#Final Exams to be held by end of September

[lewsnumerounofan]

dirty pt2 (theodore nott x reader)

summary: theo wants u back. that’s it.

notes: theo pov-ish, boy is grovelling, unedited, angst, mentions of smut

+ really wanna do a filthy smut oneshot of them as like a pt3 kinda what u think

+ part one

Theo couldn’t find you anywhere. It was like you’d disappeared off the face of the fucking planet and left him alone, sulking through the cold castle hallways.

Ever since the party—the party where he’d left you like the idiot he was—you’d been a ghost. Even after rumour spread that you’d broke up with your golden boy boyfriend, you’d stayed away.

In your place, all Theo had done was miss you. It was stupid. He was stupid—a right git Mattheo has said—for what he’d done. What he’d been doing, really. Months of hook ups had given him plenty of time to talk to you about his feelings, about the two of you. Instead he’d squandered all his chances on you, on feeling you, on the pretty sounds you made under him. It had been hard to resist.

Except now it meant that he’d let all his longing and jealousy boil over into one cruel, ill-timed statement.

Isn’t that what you have your boyfriend for, ama?

Yeah, brilliant move Theo.

He exhaled harshly, watching his breath on the cold winters air. Tugging his coat tighter he took another drag of his cigarette, idly thumbing over the lighter in his other hand.

Where could you be? You only shared one class, and lately you’d taken to skipping it. He’d checked the library, the courtyard, and just about every other fucking room in the school. Bloody nothing.

And then, as if carried to him on the lightly falling snow, and idea. A memory, really.

It’d been a few months ago, after a particularly tricky exam. He’d seen you leave class crying and hadn’t been able to stop himself from following.

To ease his own conscious he’d promised himself it was just so he could ask you for the notes on a previous days lecture (notes he had, as always, already stole from the Ravenclaw he sat behind). Not because his chest tugged at the sight of your teary eyes, and certainly not because he had been feeling the ever growing urge to lay into whoever—or whatever—had your pretty eyes all glassy.

So he’d trailed you through the castle, winding up and up and up until you’d emerged onto a secluded balcony. Shrouded with shrubs and small, intricate statues, the small patio looked over much of the castle and grounds; to the west the river rolled heavy and full.

You hadn’t even looked surprised to see him. Just let your arms fall across his shoulders as you’d hugged him tight.

He hadn’t gotten the notes that day. He’d just held you up there on the terrace until the sun went down, all the while carting his fingers through your hair and muttering that you’d be just fine.

The boy stamped out his cig, doing his best to shake off the memory. No use dwelling on it if you never even spoke to him again.

He cut curtly across the grounds, quickly winding his way through the stairwells and hallways. Paying no mind to Draco and Blaise who tried to wave him down by the great hall, Theo did his best to clamp down on the worry hounding him.

What if you weren’t there? Worse: what if you were? What if you wouldn’t talk to him, or if you did only to tell him that it’d all been a mistake? That leaving you there had been the final straw and you never wanted to see him again.

The boys face grew graver with each thought. His clear eyes clouded with anxiety and his brows tightened. Students in younger years hurried to clear a path as he strode through them. No one much wanted to be on the receiving end of Nott’s hexes.

Finally he arrived at the correct landing. This area of the castle was largely deserted. And besides, most people were already prepping for bed on their dorms.

But you’d had trouble sleeping since September. And it was a crescent moon tonight, your favourite. So you’d be here, despite the snow.

Theo wanted to laugh at himself for all theses stupid, mundane things he’d gathered about you. Every time he’d laid next to you after you’d fucked, every bit of tucked away conversation. He’d remembered.

Hidden in the shadows, he shook himself.

Get over yourself, Nott. Get over yourself, and get her back.

He gave himself no time to think before stepping onto the snowy balcony.

At first he didn’t see you, tucked up behind the thick white hedges. But against the heavy stone railing you perched, slender hands holding an unlit cigarette of your own.

You didn’t look surprised to see him. In fact, when your eyes met you seemed almost… expectant.

Theo settled beside you. His heart was running embarrassingly quickly at your snowy lashes, at your eyes—shining in the moonlight.

“Theo.”

It was even more embarrassing the effect your saying his name wreaked. Without fail it had his breath hitching. When he had you spread under him, when you sobbed his name and gripped his curls when he ate you out-

Theo tried hard not to let his cheeks go red.

You were staring out towards the moon reflecting off the water through the clouds.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t let his hand shake as he lit your cigarette either. When you finally locked eyes with him he said, “I wanted to apologize.”

He could tell the words gave you pause. Theodore Nott was most definitely not the type to apologize. Sulky, prideful and sarcastic, the boy typically wouldn’t be caught dead saying such things to anyone.

But you weren’t anyone, certainly not to Theo.

“I- I don’t know what I was thinking. Honestly. It was stupid to leave you at the party. All of it was stupid, how I treated you was wrong,” he said.

You’d never heard him speak so many words at once. And you’d never seen him look… nervous? The Theo before you was someone entirely new. His hands ran through his hair anxiously, and he bit at his lip harshly to keep any more rambling from spilling forth.

Keep it together, Theodore.

“What we were doing was wrong-“

“You mean the cheating? Or the whole bloody relationship, Nott?”

He wanted to curse himself. Perhaps if he’d spent a bit longer thinking about something intelligent to say and a little less about your eyes and your fucking smile he wouldn’t have to be facing your harsh scowl now.

Nothing was coming out how he needed it to, and Theo was painfully aware of your mounting temper. But he couldn’t blow this. Not if it meant what he feared; no more hallway glances, no more intimate touches, no more you.

“It wasn’t a relationship-“

“Brilliant Theodore, thanks for rubbing that it.”

“And that was the problem,” he said.

Frustration brought the two of you closer, until you stood, jabbing a finger into his chest. You had to crane your neck back to meet his gaze, dark and heavy in the moonlight.

“What?” you asked.

You mapped his sigh in the frosty air as Theo exhaled heavily. Steeling himself.

“It wasn’t a relationship. That was the problem. I treated you like a hook up for months and it wasn’t right.”

“But that’s what it was, Theodore. I had a boyfriend-“

He was shaking his head, taking your cold hands in his.

“Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. I had so much time to change that. To fight for you and what I knew I wanted. I was just too jealous and scared to do it.”

Your eyes were wide at his confession. Jealous, sure. But scared? Before you could question him Theo continued, words coming fast and desperate.

“I was terrified that if I did something—if I changed our relationship at all—I’d lose whatever part of you I got. Even if that was broom closet hookups and nothing more… I wouldn’t—I couldn’t lose that. And it took me until now to realize that you deserve better than that. You deserve everything.”

He took a deep breath, chest moving heavily.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t let you go without telling you that.”

Baby blue eyes on yours. Around you the snow fell in heavier swaths, blanketing Theo’s shoulders with the palest white. He looked like your own personal prince in shining armour.

“And can you give me that?” you asked, soft as the falling snow.

Words seemed to fail the boy in front of you.

“Everything?” you prompted.

“If… if you’d let me,” he said. Voice low but steady. Gaze on you, even while his hands shook.

You almost wanted to laugh at the whole beautiful scene. At the snow and the moonlight. At the grumpy boy who’d found you and talked to you in ways no one ever had before. At the absurdity of it all. At how his thumb traced over your knuckles like he was checking you were real.

“If I say yes, it means we fuck in real beds from now on. Okay?”

In disbelief Theo laughed. He pulled you closer. He let his forehead fall to yours. He thought, how did I get so fucking lucky.

“If you say yes we can fuck wherever you want.”

You wrapped your cold hands up in his curls. Kissed one rosy cheek, then the other. His birthmark.

“I have a condition too,” he murmured.

Barely pulling away enough to hum you let him take your face in his big hands.

“Don’t ever fucking call me Theodore again.”

You laughed as he kissed you, snowflakes melting on your lips.

-

taglist from pt1

@b00kdiary @peony-haze @hisparentsgallerryy @unclecrunkle @devotedlycrookeddonut

[yuurei20]

hi there!! idk if you've answered this before, but did the 5 student overblots happen over the span of 5 months ? one happening each month ? idk if im misremembering but I was sure that in book 6 that was mentioned, yet I can't find the chapter it's in. im assuming since the twst school year starts in september, riddle was the first, with vil being the last OB before book 6 sometime in january, but im not 100% sure

Hello hello! Thank you for this question!

I am not sure if we can pinpoint that overblots have been happening at a pace of exactly once a month, but as you say in Book 6 we learn from Idia that there have been five overblots "in less than six months," which he says on the same day as he overblots himself!

The Main Story will occasionally drop hints about the timeline: we know that the start of the school year is in September, and Cater mentions mentoring new students in Book 1 (in reference to the prefect, Grim, Ace and Deuce), so it does seem like Book 1 takes place in September!

We also know that the Interdorm Spelldrive Tournament of Book 2 is in October and Book 3 begins with the final exams of the year.

Book 4 begins on the last day of the fall semester and ends with Ace and Deuce wishing the prefect Happy New year, as they are reuniting for the first time post-winter vacation.

The VDC is held in mid-February, and the students are kidnapped by Charon "a few days later!"

An exact, official timeline may not have yet been released anywhere (that I have been able to find), but based on these clues we might be able to guess the following:

September: Riddle Overblot

October: Leona Overblot

November: Azul Overblot

December: Jamil Overblot

February: Vil and Idia Overblot

Malleus is a little more vague! There is a comment from Lilia and the prefect about it being spring at the beginning of Book 7, and we know that the Interscholastic Spelldrive Tournament is in May!

If the tournament has not yet happened, the timing of Malleus' overblot is presumably sometime between mid-to-late-February and May. If it is also still pre-spring-break, perhaps it was sometime in March? But this is all conjecture! :>

[the-al-chemist]

The Beginning of a Symphony - Chapter 40

A/N: the school year is ending, and it’s time for another goodbye. This time, it’s Héloïse’s turn.

Warnings: fluff.

OCs mentioned: Lavinia Macmillan @kc-and-co, Henry Lovelace @lifeofkaze

June 1897

The final night of term had arrived. The end of year exams were over, the trunks were all packed, and everyone in the castle was ready to enjoy their summers at home.

It was strange, Héloïse thought as she made her way up through the corridors, but a not-insignificant part of her was sad to be leaving. She would not have expected it when she first arrived at Hogwarts that frigid day the previous January, but she was going to miss the ramshackle castle, the cold and airy Ravenclaw common room, the moving staircase that made it almost impossible to find one’s way anywhere on time, and the lessons and conversations held in the language she was starting to feel like she might one day be able to master.

She had not believed the headmaster or Professor Macmillan when they had told her that she might one day come to consider Hogwarts a sort of home, but now, she considered it just that.

Of course, the thing that had made all the difference to her enjoyment of her time at Hogwarts had been the friends she had made within its walls; the girls in her dormitory, Henry Lovecraft the American, the francophone Slytherins, Madam Khanna the librarian, and Jim Hexley, with whom Héloïse was on her way to meet at Astronomy tower for the last time until she returned to school in September.

Since the night of the Celestial Ball, the two of them had made a habit of spending time at the Astronomy Tower, returning there almost every evening just before sundown and remaining there until curfew. In those precious few hours, they would sit peacefully and read, or catch up on schoolwork, or watch the stars, or draw. Sometimes they would even spend the entire time talking, which was unusual for Héloïse. She had never spoken so much to one person before, and she got the feeling that no one had ever listened so much to Jim before.

Tonight, however, Jim did not seem to want to talk. Despite not having brought a book - sketchbook or otherwise - with him, he remained taciturn as Héloïse sat with her back against the wall and her eyes on the rising moon. Normally, she wouldn’t have minded, but it being the last time they would see one another for three months, she would have preferred it if he had wanted to talk.

Eventually, she sighed loudly and asked him, “Jim, why are you quiet?”

“I… I do not know what to say,” Jim told her. She frowned at him. “It seems that… that anything I might say would not be right thing. That it would be too inconsequential, or perhaps not inconsequential enough. And I, er… Well, I am trying to concentrate.”

“Concentrate?”

“Focus,” said Jim. He cleared his throat. “I want to make sure I remember exactly what you look like before we go home tomorrow. I fear that I may forget something.”

Héloïse laughed. “You have drawings, no?”

“I do, but I am not… I lack the ability to truly capture how lovely you are.”

“This is untrue,” Héloïse said, but she smiled at the compliment. “You are going to write to me this summer, yes?”

“Yes. Yes, definitely.”

“And when we are to return, we will to come back here every evening?”

“Of course,” Jim nodded. “If we could return tomorrow, I would. I do not truly wish to leave at all, because I will not…” He smiled. “Because you will be missing to me.”

“You are mocking of me?” Héloïse asked him, one eyebrow raised.

“No, never.”

“It is sounding like you are mocking of me.”

“I’m not, I promise,” said Jim, his cheeks flushing pink. “Really, I do not-”

“I know this, Jim,” Héloïse giggled. “It is a jest, no?” She reached out and squeezed Jim’s hand, and he looked less nervous. “I will to miss you, also. Very much so.”

With her free hand, she touched the side of Jim’s face and gently brought it closer to her own. Jim appeared to battle with his conscience before responding by kissing her, his fingers burying in the curls of her hair as she ran her thumb over the arch of his cheekbone, both of them pulling the other closer and closer with each passing moment.

The two of them had shared a few stolen kisses since the night of the Celestial Ball, but this one was warmer and firmer and fiercer than any of the others had been, and somehow, it seemed to carry more meaning. It was as if their lips were imparting a thousand words that neither had the ability to say aloud, as if this were yet another a new language Héloïse was being immersed in. It was as dizzying and bewildering as it had been to start learning English, and when she and Jim broke apart, she stayed silent with her lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, contemplating the meaning of it.

“Héloïse,” said Jim, his voice gentle and doubtful, “are you quite well? Why are you quiet?”

“Oui. J’essaie de penser.”

“You… You’re thinking. What are you thinking?”

It took a little while for Héloïse to understand what she was thinking, but once she did, she knew exactly what words she had to say:

“Je t’aime.”

