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Tumblr is my main hub, but you can find me on AO3 as well! (Tumblr stays the most up to date though)
New Stuff!
Not really new, more like new old stuff. Currently editing C&F (again 🫣) first 3 chapters are done. I think there will be 2? 3? Chapters added/ updated in the middle. Then, we catch up with where we were, with the party scene and all that, which is mostly (if not entirely) staying the same.
Everything else is below the cut!
~*~*~*~
Isabell and the Lads
A borrower takes a big fall and two college roommates help her back on her feet. Antics ensue. Will a friendship form, or will she run from them the first chance she gets? (Slice of life, fluff and angst)
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen
~Shorts and Standalones~
Zeke POV- Be Patient
Isabell and Zeke-Short 1: Closer
Isabell and Zeke- Fidget
Isabell and Zeke- Christmas Kisses
^ Art by the lovely and talented @mariposita24 ^
In a world where special powers are common, a size shifter goes off to college, and is befriended by the most stubborn girl you'll ever meet.
1. New Beginnings
2. First Impressions
3. Beauregard
4. ??? (Writing)
5. ??? (coming soon)
6? Emergency Contact
7? The Aftermath
8? Hangover Cure
~An array of stray chapters that were just for fun and may or may not be canon~
Prompt: Felix Drunk
Prompt: Felix Shrinking AU
The Next Best Thing
Not Nothing
Borrowed Time
A size shifter (who doesn't know he's a size shifter) meets a borrower (she also doesn't know that he's a size shifter). I wonder what could happen next!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Miscellaneous
A small collection of one-off works and Sizey thoughts
Prompt: Why are you so big
Study Date
Accidents Happen
G/t Nightmares
Looking for something that isn't here?
That's because I don't like it anymore. This master post is me hanging work on the fridge, everything else is in the shoebox in the attic. You know?
Don't worry, nothing is gone, this is the internet. You can check out My Writing tag for things that aren't featured here anymore.
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I love scenarios where the giant has to earn a tiny’s trust, those are fantastic.
I also love scenarios where a tiny is forced to trust a giant because there’s either a threat that’s far more dangerous than the giant, or the tiny is simply more afraid of something else than they are of the giant.
The giant, who’d been hard at work trying to coax the tiny into their hands, now feels a scrambling of limbs as the tiny immediately climbs into their hands without a second thought when that threat presents itself.
The giant, who might have originally celebrated such a moment, now finds themselves trying to comfort a still terrified tiny while protecting them from any threats, perceived or otherwise.
When the other threat is gone, is the tiny now less scared of the giant, who has just proven that they would protect the tiny? Or does their fear of the giant move right back in, leaving the giant holding a tiny that is terrified of them again?
They still sit next to each other. Even now, after the project is over.
They turned it in on Friday. Got an A. Obviously.
The assignment being done didn't change their routine. Felix still has yet to show up on time, and he still always chooses to sit next to Charlotte.
They’ve made something of a habit out of going to lunch after class. Well, they did on Wednesday and again on Friday. He just expects the pattern to continue today. Charlie is a fun little highlight in his week. He wouldn't say he looks forward to the morning gen-ed but she makes it a little more bearable.
They walk to the University Center together, and they both enjoy sitting outside in the quad. It's not as loud and Felix never enjoys being cooped up indoors. Charlie seems happier outside too, so it works.
She tends to ramble mostly about plants or wildlife, often about mushrooms, and he doesn't mind listening. She's entertaining, fun to talk to. Well, she's easy to get riled up. It almost makes him forget the situation he's in.
She's showing him pictures of various plants from a hike she took recently, explaining to him why these plants are very cool and of course needed to be documented with about 50 pictures.
A laugh carries over from another table. He catches a stray part of the neighboring conversation.
“...Rosehill.”
The word snags his attention briefly, but he lets it go. Mundane gossip. Not uncommon, but ultimately a waste of time like everything else at this college. It is occasionally amusing hearing the rumors and imagined stories that circulate. But, it becomes immediately obvious that almost no one here has ever actually seen an augmented individual before, so it quickly sours from amusing to just annoying.
“I guess they’re just dumping their rejects here now.”
“Yeah. This school used to have standards, now they're just letting anybody in.”
They're not even bothering to keep their gossip to conspiratorial whispers, almost like they want to be heard. Felix ignores it, not even bothering to glance in that direction. Charlie however, she stiffens.
“They're talking about you.” She says quietly, a scowl set solidly across her features.
“I know,” he says, taking another unbothered bite of his lunch.
“Doesn't that bother you?”
“It's hard to be so popular,” he lifts his head just enough to smirk at Charlie. She rolls her eyes and starts poking at her food again.
“I just don't get how people can be so-”
“Charlie. They just want a reaction, it's not worth it,” he shrugs.
She balls a fist on the table anyway, but she doesn't say more.
“I don't see why we should have to deal with them. Bayshear is sort of supposed to be for us.”
“Yeah,” the voice huffs a dry laugh, “well you know supers. Give an inch…”
“Tch. For real. They're all the same.”
