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sakamakisaywhat · 3 years

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Hi💕💕can I request a headcannon of the S boys attending university with their s/o . What is their major and such stuff. Thanks💕💕💕

Marisol: OMG I love this ask! Bear in mind I'm not American so this is from my very European experience of higher education haha

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SHU

- Shu studies Business and Management at an elite university because his parents tricked him into taking the entrance exams - Never does any work but consistently pulls 1sts in every single thing he hands in - Half of his classmates think he’s a legend and aspire to be him, the other half hate his guts and sincerely hope he fails - However, nothing was more shocking than the time you shared a class with him and by some miracle convinced him to attend with you every single week - The professor caught himself looking out of the window repeatedly just to check that pigs weren’t flying - Don’t misinterpret his presence as him actually paying attention, though - he spent the entire hour trying to distract you by sending you dirty texts in the middle of class - Shu doesn’t do any extracurriculars because he’d honestly rather sleep, but has been to a couple of events that you’ve dragged him along to (would never admit that he enjoyed the experience though)

REIJI

- Reiji is that one hot young PhD student you have as a lecturer once and becomes an icon in your year group - He's got a bachelor's and a master's in Law and Economics and his doctorate focuses on something arcane like the history of European taxation and its relation to the politics of Russia - Employers are practically lining up outside his door, but degrees are like trophies and you bet he's going to have all of them (or at least more than Shu, anyway) - Despite how stingy he usually is with his notes, which are probably more comprehensive than the course textbooks, whenever he sees you struggling over a concept he’s always on hand to give you some one-to-one “tutoring” - Even if you’re studying something he doesn’t know about, Reiji will literally go to the library for a week just to learn about it - He can’t have himself looking bad in front of his future spouse, after all - When you ask him about it he never admits it and always says that it’s something he’s learning for some project (you question the validity of this claim often but don’t have the heart to call him out)

AYATO

- Ayato studies Sports Science, there can be no debate - Also captain of the university's basketball team and puts 100% of his effort into that rather than anything that actually affects his degree - Does his dissertation analysing himself and adds loads of unnecessary comparisons between his basketball style and LeBron James, also emails his lecturers videos of him shooting hoops afterwards to really cement it (still passes though...somehow) - Ayato is the king of living life on the edge when it comes to grades - You’ll have to sit him down and give him a very strong incentive to persuade him to study, since he hates it so much - Hell, even looking at the textbook makes him feel itchy - if you didn’t know better you’d think he’s allergic to it - When he manages to pass the year, you better believe you’ll be an honoured guest at the most legendary campus party of the year

KANATO

- Kanato studies History of Art - That one kid that's always really obsessed with studying representations of death in the 1900s, also everything he does involves pictures of naked women in strange positions - Kanato has a decent work ethic and doesn’t skimp on studying when exams are near, but when he doesn’t get the grades he wants, he’s prone to anger - You become an expert in calming him down, but also an expert in helping him with his essays in order to avoid the situation in the first place - Kanato isn’t the biggest fan of going to clubs or most extracurricular activities - he’d much rather spend his weekends locked in his room with you than in a hall of smelly, sweaty bodies - But the one time you did manage to drag him out to one of Ayato’s post-game parties, he got roaringly drunk, nearly undressed you on the floor of the basketball stadium, then promptly threw up inside the university’s varsity trophy cabinet - You and his brothers unanimously agreed not to take him to a venue that serves alcohol ever again

LAITO

- Laito studies Modern Languages, specialising in 19th century French Literature - He’s actually really good at his degree without studying that much, which works out incredibly well for him considering that before he met you he spent 90% of his time in the club - Laito vehemently denies that he got a 95 in his first year because he slept with the professor rather than from his natural genius, but you’re not so sure - The two of you love going out together and have developed something of a reputation on campus - You’re banned from a third of the student accommodations because of how many times some poor assistant has caught you going at it in a cupboard or someone’s bedroom - You have no idea whether Laito is a member of about twelve different clubs or just knows every single person on campus, because he’s always getting invited to some sort of event - But you both treasure the evenings spent eating student discount pizza in front of Netflix - after all, what is university for if not that?

SUBARU

- I don't know why, but Subaru definitely studies something like Biology - One of those people that always talks about how much they hate their degree but every time you walk into his room past 1 a.m. he's studying some weird science thing - No matter how much you tease him he always denies it, and grumbles about being “forced to be here” by his parents - Subaru is definitely a nocturnal student and the only way you get him to actually get up and work during the day is if you bribe him to study alone, just the two of you - He also doesn't ever attend any of his classes no matter how much you nag him about it - A member of the boxing and MMA clubs but never goes to the socials, he only goes to sparring sessions so he can beat other people up - If you saw him blushing because he caught you cheering for him outside the ring, no you didn't see that, that was... uh... his opponent's blood

#Shu Sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #Kanato Sakamaki #Subaru Sakamaki #headcanon #anon #sakamakisaywhat

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nevermindirah · 3 years

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Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)

#nile freeman #nile's family #dorothy freeman #tog headcanons #tog meta #mine #long post

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babybirdling · 3 years

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“Why are you wearing my sweater?” “Because it smells like you.”

Thank you so much for the prompt, love! You’ll have to thank the productive alien that bewitched my brain into finally finishing this prompt, though!

Changing sweater to jumper for obvious reasons. Truthfully, I don’t know why I love having Lily tell James to hurry up, shut up and kiss her, but I do.

Send me a prompt here!

James shoved the hair out of his eyes, knocking his glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose as he pushed the portrait to the Head’s common room with the fist closed around his broom.

Returning from the showers after quidditch practice had run him ragged, muscles sore from running through the strategies one after another, throat slightly raw from shouting at his teammates. He supposed that came with the package of being the team’s captain.

He left the broom by the hole, making his way through the room to the stairs leading to his room.

Lily wasn’t on the couch or the windowsill, and the door to her room was wide open. Which meant she was in his.

James let a small smile break through his features.

The year had come with a load of responsibilities thrown at him, but along with it had come her friendship, and he really wouldn’t have it any other way. The head duties only sought to bring them closer, and really, who could resist his charms and terrible puns? She’d done it for six years but it could only last so long.

He’d nearly given up that summer, but the letter from the school had rekindled a small one akin to it and he couldn’t help himself.

There had been signs here and there, a barely noticeable rosy blush creeping from the neck when he got too close, a small brush of arms when they sat at the table, pouring over schedules and notes, fiercely fighting his insecurities when they became far too visible and assuring him to no end, but he really couldn’t let himself hope too much.

But they were still signs.

No use overthinking about it all now, he chided himself, climbing the stairs and pushing the door open and heart nearly stopping at the sight that graced his eyes.

He wanted it forever etched to the back of his eyes.

Lily sat propped cozily on pillows of his bed, book in one hand over a fluffed up pillow on her lap and other flipping lazily through the pages. Her hair was gathered up into a lazy bun held by her wand.

Was that—

Merlin, Agrippa and Circe, it was.

James grinned at her as she raised her head, landing his bum on the other edge of his bed and raising her ankles only to drop them over his lap.

“I thought you said you completed the curriculum last night?”

“This is revision.”

“Lil, c’mon, you always say that.”

She raised an eyebrow over the book, “Well, unlike you, I don’t have insane hobbies like polishing a fork collection or dangerous flying sports, James.”

“My fork collection isn’t insane it’s gorgeous.”

“Whatever you say, rich boy.”

He grinned at her already bowed head, wondering how to bring it up. This had to be a sign.

A blatant and obvious one at that.

He couldn’t just let it go unnoticed.

“Lily?”

“Hmn?”

“Why are you wearing my jumper?”

“Because it smells like you.”

He stopped fiddling with the frayed edges of her socks, head snapping up so fast he felt the crack in his very bones, heart speeding up to catch up in the race with his thoughts, just barely managing to keep up. The entirety of Scotland could probably hear his heart beat.

And even if they didn’t, she probably did, tough she seemed preoccupied otherwise by the book before her, but he could see that her eyes weren’t moving and barely skimmed it.

So she was faking it.

Bloody hell, how was he supposed to not get the wrong idea with all this?

Unless...it wasn’t the wrong idea.

But, then again, that’s what he’d said to himself all those years ago. He wasn’t taking any chances.

“Ah, er, right, yeah. I’m—just going to start on Slughorn’s essay—“

Her hand paused the flipping of the pages, head raised to look at him incredulously.

“What?”

“You nitwit.”

“What?”

“That was an invitation, for fucks sake.”

“An—an invitation?”

Her lips stretched into a rueful smile, “You really are over—I—nevermind.”

A sigh, then, “I’m sor—“

James knew it was a far off chance, but he couldn’t help wonder. Which meant letting his mouth run off with its own feet.

“An invitation for snogging?”

Lily paused, glancing at him, “I prefer the term kissing, but sure.”

James looked back into his lap, hands fingering the loosened loop of the sock, “Same difference.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Lily, I would like a kiss.”

She grinned like a Cherishie cat, all but shoving the book to her side and firmly placing herself in his lap, “Well, James, all you had to do was ask.”

He spluttered, “What are you doing?”

“Giving you a kiss.”

He stared at her lips until it came crashing down on his—sweet, wonderful, soft and broadcasting his heartbeat for the entire world to hear. He wanted this for so long now and it’s finally happening and he can’t process a comprehensive thought, but it was alright—he was where he wanted to be. In his bed, glasses knocked asknew, Lily Evans on his lap and snogging the living daylights out of him, hands looped around his neck and fingers tangled with his dark locks, one hand cradling the back of her neck and the other clutching onto her back. Her red hair fell on his hand, soft and fluffed up, lips moving against his to prise it open and tug playfully, emitting a moan from within.

They parted after what seemed like an eternity, close enough for their breaths to mix. Lily removed his crooked glasses with her thumb, tossing it aside before touching their noses. James can’t see her anymore, but he hardly cared when he pulled her back in, lips soughting to be bruised once more.

#bb writes #canon divergence #jily #fluff #james potter #lily evans #marauders era #ficlet #prompts #room of requirement asks

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my-unmanageable-mischief · 3 years

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In This Together

For the Anon who requested : Could you write a fic where Draco and his twin (Y/N) have to go back to Hogwarts after the war and now they are the ones being bullied after bullying others for all those years? maybe a lot of angst?

Angst and a bit of sibling fluff for you!

Draco Malfoy x Sister!Reader

You stopped walking as you approached the blank expanse of wall between platforms 9 and 10, your brother was walking ahead of you, and stopped when he no longer felt your presence. You were just standing there, eyes big, a large frown on your face. Draco responded with a frown of his own.

“What’s that matter?” He asked, and you looked away from the wall to gaze up at him.

“I don’t want to go.” You stated, clinging to your owl’s cage for dear life. Your brother let go of the trolley he was pushing with both of your trunks and beckoned you towards him. You came to him, eyes downcasted.

“Look at me,” He spoke softly, placing a hand under your chin and tilting your head up so you were looking into his eyes. His face was soft, a look he reserved for only you in moments you were alone. He moved his hand and brushed some of your hair from your face. “It’ll be alright, Y/N.” He promised you, but you couldn’t believe him when you knew even he didn’t believe his words.

“It’s not going to be how it used to be, everyone.. Everyone knows..” Knew what? You weren’t sure specifically. Knew your family was rotten, knew your father was a death eater up until the moment it no longer served him. He was a coward, and the Malfoy name was tainted with blood.

“Nothing ever stays the same for long,” He reminded you. “We are Malfoys, we will hold our heads high, and we will triumph. If not today, tomorrow.” He assured and you felt slightly better. That was until someone banged into you, sending you into your brother's chest. Draco grabbed you and looked over your head. A group of 6th year Gyffindor girls past you, sending you withering looks as they smirked and giggled to themselves.

“Alright traitors?” They asked, all lifting their sleeves and pretending to touch their wands to invisible dark marks.

