside of that too. You’re more than your performance, you’re better than being gifted. There are people who love you for the way you make them laugh and how you listen to their stories and for the simple joy of your presence.

It’s nice to be clever, it’s handy in a lot of situations even if it does come with a lot of baggage for some people.

But god damn, it’s important to be kind.

* Personally I have issues with the way that society constructs the concepts of giftedness, genius, and prodigies. There are a lot of “gifted” kids who were the kids who scored in the top 5% of their class in school but there are also gifted kids who were doing high-level math or reading novels as toddlers; there are prodigies who showed an aptitude for music young and who were then schooled in that instrument to the exclusion of all other activities (and I bet there are a fair number of kids who might be considered prodigies if they were trained to play flute for nine hours a day and didn’t have friends but thankfully we don’t *do* that to very many people - side note, ask me my opinion about olympic athletes some time). Words like “genius” and “gifted” are very nearly meaningless and almost *never* accurately reflect skills proficiency or long-term success or are reflected in income or respect. People think that geniuses are hypercompetent robots with their shit together but literally every adult I know with a genius-level IQ is some variety or other of total fucking tire fire.

#congratulations you have unlocked level two of my tragic backstory #long post

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paperbacksandvinyls · 3 years

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I really hate how many of the female teaching staff at my school are currently dealing with more or less the same problem: being bitched at about doing our jobs over something that the male teachers don’t get bitched at about or in someway being undermined by male teachers/staff

like my English teacher school neighbor got called into the principal’s office because of a book she selected for her students to read. it had some sexual content in it. the male English teachers have never been asked to defend their book selections even though I distinctly recall reading books with a lot of sexual content in those teachers’ classes when I was in school. the male English teachers are backing my friend up on her choice, but still there is definitely a double standard at play.

my other friend took over AP Calc this year when the previous teacher (who was great. he was my teacher in school) left for Covid reasons. the previous teacher ALWAYS had kids come in 3 Saturdays before the AP exam to take a practice exam that he would grade based on accuracy. my friend has decided that her students should still come in on Saturdays for the practice but has made the grading easier and is offering multiple ways for kids to make it up if they can’t come in on Saturdays. she got called into the principal’s office and was asked, “what’s this thing about giving kids a grade on Saturday?” and she had to explain that she’s not doing anything the previous teacher didn’t do. also, the previous teacher might be coming back next year and the school has basically told her that if he comes back they’re giving AP Calc back to him.

meanwhile, I’ve been dealing with being called into the principal’s office because parents don’t think I grade fast enough (I give written feedback on all written assignments. so apparently they think that happens overnight.) on top of that, the previous teacher for AP World History has asked a couple of my students to ask me if they can get copies of their DBQs for him to look over. I don’t let graded DBQs leave my classroom for the same reason that I don’t let graded tests leave my classroom. but also the girls that asked about it are on the team his wife coaches. these girls also both make D’s and C’s on their written work according to my grading rubric (which is based on AP’s rubric). so the only reason I can see that he would want to see their papers is to determine if HE thinks they’re doing D and C work, but the fact of the matter is that there is one thing that with certainty a teacher has sole control and discretion over and that is how they choose to grade in their own classroom. so as far as he’s concerned, he can decide for himself next year in APUSH if these girls are producing D and C work. but he doesn’t get to look over my students’ work this year and leave them with the feeling that I’m a bad teacher because he would have graded them differently. and if he gives them straight A’s next year? guess what? it’s not my business. just like it’s not his business if I grade harshly. this isn’t the first time this has happened with this teacher either because he’s the boys soccer coach and I’ve had boys soccer players pull the “why do we do it this way? Coach told us about xyz other thing.” and it’s pissing me off because as a teacher I would never tell students “well I wouldn’t do that that way.” if they complained about a teacher. I actively do the opposite when students complain about a teacher. I say “well that’s how they’ve chosen to do this. if you have an issue with it go talk to your teacher, but don’t complain to me about it.”

#I think a bunch of the female teachers at this school are reaching a breaking point #because when I mentioned this problem with some other teachers in my department just to make sure I wasn’t reading too much into this #request to have another teacher look over my students’ graded work #they were like ‘no. that’s weird and inappropriate to ask.’ and they were like ‘it’s because you’re a young female teacher and so he thinks #he knows better than you. but he doesn’t. you were offered this position because you know the material and it’s great that you are hard #on those kids because honestly we go too easy on kids sometimes as female teachers.’#like my thing is like I know kids think my class is difficult and I know their are some kids that think I’m a bitch #that doesn’t bother me. it does bother me when my grading practices are undermined by another teacher and when that other teacher reinforces #the idea that I’m the bitch that gave the ‘A Student’ a B (they aren’t an A student if they can’t make an A in my class)#and honestly like I am a hard grader but I always throw a bunch of BS grades in or offer extra credit or curve difficult tests because I #know these kids work hard (for the most part) and I don’t want to see them fail #but they also need to learn that an A is earned. it’s not handed to them because they are ‘an A student’

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gzteacher · 3 years

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Overworked [TL;DR]

[TL;DR Version]: Finally worked up the courage to tell my supervisor that my workload was too much. We’ll see if anything can be worked out. I’m all-or-nothing at this point.

[Full Version - it’s very very very long]

I’m at a school that’s only been around for going on two years now, and most teachers teach 1 to 3 courses distributed through 12 to 14 classes per week.

And then there’s MY schedule...

