#i had a teacher whose email i had to find

[hizerain]

so i have a supervisor for my thesis, even though i'm doing it next academic year. Guess I have an entire year to learn all of algebraic geometry.

[agathaandbrienneslesbian]

In Your Words

Larissa Weems x Fem!Journalist!Reader

Hiya! I've finally finished this bad boy <3 I'm uploading this lengthy fic cause I'll be having a shit ton of Uni Exams the next few weeks and won't be able to write.

Big thanks to @weemssapphic and some other friends for proofreading this fic <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warning: SMUT 18+, minors DNI

Authors Note: Y/N is a newsreporter and wants to write a story about Nevermore and outcasts. What happens if a normie Journalist and an outcast Headmistress work together? (I suck at descriptions, have fun xD)

Words: 9'200+

Ao3 Link

Taglist

--------

You sat in your little office at the news station of Jericho, finger hovering over the mouse of your computer. You were hesitating. The cursor sat neatly atop the ‘send’ button, ready to send your email to its recipient. But you hesitated. Why? You didn’t know. 

It’s true that it was frowned upon to interact with the outcasts, but you just couldn’t believe that they were as terrible as everyone said they were. You have seen them plenty of times strolling through the little city, shopping and stopping by the Weathervane for a drink. None of them ever seemed malicious or evil to you. With a deep inhale, you pressed send and quickly shut your computer off. There's no going back now. 

—

The next day at the office, you were surprised to find that the Headmistress of Nevermore Academy, Larissa Weems, has replied. With a nervous breath, you opened the email:

Dear Miss Y/l/n,

I am pleasantly surprised about learning of your interest in outcasts, my students and the school in general. There are, however, a few things I would like to clarify first.

Now, if I understood correctly, you wish to catch a glimpse into the life of an outcast to then create a report about our differences and similarities with non-outcasts? 

Because of the nature of this request, I have to let you know that I will not tolerate any sort of mockery or bad-mouthing of my students or my school. 

You will have to follow our rules, outcast or not. 

I won’t allow you to follow one of my students around, as this would pose a serious safety hazard for my students and yourself. 

However, you are very welcome to settle yourself into my office and follow me around for however many days you deem necessary. 

If this is alright with you, I would be willing to meet you coming Monday at the Weathervane and take you to the Academy. 

Sincerely,

Larissa Weems

You released the breath you were holding and smiled to yourself. You replied to Miss Weems, agreeing to her terms and wishing her a wonderful weekend. 

The following two hours consisted of preparing everything you needed for your report: a few notepads and notebooks, your laptop, a tablet, your camera and some pens. You couldn't help but feel nervous at the prospect of having the opportunity to report about the outcasts. This was not a subject anyone had ever really done research on, and you were adamant to figure out why everyone seemed so fearful of a bunch of teenagers in a school in the woods. 

Over the weekend, you exchanged a few more emails with the Principal, clearing up any last logistical problems you’ve had. 

You asked if you were allowed to stay for a week, to which she replied that it would be no problem if you agreed to stay in one of the empty studios that were meant for teachers at Nevermore. 

Of course, you agreed.

Monday rolled around, and you were standing in front of the Weathervane, waiting for the Principal of Nevermore to pick you up. You have heard descriptions of her, and you knew she frequented the little Café a lot, yet you have never seen her in person before. Absentmindedly, you sipped on your hot chocolate, typing something on your phone, when suddenly:

“Miss Y/l/n I presume?” A soft voice with a wonderful British accent sounded from beside you. You turned your head to be met with a beige coat. Having to look up you finally made eye contact with the woman whose beautiful voice ripped you out of your thoughts.

You smiled up at her, nervousness flooding your chest as you took in the beauty of the woman in front of you.

“Principal Weems. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” you said quietly, nerves completely taking over your logical mind and body. You reached your hand out to shake hers. She took her beige glove off, and took your hand in hers. Her hand was soft, warm and wrapped perfectly around yours. Perfectly manicured red nails decorated her pale skin. 

“Likewise!” She smiled down at you and removed her hand, putting her glove on again, and you immediately missed the feeling of her hand on yours. 

“Are you ready for us to leave, Miss Y/l/n?”

“Oh… yes, of course!” You grabbed your bag with your equipment and personal items and followed her to her car. You set your luggage in the boot and sat in the passenger seat. Larissa sat in the driver's seat and started driving towards the Academy. After some silence, you spoke up again.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay at the Academy for a week.” Larissa smiled to herself and quickly glanced over at you before eyeing the road again.

“I should thank you. My students usually don’t get this sort of… exposure to the outside world. We are used to people avoiding us because of… fear or discrimination… whatever you want to call it.” Her tone shifted to a quieter and more serious one, her hands gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter. You sensed a shift in energy and gave her a reassuring smile. 

“I believe everyone deserves a chance to be understood and seen.” You replied, and that seemed to relax the headmistress. She shot you a thankful smile, then focused back on the road, the rest of the ride being spent in comfortable silence.

—

Once at Nevermore, Larissa showed you around the grounds, having one of the teachers carry your possessions to the on-campus studio flat, which will be your new home for the following week. 

Roaming the halls, it didn’t seem much different than a school for regular humans (besides it being incredibly fancy, of course) and you found that the students seemed like sweet kids. Truly, you couldn’t understand how there was so much hatred and fear surrounding these kids. 

Larissa led you to her office, offering you a separate desk to work on. You set your laptop bag on the desk and turned to look at the headmistress, who was standing next to her desk.

“Now, Miss Y/l/n, you are free to follow me around the Academy whenever you want, but I trust you understand why I wouldn’t want you roaming the halls on your own.” She looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course, Miss Weems!” you reassured her quickly. “I understand how important it is for you to protect these kids… but I can assure you there are no ill intentions by me being here! After what I’ve seen thus far, I cannot believe why anyone would be fearful of outcasts. This is why I’m here. I don’t believe that these kids are as dangerous as everyone in Jericho, let alone the rest of the world, believes them to be.” You looked at her, and there was a slight shift of emotion on her face. Hope? Distrust? Surprise? You didn't know. After a few seconds of silence, the headmistress spoke up again.

“Very well,” she said, grinning at you with her million-dollar-winning smile. “If you ever feel like you would like to see more of the school or learn about its history, don’t be afraid to ask.” Her smile softened slightly. She seemed very fond of her students and her Academy. It truly warmed your heart, and you couldn't help but blush slightly. With a slight nod, you thanked her and sat down, getting your things ready to start your research. 

Every now and then throughout the morning, you caught yourself glancing over at the tall woman. She sat in perfect posture, working on her laptop and typing away on some emails or documents. You didn’t realise how long you had been staring at her. The way her eyes flicked over the screen and the way she swiftly moved her fingers over the keyboard had you in a trance-like state. Her perfectly painted red lip curled up on the side, and she raised one of her eyebrows.

“Has no one taught you that staring is rude?” Her eyes flicked over to yours, and you quickly averted your eyes back on your own screen, mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’ her way. Your face felt hot, and you knew you were blushing, hard. Larissa chuckled and shook her head a bit in amusement. She stopped her typing and leaned back against the seat, turning to look at you, studying you as if she were… considering you. Shyly, you moved your gaze back to her. 

“Would you like to have a look at one of the classes? Our subjects can vary drastically from the ones in your schools.” she smiled at you and tilted her head slightly. 

“I-I would appreciate that, yes.” You answered, nodding, and quickly moved to grab your notepad and pen. When you looked back up, Larissa was already standing and walking towards the door of her office, only stopping to wait for you to catch up. 

This morning, the headmistress took you to several classes, telling you about all the different subjects they have. You eagerly took notes, asking questions and listening intently to subjects you’d never heard of. Magic, transformation, siren song, etc. You were fascinated, and that didn’t get lost on Larissa. The longer she watched you, the more fond she grew of you. Your interest and amazement made her heart swell with pride for her school and her students. Even though she was rather careful of what to show you, she felt that this might be the biggest step ever made for outcasts to be accepted into everyday normie lives. 

—

The day went by way faster than you would have wished for it. You have learned so much and were eager to learn even more. Larissa had taken her time explaining their school system to you and while you saw drastic differences, it still didn’t feel too out of the norm. There was one particular student that caught your eye. A rebel, you thought, someone who likes to prank and go against the rules. Those exist in every school, of course, but this girl seemed different. She did it with such nonchalance and elegance that it was almost invisible to the untrained eye. 

After asking the headmistress, she told you about the student. Not much, just enough to answer your questions. Larissa seemed tense so you decided to change the subject, asking her about her own time at the school, and from then on the two of you got completely lost in conversation. Hours passed, and you shared your school experiences and collectively decided that they weren't all too different. With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the couch and watched Larissa refill yours and her wine glass. 

“I have to be honest, even after just one day I have seen enough to tell you that this,” you waved your hand around, “is definitely nothing to be afraid or weary of. I mean… I always knew that the other… “normies”... are being way too sensitive when it comes to this place and its students but seeing it for myself… I simply can’t understand why there's so much hate and fear towards these poor students.” You sighed and took a sip of wine. “I mean… they're just kids aren't they?” You glanced up at the headmistress to see her smiling at you softly, humming in agreement. 

“I have to be honest, Miss Y/l/n-”

“Y/n! You can call me Y/n if you want to,” you interrupted her with a smile, looking back into your glass as you felt your face blush.

“Y/n… I am surprised and… relieved.” She smiled sweetly at you then looked into the fireplace, a sad expression crossing her face. “I wish more people could see the kids for who they are instead of for what they are.” A sigh left her lips and she took a sip of wine. “It’s not easy being… different… an outcast. You can try all you want, there will always be a hint of fear and doubt in non-outcasts.” She turned to look at you, her icy blues piercing yours. “Are you afraid, Y/n?” she asked, quietly, almost inaudible, but you caught the slight shiver in her voice. It broke your heart to see her like this. You didn’t really know that woman except for what she was willing to tell you, but you knew, without a doubt, that she was the most precious being on the entire planet, and you would move planets just to see her at peace. Without really thinking about it, you set your glass down and moved to hold one of her hands.

“Miss Weems… Larissa… if I may?” you started, gently, and she nodded at you, “I do not claim to know what you and your students have to go through, day by day. Being villainized, misunderstood and what not. But what I do know is that I want to help you make a difference. The kids are nothing but kids… Powers and mutations aside… No matter how different you may seem from me, you are still a person. You don’t deserve to be treated like they treat you… all of you.” You smiled at her with a caring expression on your face and gently squeezed her hand. Larissa looked at you, eyes trained on your face, searching for lies, but she couldn't find any. She inhaled shakily and took a big sip of her wine then squeezed your hands back.

“Thank you,” was all she replied. You didn’t need more. You knew she meant it. You felt it. With a last gentle squeeze, you let go of her hand, grabbing your glass again.

“To my… to our project!” you smirked and raised your glass to her. She chuckled and shook her head slightly, looking back at you endearingly and raised her glass as well. 

“To our project.”

—

As the week went on, Larissa and you started to develop a little routine. You would meet her in the morning to go to the Weathervane and get some breakfast to-go, spend the morning in her office or with a teacher of her choice (mostly Marilyn Thornhill), have lunch with her and the teachers, writing and researching in Larissas office, a dinner with staff and at the end of the day, a glass (or sometimes a bottle) of her favourite wine on the couch in front of the fireplace. Being around Larissa was incredibly easy. You loved talking to her, listening to her, discussing topics other than schools and outcasts. You felt safe, comfortable… you felt at home. And you weren’t the only one who felt this way. Larissa would catch herself, more than she’d like to admit, looking at you, watching you with adoration as you wrote and researched. She liked you. It wasn't a secret. She loved being around you and was looking forward to the evenings at the fireplace. A refreshing difference she desperately needed. Larissa had grown very fond of you, and she hoped you felt the same. 

When Friday evening rolled around you were already sitting on the couch in Larissa’s office, waiting for her to come back with the wine as it suddenly hit you. It was already Friday… you’ll be leaving again on Monday. You’ll have to go back to your office and finish the report. Would you be able to see her again? Could you stay in contact? Larissa entered, placing the bottle and glasses on the table then saw the light crease between your brows as you stared into the flames of the fireplace, obviously deep in thought. 

“Y/n?” she asked softly, and laid her hand on your shoulder, and you snapped your head towards her, not having heard her appear next to you. “Are you alright dear?” 

“Yeah!..yeah.” You smiled up at her, watching her sit down next to you and opening the wine bottle. “I’ve just realised that it’s already Friday… The week really went by in a flash, huh?” You took the wineglass she held out to you and looked at it, swishing the red liquid around absent-mindedly. Larissa’s heart constricted seeing you like this. 

“It did! But… as upsetting as it is, I am glad to see that you enjoyed your week here!” She took a sip of her wine and watched you closely. “That being said, seeing how my students seemed to like you being around,” and I, she thought, “you are more than welcome to return whenever you feel like it.” She watched you closely, seeing your eyes light up made her feel warm and content. 

“I would love that Larissa. Thank you! And you are always welcome at the news station. I’ll make sure the others behave, don't worry.” you giggled and winked at her which pulled a small laugh from her lips and she shook her head amusedly. “I mean it!” You smiled as you snuggled into the couch and took a sip of wine, humming as the liquid hit your tongue, “If any of your students ever wants to know more about journalism or is interested in it, let me know. Matter of fact…” you sat up and straightened your back, holding your hand out to the blonde, “give me your phone I’ll give you my number so you can just let me know in case there is something.” 

Larissa hesitated. She looked at your hand for a second, then smiled shyly and grabbed her phone, unlocking it and handing it to you to type in your number. She watched fondly as you typed your number in her phone. A slight tingle spread from her chest over her body as she took her phone back after you’ve saved your number. 

“Thank you!” she said quietly, “I- really do appreciate it… everything you do. For us. Me and the students.” A soft pink colour kissed her cheeks and she gave you a truly heartfelt smile. You smiled back at her, butterflies spreading through your whole body. Her smile was the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. You knew right there, she had you wrapped around her finger. You have fallen. 

—

You were able to finish your report on the last day of your stay in Nevermore, handing it in to be reviewed by your boss so it could be printed and released asap. With a heavy sigh, you leaned back into the chair, stretching your arms and back. Larissa smiled over at you and set her paperwork aside.

“I take it you’ve just handed in your story to be reviewed?” she asked with a gentle smile. Her eyes held a hint of sadness at the realisation that her office would be empty once again. You smiled over at her and nodded gently.

“Yes! Just handed it in! If everything goes well, you’ll be able to read it on Tuesday! And Larissa… thank you again… for everything!” 

The blonde stood up, walking over to your side, and placed her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

“I should thank you. This… means way more to us than you could ever imagine!” Her smile was warm, eyes soft. You felt a shudder rush down your spine as you realised that you haven’t seen her this soft with anyone but you. All of this vulnerable affection was only directed towards you, only to be seen by your eyes. 

You wanted to tell her… tell her that you like her. Tell her that she is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever had the pleasure to lay your eyes on. Just as you were about to open your mouth, she pulled away. 

