#I always read the intro AFTER I read the book but in this case I think it's a good idea to read it beforehand
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TEXTBOOK CITATIONS ON IMMORAL SEX | S. GETOU ft. F. TOJI
✮ tags ; porn no plot, afab + fem!reader (good girl, little girl once sarcastically by toji, pretty), mild degradation (dirty girl, a bitch in heat), professor!getou + security guard!toji, dubcon, imbalanced power dynamics, age gaps(10+ years), mild coercion / blackmail, spit play, wet ‘n messy sex, face-fucking, oral (f +m!recieving), spanking, restraints, dirty talk, creampie / unprotected sex, 18+
✮ wc ; 10.6k
✮ synopsis ; You’re willing to do anything to pass your intro course. Whatever it takes. No cost is too high.
✮ a /n ; a comm for the beloved @fushironi !!! thank you for commissioning me and letting me post your work. if anyone is interested in a commission i will be reopening them at some point this month hopefully
A SIDE NOTE: THIS IS VERY CONSENSUAL!! but the relationship is inherently unethical so the dubcon tag is there. and this is. just smut. no plot no brain. just porn.
You're failing ethics.
You're failing ethics and failing it badly.
You refuse to take all of the blame for your failures. Some of it is your fault, but most of it is the fault of your good-for-nothing academic advisor. You're not sure what they get paid for, since it seems like there's an elaborate prank going on between staff and you're the only one not in on the joke. In what universe is it possible, plausible - that an individual could get paid for doing everything but their job?
Apparently this one. But whatever.
In your last semester of university, on the edge of graduating and totally on the right track - you're informed that you're not going to be able to graduate in the expected time frame because you are missing a single course. You learn this information about two days before registrations close, which means all the meaningful classes contributing to your major are booked and busy. Everything is full, and everything that isn't doesn't contribute to your degree. As in, even if you took it - it wouldn't give you what you need to graduate.
After a full-blown mental break, a long night crying yourself to sleep in your dorm, and an egregious amount of begging - you managed to snag yourself a class. It wasn't ideal by any stretch of the imagination, and it did put quite the strain on your schedule. Straight out of your 8am lab - you had to speed walk to the other end of campus and make sure you made it to lecture. The lecture time itself was an hour and twenty minutes, attendance mandatory, twice a week - which meant you had to delay lunch again till afterwards and learn on empty fumes till 1 pm.
Still, better than not graduating at all.
You'd hoped (expected?) that the course itself would be about average in coursework. For one, it's an intro class. Intro to Ethics or PHIL-2467, with Professor Getou Suguru. Secondly, the actual listed coursework seems simple enough. Discussion boards, reading analysis, and a few papers made up for most of the grade. The expectations were outlined as clearly as they could be.
You didn't really know anything about Professor Getou at the time, only that his ratemyprofessor described him as somewhat strict but mostly good.
In any case, you'd consider yourself lucky. And in an effort not to freak out about your circumstances, you'd practically chanted to yourself each night the same mantra. Everything was going to be fine. You've taken nearly 120 hours of coursework, and a little extra time won't kill you. At the start of the semester, you fully believed it too. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and utterly naive.
How could a single course torment you like this? You hadn't the faintest clue. At first, it struck you as odd that the course felt as difficult to grasp as it did. The readings were complex and extremely long but always said a lot of nothing. Much of your grade was dependent not only on assigned work but participation and discussion. The paper criteria was only simple on the surface, but proved to be too lengthy to comprehend and too difficult to fulfill.
Long story short, the class was kicking your ass. And the ass-kicking slowly progressed into a failure so bad it was laughable. You're in your final year, and that means taking a lot of difficult and specified courses in relation to your major. You were at the point where your classmates were starting to thin out, and you were seeing the same group of people you had as a freshman. As far as prioritizing goes, a 3-credit hour course that isn't technically meaningful to you falls to the very bottom of your priorities. You're more concerned with things like job-hunting and finishing your capstone and all the stuff related to your actual career.
So you've been half-assing all the papers and exams, falling asleep in class, and lowkey straight up ignoring the weekly discussion boards.
However, above everything else, the worst part of your class is your professor. Professor Getou Suguru. PhD in Comparative Ethics with a Masters in Cognitive Science.
You didn't really have a chance to speak with any of your friends about Professor Getou, despite it being in your best interest - because you only knew you had the class two days before it started. You'd come to learn only two things about him after attending. First, he's a complete hardass when it comes to grading any assignments, and second most of his merit comes from the fact he is ridiculously good-looking.
He can't be any older than his late thirties or early forties, which means he's young. Young enough to be attractive but old enough for most of your peers to thirst for him in unhealthy ways. He's at least a decade and a half older than you, and by god does he make it clear.
What they don't tell you about college is that there's nothing that can make or break a class more than your professor. Everyone is always too worried about everything else, about getting their schedule right - that they often overlook this basic tenet of college life even though it's so crucial. The worst part is that while various websites rating your professors are helpful, you won't truthfully know how you feel about a professor until you've met them in a classroom. You've had professors with lower ratings be absolute angels, and professors with higher ones being some of the most useless in your entire academic career.
You were hoping that Professor Suguru would be what you expected. That his astounding 4.5/5 would be a meaningful assessment of his character, that he would be tolerable and polite and understanding and that your semester would be smooth sailing because of it.
But of course, of course - that couldn't be further from the truth.
You don't know at what point exactly your relationship to Professor Suguru became as sour as it is right now. There's no real pivotal movement where mild intolerance became full-blown and outright distaste. But part of it, you know, stems from the fact your beloved professor is a snake.
You have no idea how no one else notices it. It genuinely feels like you're the only one who catches the subtleties of his behavior. There's just something about him that's a little…off. The irony isn't lost on you. He's an ethics professor, but something about him makes alarm bells go off in your head. A walking red flag, though a handsome one. He's off in a subtle way, but more than that - he's very openly smug to every single one of his students. It's just that no one else seems to really care. The air of pretension that surrounds him in his every movement is suffocating. Maybe that's part of the charm, if the way girls flock to him after class is anything to go by.
Even so, you just know there's something deliberate about his casual cruelties. He always seems to pick out the quiet kids, and from the beginning of your semester to now - he always, always manages to single you out of the crowd of students. In every class, in every discussion, in every chance he has to make you out to be a troublemaker he will.
Yes, you don't really have any idea how it started. But you've been keeping a long record of every single act of personal terror that damned man has been inflicting on you since the start of the course, and you're not unconvinced that your shit grade is in part because he wants to see you grovel in front of him.
The first time it happened - you figure it was a coincidence. He had called you out in class after you missed a discussion board. You hadn't done the reading, and it wasn't obviously humiliating but it singled you out all the same. When you fumbled coming up with an answer, he gave you a smug smile that so quickly morphed into a fake sincere one, you wondered if you were imagining things.
The second time was when you came in late after a walk of shame, and Professor Suguru greeted you by the door by asking if those were the same clothes you wore yesterday. After being completely mortified by it, the once dark gaze immediately rescinded to his usual fake-calm self. It was suspicious, but not the concrete evidence you needed.
And the third time was after your first project of the semester. Your grade was lower than you deserved, and you knew it - so you went to his office hours to bitch and moan to get it bumped up. But he wouldn't budge, saying that he thought his assessment was accurate. Made a smug face as he told you he just didn't think you thought your points out through. Unfair critiques shielded by flowery words and polite gestures. It was that moment that cemented the dislike, though it wasn't the start.
The beginning of the end, so to speak.
Ever since then, you've harbored nothing but dislike for him. You can see past his pretty face and you don't see anything good. You've had unpleasant professors before, but none have ever targeted you so specifically. None of your previous professors, even at the worst, seemed to hold such an unbelievable personal grudge.
You're all alone, fighting an invisible battle.
The worst of it though, is that you simply couldn't be bothered to give a shit about it for most of the semester. You had way too much going on, so you just had to put up with the inexplicable dread of attending that class until you had to deal with it again eventually.
And after months and months of avoiding the issue head-on, you're at a point where you can no longer do so. Your grade is officially below a C after bombing your last quiz, and there's only 5 weeks left until your semester is over and you're barred from graduation.
And you have no fucking idea what you should do about the situation.
__
There's a subtle pit of dread in your stomach as you enter your first philosophy lecture of the week.
For the first time since the start of the semester, Professor Getou doesn't antagonize you as soon as you enter the door. In a strange way, this makes you kind of uncomfortable. He gives you his usual fake smile, but the fact he's gone out of his way to leave you alone makes you feel like he's planning something.
You brush your paranoia aside as you take a seat in the back of your class. You don't have any friends in this lecture, at least not ones you do more than greet. You sit closer to the back of the lecture hall, tucked into a corner and up a few steps.
The charms on the end of your book bag zippers click together as you take your seat. You open your laptop - pulling up the lecture slides to pretend to study while opening 2048 to play while Professor Getou goes on about his business. You're hoping he's going to go easy on you today, and that his lack of interference is a sign of mercy.
More people start to trickle in and the classroom is the usual amount of packed it is by this point in the semester. The last day to drop passed last week, so the number of students has decreased despite it being spring semester.
Your professor starts his lecture as soon as the clock hits 11:30am. You look up from your computer, watching him as he sets up his slide deck and waits for all the conversation to settle before he begins talking.
He catches your eyes briefly before he continues, but he holds it for long enough that you know it's intentional. You frown at him, and it almost looks like he laughs - but you can't be sure your mind isn't tricking you into thinking that.
"Good morning everybody," His voice is smooth and pleasant - hair tied up neatly. He's wearing his usual attire. Black slacks, and a loose-fitting white shirt with some kind of canvas shoe. "How's everybody hanging in there? Good? Bad?"
He takes a look around the room, gauging peoples replies before chuckling.
"Not in good shape huh? Stick it out, a few more weeks and you'll be out of here. Today, we're going to continue on into section five of our coursework - the shortest of all of our other sections," He grabs something that clicks the slide into the next one, a few images next to a wall of text "We have a lot to cover in the last few weeks, but I want to start with a refresh of what concepts we've been learning for the last few weeks."
The swiftness in the way his eyes land on you is comical in its predictability. You give him an uncomfortable half-smile as he calls your name and brings the class's attention your way. A few looks of pity don't go unnoticed. You stiffen, straighten your back as he says your name slowly before asking.
"Do you think you can tell me, what are the four core structures that define modern Japanese philosophical thinking?"
There's real, uncomfortable weight to his gaze that makes you choke. You pull back slightly.
"Uhm, well - there's Shintoism, Confucianism, Buddhism and western ideology. Primarily German idealism."
He gives you a smug look, the same one you always see before it fades off to an uncannily brilliant smile. Not a sincere one, because when is it ever - but there all the same.
"Someone's been studying hard huh? But you are correct. We've spent the majority of this class going over the first three. How Shinto tradition, Confucianism, and Buddhism were experienced in Japan - isolated from Anglo-Saxon influence for the first few centuries of its establishment. We've also studied the vague historical timeline of these influences, mostly focusing on modern philosophy. We've covered Edo period philosophy as a precursor for what we know and understand now."
You can say a lot about Professor Getou, but more than anything - he has a certain way of commanding the room's attention that never lets you get completely comfortable. He has an air of charisma you've never seen in your life and being in close proximity to it makes you feel like you're being swept in by waves larger than life.
You fidget almost anxiously as you wait for him to continue his lesson.
"Our last few weeks are going to cover the culmination of your previous lessons, and what dictates both national morality and the hierarchy of modern Japanese social mores - Bushido. The way of the Samurai."
Professor Getou continues with this slide deck as he outlines Bushido conceptually. From its existence as a moral code in late 12th century Japan, to the many misconceptions about the strictness in which it was adhered. He starts the lessons like he starts many others, explaining misconception and myth before touching the surface of the subject at hand.
It's in his nature to advocate for the whole truth. From the start of your classes to now, Professor Getou always places the same emphasis. If only that truth is unable to be understood without opposition. It's like his whole being is constructed by it, opposition that is always radical and jaw-dropping. You've known this about him since he voiced his open critique for certain ideas about social welfare and about the emphasis of national morality.
You can't be certain what he really believes - only that he'll voice his views as critically as possible, if only to stir the room.
"Bushido is the heart and soul of modern and postmodern Japanese ethics, but it remains critically undefined despite its usage and citation functionally. Other philosophical schools of thought have strict definitions - Bushido is evolutionary in nature. Inazo Nitobe is primarily credited with the modern and popular interpretation of Bushido, but has received criticism for its obvious influence from Western ideas, and its comparison to chivalry."
Professor Getou sits back on the edge of his desk with a look on his face.
"The tendency of Japanese philosophy to lean into metaphysics does not align with the many values of infrastructure and military present in the culture now, but I'm not going to critique the philosophy for you," He skips to the next slide, your last project of the semester on the wall "For the sake of brevity, I'm going to have you write a paper on one of the eight outlined ideals in Nitobe's work, and I want you to reflect on that ideal in your paper."
A collective whispering erupts in the class as people stress about the assignment of their final few weeks. Not unexpected given the circumstances. Professor Getou doesn't flinch as he waits for the room to settle down.
"This will be your final project in this classroom, and will count as your final grade. On one hand, doing a good job on it means you have nothing to worry about for the last few weeks. On the other it's make or break," He locks eyes with you again as he says this, startling you as his smile grows coy and inauspicious "So if you're in need of a good grade to pass you, I'd recommend coming to see me during office hours or during one-on-one time so I can get you the grade you need. We'll discuss more at the end of class, but we've gotta get through more lectures so you can get an idea of what you can pick."
He gives you one another look, another pointed and obviously direct look, before he proceeds on with his lecture. It gives you a bad feeling in your stomach, and maybe you're being too self-centered thinking he's focusing too much on you.
