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cupid-styles · 2 months

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daisy 2 (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)

she's alive and I hope you like it 🩷 I think there will be a short epilogue wrapping everything up after this :)

part one

word count: 7.9k

content warnings: a bit of angst (nothing too crazy), smut (f receiving oral, penetration, size kink/belly bulge, dirty talk, a tiny bit of cum play), and — as stated in the first part — massive, big fat warning for an inappropriate power imbalance.

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Y/N had tried to talk herself out of it. Several times, actually. For hours.

But at a certain point, she realized all she was doing was driving herself insane with a nonstop, hamster wheel of thinking. She couldn’t stop replaying the conversation with Professor Styles — or Harry, rather, as he’d said earlier — over and over, nitpicking at every tiny detail. She wished she had someone to go to — an unbiased, neutral third party who wouldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, but she doubted that even if she did have that, they’d think her analysis of their discussion would be appropriate.

Because she had a huge, obvious, stupid crush on her professor.

Well, he wasn’t technically her professor. She was just the professor she was… assisting, and that technicality is the only thing that gave her enough courage to bundle up beneath layers of thermal wear and her forest green puffer jacket, hiking through the chilly winter evening to see if, by some miracle, Harry was still in his office.

On the way there, she spoke to herself sternly. She needed to have a goal in mind — an intention, really, of what exactly she was going there for. It wasn’t a normal thing to go see a professor in his office on a Monday at 6:40 pm.

It wasn’t normal to think about his grumpy face and even crankier demeanor; the way his lips pursed thoughtfully around wordy responses about a student’s answer to an essay question, or his long, calloused fingers that wrapped around the same gel ink pens he always used for grading.

It wasn’t normal for her to fall asleep imagining herself pressing her own plush lips to the same ones that nearly begged for an apology just a few hours ago.

And it certainly wasn’t normal for her professor to admit that he’d spent the weekend thinking of her, either.

The English building stays unlocked until around 9 pm on weekdays, just in case professors end up hauling their grading into late nights or students have group projects. She hurries through the wooden doors as soon as she arrives, hurriedly yanking her mittens off and stuffing them in her coat pockets as she walks the familiar journey down to Harry’s office. She’s unsurprised that most of the offices and classrooms have already gone dim, but the closer she gets to Harry’s, the sooner she realizes that his is the exception. With the bleak, yellowed light from the lamp she’d picked out a few weeks back, she sees a faint luminance from his office’s frosted window. Swallowing, she decides against her better judgment before waltzing in like she owns the place, and instead opts for a hesitant knock, punctuating it with a call of his name.

“Profess— Harry? Are you in there?” she nibbles on her lip before tacking on a, "It's Y/N."

She hopes he recognizes her voice as she wrings her fingers together in front of her. She thinks she hears muffled movement on the other side of the door, but she’s not entirely sure. It never occurred to her that perhaps he wouldn’t want to see her — maybe he’d peek through the crack of the door, see her face, and widen his own eyes in shock and embarrassment, maintaining silence until she eventually gave up and walked away. Her throat bobs nervously at the imagery.

She’s ready to give up when the door swings open, revealing a rather flushed looking version of the typically neat, well-kept professor she’s used to seeing. His cheeks don a splotchy pink hue that speckles down to his neck, where his usual button down is currently undone. Underneath, he wears a plain white tee-shirt. She blinks at the small display of intimacy before snapping her eyes back up to his face. He’s running his finger through his messy curls, tugging lightly at the base of the locks.

“Is everything alright?” he asks through a slightly nervous voice. With furrowed eyebrows, she nods her head slowly.

“Yes— well, no, I guess. I feel bad about earlier.”

She chokes the words out in hopes that she can keep her humiliation at bay. She’s unsure if her eyes deceive her, but it seems as though his face relaxes some before he quickly nods, stepping aside to let her in.

“Um, you have nothing to feel bad about,” he says, shutting the door quietly behind her. She shrugs her shoulders as she stands in the middle of his small office, avoiding his gaze. “I was out of line, Y/N.”

“What did you mean by it?” she rushes out, facing him with a leery expression. “That you spent the weekend thinking of me. And feeling awful about how you’ve treated me.”

His mouth opens and closes, and she can’t help the way she glances down at his raspberry-hued lips. She swallows tightly, biting on her own bottom lip.

“This isn’t something we can do,” he mumbles out breathily with a shake of his head. “You know that, right?”

They’re dancing around the obvious. Her stomach lurches at the low, groveled volume of his voice, and her fingers twitch at her sides as she resists the urge to step closer to him. She’s never been forward with a romantic interest before — she’s never had a reason to be, to uphold a certain level of confidence.

But she can’t help herself.

“Tell me, then. Tell me what you thought of this weekend.”

Harry’s nostrils flare.

“If it’s not something we can do,” Y/N says softly, licking over her lips, “Then whatever you thought about should be nothing, right?”

He’s torn. He’s so utterly torn that it feels like his brain is being split in half. He knows what he should do — he should tell her she’s wrong and that she should leave. He should leave this entire situation behind him, chalk it up to him being a touch-deprived idiot, and move on with his life. Join a few dating apps and find someone decent to settle down with.

But why would he do what he’s supposed to do?

“I thought about how fucking shitty I felt for ignoring you for weeks after you told me you just wanted my praise,” Harry blurts, heart hammering in his chest as he slowly starts to close the gap between their bodies. “I thought about how much I like having you around — how smart and talented you are, how beautiful and creative your brain is.”

“I’m not—”

“I’m not finished,” he replies curtly, making Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up to her forehead. “I thought about how pretty you are. I thought about how I’m thankful to have you as my assistant, because no one has ever been able to meet me on the same level. I thought about… how I’d be taking advantage of you if I told you any of those things, so I promised that I’d keep them to myself.”

He’s standing directly before her now. He’s so close that she can smell the warm musk of his cologne and see the freckles dotted over his nose. It makes her stomach churn in the best way.

“Why didn’t you?” she finally breathes out.

A smirk forms at the edges of his lips. He looks down at her as if he wants to swallow her whole, and she’s not sure that she doesn’t want him to.

“You asked me to tell you, sweetheart,” he murmurs. He reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and her skin zips with electricity. “‘S not much of my fault now, is it?”

Quickly, she shakes her head. She swallows nervously and hopes he doesn’t notice her picking at her nails as she waits for him to surge forward and press a messy kiss to her lips.

But instead, he stops.

A look of clarity ghosts over his face and his throat bobs. It doesn’t stop him from thumbing over her chin with sorrowed eyes.

“We’ll wait until the end of the semester,” he murmurs out. The look of disappointment on Y/N’s face must be obvious because his eyebrows furrow in dejection. “It’s the safest way, okay? After that… after that, I’m yours.”

I’m yours. It echoes through her brain, making her heart thump rapidly in her chest. She feels it everywhere, but the hesitancy remains.

“Promise me,” she whispers, pressing a wary hand to the expanse of his chest. “Promise me I’m not wasting my time. Promise me that you mean this.”

He can’t help it — before he can even contemplate the consequences, he ducks down to connect their lips. It takes her by surprise but she immediately kisses him back, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Despite the reluctant context, the physical bond is anything but. Harry kisses her unhurriedly, like he has years to worship every bit of her lips. He dips his tongue into her mouth the second she grants him the opportunity, and her chest feels like it’s ready to explode when he squeezes her hip. His large palm easily finds its way to her ass and she whimpers breathily into the seal of his mouth. It’s the only thing that brings him back down to earth — a reminder that he’s no longer daydreaming but experiencing the real thing. He forces himself to break the kiss but leans his forehead against hers, keeping his eyes shuttered closed.

“I promise you,” he exhales, and he feels her nod. “I’m yours.”

. . .

Attempting to act normal around Harry is harder than Y/N had anticipated.

In hindsight, the evening consisted of a half-assed confession and a rather… intimate kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. If it had been with anyone else — someone her age, a fellow student or peer, maybe — she, of course, would be anxious over it. But the fact that she had to see him a day later in class was… well, somehow embarrassing.

She contemplates her outfit for hours, wanting to seem cute and put-together without overly desperate. She was scared it would be written all over her face the second she walked in and sat at her seat beside his podium — "I made out with Professor Styles in his office a day and a half ago and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it for more than two seconds since it happened" may as well have been written across her forehead.

When she finally does show up to class, Harry looks… well, he looks like his usual self. He’s wearing those wide-legged trousers that she thinks he must have in at least a dozen colors, matched with a button down and a sweater vest overtop. He’s standing at the podium with his back to the entrance as he waits for students to filter in, squeezing his bottom lip between his fingers. He’s reading something, Y/N’s unsure what it is, but when he hears the less than graceful clatter of her setting her things down at the table, he glances over to her and flashes her a smile.

A smile.

“Hey,” he greets. His voice is low and gruff and if she hadn’t been looking for it, she surely would’ve missed it. But she doesn’t, and it instead sends a zap of lovesick energy thrumming through her body.

“Hi.” she mumbles back, waving as she leans over to pull her laptop from her bag.

That’s the extent of the interaction, but it’s far more than she’s ever received from him. Normally, when she arrives at class, he fully ignores her. She only began to take issue with it when she figured out she was growing feelings for him, but somehow the quiet utterance of hey feels like a public acknowledgement of what occurred just a day prior. In some crazy way, it seems like it’s just as open as grabbing her and smacking a hard kiss to her lips. She finds herself wishing he would as he begins today’s lecture on male writers in feminist discourse.

As written on the schedule, Harry’s taking the time to discuss authors like George Herbert, John Berryman, and Leo Tolstoy. Y/N doesn’t feel particularly drawn to any of those figures, though a few weeks back when she and Harry were discussing this unit, they did find a mutual appreciation for Jacques Lacan. He wasn’t originally in the lesson plan — Y/N remembers it vividly, because she can recall saying that he would be a great fit. Her heart had expanded in her chest with praise when Harry agreed.

And yet… Harry’s standing up there in front of the lecture hall, waxing poetic in the dreamiest way possible, about Jacques Lacan.

“Lacan was incredibly controversial, so I don’t expect all of us to feel comfortable with translating his viewpoints to modern day psychology,” Harry explains as he hovers over the old, wooden podium, “But what I do want to dig into is his basic idea of the symbolic register. Does anyone know what that is?”

Yes, Y/N wants to say. It’s the concept that our existence as humans includes language, culture, and rituals.

“Lacan came up with this idea that he thought was waiting for us the second we were born. He felt that the symbolic register encompassed maybe more artsy, culture-based facets, and that was one of the most important parts of the human existence. We won’t get too far into it because this isn’t a psychology course, and frankly, I could give a shit if you truly understand this or not.” The class, including Y/N, laughs quietly. Harry rolls his lips into a thin line to avoid a smirk from appearing.

When the huffed merriment tapers off, he continues. “What I want you to take away as writers is this: Lacan’s symbolic register essentially implies that our lives, from the very start, are swamped with uncertainty. There’s no path for us. As you write your characters, consider that. Lacan thought that life experiences, specifically lack and desire, were what impacted the course we go on.”

As expected, the class is silent. Y/N’s found that students are typically too nervous or intimidated to contribute to conversations during Harry’s lectures, and she’s been on the receiving end of many, many emails asking things that could have been resolved in class.

“Think about what your characters lack. What are they missing? What are they unable to receive access to? Is it a resistance to pleasure, to giving in?”

Y/N swallows harshly at that. She pretends like she doesn’t hear it, instead focusing in on typing a response to an email in her inbox.

“And then, consider their desires. Their deepest, darkest wants. No one has to know them — in real life, no one truly knows our truest desires, anyway,” she swears her eyes squeeze closed at that, but she quickly snaps them open, “But use it as an exercise for this weekend. Don’t forget, second drafts are due on Monday. Class is dismissed.”

Y/N swear she feels a second heartbeat in her core as the lecture hall begins to trickle out with students.

. . .

“I thought we were waiting until the semester is over.” Y/N blurts it out when she can’t focus on grading Ren Wei's draft.

Slowly, Harry glances up from the stack of papers he’s currently grading. With confused eyebrows, he sets his pen down.

“We are,” he says softly.

“Then what were you talking about in class today?” She hisses lowly. She keeps her voice quiet even though the door to Harry’s office is shut closed.

“What do you mean?”

Y/N sighs frustratedly and sits back in her seat. She avoids Harry’s confused gaze as she crosses her arms over her chest. He ignores the way it pushes her breasts up through the soft fabric of her sweater.

“The whole lack and desire thing. You know you weren’t planning on talking about Lacan until I brought him up a few weeks ago.”

Harry’s throat bobs and she licks over her lips, quickly glancing back up to his face. She’s right — they both know she’s right, but Harry’s reluctant to admit it. He’s stubborn — he’s always been this way in relationships, and it tends to be one of his greater downfalls as a partner. Deep in the pit of his heart, he knows Y/N deserves better. She wouldn’t be worth putting his job or her status as a student in danger if she wasn’t.

“You’re right,” he finally admits as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. It was out of line and I won’t do that anymore.”

She pauses for a beat. And then, “I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

His shoulders deflate and she suddenly feels embarrassed. It was a stupid thing to reveal, she decides, and she picks at the skin surrounding her fingernails as she mentally beats herself up for it.

And for a moment, Harry contemplates it. He knows it hasn’t been that long since he told her they have to wait, but he’d be a ridiculous liar if he didn’t admit that she’s all he’s been thinking about ever since they kissed in his office. Nervously, he reaches across the length of his wooden desk and takes her hand into his. He intertwines their fingers together and gives her hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and she looks up at him through her eyelashes. It makes his heart warm.

“You know this is incredibly difficult for me, right?” he asks. Y/N shakes her head and he scoffs in response. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N.”

She blushes. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. She nods. “When we kissed, it… it was so good, y’know? It just… it felt good.”

“I know,” she breathes. She squeezes his fingers lightly before retracting her own hand and placing it in her lap. She may look naive, but she's already decided that she won't let him have the upper hand – not when it comes to something she can actually have control over, like teasing.

The movement surprises him but he chooses not to acknowledge it. “But this is what we decided on, right? It’s better this way. It’s kind of like edging, hm?”

His eyes nearly bulge out of his skull as she glances down at her phone to look at the time.

“Anyway, I have to head out to class. Text me if you need anything, Professor Styles.”

She waltzes out of his office with a snarky, knowing grin on her lips, and Harry has to do a series of deep breathing to stop his cock from exploding in his trousers.

. . .

Y/N Y/L/N is a complete and utter minx.

Harry has no choice but to come to this conclusion because in the weeks that follow their agreement, he swears she does everything she can to try and make him break. The worst part is, he doesn’t even know if she’s doing it intentionally. But every time they’re in the same room, all he can think about is hauling her over his shoulder, locking her in his office, and stretching her body over the length of his desk so he can fuck her until she can’t even think straight.

And there’s still three months left of the semester.

Admittedly, nothing ever really happens between them. Despite the apparent and blatant flirting that occurs on both sides, they keep things surprisingly professional, even behind closed doors. For the first time in his teaching career, Harry is actually ahead of grading. For some reason, he feels as though it’s a testament to how well he and Y/N actually work together.

But then there’s the matter of her teasing, which drives him up a fucking wall — the cute little mini skirts she almost always wears, the batting of her eyelashes at students in his class, followed by the wide-eyed smile she flashes Harry as soon as she knows he’s seen it. She even out-smarted him on Ursula LeGuin the other day and, as dorky as it seems, Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been so turned on in his life.

