#Also there was that one time that shame from being told off by another student because i sang a lot

[vaguely-annoyed]

out of curiosity, *do you practice what you want to say in your head

[cherry-pop-elf]

He Goes To Another School, I Swear!

Viktor Krum x Reader

With surprise appearance of best friends Golden Trio!

Sum: You always told everyone your boyfriend was Viktor Krum. Of course no one believed you, even with letters from him. Made you a massive target for bullying. Especially for your looks on why ‘anyone in general’ wanted you. Look at their faces when the Tri Wizard Tournament comes.

Warnings: Bullying, Viktor being the biggest himboist sweetheart ever, long distance relationships

“So how’s your ‘boyfriend’ doing? Hm~?” A girl would cackle at you, before throwing a bread roll at your face. Socked you in the nose. Wasn’t like it hurt, but the intent that she wanted it to was what made that sweet biscuit sting.

No one ever believed you that you said Viktor was your boyfriend. All except Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Made sense they would. Harry bloody potter was all three of your’s best friend. They knew you wouldn’t lie, and were there at the Quidditch Cup.

Who do you think was able to give them all free tickets?

Ron, ever the one to defend his friends, was soon standing up. Ready to throw a full on breakfast at the girl, but Hermione had to yank him back down. As if they needed to lose points, but also she needed to distract her own hands from punching someone all the same. She was a lot more subtle with her rage.

“Just ignore them. They are looking for a fight. Don’t give them the time of day.” Harry would try and comfort you, but damn it gets under your skin. You know you shouldn’t care, that they are just bullies. But it’s still a lot to handle. It makes you go crazy. The human brain can only handle so much. Even with the truth is right there, a million lies can bury everything.

Made you lose your appetite. Not even Fred and George’s latest candy inventions could perk you up.

But Dumbledore could.

“Attention everyone, we have a grand announcement to make! This is the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This is also the year that we have been given the grand honor of hosting it here to Hogwarts. Please, everyone, give a roaring applause to the schools that come.”

That had you perk up a bit. You remember Viktor talking about the tournament. You knew he would try and join. He was such a strong, determined, man. Oh your man was perfect in so many ways. Just so kind, loyal, sweet, sensitive, you could go on for hours about him.

But any chance you could, those damn bullies would step in to fight it.

Said bullies were still being annoying, as the Headmaster would tell everyone to give a warm welcome to Durmstrang. Making mocking kissing faces at you, as they cleaned up their makeup. Wanting to look their best. Just made your blood boil, until you heard the doors open.

There you saw him.

Viktor was leading the parade, next to his headmaster, with an expression that could kill. Face stern, cold, and hard. A man that was ready for war. Had all the girls, and guys, just swooning at such raw power he would display to everyone. This being of pure muscle and fight. Truly what a solider is envisioned.

That’s until his eyes locked with yours.

His face was so quick to soften, and a smile broke through the mask of intimidation. Just this childlike glee was filling those dark eyes, and making them come alive. He was so happy to see you. He nearly stumbled over himself, as he was distracted. Had to get a fellow student to bump his hip to get him back in line.

You couldn’t help yourself in a giggle.

Oh how you couldn’t tear your eyes off him, and how he struggled to focus on his performance. Trying so hard to not let you keep him from his calculated movements. It’s hard though. He was utterly smitten by you, after all. He just couldn’t stop throwing eyes your way.

Shame that your bullies were also in that same direction, and figured his puppy dog eyes were for them.

You couldn’t even pay attention to the girls from that French school come in. Your eyes were meant for Viktor, and his yours. It was all returned in his gesture. Smiling, and just utterly drunk in love for you. Oh how his body itched to move away from where he stood. To come your way and sweep you off your feet.

But a solider does what a solider is ordered.

“Please welcome your new fellow students with open arms, everyone. Treat them as you would with your own. Enjoy your dinner everyone. Be kind, be respectful, and be what you are. Students.” Dumbledore would finish, as Mr. Karkaroff finally dismissed the students.

The way he bolted was truly a statement to his seeker abilities.

“VIKTOR-! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?! VIKTOR-!” His fellow Durmstrang students would laugh, as they were very well aware of his pure excitement. His adrenaline just rushing to finally get to you. And NO ONE would get in his way.

Out right said ‘fuck walking around the tables’ he JUMPED from one table to another. Caused quite a scene, and show, but it was entertaining to say the least.

He hadn’t seen you in person in so long. Even the Quidditch Cup wasn’t enough. Could only watch him from the stands, before the Death Eaters showed up. Ruined any chances of you two to hold hands.

Not today.

“INCOMING-!” Harry shouted, as the golden trio made sure to get out of the way. Just in time for you to pretty much be tackled, and scooped into his strong arms. Lifted high into the air like a ballerina, before into a swooping dip. Just so full of kisses.

You swore if he had warn lipstick your face would end up a solid shade.

“VICKY! We’re in public! These are my classmates!” You cackled, as he just wouldn’t stop kissing you. You swore he traded breathing for kisses in that moment. Just unable to let you go, and kept you in a grip like no other. Just kisses, hugs, and Bulgarian chants of pure love.

Your bullies sure were left dropping their goblets at the sight.

“Breathe man, breathe-!” Ron shouted, as he patted the seeker’s back. Just all a cackle with your friends. With Hermione herself smirking, and possibly flipping the assholes off, as Viktor finally calmed down enough to function. Sorta.

You were still in his iron grip, as he snuggled you close. His head buried in your neck, as he kept whispering about how much he missed you and loved you. It was just endless affection, and you were so happy to get it.

“You are playing this up, aren’t you?” You whispered to him, as he gave a deep chuckle into your flesh. Had a shiver run down your body, as he laced his fingers with yours. There to compare hands.

“What? Me? Pretend to act a certain way in the public eye for the paparazzi and reporters to eat up? Never.” He would play his sarcasm well, before he planted another sweet kiss to your cheek. Just left you so giggly, as you two finally sat down. Well, more so you snuggled in his lap as he kept praising you in affection.

The students at Hogwarts sure learned a valuable lesson that day.

Don’t fuck with someone who has a Durmstrang boyfriend.

[itstheghostofmypast]

16.51

University Student P.Seonghwa x (F)Reader

Summary: Sometimes, you just need a sugar boost and some Lego sets to make your day a bit brighter - oh, don't forget the main ingredient, Park Seonghwa.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1K

Est.Read Time: 5 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

A/N: For my hardworking girlboss- @edenesth (a late bday present of sorts).

With a heavy sigh, she placed her bag on the bench before slumping down beside it. Whoever said university was fun deserved a special place in hell. Two years in, and she still had to sit on a patch of grass surrounded by her friends, all looking up at the camera with smiles that would put toothpaste ads to shame. Not to mention the endless hours of back-to-back classes, followed by the nonsensical amount of assignments and projects given to them, all made her wonder what exactly was this all for? She was not birthed to become a slave of capitalism, a slave of the system- she was but a mere butterfly, all too willing to flutter around in an endless field of opportunities, skipping from one soft petal to another, tasting the sweet essence of a blissful and youthful life.

Or she could get a rubber-clad four walled white room, at least she'd be able to pass off being delusional as a crazy person, rather than someone claiming she was so depressed she had begun day dreaming in classes. Her fingers twitched at the thought of how a few juniors caught her crying in a bathroom stall today, though they were far from cruel, their consoling words just made her feel worse- maybe she really wasn't cut out for all of this. This hectic schedule, this hectic lifestyle, these expectations.

She was so invested in falling down her pit of misery and despair that she didn't notice someone pick up her back, replacing it with their own presence, nor did she notice the way he was now staring at her, for a good long while too. Her attention was grabbed by a sharp ice-coldness that spread across her numbing cheek causing her to jerk away as she gasped, cupping her cold, wet cheek, turning to glare at whoever was foolish enough to mess with her- oh.

“You know…one bad presentation doesn't define you…wasn't even that bad.”

The rumble of his hushed voice had her senses tingle, perhaps his ASMR hobby was actually well worth it, though he was still an idiot because even a dead man could see how bad her presentation was today. She tilted her head to glare at him, but once again, her view was obstructed by a condensed plastic cup filled with some kind neon green beverage - he was probably trying out those horribly weekly juices again.

“You weren't even paying attention today,” with a soft mumble she sat back straight, her legs spread out in front of her, head leaning against the uncomfortable back of the bench, staring up at the pastel adorned sky, could this day take any longer to end? Closing her eyes, she continued, “And also, you're lucky the lecturer didn't catch you. How many times have I told you not to show up in my class? Especially if it's not your majo-ack!” she choked at the sudden intrusion, something stabbing the back of her throat before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

“Shit- sorry! Why'd you open your mouth!?” He gasped, pulling back the drink, trying to not laugh at how comical it was- yes, he felt bad because he hurt her, but it was ironic how his romantic gesture just had him blowing around.

Swatting his hand away she glared at him, at his hideously good-looking face, at his stupid boba eyes, and his hair -at this point she wanted him to trim it because he was serving more looks that needed, especially with so many people eying him. With a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face him, “Exactly why are you here, Park Seonghwa!?”

“Me?” He pointed to himself with the cup in hand, before bringing the plastic straw to his pouty lips, taking a sip and humming, “I came to cheer up my butterfly, got her a treat too, but instead almost killed her.” With that, he 'carefully’ pressed the straw against her lips, this time being cautious not to stab her again this time. His smile deepened at the way she took a sip, watching the way her eyes twinkle at the taste, or perhaps the rush of sugar that she oh so desperately needed after the horrid day. He let her hold the cup, busy drinking away, his hand now reaching up to her face, gently caressing her cheek with his knuckles before his finger tucked the few loose strands behind her ear, “I'm sorry today didn't work out as planned.”

Placing the empty cup between them she sighed, facing him with a small smile, thankful to have someone like him, to have someone like him take care of her, be there for her, smile at her, pull her up when she was down I the dumps, have her try new things- like this Kiwi and Pineapple juice. He may have been a bit thick skulled sometimes, sometimes his inner nerd would win as hed demand they build random lego sets in the middle of the night, or he'd force her to watch him play Animal Crossing- but one thing for was for sure, reaching forward she placed her hand on his, giving it a light squeeze.

“It's alright…I'm glad you were there, it made me feel better.”

At that, he tugged her closer, pulling her into his warm embrace, giggling when he felt her sigh into his neck, gripping his shirt as if she was afraid he'd disappear. Truthfully, even during the whole mess of her presentation, the only reason she had kept going was because he was there, smiling at her, silently rooting for her, encouraging her to go on- then instantly hiding when her lecturer turned around to look at whom she was staring at, her handsome, caring, loving clown.

“I'm glad it did because I missed a test today, so at least I know it was for nothing.” He hummed, chin atop her head, enjoying the moment -

“YOU WHAT!?” Shoving him away, she glared at him wide-eyed, a test!? He skipped a test to be there!? She wasn't sure if she were to find this romantic or just stupid-

“Oh my, would you look at the time!” Standing up, he grabbed her bag, slinging it over his shoulder, grabbing the empty cup before gripping her wrist with his free hand and pulling her up, “Let us go, fairy princess!! Time to build your castle lego set! SO WE CAN HAVE OUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER FOREVER!” He declared ragging her along ignoring her complain about him not taking his academics seriously- who cared about a stupid test, he'd make up for it with extra work, all Park Seonghwa could think of all day, was her, because if he was sure about anything about his anxious, doubtful, self-conscious existence, was that she was his reason of being.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Senator!Coriolanus x Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, porn with plot, degradation

Working in the lab at the Citadel’s a very important job. It's also a very meticulous job; one that had to be done just right or else something bad could happen. Especially with all of the mutts being experimented on or created.

Some things are still leftover from when Dr. Gaul ran the lab. But they were locked up tight and blocked off by Coriolanus Snow when he took over the lab and became Head Gamemaker shortly after Dr. Gaul's tragic and accidental death.

It's such a shame that the mad scientist slipped and fell into her pool of deadly eels.

Anyways, you met Coriolanus Snow when he was Dr. Gaul's assistant and you took a student internship for a science credit. You developed a civil banter that turned into a comadre; you impressed him so much with your wits that he pleaded with Dr. Gaul to give you a position as an assistant gamemaker. As his assistant.

Dr. Gaul begrudgingly did; then a week or so later she tragically died in a lab accident with her beloved eels.

So, you and Coriolanus, who in time insisted that you call him Coryo after becoming friendly with one another, worked side by side to make the games a spectacle. A true show to dazzle Capitol City and punish the Districts for their digressions; their shortcomings. And together the two of you truly did revolutionize the games.

But, Coriolanus Snow had bigger ambitions. He wanted to run for President of Panem once old and decrepit President Ravenstill kicked the bucket. But before he could do that he had to get into politics. He had to climb up the political ladder by becoming a senator and being given seats on important councils and departments.

But, of course, since Coriolanus was very charming with a silver tongue he was elected to the Senate. He also stepped down from his role as Head Gamemaker to focus fully on politics. He told President Ravenstill that he felt that you should be named his successor and given the position of Head Gamemaker, but the old goat listened to his personal council and cabinet; gave the job of Head Gamemaker to Ragno Crane, the older brother of Arachne Crane (who was killed by her tribute after teasing her with a water bottle thru the zoo bars).

To say that Coriolanus was livid would be an understatement. He was furious; felt that you deserved his old job as Head Gamemaker. Coriolanus just couldn't fathom why you didn't get the position.

So, you remained a lab rat while he went on to bigger and better things. Becoming Senator Snow. But you still remained friends and kept in touch.

And his touch is something that you'll definitely need one day after a stupid lab accident with Pollen #69.

It started out as a normal day in the lab. Or at least it was until Ragno Crane unsealed a vault that Coriolanus had sealed years ago. Oh, and your boss told you and the other lab rats to grab the petri dishes from the vault and start to conduct tests. Of course, as your luck would go, you got stuck with the pollen named Pollen #69. Unknown to you, it's sex pollen.

Yes!

Pollen #69 is sex pollen; when inhaled it makes the person who inhaled it insanely horny and its effects can last for hours.

Hours!

And of cours, it was locked up with other things that Dr. Gaul was experimenting on that Coriolanus thought was too dangerous to put inside of the arena or to use as a biological weapon. But, Head gamemaker Ragno Crane thought he was a big shot that knew better then his predecessor and threw all of Coriolanus’ notes about the job into the shredder.

And, of course, you breathed in the pollen while conducting a test with it in a test tube with some chemical solution to find out its reaction. A couple of minutes after inhaling the pollen you start to feel extremely clammy and, for some strange reason, your pussy’s starting to pool and ache. You try to ignore it, but you feel like your about to go insane as the minutes tick by.

What the hell is going on?

You knew that your boss wouldn't have the answers, so you called the only person you knew that would.

Senator Snow.

“Y/N, darling, I'm at the office. If this isn't an emergency, you shouldn't be calling me.” Coriolanus chastised you when he answered his phone. But as soon as he noticed the sweat trickling down your brow and the way your chest was heaving via the video call, he grew instantly concerned. “Darling, what's wrong? Did something happen to you in the lab?” He asked, eyes transfixed on your form as you stood a few feet away from your lab station.

“Ragno opened up that vault you had all of the scraped projects seal off in. He assigned us all to start experimenting on the petri dishes and I was assigned Pollen #69-” You start to explain, only to be cut off by Coriolanus asking you, “Did you breathe any of it in?”, while looking at you with worried baby blue eyes.

“Yes, I think so. And now I feel like a bitch in heat.” You crassly tell Coryo, since that's truly the only way to explain how horny you're starting to feel.

“Pollen #69 is sex pollen. Whoever inhales it gets horny to a level that it'll drive them insane, absolutely mad, if they don't get satisfied.” Coryo explained, causing your eyes to pop out of your head. “I advise you to toss that petri dish into the furnace and get to my penthouse immediately. I'll be there soon to, uh, help you out with your sex pollen problem.”

“Coryo, you don't have to do that. We're friends and-” You start to say, trying to give him an out since you don't want him to feel like he has to fuck you so you don't go crazy, but of course he currly cuts you off.

“Y/N, you don't have a steady boyfriend. And as you've stated we're friends, so just let me fuck you til the pollen wears off.”

Fucking Coriolanus didn't sound that bad. He's a very handsome man, after all. And every woman in the Capitol, both taken and single, swoons over him. You'd be a fool to turn down his help. And your mama didn't raise no fool.

“I'll be at your penthouse in half an hour.” You relent, only because you need some relief. Your hormones are thru the roof; betraying you all because of the sex pollen.

“Good.” The platinum haired senator gives you a tight lipped smile. “I'll see you then.”

Half an hour later you're in Coryo's penthouse, splayed out on his bed with your legs spread as wide as they'll go while his platinum blonde head’s buried between them as he laps at your wet cunt with such fervor. You let out little moans every time you feel his tongue dip inside your tight hole, fucking you, only to slide along your wet slit and flicker against your swollen clit.

“Coryo…” You moan, feeling your back arch as he begins sucking on your clit. “Oh god, that feels so good.” You moan once again as Coryo slips one of his fingers into your pussy.

Coryo’s hot breath fanned over your soaking and aching cunt as he told you, “Fuck, your cunt’s so greedy. She's sucking my finger right in.”, while looking at the way your cunt was clenching around his long finger as he started to finger you.

“More, Coryo. Add another finger, please.” You beg, still craving to be filled, as you feel his finger curl up and brush against your special spongy spot deep inside of you.

“Such a greedy lil cunt, wanting more of my fingers.” He chuckled against your pussy, only to follow your request and add a second finger.

“Ooo…” You whine, feeling like you're about to die and go to heaven once the cool weight of the chunky gold ring on his finger meets the wet hot heat of your cunt. “That feels so good, Coryo.”

