Harringrove and Max meet “Addams Family Values” bacause frankly - that’s the dynamic they deserved.

Hii! Yeah don't worry about it! Live your life, the internet people can wait, I know I appreciate you taking the time to reply, no matter how long it takes! 👍✨

Oh cool! France and LA that must've been fun, have always wanted to go to those places. Will get around to it eventually. I've lived in Brazil, Canada, and now Portugal, but I've also visited Orlando (Disneyland) and Miami in the US. Hoping I can go to Spain next year to visit my best friend too.

What did you say that got people making fun of you? haha Which fic did you insert that in? The only reason I cheat while playing games is bc I get bored easily so I have to add a little bit of spice hahaha and my morals are questionable I guess. 🤷‍♀️ My mbti is the architect (INTJ-T) so I guess that explains things a bit (?). Do you know your mbti? Omg your poor roommate hahaha I mean that's the best kind of winner to be, humble winners are boring as hell lol

Aren't you glad you had those drunken experiences when you were younger instead of now tho? I can't promise I'll never do stuff like that again but I'm fine with it being behind me for now hahaha. Omg you're totally right on the accent thing, hadn't thought about it that way!

What!! You should watch Stranger Things with her! It's sooo good, it's a guaranteed fun time for you two. My favourite episodes of thobm are 4 and 6 too, I like epi 9 only up until Dani's bathtub incident.

I like doing accents too but only to myself bc I'm too self-conscious haha Although I pick up accents really easily it's kinda embarrassing, sometimes people think I'm mocking them. Do people get offended when you try to do their accents? 😂 I got a scholarship at a british english school in my home country when I was a kid so I had an RP accent growing up but ended up with a generic American accent after watching too many American movies and TV shows. Sometimes it comes out generic Canadian too haha. Nordern English accent became my favourite tho after watching Billy Elliott when I was a teen!

Awwh gee thanks! I'm happy you liked my damie fan art! Didn't know you already started writing for medieval AU, makes sense people already thought to send you prompts for it, it's a really cool universe! Looking forward to updates on all your WIPS, love them all! Take your time if you need tho!

Sounds like a really fun weekend! Yeah I know what you mean, don't worry we won't tell them you have a favourite haha. Congrats on coming second on that game of crazy golf! 🎉 and thank you, I will!

Awwh thank you for understanding!! I'll always reply to people's comments eventually it just takes longer sometimes, but I will always get around to it eventually!! France was fun I went to Disney Land Paris and shared a hotel room with my roommate (yes she was on the trip too because she was in another photography class... we have been friends for so long now) it was honestly a lot of fun and I went to LA to visit my ex-girlfriend while we were still together it was a long distance relationship and I went out to LA and my roommate was invited too so we had a trip out there and had a great time I would 100% go back to LA some time!! So jealous that you've lived in Canada that's one place I really wanna go I would love to live there it looks like such a beautiful country!! I would love to go to Orlando and Miami... I wanna see all 50 states eventually if I can... so far I've seen one so only 49 to go haha!! Awwh I really hope you can get out to Spain to see your best friend!! Which is your favourite place you have visited so far? Okay so... the thing I said is in Can't Buy Me Love and it's a bit of a long story so I'll shorten it down here, but basically a group of us were talking about myths and things and I mentioned the myth of being able to see the Great Wall of china from the moon (you can't) and to add to the myth as a buster I genuinely said "Well that's the thing, people say you can see the Great Wall of China from the moon... but can you see the moon from the Great Wall of China?" and it took a good five minutes of people telling me you could see it from my house and just about anywhere else to realise that, if the moon is out, and it's a clear night, and you're y'know facing the moon... you can pretty much see it anywhere... but that's what people still mock me about... that I asked if you can see the moon from the Great Wall of China... so I put that in CBML and had it as a story Dani tells Jamie. Haha I love your reason for cheating and think it's as good as a reason as any haha!! I do know my mbti... mine is the campaigner...EFNP-T... I don't know what these mean either I read it a while ago but forgot what it meant I just know what I am haha... oh yeah she's had a lot to put up with so she just won't play games with me anymore... oh yeah I agree humble winners are okay but I do like a good bit of bragging when you win a game I am glad yeah... although the road sign incident was only... 3 years ago haha like I would like to say I was a lot younger then but I wasn't haha the black out incident I was though... I can't drink much anymore though because of medication I'm on (life long medication) so I can have maybe one or two drinks and that's it so I can't do things like that again which is probably a good thing really!! Haha best way to be don't make promises like that because that is a sure fire way to definitely do it again the second you make that promise the opportunity to do it again will show itself haha!! Yeah Jamie just has no accent to me like she just talks like most people I know it's only when I saw people talking about it that I realised to some people the Northern accent is exactly that... an accent haha I LOVE episode 9 for me 4,6, and 8 are a joint favourite like I can't pick between them and then it's episode 9 because I do love it and I love seeing them be that happy for the first part of the episode but then it just gets so sad and I can't take it!! I do accents all the time around anyone even though I am terrible at them haha... nah people don't ever get offended they just sort of smile and shake their heads at me... some people have asked me to do their accent before but I mean, I am sure eventually someone will be offended there's a first time for everything... I just have an accent that's really similar to Jamie's it's not the exact same but it's very close I love that you've had so many accents for so many reasons... omg yeah the accent on Billy Elliot is my favourite accent ever, it is a northern accent but it's from a city called New Castle which is SO different to some