“Oh.” Jim nodded. “That’s good. I am glad that you like me. I rather like you too. In truth…” He paused, frowning slightly and blinking once. “The truth is, Héloïse, that I love you.”

He looked Héloïse with an expression that was so hopeful and so earnest that she had not the heart to point out his miscomprehension of her words. After all, she had taken this long to comprehend it herself.

“Yes, Jim. I love you, also.”

[underscorespider]

how late did your semester start that your first final is late june?? like our semester got delayed even (complicated reasons) and my last non-final week is next week, normally finals season would have started mid-may

yeah see the thing about italy is that finals are held roughly after 3 weeks after the end of the school year for the written side of things and a month for the oral test, we're not going to school until june or whatever. this is done to give you time to study for them because our "finals" aren't really finals in the american sense but its one major final exam for basically your entire school career. and generally we do start school later than most other countries (we have two 4 month long halves of the year, from mid september to january 31st and from february to roughly the first week of june for my region) so yeah! we have finals quite late

[interculturalcomm335italy]

Italian Education

According to the European Commission, in Italy, family is responsible for the care and education of their children until age 3, this is referred to as “Nido d’infanzia”. At which point public education authorities are responsible for the education of these children, this is referred to as “scuola dell’infanzia” until age 6. This is when primary education begins, which is referred to as “scuola primaria” and lasts until the child is 11 years old. “scuola secondaria di primo grado” is what the Italian population calls their secondary general education that ends at age 14. This is where a split happens in the student population. When attending the upper secondary school; it is split into general “Liceo”, technical “istituto technico”, and vocational referred to as “istituto professionale”. All these paths end with a final exam after the 5-year program is completed and if the students pass, tertiary education is available for them to explore. The graduation rates in Italy after these final exams are about 87% for males and 92% for females. According to OECD, out of the 37% 15–19-year-olds that enroll into upper secondary education, only 9% of them enroll in tertiary programs such as university or other technical programs. While homeschooling at the beginning levels of education is an option in Italy, it is said that students must take specific exams along the way to determine the competency of their education. It is also stated that compulsory education, starts at age 6 and lasts for 10 years, is free to foreign minors and Italian citizens apart from the mandatory purchasing of textbooks.

A typical school year runs from mid-September to mid-June, at which time the students go to class Monday-Saturday from 8:30am-1:30 pm. It is said that the students usually stay in the same classroom all day long, while teachers move classrooms for the 5 scheduled classes per day. Schools have a large amount of autonomy on the way they set up their curriculum and are required to draw up a three-year education plan for their organization. Over the three years that this plan is in effect, there are several quality assurance systems in place to monitor schools’ efficiency and evaluate school manager’s effectiveness. This is also seen in their national testing of their student body, their national standardized tests are held at 7, 10, 13, 15, and 18 years old where it is used as an evaluation tool for teachers and provide school managers with data about student’s overall comprehension.   

[wintfashion]

Seniority list of irss officers

Seniority list of irss officers verification#

Seniority list of irss officers Offline#

Calling Options/Preferences from selected candidates for the post of Stenographer Grade I & Grade II tor allocation of Zones/Formations - reg steno- I options and Steno- II options.Notification issued to implement e-invoicing for the taxpayers having aggregate turnover exceeding Rs.Online training on "Advance Ruling: An Introduction" for Group 'A' officers of CBIC on from 10:30 AM to 01:15 PM -reg Click here.Result of Customs Brokers Licensing Regulations written exam for 2022 held on Click here.

Seniority list of irss officers verification#

Steno 2019- Verification of Options & final chance for left-out candidates- reg.

Seniority list of irss officers Offline#

MDSEI – Seminar on “Prevention of Money Laundering Act (PMLA)” to be conducted on 22nd & 23rd September, 2022 at NACIN, Mumbai in Offline Mode for Group-A officers – reg.Filling up of the post of Deputy Secretary/Director in CBIC under Department of Revenue-reg.FAQ (Part II) on real estate sector dated 14th May, 2019.Dharohar - National Museum of Custom and GST, Goa (35 MB).Signature Tune of The Indian Customs (1 MB).Taxation of Services: An Educational Guide (1.22 MB).FAQ on Swachh Bharat Cess(SBC) (286 KB).FAQ on Manufacture and Other Operations.State wise list of upcoming ICD/CFS/AFS.Acts, Rules, Forms, Notifications, Circulars, Orders, Instructions.This also does away with the need to merge all officers from different services into a common seniority list, which was proving to be a bone of contention. Officials said that this system would end departmentalism. This will be the first such empanelment based on performance in the history of Indian Railways which always banked on “seniority” for top posts. The last date for receipt of applications will be 21 days from the date of issue of this letter that is June 7, 2022. The application would also have to be accompanied by the latest copy of annual property return filed by the applicant clearly indicating the date of filing. “Only those officers of 19 exam batch, who shall be in service as on September 1, 2022, belonging to eight organised services – IRSE, IRSME, IRSEE, IRSSE, IRSS, IRTS, IRPS and IRAS – and working in Level 15 (HAG) or above posts on regular basis, shall be eligible for submission of application form as for empanelment to Level 16 posts,” the Railways said in a circular issued on Tuesday.įor being considered for empanelment, eligible officers will have to apply for empanelment indicating top three positions that the officer would like to be considered for (officer will, however, be considered for all positions), description of top five contributions to the organization in lifetime (can give more also) and description of top five contributions that officer will make in the top three positions that the officer is aspiring for in a given time frame. As regards the empanelment, the Railways said it shall be done batch-wise from amongst the eligible candidates, selecting the best suitable officers through a comprehensive assessment by the ministry and then approved by the ACC. Similarly, the 29 posts of general manager of zonal railways, production units and other allied organisations, along with the posts of additional member (Planning) and secretary, Railway Board will be called IRMS (Level 16) posts.Īll officers belonging to the eight organised Group A services of Railways (Traffic, Mechanical, Electrical, Accounts etc.) who are in Level 15 (Higher Administrative Grade) or above will be eligible to apply for these posts. Henceforth, the secretary-level posts of the Chairman, Railway Board, the four Board members and two director generals will be called Indian Railway Management Service (Level 17) posts. Paving the way for juniors to potentially supercede their seniors to reach top posts in the Indian Railways based on their performance during their service, the national transporter has now said that officers from 19 batch across all cadres may apply for Level 16 posts under the Indian Railway Management Service.Ĭlarifying on the selection norms to be followed, the Railways said that the Ministry of Railways will draw up a panel of eligible railway officers for appointment to Level 16 IRMS posts.

[sandhyabakshi]

सरकार यूजीसी दिशा निर्देशों का अध्ययन करेगी: राजस्थान के उच्च शिक्षा मंत्री राजस्थान के उच्च शिक्षा मंत्री ने मंगलवार को कहा कि परीक्षाओं के बारे में विश्वविद्यालय अनुदान आयोग (यूजीसी) के नए दिशानिर्देशों का राज्य सरकार अध्ययन करेगी, लेकिन आयोग को कोरोना वायरस संकट के कारण... . Source link

[miraculousfrenchculture]

The French School System

The School system in France is divided into 4 "subsections" depending on the age. Since 2018, school is compulsory from ages 3 to 16 (previously, it was ages 6 to 16). People in the same batch are mostly born in the same calendar year (e.g. between January and December 2001). The school year lasts from the beginning of September to roughly the end of June - beginning of July depending on the grade.

✔ Maternelle (Preschool/Kindergarten in the US, Nursery/Year 1 in the UK): 3 to 6 year olds, divided in three levels (petite section, moyenne section, grande section). Some schools welcome children one year earlier, in “toute petite section”. If there aren’t enough children of the same level to form a class, a teacher might take care of a mix of two different levels (this is called a “double niveau”, and can also apply to primary school, see below).

The main objective of maternelle is to prepare children for primary school, by finalising the language acquisition, getting the children used to being around peers, and starting to learn how to read, write and count.

Each homeroom/form class is taught by one teacher, who is generally referred to as “Maître/Maîtresse”; the children use the informal you, tu, when speaking to them.

✔ Ecole élémentaire, more commonly called école Primaire (Primary school - 1st-5th grades in the US, Years 2-6 in the UK): 6 to 11 year olds, divided into five levels (CP, CE1, CE2, CM1, CM2). Here, the students learn how to read, write, do maths, and also start studying other topics like History-Geography, Science, Art, Music…

Classes are taught by one teacher, commonly called the maître/maîtresse d'école, except for Art, Music and Physical Education; each school generally has one teacher for each of the latter. The teachers are referred to as “Maître/Maîtresse” or “Monsieur/Madame [name]”, and the students start to use the formal you, vous, around CE2 at the latest.

A typical day in Paris: School starts at 8:30am Mon-Fri, ends at 4:30pm Monday/Thursday, 3pm Tuesday/Friday and 11:30am on Wednesdays. The lunch break lasts from 11:30am-1:30pm, and there are two 15-minute breaks (récréations) in the day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. After school, students can stay for activities if their school has some (study, rollerblade, theatre…). They go home at the latest at 6pm. Some students may also have activities outside of school (sports, musical instruments…) which can last until later, or be held on Wednesday afternoons.

✔ Collège (ML - you are here; Secondary school - 6th-9th grades in the US, Years 7-10 in the UK): 11 to 15 year olds, divided into 4 levels (6ème, 5ème, 4ème, 3ème, the last one being the ML’s class grade). People in the public system don't choose their collège, they go to the one that’s assigned to them depending on their address. Students in the same homeroom/form (called the classe principale) all have the same teachers (one per subject) and will have all of their classes together, except for second languages (most commonly German or Spanish) and optional classes (e.g. Latin, Ancient Greek…).

Subjects: French (which regroups language and literature), Maths, Sciences (Physics and Chemistry, SVT=Biology and Geology, Technology), PE, Music, Art, Modern Languages (generally English from 6ème + Spanish/German/Italian from 4ème… but it depends on the school)

A typical day: Depending on the day and the school, the day will typically start between 8am and 10:30am. Each class lasts a multiple of 55min with two 15 minute breaks around 10:30am and 3:30pm (depending on when classes started), or a 5-10 minute break between each period. The lunch break lasts for about one hour, and the students generally eat at the school’s cafeteria (cantine). School ends on average at 4:30pm, but ending times can range between 2:30pm and 6pm at the very latest, except on Wednesdays, which are half-days. Like in primary school, extracurriculars can be held at school after hours, or outside, at varying times. It’s common to have at least one extracurricular activity.

The Brevet: At the end of 3ème, students take a national exam called the Brevet, which takes into account coursework, an oral exam (individual or in group, about art history or a project that was conducted during the year) and the final exam results. Everybody gets the same questions in the latter, which can be about anything in the program. Students who work regularly and have good results during the year can get the passing grade (10/20) even if they turn in a blank paper for the final exam (not recommended, but it happens), but then they don’t get a mention, i.e. merits, for which you need a high enough average (assez bien = satisfactory = 12/20, bien = good = 14/20, très bien = very good = 16/20).

✔ Lycée (High school; 10th-12th grades in the US, Years 11-13 in the UK): 15 to 18 year olds, divided into 3 levels (Seconde, Première, Terminale). Students in the public sector sort the lycées in their area (for which they have priority) or further away, in order of preference (reputation, type of baccalauréat…) , and are selected based on various criteria. There recently was a reform concerning the lycée, but assuming that the Miracuclass was in 3ème in 2015, they would have been the last batch to sit the old baccalauréat (a post on the new format is in the works).

Different baccalauréats (“bac”) types that students can take: the general bac (divided into three sections, more on that in a bit), the technology bac (a more hands-on bac, divided into eight sections, the students of which continue into higher education but in specific areas), or the professional bac (it prepares for specific jobs; the students can go straight to work after it). The bac général is the most commonly taken in Paris and in France (about 50% of students take it).

Organisation of the general baccalauréat: Seconde is a foundation year of sorts, where students discover new classes they didn’t have in collège; at the end, they chose their orientation between the Literary/Arts (L - “majors” are literature, language and philosophy), Socio-Economics (ES - “majors” are Economics and History/Geography) or Scientific (S - “majors” are Maths, Physics/Chemistry and Biology/Geology) bac. In Première, all students used to prepare and present a group project that groups two topics, called the Travail Personnel Encadré (TPE), and take the French Literature exam (with a written part early/mid June, and an oral part a little later - note: this is still the case in the new bac). The ES and L students also took the Sciences exams around that time. At the end of Terminale (mid-June), the students sat their remaining exams over the course of one week. There were also oral exams (e.g. for languages) and practical exams (for S students) that took place at various times of the year. The results come out around early/mid-July.

Subjects: French, Philosophy, History/Geography, Maths, Languages, PE (all, with varying coefficients); French Literature, Economy, Physics/Chemistry, Biology/Geology (in Terminale, specific to the different sections), Art, a specific sport, Latin/Greek, Theatre… (optional)

A typical day: a day in lycée is very much like a day in collège, except that the hours are longer - the students tend to start earlier (8-8:30am) and get out later (5:30-6pm). There’s more homework to do, and more tests, with some mock exams scheduled on the Wednesday afternoon if the lycée doesn’t already have classes then, or on some Saturday mornings. The lunch break is still about an hour, it’s not uncommon for some students to not eat at the cafeteria anymore; they might eat at home or buy food from nearby cafés/restaurants/bakeries (which tend to be cheaper around schools). Extracurriculars are still a thing, they just start and end later or take place at the weekend.

[specialbrewbutterbeer]

The Marital Home (Regulus Black x Reader) Part II

Word Count: 1854

TW: vomit/wretching, arranged marriage, alcohol mentioned

A/N: I am so enjoying this one, I really wanna know what yall think and if you have any suggestions/ideas! Please do give me some requests and feedback!

REQUESTS (X)

MASTERLIST (X)

PART I (X)

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The couple, if they could really be called a couple as seperate as they were, had been rattling around the house for two months.