“What ever will you do without a master to serve?” They asked, and you winced. Draco glared, putting an arm around your shoulder and turning you away from them, grabbing the trolley again and stalking away, guiding you with him.

“Ignore them, they’re idiots.” He whispered.

“They’re right,” You muttered mostly to yourself. Draco looked at you and sighed before nodding towards the wall.

“Go first,” You nodded back and held your cage close to your chest as you jogged towards the wall, passing through it like it was air. A moment later and Draco was by your side again. He steered you towards the train, giving your trunks to a worker to load before ushering you onto the train. You walked down the corridor, met by an array of stares, and glares, and whispers. Draco found an empty compartment and pulled you into it, shutting out the rest of the world.

“This is going to be hell,” You whispered, eyes welling slightly with tears, but you wouldn’t let them fall. He was right, you were a Malfoy and you had to hold your head high, even now.

“It will be alright. Once were settled in, kids will find something else to occupy themselves with, I assure you.” You sighed, leaning against the window and looking out at all the people milling about and smiling. Nothing ever stays the same for long, you repeated your brother’s words to you as comfort. Even the bad. Nothing ever stays the same for long.

However, this time, it did. The entire school was out to get you and your brother, at least that’s how it felt. The first week of class a group of Hufflepuffs of all people had cornered your brother, hexing him. He was in the hospital wing for two days, you by his side every moment. And it didn’t get better from there. Wherever you went you were met with glares and snide remarks.

Between preparing for your NEWT exams, enduring bullying like you’d never experienced before, and battling your brother’s rotten attitude; you were spiralling. So far only Draco had been physically assaulted, but you were constantly on edge, paranoid, watching your own back was hard and you were beginning to think your brother had given up. He wasn’t eating, and judging from the bags under his eyes, he wasn’t sleeping as well.

You were alone in a 5th floor corridor, sitting on the floor and writing an essay. The common room was becoming too much for you, too many people, too many stares. But you couldn’t go to the library either, without people bothering you with rhetorics on your family and mean words about how pathetic you all were. So you sat, alone, in the hallway.

Suddenly there were footsteps, and you looked up, seeing the same group of Gryffindors who had shoved you on the first day of school, and they were coming your way. Grinning ear to ear as they came to stop in front of you.

“Yes?” You asked, trying to hold your head high like your brother always reminded you to, but you had to admit, you were scared and terribly outnumbered.

“Hello little traitor,” The lead girl greeted you, “Kicked from your own common room? Even the Slytherins are embarrassed by you.” She sneered. You frowned, shaking your head. You didn’t need to explain yourself to this lot.

“No,” You replied simply, “Now kindly leave, I’m busy.”

“Awe, she’s busy.” She came towards you, ripping the parchment from your hands, you stood up, reaching for your wand.

“Give it back.”

“No,” She laughed, mocking you. She ripped the parchment into a million little pieces and tossed it into your face, “Stupid cow.” You winced, wand held loosely in your hand. “What are you gonna do about it? Gonna use an unforgivable curse on me?” She asked, and you turned away, picking up your bag to try and walk away but another one of the girls grabbed your strap, pulling you towards her.

“Hey!” You yelled, stumbling and tripping, you fell to your knees and looked up at the group with wide eyes.

“Awe she’s scared!”

“Petrificus Totalus” One of them pointed their wand at you and your entire body locked up, causing you to fall and land on your face. They flipped you over and grinned down at you. “You and your shitty family should have gone into hiding.” She informed you, and you couldn’t help but mentally agree.

“Furnunculus.” Another girl spoke and suddenly you were covered in violently painful boils and pimples, you would have cried out in pain if you weren’t immobilized.

“Now she looks as rotten as she is on the inside,” One of the girls spoke and they all laughed. Pain shot through your face as one of them kicked you in the nose, you felt the hot blood streaming down your face, but still couldn’t move. There was another set of footsteps from somewhere far away and the girls went running. You laid there, unable to move. The footsteps grew closer, and suddenly broke into a run, and your brother’s face appeared above you, eyes wild and wide.

“Y/N, Y/N!” He cried, afraid to touch you. He pulled his wand out and spoke the counter curse to unfreeze you. You shot up into a seated position, tears streaming down your face. The boils and broken nose were another story, Draco couldn’t fix those, “I’ve been looking all over for you,” He stated, reaching out to touch your face, causing you to wince in pain, “What happened? We need to get you to the hospital wing.”

“They ganged up on me, I was writing an essay,” You sobbed and Draco gently wrapped you into a hug, rubbing his hand over your hair, smoothing it down.

“Shh, it’s alright,” But it wasn’t, nothing was alright. “Come along,” He spoke softly, standing up and helping you up as well. He took your bag and slung it over his shoulder, offering you his arm for support. Together you slowly walked to the hospital wing.

“My goodness!” Madam Pomfrey cried when you came in, “Sit! Sit here!” She motioned towards a bed and Draco helped you towards it. You were thankful she didn’t ask what happened, she probably already knew. “Don’t move, let me get my potions.” Draco nodded and sat beside you on the bed, holding your hand. Pomfrey came back with several bottles and handed you one.

“This should take care of the boils.” You drank it quickly, gagging on the putrid taste of the thick liquid. You handed the bottle back, Draco never taking his eyes off you. “This is for the pain,” She handed you another bottle, and you drank it. This one tasted slightly better. She took the bottle back and handed you one more, “And a peppering up potion, you look.. Exhausted, my dear.” You thanked her and took it, drinking it quickly. She took her wand out, and reset your nose, causing you to cry out slightly in pain, making your brother wince in sympathy. She handed you a wet rag and you cleaned the blood up.

“Thanks,” You muttered and she nodded.

“Of course, darling, you will have to stay the night, maybe two, just until all the boils are gone.” You nodded and Draco thanked her as well. When she left, she pulled the curtains around your bed shut leaving you both alone. You laid down on the small hospital bed, your brother joining, laying beside you. You sat in uncomfortable silence for some time.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spoke and you turned to look at him confused.

“For what? You didn’t hex me.”

“I haven’t been taking care of you, I haven’t been watching after you,” His eyes were slightly red, was he crying? “I should have been. I was so caught up in my own misery, I forgot you, you were going through the same thing.” Your eyes welled with tears and you leaned into him.

“Don’t be sorry.” You whispered, and he wrapped you in a hug, pulling you close to him. You cuddled up into his side, the pain potion helping, you no longer hurt when you were simply touched.

“I am sorry, I am your brother. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe and I failed you.” He sniffled next to you, as you cried into his chest.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” You sobbed out, voice cracking and his arms tightened around you.

“We will graduate soon, and we will never have to see these people again.”

“I don’t want to go home either,” You admitted, “I can’t stay here! Forever, just my surname will leave me plagued. We won’t get jobs, we won’t make friends, nothing.”

“So we will leave.” He assured you, “We will get through these next few months, together, and then we will leave. Somewhere where nobody knows who we are.” You pulled back far enough to look at him, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” He swore, placing a hand over his heart, “Anywhere you want to go, we will go. We will be okay. Nothing ever stays the same for long,” He reminded you and you began crying again. He pulled you back into an embrace, allowing you to bury your face in his chest as you both cried it out. Together, you and your brother against the world.

#Harry Potter #draco Malfoy #draco Malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x sister!reader

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fourfucksake · 3 years

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from the prompt list: maybe 36 (fluff) and 9 (smut)? write it for whoever you want!

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, oral sex (male receiving)

word count: 1.1k

p.s the prompts list can be found on my profile (if you want to request a number/s). i will be taking requests for a limited time (basically until i get bored)

Some evenings were so obvious, almost as if they were planned. Whenever the air tasted of sexual tension, the two felt it right from the beginning of the evening. Not even twenty minutes have passed since the word ‘Netflix' appeared on the TV screen and they were already all over one another on the couch. Following the make out session the scene they both perfectly crafted moved elsewhere.

Staring into his breath-taking eyes, she slowly stepped down to her knees. Her gaze was concentrated on him as if he were a beautiful painting hanged on the wall of a renowned museum. His acts were no different. He viewed her with great fascination, observing the slightest movement on her part. For him, she was the most precious thing that has ever existed. He was never before acquainted with the feeling with which he became close buddies once their love bloomed.

She slowly unbuttoned his pants. It didn't take long before his cock jumped up before her eyes, already hard and stiff from the excitement. A trembling, dry breath flew out his mouth. Chris used to feel shame whenever the blood rush happened this quick but managed to overcome this draining emotion. Only she was able to arouse such intense feelings within him; his whole body reacted with eagerness and desire that he had never experienced before knowing her. He was proud of being with someone who makes him feel this way.

Her movements stopped for a second, eyes locked on him in an observant gaze. Her plump lips were still wet from previous doings, drool slowly running down her chin, landing imperceptibly on the floor between her thighs.

It didn't take long for him to turn his gaze downward, staring directly at the woman in front of him. Devoid of a warm and wet tongue on a hard erection, he reacted quickly. At first, he merely raised his eyebrows as if he were asking her a wordless question. He was clueless of her intentions but the realisation that she might just be toying with him hit him rather quickly. Driving him crazy, joking with his patience seemed to become her hobby. Being the only one aware of his present need for release she could afford to toy him about. How terribly his body desired and dreamed of her pleasing him, nobody could truly comprehend.

“Why’d you stop?” His voice was definitely dissatisfied. His tone showed that he wanted more. The man was now in a blissful moment, necessitating her lips around his member to accomplish his dream feeling.

A small smile was an answer to his requests. Usually when she saw him in such a blissful state, she just paused to tease him. It was something she enjoyed a lot and she probably knew it well. However, this time she broke her act off other reasons, wanting to focus for a moment on his beautiful face. That manly jaw that clenched every time her mouth sucked harder on his penis. Those beautiful eyes filled with desire and longing that stared at her attentively as if she were the only existing woman in the whole entire world.

She was ashamed to admit it, but she could write a long, exhausting essay about how much she admires and appreciates his beauty. Being with him often made her feel unworthy but at the present moment owning him made her experience proudness and boldness that she felt relatively rarely.

Her lips returned to work, gifting his dick with another dose of tenderness. At first, Chris wished to ask about the reason for prior interruption but was successfully stopped. However, he made a mental note in his head to inquire about the cause of her pause after achieving his lustful goal. Moving her head back and forth, she swallowed him hole, just as he wished. The tip hit the back of her throat, initiating a rough and deep groan to come out of his mouth like a smooth, sexual song.

“Just like that baby, don’t stop,” His pleas effectively urged her to continue. Shortly after, the whole room was filled with groans and characteristic choking sounds. Chris helped his current play toy by clutching her hair in between his hands. He began to rock his hips, aligning his movements with hers. Her full lips were overflowing with his length which made him gasp louder than originally envisioned. Of course, he didn't want to hurt her, he had no desire to make this pretty, sweet woman feel any pain whatsoever. More so, if he could, he would have saved her from every possible painful existing thing.

Cruel to admit but right about now he had no care for her comfort, wanting only to overflow her mouth with his creamy load. Her cheeks were tightly held in his two hands. He looked at her questioningly to ensure that fucking her beautiful lips was not a task she was unable to undertake. In response, Chris got a big, mischievous smile. It was even sexier when her face was covered by a mixture of her saliva and wet tears caused by her partner's sharp movements. Unable to speak, she still told him precisely what she was thinking of - I trust you. Do it, her face screamed.

He continued, this time without holding back, without ensuring this darling face of hers feel any ease at all. His movements were decisive and full of strength. Both his hands pressed tightly against her cheeks, mercilessly squeezing the both of them. He fucked her lips with dominance, forcing himself all the way down her poor throat. Chris didn't even think of pausing while his partner choked on his length. Her face expression was rather pathetic and sad at the moment; oceans of tears escaped from her eyes, which made her makeup (or rather just its remains) was over her face like an abstract painting.