“I know it does, my dirty lil slut.” Coriolanus smugly says before wrapping his lips around your puffy clit once more.

Your breathing starts to hitch as you feel pleasure start to bubble up. “Coryo…” You mewl, feeling yourself get closer to the edge.

Coryo's quickly shoved his fingers in and out of your dripping wet cunt, curling them to hit your special spongy spot just right, as his tongue flickered over your clit. He began to use his tongue to trace the letters of his name on your clit, all while finger fucking you furiously.

But because of the sex pollen you weren't satisfied. Far from it.

Between his tongue and his fingers, you cum with a mix of curses and Coryo's name on your lips.

You and Coryo are both panting, sweaty messes as he holds your legs up, pressing them into your chest and he fucks you deep with his long, thick cock. Your tight, abused hole’s stretched to the limit with his cock and is leaking with a mix of both of your cum. The sheets underneath you’s so soak that they're most likely ruined.

You don't even know what round you're on right now, but you do know that you can't feel your legs anymore. You don't know how Coryo's still on his knees, drilling you quickly. He has to be getting tired, the way his body glistens with a sheen of sweat gives way to the fact that he's been fucking you for only gods knows how long.

Between fucking you and eating you out, you know that Coryo must be feeling the weight of exhaustion hitting his shoulders.

“Fuck, baby, your cunt's so wet an’ tight for me.” Coryo moans, his words nearly slurring, as his cock pumps in and out of you.

The loud, wet squelching of your pussy being pounded lewdy echoes throughout the room; mingling with the moans and mewls you and the senator make. The slapping of skin against skin is also heard, adding to the chorus of lewd noises echoing out.

“Coryo, I'm so close.” You nearly gasp, feeling Coryo's cum heavy balls smacking against your pussy that's being fucked raw. Your nails dig into his pale back, tracing over previous scratches and breaking the skin.

“Fuck…” Coryo hissed, feeling the scratches on his back being open by your nails; causing blood to trickle down his back like a waterfall. “I'm gonna make ya cum so hard, baby, you ain't gonna be walking right for a week.” Coryo promising you, tossing your legs over his shoulders and fucking into you with every ounce of speed he could muster.

A tired smirk painted his lips as snaked a hand between your connected bodies and began to rub your swollen clit with the pad of his thumb. You let out a yelp that was half pleasure, half pain from the sensations shooting thru that bundle of nerves Coryo was playing with.

“I know you're oversensitive, baby. I am too.” He told you as his thrusts began to get sloppier.

“Coryo, please, it's too much.” You cry, finally feeling the sex pollen begin to wear off, resulting in you being an oversensitive mess.

“It's not too much, baby.” Coryo snapped, his hips bucking wildly against yours.

Your knees are draped over his shoulders, nearly smacking against your ears, as he moves flush against you. His chiseled chest brushes against your bouncing tits; the friction against your sensitive nipples sends jolts of pleasure straight to your weeping, aching core. He's literally bending your body in half, one of his hands tightly grips your thigh- his fingers digging into the meat and imprinting crescent marks into the soft skin; his other hand flat on the mattress, near your head, to balance himself as his legs begin to burn with every fast, but desperately sloppy movement he makes.

“Be a good lil slut and take it.” He grunts. “Your such a dirty girl, drenching my cock as I fuck you dumb for hours.”

“Oh, oh god…” You moan, feeling his tip hitting your g-spot just right.

“Not god, Y/N. Just your Coryo.” The platinum blonde Adonis said with feigned humbleness in his husky baritone.

“I-I think I'm gonna cum.” You babble out, starting to thrash underneath the touch of the senator that's pulling the last ounce of pleasure from your nearly spent body.

“Cum right now, baby. Cum on my cock right now.” Coryo orders, his hips stunting slightly from the fatigue that's now starting to hit him, as he roughly pinches your clit; sending you tumbling over the edge of pleasure.

Coryo fucks you thru your orgasm, smirking as you moan out a string of curses accompanied by his name. Despite running on empty, he's still able to give you mind blowing pleasure. His movements get sloppy and uneven as your cunt squeezes his cock just right.

“Oh, fuck.” Coryo groans, nearly collapsing on you as he cums, painting your inner walls white with his warm seed.

Lifting your knees off of his shoulders and letting them go, causing them to flop bonelessly on the bed, he rolls off on you. Laying by your side, he struggles to catch his breath. Looking at you, sweat rolling down his brow and dripping into his icy eyes, he wonders, “Need another round or you good?”

“I'm good.” You tell him, breasts heaving up and down with every breath you take. Turning your head to look at him, you smile, “The pollen's worn off now.”

Coriolanus moves a sweat plastered piece of hair from your forehead while drowsily smiling. “Wanna go out for dinner once we can walk?”

“We've been fucking for hours on end, but you want to take me out for dinner?” You ask incredulously, finding the entire situation you're in to be surreal.

“Y/N, my darling rose, I usually take a woman as stunning as you out for dinner first before bringing her to my bed, but dire circumstances call for extreme measures and I had to bring you to my bed straight away before dinner.”

“We never had a dinner date planned, Coryo.” You remind him in a tiny giggle.

A giggle that made his too sensitive cock twitch.

“No, but we would've had one planned eventually.” The platinum blonde says matter of factly. Pushing himself up and his elbow l, he asks, “So, how about dinner when we're recovered?”

You bite your bottom lip, pretending to ponder your answer. Of course, you're going to say yes. After the blonde giving you mind blowing hours upon hours of sex, you'd be a fool to reject him. Senator Coriolanus Snow’s the entire package: handsome, wealthy, and a sex god.

“Okay.” You tell him, struggling to hold back a smile. “I'll go out with you.”

Coryo leans over and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, a kiss you try to chase as he pulls away. He chuckles at you pouting over the too short kiss. The bops your nose with his finger before pushing himself to sit up. “I'm gonna get us some water and then run us a bath.”

“You might have to help me to the bath, my legs feel like jello.” You tell him as he rises from the bed on unsteady, long legs- reminding you of Bambi taking his first steps.

“Don't worry, I'll help you, baby.” Coryo assures you before walking out of his room to prepare some things for your aftercare routine.

As you lay in his king-sized bed, tangled in wet sheets soak with your mixed fluids, you can't help, but to be thankful that you got assigned Pollen #69. It did, after all, help your friendship with Coriolanus turn into a relationship. A relationship that you know will have a very intense sex life.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @lady-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[nutzgunray-lvt]

I will FOREVER be salty about how Hori paints his characters with valid criticisms against the status quo as in the wrong:

Monoma - hates Bakugou, therefore hates 1A by association and is painted out to be some over the top arrogant asshole who freaks out every time they so much as breath (Monoma's not my favorite, but he's 100% right when it comes to Bakugou).

Rock Lock - doesn't want the first years (maybe also the third years, idk?) involved in the Shie Hassaikai raid due to how dangerous it is and due to having recently had a newborn son, is painted as someone who's being overprotective and unfair to these heroes in training.

Inko - isn't comfortable with Izuku continuing at UA after the Forest Camp Attack, is painted as being overprotective (I have my issues with Inko, but she had an incredibly valid point here).

The media - rightfully criticizes UA's utter inability to protect their students and reign in Bakugou's behavior (the hill I will die on), is painted as trying to unfairly persecute UA/Aizawa.

Present Mic - uses common sense to deduce that there's a traitor in UA's midst, is portrayed as being a shit stirrer who's quick to distrust his colleagues and students (another hill I'll die on).

Gran Torino (a minor one) - calls Aizawa's high expulsion rate as what it is: nasty (showing that even he has standards), is immediately corrected by Present Mic that the expulsions are "only on paper" and Aizawa truly cares deep down (which actually makes it WORSE since it stays on their permanent records regardless).

Other students taking the Provisional Exam - call out Bakugou for being an obnoxious asshole, are immediately painted as "not understanding how hard he works."

Pro Heroes and Present Mic - call out Bakugou for not taking Ochako seriously in the Sports Festival, are told to RETIRE for not understanding how Bakugou clearly works harder than anybody else to be a hero (but then Bakugou proceeds to get the second highest amount of internship offers, so idk what the fuck point Horikoshi was trying to make here).

Vlad King is a weird one because while his one-sided rivalry with Aizawa/1A is obnoxious and unprofessional, he IS a better teacher than Aizawa is and it's a point not focused on aside from an off hand comment by Aizawa. You'd think this would make him examine whether or not his beliefs are truly benefiting his students or have Nedzu call him up and say, "what's up with your class consistently underperforming against 1B?"

Best Jeanist is perhaps the ONLY Pro-Hero to see Bakugou's behavior for what it is and takes him as an intern to rectify it... but proceeds to focus on all the wrong things (his style being the main one) and not really get to the core of his goal.

Society as a whole doesn't trust heroes for a myriad of reasons (some unreasonably, some for extremely valid reasons) and are painted as being unfair and incredibly biased against heroes as a whole.

Izuku leaves UA due to AFO having Ragdoll's Quirk, is essentially ganged up on and beaten/shamed into submission by Class 1A who completely disregard his POV (I don't agree with him putting himself in this position, I'm just pointing how it makes sense narratively).

Me, trying to make sense of all of this -

Like... how is your story supposed to be nuanced and your characters three-dimensional if you paint the complainer as always in the wrong?

[djuvlipen]

When my father found out I am gay, he beat me brutally, but today I help other LGBT+ Romani people

Patrik Kotlár's coming out was not easy, encumbered as it was by discrimination and his own family's incomprehension. Instead of giving up, though, he decided to overcome those obstacles and use his experience to aid others.

He established the nonprofit organization Romany Art Workshop 13 years ago, offering arts workshops, educational programs to develop community activism and leadership, and sports activities in Tanvald, Czech Republic. He also collaborates with the ARA ART organization.

In November 2023 the two organizations opened a community club in Jablonec nad Nisou and will open another in Frýdlant. These clubs will become places for members of the LGBT+ minority to meet each other and give each other support, as well as places for Romani people from excluded localities to gather.

Patrik (36) is inspiring to those who want to overcome such obstacles themselves and become the voices of change. “As a schoolchild I myself was not aware of my sexual orientation. My schoolmates told me what they thought, though,” he starts his story.

The insults he endured were unpleasant and he believed his friends were absolutely crazy. He did not begin to realize what his sexual orientation was until the age of 16, as a high school student studying social work.

He did not decide to come out until two years later, when he began his first partner relationship. He met his then-boyfriend on a train.

It never even occurred to him that anybody around him might take a negative view of his being gay. “While I had been raised my whole life in the Christian spirit of a man belonging to a woman, I never worried about that for myself. I accepted my orientation as a fact and I never thought that it was supposed to be wrong,” he admits.

He began visiting a gay bar in Liberec after fully realizing and admitting his orientation. He and his friends enjoyed going to the disco there.

One day, however, a group of Romani people who knew his father saw Patrik leaving that bar and immediately informed his father. “Dad was unable to stomach it and he beat me brutally for it,” Patrik says, adding that it is still difficult for him to talk about what happened.

Being outed to his father by others was the beginning of the end for him, and he found himself in total isolation, cut off from contact with most of his family and former friends. The suddenness of the situation also had a negative impact on his studies because he was forced to drop out just before graduation.

“I was afraid my father might even kill me unless I left Liberec,” he says. He was on the run from his father’s aggression for more than a year, hiding in various locations all over the country, but his father always managed to track him down.

“Whether I hid in Plzeň, Brno, Pardubice or the capital, my father always found out where I was at the time. It was exhausting, I lived in constant fear that he would find me and harm me. In his eyes I had caused the entire family unreal shame. However, nobody else in my family reproached me for my orientation and accepted me without any problems,” he said.

A childhood without a mother

When Patrik speaks of his family, he does not mean his mother, because he got no support from her as he was growing up. His mother abandoned the family when he was nine.

Patrik says his mother was an alcoholic and, after disagreements with his father, who wanted her to stop drinking, she always left the family for some time before eventually returning. She never gave up drinking.

One day she left for good and the family never saw her alive again. “My childhood was sad without my mother, to this day I say I basically never had a childhood,” Patrik recalls.

“Dad was older when we were born, and he raised us with a strict hand. As children we were never allowed to go anywhere besides school and music lessons, we had no personal space,” he reminisces.

Patrik never managed to re-establish contact with his mother. He heard from acquaintances more than once that she was homeless in Košice, Slovakia, and another time that she was in Bratislava, but when he and his sister went there, they were unable to find her.

One day an older sibling who had long since flown the nest let them know they needed to meet in Brno and immediately head for Slovakia because their mother was dying and wanted to see everybody one last time. They did not hesitate and set off after her at once.

Patrik’s father’s health was also not the best. Since they had last been in contact he had developed symptoms of Alzheimer’s and other diseases.

“He asked my sister to send a message to me to come home and that he wouldn’t do anything bad to me. I obeyed and our relationship actually improved. It took a while for him to reconcile himself to my orientation and get used to my boyfriend at the time, but he didn’t shout abuse at either of us or attempt to harm us in any way. Ultimately my sister, my then-boyfriend and I took care of my father in his most difficult moments. He died nine years ago today,” he says.

Aiding others is the priority

His personal experience of discrimination in his family led Patrik to establish the Romany Art Workshop nonprofit organization 13 years ago. The organization concentrates on aiding adults and children grappling with social exclusion.

The NGO prepares primary school pupils to apply to high school, offers recreational activities and summer camps, and holds arts workshops which will be transformed this year into an academy for talented youth. The academy will concentrate on the arts and music and its instruction will be comparable to that of an arts school at the primary level.

The main aim of the NGO, however, is to lead local Romani people to emancipate themselves with the aid of community activism and leadership training. Patrik is convinced it is important to show Romani youth the opportunities that exist to engage in public affairs and to create new activities in the places where they live.

Patrik says he believes individuals can contribute to the better integration of Roma into society through such engagement. He himself is an example.

Before establishing the nonprofit, Patrik led Bengale Manusha, a professional, three-generational ensemble, for two years. On the sidelines, his NGO is working with the LGBT+ minority in the Liberec Region, the members of which are turning to them more and more often.

The decision to fully dedicate the organization to the subject was made after Patrik learned of a tragic event – one such 17-year-old Romani youth took his own life because nobody understood him. “I realized that even though we have personal experience with this, we lack deeper expertise,” he admits.

For that reason, he decided to collaborate with the ARA ART organization, which has long concentrated on the LGBT+ subject. Thanks to their collaboration, they were able to open a community club in Jablonec nad Nisou in November, where their volunteers had previously been working.

People from neighboring towns like Tanvald or Železný Brod seek out their services. Soon a club will also open in Frýdlant.

As in Jablonec, that club will provide expert counselling to LGBT+ Romani people. A psychotherapist is also available there to aid clients not just with coming out, but to also answer parents’ questions when they want to learn more about the LGBT+ minority.

The organizations currently have 200 clients, 50 of whom are LGBT+. “The community center is not intended just for LGBT+ people, but also for Romani people from socially disadvantaged environments. We provide various recreational activities and because they come here regularly, we believe they like it here,” Patrik boasts, adding that in addition they are endeavoring to build up mutual dialogue in a natural format about overcoming obstacles and creating a safe space for all.

“I am surprised by how the times are gradually changing and how the Roma are more open to same-sex couples or to people who are transitioning from male to female and vice versa. What has contributed to this are the different reality shows with gay people as the main protagonists, and we know figures like Jan Bendig. He speaks absolutely openly about his orientation and thousands of Roma from all generations follow him,” Kotlár believes.

Nevertheless, he does perceive differences between the various towns. In Jablonec nad Nisou, which is approximately 14 km from Liberec, Romani people are not disturbed to see two men dancing together during a social event.

In Liberec, on the other hand, there are many gay people who are still in the closet because they have the feeling that those around them are not open toward them. “We will do our best to change that for the better, step by step,” Patrik concludes optimistically.

[jlawchamberlain]

Roberto Canessa and his horse, Alfin.

I love the sheer amount of chaos that every anecdote of these two seem to carry, so I’ve put a couple under the cut.

Nando uses these antics to introduce Roberto’s personality to reader in his book, because it does seem to sum up what he was like at that time quite well.

From Nando’s book:

Roberto had always been hard to handle. The son of a renowned cardiologist in Montevideo, he was brilliant, self-confident, egotistical, and interested in following no one’s rules but his own. Because of his contrary nature, he was constantly in trouble at school, and it seemed his mother was always being called into the headmaster’s office to endure another conference about Roberto’s transgressions. He simply refused to be told what to do. For example, Roberto had a horse that he would ride to school each morning, even though the Christian Brothers repeatedly forbade him to bring the animal onto school grounds. Roberto simply ignored them. He would tie the horse to the bicycle rack, it would work its tether free, and an hour or so later the Brothers would find it wandering in the garden, munching their prized shrubs and flowers. He also spurred the big animal through the crowded streets of Carrasco, galloping along sidewalks and through busy intersections so fast that the horse’s shoes struck sparks on the pavement. Drivers swerved and pedestrians lurched out of his way. Our neighbors constantly complained, and once or twice the police spoke to Roberto’s father, but Roberto continued to ride.

Lauri (Roberto’s wife) has also told the story of how he would terrorize her and the other girls of neighborhood on Alfin:

Laura Surraco met Roberto Canessa as a child. They were childhood friends and lived nearby. While she was riding her bike with her friends, Roberto would chase her on horseback and pull the lasso to catch a pedal and make her fall.

-Here comes Canessa!

The cry was one of panic, of alert, to get out of Roberto's mischief in time. The girls would be 12, 13 years old. They were all neighbors and friends. Many went to Stella Maris School. It was a different era, the late 1960s. You could play, run, race in the streets.

