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[nadvs]

cam girl (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The next time you log in to the cam website, your heart is racing. Throughout your classes that day, all you could think about was how hot the session with the man you thought was a stranger was last night.

But he isn’t a stranger. He lives in the mansion you get paid to clean twice a week, where he taunts you every chance he gets, practically fucking you with his eyes.

Does Rafe know it’s you on the camera? Is this a sick little game he’s enjoying, thinking you don’t know it’s him? Or maybe he’s aware you know who’s behind the account and he wants to see if you’ll say something about it?

But you do such a good job hiding your face. He can’t know it’s you.

You wonder if it’s wrong to continue doing the nightly private sessions knowing his identity. But when you remember how much joy he gets from berating you while you clean his house, you figure it’s ridiculous to care about the ethics of it.

You try to focus on the fact that you’re making so much money. Rafe gave you over $1500 last night. And he wants to keep paying you for every session. At this rate, you won’t have to worry about bills or your college tuition at all.

You closed your cam girl account to all other subscribers and posted a note that you were no longer streaming. The truth was, you were, but for one man only.

The thought of Rafe lying in bed jacking off to you turns you on before you even start the chat with him.

You take a deep breath, your hand hovering over your laptop trackpad. Rafe Cameron is going to watch you get naked and touch yourself and it makes your stomach feel like it’s flipping.

You start the private session.

Your screen fills with the image of you from your lips down to your feet as you’re curled up on your bed. You’re in a sheer white nighty with no bra or panties on underneath, your body hardly hidden beneath the smooth fabric.

Rafe called your tits perfect last night, so you figured he’ll appreciate you having them on display right when he logs in.

figure8 has joined the session.

You swallow hard.

figure8: been thinking about you all day princess

His words give you butterflies. You try to keep your confidence at the same level now that you’re aware of who’s on the other side of the chat. You refuse to be intimidated knowing it’s Rafe.

“Yeah? What about me?” you ask.

figure8: how pretty that pussy is and how im gonna watch you fuck it from behind

You feel the blood rush to your face. You know he has a filthy mind from the comments he makes to you at his house while you work, but this is more than you ever expected.

“Should I go slow for you again?” you whisper. “I know you like that.”

figure8: what a fast learner

You smirk. There’s the Rafe you know. He has such a natural talent for mocking you.

“You like this little outfit?” you ask him, your hands running down the fabric on your chest, fondling your tits. “I wore it special for you.”

figure8: so fucking hot. bounce those tits for me

You sit up on your knees and arch your back, lightly bobbing on the bed with your hands up in your hair. He has a perfect view of your chest beneath the sheer nighty, your nipples hard under the fabric as your tits jiggle up and down.

figure8: damn. i’d leave hickeys and bites all over those tits. you like to get bitten dont you princess. i know you like it rough

With every other viewer you’ve had as a cam girl, you’ve lied about your preferences just to get tips, but with Rafe, it’s like he knows exactly what you want. You haven’t had to lie to him once.

“I fucking love it rough,” you moan. You put your hands up to your tits and squeeze hard. “I want you to leave marks on me.”

figure8: i’d leave them all over your tits and your ass

“Yeah? Would you spank me? Hard enough to leave a handprint?” you ask, turning around and slowly lifting the nighty over your butt. You stick out your ass for him and sway it slowly for him.

figure8: fuck yes. shake your ass

You spread your knees wider and obey, looking back to watch your body on the screen. The thought of Rafe lying in bed fisting his cock while he watches you makes you get even wetter.

figure8: straddle your pillow. i wanna see how you’d ride my face

You tilt the laptop down so he doesn’t see above your mouth as you move to grab a pillow from behind the computer. You readjust the screen then straddle the pillow, the cotton soft against your naked core.

You start to buck your hips, shuddering immediately. You’re dazed already, desperate for his hands on you, as you rub your body against the pillow.

“I’d ride it fast like this,” you say breathily, humping the pillow.

figure8: my needy girl. my dick is throbbing watching you

figure8 tipped you $200.

figure8: that’s for riding it so well

“Thank you,” you purr, still grinding the pillow. The feeling of getting paid while doing something that feels so good is intoxicating. You’d do anything Rafe’s filthy mind desires.

figure8: don’t cum yet. i’m not done with you

You bite your lip in frustration.

“Okay,” you say heatedly. You slow down your thrusts, back still arched as you await your next instruction.

figure8: show me how you finger yourself. get your pussy nice and close to the camera

You shift to spread your legs in front of the camera, seeing yourself on full display for him.

figure8: start with one finger. i want you to work up to four. can you do that princess?

“I can do that,” you say shakily. You insert a forefinger into your warm, tight hole and let out a contented sigh.

figure8: pump it in and out slowly. add a second finger when you’re ready

You obey, stretching yourself out a bit before adding a second finger. Slowly, you add a third and writhe a bit. You push your hand back and forth, watching yourself on the screen.

You add your pinky finger and slightly tense up, your body rolling.

figure8: breathe through it. you can do it

You let out a shaky exhale as you continue, watching your fingers disappear inside of you.

figure8: good girl stretching that pussy out so nice. i bet you taste so fucking good. taste yourself for me

The request is so sinful, so unlike anything you’ve ever been asked to do. You slowly pull your fingers out of yourself, bringing your hand up to your mouth, making sure he can see your lips.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say to him.

figure8: you’ll do a lot of new things with me, princess

You taste your wetness, sucking on your fingers for him with a slurp loud enough for him to hear. It’s such an animalistic, depraved act, and you find yourself wishing you could do it with him in person, have him watch you do this in the same room.

figure8: god i want to taste you so bad

“I want to taste you, too,” you whisper. If only Rafe knew how accessible you were to him, in his house twice a week. “You know, you can send me photos whenever you want.”

figure8: desperate to see this dick aren’t you

You smile. He could not be more correct. You don’t know how you’ll manage to be around him in person and act normal knowing what you know.

Your stomach heats when you see that he sent a photo. He’s holding his cock, the curve of it so perfect, a pearl of precum leaking out of the tip.

“I want to use my mouth on you,” you keen. “My pussy is aching for it.”

figure8: i know you’d love the taste, princess. show me how you’d take my cock doggy style

Finally. You pick up your dildo and turn around, backing up towards the screen. You angle to slide the toy in slowly, feeling it fill you up, then move your hand so he can view you clearly.

figure8: i can see you dripping

Sure enough, you look down on your sheets to see drops of your own wetness. This man has got you hornier than you’ve ever been.

“That’s what you do to me,” you rasp. “Fuck, I bet you’d destroy me.”

figure8: that pussy would grip my dick so well. i’d fuck you so hard

“Can I please do it now?” you say breathlessly, throbbing with need.

figure8: only because you asked so nice

You dip your arm between your hips, knees sinking into your bed as you lean so your cheek is pressed against the mattress and out of the camera’s frame. You hold the base of the toy and shut your eyes and imagine Rafe’s warm, hard cock inside of you instead of a dildo you have to control.

Breathy moans spill out of you as you thrust the dildo in and out of your slick cunt. You picture him behind you, his hands on your hips as he ruthlessly thrashes in and out of you.

The orgasm slowly builds and builds.

“I’m gonna come,” you say, muffled. You bite your tongue, stifling the urge to call him by his name. Your eyes roll back as the orgasm ripples through with a powerful force, making you shake with pleasure.

When you finally regain enough energy, you sit up and turn to look at the laptop again. To your delight, you see that Rafe sent another photo.

You look closer at the image to see his cum sprayed across his muscular stomach, the white splashes of his pleasure glistening atop his abs.

“Shit,” you rasped. The image is so sexy that you feel yourself getting aroused again.

figure8: see what you do to me? i never cum this fucking fast

figure8 tipped you $100.

figure8: use the money to buy this. have it ready tomorrow

He sends a link in his next message. You open it to see a sex toy website. The page he sent is for a rose vibrator.

“I’ve always wanted one of these,” you say breathily. “Thank you, baby.”

figure8: dont use it without me watching. understand?

“Yes,” you say.

figure8: sleep. you’ll need your rest for what im doing to you tomorrow

figure8 tipped you $1000.

Rafe leaves the chat. You follow his instructions, ordering the toy right away and selecting the option to have it delivered tomorrow. What is he planning?

You decide to do some more online shopping, finding a top you know he’ll like.

After you buy the items, you stare at your laptop, reeling from what just happened.

You look at the pictures he sent again. Rafe was always such a cocky asshole whenever he taunted you at work and it definitely isn’t from overcompensation. He’s so well-endowed that you know it’d hurt so good having him inside you.

How would he react if you told him you were the girl he was jacking off to? Would he be embarrassed? Or relieved he could fuck you for real? Because you’d let him have sex with you. After tonight, there’s no doubt about it.

You close the laptop. It’s Thursday, meaning you’ll likely see Rafe in two days when you’re back at the Cameron estate on Saturday as scheduled. You typically see him around the house, but there are times where you don’t run into him at all.

You don’t know if you’d prefer to see him or not. How could you act normal after having him talk to you like that, after seeing his naked photos?

You try to go to bed right away, but your head is spinning.

The next night, you log in wearing skimpy white panties and the pink tank top you bought the night before, the word “princess” stretched across the front in white cursive letters.

Rafe joins the private session and you can imagine the smirk on his face once he sees your outfit.

“Hi, baby,” you coo, pinching the peaks of your nipples poking beneath the shirt. “You like my top? Bought it last night.”

figure8: its perfect. i want you to spoil yourself with every dollar i give you

You giggle and hold the small silicone rose toy up the camera.

“I was tempted to use it, but I didn’t,” you admit. “Promise.”

figure8: good girl. i hope you got your rest last night. im not paying you til you cum three times tonight

“Oh, my God,” you laugh. “Three? I don’t know…”

figure8: you can do it, princess. take ur panties off but keep that shirt on. don’t want u to forget who u belong to

His possessiveness is so attractive that you feel yourself getting wet already. You slide your underwear off, spreading your legs and putting yourself on display for him.

figure8: tell me what you’d want me to do if i was there. you’d like my head between your legs wouldnt you

You giggle, “You read my mind.” You put your fingers on your clit and close your eyes, imagining curling your fingers in Rafe’s hair as his tongue presses against your middle.

