#anth class from hell

[earlgraytay]

i don't think this author knows about the child mortality graph.

like. I understand that anthropology is the cultural relativity discipline, that half the point and half the job is going, "okay, these people believe stuff that we don't, it makes sense within their cultural context, let's treat it with the respect we'd give any other idea (and take our own ideas apart from the same point of view)". I understand that. I get that there are no sacred cows in anth - unless you're in India- I get it.

But you cannot look at this goddamn graph:

-- and tell me that the only difference between scary icky Enlightenment-white-guy invasive buzzwordy Western biomedicine and everything else is cultural values.

[idanceuntilidie]

Friendly Rivalry Pt.2

Yandere perfect student x reader PREVIOUS PART -> 💖

FINALLY I finished, I needed to read it out loud and correct a few things. Now I will bask in glory of being proud of myself. I like how this part didn't answer anthing haha, I will write more if you guys wanted more. SOME WARNINGS; the reader can still be considere gn and there is some blood mention at the end! Enjoy!

“Hey, is the uniform still available?”

“Yeah, the one from Marble highschool yes?”

“Yeah I need it for tomorrow.”

“I know someone, it will be dropped in a few hours.”

“Thank you..”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ The night was quiet and chilly, if you don’t count the humming of led lights and soft music playing from the corner store behind you. Open 24/7, if you need alcohol or pick up random packages apparently. You shiver from the cold, hands fumbling with the package trying to pry it open. This plastic thing is a nightmare to open.

All this money, you hope you didn’t get scammed. Finally your hands touched the material and surprisingly the uniform was real. You couldn’t help but smile in relief. That was until you noticed weird stains, which were crunchy. Your smile fell when the smell of sweat and semen hit you. You dropped the package in surprise, staring at it, eyes stinging from the smell. Fucking hell. You didn’t have any other choice but to wrap it back up and sprint off in the direction of the nearest open laundromat. Which you hoped was opened at this hour. You spent not only your last change for the bus but also a good few hours to try and wash out the smell and stains. You won’t sleep much tonight you mused with a grimace, watching your uniform spin in the washing machine. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ It was raining today, a true nightmare to those who forgot their umbrella. You ran through the people with your bag over your head trying to reach the school faster. Finally you reached class, awkwardly shuffling to another seat that you decided to choose. A deal is a deal, you need the money Abby has. You smiled, or tried to, to the girl sitting next to you. You could see her nose scrunch in disgust as she turned away. Luckily the bell saved you from the odd interaction, lazily you sat down to unpack. It took you a while to notice that someone was staring into your soul. Turning around you see that it was Vivianne. This time her hair was braided, with the prettiest red bow you had ever seen. Your attention was probably all she needed before getting up to walk to you. Her eyes scanned yours before she smiled which she seemed to do a lot around you. Even if you know her for maybe a day. “Hey Y/N, why are you sitting here? Did I scare you away?” she giggled. Now that she got closer you can smell the perfume she had on her. You weren’t sure what it was but it smelled expensive. “Ah no I just..” you looked at your seat in the back. It was taken by Abby, of course, she was sitting with a very smug expression. “I just didn’t want you to be bothered by me.. or something.” You didn’t expect that to earn a few gasps from your classmates. The girl next to you was just as shocked as the rest. You tilted your head confused at the reaction.

“Ah, I see. I can move my seat here then!” the girl next to you started packing as if on call. She didn’t meet your eyes but you could see her shaking. Before you could think or at least weigh what you are about to say you muttered. “Um there is no need” “I understand, well if you change your mind-” Viviannas smile faltered slightly but she kept up the bright fasade. “I won’t.” “Right.” You couldn’t help but notice how her fists tightened and with a strained smile she went back to her seat. You sighed in relief, god why is she so weird about you? You don’t even know her. In fact you want to blend in as much as possible and not let anyone distract you from your goal.  Your fingers played with the hem of your skirt as the teacher walked in and began the class. Someone was staring, if this kept up she was going to burn holes in the back of your head. You did say no to her, it can’t end badly right? Hey now that you think about it, you don’t even remember telling her your name.

Finally a break, you can straighten your legs and maybe get some fresh air. Those jackets are stuffy, luckily the shirts are somewhat breathable. Good because the money you paid for it did take a lot of work to earn. Just as you were about to get up you bumped into Abby, then you felt something wet on your chest. Looking down you saw your shirt turning purple. You turn to look at Abby, a smug yet apologetic smile decorates her lips. You looked at the soda she had in her hand. Ah wonderful.

„Oh my God! Are you okay? I am so clumsy.” she waved her hand. „I should totally buy you a new one you know?”

„There is no need.”

The sweet sweet smile turned into a scowl. Abby brushed her pretty pink hair behind her ear and leaned in.

„I can’t believe you came to school in this, you are truly disgusting.” she sneered, despite leaning in she was loud enough so other classmates could hear. „You smell like semen, I don’t even want to think about what you did in this uniform.” The laughter that followed sounded like waves in the sea. 

At this point you did what any normal person would do. Turn around and walk out of the classroom. Ignoring the name calling that followed.

You walked to the bathroom in total silence, slowly unbuttoning the shirt to try and wash at least some of the juice, you hope it won't stain. Luckily you walked out during a break, your hands rub the soap into the shirt, the only surprising thing is that no one really came out. It was eerily quiet. The only noise in the bathroom was the running water.

Your eyes sting,  you aren’t sure if it was because of what happened or that you are so tired. It seems the whole two cycles didn't wash out the smell. Even if you were sure it did, you can’t help but grip the material tighter. Your train of thought was interrupted by someone wrapping hands around you, you freeze staring at the mirror seeing familiar eyes. Vivianne. Her soft cheek was pressed into your arm, her lips almost touching.You can already feel you have goosebumps. The scent of her perfume filled your senses, sweet and inviting. “Hi Y/N! What happened? You were gone and I was so worried.” she mumbled into your skin. Naturally you wanted to move away but she kept you in place. Despite looking frail she was oddly strong, maybe she has a whole set of abs under those clothes. Out of respect you try not thinking more about it. “I spilled some juice..” you mumbled, going back to scrubbing. The stain was now pastel purple. Fuck, it did stain, you can’t afford another one. The girl finally let go, humming some song that you cannot even recognize before her hands gently trailed down yours. Just as you were about to say something she gently picked up the shirt. “Humm, you can’t grip it like that, it ruins the material. Well, more than it already is, I have a spare uniform in my locker.” she smiled. “I am just as clumsy as you apparently.” “I don’t want it.” you turned off the tap and squeezed the excess water out of the shirt. “Huh?” Vivianne tilted her head in confusion. You didn’t want to look at her, or accept anything she had to give. Perfect little student that she is, everyone loves her. If someone were to get too close it caused problems. You felt that on your skin yesterday AND today. If you get away, you will have your peace back. That’s what you wanted all along. The wet spot clung to your chest, sending shivers down your spine. Uncomfortable. As long as you wear your jacket no one will even see the stain. You will just go wash the uniform again if it stinks apparently. “Thanks anyway.” you said leaving the girl all alone. If only you could see how angry and sad that made her. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ “Vivianne?” Abby yelled for the third time in the past hour. The night has been getting colder and colder, she didn’t dress accordingly of course. Looking good and feeling comfortable can’t happen at the same time. That’s at least what she thinks. Abby hummed as she checked her phone. Vivianne said she will be a bit late, but that’s okay since she wanted to meet with her alone. Her cheeks get warmer at the thought. She will be all alone with the most adored student in the whole school and even probably the world. She was smart, pretty and stinking rich, who wouldn’t love her? Maybe.. no.. but it’s still a maybe if you back away. They could be unstoppable together after all. Finally the girl heard someone walking behind her and soon her eyes were covered with someone's soft hands.

Oh fuck, the perfume. Sweet vanilla only one person wears it well.

“Guess who?” the person giggled

“Vivianne?” Abby felt herself smile.

“Humm, no! The grim reaper, silly!”

The hands slowly slid from her eyes. Abby was sure it was her but just as soon as she was about to question her weird response she felt something graze her neck and then all she saw was blood. A surprised, choked sob escaped her lips as she turned around to see warm brown eyes staring at her. Squinted, glinted under the lanterns slowly blurring. Abby wanted to cry out but the only sound that came out of her throat was her choking on her own blood.

Then the world turned black.

[kokofromwattpad]

hello (●’◡’●)ﾉ Could u do the reader doing a break up prank on the dorm leaders? Twst

(SEMI)HEART ATTACK

Featuring: RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS, LEONA KINGSCHOLAR AND AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Plot: The prefect decides, for some reason or another to prank their boyfriend by breaking up with him. Whether it's for selfish gain or for a reaction, nobody knows.

Tw:fluff, a bit of crying, established relationship, romantic relationship

A/N: I am so fucking sorry for not posting, I have been struggling with my mental health for the past few weeks and interacting with my socials just was not on my priority list. I have been visiting a therapist to help sort through my problems and I hope ya'll understand.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

Riddle layed in the prefect's squeaky bed at Ramshackle dorm. The housewarden was snuggled up and had his arms wrapped around the prefect's waist. The prefect themself rested their head right above Riddle's, giving the boy little kisses every now and then.

The prefect had their old, battered airpods plugged in their ears as they watched magicam videos. As they scrolled, they came across one of those cringy couple accounts where they constantly pulled pranks on one another for views.

In this specific video, it showed a woman pretending to break up with her boyfriend. The boyfriend's reaction was kind of desperate. He begged her not to break up with her but then said that he would let her leave if she really wanted to break up with him.

This video got the cogs in prefect's brain turning. What would Riddle's reaction be? Would he scream angrily and smash all of their belongings? Would he start crying and begging for them not to break up with him? Would he go stoic and completely cut them out of his life? Honestly, the prefect was kinda worried.

But for the sake of their curiosity, the prefect plucked up the courage to gently tap Riddle on his back, silently asking him to look at them. Riddle turned his head up to see their eyes. And by the seven, was he adorable. If the prefect didn't previously know him as the cold-hearted queen of heartslabyul, they would have thought that he was just an innocent boy with a lot of love in his heart.

"Yes darling?" Riddle gently asked with a slight glimmer-y look in his eyes.

"Can I talk to you about something?" The prefect nervously asked, trying to keep their facade up.

"Anthing you want"

"I think we should take a break from each other"

The silence in the room was almost deafening. Riddle's eyes widened with shock. What the hell did they mean by that? Did they want to break up with him? Why? Was he unconsciously going back to his old, hot-tempered self? Is that why they want to leave him?

Riddle looked down from their (perhaps) lover. He was trying so hard not to start tearing up. After the prefect heard the first sob escape his trembling lips, they scooped him up tighter in their arms and started apologizing profusely.

In between sobs and soothing whispers, a mumbly "You're not breaking up with me?"

The prefect softly kissed Riddle's lips and said with no uncertainty,

"Never."

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

It was one of those warm spring days, where all you want to do is curl up and forget about all of your problems. And it seemed like Leona was taking every opportunity to do just that.

Professor Crewel had asked the prefect to wake up and bring back Leona to continue the rest of his classes. The moment the beastman's name left the professor's lips, the prefect knew that the prince was going to be a pain in the ass to deal with.(affectionate)

So off the prefect went, to whisk their housewarden boyfriend back to class so that he could actually pass the year.

The prefect went to their and Leona's usual napping place in the greenhouse first to see if he was there. Lo and behold, there was the prince, conked out and snoring like a middle aged man.

"Leona! Darling! Love of my life! Snookums! Sweetheart lolipop" yelled the prefect, trying to gain the prince's attention.

Leona just grumbled angrily, flicking his tail and turned to his side to try and block out their lover's loud voice.

The prefect got close to Leona's sleeping face and leanded, "Leona, I think we should take a break from each other."

The prince snapped his head up at his lover's words. What the hell did they mean take a break? As in break up? Hell no! Absolutely not! You're his lover! His forever! His break from reality! You can't just leave him!

Leona sat up from his laying position and stared at the prefect right into their eyes. Dammit they have pretty eyes.

"That's not gonna happen. Nuh uh." Leona spat out as he grabbed onto the prefect's wrist.

"If you truley want to stay with me, get up and follow me."

Immediately, Leona jumped onto his feet and wrapped one of his arms around his lover's shoulder.

Before Leona knew it, he was back in class with an odd, dazed look on his face.

You almost broke up with him for not going to class.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

The prefect had a test coming up that would depend if they would pass or fail the subject therefore depending if they would have to redo a year or not.

So obviously, the most logical solution was to call up their very nice, adorable, kind, smart and caring boyfriend.

"No."

What did he mean no?

Azul smirks at his lover's surprised face. Aren't they so adorable when they're stunned? Oh, he could just pinch your cheeks!

A 'huh' slipped out of the prefect's lips. They were utterly surprised. They honestly thought that Azul would help them! I mean! This test was going to determine if they had to redo a year! If they fail this, Azul would have already graduated by the time of their third year anniversary.

