#And now my fellow students are treating me as the TA

[felixjoyful]

I think the teacher found the cheat codes for my brain.

Her: "For this, people always get it wrong, despite the instructions being very clear. You'll see when we do it."

Me, internally: "I'll do it so fucking well..."

[roanniom]

Ummmmmm tell us more about Professor!Charlie getting handsy after hours helping you with your TA lesson plan pls & thank you

Lesson Planning

Professor!Charlie Barber x Reader

The previous semester you had been the TA for his class, Advanced Theatrical Production 411, but this semester you were granted a 50% TAship. This means more money for you, but also more responsibility. You’re teaching Intro to Theater all by yourself to a class of 50 undergrad students who have no idea that their lecturer will be a suffering grad student, not a capable tenured professor.

So the capable tenured professor who’s mentored you has kindly offered his services in prepping you for this daunting endeavor. You’d barely voiced half of your concerns before the sweet man had set time aside on his calendar for this meeting. And now it is 7pm on a Friday. The wing of the theater department which houses the professors’ offices has been long abandoned. Charlie had apologized for the unorthodox timing but had clarified that this was his first availability, having had his son visiting all week up until that morning and wishing to dive in as soon as he was free.

You’ve been at it for an hour and a half now and your eyes are starting to glaze. Not because you are bored. On the contrary, you’re riveted. Charlie is an excellent educator – excellent at conveying information and knowledge. That’s how he became your mentor in the first place. You’d darkened his office door countless times during office hours, desperate to benefit from even more of his insight. Eventually you’d reached friendly terms, and when he’d asked you to be his TA the previous semester you’d jumped at the opportunity.

TAing for Charlie had been fast paced and nerve-wracking. You’d known his class was intense – you’d taken it twice by the time you became his support – but it was a different situation entirely being his right hand. He treated you with an immense amount of respect, asking your opinion in class, having you demonstrate different disciplines in front of everyone, and even having you lead several lessons as he watches, a small smile on his lips.

Now, however, all the pressure is on you and you alone. But then again…not really. Not as Charlie Barber hunches over your binder as if his life depends on it as well. He’s helped you hammer out a syllabus and has moved on drafting outlines for assignments. You can’t help but note the way he keeps running his hands distractedly through his hair. It has made it more unruly than it was before. You laugh as his waves flop out of control after another swipe of his hand.

“What?” he asks you, glancing up quickly. You bite your lip and shake your head.

“Nothing,” you say, measuring your words. “It’s just…your hair looks so disheveled somebody might think this is your lesson plan you’re working on, not a shitty ex-student’s.”

“Hey, don’t you call my favorite ex-student shitty,” he reprimands with a grin.

It has been like this all night.

It has been like this the whole last semester, if you’re being honest.

In both of your defense, things were perfectly professional when he was your direct professor and you were in his class. It wasn’t until you were his TA – assisting him in the hustle and bustle of every day and functioning as more of an equal – that things became flirty.

It started with a cheeky comment here or there. You’re not sure who made the first one. But things have escalated over the last few months, and now the line between propriety and indecency is lightly blurred. Not that you have any plans to reign things in yourself.

“You alright, love?” Charlie asks as you settle back into your work, frowning down at your notes. “Love.” Not a typical endearment a professor gives to a student, but you certainly won’t be correcting him.

“I’m just worried that they won’t like me. That I’ll seem like little more than a fellow student and they won’t respect me enough to listen,” you admit, looking up at him in earnest. Charlie drops the paper he’s holding and comes around the desk to stand behind you. His hands drop on your shoulders, comforting.

“Did you have any trouble with that when you taught my students this past semester?”

“No, but…”

“But nothing. They loved you, and your own students will love you.” Charlie’s fingers dig into the muscles of your shoulders in a light massage. You feel your eyes threaten to roll back in your head but you school your reaction. You need to get a grip.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m the one with tenure. I’m never wrong,” Charlie jokes, and he gets the laugh out of you for which he was hoping.

“Yes,” you acquiesce through a giggle.

“I’m your professor, young lady. Yes what?” Charlie jokes, grabbing your chin so you’re looking over your shoulder at him.

“Yes, sir,” you respond playfully, knowing what he’s angling for.

What you’re not prepared for is his reaction to this statement. All at once his eyes go dark and his hands tighten unforgivingly. His jaw sets and his gaze drops to your lips and then up to your eyes and then back again.

“Good girl,” he breathes. Almost hesitantly. Almost like he’s testing out the sound of it. Testing out your reaction.

You aren’t prepared for the small moan that issues unbidden from your lips. You don’t know what’s come over you. But you don’t know what’s come over Charlie, either, because suddenly he’s leaning forward and capturing your lips with his.

You don’t hesitate. You don’t shrink from his touch. Instead, you open your mouth for him almost immediately, allowing him to taste you. One of his hands goes to cradle the back of your neck while the other fumbles downward, grasping at whatever part of you it can find.

“Fuck,” he mutters darkly when he finally pulls back for air. His dark eyes search yours. Watching. Asking.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” you mutter breathlessly, a smile tugging at your lips. Charlie’s answering smile is blinding and suddenly he’s pulling you from your chair and depositing you on his desk, stepping between your legs and claiming your lips once again.

“I haven’t known what to do with myself,” he breathes between kisses. “Wanting you has been absolute torture knowing I couldn’t have you.”

“But you can have me,” you gasp, pulling him to you by the collar of his shirt. “Take me. Please.”

“Mmm but it’s wrong,” he mumbles, and it sounds almost like a whine against your skin. “And you know that, baby girl.”

In spite of his words, he chooses now to grind his hardening length against the apex of your legs and you let out a groan.

“I don’t care,” you argue dumbly, working your hips to respond to his in kind.

“Oh god,” he stutters, thrusting back against you almost mindlessly. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you.”

“Why don’t you touch me and find out?” you challenge, eyes gleaming. Charlie gazes into your yes for a moment, searching for something.

Then suddenly he’s pulled you from the desk and whirled you around, pressing on your back so that you’re bent over the back of the chair that he has positioned in front of his desk. The chair that you’ve spent countless hours sat upon, listening to his wise advise. Now you bend over it, ass out, chest heaving, as you listen to his groan at the sight of your curves as he lifts the back of your skirt over your hips.

“You’ve spent years parading this ass in front of me. And I’ll bet you always knew what you were doing, too.” A sudden smack to your right cheek makes you gasp and pitch forward.

“I’m glad you were looking, but I wasn’t trying to torture you, I promise,” you toss over your shoulder at him, though you wriggle your hips, almost hoping for another slap. He delivers it to you immediately, this time groping your roundness after the impact.

“Ah you weren’t, but you were definitely trying to torture the freshmen.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, glancing back with genuine confusion.

“Don’t play innocent. You know every single straight nineteen year old boy in that intermediate class had a hard on for you. When you presented Maggie’s scene from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof? About five of them ran to the bathroom immediately to tug one out.”

You scoff at the exaggeration of his statement. But his hard bulge has started pressing against your ass and you’re easily distracted.

“Th-that’s not true – fuck – and you know it…” You try to formulate a more articulate response, but he’s reached out and begun to play with your right breast.

“Is it not, sweetheart?” he hums in your ear, his chest pressed your back as he pushes you further down over the chair. “Is it also not true that you’re very, veeeery wet for me right now?”

“Oh Charlie,” you breathe pathetically in response.

“Are you confirming my assumption here, love? Do you want me?” You hear a satisfying zip and then you feel flesh against your ass instead of the khaki material you had felt before. It makes you push back against him even more, feeling his cockhead push against your panty-clad seam.

“I want you, Charlie, I want you!” you practically cry out. There’s not time for shame. Not with Charlie’s hard body against you and feeling like every one of your fantasies combined.

“That’s a good girl,” he rumbles, pulling your panties down your legs and pressing his cock between them.

You gasp at the feeling of him entering you. This is all so sudden and yet still so long in coming. How long have you wanted Charlie Barber? The man who taught you everything you know. The man who haunted both your dreams and day dreams.

He fills you and suddenly you know nothing else. Nothing but the feeling of him hitting parts of you so deep you hadn’t realized they existed. Nothing but his breath on your neck and the slap of his balls against you with each thrust.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he moans, making you moan in kind. His finger finds your clit and your back arches even deeper. “You’ve always been my favorite for a reason.”

“Because – oh god! Because you knew you could get in my pants?” you ask with a shaky laugh. Charlie chuckles back and you feel it vibrate from his cock into your pussy, making you gasp.

“Because I knew you wanted me in your pants,” he responds, accelerating his swirling finger on your clit, making you cry out. “Because you paid attention to me like you were trying to imagine what it would be like to have me break you.”

“Oh fuck,” is all you can say in reply. He doubles his efforts, both in his thrusts and with his finger on your swollen nub, and you know you’re close. “Oh Charlie. Oh god.”

“Yes, baby?” he asks so casually as if he expects you to ask what the forecast is supposed to be for the day. The only thing that gives him away are the labored breaths he keeps panting in your ear.

“I….I’m gonna cum. Can I cum, Charlie?”

“You asked so nicely, sweetheart. Of course you may,” he says, thrusting harder. Deeper. You cry out again and he rubs at your clit like your life depends on it. “Cum for me, angel.”

And you do. And Charlie’s orgasm follows soon afterward. Leaving him spent and heavy, leaning down over your body, draped as you are over the chair.

~*~

Tiny taglist: @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @maybe-your-left @hopeamarsu @finn-ray-nal-beads @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady

[hyenahunt]

Saga: Release - 1

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Characters: Tori, Eichi

Proofreading: hyenahunt

Translation: kotofucius

Tori: (purrs) ♪ Phew, I’m going to take in all the Vitamin Prez I can! Aah, you’re the essential nutrient I need to live on, President~...☆

Location: Student Council Room

Time: Early summer, the day after Rainbow Stage

Tori: Ta-dah~♪ Himemiya Tori, coming in!

Eichi: Hello, Tori. For some reason, I really feel like greeting you with a ‘welcome home’.

Did you bring the report about yesterday’s Rainbow Stage, as promised?

Tori: Yeah! I’m home, President~♪

Ehehe, can I hug you? I miss you so much, President~ We’ve been working separately more and more these days, so I’ve been really lonely!

Eichi: Have you now? Come on over here, I’ll hold you ♪

Tori: Yay...♪

(purrs) ♪ Phew, I’m going to take in all the Vitamin Prez I can! Aah, you’re the essential nutrient I need to live on, President~...☆

Eichi: Fufu. That's the first time anyone’s said something like that to me; I’ve only ever been insulted for ‘smelling like medicine’.

Tori: Eh!? Who’s the one who said something so disrespectful to you? I’ll do them in!

Eichi: Oh, there’s no need; it was someone I’m friendly with, a fellow member of my club. He just meant it as a light joke.

Rather than that — can I see the report?

Tori: Ah, sure, here you go! Reviewing a stage I stood on myself did feel a little weird, though, like some shameless self-plugging.

Eichi: Yes, having an objective view of yourself is rather difficult, isn't it? That’s why I said you could’ve left the supervising to someone else.

In fact, the whole council went to cheer you on, so anyone else could’ve written the report. You didn’t have to give yourself more work, you know?

Tori: Ah, I could see all of you from the stage, President! It really gave me a boost~♪

I was working as Rain-bows, separated from fine...

So I was worried that maybe you’d thought of me as just some kid you didn't need, or who had nothing to do with you.

Eichi: Fufu. Now, if there happened to be someone who described you as such, I would have done them in — both physically and socially.

I already said this when I recommended you to Rain-bows,

but it’s not like I suggested you to another unit because I had no need for you.

You were inspired by fine, enrolled here without knowing of any idols besides fine, and realized your dearest wish by joining fine in the end.

But the world is so abound with diversity; to know only one notion weakens your foundation.

That's why I deemed it necessary to expose you to a world outside of fine, so that you may broaden your perspective, gain experience, and build your fortitude as an individual.

Treat this as an investment for your future. You are by no means taking a useless, roundabout detour.

Even within fine, I'm hoping to tackle unfamiliar challenges for the next half year, not unlike our previous Circus performance.

You’ll choose your own direction after knowing and learning many different concepts.

That’s the way of adulthood; you can’t survive the entertainment business if you remain a child.

I can never be sure how many tomorrows I'll live to see, but that’s not the case with you. There's no need for you to limit your world at such a young age.

What you need is a moratorium. In fact, that’s the purpose of an educational institute.

Before deciding who you are and what kind of idol you’d like to be, you must first come in contact with the wider world and fully grasp all that is in it, in all their depth.

Tori: O-Okay... President, you always use such hard words, so I’m not sure I really got all of that.

Eichi: Fufu. Those confined to a hospital bed tend to turn into bookworms; we do end up developing a broader vocabulary than we really need.

Anyway, though it may be sounding like a Zen dialogue, this isn’t anything like a school test...

Instead of having the correct answer served up for you on a silver platter, you should seek for the answer to your doubts on your own, no matter how agonising it is to do.

Even if the answer you find at the end of all those pains isn’t quite the norm, that’s fine. Only you can resolve the problems that come up in your own life.

Tori: U-understood.... Your speech just now was kinda difficult but I'm racking my mind as fast as I can to really understand it, President.

Eichi: Wonderful ♪

Fufu. All right, I scanned over your report during my little ramble. It’s well-written, despite the little time you had to work on it on top of how exhausted you must have been.

You‘ve worked so hard, Tori.

Tori: E-Ehehe...♪

Eichi: Rain-bows is also operating surprisingly well.

I don’t mean to let your involvement skew my judgment, but the show yesterday was of such truly commendable quality.

Temporary units, huh...

Last year, I’d thought of the system as a handy tool and at the same time a hindrance; but depending on my approach, there may be many more interesting things I can do with it.

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

[dreamii-yume]

SPOILERSSS for Twisted Wonderland Chapter 6 : 1-16!!!

*rubs hands* aight it wont take long before genshin has me in its gacha hell grasp again, I just barely escaped this time— NOW ITS TIME TO SEE THE BOIS CHAPTER 6 omg— wtf happened last time lol it’s been too long

So, no voice over because of some problems which is understandable but— meh I don’t feel like reading lol So I’m watching otome ayui translations this time, because im that one dumbass student who skipped kanji class and now i cant read without sounding like im five _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): “what up im yume im way passed 19 and i never fucking learned how to read”

Also watching Hanayura Kanon stream for the rest that’s not yet been translated lol Because he’s very good at voice acting for the characters and he’s funny af lol

- OKAY OKAY— WTF HAPPENED EXPLAIN

- Fun fact : I haven’t watched Hercules yet so I legit don’t know what’s about to come lol

- Aw, that’s cute— We called over Ace and Deuce late at night AND THEY REALLY CAME OVER AAAAA

- I forgot how fckin pure their friendship is _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

- Aight, so we actually have a huge-ass scratch from feral Grim lol That’s just fantastic, isn’t it

- FINALLY— We’re talking about Mickey and the stones my monster cat has been eating with Crowley AAAAA

- “Yeah there’s this bitch called mickey and i took his photo—“

- WE’RE FINALLY TALKING ABOUT THIS. AFTER 6 CHAPTERS.

- Bruh this crystal of blot sounds really dangerous why are we discussing this just now

- Speaking of this crystal, Crowley— you were looking for this crystal in chap one and when we asked you about wtf you’re trying to find you just went— “oH itS NothING.”

- I SUPPOSED ITS NOT NOTHING NOW IS IT

- I didnt see you searching for crystals after every chapter mr. crowley where were you 👁👄👁 dont you think it was weird that you didnt see a single one after like— five blotting incidents

- Oh so its rare i see— BRUH R U SURE ABOUT THAT grim literally found one every single chap LMAO

- Okay okay— see, he may be violent but listen— you aint gonna throw out my fucking cat okay

- Wh— THERE WAS A FESTIVAL!? Im dumb so its not just VDC LOL

- Listen LISTEN— GRIM IS FINE. HOLD UP— NO NEED TO THROW HIM OUT JUST LET ME HAVE ANOTHER LOOK AT HIM

- Aww, Ace and Deuce looked pissed about it too AAAAHH THE TRUE DEFINITION OF THE BOIS

- BRUH NO— ALL THE DORM LEADERS TO GO AND CAPTURE GRIM?? HE’LL DIE

- CROWLEY PLS— WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS, HONEY

- #Grimportectionsquad

- “It’s bout time for them to come” Who?

- FUCKING— CROWLEY STOP SAYING ITS NOTHING— This is why this school is so fucked, you never tell us anything ahead of time _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

- Aight he left, Ace Deuce hurry help me what you guys got

- He may be a monster but see— the worst he did is eat the whole tuna stack SO PLS HES STILL BABY AND I LOVE HIM

- THATS RIGHT DEUCE MY MAN GRIM CAN DO NO BAD I SWEAR

- HE WOULDNT EVER AGAIN I SWEAR

- Ace ヽ(；▽；)ノ The character development— im so proud of you, son

- THIS IS THE BOISSS— LETS GOOOO

- Fuck this is so beautiful— just me and the bois on our way in the middle of the night to find our MISSING CAT I—

- CROWLEY REALLY DID ASSEMBLE THEM DORM LEADERS AAAAAAA AT THIS HOUR TOO WTF

- BRUH WE CAN TALK

- Kalim Kalim Kalim Vil Vil Vil— Pls we’ve been through so much last chapter ＨＥＬＰ

- Leona…A big fat ｍｏｏｄ honestly lmao

- Ey ey riddle pls— dont make this any more difficult—

- Shut up azul stay where u are all you’ve done is nothing but chaos since you arrive so SHHH

- MALLEUS IS NOT HERE AGAIN LILIA PLS— where is he when we need him the most LOL

- Ortho, your bro where?? Also— SURVIVAL STATUS BRUH—

- YES PLS DONT HURT HIM OMG

- oh i forgot idia lives in his tablet LOL OF COURSE

- Omg he’s in the apple trees still looking scary as shi aaaaaaa pls kitty come home u just had too much catnip

- OH GOD 15m HE’S CLOSE

- “Starting operation” ORTHO WHAT TF

- EY EY EY oh good he’s knocked out sighhh

- Aight I know this has been translated but I can’t help but to look at the original japanese and im just— wtf is RTS and TAS idia i dont understand this advanced gamer otaku language

- But Idia and Ortho really do be speedrunning on who can fucking kick my cat the hardest LOL

- THATS RIGHT IDIA You understand me— Fellow cat lovers unite, Grim is very cute, he can’t do no bad

- …so can i have him back pls—

- Can we just appreciate the fact that these bois are willing to take the risk of getting their heads chopped off by Riddle by doing all this for us??

- If this isnt what you call true friendship then i dont know what this is

- Lol ambrose is going to appear in this festival again and crowley’s prideful ass is QUAKING

- WHY are we not allowed to see him crowley im sure we can handle it— We’re the BOIS. CMON

- Imagine if they just summon a fcuking— magic vet or something lol

- It’s the next day lol

- HAH ITS THE VDC LOSERS BY ONE VOTE SQUAD

- I mean the NRC Tribe— ٩( ᐛ )و

- VIL. what you have my queen

- Vil pls dont remind me that my cat isnt here but thank you for saying thank you i do not deserve—

- AWW THE ADEUCE SQUAD LOOKS SO SAD AAAAA

- Vil i miss the bad bitch but absolute oneesan energy but the apology— yeah are we gonna cry again lol

- AAAAAAHH why am i so proud— THAT vil is apologizing

- You dont need to maam what we had in chapter 5 was a fucking journey i regret nothing

- I swear if rook goes like— bitch that aint beautiful imma bonk him I WILL DO IT dont think i forgot what u did last chap

- Man i love me a man who can openly admit his mistakes MMMGH

- Rook i swear—

- Im glad that we’re not toning down ace’s brutal honesty lol

- BRUHHH I DONT LIKE IT WHEN VIL US TAKING ALL THE BLAME i mean what he said was kinda true BUT STILL

- Cheer up Vil, it’s not like it’s a complete failure anyways (；ω；) it was fun at least

- Hearing Jamil encourage Vil like this feels surreal BUT YES BOI U TELL EM

- What is this beautiful character development

- Ooff way to hit where it hurts the most vil my queen lol

- AAGH IT HURTS VIL RECOGNIZING NEIGE’S HARDWORK LIKE THIS— THE PRIDE I CAN FEEL IT ＣＲＡＣＫ

- Bruh we appreciate Neige’s impeccable smile in this household— REMEMBER WHEN EVERYONE WAS LIKE NEIGE’S GON BE A BAD BOI??? WELP—

- It was me, i was that person and i shall drown in apple juice for it

- Of course, the ultimate Neige simp already knows that lol

- Bruh the background music has no business being this sad　ｓｔｏｐ

- I hate it when vil is right sometimes omg— TRUEEE KALIM especially wouldn’t be able to stand properly on stage after knowing Neige’s own hardships aaaa

- NOO BABY DONT CRY

- Vil redemption arc??? 👀👀 you can help us cure our cat—

- !? Are we gonna get that money promised in that poster?? 👀👀

- WHAA FUCKING WAHAA VIL IS GONNA PAY THAT US??? THE WHOLE 5 MIL EACH??!! VIL CALM DOWN WHAT I SAID WAS A JOKE

- Damn vil is ＳＴＡＣＫＥＤ He really didnt want to owe anyone anything LMAO YES QUEEN

- WHA— KALIM IS ACCEPTING??? OUT OF EVERYONE HERE, I DID NOT EXPECT YOU TO ACCEPT THAT KALIM

- Kalim is making my heart go boom boom again baby boi ✨👁💧👄💧👁✨✨

- HE’LL DONATE IT TO THE RAMSHACKLE DORM BABY BOIIII

- …sumimasen kalim for having a very rundown dorm 👁💧👄💧👁 but thank you for being nice about it lol

- OKAY OKAY KALIM YOU DONT HAVE TO LIST ALL THE THINGS WRONG IN MY DORM PLS—

- THIS IS EMBARRASSING PLS KALIM IM SORRY FOR BEING POOR

- But this man be such a sunshine holy shit i cant even be mad about it lol

- AW YEAH RAMSHACKLE DORM IS GONNA GET A MAKEOVER

- EVERYONE BE DONATING THEIR MONEY TO US AAAAA Were they always this NICE

- Aight adeuce pls— y’all dont have to force yourself to donate my guys (´；ω；`) being friends is enough lol i get it my bois

- Find me a man who can make me feel like this the way Vil can

- Man if only Grim is here :’) he’d be soo happy :’)) you can have all the tuna you want buddy :’)))

- GRIM PLS ADEUCE IS WILLING TO TREAT YOU TO LUNCH BABY

- Bro this is so wholesome omg

- Im sorry but still up to this day, my understanding of Epel’s accent is still　ｌａｃｋｉｎｇ lmao

- Aight they be talking about how Rook already knew that they were going to lose from the very beginning

- The FORESHADOWING LOL The difference with how Rook said “What a wonderful performance” rather than “What a beautiful performance” sigh

- Honestly we gotta respect Rook’s resolve here lol man just knows what he wants

- Rook and Vil’s friendship lmao

- 👁👄👁 …!?

- EARTHQUAKE WTF How dare you ruin such moment—

- WHAT IS GOING ON

- EY WTF DONT DESTROY MY DORM WTF ARE YOU GUYS

- WHAT ARE THESE ROBOTS OUTSIDERS KILL THEM WITH FIRE

- They look like something that belongs to the Ignihyde dorm HUH

- Oh bruh— Vil in his Dorm Leader mode is so cool AND YES I KNOW THIS IS NOT THE TIME BUT wheww~~ Vil YAS QUEEN

- KALIM TOO AAAAAA JAMIL’S 「はっ！」SO COOL

- so SO— the dorm leader’s have a protocol for outsider attacks like this 👁👄👁 OMG THEY’RE SO HOT

- They don’t seem like our bois anymore aaa just pure professionalism at this point—

- GOD I FORGOT HOW COOL THEY ARE OMG

- HEEEYYY OUR DORM IS GETTING DESTROYED WTF ARE THESE GUYS’ PROBLEM

- We were just talking about renovating it too wtf

- AAAAAHHH HOW DARE YOU— VIL R YOU OK

- Bruh i dont know what is going on but dont touch my man’s face

- They’re targetting Vil and Jamil WHY— overblot men!!??? WHERE ARE YOU— GIVE THEM BACK

- I didnt understand what epel said here lmao BUT—!?

- THEY HAVE GRIM TOO FUCK HE’S BACK LET GO OF MY FUCKING CAT

- WHAT IS GOING ON DARLINGS

- BUDDYY >:’0000 Grimmm MY HEART—

- Are they kidnapping the overblot men?? What— the fucking absolute ｂａｌｌｓ on these robots

- God we’re getting absolutely ｆｕｃｋｅｄ in here

- AND THERE’S A CAULDRON IN THE BACKGROUND LOL DEUCE WENT HAM

- BRING ME BACK MY FUCKING CAT— >:’0000

- I thought there’s going to be a festival not a fucking kidnapping event HEY

- Oh 👀 Rook pls help

- AAAHH SERIOUS ROOK IS HOT—

- IS THE OTHER DORM LEADERS CHILLING WHERE ARE THEY KALIM PLS BE SAFE

- OH RIDDLE IS NOT ANSWERING THEY GOT HIM TOO

- Oh ghad they got him during clubs WTF HOW—

- *nervous hornii chuckling* …angry expression silver 👁👄👁 im sorry

- AAAA Dorm leaders actually be acting like dorm leaders is soo cool i cant—

- Bruh the story is all chaos what is this chapter

- Are they gonna get Leona and Azul too what—

- RIDDLE BABY Jesus christ dont overblot like this again lol

- DAMN HE STRONG FOR A SMOL BOI THO

- Whoever made these robots wtf is their deal lol TO BE ABLE TO BEAT A DORM LEADER—

- …Bruh where is our horned friend when u need him

- Silver and Sebek theorizing with dorm leaders but they took Jamil tho?? It’s probably the overblot men they’re after

- Also Malleus is probably good so you two calm down lol Lilia’s probs having tea with him right now

- Okay, Leona how are you going to get captured KING.

