#Check Point Security Assignment Homework Help

[system-of-a-feather]

Sorry for all the Tulpa-discourse lately, this is more of a Buddhist ramble / discussion than syscourse but ya know

It's been on my mind a lot between it being in syscourse circles heavily and the fact that I'm actually currently on a system-designated theraputic homework assignment to reconnect with Buddhist concepts and to incorporate it into my self care routine so I can get back to my baseline after doing something of a survival mode to help balance out XIV being in borderline-crisis lately resulting in my burn out

I'm (as Riku as a part) actually usually very hesitant to talk about much of my cultural and personal experiences and AAPI-rooted parts of my life because of old system dynamics, persecution, and a lot of other things that make me very anxious and prone to fawning when me existing in a space I am involved in is at all challenged which is largely why I leave it to XIV to voice it for me since he also is the guy that keeps me from falling into old dynamics. (<- literally is the person who thought I was *checks notes* faking being asian like that is a possible thing let alone something I thought LONGER than me faking DID)

So honestly, its kind of a bit cathartic occasionally to actually have a sense of self and security enough to have the balls to actually defend myself in terms of this sort of crap and assert that I actually, ya know, have an experience in life. So as much as I typically hate the negativity and contention that bringing this stuff up brings, it's honestly theraputic and part of me expressing a valid part of my existence and self - so with XIV's nudging I tend to let myself have that space.

With all that said, I wanted to bring up a discussion point and correction point now that I'm not genuinely and authentically triggered about racism, I think a thing I do want to comment on in regards to the rhetoric on the tulpa topic that anti-tulpa-term people get wrong when talking about Buddhism and """""""tulpamancy""""""" is that Buddhism is not a closed culture or closed practice and stating that does a disservice to the group as well; albeit its the lesser of two wrongs by a LONG shot so I shirk it off as a "to get to later" point

But Buddhism is incredibly open to anyone interested on engaging with it and its part of why - when I specifically talk about the critiques of """"""Western Tulpamancy"""""" in terms of Buddhism I try to remind myself to desalinate between "westerner" and "white". There are many many many white Buddhists - as there are many black, latin, native, Middle eastern, etc Buddhists as well.

In some cases and for some people, Buddhism is a religion and/or spirituality, for others it's more of a way of life / philosophy. Tibetan Buddhism, as I know it as a non-Tibetian Buddhist, is a lot more on the religion side of things which is a different topic I honestly am under knowledgeable to comment on - but overall the thing that ties a lot of Buddhism together is the core and underlying principles of acceptance, letting things go, connecting to the greater world, and just general enlightenment as a means of finding peace.

Myself, and a lot of Buddhists, gladly encourage people to look into Buddhists practices and principles and ideology because its honestly extremely healing and regardless of if you are SUPER into it and go become a monk or what not or if you just dabble in it, so long as you do it respectfully and understand your biases and genuinely have GOOD RESPECTFUL intent and an interest on understanding it more, its an amazing and really welcoming thing to get involved in.

The thing all the 'pro-tulpas' quote on the Dalai Lama is honestly entirely true. Almost everyone could benefit from the practices and principles found within Buddhism.

That is to say however, that there is a large difference between spending a day or two at a monastery and learning more about the culture and the ideas of Buddhism and integrating them into your life and just grabbing this Really Cool and Quirky High Level Principle / Ritual / Practice of a Specific Typically Very Dedicated Version of Buddhism and ignoring EVERYTHING ELSE about Buddhism and saying "this aspect, this aspect I like and I'm going to completely warp it how I like it while calling it and/or referencing it in terms of Buddhism to make it look intellectual and enlightened for me to be involved in it."

I've seen it said in some Buddhist communities and discussions regarding the more ritual and involved aspects of Buddhism - specifically in regards to the Mahayana approaches - that a lot of the practices and rituals when used inappropriately or unguided can be "dangerous" with danger in this sense being a worsening of the individuals conditions resulting in an increase in a lot of the core things almost all versions of Buddhism considers unhealthy and unideal such as increase in conflict, desire, and disconnect from the greater world and thus generally more suffering.

And on that front, while not being of the Mahayana school of thought and as a result not really believing so much in bodhisattvas, I can - from my personal view and perspective - entirely understand how frustrating it is to see a term often sighed with "buddhists roots" be used in a way that - in my opinion - almost exemplifies the exact opposite of what I understand to be the crux of the idea of Buddhist peace.

A large part of me getting more involved into the concepts Buddhism has to offer and honestly a thing that had both helped my healing journey and how I interact with my system is the large realization that the existence of "I" doesn't really have much ground to it in what it is and what it means and what defines "I".

That identity and human nature is largely a mobile and constant changing force part of a larger and grander thing that is just really existence as a whole and there is little that makes me more unique than say the trees or the squirrel looking for nut or a bird singing in the tree other than the fact that I have the "curse" of conscious awareness and 'advanced intellect' that makes it so that I both feel the need to >Be< something and the bother of "the next thing". A large part of practice is letting go of a lot of notions that a lot of society and life reinforce - one of the most in my current stage of learning and practice - is letting go of the concept of "me and I" and just, ya know, being.

And to me, looking at the """""Western Tulpamancy Community""""" you have people who are sectoring off a part of themselves, their experience, their life whatever and not only identifying it as seperate from them (NO!!!! We are all connected >:[ <- light hearted comment) but also giving that part of themselves an entire identity of it's own and a whole second sense of "I" beyond what was already there - combined with the overall themes of 'developing your tulpa' by giving it more traits and details and stuff until it 'becomes independent' is rooted in such American / Western individualism which DO not even get me started on how toxic individualism is and how inherently opposite it is to Buddhism and

//deep breath//

I'm getting ahead of myself, the truth is while the concept of 'creating a headmate' or whatever greatly concerns me as a Buddhist - as a human and as a Buddhist (in a different perspective), seeking out to change people is the last thing I'm interested in and it's honestly not this uber horrible or harmful thing and its really not my business; so as long as it is making someone happy and what not, I really don't care if it doesn't match to my theory cause ya know, theory is that - just theory. Live and let be ya know - yall have your own life to live and yall know how to live your own life better than I could assume to know so I'm not gonna try to tell you how to live it. Philosophical theory comes second to philosophical practice and practice says to live and let be.

But its just really frustrating a lot of the time to see how the topic is handled when its far from really what it is. And in theory, I should let it go because honestly, people using the word "tulpa" to describe experiences that are largely anti-thetical to my understanding of Buddhism - while annoying - is not the end of the world and fostering hate and aggression does nothing but increase the overall suffering (dukkha) in the world. Often, when I think about talking about it or getting mad, I do tend to repeat that mantra back to myself and most of the time I refrain and leave it be.

That being said, XIV runs on the philosophy and critique of the over theroretical approach to Buddhism over the realistic and practical in saying that by "letting go of" certain frustrations and annoyances and grievances - while healthier for the individual person - enables and perpetuates long term suffering for the masses and years to come. So that while it would be best for me / us to let it go and exist in a state closer to Buddhist peace and doing so is an entirely valid decision (thus why I respect Buddhists who say using the tulpa-term is fine), I would also be choosing to maintain my peace over acknowledging and speaking up about the honestly long and ongoing racism and disrespect that plague those that I feel particular kinship with and in XIV's perspective (one that I am starting to take on a bit more lately) - the choice of personal peace is a selfish one that is complicit in increasing the suffering of the world as a whole in favor for the individual "I" that honestly has become a bit distasteful for our system.

But anyways, I digress. Buddhist ramble done.

[not-your-fucking-kacchan]

Aizawa x class 1-A reader when he finds out reader is also doing vigilante work? I’ve always wondered how he would feels about that

Icl I feel like he would understand tbh like he was probably doing the exact same thing before his career took off. He has a very strong moral standpoint so I figure he would place justice above legality but hes still a teacher and would have to disapprove but he wouldn't be like angry??

I feel like this was portrayed in the anime but it's been a hot minute since I've watched it - what do you think? :D

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 <3

Check out my kinktober!

𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜) - 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐒𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞

Dark circles decorate your eyes as you sit slouched at the desk before class starts. Sleep had eluded you as you spent the night with your parents, helping them feed into their warped, self-indulgent sense of justice by doing vigilante work.

Usually, you'd consider yourself to be at a strong, good moral standpoint, focused on doing good by the people rather than focusing on legality and logistics. But to be quite honest, this self-righteous act of "freeing the people" is starting to become exhausting. It's actually getting on your nerves, really.

You love your parents, but they can be very, exhaustingly eccentric at times, and sometimes outright smug. It's absolutely infuriating. It's so difficult to watch that it hurts, and the more you think about it, the more bitter you begin to feel.

Or maybe this is just the exhaustion talking. Who knows?

It feels like you're just sacrificing little pieces of yourself at this point, giving your body and soul to some 'vigilante work' and your training to persue your career as a hero.

Aizawa is the first to notice the change in your attitude. He is the first to realise that you may be burning out, and he's the first to genuinely worry about you.

As your teacher, and considering the amount of security hazards your class has been subject to in the last year, Aizawa is well within his right to keep tabs on all of you and your home lives. He knows your secret.

After class ends, you're pulled aside by your teacher.

Part of you wants to cry. What is it this time? A failed test? Maybe a lecture on missed homework.

Apparently not. And judging by the look on his face, it's much more serious than a missed assignment. He looks... genuinely concerned, which is an expression you've gotten to see far too many times than you should have to. Wow, you think. The poor guy deserves a break.

"I know what you've been doing every other night, so don't bother trying to lie. I want to say that I'm proud you're taking your hero work so seriously, but don't you think you're overdoing it? Maybe even just a little? You're exhausting yourself, and pretty soon you're going to burn out. Did you even sleep last night?"

Oh, like he can talk about sleep and burnout of all things.

And really, he can. But the brewing bitterness and hostility inside of you is starting to bubble, and you can feel in the back of your throat that a breakdown is imminent. God, don't cry. Please, not now, of all times.

Shiny, salty tears start to collect at your waterline, and the tired teacher lets out a defeated sigh, placing his hand on your shoulder. It's an oddly comforting gesture, really.

"I-... I just want to help... My parents will go out with or without me- and they're not very experienced- so I just worry that if I'm not there, something will happen..."

"Look... The first part of helping is knowing how to best help yourself. Look after yourself, or you might not live long enough to see yourself become the hero you've always wanted to be... Youre a hero, not a martyr - the self sacrifice isn't necessary yet."

Wise words from a man who's seen it all.

He looks disappointed in you, at the very least, but there's a spark of pride in his eye for his tryhard students who do the best they can, and even if you don't see it yet, you will soon enough.

[autisticsociologymajor]

Random thought

Adults don’t get their work checked by another adult before they turn it in. So why do we insist on checking our children’s work? Does this lead to insecurity in the workforce when they’re older? I understand WHY we need to check our children’s homework. But is it necessary to demand and require it be done?

How about, instead, we let them know we’re here to help them if they want/need it. Let them know help is available. Don’t leave them to struggle and then point out all of their mistakes once they’re done and have worked tirelessly on their work, only to feel ridiculed and stupid when we check it. Help them in the process so it doesn’t NEED to be checked and corrected. Develop more trust and confidence in children so that they can develop more trust and confidence in themselves. Let them thrive. They’re more intelligent than most of us believe them to be. But we hinder their ability to show their intelligence.

Imagine this: you’re 21 & just landed your first major gig. You went through training but still have questions on your first assignment. Your boss tells you to figure it out on your own & then he’ll check your work to make sure you did it right. Would you feel confident? Secure? Like it’s a good position to stay in? Or would you feel lost, unsure, and unsupported? You did what your boss said, handed your work in, and he had a multitude of harshly relayed corrections to make on it. He even tells you that you went through training & therefore should’ve known what to do. But you asked for help, didn’t you? He knew you were struggling and chose not to help. Then he made you feel stupid for getting it wrong.

If this happened in the workforce, you’d have the chance to leave such unsupportive, unorganized, demeaning leadership. Children don’t have that choice. So why do we continue to make them feel stupid after WE are unavailable to help them with things they don’t understand?

[diplexchimera]

Hey people considering college-

I have some tips for you. Now, take into consideration that I am technically a college drop-out (didn't have enough money for a second semester).

- my college required Freshman to be in a campus dorm. We got to select whether we preferred someone quiet, someone loud, or someone in between. In my experience, someone loud = an extrovert who will have many people visit them, someone quiet = a person who prefers to keep their room more private, and someone in between = a person who wants their roommate to be okay with a noisy room & people over, but also wants to be able to say they need quiet time (or they aren't sure what they want, but want neither a silent room or a busy room).

- if you have to eat from the cafeteria, that's okay. They tend to have a wider selection anyway but! I would suggest memorizing the breakfast/lunch/dinner availability hours. Some schools are very strict, and will lock the doors which = a skipped meal for you.

-I would also suggest getting the app 'MyPlate Calorie Tracker'. College meals will most likely be different than what you've eaten at home and school. The MyPlate app is pretty simple, and can help you make sure you're getting the right amount of food into yourself, as opposed to too much or too little. If I remember correctly, it also keeps track of how much protein and stuff your food is supplying you.

- sugars, fats, calories, and carbs are not bad for you. Your body requires them. Your brain literally will not function if you cut out any one of those items. Remember, you don't need to avoid being fat, you need work today being healthy. Your body will sort itself out (over time dude, give it time) if you supply it with the necessary nutrients and such.

- dude, vitamins. They can be expensive, but if you have insurance, ask your doctor how much of every vitamin you should be having. They can tell you, give you a list, and they can ask your insurance if vitamins are covered. If you can't get to a doctor, try to do research. Here is one from Harvard that I think is good, but you should always cross check things. Getting all the vitamins and minerals you need is exceedingly important. They help you go to sleep, stay asleep, and wake up, help your brain and body to function and adjust, help keep you feeling healthy and happy. If you feel tired and depressed, it can be really difficult to accomplish tasks and enjoy/ appreciate being alive.

- I would not suggest starting your year by completing assignments before the start date of said assignments. For one, doing assignments as they come helps you get a feel for a natural schedule. Another reason is because it helps to be in the moment, instead of too far ahead to be able to keep track of what's going on and when. Wait until you have a hang of how and where to research, and a firm idea of how much you can hold onto mentally, so you don't fail tests. You'll also likely feel guilty later on when you begin to struggle to stay ahead as assignments get longer and more difficult.

- yo if you can get a used textbook that comes as a three ring binder instead of a hard or soft back, do it. It's cheaper, and so much easier to handle and copy. Heck, you can even take the pages out of the section you're using and put them in a folder -- boom, no more 40lb back pack. Also makes more room in any bag you use for the essentials, which I'll list next.

- here are some backpack essentials:

• earbuds, Bluetooth if possible. It's okay to have more than one type of listening device. "I prefer headphones!" You say. You can't hide over-the-ear headphones if you end up in a classroom which doesn't allow something like that. Sometimes you're just having a sucky day, sometimes you need extra stimulation to concentrate, sometimes you want to spend your time listening to a podcast that explains the current subject better than your teacher does. Sometimes you want to watch a movie casually. Earbuds also take up MUCH less space.

• an extra charging cable for every portable device you use. Roll them up, and secure each one individually with cable ties or bread bag twist ties. I say extra, as in, keep your original cords in your dorm room and Don't Take Them out. Get a secondary cable and charger for each device, and let them live in your backpack.

• 3 or 4 different colors of pen. Multiple colors, for whatever reason you want-- easily scanned notes, for different subjects, etc. These can serve a variety of purposes, and you never know when you need them.

• 3 regular pencils, and a good hand sharpener or silent mechanical sharpener. 3 in case the other two get broken lead or happen to suck. Regular pencils can be finicky.

• 2 mechanical pencils. 2 in case one of them fails, runs out of lead, or the lead breaks up.

• decoy pens and pencils! Get as cheap or expensive as you want. At some point, someone is likely to ask for one, and you don't want someone else using your favorites. You also may not get them back, or they get broken. I would suggest a couple of each, as it may happen in more than one class. You don't have to have decoys, but that way, at least you don't have to choose between either feeling guilty for not loaning out the items you like, or being uncomfortable that you did have to loan one. If you loan the decoys out, and don't get any back, and someone asks you for a utensil later that day, you have both a convenient reason you don't have an extra you're willing to share, and you already put the minimum effort towards being prepared.

• Water! You're going to get so dang dehydrated! You're going to have full days, much of the time, from trekking across campus, to class time, to meal times, to study time, to hang out time -- you need to have water with you, as opposed to having to track it down, and possibly have to pay for a bottle of water. Hydration is a main component in bodily functionality and brain processes. I would suggest a minimum of a 30-ish ounce container of any sort. A plastic water bottle you refill, a thermos, a sippy cup, a hydro flask, a camp flask, whatever works for you.

• I would say snacks. If you're eating meals throughout the day, I guess they aren't "technically" essential, but can confidently say, they are useful. Snacks can be an energy boost, a brain function boost, a hunger soother, a friend-maker, or just plain stimulation. Cut up some apple slices, maybe grab some peanut butter, or a portion of nuts, or a tangerine, crackers, pretzels, chips, the choice is yours. It helps if you can get ahold of some of those cheap reusable silicone ziplock baggies. You can wash them to be used again, and you don't have to deal with carrying plastic trash around with you.

• a pair of socks. I know that sounds weird, but it doesn't take up much space, and weird stuff happens. They get wet, or it's hot and your feet get sweaty and yucky, or food get spilled on your feet. Stuff happens.

