- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- Multiple posts per day
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- Multiple posts per week
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- I'm usually on at points through out the day. Some days I'm not due to various reasons, but I try to give my partners warning if I'm going to be away for more than a day or two
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Primarily Nonbinary
- Genres
- Slice of life, high fantasy, modern fantasy, urban fantasy ...anything fantasy really. Dark comedy, supernatural, psychological - anything with dark overtones and miserable, dysfunctional characters. Love me some Hurt/Comfort.
"Caleb, can I see you for a minute?"
Caleb stiffened where he was shoving books into his messenger bag when the teacher called to him. He only had five minutes to get down three floors and to the opposite side of the school if he wanted to get to his next class on time, but… He sighed and shouldered his bag before striding over to the teacher's desk. "Yes, Professor Skylar?"
His redheaded Illusion professor sighed. "Look Cross, I'm going to be straight with you. You're failing my class."
The necromancer paled. "Excuse me?" he choked out. He gripped the edge of her desk as his legs threatened to give out on him. He couldn't be failing a class – that was unacceptable. His parents would be furious with him.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You heard me." She gave him a sympathetic look at the look of sheer horror on his face. "Caleb, I know you're a good student; you're getting A's in all your other classes, it's just Illusions you seem to be struggling with. Not surprising, given your family talent is Necromancy, but… Anyway, the point is, we can fix this." She said gently, noticing that his distress only seemed to be building. She opened a folder on her desk and pulled off a post-it note with a name written on it and handed it to him. "That's the name of one of the best Illusionists at this school. Ask him to tutor you. You do that, I guarantee you, you'll pass."
Caleb took a deep breath and looked down at the small piece of paper. Seeing the name scrawled across it, the hope that had been blooming in his chest at the professor's words, shattered into a million pieces.
Alexsandrei Whitaker
Fuck.
"Uh, Professor, not that I'm not grateful but…"
She raised an eyebrow. "But…?" she drawled, a hint of danger in her voice.
Caleb faltered. "Isn't there someone else?" Anyone else. Anyone would do, just as long as it wasn't Whitaker. "I don't think he and I…well, we won't get along."
"I'm not telling you to get along with him, I'm telling you to ask him to tutor you. You want to pass my class Cross? That's how."
The Necromancer ducked his head, gritting his teeth. "Yes ma'am." Turning on his heal, he strode out of her classroom, crumpled note in his fist.
Fuck. He was so screwed. He wanted to scream. He wanted a drink.
*~*~*
Finding Alexsandrei Whitaker wasn't exactly difficult if you knew where to look or knew who to ask. Caleb knew where to look – not that he'd ever admit it, not even on pain of death. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. He'd heard stories of Alexsandrei – and he'd seen him in passing at parties – but they'd never interacted.
But between Alexsandrei Whitaker and failing, he'd take Whitaker.
Goddammit, he dealt with dead people on a regular basis; why was this so difficult?
Taking a breath, he squared his shoulders and walked over, ignoring the way people stared at him. "Alexsandrei, right?" he asked, trying to ignore the blush he could feel creeping up his neck. "Professor Skyler told me to see you. She, uh, she said you could help tutor me?" His mouth felt dry and he absently licked his lips, staring intently at his shoes.
Caleb stiffened where he was shoving books into his messenger bag when the teacher called to him. He only had five minutes to get down three floors and to the opposite side of the school if he wanted to get to his next class on time, but… He sighed and shouldered his bag before striding over to the teacher's desk. "Yes, Professor Skylar?"
His redheaded Illusion professor sighed. "Look Cross, I'm going to be straight with you. You're failing my class."
The necromancer paled. "Excuse me?" he choked out. He gripped the edge of her desk as his legs threatened to give out on him. He couldn't be failing a class – that was unacceptable. His parents would be furious with him.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You heard me." She gave him a sympathetic look at the look of sheer horror on his face. "Caleb, I know you're a good student; you're getting A's in all your other classes, it's just Illusions you seem to be struggling with. Not surprising, given your family talent is Necromancy, but… Anyway, the point is, we can fix this." She said gently, noticing that his distress only seemed to be building. She opened a folder on her desk and pulled off a post-it note with a name written on it and handed it to him. "That's the name of one of the best Illusionists at this school. Ask him to tutor you. You do that, I guarantee you, you'll pass."
Caleb took a deep breath and looked down at the small piece of paper. Seeing the name scrawled across it, the hope that had been blooming in his chest at the professor's words, shattered into a million pieces.
Alexsandrei Whitaker
Fuck.
"Uh, Professor, not that I'm not grateful but…"
She raised an eyebrow. "But…?" she drawled, a hint of danger in her voice.
Caleb faltered. "Isn't there someone else?" Anyone else. Anyone would do, just as long as it wasn't Whitaker. "I don't think he and I…well, we won't get along."
"I'm not telling you to get along with him, I'm telling you to ask him to tutor you. You want to pass my class Cross? That's how."
The Necromancer ducked his head, gritting his teeth. "Yes ma'am." Turning on his heal, he strode out of her classroom, crumpled note in his fist.
Fuck. He was so screwed. He wanted to scream. He wanted a drink.
*~*~*
Finding Alexsandrei Whitaker wasn't exactly difficult if you knew where to look or knew who to ask. Caleb knew where to look – not that he'd ever admit it, not even on pain of death. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. He'd heard stories of Alexsandrei – and he'd seen him in passing at parties – but they'd never interacted.
But between Alexsandrei Whitaker and failing, he'd take Whitaker.
Goddammit, he dealt with dead people on a regular basis; why was this so difficult?
Taking a breath, he squared his shoulders and walked over, ignoring the way people stared at him. "Alexsandrei, right?" he asked, trying to ignore the blush he could feel creeping up his neck. "Professor Skyler told me to see you. She, uh, she said you could help tutor me?" His mouth felt dry and he absently licked his lips, staring intently at his shoes.