#Rebel back to school styles

[kentnaturaltribrid]

• “Incase you haven’t noticed, I’m weird. I’m a weirdo. I don’t fit in, and I don’t want to fit in.”

Even though it’s summery-style, still useful for back to school or in general. Nothing beats a cute little snake, or multiple snakes. 🐍 they’re so hard to find something nice to wear as, but so adorable. They just make a cute theme, and fangs out they’re all around fiery fierce but small. Plus, they’re easy to make into pretty much any cool items that are easy enough for them to fit in. Some of them anyway.

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I absolutely adore about Dead Boy Detectives is the immaculate costume design. Specifically, how it perfectly encapsulates who the characters are, both as a whole and who they are in the moment.

From the very first scene of the show, we know immediately that Edwin is a bookish, somewhat stuffy guy from the Edwardian era who attended a boarding school, and Charles is a punk from the 1980's who's most likely the wildcard between the two of them, just going off of the way that they're dressed. Both of them have distinct color schemes and different styles, but the general shape of their outfits is actually relatively similar---both of them have collared shirts (Edwin's dress shirt, Charles's polo), something over those shirts (Edwin's vest, Charles's suspenders), a jacket of some kind (Edwin's suit jacket, Charles's flannel thing), a longer overcoat (Edwin's traveling coat, Charles's peacoat), something around the neck (Edwin's bowtie, Charles's necklace), slacks, and nice shoes. They're distinct, yet matching, two clearly defined separate characters yet part of a set.

Edwin's prim, proper, buttoned-up personality lends itself to the way he dresses throughout the season---in the first episode, he only dresses down when he's in the office with Charles, aka his safe place and his safe person, and he doesn't really dress down like that again for a good long while after getting stuck in Port Townsend (though, if my memory serves me correctly, he does take off the suit jacket while watching TV with Niko). But in episode six, he's changed up his usual look for a cozier, casual-looking sweater and a little bit of collarbone, and in episode seven... well, he's in his nightclothes, and he's about as open, raw, and vulnerable as you can get. Edwin's color scheme is also predominately blue, which lines up nicely with his logical and practical, yet deeply sad and closed off personality, and the only time he really wears anything other than his normal blue-and-brown outfit (willingly, that is) is when he's in that green sweater in episode six. And, uh... all I can say is that it's quite telling how blue and green---or, well, teal---are the main colors of the gay/mlm flag.

Charles, by contrast, dresses down a lot, and that makes a lot of sense when you consider the fact that unlike Edwin, he feels comfortable pretty much anywhere. On any given episode, he goes from wearing his peacoat to just wearing his flannel to ditching the flannel to not even wearing the freaking polo---though, again, the latter is something that only happens when he's in the office with Edwin. Safe space, safe person. And, well, plenty of people have analyzed Charles's polo shirt going from red to burgundy to black over the course of the series, and there being a little bit of red under the collar of his coat that's only visible when Edwin fixes it, and then it goes back to burgundy, and then it's red again when Edwin's out of Hell... for good reason! It's color symbolism at its finest! Not to mention, the red and black not only perfectly contrasts Edwin's color scheme, but it also lines up with Charles's personality---he's a rebel, he's hotheaded, he's bold and brash and loud... and yes, he's angry, but he's also so, so loving.

When we first meet Crystal after she loses her memories, her outfit choices feel very deliberate. They're stylish and vaguely trendy, they're arty and a little bit witchy---pretty fitting for a psychic who's also a showbiz kid, even if she doesn't know that last part. But all of her clothes appear thrifted, or at the very least vintage, and the patterns and the general vibe all feel natural and comforting. Her makeup's always fairly simple, her hair's either down or up in a couple of cute space buns... overall, this Crystal looks like the kind of person who'd make you tea when you're in a bad mood, who'll listen when you just need to vent, and who may not always know the right thing to say but will understand what you're going through. But when we see her in the flashbacks, her clothing's flashy and prioritizes high-end trends over comfort, she's either got her hair up or has it straightened, and she not only has dramatic makeup, but acrylics. This is a girl who talks shit about you behind your back, who's bitter and cynical and wants everyone to feel the same way, who makes up for the lack of love and stability in her life via material things. It's also worth noting that Crystal's color scheme has a lot of purple, which is a color that connects to wealth and luxury, but also creativity and magic---which, yeah, fits her two conflicting sides pretty damn well.

You cannot talk about Niko Sasaki without talking about her outfits, and the meaning behind each of them has already been talked about at length. However, one thing that really stands out to me is that the reason they're so iconic isn't just because of the monochrome color schemes, but because they're out there. They're weird, they're eclectic, they're a little mismatched in style sometimes, and they're so unapologetically her. Niko wears heart-shaped sunglasses, unironically. Everything about the way she dresses speaks to how, even though she's a recovering shut-in who initially doesn't want to be perceived, she's still very sure of who she is.

Jenny's design, like Charles and Edwin's, is a design that gives you the key information you need the minute she first appears onscreen. The dark makeup, the silver jewelry, the leather apron, and the hairstyle all point to a person who's tough, doesn't take anyone's shit, and has long since given up on caring what other people think---in other words, she's a badass. But the butterfly tattoo hints at a softer side, a side that we see time and time again throughout the series as she shows that she cares about Crystal and Niko, and even the boys... eventually. Also, Jenny's design is perhaps one of the most clearly queer-coded in the series, to the point where her being a confirmed lesbian is pretty much a no-brainer.

Esther's design oozes camp, from top to bottom. The fluffy coat, the bustier, the boots and the cane and the everything, speak to a woman who's kept with the times and yet has seen it all. There's really not a lot I can fully say about her design, other than what Charles has already said: "She looks like a witch... like, kind of a sexy witch, who smokes a lot." (Or maybe I'm just tired and running out of steam at this point, idk, I love Esther's design and I can't really put it into words.) It's also pretty fitting that her color scheme has a lot of yellow in it---after all, she's always striving for more, so what better color for her than the color of gold?

Everything about the Night Nurse's design speaks to a woman who follows rules and discipline above all else, from the pantsuit to the pinned-up hairstyles to the tie to the heels. She's also the most muted out of the main cast in terms of color, dressing mostly in browns, dull greens, and duller browns---and while I don't have a lot to go into detail about there, I feel like that's kind of a symbol of her narrow-minded and bureaucratic worldview.

And the animal characters... Jesus Christ, I fully forget that they're all being played by human actors. Tragic Mick dresses like a man who's always spent his life by the sea, layered denim and all, and it's never a stretch to see this sad, bushy-bearded, baggy-clothed fisherman and imagine him as a walrus lounging on a beach. Monty, at first glance, seems to only wear black, which would be perfectly fitting for a crow, but when he's in better lighting, you see that he dresses in layers of red and blue, calling to how he envies Charles and Edwin and clearly longs for something more---and this might just be me, but I think that even though his outfits seem fairly normal at first glance, they feel kind of like a costume for Monty more than anything else, like he's trying to emulate a teenager that he's seen on TV more than someone in real life.

The Cat King fits this just as well, with all of his outfits aligning perfectly with whatever his cat form is at the time---when he's a fluffy ginger, it's always sequins and fur coats and clothing pieces that are specifically designed to take up space and call attention, and when he's a black shorthair, it's sleek styles and shiny leather and pieces that are designed to cut an intimidating yet more subtle figure. And while I could go into detail about all of those, what really stands out to me is how clearly queer everything is---more than Jenny's alt lesbian attire, more than Esther's campy coat and corset. From the very first scene he's in, he's wearing a skirt, and it looks natural. Nothing about the way the Cat King presents himself is exaggerated, nothing about the way he dresses is played for laughs---he's flamboyant and feminine and flirty, and he looks so fucking hot while he does it. It's gorgeous.

So... yeah, uh, all the awards for the Dead Boy Detectives costume designers!

[raddixie]

In a world where certain powers are branded as curses, those who bear them are quietly erased from public life—sent to an isolated institution disguised as a prestigious “private school.” There, they’re taught to suppress their abilities. To be safe. Palatable. Normal.

But behind the sterile courtyards and ever-watching eyes, something festers. The halls echo with stories no one dares to repeat. And some students… simply disappear. No one talks about them. No one asks. Staff gets colder, and the rules get stricter.

You are one of the cursed—harboring a truth even the institution doesn’t understand. As the cracks begin to show, you’ll uncover secrets buried beneath concrete and silence. But the deeper you dig, the more you risk losing yourself—to the power inside you, and to the place that wants to bury you with the rest.

Because here, being cursed isn’t the worst thing you can be. Being noticed is.

“They say it’s harmless, and I let them believe it. But if they ever saw what it costs me to stay this quiet… they wouldn’t just scream. They’d disappear.” — MC

Genre: Dark Academia, horror, mystery, supernatural, thriller.(+18)

Demo Release : To Be Announced

Now there's an official discord server :

Customize your main character’s gender, appearance, personality, and sexuality.

Your choices will shape the MC’s purpose, morality, and ultimate ending.

Rebel against the system—or conform to survive.

Romance, befriend, or antagonize one of six uniquely powerful individuals.

Hadrian – 20 (He/Him)

Power: Can temporarily raise the dead, though they only obey him while reanimated.

Personality: Calm, burdened, protective, emotionally distant.

Appearance: Ash-brown, slightly wavy hair kept medium-length. Deep forest-green eyes. Pale skin with dark under-eyes and pronounced eye bags. 6'3

Style: Minimalist and somber—black turtlenecks, layered coats, heavy boots. Wears a silver ring on a chain from someone important.

Mannerisms:– Stands still while others move, like he's observing. Rarely speaks. Avoids eye contact when emotional. His hands are always cold.

Quote:

"You shouldn’t follow me into the dark. Not everyone comes back from it… and I won’t be able to pull you out."

—

Fenric – 22 (He/Him)

Power: Sees others’ fates and can alter them—at the cost of self physical harm.

Personality: Brave, impulsive, stubborn, self-sacrificing.

Appearance: Jet-black, slightly messy short hair. Piercing icy-blue eyes that shimmer when his power activates. Deep tan skin with cool undertones. 5'11".

Style: Urban-street layers—hoodies, worn sneakers, bandages. He wears a thread bracelet, knotting it each time he changes a fate.

Mannerisms: Winces at visions. Bites his cheek when frustrated. Uses sarcasm to mask pain. Frequently checks the time.

Quote:

"I already saw how this ends. But hey—just for you, I’m willing to rewrite it… no matter the cost."

—

Elias – 19 (He/Him)

Power: Feeds on strong emotions—leaving others drained.

Personality: Charismatic, sarcastic, intense; a wild card.

Appearance: Thick, tousled chestnut-brown hair. Hypnotic amber-gold eyes. Warm caramel skin with sun-kissed undertones. 6'1".

Style: Ripped jeans, vintage tees, layered jewelry. Smells of smoke and sandalwood. Has tattoos that seem to subtly shift in certain light.

Mannerisms: Smirks constantly. Leans close when emotions are high. Always fiddling with a lighter or coin.

Quote:

"Careful, darling. Feel too much around me, and you’ll be left emptier than you knew you could be."

—

Lira – 21 (She/Her)

Power: Sees the future in her dreams.

Personality: Quiet, introspective, emotionally distant.

Appearance: Long, straight silvery-white hair, usually worn loose. Pale lavender eyes that glow faintly in sunlight. Porcelain skin with cool undertones. 5'5".

Style: Ethereal—flowing skirts, high-collared blouses, shawls. Often barefoot indoors. Wears a crystal pendant for protection.

Mannerisms: Blinks slowly while thinking. Hums to herself. Sometimes pauses mid-sentence when experiencing a vision.

Quote:

"I dreamed of you before we met. You were smiling… but the world around you was falling apart."

—

Nova – 24 (She/Her)

Power: Can twist or erase memories

Personality: Loyal, stubborn, protective, combative when provoked.

Appearance: Dark auburn hair tied back in a practical ponytail. Sharp hazel eyes flecked with gold. Deep brown skin with warm undertones. 5'9".

Style: Tactical streetwear—cropped jackets, combat boots, hidden pockets. Wears a utility belt at all times.

Mannerisms: Crosses her arms when thinking. Instinctively positions herself between others and danger. Rests her hand near her hip, ready to act.

Quote:

"I’ll protect what matters—even if that means taking something from your mind you weren’t ready to lose."

—

Selen – 20 (She/Her)

Power: Controls and manipulates emotions.

Personality: Calculating, cunning, deeply wounded by past rejection.

Appearance: Blonde hair, sleek and shoulder-length. Cold gray eyes. Smooth, cool beige skin. 5'7".

Style: Dark elegance— loves makeup, bold lipstick, sleek eyeshadows. Wears an intoxicating perfume. Can't go anywhere without her phone.

Mannerisms: Smiles when angry. Tilts her head while reading people. Uses touch strategically—to comfort or unnerve.

Quote:

"Don’t flatter yourself—I don’t need powers to make you feel something. I just know exactly which part of you to break."

Content Warning:

False Grace explores dark and mature themes, including emotional manipulation, trauma, mental health struggles, death, institutional abuse, gaslighting, and body autonomy.

May include references to:

Psychological distress

Violence and blood

Graphic depictions of death and corpses

Emotional and memory manipulation

Themes of disappearance, isolation, and loss of identity

Sexual content (optional)

Player discretion is advised.

—

If you’ve made it this far, thank you.

This is my first original interactive fiction—and honestly, my first original work ever. (I also don't know how to English cause....yeah..) I used to write fanfics (but we don’t talk about that…), so diving into something this big has been both terrifying and thrilling.

False Grace is still very much a work-in-progress. I’m learning as I go—coding, design, pacing, everything—but this project means the world to me. It’s my biggest undertaking so far… and probably my angstiest, too.

