#how to use Google Meet for teachers

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[angel06babysworld]

hi love! can i request baby!daddy!rafe getting jealous when he sees his kid’s teacher flirting with reader?🤭

baby!daddy!rafe x blackcat!reader

A+ in Jealousy

You hear Vivianna before you see her. Her voice carries down the preschool hallway, bright and fast and full of the kind of chaotic detail only a two-and-a-half-year-old can summon. Something about a bug on the playground and how Moon the cat knows magic now. You close your eyes briefly, pressing two fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Too chatty” doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You glance at the time. Two minutes until the meeting. Rafe said he’d be here. You didn’t ask him to come—but he offered. Said it like he was proud of himself for remembering, like the bar wasn’t resting on the floor.

Then you hear it: his footsteps. That soft scuff of sneakers moving just a little too fast, the familiar voice trailing after it.

“Hey, hey—I made it,” Rafe says, a little breathless, slowing when he spots you outside the door. “You beat me.”

You arch a brow. “That’s usually how clocks work.”

He grins like he deserves points just for showing up. He’s in that navy quarter-zip he likes, the sleeves pushed up, hands tucked in the front pocket of his khakis like he’s trying to look more stable than he feels. His hair’s a little messy, like he didn’t have time to do more than run a hand through it before showing up. He smells like spearmint gum and whatever cologne you used to steal from his glovebox three years ago.

“Brought this for you,” he says, holding out a small to-go cup of black coffee. Not your usual, but still—he remembered how you like it. “Didn’t have time to wait for the frothy thing you like.”

You take it, eyes narrowing. “Thanks.”

He smiles, but it’s softer now. Gentler. “Of course.”

You both turn as the classroom door opens and a tall man in slim-fit slacks and a Henley shirt you know he picked to look casual-hot waves you in.

“Miss. L/N? Mr. Cameron? Thanks for coming.”

You step in first, Rafe behind you, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back before he thinks better of it and pulls it away. You pretend not to notice.

Mr. Keller, Vivi’s teacher, has one of those magazine-smile faces���bright white teeth and an intentional five o’clock shadow. He gestures to two chairs across from him, one of which is painfully tiny. Rafe hesitates, then folds himself into it with a quiet grunt. You sit beside him, posture straight, eyes already on the folder in front of the teacher.

“First off,” Mr. Keller begins, looking at you and only you, “your daughter is brilliant. Seriously. She’s curious, emotionally in tune, wildly articulate. She told me yesterday that the moon doesn’t sleep because it has to watch over the dark. I had to Google it to make sure she didn’t pull it from a poem.”

You smile despite yourself. “That sounds like her.”

“She’s got a little spark in her. Very confident. And she clearly loves talking,” he says, eyes lingering just a beat too long. “Especially about you.”

Rafe shifts beside you, but says nothing.

“She talks about how you do everything. How you’re the one with the answers. That you can ‘make sad things stop hurting.’ It’s honestly pretty incredible.”

You nod, but something about the way Keller says it makes you set your jaw. “We both raise her.”

“Of course,” he says quickly, glancing at Rafe like he just remembered he was in the room. “I didn’t mean otherwise. It’s just—she clearly adores her mom.”

Rafe lets out a quiet breath beside you. Not a loud one. But it’s there.

“She’s social, which is great,” Keller continues. “But she’s also kind of… rallying the troops, if you know what I mean. Leading a full-on storytelling circle during math hour. We’re just trying to help her learn when to share and when to listen.”

“She gets that from you,” Rafe says, nudging your elbow gently, a little grin on his face. “The storytelling part.”

You glance at him sideways. “You’re not exactly quiet yourself.”

His smile widens, like you remembering who he used to be means something to him.

Mr. Keller smiles too—though not at Rafe. His eyes are still on you. “Do you think you could come in next week for reading time? Vivianna keeps saying your voices are better than mine.” He laughs, like it’s a joke, but it’s not really. “Would be fun to see that in action.”

You blink. “Uh… maybe.”

“Just let me know. I can work around your schedule.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Rafe leans back in his chair slowly, one arm stretching across the back of yours like it just ended up there, except it’s a little too tense to be accidental. He’s not touching you. But it’s a claim.

“Think we’ve covered everything?” Rafe asks, tone too even. Not angry. But off.

Keller clears his throat. “Yes, for now. Thanks again for coming in.”

You stand, pushing your chair back with a soft scrape. Keller gives you a smile you don’t return.

Rafe doesn’t say a word until you’re back in the hallway. “Real friendly guy,” he mutters, jaw tight.

You glance at him. “He was doing his job.”

“Oh, sure. Talking about your voice, your schedule, looking at you like you’re a single mom on a dating app—yeah, super professional.”

You pause, one eyebrow lifting. “Are you seriously jealous of Vivi’s preschool teacher right now?”

Rafe stops walking. “I’m not jealous of him. I’m pissed because he looked at you like you weren’t already mine.”

The silence that follows is sharp. Your breath catches in your chest.

“You don’t get to say that,” you say quietly. “You had your chance to be something more. You didn’t take it.”

“I know,” he says, voice low, raw. “But I’m still here. I’m still trying. Doesn’t that count for something?”

You hold his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that makes your stomach twist—hope, desperation, guilt, love that’s still clumsy but real.

“I’m not going to be something you win back just because another man looked at me,” you tell him. “You want me? Prove you deserve this family.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just nods, quietly. Then falls into step behind you again.

Still following. Still learning how to show up.

tags: @amelialovesrafe @hearts4hughes

[mclager]

Better than Duolingo | Franco Colapinto x singer!reader

Meyn

Liked by Francolapinto and others

Meyn 300th day streak on Duolingo and my 22nd birthday, so here is my first Spanish caption: Ya no quiero que me finjas mas amor, mientras que me engañas y sin razón, es por eso que esta farsa ya se acabó! Bye bye feliz cumpleaños. 🎂🎉

View all comments

Francolapinto Looking good in this shirt ;)

→ meyn Thanks :)

Francolapinto Did you just quoted RBD?

→ meyn Maybe...

→ meyn Wait, did you just on spot noticed it was a RBD song? Who are you?

→ Francolapinto I'm Franco, nice to meet you

User43 what is Franco doing here?

→ user77 he's flirting

User19 you did your own cake?

→ meyn One of them, yes 🙂‍↕️

→ user67 we love a multi talented queen!

Meyn

🎵 yn • Good Graces

Liked by Francolapinto and others

Meyn Boy, it's not that complicated you should stay in my good graces, or I'll switch it up like that, so fast 'Cause no one's more amazing at turning loving into hatred 🙊

View all comments

User82 she is trying to soft launch the guy that was flirting with her in the IN HER COMMENTS????

User91 So, Franco?

User11 yes

Francolapinto Hoping to stay in your Good Graces!

→ user43 this man is anti soft launch

→ Meyn You're in my Good Graces (keep it that way)

Francolapinto

🎵 yn • Bed Chem

Liked by meyn and others

Francolapinto Duolingo ¡voy por ti!

(Duolingo I'm coming for you!)

View all comments

Meyn *cleans throat* Guapo!

→ Meyn Please, applause for my Spanish!

→ Francolapinto Mi amor, you're awful, but I love you anyway

→ Meyn YOU'RE MY TEACHER, HELP ME!

→ Francolapinto Come to my house, I'll teach you a lot in a very fun way ;)

→ Meyn 🏎️💨!!!

User43 are they... Sure, I hope PR don't see this

User87 ON MAIN?

User72 THE SONG

→ User66 SHE HAS SO MANY SONGS AND THAT'S THE ONE HE PICKS?

→ Meyn Franco core

Meyn

🎵 yn • Nonsense

Liked by Francolapinto and others

Meyn Ok, I trained for this one! Eres el amor de mi vida, boludo!

Ps. man slept mid autograph section, I'm the better famous in this relationship

Pss. mate is not that bad (he almost killed me when I asked for sugar... I'm sorry babe, I didn't knew it was a crime)

Psss. Duolingo is fun, but I didn't learn anything useful... Franco is better than Duolingo, who would've thought?

View all comments

Francolapinto I love you too, boluda!

Francolapinto you Google translated didn't you?

→ meyn No, I actually just wrote what you said to me 🤫

The comments were limited

→ Francolapinto works

Francolapinto I'm coming for that owl's job!

→ Duolingo You know how to fight?

→ Francolapinto You know how to race?

→ Meyn GO BABE TELL THEM!

[dateko]

a/n: another rando drabble... twas hiding amidst the dust in my drafts... i will never get to see the four of these silly geese happy ever again and they only exist in my google docs where nothing bad ever happens to them...

“Sensei, what is Sensei to you?” Yuuji asks suddenly, causing Gojo to stop in his tracks.

“Huh? Me?”

This time, Nobara groans. “No, you blindfolded idiot! That Sensei!” 

Gojo follows his young student’s gaze as she tilts her chin towards the field where the second-years are training. 

There, standing beside the ever-adorable Panda, is you. You watch with a proud smile on your face as the second years spar with one another, calling out praises along with death threats coming from Maki. It doesn’t take long for you to notice the first years and their slender mentor watching you from the steps. Your lips fight to bite down a smile as you throw out a wave, watching Satoru lift his mask to wink at you.

“See! See! Like that!” Nobara starts again excitedly, pointing at her teacher. “What is that woman to you?”

“Eh?” Gojo raises an eyebrow before lowering his mask. “She’s… A close friend of mine.”

“Sensei, you’re being secretive.” Yuuji offers him a skeptical look, to which Nobara nods along with adamantly. “Fushiguro, what do you think?”

Megumi glances at your figure with a dragging sigh before walking in front of his classmates. “If you ask me, she’s the one.”

Thing 1 and Thing 2 erupt with rowdy exclamations, practically bouncing off their teacher. Megumi continues to walk with a somewhat satisfied expression. The boy’s known you his entire life. Especially how much you mean to his blue-eyed benefactor. 

“B-but how do you know she’s really the one?” Yuuji asks this time, fully invested in his teacher’s love life.

Gojo shrugs nonchalantly. “I have good eyes, you know.”

“Well, now I just feel sorry for her. She has to deal with you every day!” Nobara deflates immediately, unsure of how to feel knowing someone she respects is romantically affiliated with her headache-inducing instructor.

“Hey! It’s a blessing to deal with me!” 

A pair of footsteps sneak up behind the group. “Deal with who?”

With a hand on your hip, you stop to tilt your head at the pairs of wide eyes looking at you. Even beneath his mask, you can tell Satoru looks more than guilty. 

“Something on my face?” You pat a hand on your cheek, wondering why no one’s said anything to you. 

Nobara breaks the silence by walking up to you with her head down, a downcast expression on her face. “Sensei… I’m so sorry for you…”

Confused and admittedly very concerned, you shoot Gojo a look before patting Nobara’s head reassuringly. And your lover holds a sheepish expression as he holds his hands clasped behind his back, an old habit he used to do when he knew he was in the wrong. 

“Alright, I might as well just say it,” Gojo starts, fixing the collar of his jacket. “I told them about us.”

Your eye widen at his words, lips sputtering for a normal response. “You told them we’re married?”

“Wait, married?! Meeting each other with good feelings is one thing, but married… Sensei, I thought you were better than this…" Nobara shakes her head dramatically before walking off, flashing you a disapproving look before dragging Yuuji along with her.

You watch the younger student walk off with a confused brow before returning to face your lover, who is grinning wildly at you. He's clearly over feeling guilty about exposing your little secret. Your questionable silence comes to Gojo as a queue to pull you into a loving embrace, a quiet apology for blowing your cover.

Without skipping a beat, you return the hug, giving up on trying to scold him. You squeak when Gojo rocks the two of you back and forth, pressing never-ending kisses on your jaw. “Just an FYI, Megumi was the one who told them.” He mutters, nose pressing itself into the crook of your neck.

You gasp, holding his face while you step back to look at him. “He wouldn’t do such a thing!”

“He said that you were the one.”

“Isn’t that what you said?”

“Shut up.”

You let out a giggle, a sound Gojo could listen to for hours on repeat. “You used to be so corny when we dated. Still now.”

“I don't think I could ever stop being corny. Only when it comes to you.”

[nevereclipse]

Perfect All-American Bitch

Pairing: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Genre: Hurt/comfort, ANGST.

Words: 1.5k+

Summary: It's not easy being the daughter of Tony Stark. Your father is a genius, billionaire and philanthropist, so how could you ever dare to be anything less?

Requested: No

Warnings: perfectionism, media & paparazzi, alluded to sh and mentions of scars, panic attacks, pressure, mentions of bodyshaming, use of y/n, reader is referenced wearing a bikini and having a period

A/N: entirely self indulgent, i wish tony was my dad

----

Being Tony Stark's daughter was hard. It wasn't supposed to be - you had the money, the brains, the influence, the body and the face. It should've been easy. After all, your father was a genius. A philanthropist. A hero. Always in the spotlight. Being his daughter was a privilege.

And that was exactly the problem.

Because the thing is, when your father is a hero, everyone knows who you are. The media knows who you are. And the media wasn't known for being kind, or gentle. Everyone was expecting you to live up to your father's legacy - he was a genius, so you had to be too. He'd left a mark on the world, and so should you - but more than anything, they where waiting for you to fail.

And it wasn't even the media - it was everyone, except perhaps, your admittedly oblivious father, who was in your life. Your teachers, your peers, even your friends. They all expected you to live up to Tony's standards. To be perfect. You couldn't lose a mark. Couldn't have a hair out of place. Could never say the wrong thing in public.

It was a crushing weight for anyone to bear, but a seventeen year old high school senior most of all. Your father wasn't completely oblivious to the way the media affected your life, but his knowledge was... limited. You refused to tell him anything, not wanting to worry him. He dealt with enough, what with being an Avenger and near-constantly having to save the world. And he worried enough already. When you were thirteen, he'd found you crying over an article suggesting you needed to lose weight, and he'd spent the next six months constantly checking in on you to make sure you ate, on top of banning you from looking at media articles.

You frequently ignored that rule. So frequently in fact, that you had Google notifications turned on for Y/n Stark. You were admittedly a bit obsessed with your public perception.

For all your father's fear around the media, and all your knowledge of the fact that they would descend upon you the moment you slipped up, the articles were usually... kind. Which was almost worse. Every post praising your mind, or your body, or anything, just raised the standards which you had to meet.

