#It's such a good contrast to Mark who only wanted to be a teacher to lecture and take advantage of students

[arcadiabaytornado]

What jobs do you think Max and Chloe got after the storm?

I headcanon that the girls do side gigs for awhile while they figure out what they want from life.

Chloe does everything from mowing lawns to helping first-timers dye their hair. She'll do anything for money as long as she gets fair pay.

Max is a little more selective on what she does, but she still has a wide variety of jobs. Sometimes she helps people bake stuff for the local bake sale and others she's walking three poodles around a park. It really depends of the day.

Eventually they decide to commit to an occupation for the rest of their twenties. Chloe works as a part time mechanic and part time tattoo artist while Max is a freelance photographer.

Though in her early thirties, Chloe decides to go to collage to become a child therapist for kids and teens going through difficult times. At about the same time Max's photos are really starting to get attention and she's offered a teaching role at a local university. She takes it as she wants to be a good teacher. One students can rely on and trust. Unlike the man who gave her enough trauma to pay her therapists rent a hundred times over.

[jenscx]

GIRLS / GIRLS / BOYS — kim minjeong x f!reader

kim minjeong’s your best friend. you love her, obviously. but when did loving her become being in love with her?

TAGS — fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, highschool au, popular!minjeong, insecure reader, unrequited love, pining, slight sunghoon x reader, bisexual!minjeong, mentions of alcohol, cursing

WORDCOUNT — 6.4k

you had a type; delicate and gorgeous girls that definitely caused trouble, contrasting their looks. your ideal type comes in the form of kim minjeong, a girl that fits both the looks and personality. she was a cold beauty, one that you fawn over. her aloof and indifferent remarks in class, no doubt was the tipping point for you.

if she was a spider, you were a fly, one that gladly flew into her web of lies.

kim minjeong was an enigma— somehow keeping up her appearance as this visually appalling girl who would do no wrong, despite her actions.

“y/nnie,” minjeong’s enthralling voice whispers in your ear, “do you need help with that?”

that refers to the sheet of music you were currently holding. marked notes scribbled all over the paper, words like melody, accompaniment filled into the lines.

“ah… yes please.”

she’s enchanting, you think. minjeong leans over slightly, a small smile on her face. her now newly dyed blonde hair covers a portion of her face, only allowing you to gaze at her eyes. your own eyes trail down, from the crease in her forehead to the tip of her nose. it follows further down, to her glossy red lips, pouting at the sheet music.

“you made a mistake here,” the girl points out. her hazel eyes turn to you, crinkling into a smile, “y/n?”

you’re at a loss of words. normally, you had a lot of things to say, that’s why you joined the school’s debate club. but with minjeong? her beauty leaves you speechless.

“oh, thanks.”

“no problem,” minjeong checks the time, “hey, i gotta go. jiminie asked me to meet her for lunch.” you nod, snapping out of your delusions when minjeong refers to the volleyball captain with a nickname.

stop that, your brain says, she’s your best friend.

and your brain is right. kim minjeong will only ever be a friend. she wouldn’t be anything else, because she should settle for anything else. no doubt that she was someone who played with people’s feelings, but to her, you were off-limits.

without a best friend, who would she have?

and without her, who would you have?

kim minjeong was an enigma, yes, but she was also your best friend and coincidentally, the love of your life.

she was someone you dedicated songs to. the pining, unwillingness to admit your feelings, not being able to move on. as cliche as it sounds, you could not rid your feelings for her. how could you ever forget someone like kim minjeong? the crinkle in her eyes, the way she lights up when she sees a puppy, the soft gaze she lays on you, could you forget it all? you couldn’t. not in this lifetime, nor the next.

your heart automatically followed wherever she went. if minjeong decided one day that she wanted to uproot and migrate to europe, you would follow willingly. she was just someone that you would do anything for.

like pretending that you didn’t like chocolate just so you could give yours to minjeong. your teacher had a habit of giving out chocolate when you did well on a test, some sort of prize to be awarded for your hard work. you couldn’t resist minjeong’s puppy look towards the basket of chocolate and ended up pulling an all-nighter just to get a good mark for some chocolate.

it was all worth it though, the look on minjeong’s face when you handed her the bar.

(“don’t you like chocolate though?” she had asked warily.

“no, i don’t like eating sweet stuff,” you lied through your teeth.)

the look of happiness she had when you handed her a chocolate bar is something you would do anything to keep on her. minjeong makes you feel things— relief, exhilaration, excitement. she makes you feel vulnerable. she makes you feel human, alive. her presence in your life was the only reason you could live through each day. kim minjeong gives you strength, and is your weakness.

fingertips graze your elbow, slow touches trace the shape of your arm. a soft smile on minjeong’s face, you can only stare.

her gaze quickly darts away, smile brightening even more than it did with you. you follow her starry-eyed gaze, your heart breaking slightly when it landed on park sunghoon, the school’s star ice skater. he was somewhat like kim minjeong, quiet, unassuming and blessed with jaw-dropping features. another crack forms when you imagine the two of them together, because they do look good.

fate must be playing with you, since sunghoon turns around, an eyebrow raised at you two. you avoid his gaze while minjeong holds it. he must have left rather swiftly, since your best friend sighs dreamily and continues her rant about her new project partner.

your fists clench, forcing a smile onto your face as you listen to her. minjeong’s words barely enter your ears, since you’re too focused on that starstruck look in her eyes when she noticed sunghoon. you couldn’t blame her, he was a perfect match for her. it was only normal for her to gravitate to someone on par with her.

the background noise blurs, only the ringing alarms in your head existed at that moment. everything suddenly clicks. it’s like the universe has aligned perfectly for one second.

minjeong stares at you, worried. you barely said anything in response to her venting, only nodding and humming. your eyes were far cast, almost droopy.

“you good?” she reaches out to hold your hand.

you turn to her, shifting from her touch.

“yeah, just thinking.”

“about?” she questions.

no reply leaves your lips. it’s silent for a few moments. if anyone else saw the desperate look in your eyes, they would only feel sympathy. it was so damn frightening. frightening that there’s no guarantee you would be loved. frightening that the only person you would give anything for, would only leave you in the end.

“thinking about life.”

you didn’t know which was more tragic; the fact that you keep looking for minjeong everywhere you go, or the fact that she won’t be there one day to welcome you. maybe you shouldn’t desire so much. it would only end up hurting you.

“life,” minjeong repeated, “i think it’s pretty cool.”

you don’t respond.

“it’s pretty cool that we’re existing at the same time, together.”

it’s tragic.

“yeah, it is pretty cool,” you murmur, heart clenching into a grip belonging to kim minjeong.

you’re lying to your best friend.

the constant tug of attraction you feel towards minjeong bubbles lowly in your chest. as she converses happily with her other friends, you merely duck into your locker, pretending to be immersed in finding your textbook. you can feel when minjeong’s gaze lands on you. it burns through your skin, shocking your every vein. the bell rings and you sigh heavily. gulping as you try to manoeuvre your way through the crowd of students while simultaneously avoiding minjeong.

this situation (you didn’t know what else to call it), was brought upon by a striking realisation that you were high school seniors and that if you didn’t get your act straight, you would be stuck forever pining after your best friend.

a warm grip on your hand stops you.

“where are you going?” minjeong raises an eyebrow. you mumble, “home.”

“without waiting for me?”

“i… didn’t see you…” you murmur, nervously tugging on your bag strap, slung over your shoulder. your best friend huffs, throwing her own arm around your unoccupied shoulder, “well you’ve seen me now, so let’s go together.”

you freeze up, “i have a lot of homework… i need to rush home.” it was such a stupid excuse.

minjeong frowns. her arm in your shoulder doesn’t radiate the same warmth as before, it only weighs heavily, like the guilt in your heart.

“you’re kinda pale,” she remarks, “are you sure you’re okay?”

nodding, you shy away from her stare.

“you look sick, i don’t think you should walk back alone,” she says, an unfamiliar look on her face. you don’t know what she’s thinking.

you pull away from her embrace, “it’s okay, my mum’s at home. you should go hang out with your other friends.”

minjeong looks away, a flash of hurt shadowing her face before she retracts her hand.

“like who?”

shrugging, you turn away. something about minjeong makes you want to run far from her. the distance would hurt, but it seems that being around her hurt more. would you rather have minjeong as a friend, or not have her at all? you regret even becoming friends with her, it gave you a taste of her everlasting love. one that you would never receive the pleasure of acquiring.

“minjeong!” one of her friends called out.

her head turns and you take this opportunity to widen the distance between you and her.

you recognise this friend. hwang yeji, the vice-captain of the volleyball team. the group of girls behind yeji stare at you strangely. as she approaches, you cower behind your books.

“the girls were talking about the party yunjin’s holding later, just wanted to check if you were coming,” yeji says. minjeong glances at you. her hesitance makes yeji add, “park sunghoon’s going to be there.”

you resist the urge to tell minjeong not to go. your grip on your textbooks tightens.

“uh,” minjeong replies unintelligently, “i— i’m not sure? i don’t think i’ll go. i’ll text you guys later, or something.”

“you sure?”

your best friend turns to you, and she firmly nods, “yeah, i’m not going, i have something else to do.” you tilt your head curiously. minjeong wouldn’t give up the chance to see her crush so easily.

“okay, sure. let me know if you change your mind.”

minjeong waves her away and beams at you, “so, let’s go? i kinda need help with that chemistry homework mr lee just assigned. if you’re willing to help me, of course.”

you don’t have the heart to reject minjeong again. half-heartedly, you heave a sigh, “my house or yours?”

your reluctant agreement makes minjeong’s face light up. like a cute little puppy. she kinda reminds you of your neighbour’s dog.

“yours, obviously, it’s way closer,” minjeong rolls her eyes, bemused, “i missed your mum, is she cooking tonight?”

minjeong grabs ahold of your elbow, clinging onto it like a lifeline.

(she doesn’t know she’s yours.)

“don’t know,” you answer, skin heating up at her contact. your short sentences probably give your true feelings away, minjeong’s touch diminishing by the second. she sighs softly. guilt eats up at you, knowing minjeong would have more fun with her other friends rather than you. it’s all your fault that you can’t control your own feelings.

“what don’t you understand about the homework?” you ask, trying to reduce the awkward tension. minjeong shrugs halfheartedly, “everything. i wasn’t really paying attention during the lesson.”

you giggle at that, imagining your best friend dozing off in class. her head resting against her arm, lips parted and eyelashes fluttering shut. her hair parting perfectly, framing her small face. it wouldn’t be the first time seeing the sight. she would look so vulnerable and soft. sometimes, you want to shield her from the world.

“i finished most of it during lunch,” you tell her. minjeong stares at you incredulously, “you told me you couldn’t eat lunch with me because you were busy studying.”

your eyebrows raise, “is doing homework not studying?”

“well— no! it’s called homework y/n,” minjeong reasons, “you could have done it later and ate lunch with me.”

“then who would help you with your homework?” you retort back. minjeong gapes at you, like a fish out of water. you ignore her, muttering in faux annoyance, “maybe i shouldn’t help you anymore.”

minjeong bolts up, her bag almost smacking you in the face as she grabs onto you, forcing intense eye contact, “no! you have to help me! yizhuo sucks at chemistry and my other friends don’t even bother turning up for class!”

with a pondering look, you face away, pretending to think about what minjeong said.

regardless of your facade, you would always end up agreeing to her. but she doesn’t need to know that.

“please y/n!” minjeong begs, “you’re the only one!”

her words grip your heart, tearing it slightly. masking your bitterness with a smile, you pat her head, “just wanted to hear you say it.”

it’s true. you’ve always wanted to hear those words; minjeong telling you that you’re the only one for her, the only one who she trusts and relies on. you want to be the only one who’s exposed to all of her, the only one who can cause butterflies in her stomach to appear. you want to be her everything, only you, no room for anything else. because that’s what she is to you. your everything.

“you’re so mean!” minjeong whines. it’s adorable. you hate it. pinching her cheeks (and eliciting a small yelp from her), you reply, “you know i like teasing you.”

minjeong nods bashfully, her cheek flushed red from where your fingers previously brushed. she quickly sobers up, dragging you by the wrist. it’s your house, but the way she’s leading you, any stranger could think otherwise.

her fast pace despite her height swiftly brings you back home. you’re greeted by the sight of your mother’s back when you enter the front door. she’s humming cheerfully as she cuts up a variety of fruits.

“mum,” you greet, “minjeong’s here.”

your mother swerves around, she beams instantly when she spots the blonde standing next to you.

“oh, it’s been so long since y/n brought you here!” you glare at your mother, arguing back, “she was literally here last week.”

the older woman pays you no mind as she hugs minjeong, who eagerly returns it, throwing a smirk over your mother’s shoulder towards you. you’re reminded of the fact that your own mother probably prefers your best friend.

“did you get prettier, mum?” minjeong asks, dramatically gasping. your mother, despite being married and twice the age of minjeong, blushes like a schoolgirl. you roll your eyes and drag your best friend away from your mother, lest you witness their innocent flirting. you sigh in relief as the bedroom door slams shut behind you, drowning out the yells from your mother about you dragging minjeong away. your best friend merely snickers and makes herself at home. your eyes follow minjeong as she takes off her blazer and unbuttons her blouse, exposing the sharp angle of her collarbones.

you quickly look away when she sends you a curious stare.

“so,” you clear your throat, “what do you need help with?”

minjeong groans and pulls out her file, pouting as she takes out the worksheet. you sit next to her on the floor, leaning against your bed frame. luckily you had finished the worksheet already and understood the content rather easily.

as you explain the different questions, minjeong writes down notes, focused. you’re surprised at her diligence, normally minjeong would just whine and complain cutely about her homework whenever you would tutor her.

stray strands of baby hair fall against her forehead. she huffs, blowing them slightly. your eyes follow the puff of air.

“do you get it?” you ask softly. minjeong’s eyes flicker up to you, crinkling gratefully, “no, not really, but thanks for trying.”

you laugh, smacking minjeong’s shoulder gently.

“which part didn’t you understand? i’ll repeat it again.”

she merely shrugs, “it’s fine. i think i’m just doomed for chemistry. at least i have some notes now.” your smile fades before forming a frown. usually, she would beg you to keep going. her attitude now was a stark contrast from before. there was something bothering her.

“what’s wrong?”

minjeong glances at you, her lips pursed and unrevealing.

you somehow know what’s bothering her.

“you’re not burdening me, minjeong,” you murmur, “i’m happy to teach you.”