other northern accents... it's the Geordie accent and it's just beautiful I could honestly listen to people from New Castle talk for hours- people from South Shields also sound like that (SS is really close to New Castle) I can see why that accent is your favourite I wish I talked like that I loved that fan art I thought it was amazing!! Yeah I haven't written much of it but I have some of it written and when I say some I mean I have like 4 different scenes written from different points of the fic and each scene is only like 1k words so far!! It's such a cool universe and I am so happy people have sent me prompts for it!! Awwh thank you so much I'm glad you're looking forward to the updates of my WIPs that really means a lot to me!! I've had a great weekend but I am so tired now totally and utterly done after the weekend I've had haha... I wouldn't say I have favourites I have just spent more time with one niece than the other because since she was really young I've looked after her while her parents have been at work and I've had breaks from work / college / university so I have spent so much time with her and she's turning into a little mini me with some stuff she does but I love all my nieces and nephews the same (and I have so many nieces and nephews haha) Awwh thank you!! I appreciate that, still feeling really proud of my second place in crazy golf haha!! and you're welcome!! ☺️

113. a cartoonist’s nightmare (1935)

release date: september 14th, 1935

series: looney tunes

director: jack king

starring: billy bletcher (beast, villains, pianist), tommy bond (beans)

so beans doesn’t actually have a voice credit—it seems he’s unknown for this cartoon. to me he sounds like tommy bond (who would provide his voice), but i’m no expert. regardless! beans’ first solo cartoon!

this is an interesting case to note. beans (and of course porky) would be the first star to debut in a merrie melodies cartoon as opposed to a looney tunes cartoon. there was a rule that merrie melodies couldn’t feature reoccurring characters—i hesitate to say that with confidence, since peter rabbit was used in country boy and my green fedora, and a buddy facsimile was used in mr. and mrs. is the name, but generally characters weren’t reused, much less brought over into other divisions (bosko was never in any merrie melodies, buddy wasn’t 100% established to be in a merrie melodies). so, beans is the first to be brought over! tex avery would also break the rule with daffy duck in egghead in 1938, bringing daffy over from looney tunes to merrie melodies and also reusing egghead from egghead rides again.

in terms of synopsis: a cartoonist is dutifully working on a beans cartoon, but falls asleep. the villain in his project comes to life and kidnaps the cartoonist, and it’s up to beans to save the day.

a precursor to termite terrace? animators bustle to and fro in a cartoon studio that looks like it was spawned from a love affair between dr. seuss and tim burton. a highly prestigious studio, as indicated by the sign out front: animated cartoon studio. a rather bored, anthropomorphic whistle (jack king’s disney roots seep into its design, animated by bob mckimson) nonchalantly checks it’s stopwatch and gives a tired bellow to indicate the day’s end.

