[ Reggie's seen the boy around, mostly in hallways and various other locations on campus, and every time he does he finds himself stopping briefly to watch him. He doesn't know why, exactly -- the guy doesn't, at a glance, seem to have much if anything in common with the people Reggie normally makes friends with or takes interest in -- but something about Nick Scratch is strangely compelling, something about him makes Reggie want to know him more.
Maybe it's as simple as wanting to befriend other attractive guys around school, because when you're a hot, popular athlete, your friends and connections have to be hot too, or maybe something about the guy gets on his nerves-- Reggie doesn't know that, either. All he knows is the burning curiosity that ignites in him whenever he catches a glimpse of Nick again, a desire for... something, and Reggie isn't one to ignore his desires for long if he can help it. The problem is that they share no classes except for one, a crowded, boring lecture course, too big for him to even know Nick's name, but really, it doesn't make too big of a difference; somehow their paths keep crossing anyway.
Today Reggie's in the library, textbook open to a page he has probably read over three or four separate times already without processing a word, and when he looks up he notices Nick sitting at the table next to him. He takes some paper from his notebook and folds a few paper footballs, flicking them over in Nick's direction. ]
He's tall, and loud, and hot. And Nick is only, well. He's not exactly mortal, but he's definitely human. But Nick is also busy, trying to fit in, trying to learn twelve years of mortal math to pass his math class.
At least he can skate through Latin and Religious Studies. That's all easy enough. And English. Four classes, and of course math is the one that's stopped him up.
He's trying to puzzle out differential equations when he's hit by a piece of paper, and he looks up. He doesn't know how long he's been in the library, a place far more comfortable at the University than in the Academy. He looks up, and sees-
Oh.
He looks at the little piece of paper, and casually flicks it back. Hello.]
[ When Nick looks over, Reggie's expecting him to be much more annoyed, he's expecting a hissed "Quit it!" or something of that nature, so having the paper flicked back is a surprise.
Not an unpleasant one, though.
Reggie smirks, tearing another strip of paper off his notebook and writing something on it before he folds it up this time, as if this is middle school back in the days when people still passed notes the old-fashioned way.
Except he doesn't know what to write, doesn't know what he wants to say, because this isn't how he thought this would go. He ends up scribbling:
[He laughs a little, but without any noise. The only class he and Reggie share is World Religions, and Nick did take some notes; most of them are totally incomprehensible to a non-warlock. But he isn't going to say no, either. He gets up, languid, and goes to sit next to him.
He looks up at Reggie.]
I can tell you what you missed. At least the stuff that will be on the test.
I didn't miss it, but it's impossible to listen to our stupid professor go on and on for three friggin' hours.
[ And it doesn't help that the material is borderline incomprehensible to Reggie in the first place. All the same, he scoots his chair slightly to make room for Nick, taking a casual moment to look over and finally observe him up close.
A pretty boy and he's smart? When does that ever happen?
Reggie rubs his mouth and nods, though, looking back down at his textbook and flipping it closed. It's for a different class, one of his business courses, and so far it's felt similarly incomprehensible. Not that he doesn't have a decent head for business, but the textbook is dense and wordy enough to give anyone a headache. ]
( His father makes him go to college. His initial idea is to follow him into law enforcement, but if Stiles wants anything to do with that, the compromise is going to college. He's practically pushed across country. His father believes he should spread his wings, embrace his inner NYU spirit. It's all he can do to not defy him. But, the sheriff is always right in this case, and he's dating Scott's mom, so at least he knows his health needs are being taken care of.
If his dad had no one but the liquor bottle, he might decide the opposite.
Either way, he flies to New York and begins a four year whirlwind. He's smart and studious, but easily distracted. His fidgeting, tapping and constant stream of music, news footage and random Youtube videos annoys his roommate enough that he studies strictly in the library, and sometimes the caf when he's hungry. Rarely, he'll be outside. He's an inside guy.
He doesn't mean to fixate on his history TA, really he doesn't. It starts out because he thinks the guy is looking at him - like more than any TA should. But, he chalks it up to someone being behind him, or in front of him. He is not staring material. It's not long before he sees him everywhere. He doesn't mean to, it's just, the guy is everywhere. They have really similar schedules and apparently people also grade in the libraries, too.
