#because i know there are people following us who like. want to be in academia or who already are
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the thing about being a disabled grad student is that if you want even half a chance you constantly have to not only reveal but interrogate and explain your softest most vulnerable parts. while people around you act like this is just completely normal and actually that is not the softest most vulnerable part of you and actually you are exactly the same as all of them. so you feel like you are in disguise as exactlythesame while also completely exposed. and you just have to live like that. absolutely insane
#mod felix#general disclaimer that this is my experience and this is how i feel and not necessarily how everyone feels obviously#but . i feel this way . currently#well and i think part of it is that like... people act like the institution isn't actively hostile to like. any marginalized person really#i mean this post is about disability but i'm sure it applies to other people too#and if you read this and say 'this is also how it feels to be x' i see and support you#anyway. posting this here because like... i feel like as a blog with a relatively large (for tumblr) audience like.#i feel the need to be honest and transparent about my experiences in academia#because i know there are people following us who like. want to be in academia or who already are#and like . i really like the program i'm in and i'm learning a lot but it's also a very hard thing to do even if you're totally abled#which like. i'll be honest i think the sort of person who says 'i want to learn ancient greek for the rest of my life'#is unlikely to be totally abled#like i'm not the only disabled person in my program either. and most people i interact with like.#have a base level of understanding about disability#but it's still like... surreal to operate in like. an institution that puts pressure on everyone to act like disability doesn't exist#i feel like there's just like. constant dissonance
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Requested by: @leven-and-ashley on my discord
MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST
Dabi first notices you in a crowded market. The contrast of your unique appearance against the mundane surroundings catches his attention. He observes you from a distance, intrigued by the way you navigate the world with confidence despite your distinctive albinism.
Intrigued, he discreetly follows you, observing from the shadows, his interest growing with each passing day. Dabi is drawn to the way you carry yourself despite standing out, a feeling he intimately understands.
He overhears snippets of your conversations, noting your insecurities about your appearance. Dabi finds himself silently empathizing with your struggles, seeing a reflection of his own societal challenges.
One day, as you navigate through a dark alley while getting back home from work, you notice a faint scent of smoke and an eerie, blueish glow nearby. Before you can react, a voice cuts through the shadows, "You look lost, sweetheart." It's Dabi, leaning against a wall, his blue flames flickering at the tips of his fingers.
Startled, you eye him cautiously, but Dabi's smirk and casual demeanor somehow put you at ease. "Couldn't help but notice you've got that unique look. I appreciate uniqueness."
The guy suggests walking you home, considering it's not safe to be alone in your neighborhood at this late hour. You agree, and during your casual chat, he brings up the challenges of looking unconventional. You're surprised a stranger would delve into such personal topics.
Dabi starts engaging in casual conversations, appearing randomly wherever you go. He subtly drops compliments, making you blush with his unexpected flattery.
"You seem to be everywhere I am. Are you following me?" you ask openly.
"Nah, it's just a coincidence. But who wouldn't want to be around someone as interesting as you?"
You're still blissfully unaware that you're dealing with a dangerous villain.
Discovering common interests, you find yourselves having longer conversations every time you fall on him while minding your businesses in the city.
Dabi opens up about his own struggles with societal expectations, creating a connection between your unique experiences. He expresses admiration for your resilience. "People judge us based on appearances, yeah? But I see you, and I appreciate what I see."
After encountering him once more, you release a sigh. "Hey, Dabi, chatting with you is cool and all, but… Maybe I'm crazy, but do you fancy grabbing coffee at my place? It'd a bit more relaxed for a chat," you propose.
He agrees, and shortly afterward, he takes a seat at the small table in your minimalistic kitchen while you prepare coffee.
As you sit and chat with him, he's captivated by your incredibly pale face, white hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes. Delicate freckles adorn the base of your nose and cheeks, and your pinkish irises draw him in. You're stunning, and he can't help but be entranced, unable to take his eyes off you.
"Are you okay, Dabi?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.
He nods, "Yeah, you're just really pretty," he compliments, "and I gotta be honest with you. I respect you, and you deserve the whole truth."
You frown and nod, awaiting his confession.
"Did you hear about the big fire in the convoy taking a villain to Tartarus?"
You nod.
"That was me, I caused the fire and helped him flee. I'm a villain too, and I work for the League of Villains."
You blink, your blood running cold. After a moment, you simply nod. "I had a feeling you might be something else. You never liked crowds in the city, always trying to keep a low profile. Just so you know, I'm not wealthy, and I don't have much, but you can have…"
He frowns. "I ain't here to steal from you or cause harm, Y/N. Just thought you should know who you're dealing with."
You nod slowly, "Even as a villain, you were one of the few who didn't bully me because of my looks," you tell him. "Thanks for not being scared or disgusted by me."
His scarred hand gently reaches out, caressing your cheek, causing another blush to tint your cheeks. "I've mentioned it before, haven't I? I find you beautiful," Dabi says, smirking shortly after. "And I appreciate you not being disgusted by my scars as well."
Since that day, you started seeing Dabi regularly. You even let him crash at your place whenever he needed to lay low or had enough of the League of Villains' shit. And you didn't regret it. With him, you felt like the most beautiful princess. He constantly reminded you that, despite your unique appearance, you were beautiful just the way you were.
#bnha dabi#dabi fluff#dabi headcanons#dabi x you#touya todoroki headcanons#dabi x reader fluff#dabi x y/n#dabi x reader#touya todoroki#dabi is touya#dabi my hero academia#mha fluff#bnha fluff#my hero academia dabi#mha dabi#mha x reader#mha x you#touya todoroki fluff#dabi boku no hero academia
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LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE
Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.
Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader
Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.
Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.
Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.
She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.
Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.
He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.
“You come here often?”
It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.
He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.
“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”
You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.
“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.
The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.
“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.
“You like sculpture then?”
“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”
“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”
“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”
He shrugs a little, “I teach.”
It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.
“Hungry?”
“Starving.” You reply meekly.
“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”
You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.
“Lead the way.”
He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.
When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.
You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.
“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”
“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.
Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.
He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.
“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.
You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”
You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.
“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”
“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”
“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”
He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”
You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.
When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.
It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.
“This is me.”
“Nice place.”
“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”
He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”
You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.
He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”
“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”
“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”
Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.
You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.
Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.
“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.
“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”
He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”
So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.
Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.
Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.
You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.
He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.
Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.
How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?
#Marcus Pike x Reader#Marcus Pike x you#Marcus Pike x female reader#Marcus Pike x f!reader#Marcus Pike smut#Marcus Pike#marcus pike fanfiction#Marcus Pike fanfic#Marcus Pike fic#Pedro pascal#Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal#the mentalist#the mentalist fic#the mentalist fanfic#the mentalist fanfiction#Marcus Pike fluff#Marcus Pike au#pedro characters#pedrostories
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I've finally decided to stop waiting for my friends and my schedules to all line up, and take myself on vacation. You seem to be someone who travels on your own semi-frequently. Do you have tips and tricks on how to make it less awkward on your own, or does that just not bother you?
Ah, congratulations! I hope you enjoy your solo journeying.
I have to admit that I don't get a lot of awkwardness as a solo traveler, or if I do, I don't notice. I think to begin with, in general dudes get less side-eye about doing anything solitary. I didn't even consider that traveling alone was seen as strange until I was in my thirties, I think, and other people started remarking on it -- not in an awkward way, just like "Wow I wish I could do that." (You can!)
Not everyone is comfortable with it, admittedly, and I get that, like anything it's not for everyone. And there are legit safety concerns women face that men don't, although I think also those tend to get blown out of proportion by our culture -- like the peril is real, I'm not saying women don't face safety issues when traveling solo, but the dangers aren't as constant and immediate as people think.
I just really love solo travel, because I get to do exactly what I want, eat what I want, skip things I decide I don't want to do. I'm kind of a people pleaser (this may not be news) and I don't mind doing what other folks want to do but sometimes that can come at the expense of what I want to do, which simply isn't a concern when I travel by myself.
In my experience, which is admittedly not universal, I find that there isn't really much awkwardness from solo travel most of the time -- it's harder to, for example, be in an airport alone, because there's nobody to mind your bags if you need to hit the bathroom, nobody to ask if you need something you didn't think to pack. But it's not like I've ever gotten a weird look for going through airport security alone, or checking into a hotel room alone. I think it does help to remember that people who work in hospitality have seen it ALL, and a single person checking into a hotel room doesn't even register. Like, if you aren't getting drunk and pooping in the decorative planters in the lobby, you aren't making an impression. :D Tour guides are very used to single people taking tours, and for all the train conductor or flight attendant knows, you're traveling to wherever you're going to meet up with 15 of your closest friends. Half the time I've checked into hotel rooms alone, it's been for work and I'm meeting 5-10 colleagues, and I just happen to be the first person to arrive at the site.
The only time I ever encounter much awkwardness is in a cab/rideshare, or eating alone, and even with eating alone, like, I went out to eat on my own for probably a solid decade before anyone remarked that it was a weird thing to do. But I've never particularly gotten that from waitstaff; like, occasionally I'll get a "Just one?" or "Dining alone?" but that's not really awkward, to my mind. I felt a little weird about it in Europe but that wasn't because I was solo, it was because I didn't speak the language. I was fine with it in England.
For cabs or rideshares, and this is true not just when traveling but also when I'm traveling locally in Chicago, I tend to come up with a "cover story" ahead of time in case the driver is chatty. I rarely say anymore that I work in fundraising, because while it does shut some people up (they don't want to be asked for a donation) others will be like "Hey could you fundraise for me, I have this great idea for a nonprofit knitting alpaca-wool socks...for alpacas!" and I have to be like "That's not really how this works." Usually I say I'm an art historian because a) I can fake that pretty well in casual conversation and b) nobody knows what follow-up question to ask. Academia of any kind is a great cover if you are traveling, because you can say "I'm here on business with (local museum you are visiting as a tourist) but I signed an NDA, so I can't really talk about it" and you seem mysterious plus you add excitement to the driver's day. Are you a spy? An art thief? Are you about to discover a new Van Gogh? Are you consulting with the science museum about a Bigfoot specimen?
But yeah I think the most important thing to bear in mind is that nobody really looks at other people and thinks, "That's weird, why are they alone?" Like in an ordinary day, I don't ever see a person alone on the bus or in a shop or whatnot and think, "That's weird, why don't they have someone with them?" We do tend to think people are judging us, but honestly most people aren't even noticing us, let alone forming opinions. And if they are, I think it's a great comfort to know that especially when traveling...we will never see them again :D
Anyway, good luck! Remember, even if you did forget to pack something, as long as you have your phone, your wallet, your meds, and your keys, anything else can be acquired or lived without.
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Hi Elanor, we met briefly on the taping of your husband's fringe show and you were super nice, no good deed etc. I'm pretty sure I've seen you post about lecturing at a uni.
I've been thinking about heading back to uni for a master's, with the possibility of a career shift into academia after, but I'm somewhat wary of the lack of job security with fixed term contracts and such, and just generally unsure how one goes about getting a job teaching at uni. Most people I know in academia are primarily interested in research, with the idea of lecturing being mostly incidental, I'm almost the other way around.
How did you get started in your field, and how much of that do you think applies to new entrants today? Did you have to/get to make a choice between research and lecturing? Any insight you might have, or a starting point for further research would be greatly appreciated.
Hello again! It was lovely meeting you!
Sure, yes, so, my path in began as an HPL - an hourly paid lecturer. A colleague on my old degree course was signed off work with stress, so another old lecturer of mine was asking if any graduates wanted to do a bit of lecturing to cover him. It coincided with my job losing its main funding and so going to part time hours, so it worked.
It started as one module for one semester. Which became the module for the year, then two and a half the following year, then four the next two years. And then, under UK law, if you hold an HPL contract with the same institution for four years, they have to give you a proper contract, so now I'm on a permanent four days a week with full lecturer status.
And then if you do it that way round i.e. become a lecturer before holding a teaching qualification, the uni will pay to put you through a PCET - I'm due to finish my PCET in May this year.
HPL work... Well. There are advantages and disadvantages to this approach. HPLs are the lecturing equivalent of hospital cleaning staff - absolutely vital and chronically overlooked and underpaid. It's a zero hours position, so you get paid only for the time you spend actually delivering the lectures, at a rate (IIRC it was about £33 per hour?) that assumes one hour's prep for every two hours lecture. Needless to say, prepping a two hour lecture takes longer than an hour. You also don't get paid for the marking you do, and you receive basically no guidance on how to actually teach - best case scenario is that they can give you copies of the lecture slides used by previous academics in the role, which you can use as a guide or amend to your liking. And the final topping on the shit cake is that HPL contracts run for a semester at a time, so they very much fall into the 'precarious employment' bracket.
But, as I say, you can very quickly make yourself indispensable, and then after four years they have to give you a contract. Or, you just do it to mine it for the experience for a CV. I've known people who did HPL work for two unis at once while studying a PCET and then walked into a proper position in a third elsewhere.