He barely raises an eyebrow. Charlie does her best to ignore them too. Unfortunately, her best lasts about three seconds. She sets down her fork and turns on them.
"That's sort of an awful thing to say." She says loudly.
Felix sighs and rests his head in his hand. This better not turn into a whole thing.
The conversation at the other table stops.
“Excuse me?”
Charlie continues, "you can't just categorically lump a whole group of people together. You see how that's wildly problematic, right?"
"Oh. Of course you would have something to say, Beauregard."
Beauregard.
The name rings in his head like a shot. Their conversation carries on but it doesn't matter, none of their words register in his ears.
Beauregard.
In the space between seconds memories flood his mind. The diamond shaped scar on his right palm prickles. He balls his hand into a fist.
~*~
He is in the quad with the sleek modern buildings of Rosehill towering around him. Jeremy Beauregard sits next to him, rambling on about something that happened in class. Jeremy always has something to say. Felix doesn't mind listening.
“This school used to be elite, but I guess they're just letting mundanes in now.” Cruel laughter carries their conversation over. Felix straightens, knowing the comment was mentioned for him. He turns to scowl at them. Beckett is staring at him, a cruel smirk across his face. He has a strong enough ability that it apparently justifies him being a total dick about it.
“Leave it man, he just wants a reaction,” Jeremy says under his breath.
“I'm not mundane,” he ignores Jeremy’s warning. “My ability is good.” At least, it would be good if it wasn't so damn inconsistent.
“Oh, and in the last five minutes you learned how to use it? Congratulations.” Beckett laughs. “Face it, you don't belong here. You're just dragging the reputation of the school down.”
“I belong here.” Felix says firmly.
“Would you care to prove it?”
Beckett stands, Felix leaps to his feet, his chair scraping behind him. He ignores Jeremy's disappointed sigh.
Sparring is common among supers. It's encouraged actually- within reason of course. It establishes a hierarchy of ability and that's really important. Currently, Felix is basically at the bottom. Beckett is…
There is no need to do the mental math, Felix knows he's going to end up in the infirmary again. But it's the principle of it, damn it.
The air around them grows still and quiet as the others in the cafeteria can sense the growing tension. Felix moves first, lunging forward to throw a punch, Beckett side steps easily, countering him in one fluid motion. His fist connects solidly with Felix’s gut. He stands catching his breath Beckett looks bored.
“If you want to fight like a mundane you really should just go to a mundane school.”
The onlookers laugh. He knows it's just a couple chuckles, but it feels like everyone. All eyes on him, watching him make a complete fool of himself yet again.
“Come on. Do something about it,” Beckett growls, tired of playing around.
Felix takes a breath and pushes. His ability resists him, as always. He grows until he's about nine feet tall. It isn't nothing. But he knows there's more. He just can't access it.
“Oh wow,” he feigns astonishment, “have you thought about trying out for our basketball team?” More laughter. Beckett activates his ability. His arms become two pillars of fire from his fingertips to his shoulders. He lunges forward. The fire leaps from his fist, connecting with Felix's shoulder. Felix jumps back, slapping out the flame that was catching on his sleeve.
All eyes on him. Laughing. Jeering. He doesn't belong here. His thoughts are just as loud as the crowd around him.
“Shut up!” he shouts. Something inside of him breaks. His ability rushes forward in a way he's never felt before. He drops to a knee, slamming his hand down on top of Beckett. Pinning him to the ground.
“Well. Now you might be worth fighting,” he wheezes, looking up at Felix with a sharp predatory smile. He's still confident he can win.
Felix reels. He's never been this big before. Not even close. He blinks down at Beckett pinned under him. Held down by just his hand. A sense of power surges through him like he's never felt before. No one is laughing now.
Suddenly he's burning. He yanks his hand back. Beckett had reactivated his ability. Gritting his teeth, Felix bats at the human inferno, lifting him up into the air then slamming him down into the ground. He shakes his hand out, Beckett's flame flickers, he coughs. Felix rears back his blistering fist, slamming it down into him.
Well, almost.
His fist connects with a solid surface some distance above Beckett with a hollow ‘thunk.’ He blinks down, sitting back on his heels. He knows that ability. He whirls around to find Jeremy standing nearby, an arm outstretched.
He put up a shield. For Beckett?
“What the hell?” He narrows his eyes at his ‘friend.’
“He’s had enough, dude. Let's call it there.”
“Where was your fucking barrier when he was setting me on fucking fire? Who's side are you on?”
“Not on a side.”
“You used to be on mine,” Felix’s gaze sharpens into a glare. What, now he gets an actual ability and now J is just going to drop him? Felix wasn't a threat before but now…
Fucking hypocritical. That's what it is.
He slams his fist into the barrier. Jeremy stumbles trying to hold against the force. He pounds into it again and again until the pathetic shield shatters. Jeremy drops to a knee, coughing. He didn't touch him, but still a thin trickle of blood runs from his nose.
He turns his attention down to his quarry.
“Where were we,” he says.
“Hey. Is there a problem?” A new voice cuts in. Marshall Beauregard. Jeremy’s older brother. Top of the pack here at Rosehill.