“If you want to, I can drive you back. I could drop you off at the Weathervane or.. At your place, if you prefer?” Larissa spoke, closing her laptop and putting her paperwork into a drawer. The headmistress didn’t want you to go, but she knew that if she would let you stay longer, she wouldn't be able to hold herself back. Certainly you wouldn’t feel the same… right?

“That.. that would be nice! Thank you!” you replied, feeling defeated. Maybe it was better to keep your feelings to yourself. Who knows, maybe she wasn’t interested in women.. Or simply normies. You took a deep breath, collecting your things and going to your room to pack the last few things. When you returned to the headmistress’ office, she was already waiting for you. 

The drive back to Jericho was rather quiet. Neither of you knew what to say to the other. You wanted to tell her everything, pour your heart out to her and so did she, but you stayed quiet. Once you arrived at your Flat Complex, Larissa turned to you. 

“It was really nice having you at Nevermore. Again, thank you for doing this for us. And… If you should ever want to come and visit, you are more than welcome to do so! I am sure the Students would love to see you again sometime.” and herself… but she didn't say that.  You gave her a genuine smile, nodding slightly. 

“I enjoyed my week there! You truly have wonderful students. And, I mean, you have my number so… if you or any of the kids should ever need something, just feel free to contact me!” You hoped she would contact you, but only time could tell. 

—

It has been a month since you’ve last heard from Larissa. Your article got approved, and she complimented you on it, thanking you again profusely. That was the last, and only, time you’ve heard of her after staying at Nevermore. Sure, she was a busy woman, but you couldn’t help but feel upset. And you wouldn’t text her first, no. The anxiety that arose in you every time you tried to do so was enough to completely freeze you. So when you walked into the Weathervane on a Thursday morning to grab a coffee, you were more than delighted to see her there, quickly walking up to her.

“Good morning, Principal Weems” you said softly, watching her turn around and seeing her eyes light up as she saw you. 

“Good morning Y/N!” she replied with a smile. That darn beautiful smile of hers. “Are you also here to grab some breakfast before work?” she asked, turning fully to you, all herattention focused on you, your face, those eyes she came to admire over the time you’ve spent at her school. 

“I am but.. Uhm… if you’re not in a hurry, would you like to have breakfast with me?” you did it, you asked her. The second the question left your lips, you felt your cheeks heat up. Larissa looked at you with adoration and nodded. 

“I would love to, actually!” She smiled and tilted her head slightly. She noticed your blush and couldn’t help but feel giddy about it. Was she the reason you blushed?

“Wonderful! What do you want? It’s my treat!” You smile, feeling a bit more confident now, seeing her soft and happy gaze directed only at you. 

“Oh, you really don’t have to-”

“But I want to!” 

Larissa sighed, shaking her head slightly with a grin, and chuckled at how adamant you were.

“Fine. Next time, it’s my treat!” She gave you her order and went to sit at a booth, waiting for you to join her. You couldn’t believe your ears. Next time? There will be a next time? The smile that spread on your lips could only be described as the smile of a happy fool. Truly, you were a fool. A fool for her. 

After you’ve ordered and paid for your coffees and pastries, you made your way over to her, slipping into the booth. 

“So… how have you been? How have the kids been?” you asked, trying to make small talk. You felt so awkward, but that feeling quickly washed away as you saw Larissa’s soft smile.

“Very well! Your report had quite the impact on how people from Jericho treat my students. I just wanted to thank you again. The effect this has had on our lives is way greater than I could have hoped for. The article… your words… truly left an impact.” She reached her hand out, grabbing yours and squeezing it lightly.

“Thank you!”

Your smile grew tenfold, and you squeezed her hand back. 

“I am so happy to hear that this has worked out so well for you and your students.” You shyly pulled your hand back and thanked the waiter when he placed your drinks and pastries in front of you.

“How have you been y/n?” Larissa asked. She was looking at you… into you… into your soul with those beautiful ice-y blue eyes. You felt your cheeks heat up and grabbed your cup as well, trying to ground yourself. 

“I’ve been well! The Article has caught a lot of attention, so I’ve been rather busy lately…” You smiled at her and took a sip as she watched. 

“Though I do have to say, I miss being around the kids…” and around you, you thought to yourself. The blonde eyed you over her coffee mug and smiled sweetly. 

“In that case, would you like to come to the Rave’N this weekend?” She did it… she asked you. Her heart was beating like crazy but seeing the light blush covering your face she couldn't help but feel proud of herself. 

“The Rave’N? Really?” You asked, not believing your ears. Larissa nodded and tilted her head. 

“Yes really! Our theme this year is ‘Climate crisis meets extinction effect’ and the dress code is white.” She took a bite of her pastry and smiled at you. You thought for a second. You didn’t have any white outfits, so you’d definitely have to buy one, but you’d be damned if you wouldn’t agree to her invitation.

“In that case, I’d love to!” The smile you gave her made Larissa’s heart melt. How were you so precious? She nodded slightly. 

“I’ll have Marilyn pick you up here at around 5:30pm on Saturday. The students will be excited to see you again!” She finished her coffee and snack and stood up.

“I’d love to stay longer, but I have to get back to Nevermore… I’ll see you this Saturday, dear.” and with that, she left your flustered self in the Weathervane.

—

Shopping for an appropriate but also impressive garment was not easy. You currently had 2 dresses in front of you and couldn’t decide which one to pick. One was made of silk and rather simple but had an extravagant high slit up your right thigh and a very low back, whereas the other covered more of your back and arms but was a bit shorter with a princess gown puff skirt. You sighed and decided to put them on again, took a picture of you wearing them and sent them to Marilyn. You and her had gotten rather close during the week you spent at Nevermore, and you’d kept contact even afterwards. She was such a sweetheart, but she was also a pain in the ass as she has been nagging you about your outfit all afternoon already. 

It didn’t take long for you to be flooded with messages of Marilyn going crazy over the silk dress. 

Marilyn:

“Oh, you SO have to get the silky one! Larissa won’t be able to keep her eyes off of you”

Y/N:

“What do you mean? Why would you say that?”

Marilyn: 

“Oh come ooooon… It is SOOOOOOO obvious that you have the hots for her… just pick the silk one.”

You were sure Marilyn would laugh at you if she could see you right now. Your face was bright red because you’d been found out. Was it really that obvious? Did Larissa know? Was that why she invited you? Could she... no. No, that probably wasn’t the case... Just wishful thinking. With a sigh you looked back on your phone. 

Y/N:

“Fine. I’ll get the silk one. But just because you picked it 😛”

You got dressed again and went to buy the garment. 

Once back at home, you took your time to look for hair and makeup inspiration to complete your look and be ready for Saturday. Marilyn and you had been texting back and forth all day, and she’d helped you pick the perfect hairstyle and makeup for the Rave’N.

You were nervous… of course you were, but there was this little glimmer of hope starting to take hold within you. Maybe Larissa really did like you.

—

You were waiting in front of the Weathervane for Marilyn to come and pick you up. 

Were you nervous? Absolutely! 

Were you excited? Definitely! 

But you couldn’t help and worry… worry about… you were actually not sure. Your nerves were getting the better of you and there was nothing that could be done against it. Not that you haven’t tried… you definitely did! You went through every trick in the book.

Breathing exercise? No effect.

Meditation? Nothing.

A tea? That just made you worried that you would spill it on your dress, so that wasn’t helping at all. 

So you just stood there… waiting.

“Hey! You good?” you suddenly heard someone call out to you and released a sigh. 

“Marilyn! Hey!” You smiled at your friend and got into the car, leaning over to give her a hug. 

“Not really… my nerves are taking over right now.” You groaned. 

“You’re just making yourself crazy over nothing! Relax! You’ll be fine!” she smirked and turned her gaze back onto the road, starting towards Nevermore. 

“You look amazing by the way!”

You chuckled and looked out of the window. You did look nice… it also took you forever to get ready. You had braided some hair along the sides of your head and pulled everything up into a fluffy space bun, which you decorated with some crystal pins. Your makeup was soft, in nude colours, with a soft peach lip and some sparkly eyeshadow on your eyelids. The dress fit perfectly and hugged every curve of your body, and you had found the perfect off-white heels in your closet. 

“Thank you! Wouldn’t have managed to pull this off without you!” You smile and look over at the redhead. Marilyn was grinning to herself.

“If you two hook up, I deserve to be invited to dinner by you!” Your shocked gasp caused her to laugh out loud.

“Oh come on! I know you want her… and to be quite honest…” She raised an eyebrow and glanced over at you with a mischievous smirk. “I think the feelings are mutual.”

The blush that spread on your face was all Marilyn needed to know she was right.

“You’ll see! She’ll be absolutely smitten with you looking like this.”

“We’ll see…” you reply, watching the scenery outside. 

Marilyn parked the car and ran around to open the door for you with a dramatic bow. 

“M’lady.” she chuckled, and you rolled your eyes amusedly as you got out of the car. 

“You’re an idiot!” 

The teacher smirked and moved to hold her arm out for you to hold. She led you into the building and guided you towards the great hall. 

You weren’t expecting to be swarmed by students the second you entered the ballroom. 

“Hi Y/N! What are you doing here?”

“You look gorgeous! Who invited you?”

“It’s so nice you’re back! Come! Let's go dance!”

“Do you want something to drink? I’ll get you some punch!”

You were being surrounded and swarmed by the students, and it warmed your heart to see how excited they were by your presence. Marilyn slipped away from you without you noticing, the second she realised someone was walking up to the newly formed commotion around your presence. You struggled answering all of their questions when suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder and the students grew quiet. 

“Now, now… dear y/n has just arrived, don’t crowd her like that. You’ll have enough time to have a chat with her tonight.” The smooth British voice echoed from behind you and a pleasant shudder ran down your spine. The students nodded and went back to their friends on the dance floor. You turned around to look up at the principal. 

Larissa couldn’t help but let her eyes roam over your figure. The dress you chose was absolutely exquisite, your makeup complimenting the simplicity of the outfit and your hair that just looked too soft. Vulgar thoughts flooding her mind as she finally caught your eyes. You were looking up at her with big doe eyes, so innocent and sweet. 

“Come in! Want something to drink?” she asked as she gently took your arm and led you into the ballroom. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Larissa looked… She was a goddess. Her hair was up like always but decorated with some intricate curls, her usual red lipstick a wonderful contrast to the silver dress she was wearing. Looking up at her, you saw her eyes scanning you, your heart skipping a beat. Her pupils dilated as she finally landed on your eyes, and you had to suppress a whimper. This woman will be the death of you. It took you a few seconds to register her question and notice her arm intertwined with yours. 

“I- yes… please!” you answered quietly, not being able to suppress the grin gracing your lips. 

Larissa handed you a glass of punch and took one herself. You stood at the edge of the dance floor with her, watching the kids having fun. 

You really wanted to dance with her, but didn’t know how to ask. Should you ask? What if she said no? What if she thought you were weird, and she only wanted to invite you for the kids’ sake? But… What if she said yes? What then? You didn’t know how to dance. Sure, you have visited your fair share of parties, but you didn’t think you were a good dancer. And what if you started dancing, and you didn’t do it right, and she would start laughing and-

“What's going on in that head of yours, darling?” Larissa’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You looked up at her just to catch her already looking at you. Her eyes were soft, a hint of concern shimmering in them. She looked so… soft. You just wanted to pull her into an embrace, a kiss, soft and full of affection. Taking a breath in, you set your glass on a table then held your hand out to her.

“Would you like to dance, Larissa?” you asked, heart hammering in your chest as you saw her eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise. A sweet pink hue coloured her cheeks as she blinked at you a few times, registering what you just asked her. Larissa quickly placed her glass on the table next to yours and moved to put her hand into yours, looking up at you with a shy smile, nodding. 

“I would love to!” she said quietly, almost above a whisper. The bright smile that appeared on her face was enough to get her heart racing and head spinning. Your eyes were practically sparkling with glee, and it made her feel so fuzzy and warm inside. To have such happiness and excitement directed towards her was a privilege she’s never experienced before. You giddily pulled her onto the dance floor, not believing your luck. 

Marilyn was watching from the corner, watching as you pulled Larissa onto the dance floor. She smirked at the two of you, but something felt weird… the music!

A mischievous smirk graced her features as she waddled off to the DJ and asked him to play a slow and romantic song. The second the music changed, you and Larissa shot a look over at the DJ, seeing Marilyn standing there, innocently waving at the two of you. Oh, you were so going to get revenge on her for that. Your anxiety started kicking in again, but before you could start overthinking it you felt warm hands on your waist. Larissa was pulling you closer, and she just hoped you wouldn’t pull away. 

“Is this okay?” Her piercing blue orbs held steady eye contact with you, and you felt your face heat up. With a nod, you move to place your arms on her shoulders, hands close to her neck. She smiled and started swaying with you to the rhythm of the song. Seeing you so shy and flustered by her gave her the necessary courage to take a step closer. She leaned her head down to your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

“You look absolutely delectable tonight, my dear. Have you picked this outfit just for me?” Her hot breath on your skin caused you to bite your lip. You nodded.

“I was hoping you’d like it.” You replied quietly. Larissa tightened her grip on you, squeezing your waist gently, which caused a gasp to leave your lips. 

“Dressing up nicely just for me?” She husked, feeling herself getting more confident. Emboldened by the way your body… you reacted to her. 

“You’re such a good girl!” You could hear the smirk in her voice. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

“It’s a shame this dress will be laying somewhere scattered in my quarters after this ball is over.” 

You tightened your grip on her shoulders, pulling her closer. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. The tension was high, atmosphere thick with desire. You felt your knees tremble, ready to take whatever she was willing to give you. You pulled your head back a bit, just enough to look into her eyes, and what you saw almost made you whimper with anticipation. Her usually so pale blue eyes were dark, lustrous, her breathing heavier than usual and her lips were slightly parted. 

Before either of you could say or do anything, you felt something drip on your cheek. Confusedly, you blinked a few times, and Larissa eyed your cheek in concern.

The drips quickly multiplied, and soon you were showered in, what you believed to be, blood. Your eyes widened as you looked around, unable to move. Everything was getting soaked with this red liquid. What was happening?

Larissa was the first to move. She pulled away from you but grabbed your hand and quickly led you outside, the other staff helping the kids get out of the ballroom as well. Some fled into the courtyard and some into the school halls. There was a big commotion amongst the students, and you and Larissa immediately sprang into action, trying to calm the scared kids. Marilyn came running with a pile of blankets and towels to wrap around the sopping pupils. 

Whatever had happened, it was clearly meant as an attack of sorts. You were fuming.  Even after all the positive feedback you got for your report, there were still some bad apples in the normie bunch. If you ever caught who did that, they would surely regret pulling a stunt like that.

—

After the, you now knew it to be, red dyed water attack, you helped Larissa, Marilyn and the other employees to bring the kids inside and to their dorm rooms. After the last student was brought to their room, you stood in the foyer, watching Larissa talk to the Sheriff. You could tell she was agitated… mad. But yet she kept her composure, talked calmly and was respectful. A light bump against your shoulder alerted you to the presence of your friend.