You would have never guessed that Rafe Cameron likes eating pussy, always having assumed he was selfish in bed. But he’s been surprising you since the first message he sent.

“I’d want you to start off kissing me right here,” you purr, “then you’d start using your tongue. Then you’d suck my clit.”

figure8: then i’d put my tongue deep inside your tight cunt

Reading the words makes you tremble. You lower your hand to spread your lips open and show him your opening.

“Right here?” you tease.

figure8: i want my face all wet from you

You groan, imagining his pretty face glistening, his pink lips swollen from eating you out.

You grow wetter and wetter as you touch yourself.

figure8: get the toy

You eagerly pick it up and hold your finger over the “on” button.

“Which setting?”

figure8: whatever will make u cum the hardest, princess

“You get off on me feeling good, don’t you, baby?” you tease.

figure8: those sounds you make are so fucking perfect. i’m already rock hard

“You want me to be loud?”

figure8: don’t hold back. i’ll count your orgasms with you ok? and on the third one, we’ll cum together

This man could not get any sexier if he tried. You curiously explore the toy, finally turning it on and hearing it buzz immediately.

You place it on your clit and the pleasure is instant. You let out a sharp exhale, imagining Rafe touching himself while he watches you.

The toy buzzes and suctions on you and it doesn’t take long at all for the first orgasm to roll through you. You don’t stifle the moan that comes out of you, knowing he’s enjoying it.

figure8: that’s one. that was so fast, princess

“I was horny all day,” you confess.

figure8: thinkin about me?

“Mhm. That picture of your cum all over your stomach is so fucking nice.”

figure8: then u can imagine how much i enjoy watching u fuck urself

“I want a video of you rubbing your cock,” you say impulsively. “I want to hear your sounds, too.”

figure8: you’re such a needy girl

“It’s why you like me,” you flirt. He doesn’t respond right away, making you anticipate that he’s recording a video for you.

A file from him pops up in the chat. You eagerly play it, watching six jaw-dropping seconds of his hand moving up and down the thick girth of his dick in his dark bedroom, his heavy breathing filling your ears.

“God,” you whimper. “I’m ready to go again.”

You pick up the toy and place it on your clit, pressing it down hard as it pulls another orgasm out of you after a minute. You moan out a jumbled, high-pitched mess of “oh, fuck”s as you cum.

Your muscles are tingling and tired. You’re not sure you can give yourself a third orgasm.

figure8: two. not done yet

“Maybe we stop here?” you whisper. “I’m already so weak.”

figure8: are u going to be a good girl or not

“I will,” you resign. “I will.”

figure8: go again. on the max setting

Feeling spent but determined to please him, you put the toy on your sensitive clit again. You hang your head back, looking up at your bedroom ceiling as you press the button a few times to turn on the highest level.

The toy’s suction and pace is brutal and unforgiving. You cry out from the overstimulation, writhing beneath it. The forced orgasm rises inside you and you groan loudly as you cum, tremors ripping through your body.

You’re panting when you turn off the toy and sit up to look at the chat. Rafe sent another photo. His hand is holding his cock at its base, the swollen shaft covered in his cum.

figure8: would u lick this up?

“Every fucking drop,” you say, wishing you could have orgasmed with him inside of you.

figure8 tipped you $2000.

figure8: extra for being so good

The high of the orgasms, of your bank account growing all because this man wants to watch you pleasure yourself, makes you feel like you’re floating.

“I belong to you,” you tell Rafe drunkenly, unable to imagine letting anyone else watching you like this ever again.

figure8: yeah you fucking do. that pussy is mine

“All yours,” you whisper.

figure8: ill see u tomorrow. good job today princess

Rafe exits the chat, leaving you a heaving mess.

Your heart feels like it twists reading his last message. He surely means he’ll see you on camera tomorrow… but what if he means at the estate for your housekeeping shift?

No, he doesn’t know it’s you. He can’t. You breathe out a tired sigh and take a long, hot shower before going to bed.

Your shapeless uniform is scratchy against your skin as you walk into the mansion the next day, still not sure if you want to run into Rafe or not.

You finish up cleaning downstairs and move up to the bedrooms, leaving Rafe’s room for last.

When you enter his room, it’s empty, the late morning sun hidden behind the blinds covering his big windows. You hear the shower in his ensuite running. You curse to yourself, suddenly nervous to see him. Maybe you can quickly collect the laundry and leave before he gets out.

You start to strip the bed, picturing the photos he sent you of himself on it, fucking his own hand and cumming with you. He lies right here, typing dirty things to you, watching you fuck yourself.

You’ve only unbuttoned one button of the duvet cover when you hear the shower faucet get turned off. Shit.

You rush to unbutton the cover, but you finish just as the door squeaks open behind you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” you mumble, keeping your back to him and leaving the bed half-done.

“You’ve seen it all already,” Rafe huskily says behind you. You freeze for a second.

You shyly keep your eyes on the hardwood floor as you turn. When you look up at him as he towers over you, his mouth merely inches away from yours, you see he’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

His hair is wet, his broad chest spattered with water drops. He smells amazing from the body wash he used and his eyes are heavy lidded and his smirk is so damn self-satisfied.

“Why do you look so surprised? You really think I didn’t recognize that pretty mouth right away, princess?”

{ read part three here }

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[etherealily]

𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 2 : 9 Lives

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc.: You're needed. Now.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

It's not like you even knew Nate.

You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.

Until they did.

Until he started following you on Instagram.

That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.

The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.

You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.

It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.

Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.

--------

Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.

She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).

Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-

Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.

Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?

Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.

Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.

Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?

(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)

The story was only text. Text and nothing more.

Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.

What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?

You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.

A picture, along with six other messages.

This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."

"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.

"You should be."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.

"You should be here. Come."

Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.

"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."

"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.

You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.

Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.

So much red.

Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.

He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.

"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."

Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.

But not like this.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-

Nate Jacobs started an audio call.

Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.

"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."

Yup, that sounded about right.

You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?

Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.

"Y/N, please just come."

It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.

"Why?"

"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.

"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"

You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.

If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.

"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"

"I can't. I'm sorry."

Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.

"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"

"Look-"

"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.

"Why?"

"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.

2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.

"I will cut deeper."

"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."

You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.

"I'm cutting."

"Stop."

"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."

A video. SHIT. FUCK.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.

The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.

The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.

As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.

It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.

Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.

"Let me go , McKay!"

"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.

He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.

"Okay."

He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.

What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'

You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.

"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.

He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."

"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"

"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"

"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"

The other team's captain.

"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."

The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?

"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."

Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"

"Yes, Coach?"

"One more, then you can send her in."

"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.

Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?

Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.

Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breaching every inch of a dry leaf.

"You came."

"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"

"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."

Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?

"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"

"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."

And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.

No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....

And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.

"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.

Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.

Smiled.

Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.

He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.

Not crack. Probably fent.

Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.

"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.

It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.

Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.

You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.

You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'

You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.

"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."

Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.

"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"

You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, right?

You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.

"You catch the touchdown?"

"Yeah. I did."

"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"

"Sure."

His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."

"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"

"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"

"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.

"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.

You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.

"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.

"Small dicks?"

"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."

"Like the hooking up thing."

"How do you know about that?"

"McKay told me."

He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.

"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."

If he was about to say what you thought he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.

"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.

But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.

"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."

"When the fuck did you-"

"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."

Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?

"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"

"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.

"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"

No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.

"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"

"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.

"Yeah, okay, get out."

"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."

The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."

The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.

That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.

He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.

And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.

"Y/N, please."

"Fine."

You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.

The entire football field gasped.

He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.

"Go. Play now."

He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."

"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."

You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.

He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.

You hoped you'd heard wrong.

Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.

Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.

-------

He won.

He. Fucking. Won.

And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.

You hated yourself for it, but yes.

You wanted him dead.

All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.

Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.

"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."

You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.

"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."

"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."

"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."

"No chance in hell, Jacobs."

"Stop wounding me. Let me in."

"Or what?"

"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.

"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."

He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffle bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"

"Tell me where to go."

"You don't know where I live?"

"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"

"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."

"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."

He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."

"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."

"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."

"I barely even post anything!"

"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"

He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."

"It was unnecessary."

"Okay, you know what this is?"

He raised a brow.

"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"

And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.

To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."

"You did not just fucking kiss me."

"You want me to do it again?"

"NO."

"Then drive."

This motherfucking bastard of a man!

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🏈⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

"You wanna come in?"

No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.

"I'm good."

He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."

"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."

"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."

"Why? We're never talking after this."

He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.

"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."

He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."

"What? No."

"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"

"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"

But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-

"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."

"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."

The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.

Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.

"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.

"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.

"Not dressing that wound?"

"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."

Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.

And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.

The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.

How it should be.

But then he texted you.

Fuck.

[beneathashadytree]

HI GUYS! LONG POST, MAKING A BIG ANNOUNCEMENT OVER HERE! I WILL BE ACCEPTING WRITING COMMISSIONS FOR A COUPLE OF MONTHS, DUE TO THE FACT THAT I LIVE IN EXTREME POVERTY… PLEASE REBLOG!!

Here are my commision prices:

1$-2$ —> an SMAU (depends on length)

5$ —> a drabble (around 500 words)

10$ —> a oneshot (around 1000 words)

20$ or more—> a ficlet (2000-4000 words or more)

What fandoms I’m willing to write for (the ones in bold are the ones I’m best at and hyperfixating on):

Attack on Titan

Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

My Hero Academia

Haikyuu!!

Jujutsu Kaisen

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

Moriarty the Patriot

Tokyo Revengers

One Piece

Bungou Stray Dogs

Kuroko no Basket

Ikemen Sengoku

Ikemen Vampire

Ikemen Revolution

Ikemen Prince

Love and Deepspace (my current fav)

How do I request a commission?

Either contact me via my DMs here, or on my Ko-Fi! I’ll be linking my account at the bottom of this post.

What’s the commission format?

Tell me your name or your OC’s name, their gender & pronouns, describe them to me both physically and in terms of personality, then tell me which character you want me to write them with. I’ll be writing “character x reader” or “character x OC” fics, so I need to know what I’m working with! Any extra details will help a lot. Of course, we will discuss everything concerning your commission privately.