• b12 tablets. They work with your system in a healthy way, as opposed to caffeine, and does the same trick. Just follow the directions on the bottle, and may I suggest, start with half the recommended dose. It affects different people more or less. My husband takes the recommended two, while I only need a half. We both have adhd, and are closely similar in body weight. If you need a wake up boost, don't slam your system with caffeine.

• baby wipes. You can get a small pack, and they can help clean up almost anything. Someone spill sticky tea? Got it. Fell and scraped a knee, and it has dirt all over it? Baby wipes and a little water. Need to blow your nose, and there are no tissues, or just feel like you need to rinse your face off in class? You're covered.

• chapstick is a very small item, but Lordy Lord if those classrooms aren't parched of all moisture in the air. You gone get cracked, chapped lips.

That's kinda it for now on backpack essentials. There is definitely more you could have, so supplement whatever helps you. You could add a hairbrush or comb, a hat and rain jacket for cold weather times, sunscreen during the hot times, hair ties and bobby pins, etc. It's all for you pal.

- keep in touch with your professors. Make yourself known to them. An occasional casual compliment is often helpful, and a good way to connect (you explained stuff really well today/your teaching style is helpful/I appreciated you taking time to answer my questions). They are people after all.

- if you have stuff going on, let your professors know. If your pet is sick at home and you're worried about them, give your professors a heads-up that you may seem less attentive that week, but that it isn't disinterest. If you figure out you have depression, and you're struggling to complete assignments/sleep/wake-up, tell them. Let them know you don't expect special treatment, you just wanted them to know that it isn't due to immaturity or lack of interest.

- always do studying and homework first. If you're able to accomplish these things while with friends, that's great, but if you can tell you're struggling, prioritize schoolwork. You'll have time for fun stuff later, usually later that evening.

- it's okay to drop a class. In fact, if you severely dislike a class, don't understand the coursework, or you realize you've taken on too much at once, it's better for your overall wellness and your grades if you drop it. If you have a professor suggest you drop a class in mean way, don't feel like you have to prove them wrong. This is your experience, and they can stuff it for being a rude brat. You don't need to prove yourself to them, and you cannot control their thoughts or actions.

- try to take classes that happen twice a week, which start later in the day than 8 am, at least for your first semester. There is a lot going on in college. A lot of changes to acclimate to. Take it a little easier at first, to give yourself time to work out what all is where, and how everything works.

Well, that's the end of 'dip's (college) tips' for now.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 23*

WHOO, y'all. I don't know what it is about this story but I am just...rolling it all out with the tragic backstory. No angst, I promise-- It ends happy chill out. But damn. Maybe I'm working out my own issues in here...lulz.

This gif will make so much sense you have no idea.

PART 22

Part 24

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------

“....And how did that make you feel?”

You tried not to laugh out loud as the question left Dr. Crestview’s mouth. Did she really just ask you that?

“...I mean it makes me ‘feel’ bad,” You rolled your eyes with a laugh while looking out the window. When you turned back to the doctor she was not laughing, and she was writing something down.

“...That was a joke,” You clarified.

“Oh yes, I get it,” She nodded as she continued writing.

“Do you?” You asked her frankly. The question caused her to stop writing and look at you.

“Mrs. Barba--”

“Ms. YLN,” You corrected. “I’m not married yet,”

“...Hmm, interesting,” She wrote something down. Seriously? She even had an insight on what-- technicalities?

“I’m sorry, was that some sort of test?” You asked sarcastically.

“Actually, it was,” She said to your surprise.

“Excuse me?” You looked at her, baffled.

“You know when most women get engaged, they start imagining their last names as their husbands. You know such as changing their signature, gathering documents, and the like,”

“...Are you serious?” You laughed again. “This is 2021 lady, half the women I know didn’t even take their husband’s last name at all,”

“And is that what you’re going to do?” She asked. “Keep your last name?”

“...If I say yes are you going to psychoanalyze that too?” You crossed your arms.

“In my experience Ms. Y/L/N, women who don’t want to change their last names tend to do so because they want to keep their independence, their…’identity’. They think taking a man’s last name is ‘giving up’ something. Giving up their identity,” She explained.

“...And?” You gestured with your hand as if waiting for her to continue.

“And in my educated opinion, it also signifies a woman going into a marriage with one foot out of the door already,” She simply stated.

“Wow,” You shook your head with a sarcastic laugh. “Did I come here to resolve my trauma, or for marriage advice?”

“I think they’re one and the same, Ms. Y/L/N,” She stayed completely calm and emotionless.

“Are they?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Given what you’ve told me in our last few sessions, you’ve given off a tone that you don’t think you deserve good things. Maybe you’re keeping on foot out of your relationship so that when it falls apart, you’ll be ready,”

“Wow....wow,” You started to stand up and storm out of the office, but she stopped you with a question.

“I’m sorry if I offended you with my observation Y/N, but be honest. Am I wrong?”

You thought about all the talks you had with Rafael about ‘not being good enough’ for him, or ‘stealing his love’. And on the one hand you felt that you were ‘connected’, you felt safe and secure. After everything you’d been through, it was almost impossible not to be, right? Right?

“....And what is your magic solution to this feeling, doctor?” You crossed your arms.

“You need to forgive yourself,”

“...Jesus Christ,” You rolled your eyes with another laugh as you paced the room. “Really? That’s your solution? Telling me something I already know?”

“No, my solution is this: You need to apologize to your parents,”

“EXCUSE ME?” You practically screamed.

“You blame yourself for their death, correct? You think that because of their desire to make you happy they risked their lives driving into the city and therefore got into their accident,” She looked over her notes from past sessions with you.

“...Right,” You looked down at the floor.

“And I don’t think that you have ever forgiven yourself for that. And in not doing so, you haven’t forgiven yourself for anything you’ve done since then. All these things you say you’ve ‘done’ to Mr. Barba that you should be ‘punished’ for-- he doesn’t see it that way. Other people don’t see it that way. Your parents' accident wasn’t your own doing, getting kidnapped wasn’t your fault. I think that you need to find closure with your parent’s death before you can even begin to ‘forgive’ yourself for whatever transpired between you and Nevada Ramirez,”

“....So you want me to apologize to my parents? How are they going to ‘forgive’ me?” You asked her.

“I think you’ll find Ms. Y/L/N that just the act of apologizing will bring about its own form of forgiveness,” She smiled.

“.....Right…” You tried not to sound condescending, but for a shrink she sure sounded crazy.

“Or don’t listen to me, I can’t force you to do anything. But that is my advice,” She shrugged.

“Noted. Thank you, doctor,” You nodded and walked out the door.

----

You walked out into the streets of the city from your doctor’s office and thinking about just how or when you’d have a chance to go to your hometown where your parents were, when you were stopped by a young girl on the street.

“Oh my god...you’re Y/N!” She gasped.

“...Yes?” You stared at her blankly.

“You’re that girl who killed Nevada Ramirez!” She squealed, causing a few people to stare and take pictures of you as they walked past.

“Oh good lord…” You muttered nervously. “Yeah well um--”

“Can I get a selfie with you?”

“Um--” You looked around, not sure of what to do. You wanted to run down the street screaming, but you thought better of it. You turned back to her with the fakest smile you could form.

“Sure!” You threw an arm around her and smiled as big as you could as she snapped a selfie with her phone.

“Thanks!” She beamed at you. “ And by the way, your fiancé is REALLY sexy,”

“Oh girl I know,” You faked a laugh and a toss of your hair as she walked away with a laugh.

It really creeped you out that girls were ‘fangirling’ over your fiancé. As if you weren’t worried about keeping a hold of him all on your own. Also how did she even know what he looked like?

The article.

You grabbed your phone and did something you told yourself you’d never do: You googled yourself.

The first thing that popped up was an article on the NYTimes.com front page:

“Fairy Tale Romance Or Horror Movie?”

...What the fuck?

The article contained your video as the main focus. Then under it the article basically dictated the video, with Tasha’s opinions thrown in here and there. Then most of the photos from the photoshoot of you and Rafael were at the bottom of the page. They were gorgeous, you had to admit. Granted you were both airbrushed to hell, but Rafael in a suit drove you nuts. Even if it was just on a screen. You dialed his number as you continued walking down the street.

“....Hola, mi amor. How is my pinguino feeling?”

“Well she’s currently feeling like she’s got the sexiest man in New York City,” You grinned.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” He asked you curiously.

“Check out the picture I’m texting you,” You grinned as you texted him one of the photos from the spread.

“Oh Christ…” You heard him mutter through the phone, causing you to giggle.

“Oh yes, you even have your own fangirls now,” You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“No I do NOT,” He argued in disbelief.

“Yeah I’d be careful leaving your office there counselor, a group of tweens might be waiting outside,”

“Oh my god...they’re breaching the doors!” He acted terrified, making you laugh harder.

“Oh I think I see one,” You whispered as if you were sneaking up on someone. “She’s holding a ‘Barba 4Eva’ poster board,”

“You better be kidding,” He warned.

“No, in fact I think she’s right outside your door,” You bit your tongue with a smile.

“Oh well I’d better call security then,” He chuckled as he sauntered over to his office door and swung it open.

“Oh my Gooodddddddd it’s Rafael Barba!!! The sexiest ADA in New York City!!” You giggled wildly, jumping into his arms like a crazed fan.

“I should definitely look into some armed guards at my door,” He laughed as he pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Oh most definitely, wouldn’t want to let the crazies in,” You nodded as you kissed him again.

“Well I think it’s too late for that…” He teased you while tousling your hair.

“Shut up,” You playfully hit his hands away.

“Speaking of crazy, how was therapy today mi amor?” He asked cheekily.

Wowwwww, sexy AND sensitive, how did I get so lucky?” You rolled your eyes. “Actually, she gave me homework,”

“Did she?” He inquired.

“Yes,” You suddenly got very serious. “She um, she told me I need to go see my parents,”

“...Your parents?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, something about needing to ‘apologize’ to them or some weird shrink thing like that,”

“....Do you think it will help?”

“I mean...” You sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t know. But I’d like to try,”

“Bueno,” He nodded walking closer to you and kissing the top of your head. “So are you going to go now or--?”

“Well I was kind of hoping you’d come with me,” You bit your lip. You didn’t know if asking him to come along on your shrink homework assignment was allowed, but you knew you couldn’t do this alone. Maybe that was the point.

“Really?”

“I mean, I met your family,” You half laughed, trying to make light.

“Right,” He nodded his head with a chuckle. “Well then, let’s go,”

“...Now?”

“Why not?” He started to walk towards the door.

“Don’t you have a job?” You pointed to his desk.

“Oh they just like to pay me to sit in here so nobody robs the place,” He joked as he grabbed his coat. “I have nothing going on today baby, they won’t miss me.”

“Okay then,” You shrugged uneasily. “Guess we’re going to Jersey,”

----------------

After a train ride and a taxi later, you arrived in your small town of Shallow Meadow.

“Christ Almighty, I knew Jersey was in the dark ages, but not even having Uber??” Rafael grumbled. He hadn’t been in the back of a dirty cab in such a long time, and now he remembered why.

“Alright Daddy Warbucks, chill,” You laughed as you started walking with him through town.

It was a quaint little town; one stop light, one grocery store, two bars, something out of an old movie really You know the movies where the car breaks down in the tiny shitty town and all the townspeople are flesh eating zombies or something. The people of Shallow Meadow were pretty much like that. Well, to you anyway.

“So why didn’t we just have the Mayberry Express drop us at the cemetery?”

“...Because we don’t have roads you can drive on up there,” You answered with a nervous smile.

“...Right,” He shook his head as he noticed people coming out of shops to stare at the two of you. “...Do I have some kind of weird sign on my back that says NEW YORKER or what?”

“No, but that thousand dollar suit screams “moneybags” out here,” You smirked. “Besides, they’re not staring at you they’re staring at me,”

“...What? How do you know that?”

As if it was answering his question, a girl with bright red hair dressed in farm clothing and holding a baby on her hip came sauntering up to the two of you.

“Well lookie here,” She smirked. “Miss Prissy Pants brought back herself a Prissy Papa,”

“Excuse you?” Rafael was taken aback by such rudeness by such a poorly dressed person.

“Marla back off,” You scowled at her. “Just because you’re upset I found treasure and you’re stuck with trash--”

“OH, is that what we are now? Trash?” Marla spat. “You have a lot of nerve coming back here and saying that, murderer,”

“WHOA,” Rafael stepped in front of you. “I’m sorry, what-- what did you just call her?”

“Did she not tell you the story? Oh no wait I bet she did, her version. The version where she’s the victim and we’re all just the villains. Isn’t that right, Prissy?” She glared at you.

“...I never said you were--” You tried defending yourself.

“Really?” She scoffed. “Then why did you not even bother to show up to your folks’ funeral? Their ONLY daughter, the ones they DIED for. Couldn’t even be bothered to leave her high rise in the city to pay respects to the parents she KILLED,”

“It wasn’t like that and you KNOW it, Marla! And why was I going to come back? The only two people left in this town that tolerated me were gone--” You got up in her face.

“AND WHY IS THAT, Y/N?” She got back in yours, her baby almost falling out of her arms.

“Alright lady I don’t know who you are, but you’re going to back the hell off my fiancée--”

“Oh good God, your fiancé?” Marla laughed. “You would find yourself a sugar daddy, since you killed yours,”

“Alright you know what we’re leaving--” You grabbed Rafael’s hand and stomped away towards a huge hill that had a sign reading “CEMETERY” at the top.

“I hope you’re heading up there to beg their forgiveness Y/N, ‘cuz you sure as hell ain’t getting any down here!” Marla yelled angrily after you.

--------------

“...Well I think we just figured out where your forgiveness issues came from,” Rafael tried making light of the situation.

“Ya think?” You nodded.

“This whole time,” Rafael shook his head. “This whole time I thought you just had it in your mind that you were responsible for their death. But-- but you had an entire town telling you that,”

“...Yeah,” You shrugged.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, baby?” Rafael took your hand as the hill got steeper.

“Because I thought they were right, Rafael!” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I tell you that an entire town thought that I was a murderer? That’s not really a selling point on a partner,”

“...You thought they were right?”

“...Well, yeah,” You nodded softly with a small smile.

“And now…?”

Before you could answer, you reached the entrance of the cemetery. Luckily it wasn’t that big; you were ashamed to admit you didn’t even know where they were buried. But you found them in a small corner under a shade tree. You walked up to their mutual headstone:

“Y/M/N AND Y/D/N: Beloved Husband And Wife, Mayor and First Lady.”

“...Mayor?” Rafael looked at you in surprise.

“Yeah, well--” You shrugged. “You see why they were so beloved, and I was the hellish daughter that killed them?”

“Y/N…” Rafael put a hand on your shoulder.

“I was supposed to want to ‘take over the city’, like I would ever want to be in charge of anything in this stupid backwards hick ass town,” You scoffed angrily, tears stinging your eyes.

“...But didn’t you say that your parents wanted you to go to Juliard? Pursue your dreams?” Rafael asked in confusion.

“They did! My grandparents-- they had a different view,” You shook your head. “The...the hierarchy here it’s-- well it’s not really a democracy,”

“...How so…?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Because everyone just loved and accepted my family as, I don’t know, the ‘royal’ family?” You felt so stupid comparing your family to the Royal Family, but you didn’t know how else to explain it.

“The Mayor and First Lady titles were just...passed down, in my family. And not because they were dictators or something,” You quickly added the last part, you didn’t want Rafael to think any less of your family than he probably already did.

“People here are just...simple,” You sighed. “They accept things the way they are, they hate change. So it was just assumed that my family would always be... "the family’,”

“But you didn’t want that,” Rafael said again.

“Of course I didn’t want that!” You scoffed. “I didn’t want to just get a high school degree and then marry some ‘Cletus’ redneck man from here and have ‘heirs’ just to keep the family going!”

“But your parents understood that,” Rafael reiterated.

“It didn’t matter what my parents did or didn’t understand. My grandfather had more clout with the townspeople here,” You rolled your eyes. “My dad was the ‘mayor’, but his dad controlled everything. His father had been the mayor for over thirty years before he passed it onto my dad, who didn’t really want it either” You walked up to the headstone and ran your fingers over your father’s name.

“....So when he tried to ‘save’ me from that life, my grandpa wouldn’t hear it. He blamed me for...for manipulating them into giving me anything I wanted, like I was a spoiled little child. He blamed me for them giving me their life savings to go to Julliard instead of putting it back into the town treasury. Then he blamed me when they got killed, and he just reinstated himself as mayor! Which, I haven’t checked but I’ll be damned if he isn’t still rattling around his old ass bones in our house! He’ll just haunt this place forever!” You threw your hands up and looked down angrily at the town down below.

“Carino…” Rafael came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You took his hands in yours and kissed them before turning to face him. You looked into his sparkling green understanding eyes for a moment, before directing your attention back at the headstone.

“....This is Rafael Barba, mama and daddy,” You pulled him gently forward. “We’re getting married soon,”

“...Nice to meet you folks,” Rafael said awkwardly.

“...Raffi they’re dead,” You smiled jokingly.

“Right, right,” He shook his head with a small laugh.

“...He’s a very good man, daddy. I know you always wanted that. And he’s very handsome, so you’ll have beautiful grandchildren mama, just like you wanted,” You smiled while Rafael softly chuckled.

“...I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come,” You finally said with tears rolling down your cheeks. “I should have been here sooner,”

“But you’re here now,” Rafael softly rubbed your back.

“Yeah…” You nodded softly. This was the hard part.

“...I’m---I’m sorry, that I made you feel like horrible parents that night,” You tried not to cry, but the memories of that night flooded your memory the more you spoke.

“I’m sorry that you thought you needed to come see me, that you weren’t good parents if you didn’t,” Your lip trembled, you fell to your knees.