It's someone's apartment party he's invited to, a friend of a friend, where he spots his TA in the kitchen holding a beer and a conversation with some girl he doesn't know. No freaking way. Four times is a coincidence, now he just feels lame and like he is following him. Saying polite hello's, he makes his way cautiously to the kitchen where one of the hottest guys he's ever seen is finishing up his conversation. He tries to be nonchalant, moving past him and grabbing a beer from the fridge. But, fuck if he's Stiles and he can't fucking help himself. So, he turns, letting the fridge close behind him. )
So - you know I'm not stalking you, right? I guess Nancy knows my roommate's brother or something and I am now here, too, because I can be social and take breaks. As can you. Obviously. So. Um. Yes. Hi.
He's in his first year as a TA, with a graduate degree in divinity studies as an end goal. It's absurd, really, and so absolutely unnecessary. Nick has no desire to be the high priest of the Church of Night, and he can't even spend time in most of the "sacred spaces" on campus, since he can't go on any consecrated ground at all. He's just a curious warlock with a perchance for spellcasting and a desire to build as many new spells as he can.
But he knows that the most talented warlocks knew the ins and outs of other religion, because mortals are shockingly good at finding magic. So here he is, doing his best to not notice his student, but he does notice his student. Stiles is-
-attractive, yes. Blazingly, innocently mortal.
But he goes to this party and he's talking to Prudence, who is here to be a judgmental bitch (and Satan, he loves her for it) when he spots Stiles, and Stiles-
Well.
But he isawkward.]
If you were stalking me, wouldn't you say you weren't?
[Prudence looks at Stiles, and she shakes her head. I'll see you later, Nicky, she says, before she wanders off to find a mortal boy to torment.]
( From Stiles. That Prudence is also very attractive but -- he now has rights to stick up for! His own, that is. )
... I don't - no, because, most stalkers, they're proud. They get arrested stalking. And if I were stalking you, whichI'mnot, I'd be more creative than the class I'm in with you, where everyone studies and a party I didn't know you'd be at. ( Smooth, Stilinski. ) You - ( He huffs a breath out. ) Do you watch me? In class?
( It's infuriating. He's always the one that has to connect the dots and point everything out. He's always right about human sacrifices, and virgins and Doctors and, shit, seriously. He's just always right. )
Like you and my stalking. ( Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. ) It doesn't annoy you, when our professor just -- gets it wrong. Or, the other students, if they'd just read or, or look up from their phones? I can't be the only one frustrated with this class.
[George does not do maps well. At home, people give directions by landmarks and cardinal directions. He'd really thought he had the campus figured out, but there are so many stone buildings and grand entrances that he can't always tell them apart.
He's got his schedule in one hand and a campus map in the other, and he is, for the moment, utterly oblivious to the group of girls to one side who are whispering over whether they should approach him. Instead, he looks up and sees Lucy.]
Sorry, 'scuse me? D'you know where Bagley Hall is?
[He'd left himself plenty of time to get to class, but his plenty of time is running out.]
She is minding her own business, which means that she's trying to study. Her family was very against her going to school in Wales, but here she is, with her polished English accent and her tiny nose, by herself, without anyone to stop her from doing anything. But it also means that when George speaks to her-
-she looks up at him.
When did they start sending young Greek Gods to Uni in Cardiff?
[George has seen the blushing response before. He tends not to think about it. Especially when he's feeling like a nob already. It's gratifying in a pretty girl, though. A pretty, posh girl.
He looks in the direction she points and sees a carved stone staircase that does look familiar. His face melts into a smile, and he lets out a relieved sigh as he turns back to her.]
Thanks! I went round to find it last night, but everything looks different during the day.
[He'd really trusted Simon to be smarter about things like this. He's from New York. New Yorkers just know things, right?]
[Within his first week at the Academy, Dorian had made an arrangement with Nick where Nick did his conjuring homework, and he did Nick's potions. It's not that they didn't pay attention in class, just that they knew where their strengths lay. It was a useful arrangement, and if they occasionally helped each other with exams too, well, that's the teachers' fault for not being better at their jobs.
Also, Nick is very pretty, and Dorian learned at a very young age not to discount the value of beauty.
So when Nick suggested attending a mortal university after graduating--and added that it would be amazing fun to torment mortals and that no one else will have done it--Dorian was willing to go along with it. He even let Nick dress him in mortal clothing on the logic that it wouldn't do them any good to stand out more than they already did.
For the most part, it's an interesting experience, and mortals are amazing fun to torment. Chemistry seems over complicated, and history is a nightmare, but he's enjoying his literature class, and he likes destroying his philosophy professor's arguments and watching him flounder.