His movements were on-going for a short moment. Her eyes glazed even more as his cum exploded inside her pretty mouth. "Fuck, baby. So fucking good," He commented, a blissful tone escaping his throat and a devilish smile placed on his lips. Chris let his partner normalise her breath, allowing her cheeks previously placed in the palms of his hands go. Her ass fell to the ground, landing comfortably between her calves due to the position her body was in. She looked up at him, staring intensely as if awaiting a sign. Chris looked down, giving her a knowing look, permitting herself to continue with her action. Just as if she were taking an order, the girl stuck out her tongue, showing off the traces of his sperm placed on her tongue before swallowing it all.

"Good girl," Sending a look of approval, his face brightened as his muscles relaxed. Moving his gaze down at her face, he flicked a few loose curls attached to her cheeks from the remaining saliva. "Now, daddy will take care of you, huh?" He smiled in his trademark manner and leaned down to steal a wet, dirty kiss from his lover.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans one shot #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #promptslist

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draqcnheartstrinq · 3 years

Text

Hate That I Want You (Part 6)

Sirius Black x Pure-blood!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: At first it’s hate, then it’s confusion. It grows into a healthy amount of curiosity until it turns into hate once more. But not towards each other, more towards the idea of wanting what you’ve tried to avoid all your life.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst, emotions, anger.

Note: It's been a long wait but suddenly got a lot of inspiration and got back into my Hogwarts feels! I miss this magical world so badly.

Feedback is always greatly appreciated!

HTIWY Masterpost

You weren’t used to visiting the Headmaster’s Office and yet that’s exactly where you were called to as soon as you entered Hogwarts Grounds. You imagined Dumbledore wanted to talk to you about your leave, how you will continue classes now you’re back and maybe about how you experienced the funeral.

Maybe Professor Dumbledore would be the kind listening ear you so desperately needed, no one else had ever bothered being that person for you… Except for Grandma.

But you knew that was wishful thinking, besides it would probably be highly unprofessional for a headmaster to get involved in pupils’ private business.

Seeing the big gargoyle statue, that was supposed to be the entrance to his office, extremely intimidated you and as no one was there to guide you inside you waited whilst taking deep breaths. Five minutes must have gone by before you heard stone moving against stone and the spinning of the gargoyle caught your attention. A staircase appeared from the ground up.

Knowing no better you placed yourself on one of the moving steps and let yourself be carried upwards.

“I see you made it back to school, Miss (Y/L/N)”, you heard an old deep voice say as soon as you reached the top, the stairs underneath you locked into place. The big wooden door was already opened and through it you could see a beautifully decorated desk, Dumbledore partially leaning against it.

You walked inside, looking around like a tourist in London and finally answered after taking in the grandeur of the interior. “Yes I did, Professor. I hope nothing important took place whilst I was gone?”

The old man smirked at you, looking over his glasses as if your question sounded funny to him. Nonetheless, he seemed friendly about it all.

“No, nothing too important and certainly not as eventful as before you left.”

That statement made you look up, eyebrows raised and eyes wide. You could’ve been mistaken for a deer in headlights.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t think I understand…”

“Miss (Y/L/N), I know about everything that goes on in this school’s hallways and I know about everyone that resides here. You’re not going to tell me you thought I was going to do nothing about what happened between you and Mr. Black.”

Your mouth now fell open and your eyes widened until you almost believed they would fall out of your skull. Great, The Headmaster knew about the howler and probably every word that your mother had written inside of it. Everyone would be stamping you as a follower of The Dark Lord, a Mudblood killer, a believer of purity. Now even your headmaster knew about the dark family you were born in.

He probably knew about them for a long time but now? There was no doubting he would judge you too…

“Miss, how did the funeral affect you? Was your grandmother very dear to you?”

This question threw you even more, surely he wouldn’t actually be asking you if you were okay. The confusion must’ve been evident on your features as Dumbledore started smiling again.

“I loved my grandmother, more than I loved anyone else probably.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss then. I hope you can find some comfort between these walls.”

More than I could ever get at home, you thought.

The funeral was very small, your parents and other relatives didn’t want to catch a lot of attention from outsiders and most probably didn’t want to pay for someone as ‘not important’ as your grandma. You were the only one to buy a bouquet of white and yellow flowers for her, the ones she always said she loved so much.

The look on your face must have screamed all the things you were feeling for the headmaster took it upon himself to talk some confidence into you. It was nothing but unexpected, the way he seemed to care for one of his students, let alone you.

“Miss (Y/L/N), I doubt anyone in Hogwarts is left to wonder what your intentions are. The most wonderful and strong souls hold the most painful secrets after all.”

It’s those words, spoken by a man you barely knew, that have brought you the most comfort in the past five days. He said it softly but with determination, it made you believe what he said, no matter the words he spoke. It made you wonder.

A silence fell over the room. Whilst you were fighting through thoughts in your head, thinking about yourself, your grandmother, what was to come your way here at Hogwarts, Dumbledore walked to the other side of his desk and sat himself down on his big almost golden chair. It could resemble a throne if you didn’t know any better.

The man intertwined his hands and sat there for a little while, looking at you over his glasses like a grandfather would at his grandchild.

“You must be a little lost right now but don’t worry, everything will fall back onto its feet. In the meantime I’m sure young Mr. Black will do everything in his power to make things right.”

“I’m sorry headmaster, but I highly doubt that”, you answered, genuinely convinced Sirius couldn’t care any less about what happened to you.

“I guess you will have to take my word for it then.” And once again Dumbledore spoke with such confidence in his words that you couldn’t help but doubt your own opinions. Maybe all the rumors were true, maybe this man in front of you really had a third eye seeing everything all at once. Even in the magical world you lived in this was something to be admired.

“Please close the door on your way out, Miss (Y/LN), and give my regards to your dormmates. Also say hello to Sirius downstairs.”

Your eyes went wide because just like that the conversation was over. A little overwhelmed and at the same time underwhelmed you made your way back down the winding staircase. Out of all the things the headmaster could’ve said, he stayed vague, didn’t say a word about the classes you missed and what in the bloody Merlin’s beard did he mean by Say hello to Sirius downstairs.

You couldn’t even finish that last thought before you saw two exhausted grey eyes looking back at you. Two lips parted, panting away as if the guy had run his lungs out of his chest. After a few seconds the rustling of paper caught your attention as you looked down towards his hands. They held a bundle of parchment, tightly almost like a lifeline.

When you looked back up at his face Sirius started talking, no, more like rambling. With every word your anger grew.

“I talked to your friends, well, the girls talked to your friends and I stood there listening, but they said you would need detailed summaries of the lessons you missed this week and I thought maybe some more from me would help. Maybe your roommates missed out on some stuff so I wanted to make sure to give my notes on top of theirs because maybe you would need them… And I know it’s not much, but I- I really hope you’ll take them because I don’t want you to lack behind because of this situation you’re in and… I’m sorr-”

“Save it, Black.”

Your hard and unforgiving tone made him look up from the ground he was rambling towards. He finally met your eyes and saw the anger you held in them. He didn’t blame you, he understood, he was prepared for it because of the thousands of times he played this moment in his head the last few days.

He was prepared for the frown he saw, he had imagined it to be so much worse than it was. But he wasn’t prepared for the other emotions he also read on your features.

Sorrow, grief, fatigue, exhaustion, loneliness,...

The list could go on but none of the emotions were anything positive.

He could probably write an essay about all the things he saw by just looking at your face. Sirius wondered how long you had been dragging these feelings along without ever giving them a voice, without ever breaking your front. The first time he saw you break was in The Great Hall after receiving your howler but your act was quickly regained, the second time was in the hallway when you looked at him like he broke your entire world, after the news of your grandma had been revealed to the whole school. And now a third time.

It took him more than six years to see what others had long before him. It took him six years to see an ounce of humanity in you. Now that he did see, he saw more than he could bear. More than anyone should have to carry.

“Please, I- I just want you to take my notes. It’ll help you, it’ll give me a peace of mind.”

“And where is my peace of mind?” you questioned him, less angry and more disappointed this time. Another emotion Sirius didn’t like to see.

Your voice quivered just enough to reveal a whole new load of feelings. Your eyes searched his for something he couldn’t decipher, they looked pleadingly before closing and your chest rising with a deep shaking breath.

When they opened again your whole demeanor was as unreadable as all those years before. Not a single sign of any emotion left. You looked just… indifferent like always.

Sirius didn’t know which of these states of yours he disliked the most. The one where you let go of everything, showing all the things you feel in one single look at your eyes or the one where you show absolutely nothing at all.

“I don’t want your notes, give them to one of your latest conquests.”

With those words you took off towards the dungeons, steady pace, the sound of your shoes echoing.

The guy you left standing there nothing more than a boy watching his hopes walk away from him, papers still crumbling in his grip, regrets still twirling in his mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*

A long while later Sirius finally entered the Gryffindor Common Room again. He sat himself on one of the couches away from the hearth, throwing the papers onto a nearby table to rest his head in his hands.

He had expected this to go so different from the way it actually went. He had hoped for an acceptance of the notes he took, maybe a loud argument or a back and forth of shouted words. That way he would’ve at least known you had your energy back, he would’ve seen that burning fire like every time you would normally cross him in the halls.

Instead he got the ashes of a fire that lost its last substance to burn. A wood that had been exhausted, burned to the ground, wet with rain from a storm. Nothing left to give.

“I take it she didn’t want the summary”, Remus came to sit next to him on the red cushions. A quiet chatter finally reached Sirius’ ears as he realised they weren’t the only ones still awake. He looked around him, before turning his attention on Remus and his face back to the floor with his elbows on his thighs, supporting himself.

“No, and honestly I don’t blame her.” It came out as a whisper, not enough energy left in the boy’s body to speak any louder. “I’m mentally exhausted and that doesn’t even begin to describe how she is feeling, Remus, she looked so… so… I don’t even know if there are words to say how she looked.”

“You’ve finally seen what we’ve seen for a few months now, some of us years.”

“I think even a blind person would’ve seen it before I did.”

“Most probably”, Remus chuckled and threw his arms over the back of the couch. “She’ll come around, she’ll forgive you if you keep it obvious how sorry you are.”

“Will she?” Sirius let that question linger between them for a little, he let it sink in. “Because I sure wouldn’t forgive me.”

It was Remus’ turn to sigh. He too had his doubts but wanted to keep his friends’ hopes high.

“No, You’re right, I wouldn’t forgive you either.”

They looked at each other, Sirius slumping his shoulders. Remus then watches the stars outside of the window and the deep blue sky visible from the inside of the common room.

“Let’s hope she’s a better person than we are.”

HTIWY Masterpost

Thanks for reading! Taglist will follow in a reblog. Want to be added or removed? Send me an ask xxx

#sirius black #x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #imagine #fanfiction #hp #the marauders #marauders #marauders era #sirius black x pure-blood!reader #sirius black x slitherin reader #sirius black x slitherin!reader #my writing #fan writing #hate that i want you

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jcmorrigan · 3 years

Note

Blakeworther,,,but college

OKAY. I SAW THIS LAST NIGHT AND WAS THINKING ALL THROUGH LAST NIGHT AND THIS MORNING BECAUSE THIS HAD TO BE GOOD

Blakeworther: ORIGINS (hopefully actually canon-compliant?)

-Vincent didn’t want a roommate. But RMU has a policy that unless a first-year has an extreme medical condition that requires them to room alone, they have to double up due to high attendance rates vs. limited dorm space. So unfortunately, Vincent needs to stay in the same room as this “Victor Blake” person he’s never met before and probably won’t like.

-He opens the door to their room on the first day. Victor is already there, decorating his half of the room. And you think Victor is a flirt nowadays? This is a Victor straight out of high school, with lingering teenage hormones. He takes one look at Vincent, gives him a coy smile, and just goes “Hello, beautiful.” And winks.

