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#the International Press Academy
blueeyeddarkknight · 1 year
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Val's infinite skills and abilities
part 4
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@erlysworld thanks for the sweet request ❤️
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brian-in-finance · 2 years
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26th Satellite Awards
Winners
Motion Picture, Drama Belfast
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Screenplay, Original
Kenneth Branagh, Belfast
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https://www.pressacademy.com/news/5437/
Remember when the 2022 Satellite Award winners were announced several hours before the presentation event?
Presentation: 19:30 California time, Saturday 2 April, Los Angeles
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awardswatcherik · 3 months
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International Press Academy Satellite Awards Nominations: 'Oppenheimer,' 'Succession' Lead
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thejewofkansas · 1 year
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Awards Season 2022-23: Satellite Awards Nominations
Awards Season 2022-23: Satellite Awards Nominations
The Satellites are basically the little siblings of the Critics’ Choice Awards, at least in my mind. That’s the sort of sentiment which makes sense if you’re into this game as deep as I am. If not, don’t worry, it’s a difficult way to live. One nice thing about the Satellites is that they have Drama and Musical/Comedy categories, so you can make some guesses as to what the Globes might…
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uniquethingtastemaker · 10 months
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Neige x Reader: White Beaches and a Spring Morning
Summary: The Ramshackle prefect is finally able to get a full week off from school after four overblots. Determined to enjoy their time to the fullest off campus, they set out to explore Sage’s Island, starting with the island’s southern beaches. However, it seems that our prefect can never catch a break, as they find an RSA student crying and upset. Unable to just look away, they set their sights on comforting him and helping him have a good time outside of school.
Word count: just under 3k
Tags: fluff, getting together (not officially though), dates, romance
Warnings: none… unless suave reader is a warning… reader being too hot lol
Author’s notes: this was inspired by a tumblr post by @sorbertisfruity and I loved it so much that I decided to start writing it. Also this is my first time I’m actually writing and posting my creative work, so I just ask that people are kind. Thanks and enjoy!
Leaning forward with the wind whipping through your hair, you fly down the mountain path away from Night Raven College. The engine of the magic wheel roars behind you, as music blasts from the speakers. Finally, you were free! After months of work, you finally got a week off. Of course, you had to blackmail Crowley by threatening to expose the multiple overblots. Nonetheless, he conceded to your requests in the end. Now, you’ve left your worries and Grim temporarily behind in favor of a relaxing day at the beach. 
Pulling up to the sandy shore, you park the magic wheel you’d borrowed from Ignihyde and look out at the sight before you. It was a nice change of scenery compared to the dreary mountain Night Raven College sat atop of. The morning was crisp and clear with the sea breeze wafting from the ocean. The beach was empty. You were here on a weekday after all. You grab your bag from one of the compartments and head off toward the tide.
The sandals on your feet sink slightly into the sand as you search for a more secluded area to place your bag. After walking along the coast, you catch a glimpse of NRC’s rival school, the Royal Sword Academy. It was almost blinding with its tall white spires that were tipped with blue. Overall, the vibe is much brighter than NRC’s gothic horror aesthetic.
“Wonder what their facilities are like,” you murmur to yourself, “Maybe I can secretly get a tour of the school and request a transfer while I’m at it.”
You chuckle at the thought of your friends’ outrageous reactions to your fictional transfer. Just as you finish the thought, you hear a loud sob. Furrowing your brow, you pick up your pace. Even on your day off, you never catch a break, you internally sigh. You blame your upright and well-meaning nature, but you shrug off the thought as you come across an alcove in the rocks. 
You find a boy huddled up against the stone, sobbing to himself. He’s wearing a familiar white uniform jacket, signifying that he’s from the Royal Swords Academy. You’re unable to see his face as he’s tucked it into his knees. Only his ruffled black hair shows. Next to him lies a black beret and the dirt and skid marks on his uniform make it obvious he ran out of the academy. 
Coming closer to the cave-like area, your footsteps are masked by the sound of soft waves lapping against the coast. 
“Hey,” you call out, “Are you alright?”
The boy’s head snaps up. He stumbles to his feet and begins making rapid apologies. His voice has a light, airy quality to it that cracks as he trips over his words. 
“I—I’m fine. Thank you for asking. I—I should probably go. I don’t want to bother you—“ 
He isn’t able to say anything more, as his foot catches on a nearby rock and he begins tumbling forward with a squeak. Moving on instinct, you catch him by the waist, pulling him in to support his weight. Pressed up against him, you note that he has a slim but fairly toned waist. He’s also a bit taller than expected. 
“Are you ok?” You ask, “That was pretty close. It might be a good idea to sit down for a while before moving again. Sorry, I startled you. I was just concerned whenever I heard someone in distress.”
Pulling away slightly, you’re able to get a glimpse of his face. His eyes are the first feature that stands out to you. They’re soft, doe-like, and innocent. His brown eyes are a little puffy and red around the edges from crying, but it doesn’t detract from their soft allure. Your eyes flicker down toward his lips. They’re tinted a natural red, as he chews on them. Suddenly, you become acutely aware of how close the two of you are. You can feel his ragged breath on your cheek, as you take the time to observe him.
He glances down and away from you, tears still in his eyes, as continues to gnaw on his lip. Whether from the anxiety of being caught crying or the flustered embarrassment of being so close, you’re not sure. You suspect it might be both. However, when he turns his cheek, the light catches a glimmer of wet tears that have already streaked down his face. Before you have time to think, you reach your hand up to cup his cheek and wipe it away. 
Blinking, you realize that you just performed a somewhat intimate gesture and you move your hand away. 
“Sorry, I just wanted to help. Did I make you uncomfortable?” You ask.
He stares at you with wide eyes and touches the place where you wiped his tears with his hand.
“…No, I didn’t mind it.” 
His voice breaks, then in a smaller tone, he comments, “It was nice.”
“That’s good,” you chuckle, “My name’s (Y/N), and you?”
He hesitates for a second before replying, “Neige.”
He watches your reaction intently, looking for any signs of recognition, but when there is none, he relaxes slightly. 
“I wouldn’t mind sitting down again,” he tells you. 
He starts to pull away to sit back down when you tighten your grip on his waist, stopping him. 
“Hold on, I have a towel. Let me lay it down first,” you state. 
Rummaging through your bag, you pull out a towel that you stole from Heartslabyul. The print on the fabric is a dead giveaway. It’s littered with multicolored card suits. Spreading it out, you plop down on the fluffy towel and turn to Neige, who comes to sit next to you.
“Again, sorry for scaring you earlier. I just heard you were in distress and wanted to make sure you were ok,” you repeat, inspecting for any physical wounds. “Physically, you seem fine. Are you in emotional distress?”
Playing with the edge of the towel, he glances up at you before looking away. His grip tightens on it and he nods. 
Neige hesitates before saying, “You know, if you have other places to be, you can go do those. You don’t have to stay with me. I’ll be fine–”
Before he can get any further, you cut him off, “Neige, I know we just met, but I’m not going to leave someone who’s upset behind. You seem sweet and I want to get to know you. It would be nice to get a new friend.”
You put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. He looks up at you with wet eyes and hiccups slightly, trying to hold back newly formed tears. Your eyes go wide and your body moves on autopilot. You open your arms to offer a hug. 
“Hey, do you want a hug? Will that make you feel better?”
Neige hesitates before nodding. Given your cue, you envelop him in a warm, tight hug. Cradling him, you rub small circles on his back and whisper words of comfort. 
He breaks. Any semblance of wariness or guard that he had up before crumbles against your kindness and small persistence. He cries so hard that his whole body shakes against you. You squeeze tighter and you can tell that you are the only thing keeping him together at this moment. He ends up clinging and clawing at you as if you’re his only lifeline in the vast ocean. He sobs harder at your gentle approach to comforting him and a few broken words of gratitude spill from his mouth. 
“—Thank you, thank you so much. I never— I never got this growing up. I always had to put on a cheerful face to not worry my— my family. This means so much to me. Thank you, thank you (Y/N).”
You clutch him tighter, running a hand through his hair, as he sobs into your shoulder. You feel for him. You understand the struggles of having to carry everyone else’s burden even though it shouldn’t be your responsibility in the first place. You ended up solving and resolving each overblot with only some of your classmates and practically no teachers. No responsible adults were around to help fight Riddle, restrain Leona, stop Azul, and punish Jamil. It had been getting exhausting. Thankfully, you got a week to yourself, but this wasn’t about you and you turned your attention back on your new friend, Neige. 
You allow him to get all the tears, sorrow, and pain out of his system. When his sobbing slows down and his breathing starts to even out, you reach into your bag to pull out some tissues, nudging Neige’s face with them. 
Upon feeling the tap, he looks up from where his face was buried in your shoulder. Tears and snot run down his face, and he takes the tissues with a small smile. 
“Thanks,” he breathes, taking the tissue and blowing into it.
After giving him some water, snacks, a lot of tissues, and more cuddles, he’s much more relaxed than he was earlier. His tired eyes are unable to focus on anything specific, as they flutter to stay awake. He continues to lean on you for support.
Chuckling, you ask, “Wanna lay down?”
Letting out an almost incoherent murmur of approval, he clutches onto your clothes, before asking, “Promise you won’t leave?”
You give him a soft smile that he’s unable to see with his eyes closed, and you lay the two of you down on the towel. You rest beside Neige, as he makes himself comfortable, nestling into your arms. 
“Of course, Snow,” you answer, “I’ll make sure to protect you if anything is out to get you.”
He nuzzles into you with a smile filled with sweet dreams, as he drifts off to sleep. After a while of listening to the ocean waves lap against the shore and feeling the slow steady breathing of the person next to you, you also find yourself lulled into the land of dreams.
~~~~~~
“You’re already skipping school. You might as well take the day off to relax and enjoy yourself,” you persuade, “Besides, would you leave your new friend behind to hang out at the beach by themselves?”
You look at Neige with playful and expectant eyes. He lets out a sigh and a small smile slips through, as he concedes. 
“I suppose taking one day off wouldn’t hurt.”
You give a cheer.
“Race you to the ocean!” you shout, scrambling to your feet. 
Neige squeaks in surprise, before he latches onto your ankle, tripping you. Landing on your hands with a small oof, Neige rushes past.
“Ok, pretty boy! I see how it is,” you cackle. 
Launching yourself from the ground into a runner’s sprint, you catch up to him. Wrapping your arms around Neige’s waist, you use your momentum to spin him around a couple of times before flinging him in the opposite direction of the coast. He screeches at the unexpected attack and begins laughing as he stumbles back, trying to regain his balance. Without hesitation, you turn back to the destination and bolt toward the finish line. 
The tempered ocean water hits your feet, slowing you down, as you raise your fists and cheer.
Neige jogs over with a stuttering laugh.
“Alright, alright, you win. Are you happy?” He asks with a grin.
“Immensely,” you beam.
~~~~~~
“We’ll have a [favorite ice cream/gelato flavor] and biscoff gelato, please,” you order from the ice cream parlor you found. 
The man behind the counter nods with a smile and begins scooping out your request. Neige’s eyes are wide as they turn to you.
“You don’t have to pay for mine,” he insists, pulling out his wallet. 
You stop his movements by putting a hand over his.
You hold eye contact with him, as you say, “I like and want to spoil you. You’re sweet, so getting you something sweet only makes sense. Please let me do this.”
Neige’s face heats up and you watch his brain malfunction for a few seconds, before turning away. You take the opportunity to pull out your card and give it to the owner of the shop, paying for your snacks. 
“That’s so sweet of you to pay for your boyfriend like that,” the owner comments, swiping your card.
Grinning, you wrap an arm around Neige’s waist, tugging him closer to you. 
“Yeah, he doesn’t treat himself that often, so I have to make sure he gets what he deserves,” you answer, winking at Neige.
Neige’s hand rushes to cover his blush as it spreads to the tips of his ears. The owner coos at you two, handing you your ice creams and card. You thank him on your way out, still attached at the hip with a flustered Neige. 
~~~~~~
The magic wheel zooms through the streets of Sage’s Island, and the sun casts a golden glow on you and Neige. He’s pressed right up against your back, clinging onto your waist. It’s warm and comforting. You’ve been riding aimlessly together for about half an hour, but seeing the sun setting, you figure you should take him home. 
Sneaking a glance at your companion, you watch his wide-eyed gaze explore the mountainous scenery. You smile before speeding up. You feel Neige’s chest move with twinkling laughter. He squeezes you tighter and leans in. Today has been a far better day than expected.
The sun has partially set in the sky as you pull up to the gates of the Royal Swords Academy. Putting the vehicle in park, you dismount the wheel, before offering your hand to help Neige off. 
“Here you go, sweetheart,” you say with a wink. 
Neige’s breath catches, as a hand comes to block his mouth in embarrassment. He places his other hand in yours, using it to get off. With both feet on the ground, he looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. You might as well have, you note, as the stars begin to peek out.
“When will I see you again? I want to see you again,” he pleads.
You blink in surprise at such a bold statement, before chuckling. 
“Well, I can come back tomorrow if you want me to. You know I have the week off,” you offer with a fond smile.
“Really?! You would do that? That wouldn’t ruin your vacation, would it?” he clarifies at a rapid pace.
You laugh, leaning against the magic wheel. 
“Honestly, Neige, if I didn’t leave NRC’s campus, I’d probably get dragged into some kind of shenanigans with Ace, Deuce, and Grim,” you explain, “I love them, but they’re a handful and I want a break. I would much rather hang out with you. It’s more peaceful and relaxing. Besides, I had a lot of fun today and I like getting to know you.” 