It's the rest of university life that really appeals to him. Young mortals are almost alarmingly impressionable, and he's dating at least four of them. Maybe five, but he gets them mixed up sometimes.
Some of Nick's social activities are questionable, and he occasionally finds himself in situations like this, standing next to Nick in the parlor of a fraternity house, being handed a plastic cup with something unnervingly red inside.]
[He laughs a little. It's been a fantastic month, so far. Nick has enjoyed this, this mortal way of living, dorms, and mortal parties, and mortal girls. He thinks that even Dorian, who famously doesn't enjoy himself unless he's really enjoying himself, has been having a good time.]
Think of all the hearts you'll be able to break in one night, Dorian.
[He says it as he accepts a cup too, taking a drink.]
Oh, you're going to hate this.
[He has no clue what he's drinking but it tastes vile. Vile and strong.]
[As it happens, even mortals partake of illicit substances, and Dorian has even found one or two kindred-esque spirits among them. He has more admirers than friends, but he likes it that way.
He lifts his cup to sniff it and wrinkles his nose.]
How have they survived as long as they have putting this into their bodies?
[He knows that's rich coming from him, but he can afford to, and that's the only reason he dares a sip.]
[He laughs and takes another drink. Oh, it's terrible. It's terrible, and Nick is having a great time.]
But this'll do the trick. Plus we all know that the best part of this place is the latent homosexuality permeating the air. There are paddles on the wall.
[Dorian is having a less great time, but he does like to see Nick enjoying himself, so he's willing to see this through. Deciding quicker is better, he finishes the rest of his drink. It's not the most disgusting thing he's ever had in his mouth, but it's very close.]
Do you think they really use them? When all the doors close, is it just mortal boys chasing each other round with paddles?
[ She thought she saw him, two weeks into the semester. Another week later and one of her classmates in her English class talked about the pretentious name of some jerk in his Economics of Journalism class, and Lucy thought she might know exactly who it was.
So it's in the dining hall of her residential college that she finally spots him, in his gray beanie, trying to inhale a burger and read his class notes at the same time. It's the traditional first year pasttime at Yale; they both know it. She takes her plate and sits down next to him, waits a moment. He doesn't acknowledge her, so she reaches over and tugs his headphones down. ]
Forsythe Pendleton the third.
[She smiles a little.
The last time they saw each other, they were tiny, small. He was miserable, dirty-faced, the son of a drunk gang leader, the Serpent Prince of Riverdale, even though he didn't know it. Their fathers had known each other, been friends, before her father died in a turf war with a woman known as that ice bitch to anyone who wanted to keep their heads above water. The little princess of the Lions, before she and her siblings were shipped off after both their parents died.
It was better for them, somehow. An old English uncle took them in, gave them the kind of education they wouldn't have gotten in upstate New York. Peter went back, because Peter had been old enough to remember, Peter wanted what was his. The machinations of gangs and motorcycle clubs was always a strange thing, but Peter managed to get his gang back.
And Lucy?
She went to Yale.
She looks at him, at that beanie, and she leans her chin on her hand.]
[ Getting here had been a struggle to say the least, not just financially but emotionally. As much as he wanted to get out of that small town with all its ghosts, it wasn't as easy of a choice as one might think. Leaving everything behind, his dad, the Serpents, his friends from high school who didn't have the same academic opportunities as he did — it all took its toll and for a while there he almost decided against leaving. The internet exists, he can make this writing career work from anywhere as long as he had an internet connection. In the end FP had been adamant that he should go, making quite clear that staying wasn't an option.
So, Yale. Journalism major, with a minor in English lit. Navigating a school large enough to swallow up his whole home town several times over with all that entailed. New cliques to avoid, a whole different social language to decipher and then quickly discard, gaining new enemies and bullies and a quickly spread rumour of being difficult and brooding and a pain in the ass. Business as usual, even now.
Jughead decided quickly that this return to status quo was a good thing. He could slip back into old habits, spend his lunch hour studying and writing without anyone bothering him - until today. A shadow of annoyance passes over his face when she tugs his headphones down, a scathing remark dying on the tip of his tongue when she says his name - his full name and while there's a tone it's not malicious. For a moment he just stares at her, waiting for the puzzle pieces to fall into place in his mind. It's been ages. An entire lifetime. ]
Lucy? What are you doing here?