I’m nervous to share it, but also so excited to share it with the rest of you (hopefully soon)

@interact-if

[shadystranger]

sam doing everything he can to prevent dean's death and just when he thinks he's out of the loop, dean still dies. this aligning with the entire season's theme with sam desperately trying to welch dean out of the demon deal & end up seeing dean getting mercilessly torn by the hellhounds still. the general foredoomimg reality that this pattern is not just an episode or a season but in fact the entire story's premise: sam rising dean from the dead and saving him throughout the years only to end up right where he started with dean dying nevertheless, rendering everything he did in mystery spot, in season 3, in the entirety of the 15 years or so that passed, utterly meaningless and forlorn in nature.

the pattern of dean dying then sam waking up to heat of the moment unarguably provided the most comfort to their life. opposite to their life, whether controlled by chuck or jack, the loop provided order it was paralyzing and illusive, giving sam a sense of control that he could have but ultimately proving it futile. the general narrative employs this cruelty without the order that the timeloop gave. futility reigns sam and dean's life. no matter how they seemingly break out of their impending separation from each other, they're still where they started. their life defies the expectation that the laws of equal probability actually do work and that the world makes clear sense. Instead, dean's eventual death in each instance and sam's constant failure no matter how hard and far he goes to prevent it shows that the world is ruled by randomness and the occurrence of highly improbable events that lead to the same ending unrelated to your choices. spn tries to paint it as if they got 'free will' at the end but retracts that by dean's death. It's random in the most ironic sense of the word. the nature of it concedes the notion that events happen according to some unbreakable narrative. dean and sam combine randomness with determinism, with each tragically underlining the futility of it all. they can do nothing to counteract the chance’s determinist force, just as sam can do nothing to stop dean from dying in his arms

mystery spot is the best supernatural episode. and i mean that objectively. the false ending of mystery spot is literally dean's s15 death scene. like the entire sentiment of sam feeling like dean's life not having supposed to have ended like that. the idea that they were supposed to be in the clear, out of the loop of constant death and dying, out of the simulation. sam having done as much as possible right and it still not ending the way he wished it would. "nothing in this place ever changes. ever. except me." sam's lack of choice and autonomy. gabriel playing with his and dean's lives because it was entertainment, it was an interesting story to watch play out. "this all stopped being fun months ago." this being exactly what chuck is revealed to have been doing. sam having more control over dean's actions than both dean and the narrative are entirely aware of: sam talking dean down in late s15 while having a gun trained on him vs dean having no complete awareness that he is dying everyday and sam is the only one that can stop it

[bullet-prooflove]

Tiger, Tiger: John Shen x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @miraclesabound @cannonindeez @fadeinsol @nommingonfood @yousigned-upforthis

Companion piece to:

Dick Pics - You and John discuss your dating life in the ambulance bay during a rare shift break.

Brunch - John refuses to give up when you miss brunch with him.

Silly Little Boys (NSFW) - John's not like the other men you've been with.

In The Summer - You discover John's secret.

You’re lying on the floor of the boxing ring when John finds you, your hands resting on your diaphragm as you stare up at the stained glass mural above you. The place used to be a church back in the day but dwindling worship figures had led to it being sold off ten years ago to the owner of your boxing club.

It had emptied out over an hour ago after Fight Night finished and you’d offered to stay to clear up because you still had that adrenaline coursing through your system. The crash hit about ten minutes ago, the energy seeping out of your body like you’re bleeding out.

The left side of your face throbs where you caught a punch during your match. It was a stupid mistake, one you walked right into. That seems to be the running theme of the day.

“You’re gonna have a shiner.” John’s voice breaks through your thoughts as he slips underneath the ropes. He knows all about this place and your fights, he’s been in the audience a couple of times with a few people from The Pitt on the charity nights. “You should put some ice on it.”

“And you should leave me the fuck alone.” You tell him as his face appears in your vision. He’s wearing a black, tailored suit with an expensive wool coat draped over the top. His features are cleanly shaven, his hair artfully styled.

An absolutely perfect look for a meal at the most expensive restaurant in the city to discuss your upcoming nuptials.

“I know I fucked up.” He tells you, lowering himself to the canvas instead. You inhale sharply as he lies down alongside of you, his shoulder bumping lightly against yours. “I’m not engaged but I should have told you what was going on, I planned to over brunch but then that got side tracked-”

“Don’t lie to me.” You say tiredly as you close your eyes, your teeth grinding together as you try to shift away. “I read seventeen articles this afternoon about how much your wedding is costing. People don’t throw away that kind of money for something that isn’t happening.”

There’s silence then between the two of you, you think he’s going to get up, walk away but instead, he tucks his arm underneath his head and focuses on the stained glass above you.

“My parents do. When they want something to happen they make it happen by putting so much pressure on you that you break even though you know it will ruin your life.” There’s an exhaustion in his voice that mirrors your own, a burden that bares down on him that he can’t hope that you will ever understand. “It’s why my sister is married to a man that beats her, why my brother has himself shoved so far back into the closet he has to take Viagra to get it up for his wife. Our oldest brother Michael, he killed himself because he couldn’t live up to the weight of their expectations… my parents don’t even talk about him because he was ‘weak’, because he ‘brought shame’ down on the family.”

His voice cracks and you focus on your breathing, on the rise and fall of your chest because as much as you don’t want to forgive this man, you want to understand him. You want to know the real John Shen.

“My parents are tiger parents, strict discipline, high expectations and corporal punishment when you don’t comply. Those tattoos on my back, they cover up the belt marks my dad left on me because although I was academically gifted I could barely still in class because I had ADHD. I was the bad one, the rebel, the disappointment and it has been that way my entire life. My med school wasn’t Ivy League, they didn’t have a surgeon in the family, nothing was ever good enough because it didn’t contribute to their social standing, it didn’t elevate them.”

“But now they’ve found a way to make you useful.” You say quietly, your voice echoing through the empty boxing gym. Your own family were the same, only it was drugs instead of social standing and sex instead of marriage. You were worthless to them until you hit puberty and then suddenly you weren’t.

“Yea.” John says frankly. “It just involves marrying a woman I met once during a charity event, whose as a vapid as the paint on that ceiling over there.” He gestures at the faded white patch alongside the stained glass window that someone’s tried to paint over. “They don’t care that I said no. They’re determined to rail road me into it by planning a wedding I do not want.”

His frustration, it’s palpable you can taste it in the air as his hand settles next to yours, his knuckles brushing lightly against your skin.

“I went there tonight to reiterate my position and my mother threw a glass of water in my face and called me an ungrateful little bastard. If I don’t turn up to the wedding then they disown my completely, that means no contact from them, my siblings, my nieces and nephews. I’ll be completely on my own.”

You’d faced the same ultimatum once upon a time.

Lose your family but keep your soul.

They hadn’t expected you to save yourself, to leave them far behind in the rearview.

“People who love you don’t put you in that position.” You find yourself telling him, your hand capturing his. “They don’t make you choose.”

“I know.” He says, his fingers entwining with yours. “I told her as much which is why she threw the water jug.”

You tilt your head towards him and you can see the tiny shards of glass still glittering in his hair. You reach out, brushing them away from his features with your fingertips and those dark eyes of his, they shine like onyx as they look back at you.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers as your thumb chases over the slender cut on his cheek. “I should have told you sooner. It’s just a really fucked up situation I didn’t know how to explain.”

There’s such earnestness in his voice, you can’t help but believe him. This history, this is the part of him he hides underneath his capability, underneath the lightness he portrays to the rest of the world. This is the John Shen that no one gets to see, not until now, not until you.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me.” You tell him and the edges of his mouth tip up into that handsome smile, the one that makes your heart beat a little harder in your chest. “But you gotta be open with me from now on, forced weddings, tiger parents, secret babies…”

He huffs out a laugh as he shifts into a sitting position, his elbows coming to rest on his knees.

“No secret babies, I always use protection.” He assures you, tilting his head up towards you as you raise to your feet. “But I promise from now on you’ll get to hear all about my crazy shit. The good, the bad and the batshit insanity that is my family.”

“Alright then.” You say, holding out your hand to help him up. “John Shen, you’re second chance starts now, don’t fuck it up.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kittyminion]

the ones who were eddie munson x rebel!f!reader

-eddie munson likes the girl whos different -bullying, fluff, kissing, tattooing, violence, fighting, blood, au, not proofread, poc reader, reader has curly hair -word count: 2.8k -much more eddie to come soon <33

Eddie had seen you walking the halls of Hawkins High School for four years straight and he never once spoke to you before today. You were an unperturbed force in your dirty converse, smeared black liner and frown that'd been glued to your face since freshman year.

You carried a mangled hot pink backpack covered in pins, patches and the occasional splotch of dried juice, your hair pulled high and off your neck, stripped with cheap pink hair dye that you'd gotten the week after the first incident.

Eddie liked your style, and he liked your attitude even more.

You were among the miniscule group of students at school that weren't the typical perfect, wannabes. You were different. You flipped off whoever dared to mistreat you, you had your earbuds in twenty-four-seven, sometimes you'd bystander the Hellfire Club meetings, sticking close to your friend who'd been in the group for a few years now. But today you were a substitute.

You were always chewing gum and picking at the piercing on your nose, your eyes following the movements of Eddie's hands as he explained the game to you.

You were nodding silently, fidgeting with a pair of silver dice, your eyelashes fluttering every time you glanced up at Eddie. Once he was finished explained you leaned back in your chair and smirked, "and you play this every week?"

Eddie nodded, his smirk matching your as Nike and Dustin trickled in arguing about something he didn't care to get involved with.

"Why haven't I ever gotten an invite?" At your words, Dustin and Mike froze, staring at each other in confusion, their eyes on you and Eddie curiously.

Eddie chuckled, pushing his curly bangs out of his face, "never spoke to you before, princess. How would I know you like D&D?" You rolled your eyes, pushing up out of your chair.

You walked around the table and hummed, your hip pressed against his absentmindedly, "how do I make a character?"

Eddie knew he liked you after that. It wasn't just a mysterious curiosity anymore; now it was full-fledged hunger for all things you. He wanted to know everything about you: your hopes and dreams, your favorite music, the things you hated, everything.

At the root of it all, Eddie Munson was a lover boy and although it didn't seem that way because of how he dressed and the things he enjoyed, he knew he had to some something about his crush on you.

So, the next week in school he started seeking you out.

During lunch, you holed up on the football field to eat by yourself. You had a Walkman in your lap, earbuds poised in your ears, and a ham and cheese sandwich in your hands while you rested on your stomach, eyes busy staring at a thick book covered in dragons, fairies and other fantasy creatures.

When Eddie walked over, hands tossing a marble between his hands, you didn't move an inch, your arm reaching up to rest against your chin, but you flipped a page, your lips whispering to yourself.

Eddie smiled to himself after a failed attempt at getting your attention, and when he finally did (by waving his hand in front of your face), he pursed his lips awkwardly and hummed as you pulled your earbuds out with a slightly annoyed look on your face.

"I'm sure I'm the last person you want to see right now but, I wanted to invite you to D&D club this Friday as a member. You did really well for a beginner."

At his words your eyebrow raised, and you grinned, sitting up fully and inviting him to sit as well.

"Well, I'll be there then." Eddie nodded slowly, biting his cheek as his heart pounded inside his chest. As he spun around to walk away, you called him.

"Munson, care to join? It can't hurt to get away from the bastards in the cafeteria for once." Eddie mouth fell open a bit as he found something to say, and when you laughed, moving your backpack aside to give him room, he sat down, awkwardly crisscrossing next to you.

"You want to hear something funny?" You muttered, placing a ripped piece of paper in your book and closing it. As you stuffed it inside your backpack, you turned towards him, your chin resting atop your knees.

"I've never in my life had as much fun as I did Friday night than I've ever had." Eddie had a cute little grin on his face as you said it, which made you chuckle.

"Too many times I've heard how weird the D&D club is but it's totally not true!" Eddie shoulders sagged in relief, and he ran a hand down his face, "God it's tiring sometimes—not fitting into that tiny little box this place wants us to."

You bit your lip, glancing away, twiddling your fingers nervously as you nodded. "If someone told me it would include constant ridicule and depression I would have tried to change early."

The both of you shared a sad, depressive laugh and you shook your head absentmindedly, "you're cool, Eddie. I like you."

Eddie entire heart practically leapt out of his chest at those words, then he realized you meant them platonically and he inhaled deeply, pushing himself up.

"You clearly haven't met yourself then, sweetheart. I'll see you Friday." He shot you little air bullets before he walked away, head angled towards the sky as he reached up to his hair and tugged on it.

Silent days had passed after that. He'd heard you'd had a heated moment with the cheerleaders, something about paint, screaming and the principal's office.

Occasionally he saw you in the cafeteria, sitting with a little trio of people he recognized as your friends. You laughed so brightly and wholeheartedly it made him want to laugh too. You had a little permanent smile on your face as you ate your packed lunch, your hair styled in a large curly afro, that little faded pink strip a victim of your fidgeting fingers.

"Eddie, are you listening?" Dustin clapped in front of his face and Eddie groaned dramatically and stood, looking away from you as he stared out the window.

"What, you little shit," he said softly, daring to look back over at you, but you weren't there. Eddie frowned and sat back down, his ass against the table, feet on the bench.

"Who's that girl from last week? The pretty one?" Mike wondered, and Eddie smirked, "what, are you trying to date her, Wheeler? She's a little too old for you."

Dustin chuckled, slapping his friend against, "she probably thinks you're a child, Mike."

Eddie laughed, still searching the cafeteria for her, "me on the other hand, we're the same age."

Dustin pretended to throw up, "do you like her or something?" Eddie ignored him as he finally spotted you over by the trashcans, emptying out your lunch bag.

As you spun around, you were met with a trio of cheerleaders and Eddie smile fell as he watched the girls crowd around you, each holding cartons of milk.

Before you could even get a word in, they dumped the milk all over you, your face, body and hair soaked in spoilt chocolate milk that Eddie could smell across the room.

The cafeteria turned into chaos then and Eddie had to fight his way across the room to try to get to you.

One of the cheerleaders was met with a solid hit to the face (by you), while another was grabbing you from behind, using her acrylic nails to scratch up your face.

The basketball players nearby did nothing but laugh and point, Chrissy Cunningham looking fearful beside her douchebag boyfriend. It was clear she wanted to do something, but Eddie was way ahead of her.

"What the fucks wrong with you bitches?" He yanked one of the girls off of you.

"Freak! Get the fuck out of the way!" Jason Carver shouted, standing up to shove Eddie, but Eddie gave him one simple look and Carver backed off, nodding at his friends to help stop the fight.

Eddie helped you off the ground and ushered you out of the cafeteria, your friends trailing behind him.

Your face was red and trickling blood as he sat you on a bench in the hall.