Azul, the smug bastard, was smirking wickedly at his lover's spiral. He was going to strike a deal with them. If he helps them study, they will repay him by doing a small performance in the mostro lounge as entertainment for his guests.

However, this was not the first time Azul tried to strike this deal with his lover. Oh no! He's done this over six times already in the past. So, the prefect already assumed that the next words coming out of Azul's mouth would be his deal.

And so, before the merman could get a word out, the prefect exclaimed in false anger, "That's it! We're over!"

And with that, they stormed out of Azul's office with a little pep in their step.

Azul was absolutely stunned from their action. Is he single now? No, no.... that can't be! How could his lovely prefect breakup with him?!

Azul jumped from his armchair and rushed after his (ex) lover. He ran and ran until he saw the back of the prefects head.

"Sweetheart, please, it was just a joke. I-I never meant to hurt you. Please don't breakup with me." Azul cried out.

It sounded as if he was about to cry. Tears already brimming the bottom of his eyelid.

The prefect smiled gently and turned to cup Azul's cheeks into their hands.

"Help me study for this test and I'll take you back."

Azul was shocked to say the least, but he chuckled and agreed to his lover's words.

[lamemaster]

The Beer Slayer

Request: Could you do Glorfindel for the what the hell is happening event? All the situations your writing for feel so refreshing and I quite like your writing by the way!

Pairing: Glorfindel x Reader

Genre: College au

AN: Thanks for requesting!! I am glad you like my writing. (What in the Hell is Happening Event)

A throbbing headache assaulted Glorfindel the moment he woke up. The world swam before his eyes, and the remnants of last night's festivities threatened to erupt from his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous evening.  

There was the pub, of course, celebrating the end of a particularly grueling exam week. And then… there was you. Laughter, shared stories, a warmth that spread through him that had nothing to do with the ale. He vaguely recalled kissing you, the memory sending a jolt through him.

A gentle shake on the shoulder startled him from his reverie. He squinted open his eyes to see your glorious form silhouetted against the window. You were dressed in something ridiculously impractical – thigh-high boots? In your dorm room? Or were you in his room? His brain, still sluggish from the hangover, couldn't quite grasp the logic.

"We have Anth 364 in 15 and I am not driving you there," you declared, your voice laced with amusement. You zipped up those ridiculous boots, the sound strangely hypnotic. A frown creased your brow as you leaned closer.  "Glorfindel, can you hear me? Wake up!"

The warmth of your breath tickled his ear, and Glorfindel's heart hammered against his ribs. He was this close to you, close enough to feel the heat radiating from your body. His traitorous lips twitched, the memory of your almost-kiss. But then you spoke again, your voice laced with a familiar authority that snapped him back to reality.

"Get dressed, our group needs to present this week." There you were, his group leader – the one person who could turn from a pleasurable fantasy into a focused, albeit slightly grouchy, leader. He forced a smile, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders.

That's how you both met. A silly group project for a gen-ed that every single one of your group members made a point to whine about. And, you, the biochem major somehow found yourself leading a pack of finance students who operated on "good vibes only" logic.  You were a force of nature in that class, a try-hard who wouldn't hesitate to pull an all-nighter or two to get an A.

He loved you, the minute you self-designated yourself as the leader in that class full of idgafs. There was something undeniably attractive about your determination, the way your brow furrowed in concentration and your eyes sparkled with a competitive fire.

Glorfindel would not have believed last night to be true if not for your presence in his room. How he had ended up belting out karaoke with you, the picture of drunken abandon, was a complete mystery.  And the even bigger mystery was how you, the ever-responsible leader, had somehow ended up at his favorite bar at the exact right time.  Perhaps it was fate, or maybe it was just the cheap beer specials.

"Right," he mumbled, scrambling out of bed. "Presentation… yes, of course. Wouldn't want to let the team down, would we?" He avoided your gaze, a blush creeping up his neck. The group presentation suddenly felt like a monumental task, a distraction he desperately needed from the confusing feelings you stirred within him.

But as he stole a glance at you, his heart skipped a beat. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this biochem brainiac than he initially thought. And maybe, just maybe, last night wasn't a fluke.

He for once couldn't find himself to skip a single class with you in it. The looming specter of the semester ending sent a shiver down his spine. The thought of diverging paths, of your focused gaze no longer seeking his across the lecture hall, was unbearable. He had to do something, anything, to keep you in his life.

And so, dragging his glorious nude self from the bed, Glorfindel dressed faster than light. Following you, to get the ride that you never offered. “Wait for me!” He called after you, knowing full well that a ride in your well loved Honda Civic was not to be missed.

[tales-from-the-wanderer]

“The ocean breathes salty won’t you carry it in? In your head, in your mouth in your soul, the more we move ahead the more we’re stuck in rewind, well I don’t mind, I don’t mind, how the hell could I mind?”

-ocean breathes salty,modest mouse

“I was 15 he was 16 now I’m 17 and he’s still 16”

-Anthony Callahan,1967

Name: Anthony Callahan

Nicknames: Anth

Age: 17 (currently)

15 (the outsiders)

Birth date: 17th February

Height: 5’10

Sexuality: gay

Pronouns: he/him

Nationality: Italian+Irish-American

Face claim: Finn Wolfhard, the goldfinch

S/O: tba

Relationships:

Mrs.Callahan-mother

Mr. Callahan-father

Friends/acquaintances

Sawyer Thomas+ -late best friend

Amelia O’Regan- friend

Wyatt Thomas-past friend

Bryon Douglas-acquaintance

Tba

Upbringing: Anthony has lived in Tulsa his whole life, he was in a lower class family who lived in the east side of town which made him a greaser. he spends his early-mid teens with a close knit group of fellow greasers,he was close friends with the leader of the group ‘Sawyer Thomas’

Sawyer was the extroverted, confident leader of the group while Anthony was his quiet second in command who acted as a voice of reason within the group.

Anthony wasn’t sure when it happened but one day something switched in Sawyers brain the boy gained a taste for the thrill of adrenaline and started to pick fights on Socs,shop life from stores and began to take on risky dates from others.

Anthony grew concerned about Sawyer’s change in behaviour although the boy kept brushing him off and he grew frustrated at Anthony’s worry which caused a strain in their friendship.

He thought they’d be fine but then the day came where Sawyers luck ran dry.

A year or two later: Anthony feels his life slipping apart, his friend group faced a falling out and there’s a sawyer shaped hole left in his heart. he’s grown less cautious and began following in Sawyers footsteps caring less less and about his own health and safety. he started to spend time at Charlie’s bar where he became acquaintances with Bryon Douglas occasionally the two of them have conversations but outside of that they have no real connection to each other. no matter what he does he can’t erase Sawyer Thomas from his mind and heart.

Personality:

Positive traits: calm,introverted, understanding,patient.

Negative traits: unmotivated, detached, closed off,lost, guilty

[miracleonice87]

juliaswinterwriting challenge, pt. 2

1. “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” with Mathew Barzal

a/n: finally! my second of two submissions for @wondershawns winter writing challenge. 6.6K. also features Mat’s boyfriend Beau lol. 

summary: Mat has been falling for Beau’s cousin Genevieve since the day he met her. the main thing standing in his way? her. 

warnings: swearing. alcohol. a smattering of angst. mentions of sex (not explicit). a healthy dose of fluff.

_____

Mat couldn’t have heard his best friend correctly. Convinced of that, he shook his head and tried to snap himself out of his stupor.

“Wait, Beau… what?”

“Yeah, Genevieve’s moving in with me,” Beau repeated casually, slapping a puck into the back of the net. “Finally convinced her. She just broke up with that idiot and she’s gonna go to NYU.”

The guys were on the ice at the practice facility for the first time since arriving back in New York after a long summer. They were conducting an informal skate to get their feet under them again, but most of the time had been spent simply catching up with one another — shooting pucks, yes, but also shooting the breeze. Mat had enjoyed the laidback nature of the on-ice session thus far, but he felt an undeniable jolt of electricity in his every nerve when Beau said that name — the one that elicited a thousand different feelings all at once.

Genevieve.

The girl who shared her cousin Beau’s big blue eyes and endless charm, but had a sassy wit and tender heart all of her own. The girl who was more like his teammate’s sister than a more distant relative. The girl who Mat had fallen for the very first day he met her, when Beau invited him to his family home in Quebec for a visit, now three summers ago. The girl who he’d been hopelessly, helplessly entranced by ever since.

Suddenly, a rubber disc was flying at Mat’s feet, the product of Marty dishing him a pass from the opposite side of the zone, expecting Mat to tap it into the goal as they’d already done a dozen times that afternoon. Instead, Mat let it whiz past him, only giving the puck so much as a glance when it bounced off the half-wall.

“Barzy!” Marty yelled from the far boards with a surprised chuckle, smacking his blade on the ice repeatedly. “Fuckin’ pay attention, kid!”

“You hockey much?” Beau teased, furrowing his brows at his teammate’s blank expression. Beau thought to himself that it looked as though Mat had just seen a ghost. “What’s’a matter with you?”

Mat turned to see Marty, Beau, Ebs, and Anders all looking at him as if he were a creature from a different planet. He cleared his throat and hunched once more overtop his skates, gliding in a tight circle before he faced them again.

“Nothin’,” he said nonchalantly, with a sniff. He put his stick to the ice and readied himself, trying to push Beau’s revelation to the back of his mind and focus on the task at hand. “Let’s go again.”

“Wait,” Marty said, putting a gloved hand up to halt the skating men around him. “I forgot. Isn’t Barzy, like, in love with that girl?”

Beau slowly turned his head toward Mat, who swallowed hard, trying to will his cheeks not to redden. Anders and Ebs chuckled, hands resting atop the knobs of their sticks.

“Shut up, Marty,” Mat nearly pleaded, anxiously tapping his stick on the ice. “Just... let’s go again. Come on.”

_____

In the three years since they’d first met, the math broke down pretty simply: Genevieve had had a boyfriend for all of those three years, until a month ago; Mat had kissed her exactly once on the forehead after putting her drunk ass to bed during a weekend visit to Beau’s; and they had made exactly zero progress toward becoming what Mat had always wanted them to be. Together.

One more number was soon added to the equation, not long after she moved to the city — the number one. Sponsored by the number of times they’d now had sex.

Genevieve’s twenty-first birthday fell right after she started at NYU as a junior transfer, when the Isles boys had just started camp. After a night at the club celebrating her, in a vodka-induced haze, with Tito’s attention wrapped up in a pretty blonde, Mat and Genevieve snuck away from the group, into an Uber, and off to his apartment in Brooklyn.

Mat realized immediately that he’d never felt a high like the one he did when she was kissing him, and he chased it all night long. He lost himself in her in every way as they melded together between his sheets.

He truly thought that her birthday was going to be the start of something between them. Something real. More than just a childish crush, stolen glances, and timid, blushing stares.

Which is why his heart broke when he awoke the next morning, after their passionate night gave way to dawn and the effects of the alcohol had faded, to hear Genevieve speaking quietly on the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I went home with someone... No, you don’t know him. Just a guy from class.”

Mat felt a tightness in his throat and tried to swallow it.

“Shut up, Anth,” Genevieve said with a lighthearted groan.

Shit. Of course it was Beau.

“Brunch? Uh... yeah. Yeah, I can do brunch. I just have to come back to your place and change first... No, no, I’ll just grab an Uber. Yes, I’m sure.”

She was leaving. She was trying to sneak out of his place, while he was presumably still asleep. Despite that, pathetic as he felt for it, he didn’t want her to go. That was the last thing he wanted.

“Okay. Yeah, that’s fine. Okay, see you then. Bye.” Genevieve ran a hand through her dark locks and blew out a long breath.

“Who was that?” Mat muttered in a sleepy voice, making Genevieve jump. Despite trying to ignore it, he couldn’t help but notice the way she pulled his sheets tighter around her naked body at the realization that he was, indeed, awake. His chest clenched at the sight. Genevieve cleared her throat, stalling, before answering.

“That was Anth,” she said, tossing her phone on the bed in front of her. Mat watched the way her bare spine hunched as she sighed and then looked at him over her freckled shoulder. It took everything in Mat not to lean over and pepper her soft skin with warm kisses.

“He wants to go to brunch. The three of us. He’s gonna text you and invite you. He doesn’t know I’m here...” she spoke, wringing her fingers.

“Okay,” Mat said quietly, sitting up on an elbow. “Well, I’ll drive you back to his place—“

“No, no. I’m just gonna order an Uber,” she said hastily, followed by another long sigh. He wrinkled his brow, confused.

“We can’t tell him, Mat,” Genevieve said sadly, tossing him a forlorn glance, her fingers pressing into her temple. “We just... I can’t. I’m sorry.”