It’s a series of back-and-forth. When Y/N has to leave his office for class, he’ll thumb at her chin or her cheeks so she gets all flustered before she heads out. Later that night, she’ll text him an innocent question with some sort of “typo”:

can’t stop thinking about your lips

oops! list* not lips! your list of grades — it’s due next friday, right??

It’s a stupid, risky game that neither of them can stop playing.

Even when they’re sitting in Harry’s office that Wednesday afternoon, buried beneath piles of final drafts for the midterm paper, he can’t help but gnaw on his bottom lip as she sits across from him. She’s focused — the cute furrow between her brows is the primary tell — but every now and then she’ll bring her pen up to her mouth to bite on it or poke her tongue out to lick over her lips.

Despite the chill of the day, she’s wearing a wool mini skirt atop sheer black tights, and he hasn’t been able to stop glancing down at the soft skin of her thighs since she showed up to campus hours ago. He wants nothing more than to rip a hole in the fabric, pull her into his lap, and kiss her until she’s a whimpering, breathless mess.

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice the clock is steadily ticking towards 5 pm and, technically, Y/N should’ve left an hour ago. With wide eyes, he drops his pen on the pile of papers in front of him.

“Shit,” he curses, “You should go. Your hours ended at 4.”

She taps her phone screen beside her, “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late. I guess I got in the groove with grading.”

“It happens.” He says understandingly as he leans back against his chair, stretching his achy back out some. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?”

She peers up at him through her lashes. “It’s 5 pm on a Friday, Harry. You should leave, too.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth. She’s right, especially since he’s been attempting to distract himself from his crush on Y/N by doing late grading sessions in his office.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbles as he grabs his large tote bag. “I’ll walk you out, if that’s okay.”

They both know that it’s perhaps a cross of the boundary they’ve been trying to firmly maintain, but how harmful could a walk be?

Y/N flashes him a small smile. Silently, they each pack their things up, and she follows him out of this office as he locks his door. They walk side-by-side, Y/N nibbling on her bottom lip as Harry tries to resist the urge to grab the hand that he keeps accidentally brushing with his own knuckles.

“Do you have any weekend plans?” She suddenly asks softly, glancing up at the taller male.

He hums, “Nothing too exciting. Probably just gonna catch up on TV and reading. You?”

“The secret life of an English professor, hm?” Y/N teases and he chuckles. “I have to start prepping for midterms. Laundry, too. I guess nothing more fun than your plans.”

He laughs and her stomach erupts into flutters as he holds the front door for her. She smiles in gratitude, but her steps come to a stop when she witnesses the state of the weather.

It’s nearly a white out. A snowstorm must have barreled through while they were busy grading, because now it’s dark, flurries of snow instantly landing on Y/N’s eyelashes and jacket.

“Y/N,” Harry appears at her side, “You’re not planning on walking through this, are you?”

“I-I don’t have a car.” She mumbles, stuffing her already freezing cold hands into her pockets. “I’ll be fine, it’s not far.”

“No, but I wouldn’t feel okay with sending you home in this,” he replies. She blinks when she feels his hand reach out to her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Would you let me drive you home, please? Just so I know you get home safely.”

Her stomach turns. This would officially cross the student/teacher boundary, but he’s right — it’s frigid out, and she always hates walking home in the dark anyway. Swallowing tightly, she nods.

“Yeah, please. I’ll take a ride.”

“Good,” he exhales with a nod, “My car’s just over in the faculty lot.”

With the both of them slowly shuffling through the snowy ground, they eventually make it to Harry’s car. As expected, it’s covered in snow, but he turns it on and blasts the heat so she can sit inside while he uses a brush to clear it off. She picks at her fingernails as she watches him through the foggy front window, her chest continuing to grow with nerves. She knows that this is all she’s wanted for weeks — to be alone with Harry, outside of the confines of his office — so why is she so scared?

Luckily, he gets in the car before she has more time to contemplate it. Blowing warm air into his cupped hands, he shivers dramatically.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he whines, making her giggle. “Something funny about that, passenger princess?”

“No!” She exclaims with a laugh, “I’m sorry I didn’t help clear your car off. I’m sure that was awful.”

His eyes crinkle teasingly as he chuckles along with her. As he backs up out of the parking spot with ease, he presses the palm of his hand to the back of Y/N’s headrest, checking to make sure he’s clear. She wonders if he’s used to driving in the snow, but lets the question die in her throat instead of pushing the conversation.

“Sorry, I didn’t ask where you live,” he says when he turns onto the main road. “I think you mentioned once that you’re not too far from campus?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m on Maple. It’s a single-person house, I’ll tell you where to turn.”

“You live alone?”

She doesn’t think the question is meant to be inherently suggestive, but there’s something about his immediate response that has her teetering on feeling that way. Swallowing, she nods again.

“Mhm. Most of my friends graduated or moved away when we finished undergrad, so it’s just me.”

“No pets or anything? You seem like the type to own one of those bald cats.”

Y/N balks at his reply, a peel of laughter bubbling from her chest. “What?”

Harry’s cheeks warm as he slowly drives down the snow-covered street. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he thinks about what kind of person she is when she’s not around — he knows it probably sounds creepy, but it’s how he’s been entertaining himself in the meantime.

“I just… feel like you’d like those things,” he treads lightly, shrugging his shoulders, “Is my assumption wrong?”

“Very much so. I’ve only had dogs,” she giggles, “Are there any other assumptions I should know about?”

His throat bobs. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she quirks a brow. “Turn at the light.”

He flicks his right signal on, “I may have tried to figure you out a bit in my… spare time.”

He cringes, but the sound of her laughter quickly pulls him from his embarrassment.

“Well now I have to know.”

“Fine,” he decides, finding himself drawn to her little game, “I think you prefer matcha or hot chocolate over coffee.”

“True, but that’s only because you watch me cringe every time you drink your stupid black coffee.”

Harry snorts, “Okay, fair. I think you’re a homebody.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N nods. “True. Go on.”

“You prefer chocolate to vanilla.”

“Strawberry, actually.”

He hums. “You read period piece smut for fun.”

Y/N lets out a loud cackle. “What about my personality makes you think that?”

“You just seem like the type to go to the romance section at the bookstore, but only buy dirty books that are set in the 1800s,” he replies easily, a smirk edging at his lips, “Am I wrong?”

She ignores the way her cheeks flair with warmth. “I’m not opposed to it, but it’s not the only thing I read.”

“Sure,” he laughs. She rolls her eyes before pointing to a house down at the end of the road.

“I’m right over there.”

Harry nods and pulls up in front of it. The snow is only worse on the residential streets, likely because there haven’t been many cars going through to clear the roads. She nibbles on her lip as she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at him.

“Thank you for the ride.” she says softly.

“Of course.”

They stare at each other for a beat before Y/N tears her gaze away from him. She glances out through the front window, watching momentarily as snowflakes continue to beat down on the exterior of his car.

“It’s not safe,” she mumbles breathily, facing him again. “You shouldn’t drive in this.”

He swallows. He knows what he should say: No, it’s okay. I should go home. We said we’d wait, remember?

But he doesn’t want to. Not when she’s dangling alone time, off campus, right in front of his face. He can’t resist her — he doesn’t want to resist her.

“Can I come inside, then?”

. . .

Y/N’s house is everything Harry would have expected it to be.

She has two huge bookshelves that are overflowing with worn novels, Post-It’s and folded-down pages sticking out of nearly every page. She has plants and candles, cuddly blankets thrown askew over her couch, and a sink filled with half-consumed cups of tea. There are framed pictures and Polaroids tacked up on her fridge of people Harry assumes are her friends and family. He smiles gently as he passes by an image of her wedged between two older people who have some of her same features. It’s all very her, which means it’s all entirely too comforting.

“Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asks, nibbling on her bottom lip as she glances up at the man before her. It’s an unusual sight; one that makes her feel like she has to blink a few times to ensure she isn’t dreaming.

“Not unless you’re willing me to make my ‘stupid black coffee’, as you affectionately referred to it in the car.”

Y/N blushes, “I don’t have any coffee here, but I can make you tea. Or hot chocolate.”

“Tea is good, sweetheart.”

The flush only deepens at the pet name. He’s not sure where it comes from — maybe easing into a relationship-type dynamic is easier than he thought, especially considering he’s been pushing it down since their kiss. He watches as she turns to face the kitchen counter, occupying herself with turning the kettle on and retrieving two tea bags and mugs. He wants nothing more than to hug her from behind, pressing his fingertips into her hips to squeeze them teasingly. To dip his head to the crook of her neck and press kisses along her delicate skin. He swallows and adjusts his trousers, willing the thickening erection tucked underneath to go away.

“How do you want it?” she asks, glancing behind her to look at him.

He coughs. “Sorry? How do I want what?”

“Your tea,” Y/N replies slowly, a small smile on her lips, “How do you want your tea, Harry?”

“Oh— um, however you take it is fine.”

She nods and busies herself with filling the mugs up with the boiling water. Once she’s finished, she slowly hands him the steaming cup. He smiles in gratitude, allowing their fingers to brush against one another in the pass-off.

“By the way,” she says lowly, blinking at him, “You’re doing a shit job of hiding your boner.”

Her eyes crinkle in a smirk as she lifts the mug to take a sip of the warm liquid. Harry’s cheeks instantly warm and he stutters over his words, attempting to force out an apology. She lets him scramble for a moment before reaching out to curl her fingers over his wrist with a smile.

“I’m just teasing you. I hope you know I don’t care.”

He huffs, setting his cup down on the dining room table, “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you we have to wait. And now I’m standing in your kitchen, getting hard over you making me tea.”

She giggles. “I consider that a compliment, to be honest.”

“I’m sure you do,” he grumbles, “You make me feel like a doped up, lovesick teenager.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he scoffs, “Everything you do does something to me. Even if you don’t mean it. It’s ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?”

He sends her a knowing look and she grins.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“You know I’m not good at reading between the lines, Harry.”

He sighs. “You turn me on. Even by doing the stupidest shit— knowing more about me in certain subjects, wearing those cute little skirts… it all drives me insane. I’ve been trying to keep it together, but I can’t.”

“Then don’t,” she replies almost instantly, placing her mug on the table next to his, “I don’t want to wait, Harry. I feel… I feel so stupidly desperate for you. And I want this— I want you.”

“I know, but—”

“But in any other context, if we didn’t meet this way, there wouldn’t be an issue,” she points out stubbornly, “If we had come back to mine after a date, we’d already be upstairs with our clothes off.”

He can’t help the way his cock jumps at her words and he mentally groans. He wants to yell into one of those cute throw pillows on her couch, or maybe lay face down on the fluffy carpet in her hallway.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’m crossing boundaries, we can just watch TV or something—”

“Stop,” he cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Can we just… Can I just kiss you again? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Y/N blinks owlishly. Surprise is clear on her face, but it doesn’t stop her from nodding her head. As corny as it sounds — and Y/N knows it’s corny — it feels like magnets being pulled together. It’s not a moment longer before Harry’s palm is pressed gently against her cheek, his lips brushing up against hers. She’s nearly salivating at the thought of closing the gap between them and yet, at the same time, her brain is melting with lust.

This kiss, unlike their first, is riddled with want. It’s hurried and sloppy, teeth clashing and tongues dipping into each other’s mouth. Harry’s hand slips from her cheek and down to the back of her neck, giving it a small, testing squeeze. She presses her chest impossibly closer to his, eyelashes flittering at the warmth radiating from the button-down he wears. She’s desperate to feel him, to eliminate any boundaries or distances between them — for the first time, she’s sick of playing games.

“Upstairs,” she pants out through swollen lips. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and pulls playfully, allowing it to snap back in place, “Take me upstairs, please.”

He swallows and her eyes find his Adam’s apple, nervousness settling in her chest. He gives her neck another squeeze.

“Are you sure?” he breathes. She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

“If you’ll have me, I’m yours, Harry.”

“You’ve always been mine,” he mutters with his forehead against hers, “Show me the way, sweetheart.”

She grabs his hand in hers and lightly tugs him out of the kitchen. If she’s being honest, she’s fantasized of this moment for months now. She was never sure of how it would happen (the logistics never mattered in her daydreams), but having him here, standing in her bedroom, feels like some kind of joke her mind conjured up.

But when he lays her back against the mattress, elbows digging into the soft tufts of her bedding, it feels a little like a hazy fantasy.

When he parts her thighs and kneels down between them, pressing a smattering of kisses along her neck as his hands push the fabric of her thick sweater up, her labored breathing is the only anchor she has in reality.

And when he finds himself between her thighs, tugging her black tights down to reveal a sodden pair of underwear, a hiss sounding out from her mouth when he bares her center to the cool air of her bedroom, things begin to feel very, very serious.

“Is this okay?” he asks huskily. He’s since moved down to kneeling on the carpet of her room, his large palms parting the insides of her thighs. Every single move he makes drives her insane.

“Yes,” she breathes, fingers gripping the blanket beneath her.

He’s less calculated now that he’s received her consent. She instantly mewls the second he puts his mouth over her, licking through the wet fabric of her underwear. Her eyes roll back just from the muffled sensation, especially when he allows a low moan to vibrate from his chest.

“Need more,” he mutters against the soft skin of his thigh as he pulls the material to the side. He inhales sharply at the sight of how wet she is, his fingertip gently tracing over the tip of her swollen clit. “You were hiding all this from me for months.”

He states it as if it’s a fact — like she’d been doing it intentionally, when all she’s been doing is dreaming of the day he’d finally be the one to break. Through a shaky swallow, she parts her lips.

“Didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly to look down at him. It’s a heavenly vision — the image of the professor she’s been crushing on, on his knees for her in her bedroom. He sends a smirk her way as if he can read her thoughts (and maybe he can, she’s truly not sure anymore), and surges forward to dip his tongue through her folds, licking up the heady arousal dripping from her hole. It makes her gasp and reach down to grab his hair, a tight fistful of locks in her hand.

“Doubt it,” he says into her core. His fingertip continues tracing tight circles into her clit as he begins to flex his tongue inside of her, and Y/N’s back is arching against the expanse of her mattress from the wet, intoxicating sensations of it all. It’s nearly too overwhelming for her, especially given the sensitivity of her clit — but Harry can feel her tensing beneath his grasp, a delicious telltale sign that her peak is quickly rising.

“Harry— oh my god—”

“I know,” he coos, replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. He presses against her g-spot and she gasps, grinding her hips down against his hands, “There you go, angel girl, cum on my fingers. That’s it, good girl.”

If his hands weren’t currently occupied, one would undoubtedly be wrapped around his length right now, twisting and pumping until he emptied himself to the sight of Y/N’s coming, pulsating pussy. It's better than any daydream he ever could have thought of — her moans are beautiful and whimpery, her body warm and pliant beneath his touch as she comes down. Sensitivity immediately takes over and she gently bats his hands away, panting out loudly from above.

“Alright?” He asks softly, placing a light kiss to her thigh. He hears her swallow loudly.

“Jelly,” she mumbles, “Limbs are jelly.”

That makes him chuckle as he sits back up on his knees. He hovers over the length of her body and smiles at her fucked out expression.

“You’re pretty when you come.” He says before leaning down to peck her lips.

“Yeah?” She asks teasingly, “Show me what you look like?”

Harry stills but she nips at his bottom lip playfully, “You didn’t cum in your pants just from eating me out, did you?”

“Got pretty close to it.” He confesses, eyes falling shut as she continues pressing kisses to his jawline and down to his neck.