Neige’s mouth opens in a small oh, as his gaze softens. He clasps his hands in front of his heart, simply gazing at you. For a few moments, you just hold each other’s gaze, content and comfortable in the silence. You reach out to tuck a loose strand of hair away from Neige’s face. You let your hand linger, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb against it. His eyes droop and he nuzzles into your hold. Unable to resist, you draw him closer and loop an arm around his waist, before remembering–
“Your beret,” you murmur, “Let me get it for you.”
Moving to open one of the compartments on the magic wheel, you grab Neige’s hat only to settle back into the space in front of him. Placing the beret on his head, you let him adjust it. As he finishes, you notice unfamiliar red lettering along the border. Leaning in, you take a closer look.
“Someday my princess will come,” you quote.
Smiling, you continue, “Mmm, that’s cute. That sounds like something you would say, Neige.”
Your thumb runs over the embroidery, following every swirl of cursive on the beret. Your eyes flicker down to his to realize that you’re rather close. You can’t help but take a peek at his lips. They’re red, just like when you first met him, but this time they're slightly parted. You find yourself locking eyes with Neige’s brown ones once again, drawn together like magnets. Neige presses his body more snugly against you, watching for any signs of discomfort, as he rests his hands on your hips. You play with his lapel, before moving up to his shoulders and finally wrapping your arms around his neck. You give a playful smile, as you draw closer, and you feel Neige’s quiet laughter against your lips. Eyes sliding shut, you lean in. 
Before you can kiss, however–
“Neige, Neige! There you are!” 
“Do you know how much you made us worry?”
“We couldn’t find you after you ran out of the dorm– *achoo*!”
“And you–you left your phone at the dorm, so we had no way to contact you!”
“We looked everywhere in the academy, *yawns* even my favorite napping place.” 
“I can’t believe you skipped class. You should take us next time.”
“Toby, what are you talking about? We’re not supposed to skip class.” 
“Oops, sorry, I forgot.”
Neige lets out a whine, as his head falls against your shoulder. With the moment ruined, he hugs your waist tighter in protest. Laughing, you pat the poor boy’s shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. You take a look past him to identify the source of the shouts.
You spot seven short figures toddling their way over to the two of you from RSA’s gates. You’re unable to make out the fine details in the diminishing light, and instead opt to look back at Neige, his pitiful form still draped over you. These must be the seven dwarves that he was talking about earlier; the ones he grew up with. Based on their behavior, they seem to care about him just as much as Neige expressed his love and concern for them. You squeeze Neige tighter, grateful that he has a secure support network. He’s already been through a lot just based on what he’s told you so far.
Neige lets out another groan of despair, as you turn your full attention back towards him. Feeling a bit playful, you bring your face right next to his ear.
“I won’t let you go without a little something,” you tease.
Neige perks up, looking at you with wide and attentive eyes.
You chuckle at his reaction, murmuring that he’s cute, before leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. He melts into your touch, gripping your waist tighter. Pulling away, you tap your own cheek with a quick wink. In the dim light, you’re barely able to make out the flush spreading across his face. His Adam's apple bobs, before he leans in to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. You giggle, and after a few seconds pull away.
“Enough to tide you over?” you question.
“...Barely,” he whispers, still stuck in the same spot, star-struck. 
“I trust your friends will make sure you get to your dorm safely?” you confirm, starting up the engine of the magic wheel. 
He nods.
“Good,” you smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Snow.”
“See you tomorrow, (Y/N),” he replies, before shaking out of his stupor and calling out, “Make sure to get home safe!”
You laugh, as you leave the Royal Swords Academy… at least for today.
“Thanks! Will do!” 
You’ll be back tomorrow. 
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uwmspeccoll · 2 years
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(Decolonizing) Science Saturday 
This Saturday we are sharing some illustrations from our first edition copy of Wendy Makoons Geniusz’s book, Our Knowledge is Not Primitive: Decolonizing Botanical Anishinaabe Teachings. The botanical illustrations are provided by the author’s sister, Annmarie Geniusz. Published in 2009 by Syracuse University Press, the book is part of their series The Iroquois and Their Neighbors. Established by the press in 1975, the publication series’ primary scope is Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) scholarship, but it also focuses on uplifting the voice of Indigenous scholars’ work in contemplating their own culture. 
As an academic raised in the Anishinaabe culture, Geniusz is particularly well suited to critically examine the Western scientific lens through which Indigenous botanical knowledge is often presented in the Academy. Genuisz, who got her undergraduate degree here at UWM, is the former director of the American Indian Studies program at University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, and currently teaches Ojibwe language there. 
View more of our Science Saturday posts here. 
You can find more posts on our Native American Literature Collection here.
-Olivia, Special Collections Graduate Intern
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sapphos-ode · 8 months
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You Sweet Thing
Larissa Weems
Summary - In which Jericho High School has a new Principal that Larissa has taken a fancy to. [5.5k words]
I may write more for this if people like it x enjoy <3
~
Carlisle Monroe. A nasty piece of work, an older man, pushing his late sixties. He was balding on top, a circlet of wiry grey hair wrapped around his head, and in a vain attempt to hide this fact, longer strands had been combed over. But they were so sparse the reflection of his shiny head still shone through. He was a portly little man, short and stout, always wearing a cheap ill fitting suit, made of scratchy fabric that was bobbled. Always accompanied by a tie, tied sloppily - with some visually offensive pattern.
Larissa was never one to judge someone’s appearance, her issue with Carlisle Monroe was who he was as a person. As a human. However she did question if he was human or if he was the devil's spawn. The latter seemed more feasible. He was a greasy man, and despite her towering stature always talked down to her, as if her job as Nevermore’s Principal was simply her playing house. Any issues or proposals she brought forth at meetings were dismissed unless Mayor Walker (may he rest in peace) reiterated what she had said, and then he’d nod along and agree enthusiastically. All the while his eyes would be roaming free over her body. A sickly hunger and greed behind them. It wasn’t just Larissa, he regarded any woman like that.
His misogyny was one thing but his beliefs about outcasts took the cake. Although he did a fine job hiding it, he hated outcasts and although Larissa couldn’t prove it, he definitely partook in underground groups that wished to maintain the normie-outcast divide. It went against everything Larissa believed in and worked for, and with a man like Carlisle Monroe as the headteacher of the only other highschool in Jericho, it made it so much harder. The younger generations were crucial when it came to trying to instill changes. The inability to build a healthy rapport between the two schools and student bodies was a major setback. Larissa kept any direct correspondence with Monroe to an absolute minimum.
Outreach Day was fast approaching again, and given last year's less than desirable events, tensions were high. And Larissa’s schedule was chock full - not a single meeting could be rearranged to make time to meet Jericho High’s new Prinicpal.
She was surprised that a new headteacher had been appointed, as far as she knew, Monroe had an ironclad grip over the school - money did wonders to keep his controversial opinions under the table. However it seemed it was a sudden and unexpected vacancy - the position was filled internally. It was all very hushed and rushed. But it must not have affected the school as all arrangements on their half for Outreach Day had found their way to the new Mayor, Finch Sawyer, in a timely fashion. It had taken Jericho a short while to reinstate a new Mayor after the untimely death of Nobel Walker. The man was kind and fair but overall he was quite the plain Jane. Not really memorable.
~
Last year’s Outreach Day you had been out of town on bereavement leave, so you only found out about the arson and melted statue of Crackstone from colleagues after you had returned. You were also aware of the incident with a former student of Jericho High and Nevermore Academy that had seen the death of many - everyone was, the press had had a field day and it was the talk of the town. You could understand how prejudices spiked after the whole fiasco but you had always been quick to point out that it was an ex-pupil of Jericho High and a normie who had been behind it all, and that the Nevermore bunch had been the ones to bring an end to it. You were never one for gossip so you had only ever bothered reading the bare facts about it. It was important to know what was happening in the world around you.
You had only taken on the position of Principal for just over a week but prior to that you had been the Vice Principal so not much changed for you. If anything it was a natural stepping stone - and you were glad to take it. Working with - no, rather working under Monroe was tedious and infuriating. The man made your blood boil and numerous times he had you seriously considering quitting. Garnering respect from the student body and teachers was a walk in the park - you had been teaching at Jericho High for eight years as an art teacher, your ninth year teaching you were promoted to faculty head, and the previous year you had taken the deputy position. And now you sat at the top. Or as close to it, the School Board were the faceless higher beings.
There were many changes you were making to the school, banishing the last traces of Monroe from the school. He had done an alright job running the joint, but he was old fashioned. And arrogant. Times were changing and you were the breath of fresh air Jericho High needed.
Currently you were observing the band’s last rehearsal for the unveiling of a new statue that would replace Crackstone’s. One would have thought the melted bronze would have been taken down swiftly after the whole Nevermore incident but it still remained, covered in tarpaulin. Until the new one started its construction.
The band instructor, Mrs. Huxley, approached you once they had finished, students scrambling to disassemble instruments and pack them away.
“They’ve worked hard on it,” she said with pride as she stopped beside you.
“They have yes,” you chew on your thumbnail, “do you think it’ll go okay tomorrow?”
“Can’t be any worse than last year,”
You let out a wry chuckle, “fair point,” the pair of you watch as the ensemble slowly filter out the assembly hall, “right, I have some emails I need to reply to, enjoy your evening.” With that you excuse yourself and head up to your office.
It was a modern room with the walls painted white, it was spacious, a sleek desk with three chairs facing it. In the corner sat a small couch with a coffee table, a fake plant in the centre. Multiple filing cabinets dotted the walls and you had taken down Monroe’s obnoxious paintings. He hadn’t much time to empty the space and the wall decor was the least of his worries. You had shoved them all in an unused janitor’s cupboard in a forgotten corner of the building. You kept meaning to take them home for firewood but had never got round to doing so.
You turn on your laptop and prepare to handle the small mountain of emails you had to deal with. The one that caught your interest was from Mayor Sawyer, he wanted you to give a small speech before the new statue was unveiled. Something about new beginnings and he seemed to think your new promotion made you the right fit for it. Little short notice is it not? you think to yourself. Just when you thought you were finally done for the day, you had a silly speech to chuck together.
You don’t return to your flat until late evening, your ball of black fur of a cat, Richard, meows at you, demanding to be fed as if he didn’t have a full bowl of dry food available at all times. You slap a pouch of wet food into his bowl before rummaging around your cupboard and fridge for any ingredients you could throw together to make a meal out of. You manage to come up with noodles, soy sauce, and some bacon. A very odd mix but it’s food nonetheless. Your evening is spent watching rubbish on tv with Richard curled on your lap.
~
“Miss. Addams,” Larissa’s tone is light but there’s an icy edge behind it.
The young girl stops mid step and looks over her shoulder at the Principal, eyes unblinking as she stands with perfect posture, students passing by them either side to get to the courtyard.
“You would be wise to behave today, pull any stunt like last year and there will be dire consequences,” the threat was evident in Larissa’s voice despite the sickly sweet smile she offered.
Wednesday glares at the woman before brushing past her, following the rest of her peers. With a frustrated sigh Larissa follows, heading to the humble wooden podium set up. Just like the years past, she addresses her school and wishes them a good Outreach Day before giving the go ahead for the duties to be divied out. Last year they were all random, this year Larissa took it upon herself to assign certain duties to certain students.
Larissa wanted something that would keep Wednesday busy, and Uriah’s dump- sorry, Uriah’s Heap was a suiting job. It was creepy and absurd, surely it would appeal to Wednesday. Plus, not many people willingly entered the shop so her chances of upsetting a member of the public were slim. She had also made sure that swapping jobs was not allowed, an oversight she had made last year.
~
You stand in the town square, watching as people set up the bleachers and the podium, the new statue sat behind it, completed and covered. You had heard it had taken a more artistic approach, and Sawyer wished to keep it a surprise until the very last moment.
Your students run across the town to their jobs, and those in the band are busy setting their music stands in the little pagoda before they too head off to their assigned duty. It’s a nice day for Autumn, not too cold but chilly enough for a cosy jacket. In your hands you toy with a piece of paper, your speech written on it. You had done your best to memorise it but you still worried you’d forget it. So better safe than sorry.
It seems the Nevermore lot turned up later than yours, partly due to the Academy being a good twenty or so minute drive away. Slowly the streets begin to fill with the distinctive purple striped uniform. You head off to the Weathervane, giving a warm smile to the outcast kids as you walk past them. You have some time to kill before you have to meet with the Mayor.
~
Inside the cafe is moderately busy, two Nevermore students and two of your own are behind the counter with one of the employees. Since your school didn’t have a uniform like the Academy, all pupils wore a lanyard with a card at the bottom bearing the school’s emblem. To help identify them from the general public.
The small queue moves quickly and soon enough you’re at the front, placing your order for a plain old hot chocolate with a Nevermore student, her name tag read ‘Enid’. She was exceptionally chatty, asking you if you were going to attend the unveiling later on, and then without waiting for your answer started to tell you about how she was in the dance ensemble. You humour her with a fond smile, showing genuine interest.
“Your drink will be ready at the end of the counter! Thank you!”
You faintly hear her yell out for the next customer as you walk to the other side to the hand-off. Occupying yourself on your phone, going through new emails. It was a never ending cycle of correspondence. It got tiring but it was a quintessential part of the job.