His heart broke a bit right then. In his mind, they would admit the truth about last night to Beau this morning, he would chirp them about it endlessly but be happy that they were happy, and they would all live happily ever after.

Evidently, Genevieve had different plans.

“So I’m gonna go, and then you can meet us at the cafe. Okay?” she asked, turning to face him straight on, seemingly so that he saw as little of her nude form as possible, despite having seen all of it last night.

Mat nodded, swallowing again. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about the Uber. He was referencing something much more consequential than her ride home.

Genevieve pressed her lips together, looking down at her lap before meeting his eyes again. She nodded slowly.

“I just... I don’t think this is a good idea, Maty. I just got out of a relationship, and I don’t know how Anth would feel about...” She gestured between the two of them. Mat tried not to flinch, though he nearly did just that.

He nodded. Genevieve noted the pain in his eyes and averted her own to avoid being crushed by the knowledge that she had singlehandedly inflicted it upon him. Eventually, he found his voice again.

“Okay. Fine. I understand, I guess. I think you know how I feel about you, especially now, but it’s... it’s whatever you wanna do, G,” Mat said.

Genevieve blinked at him a few times, and for a fleeting moment as she opened her mouth, he thought she might change her mind.

His hopes crashed down in front of him as she shifted uncomfortably under the covers and requested, “Can you maybe just... look away while I get dressed?”

That time, Mat flinched.

_____

Mat couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw who was calling as he made his way home from the rink after practice on a snowy Monday nearly three months later, in early December. He pressed the green button on his dash display, said hello, and her fluttering voice filled his car.

“Mat… hi! Are you busy?”

Even if he were, Mat would’ve lied.

“No, no, not at all. What’s going on, G? How are you?” he asked as he switched lanes, fingers suddenly drumming on the steering wheel as nervous energy coursed through him.

Since the morning after they’d hooked up, the most they had communicated directly was texting half a dozen or so times, with Genevieve congratulating Mat on a good game or Mat asking if she knew where Beau was. Occasionally they’d bump into each other after a game, the ones she could actually make it to given her insane class schedule, or at the bar, and they’d both hug awkwardly and inevitably blush like schoolchildren. Mat missed her like hell, and he gently reminded her of that each time they touched base, but he respected her decision, even if he wasn’t fully convinced it was the right one.

Little did he know, Genevieve wasn’t fully convinced, either, but she willed herself to stand her ground, despite the sway he still held over her, without him even realizing it.

“I’m good. I’m good. Listen, um, I know this probably seems out of the blue, but… would you wanna meet up for coffee?” he heard her ask.

Mat’s brows shot up at her inquiry. He had long ago written off any chance at spending alone time with her and was caught off guard by her invitation.

“Sure,” Mat answered, though somewhat hesitantly. “I’d love to, you know that.”

She must have heard the surprise in his voice because she followed up with, “It’s just, I really miss you… and besides, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

Mat couldn’t keep the smug expression from his face. “Oh yeah? Other than just how much you miss me?” he asked arrogantly. He could practically hear Genevieve roll her eyes as she huffed into the phone.

“Just shut up and come here, you egomaniac,” she giggled. “I’m at my usual spot.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. See you then. And, G?”

“Uh huh?”

A smile twitched at Mat’s lips as he replied.

“I’m glad you called,” he said, sincerity dripping from his words.

He heard the smile in her voice when she remarked, “I’m glad you answered. See you soon.”

_____

When Mat walked into the coffee shop minutes later, Genevieve was holed up at a corner table, notebooks and loose papers alike strung before her in a mass of organized chaos. She touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip and squinted at her laptop screen through her thick, tortoise-shell framed glasses.

Mat had never seen her wearing glasses before. Though he didn’t even think such a feat was possible, he fell a little more in love with her and became a little more tortured by her right then and there.

He approached her slowly so as not to startle her. As he came nearer, she didn’t even look up, deep in concentration as she typed. When she finally glanced away from her screen and toward a notebook across the table from her, Mat playfully crouched into her line of vision, tilting his chin upward as he waited for her to spot him.

Eventually, her eyes met his and immediately glimmered. She flushed slightly, putting her hand to her forehead with a groan.

“Oh, god, Maty, how long have you been standing there?” Genevieve asked, an apology in her tone.

Mat smiled and tried not to dwell on the way his pulse quickened when his nickname fell from her lips. “Long enough to observe that you might need your glasses prescription changed. You’re not supposed to squint at your screen like that, G,” he warned, approaching her and scanning the multitude of documents before her. “What is all this?” he asked, letting his gaze drift back to hers.

“It’s for my event this weekend. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Genevieve responded tentatively. “But first, coffee,” she said, reaching for her wallet tucked inside her bookbag.

Mat reached for her hand, pushing it away and shaking his head.

“No, c’mon,” he insisted. “Let me. What can I get you?”

Genevieve looked at their touching fingers as he slowly pulled his away, then she gave him that killer half-grin of hers and breathed a sigh, giving into him since she knew trying to protest was useless.

“How ‘bout a peppermint tea? I think I’m overcaffeinated at this point anyway so I should probably take it easy on the coffee,” she admitted with a chuckle as she tucked some hair behind her ear. Mat nodded.

“Smart girl. Tea coming right up,” he promised with a squeeze of her shoulder. Genevieve thanked him and watched as he sauntered to the counter to stand in line.

His hair was longer, and she thought it made him look even more handsome, if that was even imaginable. He caught her ogling at him as he turned the corner to wait for his order, and she simply pursed her lips into a tight smirk and tried to refocus on her notes. He tried to refocus on anything but her. They both were clumsy in their attempts.

When he returned, he placed a large paper cup before her and she wrapped her hands around it with an appreciative hum.

“You’re the best,” Genevieve praised. He waved her off as he took a sip of his cappuccino.

“So why have I been summoned here, G?” Mat then asked, teasing in his question.

Genevieve bit at her full bottom lip and Mat tried to force his eyes not to linger there as she snapped her notebook shut and readjusted herself in her chair, clearing her throat.

“Okay, so you know I’m taking this event planning class this semester? It’s part of my major. And our final project is to plan a large-scale event,” she began, and he nodded as he sipped at his coffee, amused by her bubbly mannerisms as she spoke. “Well, so… a friend of mine in class kind of accidentally let slip that I’m Anthony’s cousin, and it turns out that the prof is friends with some Isles execs. She suggested that I plan a gala to benefit the team children’s foundation, and obviously since the professor fed me that idea, I couldn’t really say no. Especially since it’s 50 percent of my final grade, and obviously because it’s for such a great cause.” Mat nodded again, already seeing where this was going, but not exactly minding it.

“So since you guys don’t play this Saturday night, Anth had originally told me that he would go and kinda be the face of the team for me, but he backed out this morning,” Genevieve said, playing absentmindedly with her fingers in her lap. Mat was getting ready to take another swig when she added that last little tidbit, and he narrowed his eyes at her as he lowered his cup.

“What do you mean he backed out? What the hell else does he have to do?” Mat didn’t try to hide his annoyance — Beau had practically begged this poor girl to come and live with him and go to school in New York, and now he was jeopardizing her academic future?

“I don’t know,” Genevieve shrugged. “He said some girl he’s been talking to bought him tickets to the Nets game on Saturday night and he—“

“Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me...” Mat spat, then noticed the disappointment in her features, and immediately softened. “So, what can I do to help?” he asked, deciding that he would deal with the Beau issue later.

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, and drew a deep breath as she summoned the courage to make her request.

“I was wondering if... if you’d go with me?” she eventually mumbled.

Mat was certain he had misheard, just like that day months ago on the ice. He licked his bottom lip quickly and sat back in his chair.

“Say again?” he deadpanned.

“I was wondering if you’d come with me,” Genevieve spoke, clearer and faster this time. “I know I don’t even deserve to ask you a favor like that, and you probably already have plans anyway, and I—“

“G, stop,” Mat interrupted dryly.

“It’s not like you’re my second choice or anything,” Genevieve continued, talking with her hands just like Beau did when he got flustered. “I wanted to ask you — really, I did. Trust me. It’s just… I was afraid Anth would be weird so—“

“G, stop,” Mat laughed, his voice firmer this time as his hand moved to rest on her knee. “I don’t need an explanation. Of course I’ll come with you. I’d be honored.”

Genevieve finally exhaled, throwing her hands over her face in sheer excitement and shaking her head back and forth.

“Ugh, Mathew Barzal, I could kiss you right now!” she exclaimed before she could pay a second thought to her words. She covered her mouth then, eyes bugging behind her glasses. Mat couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he quipped softly as he raised his coffee to his lips once more, smirking pompously at Genevieve as she breathed a laugh.

As she launched into the details of the event — what he should wear, what she would need from him, when he could pick her up — he found himself spacing. No detail she shared much mattered to him — not really. It didn’t affect his decision. No matter what this would cost him, literally or figuratively, he was all in.

All in on the gala, all in on Genevieve. All in.

She was letting him in, however little, and he planned to take full advantage of the opportunity. 

Mat insisted on giving Genevieve a ride to Beau’s apartment after they’d finished their drinks, convincing her that she needed to take a break from working and get a change of scenery. Surprisingly, she complied. He realized as she sat in his passenger seat just how much he had missed the way he felt in her presence. The world seemed to be in full color only when Genevieve was by his side.

Sadly, the drive was a short one, and soon Genevieve was hurriedly pulling her bookbag into her lap as Mat pulled over to the curb near the building’s entrance. Preparing for her to jump out of the car without giving him a second look, Mat was surprised when he felt her fingertips grasp his jaw. She placed a lingering kiss to his cheek, closer to his mouth than could be called chaste, and smoothed her thumb across the stubble on his chin.

“I really have to go, even though I don’t want to, but thanks a million, Maty,” Genevieve said, beaming at him as she pulled the straps of her bag onto her shoulders. “I can’t wait for this weekend. Bye.”

With that, she was scampering off, throwing him one last smile before disappearing through the doorway.

With a pursed exhale, Mat rested his forehead against the steering wheel and tried to talk himself down from the clusterfuck his brain had just launched into at her actions.

_____

The week dragged on for Mat. When Saturday finally arrived, he took far longer than usual to get ready, even FaceTiming his sister for her recommendations on the best tie and shoe combination to match his navy suit.

When Liana furrowed her eyebrows, curious why he cared so much about what he wore to what seemed to her to be a fairly routine team event, Mat knew what was coming and braced for it as she opened her mouth.

“Is this like a date or something—“

“Goodbye, Liana. Thank you,” Mat said curtly, cutting her off and quickly ending the call. Of course, it rang again immediately, but Mat chose to ignore it and tucked the device in his pocket as he gave himself one last glance in the mirror.

When the phone rang yet again, he huffed, prepared to answer and then immediately hang up on his dear, annoying baby sister, when he noticed it wasn’t Liana this time.

Stepping into his closet to choose an overcoat, he smiled and tapped the green button.

“Don’t tell me you’re cancelling on me now, G,” Mat said, half in jest, half in masked terror. “I just got dressed.”

To his dismay, Genevieve sounded panicked on the other end of the line.

“Uh, no, quite the opposite, actually,” she said nervously. “I’m kind of — okay, well, completely — freaking out over here, and I was wondering if you could maybe come over early and convince me not to call my professor and tell her I’m sick so I don’t have to see what a complete disaster this night turns out to be?”

Mat had pulled on a coat and flicked off the lights in his closet while she was talking, and he shifted the phone to his other ear to respond once she stopped rambling.

“Don’t do that,” he said firmly. “I’m leaving now. Sit tight. I’ll be right there, okay?”

Mat heard her breathe a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, Maty,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

His smile widened — he was always happy to play the role of knight in shining armor, but it meant more to him to be able to play it for Genevieve. His chest puffed with each word of her gratitude.

“You’re welcome, love,” he said before he realized the pet name that fell from his lips. But he couldn’t regret it, refused to even try, so he bid her goodbye for now and headed for the parking garage to ride away on his white stallion — er, Cadillac.

Ten minutes later — after navigating a route that should have taken at least fifteen — he was on her doorstep, the dozen red roses he had bought that morning in hand. Mat tried to act as though he wasn’t surprised to find her still in a set of Beau’s Isles sweats, donning her glasses, with her makeup half-finished and her hair not yet fixed. He glanced at the clock above her head that indicated only about forty minutes until they needed to leave the apartment, but decided to ignore that minor detail.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mat said charmingly, extending the flowers to her. “These are for you. For good luck.”

Genevieve’s lips turned up momentarily into a grin, then folded into a frown, and she looked as though she may burst into tears at any moment. Forcing his way in the door, Mat set the bouquet on the entry table and gathered her into his chest, resting a hand on the back of her head and rubbing small circles on her back with the other.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “What’s goin’ on, G? Talk to me, baby.” Oh, shit. Another pet name. He really had to stop doing that.