If you want to check out my previous works to have a rough idea of how things will look like, be sure to check out my masterlist, which is my pinned post! Of course, my writing improves over time, so it may not be precisely as it is there.

How do I pay you?

You can pay me via my Ko-Fi account, which is linked to my PayPal! Here’s the link to my Ko-Fi.

Please consider helping me out, whether by requesting a commission, or by sharing this post and my links as much as possible!! I’m trying my best to do all I can now that I haven’t got many options left.

As some of you might already know, I’m a dentist, but still at uni. Sadly, studying dentistry is extremely expensive, and I can’t rely on my parents to pay my fees for me for a few reasons.

The first being that my dad is a heart patient, and can’t work anymore. The pension he receives is literally less than the equivalent of 90 dollars. Of course, that doesn’t provide anything in terms of food and living (we usually can only afford a meal or two a day) except for some of his meds—not even all of them. His health is steadily declining.

My mother is extremely narcissistic and very, very abusive. I’ve gone through hell living with her because I have to, but even she can’t even afford to take care of us because no one wants to hire her at her old age, and she’s used up all her savings on my dad.

I’m also physically disabled, and can’t move around often. I also have to have surgeries every now and then because of the chronic illness I have.

I am in serious, dire need of money, both for my tuition fees, and hopefully to be able to live. I have to keep us afloat until I can get married in a couple of years, since I can’t live alone. Besides, my dad doesn’t deserve to suffer with his heart problems.

I tried working with dentistry last year, and that worked for a while, but this year no one’s hiring due to the terrible state of our economy. I have no skills aside from my writing, so that’s what I’ll have to work with. I’m getting seriously desperate, so I hope you guys understand why I’m doing this, and hopefully feel inclined to offer any support you can—even if not financial, but just by reblogging this post!

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Pretty boy | Ethan Landry x camgirl!reader

Summary: Ethan purchases a private session with his favorite camgirl

Word count: 2k

Warnings: smut, sex work, fingering/jerking off, brief use of toys,

Request: We know Ethan is a virgin. Do you think he would be the type to pay for a private video with a camgirl? I think he would be so shy and blushing. Maybe reader helps him get comfortable and he thank her for making him cum 🥺🥺

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Sex work wasn’t the most glorious job, but opening an Only Fans account helped pay for your college tuition and other expenses. It wasn’t too energy demanding or time consuming — all you had to do was post pictures in lingerie and videos of yourself playing, and talk to your subscribers —, so it was perfect for a busy college student.

You got great tips from livestreams too. Every Tuesday and Sunday, you went live on your Only Fans and that’s where you made the most of your money. Aside from private video sessions. Sometimes, people send you gifts — lingerie sets, toys or accessories — for you to use in future posts.

Seconds after you hit the ‘live’ button, there were already over a hundred people watching. You sat on your knees, your hands lazily running up and down your bare thighs as you watched the numbers of viewers increase with every passing second.

‘’There’s so many of you today.’’

All the way in New York, your voice filtered through Ethan’s dorm room. He was alone tonight, so he was going to take advantage of the situation and…empty his manly bowels. He situated himself on his bed, his laptop on his bed and your beautiful face filling his screen.

‘’Do you like my new set?’’ you asked your viewers, rising on your knees to show off your panty better, making a show to toy at the thin straps on the sides.

The sight made Ethan’s cock strain against the material of his boxers. He lightly palmed himself over the material, wincing slightly at the small bursts of pleasure.

‘’You lot are needy tonight,’’ you pointed out, reading the chat. ‘’Pussyslayer has tipped me 20$ to take off my panties,’’ you read aloud. ‘’And an extra 5$ to play with my pussy. I will…in a few minutes. Can you be patient? Can you be a good boy for me?’’

Ethan typed fast.

goodboy01 Yes. Always a good boy.

You skimmed over the chat. ‘’I’ve got plans for tonight’s livestream.’’ You winked at your audience and reached behind on your bed, grabbing your sparkly pink dildo — a gift from a subscriber — and holding it up to the camera.

A heap of horny and needy men went wild in the chat.

‘’Where should I use it?’’ you asked, holding the phallic shaped object in your hand. ‘’Should I suck on it? See how deep it goes in my mouth?’’ You gave the tip a kitten lick while looking at your camera with hooded eyes. ‘’Or should I put it down here?’’ Your hand traveled down your body and this seemed to be the winner, seeing higher tips being gifted to you. ‘’Okay, okay. Thanks hardcock_69 for the big tip.’’

You chuckled, giving your subscribers what they wanted.

Sitting back, you spread your legs so everyone could have a good view. Your fingers traced the hem of your panties with a teasing smirk on your face, pushing the material of your panties to the side and slowly sinking the toy inside your pussy. Your lips parted in a silent sigh, feeling the girth of the toy stretching you.

‘’Fuck, feels so good,’’ you moaned out, your eyes clenched shut as you slowly started to thrust the dildo in and out. ‘’Feel so fucking full.’’

You continued putting on a show and Ethan could barely remember to breathe as he watched your lips wrap perfectly around the toy. It was an image that would be burned into his head. His sweatpants were pushed down and he tried his best not to moan — whimper — too loud, his hand wrapped around cock as he stroked at a generous pace.

‘’Don’t you wish it’s your big cock inside me?’’ you said to the camera. ‘’You’d fuck me so good, wouldn’t you, baby boy?’’

The tips were coming so fast, some smaller and some more generous, but the audience loved the interaction. You kept going, bringing your free hand to your clit and rubbing it, eliciting a higher moan.

Usually, you dragged out the livestream and interacted personally with your subscribers from the chat, but rent was close and you needed a little more money. So you came and announced that the livestream was going to be short.

‘’Unfortunately, I’m gonna stop here tonight…’’ The chat blew up with people begging you to stay longer and make them cum again or show your tits, but you ignored them. ‘’But if you want more, I will be available for a private video-chat. The places are very limited, so be fast if you want a private moment with me.’’

Looking down at his softening cock and the sticky mess on his hand, Ethan let his hormones type on his laptop and requested a private session. Using his dad’s money on a personal video-chat with a camgirl was utterly stupid, but you were insanely attractive and he really needed to get off — again. He was also dying to have you for himself.

At least for a few minutes.

It was only a few beats before you accepted and Ethan was then rerouted. What first popped up was a webcam that asked ‘join audio and video?’. He clicked on it and a black square appeared, telling him you’ll be there shortly.

While he waited, he tucked himself back into his sweatpants and wiped his hand with a tissue. He didn’t want you to know he had jerked off to your livestream less than seven minutes ago.

When you popped on the screen, Ethan was filled to the brim with lust. You had covered yourself back and had a loosely tied silk robe over your lingerie set.

‘’Holy shit, you’re beautiful.’’ The words had slipped and Ethan covered his mouth, embarrassed by his reaction.

You laughed softly. It was honest and innocent. ‘’Thank you,’’ you replied, smiling sweetly at the curly haired boy. ‘’What’s your name, pretty boy?’’

His flushed cheeks and doe eyes told you he was his first time doing this. It wasn’t your first time though. People tend to be shy and embarrassed at the beginning, and it’s your job to make them relaxed and safe.

‘’E-Ethan.’’

‘’Nice to meet you, Ethan.’’

Pulling your legs under you, you kneeled on the bed as you leaned closer to the laptop. Your cleavage was on the screen and Ethan’s mouth felt dry and his palms were sweaty, remembering how nice your tits were.

‘’I’ve been watching you for a while,’’ he confessed, then immediately regretted it.

‘’Have you? I love my faithful subscribers.’’ You applied a coat of lipgloss to make your lips look juicy. ‘’So,’’ you spoke up again, ‘’what can I do for you?’’

Ethan panicked at the question. He didn’t know what he wanted to see. He didn’t think of that when he clicked on purchasing a private session with you. ‘’Eh, I don’t know. What do you want?’’

‘’You paid for me, pretty boy. What do you want?’’

Most of the things he dreamed of doing to you — with you — were impossible to do through a screen.

You could see his eyes wandering down on the screen from your face to your breasts, so you started from there. ‘’Do you like my outfit?’’ you asked, untying your robe and giving him a better view of your bra. It was lacey and didn’t cover much.

Your hands slipped down your chest and you fiddled with the straps of your bra, teasing your young subscriber. You let them go and reached the underside of your breasts, pushing them up a bit more and letting him see your hard nipples through the lace.

The groan slipped from Ethan’s lips before he could help himself.

‘’You like my tits, baby? Maybe I should take off my bra?’’ you asked him. You removed your robe fully. ‘’What do you say, pretty boy?’’

He nodded and you undid the front clasp, releasing your breasts from the confine of the cups. You rid yourself of it completely, chucking it on the floor.

Ethan’s breath hitched and he reached to palm at the bulge in his sweatpants. ‘’Christ,’’ he cursed under his breath.

A soft grin curled on your lips and you leaned closer to the camera, giving him a great view of your breasts. ‘’You like my tits?’’ Your hands reached up to play with your nipples.

‘’Y-yeah. They're gorgeous.’’

Through your screen, you watched as Ethan’s hand reached below the camera angle and shifted uncomfortably. ‘’Are you hard for me?’’ The boldness of your question seemed to take him by surprise. He nodded. ‘’Show me.’’

Without hesitating, he got rid of his shirt and pushed his laptop back so you could see him, then pulled his cock out of his gray sweatpants. He opened his mouth to apologize for his size, assuming it wasn’t big enough, but you spoke first.

‘’Wow, it’s nice and big,’’ you complimented, swiping your tongue over your lips as your eyes flitter down to Ethan's hand on his dick, eyes sparkling at just how big it looked even in his hand. You had seen bigger dicks, but you were surprisingly impressed by your shy subscriber’s size. It's thick, pretty and pink at the tip. ‘’Stroke it for me.’’

Ethan groaned and began to pump his cock slowly in his hand, wishing that it was yours. Your soft fingers would feel so good wrapped around him. He’s never had anyone touch him like that.

‘’Does that feel good?’’

The curly haired boy nodded, letting out a sigh.

‘’Keep touching, let me hear you.’’

His hand tightened on his erection, the feeling sending shudders down his spine and little whines and moans came out of his mouth, echoing out of your speakers.

