#Free Textbook Solutions

[ceausescue]

if there's one thing ive learned from my math education it's the ability to judge a textbook by it's cover:

fancy cover with actual picture, fewer than 15 years old, $300: absolute dogshit. time wasting exercises, poor exposition, that weird gloss they put on the pages probably makes it too toxic to use as kindling

title is just name of subject, referred to by author, 50 years old with like 3 editions: excellent. compact proofs, exercises good enough people refer to them by number in conversation. available for free by foraging somewhere they grow naturally

title is some shit like paul's notes, "cover" is just default latex titlepage, distributed as pdf to grad classes or by advisor: best coverage of whatever (usually niche) topic it's about in the world. crystal clear exposition. solutions to exercises available by emailing grad students working under author

[wosospacegirl]

hormones - alexia putellas

Summary: You are studying the physiology of sex for an exam, and Alexia insists she knows just as much as you do.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: (+18) fingering and oral (r receiving).

Another nerdy smut because I'm a nerd and i'm also horny

..

"You're turning me off," Alexia murmured. She was lying in bed, a cute pout on her face, arms crossed over her chest.

You rolled your eyes, your gaze fixed on the enormous textbook resting on your lap, it was so heavy it was practically cutting off your circulation.

"I told you I had to study, Alexia," you said impatiently, your eyes running over one of the figures in the book.

"You told me you had to study about sex," she shot back accusingly. "I thought that was your nerdy way of telling me you were horny."

"Horny, Alexia?" You turned to her, expression dead serious. "I'm in the middle of midterms. The last thing running through my bloodstream is estrogen."

"Ugh?" she blinked. "Okay, so that's a very intelligent way of saying no?"

"Yes," you mumbled. "Estrogen is involved in sexual desire in women, but there's a whole debate around that."

"Explain it to me, then" she said, shifting closer until she was laing beside you, she rested her head on your lap, right on top of your book. "Talk dirty to me. Come on," she smiled as you scolded her, trying (and failing) to tug the book free. 

Alexia didn't let go. "Explain sex to me."

"Why? So you can get turned off again?" You had been completely stressed out lately, and Alexia knew that. Why she was annoying and teasing you so much, you didn't know. 

Maybe she was trying to distract you on purpose. Or maybe you were just too exhausted… you had barely been eating lately, you were running on a total of seven hours of sleep in the last two days and your mood was the worst possible.

"Don't be grumpy," Alexia said sweetly, cupping your cheeks and pulling you down for a kiss.

"Not grumpy," you mumbled against her lips. "Just…tired."

"Then come rest with me," she offered, like it was the most logical solution in the world.

"I can't," you sighed, pecking her lips one last time before finally getting your book back. You flipped it open to chapter fifteen, hoping a second read would help you make sense of it. "I have to study."

But Alexia was determined to have your attention.

She snatched the book from your hands and, before you could react, she grabbed both your wrists gently, pinning them down.

"You can study with me, bebé," she said, giving kisses to your jaw.

"You know nothing about this kind of sex, though" you muttered.

"Oh," she grinned against your neck. "I know quite a lot, actually." Her hand slid to your thigh, her fingers massaging the skin gently,

"You might know how to do it," you said breathlessly, "but not how it works."

"So tell me," Alexia murmured. "What's happening right now? to your body?"

She gently guided you down onto the mattress. She climbed over you as she kissed your neck, nipping at your skin.

"M-my pituitary gland is producing hormones and... um," you stammered as Alexia trailed kisses lower, down your chest, until she reached the hem of your shirt.

"And?" she prompted. "What those do?"

"They trigger the hypothalamus to produce other hormones." you managed, voice shaking. "The hypothalamus is like… a really important brain structure,"

"Hmm, so smart," Alexia purred as she released your hands just long enough to pull off your shirt. She grinned when she realized you weren't wearing a bra.

"Continue, bebé." Alexia kissed each of your breats tenderly.

"R-right now, my serotonin levels are dropping," you gasped as her mouth latched onto your nipple, twirling her tongue around it. "A-and my dopamine levels are increasing."

"And what does dopamine do?" Alexia asked, kissing her way down your belly.

You tried to answer, but she kept going lower and lower, until her mouth was exactly where you needed her most. And then you were absolutely gone, for a moment you couldn't think of anything but Alexia.

You moaned as you lifted your hips, but Alexia held them firmly in place, her hand pressuring your hip bown down to the mattress. 

"No moving," she said with a smirk. "Just keep going. Tell me what's happening to your body."

"E-estrogen is making me wet," you whispered.

"Yeah?" she asked, spreading your legs. "Let me see." Alexia grinned as she dragged your underwear down your legs, throwing the discarded piece of clothing on the floor somewhere.

Her eyes lit up when she saw your cunt, her thumb brushing your folds teasingly.

"You're right," she said with a smug smile. "Very wet indeed."

Alexia slid a finger inside of your cunt, you were so wet there was absolutely no resistance, so she added another one, You moaned at the way she filled you up completely.

"Ale–" you whimpered, "more."

"I'll give you another only if you keep talking," she said. "sí? Tell me step by step what's happening."

"M-my walls are contracting," you said, your eyes closing as she began moving her fingers slowly, "Because of the dopamine."

Alexia turned her fingers inside you, making a hook with her fingetips, hitting that spot that made your legs shake and your breath hitch.

"I can feel it, bebé. You're so tight around me. What else?" Alexia kept moving her fingers with one hand, while holding you still with the other.

"My blood pressure is increasing," you said, "and my heart is beating faster now, I-'im getting closer to the plateau phase."

Alexia moved the hand from your hip and placed it on your chest, feeling the beat of your heart, then she  brought her fingers up to your nipples, tugging it slowly.

"Look at you," she whispered. "Acing every single change in your body during sex. I think you're gonna smash that test."

"Ale, I'm close," you moaned, opening your mouth, trying to breathe. "So fucking close."

Alexia didn't respond, she simply added a third finger and picked up the pace. Then she lowered her mouth again, and her lips latched onto your clit, sucking softly, until you were gasping.

Your hand went to her hair, trying to keep her there, but Alexia never liked being told what to do. She caught both of your wrists with one hand and pinned them gently over your belly.

"Wanna move," you whined, struggling to free your hands.

"No," Alexia said calmly, and went back to giving your clit the attention it deserved, sucking, biting and licking it. You groaned as her tongue slid hot and firm over your clit, her fingers thrusting deeper and faster each second.

"Fuck… Ale, please–" You begged, feeling your legs begin to shake.

"Lo sé, amor," [I know, love] Alexia murmured. "Cum for me, sí?"

And because you were very good to Alexia, you did.

She didn't stop until you were completely undone, until your body was fully relaxed against the pillow, until you were breathing properly again, until you opened your eyes and looked at her.

She kissed your clit, then licked it, cleaning it before kissing the inside of your thigh. The she released your hands from her grip. Her thumb brushed over the faint red marks she had left behind on your skin, as in a silence I'm sorry.

"Has sido muy buena para mí,"  [you have been very good to me] Alexia murmured, resting her head on your stomach and kissing your skin over and over.

"You ruined my studying session," you mumbled, running your hand through her hair. "I wanna sleep now"

"And what hormone is responsible for that?" Alexia asked cheeky.

"Oxytocin," you replied, intertwining your legs with Alexia's.  "My dopamine levels are dropping, but serotonin and oxytocin are rising."

"Hmm," Alexia said, eyes fluttering. "Creo que realmente no sé qué significa eso." [I think I really don't know what that means.]

"It means," you said, voice heavy with sleep now, "that right now I'm happy, relaxed, and feeling loved."

"Hmm," Alexia murmured. You could already see her eyes slipping shut. "You are loved, indeed"

..

a/n: hope u guys liked it <3

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16, @wosohk04, @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics

[fyuyushia]

Have we met before? Maybe in another time I loved you, maybe you're the one that I would run to, don't know why it's all a blur. I think I know you. - "Have we met before?"

Graphite stains the pristine white sheet of paper, making a soft hum as friction allowed for writings to appear on your notebook. Music played faintly in the background, ears plugged with earphones which blasted your favorite tunes for only you to hear.

The ambient light of the library helped you focus on studying. Scanning through the contents of the math textbook you borrowed from one of the sections of the library, you eagerly skimmed through the contents, determined to learn every bit you hadn't understood about the subject.

The entrance exams for the college you were shooting for drew near, and, out of sheer love for the university, you buried your nose in the books for days on end. Frequenting the library near your home, the people by the reception began to recognize you for your visits that happened for long hours, starting from 12 pm sharp to the library's closing time.

Today wasn't much different. Like routine, you arrived at the library at 12, took out a book, a notebook, your pen, and a dream. You waste no time slaving away to the lessons, meticulously understanding each and every one in hopes of reaching your dream job and by extension, your dream life.

Your wrist moved rhythmically, jotting down notes, attempting to solve formulas by your lonesome. How much lead did you use? Last you counted it was 10, by now, you had probably spent a whole pack.

This goes here and, you grab your calculator, rechecking your answers to ensure that you did them right.

"Excuse me," interrupting you in the midst of solving a problem, was someone coming up to your table (which was stacked with books) and calling for you.

You don't notice it the first time. Only responding when he calls for you the second time, when he does the added motion of leaning down to put his face in your periphery. Snapping out of your immersion, you peer up at him and blink.

You took off one of your earbuds and sat up straight. "Yes?"

The man-you noticed was a real looker—flashed you a small smile. "Is this seat taken? Would you mind if I sat here with you?" He pauses, eyes darting towards your surroundings. "There's no other seats available, you see. I promise I won't be a bother."

"Ah, of course!" Snapping out of your daze, you caught yourself before you could fall prey to his charms and become one of his (no doubt) victims.

Pulling your scattered books closer to you to make space for the man, you urged him to sit down on the seat across you. He gratefully accepts and allows himself to sit on the non-occupied seat.

"Thank you," he says, to which you respond with a nod.

You swallow thickly, shaking your head to rid yourself of your lecherous thoughts. Shifting your focus to the problem at hand, you plug in your earphone and hit play, resuming your own business and letting him do his.

Scribbling solutions on your scratch paper, you rest your head against your free hand. The stranger settled on the space in front of you, taking out his own textbooks and studying as well.

Admittedly, your eyes would occasionally drift towards the man. You took in his dangerously charming features. A tall man with a well built physique, a mature look and an air of mystery provided by his dark choice of clothing(which, in your honest opinion, suited him well). Had it not been for the fact that he was studying the same coverage as you, you would've thought he was older by a few years.

But most importantly of all, he felt familiar, somewhat. There was this certain tug in your heart, feeling nostalgic when you caught sight of him. It was weird, you were certain that if you did encounter someone so goodlooking you would remember them well. But you didn't, and yet you felt somewhat bittersweet as you observed the man.

"I'll give you a future you deserve. Please trust me in this, I'd do everything just to make you smile."

A foreign whisper echoes in the back of your mind, overriding the music that played in the background.

Much to your chagrin, the stranger suddenly looked up from his book and met your eyes, catching you in the act of staring. He sends over a polite smile your way; you flinch and avert your gaze in turn.

You clear your throat, pretending like you weren't just caught staring at him. Growing finicky, you tighten your hold on your mechanical pencil and hastily write down your answers.

He laughs, his shoulder shaking softly as he takes in your panicked act. Though you couldn't hear it due to the loud music blaring through your earbuds, the sight of his amused grin alone had your heart racing. It wasn't often you could see such a looker out in the open, you reasoned to yourself.

Sparing one last glance at him—just to make sure he wasn't bothered with you staring—you find him still staring at you instead. You nearly jump in your seat, but managed to keep yourself still for the most part. Nonchalant, just like you wanted to be.

He points at your ear, tilting his head a bit in question. Taking notice of his gestures, you pause the music and take them off once more.

"Did you say something?"

"Ah," he repeats the motion, pointing to his ear. "Your earphones. The music's leaking out."

Your lips part in a 'o' shape.

"Oh."

Your cheeks flush, flustered by your blunder. "I-sorry, I didn't notice."

"It's fine, I was just worried about your hearing. Playing it on full volume will hurt your ears, you know?"

"Oh, oh it's fine! Thank you though, for the concern, I mean."

He gives you a shut eye smile. Idly tapping his fingers against the wooden desk, he hums. "[Band name], right?"

"I like that band too." Keeping the conversation going, he leans slightly forward in a futile attempt to get a bit closer. "The one you just played, in particular's my favorite."

His eyes narrow ever so slightly when he sees your eyes sparkle. Glad to see a kindred soul, you pushed your phone to the side and engaged in a light conversation with him.

"Really? I didn't expect to find a fellow listener so conveniently! Especially since they're more of in the lesser know side."

"Right?" He chuckles, his deep baritone making your heart experience an earth quake in real time. "I was introduced to it by a friend."

You don't miss the way his voice grows laced with a melancholic tone. "Oh? That friend of yours has good taste. They've been one of my favorites since they first debuted!"

"Debuted? That's an awfully long time." The man feigns a shocked expression. "What's your favorite song then, and why?"

Your lips parted into a smile. He was asking all the right questions, allowing you to talk to him about your fondness for the band. "Well, you see, I-"

He nods as you chatter away, lips pressed into a smile. Giving small nods and hums to let you know he was listening, you happily talk away with him your passion for the band, only pulling away when he looks at you too softly for your comfort.

"Oh! Sorry, I was talking too much, wasn't I?"

