#(by other students* - like today) so I don't encourage them as much as I should have...but...live and learn.

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

An adorable student who I worked with last year told me today that she has roses in her backyard and, after I told her how much I love roses (they're my favorite flower!), that she'd pick one and bring it to me. 😭 And had I not been literally in the middle of doing the job that is expected of me that I get paid for, I might've cried.

[insidekatmind]

His teacher's pet~Cho Sang- woo

Wearning: +18,smut, age-gap.

You sit at your desk, pen in hand, staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of you. The test has been going on for ten minutes, yet your mind is still stuck on the moment Cho Sang-woo placed the booklet on your desk with a faint smile. A surprise test. You weren’t expecting it, and you certainly weren’t prepared.

Your legs shake slightly under the table, a nervous tic that you try to control but fail. Then you feel a light hand on your shoulder. “Don’t stress too much, you know…” Sang-woo murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, discreet enough not to attract the attention of the others. His presence is warm, reassuring, and before you can respond, he’s already gone to check on the other students.

Your heart beats a little faster. It’s just for the test, right? It can’t be for anything else. But the whispers of the other students are always there, always present. “Hae-soo has a thing for you…” “You’re his favorite…” They bother you, yet you can’t deny them entirely. He treats you differently, that’s true. But that’s only because you’re a good student, a role model, his pupil. Nothing more.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself every time his gaze lingers on you longer than necessary, every time his encouragement makes you feel something you shouldn’t. You focus on the test, trying to push those thoughts away. You have other things to think about. Or at least, you should.

After class, as you gather your books, you hear him call your name. You turn to find him leaning against the desk, his arms crossed and that look that makes you feel a mixture of pride and nervousness. “You did a good job today.” His tone is soft, almost pleased. You move closer, unable to ignore the way his gaze seems to dig into you.

Then, with an unexpected gesture, he invites you to sit on his lap. Your breath catches in your throat. “You deserved it,” he says, his whisper heavy with something you can’t quite decipher. You hesitate for a moment, but then you obey, the heat of his body enveloping you through the fabric of your clothes.

“Here,” he whispers, slipping a small package into your jacket pocket. “A prize for my top student.” You open your mouth to protest, to ask what it all means, but he silences you with a finger under your chin. “Don’t tell the others, okay?”

Your heartbeat is deafening. You swallow hard, unable to tear your gaze from his. You know you should leave, that you should pretend none of this ever happened. But as he smiles at you like that, you feel like it’s already too late.

You nodded and smiled. “Thank you,” you muttered. Sang-woo laughs softly, leaning closer. “Just doing my job as a teacher,” he whispers. His eyes are fixed on you, almost studying you, and you find yourself unable to look away. There’s an intensity in his gaze that makes your heart flutter, and you feel yourself sinking deeper into his lap.

His hand on your chin, he gently lifts your face, bringing it closer to his. You can feel his breath tickling your lips, and you find yourself holding your breath. “Do you have plans for tonight?” he asks, his voice low.

“No,” you whispered in awe, losing yourself in his eyes. He smiles at your response, his hand sliding from your chin to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Good." His voice is soft, almost possessive, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You can almost forget that he's your teacher, that this is all so wrong.

He's so close now, his face just a few inches away from yours, his breath warm against your lips. His hand on your waist, he pulls you even closer, his grip firm and possessive. "I want to see you tonight," he whispers, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You smiled. “Sure,” you said softly. His grip tightens and he draws you in even closer, his lips just hovering above yours. "And don't be late," he whispers, his voice low and commanding. He's in control, and you find yourself melting into his touch.

"Meet me at my place at ten."

He runs his fingers down your spine, his touch possessive and authoritative. His eyes never leave yours, and you can almost feel the intensity of his gaze.

“Okay,” you said softly and hugged him. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tightly against him. His grip is possessive and protective, and you find yourself unable to resist. Your heart beats against yours, the warmth of his breath against your neck.

He lingers there for a moment, his hand sliding up to the back of your head, his fingers gently playing with your hair.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice low and possessive. you can almost feel the sense of satisfaction in his tone, as if you’re the only thing that matters in this moment.

You murmured happily in his embrace, you loved it when he complimented you. He smiles against your neck, his grip tight and protective. His fingers continue to gently run through your hair, and you can feel the possessiveness in his touch. It’s like you belong to him, and you can’t deny the excitement that comes with it.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his tone both teasing and possessive. “When I call you a good girl?”

"Yes" you whispered softly. He chuckles softly, his grip becoming even tighter. “I know you do.” His voice is deep and possessive, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand slides down to your waist, his fingers pressing into your flesh.

“Say it,” he whispers, his voice low and authoritative. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You look at him softly and respectfully. "I'm your good girl."

His eyes darken at your words, and for a moment, you see something primal and possessive in his gaze. He pulls you closer, his arms encircling you, as if he wants to claim you as his own.

“Yes, you are,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “My good girl.”

His hand moves from your waist to your chin, tilting your face up to his. “And you’ll do exactly what I say, won’t you?”Sang woo played with your lip and you nodded.

His finger moves from your lips to your cheek, tracing a line down your jaw. His touch is gentle yet possessive, and you can feel your body responding to him.

“Good girl,” he repeats, his voice low and commanding. “Always so eager to please me.”

His mouth moves closer to yours, his breath hot against your skin. “And tonight you’ll be all mine,” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Every inch of you will be mine," he whispers, his hand sliding down your neck. His touch is possessive but gentle, and you find yourself melting into him.

"And you'll give yourself to me completely, won't you?" he says, his voice soft yet authoritative. "You'll let me do anything I want with you."You nodded, clutching his shirt, and Sang woo smiled. “How about you kneel down for me like a good girl and suck my cock, hm?” Sang woo muttered seductively and authoritatively. Hearing his words and tone made you gulp. You knew this was about to get hot and spicy, and you wanted to experience and do it with him. So you got off of him and knelt between his legs

"Yes… sir…"

Sang-woo smiles as you unbutton his jeans. “What a good girl, you’ll get a higher grade just for being obedient,” he murmurs with satisfaction. You could feel your excitement growing as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down. Feeling satisfied about the praises he was giving you, you looked up at him. “Anything to please you…”

Sang woo smiles and strokes your lip. "You already know what to do princess" he whispers in a husky voice.

The way he called you princess made you feel butterflies. You knew just what he wanted from you, and you were eager to please him.

"I'll make you feel good, I promise..." you whispered back with a smile.He smirked, his hand still on your lip. "I know you will," he replied softly, his gaze fixed on you. He let his hand move to the back of your head, gently guiding you closer to his lap.

You took off his boxers and you could feel yourself getting wet seeing how hard he was. He let out a little smirk as you took his boxers off, knowing the effect he was having on you. “Look at you, already so eager for me.” He leaned back a little, spreading his legs wider. “Come a little closer.”You nod and bring your hand to his cock, stroking it a little before taking it in your mouth.

Sang woo raises his hips and grunts. “So good, my favorite student,” he murmured, guiding your movements.

As he guides you, you find yourself enjoying it even more, knowing you're pleasing him. His words of praise and affection make you feel even more eager to continue, taking care to move the way he wants. You look up at him with desire.He moans softly, his hand still on the back of your head. "Just like that..." he murmurs, his eyes locked on yours.

"Such a good girl for me." His other hand moves to your cheek, his touch possessive but gentle. He's enjoying every second of this, and you can feel the excitement building between you both.

You lick the shaft while trying to take it all in your mouth. He moans softly, his grip on your head becoming a little tighter. "Yes, keep going."Your nails dig into his thighs as he sets a rhythm, thrusting into your mouth with increasing intensity. the wet, obscene sounds of him fucking your throat fill the room, mixed with his breathless groans and your muffled moans.

"What a good girl." You choke on his cock as he roughly squeezes your hair, guiding you that way so you can take him deeper. Your cheeks are red, there are small crystal tears in your eyes, and saliva mixed with his cum flows from your chin. Sang woo's lips are touched by the most mean smirk,you looked so beautiful with his cock in your mouth. You kneel before him with his cock deep in your mouth, drooling but you keep taking what he gives you. "Do you like how you feel?"

You didn't have a chance to respond because your mouth was full of his big cock that was tearing you apart.

You hum around him, your tongue swirling around his length as he hits the back of your throat again, your eyes locked on his as tears stream down your cheeks. his hips stutter, his grip tightening in your hair as he finally spills, hot and thick down your throat, his groans echoing in your ears.

He comes with a loud string of curse words, emptying your throat. You close your eyes as his cock shoots thick ropes of cum, your hands resting on his knees as you slowly pull your mouth away from him. The classroom is filled with breathing sounds, Sang woo leans back to catch his breath and stares into your eyes as you wipe your mouth with red cheeks and messy hair. There's saliva coating your chin that you didn't clean, so Sang woo grabs your jaw.His grip on your jaw is firm, and he looks at you with an intensity that sends chills down your spine. He leans closer, his face just inches from yours. He wets his thumb with his tongue and runs it over your chin, his gaze fixed on you the entire time.

"You're such a mess," he whispers, his voice filled with desire. "But you're my mess."

He smiles at the reaction you have given him from how he has been acting towards you. He softly pats your head in a loving manner, showing you how proud he is of you but also how much he loved what happened.With the finger that cleaned your chin he brings it into your mouth. "Suck it" he orders you.

You can feel yourself getting aroused by his words, the need to please him getting the best of you. you look up at him, eyes full of desire. You begin to suck on his finger how he wants you too.He watches you with a combination of satisfaction and a need for more, his gaze never leaving your face. "That's a good girl, you listen so well and so fast" he whispers, his voice low and sensual.

He takes his finger out of your mouth and drags you onto his lap. "Don't be late tonight," he murmured, kissing your forehead.

His kiss on your forehead is soft and affectionate, but there's a hint of possessiveness in his touch.

"I won't," you murmur, your voice filled with promise. You know you'll be there for him, no matter what. He smiles, his hand running through your hair. "You're mine, remember?" he whispers, his voice possessive and commanding.He smiles, but there's a hint of something more in his expression. It's a look that shows his possessive desire for you, a need to have you all to himself. He keeps his arms wrapped around you, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“Yours” you say sweetly and happy to be his.

Your words are like music to his ears, and his smile widens. "Yes, you are mine. All mine." He tightens his grip on you, pulling you even closer. "And I'm not letting you go, understand?"His tone is dominant, but there's an undertone of care and affection in his words. It's as if he's claiming you as his own, staking his territory and making it clear that you belong to him. You feel safe in his arms, but there's also a sense of excitement in the way he holds you.He returns the kiss, his lips soft and gentle against yours. But there's a hint of something more underneath, a hungry gleam in his eyes. He runs his hand through your hair, his grip tight but not painful. He wants to be close to you, to claim you completely.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze is firm and possessive.

"Mine," he murmurs once more, his voice filled with a primal need.

[miyagic]

Family Isn't Blood

James Potter x reader

SUMMARY: James tells his girlfriend jokes, inspired by the ones his father uses to tell his mother, really stupids and not funny at all, but all you can think about is how cute he is to think they are actually funny, what makes you understand something.

MARAUDERS MASTERLIST a/n: You don't have a defined house. Remus and Sirius aren't dating, but they have a thing.

a/n: this is justt fluff, I didn't liked so much, but alright. Tell me what you think!

w/c: 1k

English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!!

JAMES looked at Euphemia, who was making their lunch while he and Fleamont set the table. Sirius is still sleeping, normally James wakes up early (not so much), but today he woke up later than usual.

"You should bring your girlfriend next time, Jamie" Euphemia smiled at him.

"I know, mom. I told her to come, but her parents had already planned the trip." James rolled his eyes slightly.

"What trip?" Fleamont asked, not following the conversations about James' infamous girlfriend with Euphemia.

"[Name] went with his parents to Italy" right after she finishes speaking, Sirius comes down the stairs with the greatest laziness ever seen.

"[Name]? She went to Italy?"

"Yes Pads, she said that in front of you" James scoffed.

"She said?"

"Boys, now I really don't care about Sirius' memory loss, I finished lunch and now let's eat" Effie started bringing the food to the table.

Everyone sat at the table, each eating as much as they wanted. Fleamont then looked at the sodas on the table, and started laughing, leaving everyone else confused.

"Fleamont, what's gotten you?" Euphemia looked at him strangely.

"Guys" he laughs, not finishing the sentence. "Guys... I was thinking about something"

"Here it comes," Effie murmured, sighing.

Fleamont laughs a little more "What do you call a can opener that doesn't work?"

"What?" James spoke.

"A can't opener" Fleamont laughs again as if he had said the funniest joke in the world.

James starts laughing like his father, making Sirius join them, Euphemia also laughs, while shaking her head, but not at the joke itself, but at the chaotic family that she love so much.

———☆———

ON THE RETURN to Hogwarts, James and Sirius met Peter and Remus along the way.

"Prongs," Remus called, "Where is [Name]?"

"She's going with her friends on the train, we'll probably only see each other at Hogwarts" James replies, a little sullenly. "Pads?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember dad's jokes? My mom always laughs"

"Prongs, no" knowing Monty's jokes, and his friend, Remus intervenes, knowing Sirius would probably only encourage it.

"Moons, if my mother, a woman, likes my father's jokes, [Name] would like them too, and me more, right??" Remus and Peter looked at each other.

"Go and get your girl with the jokes, Prongsie!!" Sirius puts his arm around James's shoulders.

"This is going to be a catastrophe" Peter said, shaking his head and Remus just sighed.

———☆———

LATER, at Hogwarts, all the students sit in the main hall, the new students being sorted. This year, so far, most of them have been sorted into Ravenclaw, some Hufflepuffs, some Gryffindors and a few Slytherins.

At the "marauders table", you sat next to James, across from Remus.

“Princess” James looked at you. Trying to remember his dad jokes.

“Jamie” you look at him, maintaining loving eye contact, James’ eyes looked nervous, almost restless, but confident.

"Do you know what you call a can opener that doesn't work?" he tried to copy his father's tone and phrase.

"Um, no?" You furrow your eyebrows, how a can opener doesn't work at all?

"A can't opener" James started laughing again, really looking like he said the funniest thing in the world. Sirius laughed too.

These man's are not normal.

Remus taps his forehead, sighing and shaking his head while Peter grimaces but smiles a little.

James looks at you expectantly, to which you smile widely, but not at the joke itself.

"Did you like it?" his eyes used to shine, James never stopped smiling, his smile bright and full of teeth.

"Yes, I liked it" you smile, not wanting to ruin his happiness, if it's something he likes, you like it too.

James smiles even more, if that were possible and lets out a dreamy sigh, relaxing his shoulders, "my dad usually tells my mom these jokes. They invited you to spend the next vacation there" James takes your hand "you will, right?"

You shake his hand, "of course, if you want me there that much" he kisses your hand.

"Prongs, why don't you tell the one about the dog?" Sirius slams his hand on the table, grinning like a madman. Remus hits him on the head, whispering "stop", Peter chuckles, as Sirius looks at him with his normal drama.