"I will fucking kill those bitches and get away with it!" You spat, attempting to get up, but Eddie shook his head, hushing you as he pulled a bandana out of his pocket and ran it over your face.

"Do you have any extra clothes?" Eddie sat next to you, glancing over at one of your friends for an answer, and she nodded, scurrying off towards the gym with her other friends in tow.

"Are you alright?" Eddie questioned, pushing your damp hair out of your face, and you shook your head with a sardonic laugh, "no I'm not fucking alright, Eddie! I was just drowned with spoilt milk and jumped by prissy fucking cheerleaders."

Eddie nodded slowly, biting his lip, "yep, you're right. Fuck." He jumped up suddenly and you followed his movements with a suspicious eye, "what are you doing?"

Eddie snapped and grabbed your hand, tugging you off the bench as he started dragging you out of the school. "I've got some tools in my van."

You let him pull you out of the school, "tools for what?" He didn't answer you and instead opened the back of his van and grabbed an old toolbox.

"All of them park in the front, together, lined up one by one. I've got a pack of jolly ranchers and a few sodas. Coke will ruin their engines, and the jolly ranchers are impossible to come off of the windshield."

A slow smile overcame your face as you grabbed the jolly ranchers and opened the pack, "you are diabolical, Eddie Munson."

Thirty minutes later and the cars in question were covered in jolly ranchers and the gas tanks were full of soda. Once your friends delivered you a fresh pair of clothes, you'd decided you were done with school for the day, so Eddie joined you on the football field.

"What other snacks do you have?" You wondered, fumbling through the toolbox. He had gummy bears, goldfish, a small baggy of weed, and fruit snacks.

Eddie twisted onto his stomach, "uhh, I've got Doritos?" When you nodded excitedly, Eddie opened the bag and poured some in your hand.

You given him some snacks from your bag and also provided your blinged out lighter so the two of you could get high together.

"This one's gone." Eddie muttered, smoking the last of your most recent blunt and you groaned playfully, and Eddie laughed, rolling onto his back as he stared up at the cloudy sky, fingers tapping a beat on his stomach.

You sat up, your fingers prodding at his arm, "who did your tattoos. They're nice." Eddie glanced over at you, smiling, "I did 'em." You gasped, "what the hell! Can you give me one?"

Eddie sat up, "sure, got an idea on what you want?" You nodded, reaching into your bag and pulling out a thick sketchbook, "how about this?"

You showed him a drawing of a whimsy vine of flowers and Eddie grabbed the sketchbook, staring at the drawing as he clicked his tongue, "where do you want it?"

You tugged your shirt up and chuckled when Eddie's eyes widen at your eagerness. "Right here, on my hip, kind of lower too." As you pulled the waistband of your pants lower to show him, Eddie's cheeks reddened and he nodded, "perfect. How about you stop by the trailer after D&D?"

You clapped your hands in approval, "perfect. How much?" You rested your elbow on his knee absentmindedly, stuffing your sketchbook in your backpack.

"Fifty, but I'll give you a discount for being cute." When you froze, he stuttered out an apology, but then you smiled and squeezed his hand, standing up, "you're sweet, Eddie."

That Friday after D&D, you met Eddie at his trailer, dressed in a pair of floral cotton shorts and a lacy tank top that showed a sliver of your belly.

"It'll hurt you know." Eddie said as he unlocked the door his trailer and quickly started gathering trash and stuffing it in a bag. You scoffed, "of course it'll hurt, Eddie. It's a tattoo."

You followed him into his bedroom, glancing around curiously, "Corroded Coffin?" You smiled as you picked around his room, noting the endless band posters and knickknacks.

"The name of my band. We perform at the bar sometimes. You should stop by." You nodded, "give me a date and time and I'll be there."

As Eddie set up a little section in his room to tattoo you, you searched through his collection of records and then turned up the volume, your head nodded slightly as you plopped on his bed, your legs pulled up to your chest.

"Get a lot of visitors?" Eddie shrugged, opening his closet and rummaging through it, his shirt raising to reveal a sliver of his back. You continued staring and Eddie could feel your gaze

"Not many unless I'm dealing. Much more inconspicuous because people wouldn't expect them to step foot in a trailer park."

"I'm surprised I've never bought from you." Eddie pulled a chair up next to the bed and put on black latex gloves, his eyebrows raised as he turned to you, "you'd be surprised who does buy from me. When you're ready, you can take off your pants."

You laughed at his blushing, reaching up to squeeze his cheeks, "are you nervous, Eddie?" He scoffed, waving you off, "never."

As you took off your pants and got into a position, he could tattoo you in comfortably, Eddie applied the stencil of your design and started. The two of you were awkwardly silent for thirty minutes, your eyes closed while Eddie concentrated.

When the silence became unbearable, you huffed, causing Eddie to pause and look at you, "what was that for?" You rolled your eyes, "why are you being too quiet. I like you because you make good conversation. Is it 'cause I'm practically naked? If I knew that would bother you then I would've never come—"

Eddie shut you up with a simple shake of his head, "I'm not uncomfortable, sweetheart. I'm trying not to stare at you because you're so fucking beautiful."

You opened your mouth to reply then you stayed silent, your chest rising and falling as you shook your head, "you are ridiculously sweet." Eddie grinned, "don't tell anyone or they might think you're crazy."

You rolled your eyes, "there's plenty girls who wish they were in my place right now." Eddie hummed in surprise, and you chuckled, "yep. Before I met you, I thought they were being dramatic. Yes, you have the look; metalhead, curly hair, the style, but I thought you were like everyone else, a dick. That was until I met you. You're funny and sweet and considerate. It's weird how perfect you are actually."

Eddie cheeks were cherry red, a little embarrassed smile on his lips, his eyelashes fluttering as he continued tattooing you. As he went over a particularly sensitive spot in your skin and your tensed in pain, he froze, glancing up at you.

Before he realized the trick, you'd planted a kiss upon his lips, your fingers sliding up the back of his neck while your eyes were squeezed tightly shut.

Eddie could practically feel your heart beating through your skin, but he haphazardly placed the tattoo gun aside and gripped your jaw, latex covered fingers warm against your skin.

Your tongues tangled together tightly as you fisted his hair, a moan escaping from Eddies lips, his nose smashed against yours. It was a rough, messy and awkwardly firm kiss, but it made the two of you laugh when you pulled away and when you kissed the second time, it was gentle.

Eddie fingers ran down the length of your body and he gripped your waist, the bulk of his rings pressing into your skin while your hand was resting against his thigh.

Eddie pulled away and peppered kissed down your jaw, his lips latching onto the sensitive skin of your neck as he sucked. You moaned in response, breath coming out heavily, your eyes closed.

As Eddie began to climb on top of you, careful of your unfinished tattoo, the front door of the trailer slammed open and heavy footsteps trailed around the kitchen.

Eddie jumped off of you, running over to his door to slam and lock it. When he turned around to glance at you and saw you watching him with confusion he shook his head, "it's my uncle."

The steps finally came over to the door and Eddie's uncle, Wayne, rattled the doorknob, "what the hell are you doing in there boy?" His uncle grumbled, as he knocked.

Eddie sighed, "I got a girl in here." Wayne chuckled in response, "hope you're not doing what I think you're doing." As you laughed, Eddie cursed under his mouth, a little embarrassed grin on his lips, "I'm giving her a tat."

"Sure, you are."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

RIDDLE DREAM SPOILER‼️‼️‼️

Lmao, why is his dream just...

"Quit your job"

"Why?"

"Join my emo band!"

(No but honestly, its a bit cute that, Riddle, in all his seriousness and rules sticking, still seemed to choose a more alt way to dress in his dream, like he still wants to rebel in some way. It was a plot twist in a way since many may have thought that Riddle would have cranked up on his authoritarian ways all the way to eleven, and yet his dream is silly, like all the other house warden's dreams seemed to be more serious in a way and showed off one aspect that we knew off, Leona's low self esteem and Azul wanting to completly overwrite his past, but Riddle wasn't quite that, we knew of his want for rebelion, but his dream wasn't full anarchy, it was just... rebelling in the small ways)

(Sorry for any misspelling, english isn't my native lenguage)

[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 update here!]

I just saw that meme on Twitter with Riddle and Cater 😭

I was shocked by Riddle’s new look in the dream… It’s close to alt fashion in the west, but I believe it is supposed to be Japanese visual kei. All that black… I don’t know, I don’t think dark eye and lip makeup suits him?? But that’s just me, what do I know about style www

I’m surprised Riddle even knows what that kind of clothing is…? You’d think his mom would not allow him to be exposed to this kind of fashion. I was half expecting Cater to mention he had shared it with Riddle at NRC on a slow day and Riddle expressing a little curiosity about it but ultimately holding himself back from dressing adventurously. That never ended up happening…

I do think that an authoritarian dream has its representation in the second and third layers of Riddle’s mind. The darker implication is certainly there. However, I think it makes the most sense for his surface level dream to be about his childish desires and experiences he never had. As much as Riddle might claim to be mature and to know it all, some part of him desperately misses out on happy childhood memories. He shares this sentiment after recovering from his overblot (“And after a meal, I want to be the one sitting around talking with everyone... And I really wanted to play with you and Chenya more, Trey.”). In events like Endless Halloween Night, Riddle tells his peers that he isn’t familiar with traditional entertainment media like movies or video games; he did crosswords and read textbooks as a child. Various voice lines, like his Suitor Suit, where he wishes his parents’ marriage was happy, or his Beachwear, where he complains about how he is not used to this kind of scandalous clothing, also express this.

I wouldn’t describe Riddle’s dream as an expression of him wanting to rebel or to have anarchy, per se. Wanting more freedom and a longing for a chance to express one’s inner child isn’t necessarily equal to being rebellious. Many of the things he desires are very childish: not wanting to go to school or to study, eating desserts multiple times a week, drinking tea sweet, being able to play all day, always having emotionally available parents, not having to follow rules, having many friends and a happy family… These are not all tied to being rebellious, these are things most children want. It speaks to Riddle wanting to have those childhood experiences he missed out on and having more independence… Being allowed to be his own person rather than a puppet on strings his mother controls and makes all the decisions for.

[miharuki]

A Problem Called Judd Birch

Judd Birch x "Fem" Glaser!Reader

★ Synopsis: You try to forget what happened at camp, but Judd doesn't, and that feeling intensifies.

★ Tags: yandere, obssesive? possesive?, reader is a virgin, soft smut, judd has a big dick

Well, you were the oldest, the firstborn, and you saw the beginning of your parents' marriage falling apart. They tried at first, but the more you grew up, the more you saw the messed-up things happening in that house—until finally, you hit puberty.

Your hormonal monster finally showed up, and with it, the start of your little rebellious streak. Your parents were hardly ever home, and you stopped being their precious little flower. Watching them argue, your mom trying to pressure you, you finally took control—with your monster egging you on more and more. You developed your own style, your own tastes, your own personality, without your mom controlling you like before.

But there were things you couldn’t change. Like the fact that you were forced to go to summer camp. Your mom thought maybe, like other summers, you’d have fun—but that didn’t happen. Your childhood friend was moving away, and you’d be at that camp alone. Well, not completely alone. You were shocked when you saw none other than Judd Birch—or Judd Bitch, as you liked to call him. The guy who was just out of his mind—ran away from home, skipped school, even blew up the chemistry lab once. And you had no idea why he’d show up—he never went to camp. Well, whatever. He was just like those Bilzerian brothers, Kurt and Val—always acting like little shits.

But there was something you never mentioned: that boy was actually your first kiss. You didn’t even like thinking about that time. You never liked him—never liked any boys back then, really. They were all jerks, perverts, idiots, even though they were just kids like you.

Still, that camp was… turbulent. You barely talked to anyone—your friend wasn’t even there. But it was there that you and Judd had your first real interactions. Was he a jerk? Yeah. But what could you do? It started small—when you were swimming, he pulled you underwater. You were about to yell at him, but then he showed you what he was planning: a prank on those Bilzerian jerks. And of course you joined in. You remember standing far away as they screamed and everyone laughed at them. It was fun. And it was the first time you’d ever laughed with Judd Birch—someone everyone would’ve sworn you’d never get along with.

And how did that summer end? You and Judd, way past curfew, setting up one last prank for the next morning. Laughing at the thought of everyone waking up to the chaos. You never really understood what happened next—just that, in an instant, you were kissing that boy under the dark sky. It was your first kiss. And what Judd wouldn’t admit was that it was his, too. But when it was over, you both decided never to bring it up again.

And for years, you didn’t. You barely even spoke after that—just little interactions here and there.

You grew up. Got prettier, taller, more beautiful. And the reason Judd had a crush? He never said—maybe that secret dies with him. But he always liked you. Strange, coming from Judd Birch—the guy with a battalion of raccoons, the guy who slashes tires, the guy who made the news, the rebel, the lord of chaos, the troublemaker. Yet the same guy who still holds onto feelings, who still has that bracelet you lost at the middle-school dance, who kept a photo from that summer camp.

But there’s one thing only he and his Hormone Monster know: that stupid childhood crush didn’t fade—it grew with him. Got stronger. Maybe he’ll never admit it. That even when he skips class, he’s got cameras in your classroom just to watch you study. That maybe he bugged your phone. But no one noticed. No one saw what Judd Birch hid—not even his parents. He never dared get close to you. How could he? It’d been years. You both kept that unspoken rule: Never mention what happened at camp.

But then—plot twist—you had a little sister. Jessie Glaser. Who, of course, was friends with his little brother. And suddenly, there you were, years later, showing up on his doorstep just to pick her up.

Maybe he mentally thanked his sister, Leah, for befriending you. You were at his house for a group project with her—not him. He’s not crazy, just messed up. But his biggest problem? His little brother, Nick, started catching feelings for you. And, of course, you barely noticed. You were sweet to Nick and Jessie—especially Jessie. You were her idol. Your style, your attitude, how you stood up to your parents, how you never backed down in that house. Hell, you’d dressed yourself since puberty—your mom lost that battle fast.

Then Leah threw a party. Judd acted like he didn’t care who came, but half of him prayed you’d show. And—look at that—you did. Pissed at your parents, dragging Jessie along. He spent the party inside the walls, drowning in Jack Daniels. Then he found you outside. Angry. Frustrated. And he took his shot—no Nick, no Jessie, no Leah. Finally, after years, he could talk to you. Sure, he was still a jerk, but you noticed how he’d changed. Taller. More rebellious. Sharper.