“...I’m sorry the last words you heard from me were ‘I hate you’,” You finally broke down sobbing.

“Y/N…” Rafael knelt down next to you and held you in his arms as you cried.

“Do you get now why...why I don’t think I deserve you? Why don't I think I deserve anything? Why I think I have to take everything? Fake everything? Because I am such a terrible person my own parents died thinking I hated them because I was that horrible to them!”

“They didn’t think you hated them, carino,” Rafael rocked you back and forth. “They knew you loved them, I know they did,”

“You know you’re probably right, Rafael. But it--I needed them to hear it,” You nodded at the gravestone.

“And?”

“...And I feel a lot better,” You smiled as Rafael wiped tears from your face.

“Really?”

“Yeah…Really,” You chuckled. “I guess that therapist really knows what she’s doing,”

“She should for the amount of money I pay her,” Rafael shook his head with a laugh as he helped you stand up.

“...Thank you for doing this with me, amor,” You sniffled, pressing your forehead against his.

“Of course, penguino,” He kissed you softly. “And, for what it’s worth--” He added as you two walked back down the hill towards town.

“I think that if your parents were alive, they would be proud of you,”

“Oh, I know my mother would take one look at you and be DAMN proud,” You both laughed at that.

“And I also think they would be appalled to see how their townspeople treat their daughter,” He glared at the town.

“Yeah well,” You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” He took your hands as the sun started to go down in your sleepy little town. “Now can we please get back to the city before I catch something out here?”

“Yes,” You giggled, staring at him lovingly.

“Let’s go home,”

[sxvxrxssnape]

Snolidays/Snapemas Day 3+4

Gift Shopping & Ornaments & Smile & Snow // pre-PS/the years between. Minerva and Severus friendship aka Minerva McGonagall’s personal mission to make Severus love Christmas part 3 aka min and sev’s shopping adventures: diagon alley edition ft. emotional disaster sev 

“Don’t forget, final essays are due next week!” Severus reminded his classroom of sixth year students as they cleaned up their work tables. “You’ve had three weeks to write them and I expect them all to be turned in.” He attempted to glare at the class, but no one paid him any mind.

Students exited his classroom in small groups of two and three, huddled together and laughing over meaningless jokes and plans for the afternoon. 

“Hold up, this classroom is still a mess! You’re NEWT students, for Merlin’s sake, you should know better than to leave things like this!” He tried to call them back, but he was speaking to an empty classroom.

He sighed. 

Being a professor at twenty-five was a fucking joke when no one took him seriously enough to respect him as an authority figure. It happened primarily with the older students, but even some of the other professors treated him as if he were still a student. Minerva seemed to be the only one who really saw him as a colleague and even she had her moments. 

What was he supposed to do? Practice making scary faces in the mirror until he perfected the disappointed eyebrow raise and scowl? Assign more detentions? He’d thought dressing the part would make him look more authoritative, but now he wondered if he simply looked like a child playing dress-up when he walked around in the stupid teaching robes Narcissa Malfoy had helped him purchase.

Another sigh, but this one was shaky. 

He surveyed the room and got to work, shutting drawers and cabinet doors. He double-checked the supply closet before locking it and levitated the abandoned cauldrons to the wash basin with the others, where they would wait for whichever unfortunate student had managed to get a detention from him that day. Idly, he wondered if he should ask Argus to monitor the night’s detention or if they would return in time.

He shook his head; he was running late. 

Locking his classroom, he hurried into his office and shrugged out of his ridiculous teaching robes. They were nice and he loved the black stitch detailing, but he felt out of place when he wore them. He felt like, well, like a swot. He had other robes as well, namely faded grey work robes that he wore when he brewed potions for the infirmary, but they didn’t make him feel powerful or deserving of respect. These did, at least, so pretentious purple teaching robes it was. 

He hung them up and took in the small room that had become his safe haven between classes over the years. It was a bit off a mess, but aside from his personal quarters, this was the only other place in the castle that really belonged to him. It was his space, from the still-steaming teacup of darjeeling - courtesy of a modified warming charm - waiting on his desk to the old copies of The Potioneer’s Journal stacked on the floor. There were four different books on his desk, two splayed out, hidden underneath a pile of assignments that still needed to be graded and about two dozen more scattered throughout the stone room. 

He considered tidying up a little before he left, maybe watering his rather sad looking peppermint plant and organizing the scrolls of parchment.  The mantle and bookshelf looked as if it needed a good dusting as well. This office was an extension of himself, was it not? 

Minerva was waiting for him, he reminded himself.

But what if a student came calling, hoping for assistance? For Merlin’s sake, he was the head of Slytherin (and how the bloody hell that happened, he still had no idea), he couldn’t just leave and traipse around the wizarding world as if he had no other responsibilities! What if something happened to one of his snakes and they needed him? He had a job! What part of in loco parentis was he not - 

He was stalling.

He was absolutely stalling. 

(And it had nothing with his position and everything to do with going to Diagon Alley). 

He forced himself to take a deep breath. His Slytherins would be fine and even if something happened, they still wouldn’t come to him for help because he still looked like a seventh year - and a socially uncomfortable, paranoia-fueled mess of one, at that. Merlin give him strength if the day ever came where he actually needed to take charge. 

At least he hadn’t stuttered anymore after his very first class. That had been a right disaster and he hated that the second years who got to experience that moment would still be attending Hogwarts for another bloody year. 

It took a few more deep breaths before he could convince himself to leave. He glanced down, decided that the black trousers and black jumper he’d pulled on from the pile of clothing that resided on his bedroom floor were clean enough for public wear, and grabbed his scarf. It was hand knitted and pale blue and alright a little wonky, but one of his snakes had given it to him and maybe he was a little sentimental over the physical proof that some of them liked him. 

He summoned his winter cloak (and he had to rummage around his desk for the silver cloak pin he might have used to stab through a particularly abysmal homework assignment) and the dragonhide satchel he knew some of the students found him hilarious for carrying around, but what was he supposed to use? His robe pockets? Then it would be obvious he was casting unsanctioned extension charms on his things. 

Definitely running late now, he headed upstairs and ran into Minerva on the stairs, who’d clearly been en route to retrieve him. 

“Well, it’s about time.” she huffed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was dark out already.” The words didn’t match her tone - gentle, and maybe a little concerned - and it turned his anxiety brittle. He didn’t need to be coddled. 

“I was talking to a student.” he lied smoothly, adjusting his cloak so it felt more secure - made him feel more secure - and opened the front door. 

“How was your class?”she asked mildly, as they stepped over the remnants of dirty, half-melted snow and made their way to the wrought iron gate. 

He scowled and stared up at the sky, noting how overcast it was. “Frustrating.” he admitted, because Minerva was the only person he would ever admit that to. “It’s hard to believe they’re sixth years, for all they pay attention and listen to me.” 

“They’re probably just excited for the coming break.” 

“The first years are excited for the break and they behave far better than my NEWT students.” Severus’ scowl deepened. “I hate their class.”

“Just their class?” Minerva asked, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. 

He took a moment to contemplate that. “No, but theirs especially.” he decided. “The fourth years and under take me seriously, but the others - I’ve got seventh year Slytherins who will go to you before they come to me!”

“So the ones who’ve only known you to be their professor?”

Severus stopped. “You have a point.”

“Look at it this way,” Minerva smirked, “just three more years and they’ll all take you seriously. Besides, you are young. I’m sure you still have a little more growing to do, dear.”

“Don’t make me hex you.”

“You’ll lose.” Minerva replied simply. 

They apparated directly into Diagon Alley once they cleared the wards, appearing in the courtyard between Gringotts and The Leaky Cauldron. Daylight was beginning to dim, the late afternoon sky fading languidly into the cool tones of winter’s night, and the shopping district was quiet. 

There were only a handful of wizards walking about, making their way between the brightly colored shops and market stalls. The Alley had prepared for the holidays as well, with their decorated storefronts and the oversized Christmas tree standing tall in the center of the plaza, adorned with hundreds of ornaments and a dizzying amount of silver tinsel. There was no snow on this side of the United Kingdom though, and against the bare, wet cobblestone streets, Diagon Alley didn’t look like rows of icing-coated gingerbread houses. 

“Let’s get this over with, then.”

Minerva was watching him carefully and he offered a smile that felt more like a grimace. He didn’t hate shopping for others, but that rebellious part of him was - once again - determined to complain and make a scene. He hated that part of him, felt like he was pushing away the only person who made an effort to see him as a person and not, well, everything else he was. Traumatized child, former student, former Death Eater, child professor, take your bloody pick. 

He tried for genuine excitement, for her sake.

Their first stop was a nearby coffee stall and once again, they purchased paper cups of hot coffee with peppermint and chocolate sauce. His mood brightened when he noticed these came with whipped cream and chocolate curls. They spent nearly an hour browsing through the nearby shops and market stalls before he finally relaxed enough to stop looking over his shoulder - there was no one around but very few harried shoppers and the occasional bellringer.

They were inside of Wiseacre’s, fiddling with the selection of crystal balls and reading their futures, when Severus laughed - genuinely laughed - for the first time since they had arrived in London. 

Minerva cracked a grin at that before she schooled her face into something more severe. “Don’t laugh!” she admonished, rubbing her hands over the glass sphere. “I’m only telling you what it said: you will get everything you’ve ever wanted, through your looks and charm.”

“I’m sure you will.”

She huffed and tried a different one. “A new voyage will fill your life with untold memories.”

“Now that one sounds like a fortune cookie.”

“You try then.”

Severus shrugged and took the proffered ball. He ran his hands over the joke of a crystal ball and watched as it filled with smoke, turning warm and tingly beneath his fingertips. Tiny print appeared in a golden, curling font: “Your shoes will make you very happy today.”

He looked up and made eye contact with Minerva, exhaling the barest hint of another laugh as he thought of the puddles of slush they had walked through to leave Hogwarts and the impervious charm casted on his boots. He supposed it wasn’t too far off. 

Another crystal ball caught his eye and he reached for it. It was clearly another counterfeit, but the stand it rested on seemed genuine enough - heavy and silver-plated. Three crescent moons gather to keep the crystal ball in place, the empty spaces between them interlaced with deep blue sapphires and hand carved runes. 

He studied the runes for a moment, fairly certain they were a protection spell. “I think I’ll get this.” he announced, holding up the stand. He took the faux ball in his other hand, getting distracted when it filled with smoke and offered him another fortune: an unexpected acquaintance will resurface. 

“For Sybill?” Minerva asked, half-paying attention as she thumbed through a collection of star charts. She looked up when she didn’t receive an answer. “Severus?”

Severus was scowling down at the fortune (although it felt more like a warning) and set it down amongst the others. He didn’t put merit in fortune-telling, let alone crystal balls that sold for less than six galleons and were meant for children. “For Sybill.” he nodded, walking away from the merchandise. He absolutely wasn’t thinking about boots and his paranoia of running into old friends that increased tenfold whenever he left the castle’s wards and how fortune-telling was the only reason he’d made rank within the Death Eaters in the first place. 

The stand ended up costing him three galleons, which was more than he’d hope to spend on all of his gifts, but there’s a guilt that gnawed at him whenever he thought about Sybill Trewlaney and his time as a Death Eater at the same time; namely, how a conversation he’d had with the Dark Lord had nearly gotten her killed and it was enough to override his desire to shop frugally. 

Minerva purchased a pendant for Aurora: frail lines of silver connected to tiny stars, making up constellations that changed with the position of the planets. It was beautiful and he wished he had seen it first, but he also knew Aurora liked reading romantic murder mysteries and he could think of a few titles she’d likely enjoy.

Not that he read romantic murder mysteries.

At all. 

They left the wizarding equipment shop and continued with their browsing. The outdoor stalls were being illuminated by floating orbs now and warming charms had been cast over the next huddle of tables they approached. 

Severus was studying a display of cloak pins when Minerva called his name. 

He glanced over at her and found her holding up a box full of  ornaments - red, green, and silver baubles with gold flakes that changed color - and a tiny, but determined-looking pewter witch mounted on a broomstick that was meant to fly around the tree. 

“We’re getting these.” 

“We are?” Severus asked, moving closer to rifle through the table she had grabbed them from. He grinned as he found a box of potion phials, brightly painted and stoppered to keep the glitter water inside from spilling out. “This is entirely inaccurate.” he sniffed, but he was still smiling like an idiot because of course he was nerdy enough to find potion bottle ornaments delightful. “Amortentia is definitely not pink and if someone ever hands you a Sleeping Draught that sparkles, they need to be arrested for attempted murder.”

Minerva laughed and they paid for the three boxes of ornaments and two white-fur trimmed stockings because Min had insisted they were a decorating requirement, but that they would need to purchase two because hers matched Elphinstone’s and she wasn’t quite ready to hang it up when she knew they were meant to be a pair. 

The mood dampened a little after that admission and Severus found himself floundering. He didn’t know if he was meant to comfort her or how to even do it, so he grabbed the cloak pin he had been watching, a little bronze frog that leapt from its post and perched on your shoulder - absolutely useless as a fastener, but perfect for a distraction and invoking a smile - and claimed it was the ideal gift for Albus. 

“It even looks like a chocolate frog.” he finished, handing the vendor fifteen sickles in exchange for the now-boxed-up pin. “He’s going to love it.”

Minerva’s faint smile was soft. “He will.” 

They parted ways for the first time when they reached the bookshop. Minerva had something she wanted to get at Twilfit and Tattings and Severus waved her off, eager to finally enter Flourish and Blotts. 

“Be good.” 

He scowled at ordinance and mockingly saluted her as he headed inside. The bookstore was warm and softly lit, smelled of fresh parchment and chamomile tea. The shelves reached all the way up to the ceiling, wall-to-wall displays only broken by the burning fireplace and the collection of squishy, comfy-looking chairs gathered in front of it. 

The shopkeeper waved at him as she organized a stack of new releases next to the shelf where the school textbooks were kept. There’s a beverage cart near the fireplace, holding a teapot and an assortment of mismatched mugs. He helped himself to a spot of chamomile and started to wander around, using his wand to summon books that seemed interesting enough to add to the growing pile floating behind him. 

In the end, he decided on six books - two for Aurora, one for Argus, and three for himself. 

The newly purchased stack fit easily inside his satchel, barely taking up any room beside the crystal ball stand, the stuffed kneazle - plush toy, not taxidermy - he had found at the Magical Menagerie for Hagrid, and all the other knick-knacks he had decided on. Not to mention everything else that already resided in there.

It wasn’t technically illegal. 

Besides, it wasn’t his fault that undetectable extension charms were so advanced that not many wizards were able to do it properly. Furthermore, both Albus and Minerva were aware of it, and if anyone were to get in trouble here, his money was on the headmaster. He was confident in his spell-casting abilities and the worst that could happen was accidentally falling in and unable to find his way out - which wasn’t even that bad, considering he always carried around a medley of potions and snacks and even a blanket because he was that paranoid of being left out in the cold with no one to turn to.

He blinked.

Alright, maybe his abandonment issues were starting to make themselves known, but in his defense, Minerva had been gone for a good forty minutes now. 

The point was, casting the charm was heavily frowned upon by the Ministry, but it wasn’t going to get him arrested either. He had worse things on his resume to choose from - and thank Merlin the Ministry of Magic never found out about the...unsavory potions he had been experimenting with around the time of his trial a few years back. 

“Severus?”

He stiffened, flashes of smoke filled spheres and curling script flashing in his mind as he heard a voice that did not belong to Minerva. Tension coiled in his shoulders and he carefully secured the buckle on his satchel before he turned around and greeted the man who had decided to approach him. 

“Severus Snape.” the man grinned wolfishly, blue eyes twinkling with delight. “As I live and breathe.”

“Corban Yaxley.” Severus greeted, taking in the other’s appearance. His hair had grown out since the last time he’d seen him and his honey-colored locks were pulled back in a low ponytail, accentuating his squared jaw and arched eyebrows. “What a pleasure to run into you.”

“Quite.” Yaxley grinned, the edges sharp.  “How is Hogwarts? I heard you were made Head of House for Slytherin.” He took a step closer and leaned forward, his voice dropping as if they were conspiring next to the biographies. “An excellent opportunity to shape the minds of the future, don’t you think?”

Severus kept his face blank. “As well as one could expect,” he answered airily, as if he weren’t gripping his wand beneath the folds of his cloak tight enough to turn his knuckles white, “considering how brainless they all seem to be.” 

Yaxley chuckled and leaned back, his posture appearing relaxed and friendly now, but Severus knew better than to trust a former Death Eater who had avoided going to Azkaban simply because he was that good of a liar. 

“I don’t get paid enough to deal with their unruliness.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve picked up a trick or two to deal with that.” Yaxley winked and then raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, Severus?” He stepped closer again. “You used to be so impressive.”

“All of that is irrelevant now.”

“Shame.”

The man was still smiling though and his eyes glinted with something that looked an awful lot like triumph when Severus broke and took a step backwards. He composed himself, but the fingers on his visible hand still clenched around the empty teacup he’d all but forgotten about. “How are things faring at the Ministry?” he deflected, proud when his words didn’t falter. 

“Excellent, ever since I got this promotion.” Yaxley smirked. “Karkaroff might have turned traitor - and I can’t say I blame him, for all he’s accomplished: headmaster of Durmstrang, I hear - dropping names left and right in an attempt to hightail it out of Azkaban, but he really did me a solid by getting Rookwood sacked.” 

“Glad to hear of it.” 

Yaxley stepped closer again and murmured, “Glad to hear he didn’t take you down with him, though. I heard he named you, but I was in America on Ministry business during the Death Eater trials.” Severus could feel the man’s breath on his face and it caused his facade to falter as an awful feeling crept down his spine. “I’ve missed seeing you around, Sev. You’re not hiding out in that fancy castle of yours, are you?”