(Y/n) was finally reaching the end of unpacking everything that was being stored in the attic room. The kitchen now had more than just a kettle, toaster, two sets of crockery and cutlery and a single saucepan, it had day to day plates and the fine china for special occasions and dinner parties had been put away in the display cabinet. She'd put away all the mugs abd tea cups and glasses, of which they had every kind- glasses for red wine, white wine, champagne, sherry and port, cordials and absinthe, and any kind of cocktail you might think of. They had enough of each kind to host quite an extravagant party, so she kept two of each in the kitchen, and stored the boxes and boxes of surplus in the cellar (along with the similarly surplus cutlery and crockery).

She'd even managed to begin to stock the larder with all the essential non-perishables, various tinned food and a string of onions, and a sack of potatoes. Flour, rice, sugar and such too- in big bags. Having the kitchen sorted put her at ease in terms of her duties of a housewife- as long as they were both warm, dry and fed, she felt she was doing a good enough job.

These last boxes contained miscellaneous items that didn't fit in any particular room category. She was very grateful that both her and Regulus' mothers had set them up with all the basic items for the house. Some of these things of course were not strictly necessary, such as all the items to hold parties and gatherings and such, but that didn't matter.

As she slowly picked out items, a set of lace curtians for the bathroom and a glass dish that had been inherited by some great aunt, she found, right at the bottom of the box she was working on, a dress bag. She lifted it up and hung it on the door. She unzipped it and sighed deeply as she saw what she had found. She stepped back and sat down and just looked at it.

She had found her wedding dress. It was an ivory lace dress that came down to just above her knees. It was fairly simple but it reminded her of the dress Alana Hamilton wore when she married Rod Stewart, she'd seen a picture of that dress in the papers not long after she had first met Regulus.

She had been at Hogwarts with Regulus, even been in the same house, but she had very few of the same classes as him and had possibly only spoken to him once or twice in passing. They knew of eachother, but when they met properly, just after they'd left school, it was still like meeting someone entirely new.

It was around the end of July, after they'd left school and they'd completed their exams, that it was officially announced that they would be married, and they were given the summer to prepare- the wedding would be in September. The summer seemed to fly by, but they didn't see eachother more than twice before the wedding day.

When she had met him, she didn't think herself too unlucky to have been paired with him, he was polite and gentle, and quite handsome. The Black family was known for their good looks so she wouldn't be let down there. She, being a child of a pureblood family, knew that he had his dark mark, that she supposed was a plus, though she was largely uninvolved in her family's dealings with the Dark Lord.

When the wedding day rolled around she was glad that both she and Regulus had insisted on as small of an event that they could convince their mothers to put on. She liked her dress simple, and just a few witnesses. She walked down the isle and met him and they exchanged vows. That was the first time they'd ever touched, as they held hands to be married. They exchanged simple wedding bands, hers stacked upon an engagement ring that Walburga Black had handed down to her when the marriage was arranged, and then left the ministry office.

The reception was held at the Black house, where (Y/n) had never been before, though she was strangely quite comforted by being lead inside by Regulus, arm in arm. After that they had seperated, making turns around the room to greet various guests (the mothers had insisted on a large reception).

The morning of the wedding (Y/n) had been so nervous. Both she and Regulus were barely 18, and suddenly now were going to be married, fully fledged adults. It made her feel sick. She threw up just minutes before they were due to leave for the ministry offices. She barely had the time to brush her teeth and reapply her lipstick before she was ushered out the door.

She stood at the end of the small isle and looked through the lace veil at her husband to be. All she remembered then was her legs feeling like jelly, and trying to focus on Regulus and his face.

His eyes glistened like hers, they shared an uncertain smile and a nervous feeling.

(Y/n) didn't know that her mother had packed her wedding dress for her. There was something quite confronting about seeing it. Maybe she'd kidded herself into believing that she was an adult, playing houses. But her mother had packed her things for her, she hadn't even known the location of the most important dress of her life. She'd barely been allowed to pick the dress out, and when she did, it had to be approved by her parents.

She stood and quickly zipped up the bag. She turned away from it. She didn't want to look. For some reason it all felt too real now. She felt that was altogether too much of a delayed reaction but it hit her hard- that pang of reality and a lump in her throat.

(Y/n) took a deep breath and opened the bag back up. She carefully slid the dress off of it's hanger and folded it. She picked up the veil too and made her way downstairs. She headed toward her bedroom and went to push open the door when she heard a click and creak behind her. She was startled slightly and turned to the sound, to find Regulus leaving his own room, with a book under his arm. He looked up as he closed the door behind him and they locked eyes.

(Y/n) found herself frozen for a momentmoment before warming up again and meeting his smile.

"Hello" Regulus said softly, pausing outside his door.

"Hello" she returned.

"Is that your dress?" He pointed to the bundle in her arms. She nodded. "You looked lovely in that by the way" He broke eye contact for a moment as he spoke. "I didn't get to tell you."

"T-thank you." She stuttered and found herself with a heat in her cheeks. Regulus smiled and headed downstairs.

She watched him go and then pushed herself against the bedroom door and closed it behind her. She shook off the moment and put it out of her mind before kneeling before a large chest of drawers. She pulled the bottom drawer open and placed her dress and veil inside, where she kept some letters from when she was at school and a few small trinkets, and closed it.

When she went downstairs again she glanced at the study door and saw it closed as usual. She sighed. The smallest compliment from her own husband shouldn't have flustered her so much, but it did.

It was a few weeks later that she found herself unable to sleep, as these days she sometimes did. She just lay awake in the dark waiting to drift off to sleep. She thought she was just beginning to get half way into dreamland when she was startled awake by the sound of the click of a door opening with force in the hallway, she heard it swing back and hit the wall. She also heard rushed footsteps and then an awful wretching sound.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pulled the hem of her vest down as it had ridden up as she had shuffled to try to get to sleep. She stood and in seconds found her feet taking her into the hall. She pushed open the bathroom door tentatively, to hear and see Regulus leant over the bowl of the toilet.

She knelt down beside him and froze for a second as she thought of what to do. She turned and grabbed a few pieces of toilet paper for him. As she turned back he wretched yet again, with one hand gripped on the side of the bowl his other reached out and rested on her knee. Wordlessly (Y/n) brushed her knuckles over his shoulder to comfort him.

He finally stopped and leant back against the cold tiled wall and she saw his face as white as a sheet.

"Are you alright?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah- thanks." He mumbled, his heart thumping loudly in his chest and his ears.

She looked at him with sympathy and he reached his hand out again to hers. She made no protest and opened it to him, though she was surprised by the tenderness of his actions.

He squeezed her hand and let his head hang. After a moment of quiet, she squeezed his hand back and asked again.

"Are you sure?"

Regulus looked up at her and sighed before nodding again.

"Yeah." He paused. "Just letting the nerves get to me." He told softly. She just watched his face. "You're good to me."

"And you are to me" She offered in return, a little confused.

"You're my wife." He winced and leant hi head back on the wall.

"Yes" she let a small smile come to her lips. Reg kept his eyes scrunched closed and his hand firmly around hers, pulling it a little closer into him.

"I've never even said that before. You're my wife." He allowed himself to laugh a touch. "Merlin." He exclaimed under his breath. "I'm sorry about this."

"About what?" (Y/n) laughed.

"Sitting on a bathroom floor in the middle of the night to start." He smiled. "But marrying a stranger-"

"You married me too-" she cut him off. "We married eachother." She leant toward Regulus and let the fingers of her free hand brush against his cheek tenderly and she kissed his cheek. Staying close she looked into his eyes. "And we don't need to be strangers." She spoke sincerely and her heart began to race, unused to being so bold.

Regulus took his own free hand and placed it to hers. He allowed a smile to turn at the edges of his lips though his shyness prevented him from meeting her gaze.

"You might just be too good to me."

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

PART 3 IS HERE

[wiypt-writes]

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

 Ransom Drysdale One Shot

Summary: It’s the Annual Pre-Easter meal at the Thrombey’s and Ransom and you are in attendance. As usual, there’s fireworks, a lot of swearing and there’s only one way you know he can get rid of his frustrations…

 Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this was originally written last year for @jennmurawski13​ who requested a smutty one shot with an Evans character of my choice for her birthday. It was coined from a Brainstorming sesh me and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ had for our intended Ransom x OFC series (we might get round to it in 2022…so by then you’ll have forgotten if we use it again.) FYI Eighteen year old Ransom is totally Bryce from Fierce People, you can’t convince me otherwise… I also very much now see this being the same Reader as in mine, @ohthankevans13​ and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​’s  Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale series.

Your brown leather, knee high Saint Laurent boots (a gift from the man whose lap you were curled up on) were on the floor by your feet leaving you in your grey, woollen over-knee socks. One of your boyfriend’s large hands was resting on your left shin, the other just at the top of your right thigh, almost on your ass cheek. You were well aware your black sweater dress was riding up so went to shift and shimmy it down a little, conscious that you were, after all, sat in the large drawing room at his grandfather’s house whilst the rest of his family milled around as the pre-Easter dinner, which always took place the weekend before the actual holiday, was being prepared.

“You okay?” Ransom looked up at you, noticing you shift on his lap and you smiled.

“Yeah, just don’t want to flash everyone too much if you get my drift.”

Ransom cocked an eyebrow at you, then peeked around the room, before he gave a snort as his eyes fell on his cousin Jacob who was watching the pair of you.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want Adolf junior getting a boner now would we?”

You gave a chuckle as you re-arranged your dress, making yourself more comfortable.

“He’s just a kid, Ran.” You soothed.

“He’s a deviant, Princess.” He replied, his voice quiet.

“So were you when I first met you.” You grinned, looking at him as you bent closer to whisper into his ear “Still are when the mood takes you.”

Ransom pulled back to look at you, his face inches from yours, his eyebrow raising slightly as that dirty smirk spread across his handsome face. “Stop it.” He warned, and you shrugged innocently, as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Come on son, put her down.” Richard’s voice rang across the room and instantly you felt Ransom’s entire demeanour change. Gone was the relaxed, jokey, happy Ran you knew and loved and in his place was Hugh Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire.

“Piss off, Father.” He shot back, his head moving back from yours, fixing his dad with a steely glare.

“Hey.” Richard glowered “Don’t speak to me like that…” he turned to Linda. “Did you hear that Linda?”

“Ransom…” Linda said lazily, not looking up from her phone. “Don’t speak to your father like that.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and you gently looked at him, shaking your head, silently telling him to stay calm. It was always the same with the Thrombey family gatherings. Ransom despised them for the simple fact that Harlan was the only one he had any time for, bar his mother on a good day, and you were inclined to feel the same way. It always ended in chaos, each individual nuclear sects within the extended family trying to get one up on the other, prove they were the best players in the game.

Frankly, they made the fucking Lannisters look normal.  

All your friends were constantly asking you how you managed to stay tangled in this web of dysfunction, but the answer was right in front of you, his crystal blue eyes now narrowed as he shot a sarcastic reply back to his mother.

The simple truth was, you loved him and couldn’t walk away if you tried.

It hadn’t always been that way, mind. When your High School had been asked to submit nominations for the coveted position of Harlan Thrombey’s Summer research assistant, you’d been short listed along with 15 other candidates from the New England area. Each of you were asked to produce a five-thousand word thesis on a literary subject of your choice to be submitted for reading by Harlan. You’d been ecstatic when you received the call from his Publishing Company to say you’d made the final three and were requested to attend an interview.

You’d been and bought a new suit. Nothing fancy but decent enough quality. You made sure your hair was tamed, your make up was as on point as you could get it, and had driven the thirty minutes or so out to his mansion from the home you shared with your Nanna in Brookline, following the directions on your GPS to the area near Pierce Park where the Thrombey Mansion was located. You were greeted by his housekeeper and shown into the large office where the man himself was waiting. Harlan was nothing like you had expected him to be. He was eccentric, sure, but also dmaned good fun. He’d asked you a few questions about why you wanted the position “I’m going to major in English at college and I hope to work in publishing when I graduate, this would be an invaluable experience.” He had then discussed your paper with you and after a few more general questions he had reduced you almost to tears of laughter by telling you a about an incident when he had been at college and was almost caught climbing down the trellis of his girlfriend’s parent’s house following a late night rendezvous of the very naughty kind “Don’t think too badly of me, we ended up married for forty-seven years…”

Then, just as he was showing you out of his study a tall, well-built young man, your age you had correctly guessed, with a strong jaw, dark hair flicked to the left side of his forehead, and a pair of the bluest eyes you had ever seen, waltzed down the hallway. He was dressed in a pair of riding breeches, a polo shirt and wore a long pair of tan leather riding boots.

"Ransom?” Harlan looked at the young man “I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.”

“Yeah well, the fucking horse I should have been riding is lame.” Ransom shrugged “Which means I can’t ride, and I probably can’t compete this weekend.”

“Dressage?” you had asked, your mouth speaking well before your brain had engaged, for some reason thinking it was a good idea to comment. Ransom had looked at you with disdain, scanned you up and down and cocked his head to one side, his eyes cold as they locked onto yours.

“Polo.” He had answered, a sneer on his face “Do I look like a dressage rider to you? Mind you, from the state of your cheap high-street dress the nearest you’ve probably ever been to a horse is those shitty little trail rides they run at kids parties.”

“Ransom!” Harlan had snapped sternly “Enough!”

You felt the heat rise in your neck and cheeks, and you drew yourself up to your full height, folding your arms as you looked at the ass hole stood in front of you. One thing your Nanna had told you was that, despite your humble origins, you were as worthy as the next person, no matter how much money, status or self-importance they may have.

“My apologies. I always thought polo was played by arrogant, snobby, stuck up pricks.” You retorted as you made a show of looking him up and down in the same way he had done to you. “Actually, on second thoughts, I should have guessed.”

As soon as the words were out of your mind you let out an internal groan. Way to go, flush your chance of landing this summer internship down the fucking toilet by insulting Harlan’s grandson. Nevertheless, you held the gaze of the man in front of you who stared back, his expression and face utterly stoic bar the blink of surprise his eyes made.

You heard Harlan chuckle behind you and the old man dropped a hand to your shoulder. “Fran, could you see Miss Y/L/N to the door.”