‘’You’re being such a good boy,’’ you praised, starting to feel your own arousal sticking to your panties.

Ethan swirled his thumb over the head of his cock and caught the precum before gliding his hand wetly over his length. ‘’Can you play with yourself too?’’

You nodded and complied, slipping your panties down your smooth legs, perfectly shaved and moisturized for the livestream. ‘’I can do everything you want me to. As I said, you paid to see me.’’ You dropped them where your bra was and opened your legs wide so Ethan had a view of your glistening pussy as your fingers came in contact with your clit. ‘’Aah,’’ you sighed as you began to rub it.

You pushed two fingers inside of yourself, already relaxed from having a dildo twenty minutes ago, and let out a moan. Although your job was to pleasure the customer, you were starting to really enjoy this session. Ethan was sweet and good looking — and he had a pretty nice cock.

In his dorm room, Ethan wanted to cry. His cock was aching at the sight on his screen and his hand wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. Needy whines were slipping from his mouth and turning onto moans, getting louder and louder, and his curly hair was sticking to his forehead annoyingly, but he couldn’t stop pumping.

The counter was getting close to the end of the session — only a few minutes left —, but you chose to ignore it. You didn’t want to stop riding your fingers…and neither did Ethan. He had seen many videos of you playing with yourself, but watching you doing it right before him, for him, was multiplying the pleasure and sending him close to the edge.

‘’I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,’’ Ethan announced, his face flushed and starting to breathe heavily. He threw his head back, showing the column of his throat and giving you a good view of his Adam apple bobbing as he picked up speed, his stomach muscles tightening.

You activated yourself on your clit, rubbing at it while you were fucking yourself on your other hand. The coil in your stomach was threatening to snap, your thighs shaking with your every move. Your hand was soaked with your arousal, glistening beautifully.

‘’Yes, yes, ye— Aah,’’ he whined out, white spurts of cum shooting out of him as he milked his cock, spurting all over his hand and lower stomach.

You reached your own high at the sight, secretly wishing all that cum was inside you. 

—

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hihi!! i wanted to know your opinion on what the students at nrc do for meals beside lunch. we see lunch be served in the cafeteria, but i don't recal breakfast and dinner being served to the students at all.

in epel's ceremonial robes vignette, we see the students eating their food at a dining table as part of the welcoming party. do you think that's a regular thing? them just having their meals at a dining table. the same could be said for heartslaybul with the table they use for unbirthday parties. does each dorm have a dining table for students? a designate are for them to eat without spilling their food? i can't imagine riddle letting his students eat in their dorm rooms.

we know each dorm has a kitchen, so its not impossible for the students to make their own meals, but what's getting stocked in the kitchen? how many times are people putting out grease fires and taking out the trash? does the housewarden get to decide what kind of food is allowed in the dorm? who is in charge of cleaning out the fridge and pantry for anything that's expired? this would also mean that the mc would only have one free meal each day, they wouldn't have the money to be buying snacks and ingredients to make food. anyways, hope you have a good day/night:D

I’m actually not sure if the food in the NRC cafeteria is entirely free? Meals may be free for public school students, but NRC is a private boarding school which, irl, often charge for meals as part of the tuition or have some kind of paid meal plan. (Exceptions are made for students with financial concerns, but generally food is paid for.) Edit: the light novel confirms that lunches at NRC are free.

At least some items have to be paid for before you’re allowed to walk out with it. For example, both Ace and Deuce have various voice lines where they promise to buy Yuu “something from the cafeteria later”. There is also a bakery that visits NRC once a month to sell sandwiches. Maybe these are just add-on items or snacks that carry their own out-of-pocket fees, but it’s still worth noting here. So the students all get a free lunch every day, with extra items being paid for.

I don’t believe we have enough information to determine one way or another how the other meals are covered, if at all. If NRC is anything like a college campus though, the cafeteria probably operates for breakfast and dinner services as well as lunch. (It, like many things, may not be mentioned because those meals are not as relevant to one’s school life.) This probably extends to weekends too, since I don’t think NRC would provide no food at all on weekends; that’d be counterproductive to academic productivity. Other options seem to be getting permission to go into the local town and eat there or to prepare food in your own dorm’s kitchen. I’m not totally sure if the groceries would be paid for by the individual students or from a predetermined pantry. We’ve seen students like Ruggie and Trey find or grow their own ingredients, but we’ve also seen situations where group meals or events (Port Fest, Halloween, birthdays, etc.) are held and would obviously have to pull money from a budget or some kind of pooled source. I’d assume that kitchen safety and cleaning is a shared responsibility by anyone who uses it; there may also be a rotating schedule for who cleans up (scrubs the tables, takes out the trash, etc.) for the week. Washing your dishes and cutlery after use and tossing out your own bad food, by contrast, feel like individual chores.

I don’t think students typically have mandated “sit down and eat a meal with your dorm” times. Firstly, NRC just doesn’t have that kind of a fuzzy, “let’s be friends” community. It would also just be difficult to coordinate a time that works for all members of the dorm, since they also have to account for times when students would be busy with homework, jobs, or club activities. Secondly, the group meals we do see, such as unbirthday parties, the Halloween dinner, and the Pomefiore welcome meal are all associated with timely events; they are not the everyday. More likely these group meals are formalities reserved for special occasions or holidays. I think students are probably free to figure out their own meals outside of the school-provided lunch in the middle of the typical academic hours. For example, we see that Floyd hoards snacks in his bedroom and Idia implies he eats in his room too, and especially while gaming. Ace has said that there’s a burger joint in the town he likes to go to. Jamil is known to prepare banquets seemingly on the regular for his dorm and the parties Kalim holds. Each dorm is also shown to have a lounge or common room area, so I’d imagine that can seat students who want a place to sit down and eat. The design of these lounges also better reflects NRC’s general attitude towards forming friendships; the tables and chairs/sofas are comparatively small or can only seat a few at the same table.

As for what gets stocked in every dorm’s kitchen, I don’t think dorm leaders would get to hand pick those items. This is mainly for pragmatic reasons, since I can easily see characters like Leona misusing the privilege to like... have all meat and no veggies on hand 😂 More likely there’s a budget they need to stick to and some essentials in every kitchen. This would then be supplemented by whatever else they produce on the dorm grounds (we’ve gone to all 7 dorms to collect various ingredients for Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles) or whatever they purchase on top of the pantry (stares at Kalim). I’d also like to point out that NRC has many locations on campus where you can grab additional ingredients, such as the Botanical Garden, an actual ranch, a windmill, the forest behind the school (where we gathered chestnuts!), the Mystery Shop, etc. Some of what’s in the pantry is probably based on ease of access, such as Octavinelle having easy access to seafood and fish. Back to the dorm leaders, I feel like they set a precedent for the rest of the dorm rather than actually strictly determining what foods are and aren’t allowed in them. For example, Vil has very strict expectations about table manners and eating healthily, while Riddle wants his dorm members to adhere to rules (inclusive of food-related ones) and Azul tries to promote a “gentleman’s club” energy at his own in-dorm eating establishment. The Mostro Lounge, however, likely runs on its own budget and acquires its own ingredients as business expenses.

Yuu is attending NRC under special circumstances, so I assume they’ve worked something out with Crowley to ensure they can be fed 3 square meals a day. It’d be pretty unfair to demand full payment from someone who has zero of this world’s money or even ID to work. That alone would probably make 5em eligible for financial support, at least when it comes to food. I don’t think Yuu would get a ton of flexibility for snacks, ingredients, and other bells and whistles; Crowley’s not running a complete charity here. He’d probably allow for the basic 3 meals plus maybe (a very strong maybe) a little bit extra for indulging every now and again on a cookie or something.

[socialistexan]

There it is. There's the starkest depiction of difference in material conditions between those who are making the laws and those who are living under them, both in time and privilege.

Regular ol' inflation doesn't account for that big of a jump in tuition prices. It's that higher education costs - both public and private - have skyrocketed so quickly that it is now basically impossible to attain.

It's interesting that the youngest conservative Justice (Amy Coney-Barrett) seems to be the only one even slightly open to voting for loan forgiveness. It's still getting struck down because there are 5 other conservatives and all of them seem to have already decided to strike it down (regardless of whether the suits have merit or not, which is something they can do).

Best case scenario is a 5-4 Conservative victory, tbh. I'm already making plans for how I'm going to afford paying off my $19,000 remaining balance in the next 10-15 years.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week - April 3, 2023

Kentucky Legalizes Medical Marijuana in Bipartisan Vote After Decade of Failed Attempts

The state of Kentucky has legalized the use of medical marijuana. The bill received final passage on Thursday. Democratic Gov. Andy Beshear signed it into law Friday morning after a decade of failed attempts in the state legislature.

The news makes Kentucky at least the 38th state in the U.S. to legalize medical marijuana.

Now Indiana is surrounded by weed states. The encirclement is complete 😂

2. The Maryland House of Delegates voted Saturday to approve the Trans Health Equity Act

The Maryland House of Delegates voted Saturday to approve the Trans Health Equity Act — a bill that just a year ago disappeared from the chamber’s agenda ahead of a floor vote.

The bill would require Maryland Medicaid, beginning on Jan. 1, 2024, to provide coverage for additional gender-affirming treatments, which are currently disallowed in the state’s plan but commonly covered by private insurance. The expanded treatments include hormone therapy, hair alteration, voice therapy, physical alterations to the body, and fertility preservation.

3. FDA approves over-the-counter Narcan. Here's what it means

The approved nasal spray is the best-known form of naloxone. It can reverse overdoses of opioids, including street drugs such as heroin and fentanyl and prescription versions including oxycodone.

Making naloxone available more widely is seen as a key strategy to control the nationwide overdose crisis. Effects begin within two minutes when given intravenously, and within five minutes when injected into a muscle. The medicine can also be administered by spraying it into a person's nose.

4. Boston expands tuition-free community college program to all residents

Boston has expanded its tuition-free community college program to include all city residents regardless of age, income or immigration status.

Starting this fall, any city resident will be eligible to pursue an associate’s degree or certificate at one of six partnering local institutions without paying to attend. The program also includes a $250 stipend for incidental expenses each semester for up to three years, and up to $2,500 of debt relief for students whose account balances are keeping them from re-enrolling.