Severus shook his head, unable to speak.

“Good.” Yaxley’s smile turned saccharine as he put a hand on Severus’ shoulder. 

The small bell over the door chimed as it opened, letting in a gust of cold air as someone entered, and it broke the spell. Corban Yaxley dropped his hand and headed for the door. “Don’t be a stranger, yeah?” 

Minerva was standing in front of him now, her eyes narrowed as she studied him carefully. “Alright?” she asked, and this time, Severus jumped - and for a split second, he wondered the psychology behind his body staying absolutely still some of the times he was surprised versus the times when he flinched - and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He couldn’t find the words to answer her, his mind heavily focused on the unpleasant weight he still felt on his arm, as if Yaxley were still touching him. 

“Let’s get a bite to eat.” Min led him outside and he followed as if on autopilot. “We won’t make it back to Hogwarts in time for dinner.” 

He didn’t know the time, didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not, but he also didn’t feel like returning to the bustle of students just yet, so he let her guide him through the white dusted streets of Diagon Alley. Snow had begun to fall, but he barely paid it any mind. He was still reeling, lost in his head as Minerva walked them through The Leaky Cauldron and right into muggle London. 

He flinched when she put a hand on his arm, still thinking of Yaxley’s unwelcome touch, and her lips thinned as he choked out an apology. She shook her head and gestured to his cloak before transforming her own into a cream-colored coat. He understood then and raised his wand - still gripped tightly between very numb fingers - and fumbled his way through the spell, changing his wizarding apparel into a winter coat. 

“Did you find something for everyone?” Minerva asked gently, as she led them down the street. 

He tried to think of everything he bought, frowning when he realized he’d forgotten the one person whose gift mattered the most: hers. “Just about.” he mumbled, hating the way his voice betrayed his weakness. It was no wonder his students didn’t listen; he was pathetic. How he’d ever been able to lie to the Dark Lord and not get killed was beyond him. Perhaps Yaxley had a point: he used to be so impressive. 

They entered the first open establishment they saw, a hole-in-the-wall pub with yellow paint and wooden paneling that had once seen better days, but the imperfections were overshadowed by the dozens of framed photographs that dated the place back to the fifties. The lights were hazy, casting an ambient glow onto the green vinyl seats, and soft music - jazzy Christmas songs, from the sound of it- was playing over the speakers, a strange contrast to the clinking of glasses and stifled laughter coming from the patrons at the bar. 

Minerva requested a corner booth and took the side that kept her back to the door, wordlessly yet pointedly, and Severus exhaled with a relief he didn’t wish to admit to. They were offered a laminated menu, but Min ordered the special for them without enquiring anything about it - and Severus was beginning to see a pattern there - and two pints of the house ale, and he wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or embarrassed for her help. 

“I believe I found the perfect gift for Albus.” Minerva started talking, once they were alone again, and reached into a bright pink shopping bag from Gambol and Japes, pulling out a six inch slab of what looked like granite. 

He stared at the object for a solid minute before he gave in and reached for it, taking the smooth square of white-speckled stone and examining it. It had no divots, no fault lines, no imperfections of any kind and he idly wondered if this was a very simplistic paperweight or an attempt to distract him from his impending anxiety attack. “I don’t get it.” he finally conceded. 

“It’s a puzzle box.” Minerva took it back and turned it over a few times. “Only the most advanced spellcaster could ever dream of solving it.” 

That piqued his attention and he reached for it again. “Hold on, I want to try.” He glanced around the pub before tucking his wand into the sleeve of his jumper and began casting a number of spells, starting with the most basic he could think of - it came from the joke shop, right? There was humor to be found in unexpected simplicity - and even casting a few that he definitely hadn’t learned at Hogwarts. 

He gave up, frustrated. 

Minerva, on the other hand, was grinning. “This will keep him entertained, don’t you think?” she asked, putting it away. 

“It’s going to keep me up for the rest of my life.” Severus replied. 

Their food arrived then, burgers on pretzel buns with grilled mushrooms and swiss cheese, and Severus was quick to reach for the chips. Whether it was her intention or not, the distraction had worked and now he worried that she would ask about his run-in with Corban Yaxley. Given the look on her face, it felt inevitable, so with a stifled sigh, Severus cast a whispered muffliato and a muggle repelling charm over them. 

“Just say it, then.” he mumbled.

“Say what?”

He glared at her. “I ruined our outing with my overreaction, there at the end. I can tell you’re thinking it, so don’t bother lying to me.”

Minerva blinked and reached for her ale. “Actually, I was wondering if it would be in poor taste to gift Hagrid with a cookbook.”

“What?”

“Surely you’ve tried his rock cakes?” Min asked, biting into a chip. “I just feel he could benefit from a proper recipe. I’m sure he would be an excellent baker, if he just measured the flour correctly.”

He took the out for what it was. “You’d need to find a big enough copy of The Joy of Baking.”

They were nearly done with their meal, their glasses long empty - downsides to the repelling charm, he supposed - when Minerva asked quietly, “Are you alright?”

He nodded. 

“Had fun?”

Again, he nodded, because he did have a good time. His chance encounter at the end hadn’t even gone badly - he always worried what would happen if he ran into an ex-Death Eater in public, worried he would choose his words wrong and give himself away. The Dark Lord might be gone, but his cover needed to remain intact, Merlin forbid, the worst ever happened. He just wished he had kept it together better. 

He had to learn to keep it together better.

Minerva didn’t pry any further. He cancelled the spells while she talked about Filius’ plan to form a carolling group separate from the Frog Choir and then glared at her when she mentioned it was open to the staff as well, because he could tell where that conversation was going. They were interrupted by their server - small mercies - with their bill, and Severus rifled through his satchel for the muggle money he always carried. 

They were standing just outside the door, shrugging back into their coats, when his attention was caught by a colorful flyer for a christmas lights festival. 

“We should go.” he told Minerva and bit back a smirk at her surprise that he was suggesting an activity for them to do, instead of her. 

“Really?”

“I recall you mentioning it was something you did with Elphinstone.” Severus kept his voice casual, shrugging the weight of what he was offering away. “I think we should go. This weekend.”

Minerva was still staring at the flyer, but when she finally replied, her voice was warm. “This weekend, then.”

-- a/n: maybe i got carried away again?? where’s the actual plot?? there isn’t one baby!! just 4.7k of general chaos

[paulharris62060]

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2 with Parkner? 👀💗

the fact that I don’t remember the context of this conversation is making it objectively funnier, but fake dating AU anyone?? with some fun college shenanigans? this was too fun

as per always, ao3 link for those who want it

2. “I need your help.” “Is this a ‘I have a homework assignment I haven’t started and it’s due in 3 minutes’ kind of situation or a ‘I need to bury a body’ situation?” “Worse.” “How do you get worse than murder-”

Harley burst in the door, causing Peter to fall out of his chair.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“I need your help.” Harley hung up his keys next to the door and flopped into the chair Peter had just vacated.

Peter sighed. “Is this an ‘I have a homework assignment I haven’t started yet due in three minutes’ kind of situation or an ‘I need to bury a body’ situation?”

“Worse.”

“How do you get worse than murder?” Peter stood and started pacing. “What the fuck did you do, get expelled? Dear god what did you set on fire this time, Harley. I cannot keep you off campus security off your tail if you keep doing this shit.”

His roommate just gave him a shit eating grin. “What? Arson is fun, Peter. Lighten up a little baby.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an ass. What’s the emergency?”

“So you know how that asshole in my one chem class?”

“The evening one? Yeah you only complain about him every time you have class.”

“Yeah okay so you’re not gonna fucking believe this but apparently he’s gay. And he kinda asked me out.”

Peter stopped pacing. “So what I’m hearing is this guy’s been pulling pigtails for the past couple of months?”

“Seems so.”

Harley only stared at him, as if expecting some kind of sympathy, but Peter just burst out laughing.

“Hey! Don’t be rude. You’re rude Peter.”

“I literally do not care, Harles. What did you tell him?”

“Um, so that’s kinda the thing I need your help with.”

“What, saying no to a date I’m assuming you don’t want to go on?”

“No, I've got that handled. There’s just something I must have forgotten to mention.”

This got Peter’s attention. “Oh?”

“The way he asked me out was ‘Hey, if you ever break up with that little boy toy you’re always with, you should consider going on a date with me.’”

He was confused. “Boy toy? Harley, who-“ He froze. “Oh.”

Harley nodded. “That about sums it up, yeah.”

“Well that’s not… ideal.”

“Hey, it got me out of a date with that asshole it’s not all bad. Glad to know my roommate is good for something.”

Peter flopped onto his bed. “Oh is that all I’m good for? Good luck passing your next bio exam, dickhead.”

“Hey wait no I didn’t mean it like that!” Harley pouted.

“Seriously asshole, you can tell whatever his name is that this ‘boy toy’ is done with you until further notice.”

“Peter,” Harley whined. “Darlin’ you managed to save me without even being there. Can you just walk me to class one time so he keeps his distance?”

He sighed. “Yeah sure, I guess. When’s your next class?”

“Tomorrow.”

“No can do, sweetie pie. I’ve got a lab.”

“C’mon, Stark doesn’t care that much. Just be late!”

“Ah, but Professor Banner cares a lot and it’s his lab. When’s your next one?”

Harley thought for a second. “Friday.”

Peter pulled out his phone and checked his calendar. “Yeah I can swing that. Might even be able to walk you home too if he doesn’t get the message.”

“Oh my god you’re a lifesaver. How can I ever repay you?”

“Buy me a cup of coffee and don’t tell MJ I agreed to this.”