And well… the alcohol hit hard. You inched closer. Your Hormone Monsters went wild.*

"Let's take this somewhere else." Judd grabbed your hand, dragging you off—your mind foggy with arousal—until suddenly, you were on his bed. And though Judd would never admit it, the Angel of Vice was there, watching it all unfold.

Meanwhile, your Hormone Monsters fucked each other on the floor—growling, clawing—while the Lovebug and the Angel exchanged a knowing glance before slipping out, leaving the two of you (four, if you counted the monsters) alone.

You swore that all Birchs had penis problems, thinking that even Judd would have a small dick, but you were wrong, oh yes you were, wrong, Judd Birch was your first kiss, just like it was your first time, and Judd, oh Judd, he loved to claim it like that, knowing that he had the power to take that innocence from you, it excited him, he could squeeze you, damn your pussy was tight for him, he, he was so big, he opened you up in an incredible way for your first time and god, how he missed that mouth of yours, you didn't even see the party stopping, and god lucky the party was loud, enough to cover your loud moans, lucky Judd always had a recorder and a camera, he'll need that video for later for private purposes, don't ask.

When it was over, you didn’t quite know what to do. And Judd—God, Judd—wanted to keep you there, but he was just as lost. "Wanna go slash some tires with me?" You lifted your head from his chest. You needed to do something, so you just... agreed.

As you got dressed, you didn’t even notice a missing piece of clothing—maybe the alcohol was hitting harder than you thought. You didn’t care. And Judd? He thanked his lucky stars as he tucked your panties under his pillow before locking his room and following you outside.

Tire-slashing was weirdly relaxing. Maybe the night hadn’t been a total disaster. When it was finally time to leave, you grabbed your sister. "Jessie! What the hell happened to you?!" "Just take me home!" You sighed, handing her a rag to wipe her mouth before saying your goodbyes. Then you paused at the door, turning back to Judd. A small, tired smile—just for him—before leading Jessie away, her hand in yours.

Maybe something had changed.

He didn’t notice the Lovebug glowing behind him. You didn’t notice Judd wasn’t done—not even close.

Because he liked you. And this love?

Yeah. It was always gonna be a little problematic

[notapradagurl7]

By Your Side.

BlackFem!Witch!Reader x Terry Wizard!Richmond from Netflix film Rebel Ridge.

Taglist: @lovedlover @avoidthings @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @brattyfics @soft-persephone @planetblaque @sageispunk @megamindsecretlair @theblacklewinsky @sweettea-and-honeybutter @melaninpov @keyera-jackson @browngirldominion

Summary: You were a gifted professor for all black magic academy, teaching your students alongside Terry, where you discover a strange flower and leaves you alone with him.

A/N: don’t forget to re-blog, comment and like to support your favorite writers, and press the button for a request, So I was thinking in order to get back in the zone of writing, I combined Harry Potter but made it with only black people. Why not? Enjoy!🫡

Warning: +18, dirty talk, sex pollen, profanity, nipple play, violence, praise, spanking, use of magic, soft Terry, protective Terry, aftercare, brat reader, Terrybrat tamer! Slight corruption kink, masturbation,

—————

You stood beside Terry underneath the tree with your almond brown eyes watching the young adult melanated students of various shades standing side by side with their indestructible wands rested in their hands, pointing straight for the Greek god statues, the yellow energy crackling from their fingertips and spreading towards it, creating their own versions of art. Making the statues into themselves.

"Look at them go," Terry said, his voice smooth and playful, as he leaned closer to you. His cloak moved slightly with his movements.

"I think they’re actually going to turn that statue into a giant version of themselves. I mean, who knew they had such big egos?" he joked, rolling his green eyes at them.

You chuckled, nudging him playfully with your elbow. "Well, they certainly have the talent to back it up. Just look at how they’re channeling their energy. It’s fucking impressive!”

You couldn’t help but smile at their joy, laughter bursting from their lips, their hair styled in small afros, low fades, in locs, box braided to their elbows, starighted and lastly, dressed in black, red, yellow, green hooded cloaks dawned to their ankles, black loafers and Mary Ann shoes.

“Remember when we were students at Willowstiff? Professor Anderson almost caught us passing notes in Potion class?” Terry mentioned with a grin, his tone was deep yet gentle.

You were a professor at the Wiilowstiff Academy alongside Terry Richmond, many other professors and your students talking about whatever crossed their mind, unfortunately gossip and rumors spread like wildfire on campus.

“Thankfully, I used that Change Emotion and Time Spell, he forgot immediately,” You chuckled, and your eyes landed on him.

You nodded at the fond memory of being a student at the same academy, where you and Terry became professors, the two of you had been good friends since you were students. Ready to conquer the world and defeat evil.

“I’d always liked that about you, your quick thinking and wit...”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lips at his words, watching the students float in mid-air while doing back flips. “And I always liked your honesty and kindness Terry..”

Standing behind the castle, located in the spacious backyard, the castle painted grey nestled in the middle of the vast forest, hidden from human eyes, danger and free to be themselves without judgment, without the ridicule of the world, the green grass underneath their shoes.

“Terry...” you began, your voice soft. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come? From those awkward kids in class to where we are now?”

He met your gaze, the warmth in his green eyes making your heart flutter. “Yes. And I wouldn’t want to be doing this with anyone else. You’re the best partner a guy could ask for.”

His words washed over you like a gentle wave, and you felt a rush of affection for him. You smiled back at Terry.

The school was built by a married black couple with magic, wanting young black witches and wizards to harness their magic and embrace their identity. It was a sanctuary, a home where they could grow their powers and learn the rich history of their ancestors.

It was a luxury that you cherished forever, being yourself in various ways, even the forest was magic, hidden away in the depths of somewhere.

The ink black sky decorated with sparkling stars hovered the both of you, you pointed out to one student that asked for help, trying a different spell and it worked perfectly, Terry stole glances with his green eyes, smirking at the man as you walked back to his side.

The buzzing rumor in the air was Terry had a crush on you ever since you both became professors at this campus.

You were dressed in a black cloak with a dress, your black box braids pulled back in a ponytail. Your melanated skin glistened underneath the moonlight, your pretty face on cue.

The college students were young after all, often showing insouciance in some schoolwork, but loved doing the magic part of the school, you were like that but they changed over the years.

“Good job Faith! I see your technique, and Jordan! Don't show off because you like her!”

The brown-skinned young male rubbed the back of his neck and looked the other way. The wind brushed across your face and you exhaled the warm breeze.

Until one of your students discovered something growling near the stump of a bulky tree, your eyes quickly stopped her, “Amaya! Don't touch that!” you yelled out.

Amaya backed up immediately until the flower growled at her, eyes glowing red and growing larger, “well..well..time to eat!”

Amaya ran toward you and hid behind you, gripping your cloak. The young dark brown-skinned woman closed her eyes shut in fear, her locs pulled back.

“W-what is that?!” she exclaimed, you wrapped her in a protective manner.

“It’s a dangerous creature that kills witches and wizards, he spreads sex pollen, hopefully you won’t get affected..” You warned softly.

Terry’s eyes landed on you, “I'll assist by your side, Professor..”

You clapped twice and caught their attention, “Okay, students time to head in your dorms!! You too Amaya!”

The students groaned in unison and said “Yes, Professor L/N!” in a cautious tone, they walked in groups and, you rolled your eyes at them once again. Running off in separate groups and saying their goodbyes.

Being the ex-Marine he was, Terry's arms gathered around the students and made a motion with his hands for a swirling portal, the students jumped through the portal and vanished quickly.

“Thank you, Terry..”

“You’re welcome Y/N..” he said, standing by your side.

With a flick of your wrist, you summoned your own energy, feeling the warmth of your magic flow through your body. Terry did the same, bursting beams of light while Terry struck it with lighting.

The petals clutched around the yellow stem, throwing pollen at you. It exploded and the pink specks of pink pollen, fallen down near you and Terry until blew it away with a wave of his hand. Winds blew it into thin air.

“Are you alright?” He asked with concern, quickly turning to you.

You shook your head from side to side, “Unfortunately, the residue of the pink pollen doesn’t have to just touch you, it spreads like a virus.” You coughed, covering your mouth with your cloak.

“I should’ve acted quickly enough then you wouldn’t be affected, I’m sorry..” Terry replied softly, his face turned toward the flower that changed to a man.

Terry zoomed toward the flower man, his hands gripping the collar of his shirt and punched him in the stomach, lighting dancing around his fist. His hands gripped his ankles and flipped the man over, Blood trickled from its gut and sent the man sprawling into the ocean.

After the battle, your knees shaking weakly and almost fell to the grass, until Terry caught you with his hands. A heavy fever washed over you rather quickly, your breath became heavy.

The pollen made heat pool all over your body, your heart beating faster than usual, and an ache between your legs that started to hurt. You gazed at Terry and your breath hitched, clenching your legs again.

Your eyes fell to his lips, body, and face. Terry was so pretty, you whimpered softly but he kept asking you if you were okay, all you could do was shake your head. Familiar wetness pools between your thighs.

“T-Terry…I feel aroused and..” before you say another word, Terry lifted you carefully and carried your bridal style, snapping his fingers and a swirling green portal appeared before you, he stepped through it and you were in his spacious bedroom, your eyes roamed the place.

The four walls in sage green surrounding the two of you, The dim light from the candles flickered around the room, casting playful shadows on the walls. You could smell the rich aroma of incense wafting through the air, mingling with the scent of fresh herbs and a hint of something sweet like citrus.

The ex-Marine turned wizard professor carried the trauma with him but teaching the students helped subside it, seared in his brain for battle.

It was very clean from what you saw, with not much decoration but a regular room with the walls painted in sage green, rock music was his favorite genre. Deftones, Paramore & Radiohead were both of your favorites.

His head leaned in closer slightly, enough to give you space and his face softened, this wasn’t supposed to happen, he should’ve been more responsible. “This is so fucking bad, I gotta help you,” he said softly.

“The plant must've had some kind of aphrodisiac,” He spoke to you, catching your body shake from his touch.

“W-we can go back to the castle, they can help but I forgot that you don't live near the campus,” you said weakly, coughing still.

“I already notified the professors about the problem Y/N through a call, Genevieve is already up my ass about it..” Terry sighed, rolling his eyes.

Terry gently laid you on his bed, the blanket sprawled across the edge of the bed. He lifted your ankles and he looked at you with worry, “May I take off your shoes?” He asked gently.

Genevieve would usually scold Terry about anything when it came to you, she understood that he was an ex-Marine and you were friends but she was your sister. Like two peas in a pod, it seemed like no matter what happened, Terry was there to protect you.

“Gen is very protective, you know that,” you giggled.

“I get that but she’s always blaming me..” he mentioned with a soft tone.

You nodded at him, “its not your fault. Yes, you may. I'm starting to become hot in these clothes,” watching the man gently unzipped your black boots.

“Y/N, are you alright? The pollen…it can have some intense side effects.”

You could feel the heat radiating from your skin, and for a moment, you were lost in the warmth of his gaze. “I’ll be fine, Terry. Just a little… overwhelmed,” you admitted, your voice shaky as you tried to sit up.

“I’m a delicate flower, you know,” you huffed, trying to sound tough despite the heat coursing through your body. “I can handle myself.”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh, I know you can. But right now, you look like you could use a little help. Let me take care of you for once, alright?”

You watched him as he knelt by the edge of the bed, his strong hands gently untying your shoes. The tenderness in his movements made your heart race, and you feel a flutter in your stomach.

He looked up at you, his expression serious yet playful. “Maybe I just like having an excuse to be close to you,” he teased, a smirk playing on his lips as he tossed your shoes aside to the corner of the room.

Your feet rested on the bed, You felt your cheeks warm. “You’re such a dork.”

“A dork who cares about you,” he retorted, a hint of sincerity in his tone. “And I’m not going to let you down when you need me.”

Your eyes landed on his ass, it was really nice. “Stop staring at my ass, girl.” he shot back.

You giggled softly, and your cheeks grew hot while you bit down on your lip. Was this pollen or only you alone? Maybe it was you, you liked Terry but the rules said that professors shouldn’t have a relationship.

You took off your cloak and tossed your dress aside, grabbing one of Terry’s oversized tee shirts, sliding it down, dawning to your thighs. “T-Terry.. I’ll be in the bathroom..”

You rushed into the bathroom and locked the door, you sat on the closed toilet lid. Gently pull down your panties and pull off the oversized tee shirt. Your fingers sunk between your folds and you moaned loudly. “Fuck!”

You rubbed your left titty in a circle and fingered yourself for the past fourteen minutes, thinking of Terry made it worse and pleasuring yourself wasn't working, fuck. This is embarrassing, you couldn't cum.

You stood up from the toilet and washed your hands clean, drying them with a towel. You sighed in irritation. “Y/N? Are you

You opened the door and pouted again, Terry

Terry carefully peeled away the layers of your cloak, revealing the soft fabric of your dress beneath. He paused, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, a hint of something electric passing between you.

“How come you didn't get affected by the pollen? This is unfair..” you grumbled, unbuttoning the front of your dress and you allowed it to fall to your sock-clad feet.

“I'm pretty good at what I do..” he bragged, shrugging.

“C-can you pass me one of your tee shirts please?” you asked him in a gentle tone.

Terry’s gaze widened for a moment as he processed your request, and a teasing smile crept onto his lips. “You really know how to make a guy feel special, don’t you?” He stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow over you as he walked to his closet.

“Just a shirt, Terry. Not a marriage proposal,” you shot back, trying to sound playful, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed your attempt at nonchalance.

He chuckled, pulling out a soft, oversized orange tee that bore the logo of a band you both liked. “This should do the trick,” he said, tossing it to you. “But I might need to charge you for it later.”

You caught the shirt, a laugh escaping your lips. “I’ll pay you with my undying gratitude,” you quipped, pulling the shirt over your head. The fabric was warm and comforting, but the heat from the pollen still simmered beneath your skin.

As he settled back on the edge of the bed, his eyes studied you with a mix of concern and something deeper. “

You didn't want either of you to lose your jobs because of one night, he was only taking care of you at the moment. You were nervous around him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Terry, focus,” you said, trying to maintain your composure. “I’m not in the mood for flattery.”