I teach 8 courese; 18 classes a week. - Grade 7 Reading Essentials: For kids who can’t read at all, as in this is class were we learn how to sound out words, break down compound words, recognize prefixes and suffixes, and course read material designed for American 8~9 year olds. I’m not mentioning this to be facetious but to be informative. The school originally wanted me to teacher them AP Literature. Yeah. A bunch of 12year-old non-native English speaking, never-been-immersed-in-WesternEuropean-culture 12 year olds suddenly analyzing the structure and language of Maupassant’s The Necklace. Anyway.

- Grade 9 Intro to Literature: I’ll explain why there’s no Grade 8 here later. If you’re up for a long ass read, of course) Intro to Literature (This is of course, after they’ve learned how to do basic comprehension. This course works on recognizing figures of speech and rhetorical devices, plus it looks at easy-to-read works - yes they exist... it took some digging, but indeed they exist - placed against historical, cultural and thematic backgrounds

- Grade 8+9 IGCSE English Language A: I asked my British friends about this and they all agree that Grade 8+9 (age 13~14) is way too young to be signing up for Pearson Edexcel IGCSE especially with them speaking a language that has very little if any similarity to English, unless the students have lived extensively in a Western country, which these students have not.

- Grade 10 ALevel Literature: I only have this class once a week yet am expected to prepare them for ALevel Lit. This once-a-week class versus their more prominent ALevel Chemistry and Physics. *sigh*

- Grade 10 PreAP Literature and Composition: Only because this is my first year teaching and these student’s have no background with literature. It’s basically a faster moving Grade 9 course, but it focuses on FRQ section of the exam wherein you have to have read an actual novel. Novels in this class are actually just short stories in which I have to make vocabulary lists of because the students won’t make it through a page unless they translate every other word.

- Grade 11 AP Literature and Composition: I actually managed to talk the students OUT of signing up for this exam unless they’ve really enjoy reading and can think and question things as they read. Their TOEFL Reading classes do a great job of teaching them reading comprehension. Unfortunately, AP Lit does not test your ability to search for answers directly within text, so that’s where this class comes in. The learning curve been Grade 10 and 11 here is such that the stories and poems we look at in Grade 10 are too easy for Grade 11 and the Grade 11 works are often too difficult for Grade 10. There is very little, if any, overlap.

- Grade 11 AP Psychology: One 3 hour course every Monday afternoon. It’s a nightmare especially considering how the worksheets assigned throughout the week to help them review things more often then not don’t get done. The extra materials, video links, online notes, cheat sheets, etc go ignored because apparently the stuff only makes sense when I’m standing in front of them modelling everything for them. The school expects all the students to take the exam and for me to analyze their scores once CollegeBoard releases them.

- Drama: We meet once a week, assuming students haven’t been pulled out to do tutoring sessions for Calculus. The school expects a drama performance at the end of the term.

It was becoming more and more difficult to manage these classes until I finally realized I was burning out. (I’m terrible at recognizing burnout.) The moment I would shift my attention to one course, the performance of another course would suffer. Students from whatever class would complain that they aren’t “doing enough” or that they haven’t gotten their homework or exams back yet. (There’s still a large pile of ungraded papers on my desk as we speak... I could be grading them, but yeah. That.)

Now.

Originally, this list was all just “AP Literature, plus IGCSE, Psychology and Drama” with addition to U.S. and World History. After some arguing, I managed to get the history courese removed from my schedule as well as Grade 8 “Literature” (the classes that I didn’t want ended up begin given to the teacher the school was planning of firing BECAUSE the principal - who knows me from a previous school - found out I would be teaching there).

I did try teaching every Literature class the exact same way to save time, printing, planning, etc. I knew it would be challenging, but it was either they double up and put forth the effort to master difficult material, or I split myself into multiple parts and water Western Lit down into something approachable and digestible. They all started out with recognizing the basic forms of Literature: peotry, prose and drama. Yes, I made a worksheet to let them practice identifying which description fit which type of literature, just to make sure they were following me because you can never know when the students are dead silent before, during and after classes.

Then we moved on to Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson - easy reads with a couple vocabularly cheat sheets and translation references. Then the struggling happened and as predicted, the lower the grade, the more the struggle. I decided then to re-up the entire “Literature” course and instead create a course that was appropriate for the students’ level.

I will say the one good thing that comes out of the being the only teacher who has to see EVERY. SINGLE. STUDENT through the span of a week is that as a significantly unique-looking FOREIGNER from a particularly diverse cultural background, generally socially aware, and is fluent in Chinese, it has become useful in whipping these kids in to shape in terms of their cultural awareness and mannerisms. If you’re a foreigner in China worried about local kids picking at you, making snarky remarks around you, flat out insulting you in Chinese or just being “weird” around you, you won’t have to worry about that at all with these kids. The principal knows that, I’m sure this was one of the reasons she brought me around. The school is one of those internationalized jawns where the students get offers from Western universities come their Grade11/Grade12 year. It helps to not end up overseas still making dumb comments about someone’s nose and then looking crazy when they call you out on it. Go figure.

The school is mad shy with admitting they have me teacher 8 courses. They won’t admit it right away because in their minds, I teach “Literature, Psychology, and Drama... 3 courses” but then they wonder how I manage to go through so many copies, and they pretend they don’t notice the eight stacks of exam papers that all have my name on them during midterms and finals. It’s contract renewal time, and I basically told the powers that be that they either need to pay extra, hire more staff to distribute these courses more sensibly or it’s boots for me. I’m losing hair and self-care time being the only one at this school who would need 3 or 4 people to replace me should I leave.