----

You sat at your desk, hair still damp against your back, and muscles aching from almost an entire day spent at the beach. It’d been your best friend, Zahra’s birthday, and she’d insisted that you and your friends have what she called a ‘water and art festival,’ which really only including the five of you swimming all morning and painting on the beach all afternoon, whilst lounging in bikinis. You’d been hesitant at first – your period had just finished, and you felt slightly bloated, and you had a maths exam coming up which you desperately needed to study for. But Zahra was the youngest of your group, only freshly 17, and when faced with her pleading puppy dog eyes, you’d given in and agreed to attend her ‘festival.’ Besides, two of your friends had spent the day not-so-subtly eyeing off your body, jealousy in their eyes, and another had made numerous comments about how you could easily afford to skip a day of study because you were just ‘so naturally smart.’

Despite that, it'd been an amazing day, though part of your mind had been preoccupied running through formulas, but you were feeling the costs of it now as you sat, staring at the half-done practice test on your desk. So far, you were confident you’d gotten everything right, but the test only covered half the content you needed to have perfected by next week. You were decidedly not a maths person, a fact you were painfully aware of. Sure, you managed to maintain straight As in maths, but it was a lot of work, and it left you feeling constantly inadequate when compared to Tony ‘My maths is always right’ Stark.

You couldn’t afford to fail this exam. It was your senior year, and everything counted, and anything less than an A couldn’t be accepted. Universities were watching your every move, practically begging to hand you scholarships, and the media was perched waiting to joyfully announce that you’d secured valedictorian – or failed to. And so, you slaved away.

The question in front of you taunted you. You knew, in theory, how to do it, but every time you tried, you got it wrong. Every cross shaped mark of the red pen seemed to scream ‘NOT GOOD ENOUGH.’ Your hands started to shake as you tried the question another time. You shouldn’t have gone out, you’d wasted so much time and now you were going to fail and everyone was going to realize you were an imposter and you didn’t deserve to be a Stark because you weren’t good enough.

Your pen clattered on the desk in front of you just as you started to hyperventilate. Your breath wasn’t coming normally, and it seemed as if static was playing in your head, mixed with voices chanting out all the ways you didn’t live up to standards.

A series of notifications on your phone pulled you out of your panic. The sound snapped you back to reality, and you closed your eyes for just a few seconds. The panic started to subside, and you managed to get some air into your lungs. Only then did you check your phone.

And by God, did you regret it. Three new Google alerts stared back at you, all accompanied by different images of you at the beach earlier that day. The first wasn’t too bad, though it sent thoughts of time-wasting whirring in your mind again–

‘Y/N STARK: WORKING HARD OR HARDLY WORKING? DOES THE DAUGHTER OF A GENIUS EVEN NEED TO STUDY?’

The next was worse, and you breathing again quickened-

‘BIKINI BODY OR BIKINI BELLY? Y/n Stark’s new bikini is a… bold choice.’

One arm instinctively wrapped around your stomach, and you knew, you knew it was stupid, but you couldn’t stop it. You should’ve known this would happen, should’ve known better than to go outside not looking perfect. Still, this had happened before, and you fought off the tears pricking at your eyes. But it was the final article title that sent your blood running cold.

‘STARK HEIRESS NOT SO PERFECT? SCARS SPOTTED ON THE TEEN AT FRIEND’S BEACH PARTY.’

The article heading was accompanied by an inappropriately close up shot of your thighs, which were dappled in thin, straight, white lines. Your stomach dropped, your worst fear coming to life. The scars were old, from over a year ago, at one of the worst periods of your life. You’d spent every spare second obsessively checking the news and the weight of your perfectionism had nearly crushed you. Still, you’d managed to marginally improve and hadn’t touched scissors in that way in over a year. And you’d managed to make sure the media hadn’t found out. But you’d been so preoccupied by your stomach, and your upcoming exam that you hadn’t even thought about making sure the scars were covered.

You’d failed, and soon the whole world was going to know you were a failure, and you weren’t the perfect princess they thought you were. You were scarred, fragile, not as smart as your father, never as good as your father and- your vision was starting to go black. You hadn’t realized you’d stopped breathing, but you were soon quickly trying to suck air in. It wasn’t working. Because why would something you ever did, work?

“Kid?” Your father was knocking rapidly at your door, “Y/n, honey, I need you to open the door.”

You couldn’t get enough air in your lungs to say anything, so you made some vague gesture you hoped JARVIS would interpret as ‘let him in.’ You heard the door click, and soon, Tony was rushing over your desk, kneeling in front of you.

“Honey? Y/n, honey, hey, what’s going on?” Tony quickly looked over you, clearly recognizing you were having a panic attack. He’d talked you out of enough of them to know them by just the sound of your breathing. His eyes fell to your maths paper, and he was going to ask about it, but then they fell further and landed on your phone screen, the article title still visible. His eyes immediately darkened, and he bit out an angry ‘motherfuckers’ under his breath. He quickly shut off your phone, throwing it onto your bed and out of your reach.

“Okay.” Tony grabbed your hand, his warmth grounding you, “Honey. I need you to look at me? Can you look at me, kid?”

Just barely, you managed to meet his eyes. They were filled with concern.

“Good job, you’re doing great. Okay, can you squeeze my hands? That’s perfect. Alright, breath with me, okay?” Tony took an exaggerated breath in, “Like this,” And an exaggerated breath out. “In… and out…”

You slowly began to breath with him, but as soon as your breath returned, you collapsed into his arms, sobs wracking your body.

“They fou- they found out, Dad.” You sobbed, “They weren’t supposed to know, I can’t- They can’t know- I shouldn’t’ve let them find out, ‘m a fuckin’ failure, Dad…”

You couldn’t see it, but as soon as the word ‘failure’ left your lips, Tony’s entire face collapsed. He slowly smoothed one hand over your hair as he whispered, “Hey, kid, that’s ridiculous. You’re not a failure, at all. They’re the fuckin’ failures, for making news articles out of information they shouldn’t have. You are perfect.”

“But I’m not,” You cried, pulling back to stare at Tony with a tear-streaked face, “I’m NOT. They all think I am, but I’m not, I can’t do it Dad, I can’t do it. I can’t even do fucking maths, I’m barely passing as a Stark! I can’t keep doing it, ‘m never good enough…” You trailed off, chest heaving and chin dripping.

Your father’s face hardened, “Is that what you think? You listen to me, okay, Y/n? Are you listening? You. Are. A. Stark.” He spat out each word, “You. Are. Good. Enough. Nothing they say will every change that. You don’t need to be perfect, honey, not for me, not for anyone. You don’t even have to be good, okay? I love you, no matter what.” He stroked the hair out of your face, before pulling you into a tight hug. “And for the record? I don’t give a shit if you can do maths or not. I love you, kiddo. Always remember that. You will always be enough, no matter what your friends think, or the paps say.”

Your breathing started to even out, and you looked up at Tony with wide eyes. “Promise?” You whispered, hating how small and childlike your voice sounded.

Tony brushed away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb, “Promise.”

You sniffled and nodded slightly, “Will you help me with my maths?”

A small smile broke onto Tony’s face as he cradled you. “Absolutely. But not tonight. Tonight, we are going to put away this test, go watch a shitty action movie, and gorge ourselves on Ice-cream and New York style pizza, okay?”

“But…”

“Uh-uh. No buts, little miss. Pizza. And ice cream. Now.”

You couldn’t help but smile slightly, before forcing yourself to nod and whisper, “Okay.”

“That’s my girl. Let’s go, kid.”

Tony guided you from your chair and towards the Stark Tower theatre room. And only when you were curled up under a blanket, absentmindedly flicking through Netflix’s selection of action movies (you were going to end up watching something with the Rock, he knew), did Tony quietly command JARVIS to block any sort of notification with your name from your devices, and to start drafting a law suit against the outlet who wrote that article.

fin.

!! DO NOT REPUBLISH OR FEED TO AI !!

[ledesaid]

Excuse me, what does it say there? ▼

▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼▼

"Oh, I get it now, thanks Hal!"

Billy Batson has a objective.

To learn to read... again.

Yes, what happened to him a few days ago is very funny. Billy thinks so. Kid, the Lord of Chaos, had a fight with Billy in his mortal form and the fight was so quick that he didn't even have time to pronounce SHAZAM.

In summary, Billy was hit by a spell that made him forget how to write or read.

"Laugh at this! spoilsport!. Spoilsport!"

Billy doesn't remember having a personal problem with this guy specifically, but now he had this matter in his hands. He was twelve years old, and school was out of reach...

And worse yet, he was embarrassed by the situation as he didn't know who to turn to.

Zatanna and Constantine told him it can't be undone, but he must uncover what was forgotten... Now... How to do it if he can't even write in Google...? He has tried with videos on the internet using voice search, understanding some words and concepts, but it seems useless with every League meeting or just trying to read the subtitles on the news.

So he does the only thing he can think of.

"So... do you remember that you said you would help me if I wanted to learn?"

"I don't forget my promises, Little mortal."

"Well, I want to relearn how to read and write. I used to be fluent, but something magical happened and I forgot everything."

"Fine, I'll talk to my advisor and bring someone."

"Great!"

Teth Adam was... surprised, that his rival would come to him in his mortal form seeking to learn voluntarily... it wasn't how he had imagined it, but it could work... anything to break the wizard's influence over this child.

"I'll also ask them to teach you Arabic and the local dialect."

"No problem."

Meanwhile...

Flash: Are there rumors that Black Adam has a secret child?

Clark: Yes, a correspondent in Egypt is putting the story together, it'll come out in a couple of weeks.

Barry: Wow, I never pictured that guy as a dad.

Clark: In the first draft, they say he has hired the best available teachers in English, Arabic, Russian, Italian, French, and Spanish.

Barry: Do you have a photo?

Clark: No, but they say he must be a little over ten years old, with black hair and blue eyes. Some say his mother could be a foreigner and not from Kahndaq.

Barry: Should we organize a rescue?

Clark: We can't, unless there's a formal complaint, the UN won't let us in, and it could break the diplomacy with Kahndaq.

Barry: But I bet if you tell Batman that an orphan with black hair and blue eyes is in danger, he'll run faster than me to give him a hand... and a cape.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Bats Need Lives Too

Requested Here!

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x wife!reader

Summary: Bruce and the boys have bad days, and as their mom, it's your job to make them better.

Warnings: Bruce and Damian are on the autism spectrum, Jason jokes about dying, mentions of murder and Joker, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | DC Masterlist | Request Info

Photo from Wayne Family Adventures on Webtoon (via Google)

A/N: I don't have autism so I based this depictions off research and common symptoms; if it's inaccurate, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it!

“Bruce!” you yell from the top of the stairs. “Damian!”

You pause, but there’s no reply. Taking a step down, you hit the creaky stair that Bruce hasn’t fixed (for security purposes).

“Ma,” Jason greets as he comes up the stairs. “I’m going to go get some sleep. I told B and the demon brat to do the same, but you know them.”

You smile at his attempt to stay on your good side and wave him past as you wish him a good night. He has a room at the manor like all of the kids do, but it depends on their day and Bruce’s mood as to whether or not they use it.

“Bruce, honey,” you call again as you descend into the Batcave. “It’s time for bed. You too, Damian.”

“We’re almost finished,” Damian replies without looking away from the screen.

“Bruce,” you repeat firmly.

“Almost done,” he mumbles.

You look up toward Wanye Manor, then reach over Bruce’s shoulder to turn the computer monitors off. Damian huffs as Bruce continues to stare at the black screen.

“Boys,” you begin again, squatting between them with a hand on their shoulders. “I know you’re getting close, but you have to sleep. Especially you, Dami.”

Damian considers it for a moment, then nods. Bruce turns toward you slowly, and you smile when his eyes meet yours.

“I’ll hug you both until you agree to go upstairs if that’s what it takes,” you threaten.

That threat used to be more effective before Damian came to expect your hugs daily. Both he and Bruce, all of the Bats for that matter, tend to run from love, but you’ve become the loving mother they need, even when they don’t like it.

“Go to bed, get some sleep, eat some breakfast in the morning, and I promise Gotham will still be here when you’re ready to investigate more.”

Damian slips away from your hand and walks toward the stairs. He calls a weak, “Goodnight,” over his shoulder as you take his previous seat and look at Bruce. He looks tired, though you’ve come to expect it now.

“Bad day?” you murmur, gently taking his face in your hands.

“Will I always be two steps behind?” he asks against your palm.

“If you don’t stop to rest, you’ll be three steps behind,” you answer honestly.

“You’re supposed to say, no, love and light of my life, you’re doing great,” Bruce teases.

“And you’re supposed to listen to me. Now, are you going to bed with me, or shall I invite Goliath to keep your spot warm?”

“When did you become the bad cop?” Bruce asks as he pulls you up and against his chest.

“Since your children started acting just like you.”

“What will Alfred think?” Bruce asks dramatically.

“That he deserves five times as much vacation time now that there’s so many of you.”

When Damian’s teacher at Gotham Preparatory called you in for her concerns about Damian’s behavior, you took what she said seriously. You knew about Damian’s past and his family, of course; when she kindly suggested having him screened for autism, you already knew what the doctor would say. You’ve suspected for years that Bruce was on the spectrum, but having him or his children screened would be a Gotham Gazette headline and a press nightmare that you did not need. So, you did your own research on how to help your boys whenever they need it. Within a few days, Damian was interested in your new approach and set out to learn about the disorder with you.

“Dick told me it was impolite to call people disgraces, but disordered is acceptable?” Damian asked as he read an article on the screening process.

“The person isn’t disordered, Dami, it’s a neurological and developmental disorder. That just means the way you learn, and act isn’t the same as normal people,” you explained. “Though, personally, normal has always felt like more of an insult.”

Damian tutted in agreement before he continued reading, and you smiled as you flipped through a list of symptoms you’ve seen in the manor for years. Many of them had occurred before Damian came along.

“Hey!” Dick calls as he and Jason enter the manor. “So, gala tonight. Is it mandatory?”

“It is,” you answer with a sympathetic frown. “Though if you bring a date, I’d be more than happy to make up excuses for why you leave early.”

