#so spare me your essays. i do not care what you think at all

[arabnico]

nico is a tragic gay figure because homosexuality violently ruined his life and doomed him to being eternally nostalgic to the “before” in his existence—which he no longer remembers as it was forcefully ripped from him, further alienating him from his own ideal paradigm of what he believes he should and was meant to be—and to therefore yearn for it. there’s no possible way out for him. the last time you felt free was before, and you’ll never be free again so you’re doomed. you’re stuck forever rolling the boulder up the hill forever trying to redeem yourself. your definition of freedom is no longer something that is materially achievable for you. you were dead from the start.

[earthtooz]

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous. 

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm. 

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him. 

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse. 

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye. 

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.” 

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture. 

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug. 

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you. 

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious. 

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup. 

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.” 

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.  

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

��-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.” 

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!” 

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why. 

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!” 

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate. 

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?” 

“No one. Now get lost.” 

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?”

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.” 

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love. 

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe. 

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar? 

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over. 

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression. 

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.” 

“What guy?” 

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.” 

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.” 

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.” 

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him. 

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?” 

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile. 

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.” 

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?” 

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?” 

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands. 

“So why aren’t you apologising?” 

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner? 

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest. 

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.  

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs. 

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?” 

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue. 

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad? 

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[ellecdc]

how do you think the boys would react to reader telling them that she’s like NEEDY needy (iykyk)

would they do it, or just like get shy and walk off? or? 👀👀👀👀👀👀

mature content ahead: view discretion is advised

So, are they in a relationship yet? I'm going to go with they're in a relationship for this but if you meant they weren't you can feel free to re-ask

James:

chokes on his spit and nearly trips as he turns to look at you in shock (not unpleasant shock, mind you)

"You're what?"

He'd coo in sympathy after you had to embarrassingly repeat yourself in a whisper, rubbing your thighs together desperate for friction

"awe sweets. Okay, come on." and he's leading you by the hand - he's almost more eager than you are as he rushes down the hall

ends up on his knees with his face under your skirt in the closest bathroom - you'd be taken care of for sure 😩

Sirius:

biggest shit eating grin you've ever seen in your life and you almost regret saying anything

I think he'd tease you a little bit: "Awe, poor dolly's feeling needy, hm?" He'd coo in faux sympathy, the bastard

He'd make you tell him exactly what you're looking for. "What do you want, dolly?" 'touch me' "Like this?" and all he'd do is push your hair behind your ear

two can play at that game: 'Fine, I'll go ask someone else.'

He'd let out a horrified squawk and throw you over his shoulder. "Now now, let's not get hasty. I don't want anyone thinking I don't take care of my girl"

bent you over in the nearest broom closet and you both leave flushed and satisfied

Remus:

would smirk at you but continues reading through the first draft of his essay "really dove? now?"

he'd chuckle listening to you pout and get all breathy as you try to sit still "We've got homework, baby girl."

You'd get petulant and lean back in your seat with a huff, crossing your arms.

without even looking, he'd grab the leg of your chair and pull it over towards him - he'd keep his head low and continue making adjustments on his paper as he slips his free hand under your skirt and moves your panties aside.

"Awe, poor dovey - you really were needy weren't you" he'd lightly tease, murmuring softly so only you could hear.

your breath would hitch as he slipped inside of you, earning you a gentle shush as he threatens to stop moving his fingers.

"I'll take care of you but you have to be quiet; only I get to know how pretty you sound, yeah?"

gets you off with just his fingers in the library - makes up for it again later once he's done his essay

Regulus:

he's mean, I'm sorry

he'd make you wait all day

he'd go to class, to every meal, to quidditch practice barely sparing you a glance leaving you all the more desperate

it was painful for him too, mind you. Thinking about you being needy made him needy, and he spent all day dreaming of taking you over and over and over again

but he's a bit of a sadomasochist lol

he'd finally be all wound up after quidditch practice and would pull you roughly into his room and, like he'd been imagining all day, take you over and over and over again

to the point of over stimulation

"Come on amour, you can give me one more, yeah? Wasn't this what you wanted? Weren't you so needy?"

he got three more for his dirty talk alone

Barty:

no questions asked

'Barty?' "Yes Treasure?" 'I...I want, erm....I mean I...I feel kind of needy'

slams book shut and throws it over his shoulder where it lands in the fountain with a splash

"Where are you two going?" his friends ask bemusedly

"I'm going to treat my girl like a slut the way she deserves, Black; if you're not going to help, mind your fucking business"

you spend the rest of the day in his bed, fucking, smoking, eating, fucking, smoking, fucking, reading, fucking again

you'd hardly ever need to worry about feeling needy with him - whenever, wherever, however - consider it done.

[everdreamofme]

it's a boy, girl thing

mattheo riddle x reader

Mattheo Riddle was insufferable. He was one of the biggest assholes Y/N Y/L/N had ever met, and she had met a lot. Being a more 'reserved' Ravenclaw, Mattheo and his friends had the tendency to tease her every now and then. Not as much as other students in their year, admittedly, but she definitely had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of it.

Like today, for example. Transfiguration class wasn't exactly Y/N's favourite class, but she did well enough in the subject that she didn't despise the lessons. Y/N had always wanted to be a healer after Hogwarts, and to do that, she would need at least an Exceeds Expectations in numerous subjects just to be able to qualify for the Young Healers programme at St. Mungo's. Transfiguration being one of those numerous subjects.

So here she was. Transfiguration was fairly straightforward, but of course the execution was the tricky part. After successfully transfiguring the small American Goldfinch in front of her into a bouquet of flowers, a satisfied grin crossed her features as she set her wand down and turned in her chair to dig around her bag for some spare parchment to begin her essay. 

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she turned back to face her flowers, only to find there were no flowers sitting in front of her anymore. Instead, a huge phallic object made of porcelain now sat in front of her. Laughter came from all over the classroom as her peers started to notice what was sitting before her.

'First time seeing a dick?' Draco sniggered as she hurriedly searched the desk and surrounding ground for her wand.

She snapped her head up towards the table of Slytherins, ready for a snarky response, when she spotted Mattheo Riddle in the seat closest to her desk, twirling her wand absentmindedly through his fingers with a wicked grin on his face.

'You idiot, Riddle -'

'Miss Y/L/N,' She froze on all fours as Professor McGonagall called her name. 'I suggest you change the subject of your essay to one less... erotic. Fifty points from Ravenclaw House.'

'Y-yes Professor McGonagall.'

Standing, she snatched her wand from Mattheo's hands and sat with a glare as she transfigured the phallic object back into a bouquet of flowers.

I am going to kill that boy one day!

After class had ended, Y/N had all but chased the Slytherin boys down the hallway.

'Riddle! Riddle!' 

Mattheo groaned as he turned from his conversation with Draco and Enzo to the Ravenclaw girl storming towards him, his friends continuing on without him. 'Can I help you with something, Raven? Checked out any sex toys lately?'

'I cannot believe you did that to me! In front of Professor McGonagall too!' Scoffing, he began down the hallway after his friends again, Y/N stomping after him.

'You lost me fifty house points, Riddle! Fifty! They're going to eat me alive in the common room tonight!' She hissed after him.

'I don't give a fuck what you pencil-neck virgins do in your common rooms, princess,' He smirked as he turned to her again, leaning casually on the statue of Merlin that stood in the hallway.

'Can't be much worse than what you dumb Slytherin jocks get up to in your common room!' Her words didn't affect him, and she knew it from the roll of his eyes and the remaining smirk on his face. 'You're incorrigible, Riddle!'

'Don't care.' He shrugged back.

'I hate you!' 

'That's because you secretly want to have sex with me!' 

'Eugh! When I do decide to surrender the flower of my womanhood, I always imagined it to be with someone of my own species!' Y/N scoffed back, some passing students shooting her strange glances.

'Someone of your own species? What, like Longbottom?' He snorted.

'You are such an idiot, Riddle!' She hissed. ' You really think the world just revolves around quidditch and your stupid little gang and the dark arts.' Mattheo's jaw clenched as he took a step towards her.

'You know, you think you're so different to everyone else-'

'Different from.' She interrupted, causing him to stare at her incredulously. 'You said 'different to'. The correct phraseology is 'different from.''

'Thanks for that information; now I can say you're no different from any other fucking nerd with books instead of friends - and you don't have to open your big fat mouth to fucking correct me!'

'Dick!'

'Bitch!'

'Fuckboy!'

'Skank!'

'You know, I should pity you, but I can't—I hate you too much! I would rather cut off my legs with a rusty knife than be anything like you!' She exclaimed, pointing a finger in his face. Mattheo seethed, nostrils flaring, and eyes hardening.

'Ditto!' He hissed.

She snorted. 'Ditto?'

'Yeah, ditto!'

'Well - double ditto!'

'Double, double ditto!'

'Ugh - you are insufferable, Riddle!' The pair scoffed in unison, barging shoulders with each other as they stormed their separate ways.

Later that night, Y/N sat in front of the common room fire, hunched over a potions essay. She dropped her quill with a grimace as a blinding pain came into her head.

'Is everything alright?' Luna asked from her spot on the arm chair.

'Yeah, just got a sudden headache, is all.'

'Maybe stop faffing over your essays for once and actually get an early night then?' Cho suggested, flashing a grin at the girl from behind her magazine. Y/N rolled her eyes but began packing her textbooks up anyway.

'Yeah, I think I might just do that. Goodnight guys.'

Mattheo laughed as a puff of smoke left his mouth and he passed the blunt to Blaise.

'Mate, you have got to get some more of this for the party,' Draco complimented as he took a drag of his own blunt.

'You know I was already planning it,' Mattheo grinned in response until a sudden pain hit his head. He groaned as his hands shot up to his temples and his eyes screwed shut.

Theo barked a laugh. 'Think someone's about to hit white, boys!' 

'Nah, it's just a headache; I'm sure it'll pass soon.'

'Or you'll pass out!' Enzo giggled.