“Hey… thanks for your help! You really didn’t have to, you know?” Marilyn smiled defeatedly at you, and you returned the smile. 

“It’s okay! I really didn’t mind… Just wished that this wouldn’t have happened… it’s not like they already have it hard enough and now that… I was really hoping that my report had a bigger impact but-”

“Don’t say that!” Marilyn interrupted, “Your article was eye-opening for so many people in town! It definitely helped! Big time! There’s just always gonna be a few assholes trying to ruin everything again.” She was clearly frustrated as well. You looked at her and chuckled, then shook your head. 

“I guess you’re right..” You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck. The two of you stood in silence for a while until Marilyn noticed you watching Larissa again and smirked. 

“Such a shame the two of you got interrupted! It almost seemed as if you were about to kiss.” She teased and your, admittedly already red, face started blushing furiously. You hit her arm lightly.

“Stop teasing!” You hissed, but Marilyn just laughed and nudged you again. 

“What are we laughing about?” You both turned your head towards the voice and saw the headmistress standing in front of you. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in curiosity. Marilyn just chuckled and smirked at you, then at Larissa. 

“Oh nothing important…” She took a deep breath and then clapped her hands together, “Well… I’ll be off… gotta get that red dye out of my hair somehow. Bye bye.” She waved at the two of you, leaving you alone with Larissa once more. She really had the audacity to leave you in situations like these every single time she had the opportunity to. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. Larissa watched Marilyn in confusion, then turned to you.

“Y/N… thank you for helping out with the students! I- am so sorry you had to experience this…” She sounded… sad, upset, worried? You looked up at her and saw her looking at you. 

“It’s quite alright! I’m just sad they had to experience that! It’s not fair… they’re good kids and I just don't get why anyone would want to harm them in any way…” You gave her a sad smile, then shyly reached out and grabbed her hand to squeeze it lightly. 

“But I did really enjoy dancing with you, Larissa…” she smiled back at you and squeezed your hand back. 

“As did I… uhm… would you like to come back to my quarters and get that paint washed off? Maybe have a glass of wine?” She was nervous. She was nervous and you could tell. The way her hand lightly trembled, and her eyes darted away from yours while asking. It filled your heart with that fuzzy warm feeling. You nodded and stepped to the side, still holding her hand. 

“Lead the way!”

—

In Larissa’s quarters, she quickly went into the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth and some makeup wipes in the hopes of getting the dye off your skin and hair. You managed to wipe the paint off your face without any issues, but it really stuck to your hair. Larissa went to quickly shower off the paint, and you couldn't help but think about her in the shower. Water streaming down that smooth alabaster skin. You wished you could have joined her. 

As Larissa got out of the shower, your breath got stuck in your throat. Her damp hair framed her face in gentle curls. She wasn’t wearing any makeup now, and you seriously didn’t think that this woman could get any more beautiful, but, alas, it seems you were mistaken. Before you stood a goddess in champagne coloured silk pyjamas. 

Larissa blushed lightly and smiled at you as she saw you staring. She walked up to you and gently examined your hair, your nostrils filling with the scent of her shampoo by the close proximity of her. 

“Seems the dye really stuck to your hair… here.” She handed you a fresh towel and some spare pyjamas. 

“You can take a shower if you want to!” She added quietly. You smiled back at her and nodded, taking the items in your hands. 

“Thank you! I’ll… uhm… I’ll be right back” You stammered out and quickly made your way to the bathroom. It was luxurious, like the rest of her quarters. You weren't surprised that she handed you the probably softest towel ever and the most luxurious pyjama you ever had the honour of wearing. This woman had an immaculate taste, and it was evident in every aspect of her life. 

After your quick shower, you tossed the towel into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room and walked out, your dress in your hands. That was definitely ruined now.

You entered the living room again and saw Larissa sitting on her couch in front of the fireplace, two glasses and a bottle of wine on the small table in front of it. You put your dress in your bag and sat next to her. She looked over and smiled softly, handing you a glass of wine, which you took gratefully. 

“Thank you! And thanks that I got to use your shower and… borrow some clothes! I really appreciate it.” You smiled at her and took a sip of the wine. Holy mother of god… of course, the wine was absolutely spectacular. Larissa smiled. 

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do.. Plus, I do have to admit I like how my Pyjamas look on you.” She smirked and took a sip of her wine. Larissa eyed you as you just looked at her with wide eyes and a bashful look on your face. You sat the glass down and turned to look at her, clearly gathering your courage to say whatever was on your mind. She thought you looked adorable like that. However, what came out of your mouth next was not something she’d expected to hear. 

“It’s truly a shame that you didn’t get to take my dress off and discard it somewhere in your room…” You smirked at her smugly, but before you could continue your teasing, she had you already pressed against the cushion of the couch. Looking at her, you saw her eyes were full of lust, full of hunger. She gently lifted your head with her finger under your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact as she gently pressed her knee between your legs. You inhale sharply and look at her, lust evident in your gaze. 

“If you want me, all you have to do is say it.” She husked, ghosting her lips over yours. Larissa loved the way you trembled underneath her, but every time you tried to close the gap, she would pull away. 

“You have to say it, darling,” she whispered. You were getting restless, a needy whine escaping you. 

“Please Larissa…” You whimper and look at her with your best puppy eyes. 

“Please what, darling?”

“Please… I need you… I want you,” you breathe out. The heat began to build, and you could already feel that you were soaked. Larissa grinned down at you. 

“Good girl!” 

You didn’t have time to react as Larissa finally closed the gap, pulling you into a bruising kiss. It was so full of need and lust. Your lips moved against hers in perfect harmony. Wrapping your arms around her, you pulled her close. 

The kiss quickly grew hot, passionate. Larissa bit your lower lip, causing you to gasp and giving her the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss. She explored your mouth with her tongue, leaving you in a state of dizzying bliss. Her skilled tongue fought with yours for dominance, kissing you with such fervour that both of you almost ran out of breath. 

You pulled apart just quickly to catch your breaths before Larissa attacked your neck with hot open-mouthed kisses. Trailing her tongue over your pulse point, then latching on to it and sucking hard. Your back arched into her, head tilting to the side to give her better access. 

The aching between your legs became almost unbearable. You wrapped one of your legs around her hips, pulling her closer, but Larissa gently pulled away, causing a pathetic whine to escape. 

“Patience darling!” She husked as she sat up and swiftly picked you up, carrying you to her bedroom and dropping you on the bed. The second you laid there, she was already on you again, her lips continuing their assault on your neck. Larissa moved to slowly unbutton the pyjama shirt you were wearing, but you were too impatient. With a swift motion, you helped her unbutton the rest of the shirt and pulled it off of your body, leaving you with a bare chest. Larissa chuckled darkly. 

“Impatient are we?” she roamed her hands over your soft stomach, cupping one of your breasts. Dipping her head down again, she moved to the other breast and took your hardened nipple in her mouth, teasing it with her teeth and tongue. You moved your hands in her hair, pulling gently at the sensation she was rewarding you with. Larissa moaned against your breast as a reaction which caused you to buck your hips up. You were so desperate for her, and it was so pathetic, but you didn’t care. All you could feel, small, taste, hear, was her. And you needed more.

“Rissa please,” you groaned as you felt her lips travel towards the hem of the pyjama trousers. 

“Need you,” you breathed out. Looking down, you saw her smirk up at you. As she pulled away again you were about to protest but seeing her take her blouse off silenced you immediately. You sat up, reaching out to her and running your fingertips over her body, watching goosebumps spreading over her skin. You cupped her breasts and massaged them, teasing her nipples with your fingers as you leaned in to kiss her. 

Larissa melted into your touch and kiss. Quiet sighs and moans leaving her lips as she laid you back down. 

“I need to taste you darling,” she whispered between kisses, and you whimpered in response, nodding gently. 

“Please! Please…” 

Larissa kissed her way down your body again, pulling the trousers down as she moved her kisses down your legs. She threw the trousers somewhere into the dark of the room, then moved her hands to your knees, spreading your legs gently. She groaned at the sight of a wet spot on your white lace underwear. The blonde looked up at you, watching your reaction as she ran her thumb over the wet spot, pressing down on it gently. Your back arched off the bed and your mouth opened in a quiet moan. 

“P- please Rissa… need you so bad,” you whimpered, rolling your hips against her thumb, needing more friction. In any other situation Larissa would have loved to tease you more, but she was just as desperate to taste you as you were to feel her tongue on you. So without further pause, she swiftly pulled your thong down your legs. She almost moaned at the sight of your glistening cunt in front of her. 

“All of this because of me?” she groaned and moved to kiss the inside of your thigh as you nodded. 

“You’re such a good girl, y/n.'' Larissa couldn't hold back any more. She had to taste you. The smell of your arousal made her mouth water and her head dizzy. The second her tongue made contact with your wet and hot cunt, the breath got stuck in your throat and Larissa let out one of the most vulgar moans you’ve ever heard, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. 

Larissa wasted no time in eating you out. Her tongue danced around your clit before she captured it between her lips and sucked. You moaned out loud, her name falling off your lips like a prayer. The way she used her mouth on you made you feel ecstatic, you felt like you were on cloud nine. The world, every responsibility you had, everything that has ever bothered or hurt you, everything that has been on your mind and stressing you out lately was just gone. 

Larissa never slowed her ministrations on you, listening to your cues, noticing how your body reacted to certain things. She loved how easily your body reacted to her. It's like you were made to be pleased by her. 

“R-issa… need more..” you gasped out between moans. You needed more of her, needed her in you. Larissa smirked and ran her tongue over the length of your slit one last time before rubbing two of her fingers against your entrance gently, coating it with your slick. You were so desperate to feel her fill you up, your hips rolling against her, motioning for her to stop teasing you. She easily slipped one finger in as soon as she thought they were wet enough. You let out a low moan and moved against her as she started pumping her finger in and out slowly. After a while, she pushed a second finger in and watched you grip the sheets. 

“You take me so well, my love.” She praised and moved kisses up your body as she picked up speed with her fingers. Larissa managed to hit spots no one ever had, curling her fingers against that soft, spongy spot that made you see stars. Your walls clenched around her fingers, and you felt the coil tighten in your abdomen. 

“M’close… Riss-ah” your moans only spurred her on more. She wanted to hear you, she wanted to see you come undone, she wanted to hear her name on your lips over and over and over again. Larissa picked up her pace again, using her thumb to rub small circles over your sensitive clit. The coil in your abdomen was about to snap, and she felt it. 

“That's it! Cum for me, y/n. Let me hear you,” she husked into your ear as she nibbled on your earlobe. That was all you needed for the coil to snap. Your legs and arms wrapped around her, needing her impossibly close as you came on her hand with a cry of her name. Larissa was gentle. She helped you ride out your orgasm and then very carefully pulled her fingers out. Your limbs went weak and dropped from her. You lay on the bed, breathing heavily and exhausted. You felt a shift on the bed but didn't have the strength to open your eyes. A few minutes later you felt the mattress dip again then felt a soft, damp and warm sensation between your legs. Larissa had gotten some towels to help clean you up. She used the damp one to clean between your legs and used a dry one to dab the sweat off your face. 

A soft smile spread over your lips as the blonde returned the towels, then came back and laid in bed next to you. Pulling her closer, you started to press soft sleepy kisses to her chin and neck, but she stopped you gently. You looked up at her with a pout, and she kissed your forehead gently. 

“Rest!” She whispered and pulled you close. You frowned at her. 

“But I want to make you feel good too,” you whispered back and held tightly onto her. She just shook her head, a content and also sleepy smile gracing her features. 

“You can. Tomorrow! We have all day to ourselves tomorrow,” she replied and stroked your cheek gently, looking into your eyes lovingly. You smiled and nodded, snuggling into her embrace, you let out a quiet and content sigh. This felt right. This felt like home. 

“Good Night Rissa.” 

“Good Night y/n.”

-------

I hope you liked it <3 Comments are greatly appreciated :3

Tags: @vivendraws

[bobbithewriter]

Miller's Secret

Chapter 1: Cafe Kisses

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 5058 Series summary: [NO OUTBREAK] You don’t know how or why but you find yourself drawn to an older man. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and pepper gray hair drive you wild. But there’s one problem: he’s your professor. Unsure of how to get over this crush you decide to apply for a mentorship… under him. It could all go horribly wrong, or it could be just the thing you both need.  Series warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, this is so smutty I’m not even sorry. Very veryyy brief mentions of Y/N (if any). Age gap- reader is in her 20’s while Joel is in his late 40’s/ early 50’s, it’s not specified. Student/Teacher relationship but it’s not what you think. Inappropriate relationships, yearning, tension, sexual tension, sarah doesn’t exist here (sorry girl), secret relationship, cursing. Chapter summary: After crafting the perfect schedule for your last year of college, you find out that one of your classes in your first semester got dropped. Forced to find a replacement, you settle for Intro to Philosophy with Professor Miller. You’re in for a big surprise. Chapter warnings: 18+, Smut, fem!reader, professor!joel miller, sexually explicit thoughts, cursing, age gap, inappropriate thoughts/dreams, oral (f receiving), sexual tension, secret relationship.

A/N: This is the first chapter to what I hope will be an interesting series. It goes without saying that this is all FICTION. enjoy:))

-

The heat is stifling outside, the sunning blazes down, scorching the Earth beneath it. It’s nearing the end of summer and you just can’t believe it’s gone by as fast as it has. Although you’ve spent most of it working, like today, there have been a few moments of relaxation sprinkled in, but not nearly enough for your liking. 

Making your way into your two bedroom apartment, you toss your keys on the coffee table near the door. You kick off your shoes and rush to turn the A.C. on hoping to be rescued from the heat. The apartment is silent, your roommate, Jade, is most likely at work giving you time to decompress from the very tiring shift you’ve just had.

You enter your room and are welcomed by your cat Lulu whose orange fur shines thanks to the sunlight passing through your window. Clothes litter the floor, books and magazines lay scattered on your nightstand and desk, your room is a proper mess, but it’s your mess. You make your way to the rickety wooden desk that sits against the wall closest to your window, pulling the near see-through curtains together in hopes of keeping some of the sun out. 

You open your laptop and look up your school’s student sign in, hoping to review the courses you’ll be taking this semester. Although you’ve grown to love school and love the structure it provides you with, you feel an immense relief knowing that it’s your last year in college. The parties and events are fun but you finally feel ready for more, you’re hoping for something more worthwhile. Lucky for you, your last two semesters are light ones since you’re not taking nearly as many classes as usual- you shudder thinking back to your freshman year when you thought taking seven was a good idea. Last spring, when registering for classes, you crafted the perfect schedule: four classes fall semester, three classes spring semester- easy. 