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evrthefanatic · 4 years

Text

soulmark part 1 | Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Pairings: Tyler x OC, Matt x Elena

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence

Word Count: 3,873

Read on AO3, FF.net, Qoutev, Wattpad

A/N: Hello there! If there’s anyone there! So I made a fic and I’ve been consistently updating it so far, I thought I’d share it here! I hope you guys like it!

Ever since she could remember, the strange lettering was engraved into her wrist, pale enough for no one to notice, but rough enough in the edges to be traced. It wasn't until the tragic accident of their parents did Alyssandra begin to uncover the secrets behind the runes.

What would happen in the show if two human doppelgangers were running around?

PROLOGUE | Drowning

It was dark out. Cassie's 'Me & U' blared out loud from Tyler's stereo. From where she stood, Aly saw some of her friends motionless on the grass, either too drunk or fast asleep. Aly glanced to her side. "How's this for a party?" Tyler smirked.

"Pretty good," she answered. The lake offered them a cool breeze, and it carried along with the chatter from the other party-goers. "Pretty tame," she added in afterthought.

"Well that's for next week," he smirked, grabbing her by the waist. "For when we win the championship."

Aly giggled and playfully pushed him away. " If you win the championship." she teased.

"Come to my house this Sat then." he shrugged, "It'll be way more fun than this one. Maybe I can convince you how good of a player I am."

Aly snorted, rolling her eyes. "I can't." she tells him, "It's game night. Mom and Dad are coming home from this huge Medical Convention from Seattle,- and Dad's leaving again next week so I can't really miss it."

Tyler frowned. "How will we have some fun time then?" he whispered to her ear, kissing her there. Aly felt herself flush- her breathing instantly laboring as he nibbled and sucked.

"Next week?" she answered weakly. "They'll be gone anyway."

Ty kissed her, pulling her body flush against his and Alyssandra finds her hands going through his hair. He bit down her bottom lip and she gasped. "We can have some fun time now," he said suggestively.

Whatever reply Aly had in mind was disrupted as Caroline's voice filled the air. "Lockwood!" she whined, "stop manhandling my best friend in front of all of us!"

Aly flushed even more, but she smirked at the looks everyone else gave them. She pushed Tyler away, grinning upon seeing his clearly frustrated face. A chorus of laughter filled the campsite.

"I gotta go anyway." she gave him an apologetic smile, kissing him by the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Instantly as she got away, Caroline hooked her arm around hers, bursting into giggles. "Have you seen Elena?" Aly asked her.

Caroline ignored her question. "That was so hot. He looked like he was about to eat you. I wish I had a boyfriend like that."

"He's not my boyfriend." Aly denied, rolling her eyes. "Yet."

"Ugh." Caroline flipped her hair. "I just want to have sex. Hot and scandalous. Is he as good as they say he is? I want all the details."

Alyssandra couldn't help but laugh at her comment. "Pretty good," she answered, not at all intimidated by her comment. Caroline shot her a look. "Sometimes aggressive-" she adds, "Takes what he wants, kind of guy."

"Damn." Caroline wistfully sighed. "I want one."

"You'll get one," she reassured her. "Have you seen Elena? I haven't seen her since earlier"

"She's probably knocked out somewhere," Caroline muttered. "You know, with Prince Charming Matt."

Aly giggled at her comment.

"Bonnie already went home, by the way."

"I didn't see," she replied. "Wanna carpool home?"

"Fine by me." Caroline shrugged. "I guess it's just me tonight." she sighed once more. The two girls ceased their walk upon hearing a familiar sniffle and sob a little deeper within the woods. They gave each other identical looks of worry as they followed the sound. "Is that-?"

Elena's face formed immediately to a familiar pout upon seeing them. She threw herself between the two girls, instantly wrapping her arms into a hug. "I broke up with Matt!" she cried.

And that's how they spent the night at the Forbes residence.

Water. Endless water. She was drowning. Her lungs screamed at her, and she desperately clawed her throat. She couldn't breathe, every breath she took burned her. Her heart rattled against her chest. Each second feeling more like her last. Her arms reach out to her father, who struggled against the hold of the belt on of their car before her world faded into black.

But not for long.

She coughed out, crying in hysteria as soon as her eyes opened. Distinctly, she heard sirens fast approaching. Aly quickly sat up, head looking around like a lost dear, to her side she sees that she's just near Wickery Bridge and-

The sweet smell of pancakes and honey awoke her. She blearily opened her eyes, taking a sharp intake of breath. Her heart refused to calm down, and she couldn't help but trail her finger along the familiar mark on her left wrist, welcoming the comfort that usually came along with it. Aly distinctly looked around her surroundings, feeling slightly relieved upon seeing the familiar walls of Caroline's room. Outside, she hears some chatter and plates being moved.

Alyssandra grimaced upon seeing herself in the mirror. Her curly hair was a wreck, it's normal to loose curls had bunched up in her sleep. The signature headband she always wore had grazed her neck, leaving a mark. They must have gotten even more hammered last night, especially with the news of Elena and Matt breaking up. She sighed, choosing instead to tie her hair into a bun, not bothering to fix it until she had come home. By the time she had reached the kitchen, her dream had been long forgotten.

"Morning sleepyhead." Her twin sister, Elena, greeted her. The duo looked exactly alike- completely identical in features, looks, and height. Their differences lied on how they dressed and presented themselves. Aly was more preppy in style, and Elena was more laid back. The biggest difference was how they chose to style their hair, with Elena getting it straightened every other month and Alyssandra just letting it be.