If you were to be truthfully honest, then you'd say that reason you just spouted was not the reason you stopped yapping. If you were, again, to speak truthfully, then you'd say it was mostly because of the certain way he looked at you. Yearning for something, a certain look of fondness glimmering within the irises of his grey hues. The way that he directed such soft gaze at you had your head spinning, and though you tried desperately not to fall into his trap, you found yourself charmed hook, line, and sinker.

He laughs-the sound, a pleasing melody to your ears-his head perched atop his palm. "No, not at all. By all means, do continue."

"No, no, it's fine. I've said all I wanted to say anyways." You scratched your cheek, hoping he wouldn't notice just how warm your cheeks have gotten.

The stranger hums, pausing as he feels the silence stretch and slowly envelope the two of you on its bubble once more. You part your lips, looking away from him, hesitating, wanting to talk more to the fellow fan but scared of sounding weird.

"You sure have a lot of books stacked up."

You shift your gaze towards the stack of books that rested beside you. "Oh, yes, well, I'm aiming for one of the bigger universities so I have to put in this much effort if I want to get in."

He nods, idly drumming his fingers against the table. "Which one are you trying to get into?"

You answer with your chosen university, a shy smile on your lips. The stranger lights up, donning a pleasantly surprised demeanor once he hears your answer.

"Really? That's the university I'm trying to get into as well." He laughs, "what a coincidence. Do you think it's fate?" What bullcrap.

You chuckle as well, amused by the coincidence. "So it seems. It's nice to meet a fellow soldier here."

His smile quirks up a bit higher than before. "Indeed. Say, what's your name?"

You easily tell him your name, answering with a chirp in your voice. You've gotten comfortable with this odd man, for whatever reason, he just seemed trustworthy despite a part of your head judging him harshly and betting on the fact that he was a playboy.

"What's yours?"

The man—you now learned had the name of Jinwoo—answered. He offered a hand, you accept it and give it a short shake.

"Best of luck to us, the name's Sung Jinwoo."

And, like a lock falling apart, the gates to a knowledge kept hidden opened slightly. Brief glimpses of a past you couldn't recognize living through in flashed against your eyes.

Gates, hunters, and most importantly, Sung Jinwoo.

Short flashes of whispered confessions, wordless exchanges of affection-the once blurry figure suddenly painted Jinwoo's features, giving you both a name and a face.

You tentatively pulled away, retracting your arms from his hold.

His quirks up a brow then curls it in worry. "Is something wrong?"

Your brows crease, conflicted. What was that just now? It felt like the memories were yours but it also felt like it wasn't. You never lived through such a life, only met him now.

"No, nothing's wrong! Just that..." You trail off, hesitant to ask. "It feels like... Have we met before?"

The man, Jinwoo, freezes at your words. For a moment, you could see a glimpse of pure shock written on his face. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes widened just a smidge before returning to its usual pokerface.

Your cheeks flush when silence overtakes the two of you. You scramble to correct things, worried that he might have seen you as a creep or that you were flirting with him.

"Oh! Uhm, nevermind-that sounded weird right? I didn't mean it in that way I just-"

"We have."

"No no I'm sorry I-" you stop. "We have? When?"

Jinwoo recovers from his initial surprise. Tilting his head a bit to the side, he conjures up a teasing smile. "Want to know when?"

You swallow thickly, trying to not mind the fact that he looked so pretty doing that-making that particular face.

"Yes, if you'd be willing to tell me."

Crossing his arms and resting them against the table, he leans closer to you.

"Then, first, can I have your number?"

Pt.2 in the making... I should really focus on capture target series but attention span go brr hehe

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How would you go about writing in different languages? I struggle with a part where a group of characters are speaking in a language one of the mains does not know and the other one does, but i wish the reader knew what is being talked about. Another aspect is switching between languages when something is meant for the nonspeaker.

A expression in like of "switches to german" fills me with cringe and i feel like just wroting the part in german and adding translation is too confusing

Thanks for all the help with all the advice posted!

Writing Ideas: Using Different Languages in your Story

Keep both languages. Simply repeat the phrase. If you want your readers to understand the exact meanings of words from your source language, you can provide translations within the text. This strategy requires a lot of work for just a couple words, so it’s not practical to use it for large chunks of language. It works great if you only need to focus on a few crucial words.

Sprinkling of foreign language. Write in English, and use the foreign language as little as possible. If you can cut the foreign word out of the sentence without hurting anything, you’re probably fine. But if the meaning of the foreign word is key to understanding the sentence, then rework it.

Provide a glossary. The textbook method. The most comprehensive approach is to provide a glossary of non-English words used in your book. Nonfiction authors use glossaries much more often than fiction writers do. It might be an inappropriate solution if you are writing a lighter book. On the other hand, if your goal is complex cultural understanding, then this approach is by far the most thorough. Downside: The glossary approach requires significant reader buy-in. Not all readers will want to stop mid-paragraph to find a definition in a glossary.

Transliteration. Stick to one alphabet. Transliteration—the process of converting writing into a different alphabet—is a different issue than translation. Unless you have a specific, important reason to include words written in anything other than the Roman alphabet, transliteration is a more effective tactic. Things are more complicated when you are working with a language that does not share the Roman alphabet with English. Any English-reader can sound out Spanish words. The same isn’t true words written in Cyrillic or Hebrew text.

Don't fake it. Respect the language. Sometimes a project requires you to interact with a language you have no knowledge of. The simplest answer is to stick with the full translation method. This will allow you to bypass the problem altogether. However, if your project requires the actual inclusion of another language, you will have to do one of 2 things: (a) Consult a native speaker. (b) Study the language.

Play with language. In your first draft, you can let language run free. Write dialogue and narration in whatever way makes sense for your characters, your setting, and your own writing process. The collision of languages might lead you to unexpected and interesting places. You can—and will—worry about clarity problems when you get to the revision stage. Feedback from beta readers will help you determine what needs to be done for reader comprehension. If you find that you need to bring in any of the other strategies, you can do so at any point.

Full translation. Write it in English. Just because characters are speaking a language other than English does not necessarily mean that you need to actually write non-English words. Often, it is enough to simply indicate that a conversation is happening in another language. You can relate the speech through indirect dialogue. You can simply report the content of the speech, not delivering an exact quote. Because indirect dialogue is understood to be summary, it buys you leeway in how you render the translation. There is no expectation that you are capturing the actual words as spoken. But the full translation method can be used with direct dialogue as well. The 2 main types of translation: (a) Word-for-word translation is more literal, as it sticks to the strict meaning of source language words. (b) Sense-for-sense translation is looser, as it focuses on communicating ideas in the target language.

Narrative summary. Don't use this technique for crucial turning points in a scene. It's more of a shortcut so that you can get the point across quickly and then move on to the good stuff. But if all you need to do is get the point across quickly, then go ahead and summarize it. Sometimes, it's the most economical way to keep the story going, especially if your character doesn’t speak the language. What you lose in style you’ll gain in pace.

Untranslated. Some words are essentially untranslatable. Let it be. If you are depicting a language community where English and another language are routinely mixed together, you might leave some words untranslated. (This strategy can also apply when writing about a language community where people speak different forms of English.) The benefit of capturing the sound of speech can outweigh any reader confusion. Further, you might be writing for an audience who is used to hearing this mix of language.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Here are some tips from the sources linked above. You can also find some examples using these strategies in the original articles. Try some of them and choose which ones suit your story. All the best with your writing!

[defectivevillain]

scar-crossed lovers

pairing: Severus Snape/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

summary: “This really isn’t necessary,” you feel the need to say, once you realize that Severus is going to apply the burn paste for you. “I’m perfectly capable—” you break off at the cynical expression on his face, which suggests exactly how incapable he thinks you are.

word count: 2.7k | ao3 version

this work is technically in a series, so feel free to read the other parts and then come back :3

warnings: first-degree burns

Potions was one of your least favorite subjects as a Hogwarts student. You weren’t necessarily bad at brewing, but you weren’t quite skilled at it either. The pressure to follow precise instructions coupled with the subsequent risk of injury that came with errors made it a hard class for you to enjoy. You didn’t have enough confidence in your abilities to proceed through Potions with conviction, and that showed through in your classwork. You often brewed the Potions correctly, but it took you twice as long as it took your classmates. 

Thankfully, your Potions days are long behind you. You’re the Ancient Runes professor at Hogwarts and acting Head of Hufflepuff House—and neither of those roles require an extensive knowledge of Potions. You’re more than content to leave the art of Potions to Severus Snape, the current Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. You’re secretly relieved that you left Potions back in your school years. You’d much rather continue practicing and researching the subject you’re skilled at—Ancient Runes—than meddle with Potions.

The universe seems dead-set on spiting you, however, because you soon find yourself in a rather uncomfortable position. Minerva is regarding you with an expectant gaze, evidently waiting for you to respond to her statement. You have to put a conscious effort towards remembering what she’s requested of you. 

Severus will be away for the next few school days, in order to attend an international Potions conference. Since the Potions Master will be absent, the castle will need a substitute to stand in his place. You’re not exactly surprised that Minerva is asking you to fill in for Severus—you teach an elective course for upper-years, which means that you have less classes to teach than your colleagues. You have enough time in your schedule to fill in for Severus. The thought of returning to the dungeons for Potions isn’t quite savory, but you know you’ll manage. Besides, you’ll be the professor, not the student. You won’t actually have to brew anything; instead, you’ll be supervising the students’ creations.

“I can do it,” you tell Minerva. The Transfiguration professor thanks you and the tension seems to leave her shoulders. For the rest of your meeting, the two of you review the lesson plans Severus left and discuss any potential obstacles. You leave feeling both nervous and excited. 

To your surprise, however, your Potions classes proceed rather well. The first day flies by without incident and you find yourself feeling strangely validated. You had anticipated there to be a struggle with maintaining your authority, especially with the younger classes of students whom you haven’t gotten to know yet. However, everything went rather smoothly. There were a few hiccups here and there, but you managed to handle them well. Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all.

Of course, the moment you begin to relax, something goes wrong. In hindsight, perhaps you should’ve expected mishaps from the second year Slytherins and Gryffindors—the two Houses usually don’t get along well, and the students are fairly young. But, you don’t have a choice in the matter—you have to supervise them, since Severus is absent. Safe to say, within a few moments of starting class, you’re developing a headache. 

The class is currently learning how to brew Strengthening Solution. You copy the recipe from the textbook onto the board with large handwriting and provide a few general tips, before allowing the students to pair up and begin brewing. By the end of the period, each pair should present a Strengthening Solution for grading.

Strengthening Solution is far from a difficult brew, but you still spot a few pairs having trouble. You eventually decide to pace around the classroom in circles, keeping your eyes peeled for raised hands or confused looks. Malfoy is doing well—unsurprising, considering that he’s apparently one of the top of the class. The same goes for Granger. Zabini and Nott seem to know what they’re doing. Weasley seems torn between attempting to slice his ingredients and cheating off of Granger. There aren’t any noticeable fights brewing amongst the students, which is a plus. Malfoy and Potter have a rather bitter rivalry, from what you’ve heard. 

Someone is trying to get your attention, though. You break away from your thoughts and walk over to the student, who is raising their hand diligently. “What’s the next ingredient?” a boy you recognize to be Neville Longbottom asks. You peek down into his cauldron, frowning when you notice it’s the wrong color. 

“What have you done so far?” you ask him. Longbottom recounts the steps he’s taken and you manage to find where he left off. “Salamander blood is next, Mr. Longbottom,” you answer him. Longbottom exchanges a worried look with Finnigan, his lab partner. Dread coils in your chest. The two of them look scared.

“Salamander?” Longbottom repeats, his eyes wide. 

“Yes,” you respond. The shocked look on Longbottom’s face does not inspire confidence. You grimace and take another sidelong glance at the cauldron, surprised to find that the color has since changed. Just what did Longbottom put in the concoction?

You don’t have time to find out, as the cauldron bubbles ominously. Within the blink of an eye, the cauldron is spitting boiling hot liquid everywhere. You quickly shove Longbottom to the side and turn to conjure a shield. Your arm is prickling and aching, but you ignore the sensation and focus on containing the potion’s unexpected eruption. Thankfully, you manage to prevent any harm to the other students—which is most important. A nullifying spell calms the bubbling potion back down, and you quickly send Longbottom to the infirmary before instructing the class to finish brewing and turn in what they have. Despite the mishaps with Longbottom’s brewing, the majority of the class seems to have finished the Strengthening Solution unimpeded. Once the students are dismissed, you turn your attention to the now-melted cauldron and try your best to repair it. After a few minutes of concentration, you manage to somewhat restore it. At the very least, it’s functional. Longbottom will just have to deal with it. 

You finish cleaning the table up, before wiping the sweat from your brow and taking a deep breath. That was a close call—your heart is still racing. There’s no telling what would have happened if you hadn’t contained the potion in time. Thank Merlin for small mercies, you suppose. 

It takes several moments for your adrenaline to fade away, and the feeling is then replaced with a strange prickling along your forearm. You frown and pull up your shirt sleeve, hissing as it rubs against your chafed and burnt skin. It seems not everyone escaped unscathed. Truthfully, though, you’re glad you’re the one injured—and not any of the students (aside from Longbottom, who is likely being chewed out by Madam Pomfrey right now). 

You know a few minor healing spells, but they hardly do anything to get rid of the harsh burn that seems to tear its way up your arm. You don’t really want to go to the infirmary—you know Poppy would have no qualms about telling you exactly how reckless and foolish you were. You suppose you could raid Severus’s Potions stash… but you don’t have a death wish. Severus is very possessive of his Potions, and you know he’d flip once he returned and noticed that something was missing. You inhale slowly and take a moment to process everything that just happened. 