“Deal.”

~~~

“There’s no guarantee that we’ll even run into him, but please for the love of everything holy, if we do see him, make sure you get the point across.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Honey, if he believes we’re dating just because we’re always together, I think he’ll get the message when I walk you to class.”

“You never know,” Harley defended. “He could try something.”

He sighed. “Fine, whatever, I’ll sell it if we see him.” He rolled his eyes again. “Have I mentioned I hate you?”

“Only every day ending in ‘y’ my love.” Harley glanced up. “Oh god there he is.”

“Relax sweetheart. We’re almost to your class.”

They kept walking, quietly chatting. Peter was just filling him in on some of Professor Potts’ business theory class drama (“rumor has it she’s sleeping with Professor Romanov, Harley. If it’s true, Ned owes me $50”) when the guy, (Jason, Harley informed him) approached them.

“Hey Keener! Still haven’t taken me up on the offer to drop your dead weight, I see. I don’t know what he can do for you, baby, but I promise I can do a lot better.”

Peter barely glanced at Harley before stepping out in front of him. “Listen here, assface,” he said, stepping closer to the guy. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you need to step the hell off.”

Harley tried to pull him back. “Please don’t make a scene, honey. Let’s just go to class. I’ll see you after okay?”

“That is if you haven’t agreed to let me take you out instead,” the guy said.

“I’d sure like to take him out. Preferably with a solid right hook.”

“Peter!” Harley laughed. “He’s got nothing on you, I promise. No need to get jealous. He’s all talk anyway, it’s not like he could actually love me like you do.”

“True.” Peter smiled. “I’ll be back to walk you home, okay?”

And with that, he reached up and pulled Harley down by his collar, and kissed him. Hard.

“We’ll talk later,” he whispered, before shooting Jason one last warning look, and walking back towards their apartment.

Harley barely registered Jason turning white and walking away awkwardly as he watched Peter walk away.

He could still feel Peter on his lips, and damn if that wasn’t the best reason to be late for class.

[cosmicstxrdust]

I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 3,597

You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down I'm gonna stand my ground Won't be turned around And I'll keep this world from dragging me down

1 | 2 |

Pt. 1- 10 Days Until Apocalypse I, 2019

Lola Gimbel was a very peculiar child and it wasn’t because she was one of the forty-three children born on that fateful day in 1989. Instead, she was strange because at the ripe young age of fifteen, she had already started her autobiography. It wasn’t that she was famous and needed her life written down, or that she was planning on dying anytime soon; on the contrary, she planned to live a long and fruitful life.

(One must be careful with what they wish for.)

Instead, her inspiration came from an eleven-year-old girl who’d lived over seventy years ago in a fictional work called The Book Thief. Lola admired Liesel’s perseverance and survival skills during war-torn times and the romantic part of her wanted someone like Rudy to stay by her side. This created the urge to pen down her own life story, first by asking her family members about the early years beyond memory until she could rely on her own.

Then, she spent many, many nights hidden in her basement writing by the aid of flickering candlelight. Of course, she didn’t need to use such old-fashioned ways, but the atmosphere helped set the mood and was a replica of how her book-hero wrote. Unfortunately, Lola didn’t think she had anything interesting to write even in the two and a half notebooks and counting. So far, she had:

My name is Lola Gimbel and I was born August 1, 2004. My family consists of my mother, Diana Gimbel, my father, Edmund Gimbel and my uncle, Edward Gimbel. I go to the local public high school in downtown Toronto, Canada. My father and uncle own a department store downtown called Gimbel’s Brothers. (An original name, I know. Don’t tell them I said that.) This is where I spend most of my free time after school. My mother works long hours as a nurse and apparently, I can’t be trusted enough to stay home alone after burning eggs one morning.

I’m getting ahead of myself; I was born in Toronto General Hospital at 9:15 a.m. According to my birth certificate, I weighed five pounds, five ounces. Tiny, I know! My mother was in labor for almost nine hours and when I finally arrived, she named me Delores. I hate my name because it sounds so old fashioned and it means sadness. I’d like to think I was a gift to my parents, but maybe not? and I know they love me, so instead of telling them that, I call myself Lola, which is better. It’s still a derivative of Delores, after all. As for appearances, I have shoulder-length brown hair with mid-length bangs and blue eyes.

The writing continued on for pages and pages, detailing everything she could- and couldn’t-remember from her life. There was one thing that she did not include, however, as it would give her parents a heart attack: the mansion the next block over, home of the long-forgotten Umbrella Academy, housed the biggest library she’d ever seen, and she stole books from it.

Three Years Ago

It had really been a coincidence that she’d taken any interest in the building at all. While it was the biggest thing in the city practically, the old man who lived there was an eccentric recluse who never left the house. And, despite it’s past grandeur, the once-grand entrance had faded with time and memory. Even those who’d grown up in the golden years of The Umbrella Academy had let their passions for the group of crime-fighting children go by the wayside as they grew up, leaving the large house to sit without audience for years on end.

Still, that didn’t stop some interested passers-by from peering in occasionally and Lola was among them. One night, she’d been passing by on her way home from a late-night walk and had travelled by the house on her way home. She’d passed by the house hundreds of times before, but that night she’d seen something. Or, someone. A slightly stooped figure had lingered in the window until they’d sensed they were being watched and had disappeared.

Since then, curiosity had plagued her to go check it out. Maybe, just maybe, she’d have something interesting to add to her life’s story. Her mother would cluck her tongue and say curiosity killed the cat, but her Uncle Edward would wink at her and chime in with but satisfaction brought it back. So the next night, Lola didn’t hide in the basement. Instead, she donned all-black clothes and crept to the house.

She’d never broken in anywhere but she had an inventive, quick mind and could almost always come up with a solution. The first-floor windows and doors had been locked and secure but after a few, terrifying minutes of climbing- luckily, the old stone had great places to cling on to- she’d reached the second level. Despite the ache in her fingers from grasping the side of the building, Lola had pressed on, hoping for luck, which arrived in the form of a second-story window being unlocked.

The brunette pushed it open carefully and dropped in, keeping low. A young girl would hardly trigger any alarms, but she wanted to be cautious anyway. The room she’d landed in was dark and with only the faint filter of light from the street lamps, she made her way into the hallway. A part of her hoped to find the figure she’d seen, but the other part- the larger part- hoped she wouldn’t meet anyone.

Despite the age of the house, the floorboards were in excellent condition and made no sound as she walked down the hallway. After trying a few doors to find them all barred, Lola hesitated at the back staircase. She should really stay on the floor with the escape, but something was encouraging her exploration upward, so she climbed.

There, at the end of the hallway, stood two large, double doors. Her anticipation heightened and it took everything in her not to sprint towards them. Instead, Lola continued at the same pace and, with bated breath, tried the handle. To her surprise, the door swung open immediately. The room was dark but her eyes had gotten used to the lack of light by now and she could make out towering, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. She gave a squeak of excitement. Books! Now she could really be like Liesel Meminger!

Sure, there were libraries, but this was so much better. Her feet moved quickly, closing the distance between the door and the books. She ran her hands enthusiastically along the spines of the volumes, unable to read their titles due to the dim light. Which one should she take first?

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was outside the door. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but the air suddenly felt… charged.

Quickly, she pulled one volume off the shelf and close to her chest. At the same time, a shadow appeared in the open crack of the door.

Oh no, oh no, oh no- Lola shook her head furiously, clutching the book. Panicking wouldn’t help. The room was dark enough that whoever it was probably hadn’t seen her, so she could still get away. Her eyes darted around the mostly open space.

There was a couch with side tables, a working desk, library nick-nacks and- aha! she thought triumphantly, soundlessly making her way to the window.

The figure in the door entered the room, peering cautiously around before backing out again, closing the door with a sharp click!

Lola, from her hiding place in the curtain, let out a relieved breath. She took this as her queue to leave, exiting with her prize out the same window she’d come in. While she was triumphant in her first heist, her mind was whirring. The figure had been obscured by darkness, but the outline had been clearer than when she’d seen them in the window- that, she was sure of- and it seemed like the person wasn’t actually a person at all, but a- monkey.

9 Days Until Apocalypse I, 2019

After school hours usually found Lola en route to her father’s department store where she would spend time until closing working on homework or hanging out with the staff that was on break. While the back room wasn’t the most ideal place for studying, she’d become used to the constant comings and goings and the noise that came with the workers.

Now, she was sitting at a table in the cluttered space at the back of the store working on her math homework while the daily news played on a small, old-fashioned TV hung up in the corner of the large room. Three of the staff members, Sam, Eric and Brittany were sitting at the table with her. The first of the workers’ attention was fixed on the small TV while the second two where scrolling through an app on their phones looking as bored as Lola felt as she completed her assignment.

With a loud sigh, she looked up at the trio hopefully, “do you guys want to see a magic trick?”

Brittany rolled her dark eyes, “what, are you gonna pull a quarter from my ear?”

Lola grinned, “nope!” she said cheerfully, shifting slightly in her seat to pull out a deck of cards from the back pocket of her jeans.

Sam huffed, “are you going to do the ‘pick a card, any card?’ schtick?”

“You guys have no faith in me,” the brunette complained, pulling the cards from the container and proceeding to shuffle them, “I’ve been practicing.”

Eric sighed, “fine, I’ll bite. Hold ‘em out.”

Discreetly, the brunette flipped the bottom card of the deck over and then fanned them out to the other teen, careful not to let the different card show, “alright, pick a card, any card,” she said this part sarcastically with an eye roll towards Sam.

The blonde boy reached forward and pulled out the card he wanted.

“Show it to everyone but not me,” she commanded, “make sure you remember it.”

“Aye aye, Cap,” Eric said, flipping the card to reveal his choice.

While he did so, she flipped the deck casually in her hands, feigning nonchalance. She took it back from him, placing it carefully in the middle of the deck, “now, I’m going to find your card without looking.”

Lola hid the deck behind her back, flipping the top card over. At this point, even Brittany had put away her phone to watch. She revealed them again showing a face-up deck and carefully shuffled through the cards to reach the only face-down card.

Flipping it over, she showed the eight of hearts, “is this your card?”

Eric let out a low whistle, “well, I’ll be damned. You have been practicing.”

The dark-haired girl beamed happily, pleased that she’d pulled it off. The first time she’d tried this with her uncle, she’d accidentally revealed the workings of the trick as the deck slipped out of her hands.

“That’s definitely better than a quarter,” Brittany said begrudgingly.

Before anyone else could say something though, the jingle of the breaking news broke through the work room.

“This just in! Moments ago, police reported the death of the eccentric billionaire, Reginald Hargreeves. More on this story after the break.”

Sam’s head snapped towards the TV, “Hargreeves- that name sounds familiar.”

“That’s because he ran that Umbrella thing, idiot,” Brittany said with an eye roll, “they were all the rage during the early 2000s. My brother went nuts over them.”

“The Umbrella thing?” Lola questioned, curious.

“Oh yeah,” the older girl said, “there was this group of crime-fighting children that was run by Hargreeves. They became famous after stopping a bank robbery but they went downhill after one of their members went missing. Tommy was heartbroken.”

“Went missing?” Lola asked, “as in kidnapped?”

Brittany shrugged, “no one knows what happened to him. Hargreeves isn’t exactly an open book, either. There were several unsolved documentaries but they flopped since there’s not a ton of information. You can look it up if you wanna to know more. Personally, I was more of a Disney fan.”

“Of course you were,” Sam said in amusement.

The dark-haired girl glared at him, “what’s that supposed to mean, moron?”

The blue-eyed boy shrugged, “just that it’s a girly thing.”

Lola rolled her eyes as Brittany shot something back at the boy, tuning them out as the attention shifted away from her. She made a mental note to research The Umbrella thing, as the other girl had said. Standing, she stretched and made her way into the main area of the store to take a break.

Despite all the time she spent in here, Lola didn’t think she’d ever tire of looking at the constant rotation of styles and colors. Her favorite thing to do was run her hands along the racks, feeling the shifts between soft, scratchy, wooly and a hundred other different cloths.

Her favorite section was the formal wear for the vast amount of sparkly dresses that her father decided to sell. She particularly liked the sequins because of the shine they gave off and the unique texture that passed under her fingertips. While she wouldn’t necessarily consider herself a girly-girl, she did appreciate a nice dress and the occasional accessory, even owning-and wearing- an assortment of hats and dressy items containing her favorite material.

This was the section she made her way over to now, immediately reaching her hand out to touch the slightly-rough, slightly-smooth fabric of a long, strapless dress covered in a layer of silver-and-gold sequins.

She jumped when a gentle, warm hand came to rest on her shoulder, “hey, Sequins.”

Lola rolled her eyes, “Uncle Ed, I thought I told you I hated that nickname?”

Her uncle smiled goofily at her, “what, I can’t call you something that you love?”

She huffed, “it’s dumb.”

“That’s what your mother said when you wanted to go by Lola but you did it anyway.”

“Ouch, I think I need ointment for that burn.”

The man laughed loudly, attracting some stares from other customers. They both ignored it, Lola being used to her uncle’s easy, hearty laughter, “I thought she was going to have a conniption when you told her.”

Lola’s face warmed, “are you ever going to let me live that down?”

He gave her a bright smile, “no way, Dolores.”

The brunette gave him a half-irritated, half-playful glare, “please, Uncle Ed.”

8 Days Until Apocalypse I, 2019

That evening before dinner, Lola sat herself down at the computer in her room and typed in the first part of a search inquiry: The Umbrella and then Google helpfully suggested the rest: Academy.

Clicking on the first result, her blue eyes widened in shock as an image appeared on the screen. The building she stole books from almost every night was home to heroes. Good god, what if she’d been caught? She would be dead for sure. She thanked her lucky stars that she’d only met the slightly-stooped figure a handful of times and had never spoken to anyone.

She scrolled further down to read about The Umbrella Academy.

On October 1, 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth simultaneously, despite none of them showing any sign of pregnancy until labor began. Seven of the children are adopted by eccentric billionaire Sir Reginald Hargreeves and turned into a superhero team that he calls "The Umbrella Academy." Hargreeves gives the children numbers rather than names, but the public gives them codenames. Spaceboy, Kraken, Rumor, Séance, The Boy and Horror. While putting six of his children to work fighting crime, Reginald keeps the seventh apart from her siblings' activities, as she supposedly demonstrates no powers of her own.

Intrigued, she clicked on a few more links that showed poor-quality pictures of six kids in domino masks and black uniforms after complete missions. Sometimes they’re covered in blood, sometimes they’re not. The group visibly diminishes in number after 2002, a few years before she was born. Then, when they’re in their teens, it shrinks again before all articles about the group cease to exist.

Frowning, Lola then typed in Reginald Hargreeves. There are, unsurprisingly, few articles about the man himself. There were a few about his notable achievements including his knighting and entrepreneurship but most involved The Umbrella Academy. There was even audio recording of one of the few interviews he’d done, showing the man standing outside of a bank as he introduced the group to the world.

“Our world is changing. Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. I have adopted six such children. I give you the inaugural class of The Umbrella Academy!”

Abilities beyond the extraordinary? Lola thought, weren’t they just regular crime-fighting children? She snorted at that. There was no such thing as regular crime-fighting children. She entered her next search: Umbrella Academy superpowers.

Many articles were speculations of the full extent of the powers the children possessed, what-if questions and potential side effects or results of their use. She did learn, though, that the six powers were as followed: super strength, super accuracy, altering reality, ghost summoning, teleportation and time travel and summoning inter-dimensional beings. Lola could barely believe what she was reading. Children like this existed? And here she was, writing down her autobiography like she was someone important!

She shook her head, forcing her jealousy to dissolve. The media tended to sugarcoat everything; these kids probably didn’t have a very fun life if they were constantly on the job. And besides, of course she was important, she had time to do something noteworthy. Still, it felt like she’d entered an alternate universe and couldn’t believe she hadn’t been aware people with super powers even existed.

A part of her wanted to stop searching then and there with how muddled her mind was currently feeling but an almost morbid curiosity forced her to continue. As her final search of the night, she typed in The Boy disappearance.

Here, even less credible evidence popped up and she sifted through what she found until she had enough of a framework for a story. Apparently, he disappeared on November 10th, 2002 and his adoptive father proclaimed him dead. There were several conspiracy theories but nothing concrete, causing her to eventually give up on finding information. There was more to be found on the other siblings, she knew, but her curiosity had been satiated and she had other things to do tonight.

Standing from her desk, she went to her bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out the two hardcover books she’d hidden in there. Tonight, she’d return them to The Umbrella Academy’s library- that was hard to believe- and get two more. Placing them in her bag, she wondered about the lack of security for such an at-risk family, but she’d seen pictures of Hargreeves; he was old, and despite being incredibly smart, he probably had difficulty with technology like any older person. It wouldn’t matter much now that he was dead, though.

Turning her feet towards the door to head downstairs for dinner, she wondered if the stooped figure she’d seen had been Hargreeves before quickly discarding the thought. While the man had appeared old, he’d always stood straight and proud, never bent with age.

During dinner, she let her parents and uncle talk around her while she puzzled over the mysterious Umbrella Academy. They seemed to have a fairly large fanbase in their youth, but all information on them was practically made up or guessed. Lola had always liked puzzles.

Finally, towards the end of dinner, she broke her silence, “mom?”

Diana turned towards her daughter, pushing back her short, brown hair behind her ear, “yes, Dolores?”

The younger girl winced. Her mother insisted on using her formal name, “do you know anything about The Umbrella Academy?”

Now she had both of her parent’s attention as Edmund cut off the conversation with his brother, “The Umbrella Academy?”

Lola nodded, “the superhero children of Reginald Hargreeves?”

Her mother shook her head, “a bit after my time, dear.”

The brunette girl rolled her eyes, “you’re not that old, Mom.”

Diana shot her a look, “I never said I was old, just that I didn’t know them.”

She grumbled under her breath, crossing her arms and pouting. She’d only been trying to give a compliment. Unfortunately, the dark-haired woman leaned over and gave her daughter a firm smack on the back of her head, “don’t grumble, Dolores. You sound like a caveman.”

There was just no winning with her. Thankfully, her Uncle Edmund came to the rescue by changing the subject, “any progress on your autobiography, Sequins?” he asked with an amused twinkle in his hazel eyes.

The brunette sighed and uncrossed her arms, using one of her hands to push her hair away from her face, “I don’t know what’s even the point anymore,” she complained, “especially with super-powered kids who are more interesting than me.”

Her father gave her a fond look, “you’re just as important as they are, don’t think that you’re not. And besides, this Umbrella talk reminds me- one of the children of the Academy published an autobiography a few years back, you might want to take a look at it.”

She shot him a surprised look, “really? Exposing superhero secrets?”

He shrugged, “I’m not sure of the extent of what’s written, but it’s probably worth taking a look, right?”

She chewed her lip in thought for a moment before nodding, “okay, thanks Dad.”

[shining-red-diamond]

Ch. 19: The Elephant’s Trunk

Cast of Characters//Ch. 1//Ch. 2//Ch. 3//Ch. 4//Ch. 5//Ch. 6//Ch. 7//Ch. 8//Ch. 9//Ch. 10//Ch. 11//Ch. 12//Ch. 13//Ch. 14//Ch. 15//Ch. 16//Ch. 17//Ch. 18//Ch. 19//Ch. 20//Ch. 21//Ch. 22//Ch. 23//Ch. 24//Ch. 25//Ch. 26//Ch. 27//Ch. 28 (coming soon)

Words: 0.8k

Pairing: ATEEZ OT8 x OCs

Genre: Adventure, Pirate AU