She hums at the admittance as her hands rake down his chest, “Do you wanna fuck me?”

“Whatever you want,” he swallows, the answer sounding far more submissive out loud than he’d intentioned, “Fine with… I’m fine with whatever.”

“I want you to fuck me.” She says, looking up at him. “Is that okay?”

“That’s perfectly okay.”

Y/N grins and begins to make quick work of shedding his layers of clothes. His button-down is the first to go, followed by his trousers and belt. Once he’s down to his briefs, she gently hints at wanting to climb on top. He has no reservations with that so he helps her straddle his thighs, watching as her eyes peer down at his covered length.

“You look big.” She admits.

He’s not sure if it’s meant to be a compliment or a nervous comment, so he silently issues a small squeeze to her hip.

“Seriously,” she continues with a frown. “Other girls have taken you no problem?”

This makes him laugh. “Generally, yeah.”

“I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

Harry smirks. “This isn’t your way of telling me you’re a virgin, right?”

“No!” She exclaims theatrically, and that only amplifies his laughter. “I’m just… I’m nervous! You look really big Harry, seriously.”

“Take me out then,” he instructs lowly and the tone of his voice zips straight to Y/N’s center, “I promise, you’re freaking yourself out over nothing.”

She grumbles as he pulls his underwear down his legs. Harry kicks them off his ankles and she sighs as she takes him into her hand. He has to make an effort not to hiss at the feeling of it.

“Still huge,” she mutters, “My hand barely fits around you, Harry.”

“You’re making my ego insane, angel.”

She peers up at him, where his arm is tucked behind his head like he’s lounging the day away. She gives the head of his cock a small squeeze.

“Do you really think it’ll fit?”

“Yes,” he chuckles, “If not, I’ll just go down on you for an hour and by then you’ll be open and wet enough.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles, the thought of him spending an hour of his time between her thighs almost being too much to fathom. “‘M gonna try to put you in.”

“It’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just breathe and take your time. We can do a different position—“

“No,” she quickly shakes her head. “Wanna ride you. This is how I envisioned it.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirks at that but his curiosity is quickly replaced by pleasure when she hovers her hips over his length. The warmth from her previous orgasm is radiating off of her and he breathes out sharply when she pushes the tip in, her fingertips covering the sight. Harry reaches out to move them. “Need to see,” he grunts.

Her jaw drops open as she slowly lowers onto him. Neither of them speak — it’s all entirely too consuming; her getting filled to the brim and him being surrounded by the tightest heat he’s ever felt. When she finally sinks down to his pelvic bone, her eyelashes flutter.

“Can you move?” He asks through a slightly clenched jaw, “Or— do you need me to—“

“I can do it.” She replies as she steadily attempts to move her hips up. “Oh, that’s a lot.”

“Too much?”

She shakes her head, “It’s good. Is it good?”

“It’s amazing.” He breaths out, gritting his teeth as she moves up and down.

With his reassurance under her belt, it’s easier for her to find a bit of rhythm, even if she has to place her hands down on his chest for stability. He happily places his own palms on top of them, curling his fingers around her wrists to help her.

“There you go,” he encourages, leaning his head back against the pillow as he watches her. “You look so beautiful, holy shit.”

She moans when she finally figures out a pace that hits that soft spot inside of her, eyelashes fluttering from the constant pressure. Harry moves his hands down to her hips to assist in the maneuvers, but mainly because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get sick of seeing his touch on her skin. She swallows harshly when she lifts a hand to coax at her swollen clit, a wet gasp sounding from her lips. Harry’s gaze lifts from where they’re connected to see widened eyes.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He asks in immediate panic.

She nods quickly and reaches out to grab his hand and place it over his stomach.

He thinks he may pass out.

Beneath the soft, dimpled skin of her stomach, he can feel his length bulging in her tummy. If he looks close enough, he can see the faint outline. It takes everything in him not to snap.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters as she resumes her pace of bouncing on his cock.

“Told you you were— oh— big,” she says stubbornly, and if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with the current state of her body, he probably would have had a comeback. But right now, all he can focus on is not blowing his load inside her.

“Need you to come,” he grunts. She nods eagerly like a puppy and he smirks when her fingers return to her clit, rubbing tight circles. “Need you to come so I can paint that pretty pussy, yeah?”

“Yes,” she mewls desperately. Her movements get jerkier and sloppier, but Harry has no problem meeting her hips. He thrusts up inside of her to hopefully reach the same spot, though his worry is quickly wiped away when he feels her muscles contract, her face twisting beautifully.

He can barely help her through her orgasm before he’s pushing her into her side. He’s no longer inside and his hand has switched to keeping her thigh up as he pumps himself, groaning at the sticky mess between them.

“Wanna feel it,” she whimpers almost pathetically, “Please Professor Styles, cum all over my pussy.”

That’s all he needs before he’s bursting at the seams, ropes of thick, white cum covering her. He’s a groaning mess and he doesn’t even notice that she’s running her hand through his hair, playing with it gently, until he has nothing left to give. With a final whimper, he lays back against her bed, completely spent.

When they’ve both caught their breath, Harry turns back onto his side to face her.

“You alright?” he asks softly. He’s nervous to reach out and thumb at her cheek or press a kiss to her hand. For some reason, he feels like the situation is too delicate right now and he’s at risk of fucking it all up.

Y/N hums, “Mhm. Are you?”

“I am.” he answers with a thick swallow. “Is it okay if I hold you?”

“Please.”

His heart jumps and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his chest. He leans down and kisses her hair.

They sit in the silence for a bit, Y/N finding comfort in Harry’s constant breathing, the sound of his heartbeat.

And then: “So you envisioned this?”

She bites at the smile on her lips before she bats at his pecs, “Shut up. I know you did too.”

Harry has no problem admitting that she’s right.

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

Imagine being new to Charming and catching Jax's eye.

Because of how far and deep the tentacles of Sons of Anarchy reached, hardly anything could happen in Charming without them knowing.

And yet, there he was - staring at the Bread and Batter signboard hanging above the half-furnished shop with little to no idea what was happening. It went without saying, that being oblivious to certain changes could make or break a business in their, well, "profession".

His thoughts of "How the Hell did we miss this?" were interrupted by shuffling and a sound of struggle. Jax furrowed his eyebrows. Venturing towards the back of the little store, he expected nothing short of trouble. He wasn't one to believe in coincidences.

"Need a hand, darlin'?"

Startled, you dropped the crate with passion fruit. The blond man had a grin on his face as though there was something amusing about your red face or sweaty hair sticking to your forehead. It’s a warm day and the stock delivery felt unending.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you," he said while making his way towards you. Despite the leather vest looking a little too much for the weather, Jax didn’t seem uncomfortable.

"No worries," you assured him. Feeling sweat gather at your hairline, you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand.

"So? Need some help?"

Considering how tired you already were, Jax was truly godsend.

"If it's not a problem..." you began awkwardly. You didn’t even know his name.

"It ain't."

With a polite smile on his face, Jax lifted the crate of passion fruit without much problem. You followed him inside the store but right at the treshold, he stepped aside to let you in first. As you asked him, Jax set the crate on the metal counter in the kitchen. Then, without wasting words, he was on his way for another crate of fruit.

A little awkwardly, you just stood out of his way, watching him labour away. Maybe it wasn’t the best first impression on your to-be clientele but that didn’t exactly mean the case was lost.

Around after half an hour of carrying fruit, dry ingredients and dairy, Jax was done. Slightly panting, he leaned his back against the wall, staring at you expectantly:

"Need anything else?"

"Do you think you could stay around for coffee?" you suggested. "To make up for your trouble." Although you clarified to not give Jax the wrong idea, part of you definitely wouldn’t have anything against that.

Clay is going to be pissed to Hell and back if he's late.

"Sure," he answered. Jax’s smile reappeared as his bright gaze followed you to the commercial-grade coffe machine.

#soa fanfiction #soa imagine #soa fanfic #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy fanfic #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller fanfic

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 1 year

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can i request bucky taking care of you after a long day at work? he cooks or orders in, helps you take a bath/shower, gives you lots of cuddles, reminds you how wonderful and strong you are.

(if you want something less fluff and more hurt/comfort maybe it's bucky taking care of you after a mission gone wrong. you're injured and traumatized, he knows how that is--he's been there. it's hard for him to see you like this, and all he wants to do is make it better)

okay, hope this isn't too long or anything!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥. || 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

― pairing: bucky barnes x plus size!reader

― summary: no one ever said being a professor is easy, especially not when you're up to your neck in assignments you have to grade, but never fear, bucky will always be there to take care of his favorite teacher.

― warnings: literally none!

― wc: 865

⋆ a/n: thank you so much for your request! i'm so sorry this took literally forever and i'll admit that I've been slacking on answering requests, but i swear that i'm getting better! this'll actually be my second request i answer today i'm pretty sure!

masterlist | AO3

Sometimes you really regret your profession.

It wasn't like teaching the wise brains of tomorrow was all that bad, it was just exhausting, and being an advanced placement teacher, your students got more class work and tests than what you would have been comfortable with assigning. Of course, you let them know that, and they kind of expected it since they paid to take your course, but that just meant that you were up the spout with things that you needed to grade. You were kind of grateful for the spoiled rich students that took your class because they almost never turned anything in, so that just made your job easier.

Huffing as you walked in, Bucky could already sense what kind of mood you're in. He was surprised that you had managed to escape your classroom so early, you usually stayed in later. Kicking off your shoes, Bucky walked over to come and greet you, taking your coat off of you and hanging it up in the hall closet.

"How was work today?" He asked. You turned to look at him, tiredness written all over your face as you allowed yourself to collapse face first into his solid chest. "What if I just quit?" He heard you mumble into his shirt. He couldn't help but chuckle, his chest rumbling against your face as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Your master's degree would have gone to shit then." He said crudely. You laughed, resting your chin on his sternum so that you could look up at him. "I guess so." You let the silence of the house bring you peace after having a full day of teaching rowdy young adults.

"How about I order in and run you a bath? Let me take care of you, doll." Bucky suggested. You weren't even going to lie and say that you could take care of yourself like you usually would, getting pampered tonight was exactly what you needed. "Yes, Buck, please." He bent down, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs so that he could haul you into his embrace. On any other day, you would have chided him, saying something like he was going to hurt himself even though he was a genetically modified human being, if anything, you felt like a sheet of paper. Bucky would say that you're probably the lightest thing he's ever picked up.

You allowed him to carry you to your shared room where you nuzzled into him, even though your embrace was broken by him gently setting you down. He began to take off your cardigan, followed by your white tank top, leaving you in your bra as he bent down to feel your feet from your flats. You sat down on the side of your bed, Bucky massaging your feet as you let out a content sigh. "God Buck," You said with a delirious laugh, "If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a masseuse." He let out a laugh too, lifting up both if his hands and wiggling his fingers, "It's all in the hands, sweets." He then sent you a wink as he reached for the band of your jeans, tugging them down.

His touches were innocent, completely focused on your comfort.

"You can lay here while the tub fills up, I just hope the food will get here after you get out." He pressed against your forehead before heading for the bathroom. You followed his instructions, getting cozy in your bed as you watched him turn on the water, searching through the cabinets in your bathroom for a bath bomb and bath salts. You smiled fondly, Bucky picking out all of your favorite scents.

"Alright, dollface. The water is all warm 'n smelling good." You got up, walking to the bathroom while he left to the living to order the food. You stripped the rest of your clothing, sinking into the warm water. Your muscles easily relaxed as the water enveloped your large body, caressing the aching parts of you as you felt like falling asleep.

You stayed in the water until the water slowly began to turn cold, your fingertips shriveled up like raisins despite how good and soft your body felt and smelled due to the bath bomb. Wrapping yourself up in the robe that was left folded for you on the toilet seat, you walked out into the kitchen where the Chinese takeout sat on the counter.

"The food's here just in time." Bucky said with a soft smile. "Chinese?" He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and leading you to the table so that you could sit down. He pulled the chair out for you so that you could sit down. "Mhm, your favorite." He sat down in front of you, both of you silently eating. The silence was peaceful, something that you didn't know you needed after the long day you had.

Words couldn't express how grateful for Bucky you were. Sometimes you questioned what you did in your past life to be able to deserve him, and you knew that if you brought this up to your boyfriend, he'd ask himself the same thing.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback

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mrbensonmum · 2 months

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TV Show - Dr. House | House M.D. XI

The end of the sixth season is not only near, it's kicking the door in with a cane. Just now, in the last episode of the season, the construction crane collapsed. And man, have we been through a lot.

Towards the end of the fifth season, things really heated up. First, we got to see "The Social Contract," another very interesting episode, as I mentioned before. Then, with "Locked In" and "Simple Explanation," things got intense, and before we knew it, the tone changed, and House found himself in the midst of a crisis.

Of course, we can't overlook that this crisis had a trigger, a pretty intense one at that. One morning, Kutner didn't show up for work. Many assumptions were made, and when Foreman and Thirteen went to his apartment, they discovered that Kutner had shot himself.

This was already the case before, but from here on, the series unabashedly plays with colors (Color Grading). The mood is often supported by a dark, blue tone or a light, soft, slightly orange tone, making it even more clear to the viewer. This happens right up until the sixth season and occurs again and again, depending on how intense the various moods are dictated by the story.

I also found it intense that Amber was brought back into play here. She had become an important link between House and Wilson, even though it looked different after her death. This also reminds me of a description of Amber that I should have mentioned much earlier, where she is described as being like House and how Wilson actually wants to be with House. It's interesting because that's exactly what happens in the sixth season when House and Wilson move into the new apartment. For a brief moment, they're a couple, and it just fits incredibly well. It's just a shame that the lovely Sasha Alexander has to suffer because of it. It's fascinating how she has changed since the first two seasons of NCIS.

We wouldn't be with House if everything were easy. So, House himself has to go through hell again before he is actually taken to a rehab center on a second attempt. Anything else wouldn't fit, but I also felt a little sorry for him here because realizing that his dream was just a dream, where he didn't end up with Cuddy, was pretty harsh.

The sixth season then starts with House's stay in rehab or in a psychiatric hospital where he meets interesting personalities. This includes Franka Potente, who is mainly known from German productions, which pleased me at the time. She is also one of the few German actors who can dub themselves, which was very well done here. I really like this story arc because it shows the ups and downs of House and his realization that constant rebellion may not be the right path after all.

Of course, many important topics are addressed again in the sixth season, one of which is euthanasia. It has been shown or hinted at several times before, but here it appears several times. One time, it's even not from the patient's perspective but from the doctors', which is incredibly unusual. The most impressive was also the instance where House was locked in with a dying patient and increased his morphine dose in the end.

The other major topic is, of course, Chase's act. He caused the death of a patient who was a dictator. This episode has raised questions over and over again, and rightly so. Is that okay? Is that justified? Just as I write about it, I realize that I don't want to delve into this topic as much because discussions about it are exhausting and not good for me right now. But everyone has to decide for themselves, especially in such a profession, what all of this means for them, ethically and morally.

I've skipped over some episodes and topics now, and that's somewhat intentional. Because while the sixth season does focus on the patients' respective illnesses, it focuses even more on the developments of the protagonists. Foreman and Thirteen and their relationship. Taub and his wife, how does their marriage progress? Wilson and his love life! Cuddy, Lucas, and Rachel? And of course, House and his attempt to be happy, which becomes more than clear in the last or penultimate episode with a session with Dr. Nolan. All of this is extensively dealt with in the sixth season and leads to some back and forth, which I don't mean in a negative way. Because even though there were already developments before, those that occur in the sixth season provide a breath of fresh air and keep the series at a high level of entertainment.

