Tumgik
#The Secret Fate Of All Life
sam-rothstein · 17 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
//
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
34 notes · View notes
derangedrhythms · 1 year
Text
[...] death created time to grow the things that it would kill.
True Detective, Season One; from ‘The Secret Fate of All Life’
169 notes · View notes
marypickfair · 10 months
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
True Detective  1.05 | “The Secret Fate of All Life”
26 notes · View notes
catscough · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media
4 notes · View notes
in-the-multiverse · 5 months
Text
Idk if anyone else has said this but I feel like secret life will be one of the shortest seasons. Players lasted as long as they did in previous seasons because of regen. There were so many times where someone got to a heart- half a heart -barely escaped, healed up, and got back into action. That's not happening this season
There is no immediate "bouncing back". You can't run to the secret keeper in the middle of battle or a mob attack. You can refill once or twice and the timing will be the difference between life and death. We know how chaotic these episodes get. Unless they play safe and strategically we're gonna see a lot of yellows and reds real soon. More desperation, more hard tasks
But this season probably being the shortest makes sense considering how much extra time there was last season. However it goes I'm all here for it
33 notes · View notes
etho-logy · 3 months
Text
his autistic personality and transgender looks have captivated me
Tumblr media
11 notes · View notes
crabbunch · 3 months
Text
hmmm... HMMM... the only good death you can die in the life series is a meaningful one- in a world where you will get another chance and another chance and another chance, the best thing to do is live well and live for living's sake. the only way to win is to give up on love, but the way to be happy is to hold onto it as tightly as you can. cletho messing around in their last moments- isn't that the way to live? isn't that the thing that could have saved everyone, if they had all done it? they're a little late, but they figured it out. everyone will remember how etho died for etho- and he'll live again after it. isn't that the best death?
9 notes · View notes
noknowshame · 2 years
Text
Me: I'm gonna watch True Detective! So many people have recommended it, it'll be fun to cleanse my pallet with a nice suspenseful crime show that's not gonna make me crazy about Genre Awareness
True Detective:
"Why should I live in history, huh? fuck, I don't want to know anything anymore. This is a world where nothing is solved. Someone once told me, "Time is a flat circle." Everything we've ever done or will do we're gonna do over and over and over again..."
"...I mean, how many times have we had this conversation, detectives? Well, who knows? When you can't remember your lives, you can't change your lives, and that is the terrible and the secret fate of all life. You're trapped by that nightmare you keep waking up into."
Me:
Tumblr media
35 notes · View notes
ectoplasmer · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media
biting him biting him biting him bi
#image has nothing to do with this post i just needed to put something that wasn’t keysmash shdkdhs#bumbling on about marik don’t mind me#thinking about how he views his title of tomb keeper#specifically how he’s always going on about how once he kills atem he’ll be ‘free’#going as far as to compare his position as heir of the tomb keepers to a cage#specifically something tied to humiliation and sorrow etc#like. in his (/string’s) and atem’s battle. just:#‘what do you feel now that you’re locked up… imprisoned in that steel cage? humiliation? despair? sorrow? that’s how i’ve felt my whole-#-life! that is the fate of the tomb guardians!’#i’m always going on about how his motives always tied back to his family somehow someway#and i do genuinely believe that was something that caused him to go on and try to kill atem!!#he was trying to make up for the thousands of years his family spent underground#but with this quote. how he mentions how those are the things *he’s* felt all *his* life#before going on to add how it’s the ‘fate’ of all tomb keepers#something about it stands out to me. yes he’s probably doing this for his family too#but this early in his story i think this whole plan of killing atem is just for himself more than anything#also this:#‘you could say i was given life to guard the secret… but it doesn’t matter anymore.’#seeing his life as a cage. something that constricts and contains him into fitting into one place#feeling tied to his family (or rather just the tomb keepers in general) and feeling that the only reason you (or anyone else in your family)#exist is because you’re meant to wait. you’re meant to serve someone you’re not even sure will come back within your lifetime#and still you have to carry the burden of waiting. you still have to have his secrets carved into your back. you still have to be the one-#-to shoulder it all because that’s what your family was made for#makes me feel sad. he never got a chance to live a life outside of the pharaoh even after he left the tomb keepers#he just went on to track him down for years to get the chance to kill him because he thought that would ‘free’ him :(#something so so important to me is how ishizu emphasizes that the tomb keepers aren’t *just* the tomb keepers#they’re still a family. they’re still something outside of the pharaoh and outside of the duties they were meant to carry out#just. i don’t know. something about how marik views his family throughout bc. very important to me#i love him but also i don’t think i have the brain cells to completely understand what is going on with him ever </3#with you i feel alive
4 notes · View notes
vvanessaives · 2 years
Text
writing down a bunch of random info i have on vesper rn
her father was a famous pro wrestler and she spent most of her childhood with him bc her mother left them, he died when she was a teen and vesper was left alone since age 15
she had various jobs until she got a gig into illegal underground boxing matches and made of that her job. she can punch hard. got some of her moves by watching her own father fight
her ring name/title is the iron maiden, i have some other few ideas, we'll see, for now yea (:
she can play the bass guitar :^)
sharp gold vamp teeth. sharp gold vamp teeth. i wont elaborate
dare i say she can speak french?
ohoh! a pro at humbling tf down cowboys (gender neutral) that feel too full of themselves: met her ex partner on the job, he placed a bet on her defeat. he lost good money but found a good chance to speak to her (he got decked a few times)
also literally just her about the johnny brain worm situation:
Tumblr media
17 notes · View notes
queensconquest · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
INSIDE THE MUSES’ MINDSCAPES
Naturally  this  will  be  a  LONG  post  ,  so  the  descriptions  shall  be  placed  under  a  read  more  so  i  don’t  take  up  the  entirety  of  the  dash.  Essentially  however  ,  these  are  the  landscapes  of  each  muse’s  mind.  Meaning  that  if  you  /  your  muse  were  to  step  inside  my  muse’s  mind  (  and  not  just  a  memory  )  ,  this  is  the  scenery  that  would  greet  them. Each  muse  will  be  bolded  &  in  caps  for  theoretically  easier  looking  if  you  want  to  find  a  specific  muse’s  mindscape  ,  but  when  in  doubt,  ctrl + f  also  works  to  navigate.  I didn’t do any of my request muses, but if you’d like to see theirs, you’re welcomed to say for me to in my ask and I will! Or if you’re also curious about why a muse’s mindscape is how it is, I can elaborate there too!