Two days later Harlan had personally called you to offer you the position, and it had turned out to be everything you ever wanted, and more. Three weeks into your internship, to your utter surprise, Harlan confessed that he had been looking to fund a worthy, local candidate through college and as the successful applicant it was yours for the taking. Some strings had been pulled, and in the last week of September thanks to his generosity you started your English Major at Harvard.

And so did Ransom.

He pursued you with a dogged determination, seemingly viewing your indifference towards him and his advances as some kind of challenge. You weren’t fooling yourself, however. He was devastatingly handsome and your traitorous vagina and that part of your brain that controlled your libido harboured a deep desire to fuck his brains out, a desire you finally gave into at the end of your first year when, following your final exam, you got drunk and woke up the morning after in his bed.

It wasn’t all puppies and roses though. You were on and off more than his boxer shorts, as simply put, Ransom was a player. And it didn’t bother you to start with. He was a hook up, a way to relieve tension when you needed to, and he was a very handy person to know with his seemingly endless network of connections. But by the time you graduated you knew you were head over heels for him, and needed to break this seeming cycle of being in and out of his bed.  So you turned down Harlan’s offer of a job at Blood Like Wine and were ready to move away from Boston after landing a job at a publishers in Manhattan…but then your nanna had been taken seriously ill and suffered a stroke meaning you had to stay.

As a result of her illness, your nanna was unable to live in your house in Brookline alone and so you were forced to sell it so she could afford to move into a supervised Retirement Village a five minute or so drive away. You were now jobless, drowning with the house-sale which would leave you homeless, and your emotions and been all over the place. You had no other family since your Grandfather had died at the start of your senior year so had no one to turn to.

Enter Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

You’d called him one evening, drunk and emotional and needing a release and he came over alright, but instead of fucking you into the mattress he made sure you drank water, ate something, and then got you into bed. The next morning, Harlan had shown up, telling you the job offer at his company was still open, and then to your utter surprise and initial horror he had offered to buy your nanna’s house, meaning you could remain there as a tenant. At first you had refused, insisting you weren’t a charity case but Harlan had simply waved your concerns away by insisting it was an investment. After a little discussion he agreed to allow you to pay rent which, all things considered, was a pittance in comparison to what other properties the same size in that area commanded but it was a rent nonetheless and made you feel better.

And you knew all of it had ben Ransom’s idea.

This was the side to Ransom he very rarely displayed to anyone. A softer side, a caring side, a gentle side. A side that held you as you cried at the thought that your nanna was growing old and may soon leave you behind, a side that made you a sandwich when you hadn’t eaten in days, a side that helped you pack up and move your Nana’s stuff to her new home, a side that turned up at 9pm with several tubs of ice cream and a bottle of wine after you’d messaged him earlier that afternoon to tell him what a shit day you were having when his Uncle Walt was being a dick at work.

The rest, they say is history. History which meant you were now curled up in his lap some eight or so years post that initial meeting in the hallway of this very house, listening to him bicker with his family, feeling his leg beginning to shake in that way it always did when he was agitated.

“Ran…” you said gently, squeezing his arm and you felt him take a deep breath and he looked at you, his mouth closing as you shook your head “Don’t.”

He turned away, looking to the other side of the room and his face glowered as he spotted Jacob once more had his eyes trained on your bare thigh. God the pubescent creep did his fucking head in, and if he stayed here he was going to end up putting the lanky streak of shit through the wall.

“Can we go?” Ransom looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“We’ve not even had dinner yet.”

“Please.”

That single word was enough to make you understand. It was a word he hadn’t learned until he’d met you, when he realised that his demands and arrogance got him nowhere with you. He still rarely used it mind, but when he did, you knew he was in desperate need of what he’d asked for.

“How about we take a walk?” You suggested “If you still wanna go after then we will”

He took a deep breath as he considered what you had said. Compromise was another word that hadn’t been in his vocabulary until you. His eyes locked onto yours and you looked at him, encouragingly and he took a deep breath, nodding.

“Okay.”

You uncurled yourself from his lap and stood up, him following so you could sit down and place you boots on.

“Are you leaving?” Linda asked, looking up for the first time.

“For a walk.” Ransom said simply, grabbing your hand and pretty much dragging you from the room. He didn’t say a word as he reached the coat stand and retrieved your lightweight Ted Baker belted mac, holding it out for you to slip your arms into, in a display of chivalry he reserved only for you. Once you’d done it up, he took your hand in his and you headed through the kitchen and outside into the reasonably mild April afternoon.

“Don’t let them get to you.” You said softly, leaning into him a little and he sighed, untangling his fingers from yours so he could drop his arm round your shoulders. He hated the fact his family could make him feel like this, like he wasn’t in control, like he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could quite happily go without seeing any of them, well, bar maybe his grandfather, but you had told him he would regret it if he pushed them away completely because you had always wished you’d had a large family unit like that. So, despite the fact he knew deep down that was a load of bullshit, he played the game. He attended the damned gatherings more for your benefit than any as you adored Harlan and seemed to get on fairly well with Joni, Meg and his mother. He hung onto a glimmer of hope that maybe one day it would all change and he’d feel part of it.

But it never did. And he never did.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence across the Mansion grounds, round the lake where Ransom stopped by the small pier, looking out over the water.

“You know my most vivid childhood memories are of this spot.” He mused, his gaze focussed over the lake “Grammy used to bring me down here to feed the ducks.”

“It’s beautiful down here.” You agreed, snuggling further under his arm. “Peaceful.”

“Yeah unlike that fucking house.”

You gave a chuckle, as his hand curled over your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing over the smooth material of your coat. He was agitated, you could tell, and there were very few ways in which he could calm down when he was like this. One was riding his beloved BB- a polo horse Harlan had bought him for his 21st, one was the pair of you curling up on the sofa with snacks and a good scotch or bourbon, getting drunk and watching Trashy Films, in particular horrors-you both loved to pick plot holes and insult the main characters, declaring the victim a dumb bitch for running up the stairs and not out of the door and the other, well…

You glanced around, checking you were alone before you pulled away from him, taking his hand and tugging on it slightly.

“What?” he asked looking down.

“Come on.” You gave his hand another pull.

“Y/N?” he questioned again, but followed nonetheless despite you not answering. You tugged him away from the lake, into the thin thicket of trees a little further round. You could still see the house here but you knew there was no way anyone from up there could see you.

“Seriously, Y/N what the fuck?” he groaned, as he stepped in the slightly squelchy mud “You’re gonna ruin my Gucci’s…” “Should have worn something a little more substantial then shouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were planning on going fucking hiking in the fucking woods.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.” You said, stopping in front of a large oak tree, looking up at him.

“Then what are we doing? Reconnecting with Mother Nature? Or are we on the hunt for Oberon, Titania and Puck?”

“Ooh, good Shakespeare reference.” You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes as you slid your hand up over his navy blue lightweight Barbour jacket which was done up to his sternum, leaving his plain white, Armani t-shirt slightly visible at the neckline. “Does that make us Lysander and Hermia?”

“You got a hidden suitor called Demetrius I don’t know about?” he arched an eyebrow, his hands falling to your hips.

“Nope, I’m all yours Tiger.”

The sound of your ridiculous nickname for him drew a large smile across his face and he shook his head, giving a genuine chuckle. Here, with you there were no annoying voices to listen to, no family politics, nothing to care about but the gentle brush of the wind as it blew through the canopy of trees above your heads and the faint sounds of birds as they went about their business and Ransom felt a sense of comfort. Because you were his rock. The one person that saw through his bull shit, the woman in his life that knew all his horrible personality traits as well as his slightly less horrible ones and loved him all the same. The girl that had rounded off his harsher edges no matter how much he protested to the contrary.

You were his better half for sure.

“Well that’s good, because I don’t like sharing.” Ransom smirked, dipping his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Don’t I know it.” You mused against his mouth. His fingers flexed on your sides, pulling you closer to him as he slid his tongue across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him control over the kiss, knowing that’s what he craved when he was like this. His lips were soft on yours, tongue domineering as he kissed you deeply, slowly. Eventually he pulled back, his nose bumping yours slightly as he gave a little chuckle.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from those shit heads in the house.” He said, his tone playful and you loved playful Ransom. Another side to him only you really got to see.

“Is it working?” You played along.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips pressing to yours again.

“Good. Now why don’t you let your inner deviant come out to play?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Princess.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he had pressed you into the harsh, earthy bark of the tree behind you, kissing you hard again, groaning as you palmed his crotch through his designer denims. He grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head before he did the same with the other one, easily holding both in place above you with one large hand, his other softly tracing up the outside of your thigh, fingers skating under your skirt.

“Is this why you wore this?” he smirked, toying with the material slightly. “So you could tempt me away for a fuck in the woods?”

It wasn’t, it was because it looked and felt good, but you decided to play along “Maybe. Was it a good choice?”

“Damned right it was…” he growled against your mouth, his long, soft fingers sliding your lace panties to the side. His index finger traced a path up your slit and you gasped at the feeling as he gently began to toy with you. Soft, teasing touches, his eyes never once leaving yours. That was one of his things, he liked to see your face, watch as your expressions changed as he undid you, fuelling his ego. Your hips gently started to move in time to his strokes as he played you, like an instrument from which he could always draw a tune. And in no time at all, he was listening to the music as you let out a soft keen, a purr almost as your head fell back against the tree, your mouth parting slightly.

“Like that?” he asked, and it was all you could do to nod, panting brokenly as the familiar feeing began to rise in the pit of your stomach, the fire growing hotter and hotter. “God you’re a fucking minx. Come on, cum on my fingers, you know you want to.” And you did, hard, your knees trembling, as you let out a loud cry of his name as the lights exploded in front of your eyes. Ransom pressed into you, his erection evident as it dug into your stomach, keeping you pinned between him and the tree as he coaxed you through your orgasm, before he moved his hands, allowing yours to drop to his shoulders as you held onto him tightly.

The clanging of a belt buckle, then the zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric broke through the post-orgasm haze as Ransom undid his flies, reaching into pull out his painfully hard cock. He gently pushed forward, sliding the tip against your folds, gathering your slick as you gave a moan, the feeling of him sliding against your clit sent lances of red, hot desire through your veins.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs as he pulled you off the ground and you hooked them round his slim waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. In a swift, fluid moment, no teasing, no gentle ease, he buried himself inside you with a deep thrust making you cry out as he filled you. His lips crashed onto yours as he drew back, then thrust back in hard, his cock dragging against your walls inside, hitting that spot that he knew would leave you seeing stars.

Yes, if there was one thing on this Earth Ransom knew he was good at, it was fucking you.

His lips traced a path from your mouth to your jawline, then to your neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to, his hips moving back and forth in a slow but deep pace which was torture, and you needed more.

“Ran, harder…” You groaned, digging your heels into his ass and he gave a dirty moan of his own as his hands held your hips.

“You’re such a needy little slut.” He smirked against your lips, not waiting for your reply as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth with a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of you again and again. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you kissed him, teeth clashing together as your back repeatedly brushed against the harsh, rough surface behind you as you clawed desperately at the material of his jacket.

It wasn’t long before you felt another orgasm brewing and your head fell forward, teeth nipping at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Your hands moved into his hair and you pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up you.

“Fuck, Y/N….” he groaned, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with a desire you would never tire of seeing. You pushed your hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and you let out an almost primal cry, the noise you made simply revving him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck Ran…” you moaned as your head rolled back against the tree, hands back on his shoulders, as once more that snake in your belly moved. Ransom felt the tell-tale flutter of your heat tightening round him and he continued his voracious pace, his eyes locked onto yours.

“You feel so fucking good…” he panted “So fuckin’ good Princess...”

His words made you moan again, and he pushed up once more, stilling slightly, grinding up against you as opposed to thrusting and a few rolls of his hips later you were done. The world faded around you as you came hard, with a loud scream before your head dropped to his shoulder, as you moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through your orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Y/N…I’m…fuck…” his words tumbled into your hair as his movements became desperate and he came a short while later with a loud yell. You felt him fill you up, as his hips stilled and he groaned, face buried into your neck, his chest heaving, sweat beaded both his brow and yours as he simply pressed into you, panting and shaking.

Neither of you had any idea how long you stayed like that, but eventually Ransom managed to gain enough control to pull his softening cock out of you and set you gently on your feet as he brushed the tendrils of your hair that had fallen over your face back with a tenderness he reserved only for you. He said nothing, simply looked at you, his lips gently greeting yours in a soft, loving kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones you had shared moments before. You smiled at him, unadulterated love in your eyes as you moved your hands to brush his hair back before you leaned up and kissed him again, your nose sliding against his.

“I adore you Hugh Ransom Drysdale. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t fucking call me Hugh.” He grumbled and you chuckled as he pulled you to him, nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. “But for the record, the feeling is mutual Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N.”

You gave a laugh and were about to reply when you felt his head snap up, and his entire body tense and he let out an angry cry causing you to jump.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! The perverted little shit!”

“Ran?” You saw his face contorted in anger as he pushed back from you, striding away from the tree, rearranging his jeans as he went before he broke into a sprint. You watched him go and then, to your horror, saw the retreating back of a smaller male running away from the thicket of trees on the curve of the bank to your left and you felt yourself grow cold.

Jacob.

How long he had been there Ransom had no idea but he chased the little fucker all the way to the house, yelling insults and threats as he burst into the kitchen. Ransom finally caught up with him just as he ran into the hall and grabbed the kid by the collar, spinning him round and pinning him to the wall, arm crossed over his windpipe. “Enjoy the show did we?!” He yelled, the noise drawing the rest of the family out from the sitting room into the tiled hallway. Walt started to shout angry threats about what he was going to do to Ransom if he didn’t take his hands off his son, which then sparked Richard to bite back at Walt saying if he touched Ransom he’d give him a damned good hiding. If Ransom hadn’t been so focussed on the dirt little bastard he had pinned to the wall he would have laughed because the idea of his dad fighting anyone was hilarious, he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“Give me your phone.” Ransom demanded.