-Vincent goes “Don’t talk to me” and starts setting up his side of the room.

-Well, that’s rude. Victor tries to engage in conversation a couple more times, but Vincent makes it clear he is NOT HAVING IT, so Victor eventually gives up and pouts. (Vincent really is pretty. But more importantly than that, Victor kind of wanted his roommate to be his friend. That seems like a requirement for the college experience.)

-Oh, well. If they can put up with each other for one (1) year, they can request new roommates for their second year.

-Vincent sets off for his 8 a.m. on the first day. Psychology 101. He gets going at about 7 because he NEEDS to make a statement by getting there first. Back in high school, he was valedictorian, and he must continue to show people how classy, smart, and punctual he is.

-He arrives at the classroom. Seemingly empty. He strides through the door -

-The next thing he knows, he’s on the floor. Someone has screamed. He thinks it’s him. He’s disheveled, his books scattered. What just happened?

-After assessing the situation and going over the split-second incident that is retroactively gelling in his memory, he realizes that he walked through that door, and somebody who was waiting on the other side of the wall, just around the corner and out of sight, leapt out and JUMPSCARED him the moment he walked in.

-He looks up at the perpetrator who stands above him, giggling his ass off. This asshole is wearing a bright pink shirt and he’s admittedly kinda cute but also this was unforgivable.

-Victor: “What the HELL was that for?” Pink Shirt Man: “I knew someone would come along who thought they were first, and I wanted to make it clear this is my territory. I was here for fifteen minutes before you.” Vincent: “Why the HELL were you waiting here for fifteen minutes - “

-He makes a point of gathering up his books VERY ANGRILY and stomping to the furthest corner of the classroom to sit as far away from Pink Shirt as possible. Then glares at him venomously.

-So. A word on Albert. He grew up an only child with very few friends. He’s got a roommate too, but the guy’s an introvert in dark glasses who barely talks, spends like all his time watching anime, and is visibly just scared of Albert. So that friendship is out the window.

-(Yes. It’s Winston. He has not had an easy life.)

-This leaves Albert, who has no idea how to appropriately interact with people but has way too much pent-up energy, trying to figure out how to get people’s attention so he can make friends. But when I say he has no idea, I mean he has NO idea.

-So he sits down in the front row where his stuff was previously and just turns and STARES AT VINCENT until the rest of the class files in. Vincent keeps his eyes turned anywhere but at this Pink Shirt Creep because who stares at somebody over their shoulder for ten solid minutes?

-Albert chalks this up as a victory. Sure, this dude hates him, but that’s more attention than he was getting before!

-For the rest of the class, Vincent is hoping they can just move on and have a normal day in which he knocks every question fired his way out of the park. But that’s not what happens. What happens is this PINK SHIRT ASSHOLE in the front row keeps answering questions without being called on, and not even seriously. With the most MORBID sense of humor.

-Prof: “What are the three ways to study the brain?” Albert: “Smash open the test subject’s skull, rip it out, and have fun.”

-Vincent KNEW the answer was “lesion, stimulation, recording” and he’s so mad.

-He leaves this class grumpy.

-He’s on an alternating schedule, so block A of classes one day, block B the next. His next classes for A day go well and he gets to show off a fair bit of his intellect. But then the last class of block B and it’s art.

-Guess who’s there? Not Victor, unfortunately!

-Vincent walks in the door and THE PINK SHIRT ASSHOLE is there and Albert just waves at him “Hello” and Vincent is in hell.

-Same thing. Albert spends the whole class being obnoxious and annoying, but in a way that gets the other students to laugh. And Vincent just stews.

-Over the next few days, Vincent spends a lot of study time in his room rather than in the library because it’s quieter. Victor respects that Vincent will complain if there’s too much noise and so wears headphones when he’s working because he likes music in the background.

-One day, he accidentally rips the headphone jack out of the laptop and the song he was listening to blares over the dorm. He fixes the volume, already going, “Well, sor-ry for the accident - “

-Vincent: “Actually, I like that song. Have you listened to the album or do you just like it as a standalone?”

-Victor: “I...I saw them in concert, actually.”

-They have the first real conversation they’ve ever had since they moved in together because they ended up liking the same song. And they’re happy to be talking about it. This is good! Maybe they can be friends after all!

-First exam in Psych 101. Vincent feels pretty confident. This is a test he didn’t really put too much effort into studying for because he’s confident he memorized everything from high school. Well...as it turns out, he didn’t. But he fudges it as best he can, sure he’s at least doing better than the simpletons of the class. He’s the only one who takes this seriously, after all.

-Exam results come back, and the prof reveals that he’s graded on a curve. One student and one alone got a 95% on the exam; the rest failed horrendously.

-Vincent is about to rest on his laurels when the prof says “And that person is Albert Krueger.”

-Who the hell is -

-PINK SHIRT ASSHOLE stands up and bows playfully.

-Vincent now has a name for his nemesis. ALBERT KRUEGER. He’ll remember that and not be happy about it.

-So he’s chatting with Victor a lot more now as they hang out. Victor has a problem one day because one of his econ courses has a particularly picky prof who’s failed every single one of his essays to date, and he’s afraid he’s going to actually fail his favorite subject.

-Vincent takes a look at that prof’s notes. To his eyes, it’s easy to see what arbitrary hoops the prof wants Victor to jump through. It’s also easy to see that Victor actually is doing what’s asked of him and grasping the material; the prof just demands these extra trappings, probably as a power trip.

-Vincent knows exactly how to write the next paper to make it fit requirements. And so he says, “If you don’t have a problem with plagiarism, I can get the next one to pass.”

-Victor: “Well, don’t make it too perfect, or they’ll catch on.”

-Vincent writes Victor a solid B- of a paper. And it’s graded with the expected B-. Victor is SO thankful and calls Vincent a genius.

-About time someone around here did. Since it strokes his ego, Vincent offers to do any paper Victor wants for him, free of charge.

-Meanwhile! In art class, they’ve been assigned a midterm visual art project. Vincent can already tell that his piece is...good but not great. You know who’s making a fantastic landscape painting that everyone else in the studio ahhs at every day he works on it? AAAAAALBERT KRUEGER.

-Vincent is trying so hard not to explode.

-Vincent and Victor decide to eat lunch together because they like each other now. They head on down to the cafeteria, load up their plates with food, go to get the last two puddings on the shelf -

-Somebody takes the last two puddings.

-GUESS WHO?

-Albert: “I believe it is they who snooze who must lose.” He didn’t even want two puddings. But while people can get temporarily impressed with his prowess, annoying people is the only way he can REALLY get lasting attention. Most people go “Albert’s painting is so cool!” and leave. Vincent, though? Vincent keeps on making a SCENE out of it and Albert likes that. So he made sure neither Vincent nor Vincent’s friend could have any pudding.

-Vincent and Victor sit down, pudding-less. Victor: “Who was that guy?”

-Vincent explains the whole thing. He rambles for almost the whole lunch period about how much he HATES Albert. Culminating in how he knows that Albert’s art project is going to get highest marks and make Vincent’s look so much worse by its very existence.

-Victor: “You know...I have a plan, but it’s not entirely legal. If you want to get back at him, though...” Vincent: “I’m listening.”

-They break into the locked art studio after hours and RIP ALBERT’S PAINTING INTO SHREDS. That’s, like, twenty hours of work just gone. They leave no evidence.

-The following day, Albert approaches the two of them at lunch: “I know it was you. You can’t lie to me about this. From now on, we are at war. You, Vincent, are my mortal enemy. And you, Vincent’s accomplice, I know were talked into this by him, but you’re on the thinnest of ice.”

-Vincent’s fine with this. Victor thinks it’s funny and doesn’t own up to having come up with the idea.

-Anyway, Vincent and Victor start hanging out more, so when there’s a school dance, they decide to go together. Just as bros, not as PARTNERS what are you even - no. Platonic. Heheheheh

-And they have a good time dancing! Vincent doesn’t normally like this sort of thing, but Victor’s into it, so they’re cutting a rug.

-A small throng of students is gathered in the middle of the floor, watching some spectacle. Victor wants to see what’s going on. So he brings Vincent over.

-Everyone’s watching a particular student just absolutely breakdance with the greatest of skill. And GUESS WHO?

-Vincent enters RAGE MODE

-Victor: “Oh, no, here we go.” (Secretly thinking to himself that Albert did have some sexy moves indeed.)

-Vincent storms in and CHALLENGES ALBERT TO A DANCE-OFF. Albert accepts. Victor calls himself a third competitor so as not to be left out, and Vincent rules that either he or Victor winning will be a victory for Vincent.

-Well, Albert gains more applause by a LANDSLIDE. Vincent and Victor are good dancers, but Albert is FANTASTIC. Vincent complains the rest of the night and Victor’s just “Look, I know he was gorgeous and he got all the attention but please pay attention to me”

-Things continue like this until the next semester, when classes are shuffled and FINALLY Vincent is free of Albert.

-You know who walks in to find Albert just staring creepily at him from the front row of his first class? VICTOR.

-It’s Biology. Right away, the class gets a partner assignment, and the prof sticks Albert and Victor together.

-Might as well make the best of this.

-So they get to just awkwardly chatting. Victor tries to keep himself level-headed. Albert still doesn’t know it was Victor’s idea to destroy his painting. So they’re just playing it cool.

-And...it’s actually kind of fun to talk to one another?

-Albert lets slip that he likes bio a bit better than psych, but everyone’s expecting him to take up the position at Krueger Health Corp. Victor’s just like “So fuck ‘em. Switch majors.”

-Albert then blurts “Have you ever wanted to dismember someone who wronged you?”

-Victor: “Yes. All the time.”

-So for the first time, somebody is giving Albert attention that is NOT rivalry and is NOT just marveling at his talents and antics. This is new. He’s not sure how to handle it.

-For the rest of the semester, Victor is technically on Team Vincent, but he still waves at Albert when they pass on the grounds.

-Vincent and Victor go off campus to a house party with alcohol! Albert doesn’t actually show up to steal the spotlight this time. And...that kinda pisses Vincent off. Where IS he? He usually shows up to these things -

-Victor tells him to pleeeaaaase stop obsessing about Albert, please. (But Victor also kinda wishes he was there and isn’t sure why.)

-Later in the night, some beefy upperclassman starts a fight and threatens Vincent. Vincent and Victor are both buzzed and riled up. Victor jumps in and decks the guy to protect Vincent. The guy decks him right back and HARDER. So Vincent tackles the dude because now HE’S protecting Victor.

-They both end up in the hospital with broken bones. Roommates, again. And when they look at each other across their hospital room, they realize something has changed. That they now know they would defend each other to the death, and each has to repay the loyalty of the other. They’re in this for the long haul, and most certainly not going to request new roommates.

-They get their classwork shipped into the hospital and have some nice calm chats with each other, away from the buzz of student life.

-Albert, however, suddenly has his archnemesis and his lab partner both MISSING and it’s driving him insane. Where are they where are they where are they

-When they get released from the hospital and finally go back to campus, Albert has to refrain from RUNNING UP TO THEM AND HUGGING THEM BOTH. HIS LIFE HAD NO MEANING

-Instead he says “Pity. I’d’ve hoped that you’d die and be out of my hair.”

-Vincent and Victor can’t really admit how much he was the missing piece of their lives either.

-It’s gonna be a few interesting years at RMU.

#vincent edgeworth #victor blake #albert krueger #blakeworther #vincent the secret of myers #vtsom #therapy with dr. albert krueger #twdak

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a-dorin · 3 years

Text

querencia

pairing: professor maul! x reader

word count: 1.796k

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of a breakup, brief mention of alcohol usage, a dash of smut, professor & student relationship, age gap, nc-17

a/n: it’s been so long since i last updated this series, and i am so sorry for that. this semester has been quite unlike anything i’ve ever experienced before. also, sorry if this one is a bit brief. buttttt.. forgiveness? angst? a little bit of smut? i hope y’all enjoy :))

you can read/catch up the previous chapters right here (:

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“miss ___ i am afraid i need to speak with you after class.”

almost immediately, your head shot up, lips falling into a frown, “is everything all right, professor kenobi?”

a faint giggle erupted from all around, causing you to instinctively shrink in your seat. yet, your eyes remained on professor kenobi as he cleared his throat, placing a stack of papers on his desk, “no, everything is quite all right. i would like to check in with you regarding a more... personal matter.”