"Ahh yes!! That one is really good" James laughs "Get ready" he clears his throat, you look at Remus with wide eyes, whatever was coming wasn't good. "Oh, what do you call a magical dog?"

Remus shakes his head furiously at you, but James looked so cute that you couldn't resist asking "how?"

"A Labracadabrador" James laughs madly, bringing tears to his eyes, Sirius laughs just as much. Peter laughs a little too, but not as much as Sirius and James. You and Remus looked at each other.

You look at James, he looked so adorable laughing and actually thinking the jokes are good and you can't help but smile sweetly at him.

"Oh" James gasps "I have another one! Calm down" he takes a deep breath. "Why don't koalas count as bears? Because they don't have the right koalifications" and James bursts into laughter again, Sirius along with him and this time Peter too.

And you can only look at your boyfriend, how sweet he looks right now. James tells another joke, but you don't even hear it, you just look at him, smiling endlessly.

For a moment you even think that it would be impossible for him to actually find the jokes funny, but then you remember: it's James, your playful boyfriend who loves to laugh and especially make others laugh, who he loves to laugh.

So you laugh, not at the joke, but for James. And Remus laughs, for Sirius.

Your little family, full of love, laughter and affection. Your real family, real home. Where you should always be.

And then you understand, as Sirius and Remus also understood, after fighting so hard, that family Isn't blood. Family is your home and you have finally found it.

Your little family.

Your little home.

——————✮——————

[summerclementine27]

Meet Me in The Hallway🌷pt. 1

summary: Mr. Styles has possibly interested Y/N more than his literature classes and she finds herself pining for him over the months.

pairings: professor!harry, student!reader

warnings: small age difference, mentions of smut

word count: 4.7k

note: i wanted to make this one part but it will be too long so there will have to be a part 2

part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/summerclementine27/757559698881986560/meet-me-in-the-hallway-pt2

Tender days of mid-October

As I took my seat in the large lecture hall, a sense of anticipation loomed over me. Today, Mr. Styles was giving us the results of the last literature and theory criticism coursework I had handed in the previous week. This was my third class with him, one of two this school year, the other being Contemporary Literature. Last year, he taught me Introduction to Literature, a mandatory class for my degree. Though I dreaded it at first due to his choice of reading list, I ended up falling in love with the course because of the way he taught it. Some works I initially criticized him for choosing, he ended up using as examples and critiqued them himself, like "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin. Plus, it helped that he was impossibly handsome with his tall frame, tousled brown hair, and piercing green eyes.

When my friends noticed how much I liked his class, they were unfazed. However, as I became somewhat of a teacher’s pet in a class rudimentary compared to the others I took this year—such as Feminism and Literature, Historical Narratives in Fiction, and Postcolonial Literary Criticism—they realized that maybe the tall, green-eyed man was what had really piqued my interest, not discussing "Middlemarch" for four classes.

On days when I had his class, I dressed extra nicely, sometimes even daring to pair a clean collared shirt with a shorter-than-usual skirt. One time, I even left my wool trench coat on during the first period and stood up from my auditorium seat to take it off. Sitting in the back, the rows of chairs likely covered the lower part of my body, but I was sure the space between my long boots and short skirt was visible from his vantage point. Surely, my abrupt standing would grab his attention. What I didn’t anticipate was him pausing in the middle of a long train of thought to stare, then quickly catching himself and stuttering before continuing seamlessly as I knew he would. My friend Anika, seated in one of the front rows, noticed and turned to see what had caught his attention. To her dismay, I was playing games with someone totally unattainable again. But she knew I thrived on academic validation, and this little crush of mine would only drive me to excel in more classes.

"Are you serious, Y/N? He's our professor." she exclaimed once.

"I know, but he's just... different."

"Different? Or is it the way he looks at you when you answer a question?"

"Maybe both. Besides, this crush is making me work harder. You can't argue with the results."

"Just be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

In fact, it drove me to do more than that. One time, Mr. Styles noticed my passion for poetry after I shamelessly defended the works of Sylvia Plath with a controversial view that modern poetry should not shy away from the stark realities of mental health. He gave me a few poetry anthologies and compilations, including his annotated copies. I fawned over reading his notes and even emailed him once, pretending that I had "accidentally" annotated something, forgetting it wasn’t my own copy after losing myself in the literature. He replied kindly:

Mr. Styles: "Please, feel free to annotate as much as you like. I would be honored to have your opinions inked on my favorite copies."

By the next semester, after encouraging me to join the poetry society, Mr. Styles nominated me for president, and I was thrilled to win. He insisted on celebrating, gently grasping my upper arm and smiling warmly as he said he expected nothing less. I brought a bottle of wine to his office, where he had asked me to meet him, only to find the entire poetry society there, ready to congratulate me. The gathering lingered for a few delightful hours before everyone left, leaving just the two of us to clean up.

"You really impressed everyone tonight, Y/N. Not that I'm surprised." He began once we were truly all alone.

"Thank you, Mr. Styles. I couldn't have done it without your support."

"Well, you deserve it. By the way, outside of class and school hours, you can call me Harry." He said in his thick Manchester accent.

"Only if you stop calling me Ms. Y/L/N." I joked.

"Hey! I only do that sometimes. Plus, I can't call out to you in class like, 'Y/N, will you read the next slide?' People will think..."

"...think I’m the teacher’s favorite?" I finished his sentence with a teasing smile.

I couldn’t take the lingering stares and supposedly accidental touches we were both guilty of. But I knew that if I really wanted this, if I wanted to be more than just a student he regretted being tempted by when I graduated, then I had to play the long game.

And indeed I did. I kept up my habit of always showing up well-dressed in elegant coats and well-fitting clothing. I accentuated my features with a light coat of makeup, even if I had to apply it on a bumpy bus ride to campus. I even signed up for his office hours, despite really not needing them, just to exchange thoughts and opinions under the guise of “wanting to make sure I'm on the right track.” I wanted him to get to know me more, to realize that despite my youth, I was mature and thoughtful.

At the start of the second year, he emailed me to come to campus a few times in August, a month before the start of term, to discuss my responsibilities as the founder of the debate team. The idea sparked in his mind after I excelled in the heated debate he chose to hold as our first-year final assessment. He was so in awe that he went as far as saying I could compete at a national level on the English debate team, which neither of us was certain of, but I accepted the compliment.

Our earlier meetings were spent cooped up in his office, reviewing why the last debate team failed almost a decade ago and planning the structure for the new team. We discussed everything from team dynamics to potential debate topics, ensuring we were prepared for any challenge.

On one of the hotter days in August, we took our meeting to the university courtyard, having grown tired of experiencing the last bursts of England’s so-called summer from his office window. It was a beautiful window, and a big one at that, but it didn’t compare to actually being outside. That day, I realized the majority of planning for the next few months had already been accomplished in our first few meetings, and I got the hint that he didn’t actually need my help now that I had settled everything I could that wasn’t on an administrative level. So naturally, I decided to have a little fun.

I was wearing penny loafers with black tailored pants that I got fitted for when I visited my mum in London in July. I had paired them with a light knit sweater that fit slightly loosely over my shoulders, often falling down to reveal a collarbone. When I saw him take off his blazer and loosen his tie, I took that as my green light to take off something of my own, knowing I was wearing a neat white tank top underneath. As I slipped the sweater off, covering my face with the fabric, I could see his face through the thin material, making out his features and briefly noticing his eyes on my body. Sitting up straight, I managed to remove the sweater from over my head neatly. Once he saw my face, a soft blush made it to his own.

"Did I mess up my hair?" I asked, as if I hadn’t planned on brushing down the strands that had likely gone astray or as if I was oblivious to the fact that I had just taken off my sweater in front of him.

"Um, yeah, a bit at the top," he said, chuckling as if he wasn’t just clearing his throat in a flustered manner before my face was revealed from under the sweater.

To my surprise, he reached out, inching himself closer to where I was sitting on the bench we shared. With two fingers, his index and middle, he gently brushed down the messy hair on either side of the top of my head.

"Thank you, Harry," I said softly.

However, nothing could have prepared me for what would happen later this year.

As the class settled down to receive their marks on the literature and theory criticism coursework, Mr. Styles walked in, dressed in a well-fitted navy suit with a crisp white shirt. He took off his coat and placed it on the edge of his desk, a departure from his usual habit of draping it over the back of his chair. He wasted no time before pulling out the papers from his leather satchel and making his way down the aisles of the lecture hall, passing out the papers to everyone. When he read out my name, I watched as his eyes searched for me across the hall, darting from one side of the room to the other. It was unlike me to skip his class, so he knew all he had to do was find me. I hadn’t planned this specific event, but I enjoyed it, nonetheless. Once he found me, he smiled sheepishly, yet much more subtly than he did when we were alone and made his way to me.

"Excellent work, Y/L/N," he said as he gently placed the papers on my desk. "I especially appreciate the effort of handwriting this," he remarked, although everyone knew he didn’t care if papers were written by hand or typed on a computer.

I had deliberately written my paper by hand after he replied to an email of mine. I had thanked him for letting me borrow his books, and his response was a charming note saying he’d enjoyed reading my annotations and adored my handwriting. For once, I was glad that my all-girls school had emphasized cursive writing, as I used it to add a romantic touch to my work.

When I finally read his comments and feedback, I was met with admiration and praise. In one of the margins, he had written, “Your insights are so compelling, it’s impossible not to fall in love with your analysis.” On the final page, at the bottom, he had added, “It’s a privilege to be your professor. Your brilliance shines so brightly that it’s clear this paper is a testament to your exceptional talent.”

Often times I worried that there actually was something going on between us, and that his praise and charming were remarks were not that of a proud professor, but of an infatuated man instead. So that day, I decided to address it.

As the lecture drew to a close, I lingered in my seat, carefully packing up my belongings with deliberate slowness. The classroom slowly emptied, the murmur of students’ conversations fading into the background as they made their way out. I wanted to be alone with Mr. Styles, to discuss something that had been weighing on my mind. By the time I made my way down the row of seats to his desk, the room was empty except for the two of us.

“Mr. Styles,” I began hesitantly, catching his eye as he gathered his papers. “I was hoping to ask you something.”

He looked up, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Of course, go ahead. I’m actually glad you stayed behind. There’s something I’d like to ask you as well.”

A sudden rush of anxiety gripped me. The possibility of crossing a line—whether I had done so with my subtle flirtations or if he were about to make a move that could alter our dynamic—was almost too much to bear.

My fantasies of him flashed through my mind. I had dreamt of intimate moments with him like kissing him, waking up in his bed, or better yet, on the couch in his office after a late romantic night together. I had once pictured us sitting on the floor around his small coffee table as we did one time when they ordered takeout during one of our August meetings except this time I would slip my shoes off casually and find a way to stroke my foot, clothed thin leggings, against his leg, looking at him with doe eyes as I dare to not so innocently asks if he ever thought about me sexually.

Hell, I even pictured him going down on me after laying me on his desk and even touched myself to the idea of riding him while he sat on his office chair. I would sneak into the small space between him and his desk and shut off his laptop while he graded my papers, cockily saying “We already know I got an A” – despite my crippling self-doubt without tangible affirmation – as I sit on his lap. In this fantasy he would laugh at my remark and gladly embrace me with a hand on my ass, the other intertwined among thick locks of my long hair, messing it up as I teasingly kiss him, ever so aware of the friction I’m creating between our crotches.

But still, to think that he would propose something to me in that moment, sexual or romantic, casually after class as if I haven’t been pining for two Octobers made me incredibly nervous.

I cleared my throat, trying to steady my voice as I met his gaze. “Mr. Styles, well, first of all this has nothing to do with the actual course itself, maybe a bit but...” I trailed off “It’s... it’s been on my mind for a while.”

He raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his expression. “Sure, go ahead. I’m happy to answer anything.” He smiled shyly to comfort me.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding as I prepared to voice my concerns. “Do you think that maybe my behavior in class, my enthusiasm, or even my approach to your feedback has influenced you to… um… maybe to favor me? Over other students I mean.” I began nervously, desperately searching for an expression on his blank face.

“Maybe sometimes I get a little excited and forget that you are my professor and not my friend or something, I think I may have overstepped my boundaries but… but you treat me as an equal which, by the way, I have always greatly appreciated. I mean, it has offered me an opportunity to grow as a student like no other, but I still worry…”I trailed off, now a stern look evident on his face and possibly even hurt.

He paused for a moment, his gaze thoughtful as he considered my words. “I appreciate your honesty and self-awareness,” he said finally, his voice steady but soft. “It’s clear that you’re passionate and dedicated, and I value that. But it’s important to remember that I strive to maintain fairness in all my interactions with students.”

I bit my lip, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “I understand, Mr. Styles. I just want to make sure that if I take pride in these academic accomplishments… if I want to revel in the fact that I always receive praise from you and rarely any criticism – like todays feedback for example, which included no criticism, I want to make sure it is because I am worthy of it. And not because I won you over by involving myself in your extracurriculars or because we are… uh.. friendly.”

He looked at me with a reassuring smile, his gaze steady and sincere. “First of all, let me assure you that you are never inappropriate. The friendship we’ve developed is separate from our academic interactions. Outside of school hours, I call you by your first name to maintain that distinction. In the classroom, I evaluate you purely on your merit.”

He leaned forward slightly, his tone earnest. “The reason your feedback today contained no criticism is that your paper was truly flawless. If there had been any weaknesses or areas for improvement, I would have pointed them out without hesitation. I hold you in very high regard academically, and that respect extends to all aspects of your work. If I ever notice any shortcomings, I will address them so you have the opportunity to refine and grow.”

His expression softened, a touch of concern in his eyes. “The only issue I see here is that you are doubting yourself. Your achievements and the praise you receive are well-deserved. You have a remarkable ability, and I believe in your potential. My only hope is that you start to see in yourself what I see in you – a brilliant, dedicated student who deserves every bit of recognition they receive.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief and a renewed confidence. When I looked down at my lap I heard him continue:

“And of course I value the relationship we have fostered outside of class. Would I be the man I am today if you hadn’t introduced me to the wonders of Moroccan cuisine?” He tried to joke to ease the tension and unsurprisingly it worked as it earned him a soft chuckle of honest amusement.

“Theres the y/n I know and love” he bantered though I cant say my heart didn’t skip a beat at the mention of the word “love”.

“You know, there are many other cuisines you’re yet to try,” I said with a playful glint in my eye. “For someone who’s so well-traveled and cultured, it’s surprising how much you’ve missed out on when it comes to food.” I teased.

“Well, perhaps you’ll tell me all about it when we’re in Amsterdam for the debate competition,” he said with a smile, his eyes twinkling with genuine excitement.

I blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait, what? You secured that for us?” My voice wavered slightly as my heart leaped with joy. “I can’t believe it! I’m so excited. This is incredible news!”

He chuckled, clearly pleased with my reaction. “I thought you’d like that. It’s an excellent opportunity, and I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it.”

I couldn’t help but beam, my excitement bubbling over. “This is amazing, truly. Thank you so much!” I stepped closer, touched by his thoughtfulness and dedication.

As I reached out, our hands brushed briefly, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver through me. His gaze softened, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m just glad we get to share this experience together,” he said softly.