“that’s… i know, but it’s so… frustrating. i feel so stupid next to you. you’re always helping me out and i don’t do anything in return. i feel useless,” minjeong admits bashfully.

being minjeong’s best friend sucks. you hate it. how can someone like minjeong be so insecure beside you? if anything, you should be the one reconsidering your worth to her. the most popular girl in school’s best friend is some lame loser from the debate club. she shouldn’t be feeling like she’s useless. every second she’s on your mind. you would do anything for minjeong. and you wonder if you mean even a semblance to her life.

“you’re my best friend,” is all you can say, “helping you makes me happy.”

minjeong stares at you with wide eyes, tears brimming at the edge. her cheeks become increasingly rosy, tell-tale signs that she’s about to cry.

“you aren’t useless, i’m happy to teach you,” you repeat firmly.

seeing as she still has that defeated look on her face, she doesn’t seem to understand.

“i’m glad that you asked me to teach you. i’m happy that you rely on me for things like these.” you reach out a hand to wipe away the stray tear falling.

minjeong’s reply comes as a whisper, “then why don’t you rely on me too?”

your hand falters.

“i do,” you say in utmost sincerity.

“it doesn’t feel like you do,” she mutters, a pained look flashing across her face. perhaps, in your haste to protect your own feelings of affection, you have forgotten your duties as a friend first.

filled with guilt, you try to muster a comforting smile, “i know i’m closed off and it’s hard to read me,” minjeong nods, sniffling, “but with you, i try my best to be more open.”

maybe it’s a lie. maybe you do the opposite, building even higher walls when it comes to kim minjeong, in fear that she will be the one who breaks them down, allowing easy access to your vulnerability.

“do you really?” minjeong asks softly, distrusting. you can’t say it doesn’t hurt.

“i do, so please don’t say you’re useless.”

(because you're everything to me.)

“the stars would be so proud to know that their atoms created someone like you.” your words, filled with affection and truth. because really, some part of your soul has loved her since the beginning of everything.

“then maybe we’re from the same star,” minjeong replies. like soulmates, the words go unsaid.

“i think i’m okay with that.”

her eyes flicker back to yours, drawing you in with hypnotising big brown orbs. there’s a bubble formed around you, feeling as if time has stopped and all of the universe has aligned for a second. there’s only you and minjeong coexisting now. your hand stills, cradling her soft cheek and stroking it gently with your thumb.

“y/n,” her lips part, whispering your name. it just feels so right coming from her. hearing her voice murmur your name with such intimacy was heaven itself.

this situation is dangerous. you can’t control yourself. minjeong’s hand is resting on your thigh, sending shockwaves throughout your body. you can’t avert your eyes from her face. kim minjeong was too dangerous for you to be around.

with sheer willpower, you finally look away and drop your hand. it hurts to not look at minjeong, but it hurts more when you do, knowing that you will never get to have her like others will. her hand retracts immediately and she turns away.

out of the corner of your eye, you see minjeong hastily wiping the rest of her tears. it’s awkward. the silence and tension is damning.

you don’t know what to even say. you can’t look minjeong in the eye right now. if you did, maybe you would do something you would regret for the rest of your life.

“uh,” minjeong clears her throat and runs her fingers through her golden locks nervously, “i wanted to ask… do you wanna go to that party yeji mentioned?”

“why are you asking me?” you ask, genuinely curious. minjeong has never asked you before, knowing that you would much rather stay home than indulge in a night of dealing with hormonal teenagers in a sweaty crowd.

your best friend shrugs, “just thought since we’re graduating soon… maybe we should go together, for once.”

her words strike something in you. it is your last year, and you haven’t gone to a single party with minjeong. your reasons were that you might get drunk and do something stupid (probably confess to minjeong), and you did not want to potentially see minjeong all over someone. but with the hopeful glint in her eyes, you can’t bring yourself to deny her.

“okay,” you answer meekly, instantly receiving minjeong’s smile. the doubt of going to a party melts away, and instead a warm feeling of adoration sizzles.

maybe going to yunjin’s party won’t be so bad after all.

spoiler alert; it was, for mainly two reasons.

minjeong’s choice of a party fit was dastardly revealing. she probably had more skin than fabric showing, which as a best friend, you totally encourage, but as a best friend who’s also in love with her, it means that your eyes have not left her body since. the cropped white sleeveless top plagues your mind even as minjeong worms her way through the crowd.

your own clothes were tight against your skin, picked out by minjeong, who had spent more time on you than herself.

(“it’s your first time going to a party, y/n. you have to look jaw-dropping,” she had said, hand steadily drawing eyeliner onto you.)

minjeong eventually comes back to you, two drinks in her hands. your eyes snap away from her naked skin of her midriff, exposed by the shortness of her top.

“for you,” she grins, handing a drink to you.

your eyebrows raise.

“soju?”

“yeah, i know you don’t like the hard stuff,” she says, taking a sip of her own cup.

you raise the cup to your lips, tasting the sweet yet dizzy taste. humming in delight, your tongue darts out, cleaning the remnant from your glossy lips. minjeong smiles appreciatively at the sight, glad that you were finally letting loose.

a arm swings to wrap around your shoulder.

“surprised to see you here, y/n!” aeri grins widely, her smile rivalling that of the sun’s.

you settle into her touch, somewhat happy to see a recognisable face amongst the partygoers. if aeri was here, that probably meant jimin and yizhuo were somewhere nearby too.

“hey unnie,” minjeong greets, “I finally managed to get y/n out of her house.”

your smile falters.

why did it sound like a chore?

“that’s good, you only live once, y’know. let’s go dance y/n!” aeri exclaims. between the mess of people dancing and grinding up on each other, and the silence of the corner with minjeong, you would much rather stay with the latter. yet, the encouraging look from aeri pushed you to nod towards the sea of people.

minjeong’s hand flies to grasp onto your arm, an incredulous look on her face, “you’re dancing?”

you look at her over your shoulder, taking note of her furrowed brows, “yeah? i’m here for a reason… right?”

unable to refute that logic, her grip slackens and you’re dragged by aeri, who’s excitedly rambling about how fun parties were.

your best friend slips into the shadows of the house, nowhere to be found the next second you turned your head. well, at least you had aeri.

or, you did. the moment you whip back to talk to aeri, the girl had disappeared. panic shutters throughout your whole body. swarmed with sweaty bodies that radiated heat and the sickening smell of cheap beer, you desperately looked for a way out. your attempts go futile, unable to claw yourself away from the crowd of people. some familiar heads pop out; mark lee, self-proclaimed basketballer of the century, jang wonyoung, the girl with modelling agencies lining up to sign her when she graduates, park sohyun, certified girl crush of your school and girlfriend of equally popular zhou xinyu.

“hey!” someone yells loudly over the music. you instantly respond, distraught eyes tracking down the source of the voice. after a few seconds of looking, you catch park sunghoon staring at you with a hand stretched out.

shit. you think. turning back to the increasingly constricting crowd, you decide to take his hand and be pulled out instead of continuing to suffer.

free of the diminishing personal space you had, you let out a sigh of relief. you’ve never been happier to see sunghoon until now. the boy sends you an amused look. you probably look awful right now; you could feel your bangs sticking to your forehead, stained with perspiration and the sweat dripping down your neck made your top cling to your body uncomfortably.

“you good?” he asks softly, handing you a cup of water. you hesitate from taking it. sunghoon quickly takes a sip from it, stating, “i didn’t put anything inside.”

nodding, you gulp down the water like you’re dying from dehydration. finally quelling your parched throat, you take a good look at the ice skater.

jet black hair messily tousled. a plain, white t-shirt adorned with jeans. he wore a few accessories, like the sterling silver necklace around his neck. a boyish grin plastered on his face.

“i saw you come in, you looked a little,” sunghoon pauses, finding the right words, “out of place.”

“i don’t come to parties often,” you explain, feeling the need to converse with him as he had saved you.

sunghoon nods. he looks around for a bit before jutting at an empty corner, “let’s go there to talk. the music’s kind of making my head hurt.”

you would do anything to not get roped back into the dancing crowd.

the corner that you approached was right beside the staircase. damn, you stare at the intricate detailing of the railings, yunjin had good taste.

“why’d you come then? if you don’t like parties,” sunghoon asks curiously. you shrug, “my friend asked me to.” his inquisitive gaze doesn’t make you say anymore. after all, you don’t really want to talk about minjeong to her crush.

you lean back against the wall, muscles straining from tensing your whole body.

“your friend left you alone?”

“my other friend asked me to dance but she disappeared.”

sunghoon chuckles, “you looked like a fish out of water.”

rolling your eyes, you take another long gulp of water. somehow, you kind of understood why minjeong liked sunghoon. he was nice. and maybe if you were a boy and not her best friend, she would find you nice too.

“i never thought i would get to talk to you,” sunghoon suddenly professes.

you stare at him with wide eyes, stunned by his abrupt confession.

“i saw you for the first time during that debate competition,” he laughs to himself, “about the endangerment of animals.”

his eyes crinkle into a crescent of awe, “i remember thinking to myself, you must be the smartest person in our grade. then sometimes i see you staring, and it feels like you understand.”

and somehow, you know where this conversation is going. a feeling of agony crawls up your throat, threatening to blurt out that it wasn’t you that liked him.

“i’m sorry, this must be weird to hear.”

you force yourself to reply, “it’s fine.”

it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the constant buzzing of your phone. you feel bad when you see the plethora of texts minjeong has sent, all questioning your whereabouts. the last text was sent a minute ago, stating, ‘i think i see you.’

“we made eye contact once. it’s hard to admit but i kept thinking about it afterwards. i don’t know if i’m reading everything wrong but… do you like me?” he asks, eyes shining with hope. his body is awkwardly crouching down to meet your eyes.

as you struggle to answer him, a figure rapidly approaches.

“y/n! i’ve been looking for you everywhere— oh,” and of course, minjeong shows up now. no doubt she has heard the last part of sunghoon’s words. you direct a helpless look at her, praying that she lets you explain and everything will be fine.

“hello,” sunghoon greets, “sorry to take y/n away.”

he doesn’t look sorry.

minjeong nods, her entire body akin to one that’s frozen. deft fingers wrap around your wrist.

“i need to talk to you,” she says, staring into your eyes. sunghoon goes unacknowleged. unable to trust your voice, you merely nod meekly, bringing your hand up to wave half-heartedly at sunghoon as minjeong drags you away.

she brings you upstairs, which is slightly concerning because there aren’t any drunk highschoolers lingering in any rooms. was she breaking any of yunjin’s rules? what if the girl didn’t want anyone upstairs?

seemingly content with the balcony she ends up in, minjeong drops your hand and locks the clear doors.

you croak out, “why are you locking the doors…?”

minjeong arches an eyebrow, “in case you try to run.”

oh.

“what did you want to talk abo—”

“do you have any idea how scared i was? this is your first ever party in god knows how long and your number one instinct is to disappear with aeri? i can’t believe i just let you go without any supervision! and then i find yizhuo and aeri is suddenly with her? do you know how upset i was when I found out aeri just left you there?” minjeong says in rapid-fire words.

“uh—”

she paces around the balcony, fingers nearly ripping out her hair, “and then when i text you, you don’t even reply or read my messages. what was i meant to assume? i thought you were in some sort of trouble and i literally went on a manhunt to find you.”

only now you notice the sweat dripping down from her hairline.

“let me explain—”

“and where do i find you? chatting it up with park sunghoon! are you crazy? have you gone mad?” she shrieks in clear distress. you grab her by the shoulders, trying to stop her intense rambling.

“minjeong,” she breathes in sharply, “i’m sorry.”

a scoff.

“i didn’t mean to ignore your messages and i got surrounded by the crowd, i’m sorry,” you repeat. the girl finally calms down, her breathing stabilises.

minjeong sighs, “i was so scared. you’ve never liked parties and when you actually agree to coming…”

“it’s okay.” it really isn’t. some part of you is upset at minjeong, but the other part yearns for her, and doesn’t love blind people sometimes?

when did these blossoming feelings of adoration become something as strong as love?

“ugh, fuck,” minjeong furrows her brows, shutting her eyes shut and pinching her nose bridge, waves of frustration radiating from her, “and what the hell was park sunghoon talking to you about?”

you tense up. mouth suddenly dry and unable to utter a single word, you let minjeong bask in the silence.

“answer me,” she demands.

you clear your throat, “he thinks i like him.” it’s the safest answer, and it was the part she probably heard.

“do you?”

your eyes widen, “n-no, of course not.”

minjeong stares at you, scanning your face for any hint of a lie, “really? you’re telling the truth?”

“i don’t like sunghoon.” i like you, is what you want to say.

“seriously y/n, don’t lie to me. if you like him, you can tell me. i won’t be mad or anything,” (the constant grinding of her teeth tells you otherwise), “i’ll be more upset that you’re lying to me.” you don’t dare tell her you’ve lied to her before.

“i don’t like him,” you repeat, tired and exasperated. all you want now is to go home and get some rest. the constant bass-boosted music blasting in your ears is giving you a headache, combined with minjeong’s interrogation, you feel light-headed.

your best friend rolls her eyes. you resist the urge to just jump off the balcony. you can’t stand it when minjeong is mad, especially if she’s mad at you.

“i thought we were friends, y/n,” she whispers harshly.

your heart clenches, restrained from showing your true feelings like a straitjacket.

it’s maddening, to not reveal your own adoration for the girl. how sick is it that the girl you actually liked thinks you like another guy? the universe just hates your guts.

“minjeong…” your voice trails off. you reach out a hand.

she jumps away, as if burnt and your hand was acidic. pain shoots through you instantly. your fingers fall, devastated.

“i told you to rely on me,” she exhales, “if you think i’m mad that you like sunghoon, i’m not. i’m mad you don’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“i don’t like sunghoon, believe me,” you plead, tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall with every inch minjeong moves away. her whole body shudders and she strides towards the sliding doors, hand moving up to unlock the doors.

she sends you a bitter look, scathing and unlike the girl you love.

“i can’t look at you.”

this must be heartbreak. the scorching heat seething into the pores of your skin, burning your insides with fueled anger and pain. it’s as if someone has just poured gasoline into your body and lit it on fire. kim minjeong, the object of your affections, saying she can’t stand to see your face? it’s heartbreaking. tears run down your cheeks freely. the girl you’ve loved for so long, the one who claimed your heart without competition, kim minjeong. you feel your knees weaken, almost collapsing if it weren’t for the railing right next to you. your hands fly out to support yourself. you can’t breathe through the tears.

you can’t let it end like this.