'I don't think so, Berkshire.' He scoffed, standing up. 'But I think I will have an early night.' He patted a sleeping Pansy on the shoulder as he made his way to his dorm, leaving his friends in the common room to continue their usual late-night shenanigans.

[slasherscream]

Crazy Ass Girls Gang ft. what type of yandere are they

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine / clingy, obsessive, manipulative 

You'd better be damn sure you want to be with Tiffany before you ever bring up dating her because there is no escape once you've embarked on the exciting journey of being her romantic partner.

But if we're being honest you never really had a choice. You think you met organically? Became close by fate? No, Tiffany saw you and wanted you and decided to have you.

It was love at first sight on her part.

You'll be friends for a few months as she weaves the inescapable web around you. Best friends, actually. You'll tell her absolutely everything about yourself. Learn everything about her in turn. It's pure bliss to have a friend like Tiffany. Supportive, charming, affectionate.

You can tell she loves you more than anything. Loves you more than anyone else has ever loved you before, and she isn't afraid to show it.

You probably already had a partner when you met Tiffany. She was heartbroken when you first told her. The heartbreak didn't last long. Why cry over spilled milk? She wants to take it slow with you anyways, make sure that this time every aspect of the life you build together will be perfect.

She's come in too heavy before. You can't rush perfection, her mother always told her. For you, the lesson is finally worth learning.

Everything can be a tool. In the right hands. And Tiffany's hands? Why, they're incredibly skilled. She uses your soon-to-be-ex as a diving board for your upcoming relationship with her. Even if you'd been perfectly content with the relationship until you met Tiffany, suddenly everything is awful.

Tiffany points out every mistreatment. Every cancelled date. Every strange tone they used when talking to you. Every shitty, unoriginal gift. Every moment they weren't enthusiastic enough about good news you had to share.

It gets to the point where you can't even look at them half the time. You'll end dates with your partner early just to go spend more time with Tiffany: "What do you think they meant when they said that, Tiff?" / "I think they forgot who they were talking to, sweetheart! They're lucky I wasn't around or I would've cut out their tongue."

Tiffany has you so wrapped around her finger she's not even the one who suggests the break up. She was still going to wait a month or two before she began to truly push.

But when you show up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, holding flowers and her favorite takeout, rambling about how you've been so blind and it's always been Her...

Well, she has to smile as she pulls you in, savoring the last first kiss your lips will ever gift another soul.

She almost forgot how good she is at getting what she wants.

Jordan Li / protective, obsessive, lucid

You're so sweet. It was the first thought Jordan remembers having about you. The beginning of the end. They haven't been able to stop thinking about you since that one fatal moment.

Jordan has plenty of other things to think about. Things that should outclass you in importance easily. Their ranking, Brink's careful mentoring, their grades. They tell themselves that it all still matters more than you but they know they're lying to themselves.

It scares them a little, how much they actually think about you. Not a minute can go by without their thoughts drifting to you.

Did you eat today? / Your next class is in ten minutes, let me walk you, I've got the time. / You were running out of your favorite perfume. Got you a new bottle. / You look upset. Did someone fucking say something to you?

They can't help the way they hover around you during every spare moment they can find.

Jordan knows your schedule by heart to maximize the amount of time you can spend together. It's a balancing act they have to play with their brain for the simplest of tasks: you can spend the rest of the day with Y/N but you have to finish grading these essays first.

They can't function properly when they go too long without you. They swing on their sparring partners too hard. Stare at the clock during lectures instead of listening. They rip textbooks and snap pens by holding them too tight.

Sometimes they have to give up and call you. If they can't go and see you for whatever reason the sound of your voice makes it better. Hearing you talk, the sound of you breathing, laughing. It helps. Calms the buzz beneath Jordan's skin. They dial your contact, glaring into space as they wait for you to pick up. As soon as you do their body relaxes.

They recognize that their behavior isn't normal. Always needing to know where you are, who you're with. Feeling sick when they don't know.

You're like a drug for Jordan. They know you're an addiction, the way you've crawled under their skin. No high on earth compares, and Jordan has fucking compared them all. They pull you into their lap, as close as they can get you and it's never enough. Nothing is ever enough.

"Please don't fucking go anywhere, yeah?" Jordan will mumble into the skin of your neck. Their grip on you is too tight, face twisted at the desperation they feel. It's not pillow talk. They're begging. Genuinely. They'd do anything to keep you this close, always.

"Of course not, Jordie." You coo back. They close their eyes and pretend the words are enough. Nothing ever is.

Nancy Downs / delusional, possessive, obsessive

As soon as Nancy wants you there's no other option for you besides her. You can either choose to go along with it or you can fight it.

Fighting against her is like fighting against the tide, though. You can tread water for awhile. Keep your head afloat, sure. But eventually you'll get tired. Nature wins. Besides, fighting against Nancy becomes unpleasant fast. Being hers is so much nicer. She's gentler that way, kinder.

You're allowed to have friends, she doesn't isolate you completely.

It's just your old friends sucked. They didn't appreciate you. Didn't look out for you. Selfish users just like everyone else. Moths are always drawn to the light, and she'll kill every moth that strays a little too close to you, before it ever gets a chance to singe itself on your warmth. It's a mercy, really. Living a life in the darkness and having one brief moment in the sun is miserable. Nancy should know. It almost drives her crazy when you're not around. If you ever left she'd want to be put out of her misery too.

Her coven, though? They're perfect. Her coven is a family. And you were the last missing piece of it.

Anything about your old life, the life before her, can be viewed as a threat at a moment's notice. Family. Friends. Memories you speak of a little too fondly. Even a hobby could do it. She wants your focus to be her. It's only fair, her only focus is you.

Even when she's not around. Even when you're completely alone you swear you can feel her eyes on you. Her magic drifting against your skin as if she was sitting right beside you.

Nancy's intensity can be scary but she makes anyone else's love seem dull in comparison.

Who else could love you like she does? Who else would die for you? Nancy wouldn't even have to think about it first. All she asks in return is for you to do the same. Live for her. Dedicate every breathe in your lungs to her.

It's not so hard, she'll lead by example.

Jennifer Check / manipulative, possessive, clingy

She couldn't give a shit about anyone else but you. Somehow you managed to sneak your way into her heart and she can't let go of you. Won't let go of you. You're the only thing that's keeping that small, soft, human part of her alive. You dragged that bit of her back from the grave she put it in, actually. So it wouldn't be fair for you to try and leave, after you made her weak again. Human again.

Her world revolves around you. Her priorities are her next meal and you. Of course she gets pissed off if you don't reciprocate her energy. Look at her, how could you ever put anything above her?

Jennifer wants you to be everything to each other, though she won't say it out loud. It shows in her actions.

You belong to her. Every version of yourself that exists in the world should belong to her. The version of you that you are when you're someone's best friend. When you're someone's partner. It's all hers. She won't let anyone else take root in your life in a role that she can fill. She'll do a better job anyways.

The enormity of her ego and the way she clings might seem at odds. She thinks she's a God walking amongst fucking cattle. But she sticks to you like a second skin. A hand always at your waist. Her lips always chasing yours, whining when you don't give in fast enough, when you don't melt like she does. Her grip iron clad when you hold hands. If you pull away too soon from a hug, from a kiss, she bites, she holds on with claws.

She coos at the marks she leaves on your skin and kisses all the scratches and bruises she leaves better. / "I'm sorry baby, you know I hate letting you go."

Carrie White / idolizer, protective, selfless

Not in her wildest dreams did Carrie think anyone could be as kind as you. People are cruel. Their first instinct is to cause hurt before they'll ever reach out a hand to help, to shield, to love.

But you're not like that at all. You're something ripped straight from a fairy-tale. The rare ones that her Mother let her read, that weren't hiding devil worship between their poetic words.

You're so patient with her. So gentle. You treat her like glass. You hold her close, and kiss her soft, and cup her face in your hands that are always so warm.

You say you love her in a breathless way, every time. Like even expressing how much you care makes you dizzy. As if she overwhelms you. She feels dizzy herself as she hangs on your every honeyed word. Clings to you every time you reach out your hands to hold her.

Carrie doesn't know if she believes in God nowadays, but if she did you'd be an angel sent straight from heaven. A gift, maybe, to make up for all the years of torment she endured from everyone she'd ever known.

She'd think you were some kind of God yourself, if you had any sort of abilities like her. But you don't. You walk around doing what's right, being good down to the marrow of your very bones just because it's who you are. You greet the world with your fists raised and you're only human, and it scares Carrie so much.

You're the last decent person alive and you'll throw yourself onto any pyre you see if it means doing what's right. Carrie loves that about you. It terrifies her.

So Carrie throws herself into the ring with you. Your sweet, gentle Carrie who you're always trying to protect. But Carrie doesn't need your protection. She's not the helpless little girl she used to be. She won't let anything hurt either of you, from now on. For the rest of your lives you'll be safe, happy. Together. Carrie would burn the world to ash if it meant not a scratch would befall you.

"You're an angel, Y/N. The most wonderful angel God ever made."

Ginger Fitzgerald / possessive, impulsive, protective,

Sometimes Ginger wishes everyone else in the world would disappear, besides the two of you. They're a hindrance.

She feels insane when she watches you. She feels her claws come out and makes herself bleed as she fights against the instinct to rip out every tongue that speaks to you, and every pair of eyes that's ever looked into yours.

She shivers when you claim her. The only time she enjoys being around other people now is when you're introducing her: "This is Ginger, my girlfriend." "This is Ginger, my partner." "This is Ginger, my best friend." "This is Ginger, my everything."

She loves being yours. Relishes in the way you say the word mine. She wants to lick the words from your mouth, the weight of your total ownership over her sweet and poisonous.

She wonders if you get the same pleasure from belonging to her. She wants you to. She wants to carve her name into your skin with her claws and have you moan at the first sharp sting of the letter G.

It's primal, the way she wants you. Beyond anything humans have words for. She leaves her scent on your skin and wants to growl when you wash it away with artificial soaps and perfumes. She sucks bruises into every inch of you that anyone else could see.

She wants you to do the same. Wants to roll onto her back and expose her neck, and have you bite so hard you draw blood.