“That’s never gotten me out of patrol before,” Jason argues.

“Are you talking about when Poison Ivy doused you with her plant toxin?” you reply.

“I wanted to leave early with a date.”

“She would have killed you,” Dick interjects. “What is wrong with you?”

Jason shrugs as he uses his default answer of, “Died once.”

“That’s enough,” you stop them with a chuckle. “Yes, you have to come to the gala, but you don’t have to stay the whole time. Especially if you’d like to take Damian with you when you leave.”

“I thought he was doing better,” Jason says.

“He’s getting better at the social communication issues, but, you know, it’s Gotham and he’s got a social battery just like the rest of us.”

“Is that why you’ve been separating him and Bruce?” Dick asks.

“Just on the bad days. They need space and a chance to do something they actually like. It’s worked better than anything else, and then, when they’re ready, I force them to receive my love.”

Jason shudders dramatically before you direct them to see Alfred for their suits for the gala. Dick and Jason both hug you on their way out, and you sigh as you return your attention to a memo for Wayne Enterprises about Bruce’s upcoming sabbatical. He doesn’t know it’s coming, but he needs it, and you will make him take it.

The night after the gala, you roll over in bed and reach for Bruce. His side of the bed is empty, and you open your eyes after your arm meets the cold sheet where your husband should be. You swing your legs off the bed, reach for your robe, and sigh tiredly. Bruce has been running himself ragged recently. You know why, there’s been a string of murders and timed escapes from Arkham, but he can’t solve everything in a night sitting in the Batcave.

He's been Batman more than Bruce the last week, and it’s time for you to step in and intervene. The Batcave is cold at night, and you pull your robe tighter around you as you walk toward Bruce’s back. He’s still in his cape and cowl, and when you sit beside him, he glances over quickly but pointedly avoids your eyes. You lay your hand on his arm, but he rolls his shoulder and opens the same file for the third time since you arrived. He’s getting obsessive and repetitive, and if you don’t stop him now, he’ll get impulsive and get himself or one of your kids hurt.

“Bruce are you okay?” you ask softly.

Bruce stands quickly, knocking his chair over and letting your hand fall back to your lap. “Do I look okay?” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

You raise your hands but don’t speak. Bruce turns away quickly and reaches for the computer controls. Slowly, you stand and place your fingers over his wrist. Bruce slows but doesn’t stop or look at you.

“Why are you wearing the cowl?” you ask.

“I have to stop him before he does it to someone else.”

“Joker?” you guess.

Bruce’s jaw tightens, and his forearm stiffens beneath your touch as his fingers curl into a fist.

“Bruce, you need a break. A real break, not just a walk around the manor while you think about it.”

“And if it happens while I’m on a break? Then I have even more blood on my hands!”

You shake your head and take his hands in yours. “It will be on mine, too, then. But do not take yourself away from me and the boys because of him. He’s done more than enough.”

“I have to finish. Batman has to end this.”

“And you will, but right now, you’re only hurting yourself and the people closest to you. Exactly what he wants.”

Bruce drops his head before he releases your hand to rip the cowl away from his face. You smile at him, but his eyes are on the floor.

“You need sleep,” you whisper.

Bruce nods and turns away from you to remove the rest of his equipment. Your love may be tough love sometimes, but it is what Bruce needs on days like today.

“Where are the boys?” you ask.

“Damian’s here, in bed. Dick and Jason are in Blüdhaven and Tim is on patrol.”

“Alone?”

“Helena’s with him,” Bruce assures you. “He’s safe.”

“Then leave Batman, the files, the lack of sleep, all of it down here, and let’s get you somewhere safe, too.”

Bruce allows you to lead him upstairs and into bed, but before you can ask if he feels better, his arm tightens around you as he drifts to sleep.

“Good morning,” Alfred greets.

“Good morning, Alfred,” you reply. “Bruce won’t be joining us just yet.”

“Thank goodness. If only his child felt the same urge for resting.”

“Damian?” you assume.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll bring him to breakfast. Thanks, Alfred.”

Alfred nods and resumes cooking as you begin searching the manor for Damian. He tends to gravitate toward the room with the most swords, the display room on the third floor. As you enter with a knock, Damian keeps his eyes on the floor. A row of model cars is lined up before him, and the weapons on the wall are untouched.

“Hi, Dami,” you say.

“Mother,” he answers quickly.

“Are you practicing or playing?”

“There is no reason to continue practicing,” he answers.

You take a deep breath as you lean against the back of the chair. Damian has done this before, restricted himself from one of his hobbies, and it’s the hardest thing to bring him back from.

“Why not?” you inquire.

“I understand that there are more things I should know how to do, regardless of my interest in it.”

“Dami, you can do what you like. You don’t have to be a stereotype.”

“I am not a stereotype; I am simply expanding my skillset.”

“By…”

“Memorizing the make, model, and best year of popular cars.”

“I see,” you respond as you sit in the chair. “And these are in… year order?”

“Alphabetical model.”

You nod and look at the row of cars. “Is the blue one a Corvette? Because it should be on the other side of the Camaro.”

Damian freezes momentarily before he sinks to his knees and flips the car over. He sets it down and shoves it harshly, sending it into the wall as he presses his fists into the floor. You move to sit beside him but don’t touch him.

“Breathe,” you encourage. “It’s okay.”

“I can’t change them,” he mumbles. “It doesn’t work.”

“That’s okay. Put them however you want.”

“Will Baba allow me to patrol this evening?” he asks, changing the topic.

“That depends. He’s taking a break right now.”

“Then I should be out defending Gotham!”

Damian stands quickly and pulls a katana from the display case. He looks at it, then returns it.

“Dami, not right now,” you say as you stand.

“I don’t need Batman with me!” he argues.

“I’m not saying you do, Damian. What do you need here, in the manor?”

Damian shakes his head, and you remain in your place. Damian’s shoulders drop slowly, and he picks up the Corvette he shoved away to return it to its place. You smile when he looks up at you, and Damian stands closer to you as you tell him that Alfred is making breakfast.

“C’mon,” you urge him. “Let’s go eat and when Bruce wakes up, you can ask him about patrol.”

“Perhaps I could take a break as well,” he suggests.

“That would be nice,” you agree. “Maybe you’d like to join me for a movie night.”

“Movie night?!” Dick yells from the dining room. “I’m in!”

You and Damian shake your heads together as you walk in.

“Maybe it should be a family night,” Bruce interjects from the head of the table.

Damian sits beside you as you begin discussing which movie to watch. While Damian joins the discussion, Bruce meets your eyes from across the table and mouths, Thank you.

You shrug. You’re the mom of Gotham’s Bats, it’s your job to keep them in line and remind them to live.

[possum-fiend]

CHAT I ACTUALLY FINISHED :0

This took like way too long to finish, but it was fun and actually turned out kinda good?!?!? (for my art at least)

Anyways, hope y'all enjoy! For folks who may not have seen my previous post when this was unfinished, this was an AU where Wirt grows up to be like a HS English Teacher cause it just fits really well for him tbh (and I'm obsessed). I first got the AU idea from the fic "Will 'Cook' for Food" by @skimmingmilk and @sylwritesstuff (I thought it was a lot more popular of a headcanon like Writer!Dipper but alas it's only in like 3 fics).

so...yeah :p

TEXT UNDER THE CUT

**I typically go right to left then top to bottom like the Westerner I am

Top Left- Boxes:

Color Pallet (Title)

Skin and Hair (Sub Label)

Clothes (Sub Label)

Top Middle/Left- Full Body Wirt Doodle:

Homosexual Lookin' Ass

(/affectionate)

(/me too, king)

Expectation ->

Top Middle- Wirt stressed @ his desk

Reality ->

"How the hell do I turn a power point into a GOOGLE SLIDES!?!"

Top Right- Title Card

English Teacher AU

Top Right- Greg Doodle

Greg Cameo

Middle Left- Adult Dipper Doodle

"..."

Dipper.exe has stopped working

In my head, they are boyfriends or husbands

Middle Middle- Eepy Wirt

underpaid teacher-core

Middle Right- Dead Inside Wirt

me when the district won't fund the arts or classrooms but will drop a cool mil. on lawsuits to pray at meetings

Based on my childhood school district... in Southern Cali

[side bar as I'm making this alt text, no one I know uses the term "Cali", it's just So-Cal or California, but it didn't fit as nicely in that area. You didn't need to know that but I needed you to know that. I just hate that word for some reason.]

Bottom Left- Experienced, Older Wirt

"I'll wait"

Experienced Teacher (like 10 yrs (ish))

Bottom Middle/Right- Panicked, YA Wirt

"um-uh, please q-quiet *unintelligible whispers*"

1st year "fresh meat" Teacher

Bottom Right- just text

Empty Space :p

**If y'all have any concerns or advice on how to make my alt text better, please let me know. I'm trying to balance accessibility and my sanity, but I'm far more experienced in other realms of d.a. accessibility

[icyminghao]

(pretty) hungry

pairing: minghao x gn!reader genre: fluff, drabble, established relationship word count: 0.6k warning(s): mentions of food

summary: minghao attempts to flirt with you in chinese, but ends up getting extremely shy when you confront him to translate whatever he said for you.

from the universe of i don’t understand (but i love you), you nailed it! and a little sweet, but can be read as a standalone.

inspired by jem carstairs from the infernal devices by cassandra clare!

“Baobei*, ni hao piao liang**,” Minghao randomly pipes up, breaking the silence that loomed over the both of you in your weekly reading session.

You look up from your book, ears perking up at the sound of Minghao speaking in his native tongue. “What does that mean?”

There’s a pause. Minghao seems taken aback. You quirk a curious brow at him.

“It means I’m hungry. Let’s go get some food,” Minghao places the book he was reading down on the coffee table before getting up and walking towards you.

You would have believed his translation, if not for the fact that his ears were tinged with the deepest shade of red you’ve ever seen.

Minghao extends his hands for you to grab onto to get up, and you withhold a giggle at how hard he’s trying to hide the blush slowly creeping up his cheeks. You willingly grab onto his hands and lift yourself up, a teasing smile appearing on your endeared expression.

“It means ‘I’m hungry’? I could use it on Junhui the next time we meet, show him how good of a teacher you are,” you smile, eyes focused on his reaction. “Baobei, ni hao piao liang.”

“You can’t tell Junhui that.” Minghao replies immediately. You don’t know how it’s possible, but Minghao only gets redder as he practically squirms under your gaze, looking down at his feet to avoid your eyes. You simply grin wider at how cute he’s being, all because of a few simple words from his native language that he’s refusing to translate for you.

“Why not?” you feign innocence, lowering yourself a little so you could make eye contact with his lowered head. “It’s a pretty useful phrase, isn’t it?”

Minghao sighs, lifting his head up. His face is completely red now. “Well, yes, but it can only be used in specific contexts.”

“Specific contexts?” you raise a brow at Minghao, leaning closer to him. “Do enlighten me, Hao.”

“You can just Google it, y/n,” Minghao presses his lips into a thin line, obviously trying to avoid the topic, “what do you feel like eating?”

Unfortunately for him, you do not give in easily.

“But Hao,” you whine, removing your hands from his to shake his shoulders for dramatic effect, “why would I need to ask Google when I’ve got you?”

You stop shaking his shoulders after a while, moving to cup his face in your hands instead. “What does it really mean? I promise I won’t laugh.”

Minghao’s eyes widen. “How did you know it doesn’t mean ‘I’m hungry’?”

“That’s because you taught me that phrase before, silly. Your excuse sucked from the beginning,” you giggle, booping his nose with your finger before going back to rest your hand on his cheek.

Minghao sighs, reaching up to rest one hand over yours, resigning himself to his fate. “It means you’re really pretty, love.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered. Your hands on his cheek stiffened just a little bit, clearly not expecting the words that came out of Minghao’s mouth so easily. Your gaze fell on everything else but Minghao, and he chuckles in amusement.

“What’s wrong, Baobei?” Minghao teases, leaning closer towards you.

You lightly punch his chest in mock frustration. “You can’t just say stuff like that out of the blue!”

“Well, you were the one who pushed for me to tell you what it meant,” Minghao retorts playfully, smile growing impossibly wider. You huff, and Minghao reaches to take your hand in his.

“Okay, let’s finally go eat, hm?” Minghao smiles softly, turning to lead you towards the front door.

“Wait!” you call after Minghao, and he stops in his tracks before turning to you with a confused expression.

“Ni hao piao liang.”

Oh, if only you took a picture of his stunned, absolutely flustered expression to keep forever (and maybe use as blackmail). You guess you’d just have to keep the image in your memory.

*: Baobei (宝贝) — Chinese term of endearment for “baby” or “love”.

**: Ni hao piao liang (你好漂亮) — “you’re really beautiful/pretty”.

a/n: i love hao sm can u tell (also i may or may not have written this bc of that weibo live earlier omg minghao needs to stop like rn.)

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @slytherinshua @xomingyu @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia

masterlist

[reallyromealone]

Hello there, I was wondering if we can get a part 2 of the alpha Kirishima x alpha Bakugo adopting to mega pup reader and the reader is meet most of their aunts and uncles?

Title: adoption part 2

Fandom: my hero academia

Pairing kirishima x Bakugo x male reader

Type: platonic fluff

Warnings: omegaverse, child reader

Notes: none

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

(Name) was an absolute precious little guy, always following one of his dad's when he could and trying to help in the best way he could with such little hands as the two adults tried to include him in their day to day, currently on maternity leave to acclimate (name) better.

"Yaaay! Good job!" Kirishima congratulated (name) as the babe put his plastic bowl in the dishwasher, (name) beaming at this and hugged his dad's neck for comfort "were getting ready to meet some people, they're your aunt's and uncles and are very excited to meet you" when their friends learned if their tiny pup they practically exploded with excitement, mina taking everything within herself to not bust down that door to see the pup.

(Name) held the Dynamite toy close, either that or an old sweater of Kirishimas that the babe saught comfort from, a quick Google search showed Omegan pups saught comfort from their parents items it was early stages of a familial bond settling in.