Your brief reprieve doesn’t last very long, as a student enters the classroom and breaks you out of your thoughts. You cast a minor pain relief spell and quickly roll your shirt sleeve back down. Before long, you’re too busy greeting the next class of students to pay much attention to your injury.

Thankfully, your remaining lessons are uneventful. It isn’t until your final class is over and you start to walk to the dining hall that you remember the burn itching at your skin. The pain nullification spell has worn off and you cast another, idly hoping that it’ll somehow get rid of the burn entirely. You don’t really have the luxury to devote time to your wound—you need to finalize your lesson plans for the coming week and grade some essays that the fifth-years turned in. You spend dinner lost in thought, planning out how you’re going to spend the rest of your day. 

It’s really a shame that your plan falls into obscurity the moment you leave the Great Hall. You can’t be more than a few steps down the hall before you feel a presence at your side. You chance a sidelong glance at your newfound companion, relaxing when you realize it’s Severus. 

“Hey, Severus,” you greet him, unable to stop the small smile that works its way onto your face. You’re happy to see him. Severus nods and begins to walk at your side. You’re heading back to your office, and you suppose he is going to be returning to his office too. “Glad you’re back. How was the conference?” 

The Potions professor huffs. “There was a veritable mix of bright minds and complete fools,” he remarks with a dark glare pointed ahead. You have to stifle your amusement at the gesture. Severus doesn’t seem keen to elaborate further on the sentiment.

“That sounds about right,” you hum, recalling what you’ve heard about the conference in passing. “Your classes did pretty well. Only one cauldron blew up.” Severus lets out a long-suffering sigh, evidently thinking about all the cauldrons that will blow up across the duration of the school year. You can’t help but smile at his exasperation. Admittedly, you share some of it too—especially since the incident yesterday. 

“Thank you for watching over my classes,” Severus says, apropos of nothing. There’s no hint of anything other than sincerity in his voice. You raise an eyebrow at the realization. His lips quirk up ever so slightly and, Merlin, is that a smile? He surprises you even more by placing a hand on your forearm. Ordinarily, you’d appreciate the friendly gesture, but his grip falls right on your untreated burn and you have to wince. Immediately, his eyes are squinted in suspicion. You try to tug your arm back, but his grip is tight on your wrist—thankfully, away from the burn. The professor’s infamous scowl returns. “What did you do?”

You resolutely keep your mouth shut. Unfortunately, Severus isn’t the least bit discouraged. Instead, he grabs your sleeve and delicately rolls it up. The marred skin on your forearm is revealed and Severus shakes his head in irritated disbelief. 

“To be fair, I didn’t do anything,” you feel the need to establish. Severus pinches the bridge of his nose. You decide to continue speaking, even though his expression is quickly turning from annoyed to fuming. “Remember the cauldron I mentioned? Yes, well… Mr. Longbottom had a bit of an accident.”

Severus’s grip on your wrist becomes bruising and you hiss. He removes his hand, but the indignant expression on his face doesn’t fade. His fists are clenched at his sides and his scowl is the angriest you’ve seen. It looks as if he’s moments away from stalking over to the Gryffindor Common Room and taking points from the Longbottom boy. 

“Severus,” you chide him. You’ve been meaning to talk to him about his treatment of Neville Longbottom. The Gryffindor is absolutely terrified of the Potions professor. Now that you’re on the topic, you might as well mention it. “Actually—” The rest of the words disintegrate on your tongue, as you catch the murderous expression on the professor’s face. He glares at you and you fall silent. Now might not be the best time, you realize. 

Severus starts to walk away. He doesn’t offer a single word of explanation, but you follow after him because it seems like the right thing to do. A few moments later, you find yourself standing in front of his Potions stores. Severus lets out a long suffering sigh and climbs the ladder to the top shelf with practiced ease, grabbing Burn-Healing Paste and another vial before shouldering past you in the doorway. You take a step back and watch him lock the space, before following him into his office. It takes you a few moments to realize why he hasn’t dismissed you yet. 

“This really isn’t necessary,” you feel the need to say, once you realize that Severus is going to apply the paste for you. “I’m perfectly capable—” you break off at the cynical expression on his face, which  suggests exactly how incapable he thinks you are. Severus silently takes a few steps forward, leaving you to hesitantly backpedal until you’re forced to lean back against his desk. He makes quick work of rolling up your sleeve; you’re not given even a word of warning before the paste is being deposited onto your arm. You manage to keep quiet, despite the sudden shock. The paste is weirdly cold, and it almost immediately soaks into your skin. You stare down at it in fascination. 

“Thank you, Severus—” You move to get up, only for your colleague to push you back with a firm hand. You let your free hand fall to the desk behind you, feeling a sudden urge to brace yourself. Severus doesn’t seem to pay you any mind, as his gaze is honed in on your forearm. He procures the vial from earlier and picks up the pipette to place the amber liquid on your skin. At your questioning gaze, Severus explains. 

“Anti-scarring solution.”

“Severus, I don’t care if it scars,” you try to say. 

“Merlin forbid you mar your flawless skin,” Severus interjects, complete with a scoff and an intense eye-roll. The wording sounds a little familiar, but it takes you a moment to place it. Once you realize that he’s repeating something Lockhart said to you a few days ago— “You have such flawless skin!” —you can’t help but choke on a quiet laugh. 

“He’s rather friendly, isn’t he?” you muse aloud. Severus visibly stiffens at that, for some reason. Tension suddenly settles in the air, heavy and palpable amidst the quiet of his office. You can’t help but feel as if you’ve just done something wrong—you’re just not sure what it is. 

“More than friendly,” Severus states mildly. You want to ask him about the unreadable expression on his face (and the inexplicable glimmer in his eyes), but he places a healthy amount of salve on your arm and you flinch at the stinging sensation it creates. Lockhart had touched your forearm there, too. Whilst his touch incited disgust and discomfort within you, Severus’s touch makes your heart race. 

“Okay, thank you—” You try to escape again, feeling a bit flustered by the intense gaze he has pointed at you. The Potions professor doesn’t respond verbally, instead leveling you with such a malicious glare that any more objections fall to dust in your mouth. Severus returns his attention to your forearm, a roll of bandages in one hand as the other hand gently extends your arm. A shiver rolls down your spine. Time drags on like a viscous sludge, and you’re a prisoner to its whims. All you can hear is Severus’s calm, measured breaths; all you see is the careful manner with which he handles you, as if you’re made of glass. 

“Thank you, Severus," you breathe once the bandages are secured around your forearm. You swear you feel his hands linger for the briefest of moments, but you put it down to your imagination. At a loss for words, you end up bidding him a good night and retreating to your own office. Even as you try to immerse yourself in grading your class’s essays, the weight of Severus’s touch and the pressure of his gaze refuses to leave your mind’s eye. You fall asleep that night with your arm prickling, both from the salve and from Severus’s attentive, careful grasp earlier.

The next day, you’re set free from your supervisory duties. While the few days you spent as Potions professor were enjoyable, you’re very relieved they’re over. You’d much rather devote attention to Ancient Runes—a subject you feel you’re more qualified to teach. It’s also nice to have your free periods back. You take the chance to study up on some recent scholarship and walk about the castle, taking in the fresh air that the spring brings. 

Unbeknownst to you, during Potions class with the second-years, Gryffindor House loses a hundred points. When you hear the news at dinner, you can’t help but laugh. You then glance at Severus, unsurprised to find a vindictive smirk tugging at his lips. 

next part

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[mitchellnman]

THE SIMPLEST SOLUTION. PT 1.

MDNI.

Martin x reader x Michael Gavey

Word count: about 3.7k

Warnings: porn with very little plot, afab reader, she/her pronouns, cunnilingus, messy feelings, Martin's chill, Michael's not.

A/n: hi hello welcome to my random unbeta'd fic please enjoy

"I don't fucking get it." You groaned, your fingertips coming up to rub at your temples - though what you really wanted to do, was rip your hair out, and smash the mathematics textbook over —

"I didn't expect much from you, but really."

His head. Michael Gavey. Your math tutor. You had made a deal with him a few weeks ago, and who knew that the unassuming genius would turn out to be the devil incarnate? Certainly not you. It had been simple; his brain, your fingers.

Not like that. He wanted to learn how to play guitar, and you, with your band that played on the weekends at the local pub, considered yourself to be damn good at it. It had seemed fair, at the time. But now, tears pricked at your eyes, and you felt like a child again, sitting across the table from your father as he explained long division to you again, and your brain refused to comprehend it.

"Asshole." You muttered.

He smirked, and set his pencil down. "Perhaps if you spent more time studying, and less time with your greasy boyfriend, you'd understand."

"And maybe if you got laid once in a while, you wouldn't be such a cunt!" You spat back at him. You stared at each other, glaring fiercely, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He exhaled slowly, through his nose.

"One more try. Then we'll call it a night. Deal?" He asked, trying to reason with you.

He liked seeing you angry. It excited him, thrilled him - but he didn't want to make you too angry, and have you leave him. He knew you had a boyfriend, that imposing cryptid that you kissed on the cheek, and the lips, and—

He coughed, mentally wiping his mind of that image. He knew he was jealous, he had come to terms with it weeks ago, after a quick and hot rub of his crotch made him cum so hard he saw stars, face buried in the pillow you had plopped on your lap. It wasn't fair that Mark, Matthew, whatever his name was, got to hold you, got to touch you, taste you, and Michael only ever got to frustrate you.

He knew he was jealous. But you couldn't know that. It would ruin everything.

"Michael, no matter how many times you explain this thing, it doesn't make sense." You said, utterly frustrated with yourself. Your hands did go up to your hair then, tugging.

Michael pressed his lips together, and patted your shoulder. It was the only part of you that he permitted himself to touch, beside your hands when they brushed, knees when they knocked. "Let me try to show you a different method. A new perspective, if you will." He offered, his voice softer, and a touch sweeter.

You agreed - without much of a choice. Despite your reservations - by the end of the night you understood the problem, and Michael even had you explain how to solve it to him. He'd never say it, but he was proud of you, it was written all over his face.

You gathered your things and tucked them in your old black backpack, the one with the straps that you had to resew every six months. Michael watched you for a moment, then turned and started to rifle through a drawer. As you turned to say your goodbyes, he was there, holding a crunchy bar.

"For you." He said.

You smiled, brighter than the moon on a clear night. "You're sure?"

"Of course."

You took it from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other. Michael opened his mouth to say something, but your phone pinged before he could make a sound.

It was a text from Martin, your boyfriend.

[ just got dinner. Omw. ]

You smiled, and shot a quick text back. "I gotta go, Michael. Thank you so much, for the candy, for everything."

You bade a quick goodbye, and jogged down to the parking lot, where Martin was pulling up.

In his room, Michael seethed with jealousy, now that he was free to show his true face. He paced the room back and forth, so hard that he might wear a hole in the carpet - that's when he noticed you'd left your jacket behind. Black, oversized, with some band logo on the sleeve. Martin's, probably. With a twist of his stomach, he thought, you'd look better in one of his sweaters.

Michael plucked the hoodie up by the collar, holding it away from him like it might bite him. He licked his lips. Slowly, he brought it closer and closer, until his lips brushed over the ratty fabric. He inhaled, deeply.

It smelled like you. Not entirely like you, there were still hints of him. Of Martin. Sweat and oil and other godawful chemicals he liked to play with. Him and his models. Michael sneered, but only for a second. He pressed his face fully into the hoodie, smashing his glasses against the bridge of his nose.

He moaned.

Martin greeted you with a smile as he pushed the passenger door open from his side, the hinges squeaking in protest. You climbed in, and he tapped his cheek. With a laugh you obliged him, and planted a warm kiss to his jaw. The car smelled like dinner, ramen from a local place that held many of your memories together, laughter, fretting over bloodied knuckles, all of it.

"How was it?" He asked. He watched you buckle in, and took off once you were secure.

"Well," you said, pulling out Michael's crunchy bar. "I did so well, he gave me a reward."

Martin chuckled dryly. "Wait 'til we get home, I'll give you an even better one." His hand fell from the steering wheel, and onto your knee. His fingers found the holes in your jeans, and he started tracing the skin of your knees with light, teasing strokes.

You shivered. "Don't start, or I'm going to have to start, too."

In response, Martin squeezed your thigh. "I'm a good driver, but I don't know if I'm that good." He mused. "Besides, I couldn't look at you. That's the best part."

After dinner, while you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom, Michael texted you.

[ you left your jacket here. I only just noticed. ]

You swore quietly, and smacked your forehead. "Stupid." You muttered.

[ will you be there tomorrow? I can pick it up in the afternoon. I'm swamped in the morning. ]

You waited for a long moment. Then finally,

[ I'll be here. ]

[ thank you, Michael ❤️ ]

"Everythin' alright?" Martin asked, leaning against the doorframe. "I heard you swearin'."

You nodded. "I left my hoodie at Michael's. He was just letting me know."

"Awful nice of him." Martin mused. "Better than what I'd have done."

"Oh?" You asked, setting your phone down. "What would you have done?"

Martin grinned that evil smile of his, and sauntered closer to you. He was shirtless, post-shower, and just in a pair of gym shorts. You, meanwhile, wore one of his shirts, and a pair of boxers. He leaned down, and flicked the tip of his finger over your chin. "I would have fucked it until it smelled like me." He whispered, so close you could feel his warmth radiating off of his skin. He licked the tip of your nose with his ever-blue tongue. "Every time you wore it, you'd think of me."