Ginger's wanting comes with teeth. What she is demands she sinks her teeth into things, that she draws blood. Even when she loves you. Because she loves you, maybe. She needs to leave a mark on you. She needs to always be there. She needs the same from you.

Needs you to leave scars on her that she can touch when you're not around. Proof that you were there. Proof that you're coming back. You don't carve your name into things and then abandon them. When you own things you keep them.

When you're gone the world goes dim and cold. She couldn't survive in a world without you. She wouldn't even attempt it. What would be the fucking point?

"We're a pair. We belong to each other. Always, yeah?"

[yes-divine-ruler]

Mr Anderson - Kai Anderson

x fem!reader

cw: uni professor/student relationship (student is of age), oral (both receiving), smut, spanking w a belt

wc: 3.2k

You sat down eagerly at the front of the lecture hall, sliding your tote bag onto the desk. You take out your laptop and your folder of loose leaf paper, organising it in front of you. You were early five minutes, giving you the time to compose yourself before your professor arrived. It wasn’t like political philosophy was anything special. The information being relayed to you was dull, but the way it was being taught was what had your undivided attention.

Mr Anderson flew through the double doors of the lecture hall with a minute to spare. In a hurry, he paces over to his desk, tucking in the front of his button up shirt into his slacks. It was black today, like his pants and polished shoes. He wore a heavyweight coat that he shrugged off and rested on the backrest of his chair. Your breath catches in your throat just looking at him. Undeniably, Mr Anderson was the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on. You’d have him to thank for your perfect attendance and grades. He wasn’t only nice to look at, but he believed in you. He made everyone feel like they had the potential to succeed.

You take your pencil case out of your tote, and discard the bag by your feet. Your hands shook as you tried to unzip your pencil case. Mr Anderson always made you feel like a nervous wreck. It was mortifying, especially when he’d notice.

“Okay everyone, welcome back to political philosophy,” Mr Anderson gains the attention of the class. His sudden introduction startled you, and with fingers like butter, your pencil case slides off the end of your desk. Your pens sprawl across the carpet at the front of the hall.

Mr Anderson stops shortly, and let’s out a small laugh, approaching your desk. Your face heats up as you get a whiff of his intoxicating cologne. He even smelt godly.

“I’m sorry, Mr Anderson,” you apologise, getting up to collect your pens on your own. Mr Anderson was already one step ahead of you, and passed back your pens in a closed fist.

“You have to be more careful Y/N,” he teases, and all you can do is offer him a small, weary smile in response.

Mr Anderson continues on with his class. You pay close attention to everything he says, noting down what was important to remember. It doesn’t take long before you’re scribbling in the margins of your notebook and keeping a trained eye on the way his body moved. You didn’t think you were anything special. Not special enough for your professor to see you as anything more than what you were. He knew your name but, he barely treated you different to the other students.

You spent the rest of the lesson trying to conspire up ways to stand out to Mr Anderson. The semester was almost at an end, and with only a few weeks to go, you knew you had to act fast. It would be a heck of a summer if you could just get inside his head.

The following week you turned up to class dressed to impress. Mr Anderson was in early today, looking more organised and less flustered than last week. His hair was tied back into a man bun, accentuating his sharp, dark features.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” Mr Anderson doesn’t even look up at his desk to greet you. You huff, deciding to stand opposite his desk so he would notice you. He drops his pen, and his gaze finds yours.

It doesn’t take long before he’s noticing your outfit next. A shopping trip to the mall scored you a tight-fitting white top with a low neckline, and the tiniest pair of shorts you could find. Your hair cascaded down your back in small waves. Never seeing you in anything but sweats, Mr Anderson’s eyes almost bulged out of his head.

“Hi Mr Anderson,” you spoke sweetly, taking a printed copy of your political essay out of your tote, “I ended up finishing my draft last night, do you think you can help me look over it after class?”

Your sudden change in appearance and your confident demeanour had your professor speechless. He tried to form the words to say, but couldn’t help taking glances at your copious amounts of cleavage. Knowing your plan was working, you set the essay down on the desk.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” You cross your arms over your chest and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, sure. I’ve got an hour after class. I can help you,” you saw Mr Anderson’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. Your plan was well in action, and you’d cursed yourself for not taking the risk earlier.

It wasn’t only Mr Anderson’s attention you’d snagged. As your classmates filtered into the hall, you noticed a lot more stares in your direction. You’d even managed to persuade one of the guys in your class to sit at the front beside you. No one was usually inclined to sit beside you, especially at the front of the hall in Mr Anderson’s direct line of vision. This new found confidence and attention gave you the drive you needed to seal the deal.

“Hey,” the guy next to you whispers to you as Mr Anderson begins the lesson. You turn to look at him and offer him a small smile.

“Y/N right? I’m Kyle,” Kyle smiles back and tears off the corner of his note-page. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as he slides it over to you. Before you have the chance to read what it says, a hand slams down on your desk.

“Give me that,” you look up to see Mr Anderson had halted his lesson just to get the note you were given.

“Sir, this isn’t high school. We’re allowed to pass notes,” Kyle scoffed, earning himself a few laughs.

“I don’t care, it’s still not appropriate. Y/N? Now please,” Mr Anderson holds out his hand and you hesitantly pass over the note.

He crumples it in his hand and walks coolly back to the front of the hall. You don’t have the nerve to look back at Kyle, who you can now see is typing furiously on his phone. Mr Anderson makes eye contact with you. Something in his gaze burns. In response, you slump in your chair and try to finish the rest of the lesson without pulling your hair out.

When class is over, you wait until everyone’s gone before you approach Mr Anderson again. Mr Anderson stands at the double doors, holding it open and letting everyone leave.

“Hey,” Kyle stands in front of your desk, “sorry about that, don’t know why Mr Anderson is being a dick. Can I grab your Snapchat?”

You try not to laugh as you nod your head. Kyle was cute but, he wasn’t the type of guy you craved. You craved a man who stood over you and took control. Like Mr Anderson.

Regardless, you type your username in his phone and give him a wave as he leaves. Maybe Mr Anderson will see the exchange and feel the way he did about the note.

“Y/N, come sit,” Mr Anderson shuts the door of the hall, locking in from the inside. You leave your desk to sit next to him behind his own.

“I haven’t had a chance to read over it yet, shall we do it in sections?” Mr Anderson tucks in his chair, coming in closer to you. His knee brushes yours, sending a tingle up your spine.

“That’s fine Mr Anderson,” you respond, your gaze burning into the side of his face as he reads.

“What made you want to dress so different today? Change in weather?” Your eyes widen at his question. You clear your throat and let out a small laugh.

“Um, kinda. I was sick of wearing sweats. Suddenly everyone is noticing me,” you bat your eyelashes at your professor as he shares your laughter.

“Ah well. Sounds superficial to me. They should appreciate you regardless.” His comment stumps you, but with your new found confidence, you lean closer to him to whisper.

“I saw you looking too, Mr Anderson,” you purr, “you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

Mr Anderson subtly chokes on the sip he’d just taken from his keep cup.

“Sorry?” He asks, turning to look you in the eyes.

“You heard me,” you push, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “I could feel it. I thought you might like it.”

Mr Anderson suddenly goes stiff. His eyes turn dark as he turns his entire body to face you. You try and keep your confidence high knowing that passed this point, it was either make or break.

“That isn’t appropriate Y/N,” he growls sternly, getting up from his chair. Shit. You blew it.

You open your mouth to speak, but Mr Anderson has other plans.

“You’re telling me, you dressed like a whore to get my attention?” His lips form into a snarl as he waits for your response. You wanted to just curl into a ball and die.

“Um, I dont know what to say- I-”

“Get up.”

In shock, you hesitantly follow his orders, standing from your chair. You were so close you could feel his cool, minty breath fan your face.

Mr Anderson’s hands find your hips, and in surprise, you gasp. His cool hands turn you around and push your hips into the edge of the desk.

“I’ve always noticed you, Y/N,” your back presses against his chest as he hovers behind you. A dull pulse ignites between your thighs, making you feel lightheaded and slightly dizzy. He had an effect on you six feet away from you. The close proximity was almost too much.

“You’re my best student,” he whispers, pressing the front of his pants to your barely covered ass, “you don’t need to compromise yourself to be that.”

His big hand sits between your shoulder blades, and in an instant, he has you bent over his desk. Your tiny shorts had ridden all the way up, exposing almost the entirety of your ass cheeks.

“Is this what you want?” He asks, as you hear the buckle on his belt rattle as he unclasps it.

“Yes, Mr Anderson,” your breathing picks up pace as you get more excited. Everything you’d dreamed of the whole semester was coming to fruition.

“You have to promise me something,” he says as you feel the cool leather touch your exposed skin. Your body breaks out in a frenzy of tiny goosebumps as he sways the belt across your ass.

“You can’t tell anyone about this, not your friends, not your family, no one. You must understand how bad this is for me, to be giving into you,” Mr Anderson pushes up against your ass again, digging your hips harder into the edge of the table. You let out a small whimper, loud enough for Mr Anderson to notice. The bulge in the front of his slacks only grows hearing the sounds you’re making.

“I promise sir,” you whine, turning your head to look behind you. You see that Mr Anderson had taken off his belt and unfastened his pants. His dark grey boxers were the only thing stopping you from seeing him fully. You’d imagined so many times how big it must be.

“Good girl,” Mr Anderson mewls, before he strikes your ass cheek with the thick leather strap of his belt. You gasp loudly, your body withering beneath him at the pain. When the sting is over, the dull pulse takes over, this time, much more unbearable.

“Let me take these off,” Mr Anderson reaches around to the front of your shorts, unbuttoning them to pull them down your legs. You step out of them, almost shaking in anticipation. It reveals to him your tiny, lace panties.

“Fuck,” you’d never heard Mr Anderson swear. It was so sexy hearing him so worked up that another wave of pleasure coursed through you.

“You’ve been misbehaving, Y/N,” he says, the belt caressing your ass again, “wearing those slutty little clothes just for your professor, those tiny panties,” Mr Anderson was almost shaking in excitement too.