And finally Roberto:

Eventually I started to feel a new emotion—shame. Shame at the way I let Alfin clip-clop over neighbors’ gardens or tear up people’s lawns. One day when I tied him to a sprinkler spigot and he got spooked at a loud noise, he tore off down the road dragging forty feet of plumbing behind him. I became ashamed at being such a rambunctious student. I wanted to be more—more disciplined and less rebellious—and I decided I wanted to go to medical school when I turned eighteen. I began by training my horse to be less feral—and Lauri started training me. Although neither my horse nor I would ever change who we were, we became on friendlier terms with the world around us.

[kallikrein]

AFTER CLASS DETENTION

— with sano shinichiro, akashi takeomi, arashi keizo (benkei), and imaushi wakasa.

genre. fluff and crack, i guess?

contains. gn!reader, school au maybe, profanities, definitely ooc, grammatical errors and not proofread!

word count. 2.3k.

note. just a little smth i wrote for the anniversary of the og black dragons. can you believe we won't get another content for the og bds ever again? we wanna know more, wakui-sensei ;; and also, thanks for @novelbear for the wonderful prompt!

SANO SHINICHIRO

His eyes traced the massive letters in front of him. It looked rushed, edgy. From the first letter up to the last, it screamed ‘I am livid’.

Detention, it said to him. In enraged capital letters too.

He thought an hour had already passed, but a quick glance away from his admiring session with the chalkboard proved otherwise. He still had ample time to spare. 55 minutes to be exact.

Damn. Shinichiro rubbed his face with his hands. He had other plans for this afternoon. Plans with his guys, with his siblings, with his beloved motorcycle. Being detained like a prisoner at school wasn’t in his schedule. And it wasn’t in his plans to get stuck with one of his classmates either.

Now, that made him ponder for a bit. 

What in the world were you doing? Sitting all prim and proper, and two seats away from him?

“Hey,” he couldn’t help but ask, “what’d you do?”

To his surprise, you squeaked. Like you’d been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.

His eyes turned wide when you started fixing your hair, hiding them behind your ears, and clearing your throat. Was his question that invasive? He quickly stammered, “Ah, you don’t have to answer.”

“N-no...”

“Right. Sorry.”

Shinichiro slumped back on his chair. He could guess it’s because you took another student’s punishment. That’s how you always were. But as far as kindness went, that’s just wrong. Even a rowdy delinquent like him wouldn’t go that far. But of course, he couldn’t speak for everybody else.

“Sensei got mad,” he started. “He got mad ‘cause I always go to school with bruises. That and I’m always late in the mornings.”

For some reason, the words just came out. He didn’t know what to do with the soft silence. It wasn’t that strange. It’s quite comfortable, as surprising as it was. But he needed to be busy with something, to focus on something, to take his mind off this awful hour of punishment.

He started to tap his desk with a slim finger in sync with the ticking of the clock in hopes it would tick faster. When it didn’t work, he sighed and groaned, and sighed again for the millionth time. And when he lost all hope, he hummed a tune.

“Isn’t that an anime song?”

Hearing your question, he faced you and found you looking slightly amused. “Oh, yeah,” he agreed once he realized, “I think it is. My little sister makes me watch her shows.”

You beamed, “That’s kinda cute.”

He quickly pursed his lips, aware not to retort back with something like ‘No. You’re cute’. At the back of his mind, he could easily imagine Takeomi making a disgusted face at his strategy. Instead, he asked the question that’s been bugging him, “Why did you get detention?”

“Pushy, are we?” You answered back, avoiding his gaze.

He shrugged, careless and strangely confident. “Well, I think it’s because you just wanna see me.”

And there went his self-preservation. He honestly didn’t know where that came from. Blame the silence! Blame the silence! His mind told him. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing in the purest form of shame, “I-I don’t mean that. Don’t mind me starting from now on…”

When he peeked your way, his breath got caught in his throat.

You were frozen. Your eyes spoke of panic and embarrassment and truth, and it took you a long time to say something.

If you even wanted to say something, anything; to reject his arrogant words — at all.

In an instant, he started making a sound that resembled a dying man’s cry for help. “Ahhhh…! Aaaahhhh…!”

“Shinichiro-san!”

AKASHI TAKEOMI

To say that Takeomi was a studious person was a delusion.

Even so, he worried about his falling grades every now and then. No one in the prime of their youth would want to fall back a grade. First, it’s a hassle. Two, and perhaps the worst case to ever happen, he didn’t want Shinichiro and the others to boss him around like a true kouhai.

Never in his life would he allow that to happen.

He deemed a passing grade and an acceptable ranking would suffice. Yes, that’s what he thought. He should be safe if he punctually comes to class, hands out his homeworks, and achieves decent test remarks.

Yes, that would be enough. So with a will made of steel, starting today, in this almost empty classroom, he would become studious.

Collecting his textbook and a pen, he began to lay out the materials for his self-study. It wasn’t until a few minutes of measly concentration he felt someone burning holes on the sides of his face that he threw a look at its source.

“What?” He scowled.

“What? What do you mean ‘what’?” You screeched. “You’re studying! Studying!”

“And? Do you see the world ending?” He went back to his reading but the words were now all jumbled up in his head. He couldn’t believe all the times he got into detention, this one time you just had to be in one as well.

“Yes?” You scoffed. “What happened to ‘I can buy this whole school if I want to pass’ Takeomi?!”

“Shut up. You’re disturbing me,” he gnarled. He swore he just needed a quiet time, a peaceful one to get this subject done, and he would be free as a bird.

“Nope. Not gonna happen.” Seeing how you dragged your chair closer to his, with your eyes sparkling with mischief, it’s easy to say you weren’t bothered at all to be reprimanded.

Unlike him.

“Get out of my sight,” Takeomi warned.

“What are you studying?”

“I said ge—” Before he could finish his second threat, you had already snatched the book he was just reading. You hummed in recognition, speaking out loud its contents.

“Ah, this is boring,” you tutted after a while. “Wanna ditch detention with me?”

“No.”

“Wanna ditch detention with me?”

“No. And give me back my book.”

“I’ll give it back if you ditch detention with me.”

“I won’t ditch. Give it back,” Takeomi insisted. He stood up from his seat so he would easily tower over your sitting form, but you too were quick on your feet. Jumping to get away from his hold.

“Now, this is starting to get fun.” Smirking, you ran to the other side of the room, near the exit door, and did a little taunt, “If you catch me, I’d teach you how to easily memorize this!”

“No way in hell you got that memorized.” He said that but he wasn’t too sure. Even though you’re a culprit on your own, you’re still book smart. Always have been. You have always been a great help when his procrastination becomes too extreme. “Get back here,” he grunted as he darkly inched forward.

“You need saving, Takeomi,” you mocked.

“No, I don’t,” he drawled, as a devilish grin formed on his lips. “You’re the one who needs saving.”

With that, he started chasing his book.

ARASHI "BENKEI" KEIZO

“Oh, wow. Uhm, hi…”

Benkei looked up to find one familiar face standing by the door, bag and books in their arms. He gave them a customary nod, “Hm.”

“May I sit?”

Another nod, “Hm.”

Silence passed and you were still a fidgeting wreck around him. He took a glance at you. “First time?”

“Y-yes!” 

Well, not that he could be much of help for first timers anyway. He’s already used to spending his afternoons in a barren classroom. All the students that got detained with him for detention always opted for counseling or community service instead.

It seemed he scared most of his schoolmates simply by his appearance alone, so the less interaction the better.

Not that he minded, to be honest. It’s more tolerable to have people be terrified of his wordless tenacity than to have his head fuming and his blood boiling from all the idiocracy they possessed. It’s more favorable for everybody that way.

Although, he has his moments of loneliness too. Just like now, he thought the flowers below the window panes looked a bit miserable. They were one of his reasons for not listening to class. How a flower, something so gentle and fragile, gives beauty to the world around them. How delightful they exist for that reason alone.

But today, they looked poignant. And it made his heart feel a tad bit blue.

“Benkei-san? Can I call you Benkei-san?”

“Hm?” Upon realizing he wasn’t alone, Benkei gave his fullest attention to you. “What’d you just say?”

“Ah! It’s nothing super important! I just wondered if I can call you Benkei-san!” You sounded as if a soldier was asked by his superior if he had understood his orders. It was that formal and alert.

“Chill out,” he noted. “I’m not gonna bite your head off.”

“Ah… haha… then… Can I call you Benkei-san?”

“Sure. Whatever.” He might sound dismissive, but he didn’t care much if he was called Benkei or Keizo. Then again, he’s already used to being evaded by people like he’s the plague.

The thought brought him back to his senses. 

“You didn’t get counseling?” The words came out of his mouth in a rush, before his mind could even comprehend what he’s inquiring about. “Community service?”

You smiled sheepishly, “No.” 

“I wonder why,” Benkei wondered. Not knowing he had uttered it out loud.

“It’s not because I wanna get to know you more, Benkei-san!” You explained. “Sensei told me there’s a… a… a missing lunch box! Yes! A missing lunch box in this classroom, a-a-and I should return it to her! ASAP!”

Suddenly, you’re on your feet scrounging the tables, lifting the upturned chairs as if it could hide a lunch box underneath. And then you started checking the drawers, the windows — hell, even the freaking doorways.

“What does it look like?” He asked, standing to his full height to help.

“Erm… a yellow flowery thing… I think?” 

“I think I’ve seen it somewhere,” he added. He turned his back on you, looking atop the drawer beside the teacher’s table, as he hid a playful, knowing smirk from you. “Is it Sensei’s?”

“Erm… yes? Yes. If you can find it, that would be great.”

Turning around, he had his palms facing up, showing that there’s clearly nothing in his hands. His expression could only be phrased as fun yet lighthearted, a boyish grin when he proudly chuckled, “I spy with my little eye that you lie.”

“No! Sensei… she— I didn’t want to stalk you, I swear! NO, THAT’S NOT IT! I mean—”

“Yes, you can call me Benkei,” he beamed.

IMAUSHI WAKASA

Many times in his life he was bored. Simply and excruciatingly bored. And most times when he was bored, he didn’t know what was happening or what’s gotten into his head.

He thought maybe it’s one way to keep him entertained. To do something out of his character, or perhaps to learn something new about himself. 

Much like what he was doing at the present.

“Tell me,” he started, “when was the first time we talked to each other?”

To him, the question wasn’t out of the ordinary. It’s merely a subject he felt tackling at the moment. But unfortunately for you, his victim of the day, just so happened to be stuck in an afternoon detention with him.

“I wonder when it was,” he continued as he fiddled with the keychain in your bag. “I couldn’t remember. Help this poor guy out?”

“Imaushi-san…”

“Nope,” he held a pale hand out. “Just a clue. Don’t give me the full details.”

You sighed, your waning determination to ignore him going down straight to shambles, “It was Valentines.”

“Valentines, huh? Did you give me chocolates? Did you confess? Did I turn you down?”

He kept firing those questions, seemingly uninterested with whatever your reply would be. But then, he suddenly wondered, did you really give him chocolates? He must admit he had one too many every Valentines, and most of those he didn’t even want to accept.

Maybe you were one of those girls he respectfully turned down, and now you just had this desperate notion to follow him around like a cat lost its owner, needing that affection from whoever worthy they choose to be.

“I get it,” he dramatically sighed. “I really do.”

Without looking up from your homework, you asked, “What is?” 

“So, I have another question.” Wakasa let go of the suddenly becoming cute keychain of yours, and he creeped his face closer to your desk, almost becoming one with your notebook, just so you’d look him straight in the eyes.

His ruffled hair fell across his forehead, and surprising as it was, he smiled. Sweetly. “Would you humor me?”

You stared at him, almost as deadpan as the thin line across your lips, “No.”

“Hmm,” he pouted. “But I feel like we’ll be good together.”

When you lost your grip around the pen, he knew he finally had your attention. “Say,” he whispered, looking at you from underneath his lashes, “would you go on a date with me?”

“What the fuck are you on about?” You quickly shut your mouth from the sudden slip of profanity and glared at him instead. “I won’t go on a date with you.”

“Why not?” He reached out a hand to brush your hair behind your ear, and seeing how you shivered, he sat up right. “I think I’m a nice boyfriend.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, dragging your notebook away from his reach. “Shooting down my best friend’s heart on Valentine’s Day would make me do exactly that.”

He paused, “Wait…” Wasn’t it you who gave him chocolates? Oh damn, they were all blurry faces in his memory. But through the hazy recollection, he could recall someone aiming at him with a sandwich. 

A sandwich. 

Surely, that wasn’t you? He would remember that person’s face back then seeing how comical it had seemed.

That was you?

“Yes. You did. And I threatened you for it,” you prattled on. “I have never given you chocolates. In fact, I almost killed you with a half-eaten sandwich. That’s how I can remember our first talk.”

Well, Wakasa was certain about it now. You learn something new about yourself when you’re bored.

taglist. @baji-san and @gwynsapphire.

[sweetcloverheart]

Clover Rants Miraculously: Painting With The Same Brush

You know, I think the most saddest (and kind of funny in an ironic way) things about “Derision” and other episodes/scenes like it is that in the writers attempts to get Chloe to seem “irredeemably evil” to the audience, all they’ve done is make the rest of the cast look bad. Like those scenes don’t effect my view of her because the show already told us Chloe was a brat and bully from the get-go, so learning about the date prank and her forcing Marinette to stay home and the entire plot of “Collusion” and “Confrontation” just come off as learning nothing new. Complete net-zero information. Meanwhile...

Bustier (and by extension Damocles and Mendeleiev) looks like an even worse teacher for ignoring her misbehavior and constantly putting the onus on Marinette to solve the issue if things were this bad already, especially when “Revelation” shows she’s so oblivious to the things going on in class that she's actually genuinely shocked Chloe hasn’t been doing her own homework for the entirety of her middle school career and then some. Like I know the fandom likes to joke that she’s a kindergarten teacher at the wrong school and “haha public education sucks because teachers bad” but DAMN woman, are you telling me you never side-eyed how similar Sabrina and “Chloe” homework tended to be even once (or maybe Sabrina’s just that good at forging handwriting like I often headcanon)? Just how little is FD’s overall funding that no one ever tried double checking this stuff?! No wonder Chloe treats y’all like a joke!

The class comes off as pretty fairweather/uncaring as Marinette was being bullied by Chloe for years (especially since it was stated in canon that Marinette had no friends until “Origins”) but only are only now seem to care about it. Even with the potential excuse of “Well Marinette grew a backbone/they’re less scared of Chloe now”, “Derision” showed the kids cared less about Chloe’s opinion than they do now and were willing to comfort Marinette after the prank, so what was stopping them from openly helping her out up until “Origins”?

The school faculty, despite Chloe having a reputation for exaggerating things and being purposely petty when demanding “punishments” when she feels slighted, constantly not only immediately believing her when she’s clearly making stuff up, but also still refusing to put their foots down (waiting until the grand coincidence of an Akumatized!Bustier forcing Andre to step down as opposed to, IDK, showing solidarity and care for their students by choosing to refuse Chloe’s demands and meeting her threats head on?). Again, what is the school paying you for?

Kim looks like a complete jerk now seeing as how he doesn’t seem to see anything wrong with that he did to Marinette in “Derision” and gives a rather poor apology afterwards - one he had to be shamed into rather than realizing and giving it on his own. Heck the only reason he even gets Akumatized over it is because everyone else was riding him on how messed up it was and he got fed up with it. It also kind of puts into question why Marinette is so friendly with him/still gave him a Miraculous if he participated in what was such a traumatic event for her. And that’s not even getting into poor Ondine having to hear her own boyfriend call another girl (whom is established as a huge jerk) “The prettiest girl in the world” Kim bby I’m so sorry the writers are doing you so dirty

Sabrina’s upgrade to Miraculous holder/her redemption feels even more unearned now because like above, she shows no remorse for her actions in “Derision” or the bullying she’s been (willingly in some parts) participating in for the last four seasons and before then, and only ends up leaving Chloe because Lila takes her spot as Chloe’s bestie and she hated having to share (and because their latest scheme in “Collusion” potentially involved jail time for her if they got caught) instead of genuine disgust at Chloe’s growing nastiness or her own mistreatment because of it. All those years of waiting and fics about Sabrina finally breaking free and realizing she could be better - rewarded with her instead abandoning Chloe to save her own skin and hopping onto the SS.Marinette because it benefited her more (and again, doesn’t involve jail time) rather than genuine regret of her actions. So inspiring

Andre basically allowed Chloe to get away with using his position as mayor to mistreat her classmates+the citizens and flaunt her status as his daughter for years, and only starts caring/putting his foot down when she starts doing it to Zoe and only for Zoe (the “good” non-blood daughter that the original script had him state he “liked better”) before he immediately abandons her to Audrey the first chance he gets, despite understanding what a terrible and abusive person his wife is - And let’s not forget him calling his 14 year old daughter that he raised “heartless” and terrible (to the man who frequently overrides his own child’s freewill with magic mind you). What’s worse is that the show plays this off like it’s his reward for having “suffered” under Chloe’s demands and that it’s all her fault he’s a terrible mayor (like he hadn’t often willingly broken laws or abused his position on his own with no prompting from her for his personal benefit). I’m sure all the neglectful dads who replace affection towards their children with gifts and indulgences watching feel totally respected and represented now.