“all right,” you mumbled, scribbling down a few lines of homework in your planner.

through the viewports, sun filtered in through the blinds, promising of warmer weather. yet, although spring was quickly approaching, piles of snow still littered campus, the pristine white color now a filthy, wretched beige tone.

if only the sun poked through the january clouds more often, then the snow would be melted away.

and perhaps then you would feel just a little bit of bliss.

letting out a hushed sigh, you noticed the students all around you, deeply invested in the beginnings of the term paper. after all, that was the main focal point of the class. the entire curriculum was based around the paper. which was a ten-page research paper about a topic you were passionate about. it could be anything; the impact of coruscant’s pollution on the rest of the galaxy, the erasure of fraternities and sororities on campus, or even something as mundane as your favorite food.

yet, you found it difficult to focus these days. even with the simplest tasks.

your gaze flickered over to the clock on the wall, a surge of giddiness bubbling up inside. only a few more minutes now, then class would be over.

fiddling with your keys on the keyboard, you aimlessly typed away, gibberish appearing on the document. there were already several key points for your essay, along with a rough outline, but you couldn’t bring yourself to maintain an attention span for longer than ten minutes.

soon enough, the rustle of papers and the zipping of book bags consumed the room, students chattering among themselves as they filed out of the classroom. as more students that trickled out, anxiety began to course through your veins, your palms clamming up.

professor kenobi remained at the pedestal at the front of the lecture hall, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose as he sifted through some papers. his brow was furrowed, as if he was deeply invested in whatever was before him. every once in a while, he’d lick his thumb, flipping the page.

“don’t fret,” you stiffened, nearly freezing in your seat, “you are not in trouble, miss ___.”

“then why did you want to speak with me?”

a light chuckle cracked the tension, “i’ve noticed a change in the past couple of weeks. you’ve seemed a bit.. off, from your normal self. i am aware of how stressful the course load is for anyone in their junior year, and i was offering my services as a professor. if you need any assistance, with any class, i would be willing to offer tutoring, or find you a tutor to fit your needs.”

“are you sure you don’t want to offer anything else?” you arched a brow, folding your arms across your chest, “the last time we were alone in a classroom, you called me a brat.”

professor kenobi’s jaw clenched, “this is a far different matter than last time. i’ve noticed the changes in your work ethic. at the beginning of the semester, you were submitting assignments a week in advance. now, it’s the day of or an hour before. i care about my students, and i care about their success. is there anything going on outside of class that is affecting this? that is, if you’re comfortable sharing.”

instinctively, you fiddled with a loose string on your hoodie, sucking in a breath, “no, i’m fine, really. i’m just stressed, but which college student isn’t?”

he nodded, shrugging slightly, “well, i guess you’re right. please remember, if you need anything, i’m here for you. shoot me an email or even give me a call.”

“thank you,” you shoved your laptop in its case, “that means a lot, especially since most professors don’t care.”

“well i care,” his tone was light, “and i’ll always care about my students. every single one of them. have a good day, all right? i’ll be happy to give out any extensions as needed.”

“thank you again,” you chewed on the inside of your lip, “for everything.”

“of course,” he bore a kind smile, “anytime, ___.”

slinging your bag over your shoulder, you made your way out of the space, pulling the hoodie over your head. now, a light drizzle cascaded down, causing you to grumble under your breath. students milled about, hurrying to their next class or huddling underneath trees, waiting patiently for the rain to disperse.

as you began the trek to your apartment, a sinking feeling began to gnaw away at you as a shudder ran through your body, the rain piercing through the cotton.

you should’ve wore a heavier coat.

keeping your head low, your line of sight fell on the sidewalk, careful not to hit any patches of ice. the last thing you needed was to slip and fall, embarrassing yourself in front of dozens, if not hundreds of students on the quad.

shivering, you brought your arms to your chest, clinging to your frame. the rain was starting to fall in heavy sheets, the water icy and unforgiving.

in an instant, you collided with a figure, whacking your head against their chest.

“fuck,” you cursed, gritting your teeth as your hand flew to your head, “hey! watch where you’re fuck--”

an all too familiar zabrak stood before you, his amber depths filled to the brim with concern.

“are you all right?”

“i-i’m fine,” you stammered, rubbing your temple, “i--”

his brow furrowed as his eyes scanned your soaked hoodie and damp hair, “why are you out and about with no coat? it’s winter, ___. you’re going to catch a cold.”

“i don’t get sick,” the words were a mumble, barely audible.

“my car is right over there,” the zabrak notioned his head towards the library, “it’s closer than your apartment. you need a hot shower and dry clothes. i’m worried about you.”

“you don’t have to--”

maul put up a hand, cutting you off, “i’m always worrying about you. would you like to come with me or not? we need to get going or else others are going to stare.”

“i’ll go with you.”

the zabraks’ shoulders slump, and his exterior crumbles for just a moment, “i have a lot to apologize for.”

“you can when we’re at the apartment,” you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, nearly flinching as icy water coats your flesh.

for the first time since, the first time in days, your heart flutters as his lips twitch, curving into a miniscule grin.

“we have a lot to catch up on, don’t we?”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“sorry if there’s a mess,” he cleared his throat, turning the key in the lock, “i’ve been a bit, uhm, detached from everything lately. the only tasks i have been able to really concentrate on are my duties for my classes. you know, the typical grading and such.”

“how’s the one hundred level class treating you?”

maul pushed open the door, shaking his head slightly, “still as rambunctious as ever. try getting relationship advice from a bunch of eighteen year old women.”

your eyes widened as you took in the sight of his apartment. the space was still as pristine as ever, the only “mess” maul referring to were a few empty bottles strewn about, your heart sinking as you realized they were entire handles of a variety of liquors.

“maul--”

“let’s get you all dry and warm first,” he shook his head, strolling down the hallway, “then we can talk.”

following the zabrak, you enter his room, your teeth nearly chattering as you leaned against the doorframe of the refresher, desperate for relief from the chill. the air around you was cool, almost as if maul refused to turn on the heat.

steam billowed into the refresher as maul turned on the water, grabbing an armful of towels from a nearby cabinet. he turned, facing you.

“let’s get these off of you.”

his hands hook the hem of your hoodie, pulling it over your head, “you’ve been wearing this the whole time?”

you shrugged, “it’s the only remnant i had of you for a while. however, it’s starting to lose your scent.”

“i can give you a new one,” his voice was soft, hushed and quiet, “would you like for me to leave or stay?”

reaching out, your hand found his, lacing your fingers together, “stay. please.”

“i will,” maul nodded, “i will stay.”

carefully, you peeled off your t-shirt and leggings, leaving you in just your bra and thong. as you neatly folded the soaked clothes in a pile, you could sense his gaze on you, how his eyes followed every move.

yet, it was almost as if there was no resentment. no fury. no bitterness. any negative emotion was crumbling away by the second, and you felt at ease as you slipped out of your thong, discarding the bra as well.

stepping into the shower, a content sigh slipped from your lips as warmth enveloped you, the water pattering as it hit the floor. the curtain opened, maul following in suit.

he marveled you for a moment, lips parting as the water flowed down your body. hands connected with your face, cupping your cheeks as his forehead bumped against yours.

“i don’t want to lose you again.”

“you didn’t lose me--”

“i almost did,” the words were laced with a firmness, “and i don’t ever want it to happen ever again. i made a mistake. i let my emotions get the best of me, and treated you poorly in return. you didn’t deserve that. i love you far too much to be treating you like shit.”

your heart raced as his lips grazed yours, thudding in your chest, “you were under a lot of stress--”

“no. i was under quite a bit of stress but it was unfair to lash out on you.”

“i shouldn’t have left your apartment that night.”

“we can talk about it more later,” his lips were on yours, “but for now, i need to take care of my girl.”

“and how do you expect to do that?” you pressed on, anticipating his answer.

maul leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. his voice was low, edged with a growl.

“i would say if she’s screaming my name, i’ve done my job.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

tagged: @sapphicstars @maulieber @starflyer-104 @alwayshappysith @doobiwankenooku @magicalkitkat12 @dartheldur @princessayveke @multifandombtch @spaghetti-666 @lis-ard @swimmingsloths @sithmando @mother-0f-monsters @bonniewinchester @bonesaldente @maidofsionis @bespectacled-bunny @arsonistvoyager @tinalbion @nottodaysatan-8866 @vei-saretti @maybe-your-left @isabewwwa @aki-iko @corrupt-fvcker @ranoutofideas71 @giveusbackourbucky @lonelyhxx @zabrak-cuddles @obiorbenkenobi @lilith-alistar @laorme34 @obiwankenobiness @elegantdeergladiator @lydiainthenetherworld @javierpenaspinkshirt @the-516th @hounding-around @maximumninjavoid @elenamiria @xcertaindarkthingsx @anakinswhore

#maul #darth maul #maul x reader #star wars x reader #darth maul x reader #professor!maul #star wars #star wars au #nc-17

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socratoteles · 3 years

Text

A year to get Ph.D in letting go

The last time I was here, I wrote that perhaps it was time for me to go out and just enjoy the world. And amid the global pandemic, I sort of managed to do that. It was such a lifesaver in a year of goodbyes. I`ll get to that, but let me begin with my coronavirus scare.

On March 4 last year, I was away in Bandung, aware but not worried of some obscure virus that triggered a total lockdown in some Chinese cities. That very same day was also the time when my colleagues came in contact with a man who later confirmed of having contracted COVID-19.

That was how close I was of contracting the virus. Had I not taken a paid leave to write last year’s essay in the city where I was born, chances were high that I was another case as well, at that early stage of the pandemic too. I`m still familiar with the helplessness that came after I checked in to a hospital only to being denied the test (the nurse reasoned that the contact with my colleagues, who might catch the virus from the confirmed man, cannot be categorized as close contact).

And that experience, of confusion and fear of infecting loved ones, left a lasting impression that shaped my behavior going forward. After all, it takes a pandemic to make wearing mask and washing hands could made the difference between life and death.

Covid-induced isolation meant that I spent most of my time being holed up in my room for the past 12 months. To this day the side effects of this solitary existence is still beyond my full grasp. On one hand, this situation had brought out my inner resiliency, resourcefulness and adaptability in the long days and night when things were just so dark. On the other hand, it also forced me to deal with unresolved traumas and numerous intrusive thoughts, which I will get into later.

People get really creative during the long locked-down days, spending it doing viral social media challenges one after the other. Videoconferencing become a thing on its own and for some reason loads of folks played a game named Among Us too, perhaps to remind themselves of the interactions cruelly torn apart because of the virus.

There was also a newfound awareness on class too, because the coronavirus disproportionately affected different individuals with different income level. At least on my part, I was lucky that essential workers (the pandemic elevated the phrase into such a buzzword) near my place were safe and somehow never contracted the virus. It is worth mentioning that I definitely cannot survive this long if not for the minimarket workers, ride-hailing drivers and dozens of cooks, all of whom must have worked in long hours, despite knowing the risk, just to keep their families fed.

Others, however, were not so lucky. the SARS-CoV-2 had infected more than a million Indonesians a year after it was officially detected in these shores. Millions have lost their jobs as economic activities ground to a halt. The place I currently work was not an exception. Massive layoffs would have happened in my office had the shareholders have enough money to properly compensate their workers.