“Please sir,” you plead pathetically, bracing yourself with your hands on the table, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. I think you need to feel how wrong it is.”

Another moment passes before Mr Anderson strikes your ass again with the belt. And then again. And again. Until tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your throat goes dry. Your ass was sure to be burning red by now, and it was definitely sore as Mr Anderson caressed his work with his fingers.

“You did so well, I’m done, that’s all your punishment,” he says softly, before he’s pulling your panties down your legs. The cool breeze hits your soaking folds, and it was only then did you realise just how turned on the pain made you.

“Holy shit,” Mr Anderson let’s out a low whistle as he gets on his knees behind you. You wiggle uncomfortably as he spreads your cheeks, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“You’re soaking fucking wet,” he growls, before his fingers make their first contact with your pussy. You almost cry out as Mr Anderson teasingly runs a finger up and down your slit, collecting your sweet arousal. He smears your slick across your clit, applying a small amount of pressure on it. Your knees buckle, but Mr Anderson’s hold on you keeps you up right.

“You little whore. Who would’ve thought, Y/N, a good student, sickly attracted to her professor,” he blows on your cunt, provoking another pleading whine from you.

“Please, sir. I can’t wait,” you cry, pushing your ass out and closer to his face.

Mr Anderson hums, coming in closer and caving to his own desires. With your cheeks spread open for him, he dives in, his tongue prodding between your folds. You moan as he violates you with his tongue, bringing it down towards your sensitive bundle of nerves. He sucks your clit into his mouth, before he’s moving his tongue towards your second hole.

“Oh my god, yes! Yes, fuck!” Your eyes shut as the pleasure rocks you, your nails digging into his desk for leverage. Mr Anderson’s tongue swirls around your tight hole, before he’s back to your dripping cunt. His mouth works expertly against your heat, humming contently at the taste of you.

“Fuck. Come here,” Mr Anderson stands and pulls you away from the desk, pushing you down onto your knees.

He lifts your shirt, above your breasts, seeing you’d also failed to wear a bra. Your nipples stood to attention, as you stared up at him with doe eyes. Mr Anderson pulled out his heavy cock, and your eyes turned the size of dinner plates just looking at it.

“Open,” he commands, his fingers locking around your jaw and wrenching your mouth open.

You took him in your mouth willingly. Mr Anderson takes advantage, shoving his cock so far down your throat it triggered your gag reflex. You look hopelessly up at him as his fucks your throat, collecting all the saliva he could around his thick cock. More tears collect in your eyes as you stare up at him like a lost puppy. His gaze burns into yours as flashes of lust, anger and need glaze over his dark eyes. He desperately needed to be inside your tight, dripping cunt and he didn’t have much time.

“Get up,” he commands again, watching you rise to your feet. With your chests pressed against each other, Kai goes in for the kill. Capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, he pushes your ass back against the desk. You moan into his mouth as his tongue dances with yours, exploring the entirety of the inside of your mouth. His lips are soft and smooth and he tastes extraordinary. It exceeded your dirtiest, darkest thoughts about him.

His hands push your hips down onto the surface of the desk, and then cup under your thighs to hold your legs up. His lips detach from yours, and with one hand, he guides his leaking tip towards your entrance. Mr Anderson spits, directly on your pussy, and a moment later he’s stretching you out. Inch by inch, he sinks inside you. Your head tilts back from the intense pulses of pleasure, and a tiny whine escapes your lips.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Mr Anderson seethes, using his weight to keep your hips down as he finally bottoms out inside you.

“Oh Mr Anderson! Fuck!” You moan, just as he begins to rut his hips. He slams himself inside you, filling you completely, before pulling almost all the way out.

He repeats the motion, his face screwed in pleasure as he pounds into you.

“Such a good girl, taking my cock like this,” he growls, his fingertips digging in your skin and leaving red prints, “you look so fucking good right now.”

You could help but watch where your bodies met. You knew you were on the brink of finishing. Mr Anderson’s cock disappeared inside you, only to come out glistening in your arousal, time and time again. His thumb rests on your swollen clit, circling it with more of his spit.

“Is my good girl gonna cum? Are you gonna finish on Mr Anderson’s cock?” His thrusts only got harder, the tip of his cock deliciously prodding at your sweet spot.

“Yes! Yes sir, can I cum?” You asked, seeing stars in your field of vision as the knot in your abdomen begged to be untied.

“Good girl, cum. Cum for me,” Mr Anderson fucked you so gruellingly and deep it tipped you over the edge.

You let out a pleasured cry as you came like you’d never cum before. Mr Anderson was close behind you, finishing inside you and fucking his cum deep into your pulsing cunt. When he pulled out, still stimulating your clit, a small stream of arousal soaked the front of his shirt. He groaned as you lay, fucked out and panting to catch your breath back. Unfortunately, having wet your draft essay in the process.

Mr Anderson took a moment longer to soak in the image of your bare body, before you finally sat up.

“Why are you wet?” You asked, scrunching your nose in confusion as you got off the desk to dress yourself.

“You squirted on me, sweetheart,” Mr Anderson chuckled, as all the blood drained from your face.

“Oh I’m so sorry sir,” you were quick to reach forward and try and wipe at his dress shirt.

“Your essay too,” he smirked, picking it up in his hand and showing it to you. You groaned.

“I really did want you to read that,” you pouted, trying to take back the wet, and probably unreadable, essay.

“Uh uh,” he tutted, shoving it into his bag, “I’m keeping that. Ill be able to read it.”

The blood returned to your face with a furious heat as your cheeks blushed in embarrassment.

“Y/N, remember your promise,” Mr Anderson cupped your cheek and ran his thumb affectionately over your cheek bone, “and I’d like to see you again.”

Your heart fluttered hearing he wanted to see you again.

“Okay Mr Anderson, thank you,” you smile at him, ready to leave the lecture hall and freak out on your own about what just happened.

“Oh and Y/N,” he stopped you a final time as you reached the hall doors. You turn and face him.

“Call me Kai, outside of class, of course.”

TAGLIST: @evanpetersfanblog @kitwalkersgfff @quicksilversg1rl @iruzias @alexxavicry @soaringcloud @laynna-mcknight @humdrumexistence ce @simp4petermaximoff f @evan4ever @paujmr @jangsuzchap @meganxfox @divineruler r @spill-the-t -t @hihidora

[azrielgreen]

There's a reason I always moderate comments but i approved this one so people can see how truly vile it gets sometimes. I'm not arrogant. I don't think the way I write is better at all. Exploring them on an authentic level means exploring this, or any, version of them with wholehearted passion, not that this is the authentic interpretation of them. Writing intense stuff isn't a brag, it's a warning so people can be prepared for stuff like arguments and confrontations. I always over-warn for CW stuff so that, again, people are prepared. I never once have asked people to read it. It's just there and I've tried my best to a) write something i loved and b) thoroughly warn those who might read it. Any interpretation of the characters is valid and worth exploring. It's so sad to see a reeled off list of all the way Steve "should be" and the implication that nothing but strict canon adherence could ever be a passionate, worthy exploration. It's... only fanfic? It's not real. They're not real. Nothing is real and everything is possible and that's supposed to be what's fun about it.

I write the characters very intensely, so yes, they are often out of character, sorry for... warning about that? I write different backgrounds for them and play with the negative space of possibilities and potential and i do this with authentic curiosity and passion because I love doing it and i get very into it. Sorry for warning about that too, I guess? When I first started writing in this fandom, some people pointed out to me that I could CW warn for them being OOC and that was new to me, i didn't think I had to warn for that. I thought people would read the tags, like in other fandoms, and understand that the story would do different things with the characters but it became clear that this was actually solid advice as this was a fandom obsessed with "canon adherence" and policing. So I thought I would CW as thoroughly as I could so no one would be shocked or disappointed and then maybe they wouldn't leave an essay of hate in the comments.

But ultimately, people like this would only be satisfied if I deleted everything and stopped writing. I barely participate in this fandom as it is beyond answering asks and writing. I don't rec my own work. The thing i don't ever want, and this is why it was worrying seeing something like YD becoming "popular", is for people to feel like they *should* read my work without having gone and looked for it via the tags. Without having found it naturally, just by browsing and thinking "that's definitely for me". I've only ever posted for small rarepairs in the past so a couple of comments on a fic always made me so happy. I write for myself and the few others in the world who might like it. I have never written for an audience. If you don't like something I wrote, it's not for you. Genuinely. Move along to the next, no? That's what I would do.

This was so spiteful and targeted. YD is so old at this point, I just don't understand people who do shit like this. I don't bother anyone and I try to be here for anyone who needs me. I CW as thoroughly as I can. I don't think I'm better than anyone. I think every single iteration of these characters is worthy and valid and what matters is how fun they were to write, for the author. I had so much fucking fun with these stories that seeing this miserable little rant seems pointless to me. I don't care if you didn't like it. I don't care if it wasn't to your taste. Writing it was what I wanted. Sharing it is secondary, always. It's fanfiction, written for free in my spare time. I didn't take up space, I didn't trample anyone. There is no reason for this beyond spite.

I am sorry about the vest/jacket mixup, however. Truly, genuinely from the bottom of my heart devastatingly sorry about that. I know it'll take time for people to forgive me and maybe no one ever will, I have to make my peace with that.

Anyway, thanks for loudly projecting your feelings onto me and my work.

💜💜💜

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter nine

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): mentions of drugging (love potion) and brief mentions of poisoning (like right at the end)

series masterlist; previous part; next part

The library is your sanctuary. A place you can go to ease your mind and satiate your need for more knowledge. Usually you're not disturbed while your here, but Mattheo seemed to find a new joy in persistently annoying you.

You had been completing an essay for Defence that Snape wanted to be completely for two days time, when the calm air around you changed with the announcement of his chaotic presence.

"I thought you had Quidditch practice." you say, not taking your eyes off of your parchment as he takes the empty seat beside you, thigh brushing your's.

"Finished ten minutes ago. I got bored." he says noncommittally. His hand has found it's way to your thigh, tracing barely-there patterns with the tips of his fingers. You tense on instinct before relaxing almost instantaneously.