Poor Sabine and Tom already get a bad enough rep as it is thanks to some of the story decisions made *COUGH*A//doration*COUGH*Ladybug*COUGHCOUGH*, but now we’ve been basically informed that they knew Marinette was being bullied to the point of actually pretending to be sick and...did nothing. And not even in a “We want to help but we’re limited thanks to school bureaucracy and/or our own financial situation” way but at “Yeah we know you’re terrified of your classmate tormenting you again and that this constant slew of harassment from all sides is slowly destroying your mental health but we’re just gonna tell you to buck up”. Yeah, they gave her Socqueline keeping an eye out but that ultimately ended up doing nothing to really protect her in the end

Zoe, for all her goodness and being portrayed as a “better redeemed!Chloe” as her claim to fame, does nothing to make good on her promise to love Chloe no matter what in “Queen Banana” and watches her half-sister being abandoned by her entire immediate family while reaping all the benefits from it (Not to say that’s her fault or she’s required to, just that it’s...well, not a good look for her tbh). While Zoe isn’t obligated to put up with Chloe’s mistreatment (and she isn’t), it def makes her look super hypocritical to claim to love Chloe “even if the whole world hates [her]” and then do/say nothing as her stepdad basically leaves her half sister to suffer from the same fate she escaped from in New York.

Adrien, despite having a front row seat to how awful and nasty Chloe can be to people who aren’t him and watching her torment his classmates for the past 9 months in canon, only now ends their friendship - and over an event that happened a year ago when he wasn’t there that she isn’t sorry for, when she’s been doing worse since he arrived with no remorse then either, with his only response back then being to chuckle and go “Chloe will never change” like a wistful friend. After 5 whole seasons of handwaving his handwaving of Chloe’s bullying, they only now have him care, with the catalyst being that Marinette won’t give him happy-smoochy-times because of whatever happened - and then make it worst by having him try to kill Kim for it, after having him have a near mental breakdown over accidentally giving the terrorist responsible for every one of his current life issues a death sentence with the same method (and also trying to do it to another akuma victim). My sincerest condolences Adrien please join Kim in the “You got screwed badly by the episode narrative” corner

Like, I genuinely have to wonder how they wrote out those episodes and thought anyone involved looked good afterwards. Peoples opinions on Chloe can’t sink any lower than they already are (and if they can, that’s mostly because they already disliked her), but you aren’t making her look worse by slinging mud on everyone else, even unintentionally.

[tamales78]

Series: Teacher!Slenderman X OC!Reader

Chapter 2

Warning: Teacher X Student relationship, College Teacher &Student, Mention & use of drugs, smut 18+, reader is 21, alcohol use

Summary: Amelia is used to being a straight-A student since middle school. Her English teacher Professor Slender grades her an F after finding out she used AI. How will she be able to keep her good grades? And have the English teacher do her favors?

"YOU DIDN'T!" Jane gasped as Amelia nodded sipping her latte as they sat at the cafe table.

"I damn sure did!"

Jane began laughing making her nearly choke on her blueberry muffin.

"So, you going to Jeff's party?" Nina asks Amelia.

"Maybe. To be honest, I don't know. I don't really want to go, Nina."

"Please!"

"Why do you want to go other than to hook up with a guy who has clearly shown you no interest?" Jane asked Nina.

"Yeah, Nina. Last time, E.J. told me that he was planning on asking a girl out at this so-called party."

"It might be me! Is it?! Is it?! TELL ME!" Nina grabbed Amelia shaking her back and forth.

"I-I don't know!"

"TELL ME!"

-----------------------------

Amelia trembled at just the sight of her English teacher's door. After yesterday's outburst, she was sure he definitely would make her fail. So with a big gulp, she grew confident and walked in.

The few students that came also gulped and their eyes widened at seeing her. They all watched at her fearing for her.

When Slender walked in with the suitcase in hand they all expected him to call her out, however, they were surprised when he simply began passing out papers after the bell rang.

After he handed a kid a packet, five students walked in calmly with no bother in the world. They were dead. Slender hated-no he despised students who came in. Especially, if it showed that they had no care in the world.

"Why are you five late?" He angrily asked them.

"We were talking to some friends, jeez." One of them rolled their eyes as they walked to their desks.

"Talking? You came in late to my class 'cause you were talking?"

"Uhh, are you deaf?"

Slender chuckled walking to the kids desking and standing in front of him. He slams the packet on his desk jumping the kid.

"You and your four friends are to complete this assessment on paper by tomorrow." He informs the kid before passing his friends with the same packet.

"Oh, and since you decided to be a smart mouth also make sure to write another essay talking about why it's important to respect your peers. This goes to you four as well." Slender glares at them before going to Amelia and handing her a packet.

She expected Slender to ask her to do the same thing but she was astounded when he simply handed her the paper and passed it to the rest of the class.

"The rest of you, you're to simply write me what's in the packet. Based on the notes you guys did yesterday." Slender eyes Amelia making her look down in embarrassment.

"Your prompt is on the document. Articles are already provided for you, however, you're free to use other articles. Start working on your essay, meanwhile, I'll be talking to someone outside. Amelia come with me." Slender announces before heading out with a paper in hand.

Amelia gulps and gets up as she feels everyone's eyes on her. When she exits the class, Slender closes the door behind her and turns back to her.

"You do remember why you're here, right?"

Amelia nods looking down at her teacher in shame. Slender chuckles catching her off-guard and slightly scaring her.

"It humors me how a girl like you who was top of her class seems to be so..."

"So?"

"So, confusing." He chuckles looking down at her.

"My brothers and all your other teachers adore you, yet I somehow can't see it."

"Maybe, 'cause they value my work?"

Slender leans closer handing Amelia the paper. She expected it to be a detention slip, however, she held her breath when she saw the evidence of her grade check.

Her notes from yesterday now had an "A" instead of a "C". Along with the same essay she was doing while talking shit about the man in front of her.

"Maybe, you were right." He chuckled as Amelia looked up at him.

She nearly teared up and Slender could sense it.

"S-Sorry." She sniffed wiping her teary eyes.

"No, i should apologize."

Amelia nodded looking up at him and her teary eyes nearly brought him to his knees. With his hand he wipes the tear away, catching both of them off-guard.

-----------------------------

"Hey, Nina I won't be able to go." Amelia tells her friend as she walked to the library to start on the essay Slender left her.

"WHAT?! PLEASE! Jane won't go! She says she's busy doing something for her art class with Liu!"

"She so has a crush on him." Amelia teases stopping by her schools coffee stand to get a ice latte.

"Right! I even think they're already hooking up!"

"Why do you think that?"

"So, the other day she told me she was gonna go to yours, however, after you told me how you were studying for Splendor's class, that's when L.J told me he saw her exit Liu's room!"

"$4.99." The barista tells Amelia.

She nods listening to the rest of the gossip, however, before she can hand him the money a familiar hand gives the barista a 20-dollar bill.

"Make sure to get me the same thing but warm, I'll pay for hers," Slender tells the barista as he turns to Amelia who accidentally focuses on him instead of Nina.

"T-Thank you, profe-"

"Just call me Slender." He smiles at Amelia as the barista hands him his change.

"So, where are you heading if you don't mind telling me?"

"Oh, um to the library." She tells Slender.

"One Ice and a hot latte." The barista tells them.

Slender takes both of them and hands Amelia her iced latte.

"So, what do you think about the prompt?"

"Umm, well I do think it's pretty simple." She tells him as they walk side by side.

Slender nods taking a sip of his coffee and looks down as he walks by her side. He doesn't know why but all of a sudden his sight began drifting from her soft plumpy lips to down the valley of her breast, her curves, and down her ass.

Amelia pretended to not notice, and if she was honest she would freak out. However, she didn't care. It was weird. If he were another guy she would be running away from him, or even making the shit out of him. Both verbally and physically!

"So, how long have you been teaching?"

"Well, I have five years here." He nodded looking away and only looking at her lips as she smiled up at him.

"Where are you heading, if you also don't mind me asking?" They both laugh and continue walking.

"Back home to grade some papers." He nods as they come to a halt.

"Good luck, Amelia." He nods taking a detour.

"S-Slender!"

Slender turns back to Amelia and his eyes immediately meet her blue ones.

"I'm sorry for my behavior yesterday... and for talking smack about you."

Slender chuckles nodding and smiling at his student.

"Let's leave it in the past, Amelia." He smiles walking away from Amelia, leaving her a blushing and slightly panting mess.

"Oh my gosh!" Nina yelled from the other line, as Amelia bit her lip.

"I'm so fucked."

-----------------------------

As she sat during class, for once she was distracted. And not at the assignment.

Amelia bit her pen as she watched the way Slender's grey dress shirt hugged his muscles. She had to hold back from breaking the pen as she began looking at the way his pants slightly hugged his waist and his ass.

She had to cross her legs just to feel some sort of friction as her panties grew wetter.

"Who here has already started the essay?" Slender asked, and a few along with Amelia raised their hands.

"If you wish for any help tell me." He nods eyeing Amelia who eyed him back and kept on biting her pen.

Slender began walking around and began walking indirectly towards Amelia.

"Need help?" He whispers leaning into her ear.

"Yeah," She lies.

Slender knew she didn't need help. He knew this assessment was a piece of candy for Amelia.

"Do you want the evidence to be in MLA format?" She asks him as all Slender pays attention to the cleavage of her breasts.

"As long as you make the point clear, Amelia." He growled out her name bringing a shiver up her spine and down her dripping core.

"Mhm," She nods as she continues to type into her laptop.

His hands caressed hers as he began walking to help another student. Throughout the whole class, they eyed one another and Amelia forgot about the essay in front of her.

When the bell rang, Amelia was the last to leave and as she walked out she spared Slender one last glance while he put some papers into his briefcase. Slender looked back at her and smiled softly when she giggled and walked out.

-----------------------------

"I only need to finish three paragraphs, Nina. So, I'll only be there for you for a little while. Okay?"

Nina nodded squealing as Amelia added lipgloss to complete her look. As they got off their Uber they were pulled into a hug by E.J. who dragged them inside the house.

"Is Jane with you?!" E.J. yelled over the loud music.

"She's doing a work with Liu!" Amelia winks turning to Nina only to find her gone and probably looking for Jeff.

"WHAT?!"

"Jane-"

"So she's not here?!"

Amelia shakes her head turning to Hoodie as he snorts some white powder which Amelia is familiar with. Toby sat drinking a beer, meanwhile, Masky took a blunt from some random girl as she gave him a lap dance.

"Have you guys seen, Jeff?" Amelia asked them as she sat by Toby's side.

"Waiting for Jane." A drunk Toby tells Amelia.

"Why? She's not here."

"WHAT?!" All three guys yell out.

"She's working on an assignment!"

"Weren't you working on Slender's essay?" Hoodie asked her.

"I'm almost done! I'm just here for a little for Nina."

"Wait, where is she?"

"Looking for Jeff," Amelia tells them before taking a shot, and getting up to look for her friend.

"Anne!" Amelia yelled to her nursing friend who turned to her.

"I thought you med-students were not into parties!" Amelia jokes as Anne hugs her.

"I needed a break!" She laughs handing Amelia another shot.

"CHEERS TO FUCKING STRESS!" Amelia yelled out loud enough for her friends to hear.

Anne laughs and with Amelia takes a shot.

"Have you seen Nina?"

"She went upstairs! Jeff's upstairs!" She tells her before going back to talk to her friends.

Amelia walked upstairs and stumbled through the hall, as the alcohol took over her system. She laughed and stumbled open a door finding Nina crying and Jeff across from her.

"N-Nina, look I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong signs, but I was planning on asking Jane." Amelia hears Jeff confess to the girl who was obsessed with him.

"Fuck you and Jane!" She screamed out to Jeff before turning to Amelia.

"Did you know? Of course, you did!"

"What? Nina, no-"

"You did! You said E.J. told you!"

"Wait he told you?!" Jeff gasps afraid Jane knows, however, as if on cue E.J. comes rushing upstairs.

"RETREAT! RETREAT SHE'S NOT HERE! THE PLAN NEEDS TO RETREAT!" He runs in yelling.

"DUDE YOU TOLD HER?!" Jeff pointed at Amelia.

"No!" E.J. yelled turning to Amelia.

"Nina, E.J. only told me Jeff was planning on asking a girl! He didn't tell me who! Plus, I told you!"

"OH SO NOW IT'S MY FAULT HE BROKE MY HEART?!"

"N-No, t-that's not what I mean."

Nina walks out pushing the tipsy Amelia out of her way.

-----------------------------

"Thanks, E.J." Amelia sniffed as he led her to her dorm.

"Anytime." He nods opening her door for her.

"Hey, remember your essay for Slender."

"Fuck, I forgot." She groans throwing her heels to the floor, and E.J. chuckles.

"Dude, just use ChatGpt. I bet he won't notice."

[tacomasterstudios]

FAN TETOCU EPISODE #2 - The Horrifying Hysteria of the Harrowing Haar-brain (and the Subsequent Strike of the Screwball Sophies)

Do you remember when The Epic Tales of Captain Underpants blatantly ripped off some of its villains from the original books? Remember how FLUSHER was just the Turbo Toilet 2000 again, or how the Utopiquans were copies of the Purple Potty People to the point where Captain Pandernuts has Captain Blunderpants' catchphrase of "La-La-Traaaaaaaa"? (On a similar note, remember how they copied Everything Except Fabric Softener with Stuart's Stuff Store, with the one thing they DON'T sell being gum instead of fabric softener?)

Now do you remember when The Epic Tales of Captain Underpants blatantly ripped off ITSELF? Remember how Mr. Meaner or a variation thereof was used as a villain THREE times in the show (ALONGSIDE a hero alter ego in Sergeant Boxers, and AFTER being Sir Stinks-a-Lot in the final book), or how the student doppelganger idea was used TWICE in the show BEFORE the Utopiquans?

Here's my attempt at one of these "rip-off" episodes. Unlike last time, this is less of a "fix" and more of just throwing my hat into the ring. I don't actually like these kinds of episodes in the show proper, but in fan works as a response to these kind of episodes? Kinda fun.

In the episode, George and Harold finally notice Jessica is... kind of an asshole (and that's putting it mildly). So they decide to do something about it. First, they make a comic about her, making her a mad scientist with superpowered hair called Hairbrain, in an attempt to humiliate and humble her. When this only ends up pissing her off, George uses the Hypno-Ring to try and get her to be nice, and also treat her Sophies better, and say "hair" correctly, and also NOT turn into Hairbrain or anything like that. BUT, what our heroes don't know is that the ring works OPPOSITE on females, which ends up- guess what?- turning Jessica into Hairbrain. Or rather, since they told her to say "hair" correctly... Haar-brain! (Complete with an evil laugh that goes "Ha-ha-ha-ha-haar!")

And it gets worse. Haar-brain ends up getting two important items in CU lore. First, the superpower juice, which she douses in her hair to make her hair super. Second, the Hypno-Ring, which she uses to hypnotize the Sophies into being her minions, still silent and always doing what they're told. But for all her smarts, Haar-brain doesn't know about the whole "opposite effect on girls" thing the Hypno-Ring has, and this ends up turning the Sophies into talkative, hyperactive, rebellious nutjobs, like George and Harold on crack, who go on a pranking spree that puts even our heroes to shame! Meanwhile, Haar-brain decides she's smart enough to take over the world with or without minions- starting with the school!

The boys decide that three hypnotized wackos deserve another, and summon Captain Underpants. But there's three of them, but only one of Captain Underpants! And George... and Harold... wait, it's three against three! So the boys take Cap to deal with Haar-brain while they take care of the Sophies. But after a battle in Hair-O-Rama (because violence is scary, but hair is just... hairy), Captain Underpants finds himself on the losing side, for one simple reason... he's an idiot, and Haar-brain is a genius!

Meanwhile, George and Harold confront the Sophies, but end up getting pranked hard. So, the boys decide to prank the Sophies back to get their attention. This prank results in the girls sprayed with a TON of water from the hose, leaving them sopping wet. George and Harold try to tell them off, but are met with silence from the Sophies... which until now couldn't shut up.

Wait a minute! They couldn't shut up AFTER they were hypnotized, but beforehand they were always silent! George and Harold realize that the water somehow undid the hypnotic trance. They then reason that if water turns Captain Underpants back into Mr. Krupp, and turns the Sophies back to normal, it can turn Haar-brain back into regular old Jessica, for better or for worse. And with the Hypno-Ring in still Haar-brain's hands, this is the only option they have.

So the boys take the hose and end up trying to shoot Haar-brain with it. Haar-brain attempts to flee, then takes Captain Underpants hostage- because then, the boys can't spray HER with water without spraying their precious Captain with it too, turning him back into their principal! George and Harold are fine with this- they can bring him back.

When they spray the water, Haar-brain turns back into Jessica, and Cap back into Krupp- both no idea why they're wet, or where they are. Krupp wonders where his clothes are, and Jessica asks in horror what happened to her haar. George and Harold prepare to re-hypnotize Jessica (using reverse psychology this time to make her actually nice), but before they can, Gooch steals the Hypno-Ring. Now the boys can only hope that nobody snaps their fingers around Jessica.

You probably see where this is going. When Gooch plays with the Hypno-Ring and uses Bo as a test subject, he ends up snapping his fingers. As a result, Krupp turns back into Captain Underpants, Jessica turns back into Haar-brain, and the Sophies go crazy again! "Oh no!" "Here we go again!"

If you were paying attention, you might have noticed that the initial plot (George and Harold hypnotizing someone into being nice, the Hypno-Ring failing due to the mark being female, and said mark turning into a supervillain with super-powered hair) is pretty much that of the Wrath of the Wicked Wedgie Woman, and this would also be the second time Jessica was the villain (after the Vimpire episode). Plus, if you're going to do an episode with Jessica as the villain OTHER than the Vimpire (which was literally made for Erica anyways), you gotta do something to do with hair, even if it's just a pun.