Please enjoy and thank you for reading any of the ones you do, I hope you like them!
HORN SKULD - Stepping into her mind is stepping into a medieval-esque garden. There are rows of shrubs and carefully tended plants, flowers always in their prime and a beautiful fountain in the middle of the garden area that beckons for one to sit. There is a calm elegance to it that is refreshing to the soul. Birds sing in the flowering trees somewhere and the temperature is neither too hot nor is it too cold, but the perfect temperature with a gentle breeze every now and again. You feel content here.
BYAKKOMARU -  It is a location that the demon himself is not entirely sure where it came from (in truth it came from forgotten memories of his life as a human). Sunlight fills a perfect spot near a crystal clear river that soon turns into a waterfall. Peering over the cliff edge reveals a hidden city below. It’s name does not come to mind, yet the heart knows the necessity to protect it. Or at least what is inside it; those that hold value to the tiger. It is a sanctuary and a safe place that he will not allow any threat to enter, because to access it you must cross the demon himself. A fierce protectiveness burns in your chest.
BASTEYA IRCLU -  Rather than a stagnant location, Basteya’s main space is that of a Great Western Railway Hall class locomotive in the passenger cars. There’s no one else on board, yet whenever one wants for something, it is there. But rarely is focus within the comfortable passenger train. The focus is outside, which often displays various places that Basteya has been and where he wishes to go again or is frequently thinking about. However, when accessing his memories, the outside of the train turns from landscapes to ‘ previews ‘ of the memories till it stops at where he wants. It makes you want to travel and explore.
CHROLLO LUCILFER - Chrollo’s shifts a bit from time to time. But often his landscape is foggy. Sometimes one will find themselves outside on a path that leads deeper into the fog. One may occasionally pass through gardens or graveyards on the way through the winding path, or even occasionally through the streets. Other times, one may find themselves standing atop towering buildings gazing at the city lights below shining through the dreary weather, idly watching. The other occasional place is a gothic cathedral with ornate stained glass windows and rows of empty pews. Outside of the fog obscures the rest of the world, and somewhere music occasionally drifts softly. The wood creaks in greeting if you sit down. Yet no matter what place you find yourself at, there’s always the sensation that there’s something you need to find, something that slips through your fingers. A vague sense that you are something else in this landscape, a wandering ghost that never quite can settle.
KALLUTO ZOLDYCK -  His shifts and changes with age and moments. Often, it is like standing atop black water. It is dark above and dark below, but you never fall nor get wet. Each step however sends ripples across an invisible surface. Sometimes there is an item or figure in the distance ; most often Kikyo or Illumi ( and later the Troupe) and sometimes there’s a cherry blossom tree nearby, petals fluttering around gently in an unfelt breeze. Climbing up the tree offers safety, and climbing to the top reveals a beautiful star riddled sky full of endless possibilities. But do not look behind you from where you appear, or the shadows might latch on and threaten to drag you down.
SUWA - The first thing that registers is how cold it is inside his mind. It is a frigid cold and there’s a sense of heaviness in the air, like a weight pressed down on one’s shoulders. A glance around reveals a person standing up to the top of their ankles in blood extending as far as the eye can see  — which isn’t far because of how dark it is. A pitch black darkness that surrounds everything, other than for a single white star high above like light seen from the bottom of the well. But no amount of reaching or walking every brings it closer. Wandering around only brings more horrors from piles of corpses to items floating on the surface of the blood like a hairpin or ruined stuffed animal rabbit. And somewhere deep inside there’s something roaring and chains straining - but nothing ever comes beyond the increasing feeling that you should not be here.
LUCIFER - Fittingly the most celestial appearance of all the mindscapes. Here one is surrounded by dazzling displays of the universe, of galaxies and nebulas. Here one is neither floating nor standing, but existing with everything wrapped around you and an ability to contort and shift the space into whatever one wishes for it to be. There is endless possibilities and no restrictions in this space. Only the freedom to do as one wills. Occasionally the space may take a specific scene if it is willed, but often it is beautifully abstract, where stardust spills through fingertips. It is an overwhelmingly inspiring and freeing spot to be. You feel invigorated.
FENRIR -  It is a snowy landscape with harsh winds that threaten to knock one over. But no matter where one turns, there is nowhere and nothing in sight, but there’s only a sense of resignation to this fact. Around the clearing are tall pine trees covered and snow, and every now and again there is the sound of his mother singing. But the cold hurts.  It  makes all the scars on the body ache, and a chain keeps coiling itself around your ankle no matter how many times you unwrap it and throw it away. If one walks far enough, they may eventually stumble upon a cave, and going inside there it is a fire to help warm your fingers, but it is fueled by hatred. It is not hard to fuel when the gods faces are carved into the wall and makes the hate twist inside your chest. 
STHENO - It’s a rough, jagged cliffside where lightening flashes through the sky and it rains. Danger is never far from each step that one takes while navigating the perilous landscape, although there are a few spots of safety that one can settle down in comfortably. But even then, dangerous is not so far removed as to be forgotten. Here there’s nothing  that offers comfort, but your heart beats in rhythm with the storm. In the distance you can see water tornados reaching from the black clouds to the raging ocean. Anger bleeds into the air and you can feel it trying to wrap around you.
RUFUS LOHR - Opening your eyes here reveals a sprawling library unfolding before your eyes. It extends forever as far as you can see, consisting of multiple levels and filled to the brim with various books. From where you stand on the top layer, you can see the the floors below. Books shuffle and move here and there, pens write in blank pages by an unseen force, and sunlight filters into the warm oak rows. It’s peaceful and enchanting. If you walked away from this main platform, you think you could happily be lost among the rows and rows of books. Stars are painted onto the high ceilings to mimic the night sky and every now and then there’s a gentle recitation of a poem from an unknown speaker who’s voice is always perfect for the piece. It brings out the inner bookworm.  
JACKAL - Open landscapes of the savanna lay sprawling out around everywhere, but ruins jut out from the ground here and there. In the distance smoke trails from an unseen source of destruction, and the scent carries. But it is not suffocating- rather it is an almost comfort. There is a need to move , to do something. Sometimes a figure appears, encourage mischief or chaos, the hunt. After a long day, the warm sun and sound of grass blowing is rather relaxing.