The Beauregard’s have been coming to this school for generations. All of them are excellent. Marshall walks through the crowd, carrying his family name reverently. People actually step out of his way when he approaches.
Marshall helps his brother to his feet, looking him over, then looking at Beckett, who hasn't gotten up yet. Then finally his eyes drift up to Felix.
“Hey Westwell! Your ability finally clicked! Great job dude.” Felix hates how genuine he sounds. Most powerful guy in the school and he has to be the nicest too? Suddenly Felix has a realization. Marshall is undefeated. He might go through his entire time at Rosehill undefeated. That would be legendary for him.
Felix blinks. He can take him.
Marshall continues, “Let's just all power down and we can-”
“I challenge you,” he interrupts suddenly.
“Hm?”
If he can take down Beckett and then the unbeatable Marshall, all in one go… he would run this school.
“You heard me. Let's go.”
Marshall tilts his head, ushering his brother away, giving them some space. He's accepting. They're actually going to do this.
Felix reaches out to grab him up in a fist, but Marshall is faster. Vines burst from the floor. Wrapping over Felix’s hand, they thread between his fingers and tether him down to the ground. Before he can pull away, the vines layer thicker and thicker over his hand, and up over his wrist. The mass of plants constricts, growing tighter around his hand, solidifying with a thick bark over the top. Felix attempts to pull away, and thorns pierce into his skin. The poison barbs make his veins feel like they’re on fire.
No. The fight can't be over before it's even started!
Felix grits his teeth and focuses. He reaches out with his ability, hoping he can have a handle on it for once. He lets his size slip, just enough to give himself some room. He rips his hand free and then explodes back to his full massive size. He might even be larger than he was before. The vines burst under the strain, sending out a shower of bark. He mauls his hand in the process, but he’s free now.
He’s never been able to pull off any sort of dexterous size shifting before now, he huffs a breath of victory. He can see Marshall seems impressed too.
Despite his hands burning from both Beckett’s fire and the poisonous thorns, he slaps his palm down on Marshall’s standing form. Once again, Marshall moves with a surprising amount of speed. He encases himself in a sharp cocoon. As Felix slams his hand down, Marshall’s defense pierces fully through the palm of his hand. He cries out as the bud opens into a massive flower, and out steps Marshall, entirely unscathed.
Felix rips the bloom from his hand, removing the thick stalk from his palm. His hand oozes from its gaping wound. His stomach twists at the sight of the viscera. If he took the time to observe it, he would be able to see straight through his hand.
He notes that both Marshall and Beckett had really good close range defense. He needs to figure out how to fight while touching his target as little as possible. He can’t take many more injuries if Marshall is going to spear entirely through him like that.
“Do you yield?” Marshall asks simply.
The question and the pain ignites a rage within him.
He can still feel everyone's eyes on him. Their judgment. Their laughter.
They think he's a fool. They think he doesn't belong here. They're wrong. He's going to show them how wrong they are.
Marshall plays cool, but he just exerted a lot of energy there. He's conjuring plants and vines that are much larger than he normally would to combat Felix’s size. He has cooled his expression, but Felix bets he’s tired. More tired than he's acting.
It's a gamble.
Felix allows his shoulders to slump, as if resigning. As Marshall’s guard drops at his sign of submission, he lashes out again. It's a dirty trick, but he needs this.
Felix jukes in one direction, tossing a cafeteria table his way. Then, as he’s distracted, Felix reaches out with his other hand, this time he successfully snags Marshall by the leg. Before he has a chance to retaliate, Felix flips his opponent up into the air and flings him down to the ground. The arc of his descent is swift and entirely unforgiving as he crashes into the ground. Marshall's attempt to conjure more vines to break his fall was rendered mostly unsuccessful. He hit the ground hard.
Without allowing him any more time to get his bearings, Felix’s fist comes smashing down after him. Felix watches as he tries to shamble back onto his feet, his vines forming a thorny barricade around him. But his plants are growing much slower than they were at the start. He is running out of stamina. A wicked grin spreads across Felix’s face, his gamble paid off. This fight just turned in his favor.
Using his bloodied hand, he rips the vines from the ground, as simple as uprooting some weeds. Tossing them aside, he comes crashing down into Marshall again, grounding him into the floor and shattering the tile beneath him. He still tries growing a barrier, but the vines are slow moving now. He cocoons himself in tight vines between blows. Felix doesn't stop. Not until the rage coursing through him burns out. Not until- he feels a sharp prickle run across his skin. An unnatural wave of fatigue rushes over him.
Breathing heavily, he finally relaxes. He realizes how much his hands hurt. How much blood is everywhere. He looks down at the small crater he's formed in the floor. At the bottom lies a mess of vines obscuring Marshall entirely.
He realizes how silent the room is. He blinks. There is no crowd. The students have all left. No. They've been evacuated he realizes, as he sees only a wave of Rosehill security officers. They’re shutting him down. His vision blurs, growing dark. He feels his ability slipping away from him.