the distance shot of the studio is impressive as all of the animators leave, lights switching off and even an animator jumping off the roof and traveling via umbrella. various workers bids the elderly groundskeeper goodnight as he locks up for the night.

a lone cartoonist diligently pumps out more work, adding to a towering stack of frames. the groundskeeper pokes his head in, asking “ya gonna work all night, son?” the cartoonist shrugs. “i gotta finish tonight.” with a bid of good luck, the groundskeeper leaves the animator to his work.

we then spot the fruits of his labor as a close up of the animator’s work is shown. he’s working on a beans cartoon, drawing a ferocious monster and painting him in. the monster comes to life and gives a terrorizing grunt, cornering a terrified beans. a fun choice to make the animator analyze his work, chuck jones providing the animation of the animator commentating “well, beans, i guess i’ll have to save ya from the villain again!” he sticks his hand into frame and pulls the monster off of beans. furious, the beast turns his attention to the animator instead. the animator uses this as an opportunity to paint some protective iron bars in front of beans, essentially jailing him. delighted, beans teases the beast by blowing a party streamer in his face.

eventually, the animator tires himself out and falls asleep. time marches on, and his drawings remain sentient. trouble arises as the villain reaches out of the frame and drags the animator inside, jack king providing one of his great perspective shots (above). i’ve come to really appreciate how he plays around with different perspectives and closeups, it brings a lot of liveliness and interest. obviously, the animator is wide awake by now, struggling as the villain takes him away. beans speaks his first lines (that isn’t limited to billy bletcher going NYEEEH in i haven’t got a hat)— “hey! let go of him!”

the beast drags the poor animator through the dungeons of the animated world—not far off from some working conditions at certain studios. as the beast drags his victim down a set of rickety stairs, a loose piece of board flies up and clobbers the villain on the head. the beast, assuming it was the work of the cartoonist, punches the sheepish animator in the face.

past the gag department, story department, and music department they go, each department barred behind an intimidating iron door. there’s some sort of weird lawn mower weapon—like a barbed mower. essentially, a painful prop. the animator accidentally prompts the handle to thwack the beast in the head, who gives him another pounding.

finally, the beast arrives at his destination: the cartoon villains chamber. sound effects are jarring and unfitting (yet almost humorously so) as a laser sound effect accompanies the monster punching the cartoonist, sending him flying. he bumps into a portrait of a kangaroo labeled “battling barney”. barney’s joey leaps out of its pouch and sends the cartoonist hurtling once more towards the main villain.

one by one the animator receives a plethora of beatings, from the beast to the octopus from mr. and mrs. is the name. thus sparks a musical segment from the villains, the villains lamenting about how they’ve been mistreated and now the cartoon will finally get his, the song a parody of “the teddy bear’s picnic”. i find it interesting that jack king included musical numbers in his cartoons. from the beginning, those working on the merrie melodies complained about how a nice story would be rolling along and then an arbitrary song would disrupt momentum. it seems as though king had the opposite gripe—he wanted to insert more music into his cartoons. an interesting choice. the lyrics are amusing and dark, the chorus going “the tables are turned and now you are in our clutches!” bletcher also reprises his role as the mad pianist from buddy the detective.

the villains reveal their motive: they want to force the animator down a bottomless pit, making him draw his demise. the poor cartoonist has no choice but to obey. he hesitantly draws a giant circle on the ground, preparing for his demise.

elsewhere, beans is still behind bars, sulking. someone dressed in a woman’s disguise sneaks beans a loaf of bread (the scene animated by bob clampett), much to beans’ delight as he exclaims “food!” he takes a big bite out of the bread, but recoils. inside the bread is a handsaw, perfect to cut the bars with. beans saws his way through the metal as we cut back to the kidnapped animator, peering into a bottomless pit.