5. First cheetah cubs born in India since extinction 70 years ago

India has welcomed the birth of four cheetah cubs - more than 70 years after the animals were declared officially extinct there.India's environment minister announced the good news, calling it a "momentous event".

The country has been trying to reintroduce the big cats for decades, and last year brought eight cheetahs over from Namibia as part of the plan. Another 12 cheetahs were brought to India from South Africa last month.

6. BBC education show in Afghanistan helps children banned from school

The BBC has launched a new education programme for children in Afghanistan who are banned from school.It is aimed at children aged 11 to 16, including girls whose secondary education has been stopped by the ruling Taliban.

The weekly programme is called Dars, which means lesson in Dari and Pashto, Afghanistan's official languages. It is hosted by BBC Afghan female journalists who were evacuated from Kabul during the 2021 Taliban takeover.

Each new weekly half-hour episode of Dars will air four times a day, Saturday to Friday, on the newly launched BBC News Afghanistan channel.

7. A Trans Creator Has Raised Over 1.5 Million for Trans Healthcare on TikTok Live

Transgender TikTokers are celebrating Trans Day of Visibility by raising over $1.5 million for gender-affirming care around the world.

Mercury Stardust — a DIY TikToker and trans advocate who calls herself the “Trans Handy Ma’am” — raised $120,000 last year in a livestream for the mutual aid nonprofit Point of Pride, which maintains funds for surgeries, hormone therapy, and free binders and gaffs. This year, Stardust and cohost Jory, a.k.a. AlluringSkull, set themselves a goal of raising $1 million in a planned 30-hour live stream…and then smashed that milestone less than six hours after starting the stream Thursday evening.

----

I have started a Youtube channel with wholesome videos I can find on the internet. Check it out :)

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

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Also don’t forget to reblog

[magicdustsworld]

A Fairytale Wedding(ova)

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Although you knew it would happen, never did you think it'll be this soon. Now standing amidst a labyrinth of heartbreak and betrayals there's only so much one can choose. Unfortunately, for you and Satoru right choices had never been the forte.

Tropes: Drama, Angst, smut

Warnings: Cheating, smut, smoking, drinking, strong language, overall toxic relationships, mild hurt/no comfort, insecurities, OOC, slight Gojo x OC, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 11.3k

divider credits - @cafekitsune

A/N: repost from my previous account; set before afw1.

<Series masterlist> -> <part 1>

Kazumi proclaimed you as her best friend.

Ever since you met her in high school, she had stuck by you. All of it was strange. Why would she – one of the elites ever decide to tag along with nobody like you? Well, things were already strange enough when you got to attend a private school in the first place. Though scholarship grants existed, this particular one didn't have that exact facility. However, what it did have was a RTE form which chose ten students in a lottery based system every year and they got to study there in a tuition fee lower than the traditional. You could've been grateful to your lucky stars but you were more grateful towards your parents who just worked those extra hours to pay the over-the-top fee. That was the year you decided that you'd return the favour tenfold when you start earning as well.

Friendships don't see price tags. That statement was proved wrong in the first week. No, never were you discriminated against neither were you ever bullied. Your classmates were nice. Not good. Not bad. Just nice. However, the distance that did set in didn't elude you. Maybe it started when one of the girls asked you if you'd like to join them. Never were you ashamed of your social class so you answered truthfully that you couldn't for you had to run to your part time job in the departmental store. Despite receiving understanding statements, you knew your refusal was met with a tinge of disdain. You could understand, it must be hard to be friends with someone who was busy even on Friday nights. Being a firm believer of the proverb – birds of a feather flock together – and you weren't a bird like them so you paid little heed to the bridge that was slowly setting in between you and your classmates. Besides, only six hours of school, out of which you'd be busy in classes for five hours; all of that didn't matter as much.

You could only be grateful that you weren't treated poorly for all your perturbation was served from all the high school dramas you had watched. The protagonist being bullied for obvious reasons until the handsome love interest starts to take interest in her and she seemingly gains her confidence finally ending the tale with a happy note.

But this was no cinematic drama. If anything prevailed, it was the potential for bullying that mercifully never materialized, thanks to your decent classmates. Yet, wasn't that the bare minimum? In times of need, even the bare minimum can feel like a privilege.

However, all of it changed in the second year.

You had to give the practical computer science exam where the students had to code a particular program in an hour. You were going pretty smoothly and even the intimidating gaze of the invigilator did little to bother you.

All of a sudden, you felt a nudge on your shoulder, causing you to crane your neck to the side. A girl sat beside you–you recognized her vaguely. Chestnut brown eyes stared back at you with an expectant gaze, some fringes from her hair tied in a ponytail, cascaded aside her face.

You marked how the invigilator was on the other side of the classroom. Raising an eyebrow, you asked the silent question.

"How did you code the program?"

Alright. There were two ways that could've turned out. First, you tell her the answer but risk getting a below average grade if you get caught. Second, you tell her you don't know the answer and end this once and for all.

This was an obvious choice. It didn't even need anyone to give it a second thought. Yet, you weighed the pros and cons and came to the conclusion...

"Where are you stuck?"

The next thirty minutes were a frenzy of hushed whispers as you gave her a walkthrough on the program. Some new variables, altering the conditions of the two while loops and correcting some syntax errors; she was good to go.

However, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. So in the process of helping the girl, you lost your time and had to submit your assignment without attempting a dry run.

Seemingly bumped out with the situation, you were ready to call it a day until you were stopped by the same girl before the main entrance.

"Hello," She grinned, extending her hand. "I am Yamaguchi Kazumi."

You gave her an once over before accepting her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"First of all, thank you. Thank you so much for helping me out there," Her visage didn't hide her delight as her amber eyes glowed under the setting sun, skin tinted with the hue of orange as the light poured down on her figure from the windows. A board smile played on her lips as she engulfed you in a hug before stepping back. "I can't tell you in words how much grateful I am."

You slightly nodded, "Oh well, that? It’s okay, you are welcome. I uh– I get your sentiment."

"Say, you free today? I was going to the ice skating rink with my friends. Come join us."

A pang bubbled in your chest when you thought of turning her down. Despite the idea tempting you to agree, you knew better than to neglect your responsibilities.

"Thanks for the offer but–" A offered her a weary smile, "I have to go to my job now or I will be late."

"Oh?" She blinked, mouth contorting into an O. Just when you thought this conversation was over, she hooked her arm with your elbow and dragged you out of the classroom.

"Hey–"

"Let me drop you there."

"You don't have to–"

"But I want to."

"Yamaguchi–"

"Call me Kazumi."

You struggled to keep up with her strides at the beginning but soon fell in step. "Yeah, Kazumi– as I was saying, I can walk there alone."

"Of course, you can." She turned a corner and you followed suit. "But I insist, come on. Where do you work?"

Getting the hint that your chances of winning against her is slim to none. You just accepted the offer. "South city mall."

"Cool," She whistled. "How long?"

"Three to seven."

"Got any plans for dinner?"

"Dinner?" You tilted your head. "I will just go home and make something."

"Cancel it," She declared and you raised an eyebrow. "I am treating you to dinner in my favourite restaurant. Take it as my way of saying thank you."

"No, its fine. I told you it’s okay besides you are dropping me off. It's enough." You quickly shook your head, digging your heels on the ground and halting there.

"Come on," Kazumi rolled her eyes, walking off again causing you to follow. "Don't be a buzz kill now, just think of it as a friend taking you out."

"Friend?" You muttered, peaking at her with suspicion while she looked ahead.

"Duh, friends. We can be the best of friends."

For reasons unknown, you found yourself under a spell; you silently complied to her wish. The sound of making a friend was tempting and a year of solitude wasn't as easy to go through as you thought it was. Hence, given one chance at friendship, you seized it.

Just how naive of you...

.

A few years later

"Why am I here again?"

"This is the fourth time you are asking that."

Your eye twitched, "That should give you the hint that I'd rather be anywhere but here."

Kazumi whined, slumping her shoulders in dramatic resignation. You only responded with a bored gaze, resting your chin on the heel of your palm. Your nonchalance caused her to straighten up, "C'mon, its Sunday. Not like you were going to do anything useful sitting all alone at home either."

"I had plans."

"Like?"

"Like preparing for that damn interview this Friday." You confessed, pressing your lips into a thin line as you leaned back on your chair. "I am just so fucking nervous. Can't help but think what if they find the research papers to be too long? Or no, what if it's too short? I could just forget everything on the crucial moment or no– the worst what if they ask questions from topics which I have never heard?" You exhaled heavily. "The last thing I want is to sit there like a damn clown."

As you rambled on, a waiter appeared setting down your cup of Latte and Kazumi's cappuccino on the table. Both of you muttered a quick thank you before he walked away. However, your vent caught your friend's attention, she raised an eyebrow, “You are still stuck on that?"

Why do you even bother? A bitter taste filled your mouth and you suppressed all the profanities falling on the tip of your tongue; ready to be spat out. Conversations alike had prevailed previously so. You speaking about your aspirations and her shutting you out. The first instance should've been a lesson yet you seemed to never learn. 

Observing your lack of response, she continued, "You already have a decent enough job–" 

"A Job, I hate," You replied tersely, almost failing to hide the resentment in your tone. Feigning a cough, you added, "I don't just want to pay bills my entire life."

"You can’t have everything.'

There's that statement again. You decided to tune out her words for the time being and indulge in your coffee.

It wasn't exactly cold, only the mid of November and winter was yet to set in. Though the temperatures marked in Tokyo ranged from 17 to 24°C, you could still feel the slight chill in the air persuading you to snug your coat tighter against your body. The café's ambiance provided a respite from the bustling streets outside where people and vehicles alike rushed down the road. Soft jazz played in the background, mingling with the hushed conversations and occasional clink of coffee cups. 

"The last time was an disaster." She stirred her coffee as before she picked it up as well, bringing it to her lips. "Your odds are even worse this time."

Always had it astounded you that how could someone just hold such a nonchalant tone of voice tinged with the innocence of her visage while spewing words filled with degeneracy? That was a talent one doesn't see every day. 