The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken words and mutual appreciation. I nodded, my heart full of gratitude and warmth. “Me too,” I murmured, feeling the depth of our connection more than ever before.

Time jump – December is getting ready for Christmas.

As we stepped into the hotel lobby, the excitement was palpable among the debate team. Amsterdam was already charming me, even though I’d only glimpsed it through the bus window. The streets were lined with picturesque canals and quaint buildings, each one more enchanting than the last. I couldn’t help but talk animatedly about how I’d dreamed of visiting the Netherlands ever since my father told me stories about the blooming flower fields when I was a child.

Harry, who had been sitting beside me on the bus, watched with a fond smile. “You really seem to love the city,” he said. “Maybe we could find a couple of free days between the training and the competition to visit the flower fields.”

My eyes widened in delight. “Really? That would be incredible. But managing a whole field trip with the debate team might be a bit complicated.”

He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well, we could go alone. Just you and me. A little escape from the team.” He added. “We could explore some other things too if we’d like.”

The thought of spending time alone with him, wandering through a sea of flowers, made my heart race. I felt a warm blush creep up my cheeks. “That sounds amazing. I’d love that.”

When we checked into the hotel and were given our room keys, Anika, my vice president, and I realized that Harry and I had rooms on a separate floor. In fact, they were deluxe rooms though him and I booked standard rooms for everyone when we went over the budget. Anika seemed particularly perplexed by this.

“Why did you get such a nice room and I didn’t?” Anika questioned, her tone tinged with curiosity as she approached me in the lobby.

I shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Maybe Mr. Styles thought I needed a little extra comfort. You know, as president” I joked, not really sure if that was the case. “Besides, he probably just had to make decisions based on what was available.” I found myself lying, knowing I was curious myself.”

Anika raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe he’s using the budget money to splurge on you. I’ve noticed you two have become quite friendly. Could it be that he has a thing for you?” she teased, knowing I have spent months pining and flirting.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think so, Anika. We’re friends, and that’s all it is. I don’t think he feels anything else.” I said, confidant of my words for the first time in this conversation. “Plus, you are the only person other than me and Harry that got her own room. Others are sharing and you likely have a king bed all to yourself.”

“Harry? Is that his name now?” she smirked. “I guess you forgot to tell me you are on a first name basis. Are you holding out on me Y/L/N?” she joked though she was never oblivious to the fact that you kept some encounters with Harry to yourself, as if it would fuel the fantasy somehow.

I raised an eyebrow and gave her a playful grin. “Oh, come on. You have to admit everyone in the poetry society calls him that when we are outside the university.” I said, knowing that it was only one guy who was a family friend of Harry’s who got the honor.

She chuckled, but there was a hint of curiosity in her gaze. “Right. But you can’t deny there’s something a bit… special about how you two interact. Just saying.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not holding my breath for anything more on this trip. We’re here for the debate, remember? That’s the focus. But if anything happens later…” I shrugged playfully as she returned my knowing smile.

“Fair enough. Just keep your eyes open anyway, okay? Sometimes things happen when you least expect them to.”

I heard Harry calling my name from the end of the hall. I turned around to see him walking towards me with a thoughtful expression.

“Hey, do you still want to gather the debate team for a brief practice session before the afternoon debate?” he asked, his tone carrying a hint of concern.

I shook my head, smiling. “No, no need. You were right; they need a break. Plus, everyone has their notecards and seems prepared.”

Harry nodded, his smile relaxing into a satisfied grin. “Alright then. Let’s head to the elevator; it’ll be a bit quieter now anyway.”

We walked to the elevator together, and once inside, he pressed the button for my floor. The confined space seemed to amplify the gentle hum of the elevator, making it feel intimate.

Harry glanced at me with a soft smile, his eyes lingering a moment longer than usual. “Your hair looks different today. Did you do something special with it?” he asked, his voice carrying a playful undertone.

I felt a tinge of embarrassment, my cheeks warming slightly. “I just blow-dried it differently since I was in a rush this morning,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

Harry’s smile grew, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and something else I couldn’t quite place. “Well, it looks beautiful. I wouldn’t have guessed it was rushed.”

His compliment made my heart flutter, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Harry. That makes me feel a lot better about this hectic morning” I tried to divert the conversation, feeling nervous at his focus on me.

“Yeah, well, at least you have matching socks,” he joked, and before I could ask him what the hell he was talking about, he lifted his foot, revealing his own mismatched socks with a playful grin.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You and your accidental fashion choices,” I said, shaking my head with a smile, remembering that time I complimented his shoes only to find out he ordered the wrong ones online and couldn’t get them returned. He looked handsome in them anyway, I had told him.

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. And besides, it’s a good thing someone’s got their fashion game on point around here.” He said, brushing off the fact that it was a rushed accident.

I playfully nudged him. “Well, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. And for the record, I do have matching socks today, just in case you were wondering.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he looked at me, a warmth in his gaze that made my heart flutter. “Well, I must say, your socks are a lot less distracting than mine.”

I chuckled, feeling the tension between us ease into something more comfortable and light-hearted.

As the elevator chimed and the doors slid open to my floor, Harry didn’t make a move to exit. Instead, he turned to me with a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “Let me walk you to your room. It’s the least I can do. After all, it’s not every day I get to be a gentleman,” he said, completely ignoring the fact that his room was directly across from the elevator.

I laughed softly, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You’re too kind, Harry. It’s just down the hall here,” I said, gesturing toward my door, which was a short distance away from his.

As we walked together down the hallway, the atmosphere felt lighter, filled with a quiet, pleasant tension. Harry’s presence beside me was comforting, and I found myself appreciating the little things—like how he occasionally glanced my way, as if trying to make the moment last just a bit longer.

When we reached my door, Harry reached out and brushed his hand lightly against mine as he opened the door for me. “Even so, a little extra time with you—well, when else can I talk about my accidental shenanigans and have someone listen intently?” His voice was low and warm, and his gaze lingered on me with an intensity that sent a thrill down my spine.

I felt a flutter in my chest at his words but remained blissfully unaware of the deeper implications behind his gaze. “Well,” I said, smiling as I unlocked the door and stepped inside. “Thanks for walking me. It’s always nice to have a bit of company, especially when the company is as pleasant as yours.”

Harry’s smile grew softer, and he took a step back, still holding my gaze. “Anytime, y/n. I’ll see you in a few hours. Get some rest.

“You too, Harry.” I said as he walked back to his own room.

——————————————————————

PART TWO IS NOW UP 🌷🌷

[arc-misadventures]

Burdens of an Unwanted Legacy

"So, why are you dragging me to the training halls, Raven?

"Because I wanted you to practice on your swordsmanship."

"I'd assume as much, but if you wanted me to do some training, then where is your blade, Raven?"

While, Jaune may be dressed in his exercise clothes, he was still armed with, Crocea Mors upon his hip. And, while, Raven may have also been dressed in simple exercise attire as well, her dreaded blade, Omen was nowhere to be seen.

"Ahh, well you're not going to be practicing with me today. No, we have a special guest here today. So, I thought it would be good if you got some time to practice your blade with someone else."

"Hmmm... that is a viable reasoning."

"Plus her beating you up a bit would be a good way to relieve some tension..."

"And, there it is... typical" Jaune had earned the moniker of, 'Punching Bag' by his fellow students, and teachers on account of his high, Aura reserves. This resulted in him having to fight many of his peers for extended periods of time for several reasons.

Those reasonings being endurance training, to testing the limits of an individuals semblance; This either being the impacts that this semblance would have on an individual, or the extent of possible damages one could expect to impact if ones semblance was allowed to extend to it's maximum capabilities.

While, Jaune could understand the reasoning behind such practices, and even encouraged many aspiring trainee to unleash the full effects of their semblances on him, It did not mean he enjoyed it.

"Haa... Am I testing someone's semblance, or am I really just the punching bag for them today."

"Don't worry, they won't be using their semblance. Just some honest training bouts with a sword to relieve some accumulating stress they've been dealing with lately."

"Stress? I take it that this isn't something that our usual meditation lessons couldn't deal with then?"

As a means to help, Spartans combat the, Grimm; Spartan Trainee's were sent through several rigorous training regimens to strengthen their mental fortitude, and more often learn to control their emotions. Often leading to many, Spartans to be seen as emotionless killing machines by the common folk.

"Uhh... no. It's civilian related." Raven visibly winced as she spoke the word: Civilian. Bar dealing with, Tai, Raven didn't have much patience when it comes to dealing with civilians.

In fact: Most, Spartans didn't like dealing with civilians so much so, that before trainee's became, Spartan's they were placed in new mental fortitude class. A class solely meant to help dealing with civilian antics, and behavior. Honestly, Jaune along with many other, Spartans didn't think that these classes were all that effective. Necessary yes, effective no so much.

"I take it that the punching bag method didn't help them?" The punching bag method was relatively simple stress relief: Get a photo of the civilians face who has been giving you shit, put it on a punching bag, and beat the ever loving shit out of it.

Many civilians found this method to be a totally barbaric practice, and that should be done away with imminently. Something that the high ranking, Spartan officers made fully well know that they fully supported this incentives. However, this was merely lip service that the higher ups gave to the civilian officials who made the complaints about it. Considering, Jaune had seen the faces of those same civilian officials on multiple punching bags before, and that his commanding officers themselves were the ones to ripe them to shreds.

"No. She's been dealing with too much stress because of this particular civilian. It's more likely that she'd turn the civilian into a punching bag at this rate." Raven chuckled nervously as they entered the training hall.

"She? Who is this, Spartan I'll be sparing with then?"

"Well..." Raven pointed her hand outward, and Jaune knew fully well who she was having him spar with today. This lady didn't need to introduce herself, Jaune knew fully well who he was dealing with the second he saw that silver white hair. And, upon seeing her, silver white hair, Jaune gave the only appropriate response anyone could fathomably conceive.

"Ahh... shit."

Among the, Spartans everyone knew who the lady with the hair as white as snow was. She was a rarity among rarities. For she was, Winter Schnee, S Rank, Spartan.

A Spartans overall end rank was determined by an individuals level skill, Aura levels, and the combat applicability of their unique individual semblance in combat scenarios. A circumstance with begged the question; if an individual, Spartan that had truly impressive levels of, Aura, and a truly effective combat applicable semblance. Would there rank stop at, A Class?

This question, and rare existence swiftly lead to the creation of the seventh rank that only a rare, and selected few, Spartans could dream to acquire. Given to those only with both vast aura reserves, and especially powerful semblances.

S Class.

The numbers of, Spartans who had reached the rank of, S Class were enough to be counted on one hand. Because of their rarity they had unprecedented influence both within, and outside the, Spartan Academies.

Influence that many unscrupulous characters from the outside of the, Academies often wished to capitalize on.

"Winter Schnee... Are you trying to get me killed, Raven?!"

"Yes." A smirked rose across her face, as Jaune recoiled in fake shock at the teasing remarks of his friend, and mentor.

"What did I do to deserve this?!" He feigned mock shock at her playful accusation.

"You forced me to reconnect with my past lover!" Raven lean down, and leered down at the young man.

"And, what is wrong with that?"

"Nothing, it's nice to reconnect with him. I'm meeting him, and his wife for dinner this weekend." Raven, straightened her back, and looked away from him, trying to hid the faint blush across her face.

"Oh, Tai got married? I wonder how that came about."

"I don't know, I'll ask them when I see them this weekend, and I'll let you know."

"Thank you. Did you catch her name by any chance?"

"I think her name was... Summer Rose? Yeah, Summer Rose." It took, Raven a moment to catch the name that was caught on the tip of her tongue. But, as she said it, Jaune couldn't help, but raise an inquisitive eyebrow as he heard that name.

"Rose? Hmmm... do you think she has any relation to that gun nut in the armoury?"

Raven's eyes blinked in contemplation as she heard the mention of, Beacon Academy's resident gun nut armourer.

"Hmmm... Maybe... why don't we ask...?"

"Hey!"

The duos musing was interrupted as they saw the, S Class Spartan, Winter Schnee walk towards them.

"Hey, Raven."

"Winter..." The duo clasped their hands together in a greeting before breaking apart. "Sorry, I didn't call out to you sooner; my friend, and i were lost in our own discussion."

"That is alright. So, is this my sparring partner?" Winter turned to face, Jaune. She gave him the once over, no doubt evaluating him. Jaune gazed at her in turn, evaluating her in the process.

Jaune knew full well how effective of a warrior every, S Class Spartan was. He knew full, and well how effective of a warrior, Winter Schnee was. He knew fully well, and good that if they fought in a duel with, and Winter was using her semblance, she would wipe the floor with him. Without her semblance though, he'd give himself a thirty five out of a hundred to win.

"B Class Spartan, Jaune Arc, Sir!" Jaune threw up a salute to the woman out of respect, she quickly returned the salute in kind.

"B Class? You look rather young for a, B Class."

"I have higher then average levels of, Aura. Because of that, they made me a, B Class when I graduated." Jaune had been asked this question many times before, his ranking often made sense to his fellow, Spartans. But, his experience's when it came to his rank, and aura levels when it came to dealing with civilians was often unpleasant.

"Ahh, I had a similar experience; I was promoted to A Class when I graduated because of my semblance's capabilities."

"A Class? Seems a bit too fast to graduate from a trainee to an, A Class Spartan in my opinion." Winter nodded her head as she agreed with his statement before she continued her story.

"I agree, but due to my semblances unique abilities, and some... backroom politics I was promoted to, A Class. However, I never acted like I was an, A Class until I had a few more years of experience under my belt."

"I understand that, I'm still acting like I'm a, C Class myself. I've only been a, B Class for little over a year now. I still don't feel like one yet. Now then, enough small talk; You asked for a duel with the 'Punching Bag.' Shall we begin?"

"The punching bag? I thought you said I would be fighting a person, Raven, not an actual punching bag." Winter looked at, Raven, her brow furrowed in disappointment. Raven shook her head, as she waved the idea away.

"No no no. 'The Punching Bag,' not a punching bag."

"Hmm?"

"Jaune's, Aura is so vast that he is often used to help trainee's test the limits of their individuals semblance's. Because of this he earned the moniker of, 'The Punching Bag' around, Beacon Academy."

"Oh... my condolences." Jaune took, Winter's words in, and just waved them off.

"Think nothing of it. Considering the effects of many trainee's semblances, it is better if they could test their semblance in an controlled environment against an individual who can withstand their attacks."

"Hmmm..." Winter cupped her chin in thought as she registered his words. "That is sound logic. I could have used someone like that whilst I was training with my semblance."

"Hey, just because I think it's a good idea to train with people to help control their semblance's doesn't mean I like it!"

"Oh? But, it sounds so fun to toss you around with my semblance." Winter gave, Jaune challenging smirk that caused him to growl at her in turn.

"So you want to play then? Okay then..." Jaune walk out into the middle of the training hall, and pulled out his sword, and shield. He pointed his blade at her as he issued his challenge to her, that she was all too willing to reciprocate in kind. "Care to dance miss?"

"With pleasure~!"