LING WEN - It is a small house, nothing elaborate or extravagant. And yet, it is clearly loved. There are poems written on napkins and small sheets of papers, stories in the works with half-filled journals, and books with pages well worn. High quality inks and papers lay waiting next to a fire that chases away the cold. Outside, winter blizzards blow and howl angrily, refusing to let anyone dare to come close to the lone house. But none of those harsh winds or heavy snows threaten the sanctity of the home. It is calm and quiet other than the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. At will, music may start but otherwise, it remains calm and undisturbed. It is cozy, a place full of passion that remains hidden from the rest of the world. After all, the weight of work demands priority. Yet this dust-free abode of the place indicates a still thriving passion in this harsh existence.
HE XUAN -  Most often, it is unsurprising to find themselves underwater within his mind. Yet there is no struggle to breath, no panic. Nothing but a sense of steady calm and the gentle sound of the waves above and fish of thoughts swimming around. At times, one may sit on the sandy shores and simply observe the dark skies- but if they’re clouds or the night sky is hard to tell. At least until feelings of pain or anger surge forth and the waves crash against you over and over again, dragging you into turbulent waters while thunder echoes in your ears. Down to the dark parts of the ocean, no matter how you fight the shadows tug and age old wounds bleed. But, sometimes it is you who flees into the shadows that hold you close and mute the noise of the world away. The ocean does not like to give up what it holds. Not even you.
THOTH - When one opens their eyes, they will find themselves staring down into a bright blue pond in a verdant oasis in the middle of the desert. Yet it is not the sun in the sky but a bright and full moon that is closer than it is in real life. It bathes everything in a soft, silver light and you can’t help but to sit down and enjoy the moment. Ibis stand at the edges of the water but they neither bother nor are bothered by your presence. A small temple stands a short distance away, visibly full of books and scrolls and the soft glow of lanterns. If you go there, you will find answers. But for now you just enjoy the moment. 
SEKHMET -  It is a dangerous feat to try to enter into her mind. Depending on what part of her is in control, the landscape can drastically differ. When she is slaughtering for Ra or the pharaohs, rivers of blood pour through the desert valleys. The skies bleed red and orange and vultures circle high above the battlefield. It smells of death and slaughter, and war drums pound somewhere in the distance, urging to continue the bloody feast and to devour meat and wine. Sometimes one is standing in the sand, other times one stands at the city walls, ready for the slaughter. Other times, the scenery is drastically different. Lighting fills the temples, and songs fill the air before a table of meats and red alcohols. Sometimes people appear to tell and act out stories before her. Another section of the temple is full of medical herbs and a calming atmosphere few often attribute to the goddess. There are also many sealed boxes. Instinctively, you know you should not touch them.
NAGARE HISUI -  His space resembles that out of the sci-fi genre. Screens full of information and data points, games, lists to do. Many of the screens are green or blue, and all appear before a gigantic tree that resembles that of the JUNGLE clan’s symbol. The tree is taller than you can see the top of, and one feels like a baby ant next to it. But  luckily it is distant so as to not be too overwhelming. Turning around however reveals the small room of the JUNGLE headquarters main area that is the same here as it is in life. Often those close to him are present, offering him insight. On very rare occasions however, this scenery may be traded for sitting atop the rooftop of Mihashira Tower at night, while all the city below is alive  and vibrant with colors and nightlife. It summons a feeling of change and optimism for the future - a desire for change.
YUKARI MISHAKUJI -  For the fascination of the beauty angel in vivid beauty, his mind is quite calm. Often the place most commonly depicted is a stone bench in a japanese garden in blossom. A mini-waterfall trickles softly over the rocks, and vibrant colored koi fish swim in the water with elegant grace. A tea set sits at a table, ready to be poured, and a set of calligraphy brushes and fresh paper sit in an elegant gold and black box to the side.  Often the sounds of guqin and/or flute music fill the air alongside the sound of birds. Sometimes there are guests, sometimes it is just him. It’s a peaceful, beautiful space with the skies painted pink and purples with the setting suns and the stars just starting to shine. On a rare occasion, this may be traded for relaxing on a boat drifting through a river of memories under a starry sky. It is always so beautiful and it hurts to look away.
AARAVOS - Rather surprisingly, his mindscape is not somewhere new or historic or fantastical or abstract. It’s almost an exact replica of his prison within the mirror. He does not mind it. Here there are books and places to wander, there is chess and a fireplace and comfort to relax in. The only difference is an apple tree in one corner of the room, towering and full of gold-colored apples he occasionally plucks.  He doesn’t need to escape or alter anything from reality or his mind. Yet even should he one day escape from his current prison, his mind will likely still choose to host the scenery of that familiar space. It is more of a home than any other place he has lingered. 
5 notes · View notes
sam-rothstein · 18 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
lol
28 notes · View notes
fatherofmachine · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
VERSE TAGS.