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: small accident, blood, slight angst

A/N: Italics means they’re speaking Korean

The ship landed in India within a few hours, but the crew decided not to head out until the wee hours of the morning as to avoid being noticed. San and Celestia spent the entire evening in their bedchambers before going to bed. Everyone else stuck to mapping out the coordinates according to the area surrounding the sacred symbol of the country. It was a bit of a struggle without San’s aid, but Hongjoong managed to figure out where to start according to the notes provided in the old map.

“It’s heavily populated in the surrounding area,” Hongjoong said, “so we’ll have to stay out of sight as much as possible.”

“I’ve already made sure the security systems can’t detect us sneaking into the tunnels,” Phoebe replied.

“I double checked our path. We won’t be going anywhere near the walls of the place. Thanks for checking, Phoebe.”

“It’s not in the Taj Mahal?” Mingi asked.

“No,” Hongjoong said. “The maps point to a tunnel starting from across the river. They lead to tunnels underneath that open up to something. We won’t be going into the building itself.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t get fried this time,” Taeran groaned.

“I don’t think we’ll have to worry about bombs,” Dahae added as she was looking through a large book. “If our path does end up being near the site, there’s a chance we’ll run into some monkeys.”

“Why monkeys?” Yunho asked.

“These aren’t cute little Capuchin monkeys. These are much more vicious.”

Hongjoong double-checked the map. “Our path doesn’t go near it, just underneath. However, we still need to take our precautions as we go.”

The crew then finished getting supplies together for the next part of their quest. Dahae checked with San and Celestia to see if they had everything they needed, Dinah took some painkillers to ease her cramps, Hongjoong finalized any notes with Yeosang and Seonghwa, and everyone else strapped on their boots. Grace-Anne wanted to pack a snack, but Dahae stopped her and reminded her about the possibility of attracting the monkeys.

Once Yunho had activated the camouflage shield, the crew headed out into the tropical climate. The weather was hot, but no sign of sunshine. Stone gray clouds blanketed the morning sky. The crew headed straight for a jungle area where a large tree trunk was said to be marked with an elephant’s head, according to the maps. Dahae hoped that it meant the head was a drawing and not a huge skull.

Journeying into the jungle was a little troubling beginning with Mingi getting his foot caught in a vine and falling face first, making Taeran stop to cut him free. Yeosang kept wanting to stop and cut pieces of different plants to study for medicines, which earned him hand swats to get him away from them. Dinah started cramping again and nearly lost her temper at Wooyoung for something minor, and then Yunho started his complaints of the weather being too hot and getting tired of carrying the maps (he was only carrying one).

“Would you guys knock it off already?” Hongjoong snapped.

“Sorry, I forgot my painkillers,” Dinah sassed back as she tried to stand back up from doubling over.

“I’m not talking about your lady cramps. I mean, just stay focused right now.”

His eyes met Dahae’s, and the look she gave him was all he needed to chill out. He knew he shouldn’t get upset over a small inconvenience happens, but he couldn’t help if he was short with his crewmates. He hated that he was such a perfectionist at times, and it caused him to get into arguments with them. Hongjoong liked to keep a schedule, however, he had to constantly remind himself that it’s not a homework assignment that needs to be due by a certain day at a certain time.

“Let’s…keep going,” the captain managed to instruct as he calmed down.

Not even two seconds later, he trips and falls against something hard, causing him to land in a kneeling position. When he stood up, he noticed his blood was dripping onto a cut tree trunk. As he looked closer while checking to find the source of the bleeding, he noticed how oddly shaped the age rings were. They formed weird shapes almost to mimic an animal’s head.

“The elephant’s trunk,” Dahae figured it out as she pulled out a rag. “This is our entrance.”

“And all it took was for the captain to pancake face first into it,” Dinah chuckled to Grace-Anne. Dahae shot her look, and Dinah shut her mouth.

Yeosang inspected the trunk, his gloved hands detecting any sign of an opening until his foot slipped on something slippery, and he landed on his butt. A cold, stone covering had given out underneath Yeosang and went tumbling down a set of stone steps.

[ravenbrenna09]

masterpiece

Title: masterpiece

Square Filled: Soulmates AU

Ship: Robbe IJzermans/Sander Driesen

Trigger Warnings: None applied

Created for @skamevents

So, Soulmate AUs are my absolute favorite trope of any AU ever and I love reading all of them. I love the names on the arms, having the same symbol, I love seeing color only if your soulmate is nearby, but one of my favorites is being connected by their skin. And, with Sander as an artist in canon, I absolutely HAD to use this one. Soulmate AUs absolutely FASCINATE me and so I had to do this one.

Now, because this fic ended up being WAY MORE than what I wanted it to be, it physically will not fit in this text box, so I will be putting the first scene of the fic into this with a read more link at the bottom (note: this is the same scene as my masterpiece snippet that I posted a few days ago). So, I hope you enjoy the rest of this chapter. 

...

Read on AO3

...

Thursday was not Robbe’s day. 

Thursday was, by far, Robbe’s longest and physically draining day. While his first class of the day didn’t start until a little before 12:00, his day wouldn’t end until about 23:00 which was when the library closed down. To add to his torture of a long day, thanks to extending his own shift so Amber could be picked up by her mother on her way home from work, his classes on Thursdays were particularly draining, filled with dry teachers that talked to the board and ignored any and all questions. 

Letting out a sigh, Robbe turned to his introductory essay which was pulled up in another tab of the computer in front of him. The head of the department didn’t care about them working on homework, as long as their other jobs were done first, and Robbe had already put up the remaining books in the library, straightened up the desks where the student workers sat, and filed away a stack or two of files for one of his superiors. 

Now, that all of his librarian work was done, at least until someone returned a book to the circulation counter and he would go off in search of its rightful spot, Robbe could focus on this essay, or a story, that his writing teacher had assigned as an “introduction” to their mindset as writers. And, the topic that had been chosen by his other 25 classmates was soulmates. 

He let out a breath of air, burying his face in his hands.

Robbe hated soulmates. 

Or, rather, he hated the idea of soulmates. 

As a kid, Robbe would sit and watch his mother doodle on her skin with her favorite pen, watch the curve of her letters, her small doodles of flowers, appear on the exact same spot on his father’s hand. His parents would smile at each other, love in their eyes, and tease each other when the other got a stain on their hand because it affected both of them. 

To little six-year-old Robbe, soulmates were everything that he had to offer and he thought that he didn’t have one because doodles never appeared on his skin. His mother had giggled at him, informing him that his soulmate’s doodles wouldn’t appear until after he reached puberty. Little Robbe had been confused as to why he had to wait, he now knew that the changing hormones and chemicals in the body at puberty that caused the connection to show fully, but no one, not even people researching and studying soulmates, could pinpoint how soulmates are chosen or when. 

To present-day, eighteen-year-old Robbe, soulmates were crap. 

His parents had been soulmates, had fallen in love, and got married, having Robbe shortly after. For the first eight years of Robbe’s life, his parents had been happily in love with one another. His father loved being home, loved cuddling his wife on the couch, to the point that Robbe would call them disgusting and throw a pillow at them and they would laugh. Then, his parents started fighting about little things, small minuscule details that shouldn’t matter. As the years went on, the fights got worse, louder and louder until Robbe couldn’t sleep at night anymore, sneaking out of his house and going to his best friend’s house to crash. Then, his father left them alone, found another woman who made him happier, and his mother spiraled, leaving Robbe caught in between, trying to help her.

His parents were soulmates and they had fallen out of love. 

If the one person that you were destined to be with was supposed to leave you anyways, what was the point of having the ability to connect with them on a physical level?

Letting out a sigh, Robbe reached out, typing angrily. Soulmates are fucking stupid.

“Woah there,” Zoë teased, walking up with a cup of coffee in her hand. 

Zoë was a barista and one of Robbe’s roommates. At the beginning of the year, Robbe had moved into the three-bedroom flatshare with her and a senior, Milan, because Robbe was not going to live with his dad, not after what he did to his mom, not with him and his new girlfriend. It was a minor miracle that the two of them had been so willing and that his father had been so understanding. His father wanted him to live in the dorms, but it was too expensive for Robbe. He was barely surviving month-to-month as it was and living in the dorms would be almost double the cost. 

“What’s wrong?” Zoë questioned. 

“What isn’t wrong?” Robbe questioned. “Of all the topics my writing class had to pick for our introductory assignment, they picked soulmates.” Zoë scrunched up her nose, understanding. “And, I can’t think of anything to write other than soulmates are fucking stupid.” As if she didn’t believe him, he turned the screen towards her and she stood on her toes to look, letting out a light breath through her nose. He let out a sigh, straightening the computer back. “Think that will get me full points?”

“I doubt it.” Zoë laughed. “Here, it’s from Chloë.”

“Again?” Robbe questioned. Chloë was a barista at the café, who had a crush on Robbe so obvious that even he could see it, which was saying something. When it came to realizing people having feelings for him, he didn’t have the best track record. Despite the fact that Robbe had several relationships, almost all of them had been as a result of the other person making the first move. “How many times have you told her that she’s not my type?” 

“Robbe,” Zoë laughed, reaching out to pat his head with a tone that says many times. “I think the only way she’s going to be convinced that you aren’t interested in her is if she finds you making out with a guy. Not that I can blame her. You are a cute boy. Whether you want to admit it or not.” Robbe rolled his eyes before spotting the purple writing on the back of her hand. Zoë caught his gaze and scoffed. “My soulmate’s latest ‘conquest’,” she remarked, pivoting the hand towards Robbe so he could see. 

Had a good time tonight was followed by a phone number, only the final digit was smudged. 

Robbe knew that he had a soulmate, of course, but his soulmate wasn’t the type of person who slept around a lot, or if they did, they didn’t have girls writing numbers on the back of their hand in hopes of a second round. 

On his sixteenth birthday, his best friend, Jens, had jokingly drawn a poor excuse of a birthday cake and sixteen candles on the back of his right hand (and Robbe will never admit to anyone how disappointed he was that it didn’t show up on Jens’ hand). Within an hour, as he sat in his biology class, his soulmate, whoever they were, had drawn an arrow to it and wrote awful, zero stars on booking.com before proceeding to draw a perfectly drawn cake, in pen, with the exact number on the candles, on the back of his left hand. The drawing looked perfect, meticulous, and every year, on that same day, another cake would appear on his hand with an additional candle.

Robbe had a soulmate. 

Even if he didn’t want one. 

Zoë let out a heavy sigh, pulling him back into the world of the present. “Every morning I wake up with a new number on my hand is another morning I question if you have the right idea,” she admitted, staring at her hand. “Soulmates are crap. I’m always half-tempted to call the number, tell her that he’s just going to find someone else, but what’s the point, right? Plus, it’s missing a digit.” 

“Save a woman from getting her hopes up, probably. But, don’t worry,” Robbe remarked. “I’m sure he’ll get his head out of his ass soon.” 

“Excuse me,” a voice remarked, over Zoë’s shoulder. 

The two of them pivoted to find that a blond-haired man was standing behind them. The man was stunning, absolutely breathtaking as though he had been carved from stone. There was a black-beanie resting lightly on his head, covering the strands of white-blonde hair that poked out from the edge, and he had a pair of bright green eyes that were slightly hidden by the black-framed glasses on his nose. He was dressed in a pair of denim jeans, black converse, and a t-shirt with an artist that he didn’t recognize beneath his black hoodie. 

Robbe felt his breath catch in his throat. 

Looking like that in a hoodie, glasses, and a beanie was ridiculously unfair.

Especially to Robbe. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation,” he continued, pushing up his green bag further up his shoulder. “But, I need to check out this book for my art history class.” 

“Of course,” Robbe replied, his voice cracking a little. There was a knowing look on Zoë’s face, a familiar eyebrow raised that she generally reserved only for Milan, as she shuffled to the side, taking the coffee with her. The man stepped forward, placing the book on the edge of the counter, and Robbe took the book from him, eager to make sure their hands didn’t touch. “Sorry about that. Do you have your id?”

“Yeah, it’s in here somewhere,” the man replied, digging his wallet out of his bag. He found it, handing it over to Robbe, their fingers brushing ever so slightly, almost like it was on purpose. Robbe felt a jolt shoot up his hand as he took the id in his hands, switching to the electronic check-out system, typing in his student id number and scanning the book. A name popped up. Sander Driesen.

Once Robbe had deactivated the electric security in the spine, he placed his id on top of the cover and slid it across the counter, “Here you go.” Robbe kept his hand on the other side of the book, making sure to pull his own hand away before Sander reached out to grab it. He took the book from the counter, grabbing his id and slipping it into his pocket. “It’ll be due on the 17th of next month.”

Sander sent him a grin, a slightly confident, slightly wicked grin, like he somehow managed to know the effect that he was having on Robbe and his already jumbled mind, almost as much as Zoë did. “Thank you, Robbe,” he remarked. At Robbe’s confused, puzzled look, Sander’s eyes dropped down to his chest and Robbe looked finding his nametag, wanting to slap his forehead. He glanced towards Zoë, who was still hanging off to the side with her chin against her palm, and Robbe thought he saw his eyes flicker down to her hand, recognition in his eyes, but then, Sander was smiling at her and saying to her, all confident and charming, “Sorry about interrupting your conversation.” 

“It’s completely okay,” Zoë replied. “I was about to leave anyway.”

Sander moved off, grinning at her, and Zoë handed Robbe his coffee, a knowing glint in her eye as she boosted herself up over the counter to press a kiss against his cheek. He shoved her away, wiping away the residue of her signature red lipstick, and Zoë ran out the door, giggling all the way and promising to save him some leftovers from dinner. Robbe let out a sigh, trying to return to his essay on stupid soulmates, but found his eyes looking for Sander, who had disappeared.

Read The Rest on AO3

[skzsauce01]

42nd Moon Pt 1

Description: By some stroke of luck, you get off the waitlist of your biology class. You’d never have guessed you’d find your soulmate there, let alone that he already has a girlfriend... Or that he comes from a fraternity of werewolves.

Warning: none

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: werewolf!Jisung x fem!reader,  werewolf!Hyunjin x fem!reader

A/N: Please stay healthy during this pandemic! Wash thy handz.

Chapter List

“Is anyone sitting here?”

Jisung raises his head from the homework that he has totally done to see you gesturing to a seat in front of him.

Something about you enthralls him. He swallows down a lump in his throat before being able to answer. “Yeah, but there isn’t anyone there.” He points to the seat left of where you indicated towards.

“Thanks,” you say with a smile.

“I’m Jisung,” he introduces himself. “Just got off the waitlist?” 

“Y/N,” you return. “And yeah. I hope I‘m not too far behind.”

“Not at all,” Jisung shakes his head. “I’d show you my notes, but it’s probably better if you looked at Hyunjin’s.” He gestures to the chair you asked about earlier. “He should be here any moment.”

As if on cue, a male walks through the door and greets Jisung with a wave.

The second you lay your eyes on him, you can feel your heart stop and all the heat rush to your face. This phenomenon you have no explanation for. Sure, he is tall and very attractive, but physical traits aren’t enough for you to have this kind of reaction. As if the two of you share the same mind, he too freeze in shock upon laying eyes upon you, eyes wide and jaw dropped. 

The only thing that brings the both of you back to reality is a voice from the hall.

“Hyunjin? Are you here already?”

The one you assume is Hyunjin turns around with open arms and greets the girl who bounces through the door. She jumps into them and he wraps them around her.

“Hey, Jiyoung, what are you doing here? Don’t you have another class right now too?”

A pit gouges its way into your stomach when you see another girl latching onto your seat neighbor like that. You furrow your brows, wondering why you are feeling like this, so you shake your head and concentrate on your hands. This is ridiculous, you tell yourself. He has a girlfriend, and you don’t even know him. Still, you begin to gnaw at your cheeks, impatiently awaiting Jiyoung’s departure.

“I just wanted to see you. Here I got you this.” She reaches into her bag and takes out boba.

Hyunjin’s eyes sparkle upon seeing the drink. “Thanks, Sweetie. You’re the best.”

“Of course I am,” she grins. “Alright, I gotta go now.” She tiptoes to give Hyunjin a peck on the lips and then waves to Jisung. “Bye guys!”

Jisung waves back and waits for her to leave before teasing his friend. “Aren’t you two sweet.”

“You’re just jealous,” Hyunjin sighs with a roll of his eyes.

“Anyway,” Jisung transitions, “this is Y/N; she just got off the waitlist. Could you show her your notes?”

Hyunjin turns his head towards you with narrowed eyes. His heartbeat increases along with yours as the two of you make eye contact. 

“No,” he mutters.

Jisung blinks in surprise. “What the heck dude? It’s just your notes.” He turns to you. “Sorry, Y/N, he’s not usually like this, I swear.” And back to Hyunjin, “Come on bro. You’re the one who always says no one can read my notes; that’s why we’re asking you.”

Hyunjin grunts but digresses. He leans his head on one hand while handing you his notebook with the other while avoiding eye contact. 

“Thank you,” you say uncertainly. Your heart leaps when your fingers come into contact during the transaction.

Jisung apologizes for his friend once more and soon you are busy copying his notes. 

Jisung leans forward and whispers to his friend. “Yo, what’s wrong with you? You were totally fine when Jiyoung was here.”

“It’s nothing,” Hyunjin growls.

“Don’t turn wolf on me,” Jisung jokes. “We’re in pu--”

Jisung’s eyes widen once the gears in his brain fit together. With a gasp, he grabs Hyunjin’s wrist and pulls his sleeve up.

“What the heck?” snaps the taller of the two.

“Oh my moon,” Jisung breathes as he stares at the glowing bracelet of a tattoo on Hyunjin’s wrist. The ring of pattern is complete everywhere but a spot on the inside of the wrist, a spot he knows you have the complimenting part. “She’s your soulmate!”

“Could you say that louder?” Hyunjin hisses, pulling his sleeve back down to hide the golden glow.

“Sorry,” Jisung apologizes. “But what about Jiyoung?”

“That’s exactly why I’m being so rude!”

“But she’s your soulmate! You can’t just ignore her!”

“And Jiyoung’s my girlfriend, so what’s your point?” Hyunjin challenges.

“I’m done. Thanks, Hyunjin,” you , unaware of the conversation between the two, interrupt.

Jisung narrows his eyes at his friend while burying his nose in his forearms on the table, thinking about you and Hyunjin’s decision for the rest of the lecture.

“You’ve got to tell Chan.”

“No I don’t! We just have to get through this semester without any incident and everything will go back to normal.”

“You can’t do that; you aren’t physically capable of that!”

“Why not? You should know better than anyone that we’re just fine without our soulmates.”

Jisung bites his lip and twiddles his thumbs.

Hyunjin realizes what he said and quickly rubs his friend on the back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I see your point and Jiyoung’s really great, but I think we should still tell Chan.”

“I--”

“Tell me what?”

Jisung looks at Hyunjin. He sighs and rolls up his sleeve.

“This,” he begins. “It was glowing earlier today.”

Chan gasps. “Really? For whom?”

“A new girl in biology discussion today,” Jisung answers this time.

“Oh, I see what the problem is,” Chan frowns. “Jiyoung.”

Hyunjin nods with his head down.

“And I don’t suppose you are planning to break up with her.”

A head shake.

Chan folds his arms and looks to the sky with a soft hum. 

“We don’t have to be with our soulmates, right?” Hyunjin asks softly.

“No,” agrees Chan. “It’s just that you two are more compatible than anyone else in this universe, and she can increase your powers.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“Truth be told, I don’t know either,” Chan admits. “Just carry on as you were, I guess. If the universe has a plan, then it’ll be what it’ll be. Just remember--”

“I can’t mate with Jiyoung, I know,” Hyunjin finishes.

Chan gives the younger male an approving pat on the shoulder. “Don’t forget.”

“-- and he just went “uwwwaagg” and left!”

“Seriously?” you laugh.

Jisung cannot help but smile with you. “Cross my heart! Whoever designed the frat house was not thinking when they installed glass shower doors.”

“Hey guys.” 

You both turn towards the grumble to see Hyunjin trudging up the mountain. Behind him is another male who chirps a greeting. Your biology instructor has assigned you to find an owl pellet with the person sitting next to you. Jisung, with all his brilliant ideas, decides not only do his project at ungodly hours when the pellets “are the most fresh,” but also decides to drag his friend, and consequently, you, along.