“i like you,” you cry out as a last ditch attempt to preventing minjeong from exiting your life forever, “i like you, not sunghoon… s-so please don’t leave me.”

the girl stiffens up. she turns back to you slowly, surprise overtaking her body. your heart is racing, way quicker than usual, and it’s accelerating. you swallow any oxygen you can get. the pain coursing through you is too much to handle.

“p-please do-don’t leave…!” your tears cascade like a waterfall, blurring your vision. all you can see is a hazy vision of blonde hair and pale skin coming towards you. you continue through sniffles, “min..minjeong..” you feel incoming pain clashing into your head. blinking, your sight clouds.

“y/n? y/n!” minjeong yells, her arms reaching out to grab onto you. her embrace is warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the emotions she makes you feel.

“please,” you whisper weakly. minjeong’s grip on your top tightens, pulling you in closer as she murmurs words of comfort into your ears.

eventually, you manage to steady your breathing with the help of minjeong. embarrassment rushes through your blood, causing your cheeks to heat up.

it’s only the sound of your sniffles and heavy breathing that disturbs the silence of the night, the loud music below goes forgotten.

“you okay?” minjeong breaks the first wall to your heart.

you nod bashfully, rejecting the idea of lifting your head up, in fear you might never be able to embrace minjeong like this again.

“you like me?” she asks. the second wall collapses.

you nod again.

“not sunghoon?”

you shake your head.

she lets out a giggle. it’s so girlish and sweet, compared to the husky chuckle sunghoon let out previously. the third wall falls.

“i won’t leave you, i promise.”

“you can’t promise that,” you try to say, but it comes out muffled as you bury your face into her collarbones.

minjeong traces the baby hairs on the back of your neck.

“maybe. but i would like to try.” your heart is free to take now.

silence falls again. you feel a sliver of hope at her words.

“i like you,” minjeong says, “if it wasn’t clear enough.”

you groan, somewhat happily and self-conscious at your dense personality.

“why?”

“hm?”

you sigh, “why do you like me?”

minjeong contemplates for a few seconds before launching into a tirade of love confessions.

“i like how intelligent you are. i like when your arrogance comes through during your debates. i like you the most when you’re half asleep and i get the luxury of seeing you vulnerable. i like it when you help me with my homework. i like how you’re always so willing to assist me. i like how your eyes light up when you’re eating,” she caresses your rosy cheeks with her palm, using her fingers to push your lips upwards, “and i like the way you smile when you see me.”

the blooming feelings don’t diminish, they only come back stronger when minjeong strokes your face gently.

“why do you like me?” she questions.

you swallow the lump in your throat. could you even articulate how much you feel for her?

“i think of you day and night. you’re the only thing that occupies here,” you bring her hand to your chest, right above your heart, stating earnestly, “i like you because you make me feel safe.”

it’s entirely true. even if minjeong makes you want to build walls as high as skyscrapers, she will forever hold the key to destroying them. if she asked, maybe all the metal plates built around your heart would come crumbling down in a second.

“i was upset you liked sunghoon,” she laughs, “i stopped liking him in sixth grade and i have no idea why people still think i do.”

blood flushes your cheeks. you assumed the same.

“you’re always staring at him though…” you interject quietly. minjeong pats your head, “i like that one tracksuit he has.”

you’re taken back to the day when you caught minjeong staring at him. the memory of him wearing a navy adidas tracksuit appears in your head.

“he thought i liked him ‘cause i kept staring at him. but it was just me glaring at him when you were looking,” you frown. minjeong laughs heartily.

“i’m so happy,” she sighs, content. you can imagine the wide smile she has on right now. snuggling deeper into her embrace, you nod in agreement.

“me too.”

“want to let me show you how much i like you?” she asks teasingly.

and maybe you had more to talk about. and maybe you should beat up aeri for leaving you all alone. and maybe you should apologise to sunghoon for your abrupt exit. but those could all be done later. the only thing that mattered now was the feel of minjeong’s lips on yours.

kim minjeong, your best friend, and the love of your life.

[crysta1ized]

a theory on ep11’s preview

firstly, if you’ve guessed/ theorized that non was still alive, you get 10 points!

if you also guessed that perth would help him (in that case, thanks to tee) you also get 10 points!

knowing that tee helped non escape, was definitely a plot twist. he basically lives at his uncle’s mercy, is forced to work for him and has to follow every single one of his orders so his father doesn’t die. which is a pretty shitty situation!

we saw previously that he showed guilt after non got busted for the fake accounts instead of him, but to help him escape from that very uncle? you’ll never fail to surprise me, tee!

after that, tee gives an envelope to non and tells him he’ll get him out of there.

now, what is in this envelope? my first thought was obviously money. but i also thought, what if it was a plane ticket? it’d be safer for non to get the hell out of bangkok (or even thailand) to be sure the uncle and his men could never get him. a one way flight, non leaving without looking back.

i think that with the help of perth, tee could’ve gathered enough money to pay a ticket. i mean, that would’ve benefited tee a whole lot too. non forever out of his hair, not causing any more problems. disappearing without a trace. his uncle thinking he got rid of the troublemaker.

but what happened to mr keng then?

firstly we have no idea of the extent of his injuries. we guessed that non’s were only bad enough to knock him out on the roof, but the uncle might as well have killed keng for good.

i mean, he was hit with a car, which is way worse than a few punches. in the best case scenario (for him, cause i want that bastard dead), he only got a few bruises, but the most logical one would be that his legs are broken, as well as a few ribs maybe (depending on how hard the car hit him).

if we assume he’s alive, like non (which i seriously doubt), i don’t think tee would’ve helped him at all. he’s already risking everything to save non, he wouldn’t try saving both, especially because keng doesn’t mean anything to him. he probably never even had a conversation with him.

so in my opinion, we won’t see the teacher ever again, unless he found another way to escape, such as being rescued by the police as his disappearance could’ve been noticed after some time.

now onto the fun part!

white is seen entering the arcade place, where we’ve already seen non & phee meeting up and making out at.

which means we’ll finally get teewhite whole’s backstory!

my depressing theory is that we’ll get a cute little montage of their love story, and they’ll show us how cute they are, with their little puppy love, opposites attract shit just to snatch it from us right after.

mark my words, they’ll make us love teewhite and after those little flashbacks with bright colors that distracted us for a moment, we’ll get back to our depressing and dark present.

4 possibilities after that:

best case scenario: while we get a contrast between the past and how in love they were and acted, nothing terrible happens. tee explains to the group what was revealed to the viewer in the flashbacks, that he ended up helping non and that he’s still alive. he righted his wrongs and while white is shaken up, he’s glad tee isn’t just a bully who guilt tripped a kid into money laundering, he did feel guilt and saved him from his uncle.

same as above, tee reveals everything to the group but white doesn’t forgive him. he feels betrayed and mad that tee hid that from him for so long. in white’s eyes, tee is no longer someone he can trust, or hide behind.

tee dies

white dies

while i believe those 2 last options can happen, i don’t think they’d happen at that moment. tee’s reveal scene will probably be at the beginning of the episode while the following one with phee & new may happen soon after, which is why those 2 options seem less likely to happen then.

new is clearly urging phee on to shoot.

but how? in the last scene of ep10, fluke is the one who has it and he clearly doesn’t want to let it go. he let white out of his grasp and is now pointing it at tee.

but fluke is clearly out of it, and is the one suffering the most from hallucinations, which made him shoot top even though his only principle was clearly to never act, to keep his hands clean of anything that could prevent him of becoming a doctor. too late now!

someone could take advantage of his delirious state and while he’s distracted, take the gun from him, like white, who’s on the ground, kinda behind fluke and now out of his sight. which is when phee could take the gun, as he’s the unofficial new leader and appears trustworthy as he just exposed new.

but who is phee pointing the gun at?

i think it’s most likely fluke. he’s clearly losing his mind and the hallucinations are making him aggressive, like top. which is why they may have to kill him before he kills someone else.

phee clearly wants to make the right decision, surely wants to kill him or just hurt him because fluke is an active threat. but tan just wants to see them all gone! he clearly has nothing to lose left, now that phee exposed him, this is his last chance to avenge his brother.

alternative theory:

phee might be pointing the gun at someone else.

according to how tee’s revelation ends, especially how non’s story ends, something might happen after that.

phee wouldn’t be pointing the gun at someone who didn’t deserve it, who wasn’t a threat to the group.

so why would it be tee? in my opinion, non escaped the country, end of story. but maybe something happened to him just before he could get out. then new would get mad at tee, blaming him. tee fights him. then he would represent a threat. or maybe the hallucinations come back and he gets violent.

then of course new would be happy to see phee shoot tee, who was the whole reason non even got involved with dangerous mafia shit in the first place.

the last scene is new, lighting a cigarette.

why would he be smoking in the middle of all this? like he has time to do that?

maybe it’s just a meaningless scene they’re throwing in the preview so they don’t have to spoil too much stuff.

but, still, new is the only one who's going through with his plan, and he wouldn’t waste time on lighting a cigarette! unless it’s truly chaos, and like we know, he smokes to de-stress.

creepily, when i saw the scene the first time, i thought ‘this is his last cigarette. they’re holding him at gunpoint and they allow him to smoke one last time before they pull the trigger’ because he’s clearly shivering. but that may be way too far as i don’t think any of them would shoot anyone in cold blood if they weren’t actively threatened.

but a more plausible theory would be that they’re forcing him to smoke. in the scene where new is urging phee on to shoot, phee looks at him ‘like, what the fuck?’ like he’s not liking new telling him what to do at all.

maybe then, phee doesn’t shoot anyone, not fluke, not tee, but instead turns on new and points the gun at him. maybe phee really doesn’t want any kind of revenge for non anymore as his brother became too violent for his liking. but phee wouldn’t shoot new.

he could however hold him at gunpoint, and force him to smoke one of the drugged cigarettes, one with an X. maybe so he isn’t an active threat to them anymore, urging them to kill each other and to cause more chaos. they’d be on equal ground as he’d start hallucinating too.

what do you think?

[jennywritesz]

1.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

au where tsukishima is a scientist at college and you're his apprentice

740 words

warnings: none + slow burn

chap 1/ ??

Kei Tsukishima, a senior at college– a biologist with an aura of mystery, stepped into the laboratory with dread. Today marked the first encounter with his new apprentice, a moment he awaited with equal parts curiosity and annoyance. The thought of him having someone watch his every move made his skin crawl. As he adjusted his glasses, his eyes had a hint of mischief, already concocting a string of remarks to test the limits of his so-called apprentice. 

In the corner of the lab, amidst humming machinery and arrays of equipment, stood the young apprentice, (y/n). She obviously had determination, her eyes gleaming in an intellectual frenzy. Your presence was a stark contrast to Dr. Tsukishima's sternness, yet there was a hint of shared intellect that was possibly the start of a great partnership. 

“You must be Miss (y/n) I presume?” His voice cutting through the quiet laboratory hum. 

You nodded, offering a wide grin. “Yes, Tsukishima, it’s such an honor to work for you.” 

He turned around and went back to work, motioning for you to come observe. You stood on your tippy toes trying to get the best possible angle, he took notice of this. You sighed in annoyance.

“Too short to see the table?” He grinned to himself. You felt your face heating up with embarrassment. You slightly nodded, feeling all your pride leave your body. In this instance you didnt think height would be such an important factor, but considering he was doing a presicion experiment and he had to have the table basically up to his chest– height was a major factor.

He would never admit this out loud but, he thought it was kind of cute. Maybe this apprenticeship would work out. You had heard plenty of stories from past colleauges about how mean and rude he was, but you didnt think it to be true.

“That must suck.” He snickered. 

You thought wrong.

“I see why people call you so salty.” you remarked back.

They dont call him salty, you just felt the need to say that.

“Salty?” He glared down at you, you forgot how scary he was.

You said nothing in response, just stared at him in defiance. 

“Cat mustve gotten your tongue.” He looked away and continued his experiment, lowering the table so you could see. Maybe he wasnt so bad after all. 

You never really had gotten to know him. You had just heard stories and seen him in pass you in the hallway. Even then he didnt seem so bad. He always had this mysterious allure that made him sort of attractive, your friends never even bothered to hear you out; they wouldnt get it. You always watched him from afar, and now youre working for him, it feels kind of weird to be working for someone thats only a year older than you– he was good at what he does though.

“Are you even listening to me?” he scoffed in disbelief. This snapped you out of your trance.

“Of course im listening! Why wouldnt I be.” you rolled your eyes. You werent listening, but you cant let him know that.

“Oh really..” he paused. “Well then, I want an essay on how beneficial each finger is to the body. Turned in tomorrow.” 

Your jaw dropped. Who does he think he is? Some teacher?!

“Err.. of course.” your voice had an underlying tone of disapproval.

He took his goggles off and lowered the table completely.

“Help me clean this up.” he ordered.

You didnt realize you had spaced out that entire procedure. What kind of apprentice are you. Clearly a lousy one. 

As you finished cleaning everything up, you noticed Tsukishima struggling to wrap a bandage around his hand. You wondered what happened to him. You didnt realize it, but you were staring at him pretty intensely. 

“I cut my hand on the door handle yesterday, they finally fixed it after that.” He said with a straight face, that almost convinced you to hold his face.

“Do you need help with the bandage?” Your eyes widened at your own response. What came over you?

“Ill be fine.” he said back with a monotone voice.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, again. How many times can one embarras themself? 

“You can go now.” That was his way of saying leave now.

You took off your lab coat and grabbed your regular jacket and headed out for the night. 

[archivalofsins]

I'm so late but- I can't believe they just made Amane bad at math canon?!

This was inspired by a conversation I was having with a friend for the most part. Didn't want to get too carried away but love the subtle changes in the minigrams and how they play on the timelines.

That's a D, and even though that's an average percentage in Japan, there's a chance it's not meant to be read that way. Like it can still be average. Average grades are fine but like the difference between this and the timelibe interests Mr.

Because this Minigram comes directly off of the last one with Shidou. A minigram that they also took some creative liberties with for comedic reasons. Yet that one ended with Amane searching for a new teacher not going to find Kotoko like in the original timeline interaction,

20/06/13

Amane: ……what’s wrong, Shidou-san? Your hand has stopped marking. This is mathematics, so there’s no questions about the answers. If I got something wrong, please mark it with an X.

Shidou: I…… I just don’t understand. If everything about MILGRAM is true…… why did a child like you have to become a murderer? Just imagining what sort of circumstances must have led to that, it makes me so sad……

Amane: ……*sigh*. Is that right. I don’t think I’m going to get along with you, Shidou-san. I don’t agree with the fact you refuse to acknowledge that I have my own free will, and that I should be held accountable for my actions, just because I’m a child. I may have only been alive for 12 years, but all the choices I’ve made, even if they weren’t the best ones, were entirely my own. What point is there in you getting sad when I have no regrets myself? ……please give me back my test. It seems you don’t have the concentration levels required to be my teacher. I’m going to get Kotoko-san to teach me instead.