But you can't help it, swallowing down your uncertainty as you continue on with the lesson.
You need to pass this class.
___
You meet up with Nobara after the fact.
She's a good sounding board for your problems as usual. Where you're always looking for the most civil solutions, she's good at giving it to you straight on what you should do. She's no bullshit and you like that about her. Whenever you need a kick in the ass or an ounce of courage, she's the person for the job.
So after meeting up for lunch, ranting again about Professor Getou (for the hundredth—no, thousandth time), and whining about his weird behavior, you're expecting some semi-sound, if not mean advice on what you should do.
"Have you thought about just fucking him?" She says instead, her voice full of sincere boredom. It comes out so casually, like she's relaying the news cycle to you - and you can't help but be utterly shocked listening to it. "Not that it was my first suggestion, but I mean…it's getting ridiculous."
"Hello? Where the hell did that come from? What do you mean just fucking him?"
She gives you a sideways glance of disdain as if you were the one saying something unreasonable. She leans forward into her hand mirror, gluing on her eyelashes for her afternoon date with Maki. She scoffs when she realizes your shock is genuine.
"Are you serious? Does this not read as an elaborate scheme for this total jackass to fuck you?"
You're flabbergasted. Surely she's not being serious with you.
"Nobara."
"Haah? Tch. Don't make that face. It's a gross abuse of his power but well, he's not ugly. If he were any younger of a professor, would you like… not assume that was the end game?"
"Nobara, he's a professor of ethics. His whole career is ethics."
"Yeah. Like. The perfect cover for wanting to screw his wide-eyed, desperate students. He's a hot, young professor. Not my type but you get me. Don't you think it's a little naive to assume his personal vendetta against you is shit, I don't know… totally lacking that motive? Think with your brain, not your tender little heart for a minute, okay?"
"It's not that!"
"Really? Just like your relationship with Mr. Fushiguro is totally platonic?"
"I said it was one-sided, not platonic."
"You're my whole heart and soul, you know that right? I didn't freak on you when you said you had a crush on Megumi's deadbeat dad. You're my salvation from the idiots we call guy friends. So I'm saying this with love, and not as the complete bitch you know me as - you're being dumb."
"Nobara, are you seriously saying you think this whole thing is about him wanting to," You can barely even get the words out. You're not that much of a prude but god. "Wanting to have… sex with me?"
"Yeah. What else would it even be? I think an awful man is interested in screwing you - a hot, capable twenty-something. Are you stupid? Is that like, sooo impossible for you to consider?"
"Well it's not the first place I would think to go, that's for sure."
"And that's your whole problem. Don't get me wrong, again, totally gross. Is it like.. a total abuse of his authority? Yeah. But that doesn't have anything to do with you personally. If I'm right, and you fuck him - you get a good lay and to graduate. And you need both."
"Nobara!"
"Don't be mad, I love you, okay? But I'm thinking about your future and your prospects. There's nothing wrong with it on a technical level."
"That is so untrue and you know it—"
"Look. I don't like it. I think it's a weak move and kind of corny and gross. But you've been planning your big graduation for years. And it's not a bad opportunity, and you're not a complete idiot. You said before that he's never inappropriate with the other girls right? You might even be the only one. As far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for you to not get laid and pass."
"Oh, so the student-teacher thing isn't reason enough?"
"Not if you wanna graduate it's not."
The two of you remain at a stand-still as his words trap you into a corner. How the hell do you even deal with this information? And how on Earth is she so sure of herself anyways? You think you're pretty good with signs, at least about things like this.
But it doesn't feel like flirting. He's never flirted with any of the students in class, despite how much they seem to fawn over him. Could this weird, psychological dance you've been doing for the last twelve weeks be some sort of unspoken foreplay ritual?
The more you think about it, the less it seems implausible to you. There's a wave after that, some cross between impending doom and shameful arousal blooming up inside of you as everything hits you all at the same time.
When you return to reality after being trapped in your thoughts, Nobara gives you a mindful (almost pitiful) smile and shakes her head. You frown at her in reply, squeezing the bridge of your nose.
"If it were like literally anyone else, I'd totally tell them it's a bad idea. But it's not like you're going on to date him, and you're what - 24? because of your gap year so you're not a preteen like some of the freshmen in your class. I just don't see any reason not to go for it."
You tamp down the small voice in the back of your head, encouraging you to do - and instead ask her a follow-up question.
"...Do you think I should attend his office hours tomorrow, yes or no? I have to email him by tonight to get the one on one."
"Yeah. Yes. And shave before you go."
__
You decide, for the sake of your sanity and everyone else's - to ignore Nobara's odd implications about what Professor Getou wants from you and to attend his office hours.
(That's a partial lie, you figure - given the fact you did shave, and shower before attending. You're wearing something kind of nice underneath. But you still don't think he wants to fuck you. It's more of a safety precaution than anything else.)
You made the game plan last night that you would go, present your idea, and then beg him to be kind to you during the grading process. You even developed a list of things to sob and cry about it to generate something of a sob story if everything went awry. You've forsaken your pride. The only thing that you need to get out of this meeting is a passing grade.
And that is, of course, by any means necessary.
Fearing for your life, the state of your mood improves as you approach the building hosting Professor Getou's office. Of all of the people you interact with semi-regularly on campus (all of which you are quite fond of), Nobara wasn't lying about your affection for campus security guard - Toji Fushiguro.
He's an older man. Older than you by double digits, and from what you can tell - older than even your professor. You've been fond of him ever since he brought you back to your dorm after a horrible break-up with your ex as a sophomore. He's got a rough edge, and there's plenty of unverified rumors of his past. You know that he has something of a criminal record too.
But for all of those rumors, and for all the things you hear about him - he's been one of the highlights of your campus experience. You've had a one-sided school-girl crush on him ever since that night, because you were sober enough to catch his body and how it feels. He was strong. Not in an average way. He made it so effortless when he was carrying you home in his arms - and it's not the first time you've seen him lug around things at least over 300 pounds like they were nothing.
But attractiveness aside, he is uncharacteristically good at cheering you up. He's funny and witty, all while maintaining a cool facade. He's endearing in his own way too, and you're a little head over heels for him though you'd never push yourself to make the first move.
Still, when he sees you come towards the building - he greets you with a wide smile. The scar over his busted lip - split open and welcoming as you run up to him for a hug. He's normally patrolling around campus, so it feels lucky to catch him where you least expect.
He wraps you up with a single arm, your feet temporarily lifting from the ground before you get put back down again.
"Mr. Fushiguro, what are you doing here?"
"I got moved over here since there's been some rumor about someone stealing from the labs upstairs. So I'm on lock up duty for this building 'till it gets fixed up and solved," He says, voice as smooth as ice "What about you sweetheart? It's gonna get dark out soon."
"Ah, I have office hours with Professor Getou today. I need to consult with him about a paper."
"That right? Just gonna be you in there, then?"
"Yep. I'm gonna go in there and beg him for a good grade on our next assignment. So for the sake of my sanity, please wish me luck?"
Mr. Fushiguro tilts his head to one side, grinning.
"Wouldn't that mean you graduate sooner instead of later? Can't wish ya luck on that." He says, making you flush and letting the feeling linger before continuing "Just kiddin'. A pretty face like yours should do you just fine. Knock 'em dead."
"I feel a lot better about it with your encouragement." You say honestly. Mr. Fushiguro gives you a laugh.
"Treat me to something if my luck makes any difference. And hurry in. Last thing you'd wanna do is be late."
You nod, wide-eyed and dazed by how charismatic he is before you rush into the building. It's silent, given how late in the school day it is. Most people have already gone home, with the exception of the other poor souls likely chasing down their professors for the same reasons as you.
You feel an overwhelming sensation of dread as you encroach upon Professors Getou's office. There's no one else in the close vicinity, only a few closed classrooms and students who are passing by the small corner where his door resides - most of which are making their way to leave.
You decide to take a deep breath, calming your shaken nerves before knocking politely once on his door and entering the room.
Professor Getou's office looks like how you'd expect it to look. It's clean, and sleek - and lacking almost completely of items of personal effect with the exception of his desk. It's the first time you've ever been inside of the room before, but it smells distinctly of him. He has that same scent surrounding him, like flicks of nicotine and a hint of bergamot. Sweet with the taste of metallic bitterness, like blood and sugar.
You feel the back of your throat bob as you see your Professor sitting at his desk. It's lacking his usual gracefulness. His shirt is unbuttoned down by three entire buttons, and his slacks seem looser. Most notable is his hair - classically long, now in a loose bun with pieces falling all on his shoulders and rolling down his neck.
You think of what Nobara said to you earlier in the day alone, a strange and overwhelming sensation of lust and embarrassment making it difficult for you to open your voice and talk.
It's Professor Getou who greets you first. He looks up from whatever he was reading and looks at you from where you stand awkwardly at his door. His smile widens, though it's just by a little.
"Ah, I was wondering when you'd be here. Looks like you're right on time." He says first, sitting up in his chair but not bothering to gather himself in any way otherwise "Come on in and sit. I assume you're here to talk about your grade."
You sit across from him hesitantly, hands folded in your lap as you put your bag down on the floor.
He studies you quietly. There's a long stretch of silence, where neither of you do anything but sit in each other's company.
He breaks the silence first.
"So, while I have a guess," He says, elbows on his desk "Do you want to talk to me about what you're here for?"
You've practiced the dialogue in your head so many times now. What to do and how to say what you need too, but the words seem to fizzle out completely when it's time to really say them. Leaving nothing but uncertainty, you open your mouth only to close it once again.
"Uhm," Your voice strains trying to make the words out into a coherent sentence. "I came to talk about my paper. And my grade, like you mentioned in class."
"So you decided to heed my advice? Good girl, that was a smart choice," You try not to be taken aback by the pet name - unsure if it's as inappropriate as you think it is "Do you know what virtue you want to cover?"
"I thought I would pick uhm, righteousness - and then pull from some of the Western ethics we learned about. Making uh, connections between deontological ethics and duty and how it relates to the defined idea of righteousness," You explain nervously, an uncomfortable laugh bubbling out of your throat "How practicing duty and righteousness relate to each other."
"Hmm. Sounds like you've had time to think about it a little, then."
"I uhm, haven't finished the reading but I did take a look over my section to see if I could make it work."
"I think you have something to work with. You'll need to straighten out the thesis of your paper into something more tangible. I know that's an ironic ask. But I think it's a good idea," He gives you a brief glance, studies you with eyes. Snake-like. Something coils inside of you, tickles and brushes against your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise "It seems like you have something more to tell me, though."
Do you? Is there anything more there? The answer lies indifferently on a scale from obviously to no. nothing at all and it haunts you that he's able to pick it out.
"It's just well. Uhm. You know, I don't have the best grade in this class so I was more prepared to go down with my grade. You approved quicker than I thought you would."
"Your grade is pretty abysmal. Did you come in here planning to beg?"
You refrain from an instant yes, even though it's what you feel. Something about the way he says it makes your stomach clench. Your heart quickens. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as you laugh uncomfortably.
"Something like that? Uhm, or at least try to hash things out between us. I know our relationship over the c-course of the semester has been kind of sour so I…"
He cuts you off.
"Has it?"
Your brain stutters to halt.
"Uhm. Yes?"
It's unpredictable, utterly and completely - the way he reflects on your words like you've said something incomprehensible. You aren't sure if that's sincere. You can't be sure if any of the words out of his mouth are. But he doesn't seem like he's lying. Your mind flashes to Nobara, and you find yourself speaking before you can stop it. It comes out like a flood.
"I j-just always assumed you singled me out in class because you didn't like me? I don't mean to be accusatory, though."
"I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea," He says, shaking his head "I don't harbor any negative feelings for you at all."
"Oh," You say, eyes falling down to your lap again "Right, then."
"You must be desperate for that passing grade, hm? If you're meeting with a professor you think hates you."
You glance at him.
"Well, yes. I want—need to pass this class. I've already planned my graduation for this semester."
"And you'd be willing to do anything for that, is what you're implying?"
"Yes," You say, with a sudden rush of unwavering confidence "Anything."
"Let me ask you another question, then." He lets his elbows rest on the edge of his table, a familiar coy smile "Do you think there's any other reason for why I've been paying special attention to you, aside from me disliking you? You're a smart girl, so I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out."
The weight of his words don't go unnoticed. The air feels heavy as it hangs between you. He couldn't be implying it so directly could he? Your mind drifts back to Nobara's warning to you, and your breath hitches. Your eyes widen as you glance up for the first time and give him a look of mild distress.
And he smiles. His grin widens as soon as it dawns on you.
"Seems like you've reached an important conclusion," He says, casually - as he sits up in his chair and leans back. Stretched like nothing could get in his way "Why don't you share with the class?"
"You," Your voice is a nervous tremor. You must be crazy. You must be completely out of your mind "...To sleep with me?"
"See? I told you, you're a smart girl."
The question is a burning one. One you've been wanting to ask since you started thinking about it last night.
"B-but…why? And why me? A-and,"
"You have a tendency for being combative. You know that? An air of defiance. I can tell you're a little older than your peers. A little wiser, and a little more knowing of when to ask for help," Getou outlines, staring you down "And seeing you with that sense of desperation was exciting for me. I'm a man of simple tastes. At my age, I know what I want."
"And I like when tough, combative, clever women turn into babbling, desperate, needy girls. I'm quite fond of it, actually."
He's detrimentally serious. Your stomach flips.
"Do you want to pass this class?" He asks you, an air of confidence surrounding him. You close your eyes, unsure if you can call it coercion when you're feeling so terribly willing about it.
"Yes. I need to pass."
"Then come up here," He gestures, widens his legs and leans back in his chair "And sit."