"Don't you have friends for that?" you snark as you spare him a single glance before you continue working.

"I'm offended that you think we aren't friends, sweetheart." he says with feigned outrage.

"Friends don't do what we do, Matt." you whisper. If it weren't for his already close proximity, he probably would not have heard you. His hand begins tracing firmer patterns, tracing longing lines of comfort.

"No, I suppose they don't." he muses with the ghost of a smile. He's tracing your figure with inquisitive eyes, now a honeyed brown in the sunlight reflecting in the windows.

"Do you want something?" you ask, turning your head to face him, your breath hitching in your throat at just how close he was to you – his lips a fraction of movement away from your's. "We're in public," you say, with a breatheless stammer.

"I'm starting to find that I don't care where we are, anymore." he says just as quietly, eyes flickering between your mouth and fluttering eyes. "What have you done to me?"

"I haven't done anything." you snicker, your nose brushing imperceptibly against his, gaze landing intently on his plush lips.

"We're lucky your favoured spot is so closed off between the shelves, Meadow." he mumbles, his voice dropping to that low rasp you've come to appreciate over the months. "Because that means I can do this, with little consequence."

He kisses you then. Hard and passionate and with entirely too much feeling for something that wasn't supposed to be anymore than a transactional friendship to help out a mutual friend.

~∞~

Much to your delight, Mattheo stayed with you a little longer before the feeling of his quidditch gear, still dirtied from practice, became too much to comfortably bare. He left with a lingering peck to your cheek, something entirely too affectionate for you to properly process.

Not ten minutes later, your solitude was once again interrupted.

"What the hell is going on between you and Riddle?" Ginny's hissing whisper filled the quiet atmosphere, who landed in Mattheo's previously occupied seat with venomous grace.

"Nothing." you say with furrowed brows, lowing the book you were scouring for Siphon lore, to your lap. As far as you knew, Ginny was only aware of your tutor sessions with Mattheo.

But all these weeks of lies and deceit was bound to blow up in your face sooner or later, you just weren't planning on the most ferocious of your friends to figure it out first.

"Don't bullshit me." she snapped, keeping her voice low. "The tutoring sessions? The continued trips to the Room of Requirement? It's so bloody obvious, Meadow."

"I swear. Nothing is going on between me and Riddle." His name felt foreign on your tongue – he hadn't been 'Riddle' to you in months. Ginny only gave you a look that screamed her disbelief in you.

"Right and it wasn't him I saw leaving this little nook about ten minutes ago?"

"How's Dean?" you ask, swiftly averting the subject off of you. She sighs tiredly at your denial and relaxes into the cosy sofa, a contemplative look on her freckled face.

"I think we're over. The relationship is done and dead. We weren't compatible at all." she sounds resolute, but you could tell that she felt the pain of heartbreak. She leans her head on your shoulder and accepts the hug that you wrap her in. "I just wanted to feel something. I've pined for Harry for practically six years but-"

"I know. I know." you comfort her, quietly soothing her as she leans further into your embrace. Ron's younger sister had been a stellar part of your life for as long as you could remember. Her infatuation with your best friend was what prompted a friendship – at first she had been jealous of the attention Harry gave to you but when you confessed that you had a crush on a fellow Ravenclaw, she admitted to liking Harry and you sought to help her in any way you could. Of course the one thing you couldn't remedy was Harry's blatent obliviousness to his surroundings.

"I wouldn't be angry if there was something going on between you and Riddle, by the way." you hear her mumble into your neck. Your eyes involuntarily close with guilt.

You needed to tell someone you could trust in your circle of friends. It had been knawing away at you all this time.

The guilt.

"If you trust Nott and Parkinson as much as you do, and you're willing to be in Riddle's presence, then I trust your judgement." she says, sitting up with red rimmed eyes to look at you. She squeezes the hand that isn't still wrapped around her and that's all it takes for your resolve to crumble.

"Promise you won't freak out." you mumble and she looks at you weirdly before she agrees. With a deep breath, you do what Mattheo had been teaching you, and wordlessly you enter Ginny's mind. You can see the moment she realises what you're doing, but she doesn't flinch away like you expect; she watches you in awe instead.

He's been teaching me to better control my Legillimens abilities. You tell her cautiously. You can feel her disbelief and her curiosity at your words so you continue speaking to her wordlessly.

I've been teaching myself since the end of fourth year when He returned. Theo found out during one of our first patrols last year and that's really how I became better friends with him and Pansy too. Now that- Now that you-know-who is back they- Theo told me that he was going to have Mattheo teach me to do it defensively and keep my mind locked from enemies. In return, I'm going to help them all.

"How are you going to do that?" she says, her whisper so quiet you could barely hear her.

"I don't know, Ginny." you sigh. "With Harry so suspicious of Malfoy, I don't know how I'll convince him that they're on our side."

"Fuck what he thinks." she says, squeezing your hand again. "What your doing could help not only the Order, but it could save them, too. Have you thought about going to Dumbledore?"

"I have but-" you pause, hesitant to share the most vital piece of information you know.

"But what? Is there something else?" she asks, her curious tone edging to something else.

"There is. But you must promise not to tell a soul. Only me and Matt– only me and Riddle know about it. But I think Dumbledore knows– and Remus was acting strange when I asked him for help about it over Christmas."

She motions you to carry on and you know she'll keep her promise because she practically screams it at you mentally.

"I'm a siphon." you say and when Ginny goes to speak you swiftly interrupt her. "I know it sounds bizarre but it's true. Remember when Katie was cursed? I somehow absorbed some of that dark magic and fainted as a result. Mattheo figured it out first and we've been using the tutor sessions as a rouse to research about it."

"Siphons are rare. I don't think I've heard anything other than bedtime stories my mum used to read us when we were little. They're folklore." she says, awed. You sigh and throw your head back against the top of the sofa and groan in frustration.

"We keep getting the same information over and over again. It's incredibly annoying." you admit and you snap your head up when Ginny begins snickering. "What?"

"And how do you alleviate that frustration, Meadow?" she smirks, "A tumble in the Come and Go Room? How scandalous!"

You gape at her, but that only makes her laugh harder; the distant sound of Madame Pince shushing the two of you doesnt help either. "For Rowena's sake Ginny! Stop laughing!" you say but her laughter is infectious and you can't help but join.

"Hey I don't blame you, he's far too attractive for his own good."

Tell me about it. You say with a grumble and she lets out a loud snort that promptly ends with the two of you being kicked out of the sanctuary of the library.

"Your secret is safe with me, Meadow. I promise."

Somehow, admitting your greatest secret to someone lifted a giant weight from your shoulders. Perhaps having someone like Ginny in your corner was a good thing.

~∞~

The Ravenclaw Tower holds an abundance of the best rooms in the whole castle; from the tall ceilings of the common room with constellations painted like glittering sparkles, to a miniature astronomy tower that over looked the Black Lake and the mountainous highlands that surround the castle grounds.

Or maybe you're just biased.

Your dorm room is another place of solace for you. It's a little different to the library, however. Your dorm is place where you find peace and serenity away from the troubles of schoolwork and the stress of keeping up with your friends' woes. Hardly ever are you disrupted once the door to your room is closed off to the outside world, only the occasional murmur of conversation from girls passes by to get to their dorms interrupts the quiet atmosphere.

You needed a break from everything. Harry had somehow managed to go from Professor Slughorn's favourite student to his most failured prodigy after asking him about Horcruxes as per Dumbledore's instruction; Hermione believed that the library had actually failed her when she (and you) had no such luck finding any information about them and Ron appeared to be so wrapped up in his relationship that you rarely saw him outside of lessons and meal times.

It was at times like this that you yearned for Mattheo's presence which scared you half to death. He had been attentive with you as of lately, no longer was he grueling and rough with his Legillimens lessons and he made an effort to help you search for books in the library to aid in your research for your siphon abilities. You hadn't told him about Ginny, but you had a feeling that he just knew somehow that she was now aware of the arrangement.

He had a knack for always knowing everything.

You did feel a little bad, since it was Ron's birthday and you always spent it (and each of your respective birthdays) with the Golden Trio. This year your friendships with them seemed distant and awkward, like the thread holding you altogether was strained and fraying. But when you got a frantic knock on your door to find Harry supporting the intoxicated redhead you call your best friend, you let them in with no hesitation.

"What the hell is wrong with him? Did he have too much to drink? It's not even gone lunchtime." you say frantically as you and Harry turn to watch Ron stare into space with starry eyes.

"The cauldron cakes," Harry muttered tiredly, scraping a hand through his unruly hair, "the ones from Romilda-"

"Romilda? Did you say Romilda, Harry? Where is she?" Ron turned his gaze to you, his eyes wide and unseeing. "Meadow! You're a girl. You must know her, can you introduce me? I love her."

"Merlin's beard." you say incredulously, mouth agape. "He ate the spiked chocolates, didn't he?"

Harry only nodded. "He ate them like ten minutes ago. I don't know what to do."

"Well you're the Potions master, Potter." you say with a grimaced smile and he only glares at you in response. You shake your head. "You'll have to take him to see Professor Slughorn or Madame Pomfrey for an antidote. Better to have someone who knows Potions inside-out to help."

"Okay. Okay yeah– good." Harry stutters as he drags Ron towards your door. "Are you coming?"

"Oh– no I'm doing some research. Or trying to, at least. Still not one mention of Horcruxes in anything I've read." you say as you stand at the threshold of your door. "But tell him I'm never letting him live this down once he's all cured."

An hour later, you eat your words as Ginny bursts into your room with tears streaking down her face. Because someone had poisoned her brother; if not for Harry's quick thinking, he would be dead.

~∞~

a little bit of a short chapter, mostly because its only a filler before shit kicks off 😃😃

more soft matty for you all xxx

taglist:

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @topguncultleader @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne

[octuscle]

Hi support, I’m wondering if you can help me. I’m in my third year of uni so deadlines are coming up and my social life has taken a big back seat. I met my mates the other night and they keep saying apparently I’ve gotten boring. I never go out drinking with them and mostly stay in and read or write essays. It really annoyed me. I want them to see me as exciting again, as the fun one in the group always up for a laugh. Think you could help me out?