"You look disgusting," Caroline stated. Aly grimaced, whole-heartedly agreeing with her. "Are you okay?" the blonde immediately followed up. "You kept trashing and muttering last night."

Aly blinked, taking the cup of coffee Elena offered her. "I had a bad dream." she shrugged. Caroline wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"The good kind of bad?"

"The wrong kind of bad." she corrected. Though, now that she thought of it, Aly could hardly remember the nightmare at all. Aly switched her attention to her sister, who still looked disheartened and depressed from the breakup. Which was odd, since SHE was the one who broke up with Matt. "How are you holding up?" she asked.

Elena gave her a small smile. "I'll hold," she answered. In truth, Aly knew that her sister was going to break up with the jock sometime soon. She knew exactly why. Elena had known Matt since they were children. Their relationship lacked the excitement, the thrill, often seen in newly formed couples. It was because they were never 'new' at all. If Aly was gonna be honest with herself, she would say the same about her and Tyler.

"Bonnie's asking if she should come over." Caroline's voice broke Aly's musings. "I told her we can meet up at your place later tonight."

"Sounds fine by me." Elena gave her another, albeit timid, smile.

Glancing at the time through her phone, Aly ate one big pancake before dragging her and Elena out. "We'll see you later Care!" she called out, fully intent on getting home and fixing herself up first before heading to school.

The news of the breakup had apparently shaken the whole campus. People sent Elena looks as they walked through the hallways, and her sister maneuvered their walk to make sure they avoided any jock-looking guy that might say the word 'Matt' as they passed. The odd looks were mostly ignored, bar the pouty look that Elena had permanently etched to her face. It seemed to be enough to ward off any advances, cheerleaders, or otherwise.

The two sisters soon separated as they got to their respective classes. Although both girls were intelligent and hard-working, both wanting to go to the same college together, it was Aly who took the extra mile to her studies and extra-curricular. Never wanting to have a dull moment in her schedule- she had signed up in multiple clubs and participated a lot in the Founding Families activities, even going as far as volunteering every now and then along with Caroline.

Her classes passed by smoothly, or as smooth as they can be. Once again she had aggravated her history teacher, Mr. Tanner, before remembering that the man can very well destroy all of her hopes and dreams with a single B. She had wisely shut up, thinking that AP History in her Juniors next semester would be worth the shame of being 'outsmarted' by the man. Someday, she idly sneered in her mind, he'd get his ass rightfully kicked.

In the cafeteria, she finally opened her phone that kept on buzzing in her pocket, and she couldn't help but laugh a little at Ty's rants about Matt and Elena- and how it was ruining his mood. She sent him a bunch of emojis in return- snickering at his attitude.

"Are we gonna hear another break up from you, too?" Bonnie asked as she sat beside her. Bonnie Bennett completed their little circle of friends. A beautiful black brunette who was fiercely loyal to her friends. Oftentimes it was Bonnie who'll get them out of trouble when it arose and she never failed to speak her mind when she wanted to.

"Ty and I are just friends," she said in sing-song.

"Can you like, explain to me how that works?" Caroline demanded, taking a seat as well. "I never pegged you as friends with benefits type."

Aly put her phone away. "It just happened." she said, "We didn't have a label and it-well- I guess it's gonna keep on happening?"

"You have a way with words." Elena mocked, taking a seat as well. She looked remarkably better than she did in the morning. "You should run to the hills. We've known Tyler our whole life and he's not exactly boyfriend material."

"Agreed." Bonnie sagely nodded, pointing her fork up and down. "You'll find better. You never know, you might find a handsome, daring, hot, and chiseled man just around a corner." Aly snorted, giving Bonnie a look.

"Oh you bet." she giggled. "Just not right now."

"I need a boyfriend," Caroline whined. "Maybe I shouldn't have broken it off with Dustin a couple of months ago."

"Gross," Elena complained. But Care nudged her, blonde hair bouncing as she pointed her head to a bunch of red-varsity jackets wearing guys approaching. As if in by cue, Elena's face morphed into an epitome of sadness. Matt led the campaign, and Aly and Ty's eyes met- she looked away immediately, focusing instead on her food before she burst out laughing.

The cafeteria sobered, spectating the debacle about to happen. Bonnie consolingly held Elena's hand- who stared at her food, lower lip wobbling.

"Elena," Matt started.

"She doesn't want to talk to you!" Caroline quickly ended.

Matt ignored her. "We can talk about this," he continued. "Come on, babe."

To Alyssandra's complete surprise, Elena actually faced him. "We can't, Matt," she said, meeting his eyes. "It's over."

The silence seemed to have fallen all over the cafeteria. "This Saturday." he mustered up, fighting the monstrous awkward silence. "Tyler's throwing a party-"

Ty raised his hands in an instant, giving Matt a look that said 'don't bring me into this'. Matt ignored this too.

"- and maybe we can go together? Just this one last time," he said, practically begging. "Please, 'Lena."

Her sister took a deep breath, giving him a small smile. "I'll think about it," she answered. That seemed to be enough, as the flock of jocks immediately went away after that. As soon as they did, chatter once again began in the cafeteria.

"Damn." said Caroline, "I kinda feel sorry for him."

Aly snorted, she quickly covered it up when Elena glared at her. Elena wasn't actually going to the party, she mused. Tyler's party overlapped with their family's game night. "Yeah," Aly tried to agree, "Poor Matt."