Honestly, I think Haar-brain could actually become Captain Underpants's new nemesis. In addition to being the Lex Luthor to his Superman, Jessica also becomes Haar-brain at the sound of finger snapping and returns to normal after being splashed with water, much like Krupp and Captain Underpants. It's what we call "cinematic parallels". Meanwhile, the hypnotized Sophies, being hyperactive and rowdy pranksters, could become not-quite-evil-but-certainly-not-good counterparts to George and Harold.

[sunny6677]

SOOOO A BIT OF A RAMBLE ABOUT DAMIENS UPDATED BACKSTORY!

TWS FOR TRAUMA, IMPLIED SA AND GROOMING, INSANITY, OBJECTIFICATION, HALLUCINATIONS, DELUSIONS, MURDER, DISMEMBERMENT, DARK STUFF IN GENERAL

@catsockpuppet @fymo-blogs @bulldog-geckorahhhhh

(Since you guys commented on my Damien posts a few times lmao)

Damien was a young child back in the 60s living with his family, and his younger brother, who is Ethans father. He lived a somewhat conflicted childhood. His mother did try her best, but had her own mental problems due to work related stress, and his own dad was hardly there at all due to work and constantly expecting his wife to do all the housework for him. Damien, being an older brother, would always try to look after his younger brother and just help him out—and was forced to help his own mom out a little too much as a child since his dad never seemed to bother. This led to Damien developing a want for people to need him in some way.

In 1968 though, he attended a Ballet class. And.. well, a female teacher of his didn't exactly treat him how she should a student. I won't get into too much detail since it's dark as hell. But all I'll say is that it was like Roy's situation with his uncle. Damien was deeply effected by this and never really told anyone about it. That was until his little brother found him shaking after another incident one day, and Damien was so shaken up and visibly bruised that he ended up breaking down about the whole thing to his mom. His mom got the teacher arrested, but Damien was always shamed by his assault simply because of the fact that he was a boy. And due to the way his teacher treated him, Damien developed hypersexuality, and for a long time, he felt like being treated like an object by other people was love.

In his teens though—his friends from school started to treat him like total shit by basically using him and just worsening his objectification problem. This caused his mental state to noticeably decrease. Damien began to actually hallucinate sometimes, and his anxiety became heightened. His family noticed this, but tried to ignore it for a while since they weren't sure what to do. In 1973 however, an incident occurred where his hallucinations became so bad that he ended up full on screaming at his own brother without knowing and hit him severely with a dust pan by accident, causing his brother to bleed. His mother walked in on this. And rather than giving any explanation or time to think, but also just wanting to protect her kid, she kicked Damien out and left him to fend for himself. Damien had nowhere else to go, so he ran off to one of his friends, who agreed to let him stay. This friend of his was already very manipulative and toxic though, so they began to take advantage of his weakness, and I won't describe all of what they did, but they're defintely the reason nothing ever got better for him.

In his early twenties, he went into college, and got a degree in both Chemistry and Biology. He was skilled enough, and already had an interest in perfumes since he was young, so he decided he wanted to become a perfumer. And finally became one at the age of 25. He made perfumes specifically for his friends as gifts a lot already so he was skilled anyway. (Damien also doesn't even know of Ethan and Morganas existence later on btw. So he isn't intentionally trying to be a deadbeat uncle.)

While on the job though, he ended up meeting a girl by the name of Cassie, who was.. complicated. She was an alcoholic but never seemed to want to get better, was incredibly arrogant and had a bunch of problems but never wanted to fix them, and constantly blamed Damien for everything. But she gave him the attention and 'the other stuff' he felt was love, so he endured it for a long ass time. But an incident occurred that made her angry at him, so much so where they got into a fight, and she basically ghosted him. Throughout these years, Damiens mental problems got worse and worse, until he learnt that she had apparently passed away. One of her friends ended up going to confront him for some reason in an alleyway because they blamed him for it somehow, and actually tried to strangle him, but experiencing a severe trauma response in the moment and a heightened amount of anxiety, he snapped—pushing her away. And grabbing a nearby weapon she had seemed to bring on the scene only to drop it, he began to beat the shit out of her with it, trying to get her to go away. But he ended up beating her too hard and accidentally killed her.

Damien, realizing what he had just done, dropped the weapon and began to have a breakdown. But, he really didn't want to get caught for some reason despite knowing he just killed someone—even if it was self defense. He hid her corpse inside a trash bin. He went back to his house, cleaned himself off, then went back and cleaned the scene off as thoroughly as he could before disposing of the weapon.

Damien lived in years of guilt after this happened, becoming nervous anytime her murder was brought up and even more so when it was always specified they never caught the killer. But he kept it to himself always. Another incident ended up occurring though where he could very obviously tell this female customer of his who was always coming by was being abused by her husband—so he went over to do something about it, but things got violent pretty quick, and he resorted to self defense. Only he did it more violently this time and started to kill him purposefully when he noticed the man struggling to breathe. The wife and Damien were both equally shocked, but the wife was finally free of him, so Damien and her agreed to hide the body together and dispose of everything.

For years and years, incidents like this with Damien kept happening. His reasons for killing were always that the person either deserved it, were abusing someone or being toxic, or that they were a horrible person in general. And this kept carrying on until his insanity maybe got the better of him, and he decided to resort to murdering this one random woman just because she was rude to him at the store. He was caught as he was murdering her though, and was arrested. The woman didn't make it, so Damien received extra charges. He fessed up to the other murders. And was sent to life in prison.

However, this ended up being where he met Bob, who had a cell right next to his. Bob one day started conversation with Damien because he heard him from the next cell over, and they began to describe their reasons for being in prison to one another. Despite being pretty crazy himself, Bob felt pretty bad about all the stuff Damien opened up about since in his eyes it was 'justified' somehow and he also ended up hearing a bit about his childhood anyway, while Damien was afraid of Bob at first because of hearing how he was a cannibal but slowly grew less anxious as they talked. They basically became friends in prison with one another, with Bob promising he'd escape with Damien one night. Oh yeah and Bob also might have escaped at some point to just murder one of Damiens old friends? He was only able to get one of them but it was the one who mainly caused Damien the most trauma so yean. And one night during TT when Bob was set free, he asked for the cult to release Damien too, so they did despite not knowing why.

Damien and Bob went back to their own respective houses, gathering their own things. Damien grabbed himself a hatchet, a cleaver and a syringe while Bob grabbed his own weapons. And they went out on a murder spree (Tender Treats) together. Damien was ran over along with Bob. And he didn't die, but he was knocked out the whole time and was taken to the police station after his injuries were recovered. Where he was informed of Bob's death. This caused him to have a whole other breakdown, and start experiencing hallucinations of Bob talking to him. One night while seeing things, he promised Bob he'd swear vengeance on his behalf and get all the people he wasn't able. And, well.. a year after TT next Halloween, that ends up happening since he's let out by the cult to 'finish Bob's job'. And that ends up being Damiens own episode—Sweet Scents, where he hunts down the kids on Bob's behalf.

Damien also mentally made the connection that murder is 'real love' because Bob was the only person in his life besides a few people who never mistreated him in some way, and wants to show others what 'real love' is by literally killing them.

[aita-blorbos]

Aita for trying to spread hope?

I (21M, had memories wiped so I thought I was 16) was trapped with my old classmates on an island resort, and we were told that if we wanted to get out, someone had to kill somebody else and get away with it. Since everyone had gotten their memories messed with, none of us knew each other, thus we couldn't truly place any trust in one another. So, when the panic died down, I began to form a plan.

See, all my life I've had this bad luck/good luck cycle. Something really bad happens, something really good happens immediately after (a more colorful example is when I got kidnapped by a serial killer in middle school, only to find a lottery ticket in the trash bag he stuffed me in and use the corners to cut my way out. That lottery ticket later won me 3 million). So, I decided to use this to my advantage. During a party that was planned to help us get to know each other, I would use a knife I hid under a table while the lights were out to kill someone. In the despair caused by the first death, they would be overcome by hope and find who did it and get off the island. Someone found out about this plan while I was preparing, but I convinced him to help me.

But that didn't happen. While the lights were out, I was prevented from getting the knife, and by the time the lights came on someone else had already committed a murder. After every murder there's supposed to be a trial after some investigation, so I tried to play it cool and deflect the blame from who I knew had done it (the guy who found out about my plan). However, I kind of... snapped? I got stressed enough that I ended up dropping my calm-and-collected mask and laughing extremely hard before telling them straight up that I was the one who set up the murder (they also seemed off-put by my declaration of how beautiful it was that they were coming together to combat despair. Though I'm not sure why? It's a compliment!). The rest of the trial I helped them get to the right conclusion, and the killer was executed by the guy trapping us here.

Afterwards, though, everyone suddenly hated me. They yelled at me before leaving the trial room, and after that the next day they were treating me like I was worthless. And I mean, I am, they're all so much better than me and I don't really deserve to be treated well, but it still hurt. (At some point they even tied me up and trapped me in a shack because I was "dangerous". I deserved it, but those ropes were tight.)

In general they just didn't like me. I tried to mend that sometimes by offering myself up as an easy target for any potential killers, though they always ended up killing someone else. Such a shame. They never really liked my ramblings about hope and despair either, even though they were all true.

During one particular murder, I completed a puzzle that was supposed to have an important prize, and learned something important– all of them had been involved in a giant tragedy that had dipped the outside world in complete despair. Since our memories had been tampered with, none of us remembered, but it was written clear as day in the file I was given. So, instead of groveling at their feet, I began to instead treat them like the murderous scum they are. Especially one particular student there; he didn't meet the criteria the rest of us had to even been in this supposed class. That file was also how I discovered that there was an impostor among us.

But they still didn't like me. In fact, they treated me worse. So I devised another plan: I set a bomb to go off while I was being captured again by my classmates, and told them there were more bombs hidden somewhere else. I rigged the "bomb" so that it could only be defused if the impostor scanned their ID on a scanner I hooked up. While they were running around terrified, I filled a fire grenade with poison gas, locked myself in a warehouse, set it so that a fire would start if someone opened the door, injured myself to make it look like I had been tortured, and waited. Eventually they got in and grabbed the fire grenades to put out the fire, someone threw the poison like I had planned, and I died. Then I woke up in a pod somewhere and realized the whole situation was a simulation that me and the others had been trapped in. I truly believe my plan to out the impostor and bring them true hope worked, though, because the last remaining students got out not long after.

Throughout this whole situation, everyone was either angry at me, tired of me, or scared of me, but I believe I was in the right. It worked, didn't it? But I figured I'd ask you. So, AITA?

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Sweet Grains (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)

Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Modern AU, Bakery AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Reader

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: Talk of eating disorders and low self-esteem (based on personal experience, so don’t be a twat), Alfie being a proper gentleman

Summary: Kindness can go a long way. A loaf of bread, a cup of coffee, a conversation to break up the pressure that comes with ambition. Alfie Solomons, the most feared man in Camden and perhaps the whole of London, is full of these little bits of sweetness.

Not that he would admit this outright, of course. However, the men at the bakery certainly notice a change in his demeanour whenever you pop by.

But when you do so to drop off a gift, there soon rises a bitterness that excels that of the dark roast served at The Old Rum House Bakery. Yet, as with the darkest of coffees, Alfie works his magic to reduce the awful taste.

Because he wants the best for you, who is starting to be more than a friend to him. Who else will he grant the privilege of eating his soda bread?

He wants you.

And a new bookie.

Tag List: @zablife @vir-tual @babaohhhriley @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @dreamlandcreations @solomons-finest-rum @mollybegger-blog @liliac-dreamer @buttercupsandboys @rose-like-the-phoenix @wandawiccan60

TH Masterlist

Gratitude is easy and simultaneously terrifying to show.

Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be alright.

The tin in my hands feels like it’s filled with stones rather than cookies. Also, the design of it, navy blue with gold and flowers, suddenly doesn’t seem that great of an idea either. It would be a shame to throw it away, but the thought of asking for it back once it’s empty makes me uneasy. After all, it’s a gift.

While gathering my courage, I watch people stroll by the bakery in front of me. It is mostly locals who stop to check out the fully stocked window display. Tourists tend to get their food elsewhere in the market. However, even in Croydon they can vouch for the quality and taste of The Old Rum House Bakery in Camden. 

Recently I’ve been popping by here to study for the AAT Bookkeeping exam. Partially because I want to expand and develop my personal skill set, but primarily because I’m well over being a barista and working for minimum wage. The owner, Alfie Solomons, has been kind enough to help me. Although, perhaps it’s better to say he insisted on it in his own way.

The tall burly man kept walking past me and looking over my shoulder during the first few days. Now, I can’t blame him because who wouldn’t get curious when someone sets up an improvised office in their business? On the first day, I was ready to pack up and leave in the blink of an eye. The hairs on the back of my neck remained upright, my hands jittery with the anticipation of being told by a gravelly voice to leave so there would be space for more customers.

But those words were never said.

Alfie let me sit for as long as I wanted.

The one time I had the nerve to meet his gaze, he plopped down in the chair across from me and told me he’d teach me the books. Just like that. I blinked, gobsmacked by his blunt and rather hellbent statement. Since then, he’s been my mentor.

And I don’t want to disappoint him.

One… two… three. Let’s go!

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?” The voice in my ear pierces through the hubbub of the busy street, packed with people enjoying the rare London sunshine by roaming around. Snapped out of my reverie yet still drowsy with dread, I turn to the man with black curly hair who has appeared at my side.

“Ollie, hey, hi! Is- Um, is Alfie… in? Today, I mean? Now?” It’s silly, reduced to a blabbering mess because of a person I know decently well. For as far as one can know another when in a mentor-student relation. Although, sometimes it seems we’re more than that.

Our conversations know no limits, freely flowing over tea and coffee. I can never leave without a loaf of soda bread he refuses to sell despite it being a piece of heaven. It has this certain sweet element, which he refuses to reveal what it is. However, there is one thing I value above all else.

He always makes time for me. No matter whether it’s rush hour or quiet, early in the morning when the bread is still being baked or late in the afternoon when there’s barely anything left and inventory has to be taken, Alfie stops being a business owner and becomes my mentor. Or, rather, my friend. Although, perhaps that’s a step too far. 

We’re close acquaintances.

Very close acquaintances.

The assistant brand manager of the bakery chuckles. “Yeah, he is.”

“Great! Can you give him this?” I hold the tin out to him.

“Why don’t you give it yourself? I’m just returning from my break so he can go on one. I’ll fetch him for you.”

“Oh, no, I’m kinda busy and-’’

“Don’t be shy. Come on in.” Ollie holds the door open and gestures for me to go inside.

Mentally cursing myself, I take a deep breath and step forwards.

The warm scent of freshly baked bread and brewed coffee hangs in the air, vibrant like the murmur of hushed conversation and the clinking of tableware. Here and there some tables are occupied with the customers who remain from the rush hour caused by lunch. However, most of them are almost done. In the back, a couple gets up to leave. Unsurprisingly, their smiles are content.

Because the food here would be fit for a king. 

As soon as I cross the threshold, the broad-shouldered man with slicked back brown curly hair behind the counter turns around. He grows still when his sea blue eyes fall on me, the loaf of bread in his hands entirely forgotten.

My heart skips a beat, skittish under the intensity of his gaze. I grip the tin in my hands a little tighter, but the metal does nothing to cool the flush of heat that washes over me. A queasy feeling starts to set up in my stomach when the awareness I’m showing more skin than usual hits. Nevertheless, I put on a mask and muster a smile. “Hey.”

Alfie clears his throat. He blinks a few times like he’s been rudely woken and needs to ground himself in reality again. An unusual awkward groan falls from his lips as he places the bread he’s holding on a nearby counter, wipes his hands on his apron, and then nods in greeting. “Shalom, love.”

What was that reaction?

The sound of my heels on the stone tiles is incredibly loud in my ears as I come closer. Even an elephant would walk more gracefully and quietly in them than I do. Unfortunately, in my enthusiasm I didn’t calculate in the time it would take for me to learn how to wear them properly and move like a sophisticated woman rather than a lumbering individual.

“I popped by to give you these.” I hold the gift I prepared out to him. “As a thank you for teaching me how to bookkeep.”

“You made these?” he asks as he gratefully accepts the tin. His expression brightens as he inspects the oatmeal cookies inside.

“They’re orange and apricot with a bit of salt. Also, they’re kosher. Spent the entire day in the kitchen trying to get them right.’’ I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and glance at the floor. ‘‘I’m not much of a baker, unlike you.”

“Want me to start teachin’ you that too?”

“What?’’ Mouth dry, I stare at him before I break out in a panic mess of words. ‘‘Oh, no! No, I couldn’t possibly ask that of you. I mean, you have a business to run and-’’

“I wouldn’t mind. Besides, I free up time for you anyway so you can learn the books proper.” He puts the lid back on the tin and carefully places it next to the loaf of bread he held earlier. Then he crosses his arms and leans on the counter. The shadows the artificial light cast on his skin accentuates how sculpted they are, hardened by working long hours. “Time spent in good company ain’t wasted.”

“Look, it’s really nice of you, but I don’t want to take up any more of your time. You should have a moment for yourself as well.”

Completely ignoring my remark, he continues in the same casual tone. “Kitchen is awfully busy durin’ work hours, so it’d have to be after closin’ or really early in the mornin’. Also, I’m not gonna put you among the men. No, if I’m to teach you, it’ll be only us. Way safer and more comfortable, innit? Now, I don’t think you’d like me knockin’ on your door at four when not even the pigeons-’’

“Why?” I ask, nibbling on my lower lip.

“Why what?”

“Why would you pick me up?”

Am I really worth the effort?