Bakugo was the one to collect the little one after his nap, the aunts and uncles sitting in the livingroom to meet him "hey squirt, it's time to wake up" they changed the crib to a toddler bed when (name) tried climbing out, the little one starfished with a cute pair of pajamas on "nnh" the boy grunted as Katsuki huffed and gently lifted him "come on you" the boy nuzzling into his dad's shirt as he was brought out to the livingroom "(name), can you say hi?" Katsuki was surprisingly soft with the pup who looked confused and face had marks from the sheets "awww he's so little!" Mina gushed as she stood up and (name) clung to his dad nervously "slowly mina, he's shy" Eijiro said watching his sons movements.

The itty bitty pup looked nervous as Katsuki spoke to him "this is your aunt, she's a bit annoying but she's not gonna hurt you"

Carefully he set (name) down, the boy fidgeting before running to his other dad for protection, the redhead holding his stuffed doll "awww he has a dynamite toy!" Ochaco cooed and they watched (name).

Eventually everyone began chatting and (name) grew more comfortable and began wandering around as he normally did as he noticed the snacks on the table, things the others brought "oh look he's staring at the (treat)" denki snicked as the babe reached out and grabbed a handful, little hands getting messy in the process "well at least he likes it" Momo said as the dad's looked at each other and Katsuki cleaned him up and Eijiro got the boy a small serving "so how's being a parent?" Iida asked as he sipped his tea, glancing at the pup "he keeps trying to make nests everywhere, we don't think he knows what he's doing though" Eijiro chuckled as he let (name) get comfortable in his lap.

Later on came his former teachers + Eri and Shinsou, the two tagging along.

Katsuki saw the two as his own parents, his real parents and him had.. a hard relationship.

His mom and him never got along and when he showed up with Eiji... That went bad fast, he was seventeen at that point.

He hadnt even graduated yet.

His dad loved him but being an Omega, he couldn't really go against his alphas word but did send letters to him in secret.

After that Aizawa stepped up, using his custody over Bakugo and taking care of him and by proxy so did Yamada, the men treating him like a son.

"Hi little listener" Yamada was soft with the pup as Aizawa looked at the two fondly, Eri chatting with kirishima about her classes and her plans to join U.A under recommendations by not one but multiple heroes.

"Oh? Thanks..." Shinsou was awkward around children and when (name) handed him a Cheeto he wasn't expecting it to be so...soggy "you don't gotta eat that, just walk to the kitchen and toss it" kirishima whispered and the other man nodded and did so.

"Hello there" little (name) reached to the black haired man who had the forethought to have his hair put up "you can smell I'm an Omega" Aizawa smiled softly as (name) sniffed his face and bounced slightly "omegas feel calm with other omegas" he explained "safety in numbers sort of deal"

(Name) smushed his face, a silly baby attempt at scenting "I think he thinks I'm apart of his pack"

"Well you are" Eri said simply and everyone smiled at the interaction.

"Minas gonna be pissed that he's getting this and she's not"

When everyone left, (name) was tuckered out "he sure enjoyed those snacks"

"He's so sleepy" kirishima gently traced the boys face "let's get him to bed yeah?"

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

y'all, allow me to regale you with a very wholesome tale from the american public education system

the band director at the school i work for was apparently sleeping with teacher #1, teacher #2, and also a parent of a student, all at the same time

he would hook up with teacher #1 in his classroom during lunch (note: teacher #1 is in her 40s and has kids)

teacher #2 actually seems nice and she's very young and i kind of feel bad for her

anyway, the parent found out about teacher #2 and showed up at the school to fight her, which is how everyone learned of the situation

the band director freaked out, quit with no notice, and deleted all his social media (he held a zoom meeting to say goodbye to his students)

the students were supposed to have a concert soon and now the school has to host a town hall meeting because parents are so concerned about there being no band director for the foreseeable future they are contacting the principal 24/7

teacher #2 has called out sick several days in a row and might also be quitting

teacher #1 was the "teacher of the year" for the whole district in 2024, embezzled funds that she claimed to be using for a field trip, and if you google her name the first thing that pops up is the mugshot from her DUI arrest

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Hellooo! Can you tell more about Color Sans? I always see stuff about him, but I know nothing??? Like, I know that he has some connection to Killer, but I never undertand it :(

Gladly! I am actually working on a Google Doc for Color and his AU, Othertale, at the moment. It is not complete, but here is a link to the Doc if you’d like to give it a look. Not everything is on there yet and it’s not very organized I don’t think, but there’s some links, pictures, and the creator’s socials.

If you’d like to look up the creator, you can give superyoumna and othertale-blog here on Tumblr a look, or superyoumna over on YouTube.

Now Color’s connection to Killer is that they’re friends, and Color is trying to help Killer leave Nightmare and potentially fix his soul—as Killer has asked him to.

The exact nature of their meeting is left up to interpretation according to Killer’s creator, rahafwabas, and the exact nature of their relationship—platonic, romantic, queer platonic, etc—is also left to interpretation, although Killer’s creator has stated they see it more like bromantic than romantic.

Both Killer and Color’s creators, who were and still seem to be good friends (killer’s creator even helped design backgrounds for Othertale), also were very supportive of shipping them.

Color, according to Killer, is someone who gives him hope. He brings light to Killer’s grey, lifeless world; and Killer feels safe with him. Color makes him feel seen, heard, respected. And Color just really wants to do right by Killer, and help him to the best of his abilities.

Now, on to Color’s AU—Othertale. It’s probably more accurate to say that Othertale was an alternate timeline that, due to a choice, became an AU.

After going through his own sets of Genocides and Resets, Sans made a hasty choice in a moment of desperation—absorb the six human souls. This gave him new, very strong abilities—as you can see in the links in the Google Doc—yet his body is very fragile. Overusing his abilities can and will kill him.

So Sans manages to finally permanently kill the human, but this causes a Reset. Sans is sent to the Void with Gaster where he is forgotten by everyone, Frisk and Chara are erased and forgotten as well. So the world attempts to adapt to the absence of the six human souls and its major players.

This results in Othertale, in which Undyne is actually the main character. In this AU, Undyne encounters a young Papyrus in the garbage dump—dealing with bullying, appearing to be alone and homeless without anyone to take care of him, and only coming to Undyne for help from bullies since they met after “the explosion”—and proceeds to take him under her wings as her baby brother. She finds a passion for playing the piano, and often uses her abilities to entertain the Underground.

Because she was too concerned with raising Papyrus, she never attempts to join the Royal Guard; and so Gerson remains its Captain. As a further result, Papyrus has no interest in fighting or joining the Royal Guard either; instead becoming a math teacher.

The promise to Toriel never happens because Sans was not there to give it, although Color remembers it.

The amalgamates do not exist in Othertale, and so Alphys is a lot more sure of herself and confident. There is no way to break the barrier, although admittedly monsters in Othertale seem a lot more content in the Underground, although they still maintain hope. Mettaton was given his body a lot earlier, and seems more like a weapon than an Underground star.

However, trouble arises when an error suddenly reveals itself—going by the name of corrupted chara, although it seems pretty obvious that it is the Player, here to keep playing by taking other vessels now that Frisk is gone. In an attempt to stop this, Color and Gaster elect Undyne’s help—despite how she has no idea what’s happening.

And that’s the general premise of the AU. I am unsure if it is discontinued or if there’s still plans to continue, but it’s just delayed.

As for Color’s character on its own, we unfortunately don’t get much on him canonically due to him not being the main character and the AU not being finished.

He still has a lot of characteristics that Classic Sans does, however the traits and influence/compulsions of the six human souls he absorbed—kindness, patience, perseverance, justice, bravery, integrity—have an immense effect on him and his life, even to the point potentially being dangerous for him.

He is said to not make jokes as much as anymore, although he still does, and he often is quicker to emotional outbursts or anger. He has an intense fear of being alone or forgotten again, to the point he’d get involved in things that are harmful for himself or stick around groups to avoid being lonely—although his creator said he’s often likely to take on a “voice of reason” role in any group he’s in.

If you look of the effects of prolonged solitary confinement and isolation, it is understandable why he has a harder time controlling his emotions and doesn’t wish to feel that sense of being alone again.

A common interpretation in parts of the fandom is that, not only due to his isolation, but due to a hc that he is Autistic, he is often prone to overwhelm and overstimulation—often needing his alone time anyway, even if he’s likely to deny himself what he needs.

A common HC is that he is a nomad, full of wanderlust, not wanting to feel trapped or stuck in the same place again—having developed perhaps some special interests in traveling and keeping track of the lores of AUs he encounters.

It is due to his nature and being Autistic, but also the fact of wanting to stay near Killer wherever he happens to currently be, that it’s headcanoned that Color takes seasonal or part time jobs.

Enough to stay afloat without having to be tied down to one spot or burn himself out trying to keep up with 9 to 5 jobs.

It is also headcanoned that, due to his fear of being forgotten, that Color develops a special interest in photography. Keeping a camera with him, filling up scrapbooks and walls, and journaling.

Maybe he even takes up baking and gardening sometimes. Color’s creator is also Egyptian I believe, so both he and Killer could likely speak Arabic, and it’s possible to implement parts of the culture and beliefs into his character. And also elements of his physical disability, given one of his eyes are gone and his skull is busted open.

Color is also said to be friends with Delta!Sans and Epic!Sans, forming a group known as the Epic Sanses, and I HC’d that when Color first accepted Core!Frisk’s offer to live in the Omega Timeline, that he and Delta were roommates.

Color also hates Nightmare. For how he treats AUs, innocent people, Color’s friends, and especially how he hurts Killer “the most.” Due to the fact that Nightmare canonically replaces Killer with other versions of himself, it is often accepted by Color!Sans lovers that Color’s PTSD worsens, he develops separation anxiety, survivor’s guilt, and compassion fatigue due to the many times he has tried and failed to save and protect all the Killers that Nightmare replaces.

Color struggles to give up on Killer, he can’t do it, and it very likely comes close to killing him more and more every time. Leaving Color to have to rely on the support of his friends Epic and Delta. Color’s opinion of Nightmare is formed by the absolute cruelty Color has consistently witnessed first hand from him, but also the cruelty he’s been on the receiving end of.

Color is often seen as that burnt out therapist friend, the one who everyone wants to go to in order to talk about their problems and ask for advice, and Color struggles to set boundaries in these areas—not only because he doesn’t want to run the risk of pushing people away and being alone again, but because kindness and justice often struggle to let him to.

Essentially, Color has been completely forgotten by the world he only ever tried to protect. For his attempts to save and protect the people he cares about more than anything, the world seems to just consistently punish him for even trying.

He’s forgotten, he’s alone, he’s pushed aside, he fails. He’s forced to watch everyone go on without him, and when Killer becomes his world, he’s forced to watch as he’s constantly destroyed over and over and despite everything Color somehow still survives.

Yet he refuses to give up. Doing so would go against everything he believes in, everything he is.

(. @qin-qin16 ).

[solacescastleglow]

Cultural Capital #1: Intro + The Basics

One of the biggest privileges I had growing up was access to cultural capital. My parents were expat teachers, which meant that we had access to a lifestyle well above what we would've had if we had stayed in Australia. I got to travel, meet people from various cultures, go to private school, and I subconsciously absorbed that lifestyle as an expectation. This has given me a huge advantage, and since I don't believe in gatekeeping, here's how you can gain some of that knowledge.

0. A note

Some of these are things I strongly disagree with, but this is the way it is. One shouldn't have to change oneself to get ahead, but we often do. This is just a list of western upper-middle class cultural signifiers, and my listing them out doesn't diminish your own culture if it is different from this. Your own cultural capital is just as valuable as what I'm going to share. But we do live in a world where you can get benefits from knowing the dominant culture's valued information, so this is a guide to hacking that system.

1. What is cultural capital?

When people move to a certain place, be it a neighbourhood or a workplace, they need to understand the language, references, and customs of the people around them, otherwise they might be treated negatively. This is cultural capital. Your ability to fit in with the dominant class and culture can benefit you in work and social situations. Your education, who you know, how you speak and dress, which cultural references you make and understand, etc. are all class signifiers, and contribute to cultural capital.

2. Free ways to gain cultural capital

Confidence and vibe. I'm not the best at this, and there are plenty of resources out there for learning it that would probably be better than me. What I will say is that people can tell when you're used to settling for less, and that lowers your cultural capital in these spaces.

Go to a library or Google for research. Topics to research include: major religious stories and Greco-Roman myths, art and music history - especially from the 16th-19th centuries, different cultures and global geography, common idioms and expressions in French/Latin, jargon for your field as well as those of art/dance/music/business, fancy brand names (Quick, is a Ferragamo a shoe or a car?)

Read literary fiction and non fiction. Making references to classic novels shows rich people that you're well read, which in their minds translates to education and therefore intelligence (which isn't true but you know). It's also a shared experience, which gives you something to talk about. Use Libby for free audiobooks, and your local library for print books.

Expanding your vocabulary and speaking with care. The more you can articulate yourself, the more likely people will be to listen to you.

Going to public museums or galleries (if they have them where you live). They're almost always free, and are a great way to spend a weekend.

Watching videos, reading scripts, or listening to recordings of theatrical performances. These can be pretty easily found on the internet and give you material to reference when talking someone up.

Study philosophy. If you want something accessible and fun, watch The Good Place. Philosophy Tube makes excellent, thought provoking videos for free, and I'm sure there's more out there. Expanding your thought process and recognising the literature out there about 'deep' topics can help you not only seem smarter, but actually be smarter.

Learning to eat politely in multiple cultures. What do you eat with your hands vs a fork vs chopsticks? For western cuisine, you should know which fork to use, how to pour wine, what you do with your napkin, etc.

General etiquette. Handshakes, when and how to hold a door, you get the gist.

3. Ways that cost money

Cook something from a different culture every [week/month]. Expanding your palate and becoming familiar with things outside of your immediate circle will make you more 'cultured' in the eyes of people who care about that.

Special exhibitions and paid museums and galleries. Sometimes, a museum will cost money, and if it's interesting and within your budget, it's well worth it. Museums are an engaging way to learn more about history and culture, which will give you knowledge you could benefit from having.

Going to the theatre. Seeing a play, musical, opera, or ballet, especially if it references mythology or is iconic in its own right, can expand your views on universal themes like love, life, death, and revenge. It's also just really fun. You don't have to spend a huge amount either; see what's available in your area.