Genevieve seemed unaffected by the term, though, and drew a shaking breath before squeezing his waist tightly and stepping away.

“Everything! This event is gonna crash and burn and it’s all my fault,” she cried, flinging her hands skyward for dramatic effect.

“What do you mean?” Mat inquired. “And while we talk, why don’t we go to your room so you can keep getting ready?” he added, placing a gentle hand to her hip. Thankfully, she nodded, despite heaving a sigh. As he turned them down the hall, she let her swirling thoughts erupt.

“The caterer called an hour ago and said they didn’t put in an order big enough for tonight so they’re gonna have to supplement the food with basically whatever they can find,” Genevieve began as they entered her room, motioning for Mat to take a seat on her meticulously made bed, which felt far more intimate than he was prepared for, not that he was complaining. She sat on the vanity bench nearby and hurriedly applied eyeshadow to her lids, prattling all the while. As she spoke, Mat glanced down at the dress laid out on the foot of the bed on a hanger, and he swore he forgot his own name for a moment as he gaped at it blankly.

“And I specifically ordered peonies, not poppies. Like how the fuck does a florist mess that up! I just—“

“Wait, sorry to interrupt, but this is what you’re wearing?” Mat choked out, sliding the shiny fabric between his first two fingers and thumb. Genevieve nodded, hurriedly fastening on a pearl cluster earring smack dab in the midst of her blush and bronzer routine.

“Yeah, Anthony insisted on taking me shopping and made me buy the most expensive goddamn dress in the store for some reason,” she grumbled. Mat made a mental note to thank Beau profusely. “I told him I couldn’t accept it but — wait, why? You hate it, don’t you?”

Mat’s eyes bugged at her question before he swallowed hard, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, it’s just... you’re gonna look so unfair,” he chuckled. Genevieve gave him a disbelieving look.

“Hardly,” she disagreed, apparently not noticing how gone he was at the moment. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter what I wear because it’s going to be an absolute shit show.”

She threw a fluffy brush into her makeup caddy with a clatter, and Mat approached where she sat fussing over herself anxiously in the mirror. She couldn’t help but notice the way her breath caught in her throat when his long fingers came to rest on her shoulders, stretching to her collarbone as he gazed at her intensely in their reflection. She felt herself relax under his touch.

“I know you’ve convinced yourself of that,” Mat began, his voice low, slow, sincere. “And that probably nothing I say will change your mind. But even if the food is wrong and the flowers are wrong and it doesn’t look exactly how you pictured it, it’s still gonna be a success. Because you made it happen. And you’re the most organized, most dedicated, hardest-working person I know,” he said as she finished applying her lipstick and sat up straight with a long, calming breath.

“And you’re the sweetest person I know,” she admitted airily. Mat beamed, squeezing her trap muscles. “Thank you,” she added, her hand finding his and bringing it to her lips, their eyes never straying from one another’s in the mirror until she stood up to face him.

He threw her hair over her shoulders and gawked at the perfect placement of her makeup, however much she had rushed its application.

“Makeup,” Mat spoke, drawing a pretend v-shape in thin air. “Check. One thing at a time.”

She snickered a bit, her hands ghosting across his suit coat for a moment, enchanted, before she snapped back to the task at hand.

“Okay, I have to go curl my hair, and then get dressed. And then, I’m ready,” she promised as Mat nodded and slowly returned to his seat on her bed. As she pulled a pair of strappy heels from underneath the bedskirt, he smiled down at her so fondly, and she realized she wouldn’t mind having him sitting right here more often.

Certainly wouldn’t mind.

She tossed Mat a wink as she picked up the dress, too, and hustled into the bathroom, suddenly feeling much more confident than she had without his presence — his reassurance.

Fifteen minutes later, after chattering with Mat through the door while taming her hair, she pulled on the dress and smoothed her hands over the skirt of it, tugged on her heels, and pulled open the door.

Mat stopped abruptly in the middle of a story about razzing her cousin at practice and stood to his feet, neither moving an inch.

Finally, Genevieve sighed and motioned toward her attire.

“So?” she spoke simply. “Acceptable?”

Mat scoffed, literally scoffed, and repeated, “Acceptable?” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and couldn’t help the boyish giggle he let out. “More than acceptable, G. You look... wow. Incredible. So incredible.”

Genevieve could admit to herself that she was pleased with his reaction — in fact, she couldn’t quite seem to detach her eyes from his face as his stare roamed her figure. She leaned against the doorpost and smirked.

“Remember what I said earlier this week? About how I could just kiss you right now?” she asked mischievously. He nodded slowly, eyes still studying the way her dress pulled tight in exactly the right places, then finding their way back to hers. “Kinda feeling that way again right now,” she added.

He exhaled sharply, standing up straighter, as she took a couple of paces toward him.

“Is that so?” he teased. She nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek. Mat hummed in anticipation as she came ever closer. “You sure about that?” he asked firmly, extending his arms with his palms out toward her, trying his damnedest to keep her at a distance.

She only nodded again, a gleam in her eye, and paused just a couple of feet from him, waiting for his approval.

“Take another step looking like that and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Mat warned, giving her one final out.

A small laugh passed through Genevieve’s nose, and she looked down at their feet as she daringly moved forward.

“I’m okay with that,” she whispered as she looked back to his face. Mat only quirked his brow in response.

“I think it’s time I focus less on pushing you away, and more on just…” Genevieve tenderly wrapped her arms around Mat’s neck. “Just finally letting things happen the way they’re supposed to,” she spoke.

Mat froze for a moment, then broke into an enormous grin. “Yeah?” he asked in awe.

She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded, driving him insane. He pressed her lower back into his body as she assured, “Yeah. This is what I want.”

Mat barely let her speak that last word before capturing her lips in a searing kiss — all the nerves and anxiety about avoiding this melting away in a heartbeat as she moaned softly into his mouth, eliciting a smile from him against her skin.

“You’re beautiful, G,” Mat whispered when he finally came up for air. “You know that?” Genevieve blushed and tried to hide her face in Mat’s chest, but with a roll of his eyes, he caught her chin between his thumb and index finger and angled her face toward his own.

“No, none of that,” he said. “I’ve waited this long to be with you, G. Just let me look at you and tell you how gorgeous you are.”

Mat felt the warmth of her cheeks as he caressed them with the backs of his hands, losing himself in her criminally blue eyes.

“You are something else, Maty,” she said, letting her hands rest on his taut stomach as she leaned into him. “Now we really have to go, or we’re gonna be late.” With one last kiss pressed against his lips, Genevieve spun away from him, grabbed the pearl clutch from her bed, and tossed him a particularly wicked glance over her shoulder, laughing at his dumbfounded expression as she drifted out of the room.

And as he watched her walk away from him, hips swaying beneath the satin of her dress...

Mat knew he had no choice but to follow wherever she led.

_____

Whether she was aware of it or not, the girl knew how to command a room.

As Mat watched Genevieve engage the many high-profile sponsors and potential donors in the ballroom, he found himself thinking that he really didn’t even need to be here. She had this in the bag, and he was just arm candy for the night. And he realized he didn’t mind a bit.

Even so, he couldn’t help but swell with pride when she regularly turned away from conversations throughout the evening, searching the many faces in the crowd until she found his, her shoulders relaxing and her eyes flashing with affection when she finally did.

Finally, Mat sensed that the peace he had long ago found in her, she now felt in him. Nothing could ever make him happier than that.

Despite having different food and flowers than what Genevieve had planned, the event was a smashing success. She learned from her professor near the end of the gala that they had raised a quarter of a million dollars for the Islanders Children’s Foundation in this single night — a figure which made her nearly choke on her champagne and subsequently back Mat into a coat closet to reveal privately. Only he was more excited about the triumph than she, clutching excitedly at her sides as he pulled her to himself for a fiery kiss and gleefully congratulated her, both of them trying to stay as quiet as possible to remain undetected. When they regained their composure, they walked regally arm in arm back into the ballroom to say their thank you’s and goodbyes.

As they waited outside for the valet, Mat held Genevieve from behind, his arms encircling her waist under the grand stone archways of the old building. In her ear, he whispered her praises, pressing a kiss to her temple or jaw between each adjective as they awaited their ride.

“Smart. Beautiful. Capable. Stunning. Perfect. Worthy. Mine.”

That last one prompted her to spin in his arms, unashamed of who might see, and grasp his face for a firm kiss.

“Yours,” she whispered back dreamily.

_____

Soon they were back at her apartment building, rushing down the hall hand in hand, fully prepared to take advantage of Beau’s night on the town. Mat was mouthing hungrily at the back of Genevieve’s neck, from one side to the other, as she squealed and clumsily unlocked the door — a feat which took approximately five times as long as it normally did, considering the distraction hanging off of her, snaking its long arms around her torso as she finally tumbled through the doorway. Mat held onto her hips with a laugh to prevent her from falling on her face onto the tile beneath them, pulling her upward to resume their makeout until…

“Don’t you two look cute.”

Beau’s voice rang from the couch, startling both Mat and Genevieve as she pushed him away to create some distance between them. Mat cleared his throat as he unceremoniously gathered his footing beneath him. They both stood motionless in the entryway for several moments before Genevieve blinked at the basketball game playing on the television.

“Wait. What the hell, Anth… you’re watching the Nets game on TV? What happened to your date?” Genevieve asked as she took a few steps into the living room, tossing her clutch onto the couch so that she could put both hands on her hips and aim as much attitude as possible at her cousin.

“Yeah, I lied about that. The Nets are in Boston tonight, you geniuses,” Anthony informed them casually, taking the last swig from his beer bottle and placing it on the coffee table as he leaned forward.

“What do you mean, you lied? What the fuck, man?” Mat asked, incredulous.

“I did it on purpose!” Anthony bellowed, before the two gaped at him. “You two goons haven’t figured it out on your own by now, so I figured if I ditched, forced you into some alone time, bought G a pretty dress, maybe you’d see yourselves for what you really are. Hopelessly, disgustingly in love with each other. And apparently, it worked.”

Mat ran a hand slowly through his hair, tugging on his locks with a quiet laugh. Genevieve stood still, a hand suspended in mid-air, and whispered, “You planned this?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Of course I planned this,” he confirmed. “You really think I would just bail on you at the last minute for some girl? No! I knew you’d ask Mat, and I knew he would come to your rescue, and I knew you guys would have a great night together. Win, win, win.” Anthony rested his back against the couch once more, propping his feet up on the coffee table and folding his hands behind his head as he waggled his eyebrows. “I’m good, huh?” he remarked.

Mat took four quick strides toward his best friend and made a show of grabbing Anthony’s face and pressing a lip-smacking kiss to his forehead, which Anthony giggled over and wiped away, shaking his head.

“You’re my hero, man,” Mat spoke as he returned to Genevieve’s side and tucked her beneath his arm. Timidly, Genevieve asked Anthony, “You mean you’re not mad?”

Anthony’s big eyes grew even wider. “Mad?! My best friend and practically my sister are finally making each other happy. I’d be crazy to be mad! Or I’d be the Grinch. And I’m not the Grinch!” he assured as he pointed towards them.

Genevieve beamed, walking his way and placing a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his arm.

“Merci beaucoup,” she whispered when she pulled back from his face, only to see that he was smiling from ear to ear. He gave her a solemn nod. 

Genevieve extended a hand toward Mat which he accepted gladly, then she turned back to her cousin.

“Well, on that note, since your plan was such a success, and so was my event, Mat and I are gonna go celebrate,” she informed him with a grin. Anthony chuckled and lifted his beer bottle in their direction.

“Cheers to that,” he said. “I’ll just turn up the volume.”

Mat and Genevieve laughed and said goodnight before making their way down the hall. Mat couldn’t close the door fast enough before spinning her and pinning her against it as she smirked, her form melting into his as he kissed her fiercely. For several minutes they stayed there as one, with their parting lips and their breathing the only sounds in the room. Soon, Mat pulled back, both his hands holding Genevieve’s face as he searched her eyes.

“Promise me this is really what you want, G. Promise me you won’t push me away again,” he implored, his voice sounding needier than it ever had. Genevieve felt the stab at her gut upon remembering once more that she’d really almost fucked this up.

She sifted her fingers through his long, coal black hair of his and looked into his green-flecked eyes, which begged her for reassurance. Mat swallowed thickly as she cupped his strong jaw.

“I promise I won’t, Mathew,” she whispered. “I won’t. I can’t. I need you.”

With that, she squeezed his cheeks between her fingers and smothered his lips with her own. Mat tasted the sweet champagne on her skin and moaned.

“Mine,” he said again, gruffly this time, into her ear as he trailed hot kisses down her jaw.

“Yours,” she repeated breathlessly.