“Y/N. Let me make the antidote.” He turned to stand up and faced his bedside table.

Terry snapped his fingers, a book appeared in front of him and turned the pages, took off his cloak and revealed his body clad in a suit, his body through the clothes was memorizing.

“Sex pollen, the side effects are heat in the body, fever and weakness. arousal, I'm making the antidote and the other cure is physical contact..” Terry trailed off, his voice deepened.

His hand grabbed the steaming cup from the air, a hint of honey and rosemary, bringing it to your lips. The bitter taste seething on your tongue, you covered your mouth. It was disgusting, did he put a goblin’s shit in the cup? Rose petals atop the tea.

“Look at me, I know it's not good but it's gonna help with that fever, just swallow and then breathe..” Terry reassured softly, humming lightly.

Swallowing it immediately after you made a gagging noise, taking a breath as he said “That was fucking gross, what did you put in that?!” you exclaimed, drinking from a cup filled with water at the beside table.

He chuckled lightly, he held up his three fingers. “In three…two..one..” he counted with a stren tone.

Your fever finally faded away, but the heat pooling between your thighs made it worse, clenching them close and your clit throbbed again.

You looked up at Terry and suddenly went silent, pursuing your lips. “My fever is gone..” you said softly.

His arms are crossed, showing off a few of his tattoos, “See what happens when you listen to your professor?” he teased with a deep tone.

Your heart raced as you tried to regain your composure. “Okay, Mr. Richmond, you’ve done your job,” you teased back, attempting to inject some levity into the moment.

“You're still flushed..”

But the heat in your body was not just from the fever; betraying you with the way you responded to him, “You know I’ve always wanted to take care of you in more ways than one,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced at his words, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with your own. “Terry, we shouldn’t...” you started, but the words died in your throat as he took another step closer.

“Why not?” he challenged, his voice low and sultry. “We’re both adults. We’ve been dancing around this for far too long.”

Your mind raced. You knew the rules about professors, but the thought of Terry wanting you, needing you, sent a thrill through your body. The heat between your thighs throbbed painfully, begging for attention.

“What if… what if someone finds out?” you managed to say, though your body betrayed you by leaning slightly into him.

Terry’s hand reached up, brushing a stray braid behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Let them. I’m tired of hiding how I feel about you.” His eyes searched yours, filled with longing and determination.

“I want you, Y/N. Right here, right now. I'm sure will still have our jobs, the campus was made by a married couple after all,”

Your heart raced at his confession, and the heat pooling in your core intensified. “But what if it ruins everything?” you breathed, your gaze darting to his lips, torn between desire and caution.

He stepped even closer, closing the distance between you until his body was mere inches from yours. “Sometimes things have to change to be better. I care about you too much to hold back any longer,” he said, his breath warm against your skin.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a soft yet demanding kiss. Pulling away from him, “T-Terry…uh..can you fuck me please?” you begged him, clenching on his shirt.

His hand wrapped around your neck, making sure he kept your gaze on his. “A good girl is supposed to listen and you've been a brat, the back and forth, the teasing, finger fucking yourself in my bathroom..” he shot back, smirking.

Terry carefully unbuttoned the back of your dress, falling down to your feet while it was tossed aside, he unbuttoned his shirt and zipped his pants. Clothes riddled across the brown hardwood floor.

No panties but no bra, you hated bras with a burning passion. You weren't big-chested but you loved your body. Terry pulled down his boxers, his dick hung out. Long and thick, veiny.

“I'll be good this time Terry..” you pouted with a soft tone.

He gently pushed you down on your back, he hovered over you and the tip of his dick rubbed across your clit, rubbing his dick across your folds with sweet torture. “Are you sure? You're gonna behave for me?” he teased.

“Yes…Please…fuck me! Fuck me!” you cried out, your nails left marks on his shoulders. Your pussy clenched around nothing desperately for friction and whimpering. You rubbed your clit in circles and moaned again.

Terry moved your hand out of the way, smirking at you. Resuming to rub his dick across your wet folds, “Did I say that you could fuck yourself?”

“N-no…Terry! I’ll be good, I promise!” you cried out, tears rolling down your face.

He kissed your lips, “Here’s your reward, princess..”

He flipped you on your stomach and pushed his dick between your folds from behind, you gasped softly at his dick filling you completely, the ache fading slightly after each thrust.

“Oh fuck..Terry!” you cried out, balling up the blanket. Drool trickled from your lips. The more pleasure, the less ache was there. Crossing the line with him was a bad move but you needed him.

Terry's hands gripped your hips tightly as he thrust deeper, his breath coming in warm bursts against your skin. "That's it, Y/N. Let me hear you," he urged, his voice low and deep.

You felt the heat radiating from him, mingling with your own, creating a storm of sensations that sent pleasure coursing through your veins. Each thrust made you feel fuller, more alive, as though every part of you was awakening to the moment.

“Just like that,” he continued, his pace quickening, “You’re doing so fucking well.” His words wrapped around you, igniting a fire within that made you push back against him, longing for more.

“Don’t stop, please!” you begged, your voice breathless and desperate. You could feel the tension building within you, that sweet, sweet pressure begging for release.

Terry’s grip on you tightened as he leaned over, his breath brushing against your ear. “You want to fucking come? You’ve got to ask for it,” he teased, his voice dripping with playful authority.

“Please, Terry! I need it! I need to fucking come!” you cried out, the words spilling from your lips as he continued to pound into you, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Good girl,” he praised, his tone sultry and deep, making your heart race even faster. "Let go for me, Y/N. I want to feel you cum on my dick."

With that, you let yourself fall into the pleasure, your body arching as waves of bliss washed over you. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room as you felt yourself unraveling, the tension finally snapping as you came hard around him.

“Fuck!” Terry groaned, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release. “That’s it, Y/N. Just like that.”

You felt him thrust deep one last time, his body shuddering against yours as he pulled out of you, tendrils of his cum landed on your stomach, the warmth filling you completely.

As you both came down from the high, Terry pulled you close, his hands tenderly stroking your back. “You okay?” he asked softly, concern lacing his tone as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with affection.

You nodded, your heart racing from both the intensity of what just happened and the warmth of his embrace. “Yeah, I’m okay… better than okay,” you replied, a smile spreading across your face.

Terry chuckled softly, brushing a strand of a braid from your face. “Good, because I’m not done yet,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the heat rise again within you. “Oh really?”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “You’ve got to be ready for round two then,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours as he captured your mouth in a lingering kiss.

————

[drarryspecificrecs]

2024.10 ~ Top 10 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Celestial Being by Year_ofthe_Rabbit [?, 192k]

The entire universe conspired to make clear that the king Draco’s family had put into power deserved to be overthrown in a bloody coup, to be replaced by a younger, brighter, more beloved king. Draco lost everything and was left to live as a despised servant in his aunt's household. He didn't accept it. No, he would do whatever it took to recapture the life he deserved. Even if that was only possible during an equinox ball, where he could live one anonymous night at a time as a captivating celestial being.

2. In Over My Head by @dracoispookie [E, 184k]

The first wizard going to Hogwarts Harry ever meets is an older boy who is polite, funny, and very good looking. Harry navigates his way through school knowing one thing for sure: he's in way over his head.

3. Comfortable by @peculiarmindset [E, 155k]

Draco and Harry goes through the uncharted waters in their relationship, and slowly become more and more comfortable with one another.

4. what shipwrecks look like by @dancingsparks [E, 149k]

It's after the war, but not terribly long after. Just enough for things to appear happily settled. Draco is an Obliviator. Harry is an Auror. Draco is desperately jealous of that.

5. Defiant Hearts by @coffeedrgn87 [E, 117k]

In Regency England, the price of love is high. Draco, the sole heir to the Malfoy family's vast fortune and reputation, longs to marry for love. His father, Lucius Malfoy—a cold, heartless man—disagrees. With his father breathing down his neck, demanding that Draco court a suitable young lady, Draco's time to find a love match is running out. Then there's Harry, the last descendant of the Potter family, once a noble house with a vast fortune, great respect, and considerable influence. Harry knows his duties, but what he truly desires is a love match—an equal. When an unexpected Regency-style meet-cute turns everyone's plans upside down, Draco becomes a rebel, and Harry must make a decision that will define the rest of his life.

6. Can't turn back now (I'm haunted) by exhiled_spirit [M, 108k]

Draco left his friends and (ex) husband in hopes of moving on from his heartbreak and finding himself in the muggle world. Four years later he returned, rich and famous, to finish off his never ending divorce.

7. Taking Off The Rose Coloured Glasses by @thatwheelchairchick [M, 85k]

After his fourth year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter returns to the Dursleys, where their abuse escalates dramatically, leaving him physically and emotionally shattered. Haunted by nightmares and the voice of Voldemort in his mind, Harry begins to doubt Dumbledore’s intentions, recalling past manipulations. Desperate and near death from a particularly brutal beating, Harry reluctantly accepts Voldemort’s offer of help.

8. a barely lit path by @garagepaperback [E, 64k]

Harry wakes up wanting to live, Draco seems determined to - well, not die, exactly, but you could hardly call it a life, either. /// Featuring: peacocks and a family curse, avoidance, red-rimmed eyes in a blanket fort, a fantastic variety of headaches, sobriety, a toy finger trap and whether or not it's possible for good to grow out of something ugly.

9. Your Heart Got a Story With Mine by futurefortem [M, 62k]

When a wizard or witch turns 17 they become off age. When a wizard or witch turns 18 though they discover their soulmate. On Harry's 18th birthday his world turns upside down. /// Or, the one where Draco and Harry are forced to overcome their differences and discover what it actually was that kept fire burning between them.

10. Rotations by TheCrowCrone [E, 53k]

Trainee Auror Potter receives a new assignment as an Azkaban guard and his life, which finally seems to be settling into something almost normal, is turned upsidedown once more the night he saves Draco Malfoy. But in a post-war world, at least for Harry, the smallest things, like appreciating a sunset and enjoying a hot meal, are sometimes the hardest, while the big things, like death and forgiveness, don't seem that tough. And sometimes, he's just an idiot who falls in love too easily.

※ HONOURABLE MENTIONS :

11. Draco Malfoy and the Pride of the Lion by Fantasy_Critter11 [G, 52k]

All his life Draco Malfoy has awaited the day when he'd finally get to ride the Hogwarts Express to the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and of his dreams. Those dreams are upended in seconds, however, when he sees a scrawny boy pacing outside of the barrier, asking how to get onto platform nine and three quarters. [...] Hogwarts is quickly becoming nothing like Draco had expected it to be in his dreams, but he'll soon find he may not mind being part of the Gryffindor pride as he initially thought.

12. What Fills the Void That’s Left Behind by @tessacrowley [E, 46k] --- ART by @itsphantasmagoria

At the end of October, Draco Malfoy slashes open both wrists and bleeds to death. By the middle of November, Head Auror Harry Potter agrees to take his case. But there are entities more ghastly than the ghosts that haunt the Malfoy Manor, and fates more horrible than death. When the wound is so deep that you lose a part of yourself, what fills the void that’s left behind?

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

All is found by ProseMary [G, 16k]

Come, Sweet Death by EvilDime [E, 27k]

Everything is coming up Draco by @liligalaxy [M, 37k]

Green by @pixiedunhoff [E, 17k]

The Guardian and The Sword by @mykkitno [?, 37k]

It's Not Hate Sex If You're Secretly In Love With Your Baby Daddy! by @peachydreamxx [E, 33k] --- ART by @littlewinnow

the latch is undone by @aibidil [E, 24k]

Old Rivalries, New Beginnings by @philosophersandfools [T, 29k]

Raising Hell! by @wolfpants [E, 21k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

2024 H/D Muggle Fair | @hd-fan-fair

Cult of Chaos Cultober 2024

Gothic Fantasy Fest 2024 | @twhos-fests​

HP Halloween Fest 2024

Trick 4 Treat: A Twisted Sweet

[rarepairdumpster]

Teacher Viktor AU Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: T C/W: Child Jinx, Mob Boss Silco, Implied Bribery, Anti-Police, Silco has certified DILF status

Thinking about Bring Your Parents To School Day, and tiny Jinx dragging Silco to school, thinking he's going to expound on the coolness of being a mob boss.

But instead he talks about boring pharmaceutical production and health regulations.

While Teacher Viktor appreciates the eye candy, he's like that sounds almost real but I'm definitely googling that later.

Silco ends his shpiel with "Any questions?"

About 10 hands shoot up.

Silco points at one and the kid blurts "Your face is so messed up. What happened to it?" 

(All 9 other hands drop)

And Silco smiles, eyes glinting, and crouches in front of the kid and says, pointing at his face "This is what happens when your boss ignores safety regulations at a manufacturing plant."

And all the other parents in the room are supremely uncomfortable.

"Any other questions for Mr Silco?" Viktor quickly asks to clear the air. 

When it stays uncomfortably silent, Viktor just gives Silco a sympathetic smile with his cane hooked in his elbow. "Thank you for coming in today. Give Mr Silco a round of applause."

The kids half-heartedly clap and the one cop in the room is eyeing Silco like Timmy Turner's Dad whenever Dinkleberg gets mentioned

Viktor thinks Silco was the most interesting parent tbh. The cop makes his skin crawl. The fireman is OK. But listening to all the accountants, etc, is like watching paint dry.

Silco just lurks in the back of the room, playing with his lighter, and smirks while the cop waffles.

"Dont do drugs. Stay in school. Crime is bad. I get paid to beat people up"

Silco absolutely makes note of all the mini cops

He can tell by their paw patrol school supplies

He can't muffle his scathing snort when one kid asks "Have you ever fired a gun while jumping through the air?!"

Viktor clears his throat and makes eye contact with Silco but still gives a soft smile.

this is his classroom and his policy is everyone is respectful and he will enforce it even if he agreed

Silco tips his head towards Viktor, an enigmatic smile on his face, and Viktor distracts himself with a quick sip from his cup of tea.

Jinx is new to this school (she's been expelled from 3 in the last 6 months already) and Silco doesn't want to make things harder for her, so maintaining a good relationship with her teacher is important to him.

Jinx likes this school.

Likes Viktor.

He always listens and looks at her drawings for her projects.

Not like those other mean, boring, stupid ones.