Dressing professionally. This means having a baseline knowledge on clothing terms and what fits you well, buying well made clothes that will outlast trends, and keeping them well maintained. Tailoring should be considered if it's in your budget; nobody likes an ill fitting suit. Some tips: second hand shops are a good place to start, avoid fast fashion, and remember that a 20 year old Chanel piece has more cultural capital than a brand new H&M piece.

Grooming. Smelling good, looking put together, and having good hygiene will help you immensely. A perfume that suits you is well worth the money, but don't be afraid of dupes if it's not in your budget.

Travelling. This is by far the most expensive thing on this list, but having those new experiences will completely change your viewpoint in a way that other people can recognise.

4. Signifiers that take a long time/effort

Accents. This matters more in some places than in others, but being able to fake a 'posher' accent gets you privilege in certain contexts. My school taught us only in RP English, but the social circles were run by the US military families, so I have a more neutral accent by default. I can also switch between the two, which gives me an advantage here in Australia, where proximity to an RP accent signifies wealth.

Learning a language. Knowing English automatically gives you a ton of cultural capital, since that's the lingua franca for most fields nowadays. But if English is your first language, knowing more than one means education. The unfortunate double standard is that if English is your second language, you need a third to be considered educated, usually a European language.

Straight teeth. This one is up to luck for some people, but having straight teeth usually means you have the money to straighten them. It also takes years and hurts. In my opinion, it's only worth it if your teeth are causing medical problems in your life, in which case you might as well straighten them while you're at it.

Getting a specialised degree in something. Don't worry about seeming silly (arts, humanities) or cold (business, sciences) when choosing a degree. Someone will be weird about it no matter what you pick, so pick one you like.

---

Remember, this is specifically for fitting in with the culture I grew up in and around (rich people). There is nothing wrong with the way you are now. This is just for people who are considering adapting to an environment where behaving like this allows for social mobility.

[thecapricunt1616]

BlueBell (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): When Mikey killed himself.. it was easy to say you were a mess. Mikey was the one who coaxed you through Carmys leaving, letting you know it was ok, that he was just ‘bein’ a lil’ bitch’ and he’d come to his senses soon enough. But he didn’t. And Mikey got sicker. And no matter how much you tried, how many times you called Carmy after a hard shift, or after stumbling into Mikey in the back freezer with a fucking disposable tourniquet tied around his arm, nodding off, begging Carmy to come home through your tears. Pleading, sobbing into the phone for minutes at a time that his brother was fucking killing himself - you never got a call back. 

♡ O/S Inspo: Bluebell - Luck, truth and friendship. Incorporate into rituals to comfort those left behind and ease their sorrow. ♡ Summary: Your childhood best friend comes back to Chicago to take over the restaurant that had caused a rift in your friendship, and wants to make it better. ♡ W/C: 4.6K ♡ Posted Date: 05/26/2024 ♡ A/N: Heyyyyy!! Here is my technically second request for my 200 follower celebration that can be found ♡ Here ♡ based on this request from an anon :) please get your requests in folks! This celebration will be running Today (05/26/24) to next Sunday 06/02/24! I am still working on my first request (First date w/ Carmy) the writing bug just bit me in the butt for this one and I haven't ever written for childhood best friend Carmy it was very fun!!! Anyhoot- I hope you enjoy :D ♡ Warnings for BTC: Angsty (but comfort too!) Not edited, No use of y/n (reader is referred to as 'squish'), No use of skin colors / descriptions for reader (pics are for purely vibes!), Typical TW's that come w/ TB (speaking of suicide and all that), reader feels nauseous but never throws up!oh and not all that edited woopsieee haha sorry yall know the drill btp

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had known Carmy a long time. Too long, was what you’d have said when he first moved back to Chicago. He kept in touch with you up until he left, and then it was simply every time your google search alert went off, you got a warmth in your chest knowing he’d accomplished something else. 

It felt strange, not talking to him every day. You'd had a huge fight before he’d ran off to Paris all alone. That was what baffled you, Carmy and alone - didn’t go in the same sentence usually. All middle school, all high school - he was glued to your side. Any time he needed a new assignment because he lost his, you’d go up for him and ask the teacher for a new one. When he needed to return an overdue library book, you’d face the librarian, claiming he’d forgot it at your house and you were too lazy to bring it in until then. Even going up in the fucking lunch line - he literally gave you his lunch pin so he didn’t have to face anyone unnessisarily. 

He’d meet you in the back of the football bleachers, cigarette between his lips that he’d throw out as soon as he saw you (he took to heart how you despised the habit- and he strongly disliked disappointing you) but with a mother, older brother, father, and older sister that smoked nearly a pack a day? He was doomed to pick it up himself. 

“I heard this mornin’ it was-“ 

“Chicken patty’s” you grimace handing him over the foil covered sandwich. “I didn’t get the fries - the geese are gonna have heart failure cus’a’you” you teased, opening your own and digging the 6 crumpled ketchup packets from your pocket, handing him 2 (you got the extra to wolf down the public school garbage because you made the walk up to the line, and all the way outside for him) 

“They deserve a little happiness y’know?! N-no worse than bread- vegetables are healthy!” He teased, taking the sandwich and muttering a little “Ugh” as he unwrapped it and smeared the 2 packets under the bun before closing it. “After school you wanna go T-T’the restaurant w’me?” He took a big bite. It was shit but it was something that got us through the grueling, sticky Chicago spring schoolday. 

“Mmhm” you hummed “parents outta town- Y’can sleep over if you want after. “ you nudge his hip with your own playfully. He’d been content with staying home lately, for whatever reason, but you wanted your Carmy time back. You’d figured you’d give it one more try 

“Uh-“ he started and you took a deep breath, eyes fixed on your dirty old black and white converse “N-Nat needs help w-with-“ 

“Save it” you snip, leaning against the bleachers and staring out at the pond next to the soccer field. He’d been doing this for the past months, when he used to be at your house every day, making up stupid games together and showing you how to cook his family's favorite recipes- lately, he’d just been going straight home after school and didn’t tell you why. 

“H-Hey-“ he reached out, touching your arm gently and you jerked it away. While his touch used to be comforting, now it felt like it burnt. You’d been having a crush on him for years and it felt like the ultimate knife to the gut he couldn’t see it, and didn’t reciprocate it. It hurt even worse it felt like your best friend in the whole wide world (and your only friend) had recently started ignoring you.

“Just don’t, Carmen.” You muttered, taking another bite of your sandwich. “Gotta get t’health.” You said after a few beats of silence, heading back to the school. It was one of the 2 classes once a week you didn’t have together due to your last names, and usually the worst periods of the week. But this time, it felt like a relief. 

That was the last time you’d ever met him for lunch. 3 months before the end of your senior year, and 7 years of being attached at the hip somehow fizzled to nothing more then longing glances in the hallway, and staring eachother down at graduation. 

Your mom and dad were ultimately confused when you told them you wanted to leave as soon as you’d walked the stage, not caring in the least to go to Carmys grad party - and that confused them even more. It just turned into a bratty screaming match started by your teen self, telling them how they had to ‘butt out of your life’ and to ‘Mind their own stupid business!!!’ Even though they were just concerned you were now completely ignoring the boy they had taken in as a son, and were giving him the cold shoulder when since the sixth grade the two of you had been nothing short of inseparable. 

Then - when you had started working at The Beef - as a favor for Mikey, when he had called - asking if you needed a job your first summer off from college, of course you said yes. And then Carmy took that news…. Worse then you could have ever thought. 

The fight you had the night he’d found out in the back alley of The Beef was burned into your memory since it happened. The angry accusations of you ‘having a crush on his older brother and wanting to fuck him since you were in school’ or ‘trying to weasel your way back into his life when he’d made it clear he hated that you were so ‘obsessed’ with him’ it had literally made you throw up in frustration and sadness and utter disbelief when he stomped off, face red and veins bulging in anger. 

The 5 words though that were seared into your brain ‘How fucking could you?, squish?!’ nearly choking on your childhood name, Tears streaming down his flushed pink cheeks. You never knew it would hurt him so badly that you worked at The Beef, you truly thought you were just doing a good favor for a man who was a big brother to you. Not betraying your best friend in the world, the boy you’d loved for so many years. 

You’d tried calling Carmy, only to be met with the generic voicemail message each and every time. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you wished him well, told him how much you missed him, missed your stupid inside jokes - you missed your bear. 

When Mikey killed himself.. it was easy to say you were a mess. Mikey was the one who coaxed you through Carmys leaving, letting you know it was ok, that he was just ‘bein’ a lil’ bitch’ and he’d come to his senses soon enough. But he didn’t. And Mikey got sicker. And no matter how much you tried, how many times you called Carmy after a hard shift, or after stumbling into Mikey in the back freezer with a fucking disposable tourniquet tied around his arm, nodding off, begging Carmy to come home through your tears. Pleading, sobbing into the phone for minutes at a time that his brother was fucking killing himself - you never got a call back. 

The day Carmy had come home, well - the day he started working at the beef. You were there early, per usual. You liked the 6-3:30 shift as you were out before the busiest time of day, and had maintained this shift since college. You had your degrees, you were going to be leaving after you’d graduated to start a real adult life instead of slinging stupid beef sandwiches for less-than-favorable pay - and then Mikey died. And you were the only one who knew how to do the books at the beef, before you taught Natalie. 

It wasn’t a surprise that Mikey was laundering money through the place, but what was a surprise was he left the place to his idiot little brother who’d abandoned his whole entire family to go do his stupid Executive chef-de-bullshit while everyone drowns in Chicago without him. You highly doubted that he would be able to manage the moving of money Mikey had taught you, but Nat was the only sister you’d ever known- so when she sobbed to you after mike died and she found out it was left to Carmy, and begged you to teach him how everything works- you couldn’t deny your big sis.  

“S-squish?” You heard behind you, and you nearly dropped the entire pan of beef you’d chopped into the large pan you were holding to marinate for the day. Your heart felt like it had been replaced with a hummingbird and its wings were beating so hard against your chest you were sure if you turned he would see it in your throat.

“Uh-“ you started, deciding it was better to not look at him, since tears would likely spring to your eyes. What did he look like in real life now? Was he really so…big? Was he really no longer that skinny, awkward little bear you once knew? “N-no one really calls me that- anymore…only Richie.” You grabbed the bowl of pre chopped onions that you’d grabbed from the fridge, tearing off the plastic wrap that had yesterdays date written on it, crumpling it up and dumping the vegetables over the meat before grabbing the bowl of chopped green peppers and doing the same. 

“So I can’t call y’the name I gave you?” He chides, that old edge of playfulness to his tone you missed so much. It made your heart clench. 

“The last person to use that regular was your brother” you said and that quickly shut him up as you mixed together the meat and veggies with a large spoon after adding the pre made spice mix, the last of the pre made spice mix that Mikey had left, tears brimming your eyes at the realization, shaking your head a bit hoping to will them away. 

“Fuck” he said, barely audible. There was a sadness to his tone, easily picked up by you. This was your first love. How could you not remember every single thing about him?! “Squish I’m-“ 

“Just save it. You’re here to work, right?” You looked back at him finally, and your breath nearly got caught in your throat. He was so… tall. You always teased him that he was just a late bloomer, and would grow into himself just like Mikey did - but he would constantly deny it and tell you he’d just be stuck being ‘a shrimp’ forever.

But fuck had he grown. And he has grown well. He finally grew into his nose, which you wanted to immediately poke fun at him for, his lips were still the same pouty thin ones you’d remembered - but his body. It made your mouth water. 

You’d seen it once, as he’d seen yours. You were sophomores in high school, awkward, fumbling teens that agreed to lose your virginity together. But back then he was lanky, hairless, soft. Now? He was a full grown man. 

“Mmhmm” he hummed, sounding like a child scolded but you could barely recognize the tone of his voice now that you’ve met his face. A man. 

“Carmen” you said softly and his eyes met yours again, recognizing the tears in them 

“Don’t cry, squish” he said just above a whisper, “M’sorry…” he admitted, carefully reaching up and thumbing away your tears. 

“Oh Carm” you broke down, dropping the spoon you were holding onto the bowl and practically collapsing into his arms in choked sobs. 

“I know” he said quietly, gently petting your hair just like he did when you were little. 

“He’s dead Carm, where were you? Where the fuck were you? I called you, Bear! He was sick!” you sobbed mercilessly into his shirt, letting everything out you held in at the funeral to maintain your cool for Donna and Sugar since they were blubbering messes.. You could hear the thick tears in his voice when he whispered a strained 

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Squishy- So sorry” 

Your little moment was interrupted though, by a small voice - 

“Hi! Hey- uh..Hello- sorry- I was um…I got a call - yesterday, about an interview, for an um- a Sous position?” your head shot up from Carmys shoulder, seeing a tall brown-skinned girl with braids smiling awkwardly,  eyes flickering between you and Carm, clearly looking uncomfortable. You would be too, you realized - if you walked in to your supposed-to-be interview, to see your potential boss being cried on by one of his employees.

“Shit- uh” he pulled away quickly, walking up to her and extending a hand. You decided to go to the back of the kitchen to the changing area to have a few swigs from your water bottle and calm down. You didn’t need to relish in the sting that was him dropping you so fast for another girl, even if you were short staffed and you did need the help.

You shook your head, wiping over your tears and taking a few large gulps of water. Teach him how to move the money, and quit. Thats all you have to do, easy right? 

No.

Not at all, actually- fucking impossible. 

Carmen had been bad at math, horrible at it  - actually, so teaching him how to run the books - with Richies explicit instructions to not make him aware his Uncle and Brother were washing blood money through the restaurant - so to try and explain why the electric costed 120K a month for a hole in the wall like The Beef was getting frustrating, because when Carmy didn’t understand something- he asked never ending questions until he got it. Thats what had you and Carmy, sitting in the back office together at nearly 8 PM, going over the books for what felt like the millionth time.

“So - so the General electric, lets go over one more time squish - I’m still.. Why would Mike have done that? An-an’ why we payin f’r a system that y’say isn’t workin’ anymore? Cant we just like- negotiate? Ask uncle jimmy t’fix it?” he tapped his pencil on the desk absentmindedly as he looked over the spiral notebook you’d written the monthly ‘bills’ on, trying to explain it to him without giving away anything he didn’t need to know like Richie instructed.