Your body is burning. You don't know if you're even really in the situation, or if you've daydreamed it into something impossible. Something phantom moves you. Stands you to your feet shakily before walking in short strides. Professor Getou looks at you from where you stand over him.
His hand brushes your outer thigh, patting it.
"Sit."
So you sit. You spread yourself and straddle your professor - and the reality dawns on you the minute you touch what you're doing. You haven't gotten laid in a bit, and he's nothing like anyone you've ever slept with. You feel out of your element. You get the impression he's a man, a grown one. There's a confidence in him that looms and looms and looms, overshadowing any of your doubt.
He's sexier up close. There's the faintest trace of smile lines on his expression as you look down at him. He guides your arms to loop around your neck, and holds your hips with his hands.
Then you feel it, almost instantly - something hard and bulging pressing against the seam of your pants and against your crotch. He's already half-hard and he hasn't even kissed you. He grins at you lazily, like a cat with cream.
"I'll pass you as soon as I put it in," His hands are so big - long, slender fingers gripping your ass "And give you extra credit when you cum for me. How's that sound?"
You feel dirty. It's all happening so fast. Almost vulgar, but it's impossible to feel cheap. To believe in the wrongness of it when Professor Getou is so undeniably sexy. Wrong, on so many levels, to do this for the sake of your grade. Or just in general. Yet you want it, yearn for it, find the culmination of all your annoyances melting as he graces you himself.
"I wanna pass," You say, uncharacteristically nervous about everything. You add the next part a little quieter "...I want it."
"What do you want, exactly?"
"Want you to fuck me." You admit, against your better judgment "Please?"
"Gonna make a real pretty mess out of you," He says, voice smooth and serene. You look down at him. His knuckles brush against your jaw, on your cheek before his thumb holds on your lower mouth. His fingers push past the edge of your lips, sliding against your tongue and gently running along your teeth. He gags you on it, so slightly - enough to startle you but not enough to hurt. You feel spit pour from your lips.
Thick messy strings of drool drip down the sides of your mouth. You want to back away in shame. But there's an air of intention behind the gesture. It's deliberate, the action - the mess and how it runs down your neck. Before you know it, he's kissing you in that same state.
Professor Getou kisses like he's done it before.
His hands grip on your ass as he kisses hot and heavy. Self-assured, he sucks and bites at your mouth - sticking his tongue in and mixing his saliva with yours in a way that feels downright dirty. Yet it makes you throb, white-hot flames licking at the back of your thighs. The sparks of arousal crawl up your skin.
Your nerves tighten as Professor Getou cups your face with one palm, kissing you with fervor. You melt into him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
"Been thinking about what you would look like bent over my desk all semester," He says as he pulls away, looking on with admiration at your messy complexion "You wanna go on ahead and show me?"
Another wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you find yourself standing to your feet. Sliding your sweats off down your legs - your lower half is left bare with the exception of your feet. You lay or stomach on his desk, the cold wood sending chills up your whole body and your stomach and tits lay flat and squishy against the hard material. You stand, shoulder width apart, and present yourself in front of him.
"That's what I like to see," His voice is rich and deep as he speaks. You can feel him inch towards you, pulling you apart with his palms before his hand comes down on your ass in one hard motion. The noise echoes against the walls of the room "See, I knew you could listen well when you had to."
You don't say anything in reply, pressing your cheek against the desk.
"W-what do I call you?" You ask, your voice trembling. You feel his fingers against the seam of your panties. He snaps the cotton waistband against your skin before humming thoughtfully, a light tap to your ass.
"Getou is fine. Suguru is too. Sir if that makes you more comfortable."
Getou makes a show of fondling you, though you can't see it - you can feel the way his eyes nearly swallow your naked lower half. How his fingers touch and prod all of your sensitive places, with some kind of keen observation. Everything Getou says is like that, keen and particular.
"Such a pretty pussy on you. Would've been such a waste if you didn't come to me."
You don't bother to ask what he means by that. Behind you, there's a noise. Of a chair rolling back, and the dull thud of knees hitting the ground. Before you know what's happening, there's a face dangerously close to your clothed pussy. The minute you try to squirm, there's a tight grip keeping you in place. He takes a deep breath. Without any real hesitance, you feel his tongue lick across the clothed material.
In one fell swoop, he pulls your panties to one side and kisses your clit without any more real introduction. You're gripping the edge of the table you're bent over as you feel his tongue slide against the wet folds of your pussy, making your voice cry out involuntarily. Normally people would urge you to be quiet, but you got the feeling he didn't care if anyone heard you crying out for him. You get a second wave of intuition telling you he might even like it.
A sensation of bliss washes over you as he sucks hungrily at your cunt. It feels good enough to be holy. There's such immense expertise in it that you can't help but succumb to it completely. The warm, heavy muscle gliding over sticky folds.
You're so lost in the pleasure, your mind completely blocks out the intrusion. The sense that would detect another person in the room disappears completely. You only know because of Getou, the way he stops and scoffs. It forces you to blink your eyes open. He speaks before you get the chance.
"What are you doing here?"
You recognize the voice instantly, and your heart drops through your stomach.
"Thought I heard a ghost howling," Mr. Fushiguro says, his voice is rougher and deeper and older "Turn out it was just a little girl wanderin' into the woods."
"If you can see I'm busy, why're you still here?"
You can't help but feel the second wave of overwhelming shock as you sit there, naked and unafraid. Still, they stand like nothing is wrong. Chat like they know each other somehow, but you have no idea in which way. All you can focus on is the bubbling, nauseating shame.
"Oh god." You voice, but both others ignore. Mr.Fushiguro speaks first.
"This one is off-limits, Suguru. What kinda professor goes around fuckin' their innocent little students?"
"Just the one, Mr. Fushiguro. And I'd like to get back to business."
"Ah, no way I'm letting you off the hook. I could report this y'know? Make headlines. Ethics professor coerces student into sexual activity. It'd be big.
Your heart drops.
"Fuck off, would you? Does she look coerced?"
A beat of silence. "Nah. Not with the way she's twitchin'. But it's not fun if I just let you go. How about you tap me in and I'll keep your little secret hm? She's gotta cute crush on me already."
Your heart flounces around in your chest, a muffled noise of shock escaping your lips as you squirm to move but are held, still, so firmly in place. Your expression and feelings all go through 5 stages of grief before settling at dumbfounded. They don't especially ask for your input, but you hear Professor Getou behind you.
"Fine, if it'll get you to shut up. And I'm fucking her first."
Strange. Nothing about today makes any sense. You don't miss the almost childish sense of competition in Getou's voice that changes your view of him in an instant. Humanizes him in the strangest and most unrecognizable ways. It lacks his usual virtue.
Mr. Fushiguro walks up in front of you, imposing. He's grinning, a well-worn smile on his face that you know. He helps you up, and you keep yourself upright on your arms as he grabs your chin with his palms. You look up at him wide-eyed, unsure of what to do.
"Dirty fucking girl aren't ya?" He says, though he almost sounds like he's impressed with himself
"You into older men or is it a coincidence you're screwing 'im for your grade?"
You're speechless, and you moan a little pathetically as Getou doesn't stop eating you out. This only seems to make Mr. Fushiguro even more excited. You look up at him through wet lashes, unsure of what to do.
"Don't mind either way, just curious. Guess I'm a little sad 'cause I thought your little heart eyes around me made me special," He tells you this looking down at you, eyes locked. You can tell he's just teasing you, and it makes you twitch "But I guess that's not true, is it?"
"You're different. I uhm. Well it's true at least."
"Yeah? You're just letting both of us fuck you 'cause you're like a bitch 'n heat?"
You flush. He gives you a smile and a well-meaning laugh that makes your body feel warm with heat.
"Mind if we're a little rough on you, sweetheart?"
You shake your head.
"Good. Stick your tongue out and open your mouth for me then."
You listen, oblige the instructions almost obediently. Your face is still covered with spit from before. You watch idly, intently - as Mr. Fushiguro pulls his cock out from his black pants. The loose material covers him well, but as soon as they're down past his thighs - the outline of his cock borders on intrusive. Your eyes widen, fluttering and unfocused because it's hard to think about anything while feeling such intense pleasure.
But Mr. Fushiguro is captivating as he pulls himself out for you. His cock is thick and heavy, protruding but too much that it can't stand up on its own. Weighed down by gravity, you stare at it wide-eyed. It's the size of your forearm, so thick you can't possibly imagine what it feels like.
Your heart stammers.
"It won't fit in my mouth." You say, gasping for air as if you're already suffocating on it "You're—you're so huge."
He laughs with an edge of snark. You blink at him in complete seriousness, taken aback. He lets the tip of his cock tap the plushness of your cheek before pressing against your lips. You stare at him, almost afraid.
"Of course it'll fit," He says in confidence "Just gotta make sure you're relaxed. So relax, sweetheart, and open your mouth for me."
Hesitantly, you open your mouth wide. You feel the corners of your lips stretch around the intrusive, thick head of Mr. Fushiguro's cock. The taste of sweat and skin is invasive and heavy, violating your senses. Just the tip and it barely fits in your mouth. You try and concentrate, sticking your tongue out and curling it around the underneath of his cock, focusing on sucking just the tip. He groans above you, a hand on the back of your head. He doesn't force you down, but you can tell by the twitch in his fingers that he wants to.
"Look at you," He says, his voice coarse with restraint and desire "You're drooling on my cock while you're professors busy eatin' your pussy. Thought you were an innocent girl, but now I don't know what to believe."
He says this as he eases more into your mouth, slowly letting you adjust. He rocks his hips back and forth until you relax. You open yourself up, trying to focus on blowing him.
But a hand comes down on your ass, hard and heavy - making you yelp. The noise is muffled but audible. A short squeal, you can't turn your head to look
"Don't you think you two are getting too comfortable upfront without me? I'm the one who decides your grades."
"Maybe you're not doing good enough for her to care."
You can feel a strange sense of competition between them, but you're too occupied to ask about it. How do they know each other, and for what reason do they seem so automatically hostile? It bothers you, but you can't think about it too hard.
"That's not true. Her pussy is soaking fucking wet." He punctuates his words with a harsh smack against your cunt, the force rippling through your as you bend forward and choke "Almost as messy as her face."
He's quick, again, to latch himself to your clit. He flicks it with his tongue, licking it mercilessly as your brain starts to fog up with desire. Like he's trying to prove a point, you moan around Mr. Fushiguro's cock as your pleasure starts to thrum up again. The back of your legs tense, trembling as a knot begins to uncoil in your lower stomach. The cock in your mouth moves too, using the distracted moans to ease himself even deeper into the wet, arm cavern of your mouth.
Your head feels heavy, body weak as the both of them use you to their contents. Your stomach starts to stir as a familiar feeling of euphoria claws at you.
You cum for the first time like that, your body pressed against a wood desk - restrained and under careful watch of two men. Your whole body explodes - white, hot nerves fraying off and ricocheting off your ribs inside of you. Your insides shake as the wave of an orgasm washes over your entire body. You gasp, clenching down hard and gasping as tremors of orgasm pulse and push through your whole body. Something in you ignites as you grip the edge of the desk for your life, trying to keep yourself upright as Getou pushes you through the orgasm.
You've barely recovered when Mr. Fushiguros pulls out of your mouth, pressing his spit-soaked cock against your face and cheeks with a smile. You let it slide against your tongue, eyes fluttering open as your face gets covered in precum and saliva.
"You look so fucking filthy right now, you know that? But it looks good on you. I'm dying to fuck you."
"Mr. Fushiguro," You groan. He clicks his teeth.
"Toji's just fine sweetheart."
You whimper helplessly as you ride out your high. Behind you, your professor pulls away. You peek behind you to see him, flush as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
Toji looks down at your frazzled expression with a grin, teeth showing as he cups your jaw a second time and slides his cock back in one go. This time, he pushes his cock in the base - keeping your throat around him with a hand on the back of your head.
"Just focus on me for now, baby. Focus on sucking me off, yeah? Just like that, easy easy. He's gonna open you up. Stretch you nice and make your pussy all sloppy. That's what you want right?"
Getou leans over you, the weight of his body looming as you feel slender fingers slide through your sticky folds. His middle and index brush against your abused clit, rubbing a few circles into it before pulling away. He grabs your arms and positions them behind your back, gripping them in one hand to keep you restrained. You squirm against the gesture, unable to get any leeway as he holds you down. Then you feel his fingers move, middle finger catching on your wet hole as it trembles and sticks. He opens you up like this without any warning.
His middle finger goes first - delicately intrusive as your pussy widens to accommodate him. They're so much bigger than yours. Just one feels like two of your own. You push back out of instinct but Getou doesn't let you move. He buries himself, pushing in and out until he's able to fuck your pussy all the way down to the knuckle. Once there's no longer any resistance, he pulls back and makes room for another. The sensation is duller, lets you clear your head and think even as Toji rubs his cock on your face and fucks your mouth in short ruts.
Not enough to make you choke, but enough to smear something hot and nasty all over you.
Professor Getou repeats the process with his pointer, pushing and stretching and opening until you can't fight it anymore. With two fingers, he scissors them trying to make your insides soft enough for him to take you.
"You're stretching out for me like it's nothing. You must be turned on, hm? Like getting all your holes used like this? Getting your face-fucked by a man old enough to be your father?"
Toji laughs harshly, smacking your face lightly, enough it doesn't hurt but enough to make you feel it.
"She loves it. She's clenching down on you tight ain't she?"
"Sure is. All this for a grade. Maybe I should've bullied you about it a little more first. Since you're so eager."
"Gonna give her extra credit for this?"
"I should deduct points for the fact you're even near here."
He laughs good-naturedly at this point, and you're still having trouble making sense of their relationship. You manage to speak for the first time in forever, voice barely there as you go to question them. You're not expecting any solid answers.