- Omg everything is getting destroyed wtf

- AW LEONA SAVED RUGGIE THATS CUTE AND COOL AF

- Bruh leona these are material robots— cant you just turn them into sand lol

- Oh they do have some kind of brand cmon just turn them into sand pls

- WHAT THE FUCK

- LEONA-SAN!? WHY ARE YOU GIVING UP— OJI-TAN!!!

- OLD MAN WHAT—

- *hearing leona whisper his reasons ✋ 👁👄👁 🤚 okay sir im sorry

- Damn Leona acting like a real prince right now— it’s kinda hot 👀👀

- BRUH PLS COME BACK DONT TALK LIKE YOU AINT GONNA

- BRO WHERE ARE THE TEACHERS

- THE BOARD GAME CLUB

- Idia : “bro we just chilling be cool— MY CHESS PIECE“

- “Aight ortho what’s the situation” “ｆｕｃｋｅｄ＂

- So Idia of course knows about this— why does he look like he’s so done lmao me getting the feeling this isnt the first time idia has encountered this situation before lol

- Man i want to see azul in action too but mehh— Idia told him to settle down cries

- LOL WHAT IS THIS KARONE ROBOTS

- Wait— are they taking idia too?? OH IS THIS THE DOING OF IDIA’S FAMILY

- WHERE IS CROWLEY— THE TEACHERS, YOUR IMPORTANT STUDENTS ARE GETTING KIDNAPPED

- AH THEY ALSO KNOW ABOUT THESE STYX BITCHES WHAT— and they’re just letting them GO whaaat

- Sounds to me that this must be idia’s family taking care of the overblotting students?? Like to protect Idia or something?? I DONT—

- “Gather all the dorm leaders” No, sir, they’re already gone besides my sunshine and the horn boi

- Malleus??? 👁👄👁 TSUNOTAROU

- Pls kill the robots they destroyed my place

- AAH UPSIDE DOWN LILIA long time no see lol

- Bruhh the diasomnia students are so lucky to have Malleus as a dorm leader omg

- BRUH LILIA’S RINGTONE IS SO CUTE LMAO

- Kalim sounds so desperate im so sad

- ARE WE— ARE WE GONNA MEET MALLEUS AGAINNN

- Bruh they just goku teleported their way out of the dorm lol

- AAAAHH EVERYONE IS HERE THIS IS SO FUN

- Wait jack is not here lol did they just forget about him wtf

- Oh shit we here too i did not know LMAO

- S-So are we just gonna..continue school like— like these styx bitches didnt just ruin half the school, my dorm, injure my bois, and took my cat or…???

- GASP AAAA STYX IS A BLOT RESEARCH FACILITY WHAAAT

- So that’s why leona and idia be like bro this is not worth it

- O-Oh yeah— they…they didnt know that Vil overblot— PFFT

- Malleus pls information who are you talking about—

- WHO— LILIA MALLEUS OH NO

- Ey, overblot squad are assembled lol this looks so dangerous

- LMAOO Riddle was sleeping on Leona��s lap for three hours THATS SO CUTE

- Where the fck did they take them, ITS CRAMPED AF

- Bro they’re just exposing Vil and Jamil’s overblot that’s supposed to be a SECRET LOL

- Oji-tan can sound so wise and reliable like this if he really tried lol sugar daddy energy

- Wtf these guys never thought that idia was from a big shot family??? They thought it was just coincidence that they had the same family name PFFT

- AZUL AAAA He was right there my guy BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY MAN

- oh. They finally opened— isn’t this the ignihyde dorm what

- WHAT THE FU— IDIA

- Bro— WHAT WAS THAT IT WAS IDIA ALL ALONG???

- WHAT IS THIS CHAPTER

This chapter is a fucking roller coaster like— literal 0 to 100 ＱＵＩＣＣ From having a moment with Vil and the bois to a FUCKING TERRORIST ATTACK LMAO IM HYPED FOR NEXT CHAP—

It’s been so long, I hope they released the next part soon (๑>◡<๑) I forgot how fine these men are lol at least I want to hear their voices again 👁👄👁

[stuhde]

After taking some time off to cry, understand, and speak with myself. I decided to write something out expressing my thoughts and feelings about everything going on in this country. It’s long, powerful, and provactive but I need to get my voice out. Like, comment, share, have discussions with me when i finish my social media cleanse, but I will not stand silent in times of injustice. 

After seeing and reading the murder of George Floyd at the hands of the police, I was quick to delete all my social media apps and hide away from the “uwu Black lives matter posts,” the underserving claps white celebrities get from doing the bare minimum, and just witnessing the continuous realities of injustice that take place in this country.

As a first-generation Sudanese American, I was nothing but confused and lost in the midst of a growing movement, particularly George Floyd’s murder hitting home the most because the police who were arresting Floyd was responding to a call from an Arab American-owned store. With intersecting identities of being black, Muslim, and Arab, witnessing the anti-blackness rhetoric spew from my religious and ethnic communities clash with my racial identity stirred tension and fear in what it means to be a black Arab Muslim in this country and what my place is in the Black Lives Matter Movement. I often found myself asking, “what is my duty to the black community?”, “Am I too Arab to be black, or am I too black to be Arab?” And “what is my privilege in identifying as Arab and a non-hijabi Muslim?” Black Arabs like me often experience issues with invisible intersectionality, people often forcing us to “take sides” or strongly reside with one of our identities when it sees fit (refer to how people responded to the Ahmed Mohamed clock incident).

But I have come to the conclusion that my blackness is comprised of being a woman, Muslim, and Arab - not separately and that’s what makes this unique. Black Arabs are often finding themselves at the struggle of fighting against racial injustice because of our skin color and against the xenophobic and Islamaphobic rhetorics that have only increased since the beginning of the Trump campaign. However, you all have a duty not to ignore the experiences of black Muslim immigrants in this country, like Yassin Mohammed - he was murdered by police in Georgia earlier this month. Say his name and remember him.

Yassin like me is a Sudanese American - black, Arab, and Muslim but he wasn’t reported or written as such. The media called him a “Muslim man” and yet, our Muslim community remained silent. Why? Because it only brings to light the deep and historical roots of racism that are instilled in our community and we need to address it. Muslim and Arab Americans have a duty to stand with our black brothers and sisters in times of injustice. They were there for us in supporting Palestinian liberation and with us against the Muslim ban - now it is our turn. Listen to Black Americans and Black civil rights groups about their unique experiences and learn how we can best support our collective struggle against injustice. You have a duty to educate yourself and tackle anti-blackness in our community. As quoted in Surah An-Nisa [4:135], “be persistently standing firm in justice, even if it be against yourselves or parents and relatives” - support your local CAIR organization and others like the Arab American Action Network and the Muslim Anti-Racism Collaborative, who are all standing with the Black Lives Matter movement and doing their best to bring all our communities together to end all forms of racism, discrimination, and injustice.

For my fellow Sudanese, this is our fight too. While we must recognize the centuries-long of cruelty and pain the African-American community has endured since forcefully coming to this country and understanding that their pain is different from ours, we share the same skin and we will go through the same thing they are going through. I can tell you personally, from even the youngest age that I have always been afraid of the police. Why? Because I witnessed the disproportionate amount of cruelty and violence with which people who look like me are treated with.

While our older Sudanese community members will try hard to erase our blackness simply because we have drops of Arab blood, at a tragic reality we have all experienced and witnessed discrimination and racism at the hands of law enforcement. This is hard because we have a complicated relationship with race on the fault line of racial consciousness because our country is on the border between Arab and black Africa. However it is, we are BLACK and we need to have conversations about race in our community. We as Sudanese people are not doing enough to eradicate racism and prejudice that exists in our community as well as our Muslim, Arab, and general US society. The next phase in the revolution is to recognize that these issues exist in our Muslim community, come together with black Americans and African-Americans, and create change to take down these systemic institutions that were never designed to protect black and brown folk.

I will continue to do my social media cleanse, but I welcome those who wish to discuss what my views and opinions are more with me - should you agree or disagree. People who care will know how to reach me. In this time, I am reading, learning, and liberating myself to make a change and I can only ask you to do the same. There are so much power and knowledge invested in books:

How to be an Anti-Racist by Dr. Ibram X. Kendi

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Dr. by Ibram X Kendi and Jason Reynolds

Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Freedom Is a Constant Struggle: Ferguson, Palestine, and the Foundations of a Movement by Angela Y. Davis (HIGHLY recommend to my Muslim and/or Arab folk)

The Autobiography of Malcolm X by Alex Haley and Malcolm X

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness Michelle Alexander

A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens by Alice Walker

Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson

Resources for my black Muslims, courtesy of my University’s Muslim Student Association:

The Muslim Anti-Racist Collaborative - deconstructing anti-Blackness within the Muslim community Believers Bail Out - re-imagining the prison and police systems through Islamic perspectives Sapelo Square - an online forum that places Black Muslims at the center: Reconstructed Magazine - a creative magazine and conversation space led by Black, Shia, and queer Muslims The Black American Muslim - space for Black American Muslims to share testimonials and resources on faith, history, and power Justice For Muslims Collective - an organization reimagining a world where radical inclusion leads to collective liberation for Muslim communities and beyond Kayla Renée Wheeler, Ph.D. - Islamic Studies Professor who created the BlackIslam syllabus Amina Wadud, Ph.D. - African-American scholar on gender and race in Islam. Learn more about her through her interviews here Su’ad Abdul Khabeer, Ph.D. - Scholar-Artist-Activist & Author of Muslim Cool Islamophobia is Racist Syllabus - resources to understand empire, anti-Muslim racism, and ideology

For my black friends, I hope you are well and I hope you are safe. I am with you all the way through in our fight for liberation and human rights. Take care of yourself first before anyone else and if you need a minute or more before protesting and educating those around you, take your time, you need it. All the love x

[kiruuuuu]

Smoke/Mute in which ten cups of coffee change Mute’s life. (Rating T, slice of life/fluff/budding romance, ~5.8k words) - written for none other than @nutbrain​ for being a remarkable human being and an even better friend 💖 Please enjoy!

.

Mark eyes the shopfront before him with suspicion. His safe haven apparently gone, a flashier version has taken its place some time during the semester break, keeping nothing but the location and the proffered goods. Instead of the old-fashioned, thick-cushioned chairs and dim lighting, the new café shines with an open-floor concept, simple wooden furniture and an overall dark look with specks of gold to brighten it up. Leo Coffee, reads the sign next to a golden logo displaying a roaring lion. What big cats have to do with coffee isn’t obvious to Mark, but he overcomes his initial distaste and steps inside nonetheless.

As visible from outside, the place is deserted. The previous coffee shop was frequented by businesspeople and students alike, located halfway between the campus and Mark’s dorm – on rainy days, people often took public transport and bought their coffee elsewhere, but even on those occasions, it’s never been as empty as this.

Not that Mark is complaining. If the coffee is good, he’ll continue frequenting the new shop, and being able to work in peace would be an added bonus. He is quite fond of Julien and Timur, but even so, they’re not the… easiest to live with. To say the least. A quiet place would be very welcome.

He sets his books down on the table furthest away from the counter, slings his bag over the back of a chair and approaches the empty void where an employee should be standing. This is when he notices another curiosity: there’s no menu board. There isn’t even a menu card by the counter or anywhere, really, only a glass case with a handful of baked goods inside, most of which look like a child made them. So far, the only redeeming quality is the delicious dark smell of roasted coffee beans lingering in the air.

After another minute, still nobody has appeared, so Mark checks his phone for reviews. If the place has less than four stars – alright, three, he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt purely because of their convenient location and quietness –, then he’s out of here. He can’t even remember the last time he had to wait this long to -

“Are you going to order or what?”

Nearly dropping his phone in the process, Mark jumps at the sudden gruff voice and looks up to find himself face to face with a grizzled man. The black apron is all that betrays him as an employee as the unimpressed glare and casual attire do nothing in his favour. “Uh”, he replies eloquently and vows that he’ll never set foot in this place again if this is how he’s going to get treated.

The old man’s expression melts into friendliness. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Welcome to Café Leo – it’s your first time here, so have a loyalty card, lad.”

Mark accepts the piece of paper without thinking, still thrown off by the bloke’s sudden appearance (how does he move completely silent like that), and at least has the presence of mind to inspect it. Its contents are so absurd that he forgets to ask how the man opposite him knew he hadn’t been to the shop yet. “‘After 10 coffee purchases, you’re eligible for a free wish’”, he mumbles, reading the text printed white on black aloud. “‘This offer is not transferable.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that only you can redeem your reward, not anyone else. Would you like some coffee?”

He blinks at the bearded man, trying to ascertain whether he’s being serious, and is met with an almost bored stare. Weighing his options, the scales are only slightly tipped in favour of staying, but only because he knows Julien has a ‘visitor’ over today and there’s no other place he can study – the library is overrun by frantic procrastinators who left finishing their coursework assigned over the break to the absolute last minute, and Manu is coming back tomorrow. Apart from her and his roommates, there’s no one with whom he’s comfortable enough to invite himself over.

Especially not him. God knows why Mark even considered him for a brief second.

Looks like he’ll have to deal with this awkwardness if he wants to get any work done whatsoever. “Alright then. What do you sell?”

“Coffee”, comes the curt answer.

Mark rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He’s beginning to understand why there’s no other customers here. “Sure. Yes. A coffee, then.”

“That’ll be…” The employee trails off while frowning down at his wristwatch. “…um, about £7.92.”

“For one coffee?”

“It’s free refills, son.”

Oh, so maybe this is an American chain. That would explain quite a bit. Mark considers whether he’s staying long enough to get the most out of his money, but seeing as the bloke doesn’t seem the chattiest type and he’s unlikely to get interrupted, he decides it’s worth it. Still, there’s something he simply can’t let go. “… what do you mean, ‘about’ £7.92?”

“Are you paying cash or card?”

Alright then.

The next ultimatum: if the coffee turns out dogshite, he’s never coming back. He’d rather travel an increased distance to a normal coffee shop than to have to deal with this nonsense. Wordlessly, he sets down a £10 note and scoops the change into his wallet before watching the obviously American guy (and maybe the chain imports all their workers, who knows) pour a cup of the darkest coffee he’s ever seen. He unceremoniously sets it down in front of him and makes no indication of mentioning neither cream nor sugar. He’s lucky Mark prefers his energy supply as-is.

“Ta”, Mark mutters and scurries away, glad to escape that hard stare. To make sure he’s not being scammed, he takes a quick sip of the fragrant liquid and is surprised at how pleasant the taste is. Minimal bitterness, a gentle, almost floral note, and just strong enough to satisfy his craving.

Well, crap.

Looks like he’ll have to come back after all.

.

~*~

.

“Did you guys know the old coffee shop closed?”, Mark voices his thoughts into the middle of a medium-sized food war between Manu and Timur involving entirely too many packets of salt.

“The one on campus?”, Manu asks and accidentally elbows Julien in the ribs, causing him to actually look up from his phone for once.

“No, the one halfway to our dorm.”

“I was there last week”, Timur pipes up, making him furrow his brows. A week can’t be enough to refurnish the entire café, let alone switch owners completely. “Is it closed now?”

“There’s a different one instead. It was dead when I went, but the coffee’s good. The bloke serving me was weird.”

“Look at you, stringing multiple sentences together”, Julien chimes in, grinning. “Something novel must’ve happened for you to even bring it up. Was the dude hot?”

“Because that’s the only reason anyone would ever get excited about anything”, says Manu drily. “We can check it out if it’s good, even if the employees suck. Not like we have to socialise with them.”

Mark shrugs and regrets mentioning the café in the first place – it feels somehow personal, whether it’s to do with the odd experience overall or the fact that he ended up staying more than three hours. His productivity was through the roof, the calm atmosphere helped immensely and the thought of his loud friends – as much as he appreciates them – invading his newfound hideout isn’t one he particularly enjoys.

It turned out that the employee wasn’t so bad after all: as soon as Mark considered asking for more coffee, he appeared right by his side and filled his mug again, without bothering him at all. Still, Julien would complain about him and Timur might agree and Manu is likely to judge his impolite manner, and Mark wouldn’t be able to defend him. Even if he doesn’t mind the silent company.

For the moment, he needn’t bother with these thoughts as his friends are wholly occupied with arguing over some internet memes (and Mark remembers vividly how they all had to talk Julien down from nibbling at their laundry detergent pods), so nothing could be further from their minds than sitting down and actually studying for their degrees.

Not that they’re bad students, quite the opposite, they’re just not as… ambitious as Mark. Some have called him obsessed, yes, and he can’t quite refute it, but he prefers to call it ‘determined’. There have been few who are able to keep up with him, which is probably partly the reason why he’s made friends with people from completely different departments. He tends to be a loner in most classes, which suits him just fine.

Well. Most classes.

.

“I would give my left bollock for you.”

Mark certainly doesn’t appreciate the imagery. He hands over the photocopied sheet to the bloke nearly bouncing in delight before shuffling after his fellow students into the lecture hall. Closely followed, of course. “Make sure to change enough details”, he repeats the reminder, earning a scoff.

“I’ll make it illegible, babe, don’t worry.” James plops down next to him, stretching and taking up too much space. “You’re the only reason I’ll actually get credit for this course.”

Oh, Mark is very aware of this fact. He lets his seat neighbour prattle on as he takes out his materials, lines up his pens, and waits for the lecture to start. If he were pressed to explain how he ended up in this position, with a chatterbox glued to his side too lazy to do any of the coursework, he wouldn’t have a concise answer. Other than his inability to say no.

The problem is that James knows exactly who to befriend. Mark is naturally drawn to the overachievers in each class and carefully selects his group for projects, going by people who do put the time and work in to get a good grade – anything where students are meant to collaborate is 30% actual work and 70% politics. The right people tend to listen to him whenever he knows better, because they’re interested in improving and learning, they tend to go along with his division of tasks, because he distributes them fairly and suited to everyone’s skills, and they tend to work best independently, so they can get it done even without excessive communication.

And James? He follows the same strategy as Mark, except that he’s a leech. He latches onto the teacher’s pets, chooses the easiest tasks, always volunteers for presentations (meaning he’ll just have to regurgitate what his group produced), and bribes his groupmates so they don’t throw him out. Whether it’s snacks or drinks after class, whether it’s attention and compliments, or playing matchmaker: he knows how to make himself useful in all aspects other than his studies.

He’s a clown. He makes everyone laugh and worms his way into their hearts so they would feel bad about calling him out. Not having to do any work is his reward for asking questions everyone’s thinking but doesn’t dare ask for fear of looking stupid in front of the prof.

Obviously, James has latched onto him ever since they crossed paths in chem last semester, and Mark considered dropping the current class when he found out that he was in it as well. Even worse, James began asking him for homework, giving excuses like having had no time, not being able to write it down concisely, and so on – and though Mark initially refused, classmates approached him and gently nudged him towards sharing his results with James. Just to be nice. Just to help him. He’s such a good guy after all.

So Mark’s homework gets copied and passed along. And James’ fondness of him only grows.

During the long, meaningless rant interspersed with an impressive amount of curse words, he perks up at a quiet: “Wait, this one doesn’t make any sense.”

His pride won’t let him ignore it. “Which one?”

James points at one of Mark’s answers, a complicated equation. “Shouldn’t that be on top?”

“The denominator?”

An uncertain glance. He points again. “This.”

“You mean the bottom fraction? That’s the denominator, yes. And it is where it should be.”

James frowns, indubitably not content with the reply but possibly unsure how to voice his dissatisfaction.

“Trust me, it’s correct. Just copy it.”

“But I want to understand it.”

Fat chance. No way did he get any of the previous homework without having engaged with the subject matter at all, so it’s impossible for him to work it out, even if Mark explained it. Which he doesn’t want to. Because he figures it’d be like explaining string theory to a brick wall. He’s saved by the prof’s entry, knowing James at least has the decency to shut up during class, and hopes he can simply slip away afterwards.

It turns out, however, James is fully aware of his biggest weakness. “Do you have a bit of time after? You think you can explain it to me? Please?”

Yikes.

Not only is Mark burning to show him how wrong he is, he’s also entirely unable to refuse a plea for help. And there’s no doubt James knows this. He can’t keep getting away with it, he’s exploiting Mark enough as it is without offering much – if anything – in return, plus it’s obvious the endeavour is futile and doomed from the start. And this is disregarding the possibility of James suggesting more meetings in the future. So, like the reasonable adult he is, Mark replies: “Sure.”

And has never wanted to kick himself more.

.

If this bloke really is the only employee they have, it’s no wonder the place is dead yet again. They stare at each other, unblinking, and seem equally dismayed about each other’s presence. “Hi”, says Mark after a few seconds of tense silence.

The old man is wearing the same clothes as last time, apron and jeans – even his disinterested expression hasn’t changed. “I’m Sam”, he offers completely out of the blue, surprising Mark with how unexpected the introduction is. “I figured you shouldn’t have to keep calling me ‘this bloke’ in your head.”

“… Mark”, he responds hesitantly.

“Is that a threat?” Sam barks out a brief, mirthless laugh. “I know. You wrote it on your loyalty card.”

He most certainly did not, but only because the card is solid black with white text. “Look, I’m just here to buy coffee.”

“You brought a friend.” Sam indicates James who already sat down by a window and is absorbed in his phone for the time being – and for all his faults, Mark has to admit that at least his (limited) attention is always on the person he’s talking to; he’s never seen his fellow student even checking for messages during a conversation.

“Not really”, he says nonetheless and is reasonably sure they’re out of earshot. “We just have chem together.”

“You have chemistry, hm?”

He wonders if it’s possible to set someone on fire with a hard look alone. “Just sell me the bloody coffee.”

“For the both of you?” Sam turns around and studies the clock on the wall behind him, whispering to himself for a few seconds before announcing: “That’ll be roughly £15.84.”

“Fine.” He holds out a card, scowling when Sam makes no move to take it.

“No complaint?”

“Is it gonna be cheaper if I do? Besides, he’s paying. So I don’t care.”

“Oh. Then it’ll be £22.43.”

“Why is it -” As quickly as his annoyance spikes, it ebbs again. It’s obvious there’s no logic behind all this nonsense, yet he still tries: “If it’s cheaper for me, I’ll pay and get the money back from him.”

“That’s illegal. You’ve already told me he’s paying.”

“I’m not trying to buy liquor, why would it -” Deep breaths. He already told James about how good the coffee is, and if they go anywhere else, someone else might see them. He’s strongly incentivised to stay. “Fine. Here.”

Sam runs the card and, as last time, pours two very unimpressive mugs before, to Mark’s horror, reaching into the display case and pulling out two slices of cakes on their own respective plates. The chocolate one is drooping and threatening to fall over if anyone looked at it wrong, and the sponge cake seems suspiciously wet. There’s no telling how long they’ve been sitting there. “It’s on the house”, Sam says, almost begrudgingly, as if he was the inconvenienced one.

Mark considers asking for forks or napkins but decides that the shorter their interaction, the healthier his sanity. “Ta, mate. Do you need my loyalty card?”

“No need.”

Fair enough, though he’s not sure what the point of it is, then. He carries the coffees and cakes over in two trips and wonders how he’ll get rid of the sickly-looking bakeware without Sam noticing. When James eventually tries his piece and doesn’t keel over immediately though, Mark gives his own a try.

It’s the best chocolate cake he’s ever had. And he’s never been madder in his life.

.

~*~

.

At some point, it turns into stubbornness. There’s a few mannerisms, the odd hobby and some of his preferences which started out as either ironic, as guilty pleasures or as things he actively disliked, but the more he engaged, the more he developed the attitude of: you know what? This is mine and I don’t care what anyone says about it.

He’s starting to adopt Leo Coffee. The awkward vibe about it, the indecipherable employee, the delicious food and drinks – it holds its own charm in a way, and he’s stopped wondering about being the only patron. It’s perfect for studying or unwinding, and does wonders for his stressed soul. He’s been returning regularly now, about once a week, and even brought James with him a second time to argue about yet another homework he criticised. The atmosphere renders Mark calmer, more patient, and so he endured the other man’s presence for much longer than he would’ve thought possible. They stayed for almost three hours the first time, even longer the second.

Just to make sure he’s not being a nuisance, he tried to check the coffee shop’s opening hours and wasn’t even sure what he expected to find. They’re listed nowhere, of course, and Sam switched topics the instant he brought it up.

So now the only people he has to drag in here are his friends, who have somehow evaded his efforts so far – but not today. Timur and Julien promised to come even though Manu has to go to some recital or other, meaning she’s excused. For now.