Because the other root is to get a Masters, get a PCET (as part of which you need to do a placement anyway), and then apply for lecturer roles. Again, advantages and disadvantages - these days, lecturer roles are hotly contested. But it's very possible, I know many who have done it.
So! Regarding the other part of your question!
Some universities are more teaching focused, others are more research focused, some are a bit of both. If you know that the main thing you want to do is the teaching part, then you want to give priority to the universities that are more teaching focused themselves. These are usually the non-Russell Group prestigious ones, particularly the ones with a slightly more local student body. Anything with a qualifier like 'Metropolitan' after its name, either now or in the recent past, is a good idea - in Wales, for example, UWTSD includes the old Swansea Met, USW includes the old Cardiff Met, etc. Those are more teaching focused institutions (and therefore better at serving non traditional students, too, especially disabled ones), so in career terms, those are handy to shoot for.
(Also, those can have high turnovers of research academics by contrast. So it's usually relatively easy to get HPL work from them to plug employment gaps.)
Anyway - that's me. Good luck if you do decide to try it! Let me know if you have any other questions
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⊙ ἀγάπη
" Unable to perceive the shape of You, I find You all around me. Your presence fills my eyes with Your love, It humbles my heart, For You are everywhere. "
⊙ Welcome to this Shape of Water love reading, yes I finaly took my balls and make a love pac hehehe this reading isn’t truly a prediction its more of an assumption about what your ideal partner would be based on your present self but you can technically see this reading as a way to confirm who your next partner would be y’know. It was supposed to be longer but I decided to do it chill since im still a bit rusted lol but I really miss being active on tumblr. For more explaination, the ”core card” is found by additioning the numbers of the cards you picked with Lenormand, for me its a card that show the core/hidden part of a reading but you can use this method in other ways.
◇ Deck used : Rider Waite (only court cards), Lenormand
Masterlist ⊙
🜄 Pile 1
♤ Key, book, ship 【core : coffin】
Court card : king of cups
They seem like someone who’s heart and mind are often clashing but despite it they are quite emotional intelligent, by this I mean that they might be very emotional by nature but they did learn to manage their emotions OR they take an intellectual approach to their feelings, is it a good thing or not ? Well its up to them because this kind of behavior can become toxic for themselves but i got a lot of cards who refer to them being very intelligent. They probably follow a specific philosophy or are into litterature in general, there is this dark academia vibe to them. Very hardworking, full of knowledge but never got enough at the same time, they got bof ”personal intelligence” and academic intelligence, talking to them about various subject must be a great experience for sure. Their intelligence and serious aspect make them quite sensual people might often look at them even if they dont seem to care about other’s look they seem introverted to me. Its like if someone stopped them to compliments them they would be a bit awkward like ”uh? Thank you I guess?”. Very INTP vibe. To be honest I was persuaded that I'll pick the King of Swords to them because of their vibe but not, its the King of cups with the Coffin as the core card so we got someone who have a cold exterior and keep their good side to themselves and to a very close group of people. They have been through tuff situation in their life, would I dare say that they might have experienced depression ? I see them as a melancholic King of cups, imagine an King alone on a cliff looking at the sea, so many thoughts are passing by from a strange theory about a myth to a sad realisation that they are indeed, a hopeless lover. Seems like someone needs to go under that shell to see their true self and heart (but not in a savior way, y’know).
🜄 Pile 2
♤ Mouse, whip, house, 【core ; whip】
Court card : queen of pentacles
Your ideal partner seem to be... interesting for sure, when I took the first cards I was a bit worried but the last one put the pieces togheter. Basically you got someone who ready to risk it all just to have a quiet and comfy life in their house (the house can also symbolise your relationship), listen to Faith from Karen Aoki the lyrics match them but most importantly for the one who get the reference from where the song come from you might understand the reading in a quite twisted way haha. The character who’s listening to this song is a pretty bad person with a very clean and kind exterior. Of course im not saying that your ideal partner is 100% this character but they remind me of him because he goes as far as killing people to have his quiet life but your reading is LESS extreme haha it just reminded me of him a lot in a softer way. Your ideal partner might even had broken many hearts because they know what they worth and what they want in life and in love, probably even in work and we got an other hopeless lover. They are so focused on perfection that sadly, they became pessimistic wether its because things are too slow, they are faaar from their ideal life or just sometimes they ask themselves if they are good enough or ask for too much in the end but it doesn’t last long since they will quickly get a reminder to not make the bar lower. However when they finally get something wether its a person an animal or an object they take extremely good care of ”it” they are very nurturing and caring, probably got a sweet voice (and touch ?). Once they settle its for the long run, I get something that they might need a reminder of not being too possessive with their partner because of course a partner is an other human being you can’t predict everything they would do, its the sad truth even the most loving wife can turn into a backstaber (that’s an exemple of course) they are probably terrified of the idea of being cheated on. Especially since they seek their ideal life it probably attract people with the intention to take and disappear. They need a big hug if you want my opinion they probably got some hard time with family and people while growing up. They need love and they know it.
🜄 Pile 3
♤ Sun, cross, Fox, 【core ; bouquet】
Court card ; King of wands
Alright you got the incarnation of the sun here, a golden person ! Very charismatic (and they know it) they make the room light up and when they smile the world is illuminated (I'll stop give it to their ego now). Your ideal partner’s personality remind me of Giorno from jjba. The big light of the sun is balanced by the cross and the fox who add some shade in a good way. Life have been hard on them and so they had to be a fox to survive, sneak their way into situation maybe even got to have jobs that they hated just to get enough money to escape their nasty place. Despite still having a hard time in life they keep up and seem to be always in all of their glory, they are a true born leader and dont mess around. I think if you try to trick them you'll fall from high ground since they are used to hardship nothing can stop them and their heart of gold will always feed their inner flame ! Like the sun they shine bright but alone, despite being great leaders they also do well alone and seem to value those hermit period. People might always say that they are about to fail or that their situation look doomed but you know what ? Even if its need to have some failed attempt they always end up wining, like I said they are very determined and probably stubborn about their goal. Its someone that you can trust. They got the vibe of the movie Fantastic Mr.Fox, maybe they put a lot of effort into being impressive for ”the public”? Like if someone tell them they can’t do something they will be like ”oh really?” and end up doing this thing better than necessary. Its nice, its amazing but they need some rest and to stop feeling the need to show off all the time haha they know their limit and their worth so they know how to chose their battles, simply because of those things it look like they are always wining.
#tumblr did everything in its power to stop me from posting it#pick a card#gryphis#pick a pile#love pick a card#ideal partner
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Your last rb on the John Gaius post how much John is the OPPOSITE of what that reblogger implied. Because like - we rag on him for not using his magical girl powers for C--'s "Good Wizardry", but it's specifically because he *doesn't* want to rely on a new untested "technology". He tries to incorporate it into the old project, make it better, make people trust it and give him money. Slow down the people who are trying to actually do the "promising new technology" bit without proof of concept.
It's "We all came up with trials to figure out what I could do, what I couldn’t do" vs
"...they were taking one discovery and acting like it changed the whole ballgame when really we now needed ten years of funding to discover whether it was any use, i.e., academia functioning as normal."
And I think that's neat, actually.
[post for context]
Ok actually #discourse aside, I think a lot about how John WAS a scientist, and that was the approach he used in his cryo project, and that was ALSO the approach he used when he started displaying magic powers. He tried to do experiments. He tried to make up scientific terms. He tried to write papers.
And nobody would listen and then he had to cosplay a wizard on youtube.
I think about that SO MUCH. Like... I think John never had a high opinion of the "cultists." He's obviously annoyed that one of the first guys who gave them attention was a flat earther. He only started calling himself a necromancer so that people would listen. It was a last resort and personally, I think he wasn't keen on it.
Like... I think John, an educated scientist who has successfully pioneered a potentially revolutionary new technology (the cryo project, not the magic!) AND is also an indigenous man of colour, might have felt some kinda way about putting on a cape and eyeliner and recruiting a gullible cult of followers because he wasn't being taken seriously in ~intellectual circles. I know we make jokes aboout God being a twitch streamer - Taz put that in for a reason! I think it's funny, I think the cult aesthetic is fun, I think the pre-Res gang HAD fun with it, eventually. But I also think that there's a lot to unpack about John going from the lead research on a project that had serious corporate and government backing ("We cannot keep diverting three percent of the country’s electricity to your vats") to putting on a cape for the memes.
Also! You're absolutely right that the FTL fleet IS "the special technology that shows no promise." John, Mercy AND Augustine all it as hooky because it's SO new that it can scale up to what they need, if it even works as advertised. I'm very curious if / how / on which scale it was tested, and I think Augustine was right to suspect that the FTL propulsion was just an initial kick and the fleet was gonna generation-ship it and never come back.
Also speaking of people wanting an "immediate fix" - John also explicitly brings up that some of the cryo project backers nagged at him because they though an imperfect technology was good enough but the team thought the chance of damage was too high, and worked to reduce it.
Like, the whole point of the cryo project is that it worked, but it wasn't an easy fix, it required literally global cooperation, and there was no priority access for first-class passengers.
I am once again pointing a huge neon sign in John's direction that says HE ATE THE SUN!! That's plenty enough! We don't have to directly contradict canon to sue him for ethics breaches.
#chaos-has-theories#there's the 'john as elizabeth holmes' person. there's the 'they clearly STOLE those corpses' person.#there's the 'he disliked the FTL project because he was too selfish and wanted HIS name on the world saving project' discourse#have we read different books...#personally i think mindwiping his friends was the most evil villain moment <3#that actually happened and it was NASTY#ask#ejg#tlt thoughts#ntn#elle tlt posting#tlt
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The itch for destruction, the hands of repression and my theories on AFO's involvement in Shigaraki Tomura / Tenko Shimura's past:
For all I prefer to interpret the hands around Tomura as AFO's way to control his grief and turn it into a weapon, there's another option to it.
According to the canon, Tomura was using the hands to keep himself in check*. Supposing that what AFO said is true and Tomura's itching is his urge to destroy*, then he was using the hands to remind himself of what he did to his family and why he couldn't let himself be left unchecked*.
Image for the orange text:
AFO, talking to Tomura:
" You carry an urge for destruction that you yourself can't even control. That itch is simply your body letting you know that your urge can't be contained any longer. "
Image for the green text:
AFO, talking to Doc Garaki:
" He wears the hands of his family as if he's restraining himself, reproaching himself. With his memories locked away, all that's left are residual emotions. He's insecure. Just look at him. He doesn't even realize he's holding back when he's using his quirk. "
Those panels raise several questions.
For example, we already know how suspicious it is that AFO was the one able to find Tenko. Chances are that he had been observing the Shimuras all that time, but then why didn't he kill them before? What was he waiting for?
Another suspicious thing is that the hands of the Shimura were in perfect condition.* Tenko killed them at night. He says he flew from his house, he ran away. *
No one, absolutely no one showed up.
It happened in seconds, of course. The backyard probably looked like a war zone or something.*
Images for the red text:
He decayed the house completely, to the point it was split in two when he left. He decayed the sidewalk in front of his house and if you look closely, the house next to the Shimuras too.
The question is: how was AFO able to search within that disaster for each individual hand of the Shimura family members before anyone could get there to clean it up? Those hands looked almost fresh, as sick as it sounds.*
You're telling me that AFO found Tomura— who was not speaking between, he went mute for a while after what happened that night— and he "coincidentally" found a way to get the hands of the Shimuras like it was nothing?*
My theory is that AFO manipulated Tenko more than we are allowed to know up until now.
Image for the blue text:
Doc Garaki talking to Tomura:
" These are your family members' remains. "
Did the police ever get there? To erase Tenko's existence just like that means that AFO had to either pretend Tenko died too or somehow he managed to erase the Shimuras altogether. What was said to Tenko and Hana's school? Or Kotaro's workplace? To the neighbors?
Were there any neighbors even? A house gets demolished at night with people screaming and no one even panics thinking that a villain can be attacking them?
Of course AFO had cops on his side. It's just a bit insane to me to think it worked out like clockwork just by accident.
Theory aside, it makes sense that the memory of his family kept Tenko anchored to his morals and the rights and wrongs of society.* He was a good kid, he wanted to be a hero to help people. He is also the type to hate injustice to the point he can't shut up about it. No matter how many times his dad punished him for following the hero ideals, he kept trying.
(I wish I could add more than 10 pics, but you should absolutely re-read My Villain Academia and pay attention to Tomura's general hesitation when it comes to hurting people— before AFO).
Like I said, there are several moments of Tenko avoiding his "destructive" side and holding the justice he knew from his childhood close to his heart.*
If what AFO says is true, then he repressed his memories in order to keep his quirk from being too aggressive towards others.* It was a defense mechanism that tells us that Tenko didn't want to hurt people, because he was fighting the urge to do so.* He was even becoming self-destructive in order to contain his urges.*
Images for the pink texts:
Panels show Tenko wondering on a street with his hands clasped together to avoid touching anything and therefore decaying it.