"How do you two know each other?" You ask, before Toji starts fucking your mouth again
"Goes a long way back. And we're still on bad terms, so congrats on bringing us together, sweetheart. Kind of an expected reunion really."
"He's been working here since Professor Gojo and I were students here and we knew him from before. A long story. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."
The burning question is quick to fade out of your mind as you feel your professor's clothed bulge rest against your cunt. You moan, a clipped needy sound as you nearly beg him to fuck you. Toji bends over you this time, reaching back to spread your pussy open by grabbing your ass. You can feel the grip of his hands, strong and assured.
"She's gettin' impatient. Give it to her."
"Don't need your help with that." Getou spits, irritation sounding in his words.
"Consider it an apology."
The air of tension is there temporarily, before Getou pulls his cock from the confines of his boxers. You can't see it, eyes squeezed tight as you work your mouth and tongue Toji's length. You can feel it though. He makes a show of rubbing his cock against your puffy, sore cunt. You get a feel for its shape as he pushes it between your thighs and lets it cling in between your lips. Professor Getou's cock is longer and more narrow, but it curves upright. It's hard, throbbing between your legs. Whining helplessly you wiggle your ass again. You feel increasingly restless about needing something inside of you. You're still bound though, completely and utterly unable to move. Toji's hand comes down heavy on your ass as you do, clicking his teeth in faux irritation.
"Don't fucking move unless you want my handmark on your ass forever," He says, his voice cool and forgiving "Impatient."
Getou must feel something inside of him merciful enough to keep you waiting. Even with all the stretching and prep, the minute you feel the head of your cock push through - something inside of you snaps. It's still so big, still too much, still reaches a part of you so deep you didn't know it was there. The position itself - still being on your stomach, makes it reach so much farther than other positions. The raw, skin-to-skin contact leaves your tummy fluttering, skin prickling with heat. Your top is pushed up enough to expose your lower back and your skin is pulsing. You feel like your whole body is on fire, suspended between men so much older than that want nothing more than to fuck you.
Every time you try to wiggle away from the sensations, Toji's hand comes down heavy on your backside. It doesn't matter how minuscule the movement. If he gets the idea that you're going to try and pull away, he spanks you hard enough that the room echoes with the sound. Your skin tingles, phantom sensation left before as you're held open and made to take your professor's cock - obedient and wanting.
Inch by miserable inch, it takes forever to take him down to the base. Your toes curl, eyes shut and mouth sloppily trying to keep up with the cock in your mouth and just barely succeeding.
He groans behind you, shuddering
"That's incredible," He praises, and it feels so good to hear him saying something so overtly kind you don't know if you want to laugh or cry "Your pussy is fucking incredible. Shit."
"You hear that? You gotta. Pussy's twitchin' like crazy. Ass is too, how cute."
"Feels sho good," You slur, brain clear of any and all rational thought as a string of saliva drips down your chin "Please fuck me, please,"
"You heard her teach."
Toji lets go of you and returns back to where you are. He pulls his cock away from you, instead holding you up and cupping your mouth open. He kisses you, after everything - with all of his pre-spend in your mouth before spitting into it harshly and kissing it again.
"Such a pretty face you're makin' right now." He says, something of a warm and unprecedented affection to it "So excited to get your pussy filled up."
He leans you on him, lets you wrap around his midriff, and squeeze tight while he pets the back of your hair in a strange streak of affection. You don't know what to make of anything. All you can feel is the long cock pounding into you without any mercy. Razor-sharp thrusts, nudging against your swollen g-spot and pounding into your cunt with immeasurable force. A man so much older than you is fucking you, pounding your pretty little pussy, and turning you into a complete mess. He's meant to be a mentor to you, but he has his cock imprinting itself inside of you over and over and over.
Your stomach feels hot again, but some other feeling takes you over as Toji cradles you - watching you just as intently. He talks you through with confidence you can't entirely understand.
"Yeah, that's it. Tighten up for him, just like that. Feels good doesn't it? I know baby, I know."
You whine out in Toji's arms as he talks you through it. Behind you, you feel Getou's grip hold you tight as he pistons you. The sound of his thighs smacking against your ass is noisy, almost as noisy as your pussy. Slick wet, sounding each time he thrusts.
"I'm not gonna last like this, shit." He pumps into you a few more types before his hips stutter to a halt. He cums with his cock buried deep inside of you, filling you all the way to the brim. You feel his white, hot seed fill your belly, cock twitching as he unloads and makes your legs shake.
A sense of emptiness overwhelms you as Getou pulls out, landing a hit on your ass as he shakes. He kisses your spine.
The two of them switch places without communicating with each other about it. Getou pulls out, and away - coming back in front of you and picking you up in his arms as Toji positions himself behind you. He spreads your cunt out with his fingers, examining the seed left over with a light laugh.
"Gonna fuck into your sloppy little cunt, give you another load where you need it and make you cum." Toji says, not hesitating at all. You feel your breathing start to quicken as he takes the same positions as before.
Toji doesn't neglect touching you as his arm curls around your waist, calloused fingertips brushing against your clit before his cock pushes into you. Your pussy takes him much easier, but even so - Toji is just so thick, you can't help but feel him all over again. This time, Getou has you in his arms, holding and guiding you. Your hands are curled around his bicep and lower spine as you're held up.
Toji's thrusts are slower, but just as rhythmic - focused on bringing you to another orgasm. It's duller this time, the sensation more focused and spread. Toji is so big you feel it in your hips, your entire lower half tingling as he pumps his cock in and out of you. He gives you all of his attention, staving off his own orgasm as Getou encourages you with his own words.
"Gonna cum again, pretty? Take another man's cum in you right after me? You want to, right? Take it all in, every drop. You've earned it."
You feel your insides tighten again, for a second time - in a miraculous span. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts as both sensations work in tandem to bring you closer to your edge.
Your nerves fire off a second time as you push yourself to the limit. Toji fucks you through another orgasm with ease, thrusting with each tremor until you've ridden out your high. His own orgasm and chase come not long after that fact.
As soon as you've gone totally limp underneath him, he sheaths himself as deep as he can. Bent over you, he cums hard and deep, filling you to the brim a second time.
There's a brief moment of silence as Toji rides out his high, where all three of you sit in silence.
You find yourself limp as you lay there, Toji pulling out and Getou slowly letting you down before you look up with a tired expression.
"...So, did I pass?"
Your professor laughs harder than you've ever seen him laugh.
"With flying colors."
#toji x reader#getou x reader#toji smut#getou smut#writing tag#jjk x reader#dubcon cw#age gaps cw#blackmail cw#coercion cw#lmk if i missed anything
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this is an edited repost of something I wrote last year for the 10-year anniversary of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary School (now 11 years today). to say the least, it’s a difficult day for a lot of people, including me. i wrote this all in one go just as a positive outlet for the things this day evokes and i went back and forth on if i would post it, but i know i’m not the only one who has been affected by these events. if you’re someone who finds this day to be a hard one, this one is for you.
tw: references to gun violence and school shootings
It’s late morning in December 2012 and Steve is watching the news. He isn’t really paying attention to the current segment about opiate use, too busy being completely annihilated in Words with Friends by his eleven-year-old, who just played the word ‘jinxes’ for 23 points, the bastard.
He’s mid-way through sending Moe a text (“get off your ipod you’re in class”) when the channel’s Breaking News intro interrupts the interview that he’d been ignoring. He looks up to see that the headline has changed.
Steve sees shooting, and then elementary school and feels his heart jump into his throat the way it does any time he hears sirens when his daughters or his husband aren’t home – not because he really believes it’s for them, but because it could be. There’s always a chance it could be.
And he’s got two kids in elementary school right now.
He makes himself read the headline in full – it clarifies that the school is in Connecticut, nowhere near him and his house and his children’s schools in the Massachusetts suburbs, but it does little to remedy the panic that has his heart going a mile a minute.
Steve sits for a while, eyes glued to the TV as the anchor slowly ad-libs, clearly waiting for any new scrap of information.
On the first commercial break, Steve checks his phone. He’s got one text – from Moe telling him to play another word in their game. He responds back with the message he’d written before he’d become fixated on the news.
On the second one, he texts Eddie, tells him he loves him and asks if he’s heard what’s going on (he knows he probably won’t get a response for a while – Eddie is notoriously bad at checking his phone and that’s when he’s not in a meeting he’s been looking forward to for weeks, as is the case today).
By the third, they’ve learned the school is on lock-down, but not much more.
Everything he hears after that is nothing short of harrowing, and leaves Steve feeling sick to his stomach.
Eddie finally texts him a couple hours later, after the news anchor has been switched out for another, to say his meeting ran late (an actual director had reached out to him saying she was interested in adapting one of Ed’s books into a movie – today was the day they got to talk in person) and he hadn’t known any of this was going on, but he’s on his way to pick up Hazel from her AM kindergarten session.
Steve’s day continues. He makes lunch, he finishes some laundry, he responds to emails, always with one eye on the news. His shock at what was occurring mere hours south of his home, subsides, slowly replaced with a dull horror because he’s seen a lot of things in his forty-six years of life, but nothing like this. One by one, his three girls return home from school and he hugs each of them like he always does, but today it’s a little tighter.
It’s a Friday, and Friday night is movie night in the Harrington house. It’s Robbie’s night to choose (she picks Spy Kids, like she does every time she gets to pick the movie since it came out last year). Before they start, Steve and Eddie tell their kids what happened. They do their best to find an explanation that is sufficient for ever-precocious Moe, but not too much for Hazel, their sweet kindergartner who only just turned six. Once the movie starts, they all pile under the same blanket, and where there’s usually fidgeting and arguing and occasionally having to pause the movie altogether to wipe tears and wait on a time-out because someone weaponized a foot or an elbow after they weren’t given the big bowl of popcorn fast enough, tonight there is quiet and stillness.
The next day, the girls are back to their normal, bickering selves, but Steve still can’t shake the aching feeling in his chest every time he thinks about what happened the day before. He starts to get that itch in his brain, the same itch he'd felt after he ran out of the Byers’s house in 1983, after he turned back and saw those Christmas lights flickering, the itch where he’s gearing up for a fight.
As the months go on, Steve finds himself reading into gun control laws, finds himself with multiple non-profits fighting for them bookmarked on his computer, finds himself following politics for the first time in his life as he watches bill after bill get shut down by both sides of the debate.
Honestly, Steve isn’t sure why he cares so deeply about this – and not just what happened in Connecticut, but the issue of guns and gun safety in general. It’s not like he hasn’t fired a gun before. It’s not like he’s never seen their value (he still remembers that drive to the War Zone so many years ago). It’s not like he hasn’t ever felt safer with someone nearby wielding one, even if that someone was Nancy Wheeler.
Maybe he’s a little too familiar with children being the casualties in a war they didn’t choose to start, didn’t choose to fight in, and if that had made him angry at nineteen, he’s irate now, now that he has a six-year-old like the students in that classroom in Connecticut, now that he has an eleven-year-old like El when she escaped that lab in Hawkins.
It wouldn’t be the first time Steve threw himself into a battle that had nothing to do with him, that he knew very little about, because he knows what happens when children get caught in the crossfire of a battle that has nothing to do with them, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he sat idly by and watched it happen again.
#i’m NERVOUS posting this one idk#they can’t all be fun times folks#idk if el was eleven years old in season 1 i'm pulling the artistic license for that one#i am definitely projecting here but whatever that’s what fandom is for i’m pretty sure#steddie#liv’s steddie dads verse#steddie dads#steve harrington#eddie munson#tw: school shooting#tw: gun violence
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𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐘 | Prologue
pairing: neteyam x f!reader
summary: after fate brought you to awa’atlu and you felt hope for the first time in so long, the sea became the lonely witness of a bittersweet love, making you quickly realize how life withers as fast as it blossoms. [takes place five years after the events of atwow, neteyam is alive]
warning: this story will make you cry. read at your own risk.
read first chapter →
voice-over by @neteyamfromwish (scroll down for details)
🔊 volume up + use headphones for best experience 🎧✨
note: I am excited to announce my upcoming neteyam mini-series. special thanks to @eclipseatsea who gave me the courage and motivation to publish this poem as an intro for the story. she’s such an inspiring person, make sure to check out her beautiful writing if you haven’t already 💕
and again, thank you @neteyamfromwish for being so kind as to complete my request. I don’t know about you guys but I’m in love with this audio, it fits the story and the mood perfectly. for more info, check his website. I highly recommend giving it a try!! the accuracy to neteyam’s voice is chef’s kiss, and I cannot wait to share more with you ✨
let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 💗
୨⎯ series masterlist ⎯୧
(in case the video doesn't work, i'll leave you the poem here):
for even in the darkest of times,
the moons and stars, they always gave you signs.
with each passing night, you learned more,
of the art of loving and losing, and what else was in store.
back then, the gentle beat of his heart by your side,
comforted you like a river, making calm and serenity collide.
that night's bright light did glow,
with a slender crescent in tow,
along with stars above the green trees’ crown,
the deserted sand illuminating on its own.
the shadows of his lashes long,
cast upon his blue cheeks, so strong,
the constellation of freckles, like little diamonds,
his beauty almost ethereal to be described by words.
though you had known him for years,
you never looked at him with such conscious fears,
his exhaustion was evident to see,
the cuts on his shoulder, the wounds on his knee,
his chest held an elongated scar,
that reminded you of the one on his hand so far,
you tried to avert your eyes, but failed,
and let yourself sink back, blanket well-veiled.
a tattered poetry book, a relic of his father’s past,
that you gently reached for, its words meant to last,
the old paper, faded and so rough,
the letters, black ink, good enough.
all I loved, I loved alone,
the last words written, all unknown,
you knew not much about poetry or rhyme,
but the words cast a spell that stole your time.
staring out at the endless sea, counting sheep,
with tears in your eyes, you finally found some sleep.
stars die softly, he had once said with a sigh,
wishing people could do the same, quietly passing by.
but you wished no one would die and no death would ever come near,
not on nights like this, neither now nor here.