You scroll down to the bottom of your schedule only to find that one of your classes, an elective, has been dropped. Confused, you grab the notebook from the shelf above your desk and flip through the pages until you find the schedule you outlined back in April. Sure enough you see that your photography class has been dropped due to them not finding a professor for the course. You check your student email and find that you were sent a message back in July notifying you of the change. Frustrated at yourself for forgetting to read your emails, you return to the school’s registration page. Unfortunately, with classes starting next week, you know that the chances of you actually getting a class you’d find interesting are slim to none. You scroll and scroll until you’re able to find a class that fits with the rest of your schedule: philosophy. Great, you think, two hours a week dedicated to listening to some old guy drone on and on about ethics and morals and what the meaning of life is. 

The cursor hovers over the register button. Do you really want to do this? You have two options: you could always take photography next semester with the professor you like, or, you can suck it up and get this elective over with and earn another three credits but be forced to listen to a bunch of existential nonsense. You, for whatever reason, pick the latter. You rationalize with yourself that it’s only one class and it’s just one step closer to graduating. You decide to mull over the syllabus jotting down a list of school supplies you might need for the upcoming school year when you get a notification from your email. 

Professor J. Miller

Fall A- Tuesdays and Thursdays 10:30-12:30- Office hours: TR 1:00-3:00 or by appointment 

Welcome to Intro to Philosophy! Like the title suggests this course will be the most basic introduction to philosophy and its integration into our society. No textbook is required for this class but I do expect you all to come to every class prepared to discuss the handouts I give you. Participation is a requirement for this class and I look forward to hearing all of your thoughts and opinions. Looking forward to meeting you all next week!

Best, JM

Although you won’t have to spend even more money on textbooks for the class, the prospect of having to show up every other day for weeks on end just to earn a participation credit is enough for you to groan aloud. 

-

The week goes by quickly, between work, getting ready for the upcoming semester, and hanging out with Jade, you’ve barely had any time to yourself. Lucky for you, you don’t have any classes on Monday giving you time for some much needed self care. You complete your yearly before-school-starts-self-care-routine, trimming your hair, painting your nails, shaving your legs, plucking your eyebrows- the works. 

You spend the day lounging about your room, playing your favorite albums on your record player to fill the silence. You try on different outfits feeling totally relaxed for the first time in weeks. As if on cue you get a notification from your phone. Opening your email you find a message from Professor Miller with a full copy of the syllabus and a short article to read. 

Good afternoon everyone! Below I have linked a copy of the syllabus and an article for you all to read before class tomorrow. I hope to spend less time going over the syllabus, only answering questions you might have, and more time talking about the contents of the paper. Please come prepared!

Best, JM

Great, homework before you even start the class. You move to your bed where lulu is sprawled out and begin reading the article. You read paragraph after paragraph discussing value theory and metaphysics, taking notes as you do with the hopes of actually understanding what you’re reading. You finish and decide that you’ll review the notes tomorrow before class. Surely it won’t be that bad.

-

You wake up later than you intended and realize you don’t have nearly as much time to get ready as you wanted. You get ready quickly knowing you’ll have to stop by your school’s cafe since you didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast. The drive is a short one and eventually you’re pulling into the student parking lot.

Grabbing your backpack and keys you enter the cafe, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling your nostrils. Looking at your watch you realize you have 20 minutes till class starts and relax a bit. You order your usual, a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a chocolate croissant, and wait for your name to be called. Behind you you hear the bell on the door jingle signaling that another customer has entered the already very busy cafe. 

As you wait you can’t help but look around at the cafe’s patrons, some are clearly students while others are harder to discern, maybe professors, maybe alumni, you’re unsure? Your university is located at the center of the city so many alumni linger around, finding jobs after graduating but still gathering at some of the college’s most popular cafes and restaurants. You’re broken out of your thoughts by the barista calling out names and orders. 

“Large six shot quad espresso with extra ice for Joel”, shouts the barista.

Your eyes first land on the very large cup filled to the brim with espresso and then to the person picking it up from the counter. Your eyes trail up from his hands, to his arms, and finally to his face, ogling him unintentionally, and you’re met with a sly grin from the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry for starring”, you laugh, “I’ve just never seen someone order that many shots of espresso in a single cup.”

“What can I say, I like my coffee strong”, he laughs. “I’m Joel”, he says, extending his hand out for you to shake.

The man before you is tall, six foot if you’d have to guess, with broad shoulders and large arms. He’s sporting a light blue button down and navy blue trousers that make his already tan skin seem impossibly warmer and brighter. His dark brown hair is peppered with grays as is his beard- though you wouldn’t really describe it as a beard, more like scruff. His hands are large and pretty much engulf your own as you extend your hand to shake his. His shake is firm and you find the handshake lingering longer than you both probably anticipated. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you”, you reply. From the looks of it he’s anywhere between his late 40’s or early 50’s, but you’re not really sure. His brown eyes hold your gaze momentarily and you notice that he too is sizing you up. You snap out of it when you hear your name called.

“Small vanilla latte with two shots of espresso for Y/N”, the barista shouts again. 

“Ah I can see why my six shots would scare you”, Joel jokes, keeping his body facing you as you reach for your breakfast. 

“Yeah well caffeine tends to make me jittery and I’ve got class in a bit so I’m trying to keep the coffee to a minimum”, you respond. “Anyways, I better get going”, you say, “It was nice meeting you, Joel.”

Before he has a chance to respond you find yourself walking to the door but not before turning back around and giving him a small smile. As you make the short walk to your first class you find yourself thinking of him. It’s been a while since you’ve been with a guy and maybe that’s why you find yourself still thinking about this stranger but a part of you also knows it has more to do with his good looks. You’ve never really found yourself attracted to older men like that, partly because you live in a college town where most of the guys you interact with are no older than twenty five and partly because you’ve just never met an attractive older man in person.

You think back to his face, a blend of strong, masculine features but with a much softer side as well. The slight curve of his nose and edge of his jaw seemed almost drawn with charcoal, and you can’t help but think back to the warmth in his eyes.

God it’s been too long since you’ve been with a guy, now you’re replaying a five minute interaction with a total stranger. Great. You take your phone out to text Jade.

Y: Dude I just saw the cutest fucking guy, too bad he was like 50:/ It’s actually concerning how touch starved I am bc im literally daydreaming about this guy and we said like five words to each other LMAO J: OUUUU DILF DILF DILF Girl go for it, who cares if he's old, hot is hot Did you get the sexy strangers number?? Y: NO our interaction lasted maybe two minutes  J: Too bad:(  It’s okay bc I hereby declare that we are officially going out this weekend and you’re gonna get laiddddd Y: okay this conversation is over J: this. weekend.

You smile despite yourself and fasten your pace hoping to leave any thoughts of Joel in your wake. You take the stairs up to the second floor and enter the room. Although it’s not quite as big as a lecture hall, there are a decent amount of students already there waiting for class to start. You take a seat in the middle of the third row, your usual spot since it’s close enough to seem engaged when you want but also far enough away so you’re not in the direct line of crossfire when it comes time to participate. 

You’re too distracted getting settled to notice him walk in but when you look up you see Joel… in your class… walking to the podium? You’re struck with the sudden realization that he’s your professor. Your professor is Joel. Oh my God. The sexy stranger, as Jade put it, is literally your teacher.

It seems that he notices at the same time as you do and he gives you a warm smile. Okay, there’s no need to freak out. He clearly doesn’t care so why should you and really there’s nothing to even care about right. It’s fine, he was clearly making normal conversation and you just happened to be the sex-deprived stranger he gave his attention to. There is absolutely no reason to overthink this. So what your teacher is cute, it won’t make a difference, you’re here to get your credit and go.

He makes his way around his desk and podium and begins, “Good morning class, I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the room. It’s good to see you’re all here so let’s get started shall we. If you have any questions about the syllabus now is the time to ask, I want to get started on dissecting the article I had you all read.”

His voice is clear- confident- and you can’t help but to hold onto every word he says. He looks around the room, waiting a beat to see if anyone raises their hand and moves on. 

“Okay great, now I want you guys to first raise your hands and tell me your thoughts on the paper itself, did you like it, did you dislike it? Feel free to get as specific as you want.”

Around you, your classmates raise their hands and participate, voicing their opinions on the paper. Some thought the paper was interesting, others didn’t, but there seems to be a universal agreement that the paper was difficult to really understand, a fact your professor seems to catch onto.

“So it seems as though the room is pretty split between whether the paper was good or not. That’s fine! Philosophers have disagreements all the time. But how many of you really understand what Value Theory is, hm? Can someone explain what it is to the best of their abilities, it’s okay to be wrong, that’s why I’m here”, he says. 

You raise your hand, “Value theory is, at its core, worried about justifying our value judgments and the actions that follow. It basically tries to answer hard questions like what it means to pick between the ‘lesser of two evils’ or what it means to be a ‘good’ person.”

“That’s exactly right”, he says, holding your gaze for a moment and giving you a small smile. 

You return his smile with pride, happy to have gotten the answer right. You’ve always excelled academically and although you would never admit it to anyone else, you crave the validation you get from your professors and peers. 

The rest of class continues on like normal with Professor Miller explaining the differences between Value Theory and Metaphysics and how they might help us answer some difficult questions. 

Class continues as normal and just as he’s about to dismiss everyone he gives a few housekeeping reminders: two papers to read before next class, office hours are Thursdays after class, and mentoring?

“Like the syllabus says, I do mentor a small group of students each semester who want to get a more in depth understanding of philosophy. Unfortunately I cannot mentor every single one of you so if you want to be one of the lucky students please submit a one-page proposal of sorts by the end of class Thursday. If you have any questions feel free to email me. You’re dismissed”, he says.

Packing your things you’re left with this new idea to ponder. It might be good to have Professor Miller as a mentor so you can get another letter of recommendation, but you’re not even sure you even enjoy philosophy like that. You have a couple days to decide anyways, who knows what you’ll end up doing. 

-

The rest of your day drags on slowly and by the time you finally get home you can’t help but sink onto your carpet floor and just lay there. Lulu hops off the bed and curls up next to your side. You let out a groan thinking about just how much homework you have to do and it’s only your first day. Two papers to read, a proposal to write- you decided you’d take a shot at it, there’s no guarantee you’ll even get picked so who cares- a four page research paper due, and an online quiz. You mentally thank yourself for only having picked three classes this semester. 

After eating dinner and showering you decide to start on your proposal. You rack your brain trying to come up with at least three different reasons you want this mentorship. One: you need another letter of recommendation- you plan on applying to graduate school or law school and both require amazing letters of rec- and one from your philosophy professor would look good. Two: you find philosophy interesting (sometimes) and maybe one on one sessions with your professor will strengthen that interest. And three: it doesn’t hurt that your would-be-mentor is easy on the eyes. Okay that third reason isn’t really a reason it’s more of a plus but it’s still valid. 

It takes you longer to submit your proposal than it does to actually finish it. You deliberate the options: you could submit it and work closely with Professor Miller, if you get picked that is, or you could never submit it and never have to worry about being in close proximity to that man. Fuck it, you think, and click submit. You hope you don’t end up regretting that. 

-

Thursday comes and goes pretty uneventfully with the exception of Mr. Miller telling your class that he would release the names of the students picked for the mentorship by the end of the weekend. You, surprisingly, aren’t at all nervous. You know that if you get picked it will look great on your resume but if you don’t it won’t really make much of a difference. 

Unsurprisingly you spend the rest of your day studying and going to work, it seems as though your days consist only of those two things now. When you get home you find Jade sitting at the dining room table on her laptop. You decide to join her seeing as you both have seen so little of each other because of all the craziness that the start of the semester consists of. 

You guys quickly stop working on any actual homework and start talking about random stuff, friends, boys, work, and school. Eventually the conversation shifts to your professor.

Jade gives you a smirk, nudging your arm, “So how cute is he really? Do you have a picture of him or something, I’ll be the real judge.”

You open your laptop again, scrolling down your course page until you find his picture. Zooming in, you turn your computer towards Jade.

“Sweet baby Jesus, that is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Oh my GOD! Is it too late to register for this class?” she laughs. “If you don’t make a move I will.”

You laugh, snatching your computer back from her. “You know I can’t do anything, he’s my professor. It would be totally unethical”, you say.

“It would be totally fucking hot”, says Jade. “Come on it’s not like you’ll get expelled or anything, it says nothing in the Student Code of Conduct about it so you’re fine.”

“Have you ever even read the Student Code of Conduct?” you retort. 

“Well no, but I’m sure it doesn’t say anything about that”, Jade laughs.

You both stay there talking for another hour or so, taking turns telling each other about how your days have gone. Eventually Jade decides that Saturday night is “the night” as she puts it. 

“We are so getting you laid, you need it more than anyone I know, no offense”, she says.

You give her a glare but ultimately give in. You haven’t gone out since that one night last semester that ended with you holding Jade’s hair as she hurled the contents of her stomach into the toilet. You’ve never been much of a partier, much less someone who enjoyed one night stands but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s been a barren few months and you haven’t had much company with anyone except Bertha, your vibrator. Maybe it was finally time to give into the college craze and sleep with a random person, no emotions, no strings attached, just sex. 

The thought stays in your head throughout the rest of your day. As you’re getting ready for bed you open your laptop and can’t help but look at the picture of Mr. Miller there. He really is sexy, you think, as you’re reminded of his broad shoulders and strong arms. You fall asleep with the thought of him in your mind.

-

You’re sitting in his office, nestling yourself further into the wicker chair. You close your eyes taking in the smells of his office, rich mahogany, oak, and leather. You feel him behind you, his presence close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off of his body. Your heart seems to stop, anticipating his next move. His hands trail up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake. He lowers his head down to your shoulder and you feel his breath against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down to the base of your spine.

“Do you know how wrong it would be for us to do anything? Hm?” he whispers. 

His voice reverberates through your entire body, straight to your core. You feel the familiar flutter in your lower abdomen and the way your heart seems to start beating again but this time impossibly fast.

His lips press a kiss to your shoulder and you instinctively move your head to the side, hoping he takes it as a sign that you want more. His fingers trail up your arms again but this time to your neck, pressing the pad of his thumb down onto the skin he just kissed.

“Your heart’s beating a little fast there sweetheart, you alright?”

You nod, silently praying your body doesn’t betray you again. 

“Hm. Are you lying to me now? You know”, he says kissing your neck again, “good girls don’t lie. Are you a good girl?” he asks.

You think you nod again but your mind is so out of it you’re not sure if you actually do or not. His scruff lightly scratches against your smooth skin as his left hand wraps itself around the base of your left shoulder and his lips make their way up and down your right, your breath hitching as he does. 

Against your ear, he again whispers, “Tell me the truth, baby. Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to take you right here?”

Your mind is reeling from his touch, his lips, his words, you’re struck silent for once.

“You know baby, if you’re honest I might just give you what you want. C'mon darlin’ be a good girl and tell me how much you want it.”

You open your mouth and pray that your voice sounds stronger than you feel right now. “I want you to touch me. Please touch me”, you whine. 

“Where do you want me to touch darlin’? Your breasts? Want me to play with your nipples? Or your cunt? I bet it’s already so wet for me”, he whispers against your skin. 