[aal-archaeology]

Summary of my first term of my Ph.D. at Stanford during a global pandemic and an extremely controversial election year (Anthropology, yr. 1, she/they, 25y/o) with some toggl data analysis

Well this year was a doozy if I don’t say so myself. But we survived it, and its okay if that’s all you were able to do this year because that’s enough.  As an offical 18th grader, I feel like I can speak pretty well to the toxicity of the academic environment. There is always a pressure to be working all of the time, people compete with each other with how few hours of sleep they got, every conversation with fellow students is just listing off all of the different assignemnts you have to do by the end of the week. On top of all of this, this is 2020. So, I decided that this year I’m going to give myself some mental slack. 

I decided that this is the year that I’m not going to try to impress anyone. I’m just going to survive and do what I have to do to move onto the next term. I think I did a pretty good job at that for the first term, so I’ll share a bit about what I observed in myself and those in my cohort. Coming into term one having to choose classes, many of my peers were packing their schedules full of 5 Unit seminars. For those who don’t know, theoretically, a 5 Unit course is supposed to take about 5-6 hours of work outside of class hours. For Stanford Anthropology, most PhD students take as close as they can to 18 credits, and anything over that you have to pay extra for the courses. Taking more courses doesn’t really put you any further ahead in terms of completing your degree, and you’re expected to complete about 45 Units each year for the first two years of the program. 

I decided to take 2 seminars (typical), a language course, and a couple filler credits that we are given the option to use if we need 1-3 units to hit 18 total. I,  fortunately, tracked every hour spent outside of the classroom working on each course using toggl (i highly reccomend): 

In a typical week, I spent about 5-6 hours/week outside of class on my Anthro seminars, and about 6-7 hours on Japanese. Japanese was a “for-fun” class so I would usually study more of that when I didn’t feel like reading dense archaeological theory. 

Toggl was a really cool way to see where I was spending too much, or not enough, time on my classwork. If it was taking me more than 1.5 hours to get through a single article, I knew I was probably spending too much time on it and should move on to the next thing. My goal for the term was to stay true to the 5 Unit idea of 5-6 hours, and not over-work myself. 

Toggl was also useful in tracking my mental health throughout the term, as it is very obvious to see when I just was not physically capable of ingesting 400 pages of reading. For example, election week:

Election week was really hard for me, and everyone else in the world honestly. I had various family things I was dealing with, typical existential dread, plus it was week 8-ish of the term when everything was already on fire in terms of workload. For one of my seminars (purple), we had to read a book for the following week which I was able to do the sundar after election day. However, for the days leading up to and surrounding the 4th, the only thing I could mentally handle was mindless Japanese vocab studying. One of my seminars really sufferend this week, and I straight up just didnt show up to the smaller Anth 310G class because I had only read the title of the pdf. Fortunately, I emailed my professor of my Theory class and was like “yo dude I cannot” and he replied that he understood and wouldnt call on me during that day of class. 

I didn’t do a whole lot of journalling at all this term, but for this week I just wrote “pain” on most days and then YAY BIDEN at the end of it. 

Weekly Schedule

Above is what a typical week looked like, some were a lot lot lot more dense, others not so much, but this was pretty average. Not all things on the calendar are work related, some are extra lectures from visiting professors that sounded interesting, or “Free Boba & Snacks Pick Up” put on by my residence. Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday were my big work days last term, where I didn’t have a whole lot of classes so I would do most of my reading then. On Tues and Thurs I had one 3-hour seminar, and M-F I had a 50 min Japanese class. 

I woke up every day around 7am-ish, made a green tea, and sat at the computer to work, filter through emails, etc. On particularily open days I would go grocery shopping, go for bike rides/walks around campus, go buy food/boba. 

On class-heavy days, I wouldn’t leave my computer for 8-12 hours, which is extremely ridiculous but that’s the new norm in school in 2020. This kind of stunk because all of the socializing was also on the computer, so even if I wasn’t working I was doing screen related things. 

EVERY day I stopped working at 6pm. Rarely did I do readings past 6pm unless I was really slacking somewhere. From 6pm onwards I would do things like play Among Us or League of Legends with my discord friends, eat, watch movies with my partner, etc. And then most nights I would try to be in bed by 12am at the latest. 

Social Life

Despite the online nature of things this term, I was suprisingly able to meet a lot of great people on campus. We were all being tested at least once a week, which made in person gatherings with 1-4 people a little less scary, especially when half of the people lived together in one household. 

In the first week of school, some of the grad programs put on a “speed friending” zoom event, where I was able to connect with two people really well. We ended up doing a “slow-friending” zoom event afterwards and then created a FB group chat and added all of the people we had met into it. The group ended up being about 15 people, and we would message the group for park hangouts, going to get food, or going on walks on campus. We also had a huge get together in a park for Mid-Autumn Festival, where we sat in a socially distanced circle, chatted, and ate mooncakes. 

Most of my socializing came from my online friends, and amongus was a huge savior to my mental health this term wher emy group would play literally every night. I also made a really good friend off of Bumble BFF this term, who I’ve hung out with a good amount for plant shopping and board games. 

I’m very fortunate to be in a situation where I can get tested for COVID on a days notice, and very grateful that I could use that to stay a little sane.  My Biggest Accomplishment this term, was not school related. but instead I hit my 365 DAY STREAK on duolingo. This was celebrated with cake. This streak has lived through literal hell and for that I am very proud. 

Overall reflection:

This term was super rough, there were a lot of days where I just napped through it and a lot of days where I couldn’t bring myself to do any work. However, I think the courseload that I took was very manageable and I’m going to continue to go light on myself in that regard. 

I really liked the boundaries that I set for myself this term, not working after 6pm and making time to do some fun things in the midst of chaos. I never felt like I was too far behind on work, or that I wasn’t doing enough, because I had a literal reminder in front of me that I had already put x amount of hours into something with toggl. 

Sometimes in class I would feel like I didn’t know how to productively contribute to conversation, but I think thats a skill that will get better over time and not being so great at it should especially be expected in the first term of a program.

Socially I met a lot of wonderful people who also made me feel more comfortable will myself. I started using She/They pronouns which feel really comforting to me. I made a lot of little origami cranes every time I was feeling sad. I drank a lot of boba. Watched a lot of She Ra. Played a lot of games. It all ended up being okay despite the weight of everything around me. 

I’m proud of all of you for making it through this year, I know it was really difficult for a lot of people in more ways than it was for me, but we’re still here! Sometimes all you can do it make it to the next day and thats such a big accomplishment on its own.  Please feel free to reach out with any questions about time-management, toggl, phd stuff in general, archaeology, etc! Always happy to help out. :’) Thanks for reading! Lyss

[ventura-starlight]

The Love They Never Had [part 1/tbd]

Nice to meet you

Gif not mine I have no talent

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A/N: Hello everyone! I got this wonderful idea for a series from @writtenspell. I'm really loving this series and it's such a cute idea. Fair warning though I have not read The Cursed Child myself. All the info I'm getting is from my little sister who made a board game on it for her 6th grade English class.....maybe this wasn't a good idea 😆. Anyways please enjoy and if you have an ideas for anthing please send them to me! ALSO I MADE ASTORIA DIE WHILE SCORPIOUS GOES TO HOGWARTS SORRY IT MAKES MORE SENSE FOR MEEEE!

Pairing: Dad!Draco Malfoy x Professor! Reader

Summary: After Astoria Greengrass' death Scorpious and Draco Malfoy have felt lost. When it's your first year teaching the young Scorpious takes a liking to you but he isn't the only one of the Malfoys to do so.

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It was my first year of teaching and to be honest I was terrified. You never really understand teachers when they taught you. You never understand how much they care about you and at the same time are desperate for your approval. I stand at the table as I watch the students pour into the Grand Hall. I awkwardly stand behind the table listening to Headmaster McGonagal's speech. It bored me to the point of yawning before I caught myself and straightened my back. I look around the room when I see a frosty blonde haired boy. That hair felt all too familiar. When the boy raised his head memories flooded my senses. This had to have been Draco Malfoy's child. Draco and I were close in school. Well we were as close as we could be. I sww him for the sweet soul he was. I may have had a crush on him during my time at Hogwarts but I got over it eventually. Students were dismissed and I walked to my study to finish work anxiously waiting for the next day.

~°~

The next morning I ran to my class to finish getting everything ready. I remember when I was learning charms. It was truly one of my favorite classes and it made me want to teach it. I know that many students find it boring but I never did. The students appeared and again the young blonde boy was among the crowd. As I got a better look at him I saw how tired he was. He looked awful for such a young man. I proceeded to call out names for roll, "Scorpious Malfoy?". The young boy raised his hand saying with a quiet voice, "Here.". He even sounded like his father. I continued to teach and a lot of student's enjoyed it, well all but a few. Scorpious was almost crying with his head in his hand looking down at his textbook. I wanted to run over and help him but I knew that would be awful in front of so many people so I decided I would wait until the end of class.

When class was dissmissed, "Mr.Malfoy, may I speak with you." The poor boy looked terrified and walked up to my desk, "I'm sorry Professor L/N. I-i will try to work harder." I placed a hand on his shoulder, "Scorpious it's alright. Can you tell me why you were nearly crying sweetheart?". He drew in a shakey breath, "M-my mother..she uh..she passed away this past break and I-i miss her a lot.". I took him into my arms and let him cry. No child should have to go through that and I couldn't even imagine how it felt. I let him regain his composure and sent him on his way, "Oh wait Scorpious," the boy turned back, "If you ever need me come talk to me." He nodded, "Yes professor. "

~°~

Scorpious came into my office at least twice a week. Either he would need comfort one day, someone to talk to the next, help with his homework. I didn't really mind. It was nice to know I'm helping someone even if it was something so simple as a hug or a tissue to wipe tears with. Scorpious was a bright child and always loved to learn. He reminded myself a lot of his father. I never knew Astoria when I went to Hogwarts. I heard she was nice and caring to all she knew. I couldn't imagine how Draco was handling all of this. Hell I would have been heartbroken myself. The weeks seemed to have blown by and it was almost Christmas. The students would be leaving soon and so would I. Headmaster McGonagall had instituted a new program where a few professors must be on the train while students where. It was understandable especially after Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts. I had volunteered mostly upon Scorpious' request. He was still torn up about his mother's passing but he was getting better over time. It was rough sure but I believed in him. Snowy hills turned into a train station as I walked off the bus. It was heartwarming to see students see their families after a long first semester. "Professor L/N!" I saw Scorpious motioning for you to come over. I walked over but practically stopped in my tracks when I saw him. Draco Malfoy stood there, aged a few years sure but his eyes were still the same. They seemed sunken back further than I remember. "Y/N?"

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@70swonderpoisonstark @sevenseasofskye @anotheronebitestheskye @brian-roger-deaky-and-fred @brianmydear @casuallywriting @fantasticnewtimagines @silversslytherin @audreylovespidey706 @hunter-with-a-tardis @audreylovespidey706 @ghullehh @perrythefrickinplatypus

[earlgraytay]

what in the sexist fuckdamn

[wr1t3-my-wr0ngs]

Totally unprompted ask, but in a Clone wars College AU, what are the majors for uh...everyone in your current fic?

Uhhh I'm gonna go with the characters that have speaking parts and not just a passing mention, so that would be Ahsoka, Rex, Jesse, Hardcase, Fives, Tup, Dogma, and Krell (with a bonus Obi-Wan and Anakin for the hell of it)

Krell: History Professor. He has tenure and is drunk on the power that it gives him. If you fail the class, it's not his fault that you are incompetent. Will never give an extension for any reason, ever, and there are negative opportunities for extra credit. Everyone hates him. Everyone. Has the worst rate my professor score of the entire college. There is an underground movement to get him fired that consists of an alarming number of petitions being passes around in the halls, both paper and electronic. People that don't even have his classes sign the things.

Tup: Undeclared. It's his first year and has no idea what he wants to do, but his goal is to survive with most of his mental sanity intact. Jury's still out on how well that's going, but he's not dead yet.

Fives: Law student. People that know him in passing are somewhat confused as to how he got accepted for a Masters Program since he comes across as a wild disaster child. But those who do know him aren't surprised at all. He's somewhat of an idealist, and dreams of defending the innocent from an unjust system.

Dogma: Also a Law student. Most people assume he's in accounting, but when they find out it's law just sort of shrug like "yeah, that makes sense". Where Fives is in law to defend the innocent, Dogma is in it to uphold the law. His and Fives Parliamentary Debates are the stuff of legends. Especially the unprompted ones that happen in the quad over lunch.

Hardcase: In with a Football scholarship. His goal is to go pro at some point, and while most assume he's a slacker, he actually works very hard to maintain a good GPA so that he doesn't lose his spot on the team. Picked an art history degree for the hell of it, and found that he really likes it. Especially when he gets to have debates over stuff like Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain" and René Magritte's The Treachery of Images". He likes to see what the general consensus is before arguing the exact opposite.