Viktor actually understands neurodivergence and different learning styles because he had his own struggles. He can tell Jinx is very smart and knows she has a lot of potential, she just hasn't had the right teachers.

The school board guidelines dictate that he isn't meant to encourage advanced progression because it tends to lead to students starting to ask questions the schools don't want to answer...

But Viktor has always been a rebel at heart. He absolutely guides and encourages her.

Silco hangs back when the class is dismissed, leaning against the back wall after everyone has left. (He sent Jinx to get her bag and coat)

Viktor looks up after gathering some papers together on his desk. "Ah, Mr Silco?"

"I simply wanted to say," Silco started, sauntering towards Viktor through the small row of desks, "I appreciate how well you seem to work with Jinx. She speaks highly of you." He smiles. "Trust me when I say that is wildly uncommon."

Viktor smiles back and feels a surge of affection for the girl in question. But an edge of understanding tightens the skin around his eyes.

"I understand she's had a hard time with other teachers, and other schools, but I find Jinx a delight to teach. A bit rambunctious, but she makes me think. I appreciate the challenge."

"I know she can be a handful," Silco says, picking up a small trinket from Viktor's desk that had been gifted by a student. "If you ever require any additional compensation, please let me know."

Viktor arches a brow.

"Are you offering me a bribe? A little odd for a pharmaceutical rep."

Viktor's lips curl into a little smirk.

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of bribing you. Simply a little incentive if things seem too difficult."

Silco's face goes serious for a moment. "I know what teachers make and I don't want something as silly as money to be the reason you're unable to teach my daughter."

"Silly," Viktor repeats, perhaps a little wistful. And then he chuckles. "As social constructs go, it's a pretty critical one."

"And I'd rather you didn't worry about it so you can focus on teaching," Silco explained. "I can see you're a very talented and intuitive teacher. Most aren't like that. Mine certainly weren't."

"Nor mine." Viktor tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. "I was a lot like Jinx growing up. More advanced than the others, with a lot of different needs. I'm glad I can be the one to help her."

"Then allow me to help you," Silco offered. "I don't expect you to ask for anything now. Just if the need arises. Along with your salary, I also know the school's budget, and I'm sure your class isn't seeing much of it."

"You know the school's budget?" Viktor's brows shoot up and then he laughs. "You're a resourceful one, aren't you?"

"I know a lot about what goes on in this city," Silco smirks. "I assumed you already caught on to that"

Viktor's cheeks tinge with pink and he laughs again.

Before he can respond, Jinx comes racing out from the cloakroom, tripping over her coat and the strap of her bag, but somehow managing to remain upright.

With a flick of his wrist, Silco produces a card and sets it gently on Viktor's desk.

"I'm simply a phone call away," Silco reminds him before he herds Jinx out of the room and to their waiting car.

Part 2

Arch + Woods

[its-your-mind]

Something something timkon and hair and how lex lichrally programmed Kon to shave his head before he went all luthor and was forced to attack his team, his best friends, his family. and then how most of the hair on the back of Tim’s head got burned off when he got blowed up (thx Steph) and he had to cut or shave the rest of it off so it could grow back semi-evenly. and how kon was a #rebel esp compared to all-American Boy Scout Superman; Kon’s rockin around with the side cut and the leather jacket and the buckles and the spikes or the (ill-advised and made me sad) black t-shirt and jeans but even the “I am a totally normal bro” getup made him distinct and different from Kal and that is really important to Kon because he wants to be his own person, not a Superman-stand-in. and THEN fucking LEX made it so Kon would look more like Lex! his other DNA donor!!! And Tim!! He kept his hair short — just long enough to spike it up as Robin — until both of his parents were gone. which suggests to me that he kinda always wanted it long (hello Tim Drake, #1 Dick Grayson stan) but that just wasn’t an option allowed to him (not uncommon for parents who care Very Much about Appearances — my own parents were the same about my brothers’ hair growing up, not least because the private all-boys school they went to dictated that their hair couldn’t be long enough to touch the collar of their shirt (with exceptions for [insert kinda racist and vaguely xenophobic language here] hair styles). As soon as he turned 18 my baby brother got a rocker-style mane. But I digress. Anyway). Then, post-tragedy, Tim’s hair got long enough to flip down over his forehead and stream behind him when he swung through the city (perhaps one of his ways of clinging to control and his sense of self in the whole awful situation). But then… Tim got fucking exploded, betrayed by his ex-girlfriend who had only just returned after letting him grieve her death for a year, and now she’s following Tim’s dead father mentor’s instructions to challenge him or whatever the fuck bullshit Batman told her, (a young girl whose own father was an asshole criminal, who so desperately wanted Bruce to be proud of her) and now Tim has to cut his hair all the way down to the scalp again and listen. I’m sorry dc tim looks fucking amazing in adventure comics and I’m in love with how he is arted but hair cannot and does not grow back that quick!! Mf had to wait!! I bet it grew in fucking patchy!! I bet kon’s did too!! (prolly not as bad as Tim’s cuz Tim’s got scar tissue and shit.)

but I just think tim and kon deserve a chance to sit down and just commiserate with each other about growing their hair back out (growing back out a sidecut is a BITCH I speak from experience) and Tim’s prolly having to trim his own hair super often to keep it nice-ish while it comes back in, and Kon’s curls are just a fucking MESS until they grow out enough to like. Curl. (Again, speaking from experience) And they’re just shooting the shit (“well MINE was worse bc I looked like fucking LEX. LUTHOR.” / “well you didn’t have to wait to figure out which parts of your scalp we actually gonna bother growing hair again”) until it gets quiet for a minute. And then one of them asks if the hair also reminds the other one of The Shitty Thing That Happened. And then they fucking talk about it. About how they can’t look in the mirror without having a flashback of pain or rage. How it makes them feel like they don’t even get to control their own bodies, their own appearances, and how much that fucking sucks. How they go to run their hand through their hair and there’s just. Not enough of it to do that. How Kon is terrified that somehow looking like Lex means Lex will use him to hurt the people he loves again. How every time Tim sees another Bat or Bird looking at the back of his head, all he can think about is how they might be planning to lure him into another Bat-mandated trap test. How both Tim and Kon kinda really miss the feeling of people playing with their hair. How they miss playing with each others’ hair.

And maybe then one of them extends an offer and the other does the same and they agree to do each others’ hair. Maybe it’ll help paint a new layer over those awful memories.

So Kon finds Tim once a week (he’s never in the same place, he’s rarely even in the same country) and he trims the hair until it looks even, gives Tim the #sitch on how much hair is growing back in. After the second or third week he realizes that Tim’s not keeping up with his burn-care routine, so he starts bringing burn and scar cream with him too. Then he remembers Tim’s lack of a hair care routine and starts trying out different products on Tim’s hair to see what works best. Tim doesn’t say anything, but he thinks all of this feels even better than when Kon and Cassie used to twist little braids into his hair.

Kon insists that Tim doesn’t have to help until his hair’s grown out more, (that he doesn’t want Tim nearby and distracted while Kon still looks like Lex) but Tim outright refuses to let Kon push him away and he will NOT be outdone in the caretaking game. He waits until Kon’s busy fighting some giant alien robot in metropolis and sneaks in to the Kents’ house to scope out what products Kon uses. When he leaves the bathroom, Ma Kent is there, eyebrow raised. She tells him he “could have just knocked on the front door, sweetheart, we know how’ta keep secrets in this house. Now, let’s get some food in you before Conner comes home. You’re all skin and bones, hun.” So Tim goes downstairs and takes some mini meat pies for the road, and then researches the products Kon uses, what they do, what the ingredients do, if there are other (more expensive) options that people have sworn up and down are better. He amasses a collection, and the next time Kon shows up with clippers and healing creams and a new shampoo to try, Tim’s already got ten different products lined up on the sink — everything from shampoos and conditioners to serums and masks. Kon asks if these are things Tim wants Kon to use in Tim’s hair. Tim tells him that no, all of these are for Tim to try on Kon. Kon almost cries. (He does cry, he just doesn’t let the tears fall until Tim isn’t looking.) (Tim notices anyway ofc.) And Tim’s made a spreadsheet to track the effectiveness of different products, different ingredients, different combinations, so he tells Kon to start coming every 2-3 days instead, so he can establish results using a realistic timeframe. Sometimes, if Tim’s gonna be in one place for a few days, Kon just crashes with him. (Neither of them say it, but they both fucking CRAVE the old Core Four cuddle piles.) Eventually, when Kon’s hair is long enough that he’s ready to switch back to his side-cut again, Tim surprises him by not only shaving the hair down, but shaving a few racing stripes (“they’re flight patterns!” / “rob, I dunno what to tell you. everyone’s gonna think they’re racing stripes. doesn’t mean they aren’t dope as fuck, though.”) into Kon’s hair. Every time Kon’s hair grows out enough, Tim shaves it back and stencils in a new design. Kon starts making requests (“gimme the Super ‘S’!” / “It’s the House of El crest, Kon. You know that. Also, you have a secret identity to maintain.” / “C’mon, I’ll just say I’m a fan!” / “With the same El family crest shaved onto your scalp as Superboy?” / “No one’s noticed the identical head decor yet!”) but it’s the day Kon asks (with the same confident and mischievous tone as always) for Tim to shave in the Red Robin crest that something in Tim’s chest, something formless and warm that he hadn’t really paid attention to before, seers a burning path through his heart, takes root, and solidifies.

“Kon. I love you.”

Kon’s distracted, rifling through their hair-care bags for Tim’s razors. “Love you too, Robbie. Duh. That’s why I’m askin’ you to shave your cre–”

“No,” Tim shakes his head, mildly frustrated with himself for the lack of clarity. “I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a while.”

Kon is seated in the chair they’d pulled into the bathroom from the hotel room’s desk, so he has to look up to meet Tim’s eyes. The hand digging beneath sample bottles of leave-in conditioner freezes, still wrist-deep in hair products. Kon’s expression looks to Tim like one of his video games’ character builders froze between the settings for ‘bright smile’ and ‘shock and awe.’

So Tim just looks down at him. Waits. If this was anyone else, Tim would probably be losing his mind right now, but… it’s Kon. Tim’s safe. Kon would never do anything to hurt him.

Kon unfreezes, blinks a few times. “Could you–” he coughs. “Could you say that again? I think my brain maybe like, malfunctioned for a second.”

Tim takes a step closer, reaches out one hand to cup Kon’s cheek, scratches his fingertips through the stubble on the side of Kon’s head. “I’m in love with you, Conner Kent.”

Tears fill Kon’s eyes, and he blinks them away. “That’s– that’s what I thought you said.” His hand (the one not trapped beneath a sea of shampoos, some detached and unhelpful part of Tim’s mind remarks) comes up to gently rest on Tim’s hip. “Robbie, Tim, I– of course I’m in love with you. You– you’re– you’re amazing, you know that? You’re so kind and strong and you’re a genius and you’re a gift to everyone around you; I dunno how everyone else doesn’t see you like I do.”

Tim can’t help but reach out his other hand to wrap around the back of Kon’s head, to feel where the curls carve a path down through the shorter hair and come to a sharp point.

“I mean, damn Wonder Boy,” Kon tries to muster up his Superboy smirk, but the look in his eyes is full of too much genuine affection for him to pull it off. “I think I’ve been in love with you since Kauai, since you grabbed me outta free-fall and swung me to safety. You caught me. No one’d ever done that before. And then you just… kept doing it. You’re still saving me, still taking care of me.”

Kon reaches his other hand (no eruption of hairspray, thank you TTK, that same unhelpful part of Tim’s mind comments. Read the room! the rest of Tim yells at it.) around the back of Tim’s neck, avoiding the tender and scarred areas with practiced ease, and pulls Tim down until their foreheads touch.

“I love you, Wonder. I love you, Robbie.” Kon tilts his head up, waits until their eyes meet. He’s got the biggest smile on his face that Tim’s ever seen.

Tim smiles back, and Kon’s eyes soften. “I love you, Tim.”

Tim leans down and uses his hands on either side of Kon’s head to guide Kon’s lips up to his own.

This is what I want to remember, Tim thinks as he feels Kon’s fingers gliding softly against the sensitive skin of his burn, feels Kon’s TTK covering and protecting the parts still too tender to touch. Tim runs his own fingertips back and forth over the stubble on the sides of Kon’s head, before pushing them up until they’re tangled in Kon’s curls.

I don’t want to care anymore whether or not the people around me look at the back of my head and see weakness or failure. They don’t get to decide whether this mark on my body matters or what it means. I do. And I decide that these scars are important because they brought me here, to this moment. They brought me to Kon.

Kon tilts his head down to break the kiss. He stands up, and before Tim gets a chance to move away and give him space, Kon wraps his arms and TTK around him. He plants a kiss in Tim’s hair. “Damn, Wonder Boy. Having to grow all my hair back almost feels worth it if it got me here.”

Tim smiles and wraps his arms around Kon’s waist, nestles into Kon’s chest. “You know what, Clone Boy? I was just thinking the same thing.”

[aria-hannah]

Just some Dead Boy Detectives thoughts, specifically around Edwin and rebellion.

As much as people generally posit Edwin as the rule follower of the two boys, I think he'd just as much the rebel it just reads differently because of the time period he's from.

Signs of this are in the very first episode, when we see the boys preparing to exorcise David the demon from Crystal, we see Edwin reading on the couch looking more dressed down then we normally see him except that he still has his shoes on, despite them being up on the furniture. Later during the flashback to his days at St Hilarion's we see the end of one of his classes during which he was openly reading what appears to be a comic book or magazine (detective themed obviously). It certainly doesn't look like any school course appointed book I would expect even these days nevermind back then. So he was just reading his own stuff in class and not even bothering to hide that?! And I guess the most obvious rebellion against the rules, he escaped from Hell after being assigned there on a technicality.

There's a reason he and Charles get along so well, they're both rebelling. In fact all of the kids are in different ways. Crystal's original rebellion mostly took the form of wild parties, fights, stealing and hurting others but becomes more of a driving force to help people specifically girls in bad situations (though she'ss still throwdown with Esther). Niko's original rebellion was a refusal to read or respond to her mum's letters but as she starts to open up to the others she starts using her skills with asking all the right questions to start rules lawyering her friends out of trouble. Charles' rebellion beyond the obvious style he goes for is in wanting to be a protector and the good guy and not what others (his father and so-called friends) tried to get him to be.