However, to come back to the penultimate episode of the sixth season, I can really understand House. You do and try everything, work on yourself, do your best, listen to others and their expectations of you, but in the end, only others feel better, and you feel worse. It's an absolutely terrible feeling, to put it bluntly, and no, it's not just because he's depressed or the pain is getting worse again. House is an overthinker, and he has already thought about a lot. No, it's a realization of the fact, and this is then reinforced by what happened in the last episode (the leg amputation). I don't condone what he does, but I can understand it.

The last episode is almost finished, and I'm not sure anymore how season seven starts; I'll indulge in that in a moment. I still remember quite a bit, but as often happens, it's a bit jumbled, so it's even more exciting.

Bonus: There's one more thing I'd like to write about because it was an episode that personally moved me. "Locked In" was again an episode where I felt very understood. Because even though the Locked-in Syndrome actually exists, there's another variant that is rarely talked about, sleep paralysis. A completely normal process where the body, once it falls asleep, becomes paralyzed so that we don't use the body too much while sleeping and dreaming. But it can also happen that you wake up, can breathe normally, move your eyes, but otherwise, you're practically paralyzed. Absolutely not a nice feeling, but again, kudos to the series for bringing attention to the fact that this exists and is something serious.

Oh yes, of course, I also noticed that Meat Loaf appeared in the fifth season. A great artist who heavily influenced my music taste in the 90s. Unfortunately, he has also left us, but I hope he rocks hard somewhere else.

#tvshow #tv show #dr. house #dr house #house md #greg house #gregory house #wilson #james wilson #dr wilson #cuddy #lisa cuddy #dr. cuddy #sasha alexander #ncis #meat loaf

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charmquarkstrangequark · 1 year

Text

Lucy Carlyle: Impact of her Early Life

As part of the general Lockwood & Co Brainrot that I suffer from, I spend a lot of time thinking about the characters, their motivations, and what they words and actions reveal about themselves, and have been wanting to make some posts about their characterization. Disclaimer: I have exactly zero qualifications to make these assumptions.

Obviously, Book!Lucy and Show!Lucy have some differences. I think Book!Lucy keeps a lot more to herself, but as she's the narrator, we get to know what she's thinking from the inside. Also, there's been some discussion about whether Lucy is an "unreliable narrator" (I have even referred to her that way myself), but it may be more due to how our perception of events is colored by our own emotions and memories. Lucy is, I think, big on self-denial, at least when it comes to admitting her emotions and weaknesses to herself and others. She often relates events that must have had a deep influence on her persona without outright stating how these events shaped her. This is directly due to her early life and experiences.

So what do we know about her early life? She was born to a working class family in a small town in North England ("slate roofs and stone walls"), and Lucy mentions she never remembers her father (who died when she was 6) ever calling her by name. Imagine your parent never actually saying your name; how insignificant would you feel? Both Lucy's parents in the books were big on physical punishment for her and her 6 older sisters; other than punishing them, the girls were mostly ignored. Lucy mentions that her Talent first became known to others when she was 6 years old (incidentally the same age at which Lockwood's appeared), although she later says she can remember hearing voices whispering in the streets after curfew as a "kid in my crib". Her mother waited impatiently until she was 8, old enough to be pulled out of school and employed at Jacobs & Co. Again, her only value is as a source of income.

Book!Lucy was proud to be an agent, but it seems her employer, Jacobs, should not have held the position he did. He was, apparently, the only researcher in his Agency, and he did a piss poor job of it judging by the number of child agents who die on his watch. However, even he could see Lucy's extraordinary Talent, and she is promoted twice as fast her peers, achieving her third grade by age 11. This doesn't, however, seem to add to her self-esteem in any appreciable way. She obviously cared deeply for her fellow agents; she describes spending all of her free time with them and rarely seeing her family. Their loss would have to have affected her deeply. But after listing their names, she says, simply, "They're all dead now."

She characterizes herself as unattractive (a clear departure from Show!Lucy played by the undeniably gorgeous Ruby Stokes). Lucy mentions, "as my mother once said, "Prettiness wasn't my profession." She also states that she was quick on her feet but not especially skilled with a rapier. It may be possible that Lucy is prettier than she realizes, or that she has charisma or grows into her looks; she certainly catches the attention of her subsequent employer, Lockwood.

So how does her childhood experience shape Lucy? She underestimates herself and her skills. She sees mostly her own weaknesses and deficiencies. This shouldn't be unexpected when she has grown up with no one who values her for anything except a powerful Talent and a possible source of income. Her self-doubt causes her to be critical of others, looking to see if they are better than how she perceives herself, or if she is the stronger candidate in any area. Being rejected by her father and mother as a young child, and by six agencies in seven days upon arriving in London can't help. She also has a deep desire to be loved and valued (who wouldn't?). As she's only around 13 when she sneaks away from home to go to London, I think her reactions and insecurities are very believable.

Lucy is an exceptional Listener; even she is willing to admit that. It means that she lives in a strange kind of reality, always responding to a wealth of input that isn't readily available to anyone else. But she doubts her own ability to make the right choice based on the information she has. She blames herself for not picking up anything concrete to prevent the deaths of her teammates at Wythburn Mill.

She describes herself as taking orders well and working well as part of a team, but this really underscores her doubts in her ability to choose correctly in dangerous situations. Even her initial outburst with George is fueled by embarrassment rather than self-confidence. Early in the books, she is reluctant to challenge Lockwood on anything in the field, and unable to see where others respect or admire her. These insecurities will cause her to raise Lockwood up on a pedestal and look down on George. Perhaps she sees in George aspects of herself she doesn't like, or prefers Lockwood's aloof treatment of difficult subjects over George's razor sharp wit and perceptiveness.

She's a complex and relatable character, both brave in battle and insecure in her relationships. She desperately wants love and acceptance, but can't offer either to herself. She's only sure of her Talent, and because of this, is drawn to cross the veil of life to engage and empathize with the dead rather than take the risk of fully immersing herself in life. These traits will fuel her exponential growth in her abilities, but also put herself and those she loves at risk, until she is able to finally accept herself for who she is: strong, weak, brave, Talented, perceptive, afraid and also very capable, loving, and loveable, and loved.

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #lucy carlyle #ruby stokes #anthony lockwood #george karim #l&co character analysis #renew lockwood and co #Of course I had to start with my girl Lucy #This girl is so amazing she has her own shade of blue

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 year

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Hallelujah South Park!

By Maureen Callahan 16 Feb 2023 - 17 Feb 2023

Will their delicious take-down of privacy-hungry Harry & Meghan FINALLY make them see what insufferable hypocrites - and global laughing stocks - they've become?

Well, she said she wanted to be a cartoon princess. Now, thanks to the brilliant minds at 'South Park,' Meghan Markle is one.

In 'Worldwide Privacy Tour,' which aired Wednesday night, Meghan and Prince Harry were savaged as hypocritical publicity hounds who nonetheless demand to be left alone. After promoting his memoir, here called 'Waaagh,' the 'prince and princess of Canada' move to South Park, whose children cannot abide their insufferability. At one point, the outraged prince flashes his frostbitten penis — to a child! — while defending his wife.

As the animated Harry and Meghan toddle around the globe, holding placards that read 'STOP LOOKING AT US!' and 'WE WANT OUR PRIVACY!,' their entitlement, stupidity and lack of self-awareness was sliced through by a cartoon talk-show host with, in my view, better questions than Tom Bradby or Anderson Cooper.

Appearing on 'Good Morning Canada,' Harry and Meghan — the latter speaking inanities with a Valley Girl accent — sit down to a chorus of boos. The impeccable line of questioning beings.

'Let me start with you, sir. You've lived a life with the royal family, you've had everything handed to you, but you say your life has been hard. And now you've written all about it in your new book, 'Waaagh.'

Harry: 'Yes, that's right friend. You see, my wife and I —'

Meghan: 'I was like, totallllllly, you should write a book 'cause your family, like stupid, and then [unintelligible] journalists.'

Host: 'So you hate journalists.'

Harry: 'That's right!'

Host: 'And now you wrote a book that reports on the lives of the royal family.'

Harry: 'Right!'

Host: 'So you're a journalist.'

Yes! Exactly right.

Meghan: 'We just wanna be normal people. This attention is so hard.'

Waaagh!' indeed. You have to wonder what the mood is in Montecito this morning, the online reaction from us 'normal people' nothing short of a rousing standing ovation. Do Harry and Meghan get it now? Do they understand that they are laughingstocks not just around the world, but in the province Meghan values above all others — Hollywood?

'South Park': Grade A+. Chef's kiss. This was a perfect episode. The only possible criticism: What took Trey Parker and Matt Stone so long?Granted, it seems every week does bring a brand new hypocrisy. One must work hard to keep up. 'Because I'm from the States, you don't grow up with the same understanding of the royal family. And so while I now understand very clearly there's a global interest there, I didn't know much about him.

'That was Meghan Markle in November 2017, seated next to Prince Harry as they gave their first interview to the BBC as a newly engaged couple.A fair number of people — myself included — found it near impossible, laughable really, to believe that Meghan, creature of Hollywood and student of fame, had little idea who Prince Harry or the British royal family was. Or that this self-professed smart, savvy, well-cultured woman had not so much as Googled her fair prince before their first date. No social climber she!It all sounded very Yoko Ono, who, upon meeting John Lennon, claimed to have never heard of him.Now — could it possibly be — that Meghan was insincere? A newly resurfaced post on her late blog The Tig (think Goop, but more basic and obvious) reveals that Meghan was very familiar with the British royal family and with William and Kate's nuptials. She even wrote about the type of princess she, Meghan, dreamt she might someday be.

Hey, Harry: Don't feel too bad. Even Lennon fell for it. As he told Rolling Stone in 1971, Yoko had 'only heard of Ringo, I think.'Ringo! Not the world-famous half of the most celebrated songwriting duo of post-World War II Western civilization. When you're that well known, it seems, nothing is as refreshing as someone who claims not to know who you are or what you do or why people care about you. The implication, of course, being that said ignoramus sees through the veneer of celebrity to you. They like and love you for you, not the attendant wealth or social status or privilege or refracted fame that comes with being your other half. Here's Meghan in her 2014 blog post, fantasizing about becoming a princess while also mocking the entire idea, because she's just that cool and just that above everything, even a storied institution dating back over eleven centuries.

'Little girls dream of being princesses,' Meghan wrote. 'I, for one, was all about She-Ra, Princess of Power. For those of you unfamiliar with the '80s cartoon reference, She-Ra is . . . a sword-wielding royal rebel known for her strength. We're definitely not talking about Cinderella here. Grown women seem to retain this childhood fantasy. Just look at the pomp and circumstance surrounding the royal wedding and endless conversation about Princess Kate.

'Well, well, well. How will Meghan explain that away? Or as recounted by Harry, that upon meeting Prince Andrew she thought he was the Queen's handbag holder? Or, as she told Oprah in 2021, 'I went into [my marriage] naively because I didn't grow up knowing much about the royal family'?

youtube

By the way, Meghan's 'grow[ing] up' would have been at the height of the royal family's coverage in global tabloids: Princess Di's supernova fame, the first future king ordered to divorce, Diana's death and the subsequent wall-to-wall 24/7 media coverage of her funeral.

Meghan would have to have spent her formative years in the Yanomami Amazonian tribe, thoroughly cut off from the modern world, to have known so very little about the royals.

How will Meghan explain, as she claimed in last year's insipid Netflix doc, that she had no idea how to curtsy or why it was important to show respect to the Queen? As she sat beside her husband, who looked pained and humiliated, Meghan characterized her first meeting with the late Queen Elizabeth, one of the world's most admired women, thusly:

'I mean, Americans will understand this,' Meghan brayed, because 'we have Medieval Times, dinner and a tournament. It was like that.'

What must Harry, who wrote in his memoir that Meghan knew 'almost nothing' about the royals, be thinking now? Will he think to himself that his now-wife knew well and good who he was? As Andrew Morton wrote in his 2018 biography 'Meghan,' her friend Ninaki Priddy said that the future duchess 'was always fascinated by the royal family. She wants to be Princess Diana 2.0'

This seems to be the root of Meghan's self-obsessed rage, does it not? She married the spare. She'll never be the next Diana. If anything, Catherine, Princess of Wales, is carving out a similar beloved place for herself amongst the British people. Meghan is the also-ran, attempting to run a rival court out of a soulless Montecito manse while decrying the uselessness of all things royal.

But don't you dare not call her the Duchess of Sussex!

Lest we forget, Meghan's overarching message since joining this family has been the smug, insufferable, disingenuous utterance, 'Be kind.' It's what she said in that first interview with Harry, claiming that she made it very clear to their matchmaking friend she had one non-negotiable quality in a potential mate:

'And so the only thing that I had asked [our mutual friend] when she said she wanted to set us up was — I had one question — I said, 'Well is he nice?' 'Cause if he wasn't kind it didn't seem like it would make sense.'

We all know now that Harry isn't very nice. You don't take millions from your father and cling to your titles while disparaging and insulting him, then tell the world — for years — that they're a family of racists before taking it all back and blaming the press for your woes while revealing all manner of your father and brother's private pain and intimate information and get to call yourself a nice guy.

On top of all that, we're meant to feel sorry for Meghan and Harry.

You don't mock the physically disabled female teacher at your boarding school for kicks, as Harry did, and get to call yourself nice. You don't double-down and name this poor woman in your memoir, blame her for not being attractive enough to make you 'horny', then recount the serial humiliations you subjected her to without ever expressing an iota of remorse or guilt or shame and get to call yourself nice — let alone a humanitarian and a thought leader in mental health.

Mental health advocates — these two! It's just amazing. No matter how many discrepancies, these two evince nothing, not so much as a blushing cheek or a head hung in shame. They're like two dead-eyed sharks, moving ever forward through the chum in their wake. They don't seem to understand that credibility and authenticity is paramount when trying to launch themselves as personal brands.

They also don't seem to understand what laughingstocks they've become. After the priceless Jimmy Kimmel bit about Harry and his todger, after Stephen Colbert mocked the royal family to Harry's face during his appearance, 'South Park' — a show that gleefully flays hypocrites of all stripes — has focused their ire on these two professional victims. No one deserves it more.

As the young animated character Kyle exclaimed, 'It is seriously driving me crazy. I'm sick of hearing about them but I can't get away from them! They're everywhere. In my f***ing face.'

A cri de coeur for us all. Alas, Harry and Meghan seem to lack the one quality that might possibly redeem them: A sense of humor.

MAUREEN CALLAHAN: Do Harry & Meghan see they're now South Park jokes?

#tom bower #revenge #sussex #meghan markle #prince harry #worldwide privacy tour #south park #brand management #spare us #like a spare #Youtube #maureen callahan

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cloveroctobers · 8 months

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A/N: this is a concept that’s been in my head for awhile now and I just wanted to put it out there since it’s been not only sitting in my head but also in my journal lol. These are just some quick hc’s and you can tell I’ve went back into the twilight hole based on the casting but hey fall season is among us, shut up!

Added this prompt to the mix based on the random content that occurred into my head and I’m using: 11. Discovery.

WARNINGS: more family trauma? + language.

Go back and read my previous September anthology prompt here if you like.