Your blood rushes to your face just like it does every time you see Hyunjin, but it’s worse this time upon seeing his fluffy bed-head poking out of his oversized hoodie.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Hyunjin scowls while smacking his housemate behind the head. “I used to be the one who has to drag you out of bed, but now you’re early to bio stuff all the time.”

Jisung returns the gesture. “New school year, new me, you know? I just thought I should stop being late and skipping classes all the time.”

“Whatever,” Hyunjin sighs groggily. “So what’s the plan?”

“Try to find pellets, right?”

“Yep,” Jisung agrees while flicking his flashlight on and off. “It’s simple, but let’s stay with our partners, okay? It’s pretty dark right right now.”

The rest of you agree, and Jisung and his partner go west while you and Hyunjin take east.

“How are you?” you try with small talk.

“Been better, no thanks to Jisung,” Hyunjin replies curtly.

You wrack your brain for something else to say, but end up walking with him in silence until you spot a cottonwood tree.

“There!” you point. “Some owls nest in cottonwood, so we can try looking for pellets here.”

You run to the tree and slide to your knees, scrapping the leaves aside until you find what you are looking for. You hold it up to Hyunjin with a proud smile.

“Found one!”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen a tad in surprise at your intelligence and efficiency, not to mention how brightly your smile shines even in this dark forest. He shakes his head to clear such thoughts.

It’s just the soul thing, he reminds himself and tugs on his sleeve to securely hide his glowing mark.

“R-right. Good job,” he stutters and opens a bag for you to drop your find into. “Why don’t you look over there for more, and I’ll keep checking this tree for other pellets?”

You nod and turn your back away from him. The next cottonwood is a bit further away, but at least now you won’t have to keep working in awkward silence with your crush. Once you arrive at your destination, you get on your knees and begin working. After a while, you hear a foot crunch on some leaves behind you.

“Hyunjin, I don’t think this tree has anything.”

“I’m not Hyunjin. Try again!

~ ad.gold

[danganronpa-killing-justice]

The Teacher of a Society

————

When Mrs. Nomondai's message had reached the other students, almost all of them started to get out of their seats to begin their first assignment. To be honest, I'm not too sure if I can talk to the other students yet. They all look busy with themselves anyways..heh.

Ok, I'm just lying to myself. I'm not ready to talk to any of them yet. My nerves are to high. Maybe I can just start with the teacher? I do need to properly thank her after all.

With that revelation, I got out of my seat and headed to were my teacher was located behind her desk. She was still holding Sumami in her arms, kinda like a child with their favorite stuffed animal.

When she noticed that someone was by her desk, she quickly looked up and smiled in my direction. By the look on her face, I don't think she was expecting people to come talk to her so soon already.

"Oh! Hi there Nikonomu! Did you wanna talk about something or did you want to see Sumami?" She said while getting out of her chair.

"Oh, I actually wanted to talk to you if that's ok? And maybe after I can talk to Sumami too if that's ok as well." I really hope I'm not interrupting her time, but she did say it was ok to talk to her.

When she heard my remark, she smiled softly while she put down Sumami gently on the ground. "Of course Nikonomu! Ask away! I can't promise I'll answer all of them though. Any questions about my social security number and my life savings will be shut down immediately."

"What? No! I don't want to know about that stuff..." I don't even know my own social security number. Why would I want to know hers? "I kinda just wanted to ask some simple questions and stuff.."

My teacher started snickering at my discomfort, almost as if she knew that I would get uncomfortable. "That ok Nikonomu. I'm just messing with ya, mostly. What is it that you really wanted to know?"

Oh shoot. Now I don't remember what I was going to say. I need to think of something quick so this conversation can get somewhere. Oh wait! I know. "Um.. just a simple question but, how do you know my name? My teachers at my old school didn't even know it."

Mrs. Nomondai's face kinda looked angry for a second, but it was quickly hidden with a knowing smile. "It is kinda simple actually! I just looked you guys up in the school files. I wanted to get an idea about you all before I actually get to know you all, you know what I'm saying?"

My head nodded along to what she was saying. "Yeah, I think do." That's actually really thoughtful to actually want to get to know your students. Hopefully the other teachers had the same idea.

Hm. Now to ask another question. Now that I think about it, did she even reveal her Ultimate to us yet? Was she just really forgetful or was it something that she was ashamed of. Like how it was for me..

"D-Do you mind telling me what your Ultimate is? It's ok if you are uncomfortable telling me it though, since you didn't tell us at the beginning of class.

My teacher just stood there for a minute before violently smacking her hand to her forehead. It took me back for a second but it seemed as if nobody else noticed her abrupt action.

"I knew I was forgetting something damn it!" She grumbled at herself for cursing before she slipped into a more contained demeanor. "I mean uh- let me rephrase that."

Getting into a more confident pose, Mrs Nomondai struck out her hand in order for me to shake it.

"I know you already know my name, but let's start out this year with a more proper introduction! My name is Nototsū Nomondai! And I am the Ultimate Pain Resistor!"

Ultimate Pain Resistor? That kinda explains her more rough looking appearance. Her entire body looked like it was covered face to toe with scars and burns. Self inflicted maybe? I will wait to ask about that, too personal.

Moving on from her skin, she had pale teal hair that was in four different braids that connected to the buns in her hair. One of the braids, the biggest braid, held most of her hair in place while the other three were on the sides of her head and one was on top. Although she was a bit older, she certainly didn't look like it, just a bit weathered I guess-

"Uh kid, you gonna shake my hand or what?"

"Oh yeah! Sorry!" I quickly shook her hand in embarrassment. I should've probably done that in the first place before zoning out too much.

"So, um, you can't feel any pain at all?"

My teacher shook her head. "Nope! Nothing at all. You can stab me, burn me, slap me, and I still wouldn't feel nothing! I'm good at being a human shield essentially."

"Oh w-ow..." That's really disturbing, maybe I can find a more lighter topic to talk about.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a black wedding band glitter on her finger. Marriage sounds like a good topic to talk about. "Not to sound intrusive, but uh, who are you married too?" I had said.

The mood of my teacher had immediately skyrocketed in a pure untamable expression. In just one glance you could tell that she adored her significant other.

"You're not being intrusive at all Nikonomu! I love talking about my wife!" She started to reach for her pocket in a speed that I would've never thought was humanly possible. In her grasp was a purple wallet that you could tell she held dear. When she had opened it, the folds had undone themselves to reveal several photos of herself and her family.

Before talking any further, she sucked in a large breath as if she was preparing to talk for an hour or even more. She continued by pointing eagerly at the first photo. "This is Kura! She is the one I'm married too. We have been together for about fifteen years!"

She then pointed to a lower picture of two teenagers giving the finger at the camera. Actually, in further inspection, one of the kids put up their pointer finger instead. They looked like they even struggled to do that as well.

"That is Tokadora and that is Kiseki! They are my two daughters and they are both 14 year old." When she was done showing off her family, she carefully put back her wallet in her pocket. Her actions kinda reminded me of the dads I have seen on tv when they gloated about their kids to others.

"So.. does your wife also work here also well?" I said in response. She nodded her head before speaking directly.

"She works in the School's Detective Agency and is one of the Child Care Teacher's. She likes to care for people so it kinda fits." She said while answering my question.

More stuff I didn't know about..? "Wait, this school has its own detective agency?"

She nodded once again. "Yes it does! The school has other sections to it as well, but those will all be explained at the entrance ceremony we will be having soon." When she had said that, she checked her watch to see what time it was. "We still have time before that happens, so I wouldn't worry about rushing to talk to your other classmates."

Oh shoot. She figured me out. "H-How did you know I was stalling.." When I had said that, she looked at me with a face that almost told me that she didn't think I was serious.

She let out a sigh before continuing. "Kid, nobody talks to their teacher directly after they say that you can freely talk to others. Students don't normally like to talk to their teachers in a friendly conversation you know? It's most likely to only know what their homework is or what is happening next in the day."

Wow. She was blunt. "I'm sorry.. I'm just nervous about taking to the other students. I'm not used to this kinda environment.. It's too new to me I guess."

Seeing my mood damper, she put a supportive hand on my shoulder. "Hey hey, I'm just playing with ya a bit. It's ok that you're talking to me first. If you are using me to help make yourself less nervous, then I have done my job right! Which is unusual for me I guess but hey, I gotta start somewhere right!"

Even though she is a bit blunt, and probably foaled mouthed, she does do a good job at comforting people. "R-Right! I guess I'm just not to good at taking jokes as what they are."

After I had said that. She took her hand off of my head to cross her arms. "It's ok if you don't realize that some words are intended as jokes, but is important that you say something if they do affect you! I wouldn't want to hurt your feelings. You are my student after all!"

When had she finished talking, she put her hand onto of my head to ruffle my hair. To be honest, it felt nice considering nobody has done that to me before until today. "Yeah, I try to say something if that happens.." If I'm being even more honest with myself, I probably wouldn't say anything. I'm not the type to speak out for myself.

She probably realized what I said was a lie, but she didn't comment on it. "Good! Like I said, I wouldn't want to offend ya on accident."

Taking her eyes off me, she drew her attention to her phone sitting on her desk. "Well, it's probably time I'd cut this conversation short. After you mentioned my wife, I thought that I probably should go check on her. Right now she is babysitting all of the kids because the Child Care is under construction."

"And by all of the the kids, you mean just your own right..?" I asked.

Her face had lost all of her color when I had said that. "By all of the kids, I mean ALL of the staff kids."

"O-Oh...." Jesus, that sounds almost impossible. No, correction, it probably is. Poor Mrs. Kura. I hope that she still has her head after this.

This conversation kinda has been everywhere. It makes me think that I'm forgetting something..

Oh wait! I think I remember. "Mrs. Nomondai! Before you go talk, I forgot to tell you thank you for helping me out earlier. I was kinda getting suffocated by the others..."

"No problem Nikonomu. I'm going to try talk to Kura now, but if you need anything else, please don't hesitate to get me!" She paused to look at her phone for a second.

"I can tell that you're still hesitant to go to the other students, so why don't you go talk to Sumami like you originally said? I'm not too sure if I can get a hold of Makoto in time for the ceremony, so it's probably best for you to get to know what Helpami's are, and you can get to know each other so you're not too scared of them anymore." She said while finishing her thoughts.

That doesn't sound like a terrible idea. "Ok then! Thank you for your time again. I hope you can get a hold of your wife as well."

"Me too.." And with that, she had officially ended our conversation. I guess it is time to talk to Sumami. Hopefully after him I can finally talk to the others as well....

[allegra-writes]

Lab Partners

Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

The request:

Hi! Could I have some Peter+stark!reader before infinity war or au where the snap didn't happen and Midtown goes to Stark Industries on a field trip and no one believes Peter works there but reader and Tony prove them wrong? Thank you!

MY MASTERLIST

"Dude, finally!" Peter's voice welcomed you as soon as you entered the lab.

"Ugh, don't even start with me" you placed the red bull can in front of him, hopping on the table next to it. "The machine outside is broken, so I had to go all the way to the third floor cafeteria to get these"

"The machine is broken?" He took the can from your hands and cracked it open for you before even opening his own. He was a gentleman like that, and you would be lying if you said it didn't make your heart melt for him just a little bit more. You guys had been on the lab pretty much all night and, while you were sure this morning you looked like the dead warmed over, his messy hair, slightly red eyes and puffy lips made him look somehow even more endearing. They made him look hotter.

"I know, right?" You cleared your throat as if that would cover your shameless staring, "this building is literally crawling with engineers and the freaking soda machine is broken!"

"Well, to be fair only like a handful of people has access to this floor of the building. And only one of those is an actual engineer" Peter pointed out sensibly, "Still, we should probably check it out once we're done here. I mean, we can't have the Stark princess mixing up with all the peasants at the cafeteria" He added cheekily, using the press's nickname for you to tease you. You punched him in the arm, causing him to start laughing.

"Shut up!" He laughed even harder. "Actually, something funny happened on the way to the third floor..."

"Really, now?" He was still smiling. Your heart was still doing somersaults inside your ribcage.

"Really really. You see, there was a bunch of kids our age there. Some of them were wearing Midtown high hoodies. Something you wanna tell me, Pete?"

That sobered him up. You sounded so much like your father right there, he just couldn't lie to you when you used that tone. He wondered vaguely if you were aware of that and did it on purpose, or you simply were so... well, Stark.

"Well? Is there?" You pressed on. Peter sighed.

"Yeah, my school had this field trip today... Mr. Harrington figured that, since I work here almost every day, it would be boring for me so I didn't need to go" He shrugged.

"That much I can understand" you nodded, "but don't you want to, I don't know... Pop down there to say hi or something?"

Peter hesitated.

"No, not really. I mean, Ned already knows what we truly do, and the rest of them don't even believe I'm an intern here anyway" he tried to sound nonchalant about it but you knew him too well to buy the act.

To be honest, he didn't want you to see the way Flash treated him and realize how not cool and lame he actually was. It would be awesome to prove Flash wrong, but risking you hearing him call Peter "Penis Parker" just wasn't worth it.

"What do you mean? Why would they not believe you?" You insisted innocently. He scratched the back of his neck and for the first time you noticed he was actually blushing.

When he finally met your eyes, he realized immediately what a mistake that was. He was just going to have to tell the truth. Damn you and your big, beautiful, soulful orbs.

"There's this guy... He's a jerk and he doesn't like me. I guess he kinda convinced everybody that I was lying." Your shocked face was doing something to his insides. You were so nice to everyone that it truly surprised you some people were just mean, and he was so screwed already, but that made him love you even more. Liz Allen had nothing on your beauty or your intelligence, and definitely had nothing on your kindness.

He was so amazed by this revelation he didn't even notice when Bruce entered the lab, commenting distractedly "Did you guys know the soda machine out there is broken?"

Nor did he notice when you took your phone out. It was time to send your father a message.

**********************************************

"... I told you guys, Penis Parker was lying all this time" A douchy kid gloated as they left the interns lab. That must be Flash. "If he really worked here, he should have been there"

"Peter works directly for Tony Stark" Ned defended his friend. "He's probably with him right now, that's why he wasn't with the other interns."

"Yeah, right! And he probably hangs out with y/n Stark on his free time!" Flash replied, voice full of sarcasm. Wow, Parker really didn't do this brat's level of jerkness justice. "Mr. Harrington, you're gonna fail him, right?"

The teacher in question stared at some papers on his hands, shuffling nervously.

"Well... You see...He's-"

Woah there, he couldn't let that happen, could he? It was showtime.

"Good, you're still here." Tony Stark's voice resonated through the hallway. Thirty or so shocked faces turned his way. A couple of them, including the douchebag's, even stared open mouthed.

"Mr- Mr. Stark, it's so good to see you"

"Thank you, Amanda" Tony interrupted the pretty blonde talking. "I'll take care of the tour from now on. I have a special treat for you guys" He added to the shellshocked group. " You see, my favorite intern is always talking about you and how smart you are" He leveled Flash with a look "well, most of you anyway. So I thought I would let you see where the truly cool stuff happens, so what do you say guys, wanna take a peak at one of my personal labs?"

Everyone was still too starstruck to answer, so he turned to an unimpressed looking girl.

"What do you say Joan of Arc, game for some real science?"

"As long as we can discuss your plans for remunerating the families of the workers that were forced to work under slavery conditions on foreign countries during your father's time directing Stark industries, sure. Name's Michelle Jones, by the way."

Tony blinked.

"Well MJ, I guess it's a good thing it's a long elevator ride up there, then..."

**********************************************

"... How did you even find out about those plans?"

"Oh, I didn't." The intimidating teenager admitted, "I was just trying to make you uncomfortable."

"Well, you did," it was Tony's turn to admit. "For a minute there, I thought the whole thing had leaked and the press was gonna caught wind of it"

"Why don't you want the press finding out about it?"

Tony shrugged. "It shouldn't be news to be a decent human. Besides, they like to twist everything, the press would say I just do it for the PR"

"Yeah, that's probably true... Hey, is that Parker?"

Tony followed her look to where his protegee and his daughter were doing what appeared to be some silly victory dance and... Singing?

"... Congratulations, work so hard forgot how to vacation, they ain't never had the dedication..."

"..Nanana nana and look we made it, yeah we made it!.."

"Nice to see you guys working so hard." Tony called out to them "Banner are you dancing too?"

"Tony! I can't help it, you should see what your kids came up with, this is game changing!" Bruce exclaimed excitedly just as the rest of the students entered the enormous lab. He frowned. "Tony, what the hell? This is a high security lab, this is no place for high schoolers"

That finally got Peter's attention and he stopped spinning you in his arms, staring slack jawed at his classmates, still huddled together by the glass double doors, as surprised to see him there as he was of seeing them.

"Relax Banner, don't go green on us. I just wanted to show the kiddies here where their friend works. Y/n, Parker, what do you have for me?"

You smiled mischievously at Peter before stepping away from his arms and practically skipping to your father's side.

"Dad, you have to see the new formula Peter developed for Spider-Man's web shooters." You gushed at your dad. "And... The other thing... I can't really talk about it in front of civilians" You added eyeing Ned significantly.

Ned's face lit up. "Is this about the creepy crawlers you and Pete were talking about last night?" Tony looked alarmed so he hurried to add, "About the ones I know nothing about, whatsoever"

Tony still looked suspicious but Peter choose that moment to come stand beside you.

"Hi, guys!" He said timidly to his classmates, and for once, Flash was speechless, no scantling remarks coming to his mind. In fact, his brain seemed to broke completely when his eyes came to rest on yours and Peter's intertwined fingers.

"Peter you work in Mr. Stark's private labs? That's... Very impressive. Well done! I'm tempted to just pass you this semester with an A plus right here and now" Mr. Harrington said, looking genuinely happy for him. Your smile grew bigger.

"That seems a little exaggerated" Your father intervened, placing a hand on the teachers shoulder, "Why don't we talk about you just giving Peter cero homework or assignments so he can spend more time here with me instead?"

Mr. Harrington laughed nervously. Your just father raised an eyebrow. "Why are you laughing, I wasn't kidding"

"Dad, I'd hate to be a joykiller but Bruce, Peter and I need to get back to work."

Your dad looked at you, then at the kids.

"Yeah, sure, we'll just leave you guys to it, then" He started ushering the students outside but then turned back to you, saying for everyone to hear "Why don't we get dinner later, though, all four of us? Oh, and I like this one here" he pointed at MJ "Can we invite her?"

"Sure!"

"Of course, Mr. Stark!"

He pointed at Ned "You are not invited. Oh, who am I kidding, of course you are invited. You are the man in the chair after all..."

Bruce, Peter and you watched them retreat back to the elevators.

"Don't think I don't know what you just did" Peter turned to you as soon as they were out of sight. You looked at him innocently.

"I have no idea what you're talking about"

"If you excuse me" Bruce declared "I still have work to do. Go do whatever it is you love birds do on your free time, you worked hard enough today. And last night."

You both opened your eyes big at that, you had thought you hadn't raised any alarms when you broke into the lab after patrol, when you had thought of the spider shaped spy droids for the avengers.

"We have no idea what you're talking about" you said at the same time.

And then,

"Wait, we're not love birds!"

"I really don't know what you're talking about this time!"

The end.

Wow! My first request is done! I hope you liked it, anonymous who send it. Whoever you are, I loved writing this one, so thank YOU!

[summersubin]

tutoring sessions

- yeonjun x taehyun

- 2.5k

- yeonjun doesn’t like that his new tutor is younger than him but he really can’t fail this class. besides, the sophomore is really pretty. he can’t stay mad at him for long. (cr: taejunaus on twitter for the prompt!!)