Shidou: Amane…… I don’t think that’s true. However smart you may be…… you’re still just a child.

In the original timeline convo Shidou states the things he was thinking in the minigram aloud causing Amane to leave. In the Minigram Amane is just left baffled and confused as Shidou seems to fail to understand what her test even says and leaves on her own.

Like we said before, she doesn't state she's looking for Kotoko, just a teacher who seems capable. She immediately disregards Futa as an option. Something also done for comedic purposes.

So the test Amane gives Kotoko to grade in this Minigram is still the mathematics one. Unlike in the portal timeline when the interaction between her and Kotoko is several days after her one with Shidou,

20/06/18

Amane: Thank you very much for teaching me. ……but, though I realise it’s strange me saying this after I asked you, I must admit it’s kind of unexpected. You give off the impression of someone who wouldn’t want to get involved in things like this.

Kotoko: ……well, you’re not wrong. I’m surrounded by people who could all be murderers, so I don’t plan on going out of my way to talk and make friends. I can’t let my guard down. But I like ambitious people like you. If you want to study more, then I’m happy to teach.

Amane: I see…… You look scary at first impression, but I quite like the way you treat everyone equally regardless of whether they’re older or younger than you. You don’t just treat me like a child or anything like that.

Kotoko: Treat you like a child? Hah, you’ve got to be kidding. Back when I was your age, I was already the person I am today. I don’t have any plans to let you get away with something just “because you’re a child.” ……remember that. There, I’ve finished marking. 83%. How do I put it… Even though you act like this, it’s not like you’re super brilliant at studying or anything, huh.

In contrast to the timelibe interactions that happeb a good bit away from each other, the Minigram is more meant to document her starting out bring tutored by Kotoko. Not her falling out with tutors like we see in the timeline. This right here is all about timing.

First, do you notice how in the minigram they stay away from the treat you like a child conversation entirely? Only focusing on how Kotoko likes ambitious people like Amane, the grades, and the need to improve them in this area. That's a stark difference from the original timeline.

Plus, notice how the timeline has Mikoto and Kazui there. Two people she asks for help at different points in the timeline. Well, more so take note of how this minigram uses Mikoto specifically. The Minigram uses him to emphasize and announce to everyone that right now, this isn't about language.

The topic that he and Amane excel in or have a good grasp of,

Q.01 What’s your speciality skill?

Amane: I don’t think I have a particular skill. Would studying count? I’m good at Japanese language.

It's about math. It's still about the math test from the previous Minigram. You know what's not the timeline interaction that takes place five days after she did that test and ended the conversation stating she was going to Kotoko. From how Kotoko and Amane are speaking in the June 18th timeline, it's implied she's been helping her for a minute. She's probably been helping her since what occurred on the 13th with Shidou.

Does anyone here think it would take Kotoko five days to grade a math test? No probably not. So she's more than likely grading a different exam all together.

I believe Kotoko's wording is important in this timeline. Because she says, "Even though you act like this, it's not like you're super brilliant at studying or anything, huh?"

What about the way Amane behaves would imply she'd be good at math or studying?

They even change this in the minigram instead having Kotoko state,

"How do I say this... For the way you act, you aren't a good student, are you..."

Along with the visual, which implies that Kotoko isn't just saying this based of Amane's grade but how Amane reacted to it. She wasn't surorised or upset in fact she seemed like she expected it.

In the timeline, while Kotoko still attempts to find the right words, she's more matter of fact. Even though it's still a question she flat out forgoes saying she's not a good student and states she's not brilliant at studying or anything. Just point blank you're not amazing at this.

If the thing she was discussing here was in fact Japanese language, the thing that Amane says she's good at. That would hurt a lot more than saying it about math something she doesn't state she's good at it. Plus it's be easy to assume she's excel at that based on how she speaks or being like that.

So yeah, that's why I think this is probably a case of two different things being graded. Not her grade being changed. I want to hope for a part three since she took note of what Mikoto said about being able to help with debate and discussion, but who knows.

[scoobydoodean]

One thing that bugs me about after school special is that the dude they casted for "teen" Dean is literally a decade older than young Sam. He was closer in age to Jensen than to Colin. Normally I wouldn’t gaf (none of the younger Dean actors ever hit the mark for me so it is what it is), but combined with the episode’s complete lack of empathy for his situation as a parentified child, it feels more insidious. It frames him as way older than he really is, and in a way normalizes his parentification. If they had casted an actual 16 year old, their dynamic would look a lot more honest to what it truly was.

You know I'm don't think I've even fully worked out my frustrations about After School Special yet. I had to stop thinking about it last night because it was 3AM and I had to go to bed (also for more context, see posts I reblogged from Leyla last night jshdbfjhsbdfh).

This episode is just so... messy. It tries to say too many things, it says some absolutely stupid things and some okay things, and in other places, the narrative isn't clear (or maybe Dabb and Loflin are at war with one another on the subject of Dean—who knows). I find some of my frustrations and why I have those frustrations... difficult to explain in words.

That is a good point about the casting of Brock. Mind you—I have nothing against the actor here. I actually have always thought Brock did a great job copying Dean's mannerisms and way of speaking (I assume Jensen worked with him during the episode) and I think he does his best with what he's given and the role he's expected to play. The writing itself isn't his fault, of course.

From a height perspective, they wanted to intentionally contrast Dean with Sam all episode, who's being mocked by Dirk (who's paralleled with Dean and is literally our only window into sympathy toward parentified children which... isn't much at all) for being shorter than him, and I think that's part of why they chose someone much older and taller than Collin Ford.

I also don't think we're necessarily meant to dismiss the knowledge that Sam is much taller than Dean as an adult, but the thing is, if they wanted me to buy into the idea that everyone in After School Special is a bully (except maybe Barry), they did a terrible job. Sam hardly comes off as a bully—all he does is defend himself from someone who used their pain as an excuse to make his and other people's lives miserable (we get better evidence of bully!sam in their previous episode—"Yellow Fever"—actually). Is that what Dabb and/or Loflin think of Dean? That he's made Sam miserable? How? By *looks at notes* not obeying his every whim and following him around like an obedient dog, or perhaps by being dead? Hm. Except Dean doesn't even make Sam miserable in this episode (unless making jokes Sam doesn't find funny counts). Sam even picked the case they're on—Dean doesn't actually really want to go to their old school. Young Dean is reiterating that he'll look out for young Sam the entire episode.

I do think people are right when they say Dean's height (and much older appearance) are meant to reflect how Sam perceived him (After School Special is nearly fully from Sam's POV—Dean is more of a plot device than anything). Young Dean is immediately popular in school. He's handsome and makes the other kids his age laugh from the moment he enters the classroom. He immediately catches the eye of popular girls, and Barry and Sam have an exchange about it.

BARRY That's your brother with Amanda Heckerling? He's cool. YOUNG SAM Yeah. He thinks so.

Sam's paper about their werewolf hunt is, by the teacher's recounting, one where Dean shines the brightest—not Sam. He's the first thing that catches Wyatt's attention. What catches his attention second is John dragging them everywhere. Sam doesn't really factor in at all.

MR. WYATT I'm not flunking you. I'm giving you an "A." Now, aside from the werewolf, is that really how you'd describe your family? YOUNG SAM Yeah. MR. WYATT Well, your brother is quite a character. And your father -- he seems, uh, driven.

This also isn't a bad nugget about Sam, in an episode that comes right after 4.12 which is also to an extent about the desire for fame and attention and the old school versus the new school (where Sam represents the hot, new, popular magic that embraces demonic forces and is pushing out the old ways of doing things). I said 4.13 is also about envy—many of the murders are driven by projections on others. Dirk perceived Sam and Dean as "Jocks... you popular kids... you always thought you were better than everybody else." When that wasn't them at all. I've said that Sam is jealous of Dean (his bravery in combat despite zero powers, in previous seasons—his intelligence and way with people, his title as "the righteous man" while Sam is "the boy with the demon blood"). Dirk was projecting his resentments onto people they didn't apply to as a function of resentment and jealousy from the superiority he himself ultimately perceived them to possess, and that's much more reminiscent of Sam this season (we're about to see him project his insecurities on Dean and become the Big Bad Bully in the next episode—4.14):

OK, fine. You know why I didn't tell you about Ruby, and how we're hunting down Lilith? Because you're too weak to go after her, Dean. You're holding me back. I'm a better hunter than you are. Stronger, smarter. I can take out demons you're too scared to go near. [...] You're too busy sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Whining about all the souls you tortured in hell. Boo hoo.

For Sam, After School Special isn't a terrible episode. It's just that it almost fully treats Dean as a cartoonish plot device and the neckbeard-type loathing for him almost seeps off the page even with all the nods to performing Dean you could ever want. In After School Special, Dean seems more unlike himself than any episode ever in the history of Supernatural up to this point. I do actually kind of think Dabb took one look at Dean when he came in in season 4 and decided he's a bully because he's popular based on nothing—however much he pretends he's only saying something else... and honestly I don't think he ever really got over it.

[scrunkalicious]

🤝GRAHHH dude the one u sent me is gonna make me go crazy /pos

OKOK FINALLY GOT TO THIS ONE YALL,,,,, GET READY FOR THIS ONE YAALLLLL

WORD COUNT - 2017 EAT TGIS UP YALL

errmm based offa personal experiencez it SUCKKZZZZ BUT WHATEVA

Late nights, heavy eyelids, and lack of sleep. A list of things that were all familiar for the young artist and scholar. Hunched over at her desk, Marly worked her way through a portrait, upscaled on large paper. It was a final for the art course she took at the Academy. Though that wasn’t the only thing she seemed to be working on. 

The artist had her own little workroom, rented out for the school year. While she had the main portrait in front of her, textbooks and papers for her other subjects lay in differing parts of the room. A science textbook strewn open, with complimentary notes and papers with an abundance of questions. A math book with its open pages crumpled, with practically unintelligible numbers and formulas scrawled about. Papers from classes she didn’t even have work in, somehow finding themselves in her workspace due to her untidy habits. The risk of messing them up with art supplies, and the risk of stepping on some sort of pencil she left on the ground were both high. 

Stepping back from her work, Marly groaned. The composition of the portrait didn’t seem right. The colors didn’t blend the way she had wanted them to, as it was a mixed media piece, including mediums that she didn’t use often. Reaching out towards a nearby table, she fumbled to grab her marker, desperate to place any marks down that will somehow pull the piece together. Though her efforts are fruitless, so Marly groans as she sets the marker down. She looks around, staring at the other papers in her area. 

She hates how she had procrastinated her work, as all of these things are due tomorrow for her. Yet, she has to get the work done. Marly knows she’s always been seen as a smart individual. Acing her classes, always on good terms with her teachers, able to help struggling students, the pinpoint perfection for a level and steady person. Yet, here she was, with so much undone work around her, head in her hands as she could barely think of how to finish what she had needed to finish for so long. Stress pounded at Marly’s  head, and she felt just about ready to give up, and have her body give out on her. Grumbling to herself, Marly moved to go sit in her chair, taking her glasses off and tossing them to her table, well aware they may end up with ink or paint on them. 

Marly was unsure of just how long she sat in that chair. She’s covered up the clock in her room to prevent stress about the time, though she believes that it’s well past midnight. Marly could attempt to take a break from art, and rather do mathematics, or even science. But she doesn’t understand the topics. In math, she can’t seem to wrap her head around the equations or the problems, something that even her calculator can’t assist her with. For science, they’ve begun a new unit, and it isn’t genetics, her strong suit. She’s just following what the textbook reads, without actually understanding the content. 

With four knocks to her door, Marly is jolted to stand, immediately feeling her head pound as she stands. She trudged over to the door, opening it slowly, not even bothering to check who it is. She seems to have a good idea though, the only sure thought she’s had this entire night. 

Even with her blurry vision from not having her glasses on, Marly’s is able to depict the figure’s brown hair, sharp face, and amber eyes. She could barely keep her own eyes open as she looked up at him. 

“Marly? What are you doing up so late?” Concern laced Viktor’s voice as he glanced down at her. With her messy hair, dark eyebags, and tired eyes, Marly’s current appearance was a stark contrast to her usually well kept outlook. “I went to your dorm a few hours back and waited, but you did not appear for quite some time,” He added. 

Marly stared at him for a few moments, half lidded eyes blink slowly, “Huh?” She mumbled, before continuing, “I have work to do,” she stated simply. Her stance was slouched, and she leaned heavily against the doorframe. Viktor raised an eyebrow, before looking over her tired form. As he spotted her mess of a workspace, Viktor then looked back to Marly. 

“My Marly, you’re aware it is past midnight?” Viktor noted, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. Marly squinted, seeing that upon closer inspection, he was in his pajamas, in which Viktor had just put on a pair of shoes and coat over what he already had on. 

“I’m well aware,” Marly muttered, “Why are you even here?” She asked, closing her eyes for a few seconds. 

“Well, you should be sleeping, yes?” Viktor told her, to which Marly shook her head in response.

“I must do my work,” She slurred out, “Its due,” 

“You look like you’re going to fall asleep,” Viktor replied, moving towards her, “We should sleep,” At the thought of stopping her work, Marly shook her head repeatedly, seemingly panicked by the idea. The tiredness left her voice when she replied, replaced by desperation and what could almost be described as fear.

“No!” She exclaimed sharply, “I have to do the work!” 

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, not expecting such a response from her, “But you are tired,” He noted, “It will do you no good to keep working like this. Besides, I’m sure your teachers will understand, yes?” In all honesty, he was unsure as to why Marly was all panicked. 

But as for Marly, she shook her head again, pressing her lips together firmly, feeling a tightness becoming present in her chest.

“But I have to do the work!” She squeaked, feeling herself lose her composure. 

“Are you aware that your health is much more important than schoolwork?” Viktor asked, keeping his voice soft, not wanting to startle her. “You know I’m not going to chastise you,”

“I don’t know,” Marly replied quickly, pent up stress ebbing away at her. She rubbed her hands tightly against the sides of her body as she turned away, a sign of being overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” she repeated, whispering the words. She could feel her breathing grow erratic, and she felt as if she needed to burst out of her skin.

Marly hated this. She felt awful with Viktor seeing her like this. The idea of falling academically behind was terrifying to her. Letting imperfections show through her upright character was something that she desperately wanted to avoid. The silence weighing upon the two was a strong one, though soon broken as Marly sniffled, before she pressed her hands against her eyes.