#V; WHEN EVERYTHING IS OVER & THE WORST HAS HAPPENED﹐  THERE'S STILL ONE THING LEFT IN PANDORA'S BOX; HOPE. ( main | canon arcs )#V; WHEN EVERYTHING IS OVER & THE WORST HAS HAPPENED﹐  THERE'S STILL ONE THING LEFT IN PANDORA'S BOX; HOPE. ( vague alternate arcs )#V; WE ALL HAVE SECRETS. THE ONES WE KEEP & THE ONES THAT ARE KEPT FROM US. ( Marvel comics | MCU AU )#V; THE BALANCE & HARMONY OF REASON & EMOTION﹐  NOT AT WAR﹐  BUT HAND IN HAND. ( DC comics | DCU | Gotham AUs )#V; SOMETIMES I WONDER IF WE COULDN’T OF DONE SOMETHING MORE MEANINGFUL ( if the machine never existed AU )#V; I THOUGHT YOU WOULD WANT ME TO STAY ALIVE. ( pre season 5 everybody lives AU )#V; I THOUGHT YOU WOULD WANT ME TO STAY ALIVE. ( post season 5 everybody lives AU )#V; IF YOU REALLY NEED A MYSTERY﹐  I RECOMMEND THE HUMAN HEART. ( pre established relationship AUs )#V; THE RICH & POWERFUL TAKE WHAT THEY WANT.  WE STEAL IT BACK FOR YOU.  WE PROVIDE … LEVERAGE. ( leverage AU )#V; I WOULD’VE STAYED UP WITH YOU ALL NIGHT﹐  HAD I KNOWN HOW TO SAVE A LIFE. ( alternate pilot AU )#V; NO HAROLD. I CHOSE A VOICE. ( the machine in root's body AU )#V; WE GO BACK TO LETTING HUMANITY DETERMINE ITS OWN FATE. ( hybrid of the machine & samaritan AU )#V; THERE IS NO CHARM EQUAL TO TENDERNESS OF HEART. ( the machine in a child's body AU )#V; REESE & FINCH ARE MARRIED﹐  PASS IT ON. ( married rinch AU )#V; DILLINGER HADN'T BEEN VERY TRUSTWORTHY EITHER.  NONETHELESS﹐ A STRANGE SORT OF SOFT SPOT STILL LINGERED. ( dillinger survives au )#V; I'M TALKING ABOUT THE CRIMINALS THAT MATTER. THE ONES YOU CAN'T FIND BECAUSE YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THEY EXIST. ( blacklist AU )#V; THESE VIOLENT DELIGHTS HAVE VIOLENT ENDS. ( westworld AU )#V; WHEN YOUR WORLD STOPS﹐  THE WORLD AROUND YOU KEEPS MOVING FORWARD & YOU WILL TOO. ( deaf root AU )#V; & I REMAIN WORRIED﹐  ABOUT WHAT SOMEONE ELSE MIGHT BUILD. SOMEONE WHO WASN'T WORRIED. ( .exe AU )
2 notes · View notes
cuntssworths · 5 months
Text
You’re trapped
In that nightmare you keep waking up into
0 notes
orchideae · 6 months
Text
Tag drop (1/2): General.
#[ ooc. ] don't try to make it logical or edit your soul according to the fashion. rather; follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.#[ ic. ] a word to the wise: do not try to lie to her. for falsehoods may last as long as fragile bubbles before meticulous thoughts.#[ answered: ooc. ] finding her is no easy task either. for it is always she who finds you when she wishes to; not the other way around.#[ answered: ic. ] oh? you'd like to know more about me? what will you give in exchange then?#[ psa. ] seeing isn't always believing. and if you can't trust your eyes; you certainly can't trust rumors.#[ saved. ] how can things ever be the same again: knowing your life was saved when others weren't? salvation can also be a burden.#[ prompts / memes. ] i so happen to be interested in some information you have. in other words; you scratch my back; i'll scratch yours.#[ crack. ] you nearly gave paimon a heart attack! / you look pretty alive to me. can't have spooked you that bad.#[ salt. ] that's the worst-case scenario. but all too often; the most pessimistic speculation turns out to be the closest to the truth.#[ post-it. ] she dances with danger; secrets and a strong sense of achievement. these are the vivid proof of her existence.#[ et cetera. ] every round of finger-guessing is a tiny adventure; and every roll of dice sends sporadic thrills down her spine.#[ self promotion. ] i'm heartbroken. i thought it might take you a little longer than this to forget all about me?#[ promotion. ] it does intrigue me: the way we all ended up here together. if this is fate; let's grab it in our hands and turn it around.
1 note · View note
sutorus · 6 months
Text
THE GRUDGE PROFESSOR!GETO for KINKTOBER 2023!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
DESCRIPTION: everybody loves professor geto, and judging by the thousands of viewers you get on every live, a lot of people love you, too. but you and professor geto hate each other. you’ve had enough of his humiliation rituals, and decide to do something about it.
PAIRING: mean professor!geto x student!reader
WC: 5.3k i am an unstoppable beast
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, teacher/student dynamic! adult age gap! (reader is in college, unspecified age), sw/camgirl!reader (don’t like don’t read! no shaming 😤), strong language, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, darling), reader calling geto "sir", unprotected relations, creampie, afab reader and terms
A/N: this switches between povs a lot so i hope that’s okay or at least readable lol! also i set out to write him so much meaner but he’s just kind of a simp... enjoy?
reblogs are very much appreciated i'll uwu for u :pleading eyes emoji:
Tumblr media
it is said that those who cannot do, teach. 
geto suguru could have done many things. he had the brains, the muscles, the features, the traits. the ambition to succeed in any field he desired. satoru says in a world ruled by the strong there is no place for humility. 
but humility is not why suguru became a teacher. neither is ineptitude. no, he’d become a teacher because it was the right thing to do. 
to use his gifts to help shape new generations, help unlock potentials long dorment and buried deep under years of a lackluster schooling system. geto suguru prided himself, above all, in being a righteous man. 
but japan’s most upstanding citizen for 28 years in a row held a shameful secret. a secret in the shape of you. 
he saw the darkest sides of himself on your face (eyebrows scrunched, eyes shut tightly, jaw slack as you—), your voice (higher in pitch with desperate moans that sound almost scared on the brink of your—), your body (taut and plump in all the right places, glistening with sweat, bouncing up and down on a—). 
when you walked into his classroom that fateful day, the world tilted on its axis. his first thought was, fuck, then, it can’t be, then, most embarrassing of all, i’ll finally find out what she smells like. 
(he did, when you went up to his desk to hand over your test. a whiff of vanilla, argon oil shampoo. too sweet, too youthful. and he’d watched you leave, tennis skirt flowing like a water lily, dick already chubby in his pants.)
it was slowly starting to consume him.
the first time you spoke in class, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. it was really you. the cute, slutty girl he’d been milking his cock to for the better part of a year. 
god, when you finally said his name. you would never in your wildest dreams think that he’d been imagining those words coming out of your mouth, of him coming out of your mouth, dripping out of you, all over you—
he was losing it. this was not like him. this was never supposed to happen, and he has to put an end to it. 
Tumblr media
everybody knew of geto suguru, the prodigy professor. already getting a phd despite not even being 30, handling the administrative slack for the department while managing office hours every day of the week, promoting student events, helping organize spirit weeks and charity drives. 
everything he did, he did for others. those not as capable as him — which was most people. in other words, it was really, really hard to hate him. 
but you damn well managed to. 
and to think you were excited to take his class. everybody told you to run, not walk, to sign up for his twentieth-century Japanese philosophy chair. 