Eyes idly following pedestrians outside, he’s resting his chin in his palm and waiting. Being the only punctual one has always meant boredom, so he’s lucky his mind is imaginative enough to keep him occupied in the meantime. His train of thought meanders through all the topics occupying his brain recently, how the new guy Julien is seeing is basically moving into their apartment, how Timur keeps hanging around the wrong crowd, how unfair it is that Manu aces all her courses with so little effort, how he happened to run into James during his break today and almost suggested spending it together -

His phone buzzes, interrupting his aimless daydreaming and prompting him to check the colourful screen.

I got ambushed, writes Julien and it’s unclear whether he’s being cryptic on purpose. Mark sends a question mark and has to wait a minute or two for the explanation: Sudden date night, looks like Netflix & chill boys ;) sry for ditching you but the shop isn’t gonna go anywhere right?

An eye roll later, Mark responds with a simple TMI.

I don’t think I’ll make it either, adds Timur, a friend wants to yarn bomb the stature by City Hall and they need me as lookout.

This one gets points for creativity at least. He sighs and reassures them with a quick sure, no problem before commending himself for not going home first to drop his bag off. Now he can just study instead. Woohoo.

Another brief vibration, this notification from a completely different group chat, one Mark apparently forgot to leave once the project was done: @Mark: are there carrots in carrot cake?

The number is translated to ‘GirthControl’, so there’s just one person this could be. He stares at his screen. Is that a trick question? Yes, he feels confident enough to affirm to James.

Ah okay. Thanks babe.

This is when it occurs to him: Wait, why did you only ask me?

Silence. Whatever quest James is currently on, it apparently required Mark’s input and Mark’s input only.

He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity and suddenly feels a lot less abandoned. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter whether his friends don’t rank him at the top of their priority list as long as he’s on it somewhere. And knowing that he’s left a lasting impression on James beyond being the lad who supplies him with homework is oddly reassuring.

When he approaches the counter, Sam once again materialising out of nowhere (at least that’s what it feels like – he’s always there when Mark needs him and never at any other time), he’s decided to not get weirded out by anything today. “A coffee”, he orders confidently and inspects the haphazardly thrown together bagels featured prominently in the infamous display case. “And a bagel.” He doesn’t bother specifying, Sam will choose for him anyway.

After peering at the digital alarm clock on the counter, Sam announces the approximate value of the aforementioned items and then squints at him. “Weren’t you going to meet with somebody?”

Mark half-shrugs. “Kinda. They’re busy though.”

“Mind if I join you?” He must notice Mark’s surprise because he adds: “It’s your ninth time here. Would be a shame if we didn’t get to talk before you’ve filled up your loyalty card, don’t you think?”

“Alright”, he agrees and waits until Sam has poured himself a mug as well before they sit down at Mark’s usual table – tucked away in a corner but close enough to the windows to be able to do people-watching if his eyes need a rest from staring at textbooks or screens all day long. It’s the first time he examines the man opposite him more closely: the distinguished features, greying beard, wild mane of hair. He looks too… important to be working in a coffee shop, like he was destined for greatness. Mark can’t picture him angry even if he exudes a bitter, cynical aura which he’s likely to hide behind sarcasm.

“How did you end up here?”, he wants to know, genuinely curious.

“Good question.” Sam takes a few sips of his excellent coffee as he ponders how to reply. “It’s a temporary thing, that’s for sure.” He leaves it at that. “What do you study?”

Mark eyes the disorganised heap of books keeping his bagel company and sighs. “At this point, I don’t even know anymore.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is”, he emphasises. “I love studying.”

“Where’s the problem then?”

There is none, he wants to say yet his mouth refuses to comply. He stares into the dark liquid, running his thumb over even porcelain and then decides to sod it – he asked, right? And somehow, it’s always easier to unload on a complete stranger. “I feel like it’s all I’m doing.”

“You keep others at a distance on purpose.” He nods, even though it wasn’t a question. “So don’t be surprised if they do the same.”

“I’m not.” The warmth seeps into his palms as he wraps his hands around the mug, providing as much comfort as Sam’s gentle tone. “I just want it to be different.”

“Make an effort. It’s never to late to change. I’m sure your friends will appreciate it. Put some trust in them, they’re your friends for a reason.” He nods again, lost in thought. “Have you figured out what you’re going to wish for next time?”

He scoffs, amused. There isn’t a single thing he can imagine himself wanting from the old man before him, so he’s unlikely to wish for anything at all. “No. Not yet.”

“Well, think about it. I believe in you, son.” With that, Sam downs the last of his own coffee and gets up, ready to walk back behind the counter and only stops when Mark calls his name.

“Is there someone you care about?”

It’s the first time he sees Sam smile. “Yes. There were two, but I lost one – so I keep the other one twice as close without trying to be suffocating. It’s hard. But remember, Mark, it’s never too late to tell the people in your life how you really feel.” And then he’s gone, disappeared into the back, leaving behind a faint nostalgia tinted with hope.

There’s no challenge from which Mark has shied away in his life, and this one isn’t going to be his first.

.

~*~

.

The word fuck on his lips, Mark bursts into the café like a panicked chicken. He’s juggling two bags and his phone, his frantic typing only interrupted by the need to breathe now and then, and nearly drops it when he slams his book bag to the ground at the counter. “Sorry, one sec”, he addresses an unimpressed-looking Sam as he dials a number and curses once more when it’s not immediately picked up. “Can I get a coffee to go?”, he asks, out of breath, as the dial tone beeps in his ear.

“I don’t serve people who are on the phone”, Sam replies, as calm as ever.

Mark mentally increases the number of people who’d be dead if his looks could kill by one. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me”, he says gravely and hangs up after thirty seconds have passed. “I’m gonna fail this class.”

“An event without precedence, I assume?”

“You have no bloody idea. But yes, a coffee please, I need to go back to the library and get an entire semester’s worth of material because I’m too fucking dumb to read a syllabus correctly. This has never happened to me, I have one day to write this assignment and I’m lacking so much -”

“Can you give me the time?”, Sam interrupts him nonchalantly and stares at the screen of Mark’s phone as he holds it up for him to read. “Thanks. Let’s say £2.63.”

“And I can’t study at home because Timur has his friends over, and Manu is in a panic herself, and I know the library is going to be overrun by people who treat the study rooms like their social media accounts by loudly oversharing all the time, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this. Maybe I’ll just accept fate and fail. No clue how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

“Your loyalty card.”

Distracted, Mark fishes it out of his wallet and puts it on the counter. “And the other people in chem aren’t answering or are no help at all, I don’t get it, I’ve done group projects with them and still they don’t have the courtesy to help me out in this. It was a genuine mistake, as stupid as it is, and I’m just -”

“You need to write it down.”

He’s briefly interrupted in his rant to frown at the black paper card. “Write what?”

“Your wish.”

“But you won’t be able to read it. I only have black or blue pens.”

“Doesn’t matter. Write it down.”

With an irritated sigh, Mark takes out a pen and thinks for a second, the majority of his attention elsewhere still. Eventually, he scribbles someone who cares, not that it’d be legible in any way, and hands it to Sam. “That’s it? I’m not sure this reward system is going to pay off in the long term, you know.”

Sam holds the card up to the light as if he was inspecting a bank note and nods, apparently satisfied. “You’re all set. Good luck.”

“Ta, I’m gonna need it.” Mark shoves all his belongings in various pockets, hoping he’ll remember where he put them, and grabs the to-go cup. And then, without so much as a goodbye, he storms back out, steeling himself for an all-nighter certain to mess up sleep schedule for days, if not weeks.

He ascribes it to his flustered state that he doesn’t look up as he exits the coffee shop, and promptly runs into someone, collides with what feels like a solid wall. His coffee gets squished and sloshes over, soaking the front of his clothes – fortunately, it’s not hot at all, more like lukewarm which is odd in and of itself. He swears again, yanking his phone out of his pocket before it gets wet also and it’s only due to another hand grabbing the device that it doesn’t plummet to the ground straightaway.

“Oh bollocks, I’m so sorry”, says the wall he ran into which turns out to be none other than James. Of all people. “Are you alright? Is it hot?”

“No, no, I’m fine”, Mark presses through clenched teeth, the stress slowly overwhelming him. “But now I have to go home and change before I can start on this stupid fucking -”

“Babe. Calm down. What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath and ignores the quickly cooling wet patches on his clothes for the moment. “I still have to do the report. I didn’t realise we were meant to -”

“Oh, you haven’t done it? At all?”

“No! No, I didn’t, and everyone else is partnered up so I can’t just join someone else, so I’ll have to -”

“I’m not paired up.”

“Sure, once I’m done I’ll put your name on there, whatever, but that doesn’t -”

“Babe. Mark. Listen to me.” James waves in front of his face with a slight grin. “I did it. It’s almost done. I’ll put down that we did it together and you’re good.”

He stares at James, mouth open, for several unflattering seconds. “Wait – you… how?”

“I can show you, but it’s at my place. My roommate is around your height, he can lend you some clothes. Let’s go.”

And yet again, Mark finds himself unable to refuse. He drinks what’s left of his coffee in one go (and it really is tepid, he must’ve gotten really lucky), tosses the cup in the nearest bin and leaves Leo Coffee behind without a single glance back.

.

James’ flat looks exactly like Mark would’ve imagined it, only louder. Double bass and epic vocals are permeating every room, and all available horizontal surfaces are littered with stuff. The walls are plastered with posters, some funny, some pretty, some morbid, and it reeks of weed.

A small part of Mark feels right at home, oddly enough.

“Turn the fucking music down!”, James yells at the top of his lungs, throwing him an apologetic look, clearly uncomfortable with the state of it all and ignorant as to Mark’s growing amusement.

Somewhere, a door opens and the shrill guitars become clearer. “Whot?”, someone replies just as loudly.

“Exactly!”, is James’ deafening reply, and a few seconds later, the melodies decrease to a reasonable level. Another bloke joins them, tall and well-built with an unkempt beard and a band shirt as well as no socks.

“Who’s that? Is he allowed to be here?”, asks James’ roommate and regards Mark with suspicion.

“That was Sabaton, wasn’t it?”, Mark inquires back. “Primo Victoria?”

The dude’s entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, a connoisseur. He can stay, James, I like him already.”

And while the two of them exchange more words, Mark goes exploring. He ends up in what must be James’ room which is covered in paper, be it books or hand-written notes, and most of it seems related to chemistry in some way. Curious, Mark looks around until he finds a spiral-bound notepad titled with the name of the course they’re sharing this semester. Contrary to his expectations, it’s far from empty – not only does it contain copious lecture notes, it also features every assignment they’d been given since the start of the course.

Solved differently from Mark’s own answers.

Confused, he checks more closely and finds a recurring pattern: equations that are struck-through, calculations lacking several steps in between which wouldn’t be accepted by the prof this way, and very little text. It looks like the writings of someone who certainly understands the material but simply has a hard time putting his thoughts in order, putting his ideas into neat writing.

He’s been immersed for several minutes when James finally joins him, and when he does, Mark holds up his notes and greets him with a simple: “What the fuck?”

James doesn’t seem to realise where Mark’s problem lies and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m a hopeless case, I know.”

“No. No, you’re really not. This is – look here, if you just shift this around, you end up with the correct result. You’re like 95% of the way there, you just didn’t finish it.”

“Oh.” James blinks at him. “I guess. It’s kinda like that with the report. I was hoping you could help me write the conclusion, I’ve got the rest, but -”

“Sure. Yes.” Mark’s agreeableness seems to astonish his host. “That’ll take an hour, maybe two. And I won’t have to pull an all-nighter. James, you have no idea how much you saved me.”

And James, bless his soul, is blushing. “Well. No problem. I owe you anyway. Right?” He suddenly remembers he’s holding spare clothing and vaguely gestures in Mark’s direction. “You, uh, you can change in the bathroom. Don’t mind the cat, she just loves staring at naked people. Dom found out the hard way.”

Twenty minutes later, Mark is reading through James’ report with a ball of fur purring on his lap, faint metal playing in the background. There’s a lot of grammar and spelling to be fixed, as well as phrasing, but content-wise, it’s near flawless. He’s smiling to himself, enjoying the way James turns almost bashful whenever he compliments his work, and remembers Sam’s words from the second-to-last time he visited the café: it’s never too late.

He’s definitely treating James to dinner after he’s saved his arse like this.

.

The next time Mark passes by that familiar spot, the next time Mark develops a craving for caffeine and some peace and quiet, the next time he plans to go to Leo Coffee, all he finds is the same coffee shop which has been here for years already, the afternoon crowd populating the tables and several diligent employees taking care of the customers.

Somehow, Mark isn’t the least bit surprised.

[sgnjiah]

THIS WEEK’S TEA ? B U R N I N G  H O T  ! ! ! 

 A RECAP OF THE END OF THE YEAR GLAMPING RETREAT

hey tigers, did you miss me?  🐯 

summer is finally upon us, and with this year’s glamping trip now over, I can honestly say that you all know how to bring on the heat. the three day treat certainly was eventful. there was so much going on that i struggled to keep up with everything going on, but fear not, i did manage to gather some interesting stories i know you’d all love to hear. so buckle up because while this retreat did certainly have a lot of singing under the stars, i know you all would rather i just spill the tea. 

what’s a glamping trip if you don’t take this time to stargaze? it seems like i’m not the only one who feels the same way as both nights saw flocks of students sitting under the stars. and are we surprised that seongnam’s resident astro-lover, nam taeoh ( @sgntaeoh ) was spotted among the large crowd? but perhaps he should take some lessons from our resident playboy and not take his love interests on dates in the same place (albeit different nights). word on the street is he was seen acting cozy with both kwon sian ( @sgnsian ) and seok dawon ( @sgndawon ). what can i say? i guess both girls were lost staring at the stars in his eyes rather than paying attention to his lack of commitment. 

speaking of our resident playboy, is it really a signed, wooyoo story if i’m not talking about son junhyung ( @sgnjunhyung ) ? it seemed like he certainly had a fun time with all that he got up to. first on the list, he had all of us on the edge of our seats at the possibility of his friendship break up with seongnam’s resident sunshine, jo danbi ( @sgndanbi ), who by the way was also seen locking lips with a very interesting character. kwon taeho( @sgntaeho ) i’m looking at you. but back to the main tea, yes, that’s right, the inseparable pair of friends were seen arguing before going on the obstacle course. fellow peers of ours said that it certainly got heated. but it seems like all is well now, as they two of them apparently made it. 

but someone else that perhaps did not get a happy ending in regards to junhyung is the quiet girl, jeon jiwoo ( @sgnjiwoo ). jiwoo was seen crying to junhyung for some unknown reason. hopefully she’s not another victim of his games, because i honestly thought she was better than that. what a shame. 

and i wish that i could be done talking about him, but he wouldn’t be our resident playboy if he didn’t mess with some good old feelings. i’m sure you all remember his storybook romance with a certain natural sciences ta, yooa ( @sgnyooa ). well the two of them were seen getting cozy on the way over to yeongnyu, with yooa falling asleep on his shoulder during the bus. again, storybook romance, am i right? however, it seems like not everyone is thrilled at their romance, as i heard our sweet, sweet innocent first year, kan hyesoo ( @sgnxangel ) arguing with yooa over junhyung? something along the lines that yooa was jealous about angel and junhyug’s relationship because she spent a night with him only to be dumped? ouch. looks like angel has some fire in her after all. 

a quick list of people who got lost in the woods this trip. son baekso ( @sgnbaekso ) and seo hyein ( @sgnhyein). seems like while the two are fake friends, they have so much in common. being in the film industry, getting lost in the woods, reuniting with old flames during this trip. yes, unfortunately for hyein, her savior came in the form of her ex-boyfriend shin hyunjin ( @sgnhyunjin ). talk about awkward. and now, you all must be wondering about son baekso, because he’s been seen with a certain lee haru ( @sgnharu ) a lot recently. well it turns out the pair, or baekru as i’ve heard them been called in the streets, were actually not official until the retreat. but no worries everyone, my sources confirm that they are in fact official now. wow, they really are the endgame.  💖 

now, with that lighthearted happy news, here are a few more shenanigans that happened during the three day trip. cousins seok dawon and seok hansung ( @sgnhansung ) now have the distinct honor of being the only people to get kicked out of the starlight resort’s cooking classes after they set a kitchen towel on fire (somehow while they were making kimbap), making it so that the fire alarm went off too. congratulations! seongnam tribune’s park taejoo ( @sgntaejoo ) and jang sunwoo ( @sgnsunwoo ) were also seen trying to find bigfoot or something in the woods. all i have to say is that i don’t know what our school newspaper is feeding them to make them think that they could find bigfoot in south korea. wrong continent buddies.

and what’s a camping trip if you don’t try to irritate the spirits and summon a demon? well certain camps got a fright when they tried doing so, only to be met with our school’s queen bee, bok seungah ( @sgnxseungah ). i’m highly doubtful that they found the demon that they were looking for in seungah, but maybe campers were hoping that the movie, jennifer’s body would be turned into real life? 

also, i always tell you all to be safe and careful, but apparently the presumed leader of seongnam’s infamous friend group, han seungwoo ( @sgnseungwoo ) did not heed to my advice, because he hurt his knee during the trip. i’m wishing you a speedy recovery! also, can i just say, it was quite amusing seeing you howling and vehemently rejecting the use of a duck floatie to go into the lake? i’m sure i’m not the only one who enjoyed it. but don’t worry, i’m sure we all also found it adorable. 

well, tigers, i hope you do actually listen to my advice to stay healthy and safe, and of course watch your backs. i feel like this three day trip has brought me closer to all of you. i’ve learned about your relationships and interests. and we’ve all gotten so close that you all have also ruined going on late night walks in the woods for me, because the amount of you that decided it would be a good idea to go skinny dipping in a campsite this populated, is quite appalling. 

yes i’m talking to you nasties, yoon serena ( @sgnserena ) , kwon taeho, shin siwan ( @scottsgn ) , kim subin ( @subinsgn ) , son junhyung, kan hyesoo, and you losers who lost that game of volleyball. reevaluate yourselves, please. 💖 

‘till next time

xoxo 

                   wooyoo

have a tip? submit them here! and to see any of my previous posts, click here!

(↓↓↓↓ any comment below will be considered an in character response! ↓↓↓↓)

[omgviolette12]

After Hours - Chapter 6 A professor Loki fanfiction

Previous Chapter

Summary: Evelyn Monroe has been a TA for professor Laufeyson’s Calculus course for four months now. He was known to be quite strict, but that never deterred her from applying for the position in order to be close to the man she had been secretly pining for. One evening, she returns to his office after opening hours… and with her bountiful luck, she walks in on something not meant to be seen.

Chapters: 6/?

Words: 2200

Warnings: Explicit sexual content

Tags: @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101@alexakeyloveloki @little-moonbeam-666  @marvel-ous-fics@clovermariear@lynnesm@bitchyikes@moon-child-of-a-poet, @allthecraftandthings@bubblegumspitt @shockwavee @blondekel77

If you’d like to be added, let me know. I’ve also posted this on AO3

____________

You have not an inkling… of how long I've staved off the temptation of having you beneath me. Across my desk, and at the mercy of my cock.

At the mercy of my cock…

At the mercy of my cock…

Currently, Evelyn sat dazed in a bathroom stall as the filthy words from her professor echoed repeatedly within her mind.

She was not sure how to wrap her head around over what transpired. How could she, when the cold and untouchable professor Laufeyson, whom she secretly liked, practically dry humped her into oblivion?

Well, technically they weren't dry - but the concept still stands.

She could still remember it clearly, his disheveled appearance before she ran away in a panic. Due to how wet she was when he pressed against her, his white dress shirt had gotten wet as well. The material stuck to his body, revealing a tease of the lean, muscular figure underneath. His tie was off to one side, and his ruffled hair further accentuated the wild look in his eyes.

But the one thing that drew her attention the most was the prominent, impressive bulge that tented his pants.

Now there was no doubting it. At this point, she'd be an idiot to believe that her professor held no interest in her. However, his attack on her body came so suddenly that Evelyn did not know her next course of action, so she sat on the toilet endlessly pondering.

When she saw him next, did she act as if nothing happened? Was he interested in a relationship with her despite her status as a student? Or did he just want to use her for sex, as Candice suggested? And would sex with him be...rough?

She had just gotten a clear handle that he may not be a gentle lover - and that scared her all the more, especially considering his size.

Evelyn was a stone cold virgin. She was afraid to put in a tampon, much less the monster that currently nestled within her professor's pants.

Evelyn clutched her head in frustration, before sighing dramatically. Since she didn't know much about sex in general, she probably needed to do some desperate soul searching on porn hub and spankbang once she got home.

Evelyn eventually exited the stall, moving to stand before the mirror. In her haste to get away from professor Laufeyson, she ran straight from his classroom to the bathroom at the end of the hallway, hopping straight into a stall.

She neglected to check her appearance in the mirror at the time, so Evelyn couldn't help but gasp when she saw the current state of her neck.

"Lord have mercy…"

The right side of her neck was mottled with purples and reds, the hues deeply saturated against the brown of her skin. She was not one to bruise easily, so such a sight was shocking.

Evelyn lifted a hand to gently trace the bruises. As she felt them, she could once again feel professor Laufeyson's lips on her neck. She remembered the pain as he sucked against her skin, then the sensation of overwhelming pleasure that followed immediately after.

She could still feel his large hands on her body as he groped and squeezed her breasts, her butt, her thighs, her hips - just thinking about it brought back the throbbing to her lower regions.

Although what he did was essentially sexual assault - and against a student even, Evelyn was ashamed to admit that although she was scared...she also liked the rough handling of her body... especially coming from him.

She did not know what any of this meant. Wasn't she supposed to hate being treated so...roughly? Being manhandled?

Even with the strong infatuation towards her professor, this incident should be a glaring red signal to run the opposite direction.

In any case, Evelyn knew she couldn't walk around campus with blatant hickies across her neck, and Candice would definitely have questions once she got home.

So when she reached for her purse to cover the bruises with makeup, needless to say, Evelyn began to fret.

Because her purse was nowhere in sight.

She looked inside the bathroom stall, then on the floor, but nope. Nada. Gone.

She really, really did not want to go back to the classroom to check, especially after she had just ran away.

But her purse did not only have her make-up, but the keys to her apartment, as well as her wallet. She could only hope that he left the purse in the classroom, so she could get a janitor or something to open the door for her if it was locked.

At this thought, she gained a bit of hope.

Before she left the bathroom, Evelyn dried her dress underneath the hand dryer for a bit, before tying her jacket around her neck in an attempt to cover the bruises high and close to her throat. She looked a bit silly, but it was better than nothing.

She definitely received some weird looks from her fellow peers as she transversed the hallways of the science department like a spy agent; tiptoeing, peeking around walls, etc. Just to avoid a run-in with professor Laufeyson as she made her way to his classroom.

She became even more vigilant as she got closer to the classroom door - she looked left and right before standing on the tips of toes to peek into the lecture hall for any sign of her purse, and the professor she desperately wanted to avoid.

Fortunately, he wasn't there - but neither was her purse. That only meant that he took the purse with him, the worst possible scenario.

Frustrated, Evelyn began to curse fervently under her breath, and kicked uselessly at the door.

"The hell are you doing?"

Evelyn spun around so fast, she nearly fell backwards from the dizziness.

"Oh my fucking...Andrès! You damn near scared the holy ghost outta me!"

She placed a hand on her chest to calm her thumping heart as she addressed her friend, Andrès. Although they were in different departments, they had developed a close friendship during their foundation years of college, during which they took several classes together.

"Ha! Well, I ain't mean to. What're you doing here though?"

He then squinted his eyes as he pointed to her, "And why the jacket around your neck?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes, attempting to act natural. She was internally panicking, and moved to subtly adjust her jacket, "It's fashion, dumbass. And I just lost my purse."

As she looked at him, her eyes slowly began to shine as an idea began to form.

"Hey...Andrès. You got a class right now?"

He eyed her suspiciously, "...In like, thirty minutes. Why though?"

Evelyn put on the softest, sweetest voice she could muster, " Uhm...could you stop by professor Laufeyson's office real quick? I think I left my purse in the classroom and he has it with him and... I'm kinda in a rush to do some really important stuff right now. Could you like, pick it up for me, pretty please?"

Andrès looked as if she suggested that he jump off a cliff, “ Oh hell no! I skipped morning class today…”

“... I get that. But come on bro, you still owe me twenty dollars from when we went to Wendy’s. I'll forget about it, deal?”

“Twenty?! It definitely was like five dollars-”

“- Yeah yeah whatever, are you gonna help me or not?”

Andrès crossed his arms, “Man, I don’t know. He’s really gonna skin my ass...”

“Alright, here’s what,” Evelyn stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, “Get me my purse, and I’ll treat you to tamales one of these days. How’s that?”

At the sound of tamales, Andrès' face split into a big grin, "You better! Even if I don't get it, you're still buying me food."

Seeing his grin, Evelyn couldn't resist smiling as well, "Ha-ha, sure. Hurry before your class starts, and thanks again. You're savin' my life here."

She stepped closer to give him a side hug in parting, "Just drop it off in my studio - I should be there doing some work."

"Aight, you bet."