- a/n: i wrote this a while ago but didn’t get around to posting it here~ this is on my ao3 summersubin and i also posted it on my twitter hyukasnose!! please check out taejunaus on twitter, their aus are really good and i enjoy reading them a lot <3

~

TUTORING SESSIONS, read the pink flyer pinned to the announcement board in the school hallway. it fluttered with the breeze of students passing by in a hurry on the way to their next class. yeonjun, however, stood perfectly still, his school books in his arms, and stared at the innocent flyer with a conflicted expression on his face. his books lay heavy in his arms.

he never wanted to admit it to himself, but he needed a tutor. it wasn’t that he didn’t try hard, but the work in his classes just seemed to pile up so quickly on top of him that he was becoming worried he would never escape from underneath it. he felt the pressure of a million assignments weighing on his chest, and with all of his work to do, he was falling behind with learning the new material in his courses.

so, begrudgingly and with narrowed eyes, yeonjun reached out his hand, shuffling his school books into the crook of his other arm, and ripped one of the slips of paper with a phone number scrawled on it from the flyer. he slipped it in his pocket, and then decided to make his escape, hoping nobody had witnessed him. he turned, ducked his head, and walked quickly along with the other students, easily blending in with the crowd.

`

later, when school was over for the day, yeonjun pulled out his phone and the tiny slip of paper came with it. he almost dropped it by accident, its pink color catching his eye. he was on the bus now, and as he was sitting in his seat he placed his phone on one leg and the phone number on the other. he hesitated for a few moments, feeling like an idiot as the bus jostled him around in his seat, going over bumps in the road. finally, he rolled his eyes and picked up his phone in his hands, quickly typing up a text to the number listed from the flyer and sending it before he could talk himself out of it. he would call, but he was feeling far too self conscious already, and he didn’t need a whole bus of people listening in on his conversation.

yeonjun repeatedly glanced at his phone anxiously, and found a reply from the owner of the flyer coming through in a matter of seconds. so taehyun is his name, yeonjun thought after his new tutor introduced himself. he sounds nice enough. and he was nice, speaking to yeonjun in possibly a more formal tone than he expected, but he was fine with that, as long as it wasn’t overbearing when they were finally face to face.

they agreed to meet later that afternoon in a local cafe. bring some money if you want to. i always find coffee keeps me motivated to work, taehyun had said. the wifi is a bonus, too. yeonjun laughed at that. taehyun told him to bring his own supplies, which yeonjun was already pretty much expecting. it wasn’t like the flyer had specified exactly what kind of tutoring taehyun was offering, so he just assumed taehyun would be on board for whatever. it was funny, yeonjun thought, that he couldn’t seem to remember anybody by the name of taehyun in his class.

`

when yeonjun walked in the front door of the cafe, he was greeted by a warm gust of air that smelled of coffee and bread. he carried his schoolbooks against his chest, the weight feeling familiar in his arms. taehyun said he would be in one of the booths, so yeonjun didn’t worry too much about not being able to find him. he figured he would know him when he saw him. for a school night, the place seemed to be unusually busy. a low hum of voices filled the air and bounced off the well decorated walls, a gentle yellow glow from the lighting casting itself on the customers.

biology, he desperately needed help in biology. he could never seem to cram all the vocabulary into his brain and keep it there. it liked to ooze out like goo, and yeonjun wished he could pack it all together in there and secure it with duct tape. math, too. the formulas always ended up confusing him, and the second he thought he got it completely, he would move on to solve the next problem and find himself completely and utterly lost. he mulled over these things in his mind as he walked through the cafe, knowing he would probably have to explain them to taehyun if he wanted any help.

yeonjun was walking past the booths that sat just beside a giant wall of glass, passing each one booth by booth and wondering if he had arrived too early for their meet up. and then he stopped in his tracks. in front of him was a boy sitting in a booth only a few feet away from him. he was hunched over in his seat as he scrawled something into a little notebook on the table in front of him. the seat opposite of him was empty, yeonjun noted when he glanced at it. this is… taehyun? yeonjun thought, feet freezing into the ground.

his hair was caramel brown, not quite long enough to fall over his eyes but enough that it just brushed his eyebrows. the warm lighting complemented his honey tanned skin, and he held his pen between his fingers delicately as he wrote. he was in a cream colored shirt, and subtly something in the back of yeonjun’s mind flickered with the thought of how good it looked on him, how well he seemed to blend into the warm atmosphere of the cafe. the thing was, though, that by the looks of taehyun, he couldn’t have been any older than yeonjun. in fact, he had a younger look to him. upon thinking this, yeonjun had the realization that the reason why he couldn’t place taehyun in his mind earlier was because he wasn’t from his class. he was almost certainly a year younger, if not two, and this thought alone made yeonjun consider turning back and going home, pretending as if he had never arrived. being tutored by a sophomore… yeonjun thought, and nearly winced at the idea. he had gotten himself this far, but he didn’t know if he would be able to take another blow to his pride like that. however, just as yeonjun was raising his foot from the ground to turn around, the head of caramel hair in front of him suddenly raised up, and he was caught in the stare of big, round, captivating brown eyes.

taehyun gave him a once-over, taking in the sight of yeonjun’s schoolbooks and setting his pen down gently. he sat himself up in his seat, and then settled himself, closing his notebook shut.

“you’re here for the tutoring, right?” he asked, and yeonjun felt something strange twinge inside of him at the sound of his voice. he nodded meekly, feeling awkward and out of place. taehyun paused for a moment, and then eyed the seat across from him in a sort of wordless gesture, turning his gaze back to yeonjun.

yeonjun walked over timidly, regretting for a moment not leaving when he had the chance. as he was putting his books down on the table, he cast a few side glances at taehyun’s face.

“you’re not in my class, are you?” he asked hesitantly, adding, “what year are you… sophomore?” he looked at his books feeling a bit pathetic for a moment, hoping that he was only mistaken. he didn’t want to come to a sophomore for help on material he hadn’t even taken a class on yet.

“is that a problem?” taehyun interjected, and yeonjun lifted his head at the hint of aggression laced in his voice. he stared for just a moment, taehyun’s wide brown eyes trapping him under their glare, and suddenly he was embarrassed.

“no, no, it’s not,” yeonjun was mumbling without thinking, quickly sitting down in the seat of the booth and reaching a hand behind his head to scratch awkwardly at his neck. “i just didn’t recognize you, that’s all…” he trailed off. it wasn’t a lie of course, but it certainly wasn’t all either. he could feel a hint of warmth beginning to blossom on his cheeks and wished it would cut it out already.

“so, what do you need help with?” taehyun asked, and yeonjun subtly shifted uncomfortably in his seat under the boy’s scrutinizing gaze. he couldn’t help but feel the itch on his skin from coming to someone younger for help, but as his mind drifted back to the mounds of homework waiting to be completed by him, he clenched his teeth and knew he would just have to bear it. passing his classes was his only option, and if taehyun was the thing that would help push him to that point, then so be it. besides, spending the afternoon with this kid…..it probably…. yeonjun glanced up quickly between his thoughts and met taehyun’s patient eyes. probably wouldn’t be that bad.

he blinked away his thoughts, looking down and spreading his books across the table between them. “biology,” he blurted out. “and my math class…” and then taehyun was nodding, flipping open his little notebook and reaching for his pen. he started writing some things down.

“what are you writing?” yeonjun asked, palms flat against the solid cover of his biology textbook.

“just some notes. it will make things easier to keep track of.” taehyun muttered absentmindedly, not halting his movements. yeonjun watched him, eyes glued to the way his hand produced small neat handwriting onto the paper.

“i can’t remember anything in biology,” he continued, still observing taehyun as he skipped a line and began writing more. “it’s like it makes sense, but it never stays in my head.”

taehyun nodded shallowly, and yeonjun got this weird feeling like he was talking to his teacher. this kid was way too serious and precise.

“and your math class?” taehyun asked suddenly, lifting his head from his notebook. yeonjun paused. maybe it was the lighting or something, or the cozy atmosphere of the cafe, or maybe just his nerves messing with his perception, but something about taehyun’s face looking up at him like that made his stomach flutter. “um,” yeonjun uttered, wiping his palms against his pant legs. “yeah, basically the same thing. i always understand it in class but when i try to do it on my own…” he shook his head.

taehyun nodded again, quickly jotting it down. “okay,” he said, dropping his pen. “i’ll see if i can help.” and then he did something that yeonjun wasn’t at all ready for. he smiled softly, eyes crinkling a bit at the corners. oh, he’s cute, was all yeonjun could think, and he breathed out a laugh, returning the smile but looking down as he did so. what is wrong with you? he thought to himself.

taehyun reached over and picked up his biology textbook by the corner, half dragging it across the surface of the table until it was in front of him. he flipped it open, skimming the table of contents briefly before looking back at yeonjun. “what unit are you on?” he asked, and yeonjun’s brain was lagging. the thoughts coming in one after the other now, flitting through his mind about how pretty his tutor looked sitting there, and how embarrassed he felt, and how awkward he was acting.

“unit 6, i think,” he murmured, and thought he heard taehyun laugh the tiniest bit at his uncertainty as he found the page number and flipped to it in the book.

`

they sat there for the next few hours, yeonjun taking taehyun’s sincere advice on how he could study better but often finding himself distracted by the calm timber of his voice. taehyun had an excellent way of explaining things, and the more time he spent listening to him, the more yeonjun wondered how he could possibly be a sophomore. he watched the way taehyun’s expression grew focused when he was explaining more difficult concepts, like when they went over his math formulas together. he cursed his heart for the way it skipped ever so slightly every time he got an answer right, every time taehyun applauded him for doing it correctly on his own. he just knew there was a warm redness in his cheeks, for how long it lasted he had no idea, but he felt so strange being tutored by someone like taehyun.

by the time they were done, taehyun had a good few pages in his little notebook about things they had accomplished, things they needed to work on still, and how yeonjun should proceed with his classes. yeonjun had a good amount of notes as well, filling the pages of his notebooks with as many practice problems from taehyun as possible, knowing he would need them later.

“we can meet… next week if you want? here again?” taehyun asked, and yeonjun found himself once again pulled into his round brown eyes, thinking for a moment that he saw a flicker of hope in them. “yeah,” he responded, biting at his lip. “sounds good.” taehyun’s gaze flickered downward for a split second, and then back up again. he nodded again, and began to gather his things together. then he paused, and suddenly groaned, bringing a hand up to his forehead in frustration.

“we never got any coffee,” he said in a disappointed tone. “it completely slipped my mind.” he shook his head slowly.

yeonjun laughed, a bright and airy sound, and couldn’t help the smile on his face from forming at how genuinely upset taehyun seemed to be. “me too,” he snickered, and watched as taehyun looked up at him and dropped his hand. he began to smile too, a bashful look gracing his features at his own reaction.

“um, do you want me to buy you one? we can still order…” yeonjun blurted out before he could think. “i can stay for a little longer…”

taehyun’s eyes widened just barely, his mouth opening to speak and then closing again. “oh,” he said, gaze dropping down and raising back up. “okay,” he said quietly.

yeonjun smiled wide in response, laughing awkwardly. he asked for taehyun’s order, and taehyun gave it to him, still looking a bit taken aback. as yeonjun walked away to order their drinks, he could feel taehyun’s curious gaze on his back. the smile on his face wouldn’t seem to fade, but little did he know how much trouble he was in now. after all, he had a lot of studying to do, but when he would finally get around to it during the days to come he would find himself unable to focus or concentrate. his mind would be way too preoccupied thinking about his tutor that was annoyingly younger than him, and how pretty he looked under the warm lights of the cafe that afternoon.

[georgetownuniversitypress]

Darcy Lear: What will you take back to the face-to-face language classroom post-pandemic?

Like so many educators who’ve moved first to emergency remote teaching then to something more like online teaching, I have been overwhelmed by the information coming at me. At first, I eagerly attended all the Zoom workshops I could to get over the learning curve. Then I settled into a holding pattern that fit within my comfort zone for the online venue. Now I try limit my time on Zoom to the hours I am teaching or otherwise engaging with students.

Once the clutter and confusion cleared a bit, I was able to start to look ahead toward a return to face-to-face teaching. And what I’ve realized is that emergency remote teaching reminds me of some of the most important basics of language education—things I want to take back to the in-person classroom as soon as that is possible.

Here are a few of the things I am doing now that I want to keep doing post-pandemic:

1.     Keep it simple—technology edition

Just because you can doesn't mean you should. And just because a technology exists, doesn't mean you should incorporate it into your classes—especially during forced online teaching due to a pandemic.  

I have necessarily added the online teaching platform used by my campus: Zoom. Otherwise, students and I are using the same tech we've always used—the campus online learning system and the publisher's online textbook and workbook materials.  I know Flipgrid and Flippity and Padlet and Panopto and Quizlet and twelve different recording and transcribing options exist. I believe that some are great pedagogical tools and have true potential in the language classroom. But not now. There have been enough learning curves during the pandemic.

Takeaway Don't use bells and whistles gratuitously. Identify your problem first, then solve it using technology if and only if it meets your needs.

2.     Keep it simple—curriculum edition 

Simplify, simplify, simplify. Are high-stakes tests feasible in the new venue? Do I really need 8-10 course components? Are my own pedagogical materials consistent across different documents and platforms? 

The first two questions were a pleasure to address when we were first forced online in spring 2020: high-stakes chapter tests and the final exam were eliminated and replaced by low-stakes daily online quizzes (this is stuff we've known is better for a long, long time). These were 5-10 item assessments closely tied to content covered in that day's class. I told students, "If you can't complete those quizzes without resources, that's a red flag for you. Did you miss class and so it makes sense that it was hard? Do you need to brush up on a grammar point? Do you need to meet with me outside of online class? Did you forget to do the online homework (from which some quiz items are copied and pasted)?" This is what assessment is for—to measure student progress and see if they are ready to move on.

In the meantime, students’ course-long blogs and research projects formed the kind of project-based portfolio assessment we also have known for a long, long time is a better way to assess student learning than a lot of our old-school achievement tests (the kinds of tests people are fretting over how to administer securely online while ‘monitoring cheating’).

I folded some course components, such as recorded TalkAbroad conversations, into students’ portfolio projects so that students reported on them within the regular blog posts they were doing instead of in separate assignments.  

By the time the spring 2020 course started, there were three major course components: textbook content, an online blog, and a research project. There were a total of 5 grading categories: daily quizzes, daily blog posts, in-class mini-presentations, a course-long research project, and a final presentation of the research project.

A single thread ran through the entire course so that the work to prepare for class led smoothly into the synchronous class period, which was followed by homework and assessments that reviewed all the content before repeating the cycle. Even though this is how it’s supposed to always work, it felt more focused and streamlined than any face-to-face course I've taught in recent memory.

In cleaning up my pedagogical materials, I developed a kind of check list: Do I even need to keep this content? Is there a way to fold this material into something else (portfolio assessments, online quizzes)? Do I use the names I have for assignments consistently? Do they make sense? Why were assignments described as "personal readings" in course documents and grade book columns years after they'd become "blog entries" in practice? Ditto for "documents 1-5" that were really "research project" components. Getting ready to engage in emergency remote teaching forced me to revisit a lot of content that worked inside my own head but didn't make a lot of sense to anyone else, something I know is an issue when designing pedagogical materials, writing instructions, writing academic articles—you name it!

Takeaway Can I simplify logistics for students? Can the various bits and pieces be streamlined so it makes more sense to students and flows better for all of us?

3.     Keep it simple—classroom edition

As the teacher, do most of your work outside of class. With emergency remote teaching, most of my time was dedicated to planning before class, then grading and meeting with students after. In the online class sessions, I mostly just set up activities for students then hang out and listen to them interact. Occasionally, I interrupt to correct or explain, but mostly I wait for students to self-correct or reach out to me for clarification. I’ve noticed a lot more self-correction when I gave students the time and space to do it—well, Zoom did that for me.  

This experience has reminded me of the kind of planning and preparing required of a novice teacher.  I set up my lesson plan, re-visit it after a day or so, then run through it before class starts to make sure I have everything ready to go on my laptop: 

Is the ebook opened to the first page I'll     reference? 

Do students have the link to the Google doc I'll     ask them to use? 

Do I have the PDF opened and ready to click     on? 

Is the PowerPoint presentation launched?

Do I know when I'm going to use breakout rooms     and how many I will need?

At the beginning of each class, I share my screen to show students the lesson plan and run through the major topics as well as assignments that are due soon. It begs the question: why haven’t I been sharing my lesson plans with students all along?

Getting everything set up seems to take more time and energy than the Zoom session itself, but in the Zoom session I also shed the novice teacher and settle into the role of experienced teacher.  

As soon as a Zoom class ends, I go back into planning mode—I post the day's lesson plan and homework online for students to reference, then I prepare the first draft of the next session's lesson plan.  Before I polish the next plan, I spend a lot of time grading—reading/watching students' work, making individual comments on it, and checking their progress with online activities and assessments. In the process, I make sure the homework and quizzes align well with the class sessions (something I haven't dedicated enough time to in face-to-face teaching over the past decade or so). 

Takeaway Be transparent with students. Make most of your work happen in the prep and follow-up so class time can focus on smooth student activities.

4.     Let students learn by doing: Be the guide on the side, not the sage on the stage

Zoom is a horrible venue for "teacher at the front of class soliciting responses from individual students"—but so is a classroom if your goal is for students to build communicative competence in the language. But in classrooms it's very easy to fall into old-school patterns of the teacher doing too much of the talking. Online teaching—where everyone is disembodied and there are awkward pauses combined with people talking over each other—forces me to abandon any remnants of the Atlas complex. If I'm talking on Zoom it's very obvious I'm delivering a lecture or a teacher presentation.

I do talk to the whole group at the beginning and end of each Zoom session, with some teacher-like explanations peppered throughout the entire course. But most of the time spent on Zoom has been students in breakout rooms interacting with each other in Spanish—sometimes discussing textbook content in groups, sometimes preparing brief presentations to give to the whole class, sometimes with student discussion leaders who are formally assessed on their performance. I pop in but try to leave myself on mute.  

Takeaway Find a way to put myself "on mute."

5.     Be flexible and go easy on yourself and others 

Right now we’re in a pandemic, but in "normal times" there are always some individuals who are navigating crises. We don't need to know the details, but we can make interactions with us easier instead of harder—extend deadlines, take late work, allow students to make up tests, and be understanding when they have to miss class. 

Takeaway Nobody needs a punitive work or learning environment—ever. Be flexible. Go easy on yourself and others.

Darcy Lear has a PhD in Foreign and Second Language Education from the Ohio State University and teaches Spanish at the University of Chicago. She regularly gives presentations on teaching strategies to departments around the country and has developed languages for special purposes courses at several institutions. Lear is also a career coach, helping people to position themselves to use their language skills in rewarding careers. She is the author of Integrating Career Preparation into Language Courses.