[cierraonline]

1x1 | MORE LIKE NEXT DISASTER

Masterlist | Previous | Next

It was another bright day at Abbott Elementary School, meaning another day to change minds and create scholars who would one day contribute to their community both socially and economically. However, due to the way public education was structured in Philadelphia—particularly in urban areas where the majority of the population was Black American—funding and resources were severely limited. While this reality broke the spirits of some teachers, especially the newer ones who struggled with student behavior and scarce materials, the veteran educators remained steadfast. They had dedicated their careers to Abbott because they refused to give up on providing their students with an education, even when it seemed like the city already had.

Honey Schrementi was one of those teachers who refused to quit on her students. She had developed a teaching style reminiscent of George Feeny from Boy Meets World—the very educator who first inspired her to consider teaching as a career. However, it was her mother, Angela Drew, a former middle school teacher at Abbott Elementary, who solidified Honey's decision to become an educator. Now, as she adapted to the ever-changing social landscape, Honey strived to bring something fresh to her students, keeping them engaged and excited about learning.

"Miss Honey!" A child's voice called out as they entered the classroom, excitement lacing their tone.

"Lilac!" The fourth-grade teacher greeted her student warmly, bending down to her level. "And who might these beautiful flowers be for?"

"You, silly goose!" Lilac laughed.

Lilac Hart was one of Honey's standout students, often outperforming her peers—something that led other teachers to question why she was attending Abbott instead of a school with better resources. The truth, however, was that Lilac was a product of downtown Philadelphia's hardships. Her mother, once a preacher's daughter who lived by the rules, had rebelled after meeting Lilac's father—a corner boy from the neighborhood. What started as an act of defiance spiraled into something more permanent when she found herself pregnant just four months into their relationship. But before Lilac was even born, her father was killed in a deal gone wrong, and her mother was disowned by her family.

After giving birth, Lilac's mother left her at Sunshine Kids, a well-regarded adoption center in Philadelphia—coincidentally, the same place where Honey had been volunteering at the time. But due to the center's policy of disclosing the background of the biological parents to potential adopters, Lilac was continuously overlooked for a forever home.

"Why, thank you!" Honey beamed, flashing her pearly whites. "Why don't we add them to our class garden, right next to the roses?" She gently took Lilac's hand and guided her toward the windowsill, where the classroom's mini garden sat—a hands-on part of their science curriculum.

"Great idea, Miss Honey," Lilac agreed, grinning as they carefully transferred the daisies into the rectangular planter, which was already filled with an assortment of flowers.

Once their mini project was complete, Lilac made her way to her locker at the back of the classroom while Honey stepped to the front, scanning the room filled with her students.

"Good morning, my lovely sunshines," she greeted, her bright smile mirrored back at her by the children.

"Good morning, Miss Honey!" they responded in cheerful unison.

Hello, I'm Miss Honey... well, technically, Honey Schrementi. I'm married to the scary Italian woman teaching second grade—you might meet her later. She'll ask if you have any Italian heritage, and if you don't, she'll assume you're an undercover cop. That's how she got me. Anyway, I teach fourth grade and have been at Abbott Elementary for four years now. I absolutely love it. I'm basically the real-life Miss Honey from Matilda, which is why I have my kids call me that.

"Let's begin with our multiplication warmups, shall we?" Honey said, stepping around her desk with a Mickey Mouse pointer in her left hand. "Are you ready?"

"Ready!" the class responded enthusiastically.

"Okay, what's 10 x 10?" Honey pointed the pointer at Vicki, who eagerly stood up to answer.

"100, Miss Honey!"

"Correct!" Honey nodded approvingly. "Now, 24 x 3?" She pointed to another student.

"24 x 3 is 75, Miss Honey!"

"Yes, it is! What about 100 x 100?"

A few hands shot up, and Honey picked one.

"10,000, Miss Honey," Lilac answered proudly, standing as the class erupted into applause, knowing she had gotten it right.

"Good job, my sunshines," Miss Honey clapped for her students. "That means we can add a sticker to our warm-up streak!"

---

"Hey, Melissa," Janine Teagues, a second-year second-grade teacher, walked into the teachers' lounge alongside Jacob Hill, a second-year eighth-grade teacher. "Can you please tell 'Ta-Nehisi Quotes' over here that 'white boy' is a term of endearment from the corner-store people?"

"For Zach Ertz, yeah," the red-haired Italian woman looked up from making herself a cup of coffee. "For him? It's an insult." Melissa stepped away from the counter, coffee in hand, and took a seat.

"Hmm." Jacob pointed to Melissa, the teacher who had just confirmed his point.

"Whew! Guys, I need a new rug. Mine is officially done," Janine announced to her fellow coworkers, stretching her arms dramatically.

"Mmm! Me too," Jacob added, his mouth full of chips. "I shook mine out, and all the asthma kids had to go to the nurse's office."

"Yeah, mine's busted," Melissa admitted. "And you can't class up a rug like you can a couch with a nice coat of plastic—that only lasts about an hour before your wife comes and tears it off."

"Only because it's uncomfortable," Honey Schremmenti walked into the lounge, her Stanley cup in hand. "Who wants to lay on plastic while watching Moesha reruns?"

"The couch is not meant to be laid on," Melissa scolded her wife.

"You weren't saying that wh—"

"Hey-yo!" The loud, commanding voice of Ava Coleman interrupted Honey before she could finish her sentence, much to Melissa's relief. "What it do, baby-boos? What y'all think about this little film crew I brought in here?"

"Distracting. Makes our jobs harder," Melissa answered nonchalantly.

"But exciting. We about to be on TV," Ava bragged, clearly enjoying the attention.

"Because they are covering underfunded, poorly managed public schools in America," Barbara chimed in, joining the conversation.

"No press is bad press, Barb. Look at Mel Gibson. Still thriving," Ava laughed. "Daddy's Home? Hilarious!" She waited expectantly for a reaction.

Ava's our principal here at Abbott. I actually like her—she makes the day... interesting. I mean, she has good ideas, but poor execution. But she does do a lot for the students, and with this show, I think it's actually a good idea to bring awareness to how government funding affects public education. Not a lot of families can afford private school, and then they're expected to send their kids to college.

At that moment, a teacher rushed into the lounge, looking frazzled. "Ava, can I talk to you? Uh, I need an aide. I'm outnumbered in there. The kids are crazy. One of them told me to mind my six this morning. I don't know what that means, and I need help."

"Calm down. They're just kids," Ava dismissed the panic with a wave of her hand.

"And, besides, aides cost money, and we don't have that."

"Right, but I just—"

"Do you want to split your salary with somebody else?" Ava raised a brow, cutting her off. "Because unless you do, we're not getting aides."

Ms. Schwartz sighed in exhaustion. "No."

"No, no. I didn't think so," Ava smirked.

"Well, if we can't get aides, maybe we can get new rugs?" Janine jumped in, trying to redirect the conversation.

Ava rolled her eyes. "All I'm hearing is, 'New, new, new, need, need, need.' And yet, Barb—one of our best and most senior teachers—never complains. What is your secret, Barb?" Ava sauntered over to the oldest teacher in the room.

"Knowing there's not much you can do, Ava," Barbara replied dryly, throwing subtle shade.

"So understanding. Be like Ms. Howard, people," Ava grinned before walking out just as the bell rang.

Ms. Schwartz crossed her arms, pouting. "But I'm not Ms. Howard."

"Oh! Tina, look, just try some counting exercises," Janine offered, ever the optimist. "Somewhere between one and forty, the kids calm down."

Ms. Schwartz let out another sigh before leaving the lounge.

"You know," Janine turned to the remaining teachers. "A little support might help make things happen, ladies."

"My support was gonna do about as much as that five-year-old bra you've got on right there," Barbara remarked without missing a beat.

"Hey, it's not impossible to get things," Janine shot back. "Melissa asked for those new toy cash registers for her classroom and got them."

Honey shook her head. "Yeah, those aren't toys."

"I know a guy who worked at a Walmart demolition. I got a guy for everything. I know a guy right now working the stadium build," Melissa smirked. "Need rebar?" She started packing up her things.

"No."

"Melissa is resourceful. Capable," Janine admitted.

"Well, I think the younger teachers are capable," she added with a hopeful smile.

"Yeah, Honey is," Barbara excused her goddaughter from the generalization. "But not you guys."

"Yes, we are!" Janine insisted.

"Really? Then why is Ms. Schwartz's hair falling out? Why does Jacob here need a smoking break every five minutes?" Barbara gestured to the teacher next to her.

"I switched to an herbal vape," Jacob corrected.

"And why can't any of you stick it out longer than two years? More turnovers than a bakery," Barbara finished before leaving the lounge.

"Ouch," Jacob muttered. "You know what? Hell, I think we should still try for rugs."

"Yeah," Janine agreed.

Honey scoffed. "You can't." She gestured around the room. "Look around. Act like you know where you are. You're in the public education sector, not private. No one is paying tuition—you're relying on government and city funding, which depends on taxes and priorities. Our community contributes a low percentage because we live in an urban area where people are either getting bought out or shoved out to make it whiter. The average person here makes between ten and forty thousand a year. The sooner you realize that and find other solutions, the easier your job will be." She grabbed her things and walked back to her classroom.

Janine frowned. "Why do I have a feeling she doesn't like me?"

Jacob shrugged. "You know, before I taught here, I was in Zimbabwe. I was doing Teachers Without Borders, and what I learned—"

"Jacob," Janine cut him off. "What did I say about not talking about your time in Africa?"

"You... You told me to—"

"I told you to stop. Yeah, it's weird."

Before Jacob could respond, a student burst into the room. "Miss Honey! Come quick—Ms. Schwartz just kicked Rajon!"

Honey sighed, setting her things down. "Miss Honey students, back in the classroom this instant!" Her voice was firm, and the kids obeyed with exaggerated pouts. 

Closing the door after taking attendance, Honey walked to the front of the class. "To calm down, how about we do silent reading for the next hour? No whispering about what happened in the hallway. I want you all to immerse yourselves in the book as if you're one of the characters. Then, afterward, for our writing lesson, we'll go over how to story map. That way, you can figure out and understand why you're reading in the order that you are when it comes to novels and chapter books."

When it comes to teaching, the biggest no-no is harming a child. First, because it's a child—that's just wrong. Second, you never know whose child you may hit. It could be a parent who's ready to beat your ass for touching their kid. Or it could be a parent who's ready to sue you for everything you're worth. My way of dealing with kids? Reciprocating energy. You ignore me, I ignore you. You throw a tantrum, I throw a tantrum. And if that doesn't work, I manipulate parents into actually being parents.

"Miss Honey! There's a man in the boys' bathroom with a girl. And according to Law & Order: SVU, I know that's wrong!" Tyler, one of Honey's male students, burst into the classroom.

"Okay, everyone, stay here," Honey said, striding over to her desk and grabbing the bat mounted on the wall. "Good job for reporting, Tyler—put a sticker on your passport." She then rushed off to the boys' bathroom.

Abruptly walking in, she spotted a young man she had never seen before, holding hands with one of the younger female students.

"I threw up, Miss Honey," the student admitted, looking queasy.

"Oh, sweetie, let's get your hands and mouth washed," Honey said, gently ushering the girl over to the sink and guiding her through washing her hands. "Okay, all dried. Now, why don't you head to the nurse's office and lie down for a few minutes? Sometimes, throwing up just means our body is tired and needs to settle."

"Okay, Miss Honey," the girl nodded before heading out of the restroom.

"Reverse-y toilet, huh?" Honey turned her attention to the man, resting the bat downward.

"From what the short teacher told me, yes," he replied with a nod. "Um... why do you have a bat?"

"For protection," Honey shrugged. "School shootings are at their highest, and since this is a gun-free zone, I don't have one—nor do I know how to use one. Gotta protect my kids somehow, especially since we can't afford bulletproof pull-out shelters like private schools... and we really don't need to make the school-to-prison pipeline theory more obvious with metal detectors in a predominantly Black school."

"Right," the man nodded in agreement.

"I'm Honey Schremmenti, but you can call me Miss Honey," she introduced herself with a smile. "I teach fourth grade here."

"I'm Gregory Eddie," he replied, offering a forced smile. He wasn't able to reciprocate her same bubbly energy—it just wasn't his nature.

---

Before Honey could tell her classroom to put away their snacks as rest time was over and it was now time to learn the basics of fractions, the intercom beeped, and the voice of the principal was heard.

"Good morning, teachers. During passing, please come to the front entrance for a special announcement about some much-needed improvements to the school that I made happen."

"Oh no," Honey mumbled to herself, knowing she was about to witness a good disappointment prompted by a short, annoying, proactive, no-patience-having teacher named Janine.

"I got a good feeling about this," Jacob joined Janine outside in front of the school as the teachers all tried to find some type of warmth.

"Right? Me too," Janine smiled.

"I don't," Honey commented, snuggling up to her wife to find some warmth in the cold fall weather of Philadelphia.

"Good morning," Ava walked out the front doors of the building.

"Good morning," Janine smiled.

"Gregory," Ava smirked, looking at the substitute teacher, causing eyes to travel to him as he hid for cover. "The district was so moved by my plea that they approved the emergency budget and sent us the money right away." This prompted clapping from the teachers as some of them believed change would be made, but the three who knew better didn't clap, saving their energy for the reality reveal of Ava's actions. "Okay, we could have hired aides, we could have got rugs, but then I thought, 'No. We need something more immediate.'"

"Oh, no, no," Janine interrupted. "The rugs are immediate. They're... they're like instant Xanax for kids. I explained it all in my email."

"Girl, who told you to send an email?"

"You did."

"Anyway, I always feel better when I get my hair done," the principal continued, making sure to show off her new hairdo. "Thus, I do better work, like I'm doing now. You know, fix the outside, the inside takes care of itself." She pulled down a tarp and revealed a new school sign with her picture on it. "Y'all seeing this?"

"A plastic sign?"

"Thank God for the school district, 'cause they gave us $3,000, and I had to spend all of it."

"You spent all of the money on this?!" Janine looked at her boss in disbelief.

"Rush job. Can you believe this quality?" Ava commented.

"How's that optimism taste?" Barbara leaned in toward the shorter teacher.