[dandadananalysis]

Dandadan Chapter 186 SPOILERS!

To @gelu-the-babosa-multiversal,

Thank you for sending me your ask, now that I know, Tatsuya-sensei just released Chapter 186!

Wait for my response!

As expected, Yukishiro used her pygmies looking for the pervert teacher!

It's very cute seeing the interaction of her and the pygmies!

And what the hell !!!?? Adachi-sensei is being used by him too!!?

Wow, never believe, not only that man targeting on female students, but also a poor teacher :'<

He used her as if she was a toy >:(

Okay, seems that they might be in a love hotel... and she is tryna send him one ticket to his demise (a.k.a if u don't understand, she will oof him :))) gotta write like this because some minors probably reading this :))

The girls are in trouble... Rin and Aira are almost at their limits, especially Rin!

Thank you pygmies! So her power really does relating to the piano!

They really are encouraging her to get outside of her shell!

Go my our beauty queen!!!

So Rin and Yukishiro really does have abilities relating to music!

Actually, reading this chapter, at this panel, I can really understand the pressure she's having.

I, myself, used to play piano when I was small too! (classic Asian kids) It's more like a hobby, and eventually, I stop playing it like, 4-5 years ago, which is around the epidemic Covid 19, my piano teacher and I got out of touch. And recently, after some break I have returned to play it. But like, mostly for fun, and self-training, because I learned the basics when I was young, so yeah!

And just like any music prodigies, Yukishiro ended up having trouble hearing the sounds of the notes she plays.

From passion, it became a torture :"(

This is pretty much familiar, don't ya think?

It's the same as the main character Kousei-kun in Your lie in April anime! He also had the same symptoms as Yukishiro! (btw you guys should watch it, very touching, and if you like classical music, go and check it out! I'm obsessed with the music)

Besides, I feel like Tatsuya-sensei probably find that piano sheet from some songs already, I dunno which is? Really happy that Tatsuya-sensei focused on the details!

But based on this! The sound of the piano!

I searched the Medieval Europe era:

Organ (kinda like a piano) and Accidentals! I kept on searching all the musicians in between 6th 15th centuries.

Well turns out, I know nothing abt the musicians in this era :(

We all know musicians' fame starting from the 15th-16th century.

It's kinda hard, because this era mostly focused on folk songs and church songs.

I found this fun fact: [From Wiki] You know Galileo Galilei, the Italian physicist, is a son of Vincenzo Galilei, who is a musician! Early 16th century :) Well not quite, Vincenzo Galilei (3 April 1520 – 2 July 1591) was an Italian lutenist, composer, and music theorist. His children included the astronomer and physicist Galileo Galilei and the lute virtuoso and composer Michelagnolo Galilei (his other son). Vincenzo was a figure in the musical life of the late Renaissance and contributed significantly to the musical revolution that demarcates the beginning of the Baroque era.(Baroque music refers to the period or dominant style of Western classical music composed from about 1600 to 1750. The Baroque style followed the Renaissance period, and was followed in turn by the Classical period after a short transition)

Woah! That's a lot of info!

And of course! Classical Musician Era was the brightest era of all, because we all know them: Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Bach, Mozart... (pianists)

Next, Yuki-san (for short of Yukishiro) said this piano's tune is 432Hz, not normally like many pianos selling today, 440Hz. It's very rare to see 432 Hz piano because they existed long ago, and classical musics sounds best when you play that type of piano in that inotation.

Oh Mozart is famous for this type of music already :))

Okay back to the story... getting a lil' overboard :)

Really respect Aira, she started playing piano after her mom's death, and she thought that it could help her forhet about the past, but until then she realized that seeing Yuki-san played, she was amazed at how freedom she is.

She reall admired Yuki :'3

She finally gained her confidence! And went insane!!!!

The whole room was dead silent, leaving room for Yuki's talent and the piano sounds

The way she controls the atmosphere is something else!

Omg so much like legendary pianists, that pose!

It's like she's manifesting everywhere how powerful she is!

She's taking control not only the area in the gym, but also outside ?

There are a bunch of insects, or flies (?) swarming in the sky, like surveillance cameras!

Could her power be, controling somethings, like a group, living in a far distance?

Maybe this power could help them widen the area of search ?

Idk, Tatsuya-sensei is giving us cliff hanger now :<

[mell0wjello]

Hiya! Sorry, this is my first time requesting something, so sorry if it's not right or anything! ':)

BUT! I saw that your requests were open, and I like your vibe, soooo I have a request, of how the Octatrio (separately, together, whatever floats your boat!) would react to an s/o who's asexual :0

WAHHH TYSMM ! I was actually already thinking about an ace s/o with Floyd so this is perfect <3

~~~~~~

𝓐𝔃𝓾𝓵 𝓐𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓷𝓰𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓸

Throughout the school year, Azul and you had grown quite close. What started out as a healthy competition between two hard-working students developed into a genuine friendship somewhere down the line. You developed a strong trust bond with each other, becoming the first person either of you went to for help first.

Azul noticed that today you were especially fidgety and nervous. You were picking at your nails and your eyes darted from place to place. Of course, he worried for you. He asked you to see him after school at his office in Mostro Lounge just to make sure you were ok.

The afternoon rolled by, and you came into his familiar workspace, still visibly off. You took a seat in one of the chairs, averting his gaze knowing damn well that he was seeing right through you.

Azul leaned forward and spoke in a concerned tone,

"Prefect, I can tell that something's wrong. You are clearly not feeling well. There's no point in hiding it from me, so why not just tell me?"

You sighed at the truth of his words. You looked up at the pure worry welled up in his eyes. Maybe it was for the best.

Slowly, you began

"Well... I'm worried about what others would think about me."

Azul raised his eyebrow.

"Others? It's quite unlike you to think that way. Did something happen?" Azul questioned

"The thing is... I think I'm Asexual." You said quietly

"I'm just worried about what others would think about me if they learned that. I already stand out so much because of my background, and to come out like that..."

You sighed into your hands

"I mean, will people accept me, or will they change their attitude towards me? I don't know..."

You felt Azul's hand on your shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze. You looked up from your own to see he was now kneeling at eye level in front of you.

"Prefect, there's no shame in being that way." Azul spoke soothingly

"Nothing about who you are and were as a person has changed. You're still NRC's prefect. People should treat you the same way they always have."

You smiled at his comforting words. Your reaction encouraged Azul to continue

"To me, Prefect, whether you are a merman, human, or fae, you are still my closest friend. Through thick and thin, it's still you. Nothing will change that."

You leaned in to give Azul a hug. Azul quietly gasped in surprise. This was a first. But nonetheless, he put his arms on your back as well.

"Thank you so much Azul" You smiled into the hug.

"Of course, Prefect"

~~~~~~

𝓙𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝔂𝓭 𝓛𝓮𝓮𝓬𝓱

Ever since attending your first class, the tweels have been stuck on you like a tattoo. Everywhere the prefect went, the tweels were sure to follow. And soon enough, the prefect was there anywhere the tweels went too.

The three of you sit around each other in class. Floyd would hardly pay attention, but at least you and Jade were somewhat more responsible than him.

As you arrived at Trein's classroom you set your backpack on the table, the tweels noticing something they hadn't before

Among others, their attention turned towards a purple and monochromatic pin on the front. Floyd tapped your shoulder, but your attention was still on the classwork you had been assigned. Floyd raised two fingers at your head and flicked them, successfully getting you to cock your head towards him.

"What's this flag on your backpack, Shrimpy? Does it mean something?"

Jade, who observed the entire thing go down, chimed in,

"I was asking myself the same thing. I believe I've seen it somewhere before."

Your face softened at the question and you replied to the curious eels,

"Oh, yeah. It's the Asexual flag. I'm Ace."

Jade nodded, remembering where else he'd seen the distinct colors. Floyd, however, was a little confused. He thought for a moment before his eyes widened.

"Ohhhhh. So, you're like a Starfish!" He said in amusement.

You snorted at and Jade chuckled at Floyd's comparison.

"Not quite, Floyd. But I suppose that isn't too far off." Jade murmured.