It was an obviously eye-opening experience to calculate my own severance pay and make sure I could survive on that for as long as possible. The prospect of losing your income during the pandemic –which should be that particular time for anyone to hold on to their what-ifs money– was really awful.

This is the paragraph where I say that I wish nothing but the best for those who left the company simply because they deserve nothing less than that.

But there was another reason why I signed up for a help from professional therapist last year. In the latter part of last year, things got very, very grim. At the risk of oversimplification, let’s just say that I was unable to express my feelings properly to a girl that I really liked, right at the most critical moment when probably both of us needed support from each other. She eventually left with another guy.

Days before that fateful event happened, I was quietly bearing my own burden. After years of convincing myself that I was okay, I was, in fact, not okay, at least mentally. Years of trauma have caught up. It’s too personal to even spell that out here but I`ll just quote this Youtuber just to describe a fitting metaphor.

“You see, human identity is like a house of card. One that’s always expanding. A story that is ever developing and always referred back to because every memory becomes a new card. Trauma is when a card doesn’t fit because the experience itself is so painful that it’s incompatible with everything else and if you become obsessed with making it fit the whole house of cards can fall apart and you lose the confidence to build anything new.”

Basically, my house of cards came crashing down, hard. At a time, it reduced me into this insecure soul who were unsure that people will accept me for who I was.

The last time I felt this way was a couple years back when my parent’s divorce was formalized. A girlfriend turned ex-girlfriend at that time too. Apparently, the universe has a cruel sense of timing to combine existential crisis with a relationship one.

The road to recovery was rocky, to say the least. I know something fundamental must be addressed, hence the therapy session.

I`m grateful for the company of my friends, either offline or online. (yes, I had become quite loose in terms of isolation because I know I had to prioritize my mental health; COVID-19 be damned). I`m also glad to say that because I talked with my friends about this issue, some of them were also encouraged to seek professional help.

At the height of my despair, I watched La Grande Bellezza (probably for a half a dozen time already) again and found this quote, spoken by the protagonist Jep Gambardella:

“We’re all on the brink of despair. We can only look each other in the face, keep each other company, kid each other a bit. Don’t you agree?”

Someone was kind enough to upload the entire scene on Youtube.

I decided that all bets are off, so I purchased books, many of which had been on my to-read list for years because I know I`ll have to read it when I search for a catharsis. That was how I finally read the Camus’ Myth of Sisyphus, from which I managed to understand what he meant by the absurdities of life. Into the Wild, excellently written by Jon Krakauer, broke my heart too because of Chris Mccandles’ tales somehow mimicked my own, minus the grand adventure part. I finally read Alan Watts too, from whom I learned that efforts to avoid from pain is painful in itself.

And music, a constant part of my life as I know it, helps too. I was saved because Fleet Foxes released a life-affirming record that fittingly spoke about relief, gratitude, and seasonal rebirth. During the darkest days I was just alone with my guitar in my room, terribly singing out the words that these musicians carved out of their soul to release my emotional burden. I was particularly grateful for being reminded time and again that “no one gets it right” but “we’re all supposed to try”.

I made a playlist containing songs that for me served as a reminder to be gentle for myself. You can check that here.

All of that was a roundabout way to say that I indeed, was able to go out amid the pandemic. On one afternoon I just said fuck it, I need to go out and see things. That led me to a weekly socially-distanced walk around the neighborhood, which was therapeutic in itself because the walks allowed me to be fully present and be sensitive to the sights and sounds and smells around me. Nothing is more liberating that allowing your feet to go where it you to go.

I don’t have the full answers yet, but as I wrote his essay, I`m glad to be able to say that I have rebuild my house of cards, with some of the bad cards included as well. It was quite a bumpy ride but when I looked back, this particular tweet was eerily prescient because it rings true today as was the day I tweeted it.

But I walked away from the depths of that bottomless pit not only with knowledge, but also of understanding the parts that made me who I am. I`m also humbled after I saw the abyss for the second time because it suggests that there might be another time when I found myself on the edge of despair.

I`ll never forget the fact that these hard-won lessons came on the back of years of pain, grief and suffering. But it also came on the heels of moments of simple walk in the setting sun and feeling the breeze on the beach too. In fact, I have made it my mission going forward to acknowledge both good and bad things as they are. Because forcing yourself to remember all the bright things when you were in the dark, and vice versa, is a form of self-torture. I hope this essay somehow do that mission justice.

I have said goodbyes to many things in life as the crisis comes and goes, but 2020 goodbyes were simply different. So much so that I thought I have a PhD in letting go already, however absurd that idea is.

#age #birthday #essay

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soyforramen · 3 years

Note

ooooo 17 and/or 28 for bughead

I am so terribly glad tumblr does not date these, because I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on this draft. Regardless, here goes:

xxx

“Bite me, Jones,” Betty snapped. She screwed her eyes shut and breathed deeply as she counted to ten. No one in Riverdale could get under her skin like he could. And he knew it.

“Make me, Cooper.”

Betty curled her lip and turned away from Jughead Jones and his stupid smirk and his stupid hat. She knew from the start that this whole idea was inane. But because it was Archie’s last birthday in Riverdale, and because she and Jughead were Archie’s best friends, she’d said yes to Jones’ stupid idea to throw a surprise party.

For whatever reason, it hadn’t occurred to Betty that Archie might want a birthday party. Over the years they’d fallen into such a routine it almost felt too close to sacrilege to change. The day before Archie’s birthday, he and Jughead would disappear to spend all day gorging on junk food and video games until it came time for a midnight creature feature at the Bijou. The day of, Archie would spend his birthday with his parents as Mrs. Andrews always made a point to come back to Riverdale on his birthday. The next following was Betty’s, and it had become their tradition to find new trails to hike around Sweetwater River only to end their day at Pop’s with burgers and shakes.

It was a custody arrangement they’d all been more than happy with ever since Betty had proclaimed her hatred of Jughead Jones in the second grade for making Ethyl cry because he ran away from her the entire week of Valentine’s. And despite Archie’s numerous attempts over the years at a tentative truce, neither Betty nor Jughead could stand the sight of each other for too long.This year, however, Jughead decided to buck the system.

With a party.

For Archie.

Only one week to plan it.

Together.

When Jughead had first mentioned it, Betty assumed he’d do what everyone else did when it came to these things: tell Betty his vision and let her handle everything while still getting partial credit for having come up with the idea in the first place. But apparently she’d underestimated him. Not only had he come up with the idea for a party, he also wanted to help plan it.

Normally Betty would jump at the chance for any sort of event planning help. She’d had to beg, borrow, and blackmail to get any actual help to put together Homecoming and the Spring Formal . And now she had a ready, willing participant who came with his own ideas as to how this party should go.It was as if Fate itself were determined to prove the old adage, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’(Fate, too, could bite her.)The ultimate problem, though, was not the fact that it was Jones’ proposing and helping plan the party. It was not that they both wanted to outdo each other in a childish attempt to prove their superior friendship with Archie. The problem was she had to interact with Jones’ to get this done. It was the most she’d ever had to interact with him since they’d sat at the same square of tables in elementary school and it was a reminder why she’d avoided him ever since. Every idea she had was countered by his own; every suggestion was met with scepticism and budgeting concerns; every minute detail picked apart. Their tastes were too far apart on music, food, and decorations along with everything else it took to plan a party. He was far too sarcastic, too caustic for her. She was too nice, too blithe for his. It was mutual loathing that frustrated Betty every time she had to see him in the hallways. And now she’d agreed to spend most of her free time with him for a week.Archie better fucking love this damn party.

xxx

Monday Morning: 4 Days til B-Day

Today was not Betty Cooper’s day. She’d forgotten about the essay due in History class because she’d been consumed with scholarship applications and making decorations for Polly’s wedding. She’d dropped a beaker of acid on her shoes in lab class and now had to wander around in the ugliest, grossest pair of crocs the school’s lost and found had to offer. And to top it all off, her hair tie had snapped in gym class, leaving her hair in a tangle of waves that drew attention from everyone for just how messy it was.It took all she had not to skip school for the first time in her life. The only thing stopping her was the inevitable lecture she knew would be waiting at home. If Betty ruined her perfect attendance record three months before graduation, the fit her mother would throw would surely top the one when Polly told her she was unwed and pregnant.And when the tumbler on her locker stuck, it was all she could do not to scream. Finally the lock popped off and the door slammed into its neighbor.“Party planning going well?” Kevin asked from behind. He leaned against the locker bank and leveled all the magnets that had fallen to the bottom of the door.“Yes, actually. That’s the problem,” Betty snapped. She threw her textbooks into the locker, already digging through the three and a half years worth of junk for a hair tie. “I’d say that’s less of a problem, and more of a shoe in to finally free all that hair Jones’ has been hiding from us,” Kevin said with a Hello Kitty magnet suspended between his thumb and forefinger. When Betty rolled her eyes, he clicked his tongue. “Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. The UST between you two has been at peak level for at least two years.”Betty heaved out a sigh and reached for the top shelf. She tried to imagine herself someplace relaxing and far, far away from here. One of those Swedish spas Veronica was always gushing about. A sunny beach with no one around. An automotive shop that worked exclusively on muscle cars made by Corvette and Ford between 1958 and 1972 somewhere south of Paris, France.“Of course it’s a problem, Kev. It means that not only is he a complete and total asshole, he’s also a competent and capable asshole,” Betty huffed. She grabbed her history book out of her bag and threw it into the locker hard enough to rattle the mirror on the back. “At least you now won’t have to split all your free time between the paper, the party, and practice for the Vixens.”As much as Betty loved him, sometimes she hated how Kevin could always find a positive in every situation and how desperately she hated the fact that Veronica had decided to attend a prep school for her senior year.“We forgot about Veronica,” Betty gasped. Prior frustrations forgotten, Betty tapped away on the screen. Between event planning and the massive extracurricular load her mother insisted on, Betty hardly had any time to think about what she’d get for Archie. There was no way Veronica would forget something as important as Archie’s birthday, but if there was on thing that could throw a wrench into this plan it would be Veronica sweeping Archie off his feet to the Bahamas last minute.Veronica’s reply was almost instantaneous with a string of hearts, followed by several texts grilling Betty for more information about Archie’s relationship status, Riverdale gossip, and whether Betty had finally found herself a boyfriend.Absorbed by her phone, Betty closed her locker and walked to class, Kevin walking beside to her and telling Betty which was the best gossip to pass along to Veronica. As the bell rang, Betty tucked her phone into her jacket pocket and laid out everything she needed for class. Late as usual, Jughead slouched by her on his way to the corner of the room. “Nice hair, Cooper,” he muttered as he passed. “Very Diana Dors today.”Betty’s cheeks went red and her hands flew up to smooth down her hair. She’d been so focused on her conversation with Veronica that the hair tie had been completely forgotten.Kevin leaned across his desk and whispered, “Hashtag: Free the Beanie.”

Xxxxx

Tuesday Afternoon - Party Countdown: Day 3

Betty’s phone chimed on the couch beside her. When she saw who it was from, she groaned. They’d just talked after school about the decorations, and she thought they’d come to an agreement. Jughead, however, seemed to differ.“Beans for brains again?” Cheryl asked, eyes glued to her own phone. “Yes. Now decorations are too ‘childish’,” Betty whined. “Why does he have to make things so difficult.”“Because he has your undivided attention for once, baby cousin.”Betty stared at Cheryl. “What does that mean?”Cheryl rolled her eyes and set down her phone. “Read between the lines, it’s a total Castle and Bennet situation.”Even if she’d been offered the world, Betty still couldn’t figure out what Cheryl meant. With a sigh, Betty packed up her back and headed to Pop’s, figuring it would be easier to meet with him in person than spend three hours going back and forth in text.