© 𝖫𝖠𝖭𝖠𝖲𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖮𝖣 2023 — please do not copy, modify, steal, or translate any of my works on any platform.
#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#neteyam x reader#neteyam imagine#neteyam x you#neteyam x female reader#neteyam#neteyam x omatikaya!reader#neteyam x na'vi!reader#neteyam sully#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam sully imagine#boyfriend neteyam#enemies to lovers#star-crossed lovers#sorrows for starboy series#neteyam x y/n#protective neteyam#cocky neteyam#avatar the way of water#avatar 2#avatar the way of water imagine#atwow neteyam imagine#neteyam x omaticaya!reader#atwow imagines#atwow x you#atwow x reader#atwow neteyam#adult neteyam#neteyam audio#neteyam asmr
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Hi - asking in good faith here, but I am also relatively new to active anti-racism (im white, grew up in all white areas, and didn't encounter anti racist perspectives until college). In the last few years I've done a LOT of reading about anti-black racism, black feminist theory, womanism, etc, and I'm beginning to understand why the bastardization and appropriation of aave is so harmful. I don't want to put my friends of color on the spot about this or make them feel pressured to answer a certain way, though, and I DO want an answer that's grounded in theory and thoughtfulness about these things (two traits my circle of 18-20 year olds sometimes lacks, understandably). I know that that might put a lot of pressure on you as well but please know that while I do respect your opinion, I know you're just one Black person with one opinion - and of course if an irl Black friend ever came to me and told me to stop I would.
My question is, if I am making sure to attribute it correctly as AAVE, being careful to make sure I'm using it appropriately, and of course listening in case I hear I've misused it - is it still harmful for me as a white person to use aave? Is it possible to use aave non-harmfully as a white person, among Black friends? Or would it be better for me to do my best to remove those words and phrases and grammatical structures from the way I speak entirely?
A lot of these things, I pick up FROM my friends, and they haven't, idk, made faces or suggested I should stop or anything like that. But of course it's hard to sort out what I pick up from my friends, what I pick up from Black literature (im a terrible parrot from my books unfortunately 😬), and what comes from the intern*t lol. So there's obviously the potential to misuse or disrespect aave, especially if I ever stop being thoughtful about what I say and where I first hear it. And while I have tried to read up on the appropriation of AAVE and develop my own opinion, this really does seem like one of those things where as a white person my opinion is always going to be a little out of touch - and I REALLY don't want to hurt and alienate my friends and accidentally advance racism in my community because I felt qualified to comment on this.
I don't know. I grew up in a very white enclave in a very white area of a very white state, and I AM trying to catch up and think critically about what I do say and think, but honestly, I am very new to these things. So if this is a dumb question or I am inadvertently ignorant/inappropriate, I'm really sorry about that and please know that I AM trying to do better. (And I will never say no to specific resource recommendations. I've read everything you usually read in an intro to Africana studies course lol but there is so much out there!!)
Thanks, either way. I appreciate you taking the time to read this extremely long winded ask lol. And I appreciate the way you blog about these things and how you make it clear where and from what you develop your opinions - that's super helpful!!!
-bee
Well as you said I am one person and I do not know you or talk to you really so I can't really say yes or no on your specific case. But also I would challenge you to ask yourself why you felt you needed the permission of a black stranger rather than actually sit down and talk to your friends about it.
I have said in other posts that it is less about needing to be black to speak AAVE and more about respect. I am all for cultural sharing and appreciation and I do not think that culture requires specifically only blood ties. I'm a mixed race person, after all, and one who has a quite large mixed race extended and found family. I think that blood is not the only thing that defines us.
But I also think that one must go into these sorts of conversations with respect. My white (passing) mother can understand my black family speaking AAVE, despite the fact that there was a single black kid in her neighborhood and school system when she grew up. This is because she treated my dad and his family with respect, and so they are comfortable speaking this way in front of her, and she is comfortable asking for clarification if she needs it, which is quite rare nowadays considering she's been married to my dad for 35 years and in a relationship with him for 42 and has thus had a lot of practice.
But she also doesn't use AAVE herself. To her, it would be disrespectful. She did not grow up in it. It is not her culture. It is shared with her due to proximity to said culture with her husband and father of her children. But for her, she chooses to continue to use the Pennsylvania Dutch-influenced dialect she grew up in, which is a very white Appalachian specific-to-Pennsylvania dialect and culture. I myself switch back and forth between the two, depending on who I'm talking to. Sometimes in the same conversation, if I'm talking to my mom vs my dad in the same room.
I don't think any of my black family would be offended if she did use AAVE, though again with her personality and the way she has approached this over the last several decades I think they'd be surprised if she suddenly did it like tomorrow or something. But she herself does not think it would be respectful of the culture, the dialect, or of her husband and inlaws for it to come out of her mouth. And I am sort of inclined to agree. Outside of a few slang words that have become so distant from their roots that it is difficult to say they are *purely* AAVE anymore, similar with many historically-Yiddish slang words, I do not personally think she could hold a conversation in AAVE and do it respectfully enough to not be offensive. It's just not really hers to do that with.
On the other hand, when I worked in a mostly-black store in an area that was significantly more black-populated, where I rarely had to code switch and mostly used AAVE all the timewith clients and customers, there were nonblack people who also used and understood AAVE. I had no problem with this, even with the white people doing it, because that was just how everyone in that area spoke. And, mot for nothing, but I found those white people to be as a general rule significantly less racist in their treatment of me and of other people of color, and racial mixing was significantly more common. Again, it's about respect. Even if it's not really a concious thing.
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Dracula! 🧛
[Click on the pictures for better resolution.]
After my previous experiment with wrap-around hinges, I kept thinking about how to secure the wrap so it remains shut when the book is closed. When I started reading Dracula, the solution was obvious: vampire fangs that “bite” into the front cover!
Since almost all diary entries, letters, newspaper articles and telegrams in Dracula start with a date, I decided to have some fun there and set the date in a way that matches the item: different handwriting fonts for different recurring characters, a telegram font and a newspaper font, a little waveform separator for Dr. Seward's phonograph diary, and—my favourite—Pitman's shorthand for Jonathan and Mina's diaries.
I've been reading Dracula via the Dracula Daily substack and wanted to be able to carry on doing this also in this different media format, so I added an index that tells me the pages that belong to each day, and also added the dates to the footer.
More typesetting/binding notes under the cut:
⁂
Typesetting
Set mainly in ETbb (11/14), which is based on Bembo. The various decorative fonts were much harder to find than you'd think—sooo many cursive handwriting fonts on the web, but most of them look very modern or have horrible kerning or entirely unnatural character transitions. Explaining how I created the stenography bits (over 70 distinct little "intros"!) would really warrant a post of its own, but the short version is that I spent some time reading up on Pitman's shorthand, then used a tool that can, more or less, convert English (or phonetically written English) into shorthand, then double-checked various words with the help of old dictionaries on the Internet Archive and edited the strokes to my liking.
(The appendix includes a brief introduction to Pitman's shorthand as well as a dictionary-of-sorts for the stenography bits that appear in the book.)
2. Binding the textblock
Until now, the books I've bound have always been slim enough for me to get away with square-back bindings without the books looking too wedge-shaped, but Dracula here is just over 500 pages, so I figured it'd look better with a rounded spine. (Since backing the spine is beyond my expertise and I also don't have the tools for that, I skipped that step, but I'd love to give it a try someday.) To get the spine into a shape I liked and to glue it, I used two clamps, two sheets of cardboard, and two sturdy old encyclopedias, like so:
Which worked pretty well.
I sewed two-colour (b&w) headbands, this time with 2-ply embroidery thread:
3. The case:
The main part of the case is a Bradel binding with a rounded spine. The inside of the front cover contains an extra layer of bookboard with triangular cut-out that are slightly larger than the fangs, and partially covered with some thin cardboard.
The white bookcloth unfortunately proved to be trickier to work with than I'd hoped: it's basically see-through (so I had to glue white paper to the outside of my black bookboard first) and smudges super easily.
If I do something like this again, I might consider making all of the front and back cover as thick as that fore-edge section of the front cover currently is, to make it look more even. Also, important lesson learned: even if everything fits together nicely when it's just bookboard and paper, adding bookcloth will make all the hinges much stiffer (I unfortunately had to redo the fore-edge hinges).
Cheers 🩸
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hi, what do you think about acosf az's extra chapter? i honestly thought it was ooc to az but at the same time, there wasn't much written about him so it could be considered in character, and there is also the thing that sjm doesn't read her late works and her editors also don't make their job properly, so... and on my case it affected my cheer for elriel, like, there are some ships that i simply don't have a preference, using acotar's exemple as that it the fandom this ask is about, i liked both elriel and elucien, didn't care which one would become canon, would read and write for both, yet after that chapter, it feels like meh... I am still mad at sjm for doing that
Personally, I think the rose necklace re-gifting thing was OOC, not anything before that. That was just plain stupid and crass, and I don't think Az was portrayed to be impulsive like that up till that moment. Cass, yes, but not Az--the guy who's deliberate with everything, including what he says.
Maybe it can be better explained in the next book (like Az was maybe lowkey hypnotized by Gwyn's singing, like his shadows, but even that is kinda lame tbh. Because that hasn't really happened to others), but him giving that necklace to Gwyn feels inauthentic. Like it was added by SJM just to create chaos in the readers' mind. It created quite the stir in the fandom, keeping it relevant through all the fandom drama and ship wars, so maybe that's why she did it. I personally find that to be in bad taste.
But what upset me more was Rhys' OOC behaviour. He had always maintained that Az and Cass were his brothers, and that he never pulled rank on them. But then he did exactly that to Az, and spoke to him in a manner that was not very brotherly. So... Rhys is a hypocrite then? What else has he lied about? It can't be excused simply because he was worried sick about Feyre.
Overall, I liked the part where he and Elain make their desire clear for each other, because that was what the previous books had been hinting at. It had been building up on slow burn.
Re Gwyn: SJM did something similar with Cass and Emerie too. Their intro meeting was done in a fashion where he was intrigued by her. And many readers assumed it to be romantic interest. Here also, Az is intrigued by Gwyn to some extent, but it's not even enough to call her a friend, let alone having romantic undertones.
So, yeah, this chapter left me feeling good in some places, but quite the opposite in others.
As for Elucien, it's pretty clear that Elain is super uncomfortable around him, and he's super awkward around her, and not in a cute way. So that's the end of it for me. I love Lucien, but I want him to be truly happy, to have the same spark he had with Jesminda with his life partner. He has none of it with Elain. So Elucien just doesn't make sense to me, but you can ship it all the same. (Anyone can ship anything, as long as they don't try to shove their ships down others' throats or claim the ship to be canon. That's the basic fandom etiquette.)
These are my thoughts on this issue.
#azriel bonus chapter#elriel#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#acotar#elain archeron#gwyneth berdara#lucien vanserra#a court of thorns and roses
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An Act of Grace
Author: @daysarestranger l Artist: @bienmoreau
Posting on Friday, November 3
On the morning after Broughton Hall’s annual summer fête, the body of a local Baron’s son was found on the grounds of the estate, as lifeless and cold as the morning was warm. Having spent the summer together, member of the household staff Edward Munson was the first to be suspected. As for the Baron’s son, perhaps there was more to him than the Baron would have society believe.
Decades later, Max Mayfield comes across the murder of Steven Harrington while researching topics for the second season of her hit true crime podcast. Along with her some-time engineer and full-time ex-boyfriend, Lucas, Max uncovers a story of two people that, entwined in secrecy and truths left unspoken, reaches out across history.
Keep reading for a sneak preview!
Complete Transcript for the Undone Podcast, Season Two: An Act of Grace
This transcript is based on the Undone podcast produced by Glad-Well House and Mayclair Productions. Original audio files can be found on www.undone-podcast.com, Spotify, and other podcast distribution sites.
Link
Episode 1
Title
The Past is a Foreign Country
Original Release Date
October 2nd 2023
[Intro music begins; fades]
MAYFIELD, NARRATING: ‘The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there.’ You know the quote, right? You might not know where it’s from, but you’ve heard of it. Heard people repeat it, with a shrug, lamenting the unfathomable manner in which us human beings used to behave, how we treated each other, what we used to believe. As if we, now—the enlightened—would never tolerate such things.
You and I know differently, of course.
[Door opening]
DUSTIN HENDERSON: Max, hi. Come in, come in.
MAYFIELD: Hey, Dustin, thanks. How you doing?
[Chairs scraping against the floor, a mug being set down on a table]
MAYFIELD: Oh, you’ve got a copy?
DUSTIN HENDERSON: ‘Course I do. A bunch. Everyone I know is getting one for Christmas.
MAYFIELD: You’ll be popular.
DUSTIN HENDERSON: [Snorting] Yeah.
[Pages turning]
DUSTIN HENDERSON: Here it is. [Clears throat] ‘I liked him, though. We all did … There was always something gentle about him.’ That’s nice, right? It’s what you’d want people to say about you.
MAYFIELD: Yeah. I guess you ’re right. That you were liked.
[Papers shuffling]
MAYFIELD, NARRATING: It’s the opening line to a novel. The quote, that is. A good one, actually. ‘The Go-Between’, written by L.P. Hartley in nineteen fifty-three. I’ve always liked the book, not for the opener, but for the way it portrays how the passage of time distorts things. How one event can happen early on in your life, and you can know with such certainty how it went down, only to look back on it ten, twenty, thirty years later and see something entirely different.
[Door hinges squeaking open]
MAYFIELD: You’ve left it in the attic?
DUSTIN HENDERSON: I thought you were coming tomorrow!