He wakes up alone in the infirmary. Locked in a high security room, actually. He flops back into the bed, his eyes closing with a satisfied smile. He won.
~*~
Felix stands abruptly. Heads turn and the conversation halts. He doesn't look at anyone, he just turns and walks away.
He needs to think.
Charlotte fucking Beauregard.
His stomach twists. A name like that doesn't show up in a place like this for no reason. Suspicion crowds his thoughts, tainting every memory of every interaction they've had.
Does she know who he is? Has she known this whole time?
She knew he went to Rosehill. She said it was because she saw the logo on his computer. Is that true? Or has she heard all about him from her brothers.
A new realization settles firmly in his gut. She’s a Beauregard. She has an ability.
What is your game, Beauregard?
He finally stops walking. He's in a clearing by the school. Secluded. Quiet. He sits on a rock and puts his head in his hands with a low groan.
He thought they'd just send him off to a mundane school and everything would be as it seemed.
Classes before noon should be outlawed. He thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to his first class at his new school. Late on the first day isn’t a good look, but neither is one of the most powerful supers of this generation being sent to an entirely mundane college. So, he doesn’t really think he has anything else to lose by being a few minutes late for class. Frankly, he spent those extra minutes in bed, staring at his ceiling and contemplating whether or not he should bother showing up at all. Unfortunately for him, he decided that his ability to play nice here was probably instrumental in him getting reinstated as a student at Rosehill. So here he is, better late than never.
The door opens with a low creak, betraying the age of its hinges. It’s an old building. The college of course branded it as “historic,” which is academic jargon for saying that they don’t plan on allocating the funds necessary to update anything here anytime soon.
The class he’s walking into is small enough that a few heads turn when he enters, but it’s big enough that the professor barely even nods at him.
He scans the class, his eyes catching with one student who, unlike the others, didn’t look away quite fast enough. She flushes, obviously embarrassed to have been caught, and she gestures politely to the seat next to her.
Cute. Why not.
He shrugs, and strides over, sliding into the seat. She tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and fidgets with the supplies out on her desk nervously, as if she didn’t actually expect him to take her up on her offer.
“I’m Charlotte,” she introduces herself quietly.
“Felix,” he returns. She doesn’t react to his name. He didn’t really expect her to know who he was or anything. It’s not like the school would have sent out an email to the student body warning everyone about him. He presumes that is part of his punishment. Take him from an environment where he is well known, and thrust him into an anonymous exile.
He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and drumming his fingers against his bicep. It’s the first day of class, they’re likely going to spend the full time going over the syllabus. He doesn’t bother taking out a notebook or his computer, he barely bothers listening.
This Charlotte girl next to him does not share his philosophy. He eyes the five colorful glitter pens lined up on her desk in a neat row. Her notebook somehow already has half a page of notes that feel almost too organized for the handwriting that accompanies it. One would imagine someone going through the trouble of color-coding notes over the syllabus would be writing in calligraphy or something. Her handwriting is neat enough at the start of the page, but as it continues it falls into an imperfect slant. He swears she’s swapped between three different highlighter colors just since he's sat down. He doesn’t bother hiding the judgement on his face as he watches her take all of this way too seriously.
“This is the first assignment of the year, so it isn’t going to be anything crazy,” Dr. Lamont announces from behind her wooden podium, drawing Felix’s attention back to the front of the room.
It’s a partner project. He can feel the collective internal groan radiates from the students. Good to know that a general disdain for group projects seems to be a universal constant.
Charlotte straightens next to him quickly. Avoiding looking in his general direction she scans the room, obviously trying to find a partner meeting the criteria of ‘anyone but him.’ He huffs a quiet laugh. She finally brings herself to look in his direction. Her eyes scrape ruefully across his empty desk. He can see the resignation on her face for a moment before she fixes her expression back into that polite smile. He just blinks at her, his brows raised slightly. He’s said exactly one word to her, is him not having pens enough for her to decide she doesn’t like him? Are all mundanes this strange, or is this just a her thing?
“Partners?” She asks him, not without effort.
“Sure.”
She bobs a quick nod before shifting her focus to her computer, navigating to the assignment page. He leans his arms on the desk, watching the screen over her shoulder. She reads the parameters of the assignment outloud. It just keeps going. Twelve questions. Multiple parts each. Basically, it's a 12 page research paper. On day one
“Don’t worry,” Charlotte says, “the first assignment ‘isn’t crazy,’” she jokes, echoing his own thoughts. She throws an easy smile over her shoulder at him. He just hums a short agreement. “Alright,” she turns away a little too quickly, as if surprised by how close he is.
He isn't that close.
Still, she ducks her head over her planner, as if focusing on something can save her from feeling awkward. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms again.
“What does your schedule look like?” She asks “I am free after this class on Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Or, I could do Tuesdays and-
“I’ll take the first six questions; you take the second six. We’ll throw it in a shared doc and turn it in. This doesn’t have to be a whole deal.”
She stops, blinking at him like he’s just come up with the most outrageous plan.
“Oh. I was thinking we could,” she hesitates, then starts again. “Are you sure you don’t want to work on it together?”