after some stalling, the animator is thrown down the pit. it seems there IS a bottom, inhabited by a hungry alligator. narrowly does the cartoonist escape being eaten, a branch catching him by the pants. regardless, the cartoonist momentarily dives into the alligator’s mouth, the gator’s dentures dangling off his head. paul smith animates a closeup of the toothless and tearful alligator. not to fear—the cartoonist returns the alligator’s dentures, who thanks him with a snap of the jaws.

beans manages to saw his way out and make his escape. he runs ACROSS the stairs, floating on air instead of descending—a cartoon staple. sliding down a giant pole, beans skids along the ground and knocks into a barrel, the metal rings constricting around beans. a crash to the wall sends the rings flying back into their respective place on the barrel.

curious, beans pokes his head in to watch the torture. all of the villains are gathered around the pit, having a hearty laugh. concocting a plan, beans places two boots at the doorway of the chamber. don williams animates the two boots who come to life, matching forward towards the hairy beast and giving him a swift kick in the ass.

undoubtedly, the villain takes notice and spots beans teasing the villains at the door. beans dashes away and a chase breaks out as the villains follow. they all pass by the barrel from before... which is inhabited by a proud beans. the coast clear, beans darts back into the chamber and analyzes the pit, scratching his head as he thinks of a way to help the cartoonist. the cartoonist cries for help, the hungry jaws of the alligator nearing him as he perches on the branch that saved him.

with some quick thinking, beans yells “hey, catch this pencil!”, tossing down the pencil the cartoonist used in his suicide mission. the cartoonist catches it, beaming as he acknowledges his power. he draws an extendable ladder, turning the crank and scaling to safety.

never a peaceful moment in the cartooning business as the main beast pokes his head inside the chamber, growling at beans. they have a mini chase sequence as the animator scales to safety. the beast momentarily loses beans, who notices the animator and shushes him. an abrupt jump cut to beans holding a grease gun, lubricating the floor. he whistles to summon the attention of the villains, and his plan unfolds swimmingly. all of the villains slide straight into the bottomless pit. the cartoonist gives the hairy beast an extra punch for good luck, the beast struggling to stay on the ground. once all of the nuisances are in the pit, the animator enlists in the help of an eraser and erases the pit in the floor. beans and the cartoonist slap and shake hands together, beaming at their teamwork.

bob mckimson animates the scene of the elderly watchman shaking the animator awake as we fade back to the present. the cartoonist ogles at the audience, exclaiming “wotta dream!” a very literal title to the cartoon. he resumes his work, back to where he left off: the beast terrorizing beans, who’s cowering behind bars. in the style of bosko, the talk-ink kid, the cartoonist sucks the beast back into his pen, as well as the iron bars.

but his work isn’t done yet. as a reward, he sketches out a heaping plate of jello that has beans’ name written all over it. he calls “come and get it!” beans doesn’t have to be told twice—he gorges himself gleefully, eventually disregarding the spoon and licking it straight from the source. iris out.

this was a very creative and fun cartoon! a good choice for beans’ first solo act. it felt like a mashup of bosko, the talk-ink kid and duck amuck. i like beans—probably just the relief at the newness of a character and knowing things are starting to gain traction, but he’s cute. not as bland as buddy, but still maybe not as dimensional as bosko. the animation was intriguing and fun in the cartoon, and the underscore of the teddy bear’s picnic was an odd yet amusing choice. i certainly think this is king’s best entry yet. i haven’t seen all of king’s cartoons, but out of the ones i have, this is my favorite. a fun premise and lots of personality. the story doesn’t feel too dragged out or redundant, a nice balance between the cartoonist, the villains, and beans. jack king and tex avery would split the difference making the beans cartoons: jack king 7, tex 2, and friz freleng 2 (i haven’t got a hat and his cameo in country mouse). overall, a fun, high energy cartoon that’s worth a watch. though it doesn’t have many gags, the story and premise are interesting enough, as is the historical significance of it being beans’ first solo debut.

link!

it’s quarantine, i’ve done zero quals work in the past week--so i’m posting the only thing that’s consistently gotten words from me in these troubled not-times: a hannibal wereverse kidfic

The cafeteria is chaos at lunch. 