“Both”, you cry out, spreading your legs apart praying he gives you what you most crave.

He lifts you up from the chair and spins you around, pressing you firmly to his front. He moves one hand to your hair and pulls it gently, angling your face to his. His eyes have gone from brown to nearly black and it sends another shiver down your body. His lips crash into yours in a kiss so earth shattering you feel yourself turn to mush, leaning against the desk for some support. With one hand in your hair and the other on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to his front, you finally get to feel the hard dent in his pants. You moan into his mouth and regain some sense. You kiss him with a newfound intensity, pawing at this chest hoping to feel some of the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

He smirks against your mouth, chuckling at your urgency. “You’re so damn cute when you’re desperate, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want”, he says before his hands begin exploring your body even more. You feel the hand that was on the base of your back move down your ass and give it a hard squeeze, that familiar flutter in your abdomen returning. His lips once again move to your throat and down your chest; you feel your face getting hot and your breaths getting more rapid because of the lack of oxygen. He begins unbuttoning your satin blouse, replacing where the buttons were with kisses. 

He moves you so your back now rests flat against his desk and you feel him kiss lower and lower down your body. He kisses his way down to your naval and begins unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly, taunting you. 

Just when you think he’s going to give you what he wants, his lips start going back up, following a similar path as before. He kisses your breasts over the mesh balconette bra you’re wearing, your nipples hardening as he does. You’re moaning wildly at this point, never having been this turned on before. His hands move to your back, unclipping your bra and tossing it to the side. He begins attacking your chest with a fervent need, softly biting your nipples, forcing a moan from deep within your chest. Your hands make their way to his hair and you tug at the base of his curls needing an anchor as you feel yourself slowly begin to lose it. You’re desperately trying to find some friction between your legs and you start grinding your still covered cunt against the dent in his pants. 

“Look at you, such a sweet thing grinding against me. Cmon baby, tell me again how much you want it”, he says as his lips make their way down your body again.

“Please” you beg, “I want it so bad, please just fuck me.” Your chest is rising and falling rapidly and you’re almost certain you look fucked out of your mind even though nothing’s even happened yet. 

“Oh I’m not going to fuck you here, honey, though I bet you’d fucking love it”, he says.

Your chest deflates a little from disappointment and you can’t help the low whine that comes out of your throat.

“I will, however, give that pussy the attention it deserves”, he says again, this time pulling your pants down past your hips and off your legs. 

Your heart begins racing as he kisses his way down your stomach, stopping right at the edge of your panties. He looks up at you and sees pure desire written all over your face. He kisses your center over the fabric of your panties, making you jolt from the sudden contact. Moving to kiss along the inside of your thighs, his scruff scratches harshly now against your skin. His fingers wrap themselves along the sides of your panties and he slowly peels them off of you. 

You look down at his kneeling figure, fully clothed with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a stark contrast to your entirely naked form spread out for him on his desk. 

“So fuckin beautiful”, he says against the skin of your thighs, peppering kisses there at random. Just as you're about to beg for the fourth time, he wraps your legs over his shoulders and dips his head between your thighs. He licks a long strip up to your clit where he starts sucking relentlessly. Your fingers find themselves digging into his hair, holding on as you grind yourself further into his mouth. He licks your cunt until you’re writhing in pleasure, holding onto the desk and his hair for dear life. You feel that familiar knot in your stomach begin to form and you chase it. You’re a moaning mess when he starts to tongue fuck your pussy, so close you could scream. His nose continuously bumps against the hood of your clit and you think you see stars.

“Fuck I’m close”, you moan, your back arching against the cool wooden desk.

One of his hands comes up to tug on your hardened nipples while the other finds refuge between your thighs. You feel him smirk against your skin and you realize why when he dips a finger into your spasming hole. His large finger works itself in and out of you, pushing you closer to your release. 

“You like that baby?” he asks. “Cmon I want you to come for me. Can you do that sweetheart?” 

Not waiting for your response he adds another finger, fucking you in tandem with his mouth. With every stroke you feel yourself getting closer, your juices gushing down your inner thighs, producing a sound so obscene it’s bordering pornographic. It’s only when he curves his finger, hitting your g-spot that you feel yourself lose it. 

“Oh my God-”, you cry out, “Fuck I’m cumming.”

Your legs shake beside his head but he doesn’t stop fucking you through your high. Your mind is blank and your thighs are sticky from your release and you think you might have just gone to heaven and back.

-

You wake with a gasp in your bed. You’re drenched in sweat and you feel your shirt sticking to the skin on your back. The boyshorts you’re wearing feel wet and sticky from your release. You sit up trying to momentarily catch your breath and you stare in the mirror directly across from your bed. The skin on your chest is red and blotching and your sheets are rumpled.

God, did you really just have a wet dream about your professor? Maybe applying for this mentorship was a mistake.

[mcheang]

The return of Amy Squirrel

“When the superintendent personally asks you to work at one of the worst schools…you say yes.”

Not only is Amy a more suspicious teacher than Ms Bustier, but she will be taking over Ms Bustier’s class while the latter is on maternity leave.

Now Amy may treat everyone like they are in kindergarten, but she has a history. She was forcibly transferred after her rival framed her for being on drugs. Said rival Elizabeth was now a guidance counselor but it galled Amy to be sent to Paris, aka the emotionally troubled city, to teach the akuma class, under false charges. In hindsight, she really should have returned Elizabeth’s desk after stealing it to check for drugs.

The unfairness and humiliation made Amy reflect on the situation and she vowed to be smarter, more prepared to see through such tricks.

Naturally, when it comes to Chloe’s bullying, Amy puts Chloe in a time out. When Chloe calls her father angrily, but Amy scolds her for talking to her father as if he is her servant. And Chloe is making her family look bad. Audrey happens to be near Andre when Amy says this and hearing this, agrees Claudine should be disciplined and gives Amy free reign. Until she is respectable, she isn’t a Bourgeois. Chloe is akumatized except Amy has a solution for this. While the butterfly is happily accepted by Chloe, Amy punches her, knocking her unconscious while Alya posts on her blog about the akuma so Ladybug has an excuse to come purify the butterfly.

Chloe: You punched me!

Amy: Your mother authorised me to use any means to make sure you don’t keep embarrassing her. Frankly, you losing again to Ladybug would be humiliating since it just enforces to your mother that you are a loser.

Chloe is stunned to see she has lost influential power. Aka she can be sent to detention and her parents won’t help her.

Now, Marinette is holding a car wash for a future field trip. Seeing Marinette’s clumsy and efficient record (she was practically doing half of Caline’s work for the pregnant lady), Amy did not mind. She minded however when Lila, who did not show up at the car wash at all, said she felt bad about not being able to help and volunteered to help with the money arrangements.

Marinette and Caline: Absolutely not

The class was stunned. Marinette was not expecting someone to be on her side.

Caline: I know your reputation for being charitable Lila, unfortunately it is that reputation that leads me to mistrust you with this. Mylene told me how you had donated the money she organised to your fundraiser for the poor instead of her preferred save the earth charity. While the cause is still noble, the donators wanted the money to go to the earth. I cannot risk you donating our fundraiser trip money to another one of your noble causes. If you are that worried about their causes, you can ask your class to help with another fundraiser, except Marinette and Alya, they need to help me plan the field trip.

Lila gritted her teeth. This immature teacher was a hindrance!

Amy had done her research on Lila too. A disturbing number of ailments and disorders, long leaves of absences with parent approval, and she was not unaware how the class catered to Lila by helping her copy notes, buy her lunch, carry her backpack, etc. All in all, Amy would not want to look before she leapt and think Lila a liar but she finds her suspicious. When she confides to Damocles, he mentions Lila’s lying disorder.

Amy: THAT’S BONKERS! And if she is telling the truth, how can you know when she lies, we need a proper authority figure to guide us on how to help accommodate Lila’s needs. We cannot trust the poor girl whose ability to distinguish fact from fiction is so hampered.

Damocles: I have tried reaching out to her mother, but she’s so busy, I’m afraid emails are allowed. Rest assured they are detailed.

Having dealt with Elizabeth, Amy was not discounting the possibility that the email was a fake.

Amy: May I see Mrs Rossi’s occupation? What job is more important than being here for her daughter.

Principal passed her a paper. “She’s the ambassador of Italy.“

Amy: And what does it mean for Italy if she cannot even be there for her child?

Principal had no idea how to respond to that.

Amy personally went to the embassy to talk to Mrs Rossi and boy was there some clarifications to be made.

If Amy was immature, Diplomat Rossi was oblivious/ignorant. The diplomat readily agreed to come with Amy and see the principal.

The next morning, Lila was called to the principal’s office where she was roundly scolded for lying and framing Marinette.

Damocles: Lila Rossi, you are hereby expelled.

Lila promptly runs away, to become Cerise. She has 2 more mothers to financially rely on.

Mrs Rossi speaks to the class and tells them the truth about Lila. She apologises to Marinette. She also asks that if Lila should contact them, to call her.

Only, Lila isn’t answering any of their calls.

Marinette is so thrilled with Amy handling her bullies. She is so much more efficient than Ms Bustier!

Her efforts were enough to get her promoted from substitute to main teacher.

[greenletters07]

The Perfect Classroom - Chapter One

Nathaniel Richardson, a teacher who is fed up with the injustices he must endure as a teacher in a school, finds the mask. I hope you like it.

In his younger years, Nathaniel Richardson Jr. had been a man highly respected by those who knew him: thanks to his dedication, his intelligence, his patience and effort, he ended up being the source of admiration for many. Knowing his reputation, he decided to go down the path of teaching, with the desire to educate new generations.

At first it seemed like a wise decision. He studied a bachelor's degree in Education, both for primary and intermediate education, graduating with Magna Cum Laude in both, and immediately began practicing his profession, working in a public school. He began teaching five and six year olds and was later moved to a more advanced classroom. The young people adored him, his classmates loved him, and the school environment seemed pleasant and comfortable.

At first.

But things began to change once, for reasons of pursuing a master's degree in educational technology, he had to move and, therefore, change schools. He continued in a general school (which had two buildings, for students aged 7-14, depending on the level) and, instantly, he knew that he had started on the wrong foot.

Classes could never be taught properly, because the students in the room he had been assigned were some of the most horrible children that Professor Nathaniel had ever seen: shouting, disrespectful, irresponsible... Some spoke openly about topics that he only knew about. until late adolescence and others did not hesitate to use violence to resolve conflicts, whether by overturning chairs or by going to blows. Nathaniel always found himself at a crossroads: if he tried to stop the fight, he would be reprimanded for “touching a minor”; If not, they called him out for “not doing his job.” The boys' parents did nothing to collaborate, and always blamed him for everything that happened, accusing him of “hating their angel.”

To make matters worse, when he came home after a long day it wasn't exactly to rest. He had to combine his teacher's work (correcting exams, preparing study plans for the following weeks, etc...) with his master degree's work, so he was rarely not awake late at night.

The stress of living that day after day for years had taken its toll on him. He no longer had the same healthy body as before; his hair, usually black, had turned white due to gray hair and he had a small bald spot on the crown of his head. He had to take blood pressure pills every morning before going to school, and every afternoon when he got home, once he got away from those imps. Only his desire to finish his master's degree gave him the necessary strength to endure that job because he needed the money.

And he was almost done. Doing the math right, he was only a few months away from finishing. If he finished the school year, the summer months would be ideal to finish his thesis.

“Although with such a difficult group,” he said quietly, while he was at his desk watching how, after the bell rang, the students stampeded out of the classroom, “it's going to be a miracle if I survive…”

Once he was alone in the room, he picked up the mess that the students had left, organized the classroom and went to check his email on his laptop one last time. There was a new message, sent by the director, whose words sent a shiver through Nathaniel:

Stop by my office before you leave.

Oh dung... he thought. He picked up his things as quickly as he could, left the classroom and headed towards the principal's office. He knocked on the door and, after the sound of a “come in”, entered.

“Did you want to see me, Principal Saints?”

“Yes, Professor Richardson, take a seat,” the headmaster said in a calm, intimidating voice. If it weren't for the fact that his father was a sergeant, Nathaniel would have been nervous; he simply sat in the chair in front of the principal's desk. “I'll be straight with you, Richardson, it's time for a parent-teacher conference.”

The way the evening light passed through the window and illuminated the room with its warm tones made the atmosphere dissonant with that news, as if the sky was mocking the professor. Nathaniel parted his lips slightly in surprise.

“The notice was already sent to parents by mail with the appointment tomorrow after school,” the principal added with a stern look, before Nathaniel responded. “What's wrong, Richardson? Are you not ready after these months?”

To put up with the parents of those monsters? I wish! he said to himself sarcastically. Nathaniel suppressed his feelings and, after a sigh, responded completely calmly, although with a look full of resentment. “Of course, director, I will have everything ready for tomorrow, don't worry.”

“I hoped so,” the director said and for a brief moment Nathaniel saw a mocking smile that quickly faded. “You can go. See you tomorrow."

“See you tomorrow, sir…” Nathaniel muttered as politely as he could before getting up and leaving. “How much I hate it… everyone here!” he said as he crossed the school entrance. He drove to the parking lot, where he found his car piled high with papers around him. They really are insufferable...

He picked up the papers, threw them into the nearest trash can, got into his car, started it, and drove to his house. He entered, left his suitcase on the table and lay down on the couch, exhausted, in order to take a break. He didn't know when he turned into a nap, but the sound of an alarm woke him up. Still sleepy, Nathaniel looked at his phone and upon reading the message, he understood what it was: a reminder to take out the dog from his next-door neighbor.

Some afternoons, and to have some extra money, Nathaniel decided to take his neighbor's pet, a very elderly lady, for a walk. He had been doing it almost since he moved there, so the dog had already grown fond of him. Nathaniel changed his clothes into something more casual and left his house for his neighbor's house.

“Oh, Mr. Richardson,” said the old woman when he was already holding the dog's leash tightly to prevent it from escaping. “Do you know that this is the last time I will be here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Mastard, I knew your daughter would be coming to pick you up, wouldn’t she?” Nathaniel replied. Mrs. Mastard was somewhat forgetful.

“That's how it is… she's coming to pick me up tomorrow during the day,” she explained on the phone and gave a sigh. “Could you give Clidd one last walk around the neighborhood? So that she does not forget what will soon cease to be his home…”

“With pleasure, Mrs. Mastard, come on, Clidd!” The dog barked with joy and began to run; Nathaniel followed him, pulling on the leash.

Compared to the boys at school, Clidd the dog was much more manageable and better behaved, too. He liked to run around, running in circles while he chased his tail, chasing squirrels, and walking in the dirt. Nathaniel already had a predetermined route and took the dog that way. It was one of the few moments of peace Nathaniel experienced during the day. They arrived at a regular dog park, played for a while and then the man let the dog free before sitting on a green nearby bench.