AFO talking to Tomura:
" What is that you want to do? "
Tomura talking to AFO:
" ... The two punks that hit me earlier... I want to kill them. "
AFO talking to Tomura:
" Aaah, poor child. What are you so afraid of? Just follow your heart. "
( notice that the encounter of Tenko and the two punks happens BEFORE Tenko had the hold amoral combo with AFO.
The panels show how Tenko almost reaches to decay the people who just hurt him, but he forces himself to back down, close his hand in a loose fist and leave it at that).
Like you could notice in the last image, it was AFO who gave Tenko the impression that he could give in to the urge to kill and destroy because it was okay.* Previous to that moment, Tenko was full of hatred. There are several panels of Tenko saying "I hate them all " the day he got his quirk and the Shimuras died. The difference is that he only killed the Shimuras because he couldn't even control his quirk and he killed Kotaro in particular with purpose, but while he was practically blind with the rush of all that was happening.
Never before Tenko killed someone premeditated. Never before he planned it.
When AFO gave Tomura the impression that the itching was because he wanted to destroy* and it was okay to destroy to get rid of the itch*, that's when it all went to hell.
It's a dangerous thing to tell an impressionable 5 years old who just got out of an abusive home in the most traumatic fashion. Especially because Tomura's hatred got mixed with the guilt over the way he killed his family. He was convinced that the fact no hero saved him was justice for what he did. He was throwing up over it. He ran away from home, scared because he was the culprit. He was 5 years old, I must remind you all.
AFO falsely liberated Tenko from his guilt by giving him the freedom to destroy*. It was clearly not the solution because Tomura's itch would only go away temporarily after destroying whatever was annoying him.
Listen, we all want to destroy things that annoy us on a daily basis. The problem with Tenko is that
A) He is very very little.
No one explained to him that he was allowed to feel pleasure over the fact his family could not abuse him another, while he could also feel guilty because that was not the way he wanted things to end. He lost his family. No, even worse, he killed his family. Even if they hurt him, he also loved them. Those feelings can coexist within him, but he shouldn't confuse one thing with the other.
B) All kids have tantrums.
If any 5 years old was given that type of power and I promise way more incidents like that would happen. They are kids for a reason, they don't know better. It's the job of the adults around them to teach them how to tolerate things and live in society.
Laws are there for a reason too. They are meant to keep people in check. No, you cannot murder everyone because you are stuck in the morning traffic. No, you can't murder your boss because they're an asshole. You cannot erase everything that bothers you from the Earth. Why? Because it won't make you happy in the long run. We need to learn to coexist with our surroundings, annoying as it could be.
AFO did the opposite. Just look at the way he speaks to Tenko. Even working on the assumption that Tenko always wanted to kill, it was AFO's manipulation who set him on the villain path.*
Image for the purple text:
AFO talking to Tomura:
" Otherwise, you'll be the only one suffering.
Integrity. Morals. Ethics. All of them are just social constructs designed by some guy who wanted harmony in the world.
There's no need to let yourself be held back by them. In the end, what you yourself want to do is the most important of them all. "
We know AFO is not the most reliable narrator and neither is Tomura, right? The bnha manga is currently on chapter 414. We're at the point where Tomura and Deku just started seeing each other's memories. Hopefully, the manga will soon clarify / reveal the truth and this meta would be obsolete.
Take this purely as a couple of people creating theories for fun, because they want to entertain themselves in hypothetical scenarios. Okay?
Time to close this endless meta post by saying I think AFO was wrong about the nature of the itch. It does come from a form of desire to destroy, but I think it's Tenko's reaction to seeing injustice and not being able to do something about it. It started at home, when he was unable to change the way his dad treated, when no one would defend him or try to stop his dad.
When Tenko killed the Shimura's, his hatred grew to everyone because he found them unfair. You could say hypocritical too. He learned to hate himself for killing his family, learned to hate the heroes saying something and doing something else, especially All Might because he is the symbol of heroism, but wasn't there to protect Tomura from all the pain. Isn't he "all mighty"? He hated Deku for the same reasons / for being a copy of All Might.
It's a twisted version of Deku running to save someone without even knowing what he's doing. an instinct none of them can deny. Where Deku's instinct was nurtured and taken care of, Tomura's was taken advantage of and corrupted almost beyond recognition.
But that's an entire meta I'll post later, so I hope you all enjoy this rambling. No idea if it makes sense, for which I apologize.
Any asks, to the inbox as always <3
#don't even know if this counts as meta so I apolgize for using the tag#bnha meta#mha meta#bnha#mha#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#league of villains#lov#shigaraki tomura#tenko shimura#afo#all for one#bnha 414#mha 414#shan's bnha meta#shan's mha meta#shimuras#shimura family#doc garaki#tw throwing up mention#tw throwing up#tw drawn blood#tw drawn gore#tw body horror
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Vernon and The Beastly Heir (Tw: flashing banner)
Pairing: son of Gaston!Vernon x afab!reader
Genre: angst, fantasy au, smut
Word count: 9.5k
tags: features seokmin and chan, E2L, royal!reader, fairy tale academia (college), child of beauty and beast!reader, mentions of blood, mentions of weapons, aggressive!vernon, aggressive!reader, mentions of alcohol, strangulation, stalking, sub!vernon, hair pulling (reader giving), mommy kink (reader identifies as they/them but accepting), handjobs, choking, oral (reader rec.), spitting (vern receiving), cumplay, cum eating, unprotected sex, creampies
Summary: Everyone knows the story of beauty and the beast. Well, that was your parents and now you're attending college with the son of Gaston of all people. You're ready to start fresh with him but it seems like all he wants to do is kill you.
author note: here he is, just took me two? three weeks. i hope you guys enjoy. it's quite different from what i usually write and just hope it translates well. next off is a spinoff heheh
tag list: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han
You only knew about Vernon through his ancestry. His father tried to kill yours, but your father happened to be successful in killing his.
Vernon was born out of wedlock after the news of his father’s passing, and his mother would tell her son all kinds of disfigured tales of his father’s past. She called him the most handsome of all the land, the strongest, most beloved. He was a true man’s man. She was always so hopelessly in love with him. Many women were, unlike your mother, who was the one that was actually the so-called apple of his eye.
Your mother was almost forced to marry his father when he threatened your grandfather’s life. He would use him as leverage, keeping her within reach until she eventually met your father in his most hideous form. Despite appearances and circumstances, your father became her savior.
Vernon’s father, Gaston, would not dare dream of a world where your mother had fallen for anyone else, let alone such a ‘hairy grotesque and daunting being’.
Alas, that’s exactly what happened and Gaston was so far deep in his narcissism that he couldn’t see the truth in front of him. Perhaps he couldn't see he was claiming a woman that wanted nothing to do with because he gallivanted around town to trap other women with his charisma. They all worshiped at his feet, how would your mother be any different? Countless lovers, far and wide, Vernon’s mother being one of them. Time would tell soon enough came after their night together, following Vernon’s birth–fatherless and supportless–and eventually Gaston’s downfall.
A bastard.
Gaston underestimated your father and paid the ultimate price, falling into an abyss, and meeting the thick shards of rock waiting for him below.
As a child, you found this story difficult to grasp, as death was still a foreign concept. Now hearing about it from time to time, it became only a piece of history. A remarkably relatable piece of history.
Regardless, you hadn’t been born then, and neither had he. You were strangers. You shouldn’t have had a problem with each other.
Yet, he glared at you the moment you took your first steps into university together. You recognized him since he and his father were almost duplicates of one another. He had his father's devilishly good looks, broad build, and effortless smolder that had people weak at their knees. He was just as beautiful as everyone said. However, his glare burned through you like a rising phoenix, shooting through your body in a blazing heat every time you were in the same room. Did he despise you as much as he looked like he did?
You confirmed your assumptions in your swordsman’s class. You always admired the strength of a sword welder. You practiced it on your own in secret back at home, confident in your skill. But by the looks of it, Vernon had a similar sentiment, performing tremendously with the weapon in his hand.
It came at a time you’d spar, and you could swear you saw your life flash before your eyes. When you drew your swords, his quick footing took you by immediate surprise. A flurry of his offenses came in your direction, taking you on at full force. You could only hear the clangs of metal and your grunts, perspiration trickling down your face and back. You tried to relay the same force, fighting as if your life was on the line. You knew the strength you had, but Vernon was startlingly superior. He was effortlessly swift, moving like a course of water, almost hitting you with every attack.
Your heart pounded out of your chest, staring back at the impenetrable darkness in his eyes. Slash after slash. Clang after clang. Pure murder was all he could see. This man was merciless, determined to make you meet an end. You just didn’t know if it meant the end of the lesson or your life.
Finally, his final strike swiped your cheek. The blade caressed the side of your face in a swift stroke, and a thinly veiled tear on your skin revealed the moment the sword is back to his side and you were stricken on the ground. You gasp in shock, eyes shooting up at the pain, and you tried not to tarnish your regal status any more than you already had with crying.
Never let your emotions control you, your father said many times.
You felt the blood dripping from the side of your face only to quickly wipe away with your uniform sleeve. Your eyes forced forward in Vernon’s direction, not even an ounce of guilt in his eyes as he walked away in his silent victory. You tightened your fist, tempted to slam them on the hard floor in frustration, while flushed throughout your entire being.
In your rare moment of weakness, you could hear light but quick footsteps approaching. Seokmin’s kind eyes stared back at yours as he came to your aid. His long legs swung beneath him in urgency before placing himself next to you. His honey-sweet timbre stroked your side, the twinkle in his eyes startling you as used his sheer strength to princely lift you up in his arms. Making it to the nurse’s office, his warm smile took your body temperature to new heights and the caged butterflies in your stomach broke free under his gentle touch.
Unlike Vernon, Seokmin didn’t despise you. He brought up a point of how similar you were the longer you spent time together. His mother too was once trapped in a curse only to have her love conquer all in the end. He carved for a story like theirs one day. There was enough commonality between you both for simulating conversations. And much like how much you heard about the half-mermaid, his voice was an extraordinary gift, capable of moving sailors and boatmen just as effectively. Just as it’s moved you. It was one of the things you found so devastatingly attractive about him.
You couldn’t help but fall for Seokmin that day. He was like sun rays peeking through the blinds of windows. It was just unfortunate how you had met, seconds upon the decision of Vernon sparing you from death.
At least Vernon had the decency to not come across you again. Since the incident took place, you hardly come in close contact with him. And you hadn’t planned on encountering him again.
The world worked in funny ways when they assigned you with him again a month later, this time forcing you to give a historical presentation. The moment your names were called together, even amongst the student body, the temperature between you in Vernon ran cold. Apparently, your feud with Vernon preceded itself. They feared for their lives as they tore away from you, afraid to get caught in the heat of the fire.
You turn to Vernon, matching his indifferent expression, thinking what a cruel world it was to bring you back into the hands of your attempted murderer. You clenched your fist before forcing out an agreeable tone of voice. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”
He remained silent, eyes away from you, avoidant.
“It’s only for two weeks. It’ll be fine.” You were unsure if you were saying this was to him or yourself.
He swallowed before he picked up his things and stood up from his desk. “Belle Library at 3:30. The faster we get it done, the sooner I don’t have to see your face.”
With that, he walks off, a lingering sting to your self-esteem.
Just the simple phrase from his mouth made your blood heat past the boiling point. Someone had never put you off to this extent. The strength it’ll take for you to get through this project would require more than patience. It would require compliance.
When the time arrived, he was there, seated at the table, waiting for your arrival. The next hour or two went smoother than you expected: mainly quiet besides the page flipping, the typing, and the occasionally exchanged muttering. Yet, you can see this would somehow work. You ignored the hardened gaze of his. It was like pins and needles all over your body. A prolonged sting took precedence on any of your other senses, but you’d just have to deal.
Without saying much, it felt like a quiet truce, just to get past this one assignment. For that, it would be fine.
For the next few days, you continued to meet with him to make progress. You didn’t hate him any less than you did some time ago, but he was tolerable enough that you didn't mind working with him. He did his parts as you did yours, having your collaborated presentation look rather, well, presentable. You could almost taste the end of the suffering. You couldn't help but give him a small smile seeing him work so diligently like it wasn’t him months ago drawing blood from your face.
“We’re almost done. Wow. And plenty of the time during the weekend,” you said rather lightheartedly.
He surprised you by giving you a lazy nod, agreeable to your statement.
“We’re not such a bad team. Maybe after this, we can get lunch or something.”
That’s when Vernon halted his movements, hands hovering over his keyboard before looking back at you to find the cold steel reflecting in his eyes. He cocked his head, scoffing, a new–but familiar–emotion erupting on his face.
“I don’t think so, beastie.”
You were taken aback, blinking back at him in bemusement. “Excuse me?”
“Funny you had to ask,” he responded with a crooked smile. “You’re excused.”
You scoffed, gritting your teeth back at him before clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth in a tsk. “What the hell is your problem?”