“Because London isn’t a safe place for doves. The shadows want to tarnish their pretty feathers, corrupt and break their kind spirits. I don’t want that to happen.” For a moment we look at each other, silently assessing where his comment puts us. His expression still unreadable, careful to conceal the sentiments he harbours towards me, Alfie continues. “If you stay after hours, I could see you safely off to the tube before dusk. If you trust and would let me, of course.”

Surprised by the offer, I open and close my mouth. Nevertheless, no answer or adequate response comes to mind. The absence of a hint he’s joking or simply being politely nonchalant also makes it hard to respond. 

“No means no, don’t it?” A quicksilver smile flashes over his lips, half-hidden beneath his bushy whiskers. “Think it over. You can accept or reject the offer whenever. Until then, it stands.”

Why me? Why not someone else? Plenty of women would kill to be made the same offer by you. I’m not worth the trouble.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat, though the light tremble in it remains. “It does.”

Another silent moment passes, a few seconds in which his gaze doesn’t waver. I glance around the bakery, praying for Ollie to come through or new customers to come in. Any diversion would be appreciated.

Anything to distract him lest he should see the butterfly storm inside.

“C- Can you stop staring at me?”

“I’m sorry. Ain’t proper, innit?” Alfie stands up straight and puts his hands in his pockets. Watching the street through the window stocked full with today’s bread, he rubs his lips together in contemplation. A thought he voices on a deep breath. “You look lovely, my dear.”

It’s just a pet name. Casual, the way he talks. It’s not affection towards me. It’s not. 

“Oh, t- thank you.” I pluck at the hem of my dress. “I finally had the courage to wear this one. Still feels a bit weird.”

“Well, I think you look wonderful. Much too pretty for Camden, though. But more than right for Bloomsbury or Westminster.” Though there’s genuine warmth in the gruff half-grumbled words and tenderness in his eyes, there’s an underlying bleakness.

And it tells me he knows.

“I- I’m gonna- I-’’ I point at the door over my shoulder. “I should go.”

“Fancy a cup of tea?” Alfie lunges forward and places his palms on the counter like he’s ready to launch himself over it. “‘Ow about we ‘ave one of those cookies too?”

“I don’t-’’

“Just one.” A careful though encouraging smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Evidently he’s not planning to let me leave, determined to use his charm to make me stay yet too proud to openly beg. “It’s good to treat yourself. One cookie won’t do any ‘arm, especially not with tea. Do an old man a favour?”

And like every time he prepares a sandwich for me and refuses to let me cross the threshold back onto the street without a loaf of soda bread, I want to try. Not only for myself.

But also for him.

“Sure.”

He claps, the noise loud enough to involuntarily turn my content resignation to temporary shock. Fortunately, the way my body jolts remains unnoticed. “Marvellous. Any preferences?”

“Not really.”

“Hm, maybe a nice pot of yuja, yeah? The sweetness will be in perfect ‘armony with the orange in the biscuits. Besides, it’s almost summer, so it’s time for citrus fruits, innit?”

“We’re barely halfway through spring. It’s not even May yet.”

“The weather’s warmin’ up, though.”

“I still don’t think that makes it summer any time soon,” I chuckle.

“I suppose it doesn’t.” Alfie lets out a breathless laugh, features softened with the kindness he usually displays around me. Nevertheless, there’s also an odd tender warmth in it that is hard to define. It’s the same curious emotion I sometimes glimpse on his face when I drop by to study or when he’s using his own bookkeeping to serve as a real-life example. When I make a mistake and he corrects it, explaining what I did wrong and how to do it right next time.

It’s there in the corner of my eye, vague in peripheral vision. However, now that I see it blatantly before me, I still can’t name it.

“You wait ‘ere, yeah. Give me a moment to prepare everythin’ and we’ll pick a nice and quiet spot.”

While the tea brews, Alfie sets up a tray. With a gentle carefulness that belies his usual rough demeanour, he places the biscuit tin alongside two dainty plates on it. In the meanwhile, I remain by the counter to soak up the sunlight, ever rare here in London, coming in through the windows. Normally I’d feel awkward simply standing around in a place where I could easily be noticed. Yet, it’s never like that when he’s nearby.

Strange, how he is both my peace and my flame. 

Humming along to one of Adele’s songs, Alfie pours the yellow liquid in a chic porcelain teapot. ‘‘There,’’ he mumbles, a proud note in his gravelly voice. ‘‘Done. Come on.’’

He guides us to a small table in a corner in the back, far removed from the other customers and staff. All the while, he stays close yet maintains a polite distance.

Alfie sits down on the chair across from me after setting the table and pouring us both a cup. Neither of us says anything, both content to only sip tea and occasionally meet the other’s gaze. 

Whereas his employees seem to have the urge to talk as soon as their boss falls silent, it’s never been the case for me nor vice versa. It’s the same type of silence as when he reminds me to take a break. The most effective way to actually get me to take one, he found, is to literally swipe my study materials to the side or pull me away from his laptop if he’s giving real-life examples. Afterwards, he’ll pull me to my feet to this very same spot so we can sit down together for a cup of tea or coffee. 

A moment of reprieve, wherein there are no burdens. No pressure to do well, no fear to mess up, no worries about changes.

There’s only us, the world shut out.

Unfortunately, the comfortable silence doesn’t last long. The corners of his mouth turn downwards and his brows knit together as words enter his mind. The way he puts his cup down on the saucer with a clink that’s a little too loud preludes to conversation.

One I’d rather not have. 

However, there’s only so long I can and perhaps want to avoid it.

And when it comes to him, I’m done running.

I want to talk.

Alfie groans, the metallic sound of his rings tapping against the side of the cup strengthening his sense of discomfort. “I know it ain’t right to ask because it’s impolite and not something a gentleman should ask, yeah. You are permitted, by the way, to storm out the door after throwin’ your tea in my face. It’d be a waste but I wouldn’t blame ya. I’d never come back either if someone asked me this.”

Head bowed, I stir my tea. “Alfie?”

“Yes, love?”

“The question.”

“Yeah… right, guess I’m beatin’ ‘round the bush too much, ain’t I?” He presses his lips together for a moment and runs a hand through his beard, lost in contemplation. The long breath he takes comes out as a deep sigh. “Look, I meant it when I said I think you look wonderful. And I’m very bloody grateful you come ‘ere for lunch or afternoon tea. It’s a fuckin’ honour to see you enjoy the food and drink ‘ere.”

“But?”

“But you’ve lost weight again, ‘aven’t ya?” he asks, his usual warm drawl devoid of emotion.

I shake my head and smile wistfully. Looks like I’m found out. “I don’t even actively try to anymore. It just… happens.”

“Do you eat? When you’re not ‘ere, I mean.”

“Three meals a day. A protein bar for brekkie or a bowl of vegan yogurt with some granola. I come here for lunch or eat a slice of your soda bread with a piece of fruit when I’m busy. Dinner kinda depends on what I’m in the mood for, but it’s generally vegetarian and has lots of veggies.”

“And working out?”

“Almost every day. I can’t sit still. It drives me up the bloody wall. I try to take rest days, but I’m not particularly good at that.”

“‘Ow much?”

I take a sip from my tea. “Too light.”

No workout today, no need. Tea won’t make you fat. Sure, it’s sweet, but not from sugar. It’s okay.

He lets out deep sigh through his nose, mumbles something under his breath, and stares out into the bakery. In the meanwhile, I don’t dare to look up at him.

Terrified of his disappointment in me.

“Look, I’m not goin’ to be the solution to the problem, it’s a journey you yourself will ‘ave to go on. All the same, I wanna ‘elp.” Slowly I raise my head, unsure about his intentions. Alfie sits back with his arms crossed. The only movement he makes is squeezing his bicep with strained forearms. “You’re a strong wonderful woman, clever to boot. I’d ‘ate it if I lost your company due to bad health. Or worse.”

“My health is fine. I guess I’m just too skinny.”

“Which means you’re more prone to sickness. And cold.” His gaze falls on the goosebumps littering my skin. “Can I ask the number on the scale?”

“Forty-six, sometimes forty-five.’’ 

‘‘Please tell me you eat a little more on those days.’’

‘‘I do, try to, but it hardly helps. Still came further down from forty-eight.”

He swallows hard, a slight taper in his breath as he speaks. “I won’t tell you what to do. What you can and can’t eat. You are your own woman and therefore free to tell me to fuck off and mind my own bloody business. Which I should, I’m well aware, love, yet I can’t. We ‘aven’t known each other that long, but I’m quite fond of you. Yeah, you ‘eard me. Fond, extremely. So I worry for you and since I’m also a chronic overthinker, I worry a lot.”

Sure you do.

Because if the King of Camden is known for something, it’s his silver tongue. 

“We can start small. You already said you eat my bread at ‘ome and I see you eat when you’re ‘ere. That’s good. Let’s start from there. We’ll go explore new foods together and I’ll occasionally cook for you. I’m no master chef, right, but I don’t think my borscht is bad. It’s me mum’s recipe, so I don’t dare fuck it up. I always make way too much brisket as well and it would be a cryin’ shame to throw it away or keep it as leftovers when it can be shared. You see, people have been bonding over food for centuries.” He leans in, his fingers entwined as they rest on the table. Voice lowered to a pleasant purr, he makes an irresistible proposal which I am loath to decline. Nonetheless, I don’t want to readily accept it with an enthusiasm and positivity I haven’t felt in a very long time. The butterflies have to remain contained because to show them would be to rip their wings. “Shall we try and see if that’s true?”

“I’d like that, Alfie.” The mention of his name conjures a beaming smile which shows off his slightly crooked teeth. One of his little perfect imperfections. “I’d like it a lot.”

“Well, let’s start with this.” He grabs a cookie from the tin, splits it in half, and holds one of the pieces out to me. “Small steps.”

I merely gaze at the cookie, my mind and body entangled in a war of control. One side wants to reach out to accept the piece of food, the other advocates to wait for Alfie to retract his hand. In the end, I clench my jaw and fight my very nature to take it.

He leans back, the beginning of an affectionate smile lingering like a ghost on his lips. After a moment of watching me nibble on the cookie and take a sip of tea, he speaks up. “Still trying to get into Shelby’s company?”

I shake my head. “I don’t feel confident enough for that. I’m not really too good with the books, am I? Maybe in the far future. When I’m better.”

“I don’t think you’re doing too shabby. In fact, I think you’re doing pretty well. Simply need to practice, is all.”

It’s basically immediately reaching for the top, the stars far out of reach and only for the gods to touch. As if a prestigious company like Shelby Company Limited would accept a rookie bookkeeper, a nobody without experience. That is, if I manage to pass the exam.

Alfie puts his half of the cookie in his mouth. An appreciative hum rises from his throat as he munches on it. A wave of calm gratification washes away the guilt of eating, replaces it with a flush of warmth throughout my body. I take a deep breath, once again able to breathe a little easier around him.

He wipes his mouth on a napkin, which he then uses to wipe some of the crumbs from his beard. “How about you become my bookie?”

“Pardon?” I squint at him like it might help me understand him better. Either that, or prove I misheard him.

“Would take some of the burden off me shoulders. Let me focus on other things to keep this place open for business.’’ The silliness of his grin amplifies the glow in his cheeks. However, there’s anxious anticipation in the way he twists his rings. “‘Sides, you’re the only one I trust with my finances.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll fuck up?”

“You’re a clever little bird so I don’t think you will. You will pass that exam, after all. I’m certain of it. But, if it makes you comfortable, we can figure it out together in the first few weeks. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, innit?”

Not because of second opinions, controlling perfectionism, nor business.

But because we sometimes need help.

And that’s okay.

[orange-orchard-system]

Y'know, there are a lot of genuine complaints to be made about how people respond to literatary analysis education with stuff like "the curtains are just blue", but I think at least a good amount of these complaints completely miss where these responses are coming from. They seem to think these responses just come from a handful of ignorant people dismissing the idea off the bat, but I've always viewed these responses differently, as coming from a deeper place of bitterness and genuine reasons to be frustrated. And dismissing that bitterness just contributes to it, so let's talk about one of the reasons someone may become disillusioned with literary analysis.

Literary analysis, as a subject, is dependent on personal interpretation and being able to turn something upside down and inside out, and ask it questions about what it means. It's a lot closer to philosophy than people think at first, especially if you're talking about novels or other creative texts and not random posts on the internet, like most schools use. However, this is at odds with how these schools run; a lot of school is focused on getting exactly the right answer, which really means "the state* approved answer". There is little room for encouraging individual interpretation; even in classes that include individual interpretation in certain assignments, the teachers are often limited by the tests they have to set, or actively limit the students themselves by setting specific answers as "the correct interpretation". As such, students end up feeling tricked or lied to when their individual interpretations and analysis come back marked "incorrect" on their papers and tests, or are outright told they're incorrect during discussions (which has its own layers of the shame that often comes from being publicly told off, no matter how gentle these "corrections" are). They're being told one thing (to explore the text for themselves so that they might understand it better and get more out of it), but taught another (that it doesn't matter what they think, because memorizing the textbook, already decided upon answers/interpretations, and a set of procedures on how to "tell what the text is saying" are more important). And of the two, what's being taught is obviously going to have a greater impact, since it's their grades and parental/guardian approval that hang in the balance.

Now, I mentioned asking questions is another part of literary analysis – this is another aspect where schools fail. As classes and teachers have limited time, questions are not able to be given the needed time to properly discuss and answer them unless they fit into a specific narrative the teacher is already expecting to get. Some questions may even be dismissed out of hand for being "irrelevant", no matter how relevant that question is to the student who asked it, simply because the teacher is not prepared to consider it, or actually give it weight and the attention it deserves or needs. With the "correct answers" already set out ahead of time, the teacher must focus on making sure their students can pre-emptively ask those questions and memorize the answers, rather than allowing them to ask their own questions and find their own answers. As such, "asking questions" becomes less about actual understanding of the text, and more so about anticipating what questions will be on the next test.

Following this, "the curtains are just blue" doesn't come solely from a lack of interest in the idea of literary analysis (though there's also something to be said about how the common feeling of being bored at school is certainly not helping favors) – it's more so frustration with these conflicting instructions that are being given. If you tell a student to be unique, but also punish them for being "weird", they're going to decide being unimpressive and "normal" is safer, no matter what you say. Similarly, if you tell a student that there are "no wrong answers", that analysis is "up to interpretation", and that they're meant to ask questions about the text, but then punish them for their interpretations being "wrong", and cannot allow them the time and practice needed to properly ask and answer any questions they may have, of course they're going to learn to dislike the subject as a whole! You just made them feel lied to about the whole purpose of it!

In some cases, this can go even further than just the students' interpretation – for example, everyone in my own literature analysis class had heard of the author who took a standardized literature test that included part of their work, but found none of the questions about it had answers that were accurate to their intentions and text. How are you meant to reconcile a story like that with all the assignments and quizzes that ask about "what the author intended"? With the supposed lesson of these studies being to foster your personal understanding of texts, whether you read or write them? Being told, over and over, that you are "wrong" for attempting to do exactly as the class claims to teach you and seeing for yourself that the "correct answers/intended understandings of the text" are just opinions agreed upon by a couple of strangers writing these test booklets – that's going to make anyone bitter. Of course some of these students are going to throw the whole concept of literary analysis in the trash – it was presented to them by the dumpster.

"The curtains are just blue" not as in "blue curtains may never hold any meaning", but as in "I don't even want to look at another question that claims to care about what I think the curtains represent, since I know it's all false platitudes anyway, so the curtains might as well be meaningless."

There's more I could say here about the different layers of "the curtains are just blue", and I probably will one day, but here's one aspect that's been on my mind lately. Contrary to how a lot of people seem to think when it comes to "piss on the poor" comments, you're not going to be able to shame people into something (developing their individual interpretations and interest in analysis) that they were shamed out of in the first place. So, maybe just keep that in mind the next time you see someone missing the point of a post, and try explaining it to them instead of reacting with derision.

* using "state" here to refer to multiple types of states, not just states in the USA.

[descendantofthesparrow]

POYW Rewrite V2 - Harry Hook x reader - P4

outfits;

=

“Someone turn the sun off,” Harry groaned as the alarm in the dorm went off-snatching Harry right out of his sleep. It had been hard to fall asleep on the cloud known as a bed-so Harry had taken all the blankets and moved to the floor-Gil joining him soon after.

“Good morning,” Gil said from above-having already woken up thanks to his body's alarm clock demanding he be up when the sun was. Harry glared up at Gil, who just smiled down at him. “it’s too damn early for yer sunshine ass.” Harry grumbled, taking a pillow and smacking Gil in the legs-burying his face in another pillow and hiking his leg up to go back to sleep.

“C’mon Harry, breakfast is about to be called and I wanna see what kinda eggs they have!” Gil whined, tugging at Harry’s limp arm. Harry just lay there-not caring for breakfast, fake snoring as Gil pulled his upper body up and shook him. “Harrryyyy,” Gil gave up after a few moments, sighing as he looked around the room.

10 minutes to breakfast, and Gil really really wanted to go eat, he was starving- running and sneaking around always made him hungry. Harry was nearly asleep when he felt himself get picked up and was suddenly blasted with cold water-that quickly turned heavenly warm.

“Gil tha’ fuck?!” Harry yelped, his boxers and tank top soaked as he sat under the showerhead-glaring up at Gil who just smiled, happy he had woken Harry up. “Shower-get dressed! The body wash smells like Uma!” Gil said, the last thing mentioned as an afterthought but it very much caught Harry’s attention. He groaned, standing and stripping his soaked sleep clothes, tossing them to the bathroom floor, and quickly showering.