His arms snakes around your waist, and brought you flush against his chest. His wet hair tickled your cheeks, like his lizard's tongue did when he had her 'kiss' you goodbye. Martin kissed you then, his fingers pressing into your flesh. You hooked your arms around his neck, and he pushed you against the counter, his desire evident against your stomach.

An hour later, you were both fast asleep, the scent of sex lingering in the air. You were curled against his chest, and his arms were around you, just like they always were - protective and possessive.

The next morning, he drove you to college as usual. You shared a long kiss goodbye, and went about your day. You took notes, studied, did everything a good student should do. Then at about 2, you made your way up to Michael's dorm room. You lifted your hand to knock, but Michael opened it before you could.

"Oh, hello-"

"What are you . . Oh, yes. Hoodie." Michael shook his head, as if to say 'duh'. "Come in."

"I can just grab it and go if you're busy—" you offered. Michael was unusually out of sorts, his hair unkempt, wearing the same clothes from yesterday, his eyes staring only at your neck.

"No, no. That's alright." He said. "I was just going to go to a vending machine for a snack." He met your eyes finally, something simmering beneath the surface. "I see Martin's made a snack out of you."

You frowned. "What do you-? Oh, shit—" You pushed past him and took a look at yourself in the mirror; Martin had left his mark on you indeed, four hickeys in the vague shape of an 'M'. "He knows better, damnit." You sighed, rubbing your forehead.

Michael watched you, and tilted his head to the side. "You don't like it?"

"I go to an ivy league college with a blue collar background, I just —"

"You want to make a good impression on people you'll never see again." Michael deadpanned. "You don't want them to think you're a slut."

You rolled your eyes. "I hate when you do that."

"What?"

"Make a good point but deliver it like an asshole."

He grinned, cheekier than you'd ever seen him. "Your hoodies on the edge of the bed - I had to move it to sit." Michael explained.

You nodded gratefully. "Thank you." You said, immediately tugging it on. You sniffed it as you did - and it smelled like Michael. That made sense, it had been in his room all night. He smelled different than Martin, very clean, with hints of cologne and sweetness. It made you smile, a soft fondness crawling into your heart.

Michael let out a quiet sigh of relief. He hadn't, as Martin said, fucked the hoodie. He'd slept with it, his face buried in the fabric, inhaling your scent as much as he could - and he humped the mattress. For a very long time, longer than he'd realized. He only woke up a half hour ago, and tidied everything in a mad dash, and hoped you wouldn't notice anything amiss.

The little 'M' on your neck made his mouth go dry. For a moment, he pretended that you were his, and that 'M' stood for Michael, not Martin. He swallowed.

"Are you alright?" You asked. You stepped closer to him, brow furrowed in concern. Michael looked like he might be sick. You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. "Michael, you're burning up." You whispered.

He let out a strangled noise. "I'm fine." He insisted. He took your hand in his, then looked at it like he didn't quite know what to do with it. "I..." He took a breath, and shook his head. "I think I just need to eat. I was up late, erm, reading."

You frowned, not believing him for a second. "Michael, I—"

The world stopped. He pulled you flush against his chest, and he smashed his lips against yours.

You never saw it coming.

Well - maybe a little. The two of you had some sort of tension, but - you had Martin, and Michael didn't seem the type.

You pushed him away as suddenly as he had tugged you in. "What the fuck, Michael?!" He tasted sweet. Like a crunchy bar.

He ran his hands through his hair, his eyes wide. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry - I don't know what came over me—" As you watched, tears welled up in his eyes. "I'm so sorry." He whispered, his voice cracking.

"Why did you do that?" You asked, hugging yourself tightly. "You know I'm dating Martin..."

"I know." He said weakly. "I know you are, and, and it kills me."

You stared at each other, tears streaming down each other's faces. You didn't know what to say. You liked Michael, you did - he was kind when he wanted to be, smart, sometimes even funny - and sure, he was cute, but —

"I have to go." You whispered.

"Don't tell him." Michael pleaded. "I'm begging you."

You shook your head. "I have to, Michael."

"He'll kill me." Michael said, his hands starting to shake.

"No, he won't, I promise." You wiped your face with the sleeves of your hoodie. "He's not like that."

"He does that ... car-jitsu!"

"He's got daddy issues, not anger issues." You laughed weakly, and Michael's heart broke a little. "I'll talk to you... sometime. I'm sorry." You said, unsure why you were apologizing.

Michael nodded, and hung his head. "I'm sorry." He whispered again, and you knew he meant it.

You took the bus home, and waited on the couch for Martin to get home from work. You tried to stop the flood of tears, but it was all for nothing. When he came home, you were sobbing softly into a pillow, and he curled around you, immediately comforting you.

When you told him what happened - he didn't have much of a reaction. In fact, he chuckled.

"Martin, it's not funny!" You said, smacking at his chest. "How am I supposed to go back there and face him?"

"Seems pretty simple to me." Martin mused, a shit-eating grin on his face. "An easy solution, if you will."

You frowned, and smacked his chest again. "You're not Gandalf, stop speaking in riddles!"

Martin laughed again, rubbing his chest. "What I'm sayin' is, I don't mind sharin'."

You squinted at him. "But I don't—"

"You do. I've seen the way you talk about him. Even if you don't know it, you're sweet on him, just a little." Martin shrugged, totally nonchalant.

"I am not, he's an asshole, and a know-it-all—"

"First, isn't he quite literally a genius? Sort of his job, innit? Second, you're blushing."

You clapped your hands to your cheeks, and were utterly dismayed to find that he was correct. Your face was flushed, and your skin practically burned underneath your fingertips. "I hate this." You whispered, utterly mortified.

Martin grunted. "Eat dinner with me. Sleep it off. We'll go see him tomorrow. What's his schedule?"

You pressed your fingers into your forehead, gently massaging yourself. "It's Saturday, so - nothing. And knowing him, he'd be holed up in his room anyways. He thought you were going to kill him."

Martin laughed. "Poor guy. I bet I could make him cry."

"Martin!"

"I'm kidding!"

You woke up the next morning groggy and sleepy, but feeling a little better than you had last night. Martin kissed your nose, and you smiled, curling into him, burying your face in his chest. He held you there, running his fingers through your hair. You stayed like that for an hour, just enjoying each other's presence.

"Get dressed." He whispered, patting your hip. You looked up at him with a soft smile, and he squeezed your ass in return.

So you got dressed, in jeans, a t-shirt, and the hoodie from yesterday. You ate breakfast with Martin, pancakes and bacon. Then, you got in the car, and drove to college.

"He lives on the third floor." You said, taking Martin's hand to lead him to Michael's room. Your stomach flip-flopped every step of the way, and once you reached Michael's door, you hesitated. "Martin-"

"Go on." He said. "I'll behave."

"Bullshit." You snorted. But, you knocked.

Michael opened the door - he'd showered and changed clothes, you noted. He looked awfully sorry for himself as he looked at you - then he glanced at Martin, and he gulped. "Hullo." He whispered.

"Hi..." You said. "Can we come in?"

"I thought you said he wasn't going to kill me."

"He won't." You promised.

Martin rested his chin on the top of your head, and he winked at Michael. Michael shivered, but he let you in.

"What's going on?" He asked, closing the door behind you two. "I'm sorry about yesterday, I don't know what came over me."

"I know. I get it." Martin said. To prove his point, he kissed you, lifting your chin up with two fingers. Michael watched, his lips parted. "Believe me, Michael, I understand..." Martin purred, his arm snaking around your waist. "It'd be awful rude of me not to share."

Michael coughed, choking on his own spit. "If you're fucking with me, this isn't funny."

"We're not." You said. "I promise we're not. Michael... you don't have to. But you can if you want." You held your hand out to him, the black nail polish on your fingernails chipped.

He pressed his lips together, fidgeting in place. "I've never - I don't know what to do." He admitted, guilt flashing across his face.

Martin grinned. "Take her hand. We'll show you."

Michael stared at the pair of you, and after a long moment, he did take your hand, his palm sweaty. You smiled, and pulled him closer, just as close as he had you yesterday. You kissed him, slowly and softly at first. Michael was slow to reciprocate, but soon enough he was whining against your lips.

"Easy, poindexter." Martin chuckled. He slid his hands up your waist and under your shirt, his hands cool against your skin. "How badly do you want to taste her?"

Michael gasped, his pretty cheeks flushing a bright red. "I - that's -"

"It's a simple question." Martin said, his hands sliding up your chest, to cup your tits. You hadn't worn a bra, and your breath hitched in delight.

"I mean - I suppose I would - I don't know what to do." He stammered.

Martin grinned. "I'll teach you. Hey, get on the bed."

You obeyed, laying down on your back. Martin took your hoodie off, and looked over his shoulder at Michael. "Get in between her legs. Have you ever seen a pair of tits in real life?"

Michael shook his head as he climbed onto the bed with you two, his hands shaking. You smiled, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Tell you what, if you can make her come, you can touch them. How's that sound?" Martin asked.

You nodded. "I like the sound of that."

Martin licked his lips, equally eager and nervous. "A-agreed."

"Arms up, babe." Martin said. You obeyed, and your shirt was removed. Michael's eyes went wide when he saw your tits, his mouth gaping wide.

"Watch." Martin instructed. He bent down, and kissed your chest, dragging his tongue over your skin. His lips wrapped around your nipple and you moaned, wrapping your hand in his hair. He suckled there for a moment, his hand teasing your other nipple. He lifted his mouth to speak.

"Take her pants off." He instructed.

Michael obeyed. His fingers fumbled with the snap, but soon enough he was tugging them down your thighs, and pushing them to the floor. He eyed your panties, nearly drooling with want.

"Take those off, too." Martin said.

Michael touched you reverently - he was living a waking wet dream, he wanted to savor this. He slid your panties down your legs, and you bit your lip.

"Put them in your pocket." Martin said, sucking a mark into your chest.

Michael nodded, and stuffed them away with a cheeky grin. "Now what?"

Martin chuckled. "Take your best shot."

Michael bit his lip, and slowly lowered his face to your core. He gave you an experimental lick, humming at your taste. He spread your lips, and licked you again - and he clearly knew his anatomy. He rubbed your clit with his tongue, and you moaned softly, your free hand tangling in his hair, too.

"That's it..." Martin purred. "Good boy. Use your fingers, too."

You were already wet for Michael, he was delighted to find. Slowly, he pressed a finger inside of you, his breath hot on your skin.

"Do this." Martin said, demonstrating a 'come hither' motion with his fingers. Michael watched, and committed it to memory. "You'll know if you're doing a good job."

Michael mimicked the motion, and he found your sweet spot with utter ease. Your hand tightened in his hair, and he groaned against you, his hips rocking against the mattress.

It was all so much, being worshiped so feverishly by the pair of them, Martin practically drooling on your tits, and Michael sucking on your clit like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Which, it was.

It didn't take much to coax you over the edge, and you cried out, squeezing Michael's head between your thighs, the cold wire of his glasses pressing into your skin.

Michael made a sudden choked noise, and by the stuttering of his hips - he had come too, whining pathetically against you. You moaned, and forced your thighs to relax.

Michael sat up from your aching core, his mouth and chin covered in your slick. His glasses were fogged up, and he gave you a cheeky smile. Martin lifted his head from your tits, and kissed him. Michael choked, and shoved him away. Then their lips came smashing back together, Martin hungry for your taste on Michael's lips. You gasped softly, watching Martin's blue tongue disappear into Michael's mouth. Martin took Michael's hand and guided it inside of you. They each had two fingers in your wetness, and they found your sweet spot together.

You squirmed and moaned as Martin uses his free hand to tug on Michael's sandy locks, wrenching his head back. Michael groaned, and as Martin gave him a 'M' mark, his teeth sinking into the genius' skin, you came hard, squirting on their fingers. Your hands twisted in the sheets, so hard they might rip. Your back arched as you cried out their names, your vision going white.

As you came to, panting softly, the boys settled in by your sides. Michael's hand squeezed your tit, and he smiled, nosing into your neck.

"Do you think you're up to fuck her? Martin asked, his voice taunting.

Michael gulped.

To be continued...

[transmutationisms]

i get where blanket opposition to "listen to x voices" is coming from like i know exactly the type of liberal claptrap the phrase is bandying about but i think we also need to contextualise it as a call that very much originated as a critique of the very real suppression of x voices and the consequent control of knowledge production by & in the interests of dominant groups / institutions / &c. the solution of course is not to lean further into categories of personal identity but nor is it to play coy about the reasons why x voices are conspicuously absent from certain dialogues or the consequences thereof. ultimately haggling over the phrase is symptomatic of continuing to frame the production of knowledge & political claims as a kind of intellectual free market of individual economic actors rather than analysing structurally & materially how these processes occur. it's also a bit dishonest on both sides imo: people who use the phrase do differentiate between x voices they listen to and x voices they don't, & people who critique the phrase do generally believe that there are questions or experiences on which personal history is valuable. if you've ever thought it's fucked that, like, history textbooks on genocided indigenous groups tend to be written by the genociders, then you maybe have news for yourself about x voices

[onecooooooolcat]

tips for using textbooks for (solo) lang learning

100% in ur target lang n typically not directed towards a specific mother language

used for the official lang exam (e.g. dele para español, delf pour français, goethe für deutsch, topik for korean etc)

lots of exercises even a whole exercise book

have solutions

have transcriptions for their listening exercises is also a plus!

have free audio whether it be an app/website etc or you can find the files

no free audio or just dont care to do the audios comme moi? skip 'em n seach out videos podcasts etc about the topics

tired of lang textbooks? find textbooks abt other subjects but in ur target lang. myb start with those for younger persons n work up

[zosin-ya]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 - ɪᴄᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ

Summary: Law was living rent free in your mind and you found yourself wanting to know him better. When the opportunity came, you surprised even yourself by suggesting to study together. Intrigued, he couldn’t resist testing the waters.

tags.: One Piece, Trafalgar Law, Law x Reader, slow burn romance, Modern AU, law has a motorcycle cuz its hot

a.n.: some promised interaction with reader and Law ;) getting closer to the study date

[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]

Weeks had passed in a blur of textbooks, late-night cramming, and a steady stream of food deliveries. For now, the easiest solution was ordering in. Still, a small thrill sparked each time the doorbell rang, hoping it would be him—the delivery guy who had become an unexpected highlight in your routine. Most of the time, it was someone else, but occasionally, luck favored you. You’d exchange small talk as you fumbled for his tip, though he rarely engaged much beyond short responses. Even so, he never seemed bothered by your attempts at conversation.