At his confirmation, Evelyn happily skipped away with a light heart.

She just wasn't prepared to face professor Laufeyson, so she hoped Andrès follows through with his promise.

_________

"...What did you just say?"

Evelyn stopped midway through her painting to address Andrès, who stood outside the opening to her studio.

After she had asked him that favor, she went across campus to do some work in the art department. She busied herself with painting for several hours, waiting anxiously for Andrès to drop by. When he finally came, however, he was empty-handed with an extremely bitter expression.

"I said, he wants you to come get it yourself. He wouldn't give it to me. On top of that," Andrès' voice raised by a margin, his skin turning red, "He failed me for the entire fucking semester!"

Evelyn could only gape at him in shock, "Oh…"

" Oh? Oh?! That's all you gotta say?!" Andrès turned around to exit the studio, storming out. It took a few seconds before he ran back in to say one last piece, "You owe me much, much more than tamales! And I ain't helping your ass again." With that, he finally walked off.

Evelyn could only lean down in her stool to place her face in both hands, before whining despairingly, "Oh shit…"

She honestly should've sucked it up and asked for the purse, because she was now sure that professor Laufeyson was pissed for whatever reason - and she didn’t know what that meant for her, or her chastity.

Evelyn left the art building with a heart filled with anxiety, making her way towards his office expecting the unknown. Would he… pounce on her once again? If he did, she wasn’t sure her poor heart could manage.

It was pretty late in the evening, so the science department was pretty scarce, with the exception of those taking night classes.

As she walked to the door of his office, Evelyn couldn’t help but think of the time she spent with Laufeyson, and at what point her mysterious professor could’ve possibly developed an interest in her.

Now that she was thinking back, it was as if every little thing he did in the past gained significance. The extra tutoring sessions, their casual conversations - not to mention waking up on his lap. That should’ve been an obvious one, but at the time Evelyn’s low self-esteem insisted that it meant absolutely nothing.

She now came face to face with the door. Evelyn closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths to steady her beating heart. She raised her hand in a sudden jerk to knock before she chickened out, and waited with bated breath for his voice.

A voice that did not come.

Confused, she waited for several seconds before knocking once more. But silence was all that greeted her.

Did...did he already leave?

Evelyn felt half relieved, yet disappointed at the same time. Secretly within her heart, she wanted to see him.

During the hours when she was painting, various scenarios went through her head of what would happen between them in his office. They were all extremely sexual in nature - and that scared her. She never so much as thought about sex previously, but it was if he was the catalyst to all things dark within her heart.

She saw herself being harshly taken on his desk, the couch, even the blasted wall - and she could barely even concentrate on her work as he invaded her thoughts to a frightening degree.

Evelyn still stood aimlessly in front of his door, now at a lost. She rested her head against the wood, sighing to herself.

Why do I want him to treat me so roughly? It’s...wrong.

“Now, why would it be so wrong?” Evelyn froze as the voice of her professor sounded from directly behind her, his body heat warming her back.

"You're... you're here…" Her voice was quiet and meek, shocked that she said her thoughts out loud, and that he had heard them.

"That I am. Thankfully, I hadn't wandered far," Evelyn flinched slightly when she felt him touch her shoulders, but he merely moved her aside to open the door, "You're here for your purse, aren't you?"

He acted strangely normal as he entered his office, expecting her to simply follow.

His behavior was so confusing...was he acting as if he didn't just maul her hours earlier?

She entered the office cautiously, eyeing his back as he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Without looking behind him, he issued a simple command, "Close the door. I'd like our conversation to be private, if you wouldn't mind."

Evelyn would much rather have the door open. But when he turned around to give her the look, she reluctantly turned around to close it.

Once she did, he then began to speak, " Firstly, I'd like to apologize," he nodded towards her neck, "I did not expect you to mark so easily."

That's what he's apologizing for?!

Evelyn removed the jacket from around her neck, gaining the confidence to speak, "With all due respect professor, w..what you did earlier..um - it wasn't appropriate and, I'm not sure what you want from me -"

He raised a hand to silence her, "I understand, and I apologize for my actions. However,"

His expression was serious and stern as he said his next words, "I would not hesitate to have you again, writhing against me."

Evelyn was flabbergasted at the words that just left his mouth.

"...What...what do you mean by that - "

Her sentence was cut short when he made a step towards her, "To put things bluntly,"

Without warning, he grabbed at her waist to press her against him, chest to chest to whisper in a sultry manner, "I want to hear your sweet voice screaming my name repeatedly, as I fuck you against my desk."

Well... that was pretty blunt.

_______

A/N: Hey guys, the campers arrived and it has been SO HARD trying to find time to read, write, etc. because being a counselor is a full-time endeavor - from 7 in the morning, till 12:30 in the night. I finally found some lee-way, but there may be some grammar errors. Nonetheless, until next time!

[thornbolts]

My Two Lives Ch. 7 - My First Friend

Previous Chapters:

[Chapter 1: Westfallen Blues]

[Chapter 2: From Student to Hunter]

[Chapter 3: The Doe and the Buck]

[Chapter 4: The Day the Wardrums Came]

[Chapter 5:  Hard Times in a Harder City]

[Chapter 6: The Fall of Stormwind]

It must've been around three days we were at sea then, a boat among the countless others sailing north toward Lordaeron. There was no below-deck, and any raging elements like the storms or the cold rain, we just had to endure with what clothing we were able to carry.

But it wasn't all bad. We were fortunate enough to have a mage apprentice on our ship. He couldn't do much more other than conjuring fire in his palms, but with the cooking supplies the other families aboard the ship brought along, we were able to boil seawater, gather the steam, let it cool down, and drink it. This way, we never wanted for clean water.

There wasn't much to do for entertainment on the boat other than cards and playing a bit of I Spy with the other ships sailing around us on this mass exodus. So we'd fill our days talking with the other people aboard the boat, getting to know their life stories. Hell, I think this was when I began to appreciate storytelling.

Yeah. During those nights where we couldn't see anything around us other than the lamplights on the other boats, we told stories and sometimes sang songs.

That mage apprentice I mentioned earlier? His name was Archie, but we called him Arch. He'd been studying hard with whatever magic books he could buy on a delivery boy's budget. His dream was to study in Dalaran eventually. Fire came naturally to him. But the other magic? Not so much. Nonetheless, he was a sweet guy. Said he wanted to become a mage to help the world, to use his power to protect--to ensure no other people would be hurt by things like war.

I chuckled at that. It was a lofty ideal for a kid whose eyes hadn't seen the worst of it. But I suppose we needed folks like him if we wanted this earth to be a better place for those that'd come after we're long gone.

Along the trip, a barber volunteered to cut people's hair and shave them if needed. He was a grizzled middle-aged man, maybe about my pa's age. He managed to get his barber's tools out of his shop when the evacuation notice came out. His name was Benton.

Alongside Benton was his daughter, Melody. She was about my age, maybe a year or two older. When my pop took up Benton's offer, Melody and I would be off on the other side of the boat, trying to shimmy away from both of our dads telling embarrassing stories about us as kids.

I remember the first time I spoke with her. And today, I'm still in contact with her, even though we lost it briefly when I was an angry specter wandering the forests of Tirisfal, but that's another story for later.

As Benton draped the barber's apron over my pop, my pop got right into telling the story about the Doe and the Buck, my first time out hunting after I got expelled from school in Stormwind. He was having a grand old time telling Benton how he got that expulsion letter and how Uncle Jasper escorted me back to the family hunting lodge. My ma was red in the face. I knew she'd be slapping pop the moment we all got off the boat.

I wish I could shut my ears, but I couldn't do much other than making my way to the opposite end of the boat to at least be able to hear myself think.

Melody waddled up right beside me and took a seat. We both awkwardly stared out into the ocean and at the other ships. At the time, the only interaction I had with kids my age was being the victim of constant bullying and having to fight even to be acknowledged. I was good at one thing, something that hunting taught me well: Staying quiet.

Must have been five minutes before she finally broke the ice, and she had the delicateness of a sledgehammer.

"S-so uh..." Melody stammered as she watched me chamber a bullet into and out of my rifle. "Your f-freckles are pretty."

I squinted, laying my rifle across my lap. My what? Did I hear her right?

"Thank ya kindly. I grew 'em myself." I tried to hide my accent, but it was blatantly obvious I wasn't from the city. And this conversation was already terribly awkward.

Her eyes widened as she heard me, and I thought she'd be another kid that'd get a kick out of the country speak. I closed my eyes and sucked air through my teeth, bracing for her to let all the laughs out. I was used to it at this point.

"Your accent is cool too. Westfallen?" She piped up again, dragging her hand through the water.

Her words caught me off guard. I fumbled the bullet out of my hand, trying to snag it out of the air multiple times before it plopped into the ocean. I leaned over the edge, trying to see if I could plunge my hand into the water to get it back before it sank into the sunless depths.

"REM!" My pops shouted from the other side of the boat, his face covered in shaving cream as Benton paused, looking from my pops' chin to me. "What’re ya lookin’ fer in the water?! Mermaids? Don't make me come over there and tie ya ta the damn mast!”

"Sorry, pop." I leaned back into the boat, facing toward Melody again. "Westfallen. My grandpa and grandma lived there. My ma and pop moved us ta Elwynn when I was maybe three?"

"You mean you've always been outside of Stormwind?"

"Right up until the Orcs came and nearly killed us at our huntin' lodge," I said.

Melody paused, her gaze descending into the wooden boards. A few seconds went by before I realized I probably struck a nerve.

"Yeah. I don't suppose I'm special now considerin’." I glanced out to all the other ships packed to the rails with fellow refugees. 

I extended my fist out. This girl was the first one that didn't laugh at my voice when I spoke. She seemed nice, not at all like those bullies at the academy. I figured that... maybe I’d try the whole ‘making friends’ thing again. "Name's Remington. Rem fer short."

She bumped my fist and looked out toward the water. "Melody," she introduced. "Lost my mom in the attack. Now it's just dad and me." She motioned to Benton with the tip of her chin.

I went silent for a moment, staring at my reflection in the water as we drifted into the seemingly endless horizon. "I'm sorry," I finally mustered.

"Not your fault," Melody assured. "Say... What's with the rifle? Can you shoot?"

“We’re hunters.” I smirked, bracing the buttstock against the crook in my shoulder and looking down the scope at the ground. "Reckon I can shoot better than most soldiers." I was confident that I actually could. I wanted to prove it by pinging a seagull flying overhead, but that'd just make my family pissed.

"Always wanted to try it, you know? Shooting a gun, shooting a bow--never could." Melody sighed, clasping her hands behind her back and leaning on the mast.

"Why not?" I asked. "Walk on down ta any general store, and you'd find a rifle or bow somewhere on the shelf. Only a matter 'a findin' a spot ta practice."

"Finding a spot was always the hard part." Melody just smiled, lifting her eyes to the blue and yellow lion symbol atop our sail. "Never been outside Stormwind City until the Orcs came."

The thought of it was completely incomprehensible to me: Melody stayed confined in those constricting white walls, always in the thick of a busy populace where you couldn't even hear yourself think. No nature. No feeling of vast freedom. Not having to kill to eat and not having to fight to exist. The first thought that came to mind was that she was just pampered and privileged.

I just stared at her. I don't know how long I did before Benton chuckled.

"Looks like you talked the poor girl silly," Benton called out to Melody, wiping my father's face of any remaining shaving cream.

"They're already makin' friends." My pop smiled, scooping a hand into the seawater and rinsing his newly-shaved face with it. "At least one good thing has come outta those damned Orcs attackin'."

I scoffed, looking back out toward the blue horizon. I had an idea.

"Ya know anythin' about this Lordaeron place we're goin'?" I asked.

"I know there are forests! It's probably colder since it's way up north. There's this big city. It's called Capital City!" Melody declared. "It's where King Terenas lives."

"Capital City? What kinda name is that? It's so... boring." I snorted, peeling the brim of my hat over my face to shield it from the overhead sun.

"Looks like you were paying attention in class, Dee." Benton smiled, dunking his razor into the water and cleaning it off with a handkerchief.

"Unlike Rem," pops jabbed from the other end of the boat.

I rolled my eyes, looking back toward Melody. "If'n ya want, maybe I could take ya out shootin' when we get settled in Lordaeron?"

She grinned the widest smile I ever saw someone smile, genuine warmth and enthusiasm. "It's a promise then."

As Melody said that, I felt my chest swell up with excitement. I don't know how else to describe it. It was weird. For once, I actually got the chance to show someone what my pop taught me, maybe give someone a love of the wild.

We wouldn't hit Lordaeron for another week, but it was nice to know that I made the first friend I ever really had in my life. This friendship lasts even today in my second life. Melody and I write to one another still. Moved back into Stormwind City, and she’s got two beautiful sons.

We meet sometimes when we can, maybe once or twice a year to catch up in neutral territory, like Pandaria. A lot has happened, but despite faction lines now and me being the walking dead, we still treat each other like those times back on the boat and in Lordaeron.

My first friend. I’d kill for her.

[scottishhellhound]

Here's the first chapter to my original novel Godlings: On Victory's Wings.

Despite some still clunky feeling scenes, I'm ridiculously proud and happy with how the rewrite turned out, and how much better it flows than the previous version.

Title: On Victory's Wings

Chapter: 1/18?

Genre: Urban Fantasy/Mythology, dark comedy, adventure

Summary:  Aislinn is your average high-school Senior, worrying about average teenage things.  Balancing schoolwork, sports, her social life (such as it is), and random Spartan Shades appearing in city parks on her morning jogs.  Or maybe not so average, but that's just how her life goes, being a mortal daughter of Zeus.  First the Shade thing, and then the new guy she bumps into sets her instincts ringing.  But when one of her best friends - a son of Hades - goes missing, and beings from the Underworld begin appearing in the Upper-Realm, Aislinn has to navigate a world that has been trying it's best to kill her since she was a child.  With just herself, an unclaimed demi-god, and her very much mortal best friend out trying to save the world...? They are so screwed.

Wordcount: 5386

Aislinn ran callused fingers through her still damp red hair, ripping at the tangles in agitation. Her mind raced, one thought tripping on the heels of another; each worry vying for her attention. She ignored the call of her fellow students as she strode passed, too caught up in her own thoughts to stop and talk. She chewed on her lower lip as she tried to make sense of what she had seen on her morning jog.

The first a dead lawn. Not yellow death from over or under watering, or lack-luster care. No. The ground was the gray of old decay, as if life never existed there; the earth cracked and cobbled as if by drought. Trees, leafless and petrified, lined the yard. A mist that was more miasmic and thick than any she had seen on earth, hung in the air. When she ran her hand through it, it clung to her skin, swirling around it, like ink in water, writhing and reaching. As if it would take form at any moment and steal her essence. More alarming, was that the lawns of the houses on either side were still lush and green with life. Untouched by whatever had decimated the lone lawn.

The second – and the one that concerned her more – was the man, standing alone in the middle of a field. A man, dressed in full, authentic, Spartan hoplite armour. A brown leather cuirass, leather strips hanging from around the waist, providing some modest coverage. A bronze tipped spear gripped in his hand, shield hanging on his back, and a sword at his waist. On his head a horse hair crested helmet, crest dyed red, tail trailing down his back. She slowed her jog, coming to a stop at the edge of the field, staring at the helmeted figure in confusion. She tried calling out to him, speaking in Greek. “Warrior! Are you lost? Do you have payment for the Ferryman?”

In response to her call the hoplite turned towards her. The helmet, and distance, hiding his features. She watched him shift his stance, lifting the shield from his back with ease, fitting it to his arm. He raised the shield in front of himself and leveling the spear over its edge, glared at her over it. Before the Hoplite could charge, his form wavered, a mirage in the sunlight, then vanished.

Aislinn shook her head at the memory, turning the last corner that would take her down the hall that contained her locker. ‘What would a Shade be doin’ in the middle of a field? Here of all places?’ She thought to herself as she reached her locker. Letting her gym bag slid off her shoulder, she reached for the dial, twisting and turning it, inputting her combination. ‘I’ll ask Drake after school.  See if he knows anythin’.’ The lock popped open and she lifted handle, opening the door. She swung her bag inside with one hand, while the other searched for an extra hair tie.

A flash of bright pink caught her eye, and she turned to look at the post-it stuck to the door. Her locker mate, and best friend, Diana Williams, had left her a note on the offensively coloured paper.

‘Hey! I had to run to the nurse’s office for my meds. Wicked headache today, and I don’t want it to turn into a migraine. See you and Drake in class. Diana’

Aislinn winced in sympathy for her friend, knowing how debilitating her migraines were if not treated. She blinked as a thought hit her. 'If I hurry I can ask Drake before Di even makes it to class!’

Her questing fingers located a hair tie and she pulled her hand out of the locker. She grabbed her book bag with the other hand, and swung it up onto her shoulder.  She hip checked the locker door shut, and hurried down the hall, ducking her head as she pulled her hair up into a messy bun at the base of her neck. Since her eyes were on the ground, she didn’t see the other student coming around the corner until she walked smack into him. Sending them both crashing to the floor in a flurry of limbs and curses.

“Ay!” The other student had tried to catch themselves and ended up tripping over their own feet, sending them to the lockers to their right.

“Son of – shit, ar’ya okay?” Aislinn asked, upon realizing that she had knocked over another person. And not just walked into the wall again. She rolled over and pushed herself into a sitting position, a contrite look on her face, taking in the fallen student.

His skin was a light golden brown, and he was dressed in dark jeans, with a white shirt under an open, dark blue button up. Long fingers felt through silver-blonde hair – that to Aislinn’s eyes didn’t appear dyed - as he felt the bump near his temple.

Aislinn climbed to her feet and took a step forward to help him up. “I am so sorry. I swear I’m not usually this much of a klutz.”

He waved her off. “It’s okay. No real harm done.” His words were enunciated carefully and Aislinn could pick up a faint accent, though she couldn’t place what it might have been. Pulling his hand away from his head, he looked at his hand. Showing it to Aislinn, he wriggled his fingers, an awkward smile on his face. “See? No blood.”

“Still, I’m sorry. I should’ve been payin’ more attention.” She held out her hand, offering once more to help him to his feet, but he shook his head. Instead using the lockers he had knocked into for balance, he climbed to his feet himself.

He stood on too long legs, and dusted himself off. He had the look of a teen who had hit a growth spurt and his body hadn’t yet caught up to his limbs. Shrugging broad, but scrawny shoulders as he straightened up. “Eh, it’s a Monday. I have never known them as good days, but…if you want to make it up you could answer a question for me?” He looked at her, a shy smile on his face as his dark blue eyes met Aislinn’s green.

Aislinn fought not to react as every hair on her neck and arms stood on end. An all too familiar shock racing up her spine. ‘Demi-god!

The blonde rubbed at back of his neck, an odd look coming across his face. “Or…not?”

“N-no, sorry. Just lost in thought for a second. I must have knocked my head when I fell.” Her laugh sounded strained to her own ears, as she shook her head, trying to rid herself of her distracting thoughts. “What was your question?” Aislinn asked, smiling at him, her mind continued to race as she watched the awkward teen in front of her. ‘He must not know what he is. Which means they never claimed him. I need to talk to Drake!’

He smiled in relief. “Great, could you help me find classroom 213? The office gave me a map, but it might as well be in Greek for all the sense it makes.” He held out the map that Aislinn now noticed crumpled in his other hand.

She shifted her bag so it sat higher on her shoulder, and waved away the map. A small smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth as she answered. “Nah, if it was in Greek, it’d be way more confusin’. I could tell you how to get there, or I can do you one better. I’ll take you there, that’s where I’m headin’.”

“Great!” He twisted around, shoving the map into an open pocket on his back pack, no longer seeing the need to keep it out. He faced Aislinn and held out a hand. “I’m James Morgan. Nice to meet you.”

“Aislinn Carter.” She grasped his hand and shook it twice before taking her hand back. “Come on, class is this way.” She turned and headed back down where James had come from. She waited a few seconds before wiping her hand, trying to rid herself of the ghostly feel of sparks dancing along her skin.

James fell into step next to her, and Aislinn saw his hand going to the back of his neck once more.

The halls filled with students, as the first bell crept closer and closer to sounding. James kept as close to Aislinn as he could, without stepping on the backs of her feet. Jostled from side to side in the seething throng of students, James struggled to keep his feet under him, and not swept away like so much debris in the ocean of writhing students. He did not relish the thought of getting lost again.

A few minutes later Aislinn came to a stop in front of a black door with multi-coloured swirls painted on it, and presented it with a flourish. “I present to you room 213, Mr. Warner’s Art Room! Ta-da!”

James shook his head at the strange girl, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Gracias! I would have ended up lost in the basement if you hadn’t run into me.”

“Good thing for you I chose today to be a klutz then, eh?” She grinned and winked at him, her slight Irish accent giving an odd lilt to some of her words.

“My hero.” He rolled his eyes, but his grinned widened when Aislinn laughed as she reached behind herself to open the door.

“Here, write your room numbers on that map, and I’ll layout how you get to each class from the other. That way you won’t get lost again.” She said as she held out a hand for the map.

“Really?” He was already digging out the paper and a pen.

She shrugged. “Yeah. I’m surprised the office even gave you a map, to be honest. They tend to let new students fend for themselves. Especially this late into term.”

James laid the map against the wall and penned out his room numbers in the corner; numbering them so Aislinn would know which class came first. “Thanks so much. This’ll be a huge help.” He handed her the crumpled map, and she folded it, placing it into her back pocket.

Aislinn waved him off, “It’s no big deal and it won’t take me long. I’ll give it to y'after class.”

“Sounds good. Thanks again.” He stepped around her and made his way to the front of the room, to introduce himself to the teacher, and get the assignments he’s missed so far.

“No problem. See ya after class, James.”

As James headed towards the teacher, Aislinn looked around the room, trying to spot a familiar mop of dark hair. Her hand automatically went to the necklace around her neck. A simple silver pendant of a laurel wreath and spread wings. She twirled it between her fingers as she took in the room around her. The smell of paint, clay, and ink invaded her senses. There were easels stacked against the wall furthest from the door, and a small kiln was in the opposite corner. White cupboards lined the walls, their fronts painted with different scenes and designs, painted by various students over the years. The ceiling tiles were art by students, ranging from scenes of happiness and light, to subjects of a much darker nature. She finally found who she was looking for near the back of the room.

She walked through the work tables, waving at a group of girls near the front of the room, as she made her way to a table occupied by a lone sleeping student.

‘Thank Zeus! He came to school today.’ She hurried her pace, wanting to talk to him before Diana got to class. She dropped into an empty seat next to the boy snoozing at the table and shook his arm.

“Drake. Drake! Wake up, I need t’ talk to you!” Her tone was urgent, but she tried to keep her voice low, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

“Unngg, wha-what? Can you not see that I’m sleeping, wench? Be gone.” Drake’s deep voice rumbled out from where he had his head buried in his arms.

Aislinn rolled her eyes and grabbed a hand full of Drakes hair, her pale, freckled skin almost glowed against the darkness of his hair. She pulled his head up enough she could see his eyes. Which were now glaring at her. Two dark pools of black, staring out of a dark golden brown face. She ignored the dangerous look in onyx coloured eyes and hissed at him. “I need you to focus, this is important. Now, wake up you lazy bum, or I will shock you!” She emphasized her threat by pinching the thumb and fore-finger of her free hand together, out of sight under the table, sparks dancing between the digits.

Drake grabbed the hand in his hair, his larger hand encircling her wrist, dwarfing it, and pulled it free of his hair. He raised his head out of his arms, still glaring at her, black eyes taking on a glowing blue sheen. “What?” It was more of a snarl than an actual word.

Aislinn pulled her hand out of his grip, rubbing the feeling back into it. “I saw strange things on my run this morning. Things that had no right bein’ where they were.”

“Like what? Other people running?” She watched as Drake took a breath, calming himself, hopefully responding to the urgency of her words. She was vibrating she was so anxious. Her fingers twitching in the fabric of her back pack as she set it on the floor, feet tapping, unable to contain her agitation.

Aislinn laughed, rolling her eyes at the taller teen. “Ha-ha, hilarious. No, smartass, a Shade. Not a new one that Hermes just hadn’t gotten to yet, either. It was the Shade of a Spartan hoplite, ready for war.”

“What!” Several students turned to look at him, and Aislinn sighed.

“Keep it down, would you? We don’t need the whole class tryin’ to listen in.”

He ignored the reprimand, but lowered his voice. “You’re sure about what you saw? One hundred percent?”

“Well, no. They were a ways away. But what sane person would be up at six in the mornin’, dressed in authentic, ancient Spartan armour, mind you, standin’ in a field, in the middle of a city.���

“Hermes.” Drake said eyes going flat and unamused. He flapped a hand at Aislinn, waving off her stuttering protests. “Or Apollo. I bet you didn’t even think of that possibility did you? That it could have been your brothers messing with you?”

Aislinn glared at him, green eyes going darker in her annoyance. “I know what I saw, Drakon.” Aislinn ignored the glare Drake sent at her for using his full name. “It wasn’t Hermes, or Apollo…they know better than to pull stunts like that in broad daylight. Besides they vanished after I called out to them.”

“You were probably just imagining things. I mean you get up at 5:30 every morning to go for a run! What sane person does that?” He laid his head back down on his arms, smirking as Aislinn glared at him, mouth opening and closing, but no words coming forth.