A few moments later the actual employee calls out for a hot chocolate hesitantly, turning the paper cup in his hand looking for a name but finding none. He just sets it down on the counter and heads back to the espresso machine.
You reach a hand out but another one goes for it at the same time. Your head snaps round to the person next to you only to see their shoulder. Casting your gaze up you meet the surprised expression of a woman you can only describe as angelic. Bold red lips contrasting with the soft puce shades of her eyeshadow. Gentle eyes of blue crowned with dark lashes meet your own and you just look at her with your lips parted. Your own eyes wide. Drinking this tall woman in all her beauty.
“Oh god, I’m sorry! Is this yours?” Your words come out jumbled and rushed, “I ordered the same, I thought it was mine, sorry!” You pull your hand back to your body and fight the blush that wants to paint your cheeks.
“Uh… another hot chocolate? For… someone?” One of your students calls out weakly, drawing your attention, “I think it’s your one Miss,”
“Ah, thank you Oscar.” You take the cup and look back at the stranger, “Sorry again,” you apologise sheepishly.
This roused a deep chuckle from her and you quickly come to adore the sound.
“You’re quite alright,” Her English accent takes you off guard, “It seems the kids haven’t quite got the ropes in here,”
You hum in agreement, “Indeed so,” you mumble almost inaudibly, “you have good taste,” you add hastily.
“As do you,” the woman regards you with a warm smile, her eyes raking over your form. She opens her mouth to say something else but a movement from outside the window catches her eye.
You follow her gaze to see a young girl, wearing Nevermore’s uniform but in grey, slip out of Uriah’s Heap and look both ways in a shady manner.
“I need to go suddenly,” her voice tinged with ire, she looks down at you, not in a condescending way but because she quite literally towers over you, “I do hope to see that pretty little face of yours again, darling,” something about her intonation at the pet name stokes a fire within you. Her hand goes to hold your face, her thumb stroking your cheek.
Before you can even think to lean into her touch she’s taken her leave, and you stand there, face scarlet, watching her until she’s disappeared out of sight. You’re very much convinced you had seen an apparition because there’s no way such a divine heavenly being like that woman is in a backwater town like Jericho.
You eventually come back to earth and busy yourself in a booth, pouring over your little speech again. But the way that enchanting stranger called you darling keeps echoing in your head. You regret being too stunned to ask her name or get her number.
~
It’s no question that Larissa is well known in Jericho, running the only outcast exclusive school of the county meant she had to play politician with the Mayor and other figureheads in Jericho. As was the nature of her job. You knew of her, but surprisingly had never seen her in the flesh. Your years as just a teacher meant attending Outreach Day was optional, and you had been out of state for last year's one when you were Vice Principal, otherwise your presence would have been required.
You’re not sure what you were expecting but watching a woman with the beauty of an old Hollywood star approaching you and Mayor Sawyer was not what you had in mind. She was tall and carried herself with a confidence that had you blushing and unable to take your eyes off of her. The sway to her hips was hypnotic and as she got closer you realised it was the woman from the Weathervane.
“Mayor Sawyer, hello,” she holds her hand out to the man for a quick handshake before turning to you, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Properly, darling.”
“No… no we haven’t, Atikah Karnstein,” you can’t help to look up at her with the same expression from earlier in the coffee shop. She offers her hand to you and just like the Mayor, you shook it, noting how it engulfed yours and how slender it was. You find it doesn’t feel right, you’d much rather kiss the back of it with reverence. But you control yourself and keep it professional. So this is Larissa Weems you think to yourself.
You hold her hand a second too long, you clear your throat and go to remove it but hers tightens imperceptibly, so you decide to not to pull away from her touch, “I’m the new head for Jericho High,”
“I’ve heard,” she gives you a charming smile and god forbid she winks. You feel your throat dry and your heart picks up the tempo.
“All good things I hope,”
This elicited a delightful sounding chuckle from her. The way her eyes squint and lips stretch into a grin has butterflies exploding in your stomach.
The Mayor looked between you, unsure if he should disrupt this moment you seemed to be having. Ultimately he decides to, “Well, with the introductions aside, we’re almost out of time. I need to go check the statues all ready, I’ll see you ladies at the podium in five,” he then takes his leave.
You ruefully tear your gaze away from the blonde beauty and nod in acknowledgement, “Yeah, I should check my lot are ready too,” you look at Larissa and give her a painfully awkward nod. She gives your hand a squeeze before relinquishing it. Wordlessly giving you permission to leave.
The blonde watches you with amusement as you spin on the spot and hurry away.
~
You sidle up next to Mrs. Huxley and another music teacher, Ms. Boyd. The three of you stand on the grass in front of the bandstand as the students go about fine tuning their instruments and adjusting their music stands.
“They clean up nicely,” you comment. Red had always been your favourite colour, and it just so happened to be the colour of the band uniform. Pride blooms in your chest.
“They do,” Ms. Boyd agreed with you.
“Are they nervous or are they feeling okay for this?”
“They’re doing just fine, aren’t you?” Mrs. Huxley answers this time, calling out the last part of her sentence, receiving a chorus of ‘yes’ and other equivalents. They sound enthusiastic. That was a good sign. “See? Don’t worry so much,” the older woman places a hand on your tense shoulder. You relax them and take a deep breath.
“Good… good, just I heard of last year’s Outreach Day… I want this to go well,” you start to pick at your cuticles, a nervous habit, “it’s my first one as Principal, it won’t bode well if it goes tits up,”
Both women laugh. And you slowly join in with a softer, more reserved one of your own. Mrs. Huxley was an exceptionally short woman, only reaching your chin, with gray hair that sat in tight ringlets close to her head. She was like the school’s doting grandmother, with wire framed reading glasses hanging around her neck on a dainty chain. Always sporting floral patterned dresses with cable knit cardigans, a string of pearls always adorned her neck. Whenever she saw you she gave you hard boiled sweets unprompted. And always made sure you had eaten something at lunch. She had aged gracefully, kindness and empathy behind every single wrinkle on her face.
For the next five minutes you watch Ms. Boyd and Mrs. Huxley coach the ensemble through small sections of the performance to warm them up. And then, all too soon it’s time to take your place and start the ceremony.
~
Yourself and Larissa stand on either side of Mayor Sawyer as he addresses the crowd, saying something along the lines of new beginnings and how he’s honoured to be serving the townspeople. You zone out, on autopilot as you keep a relaxed smile on your face, and your posture straight. Mentally reciting your speech in your head. In your hand you have your paper just in case.
Sawyer ends his talk and you take the cue to turn around and watch as the ties are cut and the tarpaulin flutters to the ground as the crowd applauds it, you clap along too. As the material peels away your face turns from the polite smile to a pained grimace. The statue, cast in bronze, was some abstract design, of clashing shapes and textures, not forming a single recognisable thing. The longer you looked at it the worse it got.
The corner of your mouth pulls up in disgust, almost sneering at it, you're glad your back is turned to the cameras. That’s what you have to give an uplifting speech about? You could kill Sawyer, he had talked about how great the statue was and was insistent on keeping it a secret, wanting it to be a grand surprise. As an artist at heart, you respected the abstract but it was something you could never fully understand or appreciate.
From the corner of her eye Larissa watches your expression and stifles her laugh.
With a shuddering breath you turn around at the same time as Larissa and Sawyer, camera shutters go off and you all pause to smile briefly. You then switch places with the Mayor, on the podium you’re the same height as Larissa. And you’re hyper aware of her presence right next to you.
You wait a beat for the crowd to settle down again, not flinching at the bright flashes from the photographers.
“This statue stands as a symbol of hope and new beginnings, to commemorate the turn of a new leaf for Jericho and the relation between outcasts and normies.” You count slowly up to two in your head, “Whilst history should be remembered, so the mistakes of our ancestors are not repeated, we should not dwell in the past.” Another count to two, “Here’s to bridging the gap and coexisting harmoniously!”
Another outburst of applause is heard from the crowd followed by your band ensemble’s performance of Queen’s ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’. Whilst the focus is on them, you go to return to your original spot but an arm has snaked around your waist. You peer over at Larissa who gazes at you expectantly. You hop off the podium so you stand next to her, and once your feet are back on the grass she pulls you flush to her side. She gives you a conspiratory smile before watching the brass band. Not taking her hand off of your waist. You do your best to keep your composure
Meanwhile Sawyer just watched from his peripheral. Slightly perplexed and bemused.
You take a moment to covertly unfold the paper you had pressed into your palm and skim over your lanky loopy handwriting. Your speech went fine but there were a few things you’d forgot. Nothing major, but as a perfectionist you’re a little irked by yourself. Usually your memory was better than that.
Of course Larissa had been watching you, she leaned in just a touch and murmured to you softly, “You did a wonderful job darling, I’m impressed.”
Such praise from anyone else would have pissed you off, but it wasn’t from anyone, it was from Larissa and because it was from her it sent a warm spike through your body, and there was no hope in suppressing the red that tinged your face and the tips of your ears. A little detail Larissa took delight in.
You manage to whisper a strangled “thank you,” keeping your eyes trained on a spot faraway in the distance. you’re certain you’d have fainted if you looked at her.
The song finishes as the band holds the last note, letting it end in diminuendo. Leaving a silence that is shattered by cheers and more applause. Woefully Larissa removes her hand from your waist to join in.
“They play well,” she comments.
“Thank you, they’ve been working tirelessly as of late. I’m proud of them,” you speak warmly. After a beat you speak up again “A blonde, very bubbly, student of yours mentioned a dance performance. I’m looking forward to that,”
“I hope we meet your expectations then,”
“You’ve already exceeded them,” you add a playful hint to your voice. Giving her a smirk and you swear you see the faintest pink hue spread across her face.
You don’t listen to the Mayor's next speech. As important as Outreach day was, the presentation was the least important part to you, it was all to show face. The important part was the Jericho High and Nevermore students working together throughout the town. It meant they had to get along and build a rapport in order to successfully carry out the jobs assigned to them. That’s where progress was made in furthering a positive relation between outcasts and normies.
Soon enough a group of Nevermore kids clad in the school’s signature deep purple took to the space between the bleachers and podium. A speaker system came to life and an upbeat tune started to play. Enid, the girl from the cafe, caught your eye and gave you a bright smile, to which you returned with an encouraging wave. Larissa observed the quick interaction and it made her chest bubble with fondness.
The dance routine was captivating and you were so invested in it you didn’t notice Larissa’s hand find its way back onto your waist. You’re also unaware of your own hand coming to rest atop it, idly stroking your thumb over it.
~
The rest of the unveiling goes smoothly much to everyone’s relief. Larissa mentally rejoiced that a certain student hadn’t blown up the statue, although it was so garish she doubted she’d mind if Wednesday pulled the same stunt again.
Students involved in the unveiling went back to their assigned jobs, your band was to return to Jericho High to change and enjoy the rest of the day. You had excused yourself from Larissa and the Mayor, leaving them to discuss something pertaining to the Academy, you saw it the perfect time to slip away. Otherwise you would have happily stuck by Larissa’s side.
“That was really good guys,” you raise your voice to be heard as you approach your students who were all busy packing up. You scan the group and catch a glimpse of Ms. Boyd’s red shock of hair, carefully you weave through the students avoiding getting clocked in the face by tubas and trumpets alike.
“Hey, get yourselves some pizza when they get back to the school. Here’s my card, you can just leave it in my office. I need to swing by later today,” you pull your purse from your pocket and fish out your bank card. Taking the older woman’s hand and pressing it to her palm despite her protests.
“If I don’t see a charge for pizza on my statement I’ll give you hell,” you joke with a breathy laugh, and the redhead finally accepts the card.
“You’re too kind Atikah,”
“They deserve it, and so do the pair of you,” you say as Mrs. Huxley ambles towards you.
“You’re a good egg poppet.” With that old woman shoves a handful of hard boiled sweets into your pocket and does the same for Ms. Boyd.
You just shake your head at her antics but thank her nonetheless.
~
You had busied yourself the rest of the afternoon with strolling aimlessly through the town, picking up conversation with students from both schools. Just checking in on them and seeing how they were doing. The consensus was overall positive, and you were happy to see outcasts and normies getting along with little to no issues. Of course that’s not to say there weren’t issues but they seemed to be self contained and both parties kept it civil.
You had grown up in a large city where outcasts and normies lived together much better than they did in a small town like Jericho. Finding out if someone you knew was an outcast wasn’t much different from learning their star sign or their birthday. It was just a fact about them that existed and didn’t define them as a person.
When you first moved you were surprised at how different the dynamic was, and since then you made the effort to improve the relationship. And it had changed for the better in the last decade however there was always progress to be made.
At one point a news crew had ambushed you as you snacked on a sweet pastry from a small food van. You politely declined their impromptu request for an interview about your new position, and told them to email you to arrange it for a later date.
The day drove on until early evening, where you found yourself back at the town square facing the statue. You couldn’t help but stare at it, akin to the twisted curiosity that overcomes someone when they drive past a grisly car accident.
An unpleasant shiver overtakes you and you decide your eyes deserve to lay upon a more appealing statue. You look around the area at the people milling about, trying to appear nonchalant as you seek out a certain Principal. God forbid you look too enthusiastic in your search for her.
As if just the mere thought of her manifests her, a pair of large hands land on your waist from behind. You jump at the suddenness of it but as you look up you find yourself meeting baby blue eyes.
“Looking for someone?” Her voice carries an amused lilt.