MEET THE BERZATTO’s !

Far as Carmy can remember of his dad: Aldo Berzatto, is that when the man bothered to get dressed up, he cleaned up well.

When he went out with uncle Jimmy back in the day, you can almost always guarantee the night would turn for the worst.

Majority of the time it would be Aldo’s fault since when he got that liquor in his system, he became loud and sometimes ready to take on the world with his violent tendencies opposed to his calm stoic behavior.

That landed him in jail lots of times and Donna grew used to it, letting his ass stay there most nights.

Aldo was originally supposed to go into some boring shit like accounting since he was always good with numbers, had a photographic memory, and used to do taxes for people around the neighborhood at just sixteen for cash.

His mind set was he didn’t come from much so he wasn’t sure how the hell he even thought he was getting into college.

He even still did it on occasion until the original beef took off and Donna became pregnant with Natalie.

Aldo and Donna were high school sweethearts who everyone expected to grow old together, however they didn’t know what was underneath the surface of the prom queen and casual baseball star.

He was decent on the team but it definitely wasn’t Aldo’s passion.

They were pregnant with their first, Michael a year or two after graduation which put their potential aspirations on hold.

Donna grew up with a younger sister, Lydia [who I’ve casted as Jennifer Coolidge in my mind] who Donna always felt like she had to compete with since Lydia was deemed the “more attractive sister but just chubby”

Her looks and personality got her everything apparently.

Her parents started the comparisons from a young age so Donna always felt like she had to do more to make sure she was seen too.

She was involved in everything in school, participated in most of the clubs, got fantastic grades, had a solid group of friends and was a fantastic dancer — it’s what she wanted as a profession but her parents shitted all over that. “Its not practical. How are you going to support yourself…by dancing on stages? You might as well go on the pole.”

And when she got pregnant? There was no hesitation from her parents on kicking her out and so she lived with Aldo + his family, who seemed to like her, got a job until she couldn’t stand anymore — got fired from her job for calling out sick too many times not long before she gave birth to Michael and thus Aldo and Donna were brought into adulthood.

There’s not too much Carmy even remembered about his dad besides him making the best sandwiches, dressing well, having the same high bridged nose and not being around much.

Carmy was young when he passed.

He died at the wheel from a heart attack at just forty-three years old.

The same age as Mikey.

It was always more questions than answers when it came to the berzatto household.

Like when exactly did Donna start drinking and smoking more? When did she stop caring about hiding her prescriptions from anyone that entered the house? was it before or after Aldo’s death?

How long was she aware that he was stepping out on her and had twins right before Natalie came along: Jett and Ruby?

There was a nine year age gap between Michael and Natalie and a eight year age gap between Michael, Jett, and Ruby.

Maybe that caused her to pick up bottle after bottle, cheeks hollow after each pack of Marlboro’s

and her pain wasn’t just chronic from a old dancing injury, it was also because of Aldo’s infidelity

Which is something Natalie sympathized with after this news was brought to the table but Carmy was done making excuses for his mother like Nat and Mikey liked to do.

Jett and Ruby showing up at the bear, a month after everything transpired—was the shoe carmy was waiting on.

Michael knew. He had to.

and Carmy was ready to kick his headstone in if he ever bothered to visit, which proposed the question of: did Michelle know? It was clear Nat had no clue. Did Richie also know?

Did Lena?

Since Richie was Michael’s best friend he had to at least know something but they weren’t speaking—that was more on Carmy’s part since Richie did try but carmy was struggling to turn the dissociation off

and Carmy’s gut told him that Richie had an idea about the whole situation.

That’s what sugar said anyways.

“We should talk to mom,” Natalie says sitting outside of the bear with carmy who’s keeping a safe distance and fidgeting with a cigarette but not lighting it.

He’s trying not to be an asshole just yet to his unborn niece!

“You think we’re ever gonna get any answers from her that makes sense, Sugar? Those people came in here and told us about a man I didn’t even really know, it adds up doesnt it?”

Nat jokes, “well your math isn’t always the strongest…”

Carmy’s pacing but the look he sends his older sister lets her know his mind is spinning just as much as her’s is. “What the fuck are we even supposed to do with this? What do they want from us?”

“Maybe nothing? Or rather a relationship with us? I mean we don’t know them so it could be anything. I told Ruby we should have a sit down for dinner and she can bring her mom if she wants.”

“Jesus, Nat! Why the fuck would you do that? Did you invite mom too?”

“Hell no, not this time! I mean would she even show? Like you said, we won’t get much out of her before she goes on her tangent so it’s better we get a conversation from Jett and Ruby’s mom instead.”

‘She was the other woman, what exactly did sugar think she could tell them that would sit right with them?’ Carmy thought to himself.

“Well I don’t know if I’ll be there.”

“What? No fucking way are you leaving me to do this by myself.”

“Take richie with you.”

“He’s not a berzatto, Carmen.”

Carmy stops tapping the cigarette against his fingers then.

Richie’s not a blood berzatto but he might as well be with all the shit he’s seen and nat was aware of that but carmy also knew what she meant.

“When and where is this taking place?”

“I was thinkin’ Either here or my place. I can make a green bean casserole—

If they had it here they’d have to close the bear down for at least an hour and thirty minutes, send everyone off for break time and you never know where this dinner might end up…possibly making break time longer for his staff since things might be said you know?

The best choice would probably be at sugar’s??? although they’d have to deal with Pete—it might be the only option.

“No the fuck you’re not.”

“Well excuse me bear, what the hell do you think we should eat? It’s my best dish.”

A side dish.

Carmy pinches the bridge of his nose already dreading giving into this, “I’ll figure it out, something from here that’s prepared will do. I got it, you just relax.”

“I’m pretty chill, are you okay?”

“I don’t want to do this, nat. I don’t want to sit at a table where those two get to tell us how much better their upbringing was with dad.”

“They’re our siblings, Carmy.”

“Right…but what exactly do we owe them?”

Natalie’s eyes soften as she takes in Carmy’s words and pushes herself up to hug the younger man, “nothing. Nothing at all.”

Carmy’s on time to Natalie’s, arriving one hour before to rewarm the food in the oven and have pete help him carry the food in.

He’s in a daze but knows he has to keep moving and he notices that the house not only smells like lingering cleaning chemicals but also something else.

“What is that?” Carmy’s face is scrunched up

“Oh one of Nat’s candles, she’s super ready for fall!”

“It stinks, Pete. I don’t know if it’s the nutmeg or the apple that’s making my eyes fucking burn.”

“Oh no man, maybe you’re allergic.”

“I’m not, the scent is too much almost insulting and you need to get rid of it.”

“Me? I’m not doing anything to piss the pregnant woman off, who also happens to be my wife by the way.”

Carmy feels his eyes twitch before he lets out three sneezes back to back, giving Pete a dry look, “it’s going in the garbage.”

“Okay buddy…don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Natalie’s got music going that sounds like some beachy tune to ease the anxiousness that’s swirling around and she calls out, “Ruby’s texted! They’re five minutes away! Where the hell is my candle?”

“I don’t know.” Pete says, “the house still smells great though, babe.”

Natalie’s waddling into the kitchen giving Carmy a raised brow but he just shrugs, unbothered and playing coy.

[Kathy Najimy plays Jett and Ruby’s mother]

And she’s as sweet and motherly as can be, with warm squeezes and complimenting the home.

She brings a dish ofc and it’s damn good, carmy notes.

Nat barely slept about this and she couldn’t blame it on her sciatic nerve this time!

She was tossing and turning just wondering how this woman would be, if she would have this vile behavior opposed to her daughter—Nat and Carmy’s half sister?

Who had this bohemian aura about her. Would their sister’s mom be a witch by defending her actions and bashing her mother and would nat have to throw her out?

Instead…She takes a liking to Pete but it doesn’t seem like she’s not taken a liking to anyone so far!

Nat’s not sure how to take her at first. Was it genuine? but she matches her smile and welcomes her to her home silently praying to the gods above that this didn’t get back to her mother thanks to some nosy neighbors

Yet Donna barely left the house unfortunately

while Carmy is more quiet and standoffish—which they expected.

They get through the basics, some small talk where they learn more about Jett and Ruby first

Jett’s older by six minutes, he’s a vet (army man) and a mental health counselor—which definitely surprised Carmy + he’s married to a boutique owner named Anna, who’s away in Greece right now.

Ruby’s younger, she’s also in a band in her free time that sounds like it’s influenced by Fleetwood Mac and a little Janis Joplin, she’s in a devoted relationship to a burly man named Emil that’s an FBI agent, and they adopted Anna’s niece since Ruby was unable to have children

As for their mother she’s a herbalist now but used to be a pharmacist for many years and gave it away that she saw Michael come into her place of business once or twice, instantly recognizing him but wouldn’t say anything but knew he figured it out the second time around (when he was much older)

That’s when the conversation turned heavy

“So when did you know our dad was married?” Carmy came straight out with it, making sugar almost choke on her seltzer water while his eyes were in a daze as he stared down at his plate.

Pete cleared his throat, “Anyone need refills?”

The twins shook their heads as Nat suddenly slipped her hand into Pete’s underneath the table, squeezing.

Ruby says, “Mom you don’t have to—

The woman shakes her head, “no I do. You two went off to introduce yourselves and Nat and Carmy were gracious enough to invite me as well when they didn’t have to. They have questions so it’s only right I answer them.”

“I didn’t know at first. When we met…Aldo didn’t have a ring on or anything. I originally didn’t want to give him the time of day with the way he was looking at me, like he could see a future I couldn’t see and that he wanted to be part of it with me. Yet he was great at disappearing for awhile and I told him he should have went into magic instead of business. Everything about Aldo was a red flag, I knew he had a business but I could never stop by. He was three years younger than me—I like my men older but that’s not important. I didn’t find out until i saw a much younger Michael, he had to be about seven or eight leaving the store with a bag running off to a car on a rainy day that looked so familiar to me. I never had the greatest of eye sight. I tried to see over the counter but the car quickly pulled off and I knew but I ignored it. It wasn’t until I found out that I was four weeks pregnant that I decided to follow Aldo to the original beef… did I see him arguing outside with your mother, Donna. Nobody is just going to be screaming their head off unless someone did something to them. A woman always knows and I thought about leaving him alone after Donna stormed off but I had to tell him and hope that he cleaned up his act, to be a better man.”

Nat exhaled, “Did you want him to leave our mom?”

“No. I couldn’t take the back and forth from him, one minute he would be loving and then the next distant. It wasn’t ever constant and I slowly grew tired. I told him that he better tell your mother because my pregnancy was about to change everything in their marriage and more than just the cheating.”

Carmy asks, “And how did that go over?”

“It didn’t. I don’t want to bash the dead but your father was a master manipulator and a liar. He had issues just like everybody else but the problem is he liked to ignore them because it was normal to him. He was used to it, almost like he found comfort in it. I just wish he knew that he could have fought for better for his kids. You all deserved better than what he gave.”

“You mean to tell me it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for you two?” Carmy folds his arms, his round eyes focusing on his older half siblings.

Jett holds Carmy’s stare, “I think as kids we want to see the best in the people that raised us and hold onto the better parts—if any—and block out the rest.”

Natalie’s eyes are on Carmy’s now as he take in the words of the bits they’re discovering of their late father.

“We understand that this is a lot and will probably always be but we felt like we couldn’t go on any longer when we’re in the same town and not at least speak considering that you just lost Michael.”

Those last words echoed in Carmy’s ears.

Pete winces while nat flicks her eyes back to Ruby.

Carmy frowns, “Sorry but I uh—I don’t know how you two can possibly think you’re gonna fill that void.”

“Oh That’s not what I mean—

Natalie adds, “And this now feels a teeny bit opportunistic.”

Ruby’s scrambling over her words now but her mother reaches out a hand over Jett and towards her daughter to halt her

Jett swoops in now despite his mother’s movements, knowing their intentions and says, “I understand how this may feel like that truly but we felt like it was time to acknowledge the truth and just come right out with it. That’s not how mom raised us because the truth will always come to light. We’re related by blood sure but we don’t have to be close if this is something you don’t want, we can leave this as simply a tough conversation if that’s what the both of you want.”

Ruby raises a finger, “I don’t want that.”

“It’s a lot to process so we can give you guys time if that’s what’s requested but we also don’t have to move forward with a relationship either.” Jett boldly repeats, “so…thanks for dinner but I’m going to head out now.”

Scrapping the chair back, he excuses himself leaving Pete to gasp and for Jett and Ruby’s mother to also excuse herself to talk to her son who’s voice could be heard from outside the home.

Ruby inhales, “this isn’t how I expected this to go but I also didn’t have unrealistic expectations. I’ve wanted to get to know the both of you…the three of you for the longest but things just didn’t work out that way. I’m sorry for making this weird but thank you for inviting us, I’ll see myself out.”

Nat turns to Carmy then as Ruby also exits, her eyes swimming with emotion and all Carmy can provide her with is a simple shrug, hiding his shaky hands.

He told her he didn’t want to do this anyway.

𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪. 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ

Continue along with my September anthology prompts here.

#the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear s2 #the bear season 2 #carmy berzatto #Carmen berzatto #Natalie berzatto #Michael berzatto #sugar berzatto #mikey berzatto #richie jerimovich #Michelle berzatto #donna berzatto #september prompts #queued #the bear season two #the bear s3

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itsalltaken · 2 years

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Missed Target

Steve Harrington x Reader (Part I)

Synopsis: After having a crush on Steve for so long, you decide to confess after everything is sorted with Vecna, but fate doesn’t seem to be on your side this time around

Warning: Angsty at first but has a happy ending

•~•

“Fucking hell, Robin be careful” I screech just as Robin nearly toppled over a specifically branchy part of the upside down forest. We can’t exactly have her attracting any wild sort of beasts while we make our way to the Creel house

“Sorry sorry- where’s Steve and Nancy?” She asked me, peering over my shoulder. Looking back as well, I curse when I realize that the pair wasn’t behind us anymore

“Stay here, I’ll try to walk back and look for them” Walking back to the way we came from, I can’t help but get worried. Whether or not it was because Steve was alone with Nancy or if it was because they were somewhere in the upside down; I don’t know. All I know is that I’m worried.

My unrequited crush on Steve was no secret- to everyone but Steve and Nancy at least. Even Munson immediately found out about my crush on him after just being around us for a few days! And it really didn’t help that he and Robin seem to see the same thing I did- which was that a old burnt out spark between Steve and Nancy was possibly being lit up again.

“Shit” I mutter when I nearly tripped over a branch, shushing myself immediately when I hear voices. Following the sound of the familiar soothing voice, I find myself spying on Steve and Nancy’s conversation. I know I should’ve walked away or maybe broke it apart, but I couldn’t. Not when he was professing his love and dream of six kids and a white fenced house with the perfect girl.

He was literally the definition of ‘If it isn’t with you then I don’t want it’ which usually would make my heart throb, but in this case it did nothing but bring me pain. In fact, if you listen close enough, you could hear the small pieces of my heart shattering to pieces.

I wasn’t like Nancy, that much was obvious. I took good care of my grades and stuff and had my own share of big dream, but I didn’t style my hair every single day or dressed up in skirts and dresses, making sure I looked the utmost best in every day - no, I was just me. Plain old me, so it really wouldn’t - or rather shouldn’t shock me if Steve still loves Nancy

“Guys!” I hear Robin pant “Where were you? Y/n was just-”

“I’m here!” I shouted, making myself look like I had been walking for a while. I don’t miss the slightly annoyed look that Steve had on his face for Robin ruining the moment between them. And for once, I’m glad that she came at the wrong times.