Today, something was different. When you opened the door, the usual spark in his grey eyes was dimmed, his features drawn tight with exhaustion. Dark circles clung to his eyes, and his breath came fast, as if he’d sprinted the whole way. You handed him the money, but before he could turn to leave, you found yourself blurting out, “Do you want some water?”

He paused, surprise flickering across his face before he nodded gratefully. “Uh, yeah, that’d be great...” he said, voice rough around the edges, as a gloved hand stroke through his messy hair, which seemed more chaotic than usual.

You rushed to grab a glass, heart pounding for reasons you didn’t quite understand. Probably because you somehow feared that you could mess up the simply task of bringing him something to drink. The crush you developed was very obvious to you, even though you wished you stayed oblivious for the sake of your sanity.

When you returned and offered him the water, he downed it quickly, standing awkwardly by the door.

You didn't want this to be another two minute small talk session before he walked off like the other times. Somehow you had to break the ice, or at least try it. However, your creativity in finding a good starter failed you, so you simply asked, “…stressful night?” With a somewhat shy smile.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gave a low, noncommittal hum, but then—surprisingly—he spoke. “Uni… plus this job, it’s just a lot. Exams are around the corner.” His voice carried a weariness you hadn’t noticed before.

Your eyes widened a bit. This was the first real conversation you’d had with him, and for once, he wasn’t in a rush to leave. “What do you study?” you asked, gripping the empty glass a little too tightly, hoping you wouldn't break the flow of the chit chat.

“Meds.” He said nonchalant, while not really liking to mention it. Luckily you didn't notice his dislike about this topic. People usually didn’t expect a person looking like him, all inked and pierced, to be in that degree. specially with the word "Death" tattooed boldly across his knuckles. It was ironic, truly.

Your calm response - a simple nod and soft hum - eased the tension in his shoulders however. It was unfamiliar to him, but oddly comforting. You didn’t seem to judge him right away.

“How about you?”

Your heart skipped a bit. Oh, he was asking about you! You couldn’t help but wonder in your delusional mind, if this meant that he was interested in you too, completely ignoring that it might simply be an act of politeness. You gave him a somewhat shy smile and rubbed the back of your neck:”Meds.”

His lips quirked into the faintest smirk, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Probably the first different expression you had seen on his face, other than his typical uninterested gaze.

“Biochem next week?” He asked as he shifted his weight. He began to wonder if he’d ever seen you around campus and just didn't notice...

“Don’t remind me, Topic 8 is making me go nuts.” you chuckled lightly, suddenly feeling like you were bonding over this shared misery of the upcoming exam.

“Topic 8 huh?”, he smirked lightly yet again and cocked an eyebrow, reminding himself what material it included. Brutal indeed.

“Heh, yea…are you seriously juggling studying and deliveries?”

He gave another quiet hum, brushing his hair back again, but you could see the strain behind it. While you spent days holed up in your apartment, he was balancing coursework with grueling shifts. The thought stirred something in you - sympathy, admiration, maybe a little more.

“H-Hey… uh, if you ever need a study buddy, let me know yea?” The words tumbled out before you could fully think them through, your voice betraying the nerves you were trying so hard to hide.

Was that supposed to sound like a date? A study date? Heat crept up your neck as the thought hit you. You barely knew this guy, yet somehow, he’d gotten under your skin. The way he carried himself, the quiet strength in his eyes, even the unkempt hair that made him look effortlessly cool—it was all too much.

The delivery guy - whose name you still didn’t know - blinked, caught off guard for a split second. His eyes, still tired but sharp, met yours with an unreadable expression. He was weighing his options. If he was being honest, he found you... surprisingly bearable. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that you had a thing for him - the way you always seemed nervous when he showed up at your door made that clear. He expected you to flirt with him, tip him more or dress differently to somehow impress him. Yet you didn’t, every time he came by to deliver your order, you gave him the same amount of tip, looked messy as usual and greeting him with the same polite manner.

Thinking about it, he began to wonder whether you genuinely had a thing for him or if you were simply a naturally anxious person.

“Sure...this was my last order, actually,” he said casually. He didn’t add anything more, letting the words hang between you.

Your mind went blank. What were you supposed to say?

“Good for you”?

“Congrats”?

The silence that followed felt suffocating, each second stretching painfully. Was he waiting for you to say something? Or worse - was he expecting you to do something? Invite him in, maybe? Your heart hammered in your chest, and your thoughts swirled in a confused mess.

You stole a glance at his face, searching for any clue to what he might be thinking, but his expression remained unreadable, guarded as always. That made it even harder to tell. Did he want something? Did he want anything at all?

You wanted nothing more than to invite him inside, to fling the door open and pull his handsome face into your apartment. But you hesitated.

The silence between you stretched, becoming thick and uncomfortable as your thoughts spiraled. Realizing that you hadn’t said anything for what felt like too long, you cleared your throat awkwardly and rubbed the back of your neck, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. Stay calm. Don’t overthink it.

“I’d prefer if we met somewhere else to study. It’s getting late anyway,” you said, trying to sound casual.

To your surprise, he didn’t seem disappointed or frustrated. In fact, he looked... content? You had expected some resistance, maybe irritation that you hadn’t invited him in, but none of that showed on his face.

...Did he just test you?

He nodded and without a word, began removing his motorcycle gloves, to pull out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. You watched him closely, instinctively holding the empty glass in your hands tighter against your chest. “Mind if I get your number?”

You quickly exchanged numbers, the whole interaction feeling slightly surreal. He gave his phone one last glance, reading your name on the display, before putting it back into his pocket and turning to leave. He gave you one last faint smile,"see ya around, Y/N." and walked off.

Once he was gone and you had closed the door behind you, you checked your phone. The name now saved in your contacts: Trafalgar Law. The name didn’t ring any bells, but you knew you’d be spending a good chunk of your night doing some online stalking to make sure he was who he said he was.

As you settled in with your food, Law headed back to his bike. A small smile played at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t new to one-night stands, and when he’d mentioned his shift was over, it was partly to test the waters—to see what you really wanted. He wouldn’t have refused if you’d invited him in, but he wouldn’t have pursued things beyond that either.

Your offer to study together felt... honest.

>>ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3 - ꜱᴛᴜᴅʏ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ

[physicsgoblin]

Physics and Mathematics Resources (plus some Chemistry):

I will update this because I know I have more recommend textbooks somewhere in my files, I'm just too tired to look right now. Latest update: 5/13/25

Physics:

The Science Spot--Mostly lesson plans for teaching kids

The Physics Classroom Tutorial--Has interactive online activities and models. Some videos and also some chemistry stuff.

HyperPhysics--Quite possibly the best resource I've ever seen because it shows how all concepts are linked together. The site isn't loading for me but it says it's up. There is a downloadable version on the Internet Archive (though it doesn't look as nice and clean). EDIT: I found a GitHub that lets you clone and download the html so you can click through it offline and it works! If people are interested I can make a tutorial, it was very easy.

PhET--A ton of demonstrations and tutorials. Also has some for mathematics and chemistry.

Paradigms Physics Notes--this was the curriculum that was used in my junior and senior classes. A lot of stuff here. If you are interest about teaching physics using this method, you can read more here.

Quantum Mathamatica Add-on--Useful for calculations.

The Hypertextbook--uhh lots here. Problems, solutions, explanations, etc.

oPhysics--interactive physics software.

MiniPhysics--more demonstrations and interactive software.

Michel van Biezen--really clear work-throughs of many subjects (algebra, calculus, chemistry, physics). He actually has a tumblr but has been active in like a decade @ilectureonline

Mathematics:

Paul's Online Math Notes--Got my whole class through junior and senior year

Calculator Soup--a lot of different kinds of calculators

3Blue1Brown--Very interesting youtube channel that shows a lot of calculus and linear algebraic principals visually or in intuitive ways.

Mathologer--more interesting advanced mathematical concepts.

General:

OpenStax--Free textbooks, legally

[mr-damian-s-power]

Why is Eda such a bad teacher?

How does it benefit the show for her to be bad at teaching? Well, I DO know why, because it desperately needed idiotic teen drama. But, for things that happen later on, I think Eda being a bad teacher is detrimental to the 'found family' aspect of the show.

Now, what makes her a bad mentor ? She's extremely lazy and often seems reluctant to teach Luz anything about magic. Most of the time, Luz either has to bribe Eda, blackmail her, or just go off and do something herself. Sure, the 'reluctant mentor' is a common trope, but they normally change in the story. I don't think Eda stops being a lazy teacher. I don't really blame Luz for wanting to go to Hexside considering Eda is gonna be so stubborn about teaching.

Here's the thing, I think that Eda eventually calling Luz and Co. her 'kids' feels unearned. Normally, I love these types of things! Someone calling a person they're not related to their family. But in Eda's case, she hasn't really earned that. Her unwillingness to teach Luz kinda drove her away, and now she's at the school Eda badmouths.

Secondly, there's the weird decision to have Eda open a school in the epilogue. Why? Why would she do that? She could barely teach ONE kid! Once again, it feels unearned. This is added onto my issue with the fact that it feels like the only reason Eda is a Wild Witch is so she can be lazy and doesn't have to get a proper job. She doesn't show much interest in magic or what she could do with it since she's not tied down by Coven rules, at least as far as I could see.

Here's my solution to this, and a little something extra:

-

In this hypothetical rewrite, Eda is very passionate about learning multiple types of magic, and so becomes a Wild Witch because she refused to simply pick one. One day, Luz shows up and begs to be her apprentice. Eda is still her grumpy and snarky self, so says no at first. Luz shows that she's not going to take no for an answer and is adamant she wants to learn magic. Eda chooses to humour her, reasoning the Human will give up in a few day's time.

But, a few days pass, and Luz is no less enthusiastic about learning magic than she was on day one. She's not just a kid way in over her head, she's genuinely determined to learn magic. Here's where we see that Eda is a very good teacher. She's more than willing to teach an eager young mind about magic, even if that kid can't naturally do magic. She'll still pass all of her knowledge onto Luz and teach her in areas that she can learn, such as potions.

Here's where another idea comes in. Owl House loves to think that it's very clever with 'subverting fantasy tropes', so here's one they should have done; Hexside is boring! The magical school is basic, rudimentary, formulaic and by-the-numbers. Eda badmouthing it makes more sense this time around, as it has an environment that restricts free thinking and creativity. Luz, in her naivete, is ecstatic about the chance to go there.

"Hexside? Pfft! Why would you wanna go to stuffy old Hexside? They don't teach ya THIS at that gilded prison!"

"It's a magic school, Eda! Think of all the things I could learn! Maybe they'll have a way Humans can do real magic!"

"Kid, Hexside is where creativity goes to die!"

"Come on, it can't be THAT bad!"

"Hmph, you think? Alright then, go there for one day and come back to me to see how it was!"

The next day, Luz sneaks into Hexside to see what it's like. There, she is bored to tears! The whole day is just reading through old textbooks, with little to no actual magic performing. When she asks about more exciting methods, her ideas are laughed at. While there, she can meet friends in Willow and Gus, who are just as sad in being restricted in their magic abilities. They want to expand their knowledge, but the curriculum just won't allow it. Later that day, Luz walks back to the Owl House with her head low.

"So, how was Hexside?" Eda asks smugly, to which Luz just sighs and sits down beside her, resting her chin on her hands. Eda's smile slowly vanishes as she realises that the events of today have very clearly upset the Human. "Not everything it was cracked up to be?" She asks, taking on a more sympathetic tone.

Luz tells how it was so boring and uneventful. Nothing like what she'd read a magic school could be like. Eda's only response is to shrug and say, "That's Hexside! The joy graveyard! Just stick by me, kid, I'll get you through this!" In this story, Eda is the 'fun teacher', who's exciting lessons contrast with the mundanity of Hexside.

The next time she has a lesson, Luz invites her new friends. Once again, Eda isn't sure about them, until they too prove that they truly do wish to learn more. This should have been Eda's character! She takes learning magic very seriously and won't stand for people who aren't 100% onboard.

As they have more lessons and the kids bond with their teacher, Eda's heart is melted by her new students and their antics. They bring her out of her shell, to the point where she stops referring to them as simply 'kids' and starts calling them 'my kids'. Their found family is far more organic!

Then, since Eda is so invested in educating young minds to her best abilities, this makes it all the more satisfying and earned when she opens a school once Belos has been defeated. She showed an interest in teaching, and got her dream job!

-

Thoughts?