The body wash didn’t smell exactly like Uma-but it was very much the same stuff she used. (though by the time it got to the isle-it was nearly empty) It made Harry feel just a bit less homesick.

A knock at the door made Gil get up to answer it after pausing the same cartoon he had been watching the day before. Gil greeted you with a cheer and you told him it was about to be breakfast, nodding when Gil said Harry was just getting a shower and they would be there in a few.

“Cool-see you there!” With that, the door closed and Harry shut off the shower, sighing as the hot water left him. Hot water-another thing these Auradon prats kept to themselves-for the isle to even get a warm shower-it took several barrels of boiling water.

Harry towel dried his hair, walking through the dorm naked as Gil stared at the cartoon, not caring for Harry’s nudity-having seen it more than once. Harry had long lost his shame-for more than one reason but he was also just comfortable with Gil. Harry shoved on a new pair of boxers and a ripped pair of black jeans.

He settled for something comfortable and casual, putting on a long-sleeved black shirt and a red flannel over it, attaching a silver chain to his belt loops, and putting on his multitude of rings. “Ye ready?” Harry asked Gil, fluffing up his hair and putting his eyeliner on as Gil nodded, already out the door by the time Harry tied his boots off.

“C’mon man wait up” Harry groaned, locking the door after him and jogging after gil, yawning as they made their way to the cafeteria. He could feel eyes on him, all ogling him, he peered at one girl with auburn hair-and she flushed as she locked eyes, and Harry couldn’t help but notice the wings that stuck out her back. He rose his brow at her and she squeaked, rushing off with a girl with long violet-black hair that was tied into a braid-she also had wings.

He never would’ve guessed fairies went to Auradon prep-he assumed they all stayed in neverland. Harry paused as he and Gil stepped into the cafeteria, mouths watering at the smell wafting through the air. “oh what is that?” Harry muttered, grabbing Gil’s sleeve as he went on his toes to get a better look-because being six foot one didn’t help seeing over the crowd of students who were rushing to get in line before the bell rang.

“I dunno, but it smells amazing-“ Gil muttered back, getting in line with Harry-smiling as you stepped in behind them. “Hey-what’s that smell?” Gil asked, and you peered around the line-beaming when you realized what it was. “French toast~” you hummed, rubbing your hands together as Harry admired your jet-black hoodie with designs on it that would make Frollo choke. “it’s one of my favorite breakfasts, it seems they pulled out all the stops too-I can see the cinnamon rolls from here~!”

Whatever cinnamon rolls were-they smelled fucking awesome.

Harry was practically drooling by the time they got to the front of the line-Gil’s jaw dropping as he took in the eggs lined up behind the staff in the kitchen-ready to be cooked to any students liking. “How you want your eggs darling?” a woman with a thick southern accent asked, her bright green eyes amused as Gil just gaped like a fish, looking over the menu full of egg possibilities. Harry snicked, planting his hand on Gil’s shoulder to peer at the menu.

How in the hell did this staff have time to make this many different types of eggs for-hundreds of students? “Just get the over-easy Gil, it’s what ye usually ‘ave at the chip shop in the mornin’” Harry muttered, and Gil let out an odd sound that Harry guessed meant thanks, Harry got the same thing-like Gil-the options were overwhelming and he needed something familiar.

Even if the eggs were fresher than hell and nothing looked more than five minutes old.

Gil got something called pancakes, and Harry got French toast; admiring the powder-covered slices of bread that smelled like heaven. They kept going down the line-picking out whatever they liked from the buffet. Hashbrowns, apple slices, grapes(Gil found a new favorite fruit, raisins be damned(they learned raisins were grapes just dehydrated)), bacon(one of the best things in the world Harry later decided), and one more thing that Harry would soon realize was heaven on earth.

Cinnamon rolls.

“Simanim rolls-“ Harry muttered, watching as Mrs. Potts slid a still steaming pan full of freshly iced rolls into the line and dishing one out each for him and Gil. Harry couldn’t help but notice the extra icing on his roll, but didn’t mention it, smirking as Mrs. Potts winked at him.

“Cin-na-mon-“ you corrected from behind, not in a condescending way-simply correcting his pronunciation. “Simanim-“ Harry tried again, unable to get his mouth around the words, and you laughed gently- sending a flush to Harry’s cheeks. “Don’t worry about it-I said nightbares until I was like-twelve, and I still say renember to this day,” You patted his back as you reached around him to grab a brown carton-the words on it catching Harry’s eye.

Chocolate milk.

He liked chocolate so far-and milk….milk had to be good here right? It wouldn’t be curdled or rotten like on the isle, because like hell bore-adon brats would drink that shit. Harry grabbed one of the cartons along with a bottle of apple juice and followed you to a table, once again sitting with Lonnie and another girl with a short bob and a big-ass ugly bow in her hair.

Bow girl squeaked-going pale as he and Gil sat down. “Jane,” you sighed, reaching out to stop her from leaving. “they’re fine-they won't hurt you-I promise.” Jane just stared, looking as if just a blink from Harry would kill her. Harry drew his gaze away-she reminded him of the pup(Carlos)-terrified of the smallest thing and looking as if a strong gust of wind would send her for the hills.

“You’re really pretty!” Harry heard instead of your encouraging words, and Harry snapped his head to look at Gil, pinching his exposed arm as Jane stared at Gil in shock. “Gil-“ Harry hissed, turning to Jane with a forced smile. “Sorry-he has no filter, no idea when ta’ shut up.” Gil just frowned, tilting his head.

“What’s wrong with what I said? She’s really pretty, ain't she?” Harry sighed, covering his eyes with this hand. He guessed all the smarts Gil had yesterday had left-and now only one brain cell remained. One brain cell Gil refused to filter his thoughts and always just blurted out the first thing that flew through his brain.

This time-it was saying Jane was pretty-so it wasn’t world-ending but still. Harry peered through his fingers at Jane-who was staring at Gil with her cheeks bright red, one of her hands reaching up to touch her face. “You-you really think so?” Jane asked, her voice quiet and-almost in awe. As if a boy had never thought or told her she was pretty.

“Trust me lassie,” Harry spoke up instead of Gil, who had his mouth full of eggs but was nodding anyway. “he’s got no filter between this” Harry pointed at Gil’s brain and then his mouth. “and this, ye heard Gil’s hundred percent truth.” Jane just stared at Gil, finally looking away after a few moments as he smiled at her-squeaking out something that sounded like ‘thank you’.

Harry huffed in amusement, cutting up his toast after spreading some butter and syrup on it(per your suggestion) and taking a bite. He paused, reaching out with his free hand to grab Gil’s shoulder. Gil turned to look at him, laughing at the star-struck look on Harry’s face. “Damn dude-that good? Want us to give you a moment with your breakfast?” Gil teased, laughing as Harry let out a quiet groan and then continued to devour his French toast.

You giggled, shaking your carton of milk and gesturing for Harry to do the same-which he did-following your lead in opening the carton and taking a sip.

This breakfast just had one miracle after the other-chocolate milk was almost as amazing as root beer. Harry licked his lips as he practically chugged the carton, not a chunk or sourness to be seen in his milk-only silky-smooth amazingness. You watched him amused as he tried the other bits of his breakfast-his eyes locking onto his still warm cinnamon roll.

“Go on~” you sang, using your fork to pull open your roll and show him the inside-wonderful gooey cinnamon paste mixing with the thick icing. “The middle’s the best part.”

Harry stabbed his cinnamon roll, making Gil snort through his egg, watching as Harry pulled apart the roll and speared the middle bit, shoving the very warm cinnamon bread into his mouth.

And Harry now knew what heaven was like-it was cinnamon, whatever the hell it was mixed with, icing, and warm sugar bread. A shiver actually went up his spine and he grabbed your hand; staring at the heaven-made dessert with wide eyes. You laughed, tears in your eyes as Harry stared at you with stars for eyes. “Gil, I think we’ve lost him,” you teased as Harry quickly went back to the blessing known as a cinnamon roll, tearing it apart with a ferocity only a boy deprived of sugar his whole life could have.

“We’ll see him in two to three business days when he comes down from-whatever this is,” Gil joked, waving his hand over Harry, who was completely enveloped in his breakfast, his arms crowding the tray-daring anyone to take his food.

“A sugar rush, that’s what this is.” you supplied, covering your smile with your hand as you watched Harry devour his breakfast, and soon there was nothing left and Harry was looking back at the line-swallowing as he found the section where the cinnamon rolls were. He knew he was allowed seconds, but he wasn’t sure if that counted for the cinnamon rolls-they might’ve only made enough for one per student.

Before he could think further, you were standing and skipping over to the line-holding up two fingers to Mrs. Potts who beamed and handed you a plate with fresh cinnamon rolls. Harry balked as you walked back over and slid one on his pate-spitting the other with Jane who had finally relaxed after seeing Harry experience a cinnamon roll for the first time.

All too soon-the bell rang-alerting students that breakfast had ended and it was time to get ready for class-which was in 10 minutes for Harry. Harry sighed, downing the rest of his chocolate milk and licking the icing from his fingers

You stepped in line with Harry and Gil to grab your book bags from your rooms, leading them across the courtyard to Auradon prep itself and showing them their lockers, handing them two slips of paper with their locker codes. Harry glared down at his code; he was horrid at remembering numbers-he would have to tattoo this shit on his wrist to make sure he remembered the damn thing.

But he opened his locker anyway-stashing the slip away in his pocket as he got out his 1st-period class books. First up-English. Fun. Harry sighed again, pausing in the middle of the hall as he watched you walk the other way. “Where are ye going?” Harry called, dodging a few students who were rushing to get to their class. You turned to face him, smiling a bit. “Attached already?” Harry sputtered and couldn’t help the flush on his cheeks as you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m pullin’ your leg-I have math, I’ll see you in chemistry!” with that-you were gone, off to your first class of the day.

Harry huffed, turning on his heel to catch up to Gil, pausing at the door of their classroom, most of the class had already arrived, leaving few seats for the two new kids. All those students turned to stare at them-whispering amongst each other as they did.

Harry forced himself to look down seeing a red-haired kid wearing forest green. No-no way-there was no damn way, of course, his first fucking class was with Pan’s kid.

“Ah-Mr. Hook and Mr. Legume-happy to have you with us.” Harry glanced up at his new teacher-who was a tall lanky man with soft brown eyes and a pointed nose, wearing deep greens and browns. “How about you take a seat right there.” He pointed at the set of seats on the opposite side of the room-far away from the Pan kid.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, daring to glance back at Pan-who was staring hard at him. Harry smacked the back of his head as he turned away-feeling a dangerously familiar itch there. ‘gods please, not here,’ Harry thought to himself, begging whatever gods were listening to let himself keep a hold of his mind.

“Is it flaring up?” Gil asked quietly-it being the curse Harry’s father had passed down to him upon birth, a curse born of Neverland and madness; whenever Harry got particularly angry or stressed-his eyes would go red and he would lose touch with reality and himself, losing himself into violence and blood.

Only once did he fully lose control, and it didn’t end well for the person who had tried to take his little sister.

Harry nodded, biting his cheek to bring himself back down to earth-doing his best to ignore the Pan kid-if he looked at them, he was sure he would lose control and Gil would have to knock him out to keep him from hurting anyone.

And then he would surely be sent back to the isle, he wasn’t ready to face his father again-not after feeling freedom for the first time-it had only been a day. So Harry took several deep breaths, messing with the point of his hook(honestly how had he been allowed to keep it so far?) until that pressure at the back of his head went away.

Deep breaths until the whispers went away.

Harry jolted back to attention as the teacher, professor. Thatch the blackboard said, clapped his hands-pushing up his glasses as he welcomed his 1st-period class. “Good morning guys, welcome back, and welcome to” he nodded to Harry and Gil then-turning back to address the whole class afterward. “History of Auradon, now as I mentioned-we will be learning beyond Auradon-as I do believe learning the history of other nations and kingdoms give benefit to a growing mind-so! Today, we’ll start with the history before Auradon, before Fairy godmother and the other grand fairies of the land cast the spell to converge our many lands together to create the USA.”

Now, this was news to Harry, Auradon didn’t use to all be one kingdom? They were separate at one point? Harry could tell many other students in the room were coming to the same realization-gasping slightly at Professor Thatch; which he beamed at, happy to teach something new. “yes-you heard me correctly, Auradon used to be hundreds of separate kingdoms, all separated by sea, land, mountains, forests-everything was hundreds of miles apart until twenty years ago when our king Adam and the grand fairies made a deal to unite the kingdoms and create a strong singular kingdom to protect its people from Evil. At the same time-the isle was created, built from the ground up from an island that had long sunk to the bottom of the sea-the isle of the lost was actually originally known as; the Isla de muerta, or when roughly translated into English; the Island of Death.”

Harry perked up again-Isla de muerta, or more correctly known as Isla de la Muerte, was a legendary island from pirate lore-said to be cursed by Aztec treasure that had been cursed by the gods after Hernán Cortés angered them- the isle only to be found by those who already knew where it was.

Many of those cursed by the treasure-were now on the isle again without even knowing it-one being Hector Barbossa himself.

Harry-for the first time-was entranced in a history lesson, his eyes glued to the professor as he spoke energetically of how and when FG and King beast had created the deal and spelled the separate kingdoms into one. By the time the bell rang-Harry was actually disappointed-wanting to hear more from Professor Thatch.

The professor seemed to feel the same way, sighing as he clapped his hands. “Well-that’s it for today, by the end of this week we will have a quiz on this topic! Study hard and have a good rest of your day! And remember your homework!” Harry and Gil waited until the rest of the class had left to make their way out-wanting to avoid the chaos of the halls as they went their separate ways, Harry to math class(joy) and Gil to safety rules for the internet.

Harry felt a deep pit of dread collect in his gut as he traveled to his next class, swallowing hard as he stared up at the class number that hung above the doors. He hated math-he had always been horrid with numbers-but thankfully he never really needed it on the isle and skipping class was something ‘smiled’ upon at serpent prep.

He was sure if he skipped here, he would get in a lot of trouble. So Harry sighed, straightened his back, and stepped into the class-pressing his lips together as he looked around the room.

This class was set up differently than the last-history was almost theater like-with rows and rows of seats sitting higher up on each lever-this class had separate desks spread across the room. Harry was somehow the first there, and he stepped further in-swallowing as he made eye contact with the teacher. She was tall and thin, with long curly black hair and deep brown skin-her eyes golden brown-wearing soft yellows and pinks.

She almost reminded him of Uma.

She smiled, and Harry frowned back, feeling uneasy. “Harry right?” she asked, and Harry nodded, crossing his arms as she gestured into the room. “Welcome to math class sweetheart-take a seat-I don’t do assigned seating. I’m Jennifer Honey.”  Harry nodded again, muttering his full name-realizing she already knew it-and quickly took a seat at the back as more students moved into the room behind him.

Lonnie sat next to him with a beaming smile and Harry relaxed a bit-even if she was an Auradon brat-at least he had someone familiar in this class. “Hi Harry,” she whispered and he hummed back, his leg bouncing as Ms. Honey welcomed each student into the room, that warm smile still on her lips.

The teacher was nice-but as class started-Harry realized he was in for an infuriating time. Time and time again, his father, sister, Uma, and his uncle Smee had tried to teach him any sort of math-and time and time again, he just-couldn’t grasp the concept, he understood the absolute basics, but anything bigger than that? And he would fizzle out like a wet candle, burned down to frustrated tears and a pit in his chest.

Every once in a while-he would finally grasp a concept-like when Uma was attempting to teach him basic algebra when they were 13-and Harry practically jumped for joy for finally understanding-and yet the next day-it was gone, slipping through his fingers as he desperately tried to understand the question in front of him.

He gave up around 14, done with it all and done with how he just couldn’t get anything to stay in his brain. And as Ms. Honey started to write on her blackboard, Harry knew it would only end the same way it did years before, with Harry cursing himself out and tearing the math book to pieces.

Even now-the numbers and equations Ms. Honey wrote down were blurring in front of Harry’s eyes, turning to a mess of switched numbers and a headache at the back of Harry’s head. Harry sighed, looking down at his notebook and staring to doodle-knowing there was no point if he couldn’t even read the questions.

Harry noticed the small screen that sat under his math book on the desk, showing the blackboard Ms. Honey was writing on. Harry shoved his notebook over it, doodling until Uma showed up on the pages, her braids flowing over her shoulders and back as she rolled her eyes at his math class.

He missed her.

Soon a paper was shoved in his face by the student in front of him-and Harry’s blood went cold as he took it. A fucking test.

Great-just great-maybe he should’ve paid attention.

He felt that itch and pressure at the back of his head again as he stared down at the test-years of stress and frustration over math coming back in a single moment and Harry considered ripping the test up and telling Auradon math to fuck off. But he had to be on his best behavior if he didn’t want to make anyone suspicious and picked up a pencil, his hand buried in his hair as he glared down at his paper.

He couldn’t even understand the first fucking question-all the odd symbols and letters refusing to make sense. He tried to do something-get some numbers on the paper but he didn’t even know where to start-didn’t know what anything meant. He could barely recognize the words on the paper asking him the questions.

Eventually, he just gave up, he dropped his pencil and sighed; covering his face with his hands and just sat there-feeling Lonnie and Ms. Honey’s eyes on him as his leg continued to bounce, his hook that was attached to his hip bouncing with it. When Ms. Honey’s timer went off-everyone handed their tests back up to the front, Harry glaring off into a corner, shame burning in his chest.

“Remember, this test has nothing to do with your grade-I just wanted to see where you all stood so I can teach you all in the best way possible for you, now move along! I’ll see you all tomorrow!” and just like that-the bell rang and Harry was the first up, grabbing his bag and running out of the room-ignoring the burning eyes on his back as he rushed to his next class; life without magic.