“As a matter of fact I am,” you twist in her grasp so you face her, standing dizzyingly close, “you don’t happen to have seen a tall, strikingly gorgeous, and very forward Headmistress around, have you?” You bring a hand to rest on her bicep, absentmindedly running your hand up and down it.
“I don’t believe I have,” Larissa’s voice drops to a lower register as she purrs her words, “but if I do I’ll be sure to let her know that the local high school’s attractive and sweet little Principal is looking for her,”
“You would? You’re a doll,” you sport a lopsided grin. Enjoying her voice.
“Only for you darling,” she coos.
You exhale sharply from your nose whilst averting your gaze. A rich red blush covering your face. Larissa watches you with rapt attention, you were so fun to toy with.
She leans down, her lips ghosting the shell of your ear “A little birdie told me that this headmistress of yours was wondering if you would be interested in dinner with her later today,”
Larissa relishes how your breath hitches in your throat and your back arches just a touch. She lets her hands slide down to your hips so she can pull you closer.
“Hmm,” you look up and to the side, feigning being deep in thought.
Whilst humming and awing you pull one of the sweets from your pocket and make a show of opening one end of the wrapper with your teeth. Curling your tongue around the bonbon to scoop it into your mouth. Fully aware Larissa’s entire attention was on your lips. A cardinal hunger built in her eyes. You suck on it slowly before nodding.
“I’d love to,”
“I knew you would,” her eyes are still on your lips.
“Would you like one?”
Her gaze is back on your eyes, and she gives you a look. Her eyes squinting a little as she tries to figure out where you’re heading with this.
“If it’s as sweet as you, then please,”
You give her a devilish smile before parting your lips and rolling the sweet onto the tip of your tongue, holding it out a little. Covered in your saliva it glistens in the light. You jut your chin out, silently daring her to take it from you.
Teasingly slowly, Larissa closes the gap. Letting her parted lips press against yours before sliding her tongue along your own, earning her a soft moan. She takes her time exploring your mouth before pulling the sweet into her own. The whole time she maintains eye contact with you.
She pulls away, instantly missing the feeling of your lips on hers. A string of saliva connects them before it breaks. She keeps her mouth open as she works her tongue around the sweet. Your eyes follow its every move.
“Delicious,” she whispers, bringing her thumb up to wipe your lower lip.
“My mouth or the sweet?”
Her eyes darken, “your mouth.”
You giggle at her. Loving every second of the exchange. This woman was addictive.
“I’m afraid I have a few things I need to see to before I can wine and dine you, your phone. Please,”
Larissa silently pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to you unlocked. Watching intently as you create a new contact and enter in your details. You lock her phone before passing it back to her, purposefully brush your hand against hers.
“Call me,” you give her a peck on the lips before turning heel and heading away into the town proper.
The tall blonde watches your retreating figure before looking back at her phone. You hadn’t put your name, instead you’d typed ‘Darling’ and put a little heart beside it.
~
AN - I do apologise for reader suddenly going from a flustered mess at Larissa’s flirting to growing a massive pair of balls at the end. Anyways I hope you liked it x
Also pls lmk if you prefer the double spacing between paras or the single space (all my other works are single spaced)
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viawritesstuff · 7 months
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no worries - rafe cameron
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obx week day 3! hehehe
day 3 prompt: reluctant friends to lovers w/ rafe
warnings: rafe being a tiny bit of a dick, rafe also being lowkey a lil softie, tiny bit of angst but not a lot, brief mention of drug addiction/rehab, cursing, fem!reader, the cross melting and (most) of the fucked shit rafe did to the pogues DIDN'T HAPPEN. IT DOESN'T EXIST OK? he still beat pope w/ the golfclub tho (not mentioned just know it happened #justice4pope). idk what else lmk if i missed any! also, i do just wanna say! this has not at all been edited and i'm just now finishing at 2am, so if its bad plz plz plz be nice to me. im sensitive🫶🏼
word count: 1.7k
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the last place on earth you wanted to be was cameron development, but your mom needed you to drop off papers to ward. thankfully, you haven't seen rafe yet, which you were extremely grateful for. you and rafe had a rocky past. when you were younger, you had the biggest crush on rafe. he was kind, funny, and he protected you from the big kids on the playground. during late middle school, rafe got angry. like, very angry. he grew distant during high school, ditching you for his friends at kook academy or for different parties. he hated all your friends, constantly picking on them and harassing them. when you became friends with the pogues, it's like a switch flipped in rafe's brain. granted, it could've been the coke, but he was always possessive over you and he hated jj maybank. most importantly, how handsy he was with you.
the elevator was taking forever to come to your floor, you had hit the button over a minute ago. sighing, you shoot a text to a few group chats and one to your mom.
"dropped the papers off, ward said thank you. be home soon."
after another minute and a half, the doors finally open. just as they're about to close, a loud voice shouts "hold the doors!"
you internally groan when you see him speed over, contemplating on if you actually wanted to hold the doors for him. rolling your eyes, you step forward and put in arm in between the doors, preventing them from closing.
"thank you," he breathes out, panting slightly from running over. "i almost thought you wouldn't."
the doors finally close and the elevator starts its descent to the bottom floor. you slowly inch over to the wall, not wanting to be close to him.
"i almost didn't." you mumble out with a huff.
"sorry, what was that?" rafe questions, causing you to roll your eyes yet again.
"nothing," you give him a sickly sweet smile.
"yeah, that's what i tho-" rafe's slick comment is quickly cut off by the loud groans of the elevator. your head whips over to look at rafe, only to find him looking at you with the exact same reaction.
"uh, i think the elevator is stuck." rafe says while pressing random buttons, none of which being the button for the firefighters.
"no, really?" you say, looking at him in faux shock. "i thought it was just taking a little break!"
rafe rolls his eyes at your sarcasm, mumbling something underneath his breath and finally pressing the right button.
it could be worse, right? i mean, you could be trapped in an elevator with a bunch of killer clowns. or ghosts. or jj and rafe. yeah, that one would be worse. you didn't even realize how badly you were shaking until rafe pointed it out.
"hey, we'll be fine. i'm sure they're already on their way."
you nod at his reassurances, sliding down to the floor.
"y/n/n," his use of your childhood nickname causes heat to rise to your cheeks. "i'm serious, they'll get us soon. i'm sure of it."
"yeah, no, i know." you say, eyes trained on him as he sits down. "i'm just being silly."
"it's not silly, i think it's pretty valid." he says while loosening his neck tie, then moving to take of his suit jacket. "i know you're not the biggest fan of elevators already."
you groan at his comment, embarrassment filling your body as you recall the moment that scarred you for life.
"that's not fair, that was a very scary moment for a 7 year old little girl."
he laughs at that, a sound you didn't realize you missed. "and it wasn't a scary moment for an 8 year old boy?"
"i mean, i don't know, you seemed to handle it pretty well."
"well yeah! you thought i was gonna let you know how terrified i was? sure.."
"well why didn't you?" you ask, confusion clear across your features.
"because you were already scared, no point in both of us shitting our pants." he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
you nod your head, not sure of what else to say. he glances down at his watch, groaning once he realizes that only 5 minutes have passed.
"i hate to break it to you princess, but we're gonna be here for a while."
you practically mirror the groan he let out seconds prior, moving to lay down in an attempt to get comfortable.
after another 15 minutes of awkward silence, you decide to break the ice. "do you wanna play a game?"
he looks over at you, eyebrows furrowed. "a game?"
"yeah, like truth or dare or 20 questions?"
"what are we, in middle school?" he laughs again, and god was that a beautiful sound.
"fine, we don't have to do anything! let's just sit in silence for hours while the firemen take forever to get to us!" you huff out, throwing your hand over your eyes.
his laughter echoes throughout the elevator as he leans over to grab your wrist, moving it so he could see your face. you open one eye as he talks, "i'm just pokin' fun. we can play 20 questions."
you choose ignore how hot your your whole arm felt after he touched it, and how long his hand lingered on your wrist, you nod, moving to a sitting position.
"you start." he says while copying your movements.
you hum, trying to think of a good question. finally, it hits you. "what's your favourite childhood memory of us?"
"oh god," he groans, not sure where to even begin. he thinks for a few seconds, racking his brain for his absolute favorite memory. "i think it might be that time where you and sarah had that trampoline sleepover. the trees kept brushing up against the house and you were so scared that you came and slept in my room."
you giggle at the memory, nodding in agreement as he adds more details.
it had been over 40 minutes of you guys playing, and you only had 3 questions left. it was funny, you haven't felt this comfortable around rafe in forever. it reminds you of how he was when he was younger. you actually learned a lot about rafe, about how he went to rehab, how he's been clean for over 2 1/2 years.
"okay, okay, your turn to ask." you say, recovering from a laugh attack after his last answer.
he nods his head, bringing his thumb and pointer finger to stroke his imaginary beard. "who was your first love?"
you're taken slightly aback by his question. the answer for you (and everyone around you) was obvious. rafe cameron. the boy you'd been in love with since you were 4 years old. the boy who protected you from all of the older kids, the boy who walked you home from school everyday, the boy who'd find pretty seashells and leave them where he knew you'd find them. "oh god, i don't know." you lie, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck. "maybe, i don't know, luke jones? he was pretty cute back then."
he seemed disappointed by your answer but still nodded his head in acknowledgement. "the bad bowl cut ended that one, huh?"
"you know it," you laugh, grimacing slightly as you recall the truly awful haircut. "enough of that though, drumroll pleasee." you say as you both (poorly) imitate drumrolls. "rafe cameron, who was your first love?"
he groans at your question, mumbling about how lame it was to use his previous one. you giggle at his protest, urging him to answer. "okay okay, i'm not giving names though." he says, causing a pout to fall across your glossy lips. "i've known her for awhile, we kinda drifted apart after, well, you know." you nod, understanding what he was hinting at. "i think that she always saw the best in me, even when i wasn't the greatest. until i got a little too," he pauses again, attempting to find the correct word, "awful, i guess." he lets out a deep sigh before continuing. "i've loved her for as long as i can remember, to be honest. every other girl i've been with never compared to her and we never even dated." he pauses again, but this time to rub a hand across his buzzed head. "i'm sure she hates me now, almost every time i see her she turns the other way, and past me definitely made that worse by being a dick to her, and her friends."
your breathing hitches at that, overanalyzing how his eyes are shining, how they haven't left your face since he started talking. overthinking about the lingering touch, and the disappointment when you told him who your first love was.
"oh rafe," you say, reaching over to squeeze his arm. "i'm sure she doesn't hate you, you've made mistakes, yes. but you've grown, haven't you?" he nods, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.
he lets out another deep sigh, "i know i've grown, i'm just scared that she doesn't know that i have."
"the best way to make sure she knows is by showing her." he nods his head again, changing the subject.
"it's my turn, right?" you nod at his question, leaning against the wall of the elevator. "can i show you?"
you laugh, not yet understanding what he means. "is that your question?" he nods. you furrow your eyebrows, confusion washing over your features. "show me what?"
"show you how much i've changed." he says, staring directly into your eyes.
"rafe,"
"no, y/n, i mean it. i want, no i need, to show you how much i've changed. i know i fucked up, a lot, but i'm a different man now. i'm clean, i have an actual job. i'm different now." you've barely ever heard rafe sound so raw and genuine. you knew from a few earlier questions that he regretted many of the things he did.
"rafe, are you sure?"
"i've never been more sure in my life." you could feel the anxiety radiating off of him.
"i would love for you to show me." he breathes out a breath he didn't know he was holding, reaching over to grab your hand.
"are you serious?" he whispers, scared of your answer.
"shut up and kiss me, cameron."
as soon as his lips hit yours, the elevator creaks and groans, beginning to move again.
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phoward89 · 21 days
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Based on this ask
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Your day started as it normally does. You woke up in your boyfriend's arms, trying to wiggle away from him without disturbing his sleep. And like every morning, Coryo woke up, only to hold you closer and press a good morning kiss to your lips.
“Morning, darling.” He greeted you, voice rough with sleep.
“Morning, Coryo “ You replied with a smile.
“Where are you going, baby?” Coryo asked as you tried to get up.
“I need to pee and we have to get ready.” You told the platinum blonde, whose curls were messily resting against his red silk pillowcase like a halo. When Coriolanus made no move to let you get up, you lightly rubbed his chest while reminding him, “We both have classes today and you have that meeting with Dr. Gaul to see if you're qualified to be promoted from an intern to a full time gamemaker position.”
“I think you're more nervous about my meeting than I am.” Your boyfriend sighed, letting his hold on you go.
“It's a very important meeting, Coryo. Of course I'm nervous for you.” You told your boyfriend as he sat on the edge of the bed, slipping on his slippers. Before he could stand up, you wrapped your arms around him from behind. Resting your head against his shoulder, you said, “I know how much you want to become a gamemaker.” The blonde man didn't say a word, just placed his large hand over yours. He ran the calloused pad on his thumb over his knuckles as you continued your thoughts with, “You're always pushing yourself to be the best. And to become the youngest gamemaker in Panem's history while enrolled at the University as a double major's an honor, one that I know you want to have.”
“You know me so well, Y/N.” Coriolanus lightly chuckled. Gently unwrapping your arms from around him and standing up, he sighed, “We better get on with our morning.”
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After doing your morning routine of showering, dressing, and eating breakfast, Coryo drove you both to Capitol University, the most esteemed university in all of Panem. Since you were a couple of years younger than him, your classes were mostly pre-recs and were on the other side of the campus then the major focused classes. So, you and your boyfriend parted ways with a kiss shortly after arriving in the parking lot of the University.