“Let’s do this”

•~•

Everything was a blur after Vecna’s vines closed around our neck. All I know is that when I opened my eyes, I was back in Hawkins at the school. I was wearing the same old outfit I used to wear when I was class president. Walking through the halls of the buzzling high school, I run to solitude in the girls bathroom when I freeze.

Giggling. I heard giggling, but not just any normal giggling. This was Steve and Nancy in the bathroom together. Running out of there immediately, I slow down when I realized that the school was now empty and... dark.

“Y/n” I heard a deep voice drawl from somewhere in the halls of the school and I make a run for it “Why would you wish for Steve and Nancy to break up when she was your friend?”

I run faster when the voice became louder and louder, it starting to morph into Steve’s voice

“Why would you want me to leave the love of my life Y/n? Don’t you love me?”

“Go away!” I scream, seeing the exit of the school and pushing my legs to run faster

“It’s your time Y/n. You can’t run from your fate”

“Go to hell, you no nosed freak!” I shout, rattling the doors open, but they just wouldn’t budge “No! Fuck you!” I scream and shake when I felt myself getting lifted and turned. When I open my eyes once more, I am no longer alone in the safety net of my school, but instead I’m facing the monster we were here to kill.

“You and your little friends thought Max was the only one I’m after” Vecna cackled “That was the first mistake in your already flawed plan to kill me”

“No,” I struggled as vines wrapped themselves around my body “Stop it! Please!” His hand came closer to my head, tilting it back as I slowly felt my bones begin to shake and my eyes black out. Was this really the end for me? Was I never truly meant for happy endings? Maybe this was for the best, but what about Steve? And Dustin?

I feel liquid starting to drip from my eyes and feel as my bones begin to get dislocated. All I can hope now is that the group is able to defeat this clock obsessed weirdo. One casualty for the sake of the many

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things oneshot #steve harrington x reader oneshot #steve harrington x y/n #angst #fluff #steve harrington angst #nancy wheeler #vecna #hawkins #stranger things steve

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violetosprey · 2 years

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Everyone talks so much about female yanderes but who's your favorite male yandere(s) and why do you like him/them?

Hello there! What a wonderful question. Well the simple answer is, “whoever I am currently obsessing over,” haha. Whether that’s a yandere in a manga or webcomic I’m currently reading, or even just the aesthetic of a character who is NOT canonically yandere (the reimagining can be fun). Anime might not have the greatest roster of male yandere in my opinion, but I think there’s plenty in comic format to choose from nowadays.

But that’s also a boring answer and doesn’t say too much if I just am picking said favorite because it’s what’s “new and shiny.” So I tried to really think about some of the ones I’ve liked in the past. Nostalgia could be at fault here, but I figured maybe I could find one that also stood the test of time.

I’m going to go with Fukusuke from the BL manga “Color Recipe.”

(non-spoiler TLDR list is at the top; Major spoiler explanations below)

I made sure to go back and reread the manga before this just to see if things went down the way I remember. Not only did several things still hold up from memory, but I got refreshed with a couple of things I had forgotten. Like how much I actually love the S/O, Shoukichi, in this story. He’s a lot better than just a typical hot-head lead.

But anyway, there are several reasons why I think Fukusuke holds up really well as a yandere. Some of these reasons even lead into others:

Semi-original concept

Disguise too good

Equal footing with the S/O

One of the BEST yandere “snaps”

Displays the difference between lust, control and love

Best of both worlds and a yandere to the end

1. Semi-original concept

Personality wise, a yandere who’s outwardly chatty and social but inwardly doesn’t care for anyone but their S/O isn’t really new. But most of the time I expect to see said yandere being especially flattering to their S/O to get in their good graces. So what’s Fukusuke’s first plan of action? Act like an a$$ towards the S/O. Not…exactly what you expect. But not only does our yandere have reasoning behind this, it’s integral to the plot. And of course, it comes back to bite him later.

I’d also say he’s kind of a mix with how he clearly doesn’t feel the same way most people feel (the author makes it clear he’s no saint), but he’s not a complete monster either (we’ll get to that later). He does get called a psychopath by another character in the story, but I really couldn’t tell you if he fits any mold exactly.

Him being a beautician/stylist is also a nice touch. I don’t recall a ton of yandere with this profession, but it adds a unique flavor to the setting. Especially since the S/O is very work-oriented, so the setting and line-of-work come into play a lot here.

Just a personal note, this is probably one of the few yandere where I’m not swooning over their appearance. There are plenty of yandere I drool over, but this is one I strictly love for their character and not their looks.

There’s a bit of a “love at first sight” kind of deal here, but I’ll give it a passing grade. It’s not just the S/O being a pretty face that starts the obsession. It’s a combo of the S/O’s work ethic AND their teary eyed face, haha.

2. Disguise too good

This yandere is so good at working behind the scenes, that the author felt the need to actually have another character point out the machinations of the yandere. I love Riku by the way <3 He’s odd and teeters on the neutral line, but I think he does a good job both letting the story be mainly about the yandere and S/O, but interjecting when he needs to. He might not be to everyone’s taste though. I could definitely understand if someone said they hated the handholding the author is doing here, or just hate how Riku doesn’t do more if they are aware of what’s happening. I wouldn’t say Riku’s exactly pure.

Still, if you even look at just the first few chapters, I could see a viewer might get fooled into thinking that the yandere is a much purer guy than he is. There are a few moments or scenes that make you wary of Fukusuke in the first few chapters, but there are also scenes that put him in a more generous light. I feel like he even was genuinely honest with some of his complements or advice towards Shoukichi. If the entire manga kept going like this, slowly the audience might start to doubt themselves or forget that there’s anything abnormal about this man. So the author has another character come and point out EXACTLY what the yandere is doing. And you quickly realize that Fukusuke is an extremely manipulative type of yandere.

3. Equal footing with the S/O

A lot of yanderes you’ll notice in stories have some kind of position of power. They might be a duke, a king, a ceo, etc. To be clear, I have no problem with this! I certainly love these types myself. The reason you probably see a lot of them though is because they fulfill two roles: the “Cinderella” fantasy, and easier writing. Let’s face it, lots of people love the idea of getting swept off their feet or chosen by someone of considerable status. It’s a mood booster, and a big part of fiction is escapism. Not only that, but a yandere in a power position has two advantages that can both make them more appealing for the S/O or terrifying. They can solve all the S/O’s problems more easily or give them anything they want with their status and money. OR they could push the S/O into a corner easily if they resist. The S/O could be strong-willed as hell, but they don’t have to be portrayed as a complete idiot for not being able to escape the yandere if said yandere, I don’t know, owns the entire police force for example.

Getting back on topic, Fukusuke is NOT in a position of power. He’s not even the manager of the beauty salon, he’s just the S/O’s coworker. The only thing he has over the S/O is the skill to socialize better with customers (ironically). But he uses this one skill to its FULL extent. He also relies on manipulation a lot more as a result. A yandere without power who wants absolute control needs to be VERY smart.

He’s not invincible though and is completely capable of failing. That’s why he has to be careful and why he’s a more interesting character. Other characters can see through him and ruin his plans, or completely accidental discoveries show his lies. Also, he still gets punched many times by the S/O. I also completely forgot that he got bitten during a BJ once (Ouch! But S/O clearly wasn’t into it).

He doesn’t rush either. He works over the S/O for an entire year before…

4. One of the best yandere “snaps”

For those unaware, a “snap” is essentially the breaking point of the yandere. They stop playing nice. You see these plenty of times, even in one-shots. They’re fun, but sometimes they can definitely feel really rushed or sloppy. This one is beautifully done. This snap doesn’t actually occur until after a year has passed of the yandere and S/O working together. He’s been playing a VERY long game and still isn’t quite in the position he wants to be. He wants to be Shoukichi’s #1. He wants to further monopolize him, but the S/O’s personality and priorities kind of stunt him.

It’s not just this frustration building up though that pushes the yandere over. Through a series of events, the S/O finally catches on to what the Fukusuke has been doing. Shoukichi even asks if Fukusuke HATES him. We as the audience know it’s the actually the opposite, but I completely understand how the S/O came to that conclusion. Shoukichi has a lot of morals and speaks the truth several times about what it means to love someone. Also, Fukusuke's explanation does not help his case.

When Shoukichi gets angry at our yandere, I really love how we FIRST see Fukusuke mull over in his head what his options are. It’s only after he concludes that there’s no means to make a recovery out of this, that he resorts to extreme measures: brief confinement, electrocution torture and blackmail.

5. Displays the difference between lust, control and love

Does Fukusuke lust after Shoukichi? Yes he does. He gets horny a lot and even admits he’s a rather perverted guy who would love to do all kinds of things with his S/O. Shoukichi’s not into the more perverted stuff, but that doesn’t stop the yandere one bit from wanting him. He’d have sex everyday with Shoukichi if he could. Does Fukusuke want control? Yes he does. Both due to his natural personality and obsession with the S/O, Fukusuke wants to possess Shoukichi completely. Even when he’s in a rather good spot I’d say after a year working with Shoukichi, Fukusuke still isn’t satisfied since he doesn’t consider himself the S/O’s #1. Shoukichi’s job, manager and customers always come first. Fukusuke keeps trying to encourage him to start up a business with him, but Shoukichi refuses. Even with them sleeping together and having an amicable relationship, it’s not enough.

Does Fukusuke love Shoukichi? YES he does. Here’s the thing about yanderes. It’s easy to love them for their lustful, controlling sides that really get things going. But I think some writers get a little too caught up with these sides that they start to neglect what makes a yandere a yandere: love. They forget to make it clear that the yandere doesn’t want the S/O as just a sex slave or some kind of personal toy/object for only their eyes. Maybe authors THINK they’re portraying a twisted display of love, but it just comes out wrong on paper.

But how do I know Fukusuke is different and is actually in love with Shoukichi then? Because he’ll actually do things or react in ways that show he’s NOT looking to just keep the S/O tied up in his apartment for his own amusement. That “snap” I mentioned earlier? The confinement period is very brief. It’s nothing like the stories that revolve around the S/O being held captive for an indefinite amount of time. Fukusuke only resorted to more extreme measures when his previous plans fell apart. He only wanted to push the S/O far enough back into a corner to finally pull him away from the shop.

After he gets Shoukichi to promise him to leave the shop and start a business with him, Fukusuke tries to have some celebratory sex with him and takes his S/O’s blindfold off. The author then gives us one of the best facial depictions of someone who is TRAUMATIZED that I have ever seen. Dubcon is a term that pops up a lot in BLs (I’m not here to talk about that), but I don’t think there’s anyone who would assume dubcon is present in this scene. Not even Fukusuke, at least not subconsciously because Fukusuke becomes very confused when he can’t get himself hard. He even mentions he thought the S/O’s teary face was cute in the past, but he knows this is different.

There are plenty of yandere out there that will force themselves onto their S/O despite their reluctance. There are also others I’ve seen who do get rattled when they push the S/O a little TOO far, and are then capable of holding themselves back. But it’s both highly impressive (and a little hilarious) to see a yandere straight up admit they can’t get aroused because they hate the sight of their broken S/O.

Again, Fukusuke has plenty of lust and control desires where the author could have written him just “winning” here and doing whatever he wanted with Shoukichi. But our yandere hesitates.

True to being a yandere, Fukusuke does try to convince himself to keep pressuring Shoukichi to listen to him since he’s come this far and this is what he resolved to do. I love also that when he’s talking with Shoukichi about “their future plans,” it’s very realistic. He’s going on and on about the logistics of setting up a beauty salon together, and that he wants it also to be a place they can live in together. This yandere doesn’t desire to keep Shoukichi locked up in a room all day. He literally wants him to be his LIFE PARTNER. This is exactly the type of yandere mindset I adore.

And finally, it eventually does get through our yandere’s head that…he messed up. From the very beginning, he messed up. Both Riku and Shoukichi (separately) point out why he failed. He looks genuinely devastated later. So he relents with the blackmail plans and completely pulls away and gives a damaged Shoukichi his space.

6. Best of both worlds and a yandere to the end

That is not the end of it though. What I’m about to say may be a little polarizing depending on how people viewed the characters overall and the ending: I think Fukusuke both learned a lesson and understood what he did wrong, BUT he also did not give up and just resorted to switching tactics.

I can’t really explain this one well in words I think. Giving the S/O space was probably the best thing a yandere could have done here. Even in the extra chapters, Fukusuke does not purposefully go hunt down Shoukichi. He gives Shoukichi back his freedom. Shoukichi can choose to come to see him of his own volition or stay away. He never contacts Shoukichi directly, but stays in touch with everyone else in the shop.

However, once again Riku points out how he still has not stopped being a manipulator from afar. He manipulates his customers to take advantage of Shoukichi’s good nature and guilt. He confesses in an article (and later in person when Shoukichi visits him in an extra chapter) that he will NOT take anyone but Shoukichi as his partner. No matter how much work he’s overloaded with work.

Shoukichi by the way is very interesting because he has both qualities that protected him from completely submitting to Fukusuke (i.e. job oriented, strong grasp of how you treat loved ones), as well as qualities that make him vulnerable (i.e. too sympathetic to others). Because of this, Fukusuke I’d say didn’t necessarily “win” in the way he wanted by the end of this manga, but he hasn’t exactly lost either.

I’m not entirely sure if I call Fukusuke a redeemed or enlighted yandere. It’s been a long time since I thought of those terms. But I’m happy to say he STAYED a yandere to the entire time. Also, I didn’t know where to mention this, but I do love a lot of his facial expressions.

Overall, I think this character did a really good job portraying the more wicked aspects of yanderes, but also not forgetting to show what a yandere in love is supposed to be like and having them grow for the better. Having two volumes did a lot of good to have the characters work through everything.

I definitely recommend this manga to anyone who even just wanted to do a character study on yanderes. Now there may be some I could see who don’t care for Fukusuke. Maybe he’s seen as “boring” because he doesn’t have as many over-the-top moments as some other yandere, or maybe you thought he went too far and are agitated at the thought that he could eventually win over Shoukichi. To each there own I suppose.

I know that the question asked about if I had several yandere I wanted to talk about but, I overloaded on Fukusuke so I think it’s best not to go into full details on the others here.

I did think about other yandere before writing this. Should I have gone with Kisshu from Tokyo Mew Mew as “baby’s first yandere” kind of deal, with Marcus from “Till Death Do Us Part” (warning: 18+) for basically kickstarting this blog, or with Mandarin Kim from “Cherry Boy That Girl” for making me enjoy a very different type of yandere from I’m used to?

I know I tend to go for the more villainous yanderes too, but a lot of those end up as one-shot villains or brief side-characters. That makes it hard to pick a favorite among those when there’s not as much character to analyze. So I wanted to go with who I thought was a very GOOD representation of a yandere today. I hope everyone enjoyed and I apologize for any grammatical errors along the way.

#yandere #male yandere #analysis #color recipe #answer

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esmemaxwcll · 2 months

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[cis woman & she/her] Welcome to Aurora Bay, [ESME MAXWELL]! I couldn’t help but notice you look an awful lot like [MEGHANN FAHY]. You must be the [THIRTY] year old [VETERINARIAN]. Word is you’re [INDEPENDENT] but can also be a bit [PERFECTIONIST] and your favorite song is [CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS BY TAYLOR SWIFT]. I also heard you’ll be staying in [CRYSTAL COVE CONDOMINIUMS].