Viktor was quick to react, and he stepped closer to her. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out Marly’s pink plush lamb, before holding it out to her. He has brought it to give himself some company, and to give to Marly sooner or later.He had brought the plush to give himself company, and to give to Marly later on. 

“Here you go, my dear,” he whispered. Marly removed one of her hands from her face, and Viktor slowly moved the toy side to side, before pressing it into her open hand. Marly took Lambie gratefully, squeezing her. Such a familiar sight. The plush she has had since birth, and one of the only things she was sure of nowadays, along with Viktor.

“Thank you,” she whispered, attempting to calm herself down. Viktor nodded his head, smiling softly. He then looked around her workspace. After spotting Marly’s glasses, which had been thrown onto a table earlier, he walked over, and folded them onto his shirt. He led Marly outside, softly closing the door to her mini-studio.

“Let us go. You need rest,” he insisted, as the two were equally stubborn. But Marly didn’t have the strength to retort, and she sighed as she walked over to him, grabbing his arm with her free hand. Viktor nodded his head, before slowly beginning to walk, adding on, “My dorm is closer, alright?” Marly nodded her head slowly in response. At this point, she felt too tired to even care about the mess that her workspace would be when she came back to it. 

The rest of their journey was slow and silent. Marly didn’t know what to make of her thoughts, and Viktor didn’t want to say anything that would further upset her. Along with that, Marly could tell that her fatigue was creeping back on her. So when they finally got to his room, he sat her on the bed, and left to go get some for her to change. Viktor returned with the softest pair of pajamas he found, and looked over at Marly.

“Let me help you, please,” he murmured, though with his words, he was referring to the situation as a whole. Marly nodded her head, and Viktor moved to sit next to her. She gently set Lambid aside, before looking back to him. Marly raised her arms over her head, and allowed for him to help her change. Viktor gently slipped off the clothing she currently had on, replacing it with the clean pajamas, tenderly caressing her skin as he went. When he was finished with that, he lay his cane against the wall, placing Marly’s glasses onto his bedside table. 

Pulling the blanket back, he coaxed Marly underneath it, before laying next to her and pulling the covers over them. “I’ll let your teachers know about the work, and request they be lenient,” he told her.

Marly shook her head, “That would be abusing your role as assistant to the dean of the academy,” she whispered meekly.

Viktor shook his head, “Not when you were about ready to collapse,” he wrapped his arms around her, slowly pulling her over him, a switch up in their usual position, as Marly was usually the one underneath. Though, Viktor assumed it wouldn’t be well for her to take on that role tonight. 

Marly sighed, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, placing a light kiss on the mole she knew was present there. “Mahal kita,” she murmured, at last seeming to give in to him, and allowing herself to relax. After closing her eyes, it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, granting herself some well needed rest. Despite having retaliated against his suggestions to rest, Marly could feel herself relaxing. Perhaps she could live with this. It was warm, and Marly usually got cold during the night, so this was a pleasant experience for her. So for now, she would sleep. Truth be told, she was really grateful for Viktor. 

Viktor’s breath hitched slightly when he realized she finally slept, and he wrapped his arms around her more firmly, pulling her closer as he nuzzled his face into the top of her head. The inventor was thinking of possible ways to make tomorrow a good day for her, as he planned on calling off letting her attend classes, and he would do the same for himself so he could tend to her.

It was heartbreaking to him, to see his usually upbeat and ever so smiley Marly, now beat down by something such as schoolwork. Viktor had a few theories as to why she seemed so upset, but he wouldn’t dare bother her while she clearly wasn’t ready to talk yet. To him, all of what he was doing was “the least he could do”, compared to every single time Marly had been the one to comfort him, and hold him close. He wanted to do everything he could to make her feel as safe and loved as she had made him feel.

But for now, Viktor knows that he also needed to sleep, so he softly kissed the top of her head, before whispering, “Sweet dreams, mahal ko,”. Viktor let himself drift away to the lullaby of his lover’s breathing, allowing peace to the both of them.

TAGLIST UNDER CUT (ask to be added/removed lmao)

LUCCCYYY (but u get notified for yo ask) @h0t-p1nk-ch33tah-pr1nt @kiawren @l0v3sickl0s3r @mirr0r-image @mrsmunson1986

[lillianawayne99]

CastAway Chapter 18

Pairing: Gojo, Itadori, Sukuna, Nanami X OC

Genre: Action Romance

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Teacher-Student relationship, canon with a twist, reverse harem, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, major character death, soft Sukuna turns into normal/rough Sukuna, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, hair pulling, biting/hickeys, manhandling, choking, breath play, cervix kissing, size kink, cream pie

Synopsis: Calliope, a wolf in sheep's clothing, enrolls at Jujutsu Tech to protect herself from a world she's never seen before. In her efforts to stay alive, she finds relationships that could mend her soul or tear her apart.

Previous Chapter // CastAway // Masterlist

Sukuna wanted the same things I did. He wanted someone to touch him, love him, hold him close and never let go. 

But that was only the edge of the coin.

While deep down I wanted someone I felt safe enough with to let them dominate me, he wanted to be the one in control. My desire for submission perfectly contrasted with his need for domination. Sukuna craved someone who trusted him enough to willingly place their life in his hands. Someone whose life he’d burn the world down to protect.

That was the key, wasn’t it? Trust. Something I thought I could never place in him. And yet, the promise he made urged me to do exactly what he wanted. Trust him to protect me. 

“Fuck,” Sukuna grunted into my ear as the shower turned off. 

We both glanced at the closed door, knowing we were almost out of time. It could take Gojo anywhere from ten minutes to thirty to finish his morning routine. 

Sukuna’s fingers tightened in my hair, pulling my head down to the pillow until our eyes met. Rampant lust, desire, passion, and . . . love burned in his gaze. 

It was as if a switch turned in his mind as the realization we could be caught at any moment sank in. His body pressed down, draping over mine, until his lips brushed against my ear. “Can he hear us?”

“No,” I responded while tightening my hold on him with my feet draped over the backs of his thighs.

“Good,” He growled into my ear before pounding into me with renewed vigor and strength.

A sharp cry left my lips as my back arched, hips raising into him. While I succumbed to the pleasure he subjected me to, Sukuna ran his lips down my neck. My head involuntarily shifted, turning to the side to give him easier access. I gasped out a whine as he dragged his teeth along my skin, biting and sucking until he was satisfied with the marks he left behind. 

After he left a trail of bruises, one of his hands traveled down my side, stopping at my hip. After another sharp thrust, he dug his fingers into my hip, pulled out of me, and flipped me onto my stomach. 

He effortlessly forced his entire length back into me, the hand on the bed sliding under me to grasp my throat. His fingers squeezed the sides of my throat while he pushed my head back into his chest. 

“Deep breath, pet,” He murmured into my ear, waiting until I sucked in a shaky gasp, before moving his other hand to cover my mouth and nose.

I whined and whimpered into the palm of his hand as he cut off my air supply, eyes rolling back as he thrusted into me faster and harder than before. His calloused hands dug into my skin, his chiseled chest pressing into my back, as he chased his own high. 

Each powerful thrust pushed me further into the bed and his hands. Every time his hips snapped into mine, he ground against my walls and rammed into my cervix. 

As my eyes started to fall shut, vision growing black and spotty, he removed the hand covering my mouth and nose. He slowed his pace while I caught my breath, letting me adjust to being able to breathe again.

“Easy, kitten,” He purred into my ear while I gasped.

When I was almost able to breathe smoothly again, he renewed his ruthless pace. His hand snaked down under my body until his fingers found my clit. While he pounded into me quickly, each thrust harder and faster than the last, he pressed his fingers into my clit and rubbed in small, fast circles.

Within seconds my walls clamped down around him, hips bucking into his, while he held me steady with the weight of his body on mine. Sukuna groaned into my ear as I came around him, his fingers maintaining their speed and pressing harder against my clit. He rubbed me through my orgasm, prolonging it and immediately bringing me into another. 

My head tilted back, pressing into his chest as my lips parted in a silent scream. With one hand on my throat, the other on my clit, and his heavy body on mine, he trapped me under him. I lost count of how many times he made me cum. Unable to escape his ruthless pounding of my walls or his fingers between my legs, my body shook uncontrollably under him.

Sukuna’s hips began to falter, his thrusts gaining strength and losing rhythm, as he neared his own climax. He grunted against my ear as my prolonged, back to back orgasms caused my walls to pulse around him and my hips to buck into his. 

Without warning, the hand around my throat moved to cover my mouth and nose. I grasped the wrist in front of me with one hand, reaching behind to tread my fingers through his hair with the other. 

“Fuck,” He panted as his erection throbbed, shooting out white, thick, hot cum into me. 

I groaned into his hand, pressing my hips into his, as the feeling of his release caused me to climax again. My fingers tightened in his hair, pulling another grunt from him as I unintentionally pulled. 

He let go of my face as we relaxed into the bed, his hand lowering to cup my chin and turn my head towards him. The hand between my legs moved to rest on the bed, his body lowering further as he rested on both forearms. Sukuna brushed his lips against mine, caressing my cheek with his thumb, before collapsing beside me on the bed. 

The hand holding my chin released as he snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me into him. My head rested on his bare chest, his fingers tracing invisible lines on my skin while I ran my own along the tattoos on his chest and stomach. 

“Pet?” 

“Mm?” I responded absentmindedly, running my fingers down the lines on his abdomen then back up on the other side.

Sukuna huffed softly, grabbing my hand as I started to trace the marks on his chest. Realizing he wanted to ask or say something important, I looked up to see his brows furrowed and lips pursed in thought. Four red eyes focused on mine as he considered what he wanted to say.

“What does love feel like?” His tone was calm and stoic, there was intensity in his gaze.

“Um,” I hesitated before answering, looking over at the wall across from us as I thought back to my time with Rahim and compared it to how I felt with Sukuna. “It feels like a fire deep in your chest. One that burns deeper, brighter when you’re with someone you care about. You’d do anything to make them happy, even at your own expense. You’d die for them, kill for them, protect them at all costs. And if you’re lucky, they’d do the same for you.

“Sometimes it feels like you can’t handle how much you care about them. It makes your chest ache and tighten when you think about them. You feel empty when they’re not with you, like a part of you is missing when they’re gone.” I looked back at Sukuna as I finished speaking. 

His expression was the same, but there was a new understanding in his eyes. He nodded and kissed my forehead tenderly, his arm around my waist tightening, before his body stiffened. 

When he relaxed and pulled away, it was Yuuji grinning at me.  He pulled me onto his chest as the door to the bathroom finally opened. Yuuji protectively squeezed me and wrapped his legs around mine. He let out a joking growl at Gojo, prompting me to turn to see Gojo smirking at us. 

“So? Did you make a decision?” Gojo asked as I relaxed into Yuuji’s embrace.

Yuuji glanced at me before taking in a deep breath and turning his gaze back to Gojo. “She can fight Sukuna, but only if you agree to step in if it goes too far. And I’m taking over after five minutes if Sukuna doesn’t go back by then.”

“Deal,” Gojo responded with a wink. “What kind of sensei would I be if I said no?”

Next Chapter

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

© LillianaWayne - all rights reserved. Do not copy, modify, repost, or share on tiktok without my express, written permission.

[dreamertrilogys]

If you are comfortable sharing, what's the situation with dani? ofc pls only share if you are comfortable!!<3

i typed up a response to this & then accidentally deleted it TWICE i fucking hate this app. anyway this got long soooo

okay so we first met in english class at the start of the year right (we were both sort of friends with this one girl & like we sat near each other and both spoke up in class a lot). anyway we got this assignment to write a memoir about something that’s happened in our lives. so here i was a week before the due date, still topic-less (we had a month to work on it btw). i half-jokingly said i could come out to the teacher as bi in the memoir bc then she’d HAVE to give me a good mark right (it worked btw i got a 98% on it <3). and then it sort of spiralled into a whole “you should write about someone you’ve dated and being sexuality into it via that” / “i’ve never dated anyone” / “pretend you dated me”. (oh btw dani was already out to me and our other friends from english class as bi at this point). and so then we started flirting a LOT but like mostly as a joke(???). it was definitely more lighthearted at the start but like. well we were still very much flirting. like it was to the point where she’d ask me to go somewhere with her and i’d have to ask “in what way do you mean that” (the reply to that was always some variation of “in whatever way you want me to mean it”). this continued for like months and stuff but i didn’t consider the possibility that she actually liked me until recently (around a week ago ish?) anyway

okay so now it’s ummm. last tuesday(?). there’s a supply teacher for english so we decide to skip together (in a date way. i think). many things happen here:

we hold hands (romantically. she specifically asked me if i held hands with my friends and when i said no she was like ok good)

she kept looking at me and i kept saying what and then eventually she told me she thought i was pretty and that she liked me

this was so. like i had to cover my face with my hands for a bit after this and then i eventually told her she was pretty too and stuff. i couldn’t manage to tell her that i liked her but i did heavily imply it i think

i then came out to her as trans (ok so this was kind of rocky. first i was like would you still like me if i was a guy & she was like (lightheartedly/mostly jokingly) no bc guys have penises

and i was like are you bi? (like not meanly but just she’s sort of been questions if she’s bi or a lesbian and like. yknow) and then we sort of talked abt it for a bit and she was like i don’t know there’s like one (1) guy i’d date but don’t worry it’ll never happen (can’t tell if she only likes him bc he’s unattainable or if she was just clarifying that it would never happen bc yknow she just told me that she liked me)

anyway then and then she was like why tho? and so i was like i’m trans etc etc (MOST EMBARRASSING CONVERSATION OF MY LIFEEEE i genuinely despise the act of coming out to people it’s so awkward). anyway she was incredibly nice about it and apologized for her previous answer and shit (like she was genuinely truly sorry for it trust me). she was also like “for the record i still like you”. anyway she asked what names/pronouns she should use in front of which people etc etc

anyway while walking back to school after the whole coming out business she was like “can i reword something from before?” and then told me she thought i was hot (like in contrast to the earlier pretty). this was SOOOOO

okay so anyway ever since then she’s taken over the spot of the guy who used to sit next to me in english and every class we just spend with our chairs pressed together shoulders touching etc etc. now my PERSONAL issues with the idea of dating her:

i mean. there’s my religious stuff obviously. islamically i technically can’t date anyone but like. i genuinely don’t know where i stand on that anymore it’s quite awful i don’t want to think about it etc etc

there’s the fact that i still have a huge crush on one of my other friends (but like. he’s very definitely currently unattainable so i’m not sure how much this matters)

i’ve never dated anyone before this is so scary 😭😭 she’s dated much more than me and like. idk

she’s so cool and pretty and nice and hot but i don’t truly think we could like be together forever like we simply are just two very different people without enough in common (OR maybe i just have commitment issues. who knows.) (then again we were never really friends like the whole friendship was based on flirting as a joke so really what common ground do we have) (do i really have commitment issues? i mean yes probably but also i genuinely think if my friend who i have a crush on asked me out right now i’d probably say yes. but then again who knows for sure. certainly not me!)

not an issue this is a pro. did i mention she’s SO fucking hot like it’s insane 😳

[fr-martin-gospel-reflections]

22nd September - ‘They did not understand what he said’, Reflection on the readings for Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Mark 9:30-37)

Twenty Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time

I came across a story some time ago about a student from the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley University in California. The name of this particular Jesuit student was Andreé Masse. After leaving Berkeley University, he went on to work as a teacher at Saint Joseph’s College in Tyre, a city on the coast of Lebanon. His ambition was to provide quality education for both Christian and Muslim young people together, as a way of breaking down barriers between them. He was trying to provide children with an alternative to violence. He was welcoming all children, regardless of their religious background. He was doing what Jesus is portrayed as doing in the gospel reading. There, Jesus welcomes a little child. One day, as the school where Andreé taught was closing, two hooded gunmen came into his office and murdered him. Andreé’s way of welcoming children of different faith backgrounds was an affront to the mindset of these gunmen and their response was to kill him. If the mindset of Andreé reflected that of Jesus in the gospel reading, the mindset of those who killed him reflected that of those referred to as the ‘godless’ in the first reading. They say, ‘Let us lie in wait for the virtuous man, since he annoys us and opposes our way of life... Let us condemn him to a shameful death’. The early church saw in that passage from the book of Wisdom a prophecy of Jesus’ own death. It could be said that Jesus was put to death because his way of welcoming people from diverse backgrounds into one community under God was threatening to those who had a vested interested in keeping people segregated.