Nathaniel saw the dog run off on his own and pick up a stick. Clidd took a bone he found lying around and dug in the grass to bury it. Seconds later, the dog started barking, jumping around the hole he made.

"What's wrong, Clidd?" Nathaniel asked, approaching. In the place where the dog wanted to bury his bone, there was a hard object in the dirt. The dog dug a little more and the man was able to get it out of there.

It was a strange object, no doubt, but even stranger was that it was buried in the first place. It was a faded green mask, with a metal bar with four holes, the top one had an L, without any type of grip with which he could hold his face and three holes that formed an expressionless face. The inner side felt smoother on Nathaniel's fingers than the outer side. He didn't know why, but everything around him seemed to go silent for several seconds as all his attention remained on that mask, almost as if he entered a trance. Only the vibration of his phone in his pocket brought him back.

"Pill time," he read on the screen before deactivating the alarm. "I'm sorry, Clidd, but it's time to come home," he said to the dog. He tied him up and they returned to Mrs. Mastard's house. "Here is the dog, safe and sound," he told the old woman once the dog entered, "and look, he found a gift, maybe it will serve as a reminder of this place."

She noticed the mask he was holding. With a wave of her hands, she laughed briefly. "Don't worry, dear, why don't you keep it? It’s no problem."

"Okay, Mrs. Mastard. See you soon, I wish you a safe trip," he said and returned to his house, took the blood pressure pill, looked for his suitcase and went to the desk where Nathaniel usually did his homework; Nathaniel put the mask aside and took out what he needed. 

I must finish my master's degree assignments, tomorrow's class schedule, and review each student's progress for the parent-teacher conference, he thought and noticed the pile of documents that were on the table. 

He let out a deep sigh. 

"So let’s begin."

-Continue-

[whitehotharlots]

On one of the staggeringly large number of white lady academics who pretended to be not-white

In a sad attempt to keep up engagement, I've decided to post some things I wrote in personal correspondence over the last few years but never bothered to translate into full-fledge posts. Going through these emails, I was astounded at how much I've lost the ability to process the timeline of political events since COVID. Things that I would have sworn happened a couple of months ago actually happened 5 years ago; stuff that seems like ancient history was actually just from this past summer, etc. I think there's some value in recapitulating some of these events, give ourselves a chance to reflect on how much and how little things have evolved.

This piece was originally written in early 2021:

I'm not in STEM and I only pay as much attention to MeToo bullshit as I need to, so the MeTooSTEM movement and its drama passed me by. Basically, it was started or popularized by a lady neuroscientist named BethAnn McLaughlin. By early last year she began facing the type of predictable criticisms that inevitably wreck all leftist movements, regardless of legitimacy. Basically people agreed with her movement but were upset that she had too much of a leadership role, didn't center the correct voices, sometimes criticized people from more disadvantaged groups, etc. Here's a neat example, from the piece linked above:

Last month, McLaughlin tweeted angrily at Hontas Farmer, a transgender woman of color who teaches physics at the City Colleges of Chicago. In a thread about student–faculty relationships, Farmer noted that it would be “unenforceable to forbid relationships.” “Get off my time line with your pro-preying on students garbage,” McLaughlin responded. “Grown ups are talking. #STEMTrollAlert.”

While this lady seems like a vicious shithead, it's important to note that this type of behavior is common in woke discourses. It's the natural result of a morally certain culture is which all dissent is considered proof of evil. In this case, I happen to agree with the trans woman: while student-teacher relationships are gross, blanket bans are unenforceable and will most likely wind up harming the least empowered teachers. But this teacher's concerns were only allowed to stand because of her status as a trans woman--Laura Kipnis made the exact same argument several years ago, before the MeToo furor had really kicked off, and it nearly destroyed her career.

The point here is that no one is actually arguing for or against the merit or logic of certain positions; it's all jockeying over who is even allowed to have a position in the first place, and then demanding that everyone else defer to this person's position, which is automatically validated by their identity statuses.

Nothing in the Buzzfeed profile seems very damning or specific. I'm not a fan of MeToo, but we see here the same general hatred of strong leadership that seems to plague all left spaces. Arguments in regards to how funding should be spent and what actions should be prioritized--things that happen in literally any organization of more than a few people and can only be resolved by designating leadership--are presented in terms of bodies and spaces and centering voices and yada yada yada. Once again, it's not about the morality or efficacy of the actions taken by this organization. It's about whose identity imbues them with moral authority.

Buzzfeed seemed to have a particular hard on for this lady so they posted another piece in February of this year, documenting even more dysfunction in her movement. Again, she seems like a shithead and her movement's goals are usually not good, but the accusations against her were still vague, woke bullshit that amounted to people framing an organizational power struggle as a civil rights issue. And this is where things get interesting...

What does a white lady shithead do when she finds herself automatically unable to criticize people who fall above her on the hierarchy of oppression? Why, she pretends to be an indigenous lady shithead! She fabricated the existence of an ASU professor of Hopi descent who posted under the name of sciencing_bi. Sciencing_bi just so happened to agree with everything the white lady posted, and was fiercely protective of the white lady when she found herself getting attacked by non-white people.

But then, sadly, the made up Hopi professor succumbed to Lady Corona last week. Woke STEM twitter mourned her passing by angrily blaming ASU for their failure to protect employees of color. This caused ASU to release a statement saying that, uhh, no one has died and they have absolutely no idea what any of these lunatics are talking about.

Just--dear god. At what point does hubris give way and become delusion? How insulated must someone feel to believe that they can not only create but kill off a fictional persona whose primary utilitity is to brown-wash your own opinions?

These are the people who have become the morality police of the twenty twenties. These people are the ones who decide what you can or cannot say or believe. They are insane and and they are stupid, and they control our world.

[kats-fic-recs]

Best Bnha fics I read in 2022

per my last email

In America, Izuku is assigned a pen pal from Japan. Bakugou-san threatens him daily and curses all too often, but he answers Izuku’s questions and shows interest in his dreams. Oceans away in Musutafu, Katsuki enrolls in the mandatory English language course. His pen pal is a pain in his ass and asks way too many fucking questions.

They're supposed to be learning a new language. Instead, they discover why crushing on someone across the globe is not the best idea.

sunshine

“I see,” Ashido claps her hands together, “aww, you ran into a danger zone with no hesitation to save your childhood friend from the clutches of a villain! That’s so sweet!”

If only it was that simple . “I guess,” Izuku shrugs, “it’s complicated.”

“Tell me,” Ashido says, “sometimes talking to a neutral party about your problems is helpful! I can give you advice for whatever your situation is with this Kacchan .”

----------

or, izuku meets mina ashido when they're in middle school. and with a little push from a new friend, he gets kacchan back, too.

my heart's already been sold

“'At aw you ding?”

“That’s not Japanese,” Kacchan says, pushing his hands in further. “You sound like a fish.”

Bakugou keeps squishing Izuku's cheeks and walking away with zero explanation. Izuku is so, so gone for him.

The Distance Between Suns

What happens when a war tears you apart and then brings you back together?

Bakugo Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku spent years wondering if they would ever see each other again. Izuku, a prisoner in the walls of Court learning to navigate the trials of political warfare, and Katsuki, a forgotten child soldier whose enemies are not what they seem.

Years on opposite sides of the world changed them into what they needed to be to survive, but if there was one thing they never let themselves forget, it was the other. When the collapse of the ruling monarchy brings them colliding back together, will they be able to survive in the rapidly changing world around them and do what they need to save it?

Will they be able to survive each other?

Forget-Me-Not

"Do you remember what he we do every morning?” Hizashi placed his hand on top of his husband’s.

“I’m Aizawa Shouta. I’m a pro hero and teacher. I’m married and have two children. Hitoshi is in my class, training to become a hero, and we rescued Eri from Overhaul. She is still learning to control her quirk. I am working on a case about the League of Villains.”

Today wasn’t a good day, then.

“That’s really good, Shouta. But that was almost 30 years ago.”

Or, taking care of a husband with a slowly worsening memory loss, you’d have good days and bad days. For Hizashi, anniversaries were one of the hardest.

(may the bridges i have burned) light my way back home

Since Bakugou Katsuki discovered the secret of One for All, he and Midoriya Izuku have been slowly repairing the friendship they once had. They still haven’t talked about it—but Izuku’s certain that it’s only a matter of time before they manage to lay the past to rest.

But when the League of Villains attack the Sports Festival and Bakugou takes a devastating blow meant for Izuku, the whole nation is suddenly paying attention to a relationship the two people involved barely understand. Izuku needs more than ever to figure out who he and Kacchan are to each other—preferably before the internet does.

or,

“Fuck you,” Bakugou said. “I don’t need a whole face to kick your ass.”

the chaser and the chase

“This is a love story, Midoriya,”

“No, it's not. It’s crime/mystery,”

Or the one wherein Izuku writes the best selling book of the year and confesses to Katsuki at the same time.

you left a sour aftertaste

Izuku and Katsuki aren't together anymore. To take up his time, Izuku joins his school's band club, becomes the lead singer, makes some impulsive decisions, and accidentally gets a little famous. All because he's downright heartbroken, and Katsuki isn't (or at least, he doesn't look it).

Maybe some people were just meant to find their way back to each other. It might take a few stumbles, though.

don't be a stranger

“Not even a thank you for your friendly neighborhood Spiderman?” Izuku called out teasingly. “Where are you going?”

“Why the fuck do you wanna know, creep?”

“You sure you can make it back home safe?”

Katsuki glanced back angrily and flipped him the bird. “Eat shit, bugboy.”

Bugboy. That was new.

In which Izuku is Spiderman, Katsuki is nosy, and juggling high school and vigilante work has never been so difficult when your best friend is convinced that something’s up.

Or, five times Katsuki almost finds out that Izuku is Spiderman. One time he actually does.

Editor Denki & the No Good Mary Sue

Bakugou has a VERY original character that he's been writing about for a while. Just a hot-tempered prohero who's absolutely unstoppable, extremely cool, and a badass quirk that bears a striking resemblance to his own.

Unfortunately, according to poor Kaminari Denki, the guy's romance seems pretty half-baked. Which is crazy, because Bakugou didn't write a romance! He just included his stupid childhood friend in a few- okay, a lot- of the scenes, and Denki somehow got the wrong idea. Of course, Bakugou refuses to take an insult lying down, and sets about figuring out how to make Deku a compelling character for a beautiful romance- and accidentally learns some things about himself in the process.

with excerpts from Bakugou Katsuki's self-insert fan novel in all their glory.

Bare Your Soul In Ink

Writing isn't something you need a quirk for either. For all of human history, people have been telling stories. Weaving words together to form new things is built into our DNA on a level so much deeper than quirks are.

Writing could even help me escape from my life. I could hide behind a pen name, and then no one would have to know that the book in their hands was written by someone quirkless.

Yet here I am, writing about… the fact that I am quirkless.

When Izuku suddenly finds himself famous for writing a book about his life as a quirkless person, it leads to a reunion he never would have expected.

Me Myself and My Wingman

Katsuki’s wings were as magnificent as his quirk, and when they worked in tandem, it was nothing short of breath-taking. Katsuki cut through the air like a lash of fire, his blasts propelling him as his wings fanned out with the same ferocity of an avenging angel.

Izuku is in love with him, and doesn’t plan on doing anything about it.

(Unfortunately, his wings are quite determined to woo Katsuki by themselves.)

A Love Song from the Deep

His pod has always feared the Dragons, the alien clan that dwelled among volcanic vents of the deep, and with good reason. No one has seen one in generations, but Izuku heard stories of blind, listless things that drifted along the sea floor like ghosts.

Wherein Izuku is a curious merman, and his new friend is very fascinating.

How to Train Your Useless Dragon

Bakugou Katsuki needs to kill a dragon to take its teeth and become a warrior of his tribe.

But, what? Why the fuck doesn't this dragon have teeth?

Written from the promp "What if Izuku was the dragon?"

Shamelessly How to Train Your Dragon inspired.

if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

There's very few people that a daemon will seek touch from outside of their holder or other daemons. Best friends, even if Izuku wanted to believe that he'd ever sincerely been that for Kacchan, are rarely one of the exceptions.

By when Izuku's life has come crashing down —by when he's left with the option of staying still until he turns to dust or walk walk walk on the shards until he bleeds—, he already knows his relationship with Kacchan has always been an anomaly.

It's only later that he discovers that what's really extraordinary is Adara.

Bright Stars

There had been rumors of a Human who wasn’t performing well in fighting rings, constantly ignoring their lesser opponents and trying to go after the very loud, very violent crowd instead.

or

Not only did Hizashi allow himself to be caught by the alien trafficking ring he and Shouta were trying to bring down, he's also stuck in a cell with a Deathworlder.

It goes better than expected.

[get-your-fics]

Detention

Summary: After all your time running detention, you’d finally managed to find a pest you couldn’t get rid of, and a confounding one at that.

Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x fem!teacher!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Power imbalance, age gap, tim is 18 but in high school

Note: i blame @cocoamoonmalfoy for this. she got me hooked on lovesick puppy dog timmy and put this idea in my head so this is me trying my hand at that, enjoy this light little blurb i wrote in a day <3

In the school teacher hierarchy, you were the lowest of the low: a substitute teacher who assisted kids in class with extra needs from time to time.

This meant you also had the misfortune of staying an hour after everyone left to monitor after school detention.

It was never too taxing, just time consuming more than anything. There was the occasional rowdy student, but that was bound to happen in a room full of bored teens sent there specifically because they were disruptive.

The true challenge came a couple months back.

You were running late from helping a student and stormed into the classroom in a huff. The desks were empty except for sparse student here or there. Detention was hardly ever packed.

You slammed the door shut behind you, startling the half-asleep teens out of their stupor. “Good afternoon.” You announced yourself as you marched to the front of the room. “Welcome to after school detention. You’ll stay here for an hour before I dismiss you. No talking, no sleeping, no messing around, and no homework.”

You threw your bag and your coat on the desk before collapsing in the chair. You took a deep breath to gather your composure before looking out at the sea of desks in front of you.

There were a couple students towards the back who were slumped over in their seats staring off into space, nothing out of the ordinary. It was the student in the front row sitting at the center desk who caught your eye, mainly because his were glued to you.

He had shaggy, dark hair that complimented his pale skin and round doe eyes framed by long, thick lashes. He was staring at you in awe, almost like he was perplexed at your very presence.

You tried to avoid his gaze by pulling out your laptop, but it was hard to focus on the unread emails multiplying in your inbox when his eyes were practically burning a hole in your forehead.

You grew fed up with his staring and looked up at him over the frames of your blue light glasses. “Can I help you?” you snapped a little harsher than you probably should’ve.

He perked up like a dog whose name was called. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen you around before.” His brows furrowed. “What class do you teach?”

“I don’t,” you said, your tone razor sharp. “I’m a sub.”

The corners of his lips quirked into a hint of a smirk. “So they stick you with detention, huh?”

You didn’t dignify him with an answer. You pursed your lips as you averted your gaze back to the bright glow of your screen.