“Look here, you little –” A sigh from behind where she and Drake were sitting interrupted her.

“Are you two fighting again?” The two seated teens looked over their shoulders and up at who had spoken.

Diana Williams was a short, heavier set girl, with brown hair, kept off of a tanned face with two braids. Bright brown eyes stared down at her friend’s, one eyebrow raised, as she walked around them, taking one of the remaining two seats at the table.

“Yes.” Aislinn snapped, tuning back to glare at Drake, who was already ignoring her in favour of talking to Diana, head still pillowed on his arms.

“But it’s not anything important.” He shot Aislinn a look that told her to drop the subject. One dark brow raising, waiting to see if she would do as she was told.

She glared at him for a few more seconds before she let out a hard breath of frustration, grinding her teeth in her agitation. “Fine. We’ll finish talkin’ later.” She moved her gaze to Diana, eyes softening as she looked at the other girl with concern. “How you feelin’, Di?”

“Better. I still have a headache, but it should wear off before class is over.” Diana was pulling out her sketch book and pens for class, and reaching into her bag she handed an extra sketch pad to Drake. “Here, looks like you forgot your bag again.”

“Thanks, Di…wait another headache?” Drake looked up at her as he placed the offered sketchpad on the table in front of him. “You’ve been getting them a lot.” Drake’s brow furrowed in annoyance and worry. Sentiments that Aislinn sympathized with, guessing at what the source of their friends headaches were.

“It’s not a big deal.” Diana shrugged, smiling at her two friends concern for her well-being. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, that’s all.”

Before either of them could question Diana further the bell sounded and the art teacher, Mr. Warner, coughed to gain the classes attention.

“Ahem, splendid. Good morning class. We have a new student joining us today, who’s just moved here from out of Province. This is James Morgan.” The class gave a monotonous hello, and Aislinn couldn’t help her giggle at the look on the young man’s face. Golden skin going pale, blue eyes wide and darting, as if he was wishing the ground would open him up and swallow him whole. Wanting to be anywhere but at the front of a class of a bunch of 17 and 18 year olds.

Mr. Warner straightened his glasses, as he coughed again. “Yes, excellent. You may take a seat at the table behind that of Mr. Jordan and Ms.’s Carter and Williams.” He waved James in the general direction of his seat, a table with two boys at the back of the room. James hurried through the rows of desks to his seat, eager to be out of the spotlight. Mr. Warner pulled open a drawer as the teen left, blinking in confusion as he stared inside.

“Hmm, my notes for today’s class seem to be missing. Oh well.” He stood from his search to face his students, fixing his glasses again. “Today we will study Still Life. Send one person from each table up to grab an item. Your assignment is to draw the object as accurate as you are able; the correct shadows and light sources, size, etcetera. I will give you the history on Still Life tomorrow instead.”

Diana stood and made her way to the box to find an object she liked, and would also not be too difficult for her, less art-minded friends, to draw.

As soon as she was out of ear shot, Aislinn turned to Drake, punching him hard in the arm. The young man didn’t even flinch, as if he hadn’t felt the blow at all. He gave her a flat look.

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me." She hissed, annoyance and frustration dripping from every word. "You know exactly what. You know as well as I do that what I saw wasn’t either of my brothers!”

“This still?” Drake rolled his eyes, reaching over and taking the pencil from her hand. He twirled the pencil around his fingers as he spoke, “It had to be. The only people that can summon, or send, Shades to this realm are myself, and my father. I didn’t summon it, and father doesn’t send Shades to random fields,” He paused, a fond smile flitted across his features for a moment. “He doesn’t have that well-developed of a sense of humour.”

Aislinn didn’t bother trying to steal her pencil back, just dug another out of her bag. “Do you think I would have brought this to your attention, if I had had a doubt in my mind, that it wasn’t one of my brothers? Come on, you know me better than that!”

Drake raised a hand before she could say anything else, seeing Diana returning to the table out of the corner of is eye. “Okay, okay. We'll talk more about it after school lets out. All right?”

“Thank you.” She pulled out the map that James had given her and using different coloured pencils, marking routes for him on the paper. Ones to and from each of his classes, and also how to get to the Cafeteria, and the Library from any room location.

Diana sighed as she searched through the box of objects, searching for one she liked. The hand not searching for a suitable item, rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Glad that her medication was kicking in. She appreciated that her friends worried about her, but she wasn’t sure there was much they could do about the cause of her headaches. Divorces were messy, and her parents had been arguing all weekend. She had had that weird dream again too, that she still couldn’t decide if it was stress related, or something else. A shadowed figure surrounded by fire, spreading its wings. She smiled, forgetting her dream, as she pulled out and object turning to head back to her table. It was an ornamental, blown glass vase, made up of a rainbow of different coloured glass, its neck twisted in a loop.

She rejoined her table to see her two friends were no longer arguing, and smiled in relief. She didn’t think she could handle the added stress of her friends fighting, on top of everything else. Aislinn was doodling on a paper and Drake seemed to have gone back to sleep.

She smiled in sympathy, though no one noticed. Art was not the young man’s forte, having only joined it for an easy credit, and to hang out with his friends.

She set the vase at the centre of the table and retook her seat on the other side of Aislinn, furthest from Drake. She unzipped her pencil case, paint stained fingers digging through its contents, before emerging with a set of inking pens.

Diana started when Drake’s voice rumbled from where his head was resting on the desk, still sounding muddled by sleep. “So another headache? You had two last week, too. You sure you’re okay?”

Diana smiled, strained though it was. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just…” She paused and scowled down at her paper, hand clenching around the pen in her hand, taking a deep breath to keep her emotions under control. “My parents were fighting again this weekend, over…who knows what.” She took a deep even breath before continuing, fighting to keep the quiver from her voice. “I get they’re upset, their marriage is falling apart, I – I just wish they wouldn’t fight.” She sniffed and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes, annoyed at the tears she could feel forming.

Aislinn leaned over and hugged her friend around the shoulder, feeling them shake. “Di, why didn’t you call one of us?”

“I didn’t want to impose on your guys’ weekend.”

Drake raised his head up enough he could glare at her, gaze softening when he saw Diana flinch. “You, are not an imposition, Diana.” He cut her off with a raised hand when she tried to protest. “No! I’m not hearing it. If you need to get out of your house, because your parents don’t have the decency to keep their fighting to themselves, you call me. Day or night. I’ll come get you. Got it?”

“But, I –”

“Got it?”

Diana smiled, hearing the sincerity in his voice, a blush spreading across her face. “Okay, I got it. Thanks Drake, I appreciate – umm…hello?”

Aislinn and Drake looked over their shoulders to see what had made Diana interrupt herself. Aislinn grinned at seeing James standing there, fiddling with the straps of his bag, blue eyes unsure, and fixed on the table top.

“What do you want?” Drake snapped at him, going stiff when black eyes met blue briefly. Two flicks to the back of his head, delivered by two of the women in his life, had him turning around, a glare on his face. “Ouch! What was that for?”

Aislinn rolled her eyes, and flicked his nose, smirking when Drake yelped and grabbed his now stinging appendage. “Don’t be such a boar, Drake.” She ignored Drake’s grumbled threats and turned to smile up at James. “What’s up, James?”

“Sorry…I didn’t mean to interrupt, but do you mind if I join you guys? My table isn’t art friendly at the moment.”

The four teens looked back to see the other two occupants of James’ table having a paper ball war. A glance up at the front of the room told them that the teacher was too busy looking for his notes to do anything about the disturbance.

Diana nodded, smiling up at the gangly teen. “Sure, pull up a chair. I’m Diana Williams. I see you’ve already met Aislinn, and this surly grump is Drake Jordan.”

James smiled in gratitude as he walked around the table to take the last empty chair, next to Diana. “I’d introduce myself, but the teacher did it earlier.”

Aislinn grinned and handed him his map back with a fanfare it didn’t require. “Let me be the first to say: Welcome to the hell that is High School, here is your illustrated guide.”

James chuckled as he accepted the offered map with a bow of his own. “Gracias! This will save me a lot of time.”

Drake raised an eyebrow at the coloured lines he could see on the otherwise black and white map, as James put it away. “They’re giving out maps now? Ha, about time.” He stopped spinning the stolen pencil and sketched a rough outline of the vase Diana had placed on the table. “Maybe now they won’t have a repeat incident from last year.” He smirked when he heard Aislinn laugh.

James raised a pale eyebrow as he pulled out his own art supplies. “What happened last year?”

Drake waved a dismissive hand as he erased a few mistakes he had made. “Oh some new girl came in, halfway through last semester. She got lost between second and third period. She had opened a door she thought was her class room, but it ended up being a janitor’s closet.” Drake had to pause to control his laughter. Aislinn had buried her head in her arms, shoulders shaking with mirth.

“She walked in and the door closed behind her. From what we heard later, they’d been having trouble with that door locking. So when it closed behind her she ended up being locked in. They didn’t find her until midway through fourth period, when a janitor went in there for some light bulbs.” He joined Aislinn in laughing then, covering his mouth to keep from laughing too loud, not wanting to draw the teachers attention to them.

Diana was shaking her head at her friends, though was having trouble keeping her own mouth from twitching into a smile. “It’s not that funny you guys.”

“You’re right, Di.” Drake gasped between fits of laughter. “It’s hilarious!”

James snickered, more entertained by how much the story amused the other two. He shook his head, as he added detail to the loop of the vase he was sketching. “Well, here’s hoping I have a better sense of direction.”

Drake raised his head up enough to smirk at him. “We’ll be sure to check the closets for you.”

“Hey!”

Drake and Aislinn laughed at his indignation, and Diana reached over to pat him on the shoulder. “At least you’ll have someone looking for you, if you get lost.”

James glanced over at the other two occupants of their table, who were still laughing. “I’m not sure if that instils me with confidence or fear.”

Diana looked over at her two friends, grinning, watching as they gained control of themselves and went back to drawing. “Yeah, they get that reaction a lot.”

As the laughter subsided, the four teens settled in to a comfortable silence as each of them resumed work on that classes assignment, letting the idle chatter of the students around them fill the spaces between their own quiet conversations.

James discovered that he shared third period, Science, with the three friends as well, and Diana invited him to join them for lunch. An invitation he happily accepted. It wasn’t often that a close knit group of friends invited an outsider into their circle. A fact he took advantage of.

His father had promised that this would be their last move associated with his job, so James was going to try making friends. For once.

However throughout Science and lunch, James thought he had noticed Drake and Aislinn giving him strange looks every now and again. Whenever he tried to catch either of their eye he found them always looking away. He let it go for the time being, but made a note to ask one of them the next time he saw them.  He also wanted to ask if either of them felt a weird static every time they met his eyes, the same way he got when he met theirs.  It was the most peculiar sensation that he had ever experienced.  And not one he noticed with Diana, or any other student or teacher he met that day.

James perked up as he made his way towards the exit he needed, Aislinn and Drake were chatting at an open locker. He thought to call out to them, but as he got closer he could see they were, in fact, arguing. He was unsure about what, however, as they weren’t speaking in English. Drifting closer, trying to go unseen, he caught a few words. ‘Greek! They’re speaking Greek.’

Drake made a sharp motion with his hand that brought Aislinn up short from what she was saying. Seeing green eyes narrow at the taller teen, James decided that he’d wait until tomorrow to ask about the odd looks they had been giving him. He made his way back down the hall, careful not to draw any attention to himself. He’d find a different door to leave out of.

“I’m telling you, Aislinn, what you think you saw, isn’t possible. There’s no way.”

Aislinn prodded him in the chest with one finger, anger making her eyes dark and her words sharp as cut glass. “I know what I saw, Drake! I may have only been to the Underworld a few times, but I remember what the place looked like.” She dropped her hand back to her side, balling her hands into shaking fists, as the dark haired teen continued to look down on her. “I’ve also seen you summon Shades enough times to know what they are, even from a distance. There is something wrong here, and you’re just being too much the proud immortal to see it!”

“Enough!” His hand slashed through the air between them.

Aislinn took a step back, slipping out of grabbing range. While Drake would never hurt her, she would always rather be safe than sorry when dealing with her divine relatives.

Seeing Aislinn move back, snapped Drake out of his anger. He took a deep breath, as he ran a hand through his hair, before letting out an annoyed sigh. “Look. I get you’re concerned, but don’t you think if something was wrong back home, that my parents would say something?” Aislinn opened her mouth to object, but the look Drake sent her had her snapping her mouth shut. He stared at her for a few more moments before sighing once more. “Fine! To satisfy your curiosity, I’ll look into it, make sure nothing is wrong. Okay?”

Aislinn looked up at him for several moments, trying to judge if he was being sincere, or just humouring her. “Okay. Thank you, Drake. I hope I’m wrong.”

Drake clapped a hand to her shoulder, making the shorter girl stagger. “No worries, Nike,” he ignored the warning growl she gave at the nickname. “I’ll just prove you wrong and we’ll go back to pretending you aren’t an idiot.”

Aislinn could only glare at him in dumbfounded silence as he patted her shoulder once more then, stepping around her made his way down the hall, heading for the student parking lot, and his car.

“Arrogant, immortal bastard.”

[rovvboat]

Paper Planes

Colossus/Piotr Rasputin x Reader

A/N: Prompt by the wonderful @candle-light-writings!! <3 <3 Sorry it took me awhile!! Hope you like it hehe 

word count: 5.2k (I DONT KNOW HOW?!)

Summary: You’re a young mutant-in-training at the newly opened Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You (quite literally) run into Colossus on a packed day, and end up becoming friends with the mutant, who offers to help with your combat training. The friendship soon grows into something more, and takes flight to bring him home.

You were running late yet again. Stupid alarm clock. It just had to get busted on one of the most important days of your time in Xavier’s school.

You dash through the hallways that were clogged with students as you weave through them on your way to your training class. As you reach the end of the crowd, you see that it’s a clear route for you – through to the training grounds – and you pick up speed.

Your thoughts were so focused on reaching the class on time that you neglected to watch out for the blind-spot at the adjacent corridor that joins the hallway.

In a split second, you make contact with a tall, brawny student – whose stacks of paper goes flying all around the corridor.

‘’SHIT. I’m so sorry!’’ You quickly got up before he did.

You wave your arms around, the papers spiral above the fallen man’s head as he watches – baffled by the flying papers – before once again becoming a neat stack – categorized exactly as it was before the fall. The papers come to rest gently into your right arm, as you offer your other hand to the unfortunate student. He takes it, lifting himself up with the help of your anchor.

You quickly pass the stack to him, before zooming off again – leaving the man to watch you disappear as quickly as you appeared.

As the man returns to his duties, he catches something shimmering on the floor and bends down to pick it up. It was a beautifully folded paper crane, though it felt a lot sturdier and tougher than your average origami crane. He picks it up and inspects it – catching the name of the owner scribbled under one of its wings. He carefully places it on the top of the stack, before making his way to his own training room.

‘’You oughta’ be more careful about these things, darlin’.’’ Logan explains. ‘’You can’t keep being late for these important trainings, especially not when your skills ‘ave yet to be mastered fully in terms of combat.’’

You look to the ground, one arm across your stomach holding onto the other, embarrassed at the fact that you were late once again.

‘’I’m sorry, Logan. I just… don’t think that my powers would be the best for offensive tactics…’’ You sigh.

‘’Listen, darlin’. All that doesn’t matter. Most of our ops are on the offensive, and if that is what you’re weakest at, then we are going ta’ have to train that the most.’’

You nod as he pats your back. ‘’Have more faith in your abilities. They might surprise you.’’

You sulk all the way back to your dorm room. Most days in the school were like this. Mostly disappointing. You plop down onto your bed and let out a heavy sigh.

If everyday is going to be this disappointing, I don’t think I want to be here anymore. Maybe I could just sell paper cranes for a living.

Your train of thought is halted by a knock on the door.

‘’Coming!’’

Great. They probably want to add some after school combat training lessons.

You open the door, and your eyes meet the large torso of a man, who was looking down on you. Your eyes trail up to his face, and you’re greeted by a set of serene blue eyes.

You pause for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. The man staring back at you was obviously Piotr Rasputin, or Colossus –  as he was called on the field. You’ve heard many stories about this student, mostly about how good his fighting skills were and how strong he was, not to mention how he was set to be one of the main members of the X-Men team.

He was also very, v e r y easy on the eyes. His hair was neatly styled up, wearing a white t-shirt that fit snugly over his muscles. Torso tapered down like a V. The other students nicknamed him Hercules, built like a Greek demi-god.

You notice his mouth moving, snapping you back into the present moment.

‘’Hello. I am sorry to intrude, but are you Y/N?’’ He asks.

‘’Yes, did Logan send you?’’

‘’Oh no, he did not. I just found this–‘’ he shows you something in his palm– ‘’beautifully made paper crane. It fell this morning when we… collided. I thought you might want this returned. It looks absolutely wonderful. And I thought it would be missed.’’

‘’Oh my God, you were the person I banged into this morning! I’m so sorry about that! Are you alright? Here, come on in.’’ You open the door wider for him to make his way into your room.

He slowly enters your room, taking in all of the different kinds of paper stacked neatly on your shelves. He stops by your small display case of a plethora of foldings– from roses of various colours, to plants, to animals. They all looked so realistic and intricate.

‘’Don’t mind them too much.’’ You laugh nervously.

‘’They are… very beautiful.’’ He says to you, clearly impressed.

You quietly watch as he takes his time to admire them. You clear your throat in the silence.

‘’I could make one for you if you’d like.’’ You wave at the papers across the room and, as if on command, they glides towards you and fold intricately into several shapes – tearing and twisting in impossible ways – before floating gently onto your palm in a shape of a confidently roaring tiger.

Colossus watches all of this in awe.

You present the tiger to him, shimmying your fingers over it – bringing it to life as it gives a mighty roar.

‘’Bozhe moi! That is amazing! What beautiful powers you have!’’ He exclaims.

‘’Well… they’re not much use for fighting… I thought you came here because Logan sent you to ask me about some combat lessons or something.’’

‘’Oh, no he didn’t. But is it something that you would be needing help with? I am happy to help out a fellow X-Man whenever I can.’’

Your eyes light up at the proposition.

‘’Are you sure? I’m kind of known to be… difficult. Especially with combat.’’

‘’No such thing! I will do everything in my power to make you the best combat X-Man the world has ever seen!’’ He says, flexing in a dramatic way to drive the point home.

You laugh at that, before nodding at the proposal.

‘’That is really nice of you to do, Colossus.’’

‘’Please, call me Piotr.’’

‘’Alrighty, Mr Piotr. I’ll meet you when you’re free?’’

‘’Of course! We will start as soon as possible! We shall meet at the break of dawn tomorrow.’’

Your face changes from a grin to a shocked expression, causing Piotr to laugh.

‘’You’re not kidding, are you?’’

‘’Early bird catches the worm.’’ He responds cheekily. You respond with a palm to your face, before laughing.

‘’Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow. But seriously, thank you so much for helping me out. I’ll have to give you a treat for that.’’ You say as he checks his watch.

‘’It is not needed.’’ He holds his palms up with a smile. ‘’We are X-Men, and X-Men do not hold favours. Now, you would have to excuse me. I have some matters I need to attend to. It was nice meeting you today, Y/N. And thank you very much for the pet tiger you have gifted me. I appreciate it very much.’’ He admires the paper tiger on his palm, before bidding you farewell and stepping out of your room.

You thank whatever god or fate that helped you get this arrangement, before getting ready for dinner and heading to bed.

 Your eyes open at the sound of your new alarm clock, blaring a rendition of I’m Still Standing, playing on the radio. You whine, and flip over onto your stomach, holding the pillow tightly, promptly burying your face in it – before hammering down on the alarm clock’s snooze button.

Not 2 minutes later, Elton John’s voice breaks the silence yet again.

Don’t you know l’m standing better than I ever did. Looking like a true survivor, feelin’ like a little kid.

You let it play, before a knock sounds at your door. You snooze the alarm, and get up to greet whoever was at the door. You catch your reflection in the adjacent mirror – hair fuzzy from sleeping, a big long sweatshirt draped over your body with just a little bit of your shorts peaking out from the end of it. Peak dating material.

You open to door, and it feels like the same scene from yesterday plays out.

Piotr takes a pause, looking at you at your most comfortable state; you bring up a hand, trying to rub your eyes out of sleepiness. He chuckles a little. Your eyes adjust to Piotr standing in front of you and you flash him a smile.

‘’I guess I was right in my assumption that you would not be ready before I was. I am sorry if I woke you up, but it is almost time for our training.’’ He says, tapping at his watch.

You yawn and tiptoe into a stretch – extending your arms up to really get your muscles working. ‘’Yeah, I’m up. Gimme 5 minutes to get ready.’’ You say as you close the door. You quickly wash up before throwing on your training outfit – a white tank top paired with black sweatpants. You open the door to Piotr waiting for you in the hallway.

‘’Morning! Sorry it took me a while to get up. I’m still feeling a little tired. Not used to the whole early bird thing, yknow? I assume you do this every day. Why would you want to be up this early, anyway?’’ You jokingly ask as you lock your door.

Piotr’s deep laugh rumbles down the quiet corridor. ‘’I have been known to be an early riser, yes. But worry not, you will get used to it. Working in a farm as boy helped me a lot.’’

‘’You were a farmer? I never would’ve guessed!’’

‘’Yes, back in Russia my family used to run a farm. It was hard work but… it was with family, and it was home.’’ A sadness was etched in his voice. You decided not to press the matter, instead you tried to get his spirits up a little.

‘’But hey, family is always with you,’’ you place a hand to his chest, near where his heart would be, ‘’right here. They’ll always be here’’ You give him a few pats. ‘’Now c’mon! I’m itching for some learning!’’ You say as you walk ahead, out onto the training field. Normally you wouldn’t be this excited, but being trained by one of the coveted X-Men? You best take all you can out of it.

The sun was just looming over the horizon, the heat slowly replacing the chill of the morning. You and Piotr do a few laps around the track, warming up for the training session.

‘’Before I teach you anything, I would like to know where you stand with regard to your combat.’’

‘’I’m just really bad, I don’t know what to tell ya.’’ You shrug.

Piotr laughs. ‘’We can get better, no matter which stage we are. I would like for you to attack me. Feel free to not hold back.’’

‘’But you’re not in your metal-man form. Is that alright?’’ You ask. Piotr nods an affirmative.

You stand up, dusting yourself off the freshly chipped grass on your ass. You get into your fighting stance – the one Logan always emphasized.

‘’Good stance, but you need a wider footing.’’ Piotr remarks. You shift accordingly.

Piotr gets into his fighting stance. You contemplate what you are going to do, before lunging towards him with a hand balled into a fist. He expertly dodges it, and you switch to the other hand – trying again to make first contact. He dodges some, while blocking others.

‘’You are aggressive, but you have to be smart. Look for openings.’’

You knit your eyebrows in concentration. You try again, jabbing at him multiple times – never once actually hitting him. At one instance, whilst he was too focused on blocking your blows, you find an opening near his stomach. You retract your arm, and spring a punch towards it – stopping right before making contact.

‘’Why did you stop?’’

‘’I didn’t want to hurt you.’’

‘’It is alright. You need not be afraid of that. Training requires that we take some risks. On the battlefield, there is no such thing as mercy.’’ He says solemnly.

You stare at him in disbelief. A tension rising in the air, before you both erupt into laughter. These moral dilemmas were so prominent in your lives that it becomes more of an inside joke than anything – meant to be laughed away instead of brooded over.

Piotr wraps up the training session by teaching you some offensive tactics, before you both head towards the showers.

From that day onwards, you notice just how much you’ve been running into the him without actually noticing. Your paths had crossed almost every class, though you shared none with him for this year, and you never once thought about it until now.

At the beginning it was just shy hellos and see you laters. But as you trained with him more often, it transformed into a kind of friendship that you never knew you needed. You built a confidence that you never knew you had from the time you spent with him. You’d spend mornings training with Piotr, afternoons training with Logan, and evenings painting with Piotr. (Though your painting normally consisted of getting paint on yourself when you accidentally use your brush contemplate your next stroke – inevitably landing some on your face.)

Your hand-to-hand combat improved tremendously, which Logan takes note of instantly from the way your body moves so fluidly and confidently against him.

‘’That’s some good fightin’ you brought to the table. ‘M glad you’re improvin’ Y/N.’’ He commends, proudly crossing his arms. You beam at him. Finally, finally some improvement. Logan lets you off way earlier than usual, on account of your excellent performance.

You run towards the library’s art studio, because you know that’s where Piotr would be, excited to tell him the good news. You hadn’t had the time to have a proper meet up or training with him for the past week, and you felt happy to finally be able to do so.

You greet the librarian with a curt nod, before moving up the stairs towards Piotrs’ art cave. The room is open for people to move freely in and out, but today there wasn’t much traffic due to the upcoming exams.

You stand at the doorway, scanning the room for the uncanny figure of the burly Russian. You spot him sitting on a tall bar stool in front of an easel with a canvas. He was dressed in a white wifebeater – much like what Logan would wear, but with additional paint smudges and ink stains – paired with baggy sweat pants. The canvas in front of him was empty, which was highly uncharacteristic. He’s usually halfway through his works by the time you come to visit.