MAYFIELD: Don’t try to make it sound like I’m not organized, you’re the one who doesn’t know what day of the week it is.
[Boxes shifting, being dragged across the floor]
DUSTIN HENDERSON: It’s one of these, I made sure … You know, I was always having a go at Mum for being such a hoarder, but apparently she was onto something.
MAYFIELD: It’s the hoarders of this world that keep me in a job.
[Some grunting, more shifting]
MAYFIELD, NARRATING: The case I’ve been investigating for the past six months started in nineteen-twelve. Or, I suppose it started before that, but nineteen-twelve is when it really gets interesting.
The same year that Captain Scott and his expedition were beaten to the South Pole, all of them perishing on the return journey. The year that the Titanic struck an ice-berg in the middle of the Atlantic and sank, killing fifteen-hundred people. And the same year W.C. Handy published ‘Memphis Blues’, which went down in history as the first ever blues song.
On June ninth, nineteen-twelve, after the small village of Deeping Saint David’s annual summer festival, the son of the local Baron dies in the grounds of the family’s estate.
Steven Harrington’s body is discovered not long afterwards, and he is pronounced dead by a local doctor. His parents, Lord and Lady Avondale, immediately suspect foul play. The police are brought in to investigate and an arrest is made. Even with a cast of potential ne'er-do-wells, there was only ever one suspect pursued.
[Footsteps, something heavy being set on the ground]
DUSTIN HENDERSON: Let me give it a wipe.
[Blowing breath]
MAYFIELD: You got it? Oh, yeah, you’re right. I can’t believe the paintwork is still so good. It must be a hundred years’ old.
DUSTIN HENDERSON: One hundred and eleven years, three months and sixteen days. The date was written on the back.
MAYFIELD: [Whistle] It’s good, though. It looks just like the picture I saw.
DUSTIN HENDERSON: I said it did! That’s an aristocratic jawline if ever I saw one.
MAYFIELD: He was honorable. Like, officially.
DUSTIN HENDERSON: The Honorable Mister Steven Harrington. Does kind of have a ring to it I suppose.
MAYFIELD: Yeah. Handsome bastard.
[Laughter]
MAYFIELD, NARRATING: Six months ago, I hadn’t heard of Steven Harrington, or Eddie Munson. I didn’t have any reason to, to be fair. It’s not a particularly well-known case, even locally. There are a handful of books that cover the key points in the local library, a few of the volunteers at the Harringtons’ ancestral home—now a bustling attraction for weekenders and families alike—know the reported account. Even fewer question it. Because why would they? Edward Munson was a thief who stole from the estate, killed Harrington when he was interrupted, and made off with the money. He was found by police the next morning, arrested, and made a full confession.
A straight-forward case, all tied up in a neat bow. What is there to question?
[Two sets of footsteps walking on gravel]
MAYFIELD: Have you visited yet?
DUSTIN HENDERSON: Broughton? No, not yet. Mum’s talked about going, but they want to make it a group thing, so, organizing, you know.
MAYFIELD: You sound dubious.
DUSTIN HENDERSON: No. Not for me. I don’t know what she’ll make of it, though. What if it just bums her out?
MAYFIELD: It won’t. I don’t think it will, at least. I think it’ll be cathartic. Enlightening.
DUSTIN HENDERSON: Well, you would say that. You’ve got a podcast to sell.
MAYFIELD: Hey!
[The thud of an object hitting its target]
DUSTIN HENDERSON: Ow!
[Outro music begins]
MAYFIELD, NARRATING: Except the money is never found. Except the precise cause of Steven Harrington’s death is shrouded in mystery. Except, for such a high-profile victim, the story is buried in the back pages of the local newspapers.
It’s almost as if someone were trying to hide something. And nobody seems to have found that odd.
Until now.
[Music swells]
MAYFIELD, NARRATING: From Glad-Well House and Mayclair Productions, this is Undone, season two, An Act of Grace. I’m Max Mayfield. Let’s get into it.
[Music swells; fades]
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The introduction story to the 1989 Thomas annual
I never really paid that much attention to the annual introductions until now.
The 1989 TTTE & Friends book has this cute little story at the start of it, and I had to share it because I just liked the interactions between Christopher Awdry and Gordon that much.
---
The intro is just a short story.
Christopher visits Sodor to show off the 'newest' annual he's been working on to the engines.
Gordon has quite a bit to say about the matter and complains about how the mainline engines have seemingly been getting shafted these past few annuals.
Always the bridesmaid, never the bride with branchline engines like Thomas always getting the spotlight.
Well this year its different and Gordon has been given the job of introducing this years book.
Hopefully Gordon doesn't mind about the subject matter.
Below is the full intro, i've typed it up because a photo/scan would be really annoying to read.
1989 annual intro:
Hello!
A few weeks ago, I went to visit Sodor.
The Fat Controller agreed with my request, but as I approached the engine shed I heard raised voices from inside.
The voices sounded as if they were arguing.
"....it's disgusting," said a voice which could only have been Gordon's.
"There have been five Annuals now, and they've all been introduced by one of the Branch Line engines - Thomas, Toby or somebody.
Branch lines are all very well in their way," the voice went on, "and I'm not saying that you get a junior engine, but..."
At that point I opened the door. The voices died away. "Good morning." I said. "I presume, in that case, that you wouldn't wish to mix with such engines in introducing the next Annual, would you?" The silence grew longer.
"Er..." began Henry at last. "But..." said James. "Well, you see ..." rumbled Gordon. I waited, hoping for more, but they said nothing.
"The Fat Controller," I announced, "has sent me to ask if Gordon would like to do the introduction for this year's Annual, but since he seems to have such strong views about the other ones, perhaps...
"No, no, not at all," interrupted Gordon hurriedly. "I'd be delighted." Henry and James exchanged winks, and I tried hard not to smile.
"What's it about this year?" Gordon added.
"There's quite a lot about trucks," I said.
"Trucks!" exclaimed Gordon indignantly.
"I mean, trucks," he went on more quietly, no doubt afraid that I might change my mind and ask somebody else. "Er... got the stories there, have you?"
I handed them over. There was silence for a while.
After a little, Gordon chuckled. "Old Square Wheels," he murmured with a reminiscent smile.
"What's that?" asked Henry suspiciously.
"Oh, nothing," said Gordon, and went on reading.
Leaving the stories, I crept quietly away. Gordon seemed to be enjoying them - turn the page, and I'm sure you will to. There's also pictures of all your favourite engines and plenty of puzzles too!
#I wanted to share the intro story for the annual book because I just thought it was neat#I liked this very small thing#Christopher Awdry can handle Gordon#ttte books#the annual is interesting in that it features a sort of prequel story to Duck and the diesel engine
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Do you have any hc about Damon's season 1 powers? I'm especially interested in shapeshifter!damon. The whole concept is quite fun to imagine. Also why do you think he has these extra powers? Personally after the whole lily thing I like to imagine that Damon is an untrained heretic. Also a scenario where hos powers would be revealed to scooby gang and/or the mikaelsons.
okay, okay so. Prepare for a short essay. (Sorry)
Intro!! So, in the Vampire Diaries books, vampires have Powers (capital letter and all) that feature things like weather manipulation, shapeshifting, flying, elemental control, telepathy, I think they can see auras or sense other vampire's Power. The books and the show are only like barely related. A lot was changed to make the show. (The Salvatores' ages, for one--they'd been Renaissance era men who'd killed each other in a duel over, you guessed it, Katherine. A ton of characters had personality changes (show Bonnie is better, imo), and book Caroline was an antagonist, plus Jeremy straight up didn't exist, Elena had a v young sister. So on, so forth, everything ended up super different.)
The show started off a (teeny) bit closer to the source material, but sharply diverged, including getting rid of the Powers thing. Something about it being too supernatural???? in the vampire show??? idk might have to fact check me on that one think I read it somewhere random.
But, as we know, it's heavily implied, and outright stated in some cases in early S1 that Show!Damon has access to some kind of power. Controlling the weather, controlling animals (perhaps shapeshifting, but maybe just a connection), and a long distance kind of hypnosis.
What we know about it:
In episode 1, a crow is seen following Elena around. It shows up multiple times. In the car with Bonnie, at the graveyard, when she goes to the Salvatore House for the first time. The crow heralds Damon's reappearance to his brother. Stefan says, "Crow's a bit much-" which implies this is a Thing that he knows about. Damon replies, "Wait until you see what I can do with fog."
The very first scene Damon is in, the opening with the couple on the way back from some concert (i think) it's foggy. They mention something about it that implies it shouldn't be foggy, or that it wasn't previously. Like, "What's with all the fog?" At the graveyard, Elena sees a crow, then it starts becoming much more foggy.
Bonnie, at some point, touches Elena and says she sees a crow, some fog, and a man.
It's foggy when Vicki is attacked.
So. We've established those two things. Moving on.
There's that one scene where Damon is locked up and long distance compels Caroline to free him--i think after calling the crow into his cell and eating it to gain that strength? maybe--it's heavily implied because he fed on her they have a connection he can use to influence her mind without direct compulsion.
I'm sure there's other examples, but I can only watch so much of S1 at a time.
OKAY!! now that that's been established, time for the fun headcanon stuff.
Firstly, I also love shapeshifting!Damon! Tis good fun and it lets me project gender envy i mean it's a great metaphor about vampires being inhuman!! Yes! That! Nothing else ahahahahaha. Something something, predator's perspective, something something instincts. In the book Damon could turn into a large crow and a wolf. Highkey wish they'd kept the crow thing as more than just the occasional motif. It could have been so much fun!! Crow minions!!! Crow friends!!!! Crows bothering the fuck out of people he wants to annoy!!!!! Damon trades shinies and food for things!! Somehow always has a snack on him. Crow drama??? Just casually mentions weird lil bird rivalries. Crows are Smart! They are super social!!! They hold grudges!! They absolutely have Drama on par with Mystic Falls. It could also be played for angst; Katherine announces her return with with a bunch of bird corpses in the Boarding House. Damon, who is unsympathetic to human deaths could be visibly upset by this!! Also nicely plays into the 'likes animals but pretends he doesn't bc it's a weakness' thing.
Comes home and there is feathers in his hair, nearly blending in. Except, on closer look, they're positioned oddly, like they'd been growing from him instead of just settling there. Then he brushes them off or shakes his head and they fall away. Maybe Stefan notices he's a bit more prone to tilting his head at things to get a better looks. Is a bit more easily distracted/more prone to notice shiny things.
A crow follows Elena around and maybe she makes friends with it. Or a crow comes across Stefan having some angst fest in the forest and bothers him into a better mood.
I like the heretic thing!!! I also just think the Salvatore bloodline is magic charged bc it's a doppelganger line!! They've got Silas germs!! Maybe Damon is a little bit more psychic than he should be. Maybe his compulsions require less effort and his dream-walking is better than vampires twice his age!!! Mild telekinesis would also fit in with early S1 nonsense! moving doors to creep Elena out!
As for his powers being revealed... I mean. Suddenly he's more valuable to the Originals? Not as much as Elena was, but there would prob be more recruitment efforts than in canon. Plus, Kol would be more interested in him as more than a batting target. Klaus and Elijah may press the 'saved ur life thing' more. Hm... I guess it would depend on when in the show? Early seasons and it just makes him more a threat. Stefan maybe assuming he did something to a witch??? Later in the seasons and if he develops those powers it's fun to imagine him having to learn to use/control them + having to deal with increased need for blood to fuel them. If it was a matter of him keeping them secret, I'm sure the Drama will manifest with 'how could you not tell me!!' and so on and so forth. Technically speaking, I imagine it'd be put in the same place as Jeremy's medium powers. Brought up when needed. not entirely sure, may think on it later
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Okay, since it has come to my attention that it has been 10 years of Lockwood and Co., (Thank you @wellgoslowly) I want to talk about the effect Lockwood & Co. has had on me.
I did not find Lockwood & Co. until a few months after the show’s release, but that did not stop me from quickly becoming obsessed with this world. Well. Obsessed conjures up a more negative image.
I fell in love with Lockwood & Co.
Very quickly, I found that 35 Portland Row would bring a sense of home that my house, no matter how full, could not generate. Every little detail was perfect, and I can not honestly tell you of a more homey house. I want to live, if not in the world of Lockwood & Co., then at least in their house. The little things in 35 Portland Row brought the house to life. The house itself had so much character, there was a feeling that it was not just lived in but lived in, you know? It felt like our characters weren’t just on a set, or in a museum, but a place where they could relax and just be kids in a world where that wasn’t allowed.
Now, the only thing better than living in a home like 35 Portland Row, in my opinion, would be to have people like our Iron Trio. Everything, and I mean everything, about Lockwood & Co. makes me feel a bigger sense of belonging, just being a reader, than I feel in my own life. But I’ll talk about that later. What I want to talk about now is Lockwood, Lucy, and George.
Each of them are perfect, beautifully flawed, and human. I work so hard at being a “perfect” person that seeing these people be flawed and broken, and be accepted, not despite of, but regardless? Seeing these teenagers mess up, ruin something (admittedly to a much larger scale than mine) but still have friends to turn to? It felt like a wake up call. A reminder that I don’t have to be some society-defined standard for what is “normal” or “perfect”. More than anything, the Iron Trio more or less looked me in the eye and told me that I can be myself, and my true friends, my true family, will accept me for me.
I see a bit of myself in each of the Iron Trio. I have Lucy’s insecurity, her anger. I have Lockwood’s need to win, because who will pick up the pieces for me if I fail? I have George’s social awkwardness, his tendency to prefer books over people. That might be why these characters are so beloved. Whether it be their strengths or their weaknesses, almost everyone can find something to relate to in them.