The squeal of chair legs against tile cut through the silence as he scooted closer to you. “This is my first time. I got caught drawing a dick on the bathroom wall by a teacher.”

You rolled your eyes. Unsurprising.

“Oh, sorry. Was I not supposed to say that?” He tilted his head to the side. He really was a puppy personified.

You glowered. “This isn’t prison.”

“So is it always like this?” He folded his arms over the desk, jiggling his knee. “Is this the school’s version of timeout?”

“Act like a child and be treated like a child.” You tried to make yourself look busy by typing on your keyboard.

He snickered. “I can assure you I’m not a child.” He looked you up and down. “You’re a hard ass, aren’t you?”

You looked up at him, eyes wide with shock. “Excuse me?”

He blinked. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way! I just mean that you’re strict, no nonsense.” You swore you thought he licked his lips. “I like it.”

You couldn’t tell if the heat in your cheeks was out of embarrassment or anger. “Do I have to remind you, mister—“

“Chalamet,” he finished for you, “but you can call me Timothée.”

You ignored his interruption. “You are to be silent. Continue talking, and I’ll see you back here tomorrow.”

His brows shot up his forehead. “Do you mean that?”

You had a hard time keeping your jaw from dropping.

You saw him in detention the day after that, and the next day and the next day until his presence became so reoccurring that you could bet on it. He sat in the same seat every time without fail and always had some strange reason or another for being there. He made a point of telling you, almost out of pride:

“I threw a pencil in class and it got stuck in the ceiling.”

“I blasted rap music from my portable speaker.”

“I was skateboarding in the halls.”

You blinked at the smug little smirk on his face. It was like he made it his mission to find all the different ways he could wind up in detention. If nothing else, you could say he was determined. And creative.

He always tried to make small talk with you, and when you shushed him, he’d sit there with his chin resting on his folded arms, staring at you like a dog waiting for a treat. It was unnerving the first couple of times, but you got acquainted to working with the feeling of his eyes on you relatively fast. Didn’t make it any less distracting though.

It wasn’t long before his presence started to bleed into other areas of your school day as well. He went out of his way to greet you when you passed him in the hall, even going so far as to raise his hand for a high five. His friends would laugh and tease him as you walked on by, leaving him hanging. You had to admit the adorable look of dejection and disappointment on his face even made you bite your cheek to keep from smiling.

You’ll never forget the time you ended up subbing for a class he was in. He sat ramrod straight in his chair, and you practically expected to see him wagging his tail. He spent the entire class period trying to get your attention, and when you finally told him to cut it out, he just raised a brow at you.

“Or what? What are you going to do?” His trademark smirk was back on his lips. “Give me detention?”

You sighed. After all your time running detention, you’d finally managed to find a pest you couldn’t get rid of, and a confounding one at that.

He even had the audacity to come up to you the one time you dared to get lunch from the cafeteria. He spotted you in line and ran at you like a cheetah, nearly dropping his tray in the process.

“Hey, miss!” He skidded to a halt, almost running straight into you. “I didn’t know you get lunch at the cafeteria.”

“I usually don’t.” You shuffled forward in line, hoping he’d get the hint and carry on.

He didn’t. “Where are you gonna eat?” He thumbed over his shoulder at a table of raucous teens. “You can sit with me and my friends if you want.”

You shot him a bizarre look. Had he completely forgotten that you were a teacher and he was a student, and there was at least a roomy age gap between the two of you?

“Or do you have a classroom you eat at?” He smirked, showing off his dimples. “You know, if you wanted it to be one on one.”

You gripped your tray a little tighter. Today had to be the day you forewent packing lunch. “Mr. Chalamet—“

“I told you to call me Timothée,” he corrected you, “but Timmy or Tim is okay too.”

You internally heaved a sigh of relief when it was your turn at the front of the line. You quickly paid for your meal, muttering a short thank you to the cashier. “Actually, I’m going to the staff break room.”

You caught a glimpse of the frown etched onto his face before you spun on your heel. You heard him call after you, “See you in detention!”

He was the last one to pack up his things as usual. While everyone else couldn’t wait to get off of school grounds, he seemed to move through molasses, stretching every second into infinity.

You were shoving your laptop into your bag as he approached. He cleared his throat. “I’ll be graduating in a couple weeks.”

“I’m surprised with how many times you’ve been written up.” You zipped up your bag.

He laughed. “You’re funny.” He leaned a hand on the desk. “Will I see you there?”

“All the teachers will be there,” you said.

“So, you could give me my diploma then?”

You froze and looked up at him. He was rocking back and forth on his heels and biting his lip. Was he nervous?

“Why would you want me to do that?” To seniors, asking someone to give them their diploma was a big deal, second only to promposals.

“Because you’re my favorite teacher,” he answered simply.

“I’m not your teacher.”

“I’m with you here everyday for an hour after school.” He shrugged.

You gritted your teeth. He had a point. “I still don’t get why that is.”

He scoffed. “You know, for a teacher, you’re a little thick-skulled.”

Your face screwed up in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled at you dreamily. “You’re cute when you’re confused, you know that?”

All at once, the puzzle pieces snapped into place.

Was he insinuating what you thought he was?

All this time, he had crush on you, and you were none the wiser?

Maybe he was right. You were a little dim-witted.

“Timothée…” you started, your voice low.

He waved you off. “I know, I know. It’s highly inappropriate and all that. That’s why I was just content spending time with you after school, even if it was in detention.” He dug the toe of his sneaker into the tile floor.

Your heart fluttered in your chest. He looked pitiful, clinging to what anyone else would see as a hopeless crush.

Though you weren’t much better. It took you weeks to see that this boy who had singled you out while you flew under everyone else’s radar was infatuated with you, this boy who you were sure had his pick of the litter. What a pair you made.

“Took you long enough to put it together,” he mumbled.

You swallowed hard. “If you really want me to give you your diploma, then I will, since I’ll be there anyway,” you were quick to tack on at the end.

His face broke out into a jubilant grin. “Yes, yes, of course, thank you!” He looked like he was keeping from jumping up and down and pumping his fists in the air. “Maybe you could come to my grad party after then, too.”

“Don’t push your luck.” You ducked your head to hide a smile.

“Ah, playing hard to get, I see.” He slowly backed away from the desk. “I’ve been at this game a lot longer than you have and I like the chase.”

You shook your head at him. You went back to packing up when you heard his voice again. “Oh, and teach?”

Your head shot up. He was standing in the doorway. “I’m eighteen already, just so you know.” He shot you the sultriest look he could muster, even had the audacity to wink.

He patted the doorframe before disappearing down the hall. It took a second before your heart started beating in your chest again.

Maybe you’d actually look forward to graduation this year.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 2/5

Book blurb:

Unforgettable, snarky, and romantic, I Hope This Doesn't Find You is Never Have I Ever meets To All the Boys I've Loved Before if Lara Jean wrote hate emails instead of love letters.

Sadie Wen is perfect on paper: school captain, valedictorian, and a "pleasure to have in class." It’s not easy, but she has a trick to keep her model-student smile plastered on her face at all times: she channels all her frustrations into her email drafts. She'd never send them of course -- she'd rather die than hurt anyone's feelings -- but it's a relief to let loose on her power-hungry English teacher or a freeloading classmate taking credit for Sadie's work.

All her most vehemently worded emails are directed at her infuriating cocaptain, Julius Gong, whose arrogance and competitive streak have irked Sadie since they were kids. "You're attention starved and self-obsessed and unbearably vain . . . I really hope your comb breaks and you run out of whatever expensive hair products you've been using to make your hair appear deceptively soft . . ."

Sadie doesn't have to hold back in her emails, because nobody will ever read them . . . that is, until they're accidentally sent out.

Overnight, Sadie’s carefully crafted, conflict-free life is turned upside down. It's her worst nightmare -- now everyone at school knows what she really thinks of them, and they're not afraid to tell her what they really think of her either. But amidst the chaos, there's one person growing to appreciate the "real" Sadie -- Julius, the only boy she's sworn to hate . . . .

Review:

Rival academics with a touch of To All the Boys I've Loved Before in this story about a girl who's emails about her rival and the entire school are sent... and now she has to deal with the fall out of it as well as possibly falling for the one guy she never thought she would. For 10 years Sadie Wen and Julius Gong have been competing against each other. They've made everyone at school's life a bit difficult with their extreme need to beat each other. Sadie hates Julius, she hates how perfect he is, how handsome he is, how smart and mean he is. The only way to vent her angry? Draft up emails to him and everyone else whenever they make her angry... except now suddenly all those emails have been sent out. Now everyone is getting to see the real Sadie, and the careful "perfect" image of herself is going up in flames. Yet one person seems to appreciate the real her... and it's none other than Julius. The more Julius and Sadie begin to talk to each other after the truth is revealed the more complicated the feelings begin to grow and Sadie is starting to realize that maybe the boy she's been obsessively trying to beat... the one person who is constantly on her mind might be the perfect person for her. This one was meh for me, I had really high hopes for it but it kind of fell flat unfortunately. I just couldn't really vibe with Sadie and the situations she ended up in just didn't make sense. Sadie is suppose to be super intelligent but can't even keep a diary or oh I dont know, a word doc of letters but saved a ton of draft emails and then doesn't make sure that they are properly locked up and can't be sent? I don't believe it. Also she goes from being outspoken and to being walked over by people, she'll want to out do Julius but never speaks out about people using her and letting herself be a pushover to please people? Pick a lane girl, either you can stand up for yourself and are a go getter or a timid people pleaser. Also the romance with Julius barely even felt there and I love academical rivals to lovers stories. It literally barely happens by the end of the book. I wish I liked this book more, it had the elements of all the things I usually love, but it just missed the mark for me sadly. If you enjoy academic rivals to lovers give this one a go, maybe you'll have a better time with it than I did.

*Thanks Netgalley and Scholastic, Scholastic Press for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[phrynewrites]

"you think it's cute when i'm mad? great, because i'm about to become real fucking adorable." is giving me early teachers au? or esponiage/unsolved? (not sure, haven't quite got the beat on those yet). and "you deserve to have a fairytale romance" is textbook love letter au to moi

Hello hun! I think I did one of the “you think it’s cute when I’m mad?” prompts already, so I’m going to go with your second suggestion! Here’s a bit of love letter au. Enjoy! 

___

It was the first time Bosco scoffed while reading the manuscript, and Jasmine felt her heart fall out and through the floor. 

Really, she shouldn’t mind at all—it wasn’t possible that Bosco was at the part where she detailed her unending and immediately formed crush on Bosco, how she imagines them reading together in her little nook of a library, confusing their steaming mugs for each others’. And Bosco couldn’t have gotten to the part where Jasmine discussed in great detail the fit of Bosco’s slacks, specifically when they bent over to reload the paper in the copier. And it wasn’t possible that Bosco had access to another, potentially more salacious piece of writing, which was currently password protected and never to see the light of day…

But even then, sitting on Bosco’s leather couch in their office, trying to look like she’s sending off emails rather than monitoring Bosco’s reading habits, Jasmine found herself fidgeting beyond control. 

And Bosco scoffed again, closed the manuscript dramatically, and then opened it again. 

“Ridiculous,” Bosco said, and underlined something in sweeping red ink. “God, this character.” 

Before she could stop herself, Jasmine asked “which one?”

“God, it’s like this annoying girlfriend character,” Bosco said, their words rolling rapidly as they spoke. “A page ago she left the narrator out in the rain, waiting for her, and now the narrator is  acting like it was okay to be forgotten? And is running the annoying girlfriend character a bath to share?” 

Bosco shook their head, like the thought was paining them. “I need her to dump this girlfriend, like, immediately.” They paused. “Though I guess the annoyance is on purpose, to keep us rooting for this narrator to finally find someone worthwhile.” 

Jasmine bore into her laptop, staring at the half-drafted email until the words blurred. Anything to keep herself from staring at Bosco, whose intent gaze she felt warming her skin, whom she hoped in some alternate stretch of reality in which she gathered the nerve to talk to them, would be the worthwhile person she found. 

But instead of saying anything remotely like that, Jasmine said, “Yeah, that makes sense. It’s hard to forgive a character that leaves their girlfriend stranded in a storm.” She pauses her dedicated fake typing. “I had a girlfriend like that once. Left me sloshing down Waverly in a downpour.” 

Bosco shook their head, forcing Jasmine’s attention to their scrunched brows, their grip on the manuscript. “That’s ridiculous. You deserved better.” They placed the manuscript face down. “I think I’ve got a couple spare umbrellas in my closet too. Here, let me find one.” 

“No, no, you really don’t have to.” Jasmine stood, making her way to their cabinet as well. “It’s sunny today anyway. And it was years ago that this happened.” 

“Still,” Bosco muttered, brushing Jasmine to the side and opening the cabinet. “It’s just an umbrella.” 

Jasmine pretended like she wasn’t staring as Bosco rifled through the haphazard space, but still needed to draw her eyes away quickly once Bosco produced an umbrella. It was probably no use though—if she could feel the rising heat to her cheeks, surely Bosco could see it. 

“Really, you deserve a better romance, like a fairytale romance,” Bosco said. “But until then, here’s an umbrella.” 

[letskeepwalking]

August: moved in with Mr. Walking, got assaulted twice by two different students (pressed charges in one case), got COVID for the first time.

September: the day I got back from COVID we had three fights in one day (two before 7am), kid I pressed charges against is placed back in my classroom, English teacher quits, homecoming week.

October: marry Mr. Walking, end of Q1, partner teacher is out for 9 days straight, parent teacher conferences, another English teacher quits, find out I have two kids with IEPs whose modifications are not allowed by law.

November: get a new unhinged parent email every Friday, ear infection, lead a district learning walk where eight (8) different adults observe me teach, student’s twelve-year-old sister dies of flu complications, another student dies of a homicide.

December: get accused of religious discrimination against a student, massive fight on the hall where a kid got jumped again in front of admin and the SRO, end of Q2

Spring semester will be better and that is a promise and a threat.

[anghraine]

Griping (with a few splashes of positivity) about my day yesterday:

Normally, my upper-division English class is great and teaching my 101 class is an ordeal, so it was kind of interesting that dealing with the juniors (mostly English majors) yesterday was incredibly arduous. Probably the only point that wasn't a slog was my brief detour into "stuff about The Madwoman in the Attic and why it's likely that you'll have to read it if you go into feminist literary studies at all, despite major issues with its takes on ... some earlier authors" (they tend to be more animated when I have strong negative opinions, lol).

Meanwhile, the 101 class was pretty cool yesterday. I was talking about synthesis vs analysis and about how engaging with sources isn't just about connecting sources to your core topic/ideas but to showing how the sources are connected, whether they're direct responses or part of a larger conversation.

The first is obviously easier with synthesis, and since I find direct response in academia often very funny, I very concisely explained the whole NINA policy drama I was talking about here the other day, and how Rebecca Fried vs whatshisface could be pretty directly linked in an essay on the subject.