Jesse: Has changed his Major six times and is no closer to knowing what he wants to do. Can usually be found loitering around the Theatre dept, mostly in the prop and scenery shop. He likes the power tools and is more then happy to help if asked, but insists he a shitty actor whenever people ask if he wants to audition. Director Skywalker has been trying to get him into a production for years after overhearing Jesse recite a monologue.

Ahsoka: Criminology Major, with a minor in Cultural Anth. Does she sleep? Probably. Can anyone prove it? No. Is that person who arranges a study group and can actually get the group to study. For the first half-hour, at least. After that, it might devolve into an impromptu d&d session. Works her nose to the bone in order to keep up with the course load. Fortunately, she got her GE out of the way before picking a Major so she doesn't have to deal with that. She is also on the fencing team. May or may not be Professor Skywalkers little sister, and when asked gives vague answers that leave people more confused than before.

Rex: Also a Criminology Major. Works two part-time jobs to help cover the cost of school. Could use a nap, but thankfully only has one year left before he's done. He is the only person who knows for a fact that Ahsoka and Anakin are siblings. He found out after walking in in the two of them curled up on a couch after Ahsoka had a panic attack, and the two fell over themselves to explain that there was no funny business happening. Has been sworn to secrecy so that he doesn't "ruin the fun" of keeping people guessing.

Obi-Wan: Art history professor. Strict but also very chill and forgiving, as long as you have a valid reason and not a made-up excuse. Has an uncanny ability to tell when people are lying, so just don't try it with him. He both loves and hates having Hardcase as a student because he always gets the class off track, but at the same time prompts the most stimulating of discussions. There is a rumor going around that he used to be an assassin for MI6, and a different rumor that he's actually royalty that escaped in order to live a regular life. A good chunk of the student population point out that the two stories are not mutually exclusive. Either way, he has one of the highest ratings on Rate My Professor.

Anakin: Head of the Theater department. The most chill professor at the school, just don't make him mad. Yes, his arm is fake, no, don't ask about it. Watch your words around him, because if you ask for a "hand" or anything similar, he will just take the prosthetic off and give it to you. Is a surprisingly harsh grader, but will accept late work at any time provided its not the last day of class. Once let a student perform their midterm monologue over Skype at midnight because they were in another country for a family funeral. Can be bribed with Starbucks.

[just-an-angel-and-his-demon]

“You never even went to school for anything!” Aziraphale said. “What has made you suddenly want to be a teacher? A choir teacher of everything.” Crowley shrugged.

“I really don’t know, angel,” Crowley said. “I just feel as though my talents could be used elsewhere.”

“And you feel as though ‘elsewhere’ is in a classroom?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded. Aziraphale sighed. “Well alright. You do, after all, know what is best for you. Why choir though?” Aziraphale asked. “There are a number of other classes you might be better suited for. You’ve never even had a music lesson!” Crowley smiled.

“Have too,” he replied triumphantly. “I actually have quite a deep understanding of music, if you must know. I learned piano from Mozart.”

“I didn’t know he gave lessons?” Aziraphale said, more of a question than a statement.

“Well, it took a bit of a demonic intervention for it to happen, but it happened.” Aziraphale shrugged.

“Oh well,” he said. “And you’ve been hiding this from me?” Crowley shrugged.

“Never seemed relevant,” came his reply. “How far away are you willing to go?”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Aziraphale asked.

“For my schooling!” Crowley said. “I’m trying to find a good university for this sort of thing, but I don’t want to go too far away from you.” Aziraphale blushed.

“Ah, yes, well . . . “ Aziraphale looked around the room. He was quite settled in his bookshop. Being in one place for a number of years tended to do that to a person. Perhaps he was a little too settled. He quite liked the bookshop though. He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere any time soon,” Aziraphale said. “I quite like my shop. But don’t you worry about me when it comes to chasing this fantasy of yours. We will come out on the other side, you can go wherever you would like. I am not one to discourage an education!” Crowley clicked off the website he was on and looked at Aziraphale.

“Of course I am going to pick around you. I don’t want to leave you for four years,” Crowley said. “I couldn’t very well do that. Besides, you will make a good study partner.” Aziraphale smiled, unable to hide the fact that he was grateful that Crowley didn’t want to leave him.

***

At first, school had been a struggle for Crowley. As Aziraphale had pointed out to him, he’d never been to school. Never had to study for anything in his life. Never had to be anywhere at a specific time that he hadn’t had a hand in deciding. He very nearly failed his first semester simply due to dilly dallying and being unable to focus in some of his classes.

However, when it came time for his finals, Aziraphale helped him to try out various study methods and learned what worked. Aziraphale insisted on helping Crowley wherever he could, with mutterings that sometimes humans expected too much of themselves. Crowley was able to pull himself out of having a failing grade, surprising all of his professors. By the end of the second semester, Crowley had somehow pulled so far ahead that he was setting the curve for all of his classes. Even Aziraphale hadn’t expected that to be the outcome, but he was pleasantly surprised.

The years passed and Crowley became as well versed in music as a person who had been learning from a very young age. Though, if what Crowley had said about the Mozart piano lessons was true (Aziraphale didn’t think it was, though Crowley’s piano skill had to have come from somewhere), he had been learning music for much longer than anyone else. He was just more out of practice than any of his peers in his classes.

Eventually it came time for his graduation. With being on top of his class, he had a number of job offers all over the country of schools who wanted him. He just had to take his pick. Aziraphale decided that he would let Crowley have full control over where they ended up and that he would shut down the bookshop in order for Crowley to chase this little whim of his. When Aziraphale said this, Crowley surprised him by saying that he wanted to teach in America.

Aziraphale was nothing but supportive, however. He thought it strange that Crowley wanted to leave the country they had made their base since the dawn of England, but he was happy to make the necessary changes. So the pair packed up their most important belongings and headed to the states in order to let Crowley take his little teaching whim as far as he wanted it to go.

They ended up in a very small town in the middle of some Midwestern state that Aziraphale didn’t much care to know the name of. They were all so similar and part of the same country, so he really didn’t think that it mattered all that very much. Crowley had gotten the job, unopposed. Perhaps a little intervention had had something to do with it, but he would never tell.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said the night before his first day.

“Hm?” Aziraphale asked, half asleep.

“What if they don’t like me? What if this was all a big mistake?” Aziraphale yawned.

“Well, you’re a demon, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “It isn’t much like we can’t just go start back over in England. Or even somewhere here if that’s what you’d prefer.” He grabbed Crowley’s hand and used his other to rub his eyes. “But you will do just fine.” Aziraphale said. He yawned again. “Now it has been quite some time since I’ve had a good sleep, so if you don’t mind-” Crowley nodded and shut his beside light off and settled himself under the blanket.

Why did he much care about what these humans thought anyway? He was a demon after all. His bosses down in Hell were more terrifying than anyone else. Which is why he’d wanted to take up this job in the first place. He hadn’t been securing nearly as many souls as he had in years past, this he knew. And he figured what better way to get access to a wide range of people than to become a teacher? Every year he would get new students to tempt and corrupt. Plus he knew that everyone in band or choir was part of a sort of cult anyway. Why not add some demonic influence into the mix?

***

The next morning he woke up early. He felt well rested and not at all tired, but that was to be expected. He was a demon. Demons didn’t actually need to sleep at all (which had provided him with extra study time during his time at uni. This is also part of the reason why he was able to pull through and do so well in his classes).

He miracled himself to look nice. Not a hair out of place, clothes perfectly pressed. And, of course, a pair of glasses. Not that he needed them to see, but it would be easier to put influence to a pair of glasses to mask his eyes than it would be his eyes themselves. Aziraphale would be quite proud of how he looked right then. The angel, however, was still asleep. He would have to wait to see his demon until after the work hours ended.

Crowley almost laughed at that. What was he doing? He was a demon. He didn’t need a day job. He didn’t need a job at all. It’s not like he needed money for anything. He could just miracle or whatever anything he wanted or needed. It was one of the perks of being an ethereal being. Never having to pay for anything but still living whatever life you wanted to live. It was quite nice.

Right before leaving, Crowley planted a soft kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead. Aziraphale smiled though Crowley knew he was still sound asleep. He would be for a number of hours. Once the angel actually slept, he could be gone for a week without a problem. In fact, the angel sometimes had a hard time controlling himself when it came to sleep.

Once Crowley made it to the school, he made his way to the classroom that was now his. He’d been here a few times before during the teacher work days that had come before the start of the school year. This had allowed him to get to know the music library that they currently had and put a few personal touches to the room.

He hadn’t expected any students to come in before class started. Why would students want to spend their morning in a classroom before classes actually started. However, he was wrong. A number of students were wandering the music hall before the first bell.

“Oh! You must be our new teacher,” a girl said after walking in and placing her stuff on a chair. She hummed trying to think of his name, but she couldn’t think of it. “I’m Rachel, by the way,” she said.

“Anth- Mr. Crowley,” Crowley said. “But you can just call me Crowley.” Rachel cocked her head.

“You aren’t what I expected,” She said. Crowley didn’t know how to take that. “I mean, you don’t look like a teacher.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Crowley asked. The girl shrugged.

“This is going to be a learning experience for us all.” The first bell rang. Rachel smiled. “Well it was nice to meet you, Mr. Crowley,” She said as she picked up her things. “See you third period.” Crowley relaxed into his chair. That was quite alright with him. The principal had said something about his first period being open. But that just allowed him to settle in and get everything set up that he had planned for the day.

The first day went just about as well as Crowley could have hoped it would have. The students were . . . well . . . human teenagers. They seemed to be ok with Crowley though. For now at least. He could live with the for now.

When he arrived at home, he found that Aziraphale had made him a nice dinner and was playing some of their favorite music. Crowley filled Aziraphale in on the day, how much he actually enjoyed the students and the other teachers. How he’d already made friends with the band teacher, Miss King, who was doing her best to make Crowley feel welcome in the new school. She was even giving him advice on some of the . . . tougher students.

Of course, as it goes with any new thing, Crowley struggled with the fundamentals of teaching at first. By the first concert, however, he got it figured out. All the while, he had a stronger and stronger bond with the students. His morning crew grew to be even bigger than the crew who stuck to the band room, which he took as a compliment. He was excited to be having nice talks with students.

He even came to have a few very distinct memories that he would likely never forget.

***

It was a usual morning, he didn’t expect anything unusual. Everything was going smoothly. His morning crew had filled him in on the most recent gossip (which he didn’t care much for in and of itself, but it allowed him to plant the seeds that would secure the souls for Satan), as per usual. Nothing at all out of the ordinary.

However, at the start of class, a horrible smell assaulted his nose. It was the worst thing he had ever smelled in all his time on Earth, and he had been in London before indoor plumbing had been invented. It was so bad, in fact, that it completely derailed class.

“What the hell is that?” He exclaimed. The freshmen, who weren’t yet used to hearing teachers cuss, giggled. Everyone else either held their noses, were looking for the source, or both. Crowley followed his nose to the back of the classroom where he ended up finding a carton of milk that had exploded all over the trophies. “This is-” Crowley shook his head. “Who thought to do this? Who left a carton of milk in here?” He shook his head again. “Go- that is just awful.” The smell was starting to make his eyes water. “Alright, you know what, we are going to the auditorium and I will be calling for the janitor.

They ended up spending the rest of class in the auditorium because the smell didn’t quite go away, even after the janitor had cleaned it up. Crowley popped in to open the door to let the smell drift its way out of the room. He didn’t know what he would be doing, but he knew he’d be spending the afternoon trying to take care of that awful smell.

***

“Now children,” Crowley said sternly, “You can’t just go around doing that salute.” The salute he was refering to was the Nazi salute. His students had decided that it would be a fun game to do it during class, especially during warmups. Of course, none of the students took Crowley seriously. Crowley wasn’t even taking himself seriously. He very well knew what happened to people who used the salute, and it was going to help him earn points down with his bosses that actually mattered down in Hell.

Eventually, the salute evolved into a full room of high school students who had for some reason become obsessed with communism. In particular, the boys, but there were a few of the girls who played along with it. Crowley found it quite comical and had a hard time disciplining them seriously, as he needed to do in order to actually keep his job. The Holocaust had been no joke. Lots of people had been murdered and forced into camps. Communism was no joke, just look at what was going on in North Korea.

Still, Crowley found that this was hilarious and was doing exactly what he had gotten this job to do.

***

By the end of the year, the students had a list of so-called “Crowley-isms” which was a list of things that Crowley had said throughout the year. Things like “raise the level of suck” or “if you make a mistake, make it loud” or, a student favorite, “I am giving you the D and you are still not doing anything right. Come on guys.”

And Crowley had to admit, it was nice knowing that the kids actually paid attention to him. He was surprised at how much each and every one of them had improved musically through the year. A few of the shyest people in choir had even auditioned for solos or taken a solo to contest by the end of the year. He couldn’t help but feel proud of his students. Though, he was a demon so it wasn’t quite like indulging in one of the deadly sins was a sin. Not to his people at least. But it was hard to think of it as a sin when it felt so nice. All of his students were working so hard to make themselves, and by extension the choir, better. Their group ended up being one of the top five in their entire division, which Crowley could hardly believe.