He rolled his eyes before gathering his things and stood up from the table. “We’ll pick things up from tomorrow when you can keep your ‘instincts’ under control. I need a break from you”
It took every atom in your body not to rip him from limb to limb from his foul words, mumbling under your breath curses of misfortune on him and his descendants. There was peace, even tranquility, and he had to go and mess that up. If there was a doubt in your head about how you felt about Vernon, it was clear now you could stand him and never will.
Though working through the weekend hadn’t been the plan, it’s what you ended up doing when he commanded you over messenger that there will still be work to do. God, was he the worst. You would object to his command if the project didn’t hold double digits in the percentage of your semester grade, so in the end, compliance had the best in you.
In attire not meant for regal activities or even lecture halls, you reunited with him in the same corner you both always occupied in your sweats and messy pulled-back hair. “Let’s get this over with.”
On the other hand, Vernon was effortlessly handsome in casual clothing, hair hidden underneath a beanie as he grunted back at you and you got back to work. The silence persisted, and you’re back to where you started: tolerating each other in hopes of an end.
The assignment took longer than usual today, seeing as there was a piece of information that was proven inaccurate and needed to be changed on every slide. You huffed on in frustration, parched, and took a long swig from your water bottle, his smug expression taunting you from across the table.
“Stupid…stupid…” You muttered to yourself for letting a mistake like that happened, knowing Vernon had only more murder fuel to hold against you.
“Glad you’re self-aware.”
You slammed the desk, unbothered by who would hear. It was empty anyway besides the librarian. No one would be here on a weekend you were.
“I am really sick and tired of your snarky attitude.”
He stood up, slamming back the same force into the desk, the toxicity in his eyes back wide and piercing. “Like you’re easy to work with? Hard to believe you can work a computer with your incompetence.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You imbecile.” You leaned forward to sink in his hair-raising glare, not backing down for once, and let the inner ‘beast’ you have trickled over the surface. “Just because you hate me doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated like shit. Mind you, I am a person.”
He leaned in closer, lips bitten red in frustration. “Hardly. Don’t think I don’t see you for the animal you are. You mindless, senseless, spawn of an abomination.”
Fury ran through your veins as you lunged at him, hands coming at him like you were rabid, feeling his strong arms come up beside you. He struggled under your weight, fighting back for a moment until gradually they gave up and let the length of your hand close around his neck. He stared back at you in anticipation, eyes flicking in a light that you had never seen before. One you couldn’t even identify if you tried. “Do it. Kill me. Like father, like offspring.”
Your teeth chattered as if you were freezing but you couldn’t be any more hot. You sucked a gasp of anguished, hatred being your lone source of fuel. Tears blurred your eyes in animosity before your grip tightened, seeing the life slowly escape his lungs as his lips quivered. His arms fell at their wingspan against his side, eyes closing in acceptance. He looked like he’s finally made peace, yet it couldn’t be under more violent circumstances. In a moment of clarity, you released your grasp, kicking him from the ground at his shin before pulling yourself up from the ground.
“Fuck you.” You spat and stormed off.
You’d swallow dragon scales before letting him win. You wouldn’t give the satisfaction of a justified ending where you’d end up the villain.
He was the villain. He’s always been the one antagonizing you and for a moment you gave in. You’d be taking lashes from the actual devil himself before letting that happen again.
You remembered how it felt with your hands around his throat, tightening every passing second. It was times like that, you feared who you were. How much of the ‘beast’ had you inherited. Besides hating him with all of your heart, your hand in ending someone’s life was terrifying but almost thrilling.
Whatever it was, you had to ignore it, and that meant ignoring Vernon. Every inch of his beauty was easily disposable under your touch. That was more power than you could handle. You were never one to play god, even as royalty.
Using your better judgment, you finished your half of the project alone, not bothering to keep your appointments with him and rather your grade to take a hit than spend another insufferable second with him. At the deadline, you presented together with an obvious distance apart, resulting in a good enough grade that maybe the time spent together had been worth it.
It was the end, finally an end.
“You tarnished my hard work with your petty feelings.”
You rolled your eyes back at him as he confronted you in an abandoned section of the department building, often only occupied with silence. “You brought on your feelings first. I wasn't going to let you push me around. You’re so set on the delusion that I’m the reason for everything wrong in your life.”
He mocked your statement with a humorless laugh. “It’s not for no reason. I despise you.”
“And why, when I don’t know you? I’ve hardly spoken to you, even with the project occurring, you just glare back at me like some angsty little teenager like you’re annoyed at the world. Like I’m the problem.”
“Oh, in every way, you are,” he said, “Had it not been for you, I could’ve lived a normal life.”
“And how is that my fault?”
He took a step forward. “You and your fucking family that’s plaster all over town, constantly reminding me of what you’ve done to my family.”
“Me?” You said with wide eyes, “Your father held my mother hostage and tried to kill my father.”
“You think I don’t know the type of man my father was? The lies he spewed, the women he slept with, the fantastical delusions he fed my mother when she gave herself to him. I’m not a fool, beastie, but you and your family let my mother a widow, abandoned to her thoughts, and helpless child.”
Your expression softened, his words cutting through deeper than any insult he’s ever thrown at you, leaving a wallowing angst in the pit of your stomach.
“I had to be the one to take care of her, not the other way around. You and your father, your mother, everyone around you that exposed my mother to the life she’s lived…at least if my father had been around, perhaps she wouldn’t have gone insane.”
Desperation choked in his throat, eyes glassy from tears you never knew he could make. Your throat felt dry, for once lacking a comeback to respond with. You were immersed in the pain in his voice, the urgency in his body language. It was everything opposite to the Vernon you hated. Why? Why now?
“I…had no control over that.” Now you were crying, feeling the tension melt involuntarily.
You felt him crumble in front of you, falling over his harsh sobs and he fell limp on your arms, tears staining your sweater. He squeezes your arm through the fabric, desperate to be holding on to something, “She died, because of you, fucks. She only wanted to be happy…but why couldn’t I be enough?”
You didn’t know how to handle an emotional man, let alone one that was out to get you, but you let your arms come around him in an embrace. You held tight around him as the tears poured out of him like a river, returning the warmth, and forgetting he was ever screaming at you in the first place.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…you are enough Vernon. You are.” he gripped your harder, completely buried in your presence and lost in the breakdown.
You don’t remember how it ended, frankly, it was a blur. All you could remember was the heat of your sympathetic tears merging with the heat of his pained ones. Your embrace had not come close to anything you’ve once had, then again your relationship was anything but ordinary. By the time you went along with your normal day-to-day, the air had changed. Once charged with malice and disgust, now one with quiet and avoidant. Like you couldn’t bear to look at each other.
The image will forever be ingrained in your mind, as well as the weak ache in his voice as he tore himself to shreds.
Your family never thought to visit Gaston’s family after his passing. It was no use since they’d only seen the blind fury as Vernon did, as for this mother, however, she was a normal girl in love who had lost the man she was in love with while she carried his child. Of course, that had to be heartbreaking, even if it was Gaston. Vernon had every right to be angry, fuming, having never known his father, and now having lost his mother, he was simply on a warpath. You just happened to face his wrath.
Did it excuse any of his words or actions? No, but now you had answers.
No matter. That was a mere months ago and you’ve had no reason to have spoken to each other since. Your father would have words for something like this. Dwelling had no place in what you have in store.
Vernon would just have to be placed on the back burner of your mind.
As of now, there was one thing to look forward to, and that was the winter formal. As a Royal, the opportunities you had to look exceptionally presentable were in front of your Royal duties or facing the brittle bones of members of parliament. This time you were dressed your best for leisure. Excitement filled every orifice of your body seeing the typically ordinary halls of your college splay posters of the event. It wouldn’t be difficult to find a way to get there or find the perfect outfit, but now all you needed was a date.
Your eyes wandered off to Seokmin, his smile dazzling as always as he engaged with his classmates. You don’t think you were obvious about your infatuation until you let out a loud sigh, causing the giggles to the left of you from Chan. As expected for the child of Tinkerbell. Mischief followed everywhere he went.
“How unbecoming of someone in line for a throne.”
You lightly elbowed the demi-fairy, playful sneering at him, watching the tuffs of his bright blond bounce wistfully in the wind. “Quiet, pest. I’m finally in a good mood.”
He slouched against the bench, following your gaze chuckling. “Just ask him out. It’s the perfect time.”
You scoffed. “And make a fool of myself? Not interested.”
“You don’t know that.”
“And I don’t want to risk it either.”
“May I remind you of your legacy? He’d be blind to reject your advances, your highness,” he said light-heartedly using your title.
You were meant to be poised and regal but Seokmin made you feel like an average person falling for their school crush. The effect he had on you was some sort of phenomenon. You’re surrounded by attractive people every day yet he’s the one who currently carried a piece of your naive little heart that believed you could have a true fairytale ending.
Ultimately, you sighed, turning to your friend with a solemn glance before pulling yourself off from the bleachers. “Let's just get to class, Chan.”
Chan gave you an indecipherable look mixed with defeat but didn’t press on further, joining you in your next class.
It had come to a point that couples outnumbered singles, crowding the vast halls to the point of polite apologies when you needed to pass someone to get somewhere. Even Chan had managed to get a date and you weren’t even sure he was seeing anyone. You were feeling left out—wondering when it was your turn, or how undesirable you were to not have gotten asked yet—until you were halted at the steps of the hall. An array of students stood by either of your sides in an almost assembly line. Scattered flower petals led your path along with seashells of every shape and size and you couldn’t help but smile especially as you met the eyes of the person behind all of it.
Seokmin was down on one knee, a large bouquet of roses in his arms, and a big poster held up by a few fellow students behind him asking to escort you to the dance. You held your hands to your face, squealing like a child hearing good news, “Yes! I’d love to go with you, Seokmin!”
You hugged him, cheers and sounds of joy following and you were happy beyond belief in the warmth of his body. Everyone was happy for you both, already making jokes for him to prepare for his royal status because this formal dance had the tradition that the couples made from this event often stood the test of time.
Meanwhile, you felt a pair of not-so-celebratory eyes tracing over every step you took, an unbearable heat running through your body. You weren’t sure what to think of it. Ignoring him was your best option, but that was better said than done.
The closer you got to the event, those same eyes would flicker to your presence more often than not, especially as you’re joined at the hip with your formal date across the halls. Vernon’s eyes, previously malicious but empty, now seeped a silent fury that wished he could have the gall to give in to the pressures he placed in his head. That gaze burned in you, embedded in your day-to-day, when you should’ve thought of one and only one person that willingly acted on being by your side.
The thought of Vernon’s eyes on you eventually began to fade into oblivion, replaced with images of slow dancing with Seokmin. You’d be adorned in gold jewelry, long silk gloves, and attire that best fitted your status, leaving onlookers wanting more. The night would be magical, parading more than royalty, living a somewhat beautiful evening of normalcy and fulfillment. And if so be it, end up resulting in a break of your lifelong dry spell of relationships.
“Well, would you look at that? Seokmin will love it.”
Chan offered you a brotherly smile as you showed off what you had chosen to wear back in your closet. The twirl of your body dropped the fabric in mesmerizing magic. You could feel a mixture of pride and power in such a beautifully crafted vessel. Its body was heavy but you couldn’t feel any more light wearing it like the world was finally going to give you what you needed, whatever that may be. It would come with time. At this moment, you felt exactly where you needed to be.
You grinned back at the young fairy. “Thanks, Chan.”
The day finally would arrive. You saw Seokmin out by the steps of your residence and finally saw the pristine appearance of him in his suit, smiling brighter than the setting sun. His gaze softened at you in appreciation, his smile somehow growing only wider, and he walked over to you and took you in his hand. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, sending chills down your back, while a thank you is caught in your throat.
You’re nervous the whole ride there, bouncing your knee in anticipation as Seokmin occasionally turned away from the road to smile. Your nerves dissipate the moment you enter the event. The dance hall was beautiful, streaming lights from the ceiling to floor satin blue cloths on tables, and gorgeous centerpieces that did the prestigious university more than justice. You have seen much grander decorations in your experience but in this space with your peers whom you respected many of, it felt like the most beautiful place on planet Earth.
“This is amazing.” You said your eyes aglow.
The coolness of the air tingled up your arm but faded as you noticed everyone else’s event attire. Grinning ear to ear, you appreciate the craftsmanship of everyone’s distinction from one another, all incorporating pieces personal to themselves. Hearing the soft laugh of your date tore you away from your watch and you locked on to the warm creases of his eyes. He excused himself, offering to get you drinks, and you nodded before seeing him off in the direction of refreshments.
Your eyes returned to the floor plan before landing on the man you least expected to attend, prim and proper in a maroon-red suit perfectly tailored to him like a second skin. Vernon locked on you. The familiar look of hostility in his eyes along with something else unexplainable. It made the hairs of your neck stand and yet you couldn’t bear looking away.
You drew heat up your spine, breath stolen from your lips, and eyes quivered over his shape as you took in all of him. You knew all this time he was handsome, more than that, he looked eerily delectable, but you weren’t one to admit that. Not even yourself. Yet, something in the air, something mystical that drew you to him like a spell. A powerful, deeply conjured, mind-bending spell.