[ He may be intelligent but no one ever said he was smart. ]
[She laughs a little, her smile bright and brilliant as usual, like when she was small and she used to chase him around, for the few bright moments in her early childhood. She reaches over and steals a french fry from his plate.
Just like she used to, when they were small.]
Stealing your food.
[She takes a bite, and a grin.]
I thought I would sneak my way into one of the best universities in the world just to come and steal your lunch.
[ The theft is met with the usual look of are you fucking kidding me, an expression so easy and comfortable to slip into it's as if no time has passed at all. ]
I wouldn't put it past you.
[ The thought that she's actually here, in the flesh, is slowly starting to sink in, leaving room for the second revelation of the day: he might actually have a friend at this school. ]
I can't believe you got into Yale of all places. Last time I saw you, you could barely ride a bike.
[She says it with a laugh, and takes another fry - this is the point where she knows she's stretching his generosity, but she'll stop now, she promises. She nudges him, and she tips her head.]
Well, years have passed, you'll be pleased to know I mastered the bike.
[And other things.]
Same could be said about you. And of course I got into Yale. I have always been just as smart as you, Jones.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
▶ for nick
Maybe it's as simple as wanting to befriend other attractive guys around school, because when you're a hot, popular athlete, your friends and connections have to be hot too, or maybe something about the guy gets on his nerves-- Reggie doesn't know that, either. All he knows is the burning curiosity that ignites in him whenever he catches a glimpse of Nick again, a desire for... something, and Reggie isn't one to ignore his desires for long if he can help it. The problem is that they share no classes except for one, a crowded, boring lecture course, too big for him to even know Nick's name, but really, it doesn't make too big of a difference; somehow their paths keep crossing anyway.
Today Reggie's in the library, textbook open to a page he has probably read over three or four separate times already without processing a word, and when he looks up he notices Nick sitting at the table next to him. He takes some paper from his notebook and folds a few paper footballs, flicking them over in Nick's direction. ]
no subject
He's tall, and loud, and hot. And Nick is only, well. He's not exactly mortal, but he's definitely human. But Nick is also busy, trying to fit in, trying to learn twelve years of mortal math to pass his math class.
At least he can skate through Latin and Religious Studies. That's all easy enough. And English. Four classes, and of course math is the one that's stopped him up.
He's trying to puzzle out differential equations when he's hit by a piece of paper, and he looks up. He doesn't know how long he's been in the library, a place far more comfortable at the University than in the Academy. He looks up, and sees-
Oh.
He looks at the little piece of paper, and casually flicks it back. Hello.]
no subject
Not an unpleasant one, though.
Reggie smirks, tearing another strip of paper off his notebook and writing something on it before he folds it up this time, as if this is middle school back in the days when people still passed notes the old-fashioned way.
Except he doesn't know what to write, doesn't know what he wants to say, because this isn't how he thought this would go. He ends up scribbling:
did u take notes in class today cuz i didnt ]
no subject
He looks up at Reggie.]
I can tell you what you missed. At least the stuff that will be on the test.
no subject
[ And it doesn't help that the material is borderline incomprehensible to Reggie in the first place. All the same, he scoots his chair slightly to make room for Nick, taking a casual moment to look over and finally observe him up close.
A pretty boy and he's smart? When does that ever happen?
Reggie rubs his mouth and nods, though, looking back down at his textbook and flipping it closed. It's for a different class, one of his business courses, and so far it's felt similarly incomprehensible. Not that he doesn't have a decent head for business, but the textbook is dense and wordy enough to give anyone a headache. ]
Cool. But like, the cliff-notes version, right?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
▶ you hopefully know who, but if he is unavailable, surprise me!
If his dad had no one but the liquor bottle, he might decide the opposite.
Either way, he flies to New York and begins a four year whirlwind. He's smart and studious, but easily distracted. His fidgeting, tapping and constant stream of music, news footage and random Youtube videos annoys his roommate enough that he studies strictly in the library, and sometimes the caf when he's hungry. Rarely, he'll be outside. He's an inside guy.
He doesn't mean to fixate on his history TA, really he doesn't. It starts out because he thinks the guy is looking at him - like more than any TA should. But, he chalks it up to someone being behind him, or in front of him. He is not staring material. It's not long before he sees him everywhere. He doesn't mean to, it's just, the guy is everywhere. They have really similar schedules and apparently people also grade in the libraries, too.