Bonnie giggled.

Except Elena didn't seem to be in with the laughs, there was this guilty expression on her face. One that Aly knew all too well. "Come on-"

"I'll talk to him," she said firmly. "The entire thing's my fault, anyway."

"How is it your fault?" Caroline argued. "You should be able to break up with a guy whenever you want!"

"Totally!" Bonnie agreed, "But why do you want to talk to him, anyway? I thought you already had last night."

"I didn't." Elena finally admitted. "I kinda just ended things off." she shook her head, sighing. "I just can't be with him anymore, you guys. I just don't feel like things are going right. Don't get me wrong, Matt's amazing. It's just- it's just not right."

Caroline gasped. "O my god! He totally scared you off!"

Alyssandra laughed at that, remembering Matt's promises of a future filled with mini Mattlenas. "He totally did. 'Lena has a point though. We're only in high school."

"He deserves an explanation." Her sister continued, moving a stray strand of hair from her face. "It'll just suck if I dump him for no reason. I'm not that kind of girl."

"Fine, talk to him," said Alyssandra. "But you gotta remember that we have game night this Sat. You better not miss it."

"I'm not going to." her sister answered. But Aly was quick to realize that she was lying, Elena always wore the same pinched expression every time she lied. Alyssandra still hoped that she'll change her mind, so she didn't push it.

In another life, Aly might've stopped Elena from sneaking to Tyler's party before game night. In this one, she ignored her sister sneaking out of her room through the window after she had lied to their parents about being sick. Completely avoiding game night altogether.

Instead, Aly focused on her four very-present family members as they meticulously played an aggressive version of UNO. Jeremy was currently winning, and Aly felt herself giggle hard over their mom's angry glare. Miranda and Grayson Gilbert were both Doctors at the local Mystic Falls hospital. It wasn't unusual for them to leave their kids alone, sometimes for weeks, trusting that the three siblings together would have enough brain cells to keep the house and themselves together.

Their trust is well placed.

Or at least Aly has convinced herself that it was.

The trio wasn't the type to cause trouble, especially Jeremy. Their brother was as relaxed as they come. Often he'd stay out to hang with his friends, either playing baseball or painting out. Aly and Elena were often out as well. Before, the two sisters would take turns in cooking, and the trio would rotate with the chores. It stayed that way until Elena had almost accidentally burned the house down while using the oven, their parents had then left cooking to Aly's hands whenever they left.

A resounding 'ding' broke the concentration the four held. Miranda was quick to stand up to retrieve the freshly made pizza. Aly felt her stomach grumble in delight as the aroma flowed into the living room. Making sure to carry her cards with her, Alyssandra followed her mother. Fully intent on helping her out. (and maybe grab some bites as well)

"Do you know where Elena went, Alice?"

The question caused her to scowl. Their mother didn't seem to be all too-bothered with Elena skipping game night (it wasn't the first time). She watched Miranda cut the pizza into pieces, immediately grabbing one when she finished.

"She went to Ty's," she answered, taking a bite. "Matt didn't take the break up well. So she decided to apologize- or something."

"Or something." their mother echoed, a light smile on her face. Aly really thought that she was too lax. Her mind wondered if she'll be the same once she had children on her own but she instantly grimaced, burying the thought deep in her mind. She was only 17 after all. Her entire life was still waiting before she could ever begin to settle.

Alyssandra helped her mom bring the food to the tense living room. Grayson's stormy blue eyes were locked against Jeremy's brown ones. Both held their cards against their chest. The tension broke when Grayson grinned, putting a +4 card down in triumph.

Jeremy groaned. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Her brother sent their dad a dirty glare, grabbing four new cards from the deck. Aly threw their dad a grin, plopping herself down next to Jeremy, not so discreetly looking at his new cards as she went by- earning a yell from the youngest Gilbert.

It was Miranda that won the game by the end. The four had watched a movie before effectively calling it a night. She begrudgingly sent a message to her sister, telling her that lights had gone out and she was free to go home. She was fast asleep before she could read Elena's reply.

Aly choked, eyes wide. Grayson tried to reach out to her. She couldn't stop herself from gasping even if she wanted too. A pang of familiarity resonated within her, and with it came fear. She tried to reach out, finding it harder and harder to breathe- her lungs burned. Her windpipe felt crushed. The last thing she saw was her father's struggle against the seatbelt before her world faded into black.

Her mind kept telling her that it was a dream. That she should just wake up. But she can't. Aly gasped awake, shooting herself up- coughing. Where was she? Wickery bridge? Another bubble of uncontrollable fear buzzed through her, making her cry in hysteria. What-

Aly was violently pushed awake, without even realizing, she was dragged up. In the back of her mind, she hears a voice cry out.

"Aly wake up!"

She groaned in response, hastily pushing her brother away, glaring. "I'm awake!" she snapped, holding a hand up her chest to calm her rapidly beating heart. Her hand shook, and it took her a moment to realize that her entire body was shaking as well.

Alyssandra groaned once more, pushing her younger brother away with a glare. "Yeah," she murmured, sitting up. She blatantly ignores her racing heart. However, it seems like life has other plans. Jeremy immediately pulls her up.

"Get dressed," Jeremy said, breaking Aly out of her haze. He says, he has this wild look in his eyes. He looked scared. "we have to go."

That's when she noticed the sirens blaring outside her house. All of a sudden, the dream she just had gone to the forefront of her mind, waking her up. The events of her dream were still fresh on her mind, and it overwhelmed her. Aly stood there in her room, frozen.