I think Netflix did an amazing job with the Lockwood & Co. adaptation. I am not saying that because I found the show first. I have read the books as well. The casting is top-tier, especially for our beloved Iron Trio. But it’s not just the actors I am praising here, although they deserve all the praise in the world and more. Everyone behind the scenes, from the big names in the intro to the assistant to the assistant of somebody, made this masterpiece of a book-to-screen adaptation possible. From the bottom of my heart, thank you to all involved in the slightest in the transition from beloved book to screen.
Back to what I was saying earlier, I genuinely feel like I belong more in Lockwood & Co. than in my own life. I’m not saying “I’m too good for this world” or “I hate my life” or anything like that. Maybe it’s not that I belong more in Lockwood & Co. but that I want to belong in something like Lockwood & Co. I want the found family. I want the people who care for me, not because they’re supposed to, but because they chose to. Reading from Lucy’s perspective, it is evident that Lucy feels as if she belongs, thus bringing the reader (at least in my case) along with her. Watching the show, I think Ruby, Cameron, and Ali did a phenomenal job of portraying this. This little family at 35 Portland Row will always be in my heart, getting me through even more than they already have.
To end this rant, I just want to say thank you. Thank you to Jonathan Stroud, for creating Lockwood & Co. and all that it has brought along with it. Thank you to Joe Cornish, for putting his all into the Lockwood & Co. tv show. Thank you to Ruby Stokes, Cameron Chapman, and Ali Hadji-Heshmati. All the actors were amazing, but these three truly brought the Iron Trio to life on screen in the best way possible. And thank you to everyone in between, who I didn’t name, but who were a part nonetheless in giving us this wonderful, wonderful world, Lockwood & Co. Thank you, thank you, thank you all for giving me, for giving us, a world to fall in love with. ❤️
#Soooooo that was a little longer than I intended#I didn’t mean to start rambling but#I’m still so mad about the show being canceled#It’s not right#lockwood and co#lockwood & co#happy 10 years lockwood & co#anthony lockwood#lucy carlyle#george cubbins#george karim#locklyle#cameron chapman#ruby stokes#ali hadji heshmati#joe cornish#jonathan stroud#fuck netflix
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Let's reintroduce myself....
Since I haven't used this blog in 4 years, I thought I'd put together a writeblr intro to pin on my page!
The basics about me:
Name: Jamie/Jam
Age: 25
Pronouns: she/her
Aroace
Taiwanese American
I'm a:
Writer
Artist
Kpop & music enthusiast
I've been a sci-fi/fantasy reader and writer for most of my life, but have recently developed an interest in contemporary fiction (Emily Henry's People We Meet on Vacation literally changed my life). I'm more than happy to read anything as long as it catches my interest &/or involves some of my favorite tropes: found family, sibling reconciliation, redemption arcs, and corruption arcs.
Current WIP: The Composition of Us (TCOU/Tea Cow)
UPDATE: I'm currently looking for beta readers for this book!! Please check out this form if you're interested.
I almost exclusively refer to this project as tea cow because I'm a dumbass who likes amusing herself haha. It's a story very close to my heart that uses the building blocks of a traditional romance to explore asexuality, aromanticism, friendship, family, and chronic illness. More under the cut~
I remember writeblr being a wonderful, tight-knit, and supportive community 4 years ago, and I'm glad to see that this still seems to be the case. Looking forward to supporting other writers and making new friends!!
More about The Composition of Us (TCOU/Tea Cow)
Ruby Wang is a career woman determined to keep her work first priority. However, after a particularly bad bout of dizziness, she loses her job and begrudgingly returns to her hometown, only to find herself pulled into the messy love life of her childhood best friend. The Composition of Us uses the building blocks of a traditional romance to explore aromantic & asexual identity, friendship, family, and chronic illness.
Includes:
A non-love rectangle
Asian Parents™
Musicians and lots of music talk
Childhood friendship !!!!
A blond British himbo
The most indecisive nepotism baby to ever live
Why this story?
Over the last 2 years, I've been suffering from intermittent bouts of dizziness and head pressure. Recently, I finally got my diagnosis of vestibular migraine, which has been a relief and given me a lot of clarity. Nonetheless, the harrowing experience of not knowing what was wrong with me and feeling like this long-unexplainable something was ruining every part of my life caused me to start creating stories about it to make it more manageable.
TCOU was originally my response to a friend's challenge to write a contemporary story. I've never written anything contemporary other than fics before, so I thought it would be an exciting project to get me out of my comfort zone. The concept started out as an aroace, chronically ill Pride & Prejudice, but has evolved into something very different. I now think of it as more of a general romance for non-romantics. It's a story about aro and ace people getting to star in their own romance. It's about a chronically ill heroine learning to love herself. It's about people using (but not totally adhering) to societal constraints in order to claw their way to their happy endings.
If you'd like to stay updated on tea cow, let me know and I can set up a tag list! Plus, I'm always open to questions if you have any lmao
#writeblr#writeblr intro#writers of tumblr#writing#creative writing#jamie speaks#wip: tea cow#tea cow
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It's that time again! Tell me about some of your favorite blogs, why they are your favorite, and tag them to fill the dashboard with positivity and love!
a selection of some of my faves in no particular order, of course 💌
@heroesbyler — my wife, my dearest, and my mike. one of my first friends in this fandom and someone that i trust so much i'd give her my social security number if she asked. stav is super intelligent (in so many ways), kind, funny, thoughtful, brave, and observant. her analyses punch me in the tit and kill me dead. she speaks clearly and with conviction. she stays true to her beliefs and doesn't say or do things just to appease the masses, which is, for whatever reason, a rarity in this fandom. a lovely person inside and out, really and truly—her kindness and empathy blows me away, and makes my heart feel all fuzzy. my mom's a big fan based on what i've told her dfjdshb. a great blog to follow if you want to take a deeper look at the characters on our screens, not just will and mike, and how all of the themes, messages, and journeys in this show reinforce each other. also if you like to laugh. :')
@miwism — mal is the most creative person i've had the honor of meeting in this fandom. super kind, super funny, and super inventive. one of the very few people that have managed to make me laugh out loud—and not just once, but repeatedly. so many posts that i'll randomly remember months later and bust out into giggles over. best fics, best art, best posts, best ideas, and best additions to your posts, too. seriously, mal, i've secretly wondered if you've ever done improv before because your ability to take an idea and expand on it is just that great. i love them, i want to hug them, and if they asked me to drop everything on a thursday to go to publix with them, i would. idec if it'd take me hours to get there, i Would and it'd be worth it. 💚
@wiseatom — just thinking about her fics makes me tear up on the spot. i've cried after reading her work multiple times, even on rereads, because a) they were so good that i felt devastated that it was over, and b) i would never experience that magical First Time Reading feeling again. thea's just overall talented out the fucking wazoo—like, it's actually insane. she's a talented writer, a talented artist, a true creative, so eloquent, so charming, and such a delight. i could never meet her irl and keep my composure because i would just be on my fan behavior without a way to turn it off. she'd try to talk to me and i'd just be staring at her dreamily like this: 😍🥹😊🥰💕.
@sayyourprayers — if nobody got me, i know they got me. 🫂 even when i think i'm being sneaky, they still know exactly what i'm talking about, which i am choosing to believe is a part of our superior warriors bond as well as them being very smart, and not just me being as easy to read as a toddler book. they're very funny and very straightforward. no bullshit whatsoever. i always read their tags and replies, and find them to be really insightful and witty. they're another individual that has their own beliefs and interpretations and doesn't change them based on what's currently popular or not. i like that, because i personally hate when shit starts sounding like an echo chamber. overall, i just really love their blog! i always, always tune in to see what they have to say and i find myself smiling whenever i see them in my notes.
@googoogagaeyes — doozy's another real one. she describes herself in her intro post as a lover and a hater and i couldn't agree more (in the best way possible, of course). i think she has a very text-focused and holistic way of tackling the show: she talks about the good, the bad, and the neutral, which i find to be refreshing and desperately needed. i always read everything she writes, whether it's in the tags or in the post itself, and either learn something, laugh, or, as is usually the case, do both. speaking of which, her analyses are always to the point and written in such a way that the reader feels respected. she doesn't drone on or fluff it up, which i appreciate. super eloquent, intelligent, and funny. very much a necessary follow if you enjoy this show and excellent commentary tbh.
@alastyearonearth — alfreddddd ✋🥺 (<- me putting my hand on the screen like the wives of soldiers at war do in dramatic movies)....... oh, alfred. if there's anyone i'm normal about, it's him 👍 (lies) (biggest lie i've ever told in my life actually) (my pants are currently on fire right now) (🚒🧯👨🚒 <- they're here to put me out). i feel like my feelings for him and his blog can be summed up by the fact that when i realized we both went on vacation at around the same time, i was ecstatic because that meant i wouldn't miss his posts. bdfhjbsdkj. he's one of the biggest brains and most generally knowledgeable people here, and it rocks my world every time he says anything. he has an appreciation for canon and the real people whose stories are represented within it that this fandom sorely, and ironically, lacks. also, while i'm on my fan behavior right now, allow me to admit that i would go through his blog sometimes for months before i finally put on my big kid pants and followed him. i'm very much not beating the parasocial allegations and tbh i think it's understandable bc Hello !!!! look at him!!!! (gesticulates wildly in his and his posts' direction). 10/10 would ruin my sleep schedule for him, submit myself to the torture of a 24hr flight for him, go on a museum marathon together, and slather myself in superglue right before hugging him so that we're stuck together forever afterward. necessary follow for anyone that likes to not get pissed off when they log on and enjoys canon, esp will. alfred please can we hang out please alfred whenever you're free please if you'd like to hang out can we please hang out when you are free ple—
@motherthroat — you know that andrew garfield "(you didn't know me at thirteen) i really wish i had" quote? it applies here, because i so wish i'd met him last summer. liking canon will, mike, and byler used to be so lonely and frustrating, but now it isn't anymore and that's largely because of him. if you haven't caught on by now, i like following people that are very frank, and mori's no different. he's not afraid to be bold either. i love his art, his AUs, and his takes. he's funny, treats you the way you treat him, and has a great eye for aesthetics. well. a great eye in general, i think. not to get #deep (or repetitive), but i think he sees more than he lets on, and it really comes out in his art, his headcanons, his interpretations, and the way that he speaks to people. he remembers things and really ponders them. there's a kind of carefulness there that i admire as someone with as much grace as a bull in a china shop. just a cool cat, really.
@cosmobrain00 — MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAX! (screamed the same way that will screamed for mike on halloween night). they're literally so talented that it's not even funny anymore. like, their writing is next level and the fact that we can read it for free (wtf!!!!) feels like a crime. their art is so pleasing to look at and i love their style so much. their thoughts on this show and these characters are superb, too. so passionate, so kind, and so loving—and it shows in everything they do. it's always a good time whenever they decide to share their two cents and spit some divine wisdom on us plebs, so i definitely recommend everyone check them and their content out!
@drangues — arush is literally [starts snarling and hissing and snapping and howling at the moon and other cuteness aggression-related things]. sorry, i meant to say he's so bhjfbkdsjhfbdks grrrrrrrr bark bark bark awooooooooo. just unbelievable. unreal. the blueprint. he's my cousin and my friend and my son and my stinkie squishie and also my greatest enemy and bully (he's only consented to two of these, but they're still true). seriously... arush is SO funny. his headcanons are wonderful and #real, his artwork is insanely good and creative and colorful, he's so sweet and silly, and thoughtful and merciful, too. just !!!!!! squishing his face in all ways except physical right now. if you're not following arush drangues then you deserve to get sent straight to the scorpion pit, i feel.
@givehimthemedicine — effortlessly hilarious, kind, bright, and oh so talented in a variety of ways, both creatively and intellectually. and they have the nerve to make it look easy!! like wtf!!! they're also the most likely to drop the most insane observations ever and act like they didn't just change the trajectory of your life forever. pure insanity, i say. they're my favorite blog outside of the byIer bubble and their el's first haunted house post is easily in my top three and i still giggle over it.
@mikeandwillel — when sandy speaks, i listen and take notes. simple as that. a true mike understander and knower. she's posted wonderful analyses on many topics, all of which are super concise, text-based, and show a thorough understanding of storytelling. i love hearing her thoughts on this show and her interpretation of things. i'm especially excited to see what she thinks once we start getting s5 crumbs! oh, and she also posts great edits! :D
@aemiron-main — if loving em is wrong, then i don't wanna be right. if it becomes illegal tomorrow, then call me el because my ass is going to jail asap. he's one of the kindest, funniest, most genuine people on this website. he's always open to discuss things, look at them from a different angle, and share his knowledge. i can't even say that he treats people the way they treat him, because he treats them a lot better. if anything, he's extremely merciful and forgiving lol. he has a wealth of knowledge on a multitude of subjects, an extremely keen eye, and seemingly endless creativity / an open mind. literally a modern day sherlock, but much cooler. also very resilient and tough. and an outstanding artist, too! (what can't he do, sheeeesh!). he's written analyses on what feels like everything about the show at this point, so i'd definitely recommend going through those if you haven't already.
#asks#long post#five years later 🫶#which is to say two entire months later. i am so prompt and punctual and good at replying to things in a timely fashion !#no read more bc i'm giving u guys a thumb work out n u should be thanking me for tht . btw.
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“I’ve always been a smart girl...
Always made the grade -- always got the gold star --
I’ve always been a smart girl,
But ‘smart girl’ only gets a girl so far...
You win at every single game...
You want a quest -- they tell you, ‘tough!’
If you don't go, you'll never know
If you’ll ever be good enough...”