It's someone's apartment party he's invited to, a friend of a friend, where he spots his TA in the kitchen holding a beer and a conversation with some girl he doesn't know. No freaking way. Four times is a coincidence, now he just feels lame and like he is following him. Saying polite hello's, he makes his way cautiously to the kitchen where one of the hottest guys he's ever seen is finishing up his conversation. He tries to be nonchalant, moving past him and grabbing a beer from the fridge. But, fuck if he's Stiles and he can't fucking help himself. So, he turns, letting the fridge close behind him. )
So - you know I'm not stalking you, right? I guess Nancy knows my roommate's brother or something and I am now here, too, because I can be social and take breaks. As can you. Obviously. So. Um. Yes. Hi.
He is unavailable have this dude instead
He's in his first year as a TA, with a graduate degree in divinity studies as an end goal. It's absurd, really, and so absolutely unnecessary. Nick has no desire to be the high priest of the Church of Night, and he can't even spend time in most of the "sacred spaces" on campus, since he can't go on any consecrated ground at all. He's just a curious warlock with a perchance for spellcasting and a desire to build as many new spells as he can.
But he knows that the most talented warlocks knew the ins and outs of other religion, because mortals are shockingly good at finding magic. So here he is, doing his best to not notice his student, but he does notice his student. Stiles is-
-attractive, yes. Blazingly, innocently mortal.
But he goes to this party and he's talking to Prudence, who is here to be a judgmental bitch (and Satan, he loves her for it) when he spots Stiles, and Stiles-
Well.
But he isawkward.]
If you were stalking me, wouldn't you say you weren't?
[Prudence looks at Stiles, and she shakes her head. I'll see you later, Nicky, she says, before she wanders off to find a mortal boy to torment.]
How did I know...
( From Stiles. That Prudence is also very attractive but -- he now has rights to stick up for! His own, that is. )
... I don't - no, because, most stalkers, they're proud. They get arrested stalking. And if I were stalking you, whichI'mnot, I'd be more creative than the class I'm in with you, where everyone studies and a party I didn't know you'd be at. ( Smooth, Stilinski. ) You - ( He huffs a breath out. ) Do you watch me? In class?
no subject
His smile is charming, and brilliant, and kind.]
Sometimes.
You make good faces when you think people are wrong.
no subject
( It's infuriating. He's always the one that has to connect the dots and point everything out. He's always right about human sacrifices, and virgins and Doctors and, shit, seriously. He's just always right. )
Like you and my stalking. ( Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. ) It doesn't annoy you, when our professor just -- gets it wrong. Or, the other students, if they'd just read or, or look up from their phones? I can't be the only one frustrated with this class.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
for Lucy (but don't think I'm not coming at you for Nick too)
He's got his schedule in one hand and a campus map in the other, and he is, for the moment, utterly oblivious to the group of girls to one side who are whispering over whether they should approach him. Instead, he looks up and sees Lucy.]
Sorry, 'scuse me? D'you know where Bagley Hall is?
[He'd left himself plenty of time to get to class, but his plenty of time is running out.]
I think I took a wrong turn at the library.
bless
She is minding her own business, which means that she's trying to study. Her family was very against her going to school in Wales, but here she is, with her polished English accent and her tiny nose, by herself, without anyone to stop her from doing anything. But it also means that when George speaks to her-
-she looks up at him.
When did they start sending young Greek Gods to Uni in Cardiff?
The blush is immediate.]
Ah-
It's-
[She points. And then clears her throat.]
English composition?
no subject
He looks in the direction she points and sees a carved stone staircase that does look familiar. His face melts into a smile, and he lets out a relieved sigh as he turns back to her.]
Thanks! I went round to find it last night, but everything looks different during the day.
[He'd really trusted Simon to be smarter about things like this. He's from New York. New Yorkers just know things, right?]
Aye. Are you in it as well?
no subject
Do you know anyone else in the class? I can go with you, if you like.
[She presses her hands together a little, and the flush is still there but it's not getting worse, at least not right now.]
I'm Lucy.
no subject
Might as well if we're both headed the same way.
[He grins as he offers his hand.]
George.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
for Nick (lmk if this works)
Also, Nick is very pretty, and Dorian learned at a very young age not to discount the value of beauty.
So when Nick suggested attending a mortal university after graduating--and added that it would be amazing fun to torment mortals and that no one else will have done it--Dorian was willing to go along with it. He even let Nick dress him in mortal clothing on the logic that it wouldn't do them any good to stand out more than they already did.