"Hurry up!" Jeremy frantically pushed her. "Mom, Dad, and Elena are in the hospital,"

Alyssandra moved without thinking, her body suddenly going in auto-pilot. Jeremy rushed her on, but his voice barely registered in her head. She didn't even bother to completely change her set of clothes, settling into an oversized jacket and hair tie. Outside their home stood Deputy Forbes, Caroline's mother, and there was a pained expression on her face.

The officer offered them a tight, sympathetic smile and didn't reach her eyes. Aly fought the urge to scream. "Let's get you two to the hospital."

She could barely recognize the streets as they quickly drove by. Alyssandra's mind had gone to an override, jumping to her dream to the hospital. In the background, she could hear Jeremy and Liz talking.

What had just happened? How could it happen?

Words like accident, lucky, and Elena echoed in the car. Their sister, her twin, survived. But both Grayson and Miranda were dead.

Their parents were dead.

How could things change so quickly?

They were just having game night a few hours ago.

They were at the hospital before she even knew it. Jeremy got out of the car first, rushing in. She saw Aunt Jenna immediately embrace him to her arms, letting him cry and sob. She followed behind- her throat felt so tight. Liz gave her arm a comforting squeeze, leading her inside. Oddly enough, Aly didn't run to her aunt's arms, letting Jeremy have his comfort. Instead, she swallowed the bile that had lodged itself in her throat.

"Elena?"

The first thing that Aly noticed was the crying.

Throughout their entire lives, she was used to the sound of Elena crying. Her sister had always been the more sensitive one out of the two, and it didn't take a lot for waterworks to come. But never in her life had she heard her sister sob this hard. It was agony, deeper than any emotional cut that came before it.

Elena was barely covered with a towel, bawling into her hands, she was absolutely soaked from head to toe. And every cry from her throat shook her entire lithe frame.

Aly felt her heart wrench painfully. For a moment, she felt like she was still dreaming, there was no way this was actually happening. Their parents couldn't actually be dead. Right? It had to be a joke.

In a second, her arms had wrapped itself around her twin. Holding her tight, ignoring the tremor that seemed to overcome both of their bodies. "It's okay." It's not. But the words were out before they even registered in her head. "We'll be okay," she tells her, firmly this time. Her head felt unbearably light, and she jumped when another set of arms had settled in their embrace.

She couldn't breathe.

The sounds of her family crying seemed to echo in her mind. And Aly's arms fell loose to the sides, another person grabbed her arm- Liz Forbes again. She didn't smile this time. Guiding her body into a chair instead, Aly fell to the seat immediately. Blank. Her mind has gone blank. She stared at the image of her family ( what's left of it ) holding each other in a tight embrace. Aly shook herself, taking a harsh deep breath.

Like a shadow, Aly followed the Deputy out of the room, and she can see the concerned glances of everyone present. Mystic Falls was a pretty small town after all, and the hospital was where her parents had worked in. Their Doctor, her parent's co-workers, idly explained to her what happened. And Alyssandra found herself nodding along, signing this- signing that. I'm so sorry, he had said. But really, she couldn't see what he was sorry about, it's not like he drove them off the bridge. It was an accident. Accidents happen all the time.

They gave her a heavy piece of paper. At the top right corner, it said ' Mystic Falls Memorial '. It was a fill-up form.

"You don't have to do this right now, Aly." Liz again. In the back of her mind, Aly can hear the annoyed voice of Caroline, angry for her mother always going about her business.

"It's alright Ms. Forbes," she answered. Jenna was still consoling her siblings. "I can do this now."

The adults around her gave her a set of tight smiles and as she walked away, she could hear the words poor girl, the responsible one, and such a tragedy.

Next Chapter

6 notes · View notes

mothmanhamlet · 4 years

Text

A Few Angsty Haikus

Analogical, 2584 words, high school au, fluffffffff, I don’t think there are any warnings to speak of.

Roman gets Virgil to use his services to ask out his crush. Bad poetry ensues.

Roman Prince was many things. He was a jock, a self proclaimed “Matchmaking God”, and the biggest theater nerd Virgil had ever known. Most importantly, Roman would be dead if he didn’t stop begging Virgil in the next 30 seconds.

“Come onnnnnn, please,” Roman begged. They were pinning flyers for Roman’s new “business” idea to the corkboard outside of their math class. Or rather, Roman was pinning flyers, Virgil was just there for moral support. Moral support apparently included attempts at making him Roman’s first customer.

“No,” Virgil said, crossing his arms and leaning on the wall.

“Listen, it benefits both of us! I need my services to get out into the world and you happen to be the perfect candidate!” Roman reasoned, moving his hands a concerning amount for someone who was holding sharp objects.

The services in question were a complicated list of steps Roman called a “confession session”. The idea was that someone filled out the application and Roman would plan out an elaborate display of something that he promised would be spectacularly romantic.

“No. Absolutely not.” Virgil didn’t even bother looking at Roman, his eyes were too busy scanning around the hallway. School ended not even two minutes ago, so there were still people there. He looked to see who could see him, who could see the poster. Pitifully, Logan was still there, Virgil’s super-genius crush. If Logan saw that poster, his opinion of Virgil would immediately drop. He was too good for that kind of thing.

Roman, sadly, caught Virgil looking just a little too long at Logan and got a brilliant idea. “Well I say you should get a second opinion. Oh Lo-”

Virgil’s hand practically flew to Roman’s mouth, nearly tackling him in the process. Logan, thankfully, didn’t move an inch.