The conflict between Andreé and his murderers was a conflict between two different kinds of ambition. Andreé’s ambition was in keeping with God’s ambition for humanity, the ambition that is reflected in the teaching of Jesus and more especially in his life and, indeed, his death. According to John’s gospel, the ambition of Jesus was to gather together the scattered children of God. It was this ambition that shaped Jesus’ life, and for which he ultimately died. This godly ambition finds flesh in the lives of all those who work to bring together those who are normally separated from each other and are often hostile to one another. This godly ambition is what James in the second reading calls the wisdom that comes down from above, a wisdom that makes for peace, that is kindly and considerate, that is full of compassion and that shows itself in doing good. James contrasts this wisdom from above with a different kind of ambition that is clearly not from above, that is not of God, but is merely of this world. This is a self-centred ambition. As James say in that reading it is an ambition to indulge your own desires. It can be a very dangerous kind of ambition; indeed, it can be deadly. As James says, ‘you want something (for yourself) and you haven’t got it, so you are prepared to kill’. James declares that this kind of ambition is at the root of all conflict, ‘you have an ambition that you cannot satisfy, so you fight to get your way by force’. It is easy to see that this kind of ambition is often at the root not only of conflict between individuals, but also of conflict between communities and, indeed, global conflict.

Something of this worldly ambition takes hold of the disciples in today’s gospel reading. Jesus was aware that the disciples had been arguing among themselves as to which of them was the greatest. They may have understood the kingdom of God that Jesus was proclaiming in very worldly terms and they were arguing with each other as to which of them would have the highest place in this kingdom. As James says at the beginning of that second reading, where you find ambition of this kind, you find disharmony. We can all be prone to this mindset from time to time. Yet, Jesus was very clear that this was not his mindset. This was not what Paul in his letter to the Philippians calls ‘the mind of Christ’. Actions can speak louder than words and Jesus not only said something in response to this argument among his disciples, but he did something. He took a child and placed the child among them. Children were among the least in that culture. Socially, only slaves were below them. They had no status, no power, no standing; they were needy and had nothing to give in return for what was given to them. It was this symbol of the least with whom Jesus identifies in a very powerful way, declaring ‘whoever welcomes one of these little children welcomes me’. Jesus is saying there that he comes to us above all in the weak, the powerless, the vulnerable, those who seem to need the greatest care. Jesus declares that true greatness, greatness in God’s eyes, consists in welcoming and serving him in all those symbolized by the vulnerable child. The Lord wants this way of living to be our primary ambition that shapes and determines all our other ambitions. Thankfully, we find such greatness in our parish communities, our neighbourhoods and our families. Every day, people are quietly caring for those who struggle to care for themselves.

[casmong]

Fruitful

The word fruit has the connotation of something that is produced, like how a tree produces fruit, and the fruit itself bears seed that leads to another tree, which in turn produces more fruit.

When Jesus healed the blind man at Bethsaida, upon receiving his sight the healed man initially declares "I see men as trees walking"[Mark 8:24], and in another place YAH declares of His saints "that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified." [Isaiah 61:3] These and many other scriptures establish the principle of people being represented in scripture as trees.

Jesus came to own tree of own people expecting to find fruit of good works being produced, but was understandably angry because he found none, only trees full of leaves! [Matthew 21:9] The Jews for the most part were not doing the works of God that He delights and takes pleasure in. To confirm their failure, Jesus warned that "the axe is laid unto the root of the trees: therefore every tree which bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire."[Matthew 3:10] alluding to the nation and those who fail to produce fruit being destroyed. Ironically, the Gentiles who weren’t supposed to know or do well, were the ones who were often bearing much fruit.

This echos YAH complaint about ancient Israel compared to the gentile nations who ‘sought me not’:

"I am sought of them that asked not for me; I am found of them that sought me not: I said, Behold me, behold me, unto a nation that was not called by my name. I have spread out my hands all the day unto a rebellious people, which walketh in a way that was not good, after their own thoughts; A people that provoketh me to anger continually to my face"[Isaiah 65:1-3]

The proud Pharisees would bid Jesus to come to their house, and then would proceed to disparage, disrespect and cast aspersions at his character, and sought carefully to find out something he said or did wrong so they could accuse him; in their attempt to restore their perceived social status, as it were, in the eyes of everyone[Luke 7:39]

In stark contrast there was a humble Centurion [Roman, gentile, non Jew, man of much violence] who personally came to Jesus requesting healing for his servant, and scripture reads like Jesus attempted to get up to go and heal his servant as was usually the case, but the centurion prevented him, because as a ranking military officer he understood how authority works, and showed respect for Jesus, asserting that Jesus did not need to bother himself to walk all the way to his house, on the dirty road in the hot middle eastern sun, but should rather simply just give orders and that would suffice; as a military commander would understand, and he'll be on his way, no worries.

Scripture mentioned that Jesus marveled at this, which also gave the sense of Jesus being pleased and refreshed to finally see faith, as all this time he was preaching to people who mostly didn’t believe in him, nor his words, nor even wanted to hear what he had to say.

The truth is that God is no respecter of persons, nor does He discriminates about who can and will be saved [Romans 2:11], and it was always hidden in His plan to save and include gentiles into His kingdom[Colossians 1:26-26], which provides context to the when "Paul and Barnabas waxed bold, and said, It was necessary that the word of God should first have been spoken to you: but seeing ye put it from you, and judge yourselves unworthy of everlasting life, lo, we turn to the Gentiles."[Acts 13:46]

We are encouraged by the words of our Lord and Teacher who counseled that "ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain: that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you." - John 15:16

[grahamstoney]

This Is Bad Music

New Post has been published on https://grahamstoney.com/music/this-is-bad-music

This Is Bad Music

I’m currently a student at Sydney University, studying music & psychology. One of my subjects requires us to write a weekly blog post on that week’s lecture topic. Last week’s topic was “This Is Good Music”. For your enjoyment, and here is my post for this week’s topic:

Last week I argued that we listen to music because of the way it makes us feel, and that good music is music that makes us feel good. This week I’m changing teams to argue that there is such a thing as objectively bad music, using as an example my own first chart-bottoming single: Everything Is Fucked:

The lyrics, melody and chord progression came to me in a yoga class while in Frog Pose for 7 agonising minutes, on a day when things weren’t going my way. I had been sick for many years with a mysterious chronic illness, both my parents had been diagnosed with cancer, and a girl I fell in love with had ditched me for a drummer named Dave. The straw that broke the camel’s back that morning was when my dishwasher broke down.

I recorded the song at Sydney TAFE where I was a student and paid good money to get it mastered. The brief I gave the lead guitarist was: “I want a screaming guitar solo that will make the listener’s ears bleed”. I made the music video myself after getting kicked out of Music Video class by the head teacher for commandeering a class I wasn’t enrolled in. I created a whole heap of supporting merchandise. Then I waited for it to go viral.

It didn’t.

I did earn about $7.50 in APRA royalties playing my own song at some open mic nights, but frankly it was an embarrassment. Only one person bought it and they were a friend of mine. It was a complete commercial and artistic failure. I made more money from sales of the ringtone than the song. The mere fact that I was pissed off with life didn’t justify writing a bad song. To top it off my Dad, who appears in the music video, ended up dying from the cancer. The whole thing was a disaster from start to finish.

Why, why, why; I asked myself?

Because it’s Bad music.

Despite one review that said “… this song is actually great …”, I think it really is a bad song. I had very little songwriting experience when I wrote it. Like Strauss’s Domestic Symphony it’s morally offensive, too explicit and overtly narcissistic. It also has too many glissandos. Like a naïve European hearing African music they hadn’t yet learned to appreciate, this is noise.

So yes, there are bad songs. The whole experience of them doesn’t go well: they are badly constructed, poorly received, and fail both artistically and commercially.

On the other end of the popularity spectrum is a song which was universally panned by the critics but nevertheless got over 3.5 billion views on YouTube and inspired its own unique dance moves. Since I quite like it, I want to contrast my bad song with K-pop legend Psy’s rather more commercially successful work: Gangnam Style.

I got full marks from my tutor for this blog post.

You can get your Everything Is Fucked Merch from my online store.

[rayvila]

Why do teachers make online quizzes in minutes?

A perfect way for teachers to diversify their teaching resources and give their students a fun learning experience is by incorporating online teaching software like quiz maker. Teachers are constantly looking for ways to improve their instruction. Since they can use many testing formats, such as fill-in-the-blanks, multiple-choice tests, essay-style questions, or true/false online quiz producers assist teachers in experimenting with different learning styles of teaching. It is a crucial component of e-learning that offers it an advantage over conventional learning models. To keep everyone interested in an online class, it is a good idea to use a variety of materials and examinations and quizzes.

Reasons To Choose Online Quiz-Making Tool

A cleverly developed modern solution created to address the laborious process of producing quizzes is quiz creator software. It has both the fundamental and sophisticated criteria to finish the process of making a quiz. The advantages of the quiz creator software go well beyond merely making quizzes; they also include helping the user administer and score the quiz once a quiz session is over. The quiz creator can offer versatility and ease that can help simplify your upcoming quiz or questionnaire, much like online survey software. Here are some reasons to create your quiz:

1. Free of hassle grading and feedback

The only time-consuming activity for teachers is undoubtedly marking each quiz and giving comments. Each learner's strengths and limitations should be discussed, and they should make sure that learning truly occurs. On the other hand, a quiz created using an online quiz tool enables teachers to produce dynamic feedback based on the response to a particular question.

2. Anywhere, Anytime Evaluation? Problem solved!

Online quizzes give instructors and teachers a proper distribution route, enabling you to administer a test whenever you want and wherever your students are. Additionally, they can allow as many aspirants to take the quiz as they like because they are not required to be there while it is being administered. All they are required to do is send the quiz to the student’s email addresses, and once they take it, they will be informed right away of the results.

3. Simple to Monitor the Progress

The most important advantage of using online quizzes for evaluations is being able to monitor each student's progress at regular process. It is simple for teachers to review earlier findings and contrast them with more recent ones because all online quizzes and their outcomes are kept on a cloud- computing based system. This makes it easier for them to monitor students' progress and offers a more accurate performance analysis.

Teachers can track each student's progress through frequent online tests and then provide more materials and help as needed. Therefore, it make online quizzes in minutes.

Bottom Line

Quizzes don't have to be tedious, disrespectful activities. It is designed solely to tick the box that indicates the tested participants. In e-learning, quizzes can be used to assess, motivate, and assist students to retain what they've learned. This is supported by research and can be used to the benefit of teachers who employ a few straightforward strategies to improve the efficiency of quizzes and tests.

[freshmanyearhistoryteacher]

MISSING REQUEST - M X F X M

IDK where the request went ... but this was so much ~fun~ to write heh

Basically male teacher x female student x male teacher ... teacher and student get caught together and the other teacher joins them. They wanted it very kinky but i got kinda... caught up.. so idk how good it really is haha

Word count: 3, 554

He sat at his desk, papers thrown across the surface as he occasionally huffed and breath and skulled the remnants of his now frozen coffee. He had been there, eyes strained and tired, for the better part of an hour, stuck in detention with you. You, his inattentive yet lovable student, who had failed the most recent test and received nothing but hell for it.

At first it was a small 'see me after class' on the bottom of your paper, no mark or final grade in sight until he bitterly informed you that he had better things to do than mark a test you hadn't bothered to try on. Then, it was a week of detention. Now, it was agonising, stomach churning, anxiety producing silence.

You knew it was only because of the relationship you'd developed. The longing stares you both exchanged behind the backs of other students or the way your hands would brush each time you walked through the door to his room for just a moment too long. But he expected more of you than the rest. He knew, as well as you did, that you had in fact tried on the test and that, even if the mark wasn't deserving of a gold star, it would be a pass. You thought, as you sat shaking your leg and tapping your pen, that he must enjoy the painful waiting and drawn out desire for each other because any other human with functioning eyes could tell you were both itching for the other.

The papers in his hand landed on the desk with a thud that echoed through the long hall shaped room and made you jump to attention. Now, unlike the other time filled with shyness and hesitance, his eyes seemed to darken with hunger. He stalked around the desk at the front, stepping off of the platform stage with a loud impact of his dress shoes slamming into the floor. You knew, with some instinct in your heart, this would only end one way and ... in all honesty, you weren't that mad. So you smiled softly, peering shyly through the hair that hung over your eyes to his cynical smirk. He closed the gap between you quickly, making it in only three steps before he harshly grabbed onto your arm. He yanked you out of your seat, not caring when your knee hit the corner or when your papers when flying to the ground around both of your shoes. It hurt and you knew the grip was already leaving a red print in your skin, but you didn't care.