Hi support, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm in my third year at uni, so deadlines are looming and my social life has taken a very back seat. I met up with my friends the other day and they say that I seem to have become boring. I never go out drinking with them and mostly stay at home reading or writing essays. This has really annoyed me. I want them to see me as exciting again, as the joker in the group who is always up for a joke. Could you help me with that?

It's Friday night around 8pm. Every normal student is at least drunk by this time. You're still sitting in the library. Suddenly your screen goes dark and a window pops up: "Please connect the computer to a power source immediately to prevent data loss." Damn! You've forgotten your cable in the student hall of residence. And at this time of day, of course, there's no fellow student around whose charger you could borrow. You just manage to save your term paper. Then the screen goes black.

You don't really like working at home at the weekend. There's bound to be a party in someone's shared flat. And it's usually like forest fires: After a while, the small fires coalesce into an inferno. These are not the conditions under which you can finish your housework. Okay, soberly speaking, the deadline isn't until next Friday. You've already come a long way. The party will be over tomorrow morning. So it's best to go home now, maybe jog for another hour and then go to bed. Then you can be back in the library at 08:00 tomorrow morning, well-rested, freshly showered and with a fully charged computer.

As you expected, there are at least three parties going on in the dormitory. One of them in the shared flat next to yours. Never mind, you're calm. You connect your computer to the power supply, put on your jogging suit and running shoes, take another sip of water and are just about to start running when you run into a horde of chavs in the corridor. You somehow fit right in, you think with a grin. They're all wearing tracksuits and sneakers too. Enviously, however, you have to admit that the boys all look super sporty too. Not as if they go running once every three weeks like you do. Probably students from the sports college. You're walking towards the exit when someone grabs you by the hood. "Hey, dude, are you already so drunk that you're walking past the party?" one of the tracksuits slurs and pulls you through the door.

You've been living in this dorm for a year. You've never visited your neighbors. The party is in full swing. Someone hands you a bottle of beer and asks if you're a freshman. He's never seen you up on the sports campus before. You smile painedly and say that you are studying sinology and political science. Cool, says your counterpart and clinks glasses with you. He would never have thought that fit bros like you would study such nerdy stuff. Now you have to take a sip for the sake of politeness. Your conversation partner pulls a young man with an impressive upper body in a tight-fitting T-shirt towards you. "Dude, can you imagine that bro here is in the humanities?" The bodybuilder fistbumps you and replies that he doesn't care what people study as long as they spend every spare minute doing sports like you. You can bet your life on that, you reply. And he replies "Or a decent tequila! Shots for everyone!" Someone comes by with a tray full of shot glasses. The three of you clink glasses and empty them in one go. And then another one.

Around 10 p.m., you throw up for the first time. This time you still hit the toilet keys. It's around 00:30 when someone has the idea of going to the new club. On the way there, you urgently need to piss. You piss in your own stairwell. No, you don't even live here… You live in the frat house. Then the first gaps appear in your memory. You can still remember the burger you and your mates ate at 03:00. And how you tried to pierce one of your buddies' ears with a beer glass and a nail. Fortunately, someone stopped you.

It's already dawn when you wake up at the bus stop. Damn it, the first bus out to the council housing estate where you live leaves at 06:15. Normally you last that long. But today it was really too much tequila. The thought really makes you feel sick. Thank God it's the weekend. The party continues tonight. And on Monday you call in sick if you need to. Nobody will miss you at work at the city cleaning service.

[jesncin]

hello! I've been reading a lot of your posts on dc media, they are a great read! I hope one day I could make such detailed analysis, yours are really inspirational and makes me have double-takes/ give-a moment-to-think-on the media I watch/ read

Anyway! You talk a lot about Super-characters and Asian representation, what do you think about Kong Kenan's character? As well as how he is currently written in DC Comics? Is there any way you want him to be written differently? How well does his character play with the many themes of Superman?

Oh wow thank you so much! Writing these essays has mostly been for my own sake to get my thoughts out there, but it means a lot to me when my analysis and meta inspires others to do similar and think a bit more critically!

Kong Kenan!!! While I haven't caught up on how he's written lately (I mostly read a handful of the beginning stuff) I could spare some thoughts.

Kong Kenan is the most creative, out of the box and refreshing take on a Superman legacy character. What makes Superfam members struggle to gain traction is that they over-rely on direct family members, clones, alternate universe-selves, and adopted aliens- leaning too hard on the sci fi aspects of Superman and not the grounded politics that make him a resonant character. Kong Kenan meanwhile is just some guy (affectionate) thrusted into power. Even though I love the untapped themes of diaspora and generational loss to Krypton we could get from other Superfam members, it's really refreshing to have a new character not pay that much mind to all that. He's got his own world in China going! It's important for legacy characters to have their own space to breathe, and Kenan ticks all the boxes.

The worldbuilding of his cast system, the stakes surrounding how his powers work, even the way the themes of "Hope" is re-contextualized through his character are just so rich. I think my main critique is just how his original run starts!

The strong and refreshing cast system carry us through it, but the beginning really leans into that respectability "right ideas, wrong extreme methods" MCU villain thing. I get that it's about "being too devoted to the cause that you forget to care for people around you" but it's a bit clumsy when said cause is caring about the rights of people.

Once you get out of that origin starter, the series really picks up to more unique ideas that challenge systems of power so it's worth sticking around for. I still haven't fully read through all of New Super-man, but I'm excited to get back to it when I have the time.

[desceros]

Please spare us some more papatello headcannons 🥹🥹🥹 (I bet Donnie is the type to show off his baby mommy)

yessss an excuse to think about papatello tysm anon-chan!!!!

as per usual this got long so i'm sticking it under a cut bc i am OUT. OF. CONTROL.

thinkin about the first day of school. you'd insisted that lavi attends bc it's good for her socialization ("why would she need to talk to other people? i never went to school!" "yeah, hon, and look how you turned out." "perfectly capable of normal conversation!!" "...you asked me to marry you via text." "well sue me for wanting to be sure i got it right when just the thought of it made me flustered!" <- then you're both embarrassed), but donnie's not too thrilled. the whole morning he's sulking, pouting behind your shoulder as you take all the cute photos of her first outfit, writing a 5k word essay to put in her lunchbox saying how much he loves her ("don. donnie. love of my life. she's four. she can barely read go dogs go." "best she practice, then."). it's actually the worst... up until you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and reminding him that hey. hey. the four year old isn't here. wink. wink wink. (...donnie very quickly begins to espouse the value of a formal education.)

hm. executive decision that lavi has a sweet tooth. she's particularly fond of fruits, and she likes to come up to donnie while he's working and hand him an orange so he can peel it for her. without fail, he stops what he's doing and helps, taking one slice and calling it a 'papa tax'. then, one day, she comes to you and asks if you'll show her how to peel it. you're thinking hm. showing some independence, that's probably a good thing, so you do. only to have to bite your fist when you watch as she goes into the lab and crawls into donnie's lap, peeling an orange, and then handing him half. (he ugly cries a lot that night when he tells you about it.)

once mikey's hair starts coming in, i suspect she'd like playing with it. she'd rope him into having spa nights where the three of you do all kinds of self-care stuff like facials, hair masks, that kind of thing. donnie plays it up like he's super jealous, but you see the way he burrows his face into lavi's hair for their nighttime hug and smiles when it's nice and soft, and then when he comes to you and threads his fingers through your hair, murmuring a compliment at its texture into your nape.

during your pregnancy, he's a nervous wreck. the whole pregnant with a turtle mutant situation is already a lot on his nerves, but then on top of that, you don't call out of work. ("i'm pregnant, don. pregnant people work all the time. it's normal." "i'd argue that being pregnant with a turtle mutant is quite far out of the bounds of normal.") i think... the first real, actually nasty fight you ever have with him might be then. maybe the only one, but it'd be explosive. him concerned that you'll be somewhere, pregnant with what some would call a monster, having been bred by a monster, and if something happens, he'll be in his lab working, helpless, away. you don't take kindly at all to him calling your child (nor himself) a monster, even out of the mouths of hypothetical strawmen, and that plus the way he's catastrophizing every little thing strains your relationship to its snapping point. i think maybe for a solid month or so, it's. it's a real test of how much you love him, and how much he trusts you.

i dunno if i've already WOG'd this but if i did, i'm changing it and this is the official WOG statement that lavi's first word is 'papa' and donnie is FOREVER smug about it (even though, joke's on him, you find it absolutely adorable and are zero percent mad about it)

oh. lavi loves pineapple on pizza. the first time she tries it and it becomes her favorite, you laugh at donnie's face for like, ten years. sometimes you'll just be in the bathroom, brushing your teeth to get ready for bed, and he'll hear you start giggling where he's lying down reading and waiting for you to come in, and he just. grits his teeth bc he knows what's got you going.

there's a baby shark-esque song in universe that has a turtle instead of a shark on one episode of mrs. cuddles, and lavi fucking loves it. it's the worst ear worm in the entire world, and the entire lair quickly lays a ban on ever reminding her it exists. this is ultimately a failure, partially bc she is her father's child and thus the most stubborn creature ever to exist, but also bc leo actually enjoys it and ends up humming it under his breath while he's walking around. raph gets a little twitchy whenever he hears it, but he's the second-most vulnerable to lavi's charms (the first, of course, being donnie) so whenever she asks, on it goes, with him stiff as a board as she sits on his shell and claps her hands in delight.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Hi! Other people have talked about this, but have you ever thought about how the destruction of Kaz's life led to the preservation of the other crows' lives? Without Kaz, none of the other five would have made it to the events of Six of Crows. Inej and Nina would've died at their respective brothels, Wylan and Jesper probably would've died in the streets of the Barrel, and Matthias would've died at Hellgate. I just think it's interesting and almost poetic how all the horrible things that happened to Kaz meant that he was in a position to protect the other crows from horrible fates themselves. Kaz was all alone with no one to help him, but he helped the other crows through his personal tradegy. Five lives were spared while one was destroyed. It's especially considering Kaz's 'destroy everything' mindset. I wonder if the crows realise this. I wonder if Kaz realises this. How would they all react? Sorry, this got really rambly, I just can't stop thinking about it. Do you have any thoughts about this? (Hope you don't mind me asking?)