For the most part, it's an interesting experience, and mortals are amazing fun to torment. Chemistry seems over complicated, and history is a nightmare, but he's enjoying his literature class, and he likes destroying his philosophy professor's arguments and watching him flounder.
It's the rest of university life that really appeals to him. Young mortals are almost alarmingly impressionable, and he's dating at least four of them. Maybe five, but he gets them mixed up sometimes.
Some of Nick's social activities are questionable, and he occasionally finds himself in situations like this, standing next to Nick in the parlor of a fraternity house, being handed a plastic cup with something unnervingly red inside.]
This might be a step too far, Nicky.
this is beautiful
Think of all the hearts you'll be able to break in one night, Dorian.
[He says it as he accepts a cup too, taking a drink.]
Oh, you're going to hate this.
[He has no clue what he's drinking but it tastes vile. Vile and strong.]
no subject
He lifts his cup to sniff it and wrinkles his nose.]
How have they survived as long as they have putting this into their bodies?
[He knows that's rich coming from him, but he can afford to, and that's the only reason he dares a sip.]
Dear Satan, is it actual poison?
no subject
[He laughs and takes another drink. Oh, it's terrible. It's terrible, and Nick is having a great time.]
But this'll do the trick. Plus we all know that the best part of this place is the latent homosexuality permeating the air. There are paddles on the wall.
no subject
Do you think they really use them? When all the doors close, is it just mortal boys chasing each other round with paddles?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
So it's in the dining hall of her residential college that she finally spots him, in his gray beanie, trying to inhale a burger and read his class notes at the same time. It's the traditional first year pasttime at Yale; they both know it. She takes her plate and sits down next to him, waits a moment. He doesn't acknowledge her, so she reaches over and tugs his headphones down. ]
Forsythe Pendleton the third.
[She smiles a little.
The last time they saw each other, they were tiny, small. He was miserable, dirty-faced, the son of a drunk gang leader, the Serpent Prince of Riverdale, even though he didn't know it. Their fathers had known each other, been friends, before her father died in a turf war with a woman known as that ice bitch to anyone who wanted to keep their heads above water. The little princess of the Lions, before she and her siblings were shipped off after both their parents died.
It was better for them, somehow. An old English uncle took them in, gave them the kind of education they wouldn't have gotten in upstate New York. Peter went back, because Peter had been old enough to remember, Peter wanted what was his. The machinations of gangs and motorcycle clubs was always a strange thing, but Peter managed to get his gang back.
And Lucy?
She went to Yale.
She looks at him, at that beanie, and she leans her chin on her hand.]
I never thought I would ever see you again.
no subject
So, Yale. Journalism major, with a minor in English lit. Navigating a school large enough to swallow up his whole home town several times over with all that entailed. New cliques to avoid, a whole different social language to decipher and then quickly discard, gaining new enemies and bullies and a quickly spread rumour of being difficult and brooding and a pain in the ass. Business as usual, even now.
Jughead decided quickly that this return to status quo was a good thing. He could slip back into old habits, spend his lunch hour studying and writing without anyone bothering him - until today. A shadow of annoyance passes over his face when she tugs his headphones down, a scathing remark dying on the tip of his tongue when she says his name - his full name and while there's a tone it's not malicious. For a moment he just stares at her, waiting for the puzzle pieces to fall into place in his mind. It's been ages. An entire lifetime. ]
Lucy? What are you doing here?
[ He may be intelligent but no one ever said he was smart. ]
no subject
Just like she used to, when they were small.]
Stealing your food.
[She takes a bite, and a grin.]
I thought I would sneak my way into one of the best universities in the world just to come and steal your lunch.
[Why, yes, Jughead, that is a dumb question.]
no subject
I wouldn't put it past you.
[ The thought that she's actually here, in the flesh, is slowly starting to sink in, leaving room for the second revelation of the day: he might actually have a friend at this school. ]
I can't believe you got into Yale of all places. Last time I saw you, you could barely ride a bike.
no subject
[She says it with a laugh, and takes another fry - this is the point where she knows she's stretching his generosity, but she'll stop now, she promises. She nudges him, and she tips her head.]
Well, years have passed, you'll be pleased to know I mastered the bike.
[And other things.]
Same could be said about you. And of course I got into Yale. I have always been just as smart as you, Jones.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
til about osage oranges what the fuck
they are so weird
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
it's 9 am and I'm looking up US financial aid, help
I could make it more complicated but I'm gonna let you live
how does anyone survive over there
badly
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...