You groaned, rubbing over your face frustratedly and rubbing your temples. He was gonna give you a migraine asking these same god-damn questions. “Bear- i’m tired- my shift ended like…four hours ago! I was supposed to be on a facetime date” you groan, dragging your hands down your cheeks dramatically.

“The hell is a facetime date?” he asked, that gigglyness in his voice he’d take on when he was making fun of you when you were little.

“You lost the privilege of fucking with me when you ran away” you look over at him, a frown unknowingly etched in your features.

He met your eyes, biting at his lip the way he did, blinking a few too many times as he looked down at your lips before meeting your eyes again. “I never was running from you, squish” he said, his voice taking on that softness you fucking hated because you loved it so much.

“Yeah? Sure fucking felt like it- and for your information, a facetime date is a date you do when someone isn’t close enough to go on a real date. So…yeah. Anyway- like I said - the arcade costs-” he cut you off

“So…where’s this guy live?” he questioned. “You really can’t date a guy in Chicago? Y’gotta go f’r long distance?” he asked, a little smirk on his face. The kind that would have had you wanting to crash your lips into his when you were teens, but now it just made you want to cry at all the lost time, what you could have been if you just told him you’d loved him that night, that the reason you accepted the job was so that hed fucking look at you again. 

“Why the fuck does it matter to you? You stopped giving a fuck about me - what, Tell me fancy pants CDC? How long has it been since you gave a fuck” You got up, grabbing your jacket. “Like I fucking said, Carmen, My shift ended hours ago. I’ve explained this to you multiple times. If you’re still too focused on Paris, or- or Copenhagen - Or fucking Noma- to not understand how to run your familys piece of shit? Isn’t that what you called it- huh? Why don’t you go and ask the fucking sibling you have left how to do it, yea? She’s been trying to call you, We all were- but it’s not like you give a fuck- like I said- figure it out, Bear- and consider this my formal fucking 2 weeks. I’m done in this shithole” you threw your wadded up apron at his chest and slammed the office door shut behind you, stomping off to the lockers to gather your things and go the hell home. 

The next week and a half of work felt much like high school. You and Carmy were in the same exact room, forced to work together most of the time - but not a word was exchanged that wasn't absolutely necessary between the two of you. It wasn’t until the night before your last day, he was brave enough to say something to you. It was after closing, you’d picked up a double since 2 line cooks had called out and you already knew how to hold up pace without any training. You could use the money anyway, the pay was absolute garbage - the only reason you ever put up with it was because Michael was family to you. “So uh…” Carmy starts as he put on his plaid coat, shoving his work clothes in his backpack “How was y’r um… facetime date?” he asked, shoving in his chefs clogs last before zipping the bag shut.

You bit your lip, continuing to fill your tote bag with the remainders from your locker. You wanted to just leave as soon as the clock struck 3:30 tomorrow and never look back, forget Carmen was ever a part of your life. Being around him again brought back that sharp ache deep in your chest that you’d picked up in school when you began ignoring eachother, for why? You cant even remember- other then him shrugging you off to hang out that one last time, and you ignoring him the rest of that week, and it just kept going. You realized the first you’d spoken since then was his first day back, and you couldn’t get that fact out of your head. 

“He never texted me back so- yeah” you folded up a pair of work jeans, shoving them in the bag

“Oh- shit- m’sorry, squish. Guys can be real assholes” he replied. And while you know it was supposed to be friendly and him just trying to console you, It really just pissed you off. 

“Yeah- You would know” you grate quietly, continuing to pack your bag. He frowned in that cure Carmy way, shutting his locker and putting his backpack on his shoulder. Luckily the two of you were the only ones there tonight, so no one had to be present for you unpleasant bickering.

“Are you ever gonna hear me out? Er’ you’re just gonna freeze me out forever?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine hurt. But you couldn’t help but laugh coldly, shaking your head.

“Freeze you out? Freeze you out? Well if this week has been anything like the past few years? I hope it feels half as shit as I’ve felt. Glad you’re finally getting the message, I want nothing to do with you. I don’t stay where i’m not wanted, plus- aren’t I just a whore who took a job to make passes at your older brother- who by the fucking way was literally nearly 10 years older then us? That is just…gross Carmy! Mikey was as much an older brother, a fucking protector as he was to you, and to Nat- as he was to me- I loved you! I fucking loved you, Carmy! And you-” You took a shaking breath, turning to look at him and he was pale as a ghost at your admission.

“And you froze me out first, you- you stopped calling, in school carmen all those fucking years ago? You stopped, and - and when I didn’t come to the bleachers you didn’t try to find me! You just-” you met his eyes once again but couldn’t find them as they were squeezed shut and that 17 year old was right back in front of you, nervously shaking his hand and tears streaming down his cheeks. “Fuck- Bear I didn’t mean t-” 

“D-Don’t” he brushed past you, the familiar smell of smoke and pine and sandalwood hitting your nose, the same Cologne Mikey wore. 

“Carmy” you rushed after him as he made a b-line for the office. 

“You’re right, Squish- go home” he rasped, his voice thick with tears and regret. Your heart broke in that moment. Your chest also bubbled with anger, because - you were right?!

“I’m right?” you asked and he sniffled, attempting to shut the door on you but you shoved it open “Look at me - Look at me and fucking tell me that you meant what you said Carmen!” he sat at the desk, burrying his face in his hands and rubbing over it. 

“Just fuck off Squish! I mean it- go!” He was getting louder now, but there it was again, Squish.

“If you meant what you said- call me by my name” You challenge, nudging his sneaker to get his attention, just how you did when his head would be down in english class when he didn’t want to be noticed so he wasnt picked to read out loud.

“What?” he looked up at you finally, his big blue eyes red and tear stained, rims watery and long sandy colored lashes clinging to stray smaller tears. He looked so sad, and you thought again for the first time since he left that night all those years ago, that you wanted to kiss those tears away.

“You- you keep calling me squish” you shrug a bit “If you really mean what you said - if- if you think I got this job to whore around with Michael?! Call me by my real name. The name the rest of the staff call me- the name people who aren’t a fuckin’ Bear call me.” you challange, a lump growing in your throat as he stared you down.

“Did you mean it?” He asked, voice just barely above a whisper. You knew exactly what he meant, and you were pretty sure your heart was gonna fly out of your throat any second- or you were gonna throw up all over the floor and embarrass yourself - 50/50 

“You- you go first, I asked first” You said and he ran a hand through his hair, greasy from the day before digging in his pocket and pulling out a spare quarter 

“Heads er’ tails?” he asked, and you couldnt help but crack a tiny smile. This- this was normal. In high school, when you’d both ask eachother a question and neither wanted to answer first - even though technically the person who asked first should be the first to get an answer, you both decided to let the universe decide who’d be the first to get an answer.

“You gotta be kidding- you remember that?” You leaned on the desk and he looked up at you, panic mostly gone from his eyes and you knew you still had your bear-taming charm as Mikey called it when you were kids, since you were the only other person to be able to calm Carmy down.

“Are you kidding? I remember everything” he retorts “I call heads then” he flipped it and you gasp, smile growing a bit and you nudge his knee with yours, the gesture causing warmth to flood his cheeks as he flips the coin 

“I thought it’s always ladies first?” you teased and he flipped it on to his hand, keeping it covered. 

“Y’re too slow” he cracked a small smile, before revealing the quarter was heads side up and looking up at you expectantly. That heartbeat that could also be vomit reappeared, and your chest got tight. 

“Yes” you said simply, realizing you’d said loved - not love, not a current state of being, even though it never really went away. When he came back that first day, and you were right back to using all your old coded language and laughing over old jokes - you’d realized the love never really died, you’d just shoved it down as deep as it could go.

“Of course I didn’t mean that bullshit, Squish. I was….so fuckin stupid- I was - I am a fuckin idiot. I- I changed my fuckin number and I didn’t bother to load my contacts cause…I thought you hated me - But I- I never stopped…” he met your eyes again. 

Oh god, your heart was really coming out of your throat right now

“Never stopped….loving me? You- you loved me?” you asked bravely, feeling as if you might pass out - or die - or both if he said no. 

He nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the floor ever so shyly, Classic Carmy, the Cowardly Bear

“Well- which- which is it?” you asked, you weren’t going to let his shyness cheat you out of a real answer.

“I- um…I never stopped” he finally met your eyes.

You felt as if you still may pass out, or die, or both at this admission. 

Instead of that though, you leaned in, cupping his stubbly cheeks. His breath hitched, so did yours - you weren’t even sure you were breathing, the last time you’d been this close was - well, Sophomore year of high school , when you both vowed to never speak of it again, since you were both unsure how the other felt - and much too shy to say anything about it in case of rejection or being viewed as ‘weird’ by one another. You leaned in, the smell of cigarettes and mint on his breath from the gum he would chew instead of eating on meal breaks after a cigarette. 

His eyes fluttered shut “I’ve thought about this every day” he whispers, breath fanning your lips gently. You rest your forehead on his, closing your eyes and your noses bumped sweetly. “Can I please kiss you?” he asked, his voice soft and wanting. 

“You don’t have to ask” you said and leaned in, finally meeting his lips. He pulled you closer, you were practically on his lap. It felt as natural as falling into bed at the end of a long day moving your lips with his, your fingers easily finding his curls and combing out the little knots from the day, causing him to groan softly into your mouth. You smiled a bit, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. 

You sighed in relief as he wrapped his arms around your waist, slipping his tongue over your bottom lip, you hummed- opening for him and moaning softly as he ran his tongue over yours, enjoying your taste as well as you were enjoying his. He was the same as you remembered, you’d fantasized about doing this with him again every time you got off - or just every time you were daydreaming in general. You weren’t sure who broke the kiss first, but you both needed to breathe, so it was for the best.

“I still love you, too”

[yuri-is-online]

I imagine Deuce!Yutu is either A. The Ultimate Honor Student with perfect grades and a plsmile that makes old nannies and mothers swoon (Yutu: "Thanks, its because me and my parent are the local "weirdos" I had to overcorrect and become a golden child (':") OR B. just as bad as pre-NRC Deuce was, a gang member who'd jump anyone who'd look at him wrong (but still cried until he was sick when he watched My Girl (1991) behind Yuu's back. They told him not to because they knew it was sad, he didn't listen).

I imagine Yuu's main memory of Deuce to their Yutu was how much Deuce believed in self-improvement and redemption, always trying to be a better man, which either version of Yutu can't help but admire or respect, despite their complicated feelings over their absent father.

Upon meeting him in the "current" timeline as a student, A or B either can't help but give Pop's an A for effort, despite missing the goal sometimes or finds him a little cringe for being such a tryhard.

I had to google the movie you mentioned and got jump scared by it taking place in Pennsylvania. Pretty sure I have driven through the place it's supposed to be set before... and fuck just reading the synopsis made me cry I don't think I could watch it ;-; poor Yutu should have listened to his parent.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here.

I feel like I have read too much Tokyo Revengers because... we can have both: an honor student with a delinquent mean streak sounds like a good set up for Deuce! Yutu. Not that I think he would behave like Kisaki does exactly, but still. Dylla mentions in the White Rabbit event that she wasn't on the best terms with her mother when she was a teen, and we know about how Deuce was in middle school, so the idea of Yutu having a bit of a temper and rebellious streak to him does make a degree of sense. Sadly, I think that extends to his interactions with Yuu... so things are about to be angsty on two fronts today.

Much like Deuce, Yutu was just the cutest baby. He loved all things cute and fluffy. Bunnies, kitties, puppy dogs, he was such a sweet little kid who really loved chasing around butterflies in the great outdoors. He really loved to read, and learned how to do so at a very early age. When Yuu was having a bad day he would pick out one of his favorite books and insist on reading them a bedtime story so they could take a nap without any nightmares. If he was especially worried he would bring his favorite nightlight with him.

Not that anyone would ever dare to suggest it given what Yutu is like now, but he was very afraid of the dark as a child. He still is, there's just something about the void that exists in the darkness that screams danger to him. When he's isekaid to Twisted Wonderland it evolves into an extreme fear of blot and phantoms. I'd like his unique magic to have something to do with light or stars, something inspired by the Second Star to the Right from Peter Pan? I think it would be cute for someone afraid of the dark to be able to provide their own light.

When Yutu reaches middle school there's a noticeable change in his relationship with you. He's still polite, still bringing home good grades and unoffensive comments from his teachers. But he's a bit cold, as if he is purposefully putting emotional distance between you. His friends all treat you respectfully, but you just have a feeling, left over from somewhere, that you know what is likely going on but you can't put your finger on what. He gets angry when you try to ask questions, yelling something about how you just don't understand, maybe even throws in something about this being your fault...

I wrote about Riddle! Yutu having some fights with Yuu, but Deuce! Yutu's fights are so much worse. While Riddle! Yutu typically comes out of his room blubbering big fat tears ready to apologize, Deuce! Yutu feels the need to double down and save face. He does believe his parent has amnesia, he's seen how they act, but what he does not get is why they insist on feeling so fond of his dad and refuse to move on. In his mind their life could be a lot better if Yuu was willing to be honest with themselves about who his dad probably was. Yutu is very hung up on why Deuce felt the need to be redeemed, focusing on self improvement is all fine and good if you are someone worth redeeming but he's not around for Yutu to judge. And Yuu doesn't remember...

He's young, stupid, and angry, and he takes it out on anyone who looks at him wrong. What's worse for authority figures who want to help is that he's veeeery smart about how he does it. When he jumps someone you can bet there won't be cameras around to see it. When the police start troubling Yuu about what he's doing it's mostly just in the hope that they'll be able to talk some sense into their kid rather than to arrest Yutu or anything like that, but it doesn't work. Yutu gets to see the same thing that his dad did all those years ago, his parent crying because of his behavior but there's no grandparent Yuu is asking advice of. Since I am in the mood to be extra cruel, let's say the day that fight takes place, the day Yutu sees Yuu crying is the day he hears a very important name for the first time.

Deuce. His father's name is Deuce and the reason why he wasn't around was because he was from the other world that came to swallow up him and his parent the instant they began to remember. He doesn't get time to cover up the signs of his rebellion, or really a chance to say sorry. He has to look Grandpa Crewel in the face and admit that he made Yuu cry and added to the overly stressed mess their life had become. Everything they said about Deuce was true, and what's worse he was like him.