He nearly slammed into Mal on his way down the hall, glaring down at her as she stumbled to regain her balance. She turned to glare at him but paused when she saw his eyes, her brows furrowing into heavily concealed concern. “Your eyes are red.” She whispered, his curse was something well known on the isle-some didn’t believe it-like Mal’s mother-but Mal had seen it time and time again when they were all younger, and Uma had been Mal’s friend and Harry hung around them to be with Uma.

Mal knew how dangerous it was-and how dangerous it could be not partially blocked by the barrier. “And?” Harry snarled, just wanting to get away from the school already-but again, first day. Wouldn’t do well to disappear only 2 hours into the day. Mal just stared, then shook her head, passing him up to go into the classroom.

Harry took a moment to force himself to calm down-which didn’t really work-and slid into the room, huffing as he noticed the only open seat without a name was the one next to Mal. And it was at the front of the class-great.

Harry stomped over next to Mal and plopped down-grumpily resting his chin in his palm as he glared off into a corner, ignoring Mal’s sigh as she got out her books. Harry realized the class looked like a kitchen, with a sink between him and Mal and the desks were practically cutting board counters.

“huh,” Harry muttered-snorting as he saw the teacher fly in-it was a short woman dressed in blue with small wings, jet black hair, and a round face. Mal groaned and slammed her face into the desk.

The teacher was fucking Merryweather-one of the three good fairies Mal’s mom detested. Oh how fucking hilarious-okay-all thoughts of horrid math were gone-now he got to enjoy Mal’s suffering.

10/10 day.

And they were cooking! Not only that-baking!!! Fuck yes best day. It was a well-guarded secret that Harry liked to cook, only Uma, Gil, and his sisters got the privilege to eat what he made-and even on the isle-he was a damn good cook. More than once he took over for Cook back at the chip shop when she was unable to make it, he never minded it-able to hang out with Uma and help her out at the same time.

Harry snickered as Mal hid behind her book-not wanting to be seen by the blue fairy, glaring at him as he laughed quietly. Her glare softened as she watched the red disappear from his eyes and she rolled her eyes-ignoring the fact that the tightness in her chest went away at the sight of it. She would never admit she was worried for him; they were enemies after all, and she would applaud for the day he got his ass kicked.

Never-no way would she ever admit to being relieved to see Harry relaxing, especially if it meant her suffering.

“Good morning students!” Merryweather said with a clap of hands and then smoothing down the apron she wore. “And welcome to Life without magic, today-bread! A staple in any home life, plus it’s delicious. Today we make the dough and tomorrow-we bake! Let’s get started.”

Harry decided he liked this class so far, getting his hands messy, flour in his hair, and watching Mal struggle to get her dough to pull together, everything was actually pretty fun. And by the end of the class-he and everyone else were putting their rounds of dough into the riser at the back of the class and they would bake their bread the next day as Merryweather said.

Harry cleaned up, snickering at Mal’s mess, she was covered in flour and was glaring at the mess of dough on her fingers-sticking to the rings she hadn’t taken off like Harry had. Harry grabbed his notes and slid them into his bag, looking up as Merryweather clapped her hands and gestured around the room to her students. “great job guys, for this week-your homework, is finding recipes you want to make and by the end of the week-you’ll make them for me during class-see you tomorrow!”

And once again, the bell rang and everyone filed out, Mal still picking flour and dough from her hair, grumbling as she followed Harry-using the wide berth everyone gave him and Mal to keep from getting pushed into the crowd. “And yer followin’ me why?” Harry asked, just wanting to get to lunch already and not be around her till remedial goodness.

Mal just rolled her eyes, skipping around and ahead-colliding with Evie who gasped at Mal’s appearance-tugging her off to a bathroom to fix her up. Harry felt a now familiar presence step next to him and he looked to his side to see you, giving him a small smirk. “How was your morning?” you asked and Harry blew his bangs out of his eyes-glaring at nothing as you pouted at his response. “oh, that bad?”

Harry shrugged, tilting his hook back and forth. “Not really, just math class sucked, I hate it-can’t understand it.” You nodded in agreement, waving to Gil as he ran up to walk on Harry’s other side. “History and life skills was pretty fun though, I got to make bread.”

You clapped; happy he had found something fun to do today. “Awesome! Bread is so fucking good, especially homemade bread, speaking of bread-lunch!” with that-you were off to the cafeteria-Gil and Harry close behind-Gil looking very excited for Lunch, he had been starving since Chemistry.

Today's lunch was every sandwich under the sun, from the bread to vegetables, everything was customizable, and several lunch ladies made every sandwich from the base up for the students. Harry blanked out for a moment at all the options then settled on a turkey sandwich with bacon~.

He grabbed a bag of chips, apple slices, and a root beer before sitting down with you and Gil at a nearly empty table; Jane and Lonnie once again joining them. “hi Gil,” Jane whispered, smiling shyly as he beamed back. “hi Jane!” he said with his mouth full, mayo and crumbs on the corners of his mouth. But Jane didn’t seem deterred at the sight, only giggling a bit.

Harry smirked behind his fist-knowing exactly what that giggle meant-he had heard it time and time again from the many girls of the isle who had crushes on him and Gil-the little bluebird had a crush on Gil-and he was oblivious as ever.

He shared a look with you and Lonnie, who both held the smirk as him, all laughing quietly as Jane continued to stare at Gil with pink cheeks and a shy smile.

Harry perked up as you suddenly gasped, taking out a box from your bag and setting it in front of Harry. “For you-leftovers from this morning~” you sang, laughing as Harry popped open the box and stabbed the cinnamon roll with a fork-grinning manically as he tore out the middle and stuck it in his mouth-his eyes closing as he savored the amazingness of the cinnamon roll.

“Thank you,” Harry said and absolutely meant it. Gil look surprised to hear that coming from Harry-but just laughed it off and went back to his food, asking Jane about what she liked about the school and her favorite way to eat eggs.

Jane seemed surprised to hear him actually talk to her but answered anyway-the pink in her cheeks getting darker as she twirled a short strand of hair around her finger-a small frown forming as she noticed her ‘ugly’ bob.

As Gil and Jane talked-Harry listened to you and Lonnie, well-not really listen-mostly zone out while he ate his sandwich and cinnamon roll. He took an apple slice, dipped it in the caramel provided(another thing he proclaimed was from heaven), and took a bite-hearing the crisp crunch of the apple as he bit it in half. Damn-who knew apples could be crisp? All they got on the isle were squishy ones they used to make cider.

Gross cider-but cider nonetheless.

All too soon lunch was over-it was only an hour long-and Harry realized they had remedial goodness right after it. Harry groaned, rubbing his face as he and Gil made their way to the class-the other vks behind them. All six of them were not excited about this-a solid hour with FG? With her-bubbliness and sickly smile? And baby talk!? Gods Harry would rather be in the isle stocks for three days again than do this-anything would be better than this.

The six vks filed into the room-way too many desks in there for just the six of them-Mal and her gang sat in the direct middle-spread out between the two inside desks. Harry and Gil sat at the back-nearest to the exit.

FG beamed at the sight of them-holding a wooden dowel and pointing it at the backboard behind her, where the words ‘welcome to remedial goodness’ were written. “welcome to remedial goodness 101~ as you know, im fairy godmother-and I hope through these classes; you will be able to make the correct choices and be your best while in Auradon.”

Mal and Harry let out quiet groans, Harry sliding down his chair and closing his eyes as Mal got out several pieces of scratch paper to draw on as FG began to write on the board. Things like ‘mouths are for smiling not biting’ and ‘sharing is caring’ were the first things to go on, and Gil made a small noise-wondering who had bitten someone already.

Probably Mal. She had the fangs for it.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” FG asked, now standing before two sets of questions, using her wooden dowel to point at the first one. “you see something you like at the market; do you A? steal it? B? buy it? C? break it? Or D; set the stand on fire?”

Harry audibly snorted at the last ‘answer-coughing as he laughed. Because oh my gods, that escalated so quickly! FG raised her brows at him, as if waiting for something and Harry shook his head, waving her eyes off. “I’m good-I’m good.” Harry giggled, patting his chest since he had inhaled spit thanks to his snort. Gil laughed quietly with him-getting the joke a bit late but laughing all the same.

Ja raised his hand, smirking as he did and FG happily pointed at him. “A, steal it.” Jay said-so sure that was the correct answer, and FG shook her head. “Incorrect.” Jay frowned-but-that’s-what? huh? Mal let her head drop-sighing a bit as she looked up from her drawing. She raised her hand and FG pointed at her. “B, buy it.” Mal grumbled and went back to her art as FG beamed and nodded.

“Correct~! Next question, you find a wallet with two hundred dollars in it, do you A? turn it over to the proper authorities? B? look for its owner? C? steal it? Or D; buy some new shoes with it?”

Evie’s hand popped up and FG nodded. “D, buy new shoes~” Evie sighed dreamily, imagining the shoes she could buy with 200 bucks. FG clicked her tongue and shook her head-and Evie frowned, but-new shoes? Mal once again sighed and raised her hand-answering with the ‘correct’ answer, which really was both A and B-which Mal did say. “A and B, look for its owner and turn it in to the proper authorities.” Mal muttered, ignoring the beaming pride on FG’s face.

Carlos let out an impressed huff, wondering how Mal was getting all these questions correct so easily?

“Wonderful, next one! You’re sailing the ocean and find treasure on an unmarked island, do you A? take it for yourself? B? leave it there? C? report your findings? Or D; mark it on your map and come back later for it with a permit?”

Gil and Carlos’ hands popped up, and FG pointed back at Gil. “B, leave it there?” Gil said-phrasing it like a question since he wasn’t sure that’s what he should do. Harry groaned, reminding himself never to let Gil go treasure hunting. FG smiled a bit and nodded. “Yes-that’s one of the things you could do, but the best thing to do is C or D, that way you could legally keep the treasure for yourself~!”

Gil let out a small gasp of awe, clapping his hands a bit as Harry sighed and let his head tip back-closing his eyes and wishing for the hour to be up already.

“If someone hands you a crying baby-do you A? curse it? B? lock it in a tower? C? give it a bottle? Or D; carve out its heart?”

Harry snapped up to stare at FG with wide eyes-both in ‘dear god that is the stupidest question in the world’ and ‘oh my god that got so dark so quickly

Evie raised her hand-and FG beamed, gesturing for her to speak. “Evie~” FG sang, her smile dropping as Evie just asked what was the 2nd answer again. “oh-okay, anyone else?” the vks were silent-unsure of the answer as Mal continued to doodle, her eyes drawn up as FG called her name gently.

“C, give it a bottle.” Mal muttered, dropping her eyes again as FG cooed at her. “correct, again~” Carlos let out an impressed whistle, turning to Mal as she rolled her eyes. “you are on fire girl?” he said as Mal scrunched her face up-wondering how they were failing to understand the questions. “just pick the one that doesn’t sound like any fun?” Mal said as if it was obvious, and it was-since everyone let out a small gasp and Evie muttered that it made so much sense.

Mal mocked them with a gasp of her own and went back to her art.

Gil perked up as he saw Jane walk past him and Harry-she smiled at him and squeaked in fear as she squirreled past the main four, Mal quickly noticed the resemblance between her and FG as Jane quickly shoved a clipboard into her hands-knocking Evie with her elbow to get her attention.

Harry opened his eyes as he heard a now familiar snort, smirking as he saw you walk by, looking down at him amused with several files in your hand. “That boring?” you mouthed to him and he mimicked shooting himself in the mouth, smiling as you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

Gil smirked, glancing between the two of you as Harry kept staring at you, watching as you handed FG the files while FG introduced her daughter to the vks. “Everyone here remembers my daughter, Jane?” Jane nearly panicked at her mother's words, turning to her with a begging plea. “Mom, no!” Jane gasped, clenching her jaw as FG turned her to face the vks-the only one she didn’t feel a stabbing fear for was Harry and Gil-who just stared back. “It's okay. Jane, this is everyone~”

Gil looked a bit concerned, which sent her heart racing for reasons other than fear. “hi-“ she whispered to the main four, who were just staring at her, Mal practically staring into her soul. “that’s okay-don’t mind me, as you were!”

Jane quickly sped past them with a squeal, her cheeks turning pink as Gil said bye to her with that big grin of his.

FG went to put the files you had given her on the lectern when you grabbed her attention-signaling for her to lean down so you could talk. “Yes?” she asked quietly, nodding as you spoke. “They’re teenagers, not toddlers-don’t treat them like kindergarteners who can’t stop themselves from eating paste.” FG hummed; nodding-she hadn’t tried that! Maybe she would get more of a response from Harry and Mal if she did. “Good idea,” FG whispered back, sending you off with a wave.

You winked at the vks, mouthing ‘you’re welcome’ to them as you walked past, Harry’s eyes zoning onto the cookies you pulled from your jacket pocket as you walked out.

Harry caught the pack of cookies you tossed back at them-sharing a devilish grin with Gil who laughed quietly, you always seemed to have some sort of snack on you-most of which you shared with Harry.

“let's continue,” FG said, turning back to the blackboard. “you find a vial of poison;” Thank god she stopped with the baby talk. “Do you A? put it in the king's wine.” Oh, Harry would very much love to do that. His damn fault he was on the isle in the first place. “B? paint it on an apple?” Evie and Mal shared a giggle at that. “or c? turn it over to the proper authorities?”

With Mal’s advice-everyone was now sure of the answer and eagerly raised their hands, including Gil. Harry just let out a slow sigh from his nose, hiking his feet up on the chair in front of him and letting his eyes close, hearing Jay and Carlos rough around as Jay answered the question. “C, you turn it over to the proper authorities? Jay said all smugly, grinning as Carlos shoved him a bit. “I was gonna say that!” Carlos wined, yelping as Jay tugged him onto the desk and stuck his wet finger in Carlos’ ear. “oh but who said it first-who said it first?!”

Harry didn’t even open his eyes as the two tumbled about on their desk-FG hitting her dowel on the lectern to gain their attention. “boys, boys!” They stopped, staring at FG with wide eyes. “im going to encourage you to use that energy, on the tourney field.” FG said, gesturing out towards the field that was sitting just next to the school.

“oh no, that’s okay.“ Carlos said with a dismissive laugh, ushing Jay off him. “whatever that is-we’ll pass.” Jay just looked confused, wondering what the hell tourney was-Gil asked Harry the same question and Harry shrugged; not caring about it.

He had heard you mention it once or twice with Lonnie, but he was more interested in whatever Roar was, because he heard the word ‘swords’ once and his attention was officially drawn.

“I’ll be letting coach Jenkins know of your arrival at tryouts-which are right after school lets out. Okay?” Jay and Carlos sighed, nodding. “okay, let’s continue.”

-

Finally, the hour was up and the vks were getting ready to head to their next class, Evie and Harry had chemistry while Jay, Gil, and Mal went to math, and Carlos had history.

“Harry, Gil? if I could speak to you for a moment?” Harry let out a long sigh as he paused in leaving, turning to walk back over to FG as she waited for him and Gil to stand in front of her. “aye?” Harry asked, already tired of today. “I wanted you both to be involved in our sports as well, and I think Gil; you would like tourney, and Harry; you would like Roar-which is a fencing team.” Harry kept his reaction to a minimum-but he knew his eyes lit up at those words.

Fencing? Aka swords?! Sign him the fuck up. FG seemed to sense his enthusiasm and beamed. “wonderful, tryouts for Roar are tomorrow after school, in the amphitheater connected to the gym. Coach Jenkins is also in charge of it but the captain decides their team-so good luck to you, Harry. You may go.”

With that-the boys ran off-leaving FG alone with the files she had been given. She took the top one and opened it, the name at the top reading ‘Harry James Hook’

-

Harry James Hook; son of Captain James Hook. Age; 16, male, born April 21st, 1999. Siblings; Harriet and Calista Jane Hook. Classes; History of woodsmen and pirates, history of Auradon, internet safety, remedial goodness 101, math, English, chemistry, life skills without magic, and chivalry. Electives; N/A notes; Attached to Gil, does not seem to like the other vks much(especially Mal and Jay-seems to have less of a problem with Carlos and Evie), seems to have trouble with math’s/numbers, possible dyscalculia; please inform staff of this and have it dealt with accordingly. Permit given for hook, do not take-possibly emotionally attached. Reactive, fight before flight.

Warning; possible curse, Ms. Honey reported his eyes going red during math’s-due to the stress involved, Merryweather reported feeling intense magical pressure coming from his head, and Professor Thatch noticed a reaction to Tara Pan, red eyes, twitching in his left arm, heavy breathing, and tightness in the body(potential panic attack); suggested temporary solution-switch Harry out of that shared period for history of Auradon to prevent any potential fights.(keep eye on Pan and the lost kids, they might pick a fight and set him off) Research suggests this may be the madness curse, or the curse of the blood god, given to Captain Hook back when he lived on neverland from the fairies of Neverland, irreversible, violent, and dangerous. Stress and anger are possible triggers for episodes.

Harry is otherwise fine-but will need special care to keep him safe.

-

FG sighed, setting down the paper, oh that poor boy. “this is going to be harder than I thought,” she whispered, hoping she could keep a handle on these kids, hoping she wouldn’t have to do anything drastic.

She was just glad Harry seemed to like you already-you had a good head on your shoulders. FG looked up as her next class arrived, she had forgotten she had magical history after remedial goodness, she smiled and wiped the board clean-welcoming her new students.

-end of p4-

Whoooo boi-long one, hoped yall liked seeing Harry go to class~ and see more of my lil blood god curse(yes inspired by technoblade/ that one fic from 2017) up next-chemistry and tourney try outs~

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