"Hmm. Should I call you Starfish instead of Shrimpy then?" Floyd asked you

He didn't wait for your response before humming,

"Yup! You're gonna be Starfish now"

~~~~~~

[bagalois]

i got an email from the general grad advisor today, questioning how wise it would be for me to take algebraic topology 2 given my C in algebraic topology 1. she suggested that i could take the probability course track instead, which will knock off a distribution requirement and "could play more to my strengths"

ngl, i'm a little pissed. i'm doing a phd in math to become an academic and to have research in pure/applied mathematics. stats might be more employable, but i'm not putting in all this work to become a statistician. if i wanted to work industry, i would have tried harder to find a tech job with my COMPUTER SCIENCE DEGREE or CYBERSECURITY EXPERIENCE.

at first, i wrote a paragraph saying things like, "Regarding my strengths and interests, I'm figuring those things out. I don't have any statistics/probability background prior to my TA experience this past year - I didn't have much interest in it before and the subject is still new to me. I'm very interested in being employable after I graduate though, so I am happy to open up my options as much as I can."

i read over it and deleted it. my actual reply was pretty dry - all i said was a brief "thank you for the email" "hope your summer is going well" and "i'm interested in switching over to probability."

as second-year student, nobody actually cares about your interests. that's for after i have my master's degree and start shopping for advisors - and even then, it's more about what you have experience in than what you like.

they say grades don't matter, but the only thing anyone actually cares about (when you're early in the graduate career) is if you have good grades... i already knew that of course, but i let myself get swayed by the "your gpa doesn't matter!" propaganda from everyone in the department.

and here i thought mathematicians were honest.

you know, the biggest thing i regret from spring semester is not skipping classes when they stopped serving me. i wanted to, but i was more afraid to be rude than i was to fail.

(i don't encourage skipping class though, obviously. i only stop going when i seriously hate being there. i learn from the book instead and i still do the homework and show up for exams. it was easy in undergrad because those professors don't care. i just needed the credit/grade, not their approval.)

i just have to stay true to what i know. i'm usually right about the things i need and want. can't be letting other people detract from what i need to do for myself.

i thought that, since the department is full of mathematicians, they would understand me and share my interests - but the only interests they have are their own. i need to remind myself of this.

what i need over the summer is to prepare and practice for the statistics class i'm teaching this july. i need to review and relearn algtop 1. and i need to get As this fall.

technically i only need B+'s, but i want As, so i'm going to get them.

switching to probability should help me a lot. i have a classmate who took probability last year, and i'll be brushing up on my calculus anyway from being a calculus instructor this fall. so i have high hopes that, if everything goes well, i can pull it off. then i'll study hard in the winter and take the master's exam in the spring.

[lil-dragon-rawr]

TOH x DC: Eda Becomes a Chem Teacher

Masterlist

TW: Eda eats a mouse

So, Eda has a great character arc where she recognizes a problem in society (school) and makes it better when she becomes an adult (by opening her own super cool school). But she needs a job while she and her various kids are hanging out in Gotham because the landlord doesn't accept snails. And since Gotham is famous for people disappearing and/or going rogue, there's usually jobs to be found in many schools but particularly in the chemistry department since chemicals - and the know-how of how to mix them - is a hot commodity among rogues.

Anyways, Eda gets a human teaching certificate and becomes a chem teacher. The problem? She makes potions, not reactions and solutions. The other, much larger problem? She is learning human chem - which should be a good thing, right? - but you forget that this is Eda we're talking about. AKA Wild Witch No. 1 for decades, queen of mixing magic and blowing stuff up.

Eda, during her first class: hello everyone, I'll be your teacher this year, my name is Eda, please don't call me Ms. Clawthorne cause it makes me feel old

One particularly bold student who Does Not Care Because This Is Gotham: yeah but aren't you?

Eda, slightly miffed but proud that someone's standing up to a teacher/authority figure: oh perfect, a volunteer

Duke, who knows Eda as Signal: *starts freaking out because what does she mean by volunteer*

Eda: there are no wrong answers in this class and experimentation is encouraged, just run your plan by me so you don't lose any limbs

Eda, staring ominously into the distance: Titan knows I've lost enough of those already

Class: *is silent because when the lady with a hook for an arm tells you to talk to her before you start experimenting, you listen*

Eda, ignoring the panicked faces of students who have watched waaaay too many people go rogue: so today you'll all be learning how to make sleeping poti-um, solutions

(Cue confused whispering)

Eda: so the main ingredient you'll need is sleeping nettle, but I've found that concentrated valerian root works as a good substitute-

Student, raising their hand: what's sleeping nettle?

Eda, waving her hook vaguely: don't worry about it, it's not native. We will need a few chunks of water though as that will eventually vaporize and help the solution disperse as a gas - can anyone tell me what we might use to trigger a vaporization reaction?

Duke is pleasantly surprised to discover that despite Eda's...chaotic tendencies, she's actually a good teacher. The demonstration ends with her instructing the "volunteer" to wake her with a different brew sitting on her desk when she takes a whiff of the freshly-brewed sleeping solution. And sure enough, it only takes one whiff before she's slumped over her desk, snoring comedically loudly. The antidote, which she promised to teach next class before having the students brew their own sleeping solutions, works perfectly. The main problems are a) Eda doesn't use measurements and b) she's either on her way to becoming a rogue or is content to help others become rogues.

She gets a visit from Batman that night.

Batman, perched on the balcony of Eda's apartment:

Eda, trying to have a nice evening in with King and Luz: do you have a warrant?

Batman: no.

Eda: good, cause I wouldn't let you in even if you did. Anyways, what can I say to make you go away faster?

Batman: ...you started teaching.

Eda: astute observation from the master detective. You see that, kids?

King and Luz: *snickering*

Batman, used to the Batkids being similarly blasphemous: do you really think it's a good idea to teach people how to make potions? Especially in Gotham where the turnover rates are correlated to how many new villains there are?

Luz, very passionate: people only turn into villains if you treat them like villains!

Batman:

Luz: (•`-'•)

Batman, wondering when someone barely in their 20s got wiser than him (it was when he adopted a kid on impulse):

Eda, sticking to her (thankfully metaphorical) guns: look, people are going to do good things or bad things regardless of what they know or don't know how to do. The least I can do is help them learn to defend themselves! Besides, why should knowledge be restricted to the upper class? Everyone knows that if you're rich or famous enough there's only so many roadblocks that will actually be...y'know. Roadblocks. I'm just evening the playing field!

Eda continues teaching.

She teaches how to accelerate healing, how to ease chronic conditions, how to make darkness appear at one's fingertips. She shows students how to condense water molecules in the air and turn them into ice shards or even whole blocks of ice. She invites questions and discussions and new ideas. She gives bonus points for improving or modifying recipes.

Her class quickly becomes the school favorite. It's a mix between "easy A" and "learn how to make things go boom". Exam days are literally just "brew something new". It can be a variation on a recipe from class or a completely new one. The only requirement is that students tell Eda what they're doing before they do it. At the end of the exam, everyone grabs their concoctions and goes outside for a mock battle. (Technically, this part is optional and Eda retains the right to ban any student's creation if she thinks it's unsafe, but she supplies plenty of her own "relatively harmless" potions they can use.)

Things spiral when one student walks into her room during lunch (in their defense they just wanted to ask a question) and sees her talking to the weird new freshman, King, while her non-hook arm stirs a pot...on a counter six feet away from her.

Cue freak-outs, debates, and many, many more theories. Bets are placed among the student population (minus King - the entire school worked together to make sure neither he nor his "buddy" Damian Wayne found out about the betting pool). Most popular bets include Eda has several hyper-realistic prosthetic limbs aside from the hook, Eda is just a straight up witch, and King is weird because his mom is Eda who is a witch.

The betting pool gets even more chaotic when they're working on brewing blabber serums and Eda warns the class that a blabber serum is just a few degrees shy of a horrifying monster serum. Nobody really knows what to do with that information, but a student who tries to make said horrifying monster serum during the next exam doesn't get to drink it during the mock battle because Eda snatches it out of their hands when they try to walk outside. She brings the vial to the front of the classroom and explains what the student did, the expected effectiveness of it, and the fastest way to reverse the effects, which turns out just involves exposing the subject to copious amounts of ice.

Betting pool expands to include "Eda lost her arm to a horrifying monster that she created" and "Eda was force-fed an overcooked blabber serum and turned into a horrifying monster".

Then Eda caught and ate a mouse that had gotten loose in the cafeteria, and the betting pool immediately split between "Eda is a witch and does weird witchy things as a result" and "Eda turned into a horrifying monster and still has some of the horrifying monster urges"...which are both technically true.

The students collectively agree that whether or not Eda's a witch or a monster or just a really weird lady from Connecticut, she's the most fun - and most relevant (this is Gotham) - chem teacher they've ever had. No one tells their parents about the mock battles. If the school does an inspection of the class, everyone is on their best behavior and talks loudly about how much they love the class. Someone sees the mock battle on exam day? Don't worry, it's definitely just a water balloon fight with special effects.

The school board doesn't know what to do. She's borderline unhinged, and the reactions she's teaching definitely shouldn't be possible. Is the school going to get targeted for her skills? Should they get rid of her before she inevitably goes rogue? But they can't fire her because where are they going to get a replacement?

Turns out, this is the safest the school has ever been. Not only did Luz and King befriend Wallace Cobblepot*, aka the Penguin's kid, Eda also befriended Wallace because he's in her chem class. The other Imps really like Eda, too, so their parents are in on it as well (minus Mad Hatter, who is currently in Arkham's hospital wing recovering from burns). Any rogue that so much as sniffs near the chem lab gets a house call from the Penguin, if not the Riddler and Scarecrow, too.

*See Part Four

But rogues aren't the only ones protecting the school anymore. Most students who have taken Eda's class carry around sleeping solutions, flash freeze potions (referred to as Mr. Freeze Could Never if another teacher is nearby), instant darkness brews (lovingly called Batman-in-a-Bottle), mini-bombs, and various healing potions. Also, with all the mock battles they do, their aim is getting really good.

Overall, the school board and students think they have a handle on things, albeit in vastly different ways...until someone else from Connecticut applies for the band and orchestra teacher positions, which have been open since the beginning of the year.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.240 Debrief

While Desiree attended school and Sophia went to work, I hired contractors and designers to begin our home renovation. I told them we wanted to maintain the Craftsman style of the home and requested for the living room furniture to remain because with all the changes pending, we still want the house to feel familiar. Besides, me and Sophia decorated that house together. We don't want all our memories erased. The lot is medium-sized, so even though we'll have more rooms, they will still be fairly small. Some spaces, like the upstairs hallway, will remain cramped, but I still think we will be happy with the changes. Bonus points for the contractors not thinking any of our requests were too farfetched or impossible. Completing the work on time should not be an issue, they said.

At last, 3:00 rolled around, and we waited not-so-patiently at the front door for our baby to arrive. I don't know if we spooked her by standing there or if her day did not add up to the hype, but she didn't look as excited as I thought she'd be when she finally walked through the door. Maybe she was overwhelmed or tired. At least, I hoped that was the case. After hugs and kisses, we settled in the kitchen for the play-by-play while she had an early dinner. Thankfully, she was much more lively recanting the events, so it wasn't a total bust.

She wandered around, peering into windows until she found the principal's office. There, she found a nice, younger woman who preferred to be called by her first name, Hillary. She told Desi about all the clubs and after-school activities, gave her a brief rundown of her teacher, Mr. Hanks, and suggested she introduce herself before the first period began. After her speech, she asked if Desi had questions. Desi said she noticed other students wearing the same outfit and wanted to know if they had to wear uniforms. Miss Hillary clarified saying while no official uniform existed, they sometimes encouraged particular clothing choices on certain days. Like, today was career day, so everyone wore their letterman jacket. They also have a club shirt day. Do the students enjoy it as much as Miss Hillary thinks? Because if I was in school again, I wouldn't be down for it.

When Desi left the principal's office, she ran into Tami, who looked sad. I tensed up because it wasn't my place to divulge the potential reasons for her sadness, but I low-key hoped Tami would tell her why and give me more insight, heh. Desi, being the caring sim she is, asked if she was okay. Tami started whining about the outfit, saying she's tired of the uniform days, and that it felt like every day Miss Hillary found something else to make them wear. Between just wanting to wear her own clothes and Maia not letting her wear what she wants to wear, she's just sick of constantly being told what to do. I remember my friends complaining about their parents and sharing similar sentiments. Compared to them, I had all the freedom in the world but still felt pressured to behave a certain way. I started acting like a tough guy and making unnecessary demands at home. Teenage life is so volatile. They're still kids, but they're also not children anymore. That call for independence is so strong, and I sympathized with Tami. I was relieved she didn't bring up the drama at home, but is she upset about the uniform or is she masking her real pain? Desi, of course, was oblivious to all of this, so she tried to cheer her up by showing pictures of the birthday party. She's such a sweetheart.

The bell rang while Tami was still gushing about her horse, so they walked toward the classroom buildings together. Desi's first class was Business Concepts. It's cool they're teaching that kind of stuff in school now. We didn't have neat subjects like that. Maybe if we had, I would have done better. They went their separate ways, and Desi was bummed. But when she entered her classroom and saw familiar faces, she was so relieved. Savannah, her twin (Stacey), and Breanna were in her class. I was thrilled for her because, besides the boys and Tami, those are literally all the kids she knows, and now she has her entire social circle together in one place, more or less. Asking about Savannah and Stacey was so tempting, but I resisted. Good thing she didn't look for her teacher before class because he was late. Some students had to sit on the floor because there weren't enough desks.

Lunch followed the first period, but the career fair shortened it. That was something else we didn't have when I was in school, so I asked about it. She explained the entire school convened in the auditorium, where industry representatives manned booths and showcased their careers. There was a doctor who just stood around and watched, a lawyer, and another lady. She couldn't identify her outfit, but she looked sketchy, lurking in the corner all day.

She briefly caught up with her cousins before listening to the lawyer's presentation, but Lex thought the whole thing was lame and left. That was rude and unacceptable, and I considered talking to him about it when we get to Sulani. I had to remind myself he's not my kid. Besides, I don't want to mess with his and Desi's friendship and get her labeled as a snitch.

I asked how she liked the lawyer's presentation, and she said it was okay. The speaker was good, but the content didn't spark joy. Overall, she enjoyed the career fair and said if they keep having them maybe she can figure out what to do with her life. There's so much I wanted to say in that moment regarding her future, but we didn't need to discuss it right then. For the moment, she just needs to finish her dinner, do homework, and pack for vacation.

As always, me and Sophia tried to help as much as we could, but I'm not sure how much longer we'll be able to do that. The subjects were getting more difficult, but we got through it just in time for the season premiere of Game of Llamas. Alessia ran in as the opening credits were ending. Apparently, her kids don't care about the show and neither does her dude, so she raced over here to watch with someone who did. She probably just misses us because Less is usually perfectly fine watching TV by herself.

As the children of two only children, we didn't have the pleasure of growing up with cousins, aunts, and uncles. I love watching Less and Desi's relationship. They're friends, but it's more than friends. It almost feels sister-like, but it's not that either. Whatever it is, it's special and unlike anything she shares with us. It makes me even more glad Sophia suggested we got Less in on the youth potion plan. One day, Desi might go through something she doesn't feel comfortable telling us. I'm glad she'll have Less to lean on for a very long time.

[liobi]

Yet more fic sketches from @thedeerus Time Is Running (out) Honkai Star Rail AU

Title; The price of memories

“Keep holding hands you two.” Akivili's voice was gentle as they put the piece of moldy bread between you and Caelus. “Stopping time by itself doesn't hold too many risks, but when you move it against its will, the forces of causality will begin dismantling your existence.”

You and Caelus stared at Akivili like the pair of confused six year olds you were. You knew that if you both held hands, one of you could stop the other from getting hurt when you shoved and pulled at time. You weren't sure what this causa-something was. 

Somewhere behind them a much deeper voice sighed. “I told you explaining meta-chronometry to them like that wouldn't work.” 

The shirtless other half of your parents walked out of the kitchen holding a plate of bacon and toast. The gash on their chest gently wept with golden blood today, and they had wrapped a sash around their waist to stop any from making its way down and ruining yet another pair of pants. They were the taller of your two parents. Nanook’s friends had said you took after them, while Caelus took after Akivili. Akivili’s hair was darker, and you and your brother's hair had settled in the middle. “It's like this, if you keep poking Time like you do Ifrit’s kids, eventually it's going to deck you like Ifrit's kids did.” 