“Do it and you’re dead,” Virgil whispered through gritted teeth. Against his palm, Virgil heard a muffled noise that sounded something like “But can you stop me?”. He looked back at Logan, who was still trying to fit three books and a globe into his already full backpack, and then at Roman, who was looking at Virgil with his eyebrows raised as if to say, “Your move”. At least if he let Roman do this, the embarrassment would be delayed.

“I’ll say yes if you don’t yell when I remove my hand.” Roman nodded and Virgil released his grip on his face, slight red marks where he had pressed rather aggressively. Roman pulled out his phone and started typing.

“I’m emailing you a link to the website. Fill out the form so I can make it spectacular!” Roman said, all too cheery for someone who had to blackmail him into doing it. Virgil just rolled his eyes and started walking down the hallway, trying to shake the small bits of attention that their (rather loud) conversation had gained.

****

Virgil sat down on the purple bean bag chair in his cluttered room and reached for his computer. It was a light grey color and covered in various stickers, his headphones a permanent fixture in its side. He clicked on the link and was immediately redirected to a flashy red and gold website that used hearts like they were commas and used clip art that probably hadn’t seen the light of day since the 90’s. Roman was creative, but sometimes his execution was subpar and unfortunately this was one of those times. Virgil leaned back and read over the questions.

1. What is your prospective boyfriend/girlfriend/datemate’s favorite love song?

2. What type of flower best encapsulates their personality?

3. Balloons, streamers, confetti, or all?

The rest of the questions followed suit in a similar fashion, and there were a lot. Maybe 30 or so until Virgil got to the end of the application.

“Who the hell has a favorite kind of sprinkle?” Virgil muttered to himself, trying to work through the questions. Even more surprising than how specific the questions were, was that Virgil actually knew most of the answers. He had never really bought into the whole pining-after-someone-he’d-never-met thing (pretending he even had a choice in the matter), so obviously he had to fall for his lab partner/project partner/person he sat next to in every class. Apparently the teachers thought it was funny to pair up the kid named “Sanders” and the one named “Saunders”. It was that, or just some alphabetization. Either way, it meant they had spent a lot of time together in their first three years of high school. Logan was distant at first, but after a while they opened up to each other. Which was a little weird because Virgil was pretty much the world’s worst lab partner, always assuming so strongly what would happen and planning to mess up, which in turn tended to mess them up. Now they seemed to talk about anything and everything, Virgil’s speaking ability permitted. Logan loved tea and Sherlock and classic literature (Victorianism not Romanticism) and jam and being right and debates and space. He really loved space. Whenever anyone brought up space his eyes lit up and it practically made Virgil’s heart do backflips. He was just glad one of the questions wasn’t “what do you like about them?” because Virgil could have written an essay. What was there, however, was far worse.

27. Write 10-20 poems about them.

Now Virgil was an emo nightmare of a person, but he did deviate from the trend in one key factor: He couldn’t write poems. No angsty sonnets for him, no haikus about suffering, no half-baked attempts to write his own songs. Nothing.

Virgil got up from his comfortable chair and started sifting through boxes on the floor, looking for something he’d rather forget. Underneath one particularly dusty pile of biology notes, he found what he’d been looking for, a beat up composition notebook that had served as his 6th grade English notebook. He flipped through the pages, stopping when he finally found the page labeled “poetry rules”. How he remembered this page, he had no idea, but was at least partially thankful for it.

Haikus: 3 lines. 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables. Doesn’t have to rhyme.

Well that seemed easy enough.

****

Your eyes look really nice

Magnified by your glasses

Blue as the ocean

Your hair looks fluffy

I want to touch it sometimes

So soft and shiny

****

Logan anticipated a lot of things. He anticipated his AP World History teacher to say something dull or ignorant during class. He anticipated the way his earl grey would taste every morning, bitter with hints of citrus. He even, on occasion, anticipated the perpetrator in his mystery novels, attempting to figure it out before the detective did. What Logan did not anticipate was two of his friends running towards him before he could enter school for the day.

“Logan, something absolutely delightful happened inside,” Dolos said, dressed in a peculiar combination of a suit and rubber gloves. Remus nodded vigorously next to him, munching on what seemed to be frosting in an empty deodorant bottle.

“There’s something inside your locker Nerdy Wolverine!” Remus said, making an attempt at teasing out his own curiosity while simultaneously applying a neon green fake mustache to his upper lip.

“Remus, if it is rats again, I am really not interested, especially after last time-” Logan began, thinking back to the year they had decided to share a locker.

“Of course. Because we totally put it in there,” Dolos interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“I personally think it’s a jar full of angry hornets that’s set to break when you open your locker, releasing into the school and stinging everyone but Dolos says that’s “unrealistic” because he’s no fun,” Remus said, waving his hands around to simulate a hornet infestation.

“But if you didn’t put anything there, how do you know there is something in there to begin with?” Logan asked.

“There was a sign on your locker,” Dolos said, gesturing to the door, “But don’t worry, it’s super tasteful.” With that, the two walked off, snickering. Despite the fact that school started in 20 minutes, they walked away from school.

Logan arrived at his locker, not knowing what exactly to prepare for. What he found, was his locker covered in dark blue paper hearts, “There’s a surprise inside” written on them. It was more distinctive than he would have liked, but it certainly wasn’t the worst thing he could have come across. The hearts managed not to cover his lock, so he could easily open his locker, however what was on the inside proved the hearts correct, for it was definitely a surprise.