“It sounds like you want this to be a whole deal.” He’s not surprised, she probably doesn’t trust him to hold up his end of the bargain.
“It would make it more fun,” she says with a small defensive shrug.
“Fun,” he echoes. “You just want an excuse to write in your planner with your colorful pens.”
She doesn’t miss a beat, “that is most definitely part of it, yes.” She gives one sharp nod, a broad smile blooming across her face. It’s him that turns away this time. He shakes his head, though he can’t help being swayed a bit by her infectious grin, a smile of his own begins pulling at his lips.
As endearing as she might be, he’s not going to let her overcomplicate his whole life on the first day.
“I’ll take the first half. You try to have enough fun for the both of us,” he taps the desk, stands, and walks away.
He’s not even all the way down the stairs before he gets a notification from the class portal.
Charlotte B shared a document with you.
He sends a thumbs up and carries on with his day.
~*~
Wednesday means it’s time to do the whole song and dance again. Trudge up the stairs to class, arrive precisely when he can be bothered to arrive. It’s the gen-ed classes that really stick a thorn in his side. He can't see them as anything more than a huge waste of time.
Once again, a few heads turn when the door creaks open, but most people look away quickly, unbothered by his appearance in the room. Once again, Charlotte does not look away. But, unlike last time, he didn’t catch her accidentally staring. There is a pointed venom in her gaze. His shoulders square reflexively, his chin lifting a little higher. This is the sort of reaction to him that he’s grown accustomed to. He just didn't really expect to find it here.
Does she know something?
He strolls forward to take his seat. He can tell that his unhurried demeanor is particularly grating to Charlotte, so he walks a little slower.
He’s barely in his seat when she whirls on him.
“If you had no intention of actually doing the assignment, I wish you would have told me.”
What.
“Because now, I’m going to have to do everything in two days and I hardly see how that’s fair. You might not care about this class or whatever, but I read the syllabus, and the group projects are actually worth a sizable amount of our entire grade. I really can’t afford to be playing catch-up for the entire rest of the semester because you decided that you were too good for the coursework,” she says to him in a harsh whisper, barely breathing throughout her spiel.
He has to just blink at her for a second. That’s it? She’s mad about homework? In her eyes, that’s his big crime? He has to fight to keep from laughing. He manages to keep his reaction restrained to just an amused smirk.
“Good morning to you too.” By her reaction, this was the wrong thing to say. Good. This is the most entertaining thing that’s happened all week.
“I’m serious,” she practically hisses the word. “I don’t know your situation, but I’m here on scholarship, so my grades actually mean something. So just, please tell me if you’re going to participate in this project so I can figure out if I have the time to pick up your slack.”
“Charlie, relax.” He says, rolling his eyes. This has been fun and all, but she looks like she could blow a gasket here if he doesn’t do some damage control. He pulls his laptop from his bag. “I’m not here to sabotage your GPA.” He clicks out of an email from Rosehill, pulling up his assignment. “I was going to put them in the doc when I was done. I’ve got like two questions left. Alright? Look.” He gestures to the screen.
“Oh,” the word is hollow, all of her momentum pulled out from under her. “Okay.” She looks down at her desk, fidgeting with her pens. “Sorry.”
She’s pretty quiet after that. He doesn't know how to tell her it isn't a big deal, because she's obviously worrying about it. He hasn't interacted with her all that much, but he can already tell that she’s the type of person who, if she doesn't say what she's thinking with her words, she’ll say it with her face.
“Do you want to just finish this over lunch today?” He doesn’t know why he said that. Most of him doesn't know why he cares, but there's a part of him that sort of feels bad for her. Regardless, the words are out before he can stop them.
“You mean, like, together?” she asks, perking up visibly.
“No, Charlie. At two different tables in the UC,” he shakes his head. “Yes, of course I meant together.”
She smiles and nods quickly, “great!”
Last time, he was the first out of the room. Now, he’s standing there, arms crossed, waiting for Charlotte to pack up all of her pens and highlighters and notebooks. He lets her get mostly done, before telling her she can meet up with him outside. The building is old, and the ceilings are low. He wouldn't call it a phobia, but doesn’t like spending a ton of time in a small room when he could be out under an open sky.
He’s about to reach the front door when her rapid footsteps follow down the stairs after him. He turns in time to see Charlotte tripping over the last step. Automatically, he reaches forward, grabbing her before she can faceplant on the old tile.
“Thanks,” she says finding her footing, her face burning with embarrassment. “Uh, good catch.”
Once she’s steady, he pulls away and continues on.
“You really only have one setting, huh?”
“I guess,” she gives an embarrassed laugh, following him outside.
He takes a breath of the fresh air, relaxing a bit now that he doesn’t have that low ceiling caging him in. Charlotte falls into step beside him.
“I transferred here from Lee Summit,” she offers without prompting. The name of the college gives him pause.