“I didn’t…” “GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NOW YOU PERVERTED PRICK!” Ransom yelled, and reached into Jacob’s pocket, grabbing his hand where it was curled around the offending item, bending the boy’s fingers back. Jacob gave a yell, pulled his hand out of his trouser pocket and Ransom seized the phone, yanking it out, just as you walked into the hallway.

He looked at you, then to Jacob and saw you pale as the realisation washed over you that you’d not only been seen but recorded or snapped, by a twelve year old boy nonetheless.

“Unlock it.” Ransom demanded, thrusting it back at him.

“Now listen here…” Walt started until Harlan turned to him.

“Walt, shut up.” He barked, turning to Jacob “Unlock the phone, now Jake.”

Jacob sullenly took the phone from Ransom and did has he was told, Ransom snatching it back. He glanced down at the screen, flicking to the Gallery and let out an angry noise as he saw not only footage of you both in the woods but ten or so photos of your bare thigh and close ups where he had attempted to see up your skirt when you had been on his knee before. Thankfully from the snaps there wasn’t really anything visible, but still the fact he had even taken them in the first place made Ransom apoplectic with rage.

“You dirty little prick.” he mumbled, looking back up at him. Jacob visibly recoiled under Ransom’s glare.

“Ran?” You questioned as you gently touched his arm and he tilted the phone so you could see the screen and your eyes widened, your entire body growing warm as you saw the close up of your thigh on the screen.

“How the fuck dare you?” You exploded, glaring at Jacob.

“Can you explain what he has supposedly done?” Donna, Jacob’s mother spoke for the first time and you turned to face her, your pretty features contorted in rage.

“He’s…” You shook your head “Taken photos of me, before up my skirt.”

Noise erupted in the hallway, Joni and Meg screaming about you being violated, Richard and Linda yelling at Walt and Donna whilst Harlan shook his head, making a noise of disgust. Ransom ignored them all as he selected the photos and images, deleting them, and showing it to you.

“Gone, Princess.” He turned the screen off before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

“Look, he’s a teenage boy…” Donna was protesting “He’s a bit curious…”

“He’s a dirty bastard.” Richard snorted and the irony wasn’t lost on Ransom as he’d seen his father eyeing you up on more than one occasion. He looked at his dad, eyebrow raised as Jacob bit back at the dig.

“I’m a dirty bastard?” The pre-teen snapped, his eyes flicking from Richard to Ransom “I’m not the one that was having sex against a tree!”

Everyone paused and their heads turned to you and Ransom. You gave a groan, your hands sliding up to your face to hide your utter embarrassment, but besides you Ransom’s expression never changed because, well frankly, he couldn’t give two shits about everyone knowing what you had been up to.

“I’m a grown ass man.” He snarled “If I wanna fuck my girl outside on private property I will”

He held Jacob’s phone out to him, but as Jacob went to take it Ransom opened his hand, dropped it to the floor with a loud “oops” and stomped on it, the metal and glass crunching under the heel of his expensive, leather boots.

There was more yelling, and Ransom simply turned, taking your hand in his. “We’re leaving.”

This time you didn’t argue. The pair of you walked away, ignoring the screaming which grew fainter as you headed down towards the large front doors, only to hear Harlan calling after you. Ransom stopped, took a deep breath and tuned to face his grandfather.

“Y/N are you ok?”

“Of course she’s not.” Ransom snapped but you gently squeezed his hand, shaking his head.

“I’m okay Harlan, thank you. But I think its best we go before Ransom commits murder.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not far off killing the little turd myself.” Harlan shook his head, sighing. He then took a deep breath, looked at Ransom, and there was a flash of something which you knew only too well to be amusement in his eyes. “Which tree?”

Ransom frowned “What?”

“I asked which tree you two were doing the naughty against.”

You groaned as Ransom blinked and then shrugged “Just in the thicket to the south side of the lake, near the little jetty. Why?”

“Well, instead of barking up the wrong tree so to speak, next time stick to the North side.” Harlan grinned cheekily “It’s in the dip and no chance you can be spotted by anyone unless they’re a foot or so away.”

Ransom’s mouth curled up into a smirk as he looked at his grandfather then to you.

Meanwhile you simply wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

Harlan bid the two of you goodbye as you headed out to Ransom’s Beemer. He stopped just besides it, turning to you, his hands falling to your hips again. “Well, I don’t know about you, Sweetheart, but all that excitement has made me a bit hungry. Seeing as we’re not getting dinner here, how about I take you to Asta?”

Your face lit up at the mention of your favourite restaurant and you gave an eager nod before you frowned “Aren’t we a little underdressed? And it’s Saturday evening, we’ll never get in.”

“Baby girl, enough money can get us in anywhere, and you look fine.” He said, dropping a kiss to your lips before he grinned “You might wanna brush the twigs outta your hair though.”

[remedialpotions]

Off The Train

Thanks to @mertronus for tagging me in the HPRomione Discord Popcorn game thingy! The prompt she gave me was: "I can finally see you."

I'm tagging @acnelli with the prompt: "You can't just keep pretending things are fine!"

***

”I can’t wait until you get off that train,” says Ron, his voice low and lazy with fatigue, “and I can finally see you.”

Hermione shifts in her bed so she’s lying on her side, mirror held out before her. This way, she can pretend - if she squints a bit, and ignores the crimson hangings of her four-poster bed - that he’s lying next to her, and not hundreds of miles away in London.

“What do you mean, ‘finally’?” Hermione, too, keeps her voice quiet. It won’t do, in her final days as Head Girl, to be waking her dormmates. “You’re looking at me right now.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. I can see you, but I can’t touch you, or...” The corner of Ron’s mouth twitches up into a crooked smile. “Or do anything else for that matter.”

“Right. Well,” she says, trying to infuse positivity into her voice, despite the weeks since the Easter holidays dragging into what felt like months and years, despite missing him so much that it’s like a heavy fog surrounding her. “It’s only a couple more days, right?”

“Can’t it be now?” Ron looks like he’s reclined in bed too now, his fiery hair stark against the deep navy of his sheets. “Just get to Hogsmeade, then you can Apparate-“

“You know full well that I cannot,” she replies briskly, even though it’s tempting, really tempting. “It’s-“

“-behavior unbecoming of a Head Girl,” Ron finishes her sentence. “I know. I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too.”

“I love you,” he adds after a moment’s silence, before his eyes widen with inspiration. “Oh, I’ve got it. What if I Apparate to Hogsmeade, and then walk to the castle - I bet Hagrid would let me through the gates-“

“It’s only two days, Ron.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

“And I love you too.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

•••

Pigwidgeon is the last owl to fly into the Great Hall, his little wings beating wildly to keep him aloft. With a scrap of parchment clutched in his tiny talons, he struggles over to the Gryffindor table before somersaulting down into Hermione’s lap.

Hermione’s heart sinks, and not just at the sight of the exhausted little bird currently burrowing into the crook of her elbow. Their two-way mirrors mean they don’t usually have to resort to writing letters. Not unless...

Hermione, the parchment reads when she unfolds it. Got called on an emergency mission. I’m not allowed to tell you where or why or even how long but I’m hoping it won’t take too long. I’m still going to be there at King’s Cross, because I’m dying to see you and I can’t wait until all this is over and we can just be together. Anyway, I love you and try not to worry too much. I promise to do my best not to die.

Ron

“Oh, good,” comes Ginny’s voice from beside her, and Hermione turns to see her peering intently at the parchment. “He’s promised not to die, that’s a relief-“

“He’ll be there,” interrupts Hermione, tucking the note in the pocket of her robes before Ginny can further infringe upon her privacy. “If he thinks it’ll only take a day, then I believe him.”

Ginny blinks. “I never said he wouldn’t be.” Plucking Pigwidgeon from Hermione’s lap, she offers him water from her goblet. “I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.”

“It’s probably just a quick day trip,” Hermione rationalizes, eyes focused hard on Pigwidgeon as he drinks so she doesn’t have to see the sympathy she knows is etched on Ginny’s face, “and he just wanted me to know in case - well-”

“In case he dies?”

Ginny’s attempt at a joke falls flat.

“Well, just in case, you know, something were to - to happen,” Hermione stammers, “and anyway, it’s just good for me to know - I like to know what he’s up to - not in a controlling way or anything, just-”

“Of course,” Ginny interjects bracingly. “I’m sure he just wanted you to know, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll be there.”

Hermione picks up her mug of tea and holds it close to her face so the steam washes over her. She knows what they’re both thinking but are unwilling to say: that in the year Ron and Harry have been Aurors, neither has had a mission run shorter than a week.

•••

And so Hermione sits with Ginny and Luna on the train, watching the Scottish Highlands slowly transform into the low, tidy hills of the English countryside outside her window and hoping against hope that Ron will be there on Platform 9 and ¾. But she hasn’t heard from him since that first letter, and his mirror has gone dark. This doesn’t worry her - not for his safety, anyway - but it does make it difficult to share in Ginny’s gleeful anticipation as the train pulls into King’s Cross.

She busies herself with tending to Crookshanks, who is furious about his prolonged confinement in his basket, as Harry and Ginny embrace on the platform. It’s not that she’s upset, not really. Ron is doing what he needs to do, and she would never want him shirking his responsibilities just so he can kiss her on a train platform for the first time since April. She just wishes things could be different.

After Harry and Ginny depart for Grimmauld Place, she flags down a taxi and rides alone to her parents’ home. The family car is parked in front, which is unusual for a weekday, but when she goes inside, she finds her parents have been eagerly awaiting her arrival and can hardly let her set down her trunk before whisking her away to an upscale restaurant in South Kensington.

“So, tell us about school,” says Mum with an eager smile once they’re seated at their candlelit table. “How were your exams? I want to hear everything.”

“I will later,” Hermione replies, raising her brows and tipping her head pointedly in the direction of the waiter currently pouring red wine into their glasses.

“Oh, right, right, of course. Well, anyway, dear,” she begins as the waiter sets down menus and strides away, “your father and I have a little surprise for you.”

It’s foolish, she knows, but her mind leaps instantly to Ron. Maybe all of this business with his mission has been a ruse, and he’s here in London after all, and she’ll be able to come up with an excuse to spend the night at Grimmauld Place…

Until she notices that her parents are still talking, and there’s no tall, lanky, red-haired wizard to be seen in this high-end French restaurant, but there are three Eurostar boarding passes laid out across the tablecloth.

“Sorry,” says Hermione, shaking her head to clear away the daydream, “what’s going on?”

“We’re going to Paris!” announces Mum with delight. “We thought it would be so lovely to spend time together since you’ve been away for so long, and you’re about to start your new job - and I know you’ve always wanted to go there. We’ve got ten whole days, and everything’s booked, so all you’ve got to do is pack.”

“That - that’s - that’s brilliant,” Hermione musters, forcing her lips into some semblance of a smile. Her parents beam so brightly back that it’s almost difficult to look at them. “Erm, so when are we leaving?”

She crosses her fingers under the table, praying they’ll say August, or her birthday in September, or Christmas, anything but-

“This weekend!”

Of course.

•••

Paris is beautiful. It exceeds every single one of Hermione’s expectations. She and her parents consume copious amounts of bread, cheese and wine, they visit museums and cafes and old bookstores, they ascend to the top of the Eiffel Tower and take in the view. She thinks of Ron constantly as she walks the cobbled streets, as she crosses the Pont des Artes and sees the countless locks affixed to its railing. Before she left, she sent Harry an owl to tell him that she was leaving, so Ron would know where she was if he returned home before she did. As they can’t communicate when she’s staying in a Muggle hotel, she truly has no idea where he is, but she tells herself that he’s still on his mission. It feels better that way, imagining that even if she stayed in London, there would still be obstacles keeping them apart.

On their last day, she nearly empties out a patisserie buying eclairs and macarons for Ron, and then they board the Eurostar back to England. Nervous anticipation grips her stomach as the train barrels through the tunnel (idly, she wonders if Ron’s dad is aware of this train that travels underwater, and makes a mental note to tell him), because she has no idea what awaits her back in London. What if Ron’s still away? Or worse - what if something’s happened to him, and she’s been off enjoying a holiday while he’s been suffering?

The train can’t move quickly enough. Hermione can focus on nothing - not the paperback romance novel her mother has loaned her to read, not the Muggle newspaper that her father is engrossed in, not even the argument of the couple seated across the aisle from them. It’s only a two-hour trip, so why does it feel like it’s taking days?

She checks her mirror, but it’s still dark.

“You go ahead, sweetheart,” says Dad when the train finally rolls to a stop in St. Pancras station. “We’ll get the cases.”

Hermione looks up at the luggage rack over their heads, then at her parents. “Are you sure? I’ll bring mine-”

“We can manage. Go on ahead, get some fresh air.”

She doesn’t bother reminding them that train station air is hardly fresh, and instead heads down the aisle with just her purse and the box of pastries in tow. Truly, she’s not sure why her parents have sent her off the train without them; with the station as busy as it is, they’ll surely lose track of each other.

But then she sees him. Standing a head above the crowd, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his bright blue eyes scan the throngs of travelers. At first, she doesn’t believe her eyes. Surely, she’s just become so desperate to see him that she’s actually begun hallucinating.

But as she draws closer, he doesn’t ripple into nothingness, he doesn’t fade away. He’s really, truly there, his red hair curling behind his ears, one knee jiggling with pent-up energy the way it always does when he’s particularly impatient. As he turns his head, still surveying the crowd, their eyes lock and the rest of the station recedes into the background. Finally, they’re within sight of each other after months of hushed mirror conversations and stolen moments borrowing Professor McGonagall’s Floo. Hermione picks up speed, nearly skipping across the concrete in her haste, and flings herself into his waiting arms.

She fits against him perfectly. The fabric of his faded t-shirt is soft against her cheek as she breathes him in, and for the first time in recent memory, words fail her completely.

The box of pastries thuds to the ground.

“Hi,” he mutters, lips brushing her skin and sending chills up her spine.

“How - how did you-”

“Harry told me where you’d gone.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, and then, at long last, their lips connect. “It’s not that hard to look up train schedules.”