Coriolanus took off towards where his classes and friends were while you took off to find your own friends and attend your classes.
Everything was going fine until lunchtime rolled around.
You usually ate lunch with your friends, a small group of girls that you've known since your academy days. Sometimes Coriolanus would join you, bringing Clemensia and Festus to tag along. Other times, which was usually all the time, your boyfriend spent his lunch hour in the library studying, working on projects, and drawing up proposals to hand to Dr. Gaul concerning the games.
Unfortunately for you, this afternoon was one of those days that Coryo was holed up in the University library, doing something productive in his quest for academic supremacy and power.
Usually, it'd be fine and you'd just eat in the University dining hall with your friends, but not today.
No…
Today you got into a fight with your friends. A fight that started over a simple disagreement. It was a silly disagreement really. A disagreement that started over, of all things, dresses for the upcoming Spring Ball.
One of your friends got upset that you simply told her that maybe she shouldn't plan to wear a black dress, but maybe something pastel since she already wore black a few months back for the Yule Ball. She snapped at you and even made a snide remark about how you could afford to buy a thousand dresses and for a thousand balls since you're shacking up with Coriolanus Snow. The remark hurt, but what hurt worse was that your other friends backed her up; attacked you too.
The lunch fight got so heated with all the screaming, yelling, shouting, and crying that the other students eating in the dining hall stopped what they were doing to watch and listen in.
Yea, your fight with your friends was quickly becoming a spectacle for gossip.
Feeling overwhelmed by sadness, you gathered your things and rushed out of the dining hall. Unfortunately, your absence was the perfect opportunity for your friends to start spreading lies about you. To make it seem like you weren't a good friend, that you were greedy, etc.
The girls you've been friends with since your Academy Days were being petty. Ruining years of friendship. And for what?
A simple disagreement. Or was there more to it? Was jealousy over your relationship with Coryo the true cause of it?
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Your day went from bad to worse when your phone kept going off left and right with Pangram notifications. As it turns out, your friends weren't your friends anymore and they were posting all kinds of mean things about you. Even tagging you in the posts too. And your best friend, well she was petty enough to post the glittery words of Fuck You on her social media.
Words aimed at you.
And the worst part was that you're dealing with all of this alone since your boyfriend has his own studies to worry about. And, of course, he has a very important meeting with Dr. Gaul about his future career.
Usually you'd catch a ride home with one of your friends if Coryo had work or meeting scheduled at the Citadel, but not today.
Today you had to walk home from the University since you lost your friends. And, of course, your mind kept replaying everything as you walked home.
And when you finally got home, you dropped your books on the glass star shaped coffee table and made a mad dash to your bedroom before Grandma’am could realize that you were home and ask about your day.
You adored Coriolanus' grandmother, you really did, but sometimes she could be a bit much. And after the day you had, well, you just didn't want to deal with her. In fact, you didn't want to deal with anybody at the moment.
All you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry.
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When Coriolanus walked into the penthouse he had a huge smile on his face. He was on the right track for graduating Summa Cum Laude and being the Valedictorian of his class. He was also given an assistant gamemaker position, which was amazing consider that made him the youngest gamemaker on Dr. Gaul's staff.
Dr. Gaul has told Coriolanus that he had a drive that she hadn't seen since she taught his father. That, in fact, his drive for success surpassed that of the late General Snow’s. That he, Coriolanus Snow, was destined for great things; to be a great contributor to Panem. She even told him that she saw political potential in him.
Coryo couldn't wait to tell both you and Grandma'am about his great news, but when he came home he was only met with the sight of Grandma’am in a sitting chair, watching one of her late afternoon Capitol TV soaps, and your books on the glass coffee table. He instantly knew that something was wrong. You'd never ignore Grandma’am. Not unless you weren't feeling well.
No. You loved his Grandma’am. Adored her, enjoyed her company.
“Is Y/N feeling unwell?” Coriolanus asked his Grandma'am, his icy blue eyes shifting between her and your books.
“I'm not sure, Coryo. I didn't see her come in.” The old woman, dressed in a fine tunic and a matching jeweled turbin, told her grandson.
“I’ll check on her, Grandma'am. Just continue watching your soap.” He told her before walking down the hall towards his room. The room that he's been sharing with you ever since he moved you in.
“Darling, are you unwell?” Coryo asked, opening the door and stepping inside of the bedroom.
The site of you curled up in a ball on the bed, crying, gutted him. He hates to see you cry.
And whoever made you cry was dead. Coriolanus would personally make sure of it. Nobody makes his baby cry and gets away with it
Nobody.
“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” Coryo asked, rushing over to the bed.
And when you felt him wrap his arms around you, you broke down. You told him everything that happened. About the fight and how you lost all of your friends. About how they pettily posted shit on Pangram all day and how they've been gossiping about you; talking trash.
Coriolanus just let you spill your guts to him. The more you told him, the more he began to scheme up ideas to make those girls pay for what they did to you.
And they were going to pay.
Their families were going to pay too.
All because they made you cry. When they made the girlfriend of Coriolanus Snow cry, well, they just opened up Pandora's box. And once that bitch’s open, it doesn't close.
As Coryo spooned you, he pressed a kiss to your shoulder and assured you, “You’ll feel better now that you've cried it out, baby” He nuzzled your neck, only to tell you, “I'm sorry those bitches did that to you, Y/N. You're the sweetest girl I know; you didn't deserve that.”
“It hurts, Coryo.” You sniffled. Staring out the window that was by the bed, you sighed, “I thought they were my friends. I've known them for years, just for them to turn on me because of a comment about a dress.”
Everything clicked in Coriolanus mind as soon as he heard you say ‘just for them to turn on me because of a comment about a dress’. Those words were all it took for him to realize that your friends were jealous of you because you belonged to him. They were jealous because he moved you into his house and spoiled you with clothes, jewelry, sweets, and anything else you could possibly want. They're jealous because he's rich, the Plinth heir, and he's showering you (his girl that made him fall in love again, even though he swore he'd never love anyone ever again) in luxury.
“They're jealous, baby.” Your boyfriend told you.
“I know.” You sadly nodded.
Pressing a kiss to your cheek, Coriolanus promised, “Baby, I'll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
And he kept that promise.
Coriolanus made your former friends pay for what they done to you. For making you cry.
He ruined and bankrupted their families. He also ruined their reputations and had them expelled from the University.
Your Coryo made sure that everyone knew that if they messed with you then they messed with him. Safe to say, everyone kisses your ass out of fear that your boyfriend would make them disappear or make their lives a living hell.
Coriolanus also made sure that you were accepted into his friend circle. Those snotty rich kids at least didn't backstab their friends.
Well, Coriolanus did out of that group, but he wouldn't be backstabbing them til years later when he got deep into his presidential campaigns.
But for now, Coryo was just your supportive boyfriend that held you as you cried, dried your tears, and made everything all better for you.
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subliminalbo · 6 months
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Internal Affairs #1: The Rookie
By the third week, Lydia’s revulsion was turning into arousal. By the third month, she struggled to remember the assignment at all.
I’m a cop, she reminded herself before rolling her hips, sliding down the john’s cock until it was pressed deep up inside her pussy. A soft moan staggered from Lydia’s lips. Again, I am a cop. Hips roll, cock deep, soft moan. I am a cop. Repeat until the john was satisfied.
It was all part of establishing her cover. Nobody would believe Lydia’s work if she didn’t do the work. Why couldn’t she enjoy it too?
I am a cop.
But she wasn’t a cop. Not really. It had once been Lydia’s dream. When she was eleven, two officers visited her class. The man looked like any other cop on the eleven o’clock news: wide shoulders, short cropped hair, carrying all that “fuck your civil rights” privilege with pride. Most of the boys stared at the gun on his hip, waiting for the little shit brave enough to ask, “Have you killed anybody?”
But it was the female cop that Lydia couldn’t take her eyes off of. She respected the children, spoke to them like people. Not like her partner who addressed the class like he was facing a courtroom. She didn’t look like any woman cop that Lydia had ever seen either. She was tall, and a statuesque beauty made her all the more intimidating. The boys only saw the man and the gun, but Lydia saw the looks between the two. How the man would turn to his partner before giving an answer. He only did it a couple of times, but it was enough for Lydia to know who was really incharge. No one had told her a woman could have that kind of power.
But Lydia’s dream of carrying a badge didn’t make it past high school. She ultimately chose a criminal justice degree at Carpenter State University over the police academy. She never expected that it was less of a path to a future, and more of a strange, meandering way back to her dream.
I am a
“...mindless whore,” the john said as she rode him.
Lydia stared down into his eyes. His face twisted between embarrassing expressions as he fought back the inevitable orgasm. The way he grunted his words, it surprised Lydia that the john could even try to talk dirty to her, most of his mental bandwidth allocated to holding out as long as he could. Lydia wasn’t cheap and she only took one shot for each service rendered. Every John wanted it to count.
“Is that how you like it?” Lydia playfully responded. “Young, dumb, blonde bimbos without a thought in their heads?”
The john grunted something back that a generous listener might say sounded like, “Yeah.”
“I am a mindless whore,” Lydia bit her lip. “My mind is just a wet hole aching to be filled by its Master’s cock.”
“Fuck,” the John gasped. “Say it again.”
“I am a mindless whore.”
“Again,” he pleaded.
“I am a mindless whore!”
“Again!”
I am a mindless whore.
Lydia had been applying to law schools when her professor approached her with the opportunity.
Lydia,
I was hoping you could set some time aside in your calendar to meet with a friend of mine from RPD. I think you’ll find it educational. If you’re interested, shoot me over some dates and I’ll set up the meet.
Best,
Dr. Bloom
Lydia met with the friend from RPD the next week in Dr. Bloom’s office. Lieutenant Barbara Keyes sat across from her at Dr. Bloom’s desk. Dr. Bloom briefly introduced Barbara then excused himself to let the two of them talk. Barbara wanted the meeting to feel informal. “Call me Barbara,” she quickly said when Lydia referred to her by her title. But the location betrayed the intention. Not a lot of people knew that Lieutenant Keyes was there.
Lydia did her best Sam Spade, studying the woman across the desk. Mid-thirties to early forties, no ring on her finger. More likely a divorcee than a spinster. A married to the job kind of cop, she figured. But most important was the confidence–Lydia realized as she watched Barbara speak that she carried herself with the same confidence that had first caught her eye all those years ago in her sixth grade glass.
They chatted for a moment about Lydia’s education, Barbara’s background, and quickly found a comfortable place where they were just talking like old friends until Barbara said, “So Charlie tells me you’re his best student."
“Best,” Lydia laughed. “I don’t know about best–”
“I do,” Barbara cut her off. “I’ve known Charlie a long time and I trust his judgment.”
Lydia sighed, considering her next move, then decided that it was best to just cut through all the bullshit. “So is this a job interview?” she asked.
Barbara sat straight, unmoved by Lydia’s candor. “Lydia, I work in IAD. Do you know what that is?”
“Internal Affairs,” Lydia blinked.
“Unfortunately, I find myself in the position of trusting absolutely no one in the Romero Police Department, which means when it comes to recruits I need to look in unorthodox places.”
“Like Carpenter State,” Lydia said.
“That’s correct.” Barbara nodded. “Now, on top of my position in IAD, I’m also the deputy director of the RPD sex work task force. Since the task force formed two years ago, we’ve managed to clean up much of the areas around Carpenter State, which is a point of emphasis for the commissioner. That being said, River City remains frustratingly impenetrable.”
“I don’t understand,” Lydia said. “So is this a job interview…to go undercover?”
“I need young, female cops,” Barbara said. “But more specifically, I need young, female cops who don’t look like cops.”
Barbara was right. It was unorthodox, even downright unethical. But it was hard for Lydia not to admire the risk she was taking. Barbara Keyes was the kind of woman who valued education over brute force, that’s why she’d turned to Carpenter State for new recruits. And Lydia understood her reasoning too–her dream of becoming a cop came to an abrupt end in high school after a highly public, sweeping police corruption case in Romero upended the department. It had shaken Lydia’s faith in justice, but she couldn’t totally let those values go. If anyone else had come to her with this offer, asked her to play the role of a prostitute as an inexperienced, secret cop? She wouldn’t have just turned them down. She would have blown the fucking whistle. But Barbara was different. Lydia couldn’t stop seeing that cop from sixth grade. For some reason she wanted to do what Barbara asked of her. She had no choice but to accept.
I am a mindless whore.
Lydia always came with the john. That was what made her one of the most popular and expensive whores in River City. She’d been trained that way. She’d been trained that way because it made her a good cop. A good whore was a good cop. But she always seemed to forget about that when she was on top of them, bracing herself against the headboard as her body rocked from the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced. It was always better when she was with a john.
They’d leave the money on the small table by the door and before they exited, Lydia would always offer something to keep them thinking about her.
“Your cock felt so good,” she said, dreamy eyes selling the illusion that this fuck was anything more than a transaction. “Next time I’d even let you cum inside my pussy.”
“You do that?” the john smiled.
“Well,” Lydia pondered as if she wasn’t reading a script. “I’d have to charge an extra five grand. Secret menu, you know? High premium for the risky stuff. But it’s worth it for my favorite.”
The john melted as she batted her eyelashes. They never had that kind of money, but goddamn they would fuck anyone over for that opportunity.