"Its for your own benefit. Let it-"

"Are you the fucking interviewer?" That came out harsher than it should have yet the flickering frustration was something you couldn't ignore. You were pretty patient but you had your limits too, "On what basis are you making that conclusion?"

"Just giving you a reality check." Copper eyes settled on your frame, she ran a finger through her hair feigning her absolute indifference to the situation "And not the interviewer but if I had to choose, I'd opt for someone younger with who has recently graduated."

This irksome conversation wasn't going anywhere and you were running out of energy to argue further. Hence, you just let your lips curl up into an obvious sarcastic smile and stated, "Thanks for the support."

"I am just trying to help you."

"Never asked for it."

"Why you–" Kazumi cut herself off, her eyes falling on something behind you, "Oh he's there!" Or rather someone.

At that moment, the café door swung open with a soft jingle, interrupting your escalating exchange which would've turned into something heated if not for the newcomer who caught Kazumi's eye. Arctic-white hair ruffled by the wind and icy blue eyes caught your attention. Clad in a sleek black charcoal coat—you recognized Gojo Satoru.

 His presence seemed to have levelled the tension in the room like a gust of wind dispersing clouds for the brunette didn't spent a second before sauntering up to the aforementioned man and engulfing him in a hug. Despite the exchange being seemingly sweet, the metaphorical irony of the situation had an inaudible snort escape from you. 

Although the woman in his grasp was his supposed girlfriend, his chilling gaze was fixated on you. You refrained from giving him a reaction - better safe than sorry - and rotated back on your chair, bringing all your attention back to your coffee. Sooner than later did the couple join the table - Kazumi sitting on her previous seat with Satoru beside her. However, properly registering your presence prompted Satoru to speak, "Well, well, fancy seeing you as well, star."

You presented him with a tight-lipped smile, setting your cup down. "Why, yes? Can't say the same about you Satoru."

"Touché," The ivory-haired man feigned offence, placing his hand over his heart. "That hurt, sweetheart."

"Well deserved."

This instance, it wasn't you who commented that, instead it was delivered from the male who took a seat beside you.

"Suguru," Satoru grumbled in annoyance and the mentioned man raised his hand in mock surrender.

Oh.

"Truth stings a little," A ghost of a sly grin appeared on his lips before his gaze shifted to you. 

Despite the indistinct rambling of Satoru and Kazumi's attempt at consoling him reached your ears, you found yourself momentarily enamoured by the new man's presence. His smooth, ebony hair was artfully styled and secured in a man bun. Thin, obsidian eyes peered out beneath the fringe of bangs that veiled his left eye. Clad in a beige coat with a black turtleneck was a stark contrast against his olive skin, adding the touch of enigmatic allure to his demeanour.

"You must be-"

“Meet star,” Kazumi chimed in. “The one I told you about.”

Broken out of your momentary stupor, you compose your frame. Forcing yourself not to shoot a glare her way.

“Star?” He blinked.

“A nickname-”

“A good nickname.” She interrupted you, squaring her shoulders in a prideful manner.

Seriously.

However, you clear your throat before exchanging pleasantries and introducing yourself with your real name.

“Do you prefer it?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Over your real name?”

Absolutely not.

“Anything works for me.” You enforced an awkward smile and he nodded in return.

“Geto Suguru,” He extended his hand which you accepted gratefully. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” You answered, letting go of his hand.

"Star and I have already ordered our drinks, you guys can go on." Kazumi chimed in, pushing the menu card to her boyfriend as she inched closer to him, peering over to add her suggestions. 

Though the other couple on the table across the table filled in their atmosphere with jokes and giggles, the same couldn't have been said for you or Suguru. After a minute or so of deciding which coffee the men would get, your friend walked off with Satoru towards the counter to place the orders. If the situation wasn't inept enough previously, it was certainly now with both of the extroverts gone and the silence settling on around you being louder than ever. 

You twisted your lips, throwing a profanity or two at the girl under whose endless persistence you ended up here. Eyes briefly falling on Kazumi who was near the counter and she returned you a thumbs up; your eye twitched. It was her idea that you were stuck here in the first place. In her words, you had been locked up in your apartment and you needed a breath of fresh air. And when the opportunity arrived, more so when a date with her boyfriend - she insisted that you tag along. Her reasoning - Satoru had a friend as well and she could ask him to bring him along. Hence, having a double date.

"What are we? Teenagers?" You were quick to retort, the cringe in your visage and voice was evident just by thinking about the idea. Even pulling up all your excuses as to why this was a bad idea and how much you'd prefer to stay at home. 

Your presence in the café currently was a blatant proof of you losing the war. You sighed heavily, pushing back the tendrils of your hair that brushed your face. 

"She dragged you here?" He questioned all of a sudden.

A corner of your lip curled up in a wry smile, "That obvious?"

"Yeah," He affirmed, "Same goes for Satoru."

"Can't say I am surprised." 

There was just something about Suguru... you couldn't even put a finger on it. A mysterious allure that see seemed to have surround him, an intimidation radiating from him yet you found yourself comfortable in his presence. However, you did mark how much of a stark contrast he had in personality with his best friend. You could strike up a conversation on how he met the other man but that could be you being perceived as a meddler. As a result of which, you kept your mouth shut.

But Suguru spoke up again, "So, star?"

"Hmm, yeah?"

For a second, he glimpsed at both of your friends - they had just got the coffees but seem to be rather busy in a serious conversation. Weird. The next, shifting his attention back to you, "I have a question for you."

You nodded, resting your back against the chair, "Go on."

"Since how long are you sleeping with Satoru?"

.

You returned to your apartment at sharp 6 PM.

The day wasn't inherently bad as you thought it would. Though the presence of Kazumi remained a constant annoyance, you were successful in not letting her or her words get to you as much. Taking off your shoes and coat near the doorway, you placed them in the rack and stand respectively before walking off and settling down on the couch. 

The short vibration of your phone, prompted you to check it. You still had a number of unread messages, some from your colleagues, one from Kazumi asking if you had reached home safely or not and the last(and recent) one which you decided to check.

Enjoyed your little date? (18:03)

You couldn't help the smirk from falling out on your lips as you read the text message on your phone. 

---

Yeah (18:05)

Had a lot of fun (18:05)

Fun without me? (18:05)

Doesn't sound so right, princess (18:06)

What can I say (18:06)

Suguru is so much better than you (18:06)

---

The text was seen but you didn't receive any text from Satoru. Was that offensive? You spared only a second to ponder your head over that thought before you decide to walk over to the bathroom and get freshened up. 

A sharp fifteen minutes later while you are reading a book, you received another text.

Open the door. (18:21)

On cue, you heard a knock from the doorway.

.

Although you knew it would happen, never did you think it'd be this soon.

"Will you marry me?" Satoru knelt before Kazumi, holding a velvet box a containing a diamond ring.

Each syllable uttered was an unintentional (or intentional) jab to your wretched heart which thumped in your ribcage akin a starved, wild animal. Your fingers trembled and for a second, you felt your knees weakening prompting you to lose balance. If not for leaning against the table, you might've caused a commotion. Your gut churned with the inevitable outcome and there was little you could do to conceal the whirlwind of emotional storm arising within you.

Kazumi's slapped a hand over her mouth at the miraculous surprise, doe eyes shimmering with delight. First, she glanced at Satoru. Azure blue irises held nothing except the sincerest of sentiments which only promised indefinite love. She didn't even look at the ring before answering.

"Yes."

And just like that, you heard something shattering.

Satoru slid the ring on her finger as he stood up, wrapping his hands around her waist, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Though the kiss shared was between your best friend and her lover, your lips quivered for you knew how that exact touch felt. Alike molten lava was poured onto your skin when he angled her head for deepening the kiss. It was you, clutching your outfit tighter when she wrapped her hand around his neck. And inadvertently, it was you whose heart was clawed out in the most gruesome way - blood spilling from your chest like a putrid pudding as your beating heart was trampled then shoved in before your skin was sewn back. A thousand voices screamed that it was just a nightmare and you'd wake up soon, but you knew better. You knew that the referenced reality was too good to be true and this nightmare was the true reality.

If you knew this would happen, you’d have never agreed to accompany her to this event. You vaguely recalled how Kazumi called you a day ago, speaking about some occasion Satoru had invited her.

-- > < --

“Please come with me.”

Her voice rung from your phone while you pressed the object to your ear. You groaned softly, “Why? Just go on your own.”

“I will be so bored there plus I need you as my moral compass if something goes wrong.”

“Nothing will happen, go on your own,” You pressed your thumb and forefinger over your eyelids – wiping the sleep off yourself. “I’ll be out of place there besides I am not even invited.”

“I am inviting you.”

“Yeah, no.” You couldn’t suppress the yawn the escaped you. “Leave me out.”

“Please star, even Suguru will be there.”

“Good for him.” You rolled your eyes. “I am hanging up.”

“Wait- don’t hang up just yet. You are coming with me tomorrow!”

“No.”

“Please,” The annoying whine caused your eye to twitch. “Just one time. I will never force you into anything anymore. Please, please, please-“

“Oh my fucking God!” Your curse was muffled by the pillow as you gripped the device tighter. Bringing it up to your ear, you muttered, “Fine, I am coming.”

-- > < --

The jovial laughter accompanied by claps of the guests were like a slap to your face.

"Finally, its happening."

"They look so good together."

"About time Satoru put the ring on her finger."

"Oh my God, take a picture."

If this was some cruel joke from fate then it was doing a damn good job from making a clown out of you. The same fate which let you stay in the illusion of yielding supreme power before snatching it all away.

The dagger twisted and turned inside you in ways you couldn't comprehend. Watching them engage in the passionate make out session was like a bucket of cold water spurted on you. A torturous reminder that no matter how much hope you clung onto, you'd always be the side character in their story. A villain, more appropriate.

You wanted to run. Run away, as far as you can just to make a escapade from this cruel tale which held you hostage.

You couldn't. Not now not ever.

For if you run now, it will arise questions, arise more accusations, rumours or whatever. You couldn't run cause it's a crucial moment for your friend and you were supposed to stay.

"You okay?"

Instantly you straightened yourself, swallowing a lump in your throat as you composed your shoulders. Rotating on your heels, you were met with the concerned mien of Suguru Geto. 