“Dewberry punch. Surprisingly delicious.”
Your gaze broke at Seokmin’s appearance, smiling at him as if you hadn’t just thought about someone else in his presence. “I bet.”
You accepted your drink, while Vernon still trickled in your head like simmering rain, pattering on your rooftop and leaking to your subconscious.
It stayed that way throughout the night, making you wonder how you could change your sentiment about him with a simple suit. With all the wardrobe changes in the world, it shouldn’t have changed anything, but perhaps it wasn’t just the suit. The last vulnerable moment you shared was something that crawled from the back of your mind, softening your heart and aching for the man in your thoughts. You had sympathy as you would for anyone in a hard situation. Vernon was no different from that. It’d make sense if you’d think of him.
You did mental gymnastics during your slow dance, smiling back at Seokmin amicably as your hand pressed lightly against the middle of your back. He hummed to the beat of the music, his natural radiance momentarily distracting you. “I mean it when I said you look beautiful because, wow, you really do. Can hardly believe you said yes to me.”
Something swelled up in your heart, heating your cheeks as your smile grew an inch. You pulled closer to him confidently, content to hear he shared a similar sentiment. You let your eyes naturally flutter back at him, a familiar sense of breathlessness stopping at your lungs.
“I’m really glad you asked me,” you said in a soft gasp.
You felt his fingers lock tighter through yours and your foreheads kiss in a split second. His light layer of cologne infiltrates your nose and tickles your insides. You felt the warmth of his breath, the moment approaching, and you anticipated it. The moment his perfect pair would find yours, time would stop, like the storybook fairytale ending his mom and your dad had.
Yet. You turned your head, burning in embarrassment from your last decision reflex. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Seokmin smiled disappointedly, reluctantly letting you go.
You took your time, lightly splashing water on your face. You took in your deep breaths. You physically shuddered to yourself. Something in the air that told you not enough. It should’ve been it, it’s all that your head said, but for some reason, your heart disagreed. What is wrong with you?
You shut your eyes tight, taking in more breaths—only getting shallower—before exhaling. By the time your heart settled down, you exited the restroom, painting a courteous smile, inching closer and closer to Seokmin who now seems to be preoccupied with the company of his friends.
Their voices only got louder the closer your feet cut through the distance, words getting clearer until you're riddled with confusion, drinking in every mutter like hot gossip.
“They were easy,” Seokmin bragged uncharacteristically.
Easy.
“They’re really into you, huh? Looks like you’ll get to replenish your fortune after all.”
Seokmin’s smile was familiar, yet an inkling of something sinister peaks through the last second as he fingers through his perfectly coiffed hair. “Becoming a Royal is going to be so much easier than I thought. Luckily, the beast’s kid is so desperate for attention. Who knows, maybe they’ll prove themselves in bed how much they’re willing to do for it.”
Tears brimmed your eyes, and you blinked them away, furious for not seeing the truth sooner. Your blood boiled. You were about to approach him when someone was one step ahead of you. In a flash, Vernon was pinning Seokmin by the neck. Seokmin, fear in his eyes, choked through his threats, hands over Vernon’s in an attempt to pull him off. “What the hell? Get off me!”
“Take it back,” Vernon growled.
A sum of the initial shock dissipates in Seokmin’s eyes, a smile erupting on his face, one that suggests anything but civil reconciliation. “What…oh, about Y/n? Why? Pretty boy got their eyes set on them?”
Vernon slammed him back on the wall, gripping tighter. “You get anywhere near them, I’ll kill you.”
“Vernon stop!” You shouted. “You’ll actually kill him!”
In a lingering silence, Vernon persists on Seokmin’s neck, fuming, seeing the taunt in Seokmin’s eyes. “You heard them. Let me go. Don’t think for a second you’re worth an ounce of their attention.”
“Like you are?” Vernon said, gritting his teeth.
“Vernon, please!” You pleaded.
Vernon pulled off of Seokmin, shoving him to the ground, before storming away. A look from him to you as he exits.
You approached him, finally seeing how pathetic he looks.
“Y/n, can you believe that guy?” He stretched his hands out to you, “Help me out here, beautiful.”
Your footsteps are heavy approaching him. Arms crossed, your scowl presented itself. “I heard everything, you jerk. I have half a mind to let him finish the job.”
He blinked back in disbelief, feigning innocence, “Y/n how could you say that—this is all just a misunderstanding—“
“Shut up and never talk to me again or I’ll finish what he started.” You took off from the scene, leaving Seokmin on the ground.
Your feet took you out of the building and on a search. Vernon couldn’t have left far behind. Gathering the material of your clothes in your fists, you find him within minutes. “Vernon! Come back here!”
“Get lost, beastie. I don’t have the energy for you.”
You scrunched your face up in frustration but persisted, trailing him heatedly. “You are going to explain what the hell just happened. I don’t know how many glasses of champagne you had, but no matter the amount does not warrant the near bloodshed in that ballroom. Or are you that stupid?”
“Leave me the fuck alone or I’ll make sure there’s bloodshed.”
“You could’ve gotten in so much trouble. Your temper is actually insane how in the hell—“
One second, you're going at him for doing something so reckless due to his unbridled lack of control, next he’s seething at you as he’s pinned you to the rough surface of an oak tree in the middle of school grounds. His eyes lit like wildfire, burning your skin from the little distance between you both.
“I warned you. You should’ve listened.”
You gasped seeing those honey eyes, like molten gold, you were entranced by their naked beauty seeing how they started to slowly soften beneath your gaze. “You…defended me. You almost killed someone…for me…”
Despite his warnings, you held no fear, and at this moment you felt perplexed by how alluring a mere human could be. Your heart rattled like it demanded escape and you can hear his heart do the same. It helped to have super hearing. You swallowed, eyes falling to his lips before, watching them tremble before you crushed them to yours.
Stunned, you felt him succumb to the desire you sense you both had, feeling his hand crawl up to your frilled side. However, half a second too late, he’s shoving you aside, covering his lips in wide-eyed shock. You stood back with your own look of shock, internally asking yourself if that really all happened. Not even a chance to apologize, Vernon took several steps back. “Never do that again. I swear to god, or I’ll regret it.”
He disappeared through the dark fog the air cast, leaving you alone in your thoughts. One thing stayed with you in that experience though. He said ‘I’ll regret it’ not ‘you’ll regret it.’ What exactly would he regret about it?
When classes start back up again, the atmosphere is anything but what it used to be. Despite your background, you lived a vaguely calm day to day but nowadays you can’t walk the halls without being stared at. You knew why, but you weren’t going to let them get to you. You were going to give yourself that space.
You let Chan know your lunches would be by yourself for a while until the noise would die down, and although he was disappointed, he couldn’t have been too disappointed with him and his formal date that has recently gone official. You were happy to know he wouldn’t be alone in your time of self-care.
The rooftop was known to be empty at almost all times. You knew this from coming time to time, especially in your freshman year when in the midst of the blithering heat of summer. Frankly, it didn’t bother you as much and apparently still hadn’t as you walked up the flight of stairs leading up and out the doors of that very rooftop.
Clutching a lunch box too big for a normal human, you stared back into the eyes he was scarfing down his meal like he was starving and alone. Vernon’s eyes grew twice their size as a limp noodle hung from his mouth before slurping it back up from his sauce-stained lips. “What ar—why are you here?”
You gestured to food, butting back the bit of shock that he was actually here in front of you. “Lunch.”
“Yeah, why aren’t you eating in the cafeteria? Off-campus? Why here?” He badgered.
You scoffed. “You don’t own the rooftop, Vernon.”
“Well, I don’t like you here. leave.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Are you really gonna be so difficult?”
“How am I being difficult? I’ll just sit here away from you eating my lunch, just… Ignore me.”
He scoffed. “Fine.”
“Fine.”
You occupied a space from the ground and made yourself at home, sitting criss-cross on the ground. Vernon stayed where he was found and continued his lunch. Neither of you talked the rest of the time there and when the moment it was time to go back to your individual classes. It would be done separately, but that would continue for weeks at a time, almost seeing each other every day around the same time for lunch. If you came to a point that neither of you minded the other's presence given that it was so normal to see each other in the same place.
Now you would quietly acknowledge each other while simultaneously trying to ignore each other’s presence, but within due time, the air between you two would leave a lingering charge, likely still thinking about what happened the night of the formal. The moment of weakness.
“I never thanked you.”
Vernon raised his brow, forking through his food.“Thanked me for what?”
“You may have almost killed Seokmin but you defended me.”
He rolled his eyes simultaneously letting out a sigh. “Don’t bring up that shit again.”
“But you did, and why… You hate me, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” he answered, uncertainty in his tone, “Maybe I don’t know. He just pissed me off.”
You smiled to yourself, finishing up the last of the entree. “I was there to hear everything and even I didn’t know what I’d do, so, thank you.”
“Whatever.”
The silence made its return but you continue to see each other more and more. Word has gone down about the entire event and you had become old news, but you never changed your routine. These days you were starting to enjoy Vernon’s company and perhaps he was enjoying yours. He stopped complaining about your loud chewing and started accepting some of your food exchanges, but besides that, you remain civil. You hadn't talked about the kiss you shared, and perhaps it was best that way. At least that’s what you kept saying to yourself even though it’s all you’ve thought in his presence.
You were forcing yourself to get over it. You had finally come to a place you and Vernon could stand in the same place without killing one another, maybe you even grew a friend out of him. In any case, you were better off, not knowing what he meant when he kissed you back or what he meant by saying he’d regret it. It would be fine. Given your family’s history, it’s likely they would never be what you dreamt it would be.
Fingering threw your bags for your dorm keys. You are getting closer and closer to the steps to home. You clutch around the metal, lacing a digit through your key ring, and claiming your key before a hand comes around your wrist. You turn to see your perpetrator, manic, eyes stare back at you and a smile, that you once found warm and familiar, turned dark and sadistic. His once honey voice that you dreamt of, and could soothe you to sleep now, spoke a terrifying timber, towering over you, seething back at your fearful stance.
“Y/n, talk to me please talk to me.”
You tugged from his grip. “Seokmin what are you doing here? Leave me the fuck alone.”
“How are you? I’ve missed you.” Honey laced his tongue, but known him it was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, deceitful.
“Seokmin let go of me.”
“No,” he shouted, “not until everything is right with us again.”
You shot your eyes back at him, “Are you fucking insane? Get away from me, you lunatic.”
His fingers wrapped tighter around you, bringing you close and personal to see the red in his eyes. “You were mine, Y/n who cares what happened that night. All I know is that I want you and I know you want me too.”
“Seokmin please, I’m begging you, you’re hurting me.”
In your desperate pleas, he doesn’t listen. You felt trapped, buried under the heavy weight of his words, how inhuman he looks,, and you feel terrified for your life. You tried wrenching out of his touch, screaming for an escape, wishing upon any unseen star in the afternoon sky that this moment would end. As if your prayers were answered a body comes in and slams Seokmin onto the ground. You see their feet kick back at him, fury in their eyes screaming back at the man.
“Get the fuck out of here before I promise to kill you and I don’t fucking break my promises.”
Seokmin is almost tempted to challenge him, but he ends up escaping, leaving you both behind.
Here Vernon was again, somehow saving you just as you have begun to accept your platonic nature, and you can’t help but look at him with eyes of want, desire, and need. You’ll never begin to understand the pull you had towards this impossibly destructive man but you were beginning to understand that there would never be an end between you two. In turn a new fear, now you would be worrying about days without him.
“Are you hurt?” He asked, washed over with concern.
“I’m not but,” you look over him, locked on him, even noticing the sweat falling from his brow, “You really have no self-control do you?”
He dropped his warm expression“Are you really telling that to me, someone that just saved you from potential assault?”
“You keep hurting me, you keep saving me, pick a side. What is it about me, Vernon? Why? Why are you here when I always least expect you to be?” You asked in almost frustration.
“As if I know. you’re the beast’s kid. How can you be so fucking helpless that you need my saving?”
You don’t bother to answer, as if the answer were all in the eyes looking back at you. Gathering all your courage, your lips found their way back to his, the salt of your tears sweeping over his lips. You whimpered in ache, clutching the front of his shirt. You pulled him towards you and this time, he didn't let go.
You made your way back to your place, clothes thrown astray on the ground. You were skin to skin, lips to lips, body to body. It all felt so fast, so rash, but your mind couldn’t think of anything else. All there was the hot of the fire between your legs and Vernon, perfect gorgeous Vernon.
“Vernon…”
He exhaled a shallow breath before roughly tugging you to the arm of your couch, placing you against it like it’s your pedestal. His hand against the small of your back, steadied you as his lips made their way down to your chin, neck, and collar. His eager fingers found your stiff peaks in a matter of milliseconds before he prodded at them, rolling them between the pads of his fingers.
“You won’t regret it,” You asked, “having sex with me?”
“Will you?” he responded, teeth grazing your stiff sensitivity as it got harder against his tongue.
You shook your head. “No.”
“Good. Then neither will I.”