NAME: Esme Maxwell GENDER: Female, she/her DATE OF BIRTH: September 21st SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual GENDER: Female PROFESSION: Veterinarian

Esme Maxwell would like to think her family was perfect but she would only be lying to herself. Being raised by an ex-socialite of a mother who married a man that didn’t come from the same background made family dinners more awkward when she was forced to attend dinner with her mother’s side of the family, she was always reminded by her mother that she was a miracle child, considering the fact her mother wasn’t able to conceive a child throughout their marriage. After adopting a daughter and had few years of blossoming into a family they always wanted, it wasn’t until Mrs. Maxwell began feeling ill that she let curiosity get the best of her to take a pregnancy test which all came out positive. Nine months later, Esme was brought into this world screaming out her lungs. Esme was used to being pampered by her parents who were always thankful about their daughter coming into the world. As Esme grew older, she still didn’t feel like she could connect with her older sister whom she looked up too and always played her toys with, the little girl observed how her mother tend to overreact over her then her older sister but didn’t ask questions.

High school was tough, from having to embrace the brace life after sixth grade to beginning of freshman high school; Esme was constantly in the shadow of her older sister who seemed like nothing can stop her. Even the guys in her class had crushes on her while Esme was still having trouble filling into her own shoes on trying to become beautiful like her older sister, even though she knew that they weren’t blood related, she couldn’t help but question when she wouldn’t be the second choice in people’s eyes. It wasn’t hard when she was involving herself into ballet and taking piano lessons, something that was complete opposite that her parents wanted to involve the girl. High school became a battle field on where to fit in when she found herself trying out for cheerleading and getting on the team after try outs, Esme felt like she finally found herself with the other girls who cooed over her moves thanks to her flexibility. When she was seventeen, she finally got herself into a relationship with her longtime childhood crush, everything was almost perfect until he came out to her that he was actually gay, Esme was a little heartbroken at first but became extra supportive for her boyfriend that turned into an ex after junior year.

The youngest Maxwell got her act together and applied for colleges out of state after deciding on becoming a vet. Not exactly her ideal job her mother wanted for her daughter. Mrs. Maxwell actually had hopes that Esme would become a socialite just like she had before giving it all up for her marriage with Esme’s father. Esme on the other hand didn’t really care much for that life style, sure she enjoyed the luxury of buying things and flaunting them around but to become a trophy house wife made her ill at the thought. After getting accepted into a good college, Esme studied her ass off with accomplishing her goals into becoming a successful veterinarian. She dealt with some bumps along the way from messing around with a married professor to getting herself hitched from Vegas. Esme college years was filled with stressful situations that her mother had her bury and never bring up in the sunlight again. The secret of her being divorced at the age of twenty-three was a silly thought and only her mother and the other man knew about the secret. Graduating with good grades, Esme decided to move back to Aurora bay and work at the local vet clinic for 5/4 years now

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Exes

Family

Childhood friends

open to anything

#aurorabay.intro

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anghraine · 1 year

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I wonder if you can guide me on whether I should pursue Linguistics or Literature for my MA since you already are working on your PhD in Literary Studies? It's my dream to major in Literary Criticism and I believe I can always get another MA in Linguistics, but for now I don't want to waste my time and power on something that might not be so useful in the future. How has your experience been with Literary Studies? Would you advice a fellow academic to pursue it?

Hmm, I would always suggest getting advice from an actual advisor or committee chair if you have one. However, here is what advice I can give, with the caveat that I am a random stranger on the Internet who doesn't know you.

First: broadly speaking, if you're really sure about what your ultimate goal is, you're probably best served by doing the things directly related to that goal if it doesn't make much of a difference to you otherwise. I suspect that an MA in English literature will do more to help you get into a PhD program in English literature than a degree in linguistics.

That said, the fields are related enough that if there would be no difference with regard to GPA, what recommendations you can get, and (most importantly) your writing sample, it may not matter that much in the long run, unless you envision your PhD literary work as particularly involved in linguistics (sometimes this is the case).

But the work you do in an MA in literature is probably going to be more geared towards preparing you for further work in literature than one in linguistics. If one subject is generally easier for you to get high grades in or if you tend to have better relationships with instructors in one of the fields, that may be the best for PhD acceptance purposes.

Another concern that people sometimes don't want to talk about, or alternately are very annoying about: the current state of the job market in literary studies is dire in a lot of places (certainly in the USA, where I live). It was bad before COVID and is worse now. Exactly how dire the situation is depends on your specialization, but it's pretty bad all around.

I honestly don't know what the job market for linguists looks like, especially since there are a lot of different professions within the field (a high school friend of mine with a linguistics degree ended up in speech pathology and says it's much easier to find work in that field). I did use linguistics for technical writing credit, but that was years ago and I just don't know what opportunities look like now, pragmatically speaking. Possibly the outlook is better than in literary studies, and if so, a graduate linguistics degree might be more helpful if you don't get into a literature PhD program or do get the degree but don't get hired in academia afterwards.

OTOH, there are a lot of things you can do with an MA or PhD in English outside of academia (and those things are usually more profitable because of the defunding of the arts etc etc). Some jobs simply want the degree and don't care much what it's in, for instance.

Some do care, but are actually looking for people with English degrees. A friend of mine once got a very good job in Seattle because he had an English degree in addition to his computer science degree and they wanted someone with that kind of background to work on an online dictionary.

A friend from my grad school cohort used his literature MA to get a job in technical writing, so there's that. A graduate degree in English can help if you want to go into editing or publishing (maybe even law), though there are major issues in publishing as well. If you're interested in creative writing as well as literature, getting into a terminal creative writing degree program such as an MFA or PhD is sometimes helped by having a related MA already.

As for my experience in getting a PhD in literature, it has been very mixed. Sometimes it's fantastic, because you're in an environment that can be very intellectually nourishing, for lack of a better phrase. How actually supportive it is varies a lot (I have been lucky in that respect, but I know people whose programs had a lot of ambitious, cutthroat people and for whom it was miserable). It can be very nice and very helpful to be around people who care about the same general thing as you and who appreciate its value even if it's not their specific area of study. It's super cool to have full on tenured professors be like "oh, that's a bit outside my area, but it's an interesting question and Elizabeth would probably know more" or just straight-up have me take over teaching a class while they dealt with a crisis outside the classroom.

People outside academia (and some parts of fandom) have tended to find me deeply boring, and because I'm autistic, it's always a struggle not to just go on flat monologues about my fixations. I constantly had to remind myself that nobody around me was actually interested or wanted to hear about this kind of thing. But during both my MA and PhD, it was just different. Since all my local friends were in the program, I didn't have to worry nearly as much that people wouldn't know what I was talking about or would find it intrinsically dull, and we'd just sit around a table chattering about this stuff.

That said, this being a constant, inescapable aspect of your life with a lot of pressure and obligations and expectations and so forth—and just the sheer amount of reading you have to do—can start to suck the joy out of it, and this can be a major problem if it's one of your major sources of joy in the first place. I mean, there isn't much reason to do it if it isn't. But I have hardly read any fiction outside of my academic interests for years because the idea of reading any more just feels exhausting.

I don't read fanfic at this point, not because I think there is any intrinsic qualitative distinction between original and fanfic, but because my mind is so wrung out that I usually don't read stories of any kind unless it's part of research. Some of my friends who got degrees in literature experienced the same thing and gradually found joy in literature again once they were free of grad school bullshit, so this isn't a permanent rupture necessarily, just something to consider.

Then there's teaching, too, and the messy composition-literature dynamic, and frankly, as a whole, it's been really bad for my mental health, especially my mood swings. But a lot of that has to do with the culture around grad school and academia in general, not literature specifically (I think it would be worse if it were any other field, actually, except maybe creative writing). So it's worth bearing that possibility in mind, but not a certainty, either.

I know this is a lot! Basically, it depends on a whole ton of factors, and I can't give you an exact answer. But these are the kinds of things I would consider.

#anon replies #respuestas #ivory tower blogging #rare breed of attack unicorn #long post

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ariadnasdiary · 8 months

Text

Dietitian vs doctor: a neverending bickering

"Isn't that book a little too difficult for you~?"

"Isn't it too difficult for you to leave me alone?"

Mun Ari: I saw this post of @kindan-no-kanojo regarding what kind of doctor our ocs would be. Now! I'll take this chance to make some headcanons regarding this AU:

*Tiny note before we start: most thing stated here were made regarding my personal opinion and/or experience, please don't take them seriously or by heart ^^*

Yes, Ari is a dietitian. Yes, it isn't exactly a doctor, but a dietitian is within the health sciences~.

No, a dietitian isn't exactly the same as a nutritionist.

Let me explain it: dietitians are recognized as health professionals and they use specialized diets as treatments for their patients. They have knowledge in various pathologies and know how to prescribe diets to complement the patient's treatment. A nutritionist on the other hand may have some basic knowledge on nutrition (some may have taken a course) BUT are not recognized as health professionals.

“All dietitians are nutritionists, but not all nutritionists are dietitians,” explains registered dietitian Amber Sommer, RD, LD.

A little cultural fact now: this explanation I gave you is in terms of the USA, but here in Mexico is the other way around, can you believe it? [Mun Ari: I studied and I'm a certified nutritionist which is the equivalent of a dietitian in the USA]

Now that that's settled: Ari is a registered dietitian (according to what I found it works the same in Japan). So yeah: she's a health professional.

We know that Kino is a Psychosomatic physician which, and I cite: "provides a comprehensive approach to the emotional, cognitive, and behavioral needs of the patient". So yeah, it is in the psychiatry area.

Now, it is well known that sometimes (not always) is quite common for doctors to feel… a little above others. [Mun Ari: trust me, I've been there and experienced it first hand, but not everone were like that ^^]

As both professions are in the health sector, they of course met in college. I can imagine they did in one of those in common subjects within the first semesters ^^ (you know, those were various careers share some classes since they are in the same area)

The "competence" or "frictions" happen naturally and they are initiated by doctors… 9 out of 10 times.

Ari was just, you know, existing and happened to share the same subject and classroom as Kino. Being a doctor student he was started with the passive-aggressive comments/jokes and sometimes it got in Ari's nerves.

You know me, so I'll go with the rivals/enemies to lovers prompt on this one since it is what it is~

If Ari had to thank Kino is that those comments forced her to push herself even more on her studies, so she can defend herself when he wants to brag how "his career was harder than hers".

Call it bad luck, but they spent the first semesters in every common medicine class together. People knew it was Kino messing with her and she was only defending herself. Everyone was making bets on who'll get better grades in the exams or projects and secretly they ship them together.

However, nothing really happened and they actually got to spend more time together UNTIL their internships. They got in the same hospital and that was hilarious to those that knew their story or saw it develop from the beginning.

They worked in the same area and in the same team within the same patients. They tried to keep it professional, but we know Kino and he can be annoying :). They both got scolded once in a while. Residents, nurses, doctors, dietitians and even patients found their dynamic amusing and will find it delightful as long as it wouldn't interfere with their work and affect others (specially patients).

Ari earned Kino's respect after various times she showed just what she was capable of. Ari admired doctors and all health professionals in general, but she felt happy when he actually said it to her. Then their attitude towards each other improved.

Inevitably they started considering each other as friends and valuable teammates, knowing they had each other's back. Dietitians and doctors work together, they just need to learn to do so.

Yet, like in the original timeline, Kino fell for her first… and harder lol. He'll get possessive of her, he doesn't like when she is paired with other male residents or interns and is specially cautious of doctors. It was hard for him to keep an eye on her when they were rotating on different areas, but he always managed. It was tiring and Ari at first couldn't really understand why he would do it.

Of course it got into a point where he declared his feelings to her and Ari became aware of them and made sense to her his attitudes. Ari didn't answer his proposal immediately as she didn't see him as a lover, but as a friend.

After that, Kino made it his mission to conquer her and long story short he did and became a couple. It brought certain peace to kino as now that they had the title, everyone would know they're dating and some may respect it.

So yey! Health professionals AU for Arino came to me on my own internship and Idk why I forgot to post at least the commission lol.

If you wonder about the rest of the crew: Naomi I already stated is a gynecologist, I can see Yuri as a nurse or maybe nothing related to health since he wouldn't be able to deal with that and Kino (let him rest already!) and Sabine I can totally see her as a cardiologist or maybe an anesthesiologist :D

#ariadnasdiary #ariadnaxkino #arino #ariadna koizumi martínez #kino #naomi nakahara #yuri #sabine tachihara #mun ari speaks #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik lovers latino

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armpirate · 1 year

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UNDER YOUR SKIN || JJK || Ch. 14

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

This deal with Jungkook is like going back in the past, back to when I was in high school and every single day I had a new project scheduled for the next day. Oh yup, just like that. And he's like the typical teacher that looks cool with good vibes, but as soon as you're in his class, he starts being a pain in the ass you'd want to get rid of.

When the whole deal thing started I expected something else on his side. What exactly? I don't know. But definitely not this.

While still doing the "observing" task -which, by the way, I might've found my new profession and I'm thinking of trying luck by applying for a vacancy in National Geographic-, he also has asked me to try and deepen in my memory and remember how I socialized back in high school and college. According to him, it could help to understand why I react the way I do around males I think I'm into. But honestly, it only helped me to realize I barely lived my teenage years the way I should have. Always too focused on something else.

He lifts his gaze from the paper for only one second, right after I've complained about how that will be of no help. But he insists.

I roll my eyes, and lift one of my fingers so I can start counting.

—I had strict parents —I start—. I rarely was allowed to leave the house, and sneaking away was impossible. It was a fucking bunker —I excuse myself—. I remember at some point they even installed a locator app on my phone when I got the first one at fourteen. And, trust me, dealing with the consequences of deactivating it was way worse than doing what I was told.

—Shit.

He looks at me with wide eyes, surprised by that comment. And I can see by the look on his face how he's trying to understand why my parents would do something like that. Well, I guess it's all about control. It doesn't really surprise me.

—What about in school?

That's difficult to answer, because I don't really remember much. I only remember the thing with my parents because they kept doing that until I moved out to study.

—Hmm —I sit on the tattoo chair—. In school I was too focused on my studies —I shrug—. I had pretty good grades I had to maintain.

—Good grades and you ended up doing Fine Arts?

—You also did Fine Arts.

—How do you know? —he frowns at my reply, but quickly relaxes his face— Never mind. Soo —he finds the answer himself—. What I meant is: I was a donkey in high school, but you were good at it. People that are good at studying usually go for... other type of degrees.

—Well, having the ability isn't the same as liking neither of those degrees or careers.

And that's true. I remember how hard I had to fight my parents for them to accept my decision, and they still ended up being convinced any other degree would be a better choice. The mere thought of spending four years of my life studying something I didn't like demotivated me.

Thinking about it now though... Look where I am: nowhere, working as a barmaid and dealing with dudes that are too drunk to frame a sentence that makes sense.

—You moved to New York for college, right? —he arches his eyebrows.

I'm almost going to ask how he knows about that, but just like him, I remember his sister probably kept him updated on all the information she got from me the first day we met.

I nod, and he goes back to his drawing.

—You didn't use your freedom in college?

I let out a shaky laugh, playing with my fingers before I get up from the chair and start walking around again.

—Let's say I didn't really have the chance.

—You made no friends in college? —when I look at him, he looks genuinely concerned.