As reluctant as she is to pull away from him, she leans back just enough to look up at him. Behind the freckles scattered across his face, his cheeks have gone pink. “You’re amazing,” she tells him, rising on tiptoe for another kiss, unconcerned with the passersby and the blast of nearby train whistles.

Ron lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug when they break apart. “Had to meet you on a train platform somehow.”

[yuurei20]

Question, but do you know if anyone has made a timeline for the main game? Like the months that the books take place in, when the unbirthday party was, when was the club fair(or whatever it was called), how long are the winter/spring/summer/fall breaks? Etc etc

I'm pretty sure I'll have to make my own timeline for my fic but if someone else has already made one I can build off it or if not, any info you can give will help lol

Hello hello!! Thank you for this question!

I put together a collection of what months the books take place in (according to the occasional hints we receive from the characters) in response to a question to how often people have been overblotting, and also wrote about a potential reading order (1), as well as a follow up reading order (2), but those incorporate events, so there is some time-weirdness!

For a more straight-forward reference, I believe that this is what we know!

Book 1 takes place at the beginning of the school year, and the beginning of the school year is in September! So while no character says directly, "here in Book 1 it is September," it seems like a safe guess.

Book 2 revolves around the Interdorm Spelldrive Tournament, which Crowley says is in October.

Book 3 is much more vague! We know it begins on the last day of final exams, but that could be anywhere from October to December.

Book 4 starts on the last day of the first semester and ends after school has started for the second semester, implying December-to-January, but I do not think it is ever expressly stated how long the students were away.

The Culture Fair is held in mid-February but Book 5 itself begins "just over a month" before, so early-mid-January seems like a safe assumption!

Book 6 starts "a few days" after the mid-February Culture Fair, the same day that Idia observes that there have been five overblots in less than six months (and then immediately joins the club).

At the beginning of Book 7 the prefect observes that "it's supposed to be spring," but the timing is a little vague! It is presumably sometime between February and May, as there is a Spelldrive tournament in May that doesn't seem to have happened yet.

The question of how long breaks are is a very interesting one! :> I am not sure it has ever been explained anywhere how long the students are away for vacations, and with how NRC seems to be based on a variety of different school systems, it might be best to not make any assumptions yet. Maybe we shall be told someday! :>

[camdentown-library]

The flames in your eyes || ENG ver. Ethan Torchio x reader

❝ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚. 

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. ❞

Genre: Fluff ;; romantic ;; slowburn

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x fem!reader

Warning: English is not my native language, I may have made grammatical errors. do not hesitate to correct me

N / A: The facts told are purely the fruit of my imagination, it is not my intention to do any wrong to any person mentioned, and above all the character of Ethan could (surely) not reflect the person in reality.

Happy reading to you all!

CHAPTER 1

The first rays of July had cast on the roofs of the houses in Rome, giving the off-white plaster and rosy tiles a golden sheen that tasted like honey. The wisteria were in bloom, as was the medlar tree under Marlena's house; the scent of life in the full act of her cycle, always knocked on her dining room window, filling it with sweet fragrances.

The girl used to take her place at the table during the late morning hours, surrounded by books and tomes quite old and gnawed by the dust, with the good resolution that even that day she would read and study those very boring pages of that equally boring examination. of Egyptology. The university summer session had already begun, she had just taken a couple of exams last June and was now preparing two more that she would take in the first weeks of September.

That time could seem apparently short, Marlena didn't care that much, what could ever distract her from her work? She had no friends, and by now, even though she had crossed the threshold of 21 years in the autumn, the girl was now completely extinct her naive youth, as well as her desire to laze.

The out of tune and unexpected sound of the intercom triggered her head bent over the books of the young woman, who after having heaved a sigh perhaps a little annoyed, she decided to get up from her chair, leave the dining room and cross the wide and not too long corridor in the shape of an "L" of his apartment, finally arriving at a brisk pace towards the device it had croaked in order to answer.

"Yes?" she asked quite firmly but not too cordially.

"I'm the postman, will you open me?" answered a stranger, as she pushed the button to open the gate.

Marlena therefore opened the heavy old door of her house, remaining patient to wait for the man to arrive at the door. Although she had lived in that condominium with her father for as long as she remembered it, she had not yet found a rational explanation for its lack of mailboxes. Was it because it was a palace built in the 1920s? Well that would explain the absence of an elevator as well, but a damn mailbox wouldn't be hard to add.

The man's gasping breath brought her back to reality as her eyes saw him peeking from the flight of stairs. Was he already that tired after not even crossing the second floor? The young woman wondered a little disappointed.

"Are you Madam Levavi?" the postman then asked, catching his breath and rummaging through her purse. Marlena wrinkled her nose instinctively.

"Ahm ... not madam, I'm her daughter" she replied shaking her head, what could that postman ever care if she was "miss" or "madam"? The girl lightly bit the inside of her cheek as a reproach.

"Here you are. How many floors are there still?" She asked the man wiping her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief after giving her the mail.

"Two more ..." Marlena replied disinterestedly as she closed the door, observing her letters.

Bills for electricity, water, the tax to be paid for the next university year and ... a letter?

Well, it certainly wasn't sent by her father...

The girl looked at the text of that letter once more, rereading it and rereading it several times, wrapped in a silence that was probably inherent in memories that clouded her common sense, while slowly after taking a few steps back, she gently placed her back to the wall.

"Dear Marlena,

I know perfectly well that it might have been easier to call you, but you know I've always enjoyed writing you letters.

Unfortunately I noticed that in the last few I sent you you didn't answer, I guess it's because the university keeps you very busy ...

However, I learned that your father is out of Italy on a business trip and he will be away until the end of August; It seemed only right to invite you to spend these last months of summer in our house outside the city.

I know that since your mom left, you haven't had the desire to visit us anymore, but I think it would do you good to change the air for a while. The place is quiet, there is the sea and also a large and extensive countryside with a pine forest and the locals are really friendly and helpful.

You can also bring Lapo if you want, I know you are very close.

Either way, let me know your verdict.

A strong hug.

Grandmother Agata.”

She had distant memories of that house, distant but still happy. He remembered when he woke up early in the morning with grandmother Agata and grandfather Laertes to be able to go to the sea and his little hands while looking for hermit crabs and shells on the shore, as he remembered the music in the square and the laughter echoing in the same way as the bells of the church on Sunday, everyone was happy ... and life seemed to be less unfair to those who deserved it less, it tasted like jam and fruit jellies, salt on the lips and bees flying.

Marlena's chest swelled with air, as if she had been holding her breath until then...perhaps because diving into one's childhood was like floundering in a stormy sea pretending to stay afloat.

The cheerful barking of her dog Lapo brought the young woman back to the present, who decided to place the letters on a window sill not far from the front door and set off together with the playful animal towards the kitchen. Lapo was a nice Bernese Mountain Dog, with a black, brown and white coat. It had been given to her five years ago, perhaps because her father had sensed that even his absence had created in the heart of his only daughter, a sense of distressing loneliness, which had consumed her to the bone making her totally apathetic for certain verses.

But Lapo, Lapo had saved her from her, with Lapo she spoke and shared gestures of affection, such as caresses and little licks between her fingers and hair. Sometimes Marlena fell asleep in her bed, with the bulky dog ​​on her, because feeling her warm and humid breath on her blankets reminded her in her sleep that she was not alone in the dark of the night. As long as Lapo's heart had beaten the young girl she was not afraid of having to wake up or sleep.

Although she tried to convince herself that staying in her comfort zone would be easier than answering "yes" to her grandmother's request, a part of her was again attracting her to that letter; her gaze was captured by the horizon of her mind, while in the distance she could almost hear the sounds and flavors of a place almost too fairytale to be part of the material world.

"I know I should answer..." she murmured as she was intent on washing the peel of a red apple in the kitchen sink. Meanwhile the dog sat up looking at her intensely while she wagged his tail waiting for her.

"...It's just that, that place...and then I should finish studying, I have an exam to take at the end of the summer, Lapo" but the dog tilted his head in disappointment and then got up and trotted out of the room, looking for of who knows what amusement, leaving Marlena to her thoughts, as she bit into the freshly dried fruit with the kitchen towel.

All of this would only be for a little over a month and a half, just a month and a half and then she would leave it all behind her again, as she did a long time ago.

“Hello grandma. I'm Marlena..."

Marlena after putting the letter back next to her bedside table, she grabbed the cell phone not far away and typed some numbers on the screen, not too convincingly, and then brought the object to her ear.

There were those ten seconds of waiting that seemed the stroke of half a century, until a voice said "Hello?".

Marlena had brought two large bags with her. One for clothes and the other full of junk such as: books, objects for the dog, tricks and everything that for her mind, not so familiar with travel, she considered indispensable. She was not so convinced that both of them would enter the trunk, but the exemplary ability to know how to adapt and make do with her grandfather always left her with amazement on the edge of her lips.

It took two days before grandfather Laerte's small and overly backward FIAT Punto made its peerless entrance next to the bottle-green gate of the small cloister of the Marlena palace.

The man had taken more or less ten minutes just to park, the niece had wondered how long it would take him to get there and start again.

The young woman was sitting in the back seats, together with Lapo. She held in her hands a small bunch of tulips that Laertes had brought her, made by herself. He said to her:

"I went for a walk in the countryside and tried to capture the most beautiful of all, like my granddaughter!" followed by a proud, croaking laugh. Laertes had always been a proud and incurable romantic, without ever giving up some of her drama, grandmother Agata did nothing but remind her of it in her letters.

Like when Marlena pointed out to him, that the steering wheel of the car was too damaged for the latter to be considered in accordance with the law, but he had always replied that a good soldier and partisan would appeal to his driving experience and a little 'of elbow grease, in order to be sure that the itinerary of the journey would be peaceful and without unpleasant hitches.

Lapo let out an enthusiastic bark when the croaking car left the endless concrete of the highway behind, and then took a narrow, winding, uphill road that would have led them to the small town.

Her gaze stared blankly at what was running, like tape in a movie camera, out the window; She saw the buildings of the city become less present, as well as the stench of smog, then there was a long stretch of highway, immersed in the wheat fields and every now and then some small farm or spare parts industry or other jobs would emerge.

In the car there would have been complete silence, had it not been for the old radio which played an entire disc of all of Lucio Dalla's masterpieces; Marlena's grandfather liked that singer, but not in the same way chatting while driving, because according to him it would have increased the chances of road accidents by 50%, and frankly, the granddaughter didn't mind at all this acknowledgment ... she didn't even know where she should have started and however much her relatives tried to make her feel at ease, she imagined herself as a stranger, a stranger, who had knocked on their door and was now just trying to learn and remember their common manners.

"If you look to the right you will see the sea, Marlena" Laertes informed her, while he struggled with the steering wheel at every bend, but he did not dare to make even a moan under stress. The girl decided to accept those words, and looking out (after rolling down the window) a crisp air of salt pervaded her nostrils like the balm of a mint. Her eyes tried to show as little as possible the defeat of an amazement that had overwhelmed her like a raging wave, making her heart pound.

The sea. Marlena loved the sea. And for a few moments she was wondering what she had forced her to shut up in the house all that time, but then her mind went back to static and clear. She knew why, and there was no other reason to get her back together, even if it was difficult.

Yet there seemed to be few people around the streets, perhaps because at that time anyone with a minimum of wit would have holed up in the cool four walls of their home, just to escape the scorching heat that did not yield until the stroke of five in the afternoon .

By now it was almost two in the afternoon when Laertes' car passed the threshold of the square of the small town, while the attentive (even if apparently lost) gaze of his granddaughter observed everything in detail.

Nothing seems to have changed in that place since the last one who went there. The street was always covered with the usual, old and coarse slabs of white stone and eroded by the weather, as well as the various shops that surrounded the square and the small houses side by side, glazed with a fresh off-white plaster and dark brown roofs, the fountain in the center, and the small restaurant with its balcony overlooking the long pine forest that extended at the foot of the modest hill that supported the town.

A jolt suddenly shook Marlena, when her grandfather decided to pull over and pull up the handbrake of his FIAT, thus causing a slight recoil unexpectedly enough to suddenly wake the girl from her thoughts. She cleared her throat, while she opened her door, so that Lapo could finally trot and wag his tail excitedly around, on the other hand she didn't blame him, it must have been hard for a dog to stay good in the car for so many hours.

"Here we are!" proclaimed the elderly man putting the car keys in his pocket and then ring the bell of the small house next to FIAT "Your grandmother will be so happy to see you, I bet she will have prepared ciambelle with red wine to celebrate your reunion" he added while he waited for the woman he mentioned to open to him, already anticipating on his lips the pungent and sweet taste of those sweets he loved so much.

"So I suppose you made at least thirty" commented the young woman ironically, as she dragged out the two bags with extreme difficulty, attracting the attention of Laertes who, hastily adjusting his frizzy white hair, hastened to reach his niece to give her your support.

“Ah don't worry, kid. I'll take care of it, maybe you can ring the door, your grandmother has now gone deaf as a bell...” he said as he gave a slight snort and then muttered something.

"C’mon, grandpa" Marlena replied then raising her eyes to the sky trying not to smile, how melodramatic could that man be?

After pressing her finger on the bell again, the girl waited for someone to answer and hearing the approach of some quick steps together with the rubbing of flip-flops on the floor, made her realize that Agata had finally heard their arrival. Marlena did not even have time to greet the elderly lady, who took her in her arms, wrapping her in an embrace that caught her unprepared and to which she did not respond immediately.

“Oh my love! I’m so happy to see you again! But look how you have grown! It seems only yesterday when you reached mid-thigh and now...” the hands a little gnarled, but from the soft fingertips of the woman, gently took the face of her niece like a cup, as if to feel if her presence was only fantasy or reality "...You are a woman to all intents and purposes" she whispered and then fussed with kisses all over her face, while Marlena whining pretending to be somehow annoyed.

After climbing a short flight of stairs that led to the house located on the upper floor, the girl's nostrils and consciousness were flooded with memories and sensations already savored. She observed the now old floor of the house, granite tiles that alternated with one hand painted and another not; Marlena rejoiced with a touch of amusement when she as a child she spent boring afternoons playing on them, jumping only on the decorated ones because according to her imagination those remains were made of incandescent lava.