He fell to his knees the moment he found a place between your thighs. The heat of his lips ghosts over your inner thighs, tongue licking over the fabric of your inner garment, before closing it around his lips, sucking the arousal soaking through it. You clutched the leather of your seat, moisture forming in your mouth, “Oh god.” His tongue finds the divide of core, moaning sweetly as hr anxiously fed. Your legs settled on either of his shoulders, knee brushing tenderly over his cheek.
Finally, pushing the garment aside, he feasted on your raw heat, moving his tongue in ravenous speed, having you spew out sighs of contentment. You blistered in goosebumps, licking your lips, your whines became a soothing symphony, and Vernon’s tongue became the award-winning solo. Soon, they’d melt in bursts of ache, clenching the perimeters to his face.
“Your tongue, Vernon, shit…”
His hands stroked up your side, tongue flicking back at your clit, before his mouth sucks on the entrance, kissing it like he’s met his estranged lover. You couldn’t ignore his eyes, honey ebbing with lust, long lashes framing his view like he was a goddamn dream. You laced through his hair when you felt the presence of his fingers in you and you tugged, a sinful mumble leaves his lips.
“Harder.”
You thought you might’ve been hearing things, and you croaked out a, “What?”
“Please pull harder,” Vernon repeated in groans. “Mommy…”
You blinked back down at him in fascination. “Mommy?”
His eyes creased together in an impossibly endearing way, looking malleable and edible, his gentle hands caressed your thighs in worship, “Yes Mommy…please…”
“…Okay, I can do that.”
You did as he requested and his voice resonated as a reward. Your fingers dig deeper in his hair and found out how easily Vernon complies with a bit of encouragement. His fingers plugged your entrance, removing and reappearing, at a skilled pace. You enjoyed him, louder moans bouncing off the walls of your manor as your body shook against him, surely coming apart for in a matter of minutes how he was going. Bucking your hips you hissed as a sliver of your climax, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”
“Please do it, Mommy, I want to taste you…”
You called out to him in pure anguish, his mouth pressed into you, catching every drip, completely defiling his mouth. Finished, you pulled him by the hair to meet his lips. You fisted through his hair, locking his body between your legs as your release is addictingly sweet on his tongue. “So you want me to be your…mommy?”
“Yes,” Vernon slowly answered with a hint of hesitancy, “does that bother you?”
“N-no, just not used to it, but I like it,” your draped your arms over his shoulders, “as long as you like it. You can call me whatever you want. I’ll be your mommy.”
You dragged him from his hair, ensuring he was willingly compliant, and had him land on the thick cushion of the couch. You sat next to his side, sucking on his tongue coated in your climax before you crept your hand at his briefs. Your hands slipped out his cock and wrapped its stiff stature with your fingers. Traveling his precum to his shaft, your digits trace over his veins through the slick. You placed pressure around his girth—his moans sweet but full of sin—and you smiled against his lips in interest.
“You like that?” You teased, “You like how mommy’s touching you?”
“Yes, Mommy.” He trembled.
“Should mommy help you cum?”
He nodded, chest noticeably heaving up and down. “I want whatever mommy wants.”
Your gaze dipped at his cock, delectable and only growing bigger in his hands “I want you to cum on mommy’s fingers.”
He nodded again, now more gingerly, “Yes, Mommy, thank you, Mommy.”
You stroked with a gentle touch initially, working your way up his length, and allowed him to speak to find a pressure he preferred. You liked how he reacted to you, almost buzzing in arousal. He emitted subtle desperation, patient to your control, and only allowed himself to move as you asked. His hands stayed by his side, nails digging into the leather of the couch. Your free hand parted his messy hair, exposing his forehead, and you took the ball of your hand over his flushed cheek. You admired him close in stark contrast to the hand ruining him.
He mouth opened to pant, “So good…that’s so good…thank you…”
You bit your lip, an idea suddenly popping into your head. “Can I spit in your mouth, baby?”
As if he couldn’t get redder, he glows up like a bright neon sign, almost blaring that he was in fact open. “Yes, Mommy, spit in my mouth please.”
You tilted his head upward by his chin. Your thumb helped in parting his lips before a string of translucent liquid fell from your tongue to his picture perfectly. “Slurp it for me baby, take my spit.”
He collected the remains from your tongue, needy wet sounds loud for show, and he visibly swallowed for you to see. “Thank you…”
“No, thank you.”
Your lips found home against each other and your hand tugged around his cock tighter, faster. His whimpers are muffled between your lips, and his hips instinctively bounce, thrusting back into your touch. You didn’t need to pleasure yourself to get off, already high on his pretty little voice desperate for release. “Such a good boy for me. You gonna come for me?”
“Yes Mommy, I’m gonna cum…just like that touch me just like that.” You followed the direction of his voice before you found the buckle of his hips, finally, it dispersed in the air and hit his chest. his lips.
“That good?” You hummed, and he nodded back, inching closer to you, inaudibly asking for more.
You did as he requested, drawing them only when you hear his gags and his salvia is the only thing that keeps you connected. Nothing could replace the look of listlessness mixed with pleasure on his face, it was pure bliss.
“Sit still for Mommy.”
You let your underwear fall to the ground and do the same to him before coming up and straddling his lap. Your lips are again one, crushing in harsh friction as you were rubbing his still hard cock between your bodies, not caring about the mess. Your slick moisture slathers up your bodies in the process while you’re grinding in his lap. Ribbons, thick of ivory releases, adorn his toned torso like celebratory streamers.
You collected it from your fingers and had a taste, dragging the nectar over your tastebuds. “So sweet…”
He eyed your fingers, blinking back in temptation as he licked his lips. There’s no need to ask as you gathered the remaining from his body and gently placed it in his mouth. He ate his cum with pride, sucking them off clear from your finger until your knuckles practically vanished from
“Should mommy help you cum so more?” You tempted, “That way you can cum in Mommy?”
A glint of excitement flashed before replacing it with concern. “B-but a condom?”
You shrugged, leaning in closer, “I trust you’ve been good, have you?” Have you been safe?
“Yes, Mommy.”
You tangled your fingers through his hair, soften with his sweat, “Then it's no problem.”
You slipped him inside you feeling him stretch your insides. Your lips pressed together, processing the sensation, which followed a loud satisfied moan. “Such a good boy, so big for mommy.”
At the same time, Vernon groaned, hands settling on your hips, “Mommy’s so…perfect, so warm.”
You used him like a toy, lifting your body to bounce in his lap. You pulled at his lips with your teeth, tuned in to the whimpers he makes when let go. His cock moved in at in achingly slow rhythm, teasing him with your walls, seeing hope fade from his eyes every time you do. Holds your tighter, determined for more, but does not overstep his role. “Mommy…”
“Is my baby being needy?”
“Please let me cum—mmh, ah,” your fingers found his nipples, twisting them, “Please, Mommy.”
“Are you going to clean up the mess?”
“Yes Mommy, I always clean my messes.”
“Fine, I’ll let you cum,” your hand came around the sides of his neck before tightening, the startle look in his eyes melting in euphoria as you felt his adam's apple shift as he swallowed, “but we’re both going to cum. And you, are going to cum a huge load in me. Are you gonna do that for Mommy?”
He nodded, no sign of diminishing obedience. “Yes, mommy, everything.”
You put in more effort this round, pounding and grinding over his thighs, the sounds of your skin coming against each other having you reeling in every way.. His cock fucked back into you but if anything, it felt like you were the one fucking him. You pushed him harder against the couch, leaving his head over the end of the couch. “Gonna cum for mommy, hmm? Gonna pour your big load into me?”
“So good Mommy…more…let me cum please…I’ll pour it all into you.”
You took top speed, fucking until you couldn’t anymore, as your climax reappeared, bucking your hips against him. Vernon shit his eyes as he was close too, and in a second you felt a flood of warmth fill you to the brim, coating your insides in his hot, sweet nectar. His thrusts come apart in the air like his moans, in a staccato rhythm, he fits his cock deeply surrounded in your release before dropping his head back to catch his breath. You rested your head on his shoulder, smiling, and feeling soft caresses take up your back misted with sweat.
“That…um,” you chuckled nervously to yourself, the illusion of power dissipated.
“Thank you, Y/n.” His voice oozed something that kept you warm and gooey, resembling sincere gratitude and appreciation.
For the first time in what felt like forever, your cheeks are now finally the ones to heat up. You stared back at Vernon’s glassy gaze, a smile so foreign yet dreamlike, you almost forget it wasn’t one of the many images you imagined in your head. He was actually staring back at you with the same desire you had grown to have for him.
“I never got to apologize,” he added, lids heavy with fatigue, “kind of feels late for that, but I’m sorry.”
“Well it’s kind of late to say I forgive you, but I do.”
You didn’t need to say what it was for you to understand what the apology was about, neither of you did. You simply just kissed, kissed him as if you’d die without him. You’d kiss him until your lips would glue shut together from a natural glue. You’d kiss him if it’s the last day of the world. You’d just kiss him.
After some cleansing, you joined naked in the bed, just back in each other's presence. With your head on his arm and his other arm around you, you laid next to each other like newlyweds, grinning from ear to ear.
“I’m sorry, about your family I mean,” you couldn’t help but follow up.
He shook his head defiantly, “Don’t be, honestly, I was being…awful, jumping to conclusions. Funny enough, a lot like my dad.”
You sensed the bitterness in his voice, “But my family held power. I could’ve—we could’ve. There was so much we could’ve done to help your upbringing.”
“That is not your responsibility,” he replied pushing away a loose strand of hair from your face, “I’m finally accepting that right now she’s in a good place. I don’t have to worry about her. What’s done is done.”
“What about you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” You asked dubiously, just wanting assurance.
“For once…I am. Finally, I am.” He kissed your lips, holding on to your close embrace. “Her passing pushed me to do better for myself—even if it wasn’t for the best intentions—it got me through school, and gave me an in with the happily ever after program. Now I can have my happily ever after. Took me this long but you helped me realize it.”
You matched his smile. “I’m happy for you.” You petted the top of his head, hearing him chuckle.
“There’s a lot I need to make up for, even if we’re ‘even’.”
You hummed cheekily in agreement, “Certainly, we can find something.”
He playfully shrugged, gathering your hint. “Just tell me what it is, I’ll be there. Even if I have to get on my knees.”
#svthub#vernon smut#seventeen smut#seventeen#vernon#vernon chwe#vernon chwe smut#chwe hansol smut#seventeen fanfic#seventeen vernon#hansol smut#hansol vernon chwe#vernon x you#vernon x y/n#vernon x reader#seventeen han
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*deep breath* FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
Alright, I'm gonna make my case for the Bad Buddy Rooftop Kiss. This is probably gonna be the most personal I've ever been on this hellsite.
Let's get this out of the way. I loved Kinnporsche. I honestly did (even though it might not look like it since this is the second time I'm passionately campaigning against the show). I loved it so much that I made my very busy best friend, @tonysteve25 who is planning their wedding, make up the time to talk to me so I can rant for two hours about the show (no need to judge me, I know y'all are equally crazy)
I'm gonna strip the plot to the basics and then build my argument, so if I end up reiterating a lot of themes that are already discussed, apologies in advance
Bad Buddy is, at its core, a Romeo and Juliet retelling. Set in a fairly conservative Asian country, and produced by a media industry whose brand of storytelling often involves an AU-esque setting where homophobia does not exist. We are shown time and again that Pat and Pran's friends and family do not have a problem with them being in a same-sex relationship.
So the conflict comes from the history their families have with each other. As a South Asian cinephile, I've watched this trope play out so many times with heterosexual couples that I'm sure it has unwittingly become a part of my brain chemistry. Oftentimes, the reasons why the families are feuding are so over the top that every shred of relatability gets thrown out the window.
In Bad Buddy's case, the reason is kept simple, albeit childish in the beginning. A business rivalry between the two families, and as a result, the boys are also pitted against each other. This simplicity gives way to a lot of levity in the beginning, but as the story progresses, the real strength of this narrative starts seeping through. This show is relatable. Almost too relatable.
The constant pressure to outperform the other in every way, be it academics, sports, or romance; the expectation on Pat to follow his dad's footsteps and match his achievements, even in a dumb singing competition; the guilt that permeates every moment of joy they feel in their relationship, because they are always aware that they are actively disappointing their parents; the quiet, painful realization in the later episodes that they will never be accepted into each other's families, no matter how hard they try; the revelation that the root of the conflict came from a scholarship stolen from a woman, to satisfy the expectations of a patriarch.
Every statement above is the reality of so many Asians living their lives right now. I personally know couples who have been cut off from their families for over 20 years because they don't approve of their love/marriage. I have peers who blindly follow the career path charted for them by their parents because it is easier than resisting and doing something they actually like. A lot of us are left feeling unmoored and struggling to define our self worth in the real world, after we leave academia, because that is all we are ever taught: your grades indicate how worthy you are.