But I did want to give an example to illustrate how sources might be in dialogue without directly referencing each other, so impulsively my example for that (since their current project revolves around writing to evaluate) was the characterization of reviews of the Netflix Persuasion in general by other reviews, with some references to particular uhhhh turns of phrase in some of the reviews, which they laughed out loud at (I am not usually a "makes my students laugh out loud" kind of teacher).

We got into how a paper on that might look at the ways in which (say) negative reviews overlap or where they focus on different or even contradictory takeaways, despite reaching the same conclusions. And I managed to squeak in a brief discussion of how you can use "signposts" to indicate interrelationships between different sources on roughly the same topics (signal phrases along the lines of "X argues that blah blah blah, based on blah blah. Y, on the other hand, contends...").

Normally that class is borderline comatose, but they were entertained enough to pay pretty close attention, and it'd have been a solidly good day in 101 if not for the very whiny student who wanted to talk after class about how the essay prompt's examples of acceptable sources were not applicable to her (extremely niche and unusual) chosen topic, and finally I had to just be ... yeah, so sometimes you have to find sources that are related rather than directly about your topic if it's one where sources are thin, which will sometimes be the case, so it's good practice. Anyway, the next class is arriving and I have to get my blood drawn, so come to my office hours or send an email if you have more questions, bye. (She did neither, in the event.)

A day in the life of teaching 101 for sure, but kind of aggravating after an unusually good day teaching it despite fasting for 13 hrs, after my upper division students had been complaining about having to answer questions about assigned reading (quelle horreur!) and having to use sources in literature papers.

Then I got my blood drawn successfully on the third time (today; they tried twice last week, so the fifth attempt overall). I picked up a prescription while I was there, made a glasses appointment for later that day (the receptionist looked at my multiple bandages from the blood experience and was like "...damn"), barely missed the bus that would have taken me across campus and had to walk instead (still without having eaten), and finally gobbled up some chicken tikka masala I'd had the foresight to bring.

Nobody came to office hours, so I logged in to GW2, accidentally ended up in the Mad King's Labyrinth, and tagged along with a genuinely hilarious squad commander whose lore kept expanding as we went on (he claimed all the labyrinth bosses were family members, that he was tragically widowed in the mysterious Skeleton War that claimed his husband's life, etc) and who ensured that the run was wildly lucrative for everyone.

The end coincided with the end of office hours, so I closed down and rushed back across campus to my vision appointment (which went fine, everyone was very nice, my eyes are in perfect condition apart from being a bit more near-sighted than before), chose my new glasses and absorbed the hit to my savings ($300 for glasses+eye exam wasn't that bad, but still), and then narrowly missed the bus AGAIN. I was going to just wait for the next because I was so tired and hungry at that point, but the sunlight hurt my (dilated) eyes enough that I trudged on along the route until another bus showed up and I managed to stagger back to my office.

It was another hour and a half before I got to my parents' house and my mother essentially tried to guilt me into sticking around with her siblings, even though I had stuff that I needed to upload for my students etc. We were eating Chinese food and my mother's sister (that aunt) started making racist jokes, so at that point I just went "uh, what" and ditched everyone to do my actual job.

Also, my advisor confirmed the date of my oral examination with the Graduate School. ;_;

But hey, my new gathering equipment rocks:

[mightywriting]

Talk with Everyone

I often feel that there is nothing better than a moment so quiet you can hear yourself think. But lately, thanks to the college applicants I work with, I’ve been remembering the value of good conversation. 

When we share stories, ask questions, and uncover new ideas together, it feels like a kind of magic. The more we discuss the more we find out about our intellectual interests, aesthetics, goals, and dreams. Conversation can also become a collaboration that leads to new discoveries.

So, consider this: when college and the future loom on the horizon, what if, instead of jumping into the fray of decision making, we simply had some good chats? 

Talk with family and friends 

First off, I suggest a bit of story sharing. Ask a parent, a sibling, a friend, a teacher what stories come to mind when they think of you. You might even look at old photos as you talk. And, you might find yourself surprised by what they remember, and how these anecdotes have shaped your world. They might recall the kinds of questions you had as a kid, your eagerness to perform for a crowd, your empathetic approach to animals, your young love of adventure. Sometimes our personalities pivot, but often our strongest traits have been with us all along. 

Ask about your ancestors, too. Knowing your family's struggles, accomplishments, and even secrets might help you better know yourself. 

Talk with acquaintances whose lives interest you

Once you’ve exhausted yourself as a subject, look around you.  What problems do you want to solve, what fields do you wish you knew more about? Make a list of people you know and admire, and then reach out to them.  If you’re interested in cyber security, talk to a neighbor who works in the field. If you enjoy art, go on a studio tour. Talk to small business owners, teachers, paramedics. Talk to council members and architects. Ask them when and how they developed their direction, where they went to school, and what they studied.  Learn a little about their lives. If nothing else, you may discover this open secret: adults don’t have it all figured out!

What do I say? 

You might be thinking, that sounds great but I don’t want to bother people. Just be polite. If you are reaching out to a stranger, start with a nice email asking them for a few moments of their time.

Or maybe you are worried about what to ask them. In truth, you probably don’t need to say much. Most people love to share stories. Ask a social worker why they became a social worker, a surgeon what drove them to medicine, ask a woodworker how they developed their craft—you are likely to hear an earful. But just in case, here are a few questions to help you get started.. 

When did you first realize that you wanted to pursue your current career?

Where did you go to school? Do you recommend it? Why, or why not? 

What did you like best about your college experience? 

What do you wish you’d done differently?

Did school prepare you for your career? If not, how did you build the skills you needed?

What advice do you have for high school students today?

The Nonlinear Path

As you listen keep your ears peeled for the twists and turns that most lives take. Just last week, I realized that some of my husband's colleagues at a software company have degrees in theater and philosophy! Hearing stories like these might put your heart at ease. Perhaps you can follow a path you love, and find your way to a success as well.

[advancetoclassesandmaterials]

Ghost Entry In Table of Contents Keeps Haunting Us

Scenario:

Mix in with this time sensitive situation, a boss asking for the document, not knowing the cause but needing to solve the problem nevertheless.

So, we run a Table of Contents. In one area of the TOC, we have an entry

Whose on the team......................40

Directly followed by:

.....................................................40

1. With this particular document, we used the "Title" style to produce a 1 level Table of Contents. Each Heading throughout the document used the "Title" style.

2. Seeing duplicate or strange entries in a TOC is quite common and seeing this strange entry temporarily threw us. Since there was nothing but a dotted leader on the entry line, there was nothing to help us zone in on where in the document this empty dotted line was stemming from.

Of course I can simply delete it in the TOC but every time we update the TOC it just keeps coming back.

3. Because of editing, we had removed some page breaks in order to get rid of some wide gaps of nothingness on a particular page.

4. When we removed a page break, the first thing on the next page forward was a new Title Heading for a new section of the document.

5. When we decided to place the page break back in, a hard return was made (without really taking note where the position of the cursor was) and then the page break re-inserted.

6. When the hard return was made, since it was sitting in the Title Style Line, the Hard Return picked up the Title Style and on the screen looked like what you see below:

-----Page Break--------(Hard Return) (Title Style)

7. The Title style sitting on the same line as the Page Break made it more difficult to zone in on what was causing the extra line in the TOC. Placing the cursor on this line immediate saw the cursor jump to the Title Style name in the right side style panel. Once this line was stripped to Normal (Control Shift N) and the TOC re-run, the problem was resolved.

Note: In this particular TOC, in place of using Headings 1 and 2 the author wanted the Titles of the document to create the TOC. That is why this particular scenario happened. Remember, whatever styles you choose to be in your Table of Contents from the “Options” button contained in your Table of Contents Dialog Box will ultimately be part of your completed Table of Contents.

In Sum, if there is an entry in the TOC that you need to remove, know that it stems from somewhere in the document. It is just a matter of finding it.

Note: Making use of your left side tracking in Draft View will make it that much easier to find the inadvertent entry

Basic-Advanced Legal and Corporate Secretarial and Word Processing Training, Test Prep and Placement Assistance

www.advanceto.com

www.awalkintgecenter.com

888-422-0692 Ext. 1 and 2

Teacher Connected Books

www.legaltestready.com

www.awarenessexplosion.com

Email:

Info@advanceto.com

Louis@advanceto.com

[nickgerlich]

Seek And Ye Shall Find

The history of search is one that resembles a battlefield that, up until just a day or two ago, was littered with the corpses of many an upstart. Archie, from 1990, is considered the first search engine, which was quickly followed by Excite, Lycos, Alta Vista, and Infoseek. Google entered the fray in 1996, but soon the playing field was filled with competitors in what an economist would call perfect competition.

Yahoo, Snap, Ask, and dozens of others all sought to assert dominance, but in the end, as we all know, there was only one company whose name went on to be verbified: Google.



Today, Google commands 84% of our search activities, with Microsoft’s Bing holding nine-percent, and a handful of others, including Duck Duck Go, sharing the remaining seven-percent.

This is all about to change, though, thanks to ChatGPT, which Microsoft has had its eyes on since early this year. And now along comes Google with Bard, its me-too product that will be introduced straightaway to a select few, and rolled out to everyone in a few weeks.

So what’s the problem? Simple. The way we search is about to change, and Google is nervous. Their market share has slowly eroded from more than 91% in 2019, and since Google is really just an online advertising company masquerading as search and other services, those lost eyeballs hurt. It may help explain Google’s 12,000 workers laid off last month.

Think about it. The current search procedure is to enter a word, phrase, or question, and then Google or the others return a series of links to where we might find our answer. But what if, instead of searching this way, we relied on AI to simply generate the answer we want without having to sift through two million hits?

Of course, if citations are what you need, AI has not (yet) solved this matter. It certainly uses sources, but has not been forthcoming about which ones. Professors and teachers won’t like that.

In every day life, though, this greatly simplifies matters. What to make for dinner when you have only five ingredients in the house? AI will create a menu item. Or looking for a recipe that meets strict dietary considerations? Once again, AI to the rescue. Want to know the history of the long-abandoned Varsity Theatre in Canyon Texas? Not a problem.

And now think about integrating this into email platforms. Sometimes it can be a struggle to word things professionally, politely, or whatever the tone may be. Need to express condolences to a student? Or send a thank you for an interview? This solves that problem without your having to agonize over individual words.

By now you might still be thinking that Google doesn’t have anything to worry about. It processes 99,000 search queries per second, or 8.5 billion per day. It still has the lion’s share of the market.

Yeah, but it just lost nearly 10% market share. That’s huge, and still puts Google and search in general somewhere between oligopoly and monopoly. Never mind saber rattling from various governments seeking to break Google down to size, this is a war that was previously fought—and won—but has now suddenly reignited. Microsoft and its Bing has little to lose, but a lot to win. And Google is just a little bit vulnerable right now.

It’s interesting, to say the least, to see the search war play out once more. Just when we thought it had been forever settled, all it took was one paradigm-busting development to change everything.

How will we search in the future? I’ll let ChatGPT tell us, although s/he (I don’t know its pronouns) is decidedly a little opaque:



It is difficult to predict with certainty, but it is likely that online searching in the future will involve more sophisticated and intuitive AI technologies, such as voice assistants and conversational interfaces, as well as the continued development of semantic search algorithms. Additionally, the increasing popularity of wearable technology and the Internet of Things (IoT) may also change the way we search online. The shift towards more privacy-focused technologies and data protection regulations may also impact online search in the future.

I’ll be watching. Besides, I need to find a recipe to jazz up a basic stir fry tonight. Now if I could just get AI to actually make my dinner.

Dr “Stir It Up“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[time-keeps-passing-by]

I really should be doing my school work right now. (That’s another story for another time cause I’m majorly fucking up academically rn) BUT

I wanted to write this out cause I’ve NEVER seen another person post about this and idk it’s a pattern with myself I’ve noticed and idk if anyone else has had the same experience but it would be nice to know.

There are many people on here whose FP is their significant other but let me tell you something. For a lot of us our FP relationship is platonic.

I spent a lot of time throughout my journey learning about my diagnosis wondering if I really had BPD because I have never been romantically linked with any of my FP’s (minus my first gf I guess but that was A MAJORLY ABUSIVE AND SHITTY on and off relationship so idk)

Anyway if made me feel really alone and also shameful because of the pattern I started to recognize when it comes to FP’s throughout my life.

1. I can remember as far back as pre school having an FP. My biological mom used to have to pull me away from my teachers after school (when she’d show up anyway) I would talk non stop to her about my two teachers who I loved oh so dearly, my mother even punished me because she felt I loved my teachers more than her…

Next one was kindergarten, I used to bring her gifts even when I moved on to higher grades, then my learning specialist in 4th and 5th grade. I wrote her an email thanking her for “being like a mom to me” and my foster parents got VERY angry as the email sent back to my inbox (kinda glad my teacher didn’t see it tho cause CRINGE)

After that it was all teachers, nurses, etc. the thing that freaks me out the most is throughout my life (though I’ve had Male FP’s as well) all my FP’s were women who were my mothers age (when I was separated from her, they all are mothers themselves, very maternal, and usually people who were in semi caregiver roles outside the home for me as it was…

Because of this I really started to shame myself because “it’s mommy issues” and even some of my FP’s picked up on that knowing my history and it scared many of them especially as I got older.

I’ve grown a lot since this. I mean I really have been able to push myself to comfort and parent myself, but going to college I gained a new FP and in the beginning it was DEF an unhealthy transference I mean the first words she said to me was “I may be motherly but I’m not YOUR mother” like yeah no duh also damn… that one sentence alone still haunts me to this day.

Now my relationship with this person has THANK GOD moved away from her being an FP we now have a mutual friendship, she is a support, a mentor, and though I have times where I can feel myself splitting (good or bad) I can center myself and realize that this friend is simply that and we care about each other very genuinely as friends would but I keep weary of boundaries always, I still feel guilty asking her for help or relying on her at all which I have to change as that’s sometimes what friends are for!

I don’t know how many people relate to this I feel it may be a bit niche but yeah. Truth be told I can’t even believe I’m writing this… I’m still so ashamed of myself that this pattern existed in me but I realize it’s my inner child. She is so wounded and scared. I don’t think I was looking for a “replacement mother” at all or Consciously anyway but rather I was craving the affection, safety, support, nurturing I never had. It wasn’t all on my mother, father or my foster parents that I was like this, it’s just something I craved so deeply.

I am so scared one day my friend will find this or catch on in some way that she was my FP at one point and that I did look at her almost like a mother (eh idk maybe not but close?) I feel like I took advantage of her maternal instinct though I know that isn’t true.

Now after all this time I’ve made a friend, someone I look up to for my future career and my future as a person. I hope to be there for others and mentor them as she did me.

She may not be my FP anymore (I mean I love her don’t get me wrong BUT) we are so close now and a friendship is almost scarier to me. I fear I may lose her, I mean I’ll graduate or fail out eventually and I always wondered will she really stay in touch? She told me she always would and I believe her, but life changes all the time and I can’t imagine life without her or any of my other supports…

Sorry I’m just rambling at this point…