“oh, professor geto is just the best,” they’d said. “he makes it sound so interesting and engaging, he gives the most life changing assignments, he really cares about us.”
bullshit. 
the first time you stepped into that classroom, suspiciously full for a philosophy class, you felt a shift in the air almost immediately. 
and sure enough, professor geto suguru was eyeing you down like he’d just seen a ghost. it made you self conscious, like he’d taken one look at you and decided right then and there you were too dumb for the class. 
it made your blood boil. sure, you stood out a little bit from the actual philosophy majors, but that doesn’t mean he gets to judge you. he literally doesn’t know you!
but fine, first impressions are tricky like that. for all you knew, you could’ve been misjudging him right there. 
however, with each passing day, you grew more and more assured in your suspicions.
you knew the man had it out for you, always calling on you to answer when he knew you weren’t paying attention, never grading your papers above a B even though you did everything right, somehow managing to fucking avoid you during his excessive office hours. 
his looks were almost the most infuriating part of it.
his beautiful face constantly set in that nonchalant look, his big veiny hands always gesticulating, his huge fucking arms straining the fabric of those dress shirts, his ear gauges and man bun contrasting the prim and proper image the rest of him conveyed. 
under different circumstances, he’d make your mouth water. under different circumstances, you’d imagine him going down on you all night long, singing praise about how good you taste and how tight you are. 
but in this timeline, you absolutely loathed him. and he loathed you too. why? you didn’t know. 
but you knew for a fact that it was personal. 
“i don’t care,” megumi said around a mouthful of meatball, cutting your monologue short. “i’m not doing it.”
you sigh, melting into your chair. “megumi. please. i am literally begging you, i just need some hard evidence so i can go report his ass.”
he eyes you curiously. “report him for what?”
“i don’t know. bullying? sexism? whatever the hell his problem is,” you pick at your food, huffing in annoyance. 
“you’re overthinking it,” megumi replies, dismissively. 
“okay, how about this,” you lean forward, putting an elbow on the table. “if you write the assignment for me, i’ll get your dog that expensive halloween costume you’ve been wanting.”
megumi lifts an eyebrow. 
“you need to get one for each,” he says simply. 
you grin. “deal.”
Tumblr media
suguru really does give it his all to make your life with him a living hell. pulls out all the stops, years of friendship with gojo satoru paying off as he comes up with ploy after ploy to get you to drop his class. 
it feels bad, being mean to you. but for the hidden, twisted parts of him, it feels delicious. 
watching you huff and puff, all hot and bothered when he corrects your answers on the spot. watching you nibble on your pen at the increasingly difficult exams he hands out. letting himself wonder if you missed a stream this week because you were too busy cramming for a make up test. 
he knows he’s pushing you to your limit, and even if there’s some sort of sick satisfaction in seeing you so agitated at his hands when it’s usually the other way around, he doesn’t enjoy upsetting you. 
the problem is, suguru knows it’s either he gets his shit together or he continues tormenting you, and, well. 
the spirit is willing but the flesh is so, so weak. 
he knows it’s getting worse, too, because he’s not infatuated by you only when you’re undressing on his screen, or all dolled up in class. 
when you tie your hair up in a ponytail, when you suck on a hangnail, when you lick your thumb to erase a smudge on your paper… all of it drives him wild. 
he can’t teach with a permanent half chub anymore. this has to end, one way or another. 
Tumblr media
you sit down in front of your computer, adjusting the camera before turning it on. soon, viewers start trickling in, little dings notifying you of their messages. 
you smile, waving at the screen. 
“hi everyone! i know i’m a little bit late today, i hope you can forgive me…” your eyes scan the chat, giggling at the compliments. “‘you look tired, sad face’, ah. i’m sorry. i guess i’ve been a little stressed lately.”
your robe falls over your shoulder as you readjust your position. a few donations come in, accompanied by supportive messages.
“you guys are so nice. it’s not a big deal, it’s just this dude giving me a hard time at college.” 
you absentmindedly trace your collarbones, reading what your viewers are saying. 
“you’ll kill him for me? that’s so sweet,” you joke. “nah, it’s not a student. it’s a professor. exactly, ynlover444, a grown ass man picking on me!”
you sigh deeply, allowing your body to finally unwind and relax on your chair. you prop a knee up against the armrest, giving your viewers a little peek in between your legs. you’re wearing one of your favorite sets, trying to get in the mood after the week you’ve had. 
“ugh, sometimes i wish i could just…” you suck in a breath, clenching your hand into a fist before releasing it. “sit on his face and get him to shut up, you know?”
you laugh at the countless me firsts that flood the chat, bringing a finger to your lip. 
“anyway! enough about that horrible man,” you reach beside you to grab a box your viewers know all too well by now. “let’s get to the fun stuff, shall we?”
Tumblr media
as always, satoru is no help. 
“why don’t you just fuck her?” he asks, eyebrows arching above his sunglasses. “ya gotta just fuck her.”
suguru clears his throat before taking a drag of his cigarette. “i’m not fucking a student.”
satoru shrugs. “everybody does it. besides, you basically already do.” 
suguru wonders, not for the first time, why he ever told his friend about his situation. about your streams, that he’d stumbled upon randomly and innocently and had gotten instantly hooked, about you barging into his classroom like an angel at hell’s gates, about you you you you, everything about you. 
“that won’t fix anything.”
satoru clicks his tongue, swirling his soda inside the can.
“poor, naive suguru. did you not just tell me about what she said on her stream?" and yes, regrettably, suguru had told him. "it’ll fix everything.”
suguru doesn’t even let himself consider it, except he does.
at this point it’s no secret that he’s thought about being inside you, but now that you’re here it’s just too real and too risky and completely fucking wrong. 
it goes against the entire life he’s built for himself. 
he’s lost. he wants you so fucking bad, wants you close, wants you so far away, wants to ravage you and never have to see you again. 
it’s fight or flight. if he got you alone, it could go either way, he realizes that. 
suguru wonders what part of him will win by the end of all of this. 