[papervenom]

✩ chapter seven: cedric diggory ✩

summary: you’re a third-year transfer from the states with magic that turns heads— and veela blood that makes it impossible not to be noticed. you didn’t ask to get caught up in their world, but now you’re in it, and nothing is going to play out the way it was supposed to. a slow-burn, character-driven take on prisoner of azkaban, told through your perspective.

word count: 4.8k

INCEPTION MASTERLIST⋆˙⟡

September 9th, 1993

I grew comfortable with my day to day routine at Hogwarts. 

The classes were relatively simple and I enjoyed sharing them with my friends. 

They made the long hours I spent doing homework go by so much quicker— I don't know if I could've been able to have done it without them.

Draco had been missing from every class that we shared with the Slytherins for the past week. 

We were halfway through Double Potions when he strutted in the classroom, his arm covered in several bandages and bound to a sling. He carried himself as if he was a heroic survivor of some dreadful battle. 

"Does it hurt terribly, Draco?" Pansy Parkinson cooed as he approached— reaching out to caress his 'injured' arm. 

"It comes and it goes. Still... I consider myself lucky. According to Madame Pomfrey, a minute or two later, I could've lost my arm." 

My mouth dropped at the bullshit he was spewing, and I instinctively turned to look at Ron and Harry who were both scowling at him. 

"Settle down, Malfoy." Professor Snape drawled idly. 

Snape's patience for anyone from Gryffindor always ran thin, especially Harry— but I've noticed he was usually lenient towards Draco. 

Probably because Smape was head of Slytherin House, but the preference was unmistakable.

We were working on the Shrinking Solution potion. I had already finished my batch, since I've made it before for the task that Snape gave me during my testing, so I was just writing some notes down from the textbook.

I eyed Draco suspiciously as he gathered his materials with his free hand and headed straight towards the table where I was sitting with Ron and Harry.

He placed his cauldron next to my freshly prepared one and raised his hand smugly.

"Sir, I'll need help cutting the daisy root, because of my arm—" 

"(Y/L/N), since you clearly believe that you've finished your potion, cut Malfoy's roots for him." Snape instructed without looking up from his desk.

I sighed in defeat and stared at Draco blankly. 

"There's nothing wrong with your arm, Malfoy."

He smirked and leaned down towards me, resting his 'injured' arm on the table subconsciously, making me scoff at his lack of awareness.

"You heard Professor Snape, (Y/N), cut up these roots." He mumbled so it was just audible to me. 

I glowered, squinting my eyes at him, and grabbed the knife swiftly. I took Draco's roots and began to chop them sloppily, trying to get the embarrassment over with.

"Professor..." Draco called out slowly, his voice almost sing-songy. He was enjoying this. "(Y/N)'s mutilating my roots."

Snape approached the table and I set the knife down, shamelessly sliding the cut-up daisy root under Snape's hooked nose for him to inspect. 

"My, my. This is poor work from someone who finished their potion early. I'm sure you can do better than that, (Y/L/N). Get another root, and start again."

"But, sir—"

"I hope you don't expect special treatment solely because you're an American, or because you got lucky with your potions during your testing. I see that hanging around Potter has given you the notion that you hold some superiori—"

"Excuse me, Professor, but I do not expect special treatment at all. Thank you." My interruption caused many of the other students to gasp quietly. Ron was so petrified, his eyes were as big as plates. Snape, in turn, was flaring his nostrils at me in anger.

I was bracing myself for points to be deducted from Gryffindor, or even detention, but to my shock, Snape strode away to grab a fresh daisy root, came back to our table, and slammed it down in front of me. 

"Cut this. Now. And Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig since you find this so amusing." He demanded in a dangerous tone. 

Harry's smile didn't falter, finding the way I stood up to Snape very funny. 

We worked on Malfoy's ingredients silently, throwing them back at him hastily once we were done. Draco was smirking more broadly than ever. 

"Seen your pal Hagrid, lately?" Malfoy asked us in quiet contempt.

We all ignored him, not even bothering to look at his direction.

"I'm afraid he won't be teaching here much longer. Father's not very happy with my injury—"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury." I interjected, my voice coming out sweet, juxtaposing with the threat. I gave him a mock smile which made him raise his eyebrows and scoff. 

"The cheek on this one! Snapping at Professors and threatening injured students? How very unusual behavior from a Gryffindor. Weasley cut up my caterpillars for me." He jutted his chin at his ingredients without even glancing at Ron. His eyes were locked with mine.

Ron started reaching towards the caterpillars, his cheeks turning rosy in humiliation, but I placed my hand over his and shook my head. I then pulled the caterpillars towards me and started cutting them myself.

"There you go, even slices..." Draco murmured, getting  too close to inspect my work so I shoved him away from me with my arm. 

"Careful, there, (Y/L/N). My father's complained to the school governor and the Ministry of Magic on that pathetic excuse of a teacher. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. You wouldn't want him to make a complaint about you." 

I clasped my hand over my mouth and gasped, faking my concern, making Ron and Harry laugh brightly.

Draco merely rolled his eyes. Pompous bitch. 

Class continued and a few tables away, Neville was shaking and on the verge of tears because Snape was hurling insults at him for messing up his potion. Hermione tried to help him, but then Snape lashed out at her for being a show-off.

We were packing up our materials when Seamus Finnigan called to Harry from two tables away to ask him if he had read the Daily Prophet, the Wizarding newspaper. 

Apparently, Sirius Black had been sighted by a Muggle not too far away from Hogwarts. A flash of worry crossed Harry’s face but he quickly recomposed himself when he saw Malfoy paying too much attention to the conversation for our liking.

"What is it, Malfoy? Need something else skinned?" I asked, but Draco's eyes were fixed on Harry with a malevolent glint in them.

"Thinking you'll catch Black single-handed, Potter?" 

"Yeah, that's right." Harry's tone was bored, being used to Malfoy's harassment. He was packing up his things as he tried to ignore him again.

"Of course, if it was me..." Draco's voice dropped into a whisper. "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying at school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" It was Ron's turn to defend Harry. His tone came out rough as he glared at the Slytherin. 

"Don't you know, Potter?" Draco let out a laugh of disbelief. He finally got Harry's attention with this.

"Know what?" 

"You know what? Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck. Better off leaving it to the Dementors, yeah? But if it was me, I'd want revenge... I'd hunt him myself..." Draco's voice trailed off as his eyes flickered between Harry, Ron, and me.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Harry growled angrily but Draco decided now was the time to stop talking. He reached towards the table and pulled my notebook to him, opening it, and ran a slender finger down my schedule where it landed on my next class for the day.

I snatched my book back but he was already smirking, his little gang of Slytherins taking their positions behind him.

"See you, next class." He winked at me and stalked out of the classroom.

"What did Malfoy mean?" Harry muttered to us. "Why would I want revenge on Black? He hasn't done anything to me— yet."

"He's making it up," said Ron lividly. "He's trying to make you do something stupid..."

Though Malfoy was, as always, trying to rile Harry up— I couldn't help but notice there was some hint of truth to what he was saying. 

I didn't comment on it as we headed to the Great Hall for lunch.

༻✦༺

Professor Lupin started Defense Against The Dark Arts with a great lesson when he told us to put away our books and take our wands out for the class. He then asked Neville to help assist him with the demonstration of our topic, gaining even more respect from us Gryffindors by giving Neville the benefit of the doubt.

Once again, we were with the Slytherins, and they found Professor Lupin's choice of making Neville his assistant hysterical. 

Draco was in the back of the classroom, watching.

"Look at the state of his robes," he spoke in a loud whisper as Professor Lupin passed. "He dresses like our old house-elf."

"So, the first question we must ask ourselves is, what is a Boggart?" Lupin asked the class.

My hand shot up to answer the Professor's question at the same time Hermione's did. The boys shared an uneasy look at Hermione's competitiveness.

I knew the answer because it was in the same book where I learned what Veela were. 

"Yes, (Y/N)?" 

"It's a shape-shifter. It can take the shape of whatever frightens us the most." 

"Couldn't have put it better myself!" Lupin answered and turned towards a wardrobe that was wobbling and thumping as if something were trying to escape from inside. 

Hermione frowned at me after Lupin's compliment. 

I felt that Hermione was always trying to one-up me so in spite of friendly competition, I stuck my tongue out at her and grinned.

We learned that the Boggart had no true shape until it knows who it will directly encounter. Then it shifts to their fears. I was curious as to what my fear would be, not being so sure I had one.

We chanted the word that we would say to a Boggart once it shifted to our greatest fear ( Riddikulus! ), and got in a line.

"This class is 'riddikulus'" I heard Malfoy mutter to one of his meat-head friends a few spots in front of me.

"...You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville. First things first: what would you say is the thing that frightens you most in the world?" 

Neville was once again shaking and his face was beet red as he mumbled something inaudible.

"I didn't quite catch that, Neville, sorry," said Professor Lupin cheerfully. Neville looked around wildly, as though begging for someone to help him, then whispered "Professor Snape."

Nearly everyone laughed now.  Lupin instructed Neville to picture Snape wearing Grandma Longbottom's clothing, then the most alarming thing happened. The boggart that stepped out of the wardrobe looked so much like Professor Snape, I was convinced it actually was him the whole time. 

Neville cast the Riddikulus spell, and the boggart stumbled, and soon Snape was wearing an atrocious green dress, fox-fur scarf, and carrying a red handbag. 

The line started moving forward. The boggart was shifting from being a mummy to a rattlesnake, to a severed hand. 

Once we started getting closer to the wardrobe, Draco slipped from his spot and moved behind me.

"Scared of a boggart?" I taunted him coolly, still facing forward. 

"Just don't feel like participating in this foolish class, that's all," He muttered back just as nonchalantly— leaning down so I could hear him. 

I shook my head, and a smile played on my lips at our casual exchange but Ron quickly caught my attention. 

He seemed very nervous about this whole Boggart ordeal. 

I knew him well enough by now to know that there would be a humongous spider in the room at any second. 

And surely enough, with a noise like a whip, the giant, hairy spider appeared and was staring right down at Ron with eight, shiny black eyes. 

Students screamed as it started getting closer, clicking its pincers threateningly. 

"Ron...Ron!" I reached out to shake him because he just stood there frozen. 

"R-right. Riddikulus!" And just like that, the spider was now wearing roller skates in each of its bushy legs. 

It stumbled and fell, making the class laugh. 

Harry then took his place in front of the boggart. 

His spirits seemed high, considering everyone but the Slytherins were having fun, but he wasn't prepared for what the boggart would become.

In front of our eyes, the clumsy spider started morphing into something dark, tall, and cloaked. 

The coldness and the feeling of dread quickly filler the air as a Dementor towered over Harry. 

Ron, Hermione, and I had to quickly pull Harry back when we noticed that he started swaying on the spot—growing faint.

Fortunately, Professor Lupin jumped in front of the Dementor and managed to vanish it in time. We got a glimpse of his boggart, which resembled some sort of crystal ball.

Most of the students looked uneasy. 

Even some of the Slytherins were rubbing their arms to bring back the warmth to their bodies. 

It didn't take long for Malfoy and his cronies to process what happened and burst out laughing. 

"Right. Sorry about that. Settle down, settle down... Well done, everyone... That is enough for today. That's the end of your lesson, collect your books from the back..." 

Harry straightened up. He was pale and had pink blotches on his cheek as we guided him out of the classroom, trying to ignore Draco's taunts. 

༻✦༺

The weeks started passing by quickly. 

Lupin kept fascinating us during DATDA; Trewlaney still treated Harry like he had seconds to live, and Snape always found a way to embarrass a Gryffindor in front of the whole class. 

His favorite victim was Neville. 

Hagrid calmed down with his lessons and we were currently studying the flobberworm— the most boring creature in existence. 

Soon, it was October. I got to see less of Harry since he started Quidditch practices and was gone three evenings a week. 

I spent most of my time with Ron and Hermione. Though, it was easier talking to Ron since Hermione always had her nose stuck in a book and often seemed to have homework that was due the next day.

I started accompanying Hermione to the library during the evenings. 

Sometimes Ron would join, other times he wouldn't. 

We would usually finish our homework long before Hermione was be done with hers— and Ron would just get bored out of his mind so some days he didn't bother coming at all. 

But I didn't mind. 

I took advantage of the free-time to browse the books in the library. 

Also, I found something to look forward to whenever I was there. 

Or rather, someone. 

Every time we visited the library, I always saw the same boy there. 

He was the prettiest boy I've ever seen. 

He was tall, brunette, and he seemed older than I was.

Maybe Fred and George's age. 

I didn't know much about him other than that he was in Hufflepuff and in his House's Quidditch team. I figured this out because sometimes he would come in wearing his uniform with a bunch of his teammates and he would get furiously shushed at by the school librarian, Madam Pince.

He was very popular— always had a few friends with him who would speak to him admirably. 

But he still seemed a bit reserved as well. 

The quiet type. 

He was just so incredibly handsome and I couldn't take my eyes off of him. 

In fact, I've jumped out of my skin a couple of times before because I'd find him staring right back at me.

He was kind enough to look away every time, and not immediately tell his friends about the idiot girl who doesn't stop goggling at him— but I swear I would catch him suppressing a smile after the fact.

It's not like I thought I'd have a chance with him, or that he would talk to me ever, but I liked the distraction of staring at a good-looking boy when I wasn't studying or being berated by Hermione to quiz her. 

Sue me.

It was the evening before Halloween, and Hermione and I were entering the library again. 