I feel like Deuce would be the sort of person who wanted to make a lot of home videos. Cater probably would be too, but he'd store most of them on his phone and I think that would be lost to time by the time his Yutu came home. Maybe it's because of the ghost camera, or his desire to be an "honor student" evolving into wanting to be an "honorable husband and father" but Deuce totally bought a video camera to take cheesy videos to show Yutu as he grew up. Instead the kid gets to see fragments of a life he could have had as he listens to his dad tell him about his life and how he met Yuu.

"Honestly I have no idea why they said yes." Deuce is a dork. A complete dork who looks so... young and life like in the video. He knows what features he took from Yuu but watching Deuce talk, he can pick up on the ticks, the way his mouth sets when determined. The look of shock that always made Yuu laugh, it bursts into view when he hears Yuu laugh as they enter the frame to snuggle into Duece's side, to press their face against his cheek with a happily contended sigh. "Y-yuu you're making me look uncool in front of the baby."

"He's not here yet!" You giggle and for the first time in a long time Yutu feels himself choking up as he watches his dad get all silly looking at the thought of his arrival.

"We're really looking forward to meeting you kiddo. I promise, nothing will ever happen to you. I'm not going anywhere."

"Well. Technically kept that last promise didn't you." He tries to play it off like a joke, but Crewel isn't laughing and neither is Yutu.

Gets put in Heartslabyul, but isn't exactly determined to be an honor student like his dad. While Deuce enjoys a good fight or the feeling of the wind in his hair... Yutu mostly got into fights because he was angry and needed someone to take it out on. Because of that temper he struggles with learning and controlling his magic but he still does pretty well with the practical academic side of things. He's proud of his ability to understand these things, and takes a lot of comfort in knowing his dad would be excited at knowing he was good at things like math and science.

Like with the other Heartslabyul boys, he had to fight his father's phantom. He sees putting Deuce to rest as part of his penance for how he treated Yuu in the years leading up to getting isekaid. He refuses to go back in time until he's able to lay this version of his father to rest next to Yuu so he can promise both of them, to their faces, that he'll create a world where they all can be together and live as a family.

Deuce is extremely friendly to Yutu! He wants to learn as much about Yuu's world as he can so he can help them feel as at home in Twisted Wonderland as possible. He makes sure to let Yutu know that extends to him too once Yuu warms up to having him in the friend circle, Uncle Ace is much less enthusiastic but it's clearly from a place of care towards Yuu. He starts to warm up when he sees Yutu trying his hardest to tutor Deuce, though he claims it's because he just thinks it's funny but really it's because Ace wants to see Deuce succeed.

Very correct on his feelings about Pops. His dad is so wildly cringe it's unreal. His effort is inspiring until he starts getting embarrassed for losing his temper and stuttering, or seven forbid you look at his grades. The more he interacts with both of you the more certain he becomes that Deuce would never have abandoned him... and that he is so getting grounded when Deuce learns about how he treated Yuu. And what's worse is that Yutu sort of wants him to.

Surprisingly that's not what happens at all. When Deuce learns who Yutu is, whether by sleuthing or through a violent confrontation with a monster from the future, when the whole story is laid out before him and his son bows to beg for his judgement it doesn't come at all. His Pops yanks him up by the collar and turns him towards Yuu.

"Say all of that again to your parent." Deuce's voice is as stern as it is serious. Yuu looks distraught, not quite to the point they were on the day everything changed but getting there as Yutu immediately breaks down and chokes, crying and begging for your forgiveness and saying he's sorry as Deuce brings all three of you together into a strong embrace. "I'm not the one you need to make things up to, but it's ok. I know exactly how you feel and we'll work through things together."

Deuce doesn't feel like he can be overly angry at Yutu for taking after him. He does feel the need to apologize to Yuu, profusely and in private, for putting them in so much danger and not being there to help Yutu work through his temper. If I was writing this as a story, I'd make Yuu sort of afraid of Yutu's feelings? I could see them blaming themselves and things being a bit awkward within their relationship with Yutu where they had been very good before the reveal. With Deuce being the loving and understanding partner that he is, the bridge is once again mended and the whole family gets to indulge in hobbies that aren't beating the shit out of other people.

Yutu gets back into reading, and starts looking up manuals and histories of blastcycles so he has something to talk to his dad about. He was right about his dad being extremely proud of him for being smart, he's that classic mechanic working class dad who can't stop talking about his kid who went to college and has pictures of him in his garage he makes sure to point out to everyone who comes in. Said person is really just Ace who really wants to make fun of Deuce and Yuu for being cringe together but is too focused on this whole world ending thing and wants everyone to be more focused on that.

Deuce promises that he is, he has a lot of confidence in the ability of your little group to be able to win against stacked odds. You've done it before you can do it again. Yutu couldn't have picked better allies, he's really determined to show him that and be a dad his son can be proud of. He repeats his promise to Yutu that he's never going anywhere, even though the kid never told him anything about the tapes because he really means it. He wants that world little Yutu dreamed of and older Yutu swore to fight for to be a reality, and it's his job as an honorable dad and future husband (he gets so flustered when he says that) to be the one on the front lines of fighting for it,

... just please please please do not tell Yutu about the egg incident. He doesn't think he could handle that embarrassment.

[old-women-can-peg-me]

Hey, Little Song Bird

Lilia Calderu X Reader

Tags: alternate universe, teacher-student relationship, fingering, degradation, oral, dirty talk, face sitting

Summery:

You’re writing an essay for Professor Harkness’ class ‘Witchcraft and its Promise of sexual liberation’ and you decide that getting a wide range of opinions and views is a good idea, so you go to the most forward-thinking and feminist professor you know, Professor Calderu, who teaches witchcraft history. Of course, you had two separate lists of questions, one for students and one for the professors you were interviewing. Of course, you just so happen to mix up those lists.

A/N:

This has taken me a whole month and a half to write so I hope yall enjoy it.

Never beta read, deal with the dyslexia.

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62034757

As much as you loved Professor Calderu’s class, today's lesson was rather boring, not to mention how distracted you were by your professor. The biggest thing you could focus on today though was the essay for Professor Harkness’ class. Sure it wasn’t due for a whole month but you were eager to start your research and plan everything out. You’d already asked a few other students some of your questions and even managed to snag an interview with Professor Vidal and Professor Kale, both of whom had given very interesting answers that you were excited to use in the paper. Once your class was over you made your way to the front of the room where Professor Calderu was packing up her notes from the lesson.

“Y/n,” she greeted, looking over at you, “how can I help you?”

“Hi Professor, I’m writing a paper for Professor Harkness’ class and I was wondering if I could interview you for it?” You asked, giving your teacher a warm smile.

Lilia hummed and went back to placing the papers away.

“What’s it about?” She asked, looking over at you for a brief moment.

“Witchcraft, obviously, it’s Harkness,” you chuckled, “but it’s looking into the promise of um, sexual liberation,” you had a faint blush on your cheeks as you spoke.

Talking to the other professors was one thing, sure they were beautiful but there was always something about Calderu that had you weak in the knees.

“Ah yes, Professor Vidal mentioned something about that,” Lilia said, now pulling out more pages, “I have a class in a few minutes, are you free sometime tonight?”

“Yes,” you said, a bit too eagerly, “where can I meet you?”

Lilia thought for a moment before she pulled out a blank piece of paper and wrote something down, handing it to you.

“Here, let’s say around 8?”

You nodded your head and took the paper, reading the address and trying to think of where it was.

“Perfect, and do you have a list of the questions? Just so I’m not completely off guard tonight,” she asked with a smile.

You nodded again and dug through your bag in search of the list. You handed the sheet of paper to her with a smile and thanked her again for agreeing. You said your goodbyes and made your way to the library, eager to begin writing the introduction for your paper.

You sat at one of the tables in the library and pulled out your laptop and notebook as well as the list of the more X-rated questions. You read over the list and with horror, you realised that you gave your professor the wrong list. In your hands were the very tame questions and sitting in Lilia’s bag were the not-so-tame ones, the ones that looked at kinks and sexual identity within witchcraft and their social acceptance. You cursed yourself for being so stupid and also for waiting so long to start writing, it meant that you had no chance of catching Lilia before she left for the day. It also meant that you were now meeting her at a random place and having to change the questions at the last minute. You decided your best option was to prepare for tonight, you pulled up Google Maps and typed in the address she had given you. Surely there was a mistake, it looked like a residential street, was it her house? You screamed internally, not only were you asking her straight questions about sex, you were doing it at her house. You contemplated just not showing up, it would mean that she might yell at you tomorrow, or maybe she’d read the questions and not talk about it. Or worse, she’d read them and want to answer them. You didn’t think you could handle that. You slammed the laptop shut and began packing up your things, you were doing it. You were going to go, wear something nice and pretend you didn’t know it was her house, apologise and give her the correct list, and if she insisted on the other list? She wouldn’t so you didn’t even let yourself think about it. It was already 6 pm and according to maps, it took 30 minutes to get there, you were going to need the whole hour and a half to get ready. You raced out of the library and back to your dorm so you could start.

You had a shower, a light dinner, did some nice but simple makeup and then spent 20 minutes trying to pick something to wear. You couldn’t go with a clubbing outfit, or even a fancy dress and most skirts you owned only came up to the middle of your thighs, not to mention it was hot so you couldn’t really wear jeans. You cursed yourself for thinking so hard about it, you were just interviewing her for a paper, about sex in witchcraft, at her house, at night…you were so fucked. You finally settled on a nice floral skirt that, while still on the shorter side, was the longest one you owned and a nice plain white tank top. You should have paid more attention to how thin the shirt was though because when you stepped out of your dorm and into a well-lit area, your lacy white bra was on full display. You looked at your phone and saw it was already 7:35 and you really had no time to get changed. You took a deep breath and made your way to your car, punched in the address and drove to your teacher's house, the one you had a massive crush on, at night, in a practically see-through shirt.

You arrived right on 8 and took a great many deep breaths before stepping out of the car and walking to the front door. The house was nice, the outside looked semi-new and modern but the ornate vintage door knocker solidified that you were definitely at the right place. You couldn’t see a doorbell anywhere so you used the knocker, the deep thudding resonating in your bones. A few moments later the door swung open and you were met with Lilia’s big smile.

“Y/n, darling, come in,” she said, gently pulling you by the wrist.

You looked around you and silently cursed the fact that she had bright lights and could definitely see your bra. Despite that, the house seemed nice, the foundations were modern but there were niknaks spread around the place that made it distinctively hers. Lilia led you further into the house, her hand resting on your upper back as she did so. You rounded a corner and were met with a small living area with a two-seater couch and an armchair facing a TV. Your eyes were instantly drawn to a furry black mass that came and brushed against your leg. Two yellow-y green eyes stared back at you. You smiled and bent down, offering your hand for the cat to smell.

“Hello little one, what’s your name?” You asked, giving it a scratch on the chin.

“That’s Dolce,” Lilia laughed, watching the interaction with a smile.

You giggled and gave the cat more pats and it made the cutest purr as you scratched at its chin. You stood back up and apologised for dropping to the floor.

“Don’t worry,” Lilia chuckled, leading you to the lounge room, “she’s very cute, I don’t blame you,”

The both of you laughed as you sat down, Lilia in the armchair and you on the couch.

“Have you had dinner?” She asked, crossing one leg over the other.

You looked at her, really looked at her for the first time tonight and you felt your breath catch. She was in a colourful robe with a plush velvety jumpsuit underneath that matched the colours of the robe. She had the same chunky necklace she always had that she somehow made stylish and her hands, like usual, were covered in rings. The jumpsuit had a lower neckline than you were used to seeing her in and it made your throat go dry, your mind wondering what it would feel like to bury your face in between her breasts.

“Y/n?” Lilia said, waving her hand to get your attention.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, almost stumbling over your words, “y-yes, I already ate,”

Lilia smiled and leaned back in the chair, her hand reaching for a folded piece of paper. Oh, the paper.

“I was reading the qu-”

“I’m so sorry, Professor, I gave you the wrong list,” you said, cutting her off and going slightly red in the face, “I meant to give you this one,”

You began digging through your bag, pulling your laptop out and then your notebook and then… that was it, your bag was empty. Fuck fuck fuck. Lilia watched you with a raised brow and a smirk, thoroughly enjoying the deep blush that rose up your neck and onto your cheeks, it was nice to know she still had that effect on women.

“That’s quite alr-”

“No no, I can run back and get the list or maybe I have a copy on my-”

“Y/n,”

The way she said your name, so sternly, like she was scolding you and you silently cursed yourself for wishing she’d use that tone in a completely different context. You also chose to ignore the fact that it sent a wave of heat through your body and began a pool of wetness in your underwear as you looked at her with wide eyes.

“I think the questions are incredibly interesting,” Lilia said, making her way towards where you sat on the couch, “and I’d be delighted to answer them,”

Lilia sat down next to you and you felt your body freeze at the contact of her thigh against yours. You didn’t see the way she smiled at your stiffness and then she patted the back of the chair, telling you to lean back. You very tentatively did, turning slightly to look at her.

“But I have one condition,” Lilia said and you nodded, “for every question you ask me, I ask you one,”

She held the list out to you and you reached for it but when you didn’t respond she flicked her wrist back, leaving it just out of reach. She gave you a stern look and you felt your mouth go dry and your flush spread down your shirt.

“O-okay, a q-question for a question,” you said and Lilia smiled, letting you grab the piece of paper.

You swallowed thickly and unfolded the paper, your hand shaking as you read the first question.

“W-witchcraft promises, or is seen to promise, a certain level of um, s-sexual freedom, do you feel this is accurate?” You asked, trying to force a smile on your nervous face.

“Hmm, I believe there was more to that question,” Lilia said with a grin.

“Y-yeah, uh, d-do you have any p-personal experience w-with that p-promise?” You asked, your hands visibly shaking.

Lilia smiled and stood up, walking towards the kitchen and pulling out a beer.

“Do you want one?”

You nodded, some alcohol will definitely help you calm down right now. Lilia walked back over to where you were sitting and before she sat back down, she took one of the bottles into her mouth and pulled the cap off with her teeth. You stared at her, mouth wide, as she handed the bottle to you.