You wanted to protest, you and Caelus had given as good as you got and it was two against four, but Akivili gave you A Look and so you muttered “Okay, we get it.”

Your beautiful, dumb baby brother, born an entire five minutes after you, did not. “So we can beat up time??”

That earned him a sigh from Akivili and Nanook wrapping the top of his head with their knuckles. “Oww.”

“Can you not hit our son?”

“I barely tapped him. Besides, my parents hit me and I turned out fine.” Nanook’s face was as dour and brooding as ever, but the slightest tension in his face let you know he was smiling.

Akivili gave a great, heaving sigh. “It's almost funny to me that you don't realize how insane that statement is. Also I've seen you ‘barely tap’ an entire bridge out of existence.”

“The twins know to stop their bodies’ time when I touch them.” To illustrate their point, Nanook hefted the twins up, one on each arm. “See? No blistering, no decaying, no exploding or bursting or burning or any of that.”

“Nanook, can we get burgers later?” You gave your parent the biggest, goldest puppy eyes that you could manage. 

Other children might call their parents by titles like “mom” or “dad” but yours had told you they had transcended gender, whatever that was, just like they transcended human limits, which you were pretty sure you knew what that meant, and that you should just call them their names.

That's why you had actually punched Mr. Ifrit's kids, they'd said your parents were weird for that.

“No, some idiots don't like me right now, so we can't be seen by any burger people.”

“I hope all the idiots fall and break their noses.” Caelus chimed in. You gave him a thumbs up and Akivili sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

“Caelus don't call people you don't know idiots. Stelle, don't encourage him please. Babe, can you put them down so they can practice their powers on the mold?” 

And so you both were set down and held hands again, forcing the flow of time back and forth, making the mold grow and vanish as one anchored the other against the backlash of causality.

You heard your parents talk quietly in the kitchen. “Phantylia is coming by later. Lan and Yaoshi got into a fight and wiped a deserted island off the coast from existence. I need her to keep an eye on Lan’s crew.”

“Babe, I really don't think you should do that.”

“What do you want me to do, Aki? If any of Lan’s hunters get riled up enough to go on a rampage it looks bad for all of us, and your students are staying incognito while they establish themselves in the government. We have to be ready to do damage control any way we can.”

“And Miss I Possess People And Destroy Friendships is your best option?”

“That stupid centaur needs someone watching them. If you and I get publicly involved at the same time someone in Oversight is going to find out about us, and that means that they would find out about the twins and-”

“And we don't want that, I know. If people found out the Traveler and the Destroyer had kids and those kids could control time with no side effects as long as they were together, any chance we’d have of negotiating independence with Oversight would be down the drain.”

To be fair, even though no one in Oversight ever found out your secret, negotiations broke down in the worst possible way anyways.

.

.

.

.

“Can you tell me about your parents, Stelle?” Ms. Swan had a clipboard out, taking notes any time Stelle twitched or scratched or reacted in any way to any of her questions. 

Stelle knew she had them, she knew she couldn't see them for one reason or another, and she knew that she and her brother had gotten something done to their brains that made it impossible for them to remember clearly without Stelle delicately undoing it. And she’d need Caelus for that, keeping her existence static as she reached into the blender that was the past and undid the very specific things they had done. Now the only time she could remember them was in her deepest dreams.

She knew one of her parents was alive at least. And a big shot too apparently, they had sent a member of their group to check on her after the Stellaron hunters had blown up a bank to snatch the worst wish granting device in the world. Kafka had been surprised that Stelle, or someone close to Stelle, had gone through the trouble of making her completely psychic-proof.

And now it seemed it was a good choice. She could feel Black Swan, an external psychologist and psychic consultant, subtly probing around her mind, searching for anything that remained of the memories. Fortunately the psychic cauterization was extremely thorough. 

“I can't really remember them.” Stelle answered truthfully. “Now, if you want me to talk about all the people I would call mommy-”

“I don't.” Ms. Swan said, ignoring the fact that her face appeared in Stelle’s mind when she said that. “I'll make a note that you tend to have a thing for more mature women in your file though.”

“Is that what this is reduced to? They're paying you all this money to ask questions they already know the answer to, and now my fetishes?”

Swan smiled, but it was the tired smile of someone not paid enough to put up with Stelle’s bullshit. “They know less than you think. Did you know you've put three separate memokeepers in the hospital? Navigating your mind is like wandering through psychic radiation without any kind of protective equipment. How exactly did you manage that?”

“Natural talent I guess.” Stelle didn't know that's what happened to all the old psychologists. Oops. She couldn't even think of any specific reason why her mind would be so toxic. “Why do you even keep talking to me? I'm not gonna rat out my friends, my mind is apparently a psychic biohazard, and I've been here for how long now?”

“Four months.”

“Geez. I'm just a huge waste of government resources at this point. What's the matter, did the rest of my crew steal too many evil wish granting machines from Oversight's stash and they want them back?” Stelle wore a vicious grin, the psychologist looked unimpressed.

“It's Himeko, you know. The International Peace Corporation is petitioning for Oversight to publicly dispose of you.” That stopped any sardonic comments Stelle might have made. “They want to make you an example for the Stellaron Hunters and other groups like them. But Oversight owes Himeko and her backer a favor, and she vouched for your ability to be rehabilitated. So you're here as long as you don't get a third strike, and I'm here to help keep up this charade. I have my own personal curiosities too, but the charade is the main reason.”

When Stelle left the conference room, she stopped by Himeko’s office. The woman was in the middle of a discussion with Mr. Yang and looked like she hadn't slept in days, so Stelle simply popped her head in and said “Thank you.”

Himeko and Welt jumped in surprise, Stelle could be weirdly quiet when she wanted to be and had a talent for vanishing. Before they could ask any questions or respond, Stelle had already disappeared down the hall. 

.

.

.

.

Kafka had been recovering from a gunshot wound to the shoulder when Stelle had finally asked her “Why did you say yes when Elio and I asked you to join us?” 

Stelle was bandaging her up so she couldn't get away easily. The awkward bit is that due to the wound location she was very exposed at the moment, and it wasn't like she and Stelle were involved. 

Not that Stelle would be opposed to that, if things went that way, she just didn't know where to look at the moment. “Like we come up and tell you ‘hey pretty lady if you stick with us you'll learn what being scared feels like’ and to me that sounds like a shit deal.”

“If you got the opportunity to remember the parts of your past that have been burned out of you, would you take the offer?” Kafka stared deep into her eyes, which solved Stelle’s dilemma of where to look. “If a piece of me was missing, I would want it back.”

“What if it ends up being a bad thing?”

Kafka smirked, drawing close until her forehead touched Stelle’s. “We’re bad guys Stelle, it comes with the territory.”

Stelle didn't dare move. Her lips were centimeters away from Kafka’s. She didn't know what to do but their breath was mingling and it was making her dizzy. “Does being a bad guy according to society mean we deserve bad things?”

“If someone took your memories of me, a certified bad guy, away what would you do? Many people would consider the unending days with one of the IPC’s most wanted traumatising. Would you try to get those traumatizing memories back?” Kafka’s eyes were so deep and so close Stelle felt like she was falling. “What would you do for them?”

“Anything.” The centimeters stopped mattering. 

.

.

.

.

They got involved.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Hello, I really enjoy your bungo self aware series. It has really helped me cope with everything. I was not sure where to put it and I was afraid to request. Because I sent one in your messages. About the port mafia flags taking care of the reader that experiences painful flashbacks from ptsd. To the point where it's hard for them to function with basic things. And goes into their head that they could've done this or that to prevent further harm and scrutiny.

Few words

Self-Aware! Platonic! Flags x Fem! Teen! Reader

Description: Few words made your mind wonder. Flags are here to make sure, that you are fine.

Warning: English is my second language. Mentions of abuse and scumming.

_______

You have been feeling groggy since morning. While, you don't have nightmares that night, the dream you had was unpleasant. It worsens your mood quite a bit. You tried to keep a smile on your face, but others quickly saw through your efforts.

The moment you sat down at the dinner table, Chuuya put a plate with double portion of a breakfast, Albatross was telling jokes, while driving you and BSD Teens and Kids at school, and during lunch break, Teruko was telling stories about Hunting Dogs missions, that you liked so much.

You could swear, that you started feeling better. You were sure, that at the evening you won't feel the shroud of morning sadness.

Well, as Fyodor liked to say "Не говори гоп, пока не перепрыгнешь"(1)

_______________

Today you supposed to go home early. Your class won a competition, and, as reward, you got a short day. Just few minutes before you can go home. Just last few encouraging words from your teacher.

"I never doubted you. After all, students from our school supposed to be perfect!" smile on their face was genuine. They believed, in what they were saying.

"Enjoy your weekends, kids! And, don't tell anyone, that I let you go earlier. It will be our little secret."

Your classmates started to pack their bags. You, on the other hand, froze.

'supposed to be perfect' 'don't tell anyone' 'little secret'

...this word...

"[Y/N], are you okay?" Karma looked concerned. "You have been staring before you, hardly blinking."

You nodded, and quickly put textbooks in your bag.

"We... we should go."

You mumble. You want to go home. You need to focus on going home. On today.

You, Karma and the rest of your housemates/friends/siblings leave the school.

You, Karma and the rest of your housemates/friends/siblings get into the van, saying 'hello' to Albatross, who was driving today.

You tried to focus on current moment.

But 'supposed to be perfect' and 'don't tell anyone' echoed in your head.

And you were silent all the way home.

______________________

Albatross can't help, but sneaking glances at you in the back view mirror.

You were quiet. Your gaze was dull. You looked tense. You looked much worse, than you looked in the morning.

And Albatross knew, what was going on with you.

He and others should prepare.

He managed to send a message to the rest of the Flags, when van got in a small traffic jam.

Today you will need them.

And you will need to be reminded, that you are safe.

And that you are loved.

He and the rest of BSD Cast loved you. You were their daughter/granddaughter/niece/sister.

He and the rest of BSD Cast were neutral about other people.

He and the rest of BSD Cast despised that creatures, that did that to you.

______________________

When you came home, you ignored others and immediately get into your room. You wanted to lay down, to spend some time alone.

Until that annoying echoes of 'supposed to be perfect' and 'don't tell anyone' stop ringing in your ears.

Meanwhile, Flags was preparing. They brought everything they need and were waiting outside your room.

They value your privacy. Sometimes, you need just some solitude and silence.

But they can't let you be always alone. When you were like this, you tend to ignore yourself. Skipped breakfast, lunches, do half job in brushing your hair or teeth. You need people, who took care of you and supports you.

Doing the job, that they failed to do. Who willingly choose to abandon their work.

And, while you have your doubts, you were s strong person. Flags knew that.

But, even strongest people need help. Need love. Need cheering up.

But, for now, they will wait.

____________

You didn't get any sleep.

Your head hurts.

Your hair was a mess.

You slowly stand up from the bed. On stiff legs, you approached your dressing table. You plopped on the chair before it.

You grab hairbrush.

And looked in a mirror.

Messed up hair. Bags under eyes.

And yells of 'You were supposed to be perfect! Why can't you be a normal child?! Why are you so terrible?! Useless! Helpless!'

Your grip on the hairbrush was too strong, your knuckles became white.

sounds of hits rang in your ears

'You were supposed to braid your hair! It is not a braid!'

your scalp was on fire. with every tug of your hair, pain became stronger and stronger. they don't care, that you didn't know, how to do it. you were supposed to be perfect. perfection supped to knew everything without people teaching them 'how'. perfection supposed to know better and not believe scammers. only perfect thing you can do was staying silent and not telling anyone about your home life. or you would face consequences.

You sobbed. And that sob let you return to reality.

You felt, that you weren't alone in the room.

But you can't focus on that someone.

You felt, like you were surrounded by a thick, hard as stone darkness. You tried to focus on something else. On a carpet under your feet, on a chair you were sitting on, on the air, that was surrounding you. On anything, that will freeze you, let you stay there, and not let your mind flow further down the memory river.

Yet, you can't focus on anything. It was hard. Extremely hard. But you tried again and again.

Something warm touched your hands, making you let go of the brush. Warm hands gave your palms another soft squeeze. After this soft gesture, the darkness moved back. Someone started making circling motions with his thumb, giving your hands a little massage. With every circle, darkness creeps away from you.

You finally could focus on the person, who was holding your hands. The sight of the familiar warm smile on Lippmann's face makes darkness moved back again.

"There, Dear, everything is fine. You are safe." Lippmann's voice was soft and warm. "Nothing bad will happen to you."

You continue staring at your hands, while Lippmann squeezed them again.

"You are safe. No one will ever hurt you." His words make you felt like you were covered with a warm blanket. Another pair of hands was put on the top of your head, and fingers started to go through your hair, untangling knots. Pianoman whispered, while gently untangling the knots.

"Let us take care of you, dear. Don't worry about anything, young lady."

You stay silent. You don't know what to say.

You saw Doc with the corner of your eye. He was pouring water from the bottle in a cup.

Soon, he stands next to Lippmann, holding a cup towards you. There was a straw in the cup.

"Here, drink this, [Y/N]" Doc's eyes were warm and full of concern.

You started to drink through the straw

Lippmann's hands were still squeezing yours.

Pianoman, who picked up the hairbrush from the floor, was now brushing your hair.

Doc was still holding the cup with one hand. He put a second hand on your shoulder.

"Here. Here. Don't rush. Small sips. Good. You are doing great. Now, breath in. Hold it. Breathe out. In. Hold it. Out. In. Hold. Out. You are doing great. You are doing great."

Water was drunken. Your breathing calmed down. You felt empty, but, at least, nothing was howling in your head and darkness wasn't circling around you.

The door of the ensuite bathroom opened. Iceman and Albatross stepped into the room.

"Bath is ready, [Y/N]. Do you want to take it now?"

You slowly nodded. Iceman asked the next question.

"Need help?" You shook your head. You were sure, that you can take a bath on your own.

Flags quickly left the room, giving you privacy. You took a change of clothes and went to the bathroom.

___________

Scented oils in the warm water, bubbles, a cup of your favorite beverage did a good job in making tension go away. You just focused on the scent and warmth, not thinking about anything.

After you finished with your bath, you put on your pajamas, a fluffy bathrobe, that Albatross put there earlier, put a towel over your wet hair, and return to your room.

__________

Flags wasn't done with taking care of you yet.

You were sitting on Iceman's lap with your legs in a big bowl full of warm water. Doc was kneeling before you, giving you a foot massage.

Lippmann and Pianoman were sitting on the floor, on the left from Doc, while Albatross was sitting on his right.

The room was silent. Until Albatross spoke.

"Hey, [Y/N], want to hear about the dream I had?" He waited until you nodded, and continue. "Let me tell you, I had a crazy dream last night! I was swimming in an ocean of orange soda!"

Albatross sighed, before grinning.

"Do bad, that it was just a Fanta sea."

You quietly huffed. You don't know if it was a good pun, or so bad it's good pun. Albatross continues.

"Also, earlier today, some aquatic mammals at the zoo escaped! It was otter chaos!"

You giggled. A small smile appeared on your face. Albatross, encouraged, continue telling you puns.

At the end, you and Albatross were laughing. When you two calmed down, you felt courage, that you need to speak.

"I... I am sorry for being a mess today. I am sorry for making you took care of me. I just... I just want someone to care..." You bit your lip. "If only I spoke sooner... You won't get such a mess that I am. I won't be a burden."

You didn't have a chance to react, before you got in a middle of a group hug.

"Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. You are our dear niece. You are our family. You aren't a burden." Pianoman carefully pat your head.

"Don't be ashamed of your emotions. They are valid. You deserve to be heard. You deserve to be loved." Doc squeeze your right shoulder.

"Came to us even with the smallest things to ask for. We will take care of you." Albatross squeezed your right hand.

"We will move forward together. We will take as many small steps as you need and want. You won't be alone. You will never be on your own." Lippmann squeezed your left shoulder.

"You have power. You can choose. We will support you." Iceman carefully squeezed your left hand.

"We love you, our dear niece."

_______

You went to sleep with happy tears on your cheeks. You asked, and they listened. Flags stayed in your room. To make sure, that you don't have nightmares.

No matter what awaits their family, Flags were sure in one thing.

________

All of them will be here for you.

(1)Rus. Idiom. Similar meaning to "don't halloo till you are out of the woods"

(2) Puns were found there

[elegantballetalk]

I was watching Bolshoi's old recording of Paquita Grand Pas (the one w/ Maria Alexandrova as the lead) and couldn't help but feel so sad. Bolshoi used to give so much energy no matter who the dancer was. All of them looked genuinely love dancing and enjoyed their time performing on the stage. They were such a joy to watch and I've never gotten so much positive energy watching other companies. Today's Bolshoi looks so pale in comparison, as if it has lost its soul. Where did it all go wrong?

You’re absolutely not alone in thinking this. My personal opinion is that there will always be ups and downs. And when we look back, we usually only see the “highlights” — not what everyday life was actually like.

There’s also a sort of cultural homogenization happening, and not just in the ballet world. In the past, there was a clear division between styles and methodologies, which is now beginning to blur. It’s no longer so easy to recognize which style a dancer was trained in. The method is still somewhat distinguishable, but the style much less so. I’m not sure what’s causing this. Perhaps academies are losing their monopolies and tight grip — both in good ways and bad ways. It used to be obvious where a student trained, and careful eyes could detect the influence of their pedagogues in the dancer’s movements. To stereotype: Bolshoi was bold, Mariinsky was lyrical, right? But today those lines are blurred, and I fear that in this neutral zone, there’s less room to shine. Everything feels "fine" — without infamy, but also without high praise… beige… standard.