"I," he was heaving from frustration and rage, "have been waiting so fucking long," his voice picked up in volume. " so fucking long. Just for you, you entitled little brat, to fail my class?" He laughed in a way that made your blood chill and racing heart stop. In any other situation, you would be running, but there was something about his crazed behaviour that sent excitement through your body. "I have wanted you for so long," his tone entirely dropped to a growl, moving in close to your ear with hot puffs of air rushing over the exposed nape of your neck. "Speak, baby, or have you forgotten how to do that as well?" He was whispering now, a harsh contrast that made you lean in to listen.

"I-" you gasped and choked, mind buzzing too rapidly to find any form of a coherent train of thought.

"You," he mocked, nipping at your ear and breathing over the edge of your jaw.

"I have no idea what you mean," you tried to say in a brave tone, but it came out as a whining whisper. He laughed the same laugh as before and tightened his hold on your arm, moving to trap you between his body and the desk that cut into the backs of your thighs. It hurt but it was all too good to be true.

"I'm sure you don't, you pretty little thing, hm?" He kept his mouth close to your ear, nipping at your lobe between sentences. "No idea hmm? You think you're doing well in my class do you? Think you have been paying attention?" You nodded weakly, legs painful and giving out from the mess your brain turned into. "Of course you do, you're just a little girl. Too busy showing off to learn my content. Silly, silly, silly," he tutted. His voice, even in his growls and whispers, felt like honey and golden sun. It was sickly smooth and heavenly in your ear, making your mind melt and back tingle. His every touch was rough but immediately soft.

His thigh slid forward, planting itself between your legs. With a push, he shoved you up and onto the desk. "I'm so sick of waiting," he nearly whined, crashing his lips to yours.

It was all happening so fast, his teeth were hitting your lip and drawing blood, your tongues were exploring each other desperately, hungrily, and your stomach began to pool with molten pleasure. He tasted of dark roasted coffee and whatever sweet lollies he had snuck between classes. His cologne wrapped around every though you had and pulled you closer to him, both of your hands wandering across any exposed skin. The buttons on his shirt came apart easily beneath your touch while he snaked up your thigh under your skirt. His thumb brushed over your underwear and the thin cover of material did nothing to hide the excitement that rushed forward. You bucked your hips forward and the desk screeched on the flooring, moving under both of your desperate rush. Then your knee brushed over his obviously hard cock and draw a deeper grunt from the back of his throat.

"Don't, don't," he chuckled, "fuck touch me there and this will only end one way."

"Boost my grade," tumbled out of your mouth. He stayed unmoving, as if he was stood in a field of bombs waiting for his every wrong step. The drop in his voice every time he called you his thing send you a haze of false confidence, backed up by the euphoria exploding through your heart every time he called you pretty. To know he enjoyed the sight of you bent over in a tiny skirt during class was enough but this.. this was sending you into overdrive.

"What?"

"Boost my grade," you repeat more unsure but still certain, "I mean, if you say i'm failing. Boost my grade, I'll sleep with you but, boost my grade when I do." He smiled against your lips, pecking them once again, and huffed a chuckle. You could feel the way his thigh removed itself from between your legs but came back only a moment later, like his body was physically torn between turning away and giving in to what he so clearly wanted. Your hand, slowly and gently, found its way between his legs. Your fingertips grazed over the hardened length, teasing from the tip you knew without a doubt was swollen to the base that ached to be free.

"Pretty thing," he warned in the tone that told you to keep going. His muscles in his arms planted either side of you twitched, as if itching to grab onto you, but he remained still as you stroked.

"Anything you want, pretty girl, just don't stop." You smiled but he interrupted. "I can't promise i'll be," he struggled to find the words, "gentle." Riding the high of your confidence, you leant in to nip at his neck, making him suck in a tight breath.

"Don't be," you whispered.

It was like your tempting broke him, and his cramping arms suddenly scooped you from the desk. You wrapped your legs around his waist in fear of falling but he didn't slow down in his movement back towards the front of the class. He all but threw you onto the floor, making sure you still landed without injury but enough force to rattle you, and pulled himself back into his chair.

"Here is what we are going to do, slut," he drew the last word out like he was testing it, tasting it on the tip of his tongue before he liked it enough to continue. "I have a meeting in," he flicked his watch to check the time, "5 minutes and you, pretty slut," you knew he liked the taste of the one from the flush creeping over his ears, "are going to kneel under my desk and keep my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours." His hand was roughly holding your chin by the time he finished, fingers working their way into your mouth and coating themselves in your saliva. He was fucking your mouth with his hand and it was shameful how large of an effect it seemed to have on your body. Eyes glazed over, cheeks red enough to turn ruby, spit dripping down your chin. He grinned sadistically. "Understand," he commanded and you nodded, gagging slightly on the tip of his finger as it reached the back of your throat.

As soon as you agreed, he removed his hand and wipe the spit across your cheek, patting it with enough force to bring blood more to your face, before he used his foot to nudge you beneath his desk. Your heart was absolutely racing, banging unevenly like it was trying to escape your chest. There is serious risk of a heart attack here, you thought as you met his eyes staring down at you from above the desk, his hand gathering your hair to take your head into his control. You were suddenly insecure in the highlights through your hair you'd forgotten to touch up and the lipstick that was smeared across your chin, but in the same moment you couldn't seem to care as he unzipped his pants.

You had been right in the assumption that his cock was so hard it was red and aching for release, precum dripping and running along the tip as it sprung out of his underwear and bounced against his stomach. For a while, he just sat there, seemingly enjoying the power he had over your rapidly whirling mind, his hands occasionally weaving through your hair with a light tug or fingers rubbing over your mouth. The sight was pornographic and criminally attractive as he moved your head towards his crotch and held the tip of his cock on your lips.

"Tongue out," he commanded in a breathless grovel, and you did. Your lips parted as he began to tap it on your tongue, the salty taste of him already taking over your senses. The state you were in had to be deplorable but he seemed to want you destroyed in every action he took. He was moving your tongue up and down, along the bulging veins, in such a slow speed it seemed to terrorise his nerves. His hips were rocking into your mouth when he eventually held you still and slowly fucked your face. It was only an inch, then two, then three and four... until nearly the entire thing was jammed in your throat and oxygen became scarce. Your throat closed and struggled around him but panic only barely set in before he pulled you off and tapped the tip on your tongue again.

"You're so bad, so so bad," he groaned, pushing your head back down and allowing his hips to move into you at the same time. He released you, letting you gasp for air and cough into the space between his legs before yanking you back onto him and bobbing your head with his hold on your hair. This time, as you began to struggle, he shook your head slightly and his eyes rolled back in response, but he let you go anyway and bathed in the pleasure for a moment as you recovered.

There was a knock at the door, and his hand quickly abandoned your head, leaving you directionless and confused. In a short amount of time you had no idea how you had become so dependent on his control and instruction, but the lack left your heart empty and mind eager to please. But you had only seconds to pout into the absence before you realised what he wanted. The approaching footsteps and accompanying 'welcome' of the notoriously strict senior deputy filled the space. You had to suck him off through his meeting, never make him cum, but keep him satisfied. You shivered in the thought of what he would do if you didn't, so you set to work lapping and kitten licking at his throbbing cock. He coughed and cleared his throat to cover the initial shock of pleasure but quickly leant forward to shake the other man's hand, his cock sliding slightly into your mouth until he leant back and pulled away.

"So, of course you know I just wanted to check up on a few-" the conversation faded past the first few words while you brought a hand up to stroke his cock, giving your aching jaw a rest and eyes enough time to actually adjust to the burning tears from gagging and dark light under the desk. His hips were occasionally jumping forward to thrust into your hands faster, but he was restrained by the deputy's presence. You stroked and licked and sucked, mind wondering to what you would be rewarded with when his hand suddenly stopped your head and you were brought back down from the clouds you'd drifted to.

"Who's under the desk?" the deputy asked, tone darkly amused much as your teachers was before.

"A student," he responded as if it was at all legal or normal. But it seemed to be, because all the deputy gave was a hum of agreement and plea to see you.

"See her?" your teacher repeated more for your sake than his, feeling you freeze entirely and stomach drop through your body. Oh fuck. The deputy hummed again. He moved back to give you space, holding his hand out for you to clamber out from the space.

Automatically you began mumbling apologised, "I'm so sorry I didn't know, I mean, I, H, Well, Im so, It-" they both laughed at you and your teachers hand wrapped itself around your back, hugging you into his side for comfort. It was, the large form of his body hid your embarrassment from the deputy, but your insides still burnt with pleasure and the need to escape - conflicting emotions in the face of laughing men.

"Don't be shy, angel," the deputy drawled, holding his hand out. He looked gentle, his hands weren't as rough and his smile wasn't sadistic, so you stepped forward and gingerly placed your hand in his. You figured, perhaps incorrectly, that your punishment would be less if you just complied with the oddly calm man. "You chose well," he said to your teacher smiling proudly behind you.

Chose?

"Ah," he laughed at your confusion, "my angel, we have been waiting for you for so long." Your face fell slightly, a mixture of disappointment that your teacher hadn't just wanted you and that this was perhaps not as one off as you would have liked to think it was for them. "Don't worry, you're our first," he dispelled the worry instantly. It was like they could both read your thoughts which, at this point, had turned back to the shaking desire quivering between your legs.

"Aww, pretty thing," your teacher moved closer behind you, effectively trapping you between the two large men, "do you need something, hmm? Thinking about what we could do to you, hmm?" You nodded shyly, hiding behind your free hand that was quickly tucked away into the hold of your teacher.

"Stand, over there," the deputy pointed to the blackboard on the wall behind his desk, "face towards the wall, hands on the board. Go," he ordered with more weight than your teacher had seemed too and you raced to lean against the wall. Your skirt was so short that the tops of your thigh peaked out beneath the choppily stitched hem, both of their hands taking the opportunity to explore the newly exposed skin. It felt like hundreds of fingers were teasing you, tickling and scratching your soft skin. Slowly, your teacher forced your thighs apart, exposing you entirely when he shoved your skirt up to reveal your underwear. They were tiny, low cut but childish in a pattern of light blue strips. It was darkened along your slit, damp with arousal that had leaked to make your inner thigh glisten. They both hummed and laughed, fingers dipping into your wetness along the edge of your underwear.

Suddenly, his hand landed roughly on your ass, leaving behind the outline of his hand in red. You jumped, but the deputy has snaked his arms around your legs and locked you in place.

"What the fuck," you gasped and your teacher laughed.

"What," they both said.

"Like you don't enjoy it," your teacher snickered and slapped the other side of your ass. It stung and made your hips jump, both brushing your clit against the wandering hands of the deputy in a wave of pleasure and making the pain worse in a flash of pain. The next few spanks landed harder and harder, making you involuntarily groan and whimper in pleasure. Your teacher's cock was still out, pressed against your ass as he hit each side time after time, sure to leave the skin bruised.

In a clean movement, your underwear was half yanked and half torn from your body, the exploring fingers of the deputy instantly finding the untouched folds of your pussy. You were nearly literally dripping, wetness trailing down your thighs and over his hands.

"Please," you whined out to both of them and they both groaned. You were so exposed, clit being softly flicked and teased to throb while your teacher slowly humped you from behind. It was torturous.

"Let me taste," the deputy groaned from his kneeling position between your legs. God forbid anyone else should walk in. With him squished between your pussy and the wall, on his knees with a bulge straining against his pants, and your teacher grinding naked into your welt covered ass from behind. What he had said wasn't a request, but a warning, as he began drawing tight circles around the under side of your clit with his tongue. It was insanely good, your hips bucked on their own accord until your teacher grabbed your hips and forced you into some form of pattern. He was driving you to grind on the deputy's face while rocking back onto his cock that slid with ease and brought him his own crushing pleasure.

You grew closer and closer, his tongue getting faster and faster, flicking and sucking softly on your electric nerves. God you wanted to cum, so close, so close... then they both stopped. A sign from the Deputy had stopped your teacher in his tracks despite the obvious twitching of his cock.

"Slide into her," he ordered and your teacher did, slowly moving himself into you with moans and deep groans. He sounded frustrated with the control stripped from him in the moment but the tightness of your nearly orgasming pussy shut whatever complaint was brewing in his mind up. He let out a string of deep curses and moved your hips to bring you entirely onto his cock. It was stretching you and nearly painful but too good and hitting all the best places as you swayed back and forward desperate for him to move. With the inch of room between your clit and filled hole, the deputy held out his tongue and let your clit rub across it with each thrust from behind. It was barely different to before, but somehow hundreds of times more pleasurable and exhausting to your body. The man knelt between your legs began stroking himself as you rode his face to your orgasm. Body nearly giving up and collapsing if not for both of their arms holding you in place, pinned between them and the wall they pushed you against. You were clenching and milking around your teacher who grew rougher and rougher, eventually cumming and mixing your leaking wetness with his own release.

The deputy below held his mouth still there, tasting the combination of orgasm and cum until he found his own end and began furiously thrusting into his own hand.

What you didn't expect was for your teacher to gently place you on the floor next to the needy whining deputy with a shining face and jerking hips. He kissed you softly, patting your hair before moving to the man and nearly straddling his lap. He brought the deputy into a kiss, tasting me between their kiss and moaning every time their tongues fought for dominance. Two doms desperate to taste each other was hotter than it should have been in your half passed out state. Your teacher replaced the deputy's hand with his own on his cock and began stroking for him, still kissing and sharing groans until cum was spurting onto both of their shirts and staining their pants.

Maybe there was more to explore here than you thought originally...

[yandere-sins]

Stares

Horrortober Day 5: Disturbance “Nothing can interrupt us now.”

I will admit I wrote this one way too late into the night. I should go to sleep yikes :’D Enjoy!

Warnings: Yandere, Body Horror, Kidnapping, Molestation, Harrassment, Sexual Innuendos/Actions Characters: Sukuna x Reader

It was rare to see the King of Curses calm and even a little approachable.

Not that you liked seeing him at all, but you preferred it this way than any other. Ever so often, he peeked out of Itadori Yuji’s face, taunting you, belittling his host. However, you were just glad to get through with your work that day, teaching the boy the necessary theory he had to learn. You’d be gone before you had to deal with the host or the curse inside of him, just like every day. Routine, that’s what Nanami called it. Routine would benefit all of you, but you still hadn’t come around to like what you were forced to do.