Lee Summit is a good school. More importantly, It’s mostly an augmented school. A very odd choice for some random mundane. Is she trying to tell him something without saying it outloud? He scans her over quickly. Blonde, freckles, pink glitter pen tucked behind her ear. It’s impossible to discern if someone is augmented just by looking at them. It's not like they make you go around wearing a cape. If she has an ability… why would she come here of all places? Maybe she has a lame ability and she couldn't keep up at Lee Summit. But still, here? Bayshear is entirely mundane. One hundred percent. There isn’t even an augmented variation on any of the degree maps here.
“Sort of a downgrade, don’t you think?” he asks, casually gauging her reaction.
“No,” she answers a little too quickly. She grips the straps of her backpack a little tighter as she continues, “The science program here is one of the best in the country. The scholarship programs are elite, and besides, the campus is prettier.”
It sounds to him like she has made this argument before. He wonders if she was reasoning this out to convince someone else, or for herself.
“Think what you want. I know I’m not going to change your mind,” she shrugs, not giving him any more information. After a beat she asks, “did you transfer from Rosehill or are you trying to get in?”
He almost stops walking, the stutter in his step nearly causes her to collide into him. He faces her more fully now, his posture straightening. Why would she know that? Suspicion weighs heavy on his brow.
“Sorry,” she says, seeing his reaction, “I saw the logo on your computer in class.” She’s more observant than he gave her credit for. “If you think Bayshear is a downgrade from Lee Summit, this must be like rock bottom for you.”
“Yeah. It is.” His voice is sharp. He turns away, hoping she’ll take the hint and drop it.
“So, you’re trying to move on to bigger and better?” Maybe her observational skills are selective.
“No. Transferred from there to here.” His brow furrows.
She obviously doesn’t know him, doesn't recognize his name, doesn't connect him to his past. He doesn't know why he’s so on edge about that, he used to wear his reputation as a badge of honor but here… it doesn't feel relevant anymore. If anything it would just make things messy. Ultimately, It wouldn’t matter if she knew, it’s not like he’s under an oath to keep his ability a secret here. It's just that thinking about dealing with all that goes along with it makes him tired.
So, this maybe-mundane just knows the legacy of Rosehill and is obviously curious about why anyone would leave there for here. He can’t fault her for her curiosity. He can see she obviously wants to ask him about it.
“Bad behavior,” he says with a shrug before she can articulate the question.
She is quiet for a moment, finally picking up that he isn't interested in talking about it. They walk together several paces before she speaks up again.
“I’m majoring in wildlife biology, with an emphasis in conservation," she states. Once again, with zero prompting from him.
“Okay.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” He asks coldly, still on edge from their talk of Rosehill.
“What’s your major?”
“History,” he says. She looks at him, like she’s expecting more. “There’s an unofficial emphasis on literary history. I want to get my masters in Library Science and be an archivist.”
“Oh. That’s—” she flounders for the rest of that sentence.
“You can say you think it’s boring,” a wry smile pulls at his lips.
“No! no, that’s not what I’m thinking. I just- It seems. I don’t know. I guess I just imagine archivists as like, super old… or at least super nerdy. You seem too cool.”
He laughs audibly, caught off guard by that. She blushes, stumbling over herself trying to somehow take back what she said. Maybe-mundane or not, he can't ignore that she's pretty fun to talk to.
“I just imagine it would be lonely,” she eventually lands there.
“Maybe,” he shrugs, putting his hands into his pockets.
I’m glad you’re back and feeling better! I am so genuinely and insanely obsessed with your writing, thank you for sharing it 🫶
😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰
Hey thanks! This means a lot hopefully I'll be making some updates soon!!! I've got some exciting things rattling around my brain
I was talking to a friend recently about writing, I think my problem is I write on big vibes and then I start world building and then have to retcon to make the vibes fit the world building lmaoooo
She recommended uh making an outline (so simple. So obvious why don't I do that the world may never know)
She also recommended I get a beta reader and 1 that is terrifying and 2 I don't know how to do that and 3 it's terrifying hahah
So I guess all that to say thanks for enjoying my stuff even though my writing process is a bit of a hot mess!!! 😵💫🤣 Hopefully, I'll get my act together one day. Maybe I'll even develop the audacity to attempt getting published?? I keep thinking about it but maybe I should focus on finishing literally one thing sometime first 🤣
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screaming, crying, throwing up, as I force myself to write a story i'm very passionate about and love writing and have no obligation to write except that i want to
I'm doing that thing again where I am fixing all my old stuff before writing new stuff. It's just what the ol' brain will let me work on. I'm very glad to be writing again though.
Waking up feels like being dredged out of the muck. Staying awake doesn’t serve her any better. Charlie flops onto her back with a low groan, rubbing the grit from her eyes. When she finally forces them open, she’s greeted by the pale light of early morning filtering in through the front window. Her brow furrows at the audacity of the sun to be shining. She burrows a little deeper into the couch for a moment, before sighing and turning her focus to the table in front of her: glass of water, bottle of acetaminophen, her cellphone- plugged in.
Felix did all that for her? That’s… nice. For as prickly as he can be, he’s honestly really… nice. She still can’t believe she called him last night, almost as much as she can’t believe how he actually came and helped her out.