Oh well, trouble.

Conjuring the best smile, you answer, "Why, yes? What will happen to me?"

"You look like you just saw a ghost."

In a way, you sure feel so that you are placed in a horror story.

"Me? No, absolutely not. I am fine," You chuckled. "All fine."

He raised a sceptical brow, clearly not convinced with your answer, “You don’t look fine.” He paused, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Yes.

“No, I told you I am fine,” Damn- it’s harder than it seemed to hide the quiver in your voice. “I’d like to congratulate our favourite couple first.”

Doubt was evident in this expression yet he didn’t probe further – something you were grateful for. Over the span of six months you had met Suguru, you were keenly aware of the fact that beneath the seraphic visage, he held a lot of secrets. From knowing about your affair with Satoru to getting the hint that affections for the same man had arose in you; he knew more than he let on.

The lights turned up as the couple separated, a flurry of congratulations were thrown their way which was received by them with a grateful smile. You couldn’t really recall, what transpired in the next few minutes for your gaze was fixed on the ring on Kazumi’s finger. Yet, the weight on your shoulders wasn’t for the fact that the woman was the bearer of the stone rather it was from the sight that how she had Satoru’s fingers intertwined with her own.

You knew you had no right to wallow in misery like this. But- But did it just not hurt to have him look at her like she was the only woman in the world?

Pushing aside your despair from the gravity of the situation, you did step up to the couple in mention and speak of your well wishes. Was it evident that you inherently avoided gazing at Satoru all throughout the conversation? Even though the glowing visage of the Kazumi was a constant reminder that all of what you had been through was only an illusion hiding the reality, causing the bile to rise up your throat. You had contorted your lips in the best smile possible when she pulled you aside and rambled on how much this was not expected and how glad she was to finally start a married life with the love of her life.

“I am being completely honest,” Her eyes sparkled with an infectious blend of surprise and joy. The rush of emotions that filled her heart, the flutter of anticipation and overwhelming happiness – her brightened mien was a mirror to all of it. “I never saw it coming. It- It was such a surprise- not a bad surprise of course, a good one as you can see like he was just holding my hand and all of a sudden-” Even the exhale held the promise of elation, of all the dreams she saw finally taking their shape. “The spotlight fell on us and he just kneeled down and ah- all of it is like a fever dream.”

Not a sound reached your ear, neither did you register a word – you could only see her lips moving for the voices inside which taunted you for creating this fantasy for yourself was louder than ever. As Kazumi recounted the moments of the proposal, animatedly describing all the details to you as if you weren’t present; you couldn’t help the bitterness filling in your chest.

You forced a gleeful laugh out of your throat, placing your hand on her shoulder, “Hey- it’s not a dream, you know.” How much you wished all of it were just a dream, that you were still sleeping and you’d wake up the next day and you’d accompany her in another event where- where- “It has happened, for real and- and you deserve it. Y-You always wanted this, right?”

The gesture must have calmed her down yet the joy dancing on her face didn’t reduce one bit. She held that hand of yours which was on her shoulder, bringing in down, she gave it a light squeeze. “Honestly, yeah but even now, it- all of this is just so surreal like-”

“I know, I get it.” Keeping up the cheerful act was getting more difficult each second. “Congratulations, Kazumi.”

The hollowness of your words weighed heavy on you and for once, the guilt of your own betrayal did stung. She didn’t deserve that.

 “Zumi,”

Satoru’s voice reached you again, calling for his fiancé and you could only be grateful that your back was turned to him.

“Wait a minute,” She replied before briefly shifting her gaze at you, “I will talk to you later okay?”

You managed a nod and she was gone. The receding footsteps of the couple could only evoke the sense of defeat in you. You pivoted around, leaning against the wall and soon enough, a waiter offered you a cold drink. You accepted your favourite – unknowingly, the cool liquid soothed some of the ache inside you. However, it did return as soon as possible when your eyes fell on the ivory haired man with sky blue eyes while he introduced his fiancé to what you assumed were business associates. The delight painted on his face had you grip your glass tighter as you grinded your teeth. He made such a big decision and he didn’t even had the decency to let you know. Who the hell does he think he was? To go around and propose his supposed girlfriend after fooling around with you. To act like a gentleman and have his arm around her waist while he fed her sweet lies due to his charming persona. Satoru was such an asshole.

Then, your eyes fell on Kazumi. Despite her being the sole reason of your wrecked self, for once you did feel – ignorance was blissful.

.

You weren’t truly confrontational but you just couldn’t sit back and let things play out as they did.

So once the perfect time arrived, you were stealthy enough to slip out of the venue and into the corridors. Your feet took you exactly where you needed to go and once you were in the vicinity of your required person, you halted.

“You’re really marrying her?”

Satoru spared you a glance before turning back to the mirror, he ran his fingers through his hair – smoothening the dishevelled strands. “I think you are smart enough to know what a proposal means.”

This guy… Your eye twitched, a corner of your lip curled down into a frown, “And you didn’t even have the decency to let me know?”

From his reflection you could see the arrogance dripping off his features which only served to fuel the fire inside you. “You knew the rules of the game, princess. No strings attached, remember?”

Never were you cursing yourself as much as you were in this very second. How stupid of you to think something mutual might’ve evolved in between clandestine meetings and stolen moments. Despite the tumult of hurt and anger coursing through your veins, you didn’t let it show on your face.

 “No strings attached? Yeah, right,” Mirth curved into your lips as you lean against the doorway, “Is that what you tell yourself after sleeping with me almost every day?”

“Don’t turn this on me,” He pivoted around on his heels, resting his back against the basin, “That was the past.”

“Two weeks isn’t that far in the past.” Blue eyes flickered with frustration and you smirked, “What’s changed all of a sudden?”

“Things change, people too.”

“Change and Satoru Gojo, how laughable.”

Satoru, however, was hell bent on letting your words get to him. So even with the taunting remarks, the reaction- or any reaction was seized from your platter. Shrugging in shoulders in nonchalance, he remarked, “Think of it however you want oh and- you’re invited to the wedding.”

“Thanks, I was dying to get invited,” The sarcasm coating your voice didn’t elude him for sure. Heaving a low sigh, you pushed yourself away from the door, “What do you want to do now?”

That prompted him to raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean by what do I want to do? I am marrying her.”

“Congratulations.”  

“So it’s better if we stop seeing each other.”

Oh.

“Your sudden attempt at loyalty is pathetic.” You knew you were treading a steep slope anymore taunting remarks would not really play into your favour. Perhaps, it was a good time to just shut your mouth and walk away but right decisions were never your forte.

For a minute, there was complete silence. Not duly stained with awkwardness neither was it loud, just the quietude of the room felt heavy. Disbelief was still etched onto your mind, Satoru could never be devoted to Kazumi. No matter the tactics he uses, he just couldn’t. Once a cheater, always a cheater. You knew you aren’t any saint in this situation but if there was just something you could do from deviating his aim, you would do it.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

He breathed out wearily, folding his hands over his chest as he briskly avoided eye contact – gazing at the wall to his left. “It’s not like what we did was something serious either. It’s always been her.”

So you were just that; a fleeting escape in his otherwise committed world.

“So you are choosing her in the end.” The bitter taste in your mouth mirrored the smile which you painted unto your lips. “It’s her after everything you’ve done with me.”

This time, it was his chance to smirk at you; he met your eyes, “Got it in one, princess. You’ve always been great at reading between the lines, haven’t you?”

“Had to pick up some skills while dealing with someone as cryptic as you.”

“Skill’s honed well.” He replied casually, checking his cuticles.

His nonchalance was grated on your nerves, you had hide your clenched fists and supress the urge to grind your teeth. If you couldn’t get a reaction out of him, he couldn’t get one either. However, your resolve was far from crumbling down, only the blend of wound and despair consumed you.

“Be grateful that your girlfriend- sorry fiancé doesn’t harbour this skill,” You sneered, a tight grin curving onto your mouth and damn- was that all it took? The darkened look in his eyes though warned you of the impending danger. A threat to keep your mouth shut but you couldn’t let this chance go. Besides, it was pure entertainment on your side. “Must be nice living in her own little bubble while the proclaimed love of her life is sleeping around.”

That was it.

Satoru straightened up and only a few strides later, he was standing right before you. Without wasting a second, he grabbed your jaw, tilting it up; you were met with the sapphire irises burning with riotous rage. For anyone, it’d had them cowering back in fear and muttering an apology but you weren’t just anyone and neither were you going to back down, so you held his gaze with your own; malice dripping from it.

“Mind your words, star.” His fingers dug into your skin. “Just because I fucked you once or twice does not mean you can get away by just saying anything.”

 “Oh my, my- what happened, Gojo Satoru?" You pressed on, gripping his wrist as you yanked it away from your jaw. “Does the truth fucking hurt?”

"Careful, princess," he murmured, a semblance of pure insanity spread across his visage when he grinned. "You just might end up provoking me into doing something I don’t want to."

“What if I just want to do that, you two-timing scoundrel?” Venom leaked out of every word you uttered, your usual composed façade was crumbling – shattering to pieces and there was little restraint to keep it steady. “You think you can just turn loyal overnight? That you can just forget me with a blink of an eye?”

A humourless chuckle escaped him, “Overnight? Putting yourself on a pedestal, aren’t you?” His grin bespoke utter depravity while words were a gateway to his twisted mind. “Get out of your fantastical world, star. Not everything I do is about you.”

“The same can be said for you, Gojo Satoru.” Sheer wickedness was concocted in your frame. Although his words were hitting the right nail, you knew yours were as well. Game, right? He mentioned it to be a game. Always was. Always will be. You were more than eager to participate in this game, now. “Don’t forget how many times before you did try to play the part of a devoted partner. The number of times, you mentioned ending things with me- do I need to fucking remind you what you said every time?” You gulped down largely, the close proximity suffocating you to the bones. “And don’t forget how each damn time you returned. This... is no different. You will return.”

“You sound too sure.”

“Have to be when you’re so god damn predictable.”

Whether it was rationality or simple frustration – you couldn’t decipher, what you could was you were done with this conversation. Thus, without sparing him another glance you were marching away from his vicinity.