"I didn't know you wrote 'big plastic sign' in your email to the board?" Honey smirked, sensing this was going to happen.

"This is ridiculous!" Janine complained as she strode through the hallway with Jacob and Gregory. "She has gone too far. Somebody needs to do something. I..."

"Yes, yes," Jacob agreed. "Somebody should do something."

"You know what? I'm gonna do something."

"Okay. Alright. Whatever you do, I will cosign it," Jacob got hyped.

"Yes!"

"That is how change works...someone does something, and somebody cosigns it," Jacob said.

"Where's Honey? We need her to cosign it too. She was awarded the most productive teacher here with high results from her students' state testing. If we can get her to co-sign, they will definitely listen."

"No," Honey stated as she walked by them, heading into the teachers' lounge to meet up with her wife and her wife's work wife—aka her godmother.

"Hey, you three. Wait up," Janine somehow managed to catch up with the female trio and join them on the walk out. "I'm going out to lunch, too."

"Oh, yeah? Where you going for lunch, pip-squeak?" Melissa questioned as she fixed her purse on her shoulder with her right hand while her left hand was intertwined with her wife's. "Bird feeder?"

"I thought you'd be working on your next miracle from Saint Ava," Barbara exaggerated.

"More like next disaster," Honey mumbled under her breath.

"Ha ha. No," Janine chuckled. "I don't think I'll need anything from Ava ever again."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, I emailed the superintendent and told him everything that Ava has done today. No way she doesn't get fired."

"Oh, for the love of God."

"Are you stupid or stupid?" Honey squinted her eyes at the new teacher.

"What?" Janine looked at the trio in confusion.

"The superintendent never sees our emails. He has them bounced back to the person in charge of where they came from," Barbara explained to Janine.

"Wait. I'm sorry. Person in charge? That means the emails go back to..."

"Teachers, it's come to my attention that some of you... one of you... think it's okay to go over my head. So during lunch break... this lunch break... we'll be having a trust workshop so that we can learn how to become a work family. It's gonna be fun!"

"We are at a crossroads. This is a crisis," Ava stood in front of all the teachers in the library for a faculty meeting.

"No, a crisis is eating the cafeteria pizza for lunch," Janine held up her plate.

"Uh, why are we here, exactly?" Gregory asked from the back of the room.

"Well, chocolate drop, I learned that someone here doesn't respect me. But it's not about me, 'cause if you don't respect me, how can you respect this school? You can't. It's mathematically impossible."

"W-Whoa. Who doesn't respect you, Ava..." Jacob looked up in worry. "I-I mean, the school?"

"It's not important," the principal shook her head. "We're gonna make this a group matter as to not single any one person out. Let's try an exercise where we say whatever we want out loud to each other, no matter how critical. It'll be fun! Let's start with Janine. Janine?" She brought attention to the shorter teacher.

"Yes?"

---

"You're pushy, squeaky, and annoying." 

"Excuse me?" 

"That's just—" 

"No, it's not bad. No," Ava dismissed the gasps and complaints. "We're sharing with the goal of making us all better. Constructive. Hershey Kiss, why don't you try?" She pointed to Gregory. "Start with Janine." 

"I really don't want to." 

"You're right. It should be someone who knows her better. Jacob, Honey, Barbara?" 

"Well, her hair is..." Jacob started, but Barbara cut him off. 

"Absolutely not." 

"Yeah, absolutely not," Jacob backpedaled. 

"Ava, no one's doing this to anyone," Melissa interjected. 

"Hold on. I came prepared. Sheena, come on in!" Ava waved over one of Janine's students, leading her to the front while the staff looked on in shock. 

"Ava, that is my student. She should be at lunch." 

"I am kind of hungry," the girl mumbled. 

"Sheena, remember what we talked about? What's one thing you wish was different about Ms. Teagues?" Ava asked, crouching down to her level. 

"She got some big feet," the school's janitor, Mr. Johnson, chimed in out of nowhere. 

"Okay, everyone," Janine stepped forward, determined to end this. "That's enough. I'm the one who disrespected Ava. I emailed the superintendent about her spending the school's money on a sign. I'm sorry, Ava, and I'm sorry everyone missed lunch, especially you, Sheena. I did it because I care about the kids in this school, and that shouldn't be a bad thing." She sighed, then turned to Sheena, offering her plate of pizza. "Here, you should have this. I'm so sorry you missed lunch." 

"No, thank you," Sheena shook her head. 

"Okay." With that, Janine left the library. 

"Not a compelling speaker," Ava remarked, watching her leave. "Charisma vacuum, am I right?" 

"You know what, Ava?" Barbara stood up, her patience gone. "Janine is a lot of things—naive, a bit clingy, too cheerful," she said, her tone growing stern. 

"Ooh, this is good stuff! Let me call her back in," Ava smirked. 

Barbara stood, her voice steely. "But she's also right. Wanting to help these kids shouldn't be a bad thing." With that, the three teachers and substitute decided to get up out of their chairs and check on the upset second-grade teacher. 

"And where is everybody going?" Ava questioned, her voice sharp as she watched the others leave. 

"To check on Janine." 

"To eat lunch... after I check on Janine," Melissa added, her tone softening. "Come on, Honey," she tapped the girl on the shoulder, urging her to follow. 

"Do we have to?" Honey whined, staying in her seat. 

"Now!" Melissa scolded, her voice firm. 

"Ugh," Honey groaned, reluctantly pushing herself up from her seat. "This is your fault." She pointed accusingly at the principal before trailing after her godmother and wife. 

They found the second-grade teacher standing by the door, her face drawn and distant, staring at something on the other side. 

"Janine, ignore Ava. Big feet are a sign of fertility," Barbara quipped as the group walked over. 

"Every lunch period, Barbara," Janine stepped away from the door, allowing the older woman a glimpse of why she'd been fighting so hard for a carpet. "Every single one, Amir comes and naps on the rug." 

"Mmhmm. He was in my class," the kindergarten teacher stepped away from the door. "Mom's got a lot of kids. Dad's not around, and when he is, the parents fight." 

"Right. So, he doesn't get much sleep. I told him to sleep at his desk, but he says the rug is softer... softer than his bed at home." A look of quiet remorse settled over all the teachers' faces. "You know what? I don't care if you think I'm good at this or not anymore. I care about whether or not I can make a change." 

"Janine, teachers at a school like Abbott... we have to be able to do it all. We are admin. We are social workers. We are therapists. We are second parents. Hell, sometimes, we're even first." 

"Mmhmm," Melissa nodded in agreement. 

"Why? Heh, it sure ain't the money," Barbara lectured, her voice dry. 

"Mmhmm. I could make more working the street... easy," Melissa added, her tone laced with sarcasm. "Look, we do this because we're supposed to. It's a calling. You answered." 

"I believe it was Brother Cornel West—" 

"Don't." 

"Not right now." 

"Don't!"

"You want to know my secret? Do everything you can for your kids. We'll help. Hey, I suggest we put our money together and buy Janine the rug. What do y'all think?"

"Absolutely."

"Nah."

"Yes."

"Guys, you can't," Janine says, her voice filled with appreciation but also a deep understanding of their financial constraints. "You don't have it. I know because I have the same salary as you, and I overdrafted on a doughnut hole this morning."

"Well, what are you gonna do? Steal a rug?"

"Not me, but I know a guy who knows a guy." Janine looks over at Melissa with a hopeful gleam in her eye.

"Way ahead of you. I'm gonna have to bake a ziti," the Italian woman says, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her contacts. "Hey, Tony, you big strunz, listen— you still working that stadium build?"

"Make me one too, please," Honey calls out to her wife, watching as she walks away with her phone pressed to her ear.

---

"Oh my God. He came," Janine says with a wide smile as Melissa opens the door, revealing a man standing in front of a truck loaded with rugs.

"Go get it." All the teachers head down to retrieve a rug, gratitude written across their faces.

"Hey, thank you so much. What's your name?"

"I got no name."

"He doesn't got a name."

"Move it along, Pipsqueak."

[rcmclachlan]

I am not normally super femme but I've been interested in pin up fashion as a way to play dress up in the femme space and have fun with it! Your shoot was goals!! Any tips/places to start?

Pin-up fashion has certainly evolved over the years, and when people think 'pin-up' they actually tend to think of the bombshells of the 1950s, not 40s—you know, swing skirts, wiggle dresses, sweetheart necklines, etc.

This type of fashion has made a comeback in a big way! There are tons of stores out there that cater to this look. Here are some easily accessible ones:

Unique Vintage (probably the cheapest in this list, some good finds!)

Trashy Diva (excellent quality, sizes go up to 24)

Pin Up Girl Clothing (hit or miss)

Be warned: these places tend to be quite expensive (esp. Trashy Diva), although they will hold sales from time to time that will definitely ease the sticker shock!

A good place to start might be simply going to Poshmark or Etsy and searching for "pin up dress/clothing". As long as you know your measurements, you'll be good to go!

Everything I've learned about 1940s/1950s fashion is thanks to one of my best friends, who wears only true vintage clothing, which she gets via thift stores, online trading forums, and Etsy (there are some great vintage stores on there!).

Let's take a quick look at 1940s/50s fashion, starting with said bestie's wedding day in 2017:

She found her dress in a thift store—believe it or not, it was from 1941 and required not a single alteration. She was meant to have that dress.

The bridesmaids' dresses were actually from Trashy Diva and they were extremely well made. Here I am with the maid of honor, accidentally recreating that famous photo of Sofia Loren and Jayne Mansfield:

During the 1940s, because of the war, fashion stalled a little. During the first half of the decade, "utility clothing" was the big thing (silks and nylons were rationed for the war effort, so rayon was used instead). Dresses were characterized by padded shoulders, nipped-in waists, and A-line hems that hit the knee. Tweed and plaid were popular. (x) (x)

Post-war fashion was kicked off by Christian Dior's "New Look," which emphasized the hourglass silhouette and full skirts. Hollywood icons Katherine Hepburn and Lauren Bacall influenced fashion by popularizing wide-legged trousers:

High waisted, wide-legged trousers with a flowy blouse tucked in? The elegance! The utility! The long silhouette! Can't beat it.

The 1950s had a pretty stark gender divide in comparison to the 1940s. Women's fashion in the 50s emphasized elegance and extremely tailored looks to prize tiny waists.

The "house dress"—which has become synonymous with the pin-up—rose in popularity:

Because when you're running errands and taking care of the home, you want to look your best! These dresses boasted even fuller skirts than what we saw in the 40s, plus crossed collars, waist belts, and pockets.

However! That's not to say it was all Leave It To Beaver glam. The denim revolution happened during the 50s, partly influenced by James Dean's jeans-wearing bad boy in Rebel Without A Cause. Teens went crazy for the style, which was banned at most schools.

For an in-depth look at post-war fashion, this Wikipedia article gives a great overview!

Anyway, all this to say that there are plenty of resources out there to get you started. 1940s and 50s fashion is so classic and is surprisingly easy to tweak if you'd like it to be more modern, especially since high-rise, wide-legged pants are back in style.

Hope this helped! :-)

[waltzingwithyourenemyattheball]

PICK A CARD: THIS MESSAGE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE

Left: 111; Right: 333

Disclaimer:

🪈 Take what resonates and leave the rest

🪈 Disclaimer in highlight applies here

🪈 Thank you for letting me read for you, it has been a pleasure

🪈Personal readings are paid only.

🪈No one is allowed to copy my work under any circumstances.

✨111✨

You live life in defined stages, set in their ways, dislike change. Anal personality, structured, to-do lists that must be crossed off and any step out of the system creates irritation. You are doing something you don’t want, to get something you don’t want, simply because you once decided. You are being told to embrace partnership, learning how to dance would help, choose a dance style in which it involves two people going in a rhythm like salsa. This will help with adaptability and flexibility which you really need. Tightness in body will be gone to. You take the road taken while yearning for adventure, you think, but you never act. hesitant energy due to defeated mindset: first the world defeated you and now you defeat you. You need love, you like love, you crave love and affection but darn it if you show this. You crave intimacy. You like to seem tough. You want softness. A go-getter. Someone who says they don’t have time for love and will focus on their career. A free thinker who doesn’t like changes. Theme of  love life: opposites attract like rebel meets high school sweetheart, princess and the frog, forbidden romance. Loyal to a fault. MAIN MESSAGE: Embrace partnerships especially romantic, it will change your life. Don’t rush but embrace, go out on dates, meet people, BE VULNERABLE. Now listen carefully: there is no shame in wanting to be loved, it’s the most human thing to feel. Work on this and many of your problems will vanish, like literally be banned from your life. 

COMMENT ‘111’ To claim this! 🌙DM for a personal tarot reading🌙

✨333✨

*If all this isn’t happening currently, it means you must make it happen* NEW BEGINNINGS. All the conflict and shame is in the past, all the cold wars, all the over analysis, complaining and gossiping, all the plans are out the window. It is a fresh new start. ‘Beautiful’ by NCT might be relevant for you. You have worked hard to save relationships, biting your tounge and all to the deterioration of your own happiness. No more. You are done. You are done in a good way. ALL YOUR focus and all you energy is being invested in changes, changing decor, moving homes, letting go of the stuff in your house that doesn’t bring you joy, a de-clutter. It’s like moving into a new environment where no one has a pre-concieved notion of who you are, so you can begin anew. You can be who you want to be. You are being told to not rush the process, it might already be at a good velocity, learn from your past but not let old experiences get in the way of making new ones. LEAVE THE BAGGAGE. CUT CORDS. It seems like you are moving away from family and siblings for some of you. A year from now, it’s a different story, a good one. CHANNELED PHRASES: new home, relief, reminiscing past as simply past with no negativity. You are a hard worker and it will be rewarded and I know you are tired of hearing the word patient, but you will be rewarded soon. Fight for your place in the world, don’t let people walk over you. Remember Energy flows where attention goes, if you constantly keep replaying the past in your head like a cassette and its like asking ‘Why won’t the music stop when I hit replay’, its because you are replaying it, and harbouring resentment. LEARN TO FIGHT BACK. Don’t show the other cheek, and make do. Make the best of the situation but that doesn’t mean you let go of your rights, please communicate your desires and work towards it, instead of running away from conflict.   COMMENT ‘333’ To claim this! 🌙DM for a personal tarot reading🌙

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EL TAROT