The reality of her situation slams into her like a bus loaded with bricks. She stifles a groan with the pillow as vignettes of her royally embarrassing herself play on repeat in her mind.
Oh, drunk Charlie… what did you DO? She is certain that she’ll never recover from this.
She eyes her keys on the coffee table. Felix is probably still asleep. The idea flits across her mind. She could just… go. Then she wouldn’t have to face him. It’s tempting… But she would have to see him again eventually. Leaving now might make a bigger mess of things. Staying just feels like the wrong choice, but leaving definitely feels worse. She wishes that she knew the rules for something like this.
What would a normal person do? She wonders.
They probably wouldn’t get themselves in this situation in the first place.
Finally, after deciding that arguing with herself about hypotheticals is a futile venture, she pulls herself up and faces the empty living room. She gladly takes the medicine he set out for her, hoping it will quell the dull ache behind her eyes. Then, bracing herself, she checks her phone. One look at her notifications, she puts it right back down again. It’s too early for that.
She wasn’t surprised by this, but she had nothing from her friends. Not an apology, not even a ‘did you get back safe?’ Nothing. All of her messages are from Jeremey. He was probably blowing up her phone all night. Dumb, overprotective-
The consequences of her actions can wait.
She rises to her feet and trudges down the hall to the bathroom, putting some much-needed distance between her and the inevitable lecture she’s going to get from her brother.
Washing her face and brushing her teeth help her scrape together the crumbs of her dignity and leave her feeling almost human.
She faces the mirror, oh right. She’s wearing his clothes. He had given her the shirt and sweatpants to wear, but she’s remembering now; she pulled on his hoodie while it still had his warmth clinging to the fabric. It was a cozy feeling. It still is, or it would be if she wasn’t so embarrassed by her own shameless audacity. Especially considering immediately after putting on his hoodie she just went and- alright that’s enough, thinking privileges revoked.
On her way back to the couch, she notices the house properly. She’s almost surprised her footsteps don’t echo here. Open floor plan, high ceilings, concrete floors, she supposes it makes sense for Felix. Or, at least, it makes sense for what Felix can do. She can hardly imagine a room large enough to contain him, but maybe the lofty ceilings would give him a bit of wiggle room, should he need it.
Given the size of the house, he could host quite the party here. The space isn’t designed for that at all though. Despite furniture existing in the space, it’s all very utilitarian… maybe even lonely. There doesn’t appear to be art on the walls… or really, any decoration whatsoever. At least, not any that she’s found. It’s very different from her dorm, her walls are covered in pictures, and her shelves and desk are cluttered with trinkets. It’s a pseudo-organized chaos, and it makes her smile. This isn’t the sort of space that smiles back at you.
She flops back onto the couch with a sigh, happy for a chance to leave her wandering thoughts and revisiting sleep. As she drifts off, she wonders if she should paint him a picture or something.
---
The hour is much more agreeable when she wakes up again. Her headache has subsided, her mouth doesn’t taste so bad. She reaches her arms above her head in a lavish stretch when she hears his door open and his footsteps approaching from down the hall. In that instant, she wishes for an ability. Invisibility, teleportation, time travel. Hell, even something that would just make everyone forget last night. As always, she’s got nothing. She sits up, resigning herself to the fact that it’s time to pay the piper, so to speak.
“Well,” he says, leaning one shoulder against the wall at the entrance to the living room, “you survived.”
“Barely,” she grumbles. “Thank you, by the way for…” she hesitates, “do we need to talk about… all of that?”
“Oh, definitely,” a wicked grin spreads across his face. “What do you want to start with? We could talk about how you climbed me like a tree, or how about how you were pissed I wouldn’t let your drunk ass snuggle me all night long?”
Of course, the one time he isn’t avoidant and standoffish. He had to pick now to be the most straight forward he’s ever been. She buries her face in the blanket, managing only a strangled noise. He laughs easily.
“Relax,” he crosses the room and plops down on the couch next to her. “Good deeds look great on my record. A few more of those and maybe they’ll let me go back to Rosehill,” he chuckles.
She jumps at the opportunity to change the subject, “I thought you said you just decided to transfer here.”
“I lied,” he shrugs. “The board sent me here; I didn’t have a choice.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t think they’ve ever had to deal with someone like me before. They didn’t like that they couldn’t control me, so they sent me here. That’s what really happened,” he’s being surprisingly candid.
“Sorry, that’s the policy? Send volatile supers to this little mundane school and just, what, hope for the best?”
“Ooh. Volatile,” he says the word playfully, but his eyes flash dangerously. “Is that what I am?” He quirks a brow her way, slinging his arms casually over the back of the couch and consequently, behind her. His arm doesn’t drape over her shoulder, or even touch her, but he’s incredibly caviler about the distance between them. She doesn’t know what to make of that.
“No offense,” is all she can really say.
He shrugs, “It doesn’t matter.”
“It just… that seems really dangerous, you know?”
“Yeah. It is. For me.”
She looks at him strangely.