Hi, first of all of course I don’t mind you asking I live getting questions so much!!! And second of all this is such an interesting topic and it’s so true!! This probably includes a lot of the same things that you’ve already said, but I’m just going to copy and paste a text message I sent my friend about this topic about a year ago:

“I’ve thought about this before and I really think it’s a true statement of Bardugo’s writing skill; they’re lives aren’t inexplicably intertwined or connected so they met by fate for an inscrutable purpose, but their connections with each other allow them survival and to achieve their purpose, whether they believe it to be divine or otherwise, but it’s Kaz, who feels outside of or desperate to the group, that is the cause of it all. He represents so much without doing anything, he is their entire life force in so many ways, but the real tragedy of his story is that his happiness was sacrificed because his purpose is to lead them to their purposes. Nina’s purpose is to unify Fjerda and Ravka, Matthias’ purpose is to lead her there, Inej’s purpose is to protect young people like her, Wylan’s purpose is to create change in the upper classes and to make people realise the hardships faced by everyone in the city, and Jesper’s purpose is to guide Wylan to that. But Kaz? Kaz doesn’t get his own fulfilment, he had to sacrifice his childhood to give them their fulfilment instead, but he will never realise that. His loss of Jordie means that all of them can achieve their purpose and change the world, but Kaz has been left with nothing but blame that he must find someone to pin on. So he gives it to Rollins. Rollins is by no means a good person, but the undeniable fact is that Jordie still would have caught the Queen’s Lady Plague, and probably still died from it because even the richest people who could afford medicine were still being killed by the outbreak. Kaz needs someone to blame and get revenge on so he can bring his own fulfilment about, and I think that’s the most heartbreaking thing about him. Everyone he’s ever cares for found their purpose, but he has nothing beyond destroying Pekka Rollins - and he even admits it himself. He says he’ll take down Rollins, and when asked what he’ll do next he says “I don’t know. Build an empire, then burn it to the ground” ”

Fun fact: that conversation culminated in me saying that I wished there was some way of writing my essays about the Grishaverse, or basically saying that essays shouldn’t be gatekept to academia and that if I want to write and publish studies of the Grishaverse then I should be allowed to. All of you have made that possible for me, it’s amazing, and I can’t believe there are nearly 1000 of you following along thank you so much

Thanks for your question!!!

[laundrybiscuits]

I've recently been tagged in a few WIP/"last thing you've written" type games, and…to be completely candid, I haven't been writing any kind of fic lately because I've become a little bit obsessed with analyzing the Broadway revival of Merrily We Roll Along.

Not for any particular purpose, I just saw it at the Hudson a little while back and have a lot of feelings about it! In my tiny scraps of spare time, I've been working on an essay about Merrily and inevitability that will probably end up rotting in my google docs*, because that's how I approach writing as a hobby.

There's just so much there, holy shit. I'm focusing particularly on "Franklin Shepard, Inc." because Radcliffe's Charley brings a frenetic, desperate vulnerability to the performance that reads so, so differently from earlier productions. Throughout the show, I was consistently blown away by the heavy lifting Radcliffe, Mendez, and Groff do in shifting the core tension from "art vs commerce" (fine but basic, and difficult to keep modern) to "how people prioritize different types of relationships in their lives."

In an effort to make this slightly less wildly off-topic for this blog: this has gotten me thinking about the way that platonic relationships are treated in narratives, particularly but not exclusively in fandom.

"Found family" is and has always been a popular trope, but I do think its current incarnation trades a lot on the underlying fantasy of relationship permanence. When we recategorize friendships as familial relationships, we're making a claim—whether or not it's justified—about the indelibility of those relationships.

That's not inherently bad (or, god forbid, problematic). I think it's very very natural, especially for those who don't necessarily have a lot of experience with the way adult friendships change over time. Why wouldn't you want something as precious and unique and amazing as a good friendship to stay with you forever?

Certain people can feel like pillars of your world, and it's fucking terrifying to think about that being yanked out from under you—or even worse, to think about your lives slowly shifting like geologic plates until suddenly you realize it's been weeks, then months, then years since you last really talked.

CHARLEY: We're not that kind of close any more, the way we used to be. And a friendship's like a garden. You have to water it and tend it and care about it. And you know what? I want it back.

It's a peculiar, particular kind of grief when it happens, because even though it's a fairly common human experience, it doesn't get socially acknowledged in the same way as e.g. a romantic breakup.

So yeah, it makes a lot of sense that found family is a popular trope in all kinds of media, not just fandom.

However...at this point, I've developed a knee-jerk wariness to the phrase "found family," because I've found it often correlates with a really flat, simplistic depiction of human relationships. In extreme cases, it simply recontextualizes a relationship within the socially acknowledged/acceptable framework of a stereotypical family unit.

This does a disservice to familial and nonfamilial relationships alike. Every family is different, so why do so many found families in media look the same?

(I was monologuing about this to my very patient girlfriend, and she pointed out that this also sets up a success/failure binary condition in relationships, where permanence is the arbiter of success in both romantic and nonromantic contexts. She is of course both beautiful and correct!)

I have friends with whom I can sometimes share a glance and know exactly what they're thinking. I even have a running joke with one friend about the sheer number of times we've said the same thing in unison over the last 15 years. I still need to be intentional about building those relationships, extending empathy when we differ, and carving out time to reconnect. Truly intimate long-term relationships of any kind involve disagreements, conflicting priorities, and negotiating and renegotiating boundaries.

Being "basically the same person" or "sharing a braincell" actually sounds super fucking lonely to me, personally, and it handily elides the difficult, essential process of keeping people in your life.

FRANK: Old friends let you go your own way. CHARLEY: Help you find your own way. MARY: Let you off when you're wrong. F: If you're wrong. C: When you're wrong. M: Right or wrong, the point is, old friends shouldn't care if you're wrong. F: Should, but not for too long. C: What's too long?

That's a more complicated and much more mature narrative to tell than "friendship will save the day!" Because it's not that common and there's not a deep bank of references to draw from, it takes a lot of effort and skill to depict well, and I don't blame creators for not wanting to let it suck up all the air in the room. However, I think it's important to acknowledge that platonic relationships can also be flanderised and flattened.

In the context of fandom, which has always traded heavily in Romance genre conventions, I would really like to see more thoughtful explorations of complicated nonromantic relationships. I'm not even talking about genfic here! I've actually been thinking about Stobin specifically because that relationship (rightly & understandably) tends to show up in any Steve-centric fic, including the vast ocean of Steddie fics, so it makes the issue slightly more visible than I've seen in other fandoms.

I'm not saying I want to see them fight, or not be friends, or not love each other fiercely and near-obsessively in the way that lonely teenagers can. I'm just saying I want them to be distinct individuals who view the world in very different ways, and choose each other anyway. They already have a complicated past; I know from personal experience that it's possible as a lesbian to be best friends with a guy who once made a little speech about how into you he was, but that little layer of history never quite goes away.

I don't want frictionless relationships in my life. I want people who will challenge me and whom I can challenge, in the context of love and trust. I want people in my life whom I have to work to understand, because my life is richer when I do. And sometimes, I want narratives that will reflect the grief of friendships that are no longer part of my life, despite the best efforts of everyone involved.

In Merrily, Charley sings, "Friendship's something you don't really lose—" but Radcliffe's thready, pleading delivery makes it all too clear: Charley already knows he's lying. The audience just needs to catch up.

*Other essays in that particular graveyard: understanding the cast of Peanuts through the lens of anomie, humor and subversive linguistic nationalism in 00s Singaporean TV, how to fix Miss Saigon. WHY am I this way.

[attleboy]

Why do u draw?

oooooooo [rubs hands together] a fun one that probably isn't that deep but i'm going to take way too seriously!

so the short answer is fun, but i can never just say one sentence and be done with it soooo i elaborated and wrote a whole essay below. sorry not sorry

anyway if you didn't want my origin story no shame in that, it's not gonna be on the quiz, just keep scrolling :P

to cover all my bases let me start from the beginning and work my way forward...

i think pretty much all kids draw at least a little just because they can, but the thing that really inspired me to take art seriously was the great abundance of cat animations on youtube in the early 2010s... warrior cats amvs mostly, but also artists like bani the kitty and splashkittyartist! you can really see these inspirations in my early digital art hehehe (see below by attle b. age 8)

from then until about age 14 art was just... my thing? i did it pretty much everyday, probably couldn't have imagined life without it... i think back then my motivations were more inline with your typical social media artist motivations... get better, be seen, and maybe make a career out of it? never made it that far though because ehhhh life has different plans i guess

i fell into an art slump in the middle of high school for a variety of personal reasons i won't get into, and as such i had to give up my dreams of creating art as a job

as sad as that was in the moment, it forced me to change my outlook on the whole ordeal in a way that i think was ultimately healthier for me.

that brought me to where i am now! since i have no goals beyond keeping at it as a hobby, i do it simply because i enjoy the process, the product, and i feel like it lets me connect with my interests in a way i otherwise couldn't.

it's a fun way to express love for the things i care about, and while i still enjoy honing my skills i don't feel the same pressure to be perfect that i used to which is really freeing!!

so in that sense it's intrinsic motivation that makes me draw what i draw... however, the amount of art i put out and the polish i give it is definitely motivated by the eyes i have on me... while i'd still be drawing the same things if no one was watching, i would not be putting nearly as much effort into it, nor would i be doing it as regularly, so i do thank you guys for keeping me on track there <3

that's it i think? i could get into the philosophy of it, but i'll spare you that... okay thank you for letting me yap!!! ^-^

[feathers-silly-rambles]

Okay theory time!

Not a big one, but I might redo my Lilith theory later (I think my last one has holes). This one's about Susan. 😱

Spoilers

So we all know Rosie and Alastor both dislike Susan, but I wanted to tell you why I think that is.