Lydia worked tirelessly through the night. Fucking, sucking, even occasionally offering her shoulder to cry on. She didn’t stop until she saw the pale blue light of the morning sky through the hotel room’s yellowing curtains. She took a quick shower, collected the evening’s take into a fat envelope, then flipped through her phone’s camera roll. 
The johns blurred together until they became one universal face. The only way she remembered them was by the pictures. She insisted on snapping a photo of every john’s ID before taking them to the hotel. “For security,” she would innocently say. 
Nobody had been busted by Lydia yet, so why should they suspect that it was anything more than a safety precaution? The johns liked Lydia and they wanted her to feel safe. But truthfully the IDs were part of the operation, one of the few things that actually made her feel like she was a cop. Barbara had been frustratingly vague on the details of her job, but Lydia knew that she was looking for somebody. Many of the johns were cops, and given Barbara’s role at IAD, Lydia assumed that she was trying to catch one of her own. But who?
She never recognized the faces. And try as hard as she could, she couldn’t match the names to them. They were right there next to the pictures, but something made it impossible for her to think of them as anything other than, “john.” The blue-eyed john, the brown-eyed john, the john with the scar next to his lip. Lydia selected the photos from her roll, a dozen for this night, and forwarded them in an email before deleting them from her phone forever.
Why had she done that? The details of her night’s work were better off with someone who understood it. No reason to burden herself with that knowledge anymore.
Before she could finish dressing, the room's phone rang. She was reluctant to pick it up, but the mechanical sound of the old fashioned landline phone drew her toward it. Something is wrong, she thought. I shouldn’t answer this.
It rang again, and she was powerless. Lydia lifted the receiver from its cradle and pressed it to her ear.
I am a cop.
“Good morning, Lydia,” the voice on the line said.
I am a cop.
“Good morning,” she slowly replied.
I am a
“I trust the evening was productive.”
I am a
“Yes…” she breathed.
I am
“And the IDs?”
I am
“I forwarded them to your email,” she said.
I
“Good,” the voice said. “And the night’s take?”
I
“Twenty-four grand.”
I am a mindless whore.
“That’s very good, Lydia,” the voice replied. “You know where to drop it off.”
Everything Lydia believed she was evaporated at the tinny sound of the telephone’s ring. By the time she heard the voice speak, that Lydia was already gone, replaced with the mindless whore she’d been trained to be. And she was one of the best in River City. She couldn’t fight that truth no matter how hard she tried to lie to herself. It felt too good.
“Tell me what you are, Lydia,” the voice commanded.
“I am a mindless whore,” Lydia said without hesitation. Speaking it out loud now drove her to the edge of another orgasm.
“That’s right,” the voice said, “And that’s all you’ll ever be.”
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sitp-recs · 4 months
Note
halloo!! Do you have any 8th/7th year fics in Draco's Perspective?
Hi there, anon! Sure do, here are some of my favourites. Happy readings :)
All Tied Up by MyNameIsThunder (M, 6k)
Blaise is determined to find out why the entrance to the Slytherin common room is acting up all of a sudden. Draco is determined to keep it a secret.
A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (E, 6k)
It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.
Aletheia by @lazywonderlvnd (E, 8k)
Draco finds out Daphne's been shagging Potter and it turns out it's really not that difficult to get a piece of her hair.
Slow Hands by eleventy7 (T, 10k)
Blood, shadows, and paper hearts. The Shadow hunts students, but Draco Malfoy most of all.
warmest part of the winter (orphaned, T, 11k)
It’s not even a balcony, it’s just a window with a bit of a ledge, and Draco’s read Shakespeare anyway, he knows how this one ends.
Said and Unsaid (or, The Value of Knowing When to Stop Talking) by bryoneybrynn (T, 15k)
When the Interrogator asked if he had anything to say on his own behalf, Draco shook his head, his lips pressed tight in a thin line. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.
Scenes of Surrender by Rasborealis (E, 16k)
Draco just wants to keep his head down and finish his last year at Hogwarts. He's not supposed to let his mask slip, and Harry isn't supposed to care.
On Our Way by dynamic (E, 30k)
Draco is trying to spend the summer keeping his head down, but a repair project and a certain snowy owl have other plans for him.
Eager for the Sky by @oknowkiss (M, 35k)
It was announced, just as the Triwizard Tournament had been, at the start of term feast. A year-long, international Quidditch varsity match — the inaugural Wizarding Academy Cup.
Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day by Faith Wood (E, 37k)
Even though he's unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.
The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by @bixgirl1 (E, 39k)
When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess. What comes as a complete shock are Potter's other activities...And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him.
Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)
The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.
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beardedmrbean · 4 months
Text
Denzel Washington being cast in Antoine Fuqua’s upcoming Netflix movie as ancient Carthaginian general Hannibal is sparking some controversy in Tunisia, the home country of the great military commander.
According to French newspaper Courrier International, there are complaints about depicting the Carthaginian general as a Black African being made in the media and the Tunisian parliament. Member of Parliament Yassine Mami has pointed out that Hannibal, who was born in 247 BC in Carthage — now known as Tunis, the Tunisian capital — was of West Asian Semitic origin. “There is a risk of falsifying history: we need to take position on this subject,” the Tunisian politician reportedly stated.
Concurrently, French-language Tunisian newspaper La Presse has published an editorial in which it similarly objects that depicting Hannibal as a Black African is “according to Tunisians and many observers, a historical error.”
However, Tunisian culture minister Hayet Ketat-Guermazi had a different, more pragmatic take on the matter.
“It’s fiction. It is their [Netflix‘s] right to do what they want,” she responded, according to French newspaper Le Monde. “Hannibal is a historical figure and we are all proud that he was Tunisian. But what can we do?” She went on to note that she is trying to negotiate with Netflix to shoot at least a portion of the film in Tunisia. “I hope they decide to shoot at least a sequence of the film here and that that this is publicized. We want Tunisia to go back to being a location where foreign films are shot,” Ketat-Guermazi said, as reported by Le Monde.
Representatives for Netflix, Washington and Fuqua did not immediately reply to a request for comment.
The controversy in Tunisia over Washington playing Hannibal is reminiscent of the uproar sparked in Egypt in April over Britain’s Adele James, who is of mixed heritage, playing Cleopatra in Netflix’s docudrama “Queen Cleopatra.” The first-century Egyptian queen was born in the Egyptian city of Alexandria in 69 BC and belonged to a Greek-speaking dynasty. Egyptian academics went on a rampage over the fact that Cleopatra was of European descent and not Black.
The still-untitled film about the Carthaginian general will be written by John Logan, the three-time Academy Award winner who scribed Martin Scorsese’s “The Aviator” and Ridley Scott’s “Gladiator.”
According to the official logline, the movie is “based on real-life warrior Hannibal, who is widely regarded as one of the greatest military commanders in history. The film covers the pivotal battles he led against the Roman Republic during the Second Punic War.”
Hannibal invaded Italy while riding a Northern African war elephant. Under his lead, the Carthaginians won key victories against the Romans, allowing Hannibal to occupy the majority of southern Italy for 15 years. Eventually, Hannibal was defeated by the Romans at the Battle of Zama after they counter-invaded North Africa.
Fuqua most recently directed Washington in the action-thriller “The Equalizer 3,” in which Washington reprised his role as ex-Marine Robert McCall.
Washington is currently involved in another war epic, the upcoming sequel to Ridley Scott’s “Gladiator,” which has resumed shooting in Malta after production was halted due to the SAG-AFTRA strike.  _______________
Netflix is at it again i see.
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Text
What is L-O-V-E? - Hangman
Pairing: Hangman / Bradshaw!Fem!OC (Lena) (Ex-Wife!OC)
Word Count: 4.2k
Warnings: Divorce and Separation; Angst; References to Child Custody Agreements; One Sided Feelings; Toxic/Conflictual Dynamics; References to Goose and Carole; Female Bradshaw OC and Named Son OC
This work, all of my works, and my entire blog is 18+ Only!
Summary: Lena Bradshaw (formerly Seresin) struggles once again to keep the peace between her ex-husband Jake and her older brother Bradley for her son's sake. And the uranium facility mission only seems to heighten the stakes of it all.
A.N. Everyone's a little toxic here. Just so we're clear.
Part 2 Part 3
Master List
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Lena Bradshaw was not the best when it came to dealing with conflict.
If she were to see a therapist, they probably would have blamed that on the fact that she was an orphan before she was even a teenager and didn’t remember her biological father. Childhood trauma and all that. But either way, she was horrible at dealing with conflict.
Especially in her personal life.
There was the fight between Bradley and Maverick over the Naval Academy. Then there were the fights between Bradley and her now ex-husband Jake. And then, of course, there was her divorce. She simultaneously was both too compromising and too difficult at the same time.
But regardless, Lena had one main priority in her life now. And that was her son, Nickie. Nicholas Jacob Seresin-Bradshaw. The ‘Bradshaw’ got added on after the divorce.
Nickie was on the cusp of turning four now and quickly growing more curious about the world around him. And that raised a lot of maternal anxiety in Lena. Especially when it came to Nickie’s fascination with aviation. Particularly naval aviation. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Every single important male figure in Nickie’s life was a naval aviator. But it still scared her.
“Look at all the planes, Mommy!” Nickie shouted, causing Lena to snap out of her thoughts.
“I know, there’s a lot of them,” she agreed softly.
Lena turned back to the road and changed lanes, heading for the San Diego International Airport to pick up her brother. Bradley called her yesterday to tell her that he was returning to Top Gun for some mission and Lena was sure that her blood pressure hadn’t returned to a normal level since then.
“Is Uncle Roos on one of those planes?” Nickie questioned excitedly, pressing his face to the window.
“He should have landed by now.”
Lena pulled out her phone and pressed on Bradley’s contact. Nickie peeled his face off of the window, leaving marks where his nose and forehead were leaned up against it.
“Are you calling him?”
“Yes, because your uncle never tells me where he is,” Lena replied dryly.
She was also waiting for a text or call from her ex-husband, but so far it was radio silence. That wasn’t necessarily odd, however. After one of Jake’s deployments got extended last minute and Nickie was inconsolable when Lena broke the news to him, Jake didn’t call her until he was actually standing on American soil.
But if Bradley got the call back to Top Gun for some big mission, Lena had to assume that Jake would also be returning to Miramar. Lena didn’t want to wade into the rivalry between her brother and her ex-husband, but Jake was the better pilot.
Don’t tell Bradley that she said that. Ever.
“Hello, this is your captain speaking,” Rooster answered the call in a mock-pilot voice. Lena rolled her eyes as Nickie giggled from the backseat.
“Where am I picking you up again?” she asked, glancing at the sidewalk.
“Aw, you’re no fun,” Rooster jokingly whined.
“Hi, Uncle Roos!” Nickie shouted from the backseat.
“Hey, buddy! How are you?” Bradley asked, reverting back to his normal voice.
“Good! There’s lots of planes here!”
“There are,” Rooster agreed.
“Look, if you want the free ride and meal that I promised, you do have to tell me where you are so that I can pick you up,” Lena sighed, driving slowly through the terminal.
“I’m down at the end. Right past the last set of speed bumps before you get to the next airline.”
“Okay, then we’ll see you in a few seconds.”
“No, no, Mommy, you’re supposed to say, ‘copy that’,” Nickie corrected her.
“You tell her, Nickie!”
“Goodbye,” Lena stressed, ending the call.
She plopped her phone into the cupholder and looked through the crowded mess on the sidewalk. Lena slowly rolled over the last set of speed bumps before Nickie began to eagerly bounce in his seat and press his hands against the window.
“There he is!”
“Still dressed like its 1986,” Lena mumbled under her breath.
Rooster waved comedically to Nickie as he followed Lena’s car, causing Nickie to laugh and wave back to him just as dramatically. Lena slowed the car down before putting it into park. Rooster walked around to the back, opened the trunk, and placed his duffel bag down.
“Uncle Roos!” Nickie called excitedly.
“Is that Nickie? Nah, you’re too big to be Nickie,” Rooster teased his nephew.
“It’s me!” Nickie huffed as Rooster walked around the car.
“Thanks for picking me up, Sis. You’re too kind,” Rooster joked, sliding into the passenger seat.
“I know, I am,” Lena replied with a small smile.
She leaned over and tugged her brother into a tight hug that Bradley happily returned. It had been a solid eight months since the Bradshaw siblings were in the same city. And even though Bradley called and emailed her whenever he could, it was nice to have her brother sitting beside her again.
“How was your flight?” Lena asked, turning to pull out of the airport.
“Not too bad. Long. But now I get to hang out with my favorite nephew all day!” Rooster replied, spinning around to face Nickie.
“I’m your only nephew!”
“Still counts!”
“Seatbelt,” Lena stated, smacking Rooster on the arm. “Even fighter pilots need to wear their seatbelts.”
“Yeah, Uncle Roos!”
Lena drove them away from the airport, chatting casually with Rooster about his most recent deployment and any other life updates. But Nickie quickly butted into the conversation and informed Uncle Rooster all about his life. Rooster listened along intently, adding commentary where necessary, and genuinely making Nickie feel heard.
After all, Nickie was Rooster’s godson. Jake was more than a little annoyed about it at the time, but Rooster was Nickie’s godfather. And Rooster absolutely adored Nickie. He hated the fact that Nickie’s dad was Jake, but he wouldn’t hesitate to spend any time with Nickie. Ever.