“I mean, really. Cause a scene here and I would probably never see the sun again,” he scoffs, but there is a tightness to his tone. It makes sense, they wouldn’t send him here and hope for the best. They would have a plan. It wasn’t just a simple transfer so they wouldn’t have to deal with him, it was an escalation. “They probably want me to mess up. I’m not stupid. I don’t fuck with mundanes. They can’t fight back,” then he adds, with his signature cocky grin, “where’s the fun in that?”
He sort of sounds like he’s joking… but she doesn’t think he is.
“And the first time we talked doesn’t count, I guess?” She raises a brow, matching his ‘probably joking but maybe not’ tone.
“Please,” he rolls his eyes, “you weren’t in any danger,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Really? None of what happened seemed dangerous to you? You dropped me.”
“I pretended to drop you. Besides, I thought you might have had an ability. I just wanted to prove a point and scare you off. It obviously didn’t work.”
He finally looks over at her. He is closer than he needs to be with his arm not quite around her. He pulls back, his arm retreating only far enough to catch a lock of her hair and twirl it gently between his fingers.
She goes still, not daring to even breathe.
“I’m glad it didn’t work,” he adds softly, tucking the strand of hair behind her ear. “So,” he moves on like nothing happened, “what are you doing today? You want breakfast or something?” He stands, and heads to the kitchen, leaving her alone on the couch, cheeks burning as she reels from what just happened. Again she thinks, drunk Charlie... WHAT did you do?
Then, just like that, the moment has evaporated. That was so casual, but it wasn’t.
That wasn’t proximity born out of necessity, it wasn’t him tolerating her as she invades his personal space. That was deliberate. She lifts a hand, touching near her ear where his fingers had been.
“Um, y-yeah. No plans. Breakfast sounds good,” she manages, hoping she wasn’t too obviously dazed for too long before answering him.
Even if she did have plans today, she would have cancelled them.
She gets up, following him to the kitchen and takes a seat on a barstool.
“How do you like your eggs?”
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“It’s just eggs, Charlie. Let’s manage expectations here. Honestly, I’m hoping you say ‘scrambled,’ because that’s really all I can do.
“Sounds good to me,” she smiles.
“And, hey, I don’t want to brag or anything, but I have a box mix, so pancakes can definitely happen too.”
Hope everything is OK!! We miss you around here you know!
❤️
❤️❤️❤️
So, major life update from me, I had a baby! She's cute, and likes to party at 2 am. I had to spend some extra time in the hospital because I did almost die... I got a ✨blood infection✨ ...and a bunch of other stuff. I don't recommend being hospitalized for 2 weeks, it was not fun. But anyway, I'm fine now.
I'm honestly not sure when I can write, but I've started feeling inspired again! So, I'm around! I've been missing y'all too! ❤️
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I'm a bit curious, are any of your characters queer?
Maybe!
That's probably a disappointing answer. It's not really what my stories are about, so I honestly haven't put a ton of thought into most of my character's sexualities.
Like, the plot hasn't made me think about it in a way that's forced me to make a canonical decision. And it's not an aspect I start with in character creation.
The way I approach characters is probably actually very telling that I have a theatre degree... because I'm all about stimulation and response. Like inner monologue and motivation stuff. (((and I'm dialogue heavy but we don't have to talk about that)))
So typically, I have an idea for a scene where characters respond a certain way. Then it's a game of: "alright what is their personality that THIS would be their response when presented with THIS situation." And I kind of work back from there. Then moving forward its like "okay, I know how they react to something like this, what if I put them in THIS kind of situation..." And then I just slowly collect a database of information about each character as I go.
That's sort of how my writing process works. I don't typically sit down and ask myself 101 personality questions to entirely fill them out before I just start playing around and seeing how they react to stuff in the brain sandbox .... Does that make sense?
need That character absolutely delirious with fear. recoiling from everything. unable to parse what's happening around them, their mind stuck in fight or flight. shaking and hyperventilating. completely unconsolable even as they're wrapped in a crushing hug.
What if smoothie meme but nauseously freaking the fuck out?
Inspired by one of my favorite g/t writers, @miniscule-meow, story, Borrowed Time
Go check them out! All their stories are a bop and a half!
Just doodles and notes:
-Used photos of myself holding string because how would someone casually hold string while trying not to throw up was a real mystery for me
-Wasn't thinking sbou this a the time but I made all their main colors mixed colors (purple/orange/green)
-I switched their main colors for the other persons' background
-I kinda like the rounder head Vi (just a sucker for round heads I guess) but I wanted them to all have different face shapes
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The action of a giant placing there hand infront of a tiny who's walking or running so they bump into it, and then tilting there hand up so the tiny falls in and is whisked away to whatever the giant wanted them for.
Isabelle and the Lads is by far the best g/t story I’ve read. I was wondering if you’re going to write more :))
🥹🥹🥹 thank you so much! That means a lot!!! ♥️
Yes, I am planning on continuing Isabell and the Lads! I'm planning on continuing all my stories tbh. It's just that right now life is 😵💫 beyond wild. SO, everything is on a pause for a while. I don't know when... but I'll update eventually!