The walls were always the same, covered with a light blue paint and slightly lumpy at times, she could feel it, when the index and middle fingers of her right hand absently brushed the surface.

The house of Marlena's grandparents was very simple and perhaps apparently a little cramped. Having opened the wooden entrance door, after having passed the landing and the stairs, she had in front of her a corridor that extended along to her right, thus marking the various doors of each room that the house gathered inside. Almost parallel to the entrance there was the kitchen door on the opposite wall, without doors, next to it the bathroom door, and then the door to the room of the two elderly spouses. At the end of the corridor there was a small balcony with the railing covered with hanging vases where, like a multicolored waterfall, a thick branching of coral red bucanville came out which, in addition to poetically letting itself fall from the small niche, climbed elegant and graceful on the handrail of the then hug the outside walls of the house.

Marlena took advantage of it, to be able to peep there, while she deeply breathed the fragrant and velvety scent of those petals, mixed with the sea breeze that came from beyond the pine forest that surrounded the town. She observed the small houses around her while if she winked she could distinguish the clear line of the flat and calm sea that merged in perfect alchemy with the clear sky on the horizon.

The young woman tried in every way to convince herself that that enchanted place, that little corner of paradise had never failed her...but she suddenly proclaimed herself foolish for having thought such a cynical thing in the least.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

[killyourpoet]

What to expect on 12th September? (NEET 2021)

Hey everybody, if you're appearing for the NEET 2021 exam this Sunday (12th September 2021), I've compiled a list of some important things you might want to keep in mind.

The National Entrance-cum-Eligibility Test (NEET) is the national medical entrance exam in India. It is the only gateway into all medical schools in the country. It is conducted annually around May, but due to the COVID-19 pandemic, it has been postponed to September in 2020 and 2021. This year, 1.6 million students will be appearing for the exam.

[This list is by no means exhaustive, I only speak from my experience and the advice of friends and teachers. Feel free to add anything I might have missed out!]

How to make the most of this last week before the exam?

Do not experiment with anything new. Doing so might disturb the delicate subconscious programming that your brain has undergone through all these months of studying and practicing. By experimentation, I mean anything other than the routine that you've built while solving question papers. If you're used to starting with Biology, then moving on to Chemistry and ending with Physics, do not attempt to spice up your 3 hours by indulging in adventure sports like staring with Physics first. This will end in disaster.

Look through all the important things at least once. I know, I know. That's 10 fat books in one week. But remember that this is not the first time you're reading it. Skim. When you catch on something you're not too familiar with, only then should you actually read.

NCERT = holy book. Idk if you've heard but actually reading the books prescribed by the examining body will most definitely give you an edge over someone who hasn't. I cannot stress this enough. They will LITERALLY take out things from the NCERT and slap that onto the paper and call it a day. Remember that the examiners have to cater to those who do not have access to / cannot afford any sort of study material other than the NCERT. While study guides can help you interpret the NCERT, they cannot substitute it.

Have a plan. It doesn't have to be grand or very detailed. Just clearly defining what you intend to do with your time will suffice.

Set your internal clock. Practice at least one exam a day from 2:00 pm to 5:00 pm IST because that's when the actual exam is held. You want to maximize concentration and attention at that time of the day.

Practice answering on OMR sheets. This year, because of COVID, all your mock tests were probably online. In that case, take a few hours to practice exams on the OMR. The time management on that is very different from online exams.

Eat well. Remember to drink plenty of water. Try to eat things that have come directly from the earth and onto your plate. I know it's hard and the anxiety is enough to make you under eat / overeat but messing up because of something as trivial as meal choices would kinda suck tbh. Please do not eat an entire large pizza all by yourself the day before the exam. Stay the hell away from carbonated drinks for at least this one week. I am begging you. You might not notice but they seriously mess with your head. Whole foods are the way 2 go babes

What to expect on the day of the examination?

The NTA will be releasing the admit cards 3 days before the exam. Your exam centre and time slot to show up will be mentioned on it. This is most probably done to (a) prevent unfair practices and (b) give students enough time to visit the centre.

Know your exam centre beforehand. If you're living with your parents who will be driving you to the centre, you could even ask them to visit the centre the day before just so you don't waste time searching for the centre on the day of the exam. Believe me, a lot of people have lost an entire year because of this.

The peeing. Listen. They'll allow you to go to the washroom in the middle of the exam, of course. But if you ask me, try to avoid getting up to pee. Try to time your water such that you wouldn't have to pee during the exam. Please make sure you pee right before the exam. Idk about you but the exam pee has always been a real problem for me and together with my anxiety, it has ruined a lot of exams. It also breaks your momentum and you'll have to re-orient yourself when you get back. NEET isn't like JEE - it's not about how smart you are, it's about how efficient and accurate you are, because that's what a doctor needs to be.

Eat a light, nutritious meal. Something that'll give you energy but isn't too hard to digest. You don't want to nod off during the exam. That would be highly inconvenient.

Be on time. If you don't turn up on time, no matter what, you will not be allowed inside. Again, a lot of people I know have messed up here.

Security check. You will be checked before entering the centre. Do not wear anything dark (black, dark blue, dark brown etc). Do not wear jeans or any tight clothes. All your clothes must fit loosely and they must be light. This is done to prevent people from sneaking in transmission devices. If you wear long sleeves, you will be asked to cut them then and there. Do not wear heavily embroidered clothes. Do not have any metal on you. Take off all jewelry at home. If you wear a bra, remember to wear a sports bra or one that doesn't have any metal hooks. You can't wear shoes - your feet must be visible. Wear flip-flops or thin sandals. People have been made to take off their shoes before and write the exam barefoot. They will provide a fresh mask at the centre and gloves. This time, due to COVID-19 restrictions, they will not be doing body pat frisking, they will not be checking your ears and mouth. There will be bluetooth jammers in the exam hall to prevent any transmissions and the entire exam will be videographed.

Stay calm. I know it looks like a high security airport check and you'll probably be scanned several times and subjected to several layers of screening but remember - this is done so that nobody has an unfair advantage over you. India has incredibly clever people, but sometimes for the wrong reasons.

While writing the exam:

Don't panic. If you see a question that looks hard do! not! panic! because we always know more than we think we do!! Wait a second, linger for a moment and the answer should come to you.

Know what to leave. If you aren't aiming to get a perfect 720/720 then you should leave time consuming questions and try to do as many questions you know as possible. If you are aiming for a perfect score, do the same but remember that you need to leave sufficient time at the end to come back to them.

Repeat. Remember - this is just another one of the hundreds of exams you've done. Follow the same strategy you're used to. Most definitely DO NOT experiment in the final exam.

Lastly, always remember that ur super cool and smart and amazing and one mistake won't define you. Your worth is inherent and not determined by an exam. Your timeline is very different from someone else's. This is not a race, it's about doing things right. Your physical and mental health are more important than anything else in life. Do your best today and try again tomorrow. And then the day after that.

If you have any questions, feel free to message me :))

Best of luck!!

— Svante

[mimisempai]

Wait for me on the other side 1/8

Summary:

Mobius, a watchmaker, and Loki, a teacher, realize that they are separated by two years of time when they exchange letters from different years in the mailbox of the house on the cliff where Mobius lives. As the two lonely hearts feel they have found their soulmate, will they ever meet?

or the Lakehouse AU that nobody asked for.

Notes:

This is my very first multi-chapter AU. I hope you'll enjoy it. Chapters will be released on a weekly basis.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/81773392

3772 words - rating G

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

When two people "connect" the bond between them can be so pure and simple as to stir hearts in heaven.

When they connect in all the right places at all the wrong times, heaven weeps for broken hearts. To heal these broken hearts, heaven breaks time.

—Blithe Spiritus

Loki took one last look through the rearview mirror at the cottage on the edge of the cliff, which was getting smaller and smaller as he drove away.

Shifting his gaze forward, his face slid to the crate on the passenger seat, where Croki, his pet alligator, was sitting.

"I hope you will like your new home..." Loki sighed.

Then suddenly, he braked abruptly, holding back the cage with one hand as it slid forward. Then he backed the car up.

"Shit. I'm sorry Croc'"

He walked over to the mailbox. He put his hand through the window, opened the mailbox and put an envelope inside. Then his long fingers pulled the red flag in a vertical position, to indicate that there was mail. All this under the eyes of Croki who followed with attention all his gestures.

He tapped the top of the cage, "Come on, this time we're off for good."

He rolled, speeding up, refusing to look at the sign for the tiny village his home was in, New Asgard.  Loki rolled east, the cliff behind him, then passed a sign: New York, 35 miles.

The traffic became heavier as he approached the city.

After maneuvering through the various streets and making his way through the New York traffic, he stopped in front of an apartment building on a busy street. It was a very recent building, cold and sterile. The contrast with the tranquility of New-Asgard was striking.

He parked, got out of the car and took a moment to absorb the change in his surroundings. Then with a sigh, he began to unload his things.

**********

Loki stopped at the steps in front of the entrance to the imposing establishment - September High-School. He inhaled deeply to give himself courage before moving forward, climbing the few steps and pushing open the heavy door. He entered and walked to what appeared to be the front desk where a busy looking secretary was standing.

Loki asked softly, "Excuse me?"

"Just a minute, okay?"

Loki waited a minute, politely, then tried to get the secretary's attention again.

"Ahem... Excuse me, I need to..."

She handed him a stack of paper, while saying, without looking at him, "Just fill this out and wait for me there, okay?"

Loki handed it back to her.

"No, I'm Loki Laufeyson. I'm a new teacher. I was told to report here."

The secretary looked sheepish, "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor. You need to find Principal Romanov. She should be around here. A woman with red hair, dressed in black, you can't miss her."

He did indeed find the Principal in the hallway that the secretary had pointed out.

Natasha Romanov may have looked young to be a high school principal, but everything about her demeanor, her head carriage, her attitude exuded confidence and authority. She walked quickly down the hallway and Loki, though tall, had a hard time keeping up with her.

The principal handed him a large stack of files as soon as they arrived in her office.

"You will be in charge of the sophomores, this morning you will have three classes to teach and three this afternoon."

Loki repeated to be sure, "Three?"

"That's a quiet day, for a first day."

Loki looked a little dazed, he didn't think he was going to jump into the deep end and thought he would have some time to adjust.

The principal turned around, as if she sensed his hesitation, "The teacher you replaced let us down without notice, and it took us a while to find the right replacement, the students lost a lot of time for their final exams. We have to do our best to make sure they pass."

They walked past a student who was sitting alone on a bench, looking sulky. Romanov motioned to a supervisor.

"What's he doing here?"

The supervisor replied, "He was grounded because he took apart a computer to prove Professor Banner wrong and has to do an hour of gym under Professor Odinson's supervision. However, I can't leave the place unattended, and I was waiting for my backup to take him there.

"Peter get up," said principal Romanov in a sharp tone.

The young man stood up, a sulky look on his face.

"Professor Laufeyson, take him to Professor Odinson in the gym and then you can begin your lessons in this class."

The principal pointed to the door of the classroom in question, then turned and walked back to her office, not waiting for an answer.

"Well come with me, Mister...?"

The young boy followed his lead and replied with a pouty tone, "Parker, Peter Parker. »

"Then let's go Mr. Parker, the computer dismantler." replied Loki with a wink.  He knew he couldn't condone what the young man had done, but he couldn't help but find it amusing.

Seeing that the professor didn't look reproachful as he said these words, Peter lost his pout and got a small smile.

"Although I'm curious as to what could have caused you to disassemble a computer."

Peter seemed to come back to life, explained to an amused Loki, that Professor Banner, who taught biology, had said that nothing could compare to the complex construction that was a living being and Peter had wanted to show him the opposite by dismantling the Professor's laptop.

"But I was about to put it back together though, I don't understand why he got so upset."

Loki couldn't help but laugh.

Peter's face frowned because they had arrived at the gym.

They walked through the door and there a giant blonde man came striding in, "Peter Parker, it's been so long! Tell me what you've been up to again." he ruffled Peter's hair who tried to shy away from it, then he held out his hand to Loki who had to hold back a wince at the strength of the professor's grip.

"Professor Odinson, but call me Thor. Nice to meet you. New professor?"

"Yes, I am the new literature professor, Loki Laufeyson, but call me Loki. I'll leave this promising young man to you," He winked at Peter before continuing, "as for me I'll be teaching my first class."

"Welcome here, and good luck!" threw Thor at him before turning back to Peter, "Go change, we'll start with 10 laps running around the basketball court."

Hearing Peter's grumbles, Loki smiled as he walked away.

A few minutes later, he stopped outside his classroom door and took a deep breath.

"It takes a little time to adjust, but most of the students here are exceptional and the teaching staff is really, really nice."

Loki turned to see who had just spoken.

He found himself facing a black man, taller than him, and very impressive. But despite his imposing nature, his smile and eyes were very warm as he held out his hand. "Heimdall, art professor, welcome."

Loki grasped it and replied, "Loki, literature professor."

Heimdall gave a small nod in the direction of the door, "Good luck." then walked away.

Loki, surprisingly relaxed following this little interlude, walked through the classroom door with a confident air, placed his belongings on the desk and with an engaging smile on his lips addressed his first students, "Hello, I am your new literature teacher and I hope we will work well together."

He paused, letting his gaze roam over the entire class before continuing,"O Captain! My Captain! Who knows where that came from? No one? No idea? It's-"

A young boy raised his hand at the back of the classroom.

"Yes Mister...?"

"Keener, Harley Keener."

"All right Mister Keener, I'm listening."

"It's a Walt Whitman poem about Abraham Lincoln. And it's plagiarism of Professor Keating's introduction played by Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society."

Loki didn't lose his confidence at all and replied, "Thank you Mr. Keener. I'm not going to apologize for the plagiarism. I didn't expect anyone to contradict me since this film was released long before you were all born. Thank you, Mr. Keener, for setting me straight. I won't ask you to call me Captain, Sir, or Professor, but simply Loki. Yes, Mr. Keener, Loki, as in the Norse god of mischief... "

The whole class, including Harley, laughed and Loki thought that it wasn't such a bad start.