Usually Will avoids the cafeteria, preferring to retreat into the library for the hour. But his English teacher caught him headed upstream against the wave of children jockeying toward recess and corralled him in the “right” direction, even going so far as to make sure he got in line for a free lunch. Now, balancing a plastic tray with his tattered copy of Child of God, a bologna sandwich, and a fruit cup, he weaves among tables, looking for a semi-isolated place to sit. The fluorescent lights buzz at a pitch that hurts his ears. The smells of sweat, musk, and processed food make the fur on his arms prickle. And the people—humans, wolves—press too close, their loud voices splitting his head like a hundred drill bits. 

Surrounded by so many others, Will Graham feels…adrift.

He could probably sneak out. Ms. Mitchell will have gone back to her office. Or if he ran into another teacher, he could say he was going to the bathroom, hole up in an empty stall until next period. Boring, but not the worst. 

(His mind shutters against The Worst.)

The thing that keeps him here is food. Most days he ignores the pinch in his belly as a matter of fact: Dad can’t afford more than bare staples, and Will can’t bring raw chicken or canned beans to school. He’s not too proud to accept a free meal, but the meagre offering has never seemed worth the stares. Except, as he settles down at a table in the far corner, he thinks he might suffer the headache once in a while, if he gets a sandwich for his pains. 

He’s finished the last scrap of bologna and is picking at the plastic seal on the fruit cup with clumsy, clawed fingers when the kid sits next to him. 

Will glances over, frowning. The table he chose has two bitten weres opposite him—sisters, one of them nonverbal, neither of them with enough social weight or investment in the situation to chase him away. This kid smells human. He has no reason to sit with them; the humans have their own table for social outcasts. 

The kid catches his gaze and offers a smile. “I’m Jim,” he says, friendly. 

Will grunts. 

Jim seems undeterred. “You like McCarthy? I read Blood Meridian, it was real good.”

Will stubbornly continues to poke at the fruit cup, manages to puncture the seal so that he can lap at the thin syrup that pools from the ragged hole. Jim hesitates but poses another comment about his taste in books. Like paws slapped against the ground, an invitation to play. Will pins his ears in annoyance, mouth tight at the corners. It’s enough to make the sisters uneasy, shuffling closer together, but Jim doesn’t pick up on the cue.

“I get that you’re the new kid,” Will interrupts, when he can’t take it anymore, “but are you stupid, too?”

He darts a look at the kid’s face. Jim gapes, shoulders curling inward. He’s got the same naked lankiness of his non-wolf peers, but the first word that comes to Will’s mind is pretty: girlish fine features and huge dark eyes with long lashes. Will shakes the thought loose. His brain does the mental math to fill in the other necessary details—first day in the local high school, recent move from the suburbs, human but immune to the bite. 

Will scoffs. “Oh. Figured you’d start with low stakes, since I’m not a threat to you.” 

A blush patches over Jim’s pale, freckled face. “You—what you said in class. About the Shakespeare. That was clever.”

It takes a second for Will to recall. He rarely participates in classes, but he’d been so frustrated at Ms. Mitchell for not understanding Iago. Her unsubtle questions posed to the room got moralizing answers, banal platitudes that no one actually thinks, and Will’s hand had shot up of its own accord. 

“That was nothing,” Will says. One furred ear flicks in irritation. 

“I read Othello last year, back—back before we came here, and no one in class had anything interesting to say about it.”

“Including you.”

Jim’s flush deepens. “I like Hamlet better,” he mumbles.

Will makes a dismissive noise in response. He finally manages to scrape back enough plastic to snap up pieces of canned fruit; the sweetness is almost too much, but hunger demands its due, and so long as he’s lapping chunks of pear and pineapple he doesn’t have to make eye contact. 

Jim stops trying for a conversation, but he doesn’t move to another table.

As soon as the bell rings, Will grabs his book and darts for his next period.