It was, after all, his first year teaching. He hadn’t expected much to come of it. He was still learning how to do this job for himself. Of course, he couldn’t take all of the credit, but it was hard not to think about his influence on the kids. Of which a number had already secured themselves a spot in hell. Crowley could only imagine how far his reach would go the longer he did this whole teaching thing. Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing was a good thing after all.

Well, not objectively good. No one in Heaven would be praising anything he was doing here. But, well, he was doing exactly what Hell would want him to do.

After the last day of school, Crowley stumbled home, completely burnt out from the year. He had gone above and beyond for all of these kids, and was going to continue to do so throughout the summer by offering lessons. However, for tonight it was just him and his angel.

As he had most nights, Aziraphale was making some sort of food when Crowley came home. Crowley stumbled into the kitchen and put his arms around his angel and kissed him.

“I did it,” Crowley said. “I made it through the first year.” Aziraphale turned his face slightly to give Crowley better access to his cheek, before turning his focus back on the food. He didn’t, after all, want to burn it. Crowley kissed Aziraphale again and began swaying back and forth.

“Oh Crowley, I am so proud of you,” Aziraphale said. He turned and pulled the demon closer by his belt loops. “I knew you could do it. You’ve worked so hard for this.” Aziraphale kissed the demon before abruptly pulling away. “That’s why I bought you this.” Aziraphale held up a bottle of wine. It wasn’t Crowley’s favorite drink in the world, but it was the kind of alcohol that the two of them had always enjoyed together. He popped the cork out and poured each of them a drink. “To you and all of your hard work these last few years!” Aziraphale held up his glass. Crowley smiled and clinked his glass against Aziraphale’s.

“To me and all of my hard work.”

[johnandrasjaqobis]

15 16 28 35 67 98 for viconis please 🥰

What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character? worm fight worm fight like ha that one’s gonna be seared into his mind Forever. A lot of things have nearly happened in other fights but in this one it was more than nearly and Anthe literally died and he was just. completely useless to stop it or fix it (and y’know, it did get fixed, bless that paladin, but he couldn’t do anything). His entire (self-imposed) job is keeping that sort of thing from happening. Anthe died because they are on this ridiculous worm hell quest to help him and there is a reason he had a full panic attack in the tunnel after the fact

If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead? Not going by stats at all, more just vibes, a paladin tbh. He’s got that drive of “if no one else is going to help then I have to” and he is devoted to a fault as like, a base personality trait. He’d be a good paladin. Not in terms of charisma, that is painfully average, but y’know. If we are going by stats, barb!Vic is a terrifying concept I have thought of many a time and like. part of me craves the narrative reason for him to take a level or two in it and the rest of me never wants that to happen

What is currently motivating your character to stay with the party? You could not rip him away from these weirdos. Like. Vic has no hesitation admitting that he loves these people (and has said as much to these people) and they are as much his family as his biological one. The OG ladies especially, he’s known them that much longer, and they were the ones squaring up against the Dynasty when he’d been very ready to just give himself up, but Raelian is loud and fun and open, and even PAT has Weird Uncle vibes (though the sudden outbreak of Emotions is. interesting to deal with). There is obviously the drive to protect them because that is his job but the obligation has kind of done a shift from “I have to protect them because that’s what I do” over to “I have to protect them because these are my people.” And yeah, when it comes to the physical protection in combat there’s still some priority towards Nol, and there’s just. Something with Nol that he’d be bad at articulating, but the same thing could be said about the holy girls, just in very different ways. He’s sticking with the dreamteam because he’s fully accepted that he wants to be wherever they end up and whatever weird shit they get themselves into.

Why is your character’s lowest stat their lowest (the in-character reason, not “because there’s no reason for a wizard to have 16 strength, duh”)? 9int babeyy, Vic is just. He’s just a (still relatively young) soldier boy is all. He grew up in a big city and did get basic education, but he’s always kinda known he wanted to join the Watch, and that doesn’t carry any real need for excessive studying. I feel like it’s a stat that could go up given the right circumstances, he does pick up on things pretty easily if he puts his mind to it (or if it’s a constant thing, like the verbal components to Illy’s spells), but like. history? religion? plants? there was very little Need to know those kinda things, so he just. did not learn them.

What is your character the most envious about, regarding anyone in the party? Nol’s constant...confidence what she’s doing. Anthe’s (and Nev’s) healing abilities. Nev’s faith. Raelian’s apparent lack of any hesitation sharing her problems and worries with the group. PAT’s sureness in having a purpose and a place.

What advice would your character give to a younger version of themselves? there is one that would take him coming to terms with some things but currently just You cannot take on two mages at once.

[joannaofportugal]

JOANNA DE BRAGANZA / / CHALLENGE 004 

eleven tests completed & eleven explainations wrote out. 

SOUL TYPE TEST | the sage

A Sage soul is one whose role in life is collective expression, communicating big ideas with as many as possible. Natural extraverts, playful expression is fundamental to the Sage’s nature, though they are more adept at entertaining an audience than in coming up with original ideas. They are born attention-seekers, very much at home in front of an audience, taking centre stage. The bigger the audience the better, but any audience will do. The natural goal of any Sage is to express the highs and lows of life for all to see, sharing lifes lessons in an appealing way to create shared understanding. All soul types can manifest positively or negatively in any given moment, as the individual chooses. When manifesting negatively, Sages lapse into ORATION, i.e. hogging the spotlight, loving the sound of their own voice. The positive manifestation is COMMUNICATION, being on the same wavelength as the audience. Famous Sages include Mae West, Oscar Wilde, Bill Clinton, Jim Carrey

NOTE: reading through the soul type was very on-par with joanna’s very person, i would class her as a YOUNG SAGE who chases fame as nowdays celebraties do. she hogs the spotlight, the loves the sound of her own voice - what else could she be? 

MBTI TEST : entp-a ( the debater )

The Debater personality type is the ultimate devil’s advocate, thriving on the process of shredding arguments and beliefs and letting the ribbons drift in the wind for all to see. Debaters don’t do this because they are trying to achieve some deeper purpose or strategic goal, but for the simple reason that it’s fun. No one loves the process of mental sparring more than Debaters, as it gives them a chance to exercise their effortlessly quick wit, broad accumulated knowledge base, and capacity for connecting disparate ideas to prove their points.

NOTE: i was surprised, i thought her mbti would come out as something a little more dramatic rather than chasing knowledge or logic in it’s most intense form. i’m not too agreeing with the result, but maybe i can use this information to strengthen her person - and i like the ‘devil’s advocate’ side to it. 

CREEPIEST THING ABOUT YOU TEST: your possessiveness is really uncomfortable

It’s obvious to everyone around you that you feel the need to keep everything just the way you like it, and that insistence often borders on obsession. Your persistence, materialism, and sentimentality can prevent you from ever letting things go, and the more you care about them, the more stubbornly you defend your right to own them forever. Sorry to say, but there are some things, like memories and loved ones, you simply can’t own, and trying to stake your claim over them just makes you seem unbalanced and creepy. It probably wouldn’t hurt to quit being such a hoarder, too - none of your guests enjoy trying to find a seat in a room piled high with reminders of everything you refuse to let die.

NOTE: this is quite onbrand but wouldn’t be the creepiest thing to me when it comes to joanna - though she is posessive i don’t agree that it’s overwhelmingly disgusting.. i’d say it’s her rudest, or need to be right all the time.

TEMPERAMENTS TEST: sanguine 23/24 choleric 18/24 melancholic 05/24 phlegmatic 05/24

Your temperament is sanguine. The sanguine temperament is fundamentally spontaneous and pleasure-seeking; sanguine people are sociable and charismatic. They tend to enjoy social gatherings, making new friends and tend to be boisterous. They are usually quite creative and often daydream. However, some alone time is crucial for those of this temperament. Sanguine can also mean sensitive, compassionate and thoughtful. Sanguine personalities generally struggle with following tasks all the way through, are chronically late, and tend to be forgetful and sometimes a little sarcastic. Often, when they pursue a new hobby, they lose interest as soon as it ceases to be engaging or fun. They are very much people persons. They are talkative and not shy. Sanguines generally have an almost shameless nature, certain that what they are doing is right. They have no lack of confidence.

NOTE: this is a much easier answer for me to digest, though joanna isn’t evil she certaily has a rudness that can come across as evil to some people - or perhaps she truly is just a bully. and the last quote, ‘they havae no last of confidence’ is right on the target! though of course, as a young girl there may be bouts of insecurity.. which may evolve into humility or down-right foolery. 

LAWFUL ALIGNMENT TEST: chaotic neutral

A chaotic neutral character follows his whims. He is an individualist first and last. He values his own liberty but doesn't strive to protect others' freedom. He avoids authority, resents restrictions, and challenges traditions. A chaotic neutral character does not intentionally disrupt organizations as part of a campaign of anarchy. To do so, he would have to be motivated either by good (and a desire to liberate others) or evil (and a desire to make those different from himself suffer). A chaotic neutral character may be unpredictable, but his behavior is not totally random. He is not as likely to jump off a bridge as to cross it.

NOTE: in terms of alignment i think this is the safest option to describe joanna, she is no hero but she is no villain either.. she looks out for herself more than anthing else, though most choices come at random and at various paces.

GREEK DIETY TEST: poseidon

He was god of the Sea and other waters; of earthquakes; and of horses. In pre-Olympian Bronze Age Greece, he was venerated as a chief deity at Pylos and Thebes. Poseidon was protector of seafarers, and of many Hellenic cities and colonies. He is noble and powerful, and is recognized as a figure of leadership.

NOTE: like what happened when i took the same quiz for marius, i lost my first results. my first was aphrodite, which i didn’t necessarily agree with - then came poseidon. i’m happier with this result because poseidon was such a crass and awful man who made hell a lot worse than hades ever could’ve - he killed many whilst at sea, and in my opinion, was one of the most powerful gods of greek mythology. 

ENNEAGRAM TEST: type 7 / 7w8 ( the enthusiast )

People of this personality type are essentially concerned that their lives be an exciting adventure. Sevens are future oriented, restless people who are generally convinced that something better is just around the corner. They are quick thinkers who have a great deal of energy and who make lots of plans. They tend to be extroverted, multi-talented, creative and open minded. They are enthusiasts who enjoy the pleasures of the senses and who don't believe in any form of self-denial.

NOTE: she is certainly a pleasure seeker and planner for distraction and i think this is the closest i’d get to describing joanna though i wouldn’t call her creative due to the fact that she has little skill to anything!

SEXUALITY TEST: 40% heterosexual 30% bisexual 20% asexual 10% homosexual

this needs no description though i will write that of course she hasn’t had sex with anyone yet due to her position? it would be wrong for her to do that as a princess and thus has not experimented with anyone either than taking a few kisses from princes and noblemen. also, she has yet to be awoken to the sense that being attracted to girls is normal, so this quiz is entirely random to the point that it’s made for modern day human beings, not ones from 1455. 

POKEMON TEST: flying type

The Flying type is all about the self. You possess traits that are often sought-after: Confidence, self-respect, and bravery radiate from your being. You are a very self-aware individual, and that knowledge can be employed to great use both alone and socially. Remember, however, to not get too big of a head, Flying-type: Your confidence is good, but empathy is better. Often, you may find yourself at the whimsy of society. You are honorable, but also constantly worried about your self-image remaining pristine. If you allow yourself to become too wrapped up in what others think of you, you may become too flighty and scattered for your own good. Remember to relax, and let your spirit soar!

NOTE: though i find it hard to relate joanna to a pokemon the description is pretty good and i can fit joanna into it - though i’d rather see her as a spoilt and messy jigglypuff. 

TEA TYPE: hibiscus tea

You’re a *lot*. But that’s not a bad thing! You’re unafraid to take up space and make your voice heard. You love being the center of attention and are willing to cause a scene to swivel the spotlight toward you. You’ve got a sharp tongue (you’ve probably been called sassy at least once in your life) and you can use that for good or evil. Your tartness might not be for everyone, but those who get you love your larger-than-life presence.

NOTE: once again it’s pretty lose to joanna’s character and i particaly like the line ‘your tartness might not be for everyone’ 

BIG FIVE PERSONALITY: 

of course i wasn’t going to pay for this quiz so i only have a little information to share: OPENNESS 52% CONSIENTIOUSNESS 10% EXTRAVERSION 100% AGREEABLENESS 21% NEUROTICISM 33%

NOTE: extraversion is a funny one, and i really like the look of this type of quiz but alas i’m poor and i’m not gonna spend money on a made up character! 

and as i did with marius i ended up making a birth chat for her, who was born 29th may, 1438 at 17:39am. 