Xxxxx

Tuesday Afternoon - Party Countdown: Day 3Betty slammed her lunch tray on the cafeteria table. “I hate him and that stupid grin of his. Like he knows everything. Why did I ever agree to this in the first place?”Kevin moved to the side as Betty swung her leg over the bench to sit down. “Because it’s Archie’s birthday and he’d do the same for you?”Betty snorted. “I doubt he’d work with his mortal enemy to plan me a party.”“True. Because I’d be the one doing the planning. If Archie was doing it there’d be cold pizza and hot ice cream. He’s not big on the planning thing.”Betty stabbed at a piece of fruit and let that sink in. It would be so much easier to let this go, to say she was done with the whole thing and let Jughead finish organizing it. But if she backed out now they’d both know he’d won in the ongoing feud they had. It was frustrating and unnerving and took every last bit of self-control to work with him. He was a constant distraction, taken to staring at her when she was talking and unnerving her by how close he was willing to get. Even stranger, as if he knew just how to get under her skin, he’d sat next to her in English this morning and attempted a semi-polite conversation.“Do I want to ask what’s got her so riled up now?” Toni asked as she sat down. “Jughead’s lips,” Kevin said with a smile.Toni leaned forward, his face eager for more information. “What? Did he kiss you? I thought you two were only supposed to be planning a party.”“Kevin,” Betty scolded. “And no. We can barely stand to be in the same room together. He’s insisted on doing the decorating himself.”Kevin and Toni shared a look. “And that’s bad, how?” Toni asked.“I know you’re used to being in charge of everything, but why is it a problem for him to decorate?” Kevin asked.“Because I was planning on using what we had leftover from Polly’s New Year’s Eve party. It would have been perfect.” Betty said.“What did he say about that?”Betty looked down at her salad and picked at it. “I didn’t exactly mention it.”Toni raised an eyebrow and Kevin let out a heavy sigh.“But obviously if I was pushing to do the decorations, I had a plan,” Betty said, her words sounding thin.“Last time I checked Jones wears several different hats, but mind reading is not one of them,” Toni said. “And being straightforward isn’t Betty’s,” Kevin said.Betty elbowed him in the ribs. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side?”He squirmed away from her. “I am. But you tend to have a take charge attitude and don’t always share the whole plan. Or let other people have much input when you’ve made up your mind.”“What’s that supposed to mean?”Kevin held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying, maybe this thing isn’t all one-sided. You’re not used to people wanting to help plan something, and he’s -” Kevin faltered, not knowing Jughead enough to speak to his personality.Toni, though, was quick to step in. “Jughead is a snarky gloom and doom nerd. His people skills need some help too.”“Exactly. But maybe if you try to work with him.” He let the thought linger a moment before going into the latest gossip about the lacrosse team.

Xxxx

Thursday Afternoon - Party Countdown; 1

“I’m doing this for Archie, Jughead. If you don’t like that, then you don’t have to be involved,” Betty said after a few deep breaths.“This was my idea, Betty. Not some project you can step in and fix just because I’m involved. The door is right there if you change your mind,” Jughead snapped back. He turned away from her and focused his attention on his computer. Betty’s hands clenched and unclenched. A fire burned in her chest and she had to work to stay seated There was nothing she wanted more than to slap him. It annoyed her that he was right; they were doing this for Archie, not for some strange kudos for their own egos. “Fine.”Jughead’s head jerked up and he looked as if he were surprised she’d conceded so easily. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said her words clipped. Just because she was wrong didn’t mean she had to like it.His eyes narrowed and Betty waited it out. If he wanted to suspect her of ulterior motives, then so be it. She just wished he could bring the intensity down a little bit.Eventually, he waved to the seat across from him and, in a rare gesture of cordiality, waved Pop down for a round of shakes. While Betty was suspicious herself of his motives, she took the seat and pulled out her planner to go over their last minute plans.

xxxx

Friday Night - Party Countdown: 0

Betty leaned against the porch railing, a red solo cup full of something red and overly sweet in her hands. Veronica had sworn she’d like it, but Betty could barely stomach a sip of it. She’d never been one for parties or alcohol or general teenage mischief. Seeing what had happened to Polly had cured Betty of any desire of that.“Looks like we managed to pulled it off,” Jughead said. He lifted a can to his lips - a brazenly boring soda that stood out against their peers attempts to summon Dionysus into the Andrews’ living room.Betty turned towards him and watched him watch the party through the windows. “Surprisingly.”He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t turn towards her. Betty’s eye followed the movement only to trail down his profile. It was odd, she realized, to have never really thought about what he looked like without the permanent scowl and irritable persona he’d taken up as a defense mechanism.“It’ll be a bitch to clean up, though,” Jughead said.Betty snorted and poured her drink into the bushes beneath her. “I vote that’s Archie’s problem.”“And Veronica’s,” Jughead added, with a nod to the opening door.“There you two are,” Veronica said. She shot a sly grin to Jughead who rolled his eyes.Betty filed her questions away for later, particularly those about how close Veronica and Jughead seemed to have gotten over the past year. “This was a really great surprise,” Archie said, oblivious of the strange interaction going on next to him. He looked as tired as Betty felt, but somehow managed a level of energy even she couldn’t fake. She pulled him into a tight hug as the sudden realization that this was their last year of high school hit her. Tears threatened to spill at the corner of her eyes. In six months, Archie would no longer be her constant companion. It would be the first time ever that he wasn’t part of her life. Betty screwed her eyes shut and thought about the good times.“You’re welcome Archie. Happy birthday,” she said through a sniffle.They pulled apart and it was Jughead’s turn to pull Archie into a hug. Betty took a moment to wipe the tears from her cheeks.“Happy birthday, bud,” Jughead said with a grin. He nodded towards Veronica. “Enjoy it while you can.”Betty pulled Veronica into a hug, the pain of missing her not as severe. After all, they’d be roommates next fall, something they’d been planning since they were twelve. “I’m going to call it a night,” Betty said. Veronica kissed her on the cheek and, in a surprising move, pulled Jughead into a bear hug. She whispered something to him that made him flush before letting him go. “Walk her home,” Veronica ordered him. “I want nothing to happen to my girl. We have plans, after all.”“V, I live ten feet away,” Betty reminded her.Jughead rolled his eyes, but complied when Veronica shoed him after Betty. When they reached the sidewalk, Jughead cleared his throat.“Hey, Cooper.”Betty turned to face him. “Yes?”“Are we still in a truce?”She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got another ten minutes until curfew. So, I’d say we were.”Jughead took a step towards her, dropping his gaze to the ground. He swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting. “You’re not half bad, now that I think about it.”Betty smiled. It was probably the nicest thing she’d heard him say about anything in a while. “You’re not half bad yourself, Jones’.”“Also,” he paused, glancing behind them as if to check that they were alone.“What? What is it?” she asked, stepping towards him, worried he’d say or do something. Her fingers curled into a loose fist, but what she wouldn’t have ever expected was for him to pull her close and press his lips against hers.The world came to a startling halt as Betty’s brain went into overdrive. (They were kissing.) This was Jughead Jones her self-proclaimed high school rival in all things that mattered. (He was kissing her.) Before this week they’d never had a nice thing to say about each other. (And she liked it.) The only common ground they ever had was fighting over Archie (Worse, she was kissing him back) and snarking at each other over stupid little things.A car backfired a street over and the spell was broken. The world wrenched itself back into rightful place. Betty’s eyes fluttered open and everything looked the same as it had before. Only there was that look in his eyes, and there was that exhilarating feeling in her chest that could only mean the sky was the limit, and the ground beneath her was shaking. At some point her hand had come to rest on his cheek. It felt normal there, like a bird finally come home to roost. She rubbed her finger against his smooth skin and he turned his head to kiss her palm. “Pop’s tomorrow?” he asked.Betty answered him in another kiss.

#bughead fanfiction #yeah sorry for the long post before the readmore #since my internet is practically non existant at this point #D:

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mayfriend-archive · 3 years

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Totally understand if you're not up for it and fully recognize the ronald mcdonald dom/sub anon vibes which is an AMAZING post btw but like...now i'm curious, what the hell did Lord of the Flies anon DO that got him blocked for the discourse? like...i just can't wrap my head around high school lit being...uh...that inflammatory i guess?

Okay so, I'll start by saying I've had a new anon from apparently the same anon saying they are NOT the person I blocked, just a rando making the same points, but I'll answer your question anyway just to set out why this person in particular got blocked, out of the several thousand who reblogged/commented on that very successful addition to the LoTF post I made.

First off, I added the 'real life Lord of the Flies' story because I thought it was a good story. I had read about it only a couple days beforehand in Humankind and, after reading out the entire chapter to my parents who weren't very interested, I was excited that there was not only a post where it would be relevant to post, but that I wouldn't be hijacking it, as it was already rejecting the widespread interpretation taught in many schools, that humanity is inherently savage.

When making the addition, I a) did not think it would get more than a couple reblogs, because the post was already at 50k notes and I figured anyone that might be interested would already have seen it, and b) I did not know the very specific context that prompted William Golding to write the book; all I knew was that he had been a teacher at a public school (basically, the poshest schools in the country - think Eton, Harrow, very 'old money' places that pump out Conservative politicians by the bucket-load 🤢) who hated his job and the boys he taught (which, valid), and new information I'd been given in Humankind - that Golding had said to his wife one day, "Wouldn't it be a good idea to write a story about some boys on an island, showing how they would really behave?" - which had no mention of The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne, which I have since learned was the text that Golding loathed enough to write an entire novel in refutation of - and included what I considered a very telling letter from Golding to his publisher, in which Golding wrote of his belief that 'even if we start with a clean slate, our nature compels us to make a muck of it.' Another Golding quote that I believe portrays his belief in humanity's 'innate savagery' is that "man produces evil as a bee produces honey."

Obviously, the author of a book putting forward the case for humanity's inherent goodness was going to oppose Golding's hypothesis; Bregman not only noted Golding's literary accomplishments and beliefs, but his personal life.

When I began delving into the author's life, I learned what an unhappy individual he'd been. An alcoholic. Prone to depression. A man who, as a teacher, once divided his pupils into gangs and encouraged them to attack each other. "I have always understood the Nazis," Golding confessed, "because I am of that sort by nature." (Humankind by Rutger Bregman, p. 24-25)

I have bolded the part about him as a teacher, because it is incredibly relevant to the original post that I commented on, which begins with a comic of a teacher locking her class in to see them 'recreate' Lord of the Flies, something which the follow up comments before mine staunchly reject as both misunderstanding the point of the book, and the fact that it took the kids in Lord of the Flies a significant amount of time without adult supervision to go 'savage'. This misreading of the text is widespread enough that when Golding won the Nobel Prize for Lord of the Flies, the Swedish Nobel committee wrote that his book 'illuminate[s] the human condition in the world of today'. Whether or not they misread it is beyond my expertise - they do at least mention the factors of the outside world neglected by many when analysing the book, but still seem to believe it says something about human nature as a whole rather than just, to quote thedarkbutbeige 'British kids being rat bastards' - but Golding quite happily took his Nobel prize on this basis. Which, in fairness, I would too. It's a fucking Nobel prize.

It was with this knowledge, and this knowledge alone, that I stated in my now very, very widely read comment that Golding 'wrote the book to be a dick', in response to the tags of the person I reblogged from. As I said, I now know that Golding did not write the book (solely) because he hated the kids he taught, but as a response to The Coral Island and the general idea that clearly the British were inherently civilsed, whilst the people they colonised and enslaved were inherently savage. So. That's the background.

The anon - or rather, the person I thought was anon - was the sole exception out of dozens of replies, who instead of telling me about The Coral Island politely decided it was time to go ALL CAPS and regurgitate points already made by thespaceshipoftheseus, and implied that the only reason that the real life Tongan castaways didn't go all Lord of the Flies was because they weren't British. Not because they weren't surrounded by violence like the boys in Lord of the Flies, or there wasn't a World War ongoing, or that they weren't the upper, upper, upper crust of a class-obsessed society like Britain - but because they weren't British. A complete inversion of the concept that Golding was trying to get across - now, instead of all of humanity being equally prone to savagery in the right conditions, it was solely nationality that determined it. As in, the British were inherently savage, but nobody else was.