Tumblr media
your heels clack on the linoleum floor of the hallway as you approach professor geto’s classroom, megumi’s graded paper clutched tightly against your chest. 
the thing about megumi is that he's a star student. he’s never gotten anything below an A on any of his essays, makes the dean’s list every year, tutors his seniors. so the big, bright B- on the page tells you everything you need to know. 
damn right it’s personal. 
you don’t even bother knocking, slamming the door open while still trying to contain your indignation. 
geto is sitting at his desk, piles of papers sprawled on top. he has his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a surprised look on his face that would be cute if you didn’t want to slap it right off. 
he says your last name like he’d been expecting you all his life.
“to what do i owe the pleasure?”
your jaw clenches as you take a few loud steps towards him. you slam megumi’s paper down on his desk, leaning over. 
“professor geto, i demand an explanation. a real one, this time.”
the man takes a deep breath, lips twisting disapprovingly. he smoothes the paper over.
“as i already explained in my notes right here, the structure is fine, but i couldn’t help but miss a more in-depth analysis of the four nodal concerns of philosophy that we talked about in class, such as—“
“no,” you interrupt. “just no. you know you’re bullshitting me and i’m sick of it. this paper deserved an A!”
“miss—“
“what’s your problem with me?” you spit out. your eyes finally meet and there’s nothing in geto’s that could answer your question. your chest is heaving, lips wobbling and hands shaking, trying to contain your anger. 
geto clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “like i said, your paper could’ve used a bit more—“
“no it fucking couldn’t have, because it’s not my fucking paper, it’s fushiguro’s fucking paper and the only reason you gave it a B is because i was the one who handed it in!”
he sits up, straightening his posture.
geto sounds austere when he asks, “do you realize how much trouble this could be for both of you if i reported it?”
you can’t believe this man. he’s been picking on you the entire semester and when you finally confront him about it this is what he chooses to focus on. 
“are you fucking kidding me?” that earns you a stern look from him, eyebrow raising taller than that fucking high horse he sits on. “professor geto. what did i ever do to you?”
there must be something earnest in your voice because geto sighs, getting up from his chair. 
he walks until he’s standing in front of you, leaning against his desk and crossing his feet. 
“do i bother you?” is all he says. it surprises you. 
you jut your chin out. “as a matter of fact, you do.”
the man hums. 
“i bet that’s really difficult for you,” he speaks like he’s sympathetic, like he understands. he sounds almost sheepish when he says, “i bet sometimes you wish i would just shut up.”
you blink rapidly. “no, it’s not like that. it might shock you but i genuinely do enjoy your class, it’s just that—“
“or maybe you wish you could shut me up,” he continues, ignoring you. “maybe going as far as to say that you could… sit on my face to get me to shut up.” 
your mouth goes dry.
before your brain can fully process the shift in the atmosphere or the fact that your professor is maybe possibly hitting on you, you realize where those words are coming from. 
it’s what you said. about him. on stream. right before fucking yourself on your hot pink dildo. 
you can’t speak, can barely even look in his general direction. 
you had really thought things couldn’t get any worse. had barged into his office with nothing to lose, almost hoping he would cordially invite you to remove yourself from his class permanently. 
but now? now you have no idea what’s going to happen to you. 
“i…” you start, the words dying in your throat. geto chuckles, crossing his fat fucking muscly arms across his chest. 
he says your name, low and syrupy. “is it true? you’d like to?”
you can feel your face flush hot in embarrassment, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, wishing desperately that you’d never walked into his classroom. 
you have half the mind to apologize to him, right now.
“it’s just a figure of speech,” you try. geto clicks his tongue. 
“what a shame.”
your wide eyes shoot up and meet his. “w-what?”
he smiles sweetly. 
“it’s a peace offering. you can take it, or we can forget you ever said anything,” and isn’t he just so slimey, actually, when he’s the one who brought it up. he had said it, and now… 
now you can finally allow yourself to look at him.
those delicious, broad shoulders, the ever-present bored look, the stubborn fringe that falls out of his bun. 
you could so easily forget what you came here for. 
“so, like, a truce?” you ask, taking a daring step forward. geto nods, uncrossing his arms. “and you stop treating me like i’m fucking dumb?”
he tilts his head. “i think you’re a very smart young lady. determined. entrepreneurial…”
“geto—“
“professor geto,” he corrects you, hands reaching out to graze your hips. “you’re intelligent. i just like to push my students.”
you both know that’s a lie, but it’s okay, because now you know exactly why you got under his skin and it makes your own burn. 
you run a hand down the line of buttons on the front of his shirt, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 
“then… push me, professor.”
it’s so incredibly lame, the porn line you hit him with, but to your surprise it works, a low groan rumbling deep in geto’s chest. 
he swiftly closes the distance between the two of you, grabbing both sides of your face and crashing your lips together. 
it’s ravenous, the way geto dips his tongue inside when you gasp in surprise. you moan against his mouth, slipping a leg in between his two. 
he’s half hard already when he rubs up against your thigh. 
geto picks you up with ease and sets you down on his desk, and it’s so fucking cliché, the papers crinkling under your weight, the pens clattering to the floor. but it turns you on beyond belief. 
you share a few open mouthed kisses, an exchange of tongue and moans and hot breaths between your lips. 
if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit that you've fantasized about it before. a silly idea, at first, something you'd just blurted out mid-stream.
but that little seed had been planted, and when you got yourself off that night, you might've imagined for a moment that it was your mean professor's cock squeezed tight inside you, making you come undone.
geto slips his hands under your skirt, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to him. you line up your crotch with his, moving your hips in tight little circles that make the both of you groan. 
his fingers are tugging your underwear down, down, the soft patch sticking to your gooey cunt. he lets the soaked fabric dangle from your ankle, grazing the back of his knuckles on your core. 
“mmm, fuck,” geto breaks the kiss, swallowing. his pretty lips are flushed and shiny, parted around his panted breaths. “you always get this wet or am i special?”
he’s smirking, the bastard, leaning back in to kiss your neck.
god, you smell so good, like lotion and perfume and sunshine and sin. 
“shouldn’t you know?” you sneak your fingers up into his bun, pushing your chest against him. he works his lips expertly on your skin, using just the right amount of teeth, of pressure.
geto hums against your neck, kissing a line up to your jaw. he snakes a hand under your skirt, thumb pressing down hard to rub on your clit, two fingers slipping inside. 
you immediately clench, a soft, drawn out mewl leaving your lips. 
the slide of his fingers against your walls send a chill down your spine, filling you up so perfectly. you feel the thin skin at your opening stretch around him, burning at the friction as his fingers plunge in and out of you. 