“And Daddy promised to take me to a football game soon!” Nickie yelled out excitedly, missing how Rooster’s expression changed.
“Did you get that in writing?” Rooster asked Nickie dryly.
Lena immediately smacked Rooster on the arm, causing him to huff and rub the tender skin. Nickie was a little confused about the shift in the atmosphere, but he just laughed off the interaction between his mom and his uncle. Lena shot her brother a look before turning back to the road.
“Do not talk bad about J-A-K-E in front of Nickie,” she stated, leaving no room for argument.
The only time that Lena ever saw her brother turn purple with rage, minus the paper pulling situation, was when she told him about her and Jake. Rooster spouted off just about every bad word that he ever heard about Jake, told Lena that she was making the biggest mistake of her life, and swore up and down that Jake was just going to break her heart.
Rooster quieted down about his distaste for Jake around the time that Nickie was born and they both used Nickie as a buffer between them when they were forced to be around each other. But Lena just wished that they would just bury the hatchet already. And she definitely would not tolerate either of them talking bad about the other in front of Nickie.
Absolutely not.
“I’m just saying—”
“—And you’re going to stop saying whatever it is,” Lena interjected, shooting her brother a sharp glare. “He apologized for that and he made it up. So, drop it.”
“I’m just saying that he’s an A-S-S-H-O—”
“—Brad, I know, okay?” Lena huffed, getting a little aggravated with her brother. “I left him for a reason. But don’t talk bad about him in front of your nephew. He’s still part of our lives whether you like it or not. So, don’t talk about him like that. Got it?”
“Fine,” Rooster replied, dropping the discussion. He turned back to Nickie with a new and slightly forced smile. “We can toss a ball around in the backyard when we get to your house, Nickie.”
“Yay!”
Lena pulled up to her and Nickie’s home a few minutes later. The house that actually used to belong to Maverick and was the house that she and Bradley lived in after their mom passed. When Lena called Maverick crying about her divorce, he gifted her the house. Unprompted and despite the fact that Lena told him that it was too much.
Maverick called it a fresh start. And, so, Lena took it.
“I’ll race you inside,” Rooster told Nickie, who hurriedly tugged at his car seat.
“There’s a child lock on his door,” Lena sighed, causing Rooster to glance back at her.
“Well, then I’ll get you out and then we’ll race, Nickie.”
Rooster pulled Nickie out of his car seat and set him on the ground. But Nickie wasn’t going to wait for anyone and took off for the house. Rooster was right behind him, which caused Nickie to squeal. Lena smiled to herself and slid out of the car. Lena walked up after them and unlocked the door.
“The baseball stuff is in that closet. Do not trek dirt into my house, Bradley.”
“Copy that,” Rooster replied, barely listening, as Nickie ran over to his toy closet.
Nickie and Rooster headed outside to toss a baseball around while Lena started on lunch. She was in the middle of pulling out ingredients for sandwiches when her phone started to buzz. Noting the contact, Lena let out a sigh and answered the call.
“Hello?”
“Are you at work?” Jake asked as Lena moved around her kitchen.
“No, I took the day off. My brother is in town.”
“Did he get called back to Top Gun?” Jake immediately questioned, unable to hide his distaste.
“Yes, why?”
“I got called up too. And so did Javy.”
Lena paused for a moment, staring out the window. If the Navy already called in Jake, Bradley, and Javy, she had to assume that something big was happening. And by ‘big’ she meant dangerous. And Lena preferred to stay away from the danger zone. Very far away from the danger zone.
“So, are you coming to Miramar soon then?” Lena asked, refocusing on the phone call.
“I’m driving down from Lemoore now. It says that I’m about four hours away.” There was a beat of silence before Jake asked, “Am I allowed to come over since the chicken is there?”
“Jake,” Lena pleaded quietly, “he’s still Nickie’s uncle. We haven’t seen him in nearly a year.”
“Well, I’m Nickie’s dad.”
“I’m aware,” Lena sighed, leaning on the countertop. “And Nickie knows that too.” Lena glanced out the window before turning back to her call. “Bradley isn’t staying for dinner. He should be gone by the time that you get here.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you want me to tell Nickie that you’re coming here?”
“No, I’ll surprise him.”
“Okay. Text me when you get to Miramar.”
“I will. Bye.”
“Bye, Jake.”
Setting her phone down on the countertop, Lena held her head in her hands and took a breath.
She didn’t plan on getting divorced. She didn’t want to get divorced. She tried to make it work. She tried to get them into counseling, she tried to communicate how she was feeling and what she needed from their relationship, and she reminded herself over and over again about how miserable her mom was as a single mom.
But she wasn’t her mom. She wasn’t strong like her mom. She didn’t lose Jake like Carole lost Goose. She lost Jake while he was standing right there in front of her. The fantasy that she had in her head shattered and there were too many pieces to pick up and put back together.
And even though her ex-mother-in-law accused her of enjoying the divorce, Lena didn’t take any pleasure in it. But she tried and she failed. And she tried again and she failed. And there were only so many times that she could try before she lost it. So, she got divorced.
Turning back to the bread, Lena simply focused on making lunch. She eventually set the plates down on the table and walked over to the sliding door. Pushing it open, she stuck her head outside.
“Lunch is ready. But leave your dirty shoes on the steps,” she called, shooting a look at Rooster.
“Copy that, Mommy!” Nickie shouted happily.
They all sat around the table, enjoying lunch and catching up. Taking a sip from her drink, Lena turned to her brother.
“So, what time are you leaving?”
“Before dinner time. I should see who else got the call up. And they’ll all be at the Hard Deck.”
“Say ‘hi’ to Penny for me,” Lena replied, wiping at Nickie’s face.
“I will,” Rooster promised.
“I like Penny,” Nickie announced, pushing his vegetables around on his plate. “She gave me a pop-sickle. And let me ring the bell!”
“I’ve always wanted to ring the bell,” Rooster told Nickie, as if he were sharing top-secret government information. “What was it like?”
“Really loud! Mommy didn’t like it.”
Rooster laughed as Lena shook her head at the memory. She distinctly recalled dragging Nickie away from the bell because he wouldn’t let go. Luckily, it was just Penny, Jimmy, and Amelia in the bar at the time. But poor Theo the dog had to run for cover.
“Because you did it when I was standing right next to the bell, Nickie. And you wouldn’t let go,” Lena reminded her son, poking his cheek.
“‘Cause it was fun!”
“Mhmm,” Lena teased her son. Glancing down at his plate, she sighed and set down her utensils. “Nickie, can you try eating some of the vegetables?”
“I don’t want broccoli. It’s gross!”
“What about the carrots then?” Lena tried to negotiate. “If you eat two carrots, we’ll have some ice cream. How about that?”
“Ice cream?” Nickie repeated, perking up instantly.
“Now that sounds like an even trade to me,” Rooster agreed, earning a thankful nod from Lena.
“I think so. Here, we’ll all eat one together.”
Lena and Rooster picked up a carrot each and Nickie begrudgingly followed along. And even though he looked like he hated his life while he chewed on the carrots, Nickie still ate two of them without too much protest. Quickly hopping up when he was done, Nickie turned to his mom.
“Ice cream!”
Lena shot her son a look, earning a sheepish smile in return that definitely came from his dad’s side of the family.
“Please,” Nickie added on at the end.
After Nickie scarfed down a scoop of ice cream, they headed outside. Nickie happily ran around the driveway. Sometimes he would toss a ball to Rooster and sometimes he would shoot it at the small basketball hoop, but Nickie happily entertained himself while on his sugar high. And that left Lena and Rooster some space to catch up on topics that Lena didn’t want Nickie to hear.
“So, is he coming?” Rooster asked, causing Lena to sigh.
“Yes, he’s coming,” she confirmed quietly. “Don’t tell Nickie. He wants to surprise him.”
“Do you need me to leave?”
“No, I told him to come around dinner. He’ll text me when he’s close and ready,” Lena replied, fiddling with her necklace. “But please don’t antagonize him if you see him.”
“It’s usually the other way around.”
“Just please don’t try and make things worse,” Lena sighed, turning to her brother.
“I’m always on my best behavior.”
Lena let out an incredulous laugh that immediately had Rooster rolling his eyes. It was the godawful laugh that Lena always used when he was being an asshole to piss him off even more. He hated it. And he knew that Hangman hated it too. And Bradley guessed that their mom Carole and Maverick hated it as well because it always made them go ghost white when they heard it.
“Oh, you kill me, you really do,” Lena sighed, wiping fake tears away.
~~~~~
Jake knew that as soon as Rooster started up the piano routine, he was going to leave.
He studied the competition, caught up with Javy, and had a nice cold beer for the first time in five months. So, when the chord to the jukebox was pulled, Jake left the Hard Deck.
Hell, if he had it his way, he would have already been with Lena and Nickie, but Jake didn’t get his way.
He didn’t get his way when he was served with divorce papers. He didn’t get his way when Lena moved with Nickie down to San Diego. He didn’t get his way when Lena was awarded primary custody by the courts because he was active-duty.
Jake Seresin just didn’t get his way when it came to Lena Bradshaw.
If Jake had it his way, he would still be married to Lena, living in Lemoore in the house that he handpicked for them, and the damn chicken would mind his fucking business. He would see Nickie every day that he was in the States. Maybe they would have even had a second or third kid by now.
But Jake didn’t get his way.
Pulling up to Lena’s house, Jake headed for the side door. It was unlocked and Jake let himself inside the house. he took a few steps until he saw Lena cooking dinner in the kitchen. She glanced up and smiled when she spotted him.
“Nickie, sweetie, can you come in here for me?” Lena called, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Nickie walked into Jake’s view from the family room, where he was probably playing with his toys or watching cartoons. Nickie held the coyote plushie—even though Jake was a hundred percent sure that it was actually a wolf—that Javy got him to his chest as he walked over to the kitchen, completely unaware of Jake’s presence.
“Hey, who’s that?” Lena asked Nickie, pointing in Jake’s direction.
Nickie turned around, following his mom’s finger. But when he spotted Jake, his dad who he hadn’t seen in nearly five months, Nickie let out a little delighted gasp and ran over. Jake bent down and caught Nickie as he flung himself forward.
“Daddy!” Nickie yelled out.
“Hey, little man,” Jake called, scooping Nickie up into a tight hug.
Jake held his son to his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. Rocking his son back and forth, Jake tried to keep a lid on his own emotions.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too, Daddy.”
“God, you’re getting so big,” Jake murmured, mostly to himself, as he brushed Nickie’s hair back.
“Bigger than you!” Nickie stated, sitting up straighter.
“Someday, maybe,” Jake agreed with a light chuckle. “Are you being a good boy for Mommy?”
Nickie nodded quickly with a small, mischievous grin. It was the grin that always popped up when Nickie got caught doing something that he wasn’t supposed to do. It also usually resulted in Lena turning to Jake with an exasperated ‘he gets that from your side of the family’ expression.
“Most of the time,” Lena joked, standing a few steps away.
Jake straightened up a bit more and nodded to his ex-wife with a small smile. He tried to not let his eyes linger on her bare left ring finger and turned to meet her gaze. And even though it had been about seven years since he met Lena Bradshaw—though she was still Lena Seresin in his mind—he still got that same warm feeling crawling up his neck whenever he saw her.
“Lena,” Jake greeted her softly.
“It’s good to see you, Jake,” she returned quietly. “We were just about to eat. Are you hungry?”
“I could definitely eat,” Jake agreed with a nod. “Thanks.”
“Of course.”
“Are you staying all night, Daddy?” Nickie called, redirecting Jake’s attention.
“I don’t think so, Nick,” Jake replied, fixing Nickie’s shirt for him.
“Aw,” Nickie complained, causing both Lena and Jake to wince. “Why not?”
“I’ve got training tomorrow morning. Super early,” Jake explained, not even completely lying.
“Can he stay another night, Mommy?” Nickie asked Lena, causing her to freeze for a moment.
“Yeah, he can stay another night,” she agreed, nodding along. “But let’s eat dinner first, okay?”
They sat around the table as a family. It was times like those that Jake sometimes forgot that they weren’t married anymore. This house wasn’t his home. It wasn’t their home. And well, Jake could never dwell on those feelings anyways. Not without whiskey on hand, anyways. Jake helped Nickie cut the bigger piece of chicken into little bits while Lena placed a scoop of vegetables on Nickie’s plate.
“How was the Hard Deck?” Lena asked, turning to her ex.
“It was fine. Scoped out the competition. Played a little pool. Made an early exit,” Jake replied, causing Lena to nod along. “Maverick got thrown out.”
Lena picked her head up sharply at the news and Nickie started to bounce in his seat at the mention of his great uncle. Though more often than not, Nickie called Maverick something along the lines of ‘Grandpa Mav’ because Maverick was the closest figure to a grandfather that Nickie had. Jake’s parents stopped visiting after the divorce, after all.
“Maverick is in town?” Lena asked Jake quietly.
“He didn’t tell you?” Jake returned, raising an eyebrow.
“No, he didn’t,” Lena stated, shaking her head. “And he got thrown out?”
“He left his phone on the bar and couldn’t pay his tab.”
“I told him not to go there,” Lena sighed, shaking her head.
“And your brother was there too,” Jake replied, causing Lena to reluctantly meet his gaze.
“How was that?” she asked quietly, glancing down at her plate.
“It was how it normally goes,” Jake muttered, causing Lena to wince.
“Daddy, can we watch a movie together? Please!” Nickie asked, grabbing Jake’s arm.