—My grandma paid for my studies, so I started working to pay her back. When people were doing extracurriculars or going to parties, I was heading to a call center to do the night shifts nobody wanted to do.

—And in class? —he insists.

—I didn't really feel like talking to anyone —I sit back on the tattoo chair.

More like, I felt like I'd be disturbing people if I tried to join their groups. The fact that I started the first year two weeks later than them didn't play in my favor. I only talked to some people because of group projects we were forced to do, but even then, our talks were limited to that.

Ever since I moved to New York, the only one I spent quality time with -and I considered a friend- was my grandma. But two years ago she died, and it's like I'm back to the start.

Which keeps making this whole situation weird. I've never really had someone to open up with, and here I am, talking with Jungkook as if three weeks ago we weren't on each other's throats at the minimum chance.

—Guys didn't try to make moves on you either? —I shake my head— You probably scared them away with that bitch resting face —I throw a death glare at him, which makes Jungkook point at me to yell:— Yes! That one.

—You're an asshole.

—Thank you —he finally gets up from his chair.

I see him moving around the room, passing by a wheeled tray filled with different colors of ink in tiny bottles. He stops in front of a shelf, and takes a folder where he keeps that same drawing. And when he opens it, I can catch a glimpse of several other drawings with the same style.

—I thought tattoo artists used tablets for that.

—I rather work on paper —he puts the folder back where it was.

He then sits back on the chair he was sitting on, and rolls its four wheels so he's just a few centimeters away from me.

—So? —I lift my eyebrows— What was all that interrogatory for?

Apart from reminding me how little I've lived.

—I don't know —he shrugs—. I was curious. Maybe it could be of use in the future.

—And why did we meet here? We could've met up at my place.

—We've met at your place the other times —he moves closer.

—Then yours.

He puckers his lips and frowns in a quick second, clearly uncomfortable by the idea. And I partially get it, we don't know each other that well yet. But he still has been at my place more times than anyone I've known.

—What? —I laugh— You have dead bodies in your freezer?

—No —he leans closer—. I don't feel comfortable bringing people over.

He doesn't let me insist, Jungkook traps my lips between his and moves them slowly. Before the hand on my thigh is able to move forward, I break the kiss.

—And I don't feel comfortable with whatever you're planning to do here —I murmur, with my eyes still closed—. Don't make me kick your motorbike again.

—Gotcha —he smiles against my lips—. But I want to keep kissing you.

And I'm unable to resist that. Whether it's his warm breath, his soft voice or his intoxicating scent -or a mix of the three-, my hands move to his neck to pull him back on a kiss. His long locks tickle on the reverse of my digits when I pull him closer. The kiss is soft and slow, and I can't help but think we're both just refraining ourselves from going deeper into it.

—Do you have plans for tonight?

—I'm meeting up with the girls —I try to keep my focus when his thumb starts circling my knee over my jeans.

—Girls' night? —I nod— That's nice.

—Yeah... —I move my gaze away, lowering it to my lap— It's a bit weird for me still. You know, having a group of friends to hang out with. But I like it. It's nice —when I look up to him, he's back at giving me a soft look—. What?

—Nothing —he simply shrugs, and moves the chair away to stand up—. Have fun tonight —he tells me—, and maybe try to meet someone. Or, at least, don't use that insecure control freak personality if a guy reaches out to you. Fake it 'till you make it.

—I'll do my best —I get up from the chair.

I've been here for almost an hour, but just now I happen to realize Jungkook is here by himself, and Mark is nowhere to be seen. When I ask, he just says there was no point for the two of them to be there if customers didn't start coming until four in the afternoon. And it makes sense.

Huh, that's why he was getting so comfortable just a few minutes ago.

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #tattoistjk #tattooau #armpirate

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ddaleishere45 · 7 months

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Exploring S.T.E.M

By Dale V. Aldea (Grade 11-Perfection)

As a senior high school student, you've probably heard the term "STEM" being talked around countless times. Maybe you have heard that this strand is for students who wants to be a Doctor, an Engineer, even a Software Genius! But what exactly is STEM? Is it just more than just a senior high school strand? In this blog, we'll dive into the fascinating world of the STEM strand.

S.T.E.M and its origins

STEM is one of many strands you can take up in Senior High School. It stands for Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics. The S.T.E.M acronym was first introduced in 2001 by a a group of scientific administrators at the U.S. National Science Foundation (Hallinen, 2023). The organization previously used the acronym SMET when referring to the career fields in those disciplines or a curriculum that integrated knowledge and skills from those fields but was later changed to STEM and since then, STEM-focused curriculum has been extended to many countries like the United States, Australia, China, France, South Korea, Taiwan, United Kingdom, and was later introduced here in the Philippines by the K-12 program.

Decoding the Acronym

S.T.E.M - SCIENCE Science is all about understanding the natural world, from the smallest particles to the vastness of the space. It involves asking questions, making hypotheses, conducting experiments, and analyzing data to discover the basic principles that govern the universe. If you aim to take science related courses or medicine in college, well you're in luck because this strand offers primary education for the said courses.

S.T.E.M - TECHNOLOGY

Technology is everything from smartphones and laptops to life-saving medical devices and cutting-edge space exploration equipment. It's the practical application of scientific knowledge to create tools, systems, and solutions that make our lives more efficient, convenient, and safe. If you're interested in software development, computer engineering, or even app designs in college, this strand is for you.

S.T.E.M - ENGINEERING

Engineering is the art of using scientific and technical knowledge and using it to design and make solutions. From bridges and skyscrapers to renewable energy systems and electric cars, engineers turn ideas into real, functional realities. The field of engineering is big, with specialties like civil engineering, mechanical engineering, electrical engineering, and aerospace engineering, to name just a few. Well in this strand you can learn the basics of those courses to prepare yourselves in college.

S.T.E.M - MATHEMATICS

Mathematics serves as the language of STEM. It is the foundation upon which all the other subjects are based. Our high school math classes help us develop critical thinking skills, problem-solving abilities, and logical reasoning qualities that are highly sought after in any profession. Whether you are planning on taking a career directly related to mathematics or use it as a tool to excel in another S.T.E.M field, its importance cannot be overstated.

Is STEM important?

The S.T.E.M strand in senior high school very important for students like me. The strand prepares students who are planning on taking on courses that are related to science, technology things, engineering, architecture and many more. The strand also focuses on enhancing the students problem-solving skills, critical thinking and creativity. This is a big help, giving us students a big boost in knowledge in the fields of science and math for college.

So keep this in mind, STEM isn't just a some random acronym made for Senior High School, it is a gateway of understanding the world around us. The strand equips students with knowledge and curiosity for the fields in science, technology, engineering and mathematics, creating a path for a bright future. STEM is more than just a strand, it is a journey of discovery and learning to limitless possibilities.

References:

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heliosthegriffin · 2 years

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Insurance

Part of this Au

Ruby: Huh,

Weiss:...

Ruby: Hhhhuuuuuhhh,

Weiss:...

Ruby:Hhhhuuuuu-

Weiss: What!?

Ruby: Did you know? * holds up a magazine* That we have a 25% mortality rate?

Weiss: Yes.

Ruby: And you didn’t tell me?!

Weiss: This is something that you should already know.

Ruby: Really?

Weiss: Yes, Huntress have some of the highest mortality right out of any profession. That’s why widowers and families of said Huntress or Huntsmen, are taken care of for life, and why Hunters have such a large pension from the Academies.

Ruby: Wait, does that mean I’ll be right when I retire?!

Weiss: If you survive that long, not that I have too worry about Lien.

Ruby: Oh, I wonder what kind of upgrades I put on Crescent Rose then... Wait, there’s a job with a higher mortality rate, 39% rate?!

Weiss: Let me see.

Weiss: Oh, Bureau Officers, they’re just inferior hunters, kingdom drones, it’s unfortunate, but they tend to drop like flies whenever any real danger emerges.

Officer Jaune: Thank you for your kind observation, Ms. Schnee.

Ruby: Jaune!

Jaune: Hey, Ruby.

Weiss: Oh, my apologies, Officer.

Ruby: What are you doing here, Jaune?

Jaune: None, taken Ms. Schnee. Firsthand I’ve seen my fellow officers almost off themselves on the daily, huuuh *Sighs heavily, turns to Ruby* I’m on break, saw you, and strolled over to say hi. *Looks around suspiciously* Yang and her partner aren’t here, are they?

Weiss: We’re-

Ruby: Yangs back at the dorm, hey why do die so much?

Weiss: RUBY!

Ruby: Sorry, I meant why do your buddies die so much?

Weiss: RUBY!!

Ruby: Double sorry! I’m just curious! I mean are you guys just that bad?

Weiss: RUBY ROSE!!!

Jaune: No offense taken, *Sighs again and sits down at they’re table* Ruby, you know what our job is right?

Ruby: Uh.

Weiss: You apprehend Non-hunter based Criminals with Aura.

Ruby: That.

Jaune: Exactly, well that and paperwork, so much Dust and Darkness damned paperwork. Can’t even pursue a known criminal without righting damn thesis.

Weiss: *Chuckles*

Jaune: Anyway, as your partner said earlier, we are effectively lesser Hunters, we have Aura and we have our weapons, and we have training, but we aren’t exactly the one-woman armies you two are, we can’t exactly handle Huntsman level combat.

If I got good shot in on you two, with *Pulls out his Thunderer, sets the safety on, and puts it on the table* It might stun you for a few seconds, or even knock you out, but that’s entirely dependent on your own skill with Aura and conditioning as a huntress, but it’s also not meant for Hunter level combat, it’s good for knocking out a your regular Empowered gangbanger though. Even, If I set it to max power, there’s good chance you would dodge and I’d be out of power in two to four shots, and - *Notices Ruby is ogling his gun, and Weiss is looking at the dust canister.*

Jaune: Please don’t touch my gun, it’s aura-locked. *Ruby stops reaching for the gun*

Ruby: Oh.

Jaune: It would release a pulse of electricity that would, probably, burn your hand, nothing you couldn’t handle, but it would hurt and leave me with less power later.

Weiss: *Stares at the canister* That’s the lowest premium grade dust, Grade Three, correct?

Jaune: Yes, it is. It can hold up to 3000 MegaWatts, and passively absorb electricity out of the air, if slowly, deplete it and I couldn’t use it for almost a month.

Weiss: As to be expect from any premium grade Dust, passive elemental absorption is to be expected. Who did you procure your Dust from, if you know and are at liberty to say?

Jaune: The Bureau buys all the dust in bulk from a wholesaler from a various in kingdom supplier, sorry, but we don’t buy out of Kingdom, and unfortunately it’s highly illegal to modify Kingdom supplied equipment, so I couldn’t change it even if I wanted too.

Weiss: A shame, I could offer you grade deal, up to premium grade two, seems like a sore point, though. Your seems quite worn also.

Jaune sourly: It is, and I’d love to take you up on the offer, but Bureau does not like it when Officer’s go around modifying equipment, because it’s technically theirs, the last time I asked, the Man at Arms nearly through out the fifth story window.

Yeah, I’ve been using this particular dust for since I join five years ago, the Bureau expects you to use every bit of dust until it’s depleted.

Anyway, while not official policy, the Bureau does not like the idea of they’re officers having Huntsman grade weapons.

Ruby: Why? Aren’t you the good guys?

Jaune:.... Kinda.

Ruby looks to Weiss.

Weiss: Atlas doesn’t have a Bureau, everything in this regard has been folded into the Military Academy.

Jaune: Ruby, you should know this, Officers have no jurisdictions over Academy and they’re Hunters. We’re not to get involved with them barring the most severe situation, and we’d die in droves if we did. We’re not worth it, is putting it kindly, even if we had huntsman grade weapons-, give me a second.

Ruby and Weiss wait patiently.

Jaune: My job involves following and monitoring suspected Empowered, if they are not registered, they could have unlocked they’re aura yesterday or ten years ago, I have no idea how actually skilled they are, this is why I build a report and a case, to form a picture. If I make a good picture and I’m correct, then I’ll know how dangerous they are before confronting them, if I’m wrong, I die, because like Ms. Schnee said, we are inferior Hunters.

*Pulls his collar slightly down, revealing a grizzly, scar an inch below his collar bone, a depression in the skin formed by knotted flesh, to Weiss and Ruby’s disgust and horror*

We don’t get trained as hard.

We don’t train as hard.

We don’t have the time.

We get six months to train, then we’re on the force.

We get second or third-hand gear, and expected to serve.

Any improvement afterwards is entirely on the officer, I’m one of the most skilled officer and I’m only alive due to having more Aura than average. If you two came at me with intent to kill, I die.

If I make mistake in judgement, I could take on someone who’s trained they’re whole life outside the view of the Kingdoms, armed with Aura and killing intent, and who knows what semblance.

And that’s not even covering so scared kid who woke up one day with the ability to take all the oxygen out of the room, we’re men and women against the unknown and the unknown often win.

The only advantage we have is numbers, they’re roughly ten Officers to each Hunters, and that’s still not a lot, that’s around a hundred though officers across an entire Kingdom.

And that doesn’t cut it.

That’s why we don’t have mechashift, super dust weapons, Ruby. If we die, that millions down the drain, and somebody else has that super-weapon to sow havoc with.

It’s better to arm us with the minimum because it mostly works.

Weiss and Ruby stare at him silently.

Jaune sighs: Sorry, I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m going to die, or to have gone and made it so heavy.

Weiss: Why try then?

Ruby: Why would anyone ever join then?

Jaune: Despite what I said, it pays well and has good benefits, and sometimes you kinda get forced in.

Ruby: What?

Jaune: Actually, ignore that. I joined because I wanted to do some good, and others join because of the power of the position. We might be ‘lesser hunters’, but we are still Aura Empowered and given weapons that could dissolve a man into sludge or punch wholes through a concrete wall. We might as well be untouchable compared to most people. That’s a lot of power, with little supervision.

Weiss: That’s disconcerting.

Jaune: It is, I do my best, * A strained smile appears as his fingers briefly tighten around his Thunderer, but quickly let go* But, I can’t be everywhere at once. I wouldn’t hold it against you two if you ever took out one of my more violent colleagues.

Weiss: ... I’ll keep that in mind.

Jaune: And others, they do it for the paycheck, they just have to have an aura, and it’s easy money, just drive around all day, keep a watch in the area, and maybe punch a guy or two.

Ruby: That’s not heroic.

Jaune: We’re not heroes, I’m not a hero, we’re at best kinda helpful...

Most of the times our reports are useless too, more often than not, the police will tip us off about a crime, we’ll cross compare it to our notes on any individual in the area, investigate them, and two hours later some Hunter caught them in a crime... By the way, we do appreciate that, I don’t mean to come off ungrateful.

It’s just frustrating, and that’s without all the wrong arrests, and agh.

*Jaune stands up*

Jaune smiles kindly at Weiss and Ruby.

Jaune: Alright, I need to stop complaining. You two are the real heroes by the way, never let anybody tell you otherwise.

*Walks off*

Ruby frowns: Things shouldn’t have to be that way.

Weiss: It shouldn’t... but, sometimes it is.

Ruby: I don’t want things to be that way.

Weiss: Ruby.

Ruby: I’m going to do my best Weiss, to make things better, for everybody, or die trying.

Weiss nods, then chuckles: Well, there’s a 25% of that happening.

Ruby: But, that means a 75% of success!

Weiss smiles: I suppose so.

#Officer Jaune Arc #Jaune Arc #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee.

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