Morally, it was wrong to call the boy a curse. He ate something cursed, and now he was beyond screwed, but still… Whenever you saw him, pure survival instinct ran through your veins. You wanted to defeat him, end this miserable life, but you weren’t allowed. Sorcerers weren’t supposed to teach curses, just kill. But you were torn between your orders and duty, looking at what was sitting in front of you.

Asking other sorcerers for their opinion on the matter, and you were faced with the same responses. The same struggle and conflict you were facing, except, maybe, Gojo, who seemed to be unbothered by what he dragged into your holy halls. However, the most unnerving thing that came up in conversation was how often Sukuna showed himself in your class… but not in the others. Given, they did see the casual third or fourth eye, or one mouth too many. Still, even if the others were unnerved, they chose to ignore, while you were the only one to actually have spoken to the king—though it was no honor.

“Brat, the teacher’s staring.” Instantly, Yuji’s attention shifted to the extra mouth on his cheek and then to you, expecting you to say something. You quickly caught your composure, not having realized you’ve been staring - probably in disgust - at him, almost feeling bad. Clearing your throat, you picked up your book again, shaking your head in denial before continuing to monotonously read the text inside of it out loud. Sorcerer history hadn’t been your favorite subject either, but you were stuck with it, unfortunately. Yuji was diligent enough, but even while you read, you couldn’t get your mind off the threat in front of you.

Especially not when long, clawed fingers gripped your book by the spine, lowering it with surprising force.

“No, you’ve been staring. There’s no denying it, Sorcerer, spit it out,” Sukuna grinned at you cheekily, having temporarily taken over your real student.

“I was trying not to vomit looking at you,” you snarled back, slapping his hand away that he retracted in fake hurt. “Bad liar,” he called you before the marks suddenly faded, Yuji going back to being himself.

“Ah, sorry about that,” he muttered apologetically like so many times before. And you sighed, assuring him it wasn’t his fault.

»»————————

It wasn’t his fault either when Sukuna cornered you in one of the hallways around the school. Being cornered by strong two arms did not give you the butterflies that all these novels always tried to sell. Granted, you flinched pretty hard, but once you were face to face with him, your anger far outweighed your fear. He was scary, no question asked. Sukuna could destroy you with a flick of his finger. But somehow, naively so, you didn’t believe he would. Something about ‘he could have, but he hasn’t’ made you bold apparently. Stupidly so.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you hissed, and he rolled his eyes. Yuji’s body looked stupidly wasted on him, the boy being such a ray of sunshine in contrast to his evil counterpart. Sukuna didn’t become him. His attitude didn’t.

“You’ve been staring at me,” he repeated. Why was the topic so important to him?

“So what? What is it to you?” you returned snidely. Lips curling into a grin, you felt like you had actually humored him. Not the direction you wanted to go with the King. “Well, I wanted a good look at you…” he mumbled, his eyes driving from the shirt on your collarbones to the shoes you were wearing slowly, noticeably, and… lusty.

“...too,” he finished his sentence before licking his lips.

“Disgusting,” you whispered dryly, staring at him perturbed, and Sukuna chuckled at your obvious rejection.

“Well, I have what I wanted.”

Before you could repeat, he disappeared, leaving behind a slumping student of yours, and you cursed the King of Curses quietly, dropping everything to had in your arms to support Yuji. “Asshole,” you mumbled, and for a brief moment, you thought you heard him chuckle again, but you couldn’t be sure.

»»————————

It was him. He was planning something all along, and you knew it.

But no one could see it since this plan almost exclusively involved you.

“Shrivel and die,” you told him through gritted teeth, pushing at his chest as hard as you could. Sukuna was undeterred, pressing you against the old chalkboard and nibbling on your earlobe. Why did no one believe you when you swore up and down that he wasn’t just a quiet bystander? That he indeed was trying to do something—or someone?

“I do love a filthy mouth,” he sighed, making you want to throw up just from the implications alone. Even with your elbow between you, there was no movement. The other sorcerers had told you about Yuji’s strength, but you didn’t think you couldn’t handle it. Apparently, however, you couldn’t, and it was infuriating. While Sukuna was doing as he pleased, you decided on a different approach, opening your mouth to scream.

Finally, it caused some reaction in him, his head recoiling at the jarring sound, but before long, your lips were captured with his, a fight breaking out between your mouths. He was trying to silence you efficiently with his tongue in your throat, the mere thought of kissing a student repulsing you, and you were biting at his lips which didn’t seem to bother Sukuna at all.

“Someone will come,” you reminded him fiercely as he broke away to give you some air.

“Silly,” he only commented before kissing you again. You were hammering at his chest, trying to make your disapproval evident, but it was to no avail. Sukuna wouldn’t budge. Only when he, mercifully, allowed another breath, you screamed again, using your palms to defend from his face closing in to shut you up. The weight of his body was pressing you into the wall painfully, but realizing your powers simply wouldn’t show no matter how hard you tried was even worse. Did he have some kind of ability that stole your energy from you? Was it fear that blocked you from using it? Were you afraid?

You were. 

It was indeed silly, even if it was painful to agree with Sukuna. You never feared for your life, taking every day and mission as it came. But you were scared now because of the monster in front of you. You had been right: you should have killed him when you could. Stupid! Absolutely stupid to keep around!

Even you understood that it wasn’t death you feared. You feared Sukuna’s presence and the effects it had on you. How defenseless you were suddenly and how, even though he always disappeared in the end after annoying you, he just didn’t seem to let go of you now. 

“Scream some more,” he taunted, and you weren’t going to object. Immediately, you put up the fight again, feeling your lungs clench when you robbed them of all the air to get some help. But nothing happened. “I like it when they struggle,” Sukuna laughed, crazy, madly, victoriously. As if he won a war you didn’t know about.

“Come, open your eyes! Look where you are!” he encouraged you, grinning from ear to ear. Confused, you looked around, seeing the same old classroom that you always had when teaching Yuji. The sight slowly began to shift, fog collecting at your feet and the walls moving unnaturally under your gaze. You’ve been scared before, but it was nothing compared to what you felt as everything shifted. 

You hadn’t realized it. 

Not for one moment did you know he activated his domain, something no one had been able to explore until now. It was different from what you expected, much more vast and deadly. But you also saw the remainders of the classroom, and you wondered how much of it was taking up the actual reality. Horrified, you looked around, now knowing your screams wouldn’t echo for no one but you two here. You always thought you were a decent sorcerer but maybe… maybe you were nothing at all. At least not in the eyes of Sukuna.

“Finally,” Sukuna sighed, satisfied and seemingly exhausted by effort you didn’t know he was making. “Nothing can interrupt us now. I just needed you to lower your guard.”

“You…” Your mumble was met with deafening silence. Not even Sukuna’s breathing made a sound in this space, and you immediately felt claustrophobic in the pitch black that encased the realm. His realm.

“I was nice. I waited. Those… manga said it was proper in these times, though, I don’t care for them. But you kept staring at me as if you were trying to kill me. Do you know how hard it was to wait? A king shouldn’t have to wait-no. I shouldn’t have to wait for you when you are coming on to me.”

Blinking a few times, you looked back at him. Perhaps, for the first time, you were truly meeting his gaze, always finding a reason to not look at him directly before. But not anymore. Now you were indeed looking at him, not remembering those times he said you stared when this was the first and only time you really saw him. “It’s been too long that I had company. How nice of you to offer yourself up to me~”

“I never did-” you tried to argue, but you were swept into another kiss, flailing in his arms as you feared falling. Endlessly. You could no longer discern where the realm started and ended. “You’re mine now,” he growled, unhinged.

“I will devour you, Looker. It’s punishment for not welcoming me sooner. There’s a lot to make up for.”

You’ve never seen Sukuna calm before. Because if what you had witnessed was what you called calm, it had been because he was waiting for the right moment. The right moment to pounce, and to your misery, it was now. Stares could kill, people said. It was true, you found out, as you killed yourself with it by making the King of Curses recognize you. Though, you wished you were dead.

You merely killed your freedom with your actions, as there was no way Sukuna would let you have that ever again after you piqued his interest unwillingly.

[allthingsarmin]

please hear me out , student council president bully!armin x hot goth girl!reader?

Thank you for your request! This prompt made me really thirsty hehehe, but I hope you didn’t have to wait too long. I’ve been getting quite a few goth girl requests, so to all the goth girls who have found my blog, WELCOME!

Warnings: bullying, harassment, mentions of depressive topics, noncon, and then some sexy stuff bc i know yall are horn - ee. Also, sorry this isn’t proofread :(

Fem!Reader, FemBodied!Reader

Minors DNI!

How many times have you been in this position? Submissive under Armin Arlert’s malicious smirk and feeling measly under the bouts of laughter and mockery from your insolent classmates who encourage his harsh words?

How many times have you found yourself running to your dorm after class, crying, loathing the fact that you were different, feeling insufficient because you have never been graciously accepted by others, becoming disgusted with yourself as a failure as your insecurities painfully spill past your eyelids.

How many times have you found yourself hopeless? Hopeless because no matter how many times you go to teachers and counselors for help, they dismiss you with a cackle. “Armin Arlert? The student council president? He is such a gentleman - so responsible and well-mannered. He would never do those things.” Hopeless because of course no one would ever believe the girl who is quiet, strange, and unconventionally a freak who wears nothing but black clothes with edgy designs, chains, and tall boots that match the intimidating aura of your black nails and many piercings. Hopeless because even though you hate the humiliation, hate the demeaning of your very existence, hate Armin Arlert, you can’t deny that you have pathetically fallen like a beggar for his degradation.

Too many times have you found yourself crumbling under the merciless grip of Armin, being thrown around like a puppet to appease his twisted fantasies and inflated ego, his handsome face creepily contorting with a grin each time his cruel insults are aimed at your weak self. Though, soon enough, the school year will end as you are pushed into the warmth of summer, and then you will make your escape from his abominable cage - your escape from the monster that hides behind the intelligent man with the expensive blazers and sweater vests, seemingly gentle smile, and clean face - the monster that hides behind the beautiful, horrible student council president, Armin Arlert.

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

On the precipice of escape, the last day of classes before your final exams - that were supposed to be easy and meant for reviewing material - became total hell as you were summoned to the student council office for some ‘unprecedented reason’ or at least that’s what your professor told you.

The walk to the office was a petrifying one. Never before have your boots felt heavy and your knees weak with your heart pounding out of your ears, scared that out of the eight people in the student council you would be faced with the one-and-only Armin Arlert and his mischief.

As soon as you entered the office, you were met with the pain of a shockingly cold, hard floor. Your left thumb nail and pinky broken, your black fishnet stockings torn, and your black eyeliner trailing down your face in waves due to the impact. Armin was waiting behind the door and barbarically pushed you onto the floor right as you entered the room. Upon his sinister eyes, you were so pitifully sprawled in front of him in a confused, fearful haze - such a wonderful sight to see your dark makeup smeared, cheeks red, bruises forming on your knees where your fishnets tore, and the chain bracelet you wore on your frail wrist broken and lying on the floor.

Upon your confusion and fright, Armin quickly steps over your feeble figure as a way of keeping you in place, like a predator fatally cornering his prey. He crouches down on top of you, getting close to your face, his minty breath hitting you in warm swells as his clean-scented cologne invades your nose. In the worse possible position, lying so vulnerable under the man who has tormented you at school all year, you hate to admit how irresistible he actually is - his mesmerizing blue eyes pulling you in like the tides, his beautifully groomed hair contrasting with his menacing smile, his muscles tightening up in his dark blue blazer. How disgusted you are with yourself that just for a second you were willing to take all of his degradation if it meant you got to lay your eyes upon his being.

Armin, feasting upon your beautiful figure, was tearing you apart in his mind. Unbeknownst to you, your dark clothes complimented your skin beautifully, the gruesome designs on your shirts appealingly contrasting with the rare sight of your soft, kind smile, and the black makeup you always wore was never with a fault as it was done perfectly, your black nails leaving Armin with vulgar thoughts about how they would look leaving scratch marks on his back as he roughly fucks you into subspace, what your black and blood-red skirts paired with fishnet stockings would look like while he sneakily tears into you in a public place. How his hand would look around your neck in place of your black chokers. All Armin needed was some hot goth bitch who he could selfishly abuse and degrade while looking cute in her chain necklaces and fitted black tops, and all year had he fantasized about this moment - taking in the sight of your pity allowing the stress from council responsibilities - like speeches and useless complaints from students - to simply just disappear.

“Finally have you all to myself, huh?” he groans, hurriedly taking off his blazer, and unbuttoning his dress shirt, disheveling his collar in the process. Looking around at the empty desks and chairs, you noticed that you two were in fact the only ones in the office and that Armin had slyly locked the door after pushing you to the floor. Your head was burning, and your heart suddenly picked up its pace as you saw Armin begin to unbuckle his belt and fiddle with his zipper.

“W-what are you doing?” you worriedly exclaimed as you moved your messy hair out of your face and scrambled to hold down your skirt.

Armin paused, his grin eerily wide and the glint in his eyes made of pure malice. “Something I should have done a long time ago.”

He, on top of your timid body, shoved his girthy cock into your mouth, his red tip teasingly poking at the back of your throat as tears assault your eye makeup and your face reddens with embarrassment. Armin pulls your hair and forces your wet mouth off of his aching cock, admiring the sight of your wide eyes and blotches of black lipstick painting his thick shaft. He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “Such a pretty goth bitch,” he coos, nearly laughing at the fact his weak, long-time victim was finally exposed below him.

You were stunned, completely numb, so shocked because the man who was always so vile to you was losing himself every time your reluctant tongue slipped past his sensitive tip. So shocked that you couldn’t do anything but comply when he told you to take him deeper.

Armin, with such eagerness, forced your sloppy mouth off of him - after gagging you for what seemed like forever - and sat down on the floor, leaning against the locked door, and firmly grabbing your wrist as a beckon to straddle his lap. Sitting upon his muscular thighs, you begin to realize just how ruined you are, wanting with every inch of your heart to run away from the person who has caused you so much distress yet feeling such a heavy desperation in your throbbing cunt as you gaze upon Armin’s gorgeous figure, his collared shirt slightly unbuttoned and wrinkled, warm red blush thrashed upon his face in contrast with cool blue eyes.

In the midst of it all, you can’t recall how quickly he jerked you onto his lap, rudely pulled your panties to the side, and forcefully thrusted his cock into your messy cunt. Though taking you by an uncomfortable surprise, you hate - hate - to admit how good it felt riding the student council president, Armin Arlert’s, cock, hate to admit how the mixture of abusive slander and your bully’s member inside you made your body shiver with euphoria.

Choose your ending: 1 2