You hunker down, sneaking up to a nearby shelf, and watch as he holds onto something – a photograph – in his hand. He longingly stares at it. You catch a glimpse of blonde hair and cheery smiles on it, and you know right away what made him look so forlorn. He heaves a sigh, tucking the picture into his chest pocket.

Your heart breaks for Piotr. And even though his power is his strength, in this moment – with the rays of the sun filtering into the room, dust particles dancing around him in this musky room – he looks so alone. You decide that you couldn’t bear to see him this way, as you stealthily pull a few papers from the cabinets. The wind rustles through the window in perfect fashion, just as you will the sheets to fold into each other in front of you, the winds helping you to mask the noises of the paper. Once you were finished, a grey-metallic coloured figure of Colossus floats gently onto your palm – a folding which you fittingly dub ‘’mini-Colossus’’  

You send in mini-Colossus, as Piotr stares at the empty canvas –  with one hand positioned over it to make a stroke with the paintbrush.  His shoulders slump over, before bringing a hand over his forehead in conceded frustration – covering his eyes. It was very unlike him to look so… tired. And it tugged at your heart how sad and distressed he looked.

You make mini-Colossus get Piotr’s attention by making it dancing infront of him. First, it does the macarena, then disco dances, and even does a split on the easel. When none of this gets his attention, you finally make mini-Colossus pat Piotr on the hand – surprising Piotr. He watches with confusion as mini-Colossus repeats the macarena, before noticing that it’s a paper cut-out. His head swerves around the studio looking for you, when you finally emerge from the back shelf.

‘’Y/N. I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized that you were done with your classes already.’’ He gives you an apologetic look, but his eyes looked tired, and his smile felt forced. You go over to him, draping an arm over his shoulder, and placing a hand to his chest.

‘’Hey, buddy, it’s alright. You feeling okay? I saw you looking at that picture of you and Illyana.’’

‘’I am not sure. I… miss home. And my little snowflake. Dearly.’’ His voice wavers a little. ‘’I wish I could visit more often, but the Professor says it is much too risky. And that I am needed here.’’ He looks away at that. You reposition your arm, and allow your hand to find his back, slowly stroking down to provide any semblance of comfort that you can. You move in front of him, before embracing his large body in a big hug, holding onto him as tightly as you can. His hands slowly come up to hold you close, his face feels like it’s burning hot against your shoulder.

‘’It’s alright, Piotr. Your family is always with you no matter where you are. And I’m sure Illyana is happy to know that her brother is out here making the world a better place for her.’’ You console him. You feel a slight wetness on your shoulder, and you pull away to look at him. His eyes were red and teary – and you feel your heart drop. You cup your hands around his face, using your thumbs to wipe away the stray tears. He closes his eyes and let his head fall forward. You pull him back into a hug, and allow him to let it out.

Your hand moves to comfortingly stroke down his back. He’s silent, and you can tell he feels embarrassed to be crying like this, but you also know that he needs this right now.

Several moments pass, before Piotr shifts in his seat. You instinctively step aside, giving him some room to breathe.

He goes to the washroom to wash his face before coming back to the room. You patiently wait for him to say something, as he perches on the high stool again, his body facing you. He takes a deep breath.

‘’Thank you, Y/N. For being here. I… It can be difficult sometimes. Usually I am not… this way.’’

‘’Hey, don’t worry about that. We all have our days and I understand. I just hope you know that… you’re family to me too.’’ You offer as you move closer to him. He holds your gaze, his lips curving into a warm smile. His arm stretches out and pulls you into another, more mellow hug. He speaks in a low voice.

‘’Mne tak povezló tebyá vstrétit. I am so lucky to have met you, Y/N.’’

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you slowly bring your arms up to his back, returning the hug.

 That night, you couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. You catch yourself thinking about how Piotrs’ arms felt around you, and the warm way he regarded you in his thick Russian.

I am so lucky to have met you.

The phrase lingers around you; your stomach exploding with butterflies, as a warmth spread across your chest. You’ve always considered him a friend, and, of course, you loved him unconditionally. But seeing him today, made you feel like there was maybe more to be found in this friendship – for the both of you.

 The next day, you head over to the Professor’s office. You carefully look out for anyone else before approaching his door. And there it stood, tall and heavyset, in all of its’ oak brown glory – the Professor’s name written boldly across in gold metallic letters. It was the only thing standing between you and the arduous task that would be talking to the Professor.

It’s not like the man was going to eat you up. You just had a kind of reverence for him. You gathered your courage and knocked on the door. Part of you was hoping that he would be out, but you knew that him being available was important, and tried to push those hopes away.

A few seconds pass, and just as you turn to leave, a voice sounds through the door.

‘’You may come in.’’ The voice reverberated through the hardwood door, but so much clearer than it should be.

Is he in my head?

You hear a laugh, which unnerves you to no end. But the twisting of your nerves gives you a strange sense of confidence, as you walk up to the door and swing it open in one swift motion.

‘’Welcome child. What is it that you need on this fine day?’’ He enquires. He has his elbows on the table, hands clasped together expectantly.

‘’Well, I assume you already know what I’m here for, but I guess I have to tell you anyway, won’t I?’’ You give him a little snark. He gives you a smile as you go about stating your business.

‘’Okay. Well, I just think it would be good for Piotr if he got to visit his family. Just for a few days. I can cover his teaching classes and help him out with the stuff he’s missed out. I’m doing pretty well in all other areas, and I’ve gotten much better at my combat too.’’ You lay out your credentials and it feels like the tides are pushing in your favour.

The Professor smirks at you. ‘’You make a compelling argument, child. But do not underestimate the commitments that Piotr has as Colossus. He is our strength on the battle field. Would you be able to fill that role, considering your powers?’’

He has you pinned down, and you know the answer he’s looking for.

‘’You are the only person who knows what my paper is... capable of. I’m pretty sure I can handle it. I just need… more control over it.’’ You clench your fists a little.

‘’Very well. If you allow me to train you, I will let you take on the responsibilities of Colossus, and he may visit his family.’’

You grow wide-eyed at the proposition. Trained personally by the Professor? It felt too good to be true.  And the fact that in return you get to give Piotr a chance to visit his family? It was an offer that was impossible to resist.

‘’Hell yeah! – I mean, that would be wonderful. Thank you so much, Prof.’’ You reply sheepishly, in an effort to downplay the fact that you were absolutely ecstatic about the arrangement. ‘’Can I go tell Piotr now? We can arrange training sessions later on! Can he take the X-Jet? Does he need a pilot? Do you have a pilot? It’s going to be a long trip to–‘’ You’re interrupted by the Professor clearing his throat.

‘’There is one jet available. Piotr’s a trained pilot, so he should be able to fly to and from his destination. You need not worry, arrangements will be made for him to leave tomorrow morning.’’

You do a fist pump, with a celebratory ‘’YES!’’ as the Professor watches with amusement. You excuse yourself from the room and dart towards the training field where you know Piotr would be. The timing was perfect as well, seeing as he was just about done with his field training session with some of the other senior X-Men.

Piotr stands on the field, stretching his arms after the session, when he sees your figure belting down the steps. He tilts his head quizzically at you. ‘’Y/N…?’’

‘’Piotr! I have a surprise for you! Piotr Piotr Piotr Piotr!’’ You repeat with increasing excitement as you speed across the field at top speed. Piotr raises his hands in defeat, and chuckles at your exhilarated movement that translate into almost comical, before he realizes that you had no intention of slowing down.

‘’Y/N, wha–‘’ You crash into him – arms wide and moving to loop around his neck – as his arms open to embrace you; his body does a small 180 turn to stop you from toppling him over. You hang onto him as he holds you up by your waist, and you give a hearty laugh, making Piotr chuckle from how utterly delighted you look. You shift your head to look directly at him and share the news.

‘’I have a surprise for you!’’ You cheer as you beam at him, before realizing that the other X-Men are staring at what looks like an incredibly loving reunion. Piotr realises it as he catches you watching the others. He clears his throat and sets you down.

‘’Perhaps we could discuss this in private.’’ A bashful Piotr says as he moves to walk away from the crowd, ushering you with him.

Once you were at a considerable distance from the rest, you couldn’t help your excitement translate into you hopping in place as you spoke.

‘’Guess what I got you.’’

Piotr puts a finger to his chin, trying to guess with a hum. ‘’I am not sure… Is it new paint colours? I’ve been running out so quickly…’’

Your eyes grow wide in anticipation as you continue to grin at him.

‘’Is that not it? Hmm… Is it another mini-Colossus? Or a mini-You?’’ He asks playfully.

‘’I got you… A trip back home your family!’’ You announce triumphantly. Piotr looks dumbfounded at your words. He was at a loss for words, and he couldn’t believe what he had just heard.

‘’Are you… You’re not… But how?’’ He staggers for an explanation.

‘’Pulled some favours from Prof X. You don’t have to worry too much about the details, buddy. He said you could take the X-Jet with you but you gotta get ready to leave tomorrow morning! How amazing is that!’’

Piotr continues to stare at you, looking completely stunned.

‘’I… I cannot believe my ears… Bozhe moi… This feels like a dream. Y/N, you did not have to do this for me.’’

You raise both palms up in surrender to halt his train of thought. ‘’Woah, woah – No such thing. You’ve helped me regain my confidence, and better yet… you gave me a good friend. You’ve done more for me than I can thank you for. I can only try my best to make you happy.’’ Your voice goes soft as you look away with a coy smile. His blue eyes regard you with warmth, and holds your gaze when you look back to him. You feel your cheeks burn up with feeling as your heart rate soars through the roof. You decide to break the feeling and grab his hand, dragging him behind you towards his room.

‘’C’mon, we gotta get packing! I’ll help!’’ You say as you try your best to mask your emotions.

 The next morning, you get up before your alarm clock and get yourself ready in record time, before dashing out the door towards Piotr’s room. You slap the door repeatedly, mostly out of excitement. He opens the door with a bemused look. Your eyes grow wide and your jaw drops.

He’s dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt and khaki pants, matched nicely with a brown leather belt. He has his hair styled up, and you notice that his eyes are now a different colour – a gentle russet-brown.

His hand finds the back of his neck as he flashes you a sheepish smile. ‘’Too much?’’

‘’You look… beautiful, Piotr.’’ You say with sincerity in your voice. ‘’There is no other way to describe you… Handsome doesn’t even get close to covering it.’’

‘’I am glad you like it, Y/N. Though I do not like wearing contacts… But the Professor says I need to have a secret identity. A small price to pay.’’ Piotr chuckles.

Your face hasn’t fallen from its’ awe, and you realise how obviously you were gawking. You immediately bring up your watch to check the time. ‘’Oh uh, I guess it’s time soon. Let’s get going. The sooner you leave, the quicker you can reach Russia.’’ You urge.

You tell him about the arrangements as you both make your way to the hanger.

‘’I packed some extra protein bars and milkshakes for you – don’t worry, they’re healthy. There’s also a crate of fruits that I made them put in the jet. Unfortunately you’re going to have to eat some ready-made meals though and also–‘’ You ramble on about his inventory. He nods at everything you say, admiring the way you put yourself to task. He thinks about how you would’ve stubbornly insisted on the crate of fruits, and chuckles to himself.

‘’What’s so funny?’’ You tilt your head as your brows furrow.

‘’It is nothing.’’ He smiles.

Once all the last-minute checks were made, the hanger door opens – allowing the chill of the early morning to rush into the large area. You instinctively embrace yourself from the cold, when Piotr’s arm comes up around behind you, rubbing your shoulder to try to keep you warm. The small rush in your chest warmed you up instantly, as you look over to Piotr, smiling back at you.

You lower your arms to your side as he moves to face you.

‘’Please, no more words. You’ve got a family to visit, dumbo! You gotta go!’’ You insist – though part of you didn’t truly want him to leave so soon.

His lips were still curved, tenderly watching you do your best to get him home as quickly as possible. You hold his gaze, and he steps forward, gathering you tightly in his arms – his head lowered to your shoulder as he talks.

‘’Thank you so much, Y/N.’’ He breathes, and it feels like he’s just let go of a mountain on his shoulders. You hug him as tightly and hold onto him, arms snaked around his neck. He shifts his head back, tilting your head up to him, before placing a kiss on your forehead.

‘’I will be back soon, myshka. I will write to you.’’

‘’Wait! I almost forget! Here–‘’ you pull out a polaroid out of your pocket and present it to Piotr. ‘’Something to remember me by.’’ You grin at him.

He looks at the picture and beams. It was the first picture that you took of the both of you in his studio; when you tried painting with him – both of you covered in paint stains – smiling with undeniable happiness. ‘’I will keep this close to my heart.’’ He looks back at you.

You wave at him, pushing him to make a move. He walks into the jet, turning back to wave at you as the jet door closes.

You watch as the engine rumbles and zooms out of the hanger. You stay in the hanger for a moment, before moving to go about the rest of your day – one week without Piotr would pass by quickly, and you were already excited to greet him once he comes back home.

Taglist!

@emma-frxst <3 <3 

[freakscircus]

You're such an inspiration! I'm 16 and I want to study Russian history, so it's really nice to see other people studying and working towards PhDs (to get a taste of what it's like). I often worry about studying Russia as an American, because it's a completely different culture, and we have a complicated history. Also, I worry about being a woman in the field and the challenges that might arise. I was just wondering if you ever feel the same and if you have any tips for a future historian! 💖

awww yay! definitely, i feel strange studying cuba sometimes but you get familiar with it so fast, especially when you learn the language. one of my professors last semester was an american woman who is a historian of russia, and she seemed to know her shit super well. you’d be surprised at how much you learn. my tips to you is 1) start trying to learn russian now. seriously. if you do a little work now, it saves you a lot of work down the road 2) don’t EVER let a fellow male peer (most likely older) convince you that he’s super smart and smarter than you and he’s going to help you with anything at all. keep your guard up. academia is full of wonderful people but it’s also got it’s toxic people as much as any space does. 3) make strong female friendships in the field and find girls you can trust to tell anything to. 4) make sure it’s what you love and if it is, always remember that love first and foremost when things get stressful. 5) when you get to grad school, find professors in power you can trust (grad chair, dept chair, academic advisor, thesis supervisor, TA supervisor, etc) and don’t be afraid to speak up when you feel something is wrong or a situation isn’t ok. 

most of this advice is gendered. i find being a woman in academia brings its own unique struggles. i feel like when you arrive, especially in a small department or small university town, it feels like you have to gage who wants to be your colleague and who treats you like an object instead of a peer. fellow phds will come out of the woodwork to make you feel welcome, but some have intentions. students will sometimes not take you seriously. some male professors will treat you with kid gloves or try to baby you. for me all instances have definitely happened but have been rare. the good outweighs the bad for sure, but be prepared to sometimes be treated a little differently. my most important girl advice would be MAKE FEMALE FRIENDS who are cool and will tell you who to avoid. if you need any other advice about anything let me know!

[taintedkibou]

beauty & vice - part six

[can be read on Ao3 as well] [part one] [part two] [part three] [part four] [part five] 

"Mune-chan wants to see you both tonight," Akira sleepily muttered over his plate of scrambled eggs. He was startled awake after Ryuji's spoon clattered from the bowl, to the tabletop, and finally, the floor.

"Why...?" the blond choked out, eyes wide, almost bursting from his head. Yusuke picked up the fallen spoon, rinsed it off, and returned it to the bowl of cereal.

Akira shrugged, chasing his eggs with his fork as he pushed them around the plate. "I think he has an anniversary present for you for putting up with me."

"If he kills us—"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ryuji," the art student chided, bringing the plate of pancakes to the table.

Akira found the energy to grin as he snatched two off the top. Ryuji dragged one onto his bowl. They lapsed into a weird silence, void of awkwardness and tension, but still not calm enough. Yusuke brought his plate to the table and took a seat.

Akira watched him take a bite of his pancake, head propped up by his hand. "Yusuke," he drawled.

Curious gray eyes regarded him, the taller teen ever-so-patient as he waited for a question or comment to be tossed his way. Akira's gaze shifted to Ryuji, who was too busy trying to drown his pancake in his cereal to notice, then back again. He decided he liked things the way they were. "Never mind."

xxx

Unfortunately, they had school to contend with.

“We’ll topple the next Palace on a weekend,” Akira groaned, still waving even after Yusuke disappeared. He had no problems skipping, but his companions needed to attend. Akira wanted nothing more than to return to the comfortable pile he'd woken up in this morning. He settled for Ryuji's shoulder as they rode the train and was doubly glad the other teen didn't push him away.

—

Rather than feel comforted by the fact that Sakamoto and Kurusu remained civil and well-behaved during the school day, each teacher was filled with trepidation by the end of their class. 

At lunchtime, Mishima produced Ryuji's three tier bento box with an energetic "ta-da". The blond grinned, dragging his chair around to share Akira's desk with him. "I thought you might have forgotten it, but then I realized this is my chance!" With a sheepish smile, Mishima unwrapped the bento and placed a box in front of each of them. "It's not as awesome as yours was, but I just wanted to say... thank you."

Ryuji lifted himself from his chair just enough to tousle Mishima's dark hair. "There's no need to thank me. We’re both idiots, that’s all."

"You're too modest," Akira sighed as the blond dropped back into his seat. Instead of another argument breaking out between them, Ryuji merely switched his lunch box with Akira's. "Mature," the bespectacled teen scoffed, but the amusement was there in his eyes.

"They're all the same," Mishima laughed, opening his for the big reveal. A simple setup with the traditional foods. 

Akira picked up one of the small rice ball, holding it next to his face to mimic the grin it wore, courtesy of seaweed pieces. Ryuji picked up a piece of sausage, shaped like an octopus, and took a large, exaggerated bite, leaving behind the smallest piece of “tentacle”. Mishima could only continue to laugh at their antics.

xxx

"Ryuji," Akira whined. He stood at the school gates with Ryuji and Mishima.

The blond shuddered, a scowl forming on his face. "Don't do that. It's disgusting. And what the hell do you want?"

"Take Mishima on a date for me."

"What...?" Ryuji stopped in the middle of the street, fixing the brunet with an incredulous stare. His gaze shifted to Mishima, who blinked innocently at him, before he rounded on Akira with a snarl, "Why the hell can't you take him on one?!"

Akira smiled. "Contrary to popular belief, I actually work. I've been neglecting my jobs, so I thought I could swing by the flower shop this afternoon. Before we go to Untouchable."

Ryuji looked conflicted for a few moments before giving in with a loud groan. "Fine. We'll go to the beef bowl shop. It's nearby. Or did you have someplace else you wanna go?"

The question was directed at Mishima, startling him from his thoughts. He was so used to people talking right over him that he forgot these two were different from those of his past. He smiled, "That's fine."

"You usually like to go to the diner," Akira murmured.

"It's fine," Mishima laughed, the sound genuine and pure. Having this argument—an argument about who would spend time with him, and where—he never thought he would ever see this day. And even more amusing, they referred to the sudden outing as a date. "I get to spend a day with Sakamoto."

"We can go to the diner," Ryuji mumbled, shoving his hands into the pocket of his slacks. He cocked his head, grinning at his fellow delinquent. "They can both be loud, but I can give you a fancy steak date." Mishima found himself blushing and he had no idea why, nor how to stop the heat creeping into his face.

Akira held back his reply on "fancy dates", knowing he would have more opportunities in the future. He leaned into Mishima's personal space, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Stop that," was hissed at him from his victim, accompanied by a rude shove from Ryuji.

Just the way he liked it. With a laugh, Akira took the lead, leaving the impromptu couple behind. They were all going in the same direction. The trio parted ways at Shibuya's station square. Akira headed down while Ryuji and Mishima made their way to Central Street. 

xxx

Akira had just finished selling a handmade bouquet that impressed even him, when his phone chimed and alerted him to a new text. He shot the owner an imploring look and she waved him off, taking over at the front of the stall when he disappeared behind a wall of flowers. Akira checked the message, knowing it could only be from a handful of individuals.

Ryuji: Yusuke says he wants to talk.

Me: We can talk at Untouchable. Me: Two birds, one stone. Mune-chan still wants to see you. Me: He can treat us to dinner at the dinner.

Akira grinned, knowing fully well that would get a rise out of the other boy.

Ryuji's response was immediate. Hell no. I'm worried about why he wants to see us.

Me: Mune-chan is a teddy bear. Ryuji: Grizzly...

Akira laughed softly. When Yusuke gets here, come rescue me.

Ryuji: As you wish, leader.

Leader. With a content hum, Akira pocketed his phone and flounced back to the front of the stall. He would make the best bouquet ever! 

—

Akira started untying his apron the moment Ryuji peeked uncertainly around the display of flowers. He folded it, tucked it away, and handed a few pieces of yen to the smiling young woman. On his way out, Akira grabbed two flowers from a display.

Fluffy was the only thing that came to mind when Ryuji accepted the multi-petal, pale yellow flower. Yusuke was handed a white one, which he cradled gently in his hands. With his hands free, Akira could now use his phone. His fingers flew across the screen, and then he shoved it back into his pocket, grinning at the confused teens.

Ryuji dug out his phone.

Perv: Longing.

“Waiting,” Yusuke read aloud from his own phone. He lifted the flower to his lips, smiling at the petal's soft touch. “You’re an interesting guy, Akira. Also, this won’t survive.”

The mood lightened, Akira laughed and made to take back the flower blossoms. Ryuji held him at arm’s length, a glare rooting him in place. “You gave ‘em to us. Why would you take ‘em back?”

Akira had no response and settled for a defiant frown. “Because Yusuke just said they wouldn’t survive.”

“We can press the petals.” As he made the statement, Yusuke brushed a thumb over one of the soft folds. “I can also put a petal in amber to turn it into a pendant that I can keep on me forever.”

Ryuji grinned cheekily. “What he said.”

Akira was starting to regret his impulsive nature around the couple. Most of his time at Rafflesia was spent brushing up on flower language to make the best bouquets for their few customers. Once he figured out that the camellias they carried had different meanings—and what those meanings were—he couldn’t stop himself from buying them to share with those closest to him. The mistake was inadvertently telling them the meaning behind his gifts.

“Let’s just go to Untouchable,” Akira sighed. He picked up his nearby school case and slung it over his shoulder.

 By the time they arrived at the airsoft shop, the flowers were forgotten, safely tucked away in school cases. Akira threw open the door to Untouchable, the bell ringing shrilly overhead. "Mune-chan! I brought victims. I already know where we can hide the bodies."

Iwai tilted his head back, glaring at the intruders. He knew better than to ask if any cops or detectives hung around outside when Kurusu visited—the boy hated them as much as he did, and pushed himself up out of the swivel chair. Akira dutifully flipped the sign to close and locked the door. With a wave of his hand, Iwai ordered them to follow him to the back room. Once they were all gathered, he apologized gruffly for the small space.

Ryuji's fingers dug into Yusuke's palm, but the artist remained stoic and calm. It was all he could do to help Ryuji's nerves. Iwai Munehisa could be termed a dangerous man, so Ryuji had every right to be fearful. However, Yusuke put a little trust in Akira; he would never let any tragedy befall them. He hoped that message was conveyed to Ryuji.

Iwai pulled a case from the top of a metal shelf, setting it on a nearby table. He popped the locks and flipped the lid. Akira, being close enough to see the contents, let a grin split his face. He turned, eyes aglow as he stared at Ryuji. "How much?" he asked, almost breathless.

"On the house," Iwai chuckled. "It's a gift to them for putting up with you."

“I knew it.” Akira pouted, or tried to. His grin refused to wane, so it made for an alarming expression. "Mune-chan. I'm an angel." The snort came from Yusuke, wiping the grin from Akira's face. The art student cleared his throat, looking innocently at the clutter to his left.

Iwai's soft laughter drew all attention to himself. "You two really are a good match for this idiot. I'll give you yours first." Yusuke nodded and remained silent in waiting.

Akira tapped the back of Ryuji's free hand with his fingers. He aimed for a reassuring smile, whispering, "He'll need both hands." Reluctantly, Ryuji uncurled his fingers from around Yusuke's hand. Seconds after he took Akira's, the shopkeeper produced an assault rifle.

Yusuke's eyes widened and he reached for the weapon. "It's not...?"

"No. This is a gun enthusiast shop,” Iwai reminded them. They would find no loaded weapon here. “Kurusu usually asks for pistols, so I thought about what might suit you."

"In the other world," Ryuji murmured, taking a step closer in the small space.

Yusuke accepted the weapon and he turned it over and over in his hands, memorizing every inch of it. Bottom lip held between his teeth in an act of restrained excitement, Ryuji looked expectantly at the man. Iwai smirked and pulled his hand from behind his back. He spun the weapon on his finger before holding it out to the blond teen. A shotgun.

"It suits you," Akira laughed. When his hand was released, he tucked both into the pockets of his pants and watched as his friends enjoyed their new spoils.

"Customization and maintenance will fall on you." Iwai directed his statement at him with a slight nod of his head. "And those you'll have to pay for."

"Gladly." Akira grinned. He would do anything to keep his boys happy and safe.

Yusuke recovered first, bringing the rational thoughts with him. "Akira."

"Hmm?"

"How are we to hide these? You have a handgun, which can easily slip into your pocket. Ryuji can possibly hide his in the back of his pants. Mine..." He held up the replica assault rifle with one hand and indicated to himself with the other. Iwai tipped his hat, hiding his smirk.