“Yeah, we can watch a movie, Nick. But we have to finish eating first, okay?”
“Okay!”
Jake asked Nickie about how things were going at daycare. Nickie happily told his dad everything that was going on in his life and held onto every single word that Jake spoke about aviation. Lena glanced between her son and Jake, easily picking out the similarities between them. After all, Nickie was quickly growing to look like his dad’s twin.
They eventually cleaned up and Jake settled on the couch with Nickie, who picked out a movie for them to watch. Lena gave them their space and went back to her office to catch up on some work. Lena poked her head out once to remind Jake about Nickie’s bedtime, but Jake was already giving Nickie a bath, so she just went back to work.
Jake came and knocked on the door to her office when it was time to put Nickie to bed. They walked into Nickie’s bedroom together like the divorce was just some bad dream that they already forgot about. Lena pulled back the blankets on Nickie’s bed and stepped aside for Jake.
“Alright, time for bed, Nickie.”
Jake laid Nickie down on his bed and pulled up Nickie’s blankets over him. Tucking Nickie into bed for the night, Jake handed Nickie his coyote plushie and ruffled Nickie’s still wet hair.
“Are you coming back, Daddy?” Nickie asked, causing Jake to nod quickly.
“Yeah, I’m coming back. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” Nickie replied, immediately perking up.
“I love you, Nickie.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
Nickie sat up and wrapped his little arms around Jake’s neck to hug him. Jake quickly hugged Nickie back and pressed a kiss to Nickie’s head. After holding onto Nickie for a bit longer, Jake reluctantly released his son and stepped aside. Lena walked over, pressed a kiss to Nickie’s head, and told him that she loved him before she and Jake headed out of Nickie’s bedroom.
Carefully shutting the door, Lena waited a moment before she turned to Jake.
“I’m working tomorrow, so if you get out before four, you can pick him up if you want. Just text me,” Lena offered as she and Jake walked towards the door.
“I will if we get out,” Jake replied immediately.
“Do you still have the car seat your truck?”
“Never took it out,” Jake assured her, grabbing his wallet and keys.
“Okay,” she agreed softly, nodding along. Wrapping her arms around herself, Lena nodded to him before stepping to the side. “Goodnight, Jake.”
“Night,” he whispered back, reaching for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” she returned quietly.
Jake nodded to her one last time before taking his leave and heading over to his car. Lena closed the door behind him and locked it for the night. Watching Jake’s truck drive off into the night, Lena sighed and leaned on the door, resting her head against the wood.
“Talk to me, Mom,” she murmured, glancing up at the ceiling with a conflicted expression. “What do I do?”
Part 2 Part 3
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queer-crip-camp · 4 months
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Proposal: Judy Heumann day: Dec 18th (her birth day)
A day to celebrate the disability rights, disability justice, and equity.
An excerpt from her website about her life achievements:
JUDY HEUMANN (1947-2023)
Judy Heumann was an internationally recognized advocate for the rights of disabled people. She was widely regarded as “the mother” of the Disability Rights Movement. At 18-months-old, Judy contracted polio in Brooklyn, New York and began to use a wheelchair for mobility. She was denied the right to attend school at the age of five because she was considered a "fire hazard." Later in life, Judy was denied her teaching license by the same school district. After passing her oral and written exams, she was failed on her medical exam because she could not walk. Judy sued the New York Board of Education and Judge Constance Baker Motley (the first Black female federal judge) strongly suggested the board reconsider. They did and Judy went on to become the first wheelchair user to teach in the state of New York.
In 1977, Judy was a leader in the historic 504 Sit-In in San Francisco. This 26-day protest (the longest sit-in at a federal building to date) led to Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act being signed into law. Judy was instrumental in the development and implementation of other legislation including the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, the Americans with Disabilities Act, and the UN Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities. These pieces of legislation have been integral in advancing the inclusion of disabled people in the US and around the world.
From 1993 to 2001, Judy served in the Clinton Administration as the Assistant Secretary for the Office of Special Education and Rehabilitative Services in the Department of Education. Judy then served as the World Bank's first Adviser on Disability and Development from 2002 to 2006. In this position, she led the World Bank's disability work to expand its knowledge and capability to work with governments and civil society on including disability in the global conversation. In 2010, President Obama appointed Judy as the first Special Advisor for International Disability Rights at the U.S. Department of State, where she served until 2017. Mayor Fenty of D.C. appointed Judy as the first Director for the Department on Disability Services, where she was responsible for the Developmental Disability Administration and the Rehabilitation Services Administration. She also was a Senior Fellow at the Ford Foundation, where she produced the white paper Road Map for Inclusion.
Judy was a founding member of the Berkeley Center for Independent Living which was the first grassroots center in the United States and helped to launch the Independent Living Movement both nationally and globally. In 1983, Judy co-founded the World Institute on Disability (WID) with Ed Roberts and Joan Leon, as one of the first global disability rights organizations founded and continually led by people with disabilities that works to fully integrate people with disabilities into the communities around them via research, policy, and consulting efforts. Throughout her life, Judy served on a number of non-profit boards, including the American Association of People with Disabilities, the Disability Rights Education and Defense Fund, Humanity and Inclusion, Human Rights Watch, United States International Council on Disability, and Save the Children.
Being Heumann: An Unrepentant Memoir of a Disability Rights Activist, written by Judy with co-author Kristen Joiner, was published by Beacon Press in 2020. Following in 2021 was the Young Adult version, Rolling Warrior. Both audiobooks are read by Ali Stroker, the first wheelchair user to perform on Broadway. After a four studio bidding war, Being Heumann’s movie adaptation will be done by Apple TV+ with producer David Permut (Hacksaw Ridge) and writer/director Sian Heder (Academy Award Winning ‘Best Picture’ CODA).
Judy is featured in Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution, the 2020 award winning, Oscar-nominated documentary film, directed by James LeBrecht and Nicole Newnham and produced by the Obama Higher Ground Production Company. She has been featured in numerous other documentaries on the history of the disability rights movement, including Lives Worth Living and the Power of 504. She delivered a TED talk in 2016, “Our Fight for Disability Rights- and Why We’re Not Done Yet”. Her story was also told on Comedy Central’s Drunk History in early 2018, in which she was portrayed by Ali Stroker. In 2020, Judy was featured on the Trevor Noah show. She also hosted an award-winning podcast called The Heumann Perspective, featuring a variety of members from the disability community.
Judy graduated from Long Island University in Brooklyn, NY in 1969 and received her Master’s in Public Health from the University of California at Berkeley in 1975. She was awarded several honorary doctorate degrees from universities across the United States including New York University, University of Pittsburgh, Middlebury College, and Smith College. She also received numerous awards including being the first recipient of the Henry B. Betts Award in recognition of efforts to significantly improve the quality of life for people with disabilities and the Max Starkloff Lifetime Achievement Award from the National Council on Independent Living.
Judy Heumann passed away on March 4th, 2023 at the age of 75. News of her passing was reported on by major outlets in the United States and around the world. Judy Heumann passed away on March 4th, 2023 at the age of 75. Stay up-to-date on projects in Judy’s honor by following Judy Heumann Legacy on Instagram and Facebook or subscribing to the Judy Heumann Newsletter.
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russellius · 2 months
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July 22, 2012, PFI, England : EURO KF3 press conference
The 2011 KF3 European Champion, George Russell from Wisbech, made history on Sunday, becoming the first driver ever to become European junior karting champion two years running.
GEORGE: Yes, it's a very good result for me and I'm very happy that I've become the first driver to win back to back titles in the Junior category. (...) This has been a very good weekend for myself and after we had a poor qualifying, I think we did very well to get where we did in Final 1 and Final 2. So overall a very good weekend. INT: George, we have heard in the previous press conference in the KF2 with Charles Leclerc, that it's an advantage to be a British driver when you race here. Is it true? GEORGE: I don't know, because we have to go abroad a lot, to Italy and France, and I do not know if the Italians or the French have an advantage. I think top drivers learn tracks very quickly, so after a couple of sessions they'll be within one or two tenths off of the best time. So I think no, we have no advantage.
The 14-year-old dominated both points-scoring races in the final round of the European KF3 Championship at the PF International circuit in Lincolnshire to complete a successful defence of the title he won in 2011. With three wins from the four rounds of the series, and with each driver’s worst score discarded, Russell registered a maximum 75 points in the final standings – a whopping 27 clear of Spaniard Alex Palou and Frenchman Dorian Boccolacci.
Although he had already confirmed his standing as favourite with a win at the first round of the Championship in Varennes (France), Russell became victim of an errant driver in the second final scoring zero points. Not only was Russell under pressure to retain his title at his home circuit, there was no room for error and the weekend in Lincolnshire was far from plain sailing for the Forza Racing team. Russell had to fight back after suffering severe tyre issues in the rain-hit qualifying session on Friday morning: “For some reason our tyres weren’t working and we were three seconds off the pace,” explained George. This placed George in a lowly 30th position after qualifying meaning he would have to start all of his five heats back in tenth place and on the more difficult outer side of the grid. Fortunately weather conditions changed from rain to sunshine and the Forza Racing team were then able to make the switch to slick tyres for the remainder of the weekend.
Top-five finishes in all five of Russell’s heats – including one win – put him seventh on the grid for the first of the two point-scoring finals. With home advantage on his side, Russell stormed into the lead in just five laps and promptly pulled away to beat Boccolacci by almost two seconds: “I had to put in a lot of good laps to pull away and build up a lead,” said George. “I did so well with that that I was able to ease off towards the end and save my tyres for the second final.” That win gave Russell pole position for the title decider, and after a heated fight with Croatia’s Martin Kodric in the early stages, George was again able to stamp his authority on the rest of the field. “Kodric fought hard because he knew that if I got a bit of a lead, I’d be gone,” said George. “I managed to get ahead of him, and then he got caught up with the drivers behind, and that gave me the opportunity to pull away.”
That second win secured a second European title for Russell, and sets him up nicely to challenge later in the season for the other big prizes in junior karting, such as the CIK-FIA Karting Academy Trophy and the KF3 World Cup. “It feels amazing to win the title again, and I’m really happy to have done it at home in England too,” said a delighted George. “Now we have to go on to try and win the KF3 World Cup at Zuera in Spain in September – we have an event there (in the WSK Euro Series) next month where we can try to get some testing and get ourselves ready.”
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klaineccfanficlibrary · 3 months
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I just finished reading all of MrsCriss2012's works (I am completely devastated there's no new ones). Do you have any recommendations for authors/works similar to hers?
From a similar ask from January 2021 (which I can't tag) but Lynne recommended the age!gap tag, or these: ~Jen
Off Limits by munchkinpandas
For once in Blaine Anderson’s life he was pretty happy with how his life was going. He had an epic college experience with his best friend Jamie. They partied way too much, studied way too little and slept with their fair share of the best ASU had to offer. But one rejection letter later and Jamie was moving to San Diego to pursue his PHD while Blaine got accepted to the doctorate program at their Alma Mater. ASU without Jamie didn’t make sense to Blaine and he was not happy about it. To top everything off Jamie asked Blaine to look after his little brother Kurt who was starting his freshman year of college. Kurt wasn’t the little kid he pictured when Jamie asked Blaine to let him move in and it was clear things were about to change even more than Blaine had expected. In short, Blaine Anderson was screwed.
~~~~~
Pressed against the Glass by @gleefulpoppet
Is it possible that the most extraordinary love story ever told starts on a chilly October morning in New York with an impromptu twirl and an elbow to a stranger’s face? Kurt wouldn’t have thought so, but when it happens, his heart stops. It’s just one touch, but is that all it takes to believe? Should he take a chance and never look back? But what happens when the stranger runs away, even though he finally feels complete and brought to life? Is it just a dream—or will he let his walls come down? Will they live with regrets or find the love that will make them feel young forever?
AKA: The one about soulmates (by choice) and the italicized Oh.
~~~~~
Bite Your Lip, Pull me In by rayychelinfinity
Age difference: Blaine is 40, Kurt is 19, and this is the story of how a chance meeting between a successful businessman and a struggling young intern blossoms into something wonderfully unexpected.
~~~~~
Or MrsCriss2012 writes teacher/student relationships:
In The Key Of Us by  beautifulwhatsyourhurry
Kurt Hummel has an instant crush on the new English teacher, Mr. Anderson, at WMHS his senior year. Trouble is, Mr. Anderson might just have a thing for Kurt as well. How will they deal with the mutual attraction when Mr. Anderson offers to give Kurt piano lessons in his home, outside of school?
~~~~~
Consonance and Dissonance Verse by @whenidance
AU in which Blaine is four years older than Kurt and therefore they never meet at Dalton. Kurt ends up at OSU instead of in NYC, where Blaine is a grad-student-turned-professor, and also the object of Kurt’s crushing his sophomore and junior years. [Warnings: Student/Teacher relationship (both over the age of 18)]
~~~~~
Of Love And Literature by @star55
When Kurt Hummel started his senior year at Dalton Academy for Boys, he expected it to be normal. He would attend class, get good grades and graduate, all while being subjected to his two best friends being absolutely smitten with each other. He didn’t expect, however, to fall in love with his English teacher.
~~~~~
Walk The Line by canarian
AU where Blaine, who is 4 years older than Kurt and fresh out of college, comes to teach at McKinley. When Schue gets fired, Kurt asks Blaine to coach New Directions, but things get complicated when they discover their mutual attraction.
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