Now, I know not a single word above argues why the kiss is the best, but I'm getting there. Stay with me now. Many people more talented than me have argued the specifics of the kiss, the reasons why it grabbed us by our throats the first time we saw it, and why we are still on that rooftop with them. The reasons submitted in the poll describe it so eloquently, beat by beat (edit: I found out that it was witten by @tiistirtipii, here). @respectthepetty begs us not to disappoint Pat again here, @lurkingshan dives deep into the character analysis and why the kiss is the perfect culmination of narration, pacing, and the characters' journey here, @waitmyturtles explores the importance of foreplay, the 'how did we get here' before the kiss, here.
What I want to draw attention to are two things. One: how this kiss was executed in such a way that all of their deeper struggles are woven into the microexpressions, so when you rewatch the show, all of the added context makes it so much more heartbreaking.
Let's be clear here, Pat and Pran did not get a happily ever after. They did not break all of the chains that were weighing them down. Pat went on to follow his father into the business (who also followed his father into it). They have to keep their relationship a secret, with no end in sight. Even in the end, the audience is shown only a hidden, reluctant acceptance from the parents, not an open love.
Pat and Pran's relationship will always be bittersweet. And the kiss shows it. The fact that the kiss was the very last shot to be filmed is no coincidence. The actors know how it ends, they have already performed it. They also know that the characters in this moment know it too. They have lived all their lives playing their families' games, they know that if they take this leap of faith, then they are willingly giving up so many little moments in life, even something so mundane as entering each other's house through the front door. And we can see it, see all of it clearly in Pran's face. Pran, who plans every detail of his life. Pran, who is also in love with his rival for who knows how long. And then we see it in Pat's face too, if only after a moment, because that's the way he is. Pat, who has looked at Pran all his life as a rival, a bandmate, a secret friend. Pat, who is the only one who can completely understand Pran, his anger and grief and devastation, because they only have each other in this wretched game. We see his face fall, and we see confusion cloud his happiness.
This kiss is the perfect summation of their relationship, shown at the very beginning of it. They can have desire, but be riddled with guilt. They can have happiness, but only in secrecy.
Two: how this kiss did more for Asian queer representation than we can ever comprehend.
I was not present in the Tumblr trenches with y'all when the show originally aired, but I've read many, many posts about how it broke the internet. Western media often fucks up queer characters because they don't write fully fleshed out characters who happen to also be queer. They place enormous emphasis on the character's queerness, and end up writing a stereotypical cardboard cutout in the shape of a queer person. Complex queer representation is hard to come by, add Asian into the mix and the pool gets laughably small.
In the episodes leading up to the kiss, we see the characters get fleshed out, their struggles explored, but they are also deeply rooted in the middle class Asianness of it all. I know it is ironic to say that other shows from Thailand are less Asian than this one, but the struggles of a queer mafia boss/rich businessman/heir to the corporate throne protagonists can sometimes be a tad out of touch for the general populace, and we can only feel so much nostalgia for our school days before we are tired of the saccharine sugar high.
When I saw this kiss for the first time, my eyes teared up, not because these gay characters are having a hard time, but because I could feel their pain, irrespective of my sexuality. I knew deep in my bones how a kiss can simultaneously feel like freedom and a lifelong trap. And I'm sure so many others felt it too. The kiss went viral because it was a perfect representation of so many struggles of Asians and the diaspora (and beyond), and it happened to be queer.
I don't know how the results will tally up when the clock runs out, but I hope we can chalk up a honest-to-goodness happy ending for them, if only in a silly Tumblr poll.
cc @bl-bracket, here ya go, a very long and rambling campaign propaganda
#bad buddy#bad buddy series#bad buddy the series#patpran#ohmnanon#ohm pawat#nanon korapat#aof noppharnach#bl bracket#bl bracket for best kiss
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Hi! I'm back :) after another long hiatus😅 I have missed all of you❤️
First of all a huge thank you to everyone who were worried and asked about my health and how I was doing. I wasn't doing well tbh. I'm one of those people who had the misfortune of never quite recovering from covid. I already had one chronic illness that was messing up my life and health. Having another on top of that takes a lot of physical, emotional and mental toll and limits my energy greatly. So I needed time to get used to my new reality and condition and learn to how manage it and live with it. It's still a work in progress and doctor appointments are seeming endless but at least some meds are helping. So there's that.
You probably already know the second reason why I wasn't doing well. I've seen terrible things…And you need time to process them. To grieve, to deal with trauma and survivor's guilt, and nurture your anger and keep fighting, keep resisting…
And well, internet connection still sucks so using social media is kind of an ordeal :D
There were a lot of times that I wanted to come back on tumblr but every time some issue would come up and take my motivation and energy. Then two weeks ago, after I couldn't crush the little ray of hope that maybe this time I'm going to see sth I like, I started watching season 2 of Loki. I watched it while promising myself that I'm not going to care anymore if it's bad, reminding myself that I might see sth as bad as season 1. Still I was surprised that I didn't hate it. On the contrary there were moments that were entertaining and even enjoyable. And those moments were more than the ones I dislike. It was better than season 1 and admittedly that's a low bar since I consider S1 one of the worst tv shows I've ever seen, but there were noticeable changes in pace and tone of the narrative and characterization in S2. Some issues in S1 was addressed. Loki was actually the main character of his series and got to do badass magic stuff :D The characters were flesh out and three dimensional and likable(I love OB so much :D). There was no romance. The ending was great.
There were of course things I didn't like. Removing Loki's backstory and his issues with his family from the story is one of them. How some of his moments in past was addressed. The episodes at times got boring or very predictable. There were times that Loki was ooc or comedic moments that weren't delivered well.
It wasn't perfect but at least acceptable. And probably the best Loki content we got since TDW. And I liked the ending a lot. I found myself keep going back to rewatch some scenes. I found myself analyzing the content happily. I had things to say. So here I am :D basically I'm 100% back to my Loki bs and I'm making it everyone's problem :P
Whether you loved the series or hated it, you're welcome on my blog and you're welcome to send me your opinions and engage with me in discussions and metas. I will tag posts accordingly in case you want to avoid certain content(tbh I still don't know what the new tags will be because I haven't written anything yet but I will make a post when I do).
There will be posts of some new fandoms so block their tags if you don't want to see those posts. The new fandoms are Sandman tv show(I haven't finished the comics so plz don't spoil them for me), Wednesday, My Hero Academia, Shadow and Bone, and The Bifrost Incident.
As I mentioned above I'm dealing with multiple chronic illnesses and have a limited energy each day. I will try to answer your messages, comments and asks as soon as I can but it might take a long time. Sry about that.
And finally a warm welcome to all the new followers and thanks to everyone who are still following me❤️
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hello what are ur thoughts on the new hbomberguy video
OKOK SO I watched it from the hours of midnight to 4am, so I was kinda incoherent when posting that BUT I still do have thoughts.
Mainly I want to pummel James Somerton into the ground for multiple reasons, most of which H put more succinctly than I ever could.
It’s just so fucking disheartening to see someone like James Somerton be so successful off the hard work of people who have dedicated their lives to the stuff he’s ripping off of when those original authors are barely getting paid. It’s very hard to be an academic and watch this video because I know that if I were to write something academic about the queerness in media and publish it, which I plan to do out of college, there’s a very real possibility of James or someone like him finding the work, yoinking it and not giving me the credit, when I won’t get a fucking cent from the publication or him.
I hate that he’s getting away with it too, basically pulling the “I’m gay so I can’t be bad” card. That’s a fucking step BACK from the equal rights that LGBTQ people have been fighting for. By pulling this excuse, he separates the “gays” from the “straights”, putting each group under one black and white label- the straights are evil people who just want to put us gays down. That is a nasty idea right there. Follow that train far enough and you find yourself spouting homophobic rhetoric. Equal rights and seeing the LGBTQ community as equal to others means seeing them as human at ALL angles, the good and the bad. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t fuck up. Hell, I’m gay, and I’ve fucked up more times than I can count! It just makes me human, and it doesn’t make me less gay. James Somerton is touting himself as The Gay Person Who Knows Everything, which is blatantly untrue, discredits every queer person he’s ripped off of, and separates himself from the other LGBTQ people who make content as “better”- there’s that seed of homophobia again.
AND HE KEEPS DOING THIS! He’s biphobic and misogynistic! He routinely attacks “straight white women”—who could very well be bisexual, but because they’re women they MUST be straight according to Somerton logic—and discredits the work of bisexual authors (mainly bisexual women) who talk about the struggles of the LGBTQ community because “they like the opposite sex so they wouldn’t get it”. He dips himself into transphobia in order to give his biphobia and misogyny some weight, misgendering ND Stevenson (who has been on record about his struggle with coming out and gender identity) and Rebecca Sugar (who has done the same) on multiple occasions. And it’s really fucking disgusting. It really fucking is. When he copies off of work that mentions the words “trans” or “transgender”, he covers those words with generalizations, which takes the transgender community out of the queer experience. So on TOP of being misogynistic and biphobic, he’s ramming headfirst into transphobia too. Which holy fucking shit.
I just. H said not to send hate to James or his team or anyone else talked about in the video on his behalf. I agree and I don’t want to do that. But I sure hope this video is enough to make James Somerton stop being the utter fucking academic supervillain he is. He thinks he can get away with it because YouTube doesn’t count as academia, but there is so much goddamn evidence against him at this point he can’t possibly get off Scot free anymore. I hope YouTube staff sees that video and takes his channel down. I hope Nick, his co-writer that he threw under the bus, gets compensated and a better job. I hope every author and filmmaker Somerton ripped off makes enough money from the video to pay for rent. This can’t keep happening. It just can’t.
#woosh answers#anonymous#hbomberguy#james somerton#I am just. oh my god#I cried watching it last night#h is probably not gonna see this but I wanna thank him for making this video anyway#you’ve done YouTube and academia a great service#and I’m just so flabbergasted at the cartoon villainy of some people#just. Why? whats the point? what do you get?#i know the answer to those questions but still im just#there’s no merit#doesn’t the guilt eat him alive? doesn’t it hurt to steal? especially when you know what your actions are doing?#just. god
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Okay, so I've been watching a lot of those jubilee videos on youtube (iykyk) and there was one where best friends had to make a split decision of yes or no questions about their friendship... So naturally I wanted to write it with the marauders & co. (Here's the first question, but it's about to get more dramatic I promise)
Pete: “game host”
Pairings:
Sirius - James
Remus - Lily
Mary - Marlene
Barty - Evan
Regulus - Pandora - Dorcas
☆☆☆
“Okay, gang. Lets settle for once and for all who the best friend duo is.
Question Number 1 for you. Please step forward if you agree: “I am the more
intelligent one in the friendship.”, Peter announced on his little podium (the
couch table in James’ and Sirius' living room), looking expectantly at the lined
up friendship pairs in front of him.
There was commotion immediately after he stopped talking, a lot of his friends
taking a step forward or raising an eyebrow at their opposite if they did so as
well.
“Prongs you are not smarter than me. I speak six fucking languages!”,
immediately came the outraged voice of Sirius upon seeing James take a step
forward as well.
James crossed his arms and looked at his best friend challenging. “Mate, I love
you, but the amount of fancy words you know isn't very impressive if you don't
know how to cook.”
“James, you burned the Spaghetti yesterday while cooking. You are not in the
place to talk right now.”
“I got distracted!! I'm literally studying to become a lawyer right now. Which
clearly means I'm the smarter one.”
“Fucking hell. I would be getting better grades in university if I hadn't dropped
out and you know it!”
“What?? No you wouldn't! You-”
“GUYS!! Please shut up this is not the Prongs and Padfoot show.”, interrupted
Peter, trying to not let the situation get out of hand. “Also, you're both wrong.
You're both dumb as fuck, considering you tried to adopt a fucking stag you
found in the woods last month and brought it into the flat.”
With that, James and Sirius both seemed to deflate, taking the step they took
back. They really weren't that smart.
Peter smiled satisfied and looked to the next pair of his friends who weren't on
the same page.
“Remus, Lily. Why are you both saying no?”, he adressed the two, seeing that
none of them had taken a step forward.
“Pete mate, I'm thinking the same fucking thing. Lily, you're clearly smarter
than me?? You graduated at the top of our class!” Lily rolled her eyes fondly at
her friend.
“Because of one measly point that the professor didn't give you because he's
an ass. Not because I'm smarter. Also, you're becoming a professor, Rem. If
that doesn't mean you're smarter, I don't know what does.”
“Lily you're a nurse! That's not an easy job either!”
Before this could also result in an one hour argument, Pete interrupted again,
quickly moving on to three people that clearly had their minds made up.
“Dorcas, Pandora, you agree with Regulus that he's the smartest out of you three?”,
Peter inquires, curious about their decision.
“Well, I went with book smarts. Reg was definitely the best of us in school
without even trying and he speaks like six languages and plays five instruments
or something.”, Dorcas explained and Pandora nodded along next to her.
“Oh? And when it's not about academia and stuff like that? Lets say… common
knowledge or streets smarts, is he also the smartest?”
Dorcas and Pandora immediately started to laugh at Peter's follow up question,
which Regulus seemed very put out by, scowling across them.