[txgoldn]

Yoonmin Fic Rec #2

Math Tutor by springrain21

Min Yoongi is the school's resident Bad Boy™. He's covered in tattoos, is pierced, curses like a sailor, smokes like crazy, doesn't give a shit about anything, possesses a hot temper that has people steering clear of him, and is desperately in love with Park Jimin, the adorable math nerd. When Jimin is tasked with tutoring Yoongi in math, who is in danger of failing the class and being held back a year, both boys are hesitant. Yoongi because he can't think straight around the boy with startling red hair, and Jimin because Yoongi is scary as hell and looks like he can easily kill someone. Gradually, though, the two grow closer, and Jimin finds that Yoongi is nothing like how he'd imagined.

Language:English Words:11,736 Chapters:5/5

You're An Asshole, Min Yoongi by springrain21

Park Jimin is in love with Min Yoongi. Who just so happens to be the biggest asshole in the entire school. He's emotionless, rude, aloof, and couldn't care less about anyone other than himself. Can Jimin break through Yoongi's cold exterior and get to know the man within? Can he thaw the boy's icy heart, or will Jimin get his own broken instead?

Language:English Words:13,681 Chapters:6/6

Soul Bond by springrain21

Everyone is born with a Soulmate, but not everyone gets to meet their other half in their lifetime. Twenty one year old Park Jimin suspects he will never meet his Soulmate. When he accidentally makes skin-to-skin contact with the cold, distant Min Yoongi, he discovers that the two of them are Soulmates. But what happens when Yoongi doesn't even believe in Soulmates? Will Jimin develop the deadly condition known as Soul Sickness? And will Yoongi make it in time to save him?

Language:English Words:26,602 Chapters:10/10

Aeonian by springrain21

aeonian (adj.) [ee-oh-nee-uhn] eternal; everlasting.

In the year 1304 A.D., tensions between the Vampires and the Lycans are at an all time high. Min Yoongi is the Captain of the Death Dealers and the most elite of the Vampires' protectors. Over the long years of his life, Yoongi has grown unemotional and apathetic, no longer interested in feeling emotions. When the human nobles come to visit, Yoongi meets Park Jimin, the youngest son of a baron, and his whole life changes. Suddenly Jimin is the most important thing in his world, and Yoongi will do anthing to protect him.

Language:English Words:54,422 Chapters:3/3

The Devil's Mistress by springrain21

Yoongi is Captain of the pirate ship, the Devil's Mistress, and he and his crew are racing against time to find a famous buried treasure, always one step behind and losing it to another rival ship. To gain the upper hand, Yoongi kidnaps a silver-haired beauty who is rumored to be a creature of great power. He isn't expecting to fall in love on the way.

Language:English Words:16,473 Chapters:4/4

The Scent Of You by springrain21

Yoongi's life as the palace healer is turned upside down when he meets the werewolf Jimin. There's an inexplicable attraction that Yoongi tries to fight at first, before Jimin worms his way into his heart and changes his mind. Will they be able to be together or will forces stronger than them tear them apart?

Language:English Words:32,635 Chapters:8/8

You Are My Sunshine by springrain21

Jimin has had a crush on Yoongi ever since he became a hunter, but Yoongi wants nothing to do with him. When a hunting mission goes wrong and Yoongi is turned into a baby by an angry witch, Jimin volunteers to take care of him. As days pass in the care of Jimin, Yoongi, still fully aware in his baby body, realizes how kind and beautiful he is and begins to fall for Jimin. But time is running out for the other guys to break the curse, and if they fail, Yoongi will be stuck as a baby forever.

Language:English Words:17,747 Chapters:1/1

Ruby Red by springrain21

Every three years when the blood moon comes around, in order to keep it appeased and to keep it from killing, the town must sacrifice the fairest young man or woman to a vampire that has been haunting them for centuries. Sent to where the vampire lives on the edge of town in an old, ancient manor, those who go through the front doors are never seen or heard from again.

This year, it's Park Jimin's turn.

But is the vampire more than he seems? And are there much more mysterious forces at work? Forces that could either bring Jimin and Yoongi together or tear them apart forever?

Language:English Words:43,545 Chapters:1/1

little scarlet, starlet by sugahikikomori

It’s not surprising that Yoongi’s boss’ son, Jimin, is a rich, spoiled brat. Though, it does come as a surprise when he comes to Yoongi for an internship, and that he begs to be Yoongi’s little boy.

Language:English Words:15,527 Chapters:1/1

laid bare, laid open, & laid by sugahikikomori

Yoongi's quick to deflect this motion, has his hand around Jimin's wrist, out of his boxers, and pressed into the mattress.

"Stop," Yoongi tells him, "you can't do shit like this, Jimin." He's serious. He doesn't want to play this game, this game where he's vulnerable to a fucking omega.

"Hyung," Jimin whines, voice high and so soft, "I just wanted to take care of you." He doesn't struggle against the hand that's still pinning him down, like he likes it, maybe. "Why don't you want to use me?"

Language:English Words:5,563 Chapters:1/1

[rajmalik89]

Immaterion Chapter one: Small Victories

History is written by the victors... so it can be whatever they want, yet they expect us to believe that an army of demons came through a portal from another world with the intentions of destroying us? What ever happened couldn't have been that bad if we let them live with us behind the walls of Aegus. They’re treated like second class citizens until we need something. We use them for their magic and knowledge of nature, yet hold them at arms length and restrict their rights as citizens of the realm. It seems to be easier to control the masses when they fear and despise each other. Fear and ignorance is likely what start this mess. Acknowledging people as so called lesser citizens is a reoccurring theme in Aegus. In my case, I was just another believer in the Path of the Nomads, able to hold no position in the prestigious Templars Guild. That right was reserved for followers of the Lights chosen Son, a religion reserved only for Pureblooded humans native to the realm unlike the Path of the Nomads which is open for all, human and demonkin alike. It's just a big elitist club, and I wasn't in it until one massive boat fire claimed the lives of my fellow trainee holy warriors and left me as the only miraculous survivor. A few old men speaking of proficy managed to some how get me invited into the Templars Guild despite my religious affiliations which would normally merit nothing but a firm rejection. They believe that I am special but to be honest I'm just another lucky bastard and I dont believe in much of anthing these days, but I must use this opportunity to climb the ranks and gain a position to slowly influence change that will bridge the gaps of division to benefit all the citizens of Aegus.

The demonkin have been more human to me than most humans ever have. Im clearly not the first to think so will all of the interracial couples and people who can trace their ancestry back to demonic tribes. I find it strange the amount of people who have lately either discovered they have demon ancestry, or magic abilities which is something exclusive to demonkin. It's facinating, some people also find it awesome and are overjoyed upon their discovery. Others are ashamed thinking of themselves as less for being of demonic ancestry and being able to use magic apart from light which is the only magic that pureblooded humans can wield. Learning of your magic abilities and proof of demonic ancestry later in life can be a bit of a challenge depending on where in the city you live, which faith you belong to, or job you hold within the kingdom. Well anyway, lets not dwell on the negative and celebrate the small victories. I Helion Sphyrus, follower of the Path of the Nomads, sit in the Halls of a Templar training barracks preparing to become a Templar Against all odds.

Finally I'm free for the day and that goofball Gusteron is right on Schedule. He is a powerful earth magic user who traces his ancestry from purebloods, and the earth demonkin tribes. Most importantly he is my bestfriend and neighbor, one of the few demonkin brave enough to stand this close to a templar training barracks. “Hey sissy boy...haha...lets get the hell outta here.” says Gus. “You can't say that 'round here...ass,” I respond struggling to hold in a laugh. We are encased in dirty looks. Gus wouldn't fight here even if something happened, he will get no justice fighting a pureblood, especially not a spoiled trainee templar from an elitist family. The trainees will be on their best behavior though if they would like to remain here. They'll stay back and hold their tongues like good little daddy's boys. Xandros spits in their path.....Helion sighs...... Hold that thought... “Is there a problem brother,” I ask Xandros, the physical embodiment of most of the issues I've discussed. “Yes... It stinks with him around here, and we aren't brothers pal,” He responds. “ So not brothers...but pals. Well thats progress I guess,” I sarcasticly respond. Gusteron is strug gling to hold in his laugh. Xandros rest his hand on his mace. “Just keep walking guy,” says Xandros. I loosen my shield which was strapped on my back for easier access. “If you ever doubt us being brothers just ask Dad why Moms so sad lately,” I tell Xandros. The sound of dashing footsteps quickly closing in as my shield drops and I turn quickly to catch and stand firm in a defence position. Perfect timing as I've blocked his first strike. That was probably my best move since training. I have never been as gifted as the others which has also caused a lot of hate ever since I was invited to the Templars Guild. Xandros is swinging from all angles, utilizing a combination of flawless foot work and shifting body weight behind perfect form in every bone rattling blow. How can I keep up blocking and draw my mace to counter? “Fight back fool!” Gus shouts from the background. I draw my mace and swing for him, but he dodges with ease. Now on the defensive, he seems less enraged as he dodges my attacks so effortlessly. It must be funny to him how pathetic I am with this damn mace. He doesn't even bother drawing his shield. He redirects my strike with his own mace and sends me stumbling. As I turn back to face him, he is holding his mace upright. It illuminates with light energy just before beams of light project forwards in a conal formation. I don't know what stunned me more, the light skill or the fact that he was able to use a light skill in combat whilst only being a recruit. He was clearly gromed for this unlike me whos father did what he could to prevent me ever being a holy warrior or templar. He lightly shield barged me off balance. He drew his shield finally, but to use it as weapon. Am I really this much of a joke to him. I take a big step backwards in an effort to stay on my feet. In all of the confusion of being blinded, I've left myself open. A upwards diagnal strike knocks me off of my feet completely.

“What is the meaning of this!” An approaching man shouts. There he stood in all if his glory with two of his Personal guard accompanying him. Regnarios Narakus, general of the armies of Aegus and commander of the templar. He is admired by many and despised by just as much if not more. I guess he wouldn't be much good at his job nor be in his position if he wasnt't. “ Unsanctioned duels are forbidden on these grounds... on your feet Sphyrus,” said Regnarios. I slowly wobble my way off the floor. “This vagabond insulted me,” said Xandros. “Now hes barely standing, I'd say you're even. You fought well, now go home,” Regnarios orders Xandros. Regnarios looks at Gusteron, then turns back toward me. “You should be careful what you say to your brothers and tread lightly. Afterall it should be a privaledge being here in your case giving your religious affiliations and associates,” He says. Wow...I'm sure you are starting to see the unfortunate double standards certain folks have to endure here in the quote un-quote great city of Aegus. How ever, I'm bruised, dased, and slightly embarrassed but I can't help but notice I provoked with my words alone. That skill will surely come in handy. Like I said...Small victories.

[petrichorvoices]

it's nice to have moments like this. like yeah, university is stressful, but that shouldn't distract us from the fact that We Love University. things are difficult sometimes and yeah, it's frustrating that the maximum wordcount for that one essay was so low, and yes it's annoying that we have three back-to-back classes sometimes, but we're really having fun

and you know what, fuck it, i'm going to brag again, because we're working hard and we deserve to. we got 100% as our overall mark in our sociocultural anthropology class last semester, we got 100% on every linguistic anthropology assignment last semester, AND our sociology teacher last semester asked to use our group project as an example of what to do for future classes. we got a 96% or so on our first archaeology exam this semester, and we got a literal more than perfect score on our first test in another archaeology class, with 100% for our participation grade in that class so far too. in one of our classes we literally haven't gotten a mark under 100%, and considering that's our first STEM course of our university career and we're dyscalculic, that's a big fucking deal. to hell with it, i'll brag about the 72% we got on that one lab test too, considering how vastly underprepared for it we were and how tired + in pain we were when we took it. besides, that single mark doesn't make us a horrid student or a failure

we're going to talks and colloquiums and panels, even when there isn't a class mark incentive. professors from last semester and professors from this semester say hi to us when they see us, give us reference letters for scholarships and jobs; after we took that lab test we went and talked to our sociocultural anth professor from last semester and she told us she was happy to see us!!

we're doing well, and doing well doesn't mean that things are perfect all the time, and when something goes wrong it doesn't suddenly mean that everything is crashing down around us. we're working to ask people for help when we need it and we're getting better at it, we're learning how to accept help when it's offered, we're getting better at selfves-talk and telling ourselfves that we'll get through things even when it's hard to believe. and we do get through it. we keep getting through it and we are so, so proud

we were complaining to our friend about the sociology of gender midterm we took earlier and how we had to like, compare the "Gender as an Institution" Macro-Level Perspective with the Psychological Development Theory, and about how while they do both deal with the social institution of the family they're really not what we would've chosen to compare given the choice, and we had this moment of like. holy shit. we know things!!! we're learning!!!! we're actually getting educated about things we've been interested in for so long and it's so so cool!!!!!