But first, I'll have to go over what I think I know about the Cannibal Colony. I think they work sort of like a giant family. They all take care of each other and they probably aren't too fond of outsiders, likely killing and eating them if they get too close. They may personally dislike someone in the colony but if an outsider slaps them, they will obliterate them in an instant.

That being said, I think we all know Alastor didn't spawn into hell a part of their colony, and he probably met and befriended Rosie rather quickly after his appearance. Now I think he ended up staying with her during his early days in hell, or at least frequently visited. Everyone would know that he's Rosie's friend so they'd leave him alone, but that likely wouldn't spare him from judgment, and it's beyond likely that Susan gave him a hard time during his early days there.

We see that no one attacks Charlie when Alastor brings her there, and that's probably because they see that she's with him and therefore know not to bother her. However, Susan not only immediately begins mouthing off Charlie three seconds into her stage, but also threatens her ("Leave before I eat those big ass eyes of your!"). We also see that she likely doesn't have this attitude with her own people, as she doesn't say anything bad to or about Rosie (she even yells to bring her back the second she's off stage).

Once you win them over, you're safe with them, as shown in 'Ready For This', but all of this together makes me think that during his early days, Alastor would've had quite a bit of trouble with Susan (and probably a few others) given he was an outsider. Rosie doesn't seem to have a personal grudge against Susan (she never directly insulted her, just agreed with Alastor when he called her a bitch), and really only describes her as 'she's tough' in reference to getting her to agree. She probably hasn't had any bad experiences personally with her, but she's seen how she acts towards people outside the colony and knows her behavior very well.

Long story short, Susan mean and Alastor don't like it.

Maybe I'm putting way too much effort into this oldady but you know what? If I wanna write college essays whenever I have the tiniest idea, I'm gonna do that. Anyways, have a good day! :DD

Obligated bestie pic.

[tricks-tickles]

Are You Happy?

sudden burst of inspo be like:

sorry i dropped off the face of the earth(ish) apparently im limited to three fics per fandom haha

anyway south park amirite

(also psa im bri ish so idk how american unis work so the boys r 18ish here but im p sure i didn't get anything disastrously wrong)

word count: 1459

pairing: Lee!Craig/Ler!Tweek

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Craig?” 

Tweek sat on his bed next to his boyfriend, anxiously tugging on the base of his shirt as he studied Craig’s expression. Despite being the stoic one of the two, he had a strangely tense look about him. 

“Yeah?” Craig said, fiddling with his fingers.

“Uh, are you- ACK, okay? You seem kind of n-nervous?” Tweek asked, twitching a little. 

“Oh, yeah I’m fine,” He responded, still looking at his hands, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“GAH- uh, because of your uni-university application?!” Craig had applied to the University of Colorado’s astrophysics course and was due to hear back at some point in the coming week. Although he had the grades for the course, he wasn’t sure about his personal essay and had been internally freaking out for a while. It was Saturday now, and his nerves were at an all-time high. He guessed it was starting to show.

“No.” He said, then paused, “Yes. I’m just worried I won’t get in.” Honesty is the best policy, or whatever.

“Of course you will!” Tweek said, winking out of anxiety. “You’re the- GAHAH- smartest guy I know!

Craig hummed, digging his feet into the bed. 

“I don’t know about that…” He muttered.

“And besides! Maybe they’re just BUSY! Or running late or s-something.” He said, screwing up his face in a twitch. 

“Maybe,” Craig said, unconvinced. “You’re lucky you don’t have to worry about this.” Tweek had taken a gap year to work at his parent's shop and figure out what he wanted to do with his life. If Craig was accepted then he would follow him to Boulder, or wherever he wanted to go. Tweek was sure he’d follow Craig to the ends of the earth.

“AH- don’t mention that! It’s WAY too much pressure!”

“Right,” Craig said, “Sorry.”

Tweek twitched anxiously. He had almost no experience in comforting people and was way out of his depth. Craig probably didn’t want to talk about it, and he wasn’t sure what else to do. He gently tugged on his hair, thinking about what Craig had done for him when he was anxious. Slowly, an idea formed. 

“Craig?” He said, again.

“Yeah?”

“Um, do you want me to- ACK- cheer you up or some-something?” 

He looked at Tweek, a little bemused.

“You can try,” Craig said, curious as to what he would do.

Tweek took a careful breath in, then shuffled closer to Craig and, shivering slightly, wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Craig tensed, then sagged into his boyfriend's touch. Despite having been ‘together’ for around eight years, their relationship had only become real two years ago, and even still they were a little shy around each other. Tweek was too anxious to make the first move most of the time, and Craig had no idea how to, so they danced around each other until one of them stepped up. 

Craig had forgotten how comforting Tweek could be if he tried. When Stripe 5 had died Tweek’s hugs had been the only thing keeping him together. He sighed and shuffled closer to him, breathing in the smell of coffee. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Tweek worked up the courage to enact part two of his plan. He placed his spare hand on Craig’s side and began gently tracing his fingers along his hoodie. Craig stiffened again, jumping when Tweek’s fingers twitched against him. 

“Honey, what are you dohing?” He said, stifling a giggle when Tweek’s fingers crept toward his stomach. 

“Well, you remember when- GAH- I was f-feeling anxious about nothing a few weeks ago, and you asked me if you could cheer me up? And I said yes so you started t-tickling me and you didn’t stop until you thought I was happy? And I kept- AH- saying I was happy but you were like ‘I don’t believe you, honey.’ and it t-tickled really bad? Do you remember that?” While he spoke Tweek’s other arm slipped from around Craig’s shoulders, making him squeak and slide down the bed as Tweek started pinching his side. 

“Nohoho,” Craig said, trying to bring his knees up to protect his stomach. Tweek noticed and shifted till he was sitting on Craig’s thighs to keep them down.

“No?! You don’t r-remember? It was only a few weeks ago- GAH-, you must have a pretty bad memory.”

He started scratching Craig’s stomach, making him laugh properly.

“I rehemehembeher!” He cried, his hands torn between covering his face and pushing away Tweek’s hands. He settled on tugging the flaps of his hat till it covered his eyes.

“Oh! G-good. Then you remember that- AH- you kept teasing me too? You were like ‘Does this t-tickle, babe?’ ‘How about here?’ ‘Are you having fun? You sound like you’re having fun.’. So, Craig, I want to a-ask you: are you having fun?”

“Ahahaha!”

“‘That’s not an answer, babe.’ That’s what you’d say.” Tweek said. He had to admit that he was sort of enjoying himself. Craig had tickled him, but he’d never worked up the courage to get him back. Now though, as he watched his boyfriend squirm and blush and laugh under his wiggling fingers, he understood exactly why Craig got him all the time. His laugh was somewhat monotone but it had a lightness to it that made Tweek feel all warm inside.

“Are you happy? Are you h-having fun? Do you- AH like this, baby?” He teased, drumming into his ribcage.

Craig was sure he was going to die. Tweek’s fingers were sending little bolts of lightning through his body, darting around so he couldn’t catch them. Worse, though, was the teasing. He was sure it wasn’t as bad when he did it to Tweek, his stomach was full of butterflies and his face was burning hot. Tweek rarely called him pet names, so he was sure he was about to combust. But the worst of it was that he was enjoying it. It was fun to have Tweek be so playful and close to him and to have all his anxiety chased away by his uncontrollable laughter. Not that he was going to say that to him though. 

“Are you- ERK- ignoring me?” Tweek said, grinning impishly. His fingers wiggled upwards, then lifted entirely.

Craig panted, pushing up his hat and catching his breath.

“Ihihi’m nohoht ihignohoring yohou.” He giggled.

“Then answer my q-questions, love,” Tweek said, still smiling as his fingers twitched in the air above Craig’s chest.

“Whahat were thehey again?”

“Do- AH- do you like this? Are you h-having fun?” 

“Uh,” Craig trailed off, pulling his hat down again, “Maybe…” He whispered. 

“What was that?”

“MahahABYEHEHE!! TWEEK!” He squealed at Tweek’s fingers suddenly wiggling into his underarms. Craig slammed his arms down and arched his back, trying to squirm away from the unbearable feeling. 

“Oops, I d-didn’t catch that.” Tweek said, using his pointer fingers to rub little circles into the divots of Craig’s underarms. 

“I LIKE IT! I LIHIHIHIKE IHIHIT! PLEHEHAHASE HONEY, IHIT REHEHAHALLY TIHIHICKLES!”

“And you’re happy?” 

“IHIHI’M HAHAPPY! WHEHENEHEVEHER IHI’M WIHIHITH YOHOHOUHU IHI’M SOHO HAHAHAPY!”

Tweek squeaked, blushed, and toppled off Craig, falling to the side of him. He shifted and turned to face him, where Craig had done the same.

“Do- GAH- do you mean that?” He said, shyly.

Craig took a few deep breaths, “Yeah,” He said.

He tried to adjust his hat but ended up taking it off and throwing it somewhere vaguely behind him. Instead, he leaned forward, kissing Tweek softly. 

He made a content noise and leaned a little deeper into Craig. At that same time, the doorbell rang and Craig’s mother called him downstairs.

The two boys looked at each other before racing down the stairs and stumbling into Craig’s kitchen, where his mother stood holding an envelope.

Craig took a deep breath in, crossing the kitchen and ripping it open. Tweek felt his heart hammer, nervous on Craig’s behalf. His eyes scanned the text before he closed the letter again and gently set it down on the counter. The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Slowly, he turned to face Tweek. 

Tweek’s heart sank. There were pinpricks of tears in Craig’s eyes and he was ready to offer the ultimate sympathy when a smile took over his face and he announced, in the driest, most monotone voice,

“I got in.” 

Everyone erupted in cheers. His mother, his father and sister (who had come to see what all the fuss was about,), and Tweek. 

They all rushed forward and Craig found himself crushed between all his favourite people. 

Tweek caught his gaze and smiled, his eyes glittering.

“I t-told you there was nothing to worry about. You’re the smartest guy I know.”