“Well,” she began before opening the other bottle the same way, “I think that witchcraft is seen as a freedom from men, and with that freedom comes a natural desire to explore sexuality,” she said, sitting back down next to you and then taking a sip, “as for personal experience, my studies in witchcraft are one of the main reasons I realised I was a lesbian,”

You were still staring at her with wide eyes, your arm frozen in place from when she handed you the beer. Lilia laughed at your stunned reaction and leaned forward, her finger hooking under your chin and forcing your mouth shut.

“S-sorry,” you said, trying to collect your thoughts from where they had floated down to, “r-right, and so wha-”

“Uh uh, baby, my question,” Lilia said, leaning back again.

You visibly swallowed and blinked at her, confused for a moment about what she meant before you realised. Then your brain processed everything that had just been said, number one, she was gay, number two, she literally picked your jaw off the floor and number three, she just called you baby…? You shook yourself out of your thoughts and looked at her with a smile and a small nod before you took your first sip, the cool beer doing little to calm down your heated skin.

“Do I make you nervous, darling?” Lilia asked, leaning forward slightly.

You opened your mouth to answer before closing it again, how were you meant to answer that? Yes, she made you nervous, but only because every time you looked at her, you wished she would pin you against the nearest surface and kiss you. But no, she didn’t make you nervous because she was intimidating or scary, sure she could be, but you just wanted her to be intimidating while you were laying horizontally in her bed.

“Um, well, y-yes, but not in like a bad way or anything,” you admitted, deciding to go with a semi-truth instead of admitting you wanted to bury your face between her legs or chest.

Lilia hummed, seemingly happy with your answer and she took another sip of her beer. You looked down at your list and almost threw up in your mouth, you couldn’t ask her that, if she gave you an even half-honest answer you think you might just pass away. You decided to skip it and go to the next one.

“Would you say that witchcraft is something only for wom-”

“No, you skipped a question there, sweetheart,” Lilia smiled, placing her beer on her leg and wiping her thumb over the rim of it.

The sight made your brain short-circuit for a moment, this felt deliberate, like each action and move was intentionally done to make you squirm.

“R-right, I just, I don’t know if it’s-” Lilia gave you a stern look and you resigned, “w-why do you think that um, kinks have become heavily associated with witchcraft?” Lilia raised an eyebrow at you and you bit the inside of your cheek before continuing the question, “A-and do you have any k-kinks that m-might be associated with witchcraft?”

You wanted to curl up in a hole and die, your face was redder than a tomato and you could feel the heat of your flush on your arms. Lilia’s face curled into a wicked smile and she hummed.

“I think that still has to do with the freedom from men,” she said, taking another sip, “and as for kinks, well, the abundance of pretty little things like yourself certainly hasn’t stopped my exploration,”

You could feel her eyes on you, particularly on your chest in the thin shirt. Wait…did she call you pretty? You hated how bad you were with social cues, had she been flirting with you the whole time?

“And I suppose almost everyone, witchy or not, has their fair share of kinks, like you for example. What are your kinks, sweetheart?” Lilia asked, placing her hand on your knee.

You froze again, both at her question and her hand on your bare knee. Your brain tried to process everything she had just said and you were sure she could hear how loud your heart was beating.

“I-uh, I don’t really have any, I don’t think,” you mumbled, not really able to look her in the eyes.

“Mhm, well there’s the name-calling,” Lilia said with a smile.

Your eyes went wide, you weren’t really sure what she meant but if she was going further you would love to find out.

“For example,” Lilia said, her hand leaving your thigh to grip your jaw and force you to look at her, “do you want to be my dirty little slut, y/n?”

Your eyes were wide and your mouth was hung open as you let out a shaky breath, that’s what she meant by name-calling. Yes, you did, you would be anything for her if she asked, and fucking hell, she just did. You nodded your head as best as you could and Lilia gave you a small pout.

“Words, baby,” she said, her nails digging into the skin of your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you whimpered, your voice shaky.

Lilia smiled at you and pulled your face closer to hers and she closed the distance, pressing her lips against yours. You whimpered against her lips, letting her take full control as her tongue swiped against your bottom lip. You eagerly let her in and she pulled you onto her lap. Your legs straddled hers and you rested your hands against her shoulders, never once letting her break the kiss as you continued to slot your lips against hers. Lilia let go of your jaw and slid her hands up under your tank top.

“When you gave me that list, I really thought it was a mistake,” she said, barely pulling away from your lips, “and then you showed up here, in this fucking top,” her words were almost a growl now, “and I knew you were just a needy little slut who needs to be taught her place,”

You whimpered under her touch, her hands sliding over your bra and fingers running over your nipples. You pulled away for a breath and Lilia was looking at you with pure hunger in her eyes.

“P-please,” you gasped, leaning into her touch.

Lilia let out a low groan and trailed her lips along your jaw. Her teeth nipped at your skin, dark marks beginning to form under her kisses. She scraped her nails down the side of your body, the sensation setting your body aflame. The hand slipped under your skirt and you could feel the way she had to restrain herself from flipping you on your back and taking you as she felt the wetness that had pooled in your underwear.

“Fucking hell,” Lilia growled, her eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself for a moment in the feel of your hips pushing against her hand.

You reached for her cheeks and pulled her back to your lips, biting at her bottom lip before kissing her again. Your hands slid up to Lilia’s hair, your nails scraping over her scalp as you took out the hair tie that was holding up the salt and pepper curls. You both had your eyes closed now, getting lost in the feeling of each other. Her finger ran up your covered slit and you gasped against her lips.

“Bedroom,” Lilia growled, “now,”

You didn’t want to get off her, to stop kissing her but the feeling of her hands pushing you off made you reluctantly stand, your legs shaky. Lilia chuckled at your reaction, taking you by the hand and leading you to the bedroom. You could hardly believe this was happening, something that you had dreamed about all year and it was finally happening.

The second you were past the door to her room Lilia had you pushed against it, her mouth back on yours in an instant. You didn’t have a chance to even glance at your surroundings before Lilia lifted your shirt up and threw it onto the floor, her lips finding your neck. You threw your head back against the wall, a soft whine leaving your lips as she bit at the skin on your neck.

“L-Lilia, please,” you gasped, your hands finding her hair again, “I-fuck, I need…”

“Shh, I know baby,” Lilia muttered against your skin, “you’re just a needy little thing aren’t you?”

You moaned in response, pushing your chest forward and into her hands. Lilia squeezed at the skin of your chest and pulled at your nipples, forcing a cry from your throat, before she pulled you by the waist and forced you onto the bed. You looked up at her with wide eyes as you bit your lip, you wanted her clothes off as well but resigned to the simple fact that she was in charge and you would take whatever she gave you. Lilia watched the way your eyes raked over her body and she smiled, slipping the robe off her shoulders. You watched with rapt attention the way the robe fell off her shoulders and you were partly disappointed to find that the jumpsuit had short sleeves. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her, and when you met her eyes they were dark and lust-filled.

“What do you want, baby?” Lilia asked, stepping between your legs, “you gotta ask for what you want,”

Her chest was right in your eyeline and you swallowed thickly, bunching your hands into fists to stop yourself from reaching up to her. The smile on her face made your cheeks burn, her intense stare and the way she ran her fingers up and down your shoulder made you want to play the game that she had set.

“I thought it was my turn to ask a question,” you said, the shake in your voice betraying you.

Lilia’s smile widened and she nodded, letting you have your moment.

“Why?” Was all you said, biting the inside of your cheek nervously.

Lilia furrowed her brows, looking at you confused.

“Why are you doing this?” You clarified, fiddling with your fingers.

“Because every time I see you, I want to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you scream my name,” Lilia said, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at her.

Your eyes flicked down for a second before you met her gaze again, the air in your lungs coming in short and shallow breaths.

“How long h-” Lilia raised an eyebrow at you and caught on, “sorry, your turn,” you said sheepishly.

Lilia hummed in response, her thumb stroking gently over your cheek and you leaned into the touch.

“Are you okay with this?” Lilia asked the concern written clearly on her face.

Somehow you knew, if you weren’t, she would stop and it would have no effect on the way she treated you as a student. But you also knew if you stopped now you would forever be stuck dreaming about the feel of her lips on yours, wondering what could have been.

“I have never been more okay with anything in my life,” you said, your hand reaching for the one that rested on your face.

You pressed a soft kiss against her palm before moving her hand down and pressing it against your throat. Lilia took the hint and with a smile, wrapped her hand around your throat, not squeezing but just sitting there.

“Can I take off your clothes?” You asked, your voice soft and breathy as you refused to break eye contact with her.

Lilia nodded and let go of your throat, turning around so you could undo the button that sat on the back of her neck. You pulled the sleeves down her arms and pressed kisses along her back, delighting in the soft gasps the action elicited. Lilia turned back around and your eyes were instantly drawn to her chest.

“You can touch them if you want,” Lilia laughed, slipping her bra off her shoulders.

Your hands shot up faster than you expected and Lilia chucked at your eagerness. You squeezed at the flesh and wrapped your legs around her, forcing the older woman closer to you so you could bring a dusty nipple to your mouth. Lilia let out a low groan as your teeth scraped across the hardening bud. Your hand rolled her other nipple between two fingers and Lilia held your head closer to her, her nails scraping against your scalp. You moaned against her nipple and swapped to the other one, giving it the same treatment.

“Mhm, what else can you do with your tongue, baby?” Lilia asked, the slight quivering of her voice giving away how much she was enjoying it.

You very reluctantly pulled away from her chest and smiled.

“Well I played flute for ten years so I’m pretty good at tonguing,” you giggled, “and fingering,”

Lilia laughed at the double meaning of your words and leaned down to kiss you again.

“Why don’t you show me then,” Lilia teased, pushing you onto your back.

You pushed yourself further back on the bed, it wasn’t big but it also wasn’t small, the perfect size for one person comfortably or two people wrapped up in each other. Lilia slid her underwear down her legs and you bit your lip as you watched. Lilia crawled up your body, pulling your skirt down your legs and pressing kisses along the skin.

“L-Lilia, wait,” you said, her mouth close to your neck.

Her eyes flashed to yours, looking for anything that might have made you uncomfortable.

“I’m fine,” you reassured her, “I just wanted you to know that I’m not doing this for a grade or anything, I really like you,”

Lilia smiled and pressed a kiss to your lips, her fingers soft against your cheek.

“I know, baby, I can see the way you stare at me,” she chuckled, her lips finding yours again.

“Okay, great, then come up here and sit on my face please,” you said with a wide smile and Lilia laughed.

She continued to climb up your body and you eagerly patted the sheets on either side of your head making the older woman laugh.

“Give an old bat a chance,” Lilia said, batting your hands away.

You giggled and when she was finally over your face you pulled her by her thighs down onto your face, your tongue eagerly licking up her slit. Lilia cried out, her hands reaching for the headboard in an effort to try and stabilise herself against your tongue.

“Fuck baby, you weren’t kidding,” Lilia cried out, pushing herself down on you harder.

Breathing was getting harder to do but you didn’t care, you would die happy between her legs, the taste of her the best thing you’d ever had. You could feel yourself getting lost in her, barely even registering the way Lilia’s moans increased in pitch, her thighs squeezing harder around your head. Your nails dug into her thighs, pulling her and holding her as close to you as possible. Your mouth wrapped around her clit, sucking on the sensitive bud and making her cry out. Lilia’s hand found your hair and her nails dug into your scalp, holding you in place as she chased her own pleasure. You easily slid your tongue into her, curling the muscle and tasting her as much as you could.

“Fucking hell,” Lilia moaned, her head thrown back, “how long is your tongue?”

You pushed your tongue in as deep as it would go and Lilia’s moans turned breathy and high-pitched. You could feel her walls tightening around your tongue and you curled it again. It was when you moaned against her that Lilia tumbled over the edge, your name falling from her lips like a prayer. You continued to lick at her, cleaning up the mess with small licks, determined not to waste a single drop of her. The older woman pulled herself off your face and you licked your lips, cleaning up only a small amount of her arousal from your face.

“If you thought that was good, you should see what I can do with my fingers,” you giggled, resting yourself on your elbows as Lilia caught her breath.

Lilia just chuckled, her fingers reaching forward and smearing her arousal around your lips, undoing the work you just did to clean them.

“My dirty little slut, so eager to please,” Lilia hummed, pressing kisses along your chest.

You opened your mouth to respond but all that came out was a strangled moan as her fingers deftly entered you, two of them sliding in with no resistance. When she curled them you saw stars, the pads of her fingers hitting the right spot inside you and you cried out, your hips bucking against her hand.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum on my fingers?” Lilia asked, her nose brushing against your cheek.

You couldn't think, couldn't talk with the way her fingers were curling inside you just right. All you could do was moan and nod, a string of incoherent pleas falling from your lips. You could hardly believe how fast this woman had made you lose your mind but the thought was instantly thrown from you when she added a third finger and curled. All you could do was cry out again, your whole body feeling like it was about to explode as your orgasm crashed over you. You called out her name, your hands scratching at her shoulders in an effort to hold something. The older woman hissed in pain at the feeling of your nails but didn't say anything but praise in your ear as your walls squeezed around her fingers.

“That's my needy little slut,” Lilia groaned, her lips grazing your ear as she spoke.

You mewled into her ear and continued to rock your hips against her hand as you rode the waves of pleasure. You had no words to say, you had never expected the night to end like this and you honestly couldn't have asked for anything better. The way Lilia slowly slid her fingers from you had you whimpering and you watched as she brought her fingers to her lips and sucked your arousal off them. You moaned at the sight as Lilia closed her eyes, enjoying the taste of you on her fingers.

“Mhm, just as sweet as you look,” Lilia said with a wink and you blushed.

Lilia chuckled and you pulled her on top of you, letting your lips meet softly. You let her move you around so that your bodies were pressed together and you nuzzled your face into her neck, pressing soft and open mouthed kisses as you felt sleep tug at your eyes. Lilia’s hands wrapped around you and began to play with the ends of your hair.

“Any other questions you wanted to ask?” Lilia asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“Maybe…in the morning,” you said with a yawn, looking up at her with heavy eyes.

Lilia hummed and twirled a strand of your hair as you drifted off to sleep, your body wrapped snugly against her.