My eyes immediately went to the corner where the pretty boy and his friends would usually sit, and my heart sank a bit in my chest when I saw that the area was empty.

Hermione and I took our usual seats at the long tables by the windowed area and got to work. 

I had completed my Star chart for our Astronomy class when I looked over at Hermione to find her forehead furrowed as she scribbled frantically. Her bushy hair was even bushier than ever and she was standing, instead of sitting down, as she worked.

"I'm finished, 'Mione. I'm gonna look around, okay?" I spoke to her softly, trying not to distract her.

She didn't even look up at me as she nodded and kept writing so harshly with her quill that I was sure the parchment would rip. 

I shrugged out of my robes, leaving me in my white-buttoned dress shirt, black skirt, black knee socks, and striped Gryffindor tie— which hung loosely around my neck.

The first thing I usually did as I entered the library was to make myself comfortable since I knew I would be spending a few hours there. 

Madam Pince would always glare at me— but she never said anything. Just pursed her lips into a thin line and went back to her librarian work.

I ran my fingers down the spines of the books as I walked down the rows of shelves aimlessly. 

I started getting annoyed again when I noticed I started gaining unwarranted attention. 

Girls would narrow their eyes at me bitterly and boys would crane their necks in their seats to get a good look at me. 

I was about to head back to my seat and hide under the table until Hermione finished her coursework when I got to a row where I recognized two Hufflepuff boys who I knew were friends with the cute guy I always saw.

I simply glanced at them as I walked by, not planning on speak to them but they stopped talking to each other the moment they saw me and walked up to me, which was unexpected.

"Hey, you're the new girl, right? I'm Nick. This is Robert." The tallest of the two introduced himself. He was a bit pimply and had stringy, blonde hair but a kind face. Robert was lankier than Nick and had black, spiked hair that matched his narrow, dark eyes. I shook both of their hands awkwardly.

"Hi, I'm (Y/N)... 'New girl', huh? So people have been talking about me."

Both boys gave me a toothy grin. They seemed nice but still had the same stupid energy that some of the boys had whenever they got around me. I still wondered if McGonagall was right about this whole Veela situation. 

"Oh, yeah. Everyone knows about you! You're the transfer student from America—"

"And you're barking gorgeous." Robert interrupted Nick. He seemed to realize what he said and started guffawing but wasn't at all embarrassed. 

I, on the other hand, was. 

I really wanted to get out of there.

"Oh, I don't know about that..." I blushed, trying to find a way to get away but the conversation was soon intervened by another Hufflepuff who was approaching the boys.

"Why aren't you two out on the field yet?" 

My eyes widened as the pretty boy I've been staring at for the past weeks approached us and stood by my side. He towered over his friends and stared at them expectantly— waiting for an answer.

"Oh hey, Cedric... Isn't Gryffindor out there?" Nick seemed disappointed that his friend interrupted the conversation with me. But at the moment I was grateful for Nick, because I now knew the mystery boy's name was Cedric. 

"They're finishing up. I was just on my way out there. Go on, I'll catch up to you guys." 

The pair mumbled their goodbyes to me, and headed towards the exit. 

I didn't exactly know Cedric to linger any longer, so I smiled at him politely and began walking away.

"Were they bothering you?" Cedric's eyebrows were knit together in concern.

"Um, not really," I chimed and shook my head. 

My voice came out distracted, which I was— feeling so overwhelmed with having him standing so close to me. 

He looked so good in the knit grey sweater he was wearing. 

His yellow, Hufflepuff tie was tucked in neatly and I suddenly realized how sloppy I looked next to him, with my loose tie and a crinkled, dress shirt.

"Alright... It's just— you looked uncomfortable. So I just had to make sure. They're good guys, Nick and Robert. But they can also be... indiscreet, at times." 

Cedric chose his words carefully. 

I could tell he didn't want to bad-mouth his friends. 

I found it sweet that he decided to check up on me. 

He didn't even know me.

"They just put me in the spot, that's all," I let out an airy laugh, trying to get rid of the nerves running through me, and stuck out my hand towards him, praying it wasn't sweaty or shaking when he touched it.

"I'm (Y/N), nice to meet you." I smiled sweetly, and when he returned the smile and shook my hand with his bigger one, my heart skipped a beat.

"Lovely to meet you, (Y/N). I'm Cedric. I've seen you here quite a bit." 

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as he said that. 

He did catch me staring at him a few times before, I forgot that detail until this moment. 

I subconsciously began walking towards the table where Hermione was working, attempting to escape my embarrassment yet Cedric followed,  walking closely beside me.

"Uh, yeah, I like to do my coursework with my friend here. It's quiet. She's taking more courses than I am, I think, so I'm usually finished earlier and just walk around for something to do," I shrugged and looked down at my feet, suddenly not having the courage to meet his grey eyes anymore.

"Yeah, that's why I like it here too. I find I can finish my work quicker since it's silent. Next time you're done early, you should find me. I'm usually always around when you are, anyways. We can talk some more."

I looked up at him, his height surprising me once more as he stood by my side. I nodded stupidly as I swooned over the sly smile he was giving.

"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks." 

We grinned at each other for a beat and I then noticed we were standing right in front of Hermione, who was still in the same state I left her. 

I was about to say my goodbyes before a voice behind him called his name.

"Cedric? You promised me I could watch you practice." 

He turned around in search for who was talking to him and I peered over his shoulder slightly, trying not to blatantly look since the person was being blocked from my view by Cedric.

It was an Asian girl who was calling for him. 

She seemed to be my age, maybe even Cedric's, and was extremely gorgeous and looked exceptionally pretty in the blue jacket she was wearing over her robes. 

I assumed she was a girlfriend or someone Cedric was seeing. 

It's not like I excepted him to be single, with his looks, but my heart still sank a few inches.

"I'll see you later, then?" He turned back to me with a hopeful expression which caught me off guard.

"Yeah! See you later. Have a good practice." 

He kept smiling at me as he walked away. He then approached the pretty girl and they walked off together. 

I watched after them, smiling at her politely when she turned around to look at me— and to my shock, she gave me a nasty look. 

I gasped and I heard a gasp behind me. 

I turned around and noticed Hermione was watching the whole thing.

"Did you see that?" I whispered loudly at Hermione as I rushed to the table and sat down in front of her.

Hermione stifled a giggle as she started packing her things away in her bag.

"Can't exactly blame her, (Y/N). You didn't tell me you knew Cedric Diggory." 

I blushed, cupping my flushed face in my hands in attempt to hide it from Hermione, but she noticed anyways and snickered.

"I just properly met him today! His two friends made me a bit uncomfortable, and he noticed and intervened." I cooed dreamily, recalling the whole situation. 

Hermione's face was suddenly stern.

"(Y/N), you have to tell Professor McGonagall if you're being harassed because of your Veela bloodline. You can't help it, and frankly, they can't either. She offered to help you!" 

"It's fine." I shrugged, speaking nonchalantly. "So far I've been able to handle it."

"So far, you have—but it can get really ugly, (Y/N)! Men have done really, really stupid things to get the attention of a Veela! And it could get more intense for you as you grow older and mayb—"

"Alright, alright. If it gets out of hand, I'll talk to Professor McGonagall." I huffed, dismissing Hermione. "Now, please. Tell me more about Cedric Diggory." 

She told me all she knew about him as we headed back to our Common Room. 

I never took Hermione Granger for a gossip, assuming that she never had the time to find out much with all the schoolwork she had, so the amount of information that she knew surprised me. 

Apparently, Cedric was a very popular boy in the school. 

He was fawned over by many because he was Seeker for his Quidditch team (which I remembered was the same position as Harry), he was a Prefect—which gave him some special privileges over the other students, and he was a good student with great grades. I noticed that Hermione started gushing a bit as she spoke, so I assumed that the charm that Cedric had over me was one he held over many girls.

"What did he say to you?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"He basically said he's seen me around the library before and that he likes to study there too, since it's quiet." I recounted our conversation as we approached the hall where the portrait of the Fat Lady hung.

"Then he asked that the next time I finished my schoolwork early, I come find him so we can talk some more," I couldn't conceal the grin that formed on my face as I said that.

"What do you think he meant by that!?" Hermione's eyes were wide, looking at me in amazement.

"I don't know! I think he was just being friendly! Fortuna Major." I said the password when we reached the portrait and it swung open. We stepped inside.

"Gods. Cho and Cedric are like the perfect couple, everyone's been saying it! They're not dating yet, but she definitely likes him. And that look she gave you!" 

Hermione and I had our arms locked as we giggled into the Common Room. 

I doubted Cedric had any romantic interest in me, but it was still nice to fantasize about it.

"Why so chummy, ladies?" Fred called from the couch in front of the blazing fireplace. 

Everyone around him were buzzing excitedly in conversation with each other.

"We has a very successful evening of studying, what's going on here?" I tossed my bag on the floor near the couch and sat down in between Fred and George.

Ron and Harry were sitting on the floor playing Exploding Snap. 

"First Hogsmeade weekend starting tomorrow! Also the Halloween feast." Ron informed, his eyes brightening as he looked at me. 

He didn't even notice that the card deck in front of him exploded.

"Good timing, too. I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets." Fred spoke from my right. 

I looked at him curiously, not knowing what Stink Pellets were, causing him to shove his hand in his pockets and start digging around for one.

"No, no, it's fine, I bet they're great." I laughed, leaning away from him as I felt threatened simply by the name. I didn't want to be near anything stinky at the moment.

I heard Harry sigh, and I remembered he wasn't allowed to visit Hogsmeade since his Muggle family didn't sign his form.

I slid down from the couch and crawled to sit next to him on the floor.

"Hey. I have to visit McGonagall tomorrow morning. I'm supposed to meet with her at the end of every month. Maybe if you come with me and ask, she'll let you go to Hogsmeade? I was going to ask the same thing, we can't be the only Third Years that are left behind."

"(Y/N)! Harry's supposed to stay in school until Black's been caught! They just spotted him nearb—" Hermione started scolding me but Harry quickly interrupted her.

"Yeah, I think I will go with you. Thanks (Y/N)."

Hermione frowned at us, making Harry and I look at each other and grin.

✩ next chapter: halloween ✩

[rigelmejo]

While I'm on the topic of beginners learning a language, common pitfalls beginners fall into, and and how to get out:

Starting a new learning resource (for beginners) for a few weeks/months, then quitting and starting a new learning resource (for beginners), getting stuck in a cycle of relearning the same material multiple times - if this is you, the solution is to STICK with 1 resource until you've completed it. (Or to stick with 1-4 resources if you are using different resources for reading, listening, speaking, writing etc.). If you find yourself jumping between apps, or resources, go ahead and keep jumping around until you find something you really like, so you can find that resource you'll stick to for months/a year. Basically, keep it simple, and stick with something.

No idea where to start or what to study first - if this is you, the solution is to pick a Structured Resource, so you can let the resource tell you what to do. Traditional classes in schools, MOOCs like Coursera, Textbooks labelled by 'level', Free Resources that have clear directions on what to do for how long. If you choose an app or an anki deck (something less structured), then make a study plan to do it a decent amount of time daily (more than 15 minutes) it until you complete it. If you struggle to judge what is useful and what's not, a Structured Resource that teaches basic grammar and 1000-3000 words, in listening and reading exercises (and optionally speaking and writing exercises/practice), is going to be the easiest thing to use.

Not putting in enough daily study time on average - if this is you, consider trying to make time for 1 hour or more of time engaging with the language daily. At least 30 minutes. 2+ hours if you're ambitious. Suggestions: consider using audio-only learning materials such as learner podcasts with other-language explanations (Glossika, Coffee Break Language, LanguagePod101/Innovative Language courses, Pimsleur, Paul Noble, audio sentence flashcards like japaneseaudiolessons.com), so you can study while doing chores, while getting ready, while commuting/traveling, while exercising, and see if you can fit in 30 minutes or more per day. Once you are no longer a beginner, it will be easier to make time for the language in your daily life, as you'll be able to engage with the language during more of your everyday hobbies. The beginning stage is the hardest, you got this.

Not seeing progress as fast as you wish - if this is you, the solution is increase your daily study time. I know, it sucks and is obvious. That's about the only way to see more progress in less days.

Losing motivation because you aren't seeing noticeable progress - if this is you, pick a short term monthly (or 3 month) goal, to be able to do something specific in the language. It could be any goal. Examples: read a Graded Reader story, finish X number of learner podcast episodes, read X chapters of a novel or comic (looking up words if needed), complete X chapters of textbook, go through X number of dialogues from class, watch a movie in the language (while looking words up as needed), watch a youtube video in the language (while looking words up as needed), read a short fanfiction in the language (while looking up words if needed), be able to speak a summary of your hobbies aloud, be able to write a diary entry about your day. These short term goals will give you something to achieve, will focus your studies on a particular thing you wish to do in the language, and will give you results you can see/measure for your efforts. These short term goals are also useful for if you like changing what you do every few months, and changing what you focus on improving - this is generally what I do, to keep interest and motivation up.

No idea if you've learned enough to move onto intermediate study resources and practice understanding the language - if this is you, a 'Grammar Guide Summary' and a 1000-3000 'Common Words List', both ideally with example sentences, will be your best friends. You can look these kinds of resources up online free, or if you have been studying with a Structured Resource then you should be able to quickly glance at that resource and see how much grammar and how many words it taught you (that information should be in the opening explanation of how to use the resource, or in the explanations and word lists of each chapter, or if it's an anki deck it will be the information on all the cards/the information on the deck's community page). Look up a "Grammar Guide Summary" and a 1000-3000 "Common Words List" and if most of the stuff on those resources looks familiar, then you're ready to start PRACTICING understanding the language, and you're ready to MOVE ON TO INTERMEDIATE RESOURCES. Congrats, you're no longer a beginner!