I have a theory — based on very little, so perhaps better to call it a hypothesis — that companies are touring less and that there’s less competition between companies. Maybe because the average level has improved, and audiences have shrunk, so there's less need for companies to diversify and create distinctive “wow” factors. Imagine when the Bolshoi toured the States years ago: there was a cultural push to make the Bolshoi even more Bolshoi. Now… not so much.

Another small hypothesis I have is related to social media. There’s so much admiration for “low legs” and “artistry” when people watch vintage ballet videos. But if Maria Khoreva posted a video tomorrow dancing exactly like that, she'd likely be torn apart. Along these lines, I think dancers — especially in Russia, where there doesn't seem to be a strict “NO CELL PHONES IN THE THEATRE” policy — know their performances will end up online. So why would they risk being emotional, bold, or raw, only to face public scrutiny? Audiences used to be limited to those in the theatre, followed by reviews. But a journalist’s review is different from random people like me watching a bootleg video and saying, “Hmm, her fifths aren’t tight,” then leaving a hate comment. (I would never leave a hate comment, but people online, especially anonymous ones, can be cruel.) Take Maria Koshkaryova, for example. If she had danced in the ’90s, wouldn't we be praising her today for her energy, passion, and bravado? Instead, now, many say she sacrifices technique for effect. I’m not even talking about artistry — she’s still so young, and artistry is developed over time — but her technique should be at its peak. And yet, that's what I like about her AND ALSO, what I don't like about her. She doesn’t seem afraid; she has some of that old-school bravura. Sometimes it works brilliantly (and how great it is when it does!), sometimes less so. But the difference is, in the past, only the best performances were filmed and shared. Now, everything is available for everyone to dissect. Also consider that many artists share these videos on their instagrams, and that it's actually a way for them to make some more money/gain audience, so it would make sense they act risk averse to avoid negativity.

But this could be completely untrue, perhaps the artists are being told to tone everything down, perhaps they are encouraged to focus on other things rather than the spirit dancers were told to show years past. Priorities shift. Perhaps the dancers themselves prefer to show of their technical abilities (which they've worked on since childhood) rather than being concerned with their energy.

Another significant demographic shift has taken place, even in Russia, regarding the audience attending ballet performances. Historically, especially during the Soviet era, attending the ballet was far more affordable and accessible to the general population. It wasn’t just a luxury or elite pastime—it was an integral part of Russian cultural life, something people from all walks of life could engage with regularly. However, in recent years, ticket prices have risen considerably, even in russia, making ballet attendance less accessible to the average person and more aligned with wealthier, upper-class audiences. This economic shift naturally affects not only who is sitting in the audience but also what kind of performance is favored and appreciated. A more affluent, elite audience may lean toward valuing refinement, precision, and polished technical execution—qualities that align with broader cultural trends of minimalism, discretion, and so-called “quiet luxury.” In this context, a dancer’s technical perfection might be prized more highly than raw energy, spontaneity, or bold artistic choices. The atmosphere becomes more about flawless delivery and tasteful restraint, rather than the emotional engagement and vivacity that a more diverse, passionate, or “aficionado” audience might prefer. Interestingly, and sadly, this shift isn’t limited to the ballet world. It reflects a wider societal pattern seen in many “high-end” industries—whether it’s food, fashion, interior design, or hospitality. Across the board, luxury has moved away from overt opulence and embraced minimalism, subtlety, and a focus on quality over excess. While this can bring undeniable elegance and excellence, it often draws criticism for lacking vibrancy, warmth, or personality—everything being polished but perhaps a little too gray, too neutral, too safe. So, when applied back to ballet, the concern is that the art form may also be adapting itself to meet the tastes of this narrower, wealthier demographic. That might mean fewer risks, fewer bold stylistic choices, and a stronger emphasis on precision over passion, potentially leading to a more homogenized, less emotionally charged experience.

Beyond this, many other factors change: leadership, répétiteurs, pedagogues, teachers, teaching methods, budgets, corruption, culture, priorities… and simply the dynamic of the ensemble and how they work together. One would really need to deep dive into the cultural context then and now to form a complete opinion.

A lot of people say that today, there's too much focus on technique and not enough on artistry, and perhaps that's true. Russians, after all, are leaders in épaulement, but that alone is not enough to guarantee the level of energy you describe.

I’ve also heard people say that being a ballet dancer in Russia (or anywhere else) isn’t as prestigious as it used to be.

I’ve heard that in the past, dancers often performed the same roles repeatedly, being cast in parts they excelled at. Now, there’s more of a “try everything” mentality. While I’m sure this is more stimulating for the artist, it’s hard to be excellent at everything, and such a diverse repertoire can be physically draining. So who knows where the balance lies, or if this is even true. For example, some time ago, Renata Shakirova was removed from dancing Odette/Odile, and many people were upset, even finding the decision offensive. But this situation highlights a deeper, ongoing question in ballet: should every dancer be expected to perform every role, regardless of whether they naturally fit the aesthetic ideal associated with it? Should the traditional aesthetic canon — built over centuries — be challenged, adapted, or preserved as is? In Shakirova’s case, it raises another layer of complexity: was she personally happy dancing Odette/Odile, or did she feel uncomfortable because of external criticism suggesting she didn’t embody the archetype? How much weight should be given to the artist’s own feelings about a role, versus the opinions of audiences or critics? This brings us to a broader dilemma: in ballet, whose desires take precedence? The artist’s, the audience’s, or the artistic director’s? After all, the artist’s performance is a form of art, but it is also a product being sold to an audience who pays to see it. Should the audience only experience what the director believes is “best” for the company’s vision, even if that means sidelining a dancer’s individuality or wishes? Conversely, should an artist’s personal aspirations be prioritized, even if they don’t align with traditional interpretations or audience expectations?

I’ve also heard that the way Russia selects ballet students has changed. Ballet was once a path for girls from humble backgrounds to rise through society. Now, since getting into academies requires so much preparation — often private and expensive — it has shifted more toward being an elite pursuit, even though the academies are still public.

I’ve heard people say that today dancers are over-rehearsed, and others say they’re under-rehearsed.

I’ve heard that thanks to better physiotherapy and medicine, dancers are more overworked, because they can "handle it," whereas before, even small injuries gave them time to rest. It would be interesting to see how much the workload and pay has changed over the years.

I’ve heard people say that orchestras and dancers are less musical now. I’ve heard tempos are slower. I’ve also heard people say the environment is less toxic and abusive, though of course that's case by case, and each shift in approach comes with positives and negatives. Some even say it’s more toxic now. So who knows?

Filming plays a huge role too — the angle, the quality, the lighting, even the springiness of the floor, or how pointe shoes are made. Personally, when I watch old footage, what surprises me most is how dead the shoes look. Maybe there’s something to that.

But honestly, there’s so much more. The truth is, I don’t know. I tend to agree with you — when we look back, everything seems better. But maybe that’s just me glamorizing the past.

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"BEG FOR ME"

I wrote another fic with the Teacher/Student dynamic with Will cause I love him and this dynamic so much, so I really hope you like it!

WARNING : EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

You knocked softly on your professor's office door twice, waiting for a response.

You needed to talk to him, and since that was the only time you could, you decided to stop by.

-Office hours are over -he answered from the other side- If you need anything, you'll have to come back tomorrow

You opened the door anyway, causing him to look up from his book to observe you for a moment.

-Oh, it's you -he murmured- I didn't remember that… you were going to… -he shook his head- Anyway, please sit down -he said, pointing to the chair in front of the desk- You're here because…-he paused to think for a moment- To talk about the final exam, right?

-Yes – you answered nodding your head-

-Sorry, this week has been very busy –he laughed- I'm not used to this pace, so I ask you to be patient with me

-Of course – you murmured sketching a friendly smile-

-Let me look for it –he said opening a couple of drawers before taking out a sheet written on both sides that you recognized as your final exam- here it is –he announced placing it facing you so that you could see- you have done very well, as always –he added- oh yes, this is what I wanted to talk to you about –he pointed to the final grade- you have a 100, and you have also done the exercise that gave you extra points, so the grade is more than a 100 –he explained- but the evaluation program that is in the computers does not let me put more than a 100 –he continued- so when you get the report it will say that you have a 100 but you should know that the grade is higher than that, it just does not let me put it in the system

You nodded, listening carefully to everything he was telling you.

-I don't know if you'll get less than a 100 on the next assignment you hand in - he continued - I doubt it, but if that were to happen, those points that I haven't been able to add to your score on this exam will be used to raise your grade on that assignment, okay?

-Of course - you nodded convinced -

-Great - he murmured - I knew you were smart, but I didn't expect that you couldn't even get this grade - he confessed - a couple of students even got up and left without taking the exam - he sketched a half smile as he remembered it - you should go celebrate it

-How? –you asked, he shrugged-

-I don't know, I guess you can have a few drinks, you know, things like that that teenagers do nowadays

-I don't like going out to party –you murmured shyly, he watched you delicately for a few moments-

-A quiet night at home is much better than that –he murmured- at least that was when I was in college –he laughed- but you know, you should tell your parents and your friends –he encouraged you- I'm sure they're very proud of you

-I'll send them a message with the news –you nodded- they don't live here

-Well, if there's something you've been wanting to buy for a while, I think today is the time to do it –he tilted his head- treat yourself, you deserve it –he murmured resting his gaze on the drawing on the shoulder of your sweater- Do you have any more questions or is there something I can help you with?

-Can I kiss you? -you said trying to meet his gaze with yours- God how embarrassing, I don't know why I said that, forget it…

-Don't be embarrassed, darling -he whispered observing the blush on your cheeks- I want you to kiss me -he confessed stealing your breath- come here -he whispered making a gesture with your head towards him-

You stood in front of him, his eyes quickly lowered to your lips, and unable to hold it in any longer, you leaned in to kiss him.

His lips were soft against yours, his trimmed beard tickled your chin. He pulled away for a moment.

-Now tell me, and be honest with me -he ordered, you nodded firmly- How long have you been wanting to do that?

-Since the first day of school -you confessed, the heat on your cheeks increasing by the moment-

-Oh yeah? –he asked, smiling half-way- I remember the first time I saw you –he whispered, putting a lock of hair behind your ear, the tips of his fingers brushed the lobe, making you shudder- you always sat in the third row in the middle seat, always asking questions with your eyes shining with the desire to learn – you wanted to be the teacher's pet, right? My pet –he pointed out, tracing the curve of your cheek with his index finger- I like it when students work hard to please me –he whispered, his voice having dropped three octaves- besides, it's nice to meet a young student like you who understands my way of thinking –he murmured- many girls have come to my office, offering to do anything as long as I get their grades up –he confessed- of course I turned them all down –he said- I will keep my integrity intact for as long as I can –he held your chin between his index finger and thumb- this feels good –he whispered- as if you were finally going to get the reward you deserve for working so hard –he said- I'm sure you feel comfortable with the grade –he murmured- but you feel more comfortable here, with me, at this moment -he laughed as he noticed the shiver that ran through you when he leaned down to kiss you-

His lips covered yours, before moving down your neck and back up to your earlobe, biting it lightly.

-Look at me- he asked, and you did, meeting his gorgeous blue eyes- shit- he growled before continuing his assault on your neck- tell me- he sighed- is kissing the only thing on your mind? –he asked making you tremble in his arms- I don't think so –he answered himself, before leaving a kiss on your collarbone- tell me how many times… -he began, but when he saw that you reached out to touch him, he shook his head negatively- no, no, no –he scolded- hands behind your back, precious –his hand began to go up your bare leg, due to the dress you were wearing- don't worry –he whispered in your ear- let me take care of you

He felt how your whole body trembled due to the excitement you felt, which made him smile.

-Don't be nervous –he murmured in a reassuring manner- if I'm honest, I've been wanting to do this for the entire semester –he whispered stealing your breath- and, well after seeing the kind of outfits you wear to class you can't blame me for it –he laughed-

-I… don't… -You started, but he rested his index finger on your lips-

-Shhh, don't try to act innocent now- he whispered- you know perfectly well what you've been doing to me, casually walking towards me in the hallway, going to my desk when your classmates had already left, leaning forward to let me see your tight socks- he panted kissing you again, while patting his knee- sit down

He held you by the hips so that you sat on him so that both of you were comfortable. His lips rested on yours again in a more messy and eager kiss than the previous ones you had given each other.

-You like that, don't you? -he questioned- they are always the ones with an innocent appearance- he smiled kissing you again- now sit on the desk and show me that pussy- he ordered making you shudder from head to toe at the darkness that had covered his eyes-

A few minutes later his head was between your thighs, kissing the inner side of them while pulling on your clitoris between his teeth, drawing several sighs and gasps from you.

-That's it, moan for me like the good girl you are- he whispered- Do you want to be my good girl?

-Yes- you gasped throwing your head back-

-I like it that way- he praised- come on, tell me what else you want me to do- he whispered- Do you want me to stick my fingers in your tight pussy so deep that I make you cum on them? Is that what you want? –you nodded unable to form a coherent sentence- then ask me politely, say “yes sir” –he ordered firmly- “please make me cum”

-Please sir, make me cum –you whimpered feeling yourself coming undone with each pass of his tongue over you- please

-You’re so wet already, baby –he whispered curling his tongue inside you, you held onto his hair tightly, tugging on his locks- that’s beautiful, pull on it, make me a mess

He easily pushed a couple of fingers inside you, making you let out a choppy gasp.

-When you get home and touch yourself tonight thinking about me, I want you to imagine that instead of your fingers it’s my cock that’s inside you –he ordered as he curled them inside you- I know you will –he laughed-

-I want to cum –you gasped- Will! –you squealed, moving your hips against his fingers-

-Then be a good fucking girl and beg for me

-Please make me cum Will! Please!

-Are you going to cum on my fingers, baby? –he panted looking at you, you nodded- do it, cum for me like a good girl –he said-

You felt a strong pressure in your lower belly.

-Come on baby, give it to me. I want it –he growled, you writhed against him- yes, that's it

You squealed and held onto his shoulders as you unloaded against him. You slowly caught your breath, while he watched you intently.

-If you ever want to celebrate one of your grades again –he smiled- my door is always open for you

[gra93fruit-blog]

Fluffurary Attempt 1- Settling in

Instead of doing something useful today I wrote this, I think I'm going to try for one a week for February.

Let me know what you think! If you have any prompts for Fulffurary let me know. Its a longer one.

Clingy Marine Update: Settling in

Hey! It's been a bit, and I figured you all would appreciate an update. I also have a weird question for people who have had marines.

Update

I think that Domtrect has stolen one of my cats. It's just as adorable as it is vexing. Pierogi is an orange cat with rocks for brains, but he makes up for it in love. He loves to be held, picked up, and snuggled. Domtrect likes to pick things up and snuggle them, so it's a perfect relationship. It also keeps Domtrect from picking me up when he's anxious, so I don't mind it, but I'm slightly jealous that Pierogi adores him so much after three weeks. Domtrect is delighted, I think. He's a very stoic person and hard to read, but he carries Pierogi with him everywhere he can.

My other cat, Nugget, remains solidly by my side. She doesn't like people very much and takes a while to warm up to them. Domtrect is on a campaign of catnip, treats, toys, and physically moving me to his nest so Nugget will come into the nest after me. This has been fairly successful; Domtrect has gotten to touch her once. He almost smiled when Nugget let him give her a head pat. His campaign has resulted in my cats gaining about ⅓ of a pound each, which for Nugget at least, is a lot.

I should probably update you all on the nest: it's expansive, beautifully constructed, and has given me no end of frustration recently. It takes up my entire living room. On @yurihasurunbara's suggestion and a membership to HomePro, he has decided to use it to his advantage completely. The whole thing is covered in soft pillows and rugs. He has built up a multi-tiered setup with ceiling hangings and soft yellow light. He somehow found enough fabric to make it almost a uniform grey, with blue and red highlights.

Domtrect has settled in enough that he has stopped wearing armour around the house. Instead, he puts it all on a rack that the base sent up. Now that he is not always in armour I can report that  Domtrect has light blonde hair and blue eyes, he has a scar that runs over his brow, down his nose, and onto his cheek and lips, causing him to look like he's constantly smirking. He also has three silver studs in his forehead that he's quite proud of. He mainly lounges around the house in a tight body glove now; it has strange little ports all over it. When he's not following me around, checking my windows or doors, and playing with Pierogi, he has taken to lounging in his nest, carving soapstone, listening to history podcasts, and creating an insane amount of origami swans.