***

He assumes that will be the extent of their interactions. Most kids at the various schools he’s attended categorize him as an outsider, and the few that don’t quickly learn not to bother with him. That’s all he wants, really, is for them to leave him alone. Often the fact that he’s a bitten is enough—the prejudice against bitten youths as unstable frames his moody distance as more dangerous than normal teenage angst and less explicable than psychological problems. Humans and purebloods alike keep their distance from bitten weres. But there are other things about him that discourage anyone from getting close. 

Jim does not seem to recognize these things.

As it happens, they share a similar schedule. Jim tries to catch him after biology, and again when school lets out. Both times Will pretends he can’t hear his name being spoken over the din of students—a transparent lie, given his wolfish ears—and slips into the crowd. 

The kid’s persistence bothers him. It doesn’t feel malicious: Will has endured his share of bullying, he can scent the nervous tics and dark amusement under a friendly gesture. But he can’t puzzle out the underlying motive. Any human trying to form a social connection should attempt to insert themselves at the upper echelons and work their way down until they find a niche that’ll accept them, not start at the bottom. 

Maybe Jim just doesn’t understand that. Maybe Will has found someone worse at interactions than him. 

He ponders a possible social malfunction on the walk home. It doesn’t fit quite right in his head, but it’s an explanation. 

The trailer is dark when he lets himself in—Dad must still be working. Will tells himself this even though, when he flicks on the lights, he sees his dad’s discarded work shirt and steel toed boots, feels the resentment simmering in the humid air. He glances at the clock. Late afternoon. He’s hungry, but it’s too early for dinner—he’ll just wake up in the middle of the night with stomach pangs. Might as well waste an hour on homework while he’s got the quiet. 

He finishes his English essay sprawled out on the sagging mattress: the position is awkward but allows for his tail and shifting hips. When he’s done making a clean copy, he spends a minute examining his tail, which is losing some of its puppy thinness and starting to fill out nicely. Then he stretches and sets about scrounging for dinner. 

There’s nothing in the fridge besides a rind of sour-smelling cheese. Will eats it while he digs around the pantry. Some canned goods, a jar of peanut butter. He considers. Dad won’t like it if he finishes their groceries, and he hasn’t given Will permission (or cash) to go to the store. 

No one else is home. 

Just behind the trailer park is a stretch of trees and bracken. Will gets over the fence separating the two spaces with relative ease, his bare feet giving him needed traction. He’s come out here before, when he wanted to be alone, finish reading a book. 

But solitude isn’t the plan.

He drops to all fours, weaving in a zigzag pattern while he sniffs at the grass. It’s not close enough to full moon for this position to be entirely comfortable, but the twinge in his hips and shoulders eases as he pads along. His feet and hands are rough with developing paw pads; his nose flares and twitches with the influx of smells. It’s hard to pick up a trail—there’s so many things alive and moving out here, he keeps getting distracted—but eventually his brain snags on warm blood, little creature and he’s on his way. 

His hunger almost disrupts the hunt. At one point he moves too fast, makes a racket pushing through some undergrowth. But finally he sneaks up on his prey: a good-sized, unsuspecting squirrel. 

Tense, leap, bite. Will’s heart surges as he cracks down through the squirrel’s spine, his mouth filling with a rush of blood. Yes, good, hunt, food. Once the critter stops its death throes, he settles down to enjoy his meal. 

It’s gone too soon. He nibbles on the scraps of fur, licks the blood from between his fingers and around his mouth. He’ll have to splash about in the nearby creek to be sure he’s clean, but there’s no sense in wasting any part of a kill. 

When he gets back, it’s dark outside and he’s tired and damp, if better sated. Dad remains absent, so Will takes a shower and does his math homework. Geometry proofs are soothing, mindless. When he feels suitably numb, he crawls into bed and huddles under a blanket. The weather is too warm for covers, but he needs something to try and block out the sound of his dad’s return.

Will has always been a troubled sleeper.

Sure enough, sometime in the night he wakes to the sound of the front door slamming shut. Dad curses mildly as he stumbles through the trailer, the smell of liquor in his wake. Something else, too—other wolves, other people, a tangle of scents that makes Will wrinkle his nose, burrow deeper under the blanket. 

“Billy?” his dad rasps.