“Oh no. Regulus wouldn't know how to survive on his own, believe me. Just
what a posh upbringing does with you. Also it took him like a year before he
realized his crush liked him back, when we've known the second it happened.”,
Pandora giggled slightly, making Reg frown even more.
The mention of a crush apparently peaked Sirius’ interest, head whipping
towards his brother the second the word was spoken.
“Crush?? You never told me that you have a crush on someone!”, he
complained, earling him a annoyed huff.
“I don't have to tell you everything, Sirius.”
“Yes you do! I'm your big brother!”
“That doesn't give you the right to know everything about my life!”
“Okay okay okay. Maybe we come back to the actual question here?”, Peter
interrupted yet again, already questioning his decision to be the game host, if
every single one of these people was going to argue about their decision.
“Marlene! You agree with Mary that she's the smart one?”, he quickly moved
on, leaving the two Black brother's to argue on their own.
“Fuck yeah. She's all beauty and brains and I'm the muscle.”, Marlene grins,
posing to show off her biceps, not without sending Dorcas a little wink in the
process.
“Great. Barty, Evan. Why's Evan the smarter one, not that I disagree.”, he
moved on, looking at the two boys.
“I think without me stopping him, I would have to bail Bee out of jail almost
every week… either that or he would be dead by now. So yeah. I'm definitely the
smarter one.”, Evan drawled.
“And I'm very greatful for that, Rosie. Although I still think I would be able to win
a fight against a bear.”, Barty grins, making Evan roll his eyes in annoyance, but
he clearly tried to supress a smile.
“Right. Sadly we have to see if that's true on another day. I'm sure Prongs and
Pads would happily get you a bear from somewhere.” Peter clapped his hands
together loudly, drawing the room's attention back to him.
“Next question! Lord have mercy if you're this annoying for every question, I
swear.”
#marauders fandom#marauders#hp marauders#james x regulus#james potter#remus lupin#incorrect marauders quotes#wolfstar#sirius black#peter pettigrew#evan rosier#barty crouch jr#rosekiller#jegulus#dorcas meadowes#pandora rosier#marlene mckinnon#mary macdonald
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One of my biggest issues with Bakugo's prominence is how it comes at the expense of the rest of 1-A.
Like, in the Dark Deku arc, the story acts like all of 1-A are friends with Izuku, when really he's only close to like 4 of them (Iida, Uraraka, Todoroki, and (sadly) Bakugo). Everyone else is an acquaintance to him at best, which makes the arc feel a bit shallow.
And before that arc, as the series went on, most of the spotlight went only Izuku, Bakugo, and (mostly) Todoroki. The last two pretty much replaced Iida and Uraraka. Iida's relevance dropped after the Kamino arc. Uraraka, the most prominent female character, fell out of the spotlight for the most part until the Dark Deku arc. These two were set up to be Izuku's closest classmates, and they were replaced halfway through the series, with one of their replacement being Izuku's bully.
But at least those two got some relevance. The rest of 1-A rarely gets more than one moment in the limelight. After that, they get forgotten.
I've heard that Horikoshi laments that he can't give the rest of 1-A as much focus and development as he'd like, but that wouldn't be such a problem if he:
1. Gave the series more school moments. It’s called "My Hero Academia" but the characters are barely seen in class. People have said it before, but having more school moments would give us more opportunities to get to know the other students, maybe by having Izuku actually interact with them.
2. Stop forcing Bakugo into everything.
I always had a soft spot for characters that don't get a lot of spotlight (Toru is one of my favorites and I like 1-B a lot), but it really is a shame that the reason these characters don't get a lot of spotlight is because the author would rather focus on a character that is super unlikable.
All of this. Now I don’t think Hori has to go super in depth about every character but him stating how he wanted to write about the other characters but couldn’t is dumb. Unless there was some sort of time crunch people enforced on him, he could’ve made time to focus more on the school aspect rather than jump straight into the action. A lot of Shonen anime get crapped on for having too much filler but MHA faces the opposite problem in not having filler at all. Filler can be used to develop the relationships between characters or take some time to be lighthearted. Not all filler is useless junk. Had we had some filler, Koji and Mezou’s moment with the mutants could’ve had far more impact than it actually did. Same does with Midnight. We could’ve gotten small moments of background characters not only from the hero courses, but from the other courses as well. More could’ve been added to Hitoshi to not make him seem like a whiny bitch. We could see the extent of what Mai could build. We could learn a bit more about characters like Tooru and Minoru so they’re not reduced to being only gags. We could’ve spent some time with Yuuga so that his reveal would’ve hurt more. Hell, we could’ve spent more time with the villains. What the hell are Mr. Compress’s motives? Who is Spinner as a character other than being a follower?
So much could’ve been done but wasn’t. And that’s not even touching the idea of reducing Katsuki’s screen time. We could’ve used all that time for better things than watching Hori gush about him. A lot of missed opportunities.
#anti katsuki bakugou#anti bakugo katsuki#anti bakugo#anti bakugou#mha critical#anti bakugou katsuki#bnha critical
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I've been talking about what does/doesn't make someone an artist (or something art) with different people in my life and as a long-time follower of yours from back in the LJ days, I'm interested in your take and that of your followers: When does a creative pursuit become art, or is that just an arbitrary line made by gatekeepers? Is there a difference between art vs craft? Can anybody who creates be considered an artist?
And because I've seen you have to grapple with other anon queries in the past, I'll add that if you prefer not to dive into this or let somebody query your readership this way cause you aren't interested and/or don't want to start a weird precedent, totally understood and no worries. This is just curiosity, and I can easily take a non-response as a response.
I think...well, for me, at least, the question is...a bit broad. It's something you could argue forever, and also...I'm not sure what purpose it serves as a question, other than to get people to talk a lot about art. Which is a great purpose, don't get me wrong, but I come back to, Why are we asking? Are we asking in order to challenge the art establishment, or in order to legislate arts funding, or in order to determine how we support artists, or....? Because if you're asking "What is art" in order to determine what goes in a museum that's very different from asking "What is art" in order to determine whether someone is eligible for an arts grant. And both of these are different from, say, asking "What is art" in the context of an art piece currently causing controversy, or telling someone what they've made "isn't art" because you want to keep it from greater exposure.
And also are we talking about art strictly in a visual sense? When asking this specific question, are we including film, music, writing, performance? If someone sculpts The Thinker, and some guy dresses up as The Thinker and busks in Central Park, is the latter art? Performance art? Merely busking? After all, it takes intentionality and work to achieve, and he's asking for compensation in return.
I know all that is kind of a non-answer, but this is something that people spend their lives on in academia, and the distinction between "art" and "not art" is something that can also be used to hurt people, to denigrate artists or uplift people who might be artist but are, also, assholes. I do generally approach the idea from the point of view of "Why would you say this isn't art" and almost always the answer is either "because I don't like it" or "because I don't like who made it", but that's a conversation, not a definition. And of course there's also a distinction between "why wouldn't this be art" and "why is/isn't this in a gallery" and "why was this created".
IDK, I just feel like I'm not qualified to answer, though in the past when I was younger I probably would have had some confident assertions to make.
Readers, feel free to comment, although please remember to be civil and to respond in comments or reblogs, as I don't post asks sent in response to other asks.
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Why ViVat and Not Huzzah?
By Thomas Richardson
I wrote this for the Dec 2018 Cascadian (The news letter for the Shire of Glenn Linn) If you visit the North Country Medavielists facebook group and check the file section you can check out past editions of the Cascadian.
If you are in the SCA and live in the East Kingdom you have likely encountered the cheer of ‘ViVat!” (or “ViVant”) when an individual is celebrated for some form of achievement. On the other hand, if you have had the opportunity to visit several kingdoms during your tenure in the SCA, or ever simply visited a Renaissance fair, or seen an old medieval movie, you may also be more familiar with the oft used cheer of “Huzzah!” The cry of vivat (singular) or vivant for several people means “Long Life” (from the Latin) and is attested as early as the De Brevitate Vitae of 1287 (“Vivat academia!” ,“Vivant professores!” etc.). Huzza'ing was an established custom by Elizabethan times and may have originated as a sailor's shout of exaltation, encouragement, or applause. It appears in In Shakespeare's Henry IV (1591): “Huzza! Huzza! Huzza! Long live the King!”
The first time you heard vivat you may have thought, as I did, “Huh...strange” and just went along with the crowd not giving it much thought. I was well acquainted with the occasional hardy huzzah, and when exposed to the, in my opinion, less exuberant and more equivocal vivat, I began to wonder why. As all who have ever asked the question “why?” about any SCA subject knows, the answer always starts with a history lesson...
Once upon a time there was the West, and the West was what there was because there was nothing else. That was the SCA. But in 1968, the lands east of The Great Muddy was declared The East. So, now we had West and East. But the West also had the BOD (Board of Directors) and the East... well, the East did not, and was just a kingdom.
In 1969, both the Kingdom of the East and the Kingdom of the West (in the guise of the BOD), chartered groups in the middle, as it were. There was some confusion about exactly who was empowered to charter new groups. And while the East struck first in the region, the BOD struck last. Luckily, the two newly formed groups chose to ignore the politics of their parents and joined together to become the Kingdom of the Middle. Keep in mind that there were not exactly a lot of feet on the ground back then, so having a cluster of folk brave enough to dress up, run around acting silly, and hit each other with sticks, was reason enough to become a kingdom. In this case, a kingdom made up of lands granted from both the East and West, proud parents of their new offspring.
Two years later, in 1971, the West (or BOD, if you prefer) decided to both thumb its nose at the East and git rid of some potential trouble makers from Arizona and created the Kingdom of Atenveldt, which stretched from Arizona straight across the country to the Atlantic coast, absorbing large chunks of both the West and East kingdom (proving that the BOD could do what they want, even taking land back away from a kingdom).
At this point the SCA had created its four great incubator kingdoms- West, East, Middle, and Atenvelt. Every other kingdom from this point on would originate from one of these four kingdoms or from one of their offspring Kingdoms. Let us keep that in mind.
So in the West, when everything was new, ‘Hip hip hooray’ was the cheer of the day. The East, born of the West followed its traditions, also crying ‘Hip hip hooray’ for a while until the reign of King Gyrth and Queen Melisande (04/01/1978 - AS XII). Upon concerns that the term was significantly post-period, and that there was some speculation (now considered spurious) that its origin is anti-Semitic with the word word "hip" stemming from a medieval Latin acronym, "Hierosolyma Est Perdita" ("Jerusalem is lost"), Gyrth asked the people to switch to “Vivat/Vivant,” (as told to me by Melisande). Incidentally, it was never their intention to have it chanted three times – that being a carryover from the older cheer. It would appear that around this time, perhaps under the same concern over anti-Semitism, the West switched to ‘Huzzah’.
Now this is where the linage of each kingdom comes into play. In 1978, the Kingdom of Meridies was formed out of Atenveldt lands and invested by the Atenveldt court. As Atenveldt was a huzzah kingdom, so also became Meridies. Also in 1978, the Kingdom of Caid was born from the West, inheriting the use of huzzah. In 1979, Atenveldt created another huzzah kingdom with the birth of Ansteorra. 1981 brings us the Kingdom of Atlantia, which separated from the East and therefore cry's “ViVat!” Another huzzah kingdom is created in 1982 by the West in the form of An Tir and then comes an odd ball.
The Middle Kingdom, the love child of bickering parents, repudiated both and uses either huzzah or vivat. Instead, they yell "hoobah" as an expression of acclamation and joy. Why? Well, legend has it that an early king of the Middle, upon being presented with a troupe of belly-dancers, exclaimed "Hubba hubba!" In 1984, the Kingdom of Calontir, born from the Middle, became the second "hoobah" using kingdom. In 1985, we return to the normal order with the creation of the Kingdom of Trimaris out of the huzzah using Meridies. The huzzah using Kingdom of Outlands separated from Atenveldt in 1986 and Drachenwald, being born of the East in 1993, carried on the vivat tradition.
In 1997, we encounter another odd bird. The Kingdom of Artemisia is formed out of Atenveldt, with bits of the kingdom of Outlands and the Middle thrown in. Among all the confusion, they become a vivat kingdom. Why? Go ask them. Also in 1997, Æthelmearc is spawned as a vivat using child of the East. Ealdormere separates from the Middle in 1998 and, being completely against the grain, immediately begins using “ Wassail”. The year 2002 sees the creation of Lochac out of the West and Ciad, both passing along the use of huzzah. Northshield, created from the middle in 2004, is a vivat user because the first Prince by right of arms was nurtured in Atlantia, a vivat kingdom. Gleann Abhann, which sprang from Meridies in 2005 is on the huzzah standard, while the final kingdom, Avacal adopted huzzah from its parent An Tir, when created in 2015.
For those who were keeping count, that is ten for huzzah, six for vivat, two hoobahs, and a single wassil, most of whom were predictable based upon their linage. So, now you know.
Note: There is at least one anecdotal reference to the Barony of Carolingia using vivat prior to the request of King Gyrth, however no evidence has been presented to substantiate the claim.
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