His locker was covered along the walls, flowers, candy, and streamers occupying any blank space along the sides. In the back of his locker, there was blue poster paper with words Logan didn’t bother to read. On the small shelf he had in his locker, he found sugar cookies in the pattern of the Microsoft logo, littered with little blue sprinkles.

The most interesting thing however, was on the side of the door. Around twenty pieces of paper folded into little red paper hearts stuck with string onto the inside of his locker door. What was even more intriguing was the fact that there seemed to be words written on them. Carefully, he plucked one of them and unfolded it.

You smile so bright

Your laugh makes me want to cry

But in a good way

Ok, so it wasn’t a great poem, but nevertheless Logan thought it had a particular quaint authenticity to it. He pulled them off, one by one, careful not to rip them. In every heart, he found a haiku of similar quality and theme. Virgil would probably enjoy them, and for a moment Logan considered giving him something like this. Virgil seemed to have a certain affection for particularly bad poetry, and Logan had an affection for Virgil. Besides, it seemed that some of the poems were just lyrics from some of Virgil’s favorite songs, something about falling boys and chemistry.

When he had finished reading through the poems, Logan decided to have a better look at the poster in the back of his locker. Looking at the giant words on the paper answered some of his questions, but caused even more. Logan, I like you a lot. Go out with me? - Virgil.

It made sense, that this whole display was a confession of sorts, however what didn’t make sense was the fact that it wasn’t, well, Virgil. Virgil was a little bit extra sometimes, but from what Logan knew of him, he was far too nervous to do something like this. And if it was Virgil, then where was he? Unless he had run off somewhere-

Virgil had definitely run off somewhere. He looked at his watch. He had fifteen minutes till class started, which was probably enough time to find him.

****

Virgil was, for lack of a better phrase, freaking the hell out. He got to school really early, early enough to intercept Logan, who got to school like half an hour before he really needed to. The night before, he realized he couldn’t go through with the showy confession. Logan would probably hate it and then maybe hate him, which would of course happen after Logan rejected him so then Logan would stop talking to him because Virgil embarrassed him with it and then Roman would hate him because it didn’t work and then his life would fall apart. So instead he decided to get to school early enough to intercept Logan and confess to him before he could see the giant confession, then explain what had happened when he got rejected and got it so Logan was never surprised with whatever Roman planned. He would wait in the empty classroom Logan spent study hall in (he worked out an arrangement with the science teachers) and wait for Logan, who usually came there before his locker. He felt like such a stalker knowing that, when in reality he just asked Logan’s friend Dolos.

Which would have worked out great, except Virgil couldn’t stop freaking out. He was just staring at the clock, anxiously waiting for him to come in, all the while mentally running through every worst case scenario. He had around 13 minutes before school started, which meant Logan had to be there. It would be any minute before-

“Hello?”

Logan was there, dressed formally as always, hair slicked back with a polo shirt and tie. Virgil was there too, but he was sitting on a table, staring at the clock above the door.

“Hi Logan,” Virgil said as calmly as he could, which happened to be not calmly at all. “I have, uh, something for you.”

Virgil reached behind him for the card he had made. He painted a swirly blue sky with Logan’s favorite constellation on it. Hopefully he would like it more than the giant display.

“It’s very nice looking,” Logan commented, looking at the front. “It even has Vega on it, my favorite.”

Logan probably didn’t even know what was going on. Virgil thought he was amazing, but even he had to admit Logan was clinically oblivious. Logan opened up the card, looking a little confused and surprised. But not angry or disappointed. So that was a step in the right direction.

Logan flipped around the card to show him the inside. Logan, would you like to maybe go out with me? “Yes? Assuming you are asking what it seems you are asking, I would love to go out with you.”

What?

Virgil wasn’t sure if he was happy or confused or surprised, the emotions blending in the pit of his stomach. But he said yes. Logan said yes.

“Y-yes? Are you sure?”

“Yes Virgil, I’m certain.”

Virgil let out a breath. He was in a calmer place and honestly a little light-headed. Logan sat next to him on the table, looking like he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Ok. In that case, be careful when you visit your locker. There’s something in there that’s a little, uh, extra,” Virgil said, trying to be as vague as possible. Logan’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“If you’re talking about the confession you made, I have already seen it. I apologize if I ruined any surprises.”

“You- But- You saw it? And you don’t hate me now?” Virgil asked, it a bit of a frenzy.

“No, not at all. I particularly liked the poems.”

Virgil was surprised. Flabbergasted. Betrayed. He could no longer tell if he wanted to punch or hug Roman. Maybe both.

“It was actually Roman’s idea, but I’m glad you don’t hate me,” Virgil said, wringing his hands and looking at Logan. “I also don’t have too much planned for the actual, um, date. I kind of assumed you’d say no.”

“You do like jumping to conclusions. Fortunately, I am prepared. There’s a new documentary on one of Jupiter’s moons, Callisto, and it will be playing Friday at seven thirty. Does that sound enjoyable?”

Virgil simply nodded with a smile.

“Perfect, I will pick you up at seven. It is, as they say, a date.” Logan said, surprisingly well prepared for someone who didn’t know he would be asked out. Both of them slid off the table, standing back on the ground. Just as Logan began to leave, Virgil reached out and tentatively caught his hand. Logan’s eyebrows raised for a moment, then turned more relaxed.

Slowly and happily, the two walked out together, hand in hand.

#analogical #fluff #high school au #sanders sides #sanders side fic #virgil sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus is there but just for like five seconds

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