“god, look at that,” he rests his forehead on your shoulder and pulls the hem of your skirt up. “do you hear that, baby? so fucking wet for me.”
you whine, hands cupping his jaw so you can kiss him again. 
“please…” you mumble against his lips. “more…”
you wonder how much of what you can say he's heard before, which exact words have left your lips and sent him over the edge. it makes you self conscious, oddly, like he can see right through you.
not-so-kindly ignoring your request, geto removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth.
you watch as his eyelids flutter in pleasure, a hum rumbling low in his throat. 
he looks so good like this, just edible.
you pull him in for a kiss before he can, relishing in the surprised little noise he lets out. your knees are wobbling, feet dangling from your seat as you taste yourself on his tongue. 
he swallows your moan hungrily, forearms trembling with the need to hold back.
geto knows this is wrong, so wrong on so many levels, puts both your positions in jeopardy, it makes him feel perverted and primal and so fucking alive. 
he’s been watching you fuck yourself on those silly toys for god knows how long now, knows every spot that makes your hips buck, knows exactly how to make you cream like a debased slut around a cock. 
it should feel unfair, how easy it’s going to be for him to make you cum, only if it weren’t for the fact that your mere presence is enough to get him hard as fucking diamonds. 
“tastes good, huh?” he whispers, thumb caressing your chin. you nod, smiling devilishly. 
“tastes better on your tongue, prof.” 
geto groans low like a starved animal, holding your throat in his hand with a loose grip. he’s overwhelmed, that much shows, not knowing what to do with you or where to start. but there’s one thing he’s sure of. 
he presses one last kiss to your spit-slick lips before dropping to his knees. 
you can hardly believe it. sulky, big bad bully professor geto suguru on his knees for you. you prop a foot up on his desk, your sole skidding on a piece of paper. 
“scoot closer, please,” he asks, cordial even like this. you bring your ass to the edge of the desk, your dripping pussy hovering over his face. 
he looks so good under you, hair already disheveled, a delicious tent in his tailored pants. 
you tuck the hem of your skirt into the waistline so you can watch as he sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning like he’s fucking relieved. 
you throw your head back, fingers buried in his silky hair as geto’s fingers find their way back inside. 
he fucks them in and out of you lazily, pushing out strings of slick. geto slurps it all up, spreading your wetness all over your clit and sucking it back in his mouth. 
god, his cock is straining in his pants but he doesn’t dare touch it, can’t until he’s inside you. you taste like fucking heaven, like all his fantasies, like he always knew you would. 
you’re whining softly, bucking your hips into his face almost shyly, as to disrupt his pace.
you sound so much better in person, although he can’t wait to have you moaning into his ear without needing the headphones. 
“god, this perfect pussy,” geto mumbles into you, his breathing labored. he runs a thumb all over your cunt, gliding it over your soaked lips. “been dreaming about it for so long.”
“yeah?” you ask. “tell me. tell me how you stroke your cock to me every night.”
and every night might be overselling it. geto is a busy man. 
but your words do make him realize that no girl he’s had since he found your stream has satisfied him quite like you do. your flirty smile, your moans, the way they sometimes turn into uncontained giggles as you stuff your pretty cunt with a dildo. 
so he tells you, blush spreading across his cheeks. 
“fuck, i do,” he tongues your clit, tracing lazy circles. “i do. just look what you do to me.“
and there it is, that cheeky, slutty giggle, directed at something he said this time. 
he takes his fingers out, spreading your opening with both thumbs as he licks you all over. 
geto gulps, tongue dipping inside of you, sucking your clit into his mouth, sliding down to your entrance, every clench of your pussy pushing out more and more slick for him. no one's ever eaten you out as thoroughly as this.
“oh, fuck, sir,” it slips out casually, the way it would were you talking to any other professor. but given the circumstances, you revel in the deep moan geto buries into your cunt. 
you trap your lips between your teeth to keep anything else from tumbling out, but it’s useless.
“please, sir, i’m so close—so close just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“
“fuck,” he mumbles, pulling away to suck in a desperate breath. then, “fuck,” sultrier, right into your core. 
you grind against his face, finding purchase in his hair as a final few flicks of his tongue push you right into the crest of a mind-numbing orgasm.
it’s so good, so much better than when you're alone. the friction so perfect, his long, thick fingers plugging you up last minute to viciously fuck into you. 
“god…,” you breathe out, legs trembling as he runs his hands up your thighs. 
his chin is glistening, bubbles of spit and cum gathering in the corner of his mouth. he looks so good like this, like he was meant to please you and nothing else. 
geto feels like a fucking teenager, so goddamn close to busting in his pants at the sight of you. his dick hurts, balls tight and the head throbbing where it’s tucked into his underwear. 
“please, sweetheart,” he can’t hold himself back any longer, slick fingers already undoing his belt. 
you get to work on his zipper, pulling his pants down along with his underwear and damn. 
you figured he was big. he was a tall man, broad shoulders, shoes the size of a yacht, and the bulge in his trousers was a pretty good indication. but it couldn’t have prepared you for the sheer size of him. 
longer than it is thick, cleanly shaven, pretty veins and ridges and standing angry red in attention. god, you want it inside you. 
he notices you looking. 
“do you need more prep? i can—“
“no, fuck no, suguru, need it inside me now,” you wrap a hand around him and he hisses, caging you in with his arms on the desk. 
he huffs out a laugh, blowing the fringe framing his face. “what happened to sir?”
you kiss down his jaw, squeezing right below his tip. 
“sorry, sir,” you say against his ear. “are you going to punish me for my slip up?”
geto groans, pulling on your hair hard and making you face him. 
“take your shirt off for me,” he instructs, and you obey, maneuvering around his tight grip on the back of your head. 
his spirit is so unbreakable.
here you are, teasing him, coaxing him to rough you up, push you around, relieve both your frustrations properly once and for all, but he’s just so… adoring, and hungry, and just so irrevocably into you, and you find out that’s so much better. 
geto relents his hold on you to unclasp your bra, cupping your breasts and sucking a nipple into his mouth. you whine, caressing his hair. 
“so fucking perfect,” he massages your tits, looking mesmerized. 