I, trying for humour, made the terrible mistake of replying to them.

I won't lie, I was absolutely blown away that this was real life. What I think they were trying to do was be that Cool Tumblr Person who, after somebody's been shitty on a post, goes to their blog and sees something Damning in their about/description. In an ideal world, I imagine I'd have gone nuts or done something Unforgiveable. In what I can only call the rant that followed, they stated several times that I needed to go back to high school to get some 'proper literary analysis' skills and that the story of the Tongan castaways was completely unrelated to the point at hand which. I mean, I disagree, considering that I made the addition, but I couldn't get my head around how commenting on a post that was already rejecting the thesis that the 'point' of Lord of the Flies was that humanity was inherently savage and was, in fact, about how kids - British or otherwise - learn how to function from the adults around them, and that traumatised, terrified children aren't going to create a mini-Utopia, and put forward a real life example of how without the key additions of an ongoing world war, a colonial Empire and the subsequent mindset of thinking you are 'inherently civilised' and therefore can't do anything wrong, actually, people just want to take care of each other.

A friend has since asked me why I even have 'england' in my description. To be honest, it's a timezone thing - I talk to a lot of people online who don't share my timezone, and it generally makes me feel like if I don't reply immediately because it's 3am, they have the tools to see that I'm not in their timezone and not just ignoring them. I did consider changing it to 'british' or 'uk' after it was... 'used against me', I guess, simply because I didn't want to deal with it, but you know what. No. Not gonna do that. I am from England, and I have never hid that fact. I have a tag called 'uk politics', during Eurovision I refer to the UK's act as 'us' (even if I really, really don't want to. Because James Newman slaughtered that song and it was downright embarrassing), I regularly post stuff in my personal tag about where I live (and mostly complain about this piece of shit government). If people really think my nationality makes every point I make null and void, then they don't have to follow me or interact with my posts; tumblr is big, and I am one medium-small blog very easily passed over.

I did reply to them, trying to explain the above, but their next response really just doubled down. Because I used the word British instead of English - foolishly because the posts above mine focused on Britishness, and also because although Golding was English and taught English kids, the pro-Imperialism author of The Coral Island, R. M. Bannatyne was actually Scottish so, ding ding ding, falls into the 'British' category - they then decided that I was somehow trying to pretend I wasn't English and made all the same points, before ending with this doozy:

At this point, I knew there was nothing to be gained from replying, because if we're whipping out conditions like they're pokemon cards then there's no actual conversation anymore, and I'm not going to start mudslinging like an identity politician. They made up their mind, and I figured there could be no harm in letting them think that they 'won' by blocking them instead of replying.

Until the ask. INNATE ENGLISH SAVAGERY did, I'll admit, make me think it was them, back again. I even thought up a really good response approximately 12 hours after I replied, I was that sure. Until the second message came in, and said they were just someone who came from the post and made the same point by chance. So the saga draws to a close... for now.

It may have been them, it may not have been - the anon feature makes it impossible to be sure, but as the second message I got said, we're in a heatwave. It's too hot to argue. And I've just written a goddamn essay about a book I dislike anyway.

My pasty English ass is going to go melt. If there's Disk Horse, do not tell me. I am Done™

#emily speaks #asks #anon #lord of the flies #this is long. this is so long. why is this so long #i literally got out humankind so i could quote directly. how is this my life

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everything-withered · 4 years

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Despite what other people might think, literature major Kurosaki Ichigo and law student Kuchiki Rukia were not dating . . . or were they? -- prompt: ichiruki through the eyes of nosy college classmates.

Okay. So. I tried to write them as students. But. They ended up being professors (in Ichigo's case) instead? Yikes. Outsider POV is really not my wheelhouse and I found it really hard to make college students care about each other's drama so I hope this is alright.

When classes have to be shifted online, students around the country who've witnessed their professors struggle with power point on a daily basis, collectively shudder.

But those under the tutelage of Professor Kurosaki are spared the dismay for his classes.

Professor Kurosaki Ichigo is not like other lecturers. He's young, he's good looking, and thank every god above, Professor Kurosaki is also good with technology.

With him, classes aren't all that different to real life lectures which is a relief, but some students bemoan the lack of his physical presence. Though that has less to do with the quality of education as much as it does the purveyor himself.

Professor Kurosaki has a bit of a reputation.

He's one of the youngest educators on campus, and practically inhuman given his meteoric rise to academic stardom especially since, as the rumors go, Professor Kurosaki isn't some prodigy, he's simply a workhorse who's too stubborn to quit.

It's a work ethic he pushes onto his students, and they shoulder it admirably.

Though, not for nothing.

Besides being the youngest professor, he also happens to be the most good looking, a feat that isn't just attributed to youth but also to pure magnetism. There's something very. Attractive. About Professor Kurosaki.

It's obvious even through a pixelated screen.

He's confident, but quiet about it. Serious, and sharp. He's always direct and doesn't dance around a topic, and he has a way of making you feel important when his attention is on you -- which is perhaps one of the best things about having lectures through a screen, it feels like you are.

Until, of course, you realize you aren't.

That day is today: pausing for a moment to take a sip of water, Professor Kurosaki glances just above the camera and smiles.

And the private group chat collectively loses its mind, and it spills out into the group chat accompanying the stream for the lecture itself.

Pausing to glance down at the screen again, Professor Kurosaki's eyes narrow, his expression shifting to his more familiar scowl as he dismissed the deluge of question marks (and some braver "What are you smiling at??") with "That's enough, you know better by now than to ask about my personal life."

Which is perhaps, the only caveat to Professor Kurosaki: him being intensely private that the only thing anyone in the student body knows about him that isn't shrouded in rumor is what's on his profile on the university website. The bare bones. The minimum. It's agonizing.

Not even the most advanced of internet stalkers among them can get anything more than that, and if not for an incredibly locked down Instagram account, they'd think their beloved professor simply appeared one day fully formed from the ether.

As it stands Professor Kurosaki is standing before the camera looking unimpressed, and the class' curiousity is punished with another load of essays due.

This doesn't stop the more persistent of the class from trying to gather intel from wherever they can get it: starting with what can be gleaned from Professor Kurosaki's home. While he usually shares his screen when he lectures, there's the in between moments when he's just sitting before the camera or pacing in front of it as he talks, or simply setting up or shutting down the stream. It's a goldmine of moments.

One person in the private group chat reports framed photographs on the shelf. The light always hits the glass so they can't make out the faces, but they're sure a later or earlier lecture could yield results if someone looks. It's on the left corner, is the instruction . If you've got a morning or late afternoon lecture, keep an eye out!

Another says, "I saw some kind of pet bed in the corner once too, when he was still setting up. Does Prof have a dog??"

Then, "I saw a lady's shoes on the ground when he was still setting up. Did you see them?? AM lecture yesterday??? Is Prof married???" which is followed by vehement denies because of course not and we would've noticed a ring by now and then, "women in the photographs are his sisters, maybe one of them is staying with him during quarantine?" And yes. Yes, that's feasible.

Except the next time, thanks to a student who'd read the time wrong and arrived too early to the stream, spends it listening to Professor Kurosaki set up for the lecture with the screen tilted onto the keys; they catch snatches of conversation between the professor and someone who very clearly isn't one of his sisters:

"You look tired."

"Thanks, that's exactly what a woman wants to hear," a female voice says, sarcastic and fond. And while there isn't much of a view, lacking in faces for one, the student can see the two bodies standing close enough to touch without actually doing any touching, a gravitational pull that's being resisted by sheer force of will. Then, voice softer than they've heard it ever, Professor Kurosaki tells her, "Go back to bed, the court documents can wait."

"My name's on the door," is the response that sounds like a whine which makes Professor Kurosaki chuckle. "It's Byakuya's too, he can sort it out. I'll make you breakfast when I'm done with class."

There's a sigh, dramatic and long suffering. "Promises, promises, Ichigo."

By then, there's more people in the stream logged in and listening, the private group chat is a mess of epic proportions: Professor Kurosaki has a woman in his life. He cooks her breakfast. She works with court documents, is she a lawyer? Who's Byakuya? We need answers people!

Whoever Byakuya is ends up being the key, though this is only realized later because the class is side tracked by the momentary affection on Professor Kurosaki's face, a tenderness so breathtaking no one says anything for awhile. Which is all well and good because Professor Kurosaki is not pleased with the direction of the conversation in the steam's chat. To the questions of "is that your wife?" He scowls and says, "That's none of your business."

And in his defense, it's not.

Until it is.

The quarantine is getting to everyone, Professor Kurosaki included. The woman doesn't appear again, though there have been reports of a woman's shoes in the background and a cardigan that looks too small to be Professor Kurosaki's, and if his class is disappointed, so must he. Except, "They must be in quarantine together...did they have a fight?"

Which thus begins the great advice giving of May 2020 wherein everyone throws in some casual dating wisdom about apologizing for whatever dumb thing you did, and how to compromise, and what to do to get out of the dog house and stop sleeping on your couch.

Professor Kurosaki must think it's some kind of late April fool's joke or something because he's kind of pissed about it for awhile.

Right until he forgets to end the stream, and few stragglers witness him resting his head on his arms and moaning as he mutters, "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

The audio picks up a growl, and Professor Kurosaki dismisses this with a, "I know, Kon, I know."

When he starts to bang his head on his desk, the students still on the stream start to worry, though thankfully the woman appears.

No one had really known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't her.

Where Professor Kurosaki has cut a famous figure in his jeans and a leather jacket, this woman is soft as a watercolour painting: she is a sunrise in a sweet, misty yellow sundress, what remains of the night sky clinging to her black hair and space blue eyes. Her voice is alarmed, but grounding, "Ichigo, what the hell?"

Professor Kurosaki is so startled he vaults up from his seat behind the desk, completely missing that the livestream is still on his screen. "What? No, I'm fine."

There's a scoff. "You've been acting weird for days, don't lie to me."

"Rukia..."

"Is this because of Saturday?" Is the question. "We were drunk, and ridiculous, and."

"Rukia -"

"Other people sleep together all the time" she says affecting a calm tone though there's a hint of desperation beneath it, "It doesn't have to mean anything."

The private group chat buzzes. The chat on the stream stays mercifully silent.

"We're not other people, at least not to each other," he finally says.

A sigh. "No, we're not."

Almost like a reflex, Professor Kurosaki absently reaches out to his laptop screen, and says quietly, just before they're all shut out, "And I want it to mean something so. What now, Rukia?"

The search for who Rukia is ends twenty minutes later: Kuchiki Rukia, lawyer, philanthropist and university alumni; she's the shining star of Sereitei's highest social circles, the only daughter of the Kuchiki family and the proud dog mom to a pitbull named Kon.

The intrigue continues.

By the time classes resume in person, Professor Kurosaki has revealed nothing. Rukia does not appear in the following streams.

There's a temptation to ask, but there's no doubt the professor will deny it.

Which is why when a student spots Rukia on campus, the group chat lights up.

A student still in Professor Kurosaki's lecture hall slows in packing away their things as Rukia enters, and it feels like Professor Kurosaki's entire class is holding their breathes.

Rukia and Professor Kurosaki, however, don't notice, and with an exchanged kiss in greeting as natural as a breath exhaled, the group chat lights up again.

The student is sufficiently embarrassed when, called forth by Professor Kurosaki about what they think they're doing, and show me your phone if it's nothing, then the last message insists: pics or it didn't happen!

Rukia laughs so hard, her happiness all but lights her up, and oh, the student can see how Professor Kurosaki could be in love. And from his expression to the one Rukia returns to him, amused and fond and tender in one, the student wonders why no one's seen it before at all.

#ichiruki #deathberry

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