~“My Grand Plan” from The Lightning Thief (musical)
x~x~x~x
Hey all! I thought I’d go ahead and draw up a proper concept for my HPMA girl Anastasia “Ana” Read, since quite frankly I never envisioned her as skinny, short, or talkative as MC in the game is. The lack of body diversity in the MC’s models in particular, or even among MC’s friends, is actually one of my biggest hang-ups with all of the recent Hogwarts games...as much as I understand up to a point thinking it’d be difficult to program a lot of different outfits or animations for different size models, it’s still a little sad to me how the player character is always programmed to be skinny, and in Magic Awakened in particular, that favoring of skinny character designs is only accented all the more thanks to the quasi-Tim-Burton-esque animation style, which favors toothpick-thin necks and limbs. It’s one of the few aspects of poor representation in Rowling’s original books that I would argue these recent games haven’t tried as hard to address -- we’ve seen attempts at more LGBT+ representation, as well as more positive representation for different cultural backgrounds and disabilities (especially in Hogwarts Mystery), but not as much in regards to rounder body types. And I guess for me, being raised by a woman who struggled with her weight her entire life, that’s a little sad. Regardless, it was nice to draw Ana again after such a long time, particularly using the original game’s model as a kick-off point!
If you’d like to learn more about my “Strong But Silent,” daydreamer, Sailor-Moon-loving girl Ana, here’s a masterpost of links to get you started!! Enclosed under the cut is the original unedited sketch, embellished with some extra messy chibi doodles of Ana I did on the same page, in case you’re interested!
Ana’s Moodboard
Ana’s Intro Post and Model Sheet
Ana’s Playlist
Meet Ana’s awesome step-dad, Bradley!
See Ana’s dynamic with her stepdad and stepbrothers!
Bradley’s Moodboard
Preston’s Moodboard
Jasper’s Moodboard
Why Bradley is the best dad ever
The first doodle is kind of based on that first pair of duels with the Frey twins and Cassandra Vole in the game. As I discussed with my friend @dat-silvers-girl, I see Ana being suuuuper quiet the entire time, to the point that everyone thinks she’s really shy or nervous, until she -- seemingly out of nowhere -- uses Wingardium Leviosa to levitate poor Colby a good five feet off the ground and then abruptly drop him, effectively putting an end to the duel before it even got started. (As it turned out, Ana was really inspired by Flitwick’s story about Ron Weasley using the spell on that mountain troll to protect his friends and worked super hard to master the spell herself, with the thought that maybe she could do something that cool someday. It ends up becoming one of Ana’s favorite spells to duel with, though she usually uses it to levitate herself over her opponents to give herself the literal “high ground.”) Ana accepted Cassandra’s invitation to the Dueling Club, as well as challenges Cassandra on the dueling field several more times over the years, out of her strong sense of honor, which is funnily enough rather akin a knight’s -- Ana will never back down from a challenge, and if her loved ones or her view of common decency have been insulted, she will absolutely ask to “take it outside” and fight the dispute out on the dueling field, rather than insult the person back, ignore them, or actively lose her temper and attack them straight out.
The second doodle is Ana in class, a good chunk of the time. Ana isn’t actually that shy, nor is she stuck-up, but she’s much better at writing eloquent essays than coming up with witty phrases or sassy one-liners on a whim. And because of how incredibly sensitive she secretly is (and the bullying she experienced for both her magic and her weight), she’s actually kind of hard to get to know, preferring the company of her fiction books to lots of people. She’s honestly a true “Belle” type, if one thinks of Beauty and the Beast, despite being in the house of Lions.
The last doodle is of Ana with Daniel Page, because, amazingly, these two are on the exact same wave length when it comes to the Statute of Secrecy, though for very different reasons! Ana’s stepfather, Bradley Pinkstone, is a pro-Muggle and Squib rights activist who passionately believes that the Wizarding World should find a way to work alongside the Muggle World, to the extent that the Statute of Secrecy isn’t necessary -- he and his sons even work in a theater alongside Muggles everyday, embracing Muggle technology just as much as they do magic! With Ana being Muggle-born herself, she’s likewise very supportive of the thought that if the two worlds knew more about each other, other little magical kids wouldn’t have to grow up feeling like freaks and outcasts the way she did. That doesn’t mean that Ana would ultimately agree with NOTME’s tactics, though -- she thinks there’s a very big difference between protesting against an unjust law and causing abject terror and chaos. (I personally see Daniel as more of a Ravenclaw/Slytherin type than a Gryffindor type myself, but that’s just my headcanon.)
#hpma#magic awakened#anastasia read#my art#about anastasia#daniel page#cassandra vole#colby frey#fischer frey#bradley pinkstone
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Popcorn and Pretzels
Pairing; Alex Law, reader
Warnings; Alex in and of himself. cursing, suggestive themes, a massive amount of fluff.
Word Count; 1.1k
Summary; Alex Law and horror movies don’t mix, good thing he has you to hide behind.
OR
Rainy days and Alex Law, watching a horror movie and refusing that he was the one that was scared.
THIS IS NOT EDITED
If there was one thing you loved about the spring weather, it was the rain. It gave you the excuse of staying inside and finding a nice book to read, or to snuggle up with the love of your life and catch up on what was going on at work, funny stories, and to share the much needed kisses he says he has to give you.
You don’t know what compelled Alex to suggest a horror movie marathon. You knew Juliet had a small collection in her room, sometimes bringing them out when our whole group would get together for a movie night on a random Friday of the month. You and Alex would always end up leaving the living room early, not even half-way through the movie, to go and snuggle up in his room under the moonlight.
He suggested it while laying on his side, propping his head up on his hand while tracing random shapes onto your thighs, the bottom of his shirt riding up to show your underwear. His fingers would trace up the skin of your thighs, over your waist and up your arms, before dancing lightly across your cheeks and back down. The curtains were open behind him, the gloomy light shining onto his skin, through his hair, giving him a glow nobody else would see but you.
It took a moment for you and Alex to finally get out of bed, and while David and Juliet were out at work, for most likely the entire day, you and Alex decided to move every blanket from every closet, and every bedroom, onto the living room couch in front of the small box TV. You gave him the task of moving the TV closer while you popped the popcorn, waiting in front of the stove with your arms crossed. When it was done, you made sure to leave a little room on the side to pour in Alex’s chocolate covered pretzels.
You refused to let him go into Juliets room to grab the small collection of horror movies, not knowing if the woman had personal things laying about. While with Alex, you learned that if you didn’t have everything either personal or slightly embarrassing put away, he would always bring it up at the worst times.
After sliding the VHS tape into the player, you hurried to join him on the couch before the movie started, not wanting to miss the intro credits in case something was shown or mentioned that would be important later. His comforter was front and center, wrapping around the both of you and consuming you in a warm cocoon while the rain pounded against the windows.
When bringing up the fact that he’s never wanted to watch a horror movie with you, always deflecting to a rom-com or straight comedy, Alex told you that he only thought to this so he had an excuse to cuddle you when you got scared. But you loved horror movies, you grew up on them. Sure, sometimes a really well timed jump-scare will make your body jolt, but it was a good jolt, the type that has you coming back for more. Alex was the one who hid behind the blankets, or through his fingers. Sometimes, he would place you onto his lap so he could hide behind your body, curl himself around you and find distraction in placing random kisses across your skin.
With the curtains drawn, and every light in the flat off, the bowl of popcorn and pretzels forgotten, sitting on the floor at the base of your feet, you continuously ran your fingers through his hair, trying to comfort his tense form as the movie continued to get more dark and scary.
“Who chose this fucking movie?” He hisses, stuffing his face into your neck when the music ramps up, high pitched violins and flutes.
“You did, Alex,” you smile, glancing down at him. His eyes are clenched shut, and his hands grip at the fabric of your shirt. “It’s almost over.”
“I highly doubt that, feels like we just started.”
You cant help the small chuckle that bubbles from you, running your fingers through his hair once more, stopping at the base of his neck. The thick comforter was bunched around his shoulders, perfectly hiding his form if someone were to enter the room. Laying between your legs, face either stuffed in your neck, or in your chest.
“Remind me to never pick a horror movie ever again.”
“Aw,” You coo, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to sway side to side, “then who’ll protect me from the scary monsters?”
“Your guardian-fucking-angel,” He nuzzles his face deeper into your chest, voice muffled against your skin.
By the time the movie reaches its climax, multiple jump-scares happening seconds apart, Alex threw in his imaginary towel, fully covering his face with the comforter and hiding his face. Laughing, you try and remove the shield, to watch his eyes clench shut and his eyebrows furrow. He doesn’t let you, lightly slapping your hands away and trying to argue that it was warm and safe and away from those fucking demons you worship so much.
“Alex, come on!” You laugh, trying once more to pull the blanket away. Yelling, he slaps your hands away and further wraps the blanket around himself, only showing a lump of his body.
“No! Stephen King and his fucked-up mind can go to hell!” he says, tightening his grip on your waist, “who the fuck thinks of this kind of stuff?!”
“A great writer, my love.”
“No-” he seethes, “only someone with a therapy needing mindset thinks of this shit.”
When the end credits roll, he finally removes the blanket from his face, sitting up fully with a pout. He moves to the corner, crossing his arms while furrowing his eyebrows. You knew he would do this, pout until the embarrassment of being scared passed.
“Baby,” you coo, laughing under your breath. Grumbling, he looks to the TV, ignoring you fully. You manage to unravel his arms, sliding onto his lap with both bare legs straddling his thighs, squishing his face between your hands.
“Did my baby get scared?” You coo again, leaning forwards to leave a soft kiss on his nose. He whines, slapping your hands away and dropping his head back against the arm of the couch. Hands lazily dropping to the tops of your thighs.
Leaning down, you place light kisses up his neck, across his jaw, and finally to the tip of his nose. His lips slowly flickering up into a soft smile.
“We’re never watching a horror movie again,” he says, hands disappearing under the fabric of your shirt to trace shapes into the skin of your waist.
“Whatever you say, my love.”
TAG LIST;
@citrusmando
wanna be tagged? Send a message or comment! I’ll gladly tag you <3
#Alex law x reader#alex law#shallow grave#shallow grave imagine#shallow grave x reader#Ewan McGregor#Ewan McGregor imagine#ewan mcgregor x reader#alex law imagine#alex law headcanons
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In Your Heart
Hi guys! This will eventually be a NSFW fic, but for now I'm enjoying the slow burn. If you enjoy this let me know. I'm looking forward to releasing more Chapters.
Jake Kizka x fem reader
Chapter One: Late Nights on Broadway
It's a Thursday night in Nashville, and your gig has just started. Tootsie's is already packed with patrons. The smell of liquor mixed with sweat from the summer heat permeates the air in the crowded space. The Orchid Lounge is aglow and the familiarity of your home stage is comforting.
The song ends with a flourish and you take a sip from your drink before strumming the intro to the next. Playing the guitar is as effortless as breathing. Your fingers are calloused and nimble. Running through the different chords almost mindlessly. Looking out into the crowd, you see the usual riff raff. Nashville has always been an interesting place to make a living. Couples dance drunkenly, attached by the tongues. Lonely souls border the dance floor, looking for a mate.
Tabitha, another regular performer here, wailed away at the microphone. Her voice was one of the best in town. You always look forward to nights like tonight when the music is flowing easy.
A few songs later, Tabby announces a brief intermission and the DJ comes on to entertain the crowd for a bit. You place your guitar on its stand and head to the second floor for another drink. Your next set is another hour long and you aren't quite loosened up enough. The
bartender here knows your order and has a vodka soda waiting for you when you exit the staircase. You thank him and take a seat at the bar to sip your drink. This floor is quieter than the others, and it's the perfect place to people watch.
As you do, you see a group of people emerge from the stairwell. You recognize a few faces up here already, and the newcomers are no exception. The Kizka twins cross the room and take a seat at the end of the bar. Josh waves to you. Vacating your seat, you cross the bar and settle in next to the pair.
"What are you two doing here on a Thursday night? I thought you were long past bar gigs." You nudge Josh's shoulder.
"Just out for a drink, a little birdie told me our old friend (y/n) was performing tonight so we thought we'd pay you a visit." He replies as the bartender hands him some fruity drink.
"Yeah it's been a while since we've been out of the studio so we figured a return to our roots was in order." Jake smiles and kills his glass of whiskey.
You'd met the brothers a long time ago at a bar in Nashville when their careers were just starting to pick up. Since then, you saw them every now and again in town.
You catch up for a while, giving the alcohol plenty of time to saturate your bloodstream. The clock on your phone reads 11:20, ten minutes until the next set starts. Just one more drink.
"How's Jita doing?" You ask Jake "Where is she tonight?"
"She's actually at home tonight. Flying out tomorrow for a project in London. Getting plenty of beauty rest." He says as the bartender fills his glass.
"Well tell her I missed seeing her, it's been too long." You say as you down the rest of your drink. "I'll see you two later, the next set is starting in a few."
The music flows freely through you now that you're nice and warmed up. Happy to see some old friends, and now properly buzzed, Tabby's voice melds with your guitar. You see the two brothers and a third man you've never met greet one another and slide into seats at the bar.
...
Your night ends around 3am. You carefully place your old Fender back into its case. It was your first big girl purchase after you started making a little money in town. It's pale blue face shines in the bright lights of the stage and you feel a little nostalgic for the early days of your music career. The bartender slides you a drink for the road as you pass the bar. You carry it with you as you exit the bar and set off on foot.
Another night in the books. At 24, your body has already begun to tell you that you're outgrowing the bar scene. Performing is fine, but the drinking makes you feel as if you're being viewed from behind thick glass. A wall between yourself and the audience. A security blanket. The glow of the front lights on your building is a welcome sight. A little drunk, and too tired to bother with bathing you collapse into bed. As you fall asleep you feel strong arms wrap you up and the smell of linen pulls you into oblivion.
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Thanks for reading the first chapter! These will probably be shorter chapters until I get warmed up and decide which form the story is going to take. Updates soon!
-E
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