“yeah? they haven’t gotten old to you yet?”
he laughs, so cute, and you can barely remember that just hours ago you hated the sight of him. you stroke his cock up and down, squeezing harder at the tip trying to milk all that delicious pre he’s been wasting on the inside of his boxers. 
“no, f-fuck—never gonna get old,” he pushes your boobs against each other, imagining his cock sliding in between them, his balls nestled underneath, his load blown all over your pretty face—
fuck, he’s gonna cum if he keeps going like this. 
he rips your hand away from him, ignoring your knowing smirk and pushing his tongue into your mouth. 
“i’m gonna fuck you now, okay, sweetheart?” you moan, nodding, shimmying your hips so he can have the perfect angle. 
a big hand clasps your thigh to wrap your leg around his hips as his tip pokes around your entrance.
you’re whining in anticipation, clenching around nothing, nails clawing his clothed back. 
when he slips in, it feels like coming home. you’re like warm honey around him, cunt pushing him out but clinging to him at the same time, with every stroke. it’s fucking maddening. 
“ahh, g-god, sir, ‘s too big—“ you swallow around the lump in your throat, feeling the tip of his cock in your guts. 
he’s huffing, concentrated, bullying his cock into you inch by inch with shallow thrusts until he finally bottoms out. 
“fuuuuck, angel,” he grips your waist with both hands, like he could just fuck you up and down his length if he wanted to. “took me so well, look at that.”
you do, dropping your heavy head to look at where you’re connected. you clench around him and he whines, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. 
the metal legs of the desk skid on the floor, papers and pens raining down to the floor as geto starts roughly plunging in and out of you. 
you let out little ah, ah, ahs in time with his strokes, the ache deep in your stomach finally starting to fade. 
“f-fuck, you’re gonna—topple us over, suguru, go easy—“
“can’t,” he chokes out, wheezing as he pushes his cock in as far as it can go. 
he gives shallow little thrusts, his length straining the fine skin at your entrance so good, hitting a spot inside you over and over that makes your head spin. 
your fingers twist into the back of his shirt, pulling him in to whine right into his ear.
he’s so big, stretching you out so thin that you feel every ridge and vein, can feel both your heartbeats inside your cunt. 
“ohhhhh fuck, fuck sir, please please touch me—“
he grabs your ass before you can even finish your sentence and presses you flush against his hips. 
geto’s tip is kissing your cervix now, his balls sticky and creamy against your ass, your clit grinding against his pubic bone as his thrusts violently shake the both of you. 
“fuck, wanna do it so fucking loud but i can’t, we can’t, what if someone walks in—“
you moan wantonly at his words, expecting to be chided, but geto seems to love it despite his worries because his cock kicks deliciously inside of you.
“look how loud you’re being, listen to yourself,” he grunts out, the belt pooled around his feet clanging with every stroke, the absolutely lewd squelches from your pussy resonating in the entire classroom. 
you two sound so good together, better than you’ve ever had, better than he could’ve ever imagined. 
“so loud, so wet on this cock,” he spits out, sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “do those toys make you feel this good? this full? answer me.” 
“hahh, n-no, no one but you,” you can’t think straight, head thrown back in pleasure and eyes squeezed shut. “only you, sir.”
geto whines like he’s aching, pounding into you mercilessly and making a mess under the two of you. 
“fuck yeah, that’s right. i’m making you feel good, baby?”
“mm-hm,” you mumble, tongue lolling out. geto's going so hard now, has you pressed up so tight against him, body caging you in, fucking every breath and thought right out of you. “close.”
“yeah?” he speeds up his effort slightly, and you’re sure he’s going to have desk-edge shaped bruises on his thighs tomorrow. “gonna cum on my cock? cream all over me?”
you let out a long, drawn out whine, tits bouncing up and down with the force of geto’s thrusts. 
“let me see your face when you cum, darling,” he cups the back of your neck, breathing hard through his nose. “keep your eyes on me. that’s right, sweetie, so good, you’re doing so good.”
you preen at the praise, feeling suddenly self conscious with the man's laser focus attention on you. 
you coo out little noises, growing in desperation, holding onto his biceps for dear life as his hips piston in and out of you. 
your pull him into you closer and rub your clit against him, grinding helplessly as your orgasm creeps closer and closer. 
the moment you open your eyes and meet his hungry ones, you’re cumming. your walls spasm around him, making the glide of his dick impossibly wetter with your release. 
geto chokes on a sound, his cock hostage of your pussy’s vice-like grip as your greedy cunt milks him for all he's got. 
“f-fuck, baby, look so pretty when you cum, always look so fucking sexy so fucking perfect that you’re gonna make me bust, i’m gonna cum for you god gonna cum inside, gonna blow my load all deep inside this pussy—“ 
it’s the most desperate he’s ever sounded, speaking through clenched teeth and a soaked mouth. you moan in return, letting him use you. 
he slams his forehead down your shoulder when he thrusts once, twice, three times and cums, his balls drawing up so tight that it hurts. he fucks it into you with shallow thrusts, panting, almost wheezing in pleasure. 
it feels like it lasts forever, his orgasm. like all of the blood in his body goes straight to his balls to push out the thickest, most satisfying nut of his life into the prettiest girl he's ever seen.
you feel it fill you up so good, hear it, too, squelching and sticking to both of you. 
geto’s body slumps against yours and you stay like that for a while, catching your breaths. there’s cum sliding out of you, down his balls, onto some poor student’s essay you have your ass on top of. 
when he pulls out of you, he takes a beat to watch it spill out of you some more, his face and chest red, his smile groggy. 
“god, this,” geto has to fight the urge to say thank you for letting him fuck your brains out. he swallows. 
“yeah,” you blink away the haze, feeling sore and fucked out. “this.”
“…is probably going to happen again, right?”
he knows it shouldn’t. he knows it will.
maybe both parts of geto can learn to coexist.  
you grin, touching the tip of your tongue to his lips. 
“well, i still haven’t made good on that promise of sitting on your face, have i?” 
Tumblr media
the next morning, in class, the students erupt in happiness at the news that professor geto had an accident that ended up ruining most of last week’s graded papers he had in his possession. 
so he decided to give everyone an A for their troubles. 
and finally, finally, there was peace in the world.
Tumblr media
10K notes · View notes