"I'll carry them," Akira offered. "In my school bag." There was no amusement or fear in his eyes, and he smiled in a carefree manner. "If they catch me, what else can they do to me, that they haven't already?"

Akira's head bowed under the weight of Iwai's hand. "Idiot," he grumbled. He pulled away, waving his hand at the other boys. "Take care of him for me. And I'm sure there's something important you need to talk about. When you're done, I'll take us to the diner." He indicated to the replica guns in their hands with a lazy smirk. "Those can't come." With that, he made his way back to the front of the shop.

"Did you put him up to that?" Ryuji mumbled, tucking his shotgun under his arm.

"I told you, he's a teddy bear. Instead of worrying about me—"

"Someone has to," Ryuji snapped.

Akira rolled right over him. "I'd like to hear what Yusuke wanted to talk about."

"It's nothing major or important. Madarame contacted me.” Yusuke hooked a finger into the trigger of the assault rifle and pulled. Nothing happened.

“Did the bastard apologize?” Ryuji grumbled.

Yusuke tore his gaze from the replica weapon to stare between the two. “Yes. He also informed me that the police charges against myself and Ryuji have been dropped."

Ryuji’s mouth fell open, only to snap shut. “Me?” he sputtered.

Yusuke’s smile was small and gentle. “I never hid our relationship from him. He's a charlatan, but still observant. He could tell when you visited, only because that’s when I provided the best work." Ryuji's glare softened into a grin and he leaned in for a kiss.

Their behavior in no way meant that he had been forgotten.

Akira sighed, looking around. It was where they'd had their first serious talk, but now it looked smaller. Maybe it was because his companions were larger than life in his eyes now. He stepped towards Yusuke, but the art student curled an arm around his waist. "Not escaping," Akira laughed, a reassuring pat placed to Yusuke's shoulder. “I just don’t think this is the best place for me to tell my story.” He covered Yusuke’s hand with his own, glancing sideways at the other brunet. “Saturday. Madarame’s exhibit is Sunday. He’s already showing signs that our efforts weren’t in vain.

“Yusuke. Let’s wait until then, please. We had a plan, remember?” Akira smiled. “We watch Madarame fall apart and then enjoy curry at Leblanc.” He shuddered under Yusuke’s twitching fingers. “Now, let’s go get a free meal out of Mune-chan.” Akira shifted his gaze over his shoulder, to Ryuji. “Maybe we can all become better friends.”

“Sometimes,” Ryuji sighed. “Just sometimes… You can be terrifying.” 

"This is true," Yusuke agreed, removing his arm from around Akira’s waist. "But I'd like to think you won't hurt those you care for." He used both hands to hold out the replica weapon.

"Are you sure?" Akira drawled. Free of the loose hold, he turned around to give Ryuji his full attention and the sweetest smile. All while slipping Yusuke’s rifle into his school case.

Ryuji stepped into the brunet’s personal space, thrusting his shotgun into Akira’s open hands. "I won't forget what you did when you first showed up, but I'll overlook it and agree with Yusuke on this one."

Akira clicked his tongue in distaste, adding the weapon to his bag as well. "You guys are no fun anymore." He spun on his heel and marched to the front of the store. Iwai was on his phone at the door, talking in hushed tones with someone on the other end of the call. He nodded at them as they all filed out and opened the door to lead the way.

—

Iwai had business with an old colleague that needed taking care of, and his go-to spot was the diner. The boys were just an excuse, but he did pay for their meals; an extension to the gifts he'd already given them. He made his exit first, leaving the teens behind. 

When the unlikely trio walked out of the diner for the evening, Akira found his gaze wandering, drawn to Big Bang Burger. A girl—a Shujin student, going off the pattern of her skirt—stared up at the burger franchise. Akira could only see her profile. He liked to believe he was adept at reading people, but he couldn't get anything from her. Empty. Whoever this girl was, she had already resigned herself to fate and had nothing left to live for. 

Akira could hear the faint calls from his colleagues, but couldn't bring himself to look away. A head of pale brown curls, that looked soft to the touch, turned slowly in his direction. Even paler brown eyes met his. Akira was forced to tear his gaze away from hers when a sharp pain ripped through his head. He felt hands on his shoulders and back; distant voices asked if he was okay.

Akira squinted around the dissipating pain to find the subject of his attention slowly lowering her hand from her head. Those brown eyes were darker now, alive with emotions that had once been locked away. Akira leaned into the nearest body with a soft chuckle. If he played his cards right, they could have another to help them in their quests. 

xxx

Before going to bed that night, Akira received a text from Ryuji.

Ryuji: 1 attachment

Akira muffled his groan into his pillow. It was an image of the pale yellow flower in a thin vase with water.

Ryuji: my mom gave me the vase. Ryuji: let's see how long your love stays alive.

Akira peeked at the new messages before shoving his phone beneath the pillow. He never removed his hand, and fell asleep loosely holding the device.

Akira didn’t remember much about school on Friday. The day was over before he could begin paying attention and that was good enough; his patience was wearing thin waiting for Sunday’s arrival.

Mishima placed a notebook on his desk with a wide smile. “These are today’s notes. I’m not sure if you’ll need them or not. We did cover some new material.”

Akira smiled up at him and scooped the book from his desk. His school case didn’t need packing, since he’d never taken anything out of it, and so he handed the book off to Ryuji. The blond wordlessly took it and slipped it into his case. “You’ll get it back on Monday.”

“That’s fine,” Mishima told him, hands tucked behind his back.

“Do we have plans today, Ryuji?” Akira shifted in his seat, turning towards the quiet blond.

“No,” Ryuji mumbled, latching his case shut.

“Great.” Akira pressed his hands together in a joyful manner. “Let’s go to the arcade.”

Without taking ‘no’ for an answer, he literally dragged Mishima and Ryuji from the school, to the train, and finally to the arcade. Hours ran away from them as they moved from machine to machine. Ryuji played the role of “sourpuss chaperone” by not participating, but he was finally smiling and Akira countered that as a win.

With Big Bang right across the street, it was easy to soothe the beasts that were their empty stomachs. It was at the table that Ryuji received a text from Yusuke asking to visit him. Akira waited until their trash was taken care of before pulling Mishima to the side and whispering in his ear.

The trio parted ways at the Station Square, Akira waving with more enthusiasm than necessary.

—

Yusuke was not waiting for them at the school gates, so Ryuji led the way to the dormitories. After just one knock on a closed door, he let himself in.

Yusuke looked up from his task to nod in greeting. He was packing a bag. “I actually had an ulterior motive for calling you over,” he stated, his back to the duo. “I’d like it if you can hold a few of my things for this weekend.”

The travel bag looked to be the last of things. There was a large, covered square that had even Ryuji wondering if Yusuke intended to paint over the weekend. A sketchbook was good enough. His own things were already packed. His mom practically kicked him out of the house after learning he’d be spending the night at Akira’s again.

Akira hovered restlessly while still trying to remain out of the way. Yusuke smiled at him after zipping the bag shut. He indicated to everything that covered the bed. A travel bag, a standing tote that was almost filled to bursting with books and papers, and the unknown, cloth-wrapped square. Akira felt it pointless to remind him that he was only staying a day and a half.

Ryuji received the bags and a kiss (on the lips); Akira received the unknown square and a kiss (on the top of his head); Yusuke kicked them both out with a jovial “see you tomorrow”.

When it came time to part ways, Ryuji carefully secured the wrapped object with Akira and sent him along with another kiss (to his forehead).

Akira spent the entire night cleaning up, which meant he was exhausted when the sun attempted to disturb his rest. Lucky for him, there was no window in his bedroom; just walls. The door was ajar, but the sliver of light that peeked into his room never reached the teen sprawled across his bed.

—

Akira peeled his face from the drool-damp pillow when the incessant chiming refused to stop. He stopped himself from throwing his phone across the room and instead checked it. The clock read forty minutes after twelve, which meant it was lunch time. It also meant he’d only had roughly five hours of sleep. With a begrudged moan, Akira unlocked the screen to check the sudden barrage of messages.

Someone had created a chat and added him to it. The avatars at the top of the screen were reflective of Ryuji, Mishima, and Yusuke.

Ryuji: Wake up, idiot! Mishima: I hope you’re not sick. Yusuke: They say idiots don’t get sick.

Akira could hear Ryuji laughing as lines of “hahaha” filled the screen. When he started typing, everyone erased whatever prior comment they were previously creating. And waited. It would be so easy to take Ryuji down with him. He was still trying to win Yusuke’s favor, so the art student was untouchable. Mishima was a deviant, yet pure soul. Mishima would be his scapegoat. With a sleepy smirk, Akira sent off his message.

Me: Mishima. We’re having a sleepover. Do you wanna join us?

Akira never saw any of their responses. He silenced his phone, slipped it under his pillow, and placed his head atop it. Another two hours of rest was in order.

xxx

Ryuji would have kicked down Akira’s apartment door if Yusuke didn’t still have the spare key. He did barge in after it was opened, stumbling out of his shoes along the way. “Mishima said he’s not coming!”

“Thank you for that message.” Akira sat comfortably at the counter, one leg crossed over the other. “But why are you yelling? Are you jealous?”

“No!” Ryuji dropped his bag at the edge of the couch while Yusuke closed the door quietly behind them. “I’m tryin’ to figure out just how crazy you are. We’re the ones the run around changin' people’s hearts! We're the ones he worships!”

Akira’s smile widened. “I’m not the one shouting it from the rooftops.”

“He knows,” Yusuke surmised, “What we can do.”

Ryuji’s head snapped from his boyfriend to the pain in his ass, recalling the quiet exchange at Big Bang. “Did you—?!”

“Mishima’s not stupid, and neither are you.” Akira sighed, hopping down from the stool. “Who do you think helped with Madarame’s calling card? Yusuke made the original and I handed it off to my cute assistant to copy and distribute. Who do you think delivers the filth we find in Memetos?” He took a few steps towards the couch, but stopped, and crossed his arms over his chest. “It would be an insult to all of us if I thanked Kamoshida for sending you all my way, but… I’ve been chasing you for a while.”

“Shujin was your first choice when you transferred,” Ryuji sighed, suddenly tired. He sank into the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Just when I didn’t think you could get any creepier…”

“You have to commend his devotion. To you, and to his plans.” Yusuke sat next to the blond, smiling at the surprised Kurusu.

Akira reigned in his shock to grin. “See? Someone gets me.”

“Only because he’s as strange as you.” Ryuji dragged his hands down his face with a groan. “What are we doing to pass the time? And what are we having for dinner?”

—

Three cooks helped speed things along, and dinner turned out great. Dinner and a movie.

After cleaning up, the trio retired to the bedroom. Akira hung back, staring at the bed Ryuji now willingly climbed into. He smiled, remembering their first fight over sleeping arrangements. ‘Now look at him.’ And look he did, only to realize that he wasn’t the only one.

Both Ryuji and Yusuke were watching him; waiting.

With a deep sigh, Akira removed his glasses, folded the legs, and set it down onto the nightstand. Yusuke made room for him and he climbed into the occupied bed. “I… already told you about the woman I defended and her powerful attacker.” Akira was unable to stop his flinch when Yusuke rearranged them into a more comfortable position. He forced himself to relax, trying to piece together enough memory fragments for a coherent story.

“I have no recollection of how I got to the interrogation room…”

 There were no thoughts in his head. Not even the pain registered. The dark-haired teen was slumped over the cold metal desk, blood dripping from his mouth. There were no visible open wounds, just bruises that would take weeks before they healed. A thought: how could his parents let this happen to him? The suspect twitched at the pinch in his arm and his vision blurred again. Waves crashed over his head and everything became a distant memory. Was he even breathing? He was jolted into an upright position, a faceless shadow spitting at him.

Prisoner. Fate. Sealed.

Empty gray eyes slid shut, chasing the whisper. Did those words have a meaning? As a prisoner, was his fate sealed? Another sharp blow sent him to the floor and all traces of the strange voice vanished. He squinted against the darkness tainting his vision and realized that the papers fluttering in his face were what whispered in his ears.

"Give...name, you…shit!"

'...my name?'

The fresh taste of blood told him the wayward thought was spoken out loud. Taking the clipboard with shaking hands, he stared at the line, unconsciously running his tongue over the new cut splitting his lip. Am I signing my soul away?

The laughter started soft, before spilling out of his brain. He never knew laughter had a physical form, but the winged being in front of him looked like his "laughter". Those ebony wings spread wide, tips brushing the opposite walls.

What's the matter...? More laughter followed the question, the ethereal being tossing its head back. Are you simply going to watch? If you forsake yourself, your death will be at their hands. Was your previous decision a mistake then?

'No.' His actions had been just. The outcome had been unforeseen.

Very well. Vow to me. I am thou, thou art I... Thou who art willing to perform all sacrilegious acts for thine own justice! Call upon my name, and release thy rage! Show the strength of thy will to ascertain all on thine own, though thou be chained to Hell itself!

"Ar...sene." The clipboard clattered to the floor, the boy's body falling beside it. His screams bounced off the walls, drowning out the shouts demanding he "shut up". 

x

Akira stretched his left leg out alongside Yusuke’s, leaning back against the solid frame. He smiled, unable to show sadness or regret. What happened then, made him who he is now. "Nobody ever asked if I was okay. There was someone else… A woman.” Akira closed his eyes, but her face never came into focus. “She saw what they'd done, but was more concerned about getting a statement."

The hollow laugh that rumbled up from his chest sounded almost like Arsene’s on that foggy night. "The first thing I did when I got out, I made those bastards pay. Crooked cops. Oh! That was also the first time I learned about Mementos." Akira only paused to take a breath, but it was more than enough time to get smothered by a heavy body and strangled by long arms. What a happy way to die.

With a breathless laugh, Akira pushed until Ryuji relented and climbed off him. The blond didn't move too far away. He radiated concern and anger. He was a gorgeous flame, and Akira almost wished he could draw like the teen still holding him from behind. He tapped at the tight arms and they loosened enough for him to rearrange them into a better position. Neither asked him whether the interrogating officers were still alive. He hadn’t killed them. He just ruined their entire existences, like they had done to him.

"I can't believe those fuckers did that," Ryuji growled. "...to a goddamn kid! What the hell is wrong with the police?!" Akira's hand landed gently on his right leg and he remembered, immediately, just how flawed their justice system was. He snatched Akira's hand in his own, squeezing tight enough that it was sure to be painful. "I'm sorry."

Akira grinned and gave their hands a playful shake. "Don't be. Because of everything, I'm here... with you two. I lost a few marbles, but I am quite content."

Yusuke's soft laughter danced across his neck and Akira shuddered, squeezing back on Ryuji's hand. Not tonight, he told himself. Akira closed his eyes and forced himself to think about that hazy night; all the pain he felt during his punishment for a crime he never committed.

"When they released me to my parents…” Akira let his eyes open, but they remain half-lidded. His lips curled into a disdainful grin as he remembered his loving family. "They took one look at me and decided my suffering wasn't punishment enough. I had to listen to them tell me I was no longer a part of their lives before I could patch myself up. I don't think I slept that night. I stayed up, and packed... everything that was mine. Because I knew what was coming."

Yusuke's arms fell to his waist and Akira assumed it was so the other teen didn't accidentally choke him to death. The appendages squeezed him tightly; wordless condolences for all his suffering. Akira shifted his gaze to the quiet blond. Ryuji looked downright livid. He gave their hands a gentle squeeze, but that did nothing to ease the crease in his brow. "I'm totally bringing the room down," Akira joked, knowing full well it would do nothing to ease the heavy tension.

The bed bounced as Ryuji shuffled closer, folding his and Akira's hands in his lap. The remaining space between them disappeared as Ryuji’s mouth slanted over his. Yusuke’s words came back to Akira as he gave into the kiss. He has this ability to kiss things better. The kiss ended far too soon for his tastes, Akira chasing Ryuji’s lips as he moved away.

Taking a few deep breaths, Ryuji finally released Akira's hand so he could tangle both in his short locks. "What are we?"

A silence fell, neither awkward nor tense. It was a silence begging to be filled with answers.

"You are becoming someone very important to me," Yusuke whispered against Akira's unruly hair. "But I have yet to see you as anything more than a friend. Everything you’ve shared with Ryuji—will share with Ryuji—I know you need it and I won’t stand in your way. Maybe... with time."

Akira blinked, slow and deliberate, taking in the new information. "Knowing I have a place in your heart—in your thoughts... That is good enough for me, Yusuke."

Yusuke smiled, "Ryuji will love you enough for both of us."

"Oi..." the blond protested with no true argument to back him up. He dropped his hands from his hair, eyes narrowed at Akira with no heat behind his glare. “If Yusuke’s says I love ya, then I guess I do.”

Akira grinned, the gesture reminiscent of the permanent smile Arsene wore. “I accept your confession and this twisted relationship.”

With a huff, Ryuji pecked him on the lips before stretching over him. Akira slouched down and tilted his head to better see the brunet’s face. A gentle smile was directed at him before Yusuke gave Ryuji his attention. Akira closed his eyes, enjoying their warmth.

 Miraculously, Akira didn’t wake when the couple rearranged him into a more comfortable position. Yusuke stretched out behind him and Ryuji climbed in from the foot of the bed. Once settled, Ryuji couldn’t stop himself from pressing a finger to the bridge of Akira’s nose. A wrinkle formed as Akira frowned at the disturbance to his sleep. Cute.

Ryuji removed his finger with a grin and fisted his hand beneath his head. A quick glance upward told him Yusuke was halfway to la-la land. It only seemed right to follow. 

The television was muted; the newscaster still discussed Madarame Ichiryusai’s appalling public display. It took several minutes before everything finally sank in. Ryuji collapsed against the cushions as he laughed uncontrollably. “It’s just like Kamoshida! Except… better! Did you see his face?! That old man had tears and snot running down his face!”

His companions were jostled, but remained silent as the blond expressed his glee. Akira crossed one leg over the other, his hands folded demurely in his lap. His joy was restrained. His joy was centered around the fact that the public were finally starting to take notice of them. Society even named them. Phantom Thieves— “…of hearts,” he finished aloud in soft whisper.

Ryuji finally calmed down enough to give his boyfriend his full attention. “Oi. You’re making that face. You’re not happy? We all know crazy over there is happy.”

Yusuke didn’t have to see Akira to understand how their host felt. He stared at the television—more specifically, Madarame’s wailing face frozen in the upper corner. The false artist’s confession was pushed aside to make way for more news, snapping Yusuke from his blank state of mind. He lifted a hand, brushing his bangs aside, and chuckled softly. “I’m elated.”

Yusuke barely had time to blink before Ryuji was in his lap, mouth covering his. “One more year,” the blond stated after pulling away, his voice low and husky. “One more year and we’ll be free.”

Yusuke looped his arms around Ryuji’s waist, tilting his head to smile up at his best and brightest muse. “We’re already free. Thanks to the leader of the Phantom Thieves.” He finally gave Akira his attention. The brunet practically buzzed in place where he sat. “I believe a trip to Leblanc is in order.”

xxx

A familiar voice alerted the occupant of the dark room and the small figure rolled closer to the cluttered desk, picking up discarded headphones. The muted lights of the computer screen filled with code revealed a redheaded young girl.

“—Ryuji.”

“Nobody’s here! The Boss is in back washing dishes. I doubt he can hear us. We’re supposed to be celebrating! Madarame’s in jail… because of us!” There was a muffled sound, then Ryuji’s voice returned, “This curry is amazing, though!”

The shadowed figure let out a soft giggle, “Of course it’s good. Sojiro’s curry is the best!” Their good mood gradually faded as they drifted in and out of the trivial conversation.

“—bitter. Boss! Can I have a soda instead? Yusuke. Do you want this?”

“I’ll take it.”

The young girl drew her knees close to her chest at the voice. “Kurusu… Akira.” From the recorded conversations, Kurusu Akira was the one in charge of changing hearts. “Maybe…” With a shake of her head, she pushed the current Leblanc session aside and recalled one that had taken place a few nights ago. There was still another capable of cognitive travel. The task would go to the most successful. A thief or a detective.

No one can help you.

“Nononono.” The headphones were pushed down, replaced by clenched hands to drown out the harsh whisper.

You deserve to die.

It’s your fault she’s dead!

Drawing her feet up into the chair, the redhead curled into a small, protective ball in hopes of stopping the harsh whispers. It did nothing to stop her own thoughts; thoughts that agreed with the numerous voices. She let out a pained whimper and remained in her hunched position until the voices faded away. How much longer could she wait? Before everything became unbearable…

xxx 

That night, Ryuji and Akira found out what they thought to be a blank canvas was, instead, a completed and framed painting. Yusuke carefully unwrapped the mysterious square, revealing the gentle colors of the original Sayuri. Akira recalled him leaving with it; he never imagined it would return.

Yusuke picked up the painting, his smile just as gentle as the woman permanently captured on canvas. “I’d like to give this to you. Akira.”

“What!?” Ryuji squawked.

Akira was struck speechless, unable to comprehend Yusuke’s words.

Yusuke held the painting at arm’s length. He was too young to remember her, but in his heart, he knew; he could feel her warmth and love. “The thought of selling it never crossed my mind. I would be no better than Madarame if I did that. But you, Akira…” He lowered the painting to stare over its frame at the two frozen boys. “I believe you will treasure it as dearly as I do. Ryuji already has several pieces,” Yusuke smiled at the blond, receiving a grin in return, before giving Akira his attention once more, “So it’s only fair that Akira has something as well.”

“I couldn’t,” Akira stammered out. “I… It’s… No.”

Ryuji snickered, slinging an arm around the brunet’s shoulder. “Never thought I’d see the day. You’re at a loss for words and not aroused.”

“Shut up,” Akira spat, pushing weakly at the blond. Ryuji never moved, only tightened his hold. “Yusuke. That painting is… You said it yourself!”

“I know what I said. Maybe try a different approach next time and not threaten people—”

“My specialty,” Akira whined. He yelped after Ryuji playfully pinched him.

“If it wasn’t for you,” Yusuke continued, “I would never have this memory of my mother. If it wasn’t for you…” He trailed off with a soft chuckle. “Please, take it, Akira. It’s the least I can do, after everything you’ve done.”

“This drab apartment needs some life anyway.” Ryuji turned them both so they faced the wall behind the sofa, and extended his free arm. “I say, put it right there. When we walk in the door, we’ll see it.”

We. Akira ducked his head to hide his grin. “Yusuke—”

“Thanks aren’t necessary,” Yusuke cut in. “Let’s go ahead and put it up. I’ll sleep out here on the futon.” Neither Ryuji nor Akira argued; they both understood Yusuke’s intentions.

“That means you two get to be intimate without my interference.”

No arguments there either.

—

Ryuji gave Yusuke a good night kiss before wrapping an arm around Akira’s neck. The brunet waved as he was forcibly dragged away. When the door swung inward, Yusuke looked away to stare up at the serene painting. With a whispered ‘good night’, he climbed into the futon under Sayuri’s loving gaze.

[divine-ruin]

🌈- A memory about when they first fell in love

Abel and Iria had been sitting out upon the pier beside her house, her brother with them as he was tossing stones into the water.  “It’s fucking bullshit, Abel.  I don’t understand.  We want to move Mom to Ishgard so the doctors there can treat her.  This doctor here keeps saying that she’s too unstable to be moved, but I know she’d be better off being there,” her brother grumbled.  Iria had been staring out over the water, she almost near to tears as she knew that her mother’s condition was turning for the worst.  She just couldn’t find a way to prepare herself to make that one last final goodbye.  Ian’s words just pierced her heart as their father had made the recommendation after Honoria’s condition seemed to worsen.

As Abel watched her, his expression turned to one of gentle sympathy as he crossed the pier from his “brother” to settle down next to her.  He took her hand in his as he tilted her chin upwards to meet his eyes.  “Listen, when we’re married, that’s something you’ll never need to worry over.  You will be cared for by the best physicians and you will never want for anything.  I’ll talk to my father to see if there’s anything he can do to help intervene.  She at least said ‘hello’ to me today!  That’s a small victory in and of itself, right?  I mean, I’m not here and present as you all are but she somehow remembered me.  That made me feel so much hope, Iria.  Please don’t give up, we’ll get her well.”

A gloved thumb ran across her cheek as she smiled through her tears, nodding.  He continued: “She did tell me something when she asked me to come in to visit.  She made me promise to take care of you and to allow you the freedom to chase any intellectual pursuit that crossed your path.  Who am I to deny you your dreams?  I want to help you build them.  I mean, after all, we are sort of breaking through a glass ceiling already, are we not?  Hopefully our union will inspire others to not be so fearful of racial differences when it comes to marriage.  The old goats in the Holy See will finally see that there is no shame in it.  I certainly see no shame in it.  I will be thanking Halone every night for giving me such a beautiful wife.”

She remained speechless.  Abel was never one to hide his emotions, especially the contempt he felt for the upper echelon and the code of living they seemed to impose on everyone.  Even being where he was, he remained steadfast in his convictions.  He was still quite young, but working his way up the ranks within the Ishgardian military and was completely without equal.  She felt so confident in this and had seen with her own eyes.  They had spent the rest of the week of his visit making up for lost time as he made his intentions to her perfectly clear.  They had shared their first kiss in that visit, and she couldn’t wait for him to return.