We've also found a job for him to do at the school, so he's not just lurking at the back of the shop class. He works as our outdoor hall monitor, which has significantly cut the number of students trying to smoke weed behind the school. Domtrect seems to enjoy it, though he's genuinely befuddled that the students need encouragement to go to class. This job also lets him circle the school like a shark and grumble about bad construction, which he was doing anyway. The students seem to have gotten used to him remarkably quickly; they're trying to make him into a TikTok sensation, but it's not going well. He's planning to spend all of his first paycheck on blankets and tapestries; apparently, he found a Blood Angel online that he gave a commission to.

Domtrect generally spends half his day in the house, and then half of it at work, looking for stragglers outside, glaring at dogs, or staring creepily through my classroom window. After the buses leave, he hangs around the shop until it's time to walk home. There, he seems content pottering away on small projects and learning, through much trial and error, how to make bread.

Issues

Now, on to the issues. I want to stress that I'm enjoying having Domtrect around, but I was wondering if anyone had any insights into these problems. I want to know if this is a Domtrect problem or just a regular marine problem.

The Funk: For people who know, or live with Astartes: do they have a funk? Because Domtrect does; it's a hellish combo of old unaired hockey pads and chemicals, and it clings to him all the time. I think it's the body glove that he basically lives in, but I'm not quite sure. I know he knows how to do laundry; he's very dedicated to doing mine, so I assume he would wash it if it were the source of the stink. Does anyone have any advice for this? I work with mainly 12-17 year olds, so my stink threshold is pretty high, but Domtrects is particularly pungent. I think I'm slowly growing nose-blind to it as well, and I don't feel like I can just ask him to bathe more. My shower and most of my house are not quite up to Imperial Fist standard, though Domtrect is slowly bringing it up to snuff, but I don't think he can currently squeeze himself into my shower or the guest shower. I'm kinda at a loss; he's a very neat person and seems to enjoy being super clean, so the stink kinda throws me for a loop. I tried to bring it up once, and he looked hurt that I didn't like the way he smelled. I changed the conversation topic pretty quick.

The Nest: The second issue is The Nest. It's honestly quite nice looking and incredibly comfortable. I've even made my peace with the fact that he's taken over most of my living room for it. I kinda think of the living room as essentially his bedroom and treat it like that, except he very clearly wants me in the nest. I don't mind hanging out in it; it's a nice space, and I enjoy hanging out with him. The issue here is that he wants me to sleep in it. Secondary to this is that most of my blankets, pillows, and once before I put my foot down, my mattress, ended up in the nest. I've set some boundaries and am no longer in danger of having my mattress moved while I'm at work, but that's honestly secondary now. The main issue is that he's taken to moving me into the nest while I'm sleeping, which is strange by itself. I'm not a heavy sleeper; I normally wake up to my cats pushing the door open, let alone being picked up and moved to a different part of the house. Yet, somehow after going to bed in my own bed upstairs, I always wake up after a deep and dreamless sleep in the nest. It started around the same time that Domtrect started hanging out without his armour on, so I think I'm only seeing this now because he's getting more comfortable.

Our bedtime routine looks like this: when I head to bed, I have perhaps 15-20 minutes to myself, and then inevitably Domtrect, Pierogi in hand, will appear in my doorway. He'll loom in the doorway until he's invited in. If I don't invite him in, he just lingers by the door and whines faintly. I don't think he knows he does it; he'll stay there until I go to sleep if I don't let him in.

If I invite him in, he'll carry Pierogi inside and settle in my room. He likes to sit by my dresser or sit cross-legged on the floor beside my bed. I'll read aloud for a bit. He seems to enjoy history the most, and we'll sometimes chat if he has questions about what we're reading. Then it lights out, and I go to sleep.

In both cases, I wake up in the nest, which is creepy to the extreme. I've confronted Domtrect on this, and he's stubbornly insistent, that He moves me because I should just sleep in the nest. His arguments are as follows:

Pierogi likes it better when we're all together. (Which, yeah he does, but I don't find this particularly persuasive; Pierogi also likes to eat garbage.)

It's safer. (I'm not exactly sure what he could be protecting me from, and Domtrect won't say.)

It's warmer. (It is, but I always end up throwing off half of the blankets he piles on me anyway.)

He doesn't need to sleep, and I keep him company. (I told him maybe he should reach out to the base if he's that lonely.)

He likes it better if he knows where I am. (He knows I sleep in my bedroom, it’s not like I’d climb out the window.)

If I'm sleeping in the nest, Nugget lets him get close to her. (Which is true)

Obviously, some arguments are better than others, but Domtrect won't budge on this. Do any other Astartes do this? I've heard that Salamanders sometimes hoard people like this, and Imperial Fists are known to fortify people into their houses and refuse to let them leave, but this doesn't quite fit either of those behaviours.

Has anyone else experienced something like this?

[twst-rose-prisms]

Twst boys and their respective Vocaloid songs

Part 2 of this post!

Characters: All NRC students Warning: Some of these songs contain angsty/dark themes or imply self-harm, however it's nothing too much as that's the nature of Vocaloid songs in general and I recommend you checking them out if you guys can!

Part 1 | Part 2

🕌 Scarabia 🕌

Kalim: Tondemo-Wonderz

This song is full of fun, excitement and upbeat, colorful beats that make you want to smile and dance along, just like the ball of sunshine Kalim he is! The song talks about embracing the unknown and excitement the world offers to us while also having fun, encouraging us to have faith in the wondrous possibilities, while also embracing the failure and mistakes with laughter and positivity. I’d say it’s a perfect song for Kalim, from the vibe to the lyrics!

“Even in this sort of era, We still believe in "wonders," no, no, no? Know! The adult's sharp, money-making memories Make us worry too much! I'm gonna go cross-eyed!” "Why?!" "Do it like this!!" I love everything! That's fine, isn’t it? In this plot to make everyone laugh I can call them rival monsters, right?! We live in a wild, awesome world.” “I reckon it's fine to have troubles you can't do a thing about! I make a pose like I'm gonna save everyone. How about this smile, it's not gonna crumble at all! Even if I fall 100 times, I'm like a phoenix. I won't get upset! Wan wan, too quick, three four! Everybody, showtime!” “Come on professor! This exam is so tough! Agh! Alright, done? Is it final? If I don't get 0 points, it's OK! Let's rain a shower of arrows on those true and false questions! Right and wrong answers are important memories." "There are days when I fail too. You still deny "wonders", no, no, no? Know! Before I'm taken to pieces, listen, wait! This slanted society is too on edge. Charge in, leap in, one more time! Are you ready?!”

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Jamil: Ghost City Tokyo

Like a ghost who is almost invisible to other’s eyes, Jamil used to do the same too, he always makes sure everything he does is at an average level so nobody will notice him. That’s why I picked this song for him, also because of the lyrics - he’s used to losing, to not be able to shine and stand out for the sake of others, and it’s not something he dreamt of at all. Also I think the city here can be interpreted as Scarabia too, because he still wants to be here despite everything that happened in Book 4.

“The lights of the brilliant shining city Shine down on me in stark contrast They mix with the neon colours changing and escaping from the spaces between those buildings" "I trade my time and this world And sink into the night” “It’s fine, someday it will all be fine How many days I’ve thought so, that have piled up on each other But even today, the me who fades into the Tokyo scenery all alone Seems like a ghost” “Even as I grow used to losing These important feelings that I haven't lost - When I held them close to myself, my tears fell suddenly Because I think I still want to Keep living in this city”

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👑 Pomefiore 👑

Vil: Cinema

This song is pretty self-explanatory with the lyrics, it’s like someone views their life as a movie, their story is like an unchanged script, yet they’re being satisfied with everything - they want to be the leading star, the protagonist of the movie. Being someone who always has to play the villain role, I picked this song for Vil because it just fits him so much with his backstory and his goal as a whole!

“A delusion of dawn Invaluable escapades and A misunderstood hero play-pretend Traffic's already jammed up now- Oh well, nothing I can do about that anyway” “No, it can't be this, not this. This is a bad fit for me I'm not suited for it- Should I quit it now, or— But that's not right, right! I wonder, when will I get to be The leading star of this show?” “We're not here yet, yet. This can't be the end, so If you're not suited for the role Then just rewrite the script! Look, for the most part, I'm sure it'll always just be me The leading star will only be me!” “The future I wanted to change has come. Whatever you like, however you like it, This is it. I made it here, all the way from the bottom. Just like a movie, this is my story.”

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Epel: Telecaster B-boy

A song talking about the struggle of growing up, trying to find one’s place in this vast world, the singer desires to be loved and appreciated but always gets misunderstood and underappreciated and also frustrated with society,  just like Epel himself. He hates being the stereotype, cliche thing. If you know his story and goal then this song is very fitting for him! Also the funky, youthful but somewhat fast beat and lyrics fit him very well too!

“The more I grow up DeDeDe The less I fit in, a vacant temple. The girl the life philosopher spoke to Turns into a bird … With just lip service PaPaPa I'll tie up my raggedy shoes … The boy whom a believer in digitization cursed Turns into wind …” “No matter how you look at it DeDeDe It's a stereo bias, sadistic The girl who sang like she was stung by a bee Turns into a flower... Even if you cover your ears PaPaPa Those guys' voices become loud The boy who got these words stabbed in his chest Turns back…” “In this world where I can't Even breathe for a bit Declaring a goodbye to reality Won't you just forgive us? We, the weak ones Let's meet up again somewhere”

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Rook: Liar Dance

Rook is a bit hard to find, but in my opinion this is the best song for him. It talks about a couple who both hide and lie to each other. But it also means that the singer’s POV is them knowing they’re a liar, a criminal just like other people. Rook himself is not an exception, he also lies and hides many things away even to his friends or someone like Vil. Also I think the lyrics fit him really well, with constant mention of love and lies many times throughout.

''Stolen? Just whatever do you mean?'' Feigning ignorance today as well Having made a vow, to you and you alone Declaring this loveless love of mine in front of you" "Stolen? Just whatever do you mean?" Committing myself to this performance, set lines and all Those memories we've desperately created and clung to, they blend together and feelings between us intensify” “Dance away liar This love has swelled up like a balloon let's turn it into a lie with the prick of a needle On the count of "I-love-you" “Dance away, liar It's too late to apologize We're already partners in this crime called "love" Who cares if there's no going back?”

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💀 Ignihyde 💀

Idia: All I Need are Things I Like

While there could be many other songs that fit Idia, I decided to pick this one because of the lyrics and overall meaning. The song talks about indulging solely into one’s interests and favorite thing everyday, almost every time without paying much attention to reality much at all. Even though the singer sounds happy and satisfied, they also sound lonely, deprived of energy and strength and also longing for actual companionship instead of coping up to the things that they like. It sounds like Idia himself after what happened to him and also his backstory!

"I don’t like weekdays, I like the weekend I don’t like work, I like going back to sleep It’s impossible to live on slacking like this My consciousness recedes" "I don’t like vegetables, I like hamburgers I don’t like barley tea, I like juice Don’t be sweet on me, but I like sweet tasting things My lifetime’s first page" "Only looking at things I like gradually my eyesight gets worse Only being filled with things I like gradually my mind gets duller" "I don’t like living things, I like machines I don’t like the real world, I like the virtual Your tastes were always biased deteriorating and ceasing to think" "Surrounded by the things I like I’ve become unforgiving to the things I don’t like Living only with the things I like I'm resented by someone, somewhere"

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Ortho: Near

This song is gentle, yet emotional and bittersweet, its meaning also fits Ortho and Idia + their relationship a lot if you take it into their backstory context too. At first, Ortho is just a robot that only acts according to how he was programmed but gradually, he starts acting outside his intended programming and learns his own sentience and emotions - just like the robot girl as the song progresses. Overall, I think this fits him a lot!

“Hey, Near. If I don't make fun of someone And if I won't be able to forgive myself How do you feel about This horrible person?" "Hey, Near. Watching other's strides Stepping out without a purpose How do you feel about this Dull person? Hey Near” “Hey, Near. I think living every day with a smile Is something natural How do you feel about This arrogant person?" "Things that do not take any form and cannot be predicted Will interfere with the calculation process" Even so" "Ah, I'll still continue to believe And ask you who doesn't have a heart Because your hand was So much warmer than mine”

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🐉 Diasomnia 🐉

Malleus: Hare wo Matsu

I feel like this song fits Malleus the most with how the lyrics constantly talk about one’s loneliness and about past’s memories. For Malleus, his biggest fear perhaps is his dearest, most cherished people leave his life, like Lilia - his guardian that raises him up ever since he’s still a little lizard or maybe even MC - his ever first friend that treats him so dearly despite his status or his fearful magic power unlike others who is afraid of him. Even the beat is also beautiful but sad, full of longing for your loved one when they leave - just like Malleus himself.

"I'm not getting tired of this morning, One that I've waited for. Very faintly, I'm laughing while appearing to be sorrowful, And wishing to completely forget you." "Because there's no end to this curse Of sleeplessness and the painful past. I'm singing a song in the morning glow, If only I could completely forget, it would end." "There's just one thing I can't yield, And still, without knowing the reason, I live, even now..." "Since I don't have a dream I want to protect, These are days with no answer, But that isn't kindness, isn't it?" "Look, since absolutely nothing hurts, It's alright," I say. Someday, when you'll be gone, ah~ Will I be living alone?”

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Lilia: Kanade Tomosu Sora 

I feel like this song fits Lilia the most in terms of the vibe, the lyrics that matched well with his backstory. This song, while sad, full of longing and reminiscent from the past yet it’s like a glimmer of hope somewhere in the deep, dark sea of sad memories. Lilia was the same too despite how we see him acting outwardly. He gives love to others, but he also needs love and hope. He went through events that could crush him easily and yet, he still stayed strong - for a whole 200+ years, for the sake of others. (I recommend checking out the 25ji, Night Code de version too!)

“Every time I trace back my memories, I feel as if I’m going to be crushed, yet Since I have no place to take refuge,  I just keep questioning myself over and over. Ah…” “There are too many things in my way,  It’s as if there are only things I can’t see Is it alright if I try touching it a little? I want to say it. Even though it might surely be impossible, I want to somehow. Hey, more; hey, more; I want to see more” “So I can turn the images I’ve found of your world still unknown to me Into song" "Blaming myself all this time,  I simply live and breathe but only just barely I’ve always shut it away in a cage I’m not asking for a plain, simple story. I simply wish to hear your voice” “It still hurts. Words keep tightening the cord round my neck, but... These eyes of mine I closed so gently as well, still hurt a little, but… I want to say it. Even though now, I still don’t know when it’ll be but someday for sure. Hey, more; hey, more; I want to see more”

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Silver: Ice Drop

I think this song fits Silver a lot mostly because of the lyrics, and the deep sea could symbolize the dreams that he dives into in Book 7. Although it’s upbeat, the lyrics are full of longing and reminiscing of the past and also his father, but eventually move on and “grow up” from it.  Not to mention, you could even take it as a SilverMC song if you think about that aspect! But even if it's not in a romantic sense, it's still a song talking about how much the past affects us and how we long for our loved one even if it's just a memory, that's why to me this song is really for Silver!

“Even the memories of the past are merely a thousand-year tale I take a deep breath as I fall into the deep sea” “Uh- that voice of yours drenches my whole heart Tangled up and captivated by each other, we sing our unchanging love once more You, not letting go of your hands become a rule of mine It's a heart that will melt away the rusted last page That one and only magic will turn this world around” “I’ll be waiting. Inside my dream, I reach out my hand” “Uh- On this planet, I fell in love without sleeping I longed for you and hesitated what to do, but from now on, I'll grow up You, If it’s with you, I’ll dive in without hesitation”

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Sebek: Kashika

Sebek was the hardest to find for me in the entire list mainly because while he has his own character, he doesn’t have too much depth but I tried my best and I think this song fits him the most! This song is powerful, full of willpower and hope towards tomorrow despite the hard, tough times. The song encourages us to keep living, even in the most uncertain moments, you need to cherish each moment of your life as well your living heartbeat, which represents the tenacity and perseverance of life. I feel like the energy as well the meaning of the song fits Sebek a lot overall for his character - with the desire to rise, stand up and protect he always have.

“When my quivering voice breathed life into a song, It was then I realized, That was the first time my breath could be seen. They say that in the end, the value of music is subjective– Well then, I'll sing as I please, I'll show you the message I want to convey. I won't despair over Or be afraid of my mistakes. They say to "live the right way," But I want to fight against that. My whole life has consisted of "it's my fault." Even if I'm treated like a fool, I'll be hurt and I'll hurt others, I'll live, causing both kindness and injury. The present I see is everything to me, So I don't want to cling onto ideals of the past or the future. Beat, beat, o heart of mine! It might be unsteady, but even so, this is my pulse.”

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