But he still felt exhausted at the end of the day, and he slumped into the chair at his assigned desk in the teacher's lounge. He leaned in and put his head back, closing his eyes.

"So they've worn you out already?" it was the deep voice, which he recognized as Heimdall's. He opened his eyes to see that the art professor had sat just at the desk next to him.

"Yet the Famous Five keep talking about Loki, the new professor who is super cool. It's been a long time since I've heard a literature professor on such good terms." It was Thor who came to join them and pulled a chair to sit in the space between Heimdall and Loki.

"The Famous Five?"

Thor chuckled before answering, "They're called that because they're always stuffed together, probably five of the smartest minds in this elite school, and as a result always going out on the town to..."

"…the benefit of science." finished Heimdall.

"That's their argument every time they get busted," Thor clarified.

"Who are they?" asked Loki, curious.

"There's Peter who you met this morning, he's in the same class as his two childhood friends Ned and MJ. There's Harley who talked about how you put him in his place, when he thought he had fooled you. Captain my Captain huh?"

Thor chuckled before continuing, "and finally Kamala Khan, the newest one, a little brunette, a ball of energy who always wears a big red scarf, summer and winter and who the other four have taken under their wing."

"Interesting..." replied Loki, thoughtfully.

"Wait until you're the target of their prank and we'll see if you find these kids interesting." said an unknown voice behind him.

"Bruce my friend! Were you able to fix your laptop?" exclaimed Thor with a laugh.

Loki turned around, only to find himself standing in front of a man who was a little older than him. He stood up and held out his hand, "Professor Banner, I presume."

"Am I that famous?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow as he shook the outstretched hand in a firm grip.

"It's mostly that I had the pleasure of taking Peter Parker for his grounding to Thor." replied Loki

"That brat..." harrumphed Bruce. "He's smart... but his habit of proving he's always right..."

The other men laughed in unison.

"So boys? Are we having fun?" a young woman with short blond hair stepped forward and held out her hand, "Carol Danvers, homeroom teacher at this crazy school."

"Nice to meet you," Loki replied, shaking the outstretched hand.

Unaccustomed to being around so many people and especially such friendly people, Loki felt a little overwhelmed and suddenly the fatigue of this first day seemed to fall on his shoulders to the point that he had to stifle a yawn.

Thor patted him on the back and said, "I have an excellent remedy for that."

"What is it?"

Heimdall and Thor high-fived each other and said in unison, "The Bifrost."

At Loki's look of complete incomprehension, Carol explained, "It's a bar two blocks away, good burgers, good beer and for good company, that's us." she finished with a wink.

Loki realized they were inviting him to come with them but he hesitated and finally replied, "Thanks. I better not drink tonight. I'm dead."

Bruce retorted, "We're all dead."

"Yes, but I still have a lot to unpack."

They nodded, and did not seem disappointed by his refusal, even rather understanding. Loki really wasn't used to this kind of company.

Heimdall put his hand on his arm and then said softly, "Next time, then."

Loki, not understanding why his throat was tight, simply nodded.

A little later, they separated in front of the school gates. Loki on one side and the group on the other.

" Bye Loki!"

"See you tomorrow Captain!"

Loki lived only three blocks from the school and soon arrived home. When he entered he realized how sterile and cold his large apartment seemed.

He had not yet had time to unpack all his things and the boxes were scattered everywhere. The first thing he had unpacked was Croki's terrarium, which took up a whole room.

As he closed the door, he heard Croki's typical little paws coming and rubbing against him as usual. He patted his head and headed for the kitchen. Croki was a Cuvier's Dwarf caiman. Loki had once wanted to get a dog, but in the animal shelter he had immediately felt a connection with the animal, perhaps because he was different, like himself.

Loki opened the refrigerator which was desperately empty except for Croki's fish ration. He put it on a plate and put it on the floor while commenting, "Need alligator food. And human too."

He was going to have to do some shopping tomorrow.

After snacking on a bag of chips, exhausted, he took a quick shower before going to his room.

"Good night Croki."

His room was as functional and depressing as the rest of the place. He went to stand in front of the window. Outside it was all stone buildings. It was very difficult to even see the sky. He sighed, "What a view..."

He pulled the blinds and went to bed. Once his head was on the pillow, he fell asleep very quickly, which prevented him from thinking too much about everything he missed.

**********

A red pickup truck passed the New Asgard sign before parking at the side of the path that leads to the house. Its back end was filled with furniture and moving boxes. A mustachioed man with gray hair got out. He walked toward the cottage on the edge of the cliff and stopped, hands on hips, contemplating the view.

He opened the door, looked for the electric power meter. He turned it on and went to turn on the light in the entrance and then in what seemed to be the living room.

Mobius examined the place, satisfied. There wasn't much. A stereo, some books, an armchair. But the bare and cosy furniture matched perfectly with the austere beauty of the small cottage. He looked out the window at the cliff. He was going to like it here.

It took him a good four hours to unload his pickup truck by himself and install just about everything he had brought. Once finished, he grabbed a cold beer that he had put in the cooler and while drinking it quietly walked around the house before getting in the car to go shopping at the local grocery store that he had spotted on his way in.

Once he had gone around the store, with his groceries in his arms, he went to put them on the counter.

The young owner and his wife were behind.

"Hi, are you new around here?" the owner asked him.

Mobius smiled and replied, "More or less. My name is Mobius."

The owner replied, "My name is Clint and this is my wife, Laura."

Laura smiled and added, "You're going to like it. Especially now that the weather is getting warmer." Then pointing to the groceries, she added, "We'll get you some boxes for all that."

"Oh thanks." replied Mobius.

Laura fetched an empty box from a high shelf. Now that she was no longer hidden by the counter, it was obvious that she was pregnant. Clint rushed to her. "No, honey, let me."

Mobius looked at them, feeling moved and at the same time fully aware of his own loneliness. He paid, took his box and left, but not without promising the young couple to return.

He parked in front of the small road with his groceries in the back of the truck and noticed the mailbox with its flag up. He stopped and opened it. There was an envelope.

For the new tenant.

He took in the groceries, put them away, made himself a sandwich tray and taking the letter, he went to sit on the armchair in front of the bay window. He put his tray on a small table next to it, opened the letter and started to read.

Dear new tenant.

Hello and welcome to your new home and congratulations, blah blah blah. You have made an excellent choice, New Asgard is a wonderful place and this house is a gem, as you may have already noticed.

I'm sure you'll love living here as much as I do.

By the way, I'm the former tenant, Loki.

Mobius looked perplexed but also pleasantly surprised.

The post office forwards my mail normally, but if something should happen here, because the post service is what it is and we are never safe, my new address is below. Thank you.

Mobius turned over the letter.

P.S.: Sorry for the pawprints leading to the front door. They were already there when I moved in, as well as the box in the attic. I think it belongs to the owner.

Mobius stared at the letter in amusement and could not help but check the end of the letter.

He went to the front door. The floor was clean. Inside and out.

"What did he talk about?" he scratched the back of his head before heading for the ladder that led to the attic. He opened the hatch, poked his head through and looked around. It was empty. No box.

Mobius went back down, shrugged, crumpled the letter and threw it away.

He finished his meal and went to bed.

The next day, in his clock store, while repairing an antique watch with an extremely complicated mechanism, he couldn't help thinking about the letter and its more or less strange ending when he was interrupted by the doorbell indicating that someone had entered the store.

He put down his tools, wiped his hands, and headed for the store.

"Hey Mobius! I made lunch, shall we share?"

It was the bubbly and somewhat invasive, Sylvie. The owner of the antique gun store right across from him.

He replied, annoyed, because she had interrupted his work that he loved, "I can't, I have urgent work to finish."

"Oh come on Mobius, there's nothing urgent about an old watch."

"It is to its owner."

She made a disappointed pout, "Well, okay..." she sighed and headed for the door, then turned abruptly. "Is it true you bought a house? Where is it? How is it?"

Mobius rolled his eyes, used to Sylvie's chatter.

"It's an isolated cottage, in a small village called New Asgard."

"You're sick to isolate yourself like that!"

"It's what I want and I already feel at home there. And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get back to my work, which is not urgent." He walked briskly toward his studio, annoyed by the criticism of his choice, and didn't even hear the door close.

In the late afternoon, after his day's work, he decided to repaint the faded fences that lined the small path. The manual work, like his work on watches, helped him to clear his head.

A few hours later, as the day was getting darker, Mobius was kneeling on the steps and applying a new layer of paint to the weathered planks. He finished, satisfied with the result, and began to put his equipment away.

Behind him, a small dwarf alligator trotted along the path. Mobius didn't notice it at first. The alligator sped up and before Mobius could react, he stepped into the paint and left footprints behind him. "Hey!"

Mobius tried to catch the alligator but it ran back inside the house whose door Mobius had left ajar. Mobius was about to follow him, wondering what an alligator was doing here and if he was dangerous, when he suddenly stopped.

On the ground in front of the house, there was a trail of paw prints.

Mobius rushed to the garbage can and searched with determination through his trash when he finally found what he was looking for: Loki's letter.

He stared at it.

Sorry about the footprints leading to the front door. They were already there when I moved in, as was the box in the attic. I think it belongs to the owner.

He remained for a long moment staring at the crumpled note.

*********

Loki went out to have lunch at a place he had spotted not far from the school.

Finding the weather warm, he opened his coat and continued walking.

When he arrived at the place, he sat down on a bench and started to unwrap his sandwich, a book in his hand. He enjoyed this moment of calm, even if the place was crowded on this beautiful day.

Once finished eating, Loki closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sunlight warm him up. Just aware of the surrounding sounds, the water of the fountain, the splashes and laughter of the children playing there, an old man grumbling about global warming, the pigeons landing not far away, hoping to get some crumbs from those who like Loki had decided to have lunch here.

Suddenly, a horrible noise, a high-pitched squeal and a horn made Loki sit up. He suddenly opened his eyes and looked around.

A few meters away, in front of Loki, a double-decker city bus was trying to stop. It was going pretty fast, although you could tell the driver was trying to brake.

Loki registered it all, the noise, the bus, before noticing the gray-haired man standing directly in the path of the bus. There was nothing to be done, it was inevitable and almost immediate, the man was hit by the bus, and Loki, horrified, saw his distant figure fly ten or fifteen feet into the air before crashing to the sidewalk. The faint sound of the impact reached Loki half a second later, due to the distance.

Loki automatically took out his cell phone and dialed 911. As he walked towards the impact point, he gave all the information to the rescue workers, trying to remain calm.

Once he hung up the phone, he started to run towards the lifeless body.

_______

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

[zukalations]

Takarazuka Revue – Torodoki Yuu’s retirement press conference: as herself to the end

I don’t usually post content on here directly, but I decided to cross post this translation of coverage of Todoroki Yuu’s retirement press conference in order to make it as visible as possible. I will put a link to the wordpress version, which contains the original sources, in a reply.

Takarazuka Revue – Torodoki Yuu’s retirement press conference: as herself to the end

Todoroki Yuu, Takarazuka Revue special advisor and Senka member, held a press conference in Osaka on the 18th, after announcing her retirement on October 1 of this year. With an open expression as if everything was as usual she said “As I have until now, I want to keep enjoying myself onstage to the end while working together with my fellow performers.”

Todoroki was born in Hitoyoshi, Kumamoto Prefecture. She discovered Takarazuka when she saw it on television, though it seemed so distant that she even thought “it was a bunch of foreign men acting in fluent Japanese”*. However, her fire of longing to join that dazzling world would not be extinguished, and when she entered middle school she decided to enter Takarazuka.

Todoroki said that she asked her middle school music teacher to play the sheet music of the repertory songs included with the application papers for the Takarazuka Music School, so she could figure out what the melodies were like. She was sure she failed the exam, but as she was in a taxi back to the airport, she told the driver “I’ll just go and see for memory’s sake,” and went to the results announcement. She said she was shocked when she found her own test number. “That driver was the first one to tell me ‘Congratulations!’ so I still remember that even now”

She debuted in March of 1985 with the Moon Troupe production If There’s Love I’ll Live Forever. In 1988 she transferred to Snow Troupe, becoming Top Star in 1997, and in 2002 she transferred to Senka as the successor to Kasugano Yachiyo, who has been described as ‘the greatest pride of otokoyaku’. As Senka star, she appeared in many productions, leading her juniors along. She excels in singing, dance, and acting, and the overwhelming presence she exudes on stage captured the hearts of many fans.

“35 years is really too long, so it’s hard to pick shows that stand out in my memory,” she said, but looking back she said that roles such as Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind, which has been called her masterpiece, and Reverend King in JFK, are “memorable roles” for her.

She decided on her retirement around September of last year. There was no particular inciting incident: “I realized in my heart that the time had come,” she said. “I’m grateful to Chairman Ogawa Tomotsugu, and everyone else who respected my wishes. She has no plans to continue as an actress, and what she will do post retirement is undecided.

In July, she will star in the Star Troupe performance ‘Gesaku’: Heir of Basara, which will be produced in the Umeda Arts Theatre Drama City and Tokyo Arts Theatre Playhouse. In the play, written and directed by Ueda Shinji, she will play a man full of a sense of justice, living in the Edo era. After that, the end of her career will be decorated with hotel dinner shows held first in Osaka in August and then in Tokyo in September. This is because of her desire to “say farewell to the fans properly from close up”.

When she moved to Senka, “I thought that I wouldn’t have a farewell recital or a descent down the Grand Stairs,” said Todoroki. “I want to be myself to the end and welcome the last moments.”

Finally, when the reporters asked “Do you have marriage plans?”, she said jokingly “Well, actually, it’s a non-celebrity, so as for the name, I can’t really…that’s as far as I thought that one through**…I’m taking applications.” The hall was filled with laughter.

* From the time this would have occurred, most likely this was a Rose of Versailles production.

** Todoroki is riffing on the near-obligatory ‘marriage question’ of retirement interviews here, rather than expressing any earnest plan to marry.