Not sure how to move into practicing what you are learning - if this is you, Graded Readers (containing a unique word count lower than the amount of vocabulary you've studied), Comprehensible Input Lessons (on youtube), and Learner Podcasts for Beginners to Lower Intermediate learners will be easiest for you to practice with. Also, if using a Structured Resource (like a class or textbook), any exercises it contains for practicing (writing sentences using the grammar and words taught that week, speaking the same sentences, listening to audio and answering questions about what it talked about, shadowing the audio - repeating what you hear as close to how it sounds, reading the text practice provided in the chapter/class).

Not sure how to start watching shows and reading novels - if this is you, you're either at the Upper Beginner or a Lower Intermediate stage, know a lot of basic grammar and 1000-3000 common words. My first suggestion is to go back to the previous point for practice until you feel comfortable. Once you wish to, watch stuff and read stuff made for native speakers - get yourself a good translation app (or website) for the language you're learning, and start watching stuff and reading stuff you want to. Look up any unknown words or grammar that seems key to understanding the main idea, and look up anything else you're curious about. Watch and read things you've seen before in another language, because the prior context of knowing the plot already will make it more understandable. Watch things with a lot of visual cues as to what's going on - cartoons for toddlers, cartoons for kids, action stuff, daily life stories, comics. Read stuff about topics you are already familiar with, such as news or history or science where you already know the topic and recognize some words. Congrats, you have hit the long intermediate stage!

[razielim]

Idk about the rest of you, but I don't think I really understood what colonialism really is until I read Machiavelli who frames it as essentially an aggression strategy, with its own well-established risks and rewards.

In school, they really made colonies sound like primarily an exciting process of overseas discovery, launching points for further exploration. It was, of course, paid for by monarchs who wanted to see economic benefit. And yes, there was a bit of a race between competitors, with some military action, but all in all, I got the impression that colonialism was a word invented after the fact and used to describe the novel situation that resulted from curiosity and attempts to establish new sources of revenue in far-flung lands.

I never got the impression in school that the concept of a "colony" was already well-known to the European powers or that it was a strategy they could pull out of their toolbag at any time to mess with other states - not just overseas on "free" land but even back home in Europe, to capture land from rival states and to undermine resources and access.

And at that age, I'd read Roman histories outside of school, which might have also used the word, but even then, at most I registered it as a modern word used for ancient happenstance that fit the bill, rather than a strategy that empire consciously pursued. Roman expansion was depicted to be purely a patronizing "We carry enlightenment." It was only recently in Fortunes of Africa that I saw Rome's motivation framed as "We have a problem that needs solving, and funding/outfitting colonies is the solution." Which is somewhat different from the Machiavelli thing, but it's also a far cry from the sort of white toast understanding of colonization that I got from school and those more bog-standard Roman history textbooks, and certainly matches the impression I picked up from Machiavelli that colonialism is not an accident or byproduct; it's a strategy.

Anyway, this feels especially egregious to me because I'd read post-colonial theory for class in college and even that wasn't able to frame for me that there's not anything neutral about the conception of colony itself. Those texts mostly dealt with the effects of colonialism and the dignity of people colonized, never breaking down what colony actually is. As if it's something itself only mildly rude but with devastating consequences that can be avoided if you just turn back and decide not to get a foothold somewhere out of the goodness of your heart. Hell, I read books like Black Against Empire and True Flag nodding along like "Yup, yup, empire is an asshole move," and even still never tied "empire" to "colony" properly. Vaguely, yes. An empire is an entity that colonizes, yes. But not in the sense that each colony is something you have to invest in as a separate and distinct strategic choice every time. And not the way it finally clicked when Machiavelli just offhandedly mentioned it as "Yeah, yeah, colonialism. We've all seen considered it," when talking about any state, not just those that qualify as a whole-ass empire in most people's minds.

So... I'm sitting thinking right now about how it's a small wonder it can be so difficult to convince people that Europeans did something bad during their race to colonize Africa and the New World, actually. (Or Americans during their western expansion. Many now cringe at the phrase "Manifest Destiny" but if you avoid invoking it, the "exploration" of it all is perceived as a morally neutral action.)

Of course it's difficult. Because "Slavery was bad, yeah. And sure, lots of people got totally shafted in the shuffle, but colonialism? That stuff just like, happens, man. What were they supposed to do, not go exploring?" That's not what they did, though, is it? Colonization is expensive and risky, and it doesn't happen on accident.

[interstellarleap]

Masterlist of Free PDF Versions of Textbooks Used in Undergrad SNHU Courses in 2025 C-1 (Jan - Mar)

Literally NONE of the Accounting books are available on libgen, they all have isbns that start with the same numbers, so I think they're made for the school or something. The single Advertising course also didn't have a PDF available.

This list could also be helpful if you just want to learn stuff

NOTE: I only included textbooks that have access codes if it was stated that you won't need the access code ANYWAY

ATH (anthropology)

only one course has an available pdf ATH-205 - In The Beginning: An Introduction to Archaeology

BIO (Biology)

BIO-205 Publication Manual of the American Psychological Association Essentials of Human Anatomy & Physiology 13th Edition

NOTE: These are not the only textbook you need for this class, I couldn't get the other one

CHE (IDK what this is)

CHE-329

The Aging Networks: A Guide to Policy, Programs, and Services

Publication Manual Of The American Psychological Association

CHE-460

Health Communication: Strategies and Skills for a New Era

Publication Manual Of The American Psychological Association

CJ (Criminal Justice)

CJ-303

The Wisdom of Psychopaths: What Saints, Spies, and Serial Killers Can Teach Us About Success

Without Conscious: The Disturbing World of the Psychopaths Among Us

CJ-308

Cybercrime Investigations: a Comprehensive Resource for Everyone

CJ-315

Victimology and Victim Assistance: Advocacy, Intervention, and Restoration

CJ-331

Community and Problem-Oriented Policing: Effectively Addressing Crime and Disorder

CJ-350

Deception Counterdeception and Counterintelligence

NOTE: This is not the only textbook you need for this class, I couldn't find the other one

CJ-405Private Security Today

CJ-408

Strategic Security Management-A Risk Assessment Guide for Decision Makers, Second Edition

COM (Communications)

COM-230

Graphic Design Solutions

COM-325McGraw-Hill's Proofreading Handbook

NOTE: This is not the only book you need for this course, I couldn't find the other one

COM-329

Media Now: Understanding Media, Culture, and Technology

COM-330The Only Business Writing Book You’ll Ever Need

NOTE: This is not the only book you need for this course, I couldn't find the other one

CS (Computer Science)

CS-319Interaction Design

CYB (Cyber Security)

CYB-200Fundamentals of Information Systems Security

CYB-240

Internet and Web Application Security

NOTE: This is not the only resource you need for this course. The other one is a program thingy

CYB-260Legal and Privacy Issues in Information Security

CYB-310

Hands-On Ethical Hacking and Network Defense (MindTap Course List)

NOTE: This is not the only resource you need for this course. The other one is a program thingy

CYB-400

Auditing IT Infrastructures for Compliance

NOTE: This is not the only resource you need for this course. The other one is a program thingy

CYB-420CISSP Official Study Guide

DAT (IDK what this is, but I think it's computer stuff)

DAT-430

Dashboard book

ECO (Economics)

ECO-322

International Economics

ENG (English)

ENG-226 (I'm taking this class rn, highly recommend. The book is good for any writer)

The Bloomsbury Introduction to Creative Writing: Second Edition

ENG-328

Ordinary genius: a guide for the poet within

ENG-329 (I took this course last term. The book I couldn't find is really not necessary, and is in general a bad book. Very ablest. You will, however, need the book I did find, and I recommend it even for people not taking the class. Lots of good short stories.)

100 years of the best American short stories

ENG-341You can't make this stuff up : the complete guide to writing creative nonfiction--from memoir to literary journalism and everything in between

ENG-347

Save The Cat! The Last Book on Screenwriting You'll Ever Need

NOTE: This i snot the only book you need for this course, I couldn't find the other one

ENG-350

Linguistics for Everyone: An Introduction

ENG-351Tell It Slant: Creating, Refining, and Publishing Creative Nonfiction

ENG-359 Crafting Novels & Short Stories: Everything You Need to Know to Write Great Fiction

ENV (Environmental Science)

ENV-101

Essential Environment 6th Edition The Science Behind the Stories

ENV-220

Fieldwork Ready: An introductory Guide to Field Research for Agriculture, Environment, and Soil Scientists

NOTE: You will also need lab stuff

ENV-250

A Pocket Style Manual 9th Edition

ENV-319

The Environmental Case: Translating Values Into Policy

Salzman and Thompson's Environmental Law and Policy

FAS (Fine Arts)

FAS-235Adobe Photoshop Lightroom Classic Classroom in a Book (2023 Release)

FAS-342 History of Modern Art

ALRIGHTY I'm tired, I will probably add ore later though! Good luck!

[edenscollardrawer]

Matinee - f!Robin/f!PC

18+, content warnings & tags: public sex, established relationship, dubious consent 890 words

Days like this were a bore. Attending all your classes on time, keeping your head down, not having any sexual contact at all - It was a recipe for dullness. Your legs hung limply over the edge of Robin’s neatly made bed. Glazed over eyes stared blankly down at the history textbook splayed open in your lap, while your girlfriend rambling about her school day faded into the background. Please stop talking unless you’re going to make me cum. Your thighs squeezed together.

“-- But how was it for you?” Robin’s words snapped you back to reality. What was she talking about? The heat between your legs kept you firmly disinterested in anything else.

“Sorry, I’m kind of… out of it. What’d you say?” She asked again about your history class, you’d had an exam today. Taking a moment to calm your arousal, you told her it went well. Your attention shifted back to her, focusing in on her fluffy auburn hair, her ocean blue eyes - She was adorable. You needed her. Trying to ignore the growing warmth within your body, a lightbulb went off in your mind. The theater. Sometimes, if you were lucky, Robin would let you finger her there. Plus, it was a simple solution to your boredom. A win-win situation.

“Hey, Robin? Do you wanna go see a movie? Y’know, now that we’re finished studying…” you suggest, a playful glint in your eyes.

“That’s a great idea!” She smiled innocently, “I could definitely use a study break.” Your journey to the movie theater was uneventful, your fingers intertwined with hers as you walked down the empty sidewalk together. You approached the ticket booth and politely ordered two tickets for a random superhero movie, but you didn’t care much about the movie selection - you didn’t plan on paying any attention at all. Grabbing her hand again, you bought some buttery popcorn before dragging her to the correct auditorium.

Settling into your seats within the dark room, you had chosen to sit in the very back, despite Robin’s suggestion of two spots in the middle. She raised an eyebrow at your decision, but didn't press any further. You chose a spot in the middle of the last row, far away from any prying eyes. The closest patron was three whole rows ahead of you.

The achingly long previews drew your attention back to the reason you came here. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, taking a handful of popcorn to distract yourself as the screen whirred to life. Robin remained firmly entranced by the playing scenes, innocently unaware of the aroused girl squirming in the seat beside her. You couldn’t fucking take this anymore. You rubbed the greasy popcorn butter off on your black school skirt, eager hand reaching over to rub her knee softly.

Robin remained focused on the film as your thumb rubbed gentle circles. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wish she wasn’t so innocent. Your hand trailed slowly upwards, squeezing her inner thigh. Robin let out a quiet, surprised squeak; even in the dark room, you can tell she was blushing. Looking around to make sure it was safe, your free hand slips under your own skirt. Robin peeked over, eyes wide and cheeks crimson - a small, barely audible gasp leaving her mouth. Bottom lip firmly grasped between your teeth, half-lidded eyes roaming over her body; you gaze at her with uncontained longing. It was a look that caused her cheeks to flush deeper with each passing second.

Your fingers slipped under the lace of your panties and into your aching cunt, making you bite back a moan. Simultaneously, you did the same to Robin. She squirmed, her walls clenching at the sudden intrusion. But you’d never say no to me, right? Trembling, she reached over to grab a handful of popcorn, shoveling it into her mouth to silence herself. Hot. Robin’s gaze was firmly fixed on the action scene in front of you as your fingers curled, hitting her sweet spot. She chokes on her popcorn, but her wetness oozes over your hand. You swiftly mimicked the same movements on yourself, throwing your head back.

Your movements gradually grew quicker, more sloppy. She whimpered, her hips rocking urgently to meet the thrust of your hand. The lewd sounds of your fingers pistoning within both of you covered up by the on-screen fighting. Your hands moved in perfect sync, juices soaking you as you both humped down on them frantically. The tension of the movie cracked in time with both of you coming undone. You remained silent, biting your lip as your whole body filled with red-hot pleasure. The scene on-screen goes stagnant as Robin cries out a moan. You look over at her, wide-eyed and smiling at her accidentally bold display. You quickly withdrew both hands, wiping them on a spare napkin. A figure a few rows ahead whips around, glaring up at the two of you. She shushed you loudly.

“S-Sorry…” Robin murmurs, crumbling into herself. She’s so hot when she’s embarrassed. You smiled coyly, relishing in her bashfulness. The movie came to a close soon after, and you took her hand, guiding her from the theater. The walk back was quiet, but she squeezed your hand tighter than usual, and stood just a bit closer. Apparently the day wasn’t such a bore after all.