Will goes very still. Tries to keep his breathing even.

Maybe Dad knows he’s faking, but he doesn’t call Will’s bluff. Instead he sighs, shucks off his shoes and pants, and climbs into bed.

***

The moon waxes and wanes. School continues to be both a distraction from home and a throbbing headache behind Will’s eyes. He stays out of the cafeteria, lurking in the library with his worn paperbacks. The librarian catches him squinting at a page and sends him to the nurse, who tells him he needs glasses. Will steals a pair from the local drugstore. They slip down his lengthening muzzle, and he’s constantly pushing them back into place, but it helps with the migraines. 

He doesn’t see Jim outside of classes. He thinks maybe Jim has moved on.

He is wrong.

The envelope taped to the outside of his locker stands out like a splotch of blood against the dull beige. Immediately Will is on alert. He thought he’d handled the bullies in his first weeks here; now he wonders whether they were just waiting for him to lower his guard. The hall is mostly empty at this hour—it’s a good twenty minutes before the first bell—but he scents the air, edges close enough to snatch the envelope and rip it open.

Inside is a generic card. It takes Will a long moment to process what the painstakingly neat handwriting says.

Will you go to Spring Dance with me?

There’s a signature and a phone number, but Will can’t make any meaning out of them. His vision has whited out with rage. He’s shaking, the soft scrim of fuzz on his hands bristling. A growl starts deep in his chest, an engine kicking to life. 

Whoever did this, they’d want to watch.

His gaze flicks around the hall, lands on a familiar, pretty face.

“What kind of sick joke is this?” he snarls.

Jim flinches. The reflexive part of Will’s brain catalogues that he’s put in the effort to make his appearance nice, wearing new jeans and an ironed button down with the sleeves rolled into crisp cuffs at his elbows. “It—it’s not a joke,” he stammers. Split second of hesitation, then he crosses the hall, getting closer while maintaining a careful distance. “I just thought…It doesn’t have to be anything, if you’re not—um, just if you didn’t have anyone to go with…”

What makes you think I’d go to a school event? Will wants to scream. But part of him feels the flush of embarrassment that colors Jim’s freckled cheeks as keenly as if it were his own. 

Before he can say anything, another voice juts in. “He doesn’t want your faggot ass, Walker.”

Will turns to see the resident jock prince strut down the hall, sycophants flanking his sides. Harry Bergeron. He radiates a smug assurance that no one should possess this early in the morning, least of all in a public high school. 

Will bares teeth. “Saving me for yourself, Harry?”

The jock—human, but with a good six inches and thirty pounds on Will, and isn’t that the kind of thing to make humans stupid—frowns at him. “Does the bitch want the fag, after all?” he sneers. 

Jim, wide-eyed and frozen in place, looks almost hopeful. 

“No,” Will snaps. “Just. Leave him alone.”

“Or what? I’m not scared of some pup.”

“Yeah?” He curls his lips back. It’s almost new moon, but he’s still sporting fangs. “Haven’t see you much since last fall.”

Harry’s face darkens. 

Will knows not to press his luck. He crumples the card in his hand, turns to open his locker, and feigns gathering supplies for his first class. 

Harry levels another insult at Jim. There’s a clatter—someone pushed the kid down. Roll over, know your place. Will rolls his eyes. Humans aren’t that different from wolves, and no one understands so better than teenagers. 

He waits until they’ve moved down the hall to slam his locker shut. 

Jim is still standing around, arms folded tight across his torso. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to…I thought maybe…”

“I know.” Suddenly Will feels very tired. “Look, I don’t get how you haven’t figured it out yet, but if you’re gonna fucking ask a boy out around here, at least make sure he’s human.”

“I’m not a speciesist.” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Will says, frustrated. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But leave me out of it.”

Jim stares at him. There’s something that Will is missing, he can feel it, but the close attention of another person makes his skin crawl. Shouldering his backpack, he ducks his head and hurries along to class. 

He can figure it out later, maybe, when he’s not cornered by all these people, their thoughts and expressions bearing down on him in ways he doesn’t know how to deflect.