Several weeks earlier, the Nicholaides family was invited to Ishgard to stay with the Theriots and enjoy one of the many Tournaments that had been held for the different milestones that Abel and his fellow knights had surpassed.  He had been lined up to participate in just about every event his battalion could’ve entered as he had excelled so far with his tactical abilities and battle prowess.  With some coaxing, Iria’s brother was able to participate as well being one of the blademaster’s former students.  As Abel had been the last left in the training room to ready himself for the tournament, finishing up suiting up in his armor, Iria had walked into the room with a smile lighting up her features.  Newly 19, she was an adult by now and looking forward to that next step with him. 

He looked up, only as soon as he had fastened his cloak around himself, almost donning his helm when those pewter eyes fell upon her aquamarine orbs.  He smiled softly as he approached.  She bore a dress of a deep sapphire that was trimmed in silver and gold satin with emerald gems dotting the neckline, all within the fashion of his House colors.  Removing the ribbon that kept her hair bound, it fell in a curtain of flamed mane around her tiny frame.  Aqua.  Her favorite color. 

He knelt down before her, he meeting her height as he took her chin into his fingers as he always did to show affection, his helm tucked underneath the opposite arm.  She was practically beaming at him.  “I know you’ll do well, that much is plain to see, but…is it not customary for a knight to bear his lady’s colors when entering combat?” Her voice was gentle, and he chose that moment to share another private, lengthy kiss with her.  Pulling away gently, his plated fingers tucked a lock of her unbound hair behind her ear.  “I would be remiss to pass up such a golden opportunity, my love.  Thank you, I’ll wear it proudly and wave to you in the stands as soon as I’m called.  How’s Ian faring?” he grinned, already having an idea of what she was about to say.  She tied the ribbon to the wrist of his gauntlet.

“Oh, he’s very adamant that you both are going to completely decimate all of the opposition.  I’ve no doubt you will, Abel.  Your strength and knowledge has increased so much in the past few years, and I’m so very impressed with everything you’ve managed to accomplish.  How could I not?  You’ve worked so hard and now here you are,” her voice was barely above a whisper.  He grinned in a bit of pride.  “You know why that is, correct?”  She canted her head at him in curiosity.  “Because you wish to accomplish your military goals?” she questioned, thinking that should’ve been the most obvious answer. 

“No, Iria,” he said, bringing her head close to his so he could place a kiss to her forehead.  He looked back into her eyes once more.  “When you come to live here in Ishgard with me, I want to make certain I have every necessary tool in my arsenal to protect you, it’s been very important to me for you to see that I’m capable, and having this chance with you present today is just but a taste of that,” he quietly confessed, stealing one last kiss from her before they were interrupted by Ian bursting into the room.  “Abel, they’re ready, bro.”

Ian was outfitted in his own armor with a sword and shield, their duo combatant competition marking the beginning of a long competition for them both.  He grinned a bit goofily as he looked to his best friend and little sister.  “Alright, Princess.  The knight has to tend to his duties now,” Ian said teasingly.  “Love you baby girl, Dad and Momma are sitting in the stands waiting on you.”  Iria nodded as her brother approached and gave her a small hug and a kiss to her head, making sure not to crush her tiny frame in his large armored embrace.  “You look so pretty!  Go get yourself settled, we’ll wave at you from the stands.”

“Wait, one second, Ian,” Abel interrupted as he grabbed Iria’s wrist gently while she was turning to leave.  He turned her back towards him.  “At the ball tonight, you’ll save a dance for me, right?” he winked at her as she nodded enthusiastically.  “Of course I will, I doubt anyone else would want to whisk me across a dance floor.”  He frowned.  “None of that, you’re beautiful.”  He collected her fingers into his and pressed a kiss upon her bare knuckles.  With that his helm was on his head.  Ian had started to walk out as Abel had pulled his greatsword from the rack on the wall.  “Abel, wait!” He stopped in his tracks, only to turn around and kneel once more for her.  She kissed the metal of his helm where his lips would’ve been.  “I’ll see you soon, love,” his muffled voice breathed out as she made haste to join her parents.

Declan and Honoria had been sitting and waiting for their son and future son-in-law to take the field, Declan with a large cigar sticking out of his teeth as Honoria sat with both arms around his massive bicep.  Lord Aristen and Lady Inissa had been visiting with the elder Nicholaides only to smile over as their future daughter-in-law had joined them.  “Iria!  You look so beautiful!  Did Miranah make that gown for her, Ria?” Lady Inissa had inquired, reaching over to take Iria’s hand in affectionate greeting.  “Mhm!  She most certainly did.  Iria, Lady Ina invited us for tea next week and to stay for a few days.  Hopefully you should be excited for that as we get wedding plans squared away,” her mother smiled.  “I’m sure you’ll be excited, it’s another chance for you to see Abel.”  Iria blused at that, Lord Aristen letting loose a guffaw as Declan chuckled himself.  Declan playfully socked Aristen in the arm.  “Can you believe it?  Our kids, man!  I’m a proud papa right now, you should be too.  Gotta a whole lotta stuff ta look forward ta,” he grinned as he took another deep inhalation of his cigar. 

Honoria gave him that look to tell him to settle down.  Declan immediately regained composure.  He turned back to Aristen who lofted a brow with a playful grin of his own.  “We’ve some business to talk later over a glass of bourbon, Dec.  There seems to be a few things we need to iron out in haste before we allow them to say their vows.”  Declan nodded, “Anythin’ ya need, buddy.”  Abel and Ian took the field as soon their names were called, both taking a quick moment to wave to their families in the stands, Abel blowing a kiss to Iria in the stands and she “catching” it. 

The assaults from their opponents seemed relentless, but for everyone that approached, Ian was able to suppress the blows with his shield, making effective timing with his own sword thrusts while Abel held nothing back.  His own timing seemed a bit erratic and restless but far too overbearing for their opponents to handle.  It was only after several rounds and several hours that they were able to be reunited with their families, Iria beaming as Abel received his commendations and awards.  Once everyone was released from the stands, she rushed over to Abel in a full sprint, her skirts flowing behind her with every sprinted step she made forward.  He was just as eager as he took her up into his arms and held him close, throwing his helmet off into the grass and spinning her around a few times.  He stole a kiss from her.  “Oh my stars, that was magnificent!  You were absolutely brilliant, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!  I am so proud of you both!” she declared in all of her excitement.  He winked at her.  “See?  You’ll never have anything to worry about.  Now, let’s go get ready for that after party.  I’ve a dance saved for the woman I’ll be spending the rest of my days with.”

@captain-rez

[feynites]

So I saw this post and I thought of Dirthalene and I just... um... did this...

*throws to @selenelavellan and runs*

Dirthamen has, somehow, asked Sylaise to help him with his ‘relationship problems’.

Dirthamen is not entirely certain how this happened. He had not been aware that he was having ‘relationship problems’, though apparently, he has been, and for quite some time. Sylaise assures him that she is doing a very great favour, though, and despite the fact that she is several years younger than him, Dirthamen is willing to concede that she is much more accomplished in the field of relationships than he is.

“Ta-da!” Sylaise exclaims, and finally pulls the make-up brush away from his face. “You can open your eyes now.”

“Should I?” Dirthamen wonders. He has been fully capable of opening his eyes throughout this process, after all, but had been cautioned that if he did, it would ‘spoil everything’.

“Yes,” Sylaise says, huffily. “I worked a miracle, you should look at it and be in awe.”

Dirthamen opens his eyes, and stares into his younger sister’s vanity mirror. And then blinks, and takes a moment to process the image in front of him.

He looks… like he is wearing a mask, almost.

A very smooth mask, that has contoured and softened his features in a variety of ways, not all of which he can readily identify. The overall effect is very dramatic, however. His eyelids are shimmering, and there are a few deliberate spots of glitter on top of his cheekbones – like freckles, almost, but gleaming – and his lips have been given the illusion that they are larger than they are.

Sylaise is smiling.

“I did fantastic,” she informs him.

“Thank you,” Dirthamen says, dutifully. “Well done.”

Sylaise nods at him.

“Briala found out from her tutor, Felassan, who is in classes with Des, who is friends with Selene, that she likes pretty people. And I mean, well, who doesn’t? Pretty people are the best. So. You’re going to wear that nice blue blouse – the you wore for Falon’Din’s going away party, remember? – and I’ve stolen one of Andruil’s skirts that she never wears anyway, and it’s going to look fantastic with it. I wish we had time to go and get you some kitten heels in a decent size – I don’t think you could walk in pumps – but we only have another hour left. And then you’re going to give this to Selene, because if we let you handle it yourself you’ll probably just do something weird, like compare to her an emu or something, and when she says ‘yes’, you are going to pay me back by driving June and I to the movies any time we want to go,” Sylaise informs him.

Dirthamen takes a moment to process all of that.

“Emus have long legs…” he muses, though he does not think Selene is very much like one, anyway. He knows the blouse Sylaise is referring to, at least. Or he thinks he does. Falon’Din’s going away party had been a very dramatic affair. His brother had not wished to attend military school, although their father had been insistent. Dirthamen does not think he would have been sent away if their mother was still alive. But he cannot know for certain, and in the end, it had been their father’s decision to make.

Selfishly, Dirthamen is somewhat glad that their father had been angry enough with Falon’Din to deny his final request that Dirthamen at least go with him. According to his brother’s texts on the matter, Military School is the worst place that has ever existed.

Sylaise flicks the back of his ear.

“Don’t say to her,” she instructs. “Just walk your sexiest walk and then give her the letter. Alright?”

Dirthamen nods. He almost asks what would be entailed by his ‘sexiest walk’, or which sort of walk that might be, but after a moment he decides that he will google it instead. Sylaise shoos him out of her room – she has to get ready for school now, and Dirthamen must change into his blouse and the skirt the she thrusts into his arms. He passes Andruil in the hall, but she does not seem to recognize the skirt as anything belonging to her.

She stares at his face for a long moment, though.

“What the hell happened to you?” she finally asks him.

“Sylaise is helping me,” he explains.

Andruil snorts, in what he suspects is amusement, and then after a moment, shrugs and carries on to her own room. Dirthamen can hear his father singing in the master bathroom, as he finally makes his way into his own, and shuts the door so that he can begin changing.

He is careful not to touch his face with his blouse, although after a moment, he realizes that Sylaise seems to have sealed the mask of make-up onto his face with some sort of impenetrable veneer. The skirt fits better than he might have expected, but requires stockings, he thinks, so he goes and puts on a pair of those, and then finds some nice dress shoes that do not seem too out-of-place with it, so far as his comprehension of aesthetic rules can determine. Sylaise had told him to leave his hair long, so he does. But it tends to fall into his eyes, and he still has class work to deal with, so after some consideration, he retrieves a silver hair clip and uses that to solve the dilemma.

By the time Father is calling for everyone to come to breakfast, his outfit seems to have come together. Dirthamen gathers up his school bag, double-checks that he has his homework, and heads for the dining room. He is the first to arrive, and his father double-takes at him as well.

There is an awkward moment of silence as they regard one another.

Then his father gestures to him.

“What’s all this about?” he asks.

Dirthamen blinks.

“Sylaise is helping me,” he says.

His raises his eyebrows.

“With what?” he wonders.

Dirthamen shifts, slightly, and wonders if he should say, or if he should make excuses. He tries to weigh the possible consequences of his father discovering that he has a crush, but he finds the possible reactions difficult to gauge. Father had not taken well to Sylaise and Andruil dating, but then, Dirthamen has rarely been treated in the same manner as his sisters.

“There is a girl at school…” he begins, tentatively.

“Ah,” his father says, and then nods, as if things suddenly make much more sense. “A girl, you say? Is it that little friend of yours? The scrappy one who looks like she crawled out of a rummage sale?”

Dirthamen shakes his head.

“No, it is a different girl,” he explains. Inanallas is a good friend, but Dirthamen does not think she would like to date him. He is not sure he would like to date her, either. After a moment his father grunts, and then reaches over, and claps a hand on his shoulder.

“Well,” he says. “…Well, is she, um… like you, then?”

He considers the question.

“She has very light hair,” he says. “And she likes math. She is a member of the competitive mathematics team at school.”

His father nods.

“Math, eh? Quiet girl?” he guesses.

Dirthamen tilts his head.

“Mostly,” he confirms.

This seems to be an acceptable response, as his father leaves the matter be, and instead focuses on scolding Andruil and Sylaise for taking so long to get to the table, once they finally arrive. Breakfast is hurried this morning, as they are running late, but the chauffeur still manages to get them to school before the first bell rings.

Inan meets Dirthamen at his locker.

She stares at him.

“…What,” she says.

“What?” Dirthamen asks back.

Inan reaches over, and gingerly pokes at his cheek. She looks at her finger, and narrows her eyes, and then pokes at him again.

“Please refrain,” he requests.

“You look like someone photoshopped you,” Inan accuses.

“Sylaise did my make-up,” Dirthamen explains.

Inana squints.

“Is she testing out new techniques or something?”

Dirthamen shakes his head, and then means to elaborate. But the class bell rings, and interrupts him before he can, and so he and Inan have to hasten into the classroom instead.

He receives and inordinate number of looks, throughout the morning. Several people stare at him during class, and in the move to the next one, he notices a few more odd looks which are only diffused when one of his fellow homeroom students walks into a door. Venavismi rushes over to the help the boy, and the subsequent noise and clatter seems to draw most attention for a while.

It is not until first break that Dirthamen gets a chance to approach Selene’s own locker.

She is standing in front of it, caught up in a conversation with Elanna, who is in Dirthamen’s history class, and has loaned him pencils.

He does not wish to intrude. But after a moment Elanna nods towards him, and Selene turns and looks towards him.

There is a moment where Dirthamen attempts to parse the meaning of the look she gives him. She herself looks very nice today, he thinks. The summer shorts she is wearing have flowers embroidered onto the pockets, which almost match the ties in her own hair.

Dirthamen clears his throat.

“Good morning,” he says.

The textbook in Selene’s hands catches on fire.

It is not a lot of fire, thankfully. Elanna knocks it out of Selene’s hands, and Dirthamen casts a cooling spell, which does not seem to be particularly effective. The fire smolders across the plastic cover of the textbook, warping the print, but does not quite spread to the pages before Selene gestures emphatically and manages to put it out.

Selene does not look at Dirthamen, as she hastily gathers up the mangled textbook, and then turns on her heel and flees.

“…Uh,” Elanna says. “Hang on, sorry, I’m just gonna… go after her. Sorry. Please don’t tell anyone that happened!”

She turns, too, then, and runs off. Dirthamen cannot help but feel as if he has done something wrong, even though he is not certain what. His father sometimes ignites things accidentally when he is very angry. Had he made Selene angry? Does she not like make-up? Or dresses? She has never responded to Dirthamen in that manner before.

He considers it a bit more, but even several reviews of the situation do not yield any satisfactory answers.

Sylaise’s letter, which he was supposed to give to Selene, crinkles in his pocket. Dirthamen reaches in, and pulls it out. He would not wish to cause Selene to light any unintended fires again. Textbooks can be expensive, and he does not think her family is as financially secure as his own. Perhaps he should abandon the plan altogether, but then, Sylaise had worked very hard to help him, and had been very clear in her instructions.

A compromise, perhaps?

He slips the letter into Selene’s locker, and then has to make his way back towards his own, on the other side of the school.

He contemplates washing the make-up off at several points throughout the rest of the day. Inan offers to help him, but in the end, Dirthamen does not think he could remove Sylaise’s sealants with the simple tap water and toilet paper available in the school bathrooms. Selene is in his Math class, towards the end of the day, but she seems to have traded seats with Tasallir, and she spends the entire class not looking at him.

Dirthamen’s heart sinks.

Has he offended her, then?

He wonders over it for the rest of the day, trying to figure out what it might be that he has done wrong, and how he could possibly solve it. Perhaps he should write an apology? Or stay away instead? What would be better appreciated?

By the end of the school day, he is still uncertain.  There is a kind of pleasantness to watching Selene in class, even if she keeps ignoring him. But there is very little, he finds, in trekking across the parking lot, and feeling as if the mask of his make-up is much too thin.

He almost does not hear the voice calling after him.

“Dude,” Inanallas says, poking his elbow. He looks, and she gestures behind them, and then he turns and sees Selene hurrying over towards them. She seems faintly out of breath, her cheeks suffused with colour and her hair coming out of its ties, as she stops in front of him.

“Yes!” she blurts.

Dirthamen blinks.

Oh.

That was the response Sylaise told him to wait for.

He opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Selene runs off again; leaving a few smoking footprints behind, as she races back across the parking lot, and down to where Adannar seems to be carpooling their group of friends today. She does not look back towards him, although Elanna offers him a thumb’s up.

“What just happened?” Inan asks.

Dirthamen must shake his head.

“I am not sure,” he admits. “I will have to ask Sylaise.”

Perhaps he should have read the letter first, for context. But it is too late now.

[borgevino]

aforementioned processing post. extremely long

this is an attempt to make sense of the timing of the alfred series of events. since it’s been so unremittingly awful and i’d really like to track it from the beginning.

dramatis personae (names changed)

my team: samuel (lead, great, v similar to me), irina (instructional associate (IA) like me, love her), dave (another IA, isn’t quite on the same wavelength as the rest of us bc he doesn’t know us like we knew each other already but a good guy nonetheless)

other team: alfred (lead, already doesn’t get along with samuel, they try to get along but it doesn’t work), matthew (also a full instructor, tries very hard but in the wrong direction, a cat who needs herding), zachary (an IA, one of my former classmates)

calvin & lev: TAs, former classmates

chris & betsy: managers

Mar 8

alfred wants to know if I’ll be his IA

Mar 14-15

I spend some time going back & forth about the IA position

Initial interview

convo with samuel about TA vs IA. samuel “if you want my advice, TA, this would give you the chance to debug and always be coding while you have the daytime to work on applications etc”

talked to irina about what the team would look like

Mar 16

interview with chris

talked with samuel about lectures & so on. he wasn’t sure if id be on his team but chris was pretty sure

alfred forwards me a job posting that one of his recruiters sent him, I have to let him know that I’m taking the IA job with GA

Mar 20 - 26 – planning week

starts off well

couple of times throughout the week there are some warning signs, most notably alfred asking me to come and teach responsive design

in fact alfred asked a couple of times for us to go in and teach some lectures in their class without offering to come in and teach with us at all

another iffy moment was that alfred was out both thurs and fri

zachary started stressing out around this time also

my team was all set with planning and so on but theirs was much less settled in any kind of real way

we planned our schedule, we sent it to zachary, zachary passed it on to alfred

overheard alfred say on a remote call with zachary and matthew that they had to “be careful” copying what ada cohort was doing

alfred still seemed obsessed with the idea of collaboration

samuel gets stuck on installfest concept for a couple days

i get stuck on assessment concept for a couple days

Mar 27 - Apr 2 – week 1

student from alfred’s class asked on the first day to be switched to our class, which sort of immediately set the tone for the rest of the course. said she liked our vibe better and liked samuel’s teaching style.

samuel & i discussed it some on tues

samuel: But, it was very validating in a way to see that our fears that we share were picked up on after we literally just said a 5 minute hello. We have an awesome team and it just sucks that I think we all basically refuse to work with the other side.

me: & i have some thoughts abt the other thing as well (we can discuss) but i think it boils down to, our definition of working together & theirs are pretty different (wrt the time involvement required, the purpose behind collaboration, etc.). i’d be fine to work with them if it was on our terms but idt it would be

alfred mentions on tues that he’d like to meet more frequently, sets up a meeting for wed. samuel is not into the idea as one of the things samuel was hoping for from the course was less time in meetings

samuel very stressed wed for no particular reason

“is it ok if i add alfred to our gh.” on thurs

strong talk with samuel on tues or wed about him not taking on too much. eventually did have an effect

Wed meeting with other team to discuss possibility of collaboration. consensus seemed to be one lecture from us over to them and a couple of morning exercises.

thurs morning, alfred says ‘that’s not what i agreed to’ when it clearly was what he had agreed to

alfred: Hey samuel, we’ll get back to you. I want to see how we can all contribute to this for both cohorts. In the meantime can you guys send us the timeslots that we can key into our course tracker for the guest lectures. I need this asap, as I will have to share this with various parties.

samuel: alfred, this is not what we discussed yesterday. I thought we were going to let unit one take it’s course and have j do the planning lesson. And then we’d take a look at unit 2 soon.

matthew: I know we discussed both options and i think the agreement was that for Unit 1 we would begin to cross pollinate with morning exercises for now and for Unit 2 we would discuss where instructors could find opportunities to reteach topics as that approach worked really well last time around

alfred: That’s not what I agreed to. The expectation is to share on all units. For example, if the wire framing is happening In unit 1, I want it to be done in unit 1 and any other lessons that we can all benefit from.

samuel: Yes I agree with matthew, morning exercises and he wireframing.

i taught thurs all day, then went out for drinks with the team, then met with matthew to discuss how i’d done the css lecture, then hung out with friend for a couple of hours

thurs during lunch had walk in the park with samuel where he talked a lot about the situation with alfred. notable: “I have to not lose my cool. …. how do i do that????”

thurs night samuel has the realization that he’s trying to do too much & needs to delegate more, irina & i rejoice. it’s a momentous and great occasion.

during friday internal meeting samuel metnions that he thinks what alfred is doing to him is gaslighting. irina and i sit in the back of the classroom after lunch and nod with strong emphasis along to a psychology today article on gaslighting.

we all four go out for drinks and talk some shit and it’s good.

brief HM reunion; samuel gets to meet ryn; ryn, mimi, jen, & i go out for drinks

Apr 3 - 9 – week 2

talked with calvin & lev for about half an hour after the building closed. theyve noticed that alfred is never around and doesn’t help his students, and that zachary looks totally miserable a lot of the time

zachary is miserable for most of the week, we get lunch on monday and discuss. alfred is reading over his shoulder with messages and shit, sees him trying to send a message to chris about the situation, tells zachary that he should go to him (alfred) first with those types of concerns

i find out that alfred & matthew aren’t grading any homeworks, theyre letting zachary do all of it. and having calvin & lev help out. since they have two instructors compared to one IA this really is not how the work load should balance out

i gave a strong talk about not copying about homework

one of the higher-ups asks me to mentor one of the students in alfred’s class. “maybe she’ll lighten up on matthew and alfred if she gets to talk to J more often” is what i gather the reasoning is.

somewhere in here i have a weird meeting with alfred and zachary for a couple hours to discuss the saturn homework. originally it was meant to be just zachary & i but alfred decided he wanted to sit in and follow along.

becoming clearer and clearer that alfred’s goal is not “help out the students” but “do as little work as possible”.

at some point in this week also i say something along the lines of “we would be happy to collaborate if it were on our terms but it won’t be on our terms so we can’t.” samuel thinks this is extremely correct and mentions the term “rules of engagement”

Apr 10 - 16 – week 3

Tues drama: irina teaches in other classroom, is left on her own to handle unfamiliar students. samuel righteously furious

samuel: Hey fellow instructors/IAs. One of my class’s IAs gave a lecture in your class today. Excellent. While I’m fully confident that she was able to handle it on her own 100%, without a doubt, I’m also very annoyed that she was left completely alone during that lecture. As in, she didn’t even have an IA there in case she needed help during a lab. Moving forward I want to be 100% clear. Under no circumstances will that happen again. I really want everyone’s lives to be less stressful during units 2, 3, and 4, but I’ve made it a point that in my class, I, as an IL, am present for every moment of every lecture. Which is to say, if my amazing colleagues are not afforded the same consideration in your class, they will no longer be guest lecturing there. And this is not because they are IAs. When I, as an IL, am lecturing, I have back-up. So they, deserve it. that scenario honestly boggles my damn mind… as if we didnt insist that IAs were present during our lectures….

matthew: we only meant to step out for few minutes to finalize the project prompt which we needed to deliver immediately after the afternoon lectures and it took a bit longer than expected. That being said I do agree that IA’s should have support at this stage during their lectures and we will make sure that one of our team remains behind to support them…

alfred: Also, a couple of house rules: Lets make sure proper communication and behavior is practiced on this channel. Be respectful and treat individuals the way you would want to be treated. If there are any concerns/confusion, feel free to reach out, but use your judgement on best course of action and tone. Let’s make this pleasant..

samuel & i discussion about it wednesday night

samuel: Was my.message about the not support for irina too abrasive. I think the “damn mind” part went too far. But otherwise did I cross a line in your opinion. I ha EA to work on that and honestly I sent all that when I was wasted lol

me: i genuinely don’t think so, it was strongly worded but you made yourself very clear. and considering the fact that it REALLY shouldn’t have happened i thought the tone was appropriate. might have gone over better in person? is the only thing

matthew seems on verge of quitting

we plan unit 2 and send it to alfred & co. alfred & co intentionally arrange their next unit so that there’s no chance we can collaborate

this is a direct about-face from their previous attitude for no reason??

i help a couple students from their cohort and then tell samuel about it

me: i helped a couple hypatia students

samuel: oooh. you have to be careful about that. if alfred sees you he will be pissed

samuel is not wrong because i did actually check out the floor before i went and helped the students to check and make sure alfred wasn’t going to find me talking to his students but also i hate this concept so much

this is the point whereupon i decide i really cant deal with it