.

Satoru didn’t follow you.

Although the shards of a shattered heart pricked at all the delicate corners, you were grateful that he didn’t. Only in the solitude of the women’s restrooms did you finally let out the breath of weakness and resignation. Your fingers trembled and the tears pricked your eyes, instead of breaking down your barriers, you were scared. Scared to let out any noise. For you didn’t know how much your sobs would echo. For you didn’t want to witness yourself crying over a wretched man.

It’s not like what we did was something serious either. It’s always been her.

The anguish settled itself onto you but the envy towards your best friend was far stronger. Far too much and far too bitter. Why her? What was so good about her anyway? What did that entitled bitch possess that you didn’t? The throbbing pain in your chest was something no amount of tears could ever soothe.

Desperately, you wished for any distraction. Something. Someone. Just anything to numb this pain. For once, luck must be on your side – your phone vibrated in your clutch, picking it you were graced with Kazumi’s name flashing on the screen – yet, fate played its cruel joke.

Instead of answering it, you let the call hang up on its own. Then only, you typed in the text.

Fell sick all of a sudden (16:17)

So returned home (16:17)

what happened? (16:20)

I can come over if you want (16:20)

don’t worry abt me (16:20)

just some headache(16:21)

enjoy your day (16:21)

You turned off the device without waiting for her reply. Honestly, you didn’t have any energy left in you to put up another façade and act like everything was fine. You were going home.

.

When you got out of the restroom stalls, your eyes fell on the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you with the puffy eyes and quivering lips.

Starkly, you were met with the answer of why it was her and not you.

It’s funny how fast time flies.

Only six months ago, Kazumi got proposed and tonight she was holding her bachelorette in Midnight Orchid, Tokyo. Although bachelorettes were held a day before wedding, in Kazumi’s case it were a week before. For her wedding venue – Niseko region on the island of Hokkaido – with its picturesque winter landscapes and snowy resorts will have everyone captivated. Even though you had never been to that area, the template provided by Kazumi unfortunately did lure you towards it. Hence, while you initially didn’t accept her invitation, making up all the excuses you could get; once, your eyes fell on the snowy quaint scenery, you just couldn’t refuse her. Fortunately, or unfortunately, your application for a three day leave was granted.

The posh bar was adorned with minimalistic singage that hinted exclusivity, high table tops and velvet sofas were intricately arranged in hues of blush and ivory. You sat on the other side of the long bar counter where the impeccably dressed bartenders crafted cocktails and liquor. From the arrangements, you could vehemently conclude that all of it was organized under the guidance of Kazumi, herself. The room was filled with her friends, cousins and acquaintances. A few faces which you recognized, most you didn’t. Although you had been her friend for over a few years now, you wouldn’t count yourself as mutual with her other girlfriends. Not any specific reason. You just preferred to keep your social circle to a minimum. 

Intoxication often led many to make regrettable choices.

You could count yourself out of that crowd. Despite having an above average alcohol tolerance, you were sensible enough to not drink till your limit. Besides, the last thing you need was to get lost on your way home and end up in a sketchy area with sleazy men around. Yeah no, you’d rather miss out all the parties.

Kazumi, however, didn’t catch sight of your reasoning.

“Aw c’mon, let loose,” She almost slurred her words, giggling by the end of the sentence. Her pale cheeks were flushed with red causing you to wonder just how much liquor she had downed this time round. “At least get a margarita.”

Silently, you pushed away the offered drink with your palm, conjuring a polite smile onto your lips. “No thanks, I am good with this.” You swirl the non-alcoholic cocktail in your glass, taking a generous amount of sip from it.

“Get something a little stronger.”

You barely shrugged, “Someone has to be responsible for y’all here.”

She merely pouted before bringing the shot glass up to her lips and gulping it down in a go. Her eyebrows furrowed in unease before reverting back to their natural self, she exhaled loudly – the sweet yet strong liquid burning her throat. “Hah! It’s so good.”

“Nice.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing out.”

“I’d rather miss a drink or two than miss my station.” You quipped back, setting your, now empty glass, down on the counter. “Plus, I still got to work half day tomorrow and working with a bad hangover sucks.”

“Call off a day.”

This entitled woman… You shook your head, “If I apply for anymore leaves then my boss will kick me out for sure.” She jutted out her lower lip in mock but refrained from pushing you any further.

“Zumi, hey- what are you sitting there? Join us.”

“Its your favourite song, c’mere.”

Soon the voices of Kazumi’s other girlfriends reached both of your ears and they were on her tail, pulling her to the dance floor where the flickering neon lights sparkled on each of their frames. You merely raised a hand to gesture farewell.

“Won’t you join us?”

Craning your neck aside, you were met with Utahime whose visage bespoke utter neutrality. “Ah- no, I’d rather be in the side-lines today. Y’all enjoy without me.”

“If you say so…” The woman didn’t push further before walking off towards the direction where they had pulled the star for tonight. Despite being taken as a stranger in Kazumi’s friend circle, you have had forged a decent relationship with the dark blue haired woman who happened to be the former’s distant cousin. Courtesy to the handful of times you crossed paths with her while visiting your friend’s home.

You watch them from a distance, resting frown etched upon your features. The girls twirled their hips with the beat of the music. From the crowd, the bride-to-be stood out the most as expected. While her presence had always caught everyone’s attention, since the time of her engagement an enticing aura exuded off of her, no matter the place. At least, someone’s happy. Bile rising up your throat, you rotate your body to the counter. “Can I have another one of this?”

The bartender merely nodded, strolling to get your desired drink. Once, he did return you were quick to take a generous sip and shit- you might just need to make yourself a good drink back home.

“Oh my God! Seriously- this is a surprise.”

The annoying squeal of Kazumi reached your ears this time round and you gave yourself the freedom to roll your eyes. You didn’t bother to turn and see her surprise. Least interested. Your hatred for her didn’t just stem from nothing. It’s fucking unfair how she could just go around trampling over your aspirations and blatantly disrespecting you without any consequences; while you’re left in the dust. Now? She’s on her way to get the perfect happy ending by marrying her ever handsome fiancé. Fucking great.

True to his words. Satoru didn’t contact you after that riffraff on the day of his engagement. Honestly, you found it hard to believe how someone could just go from sleeping around to a lovesick puppy wagging its tail for a bit of affection. Is change that easy? No, that wasn’t possible. You were sure he was still cheating on her with multiple woman while she is lost in her wonderland. Yet, when that certain thought conjured into your mind, the bitterness towards the brunette simmered down; rather anguish clenched your heart.

You twisted your lips, drumming your fingers non-uniformly on top of the counter. You swallowed the remainder of your drink just like you swallowed your hopes; the aftertaste lingered on your tongue much akin to the weight of distant memories. If-

“Go on. Do it! Do it!”

Alright, who the fuck-

Oh.

Of course.

Of course. What else did you even expect?

It wasn’t a surprise that you were met with azure irises belonging to the one and only Gojo Satoru, across the bar. It wasn’t a surprise when you saw him wrap his arm around his fiancé. And it surely wasn’t a surprise, when he leaned to press his lips on her in a passionate kiss.

You didn’t watch anymore. You couldn’t. For tonight, you let a piece of your façade break down when you marched out of the bar.

You were done.

.

Satoru knew he can be a jerk, sometimes.

Fine, most of the times.

Truthfully, there were very few points which played into his favour when it came to maintaining relationships. Throughout high school and the end of college, he did have a reputation of being a playboy. One can’t blame him for colleges were the rabbit hole of casual relationships and hook-ups. Although, he never took any of that seriously for he wasn’t the type to commit and if his looks were enough to have the attention of ladies who were more than ready to spread their legs for him then who was he to turn down the opportunity?

However, then Yamaguchi Kazumi came in. His childhood friend with whom he had lost contact for a few years before crossing roads in the third year of college. Call it attraction or whatever, something about her lured her in. While he had enough women wanting his attention, he only wanted hers. Thus, he laid off his usual habits, only courting her as a proper gentleman and damn- didn’t it pay off? Sooner than later, they were putting labels on their relationship.

Even then - old habits die hard and Gojo Satoru was a damn playboy at heart.

Don’t get him wrong, he tried. He did try to remain loyal to his girl over the expanse of their relationship. Knowing Kazumi, she was the society’s ideal girl – beautiful, sweet and kind and with her, he could see a future. Then, you arrived – the proclaimed best friend of his girlfriend and for the first time in a long time he found his old ways resurfacing. As much as he loved Kazumi, even he couldn’t deny that she was damn oblivious to her surroundings.

Was it so wrong to let himself loose just for one night? It wasn’t like she’d come to know anything. Besides, it was only a one time thing. Only one night where he went behind her back and slept with you even you were eager. It wasn’t inherently wrong in anyway when it was Kazumi who he’ll always return to.  

That must be his first mistake cause what was supposed to be a one time thing turned into twice, thrice and sooner than he could realize, he was craving you a lot more than he let on. He knew it was wrong, he knew that cheating on his girlfriend was unforgivable and he knew he should confess everything to her. But- But one look at the innocuous mien of Kazumi and it had him recoiling, confessing the truth meant losing her and he couldn’t lose her. As much he wouldn’t tell it to your face, you were not someone he could build a future with in the long run. Just a temporary entertainment, a thrill in his otherwise monotonous life. So when the time came where he was ready to take things to the next level in his relationship with Kazumi, he didn’t even bother letting you know. Why should he? You should’ve known your place. And you’ve no place in his life.

Satoru came to the painful conclusion that the past couldn’t ever be changed and he could never bring himself to tell the truth to Kazumi. Therefore, only way remained – he’d just keep that as a dirty secret and continue on a married life with Kazumi. And he was improving himself, after his engagement he never once cheated on her, never contacted you and never did pour his attention on another woman.

He believed that seeing you in flesh and person wouldn’t incite and remaining desires either. Besides, it was only supposed to be a surprise for his girl. You didn’t matter. Wrong choice.

While pressing his lips to Kazumi’s he knew there was no reason for any guilt to gnaw at him. But it did. It fucking did when you watched you walk away right in front of his eyes. The guilt gnawed when you didn’t even spare him a glance. The guilt gnawed for the next fifteen minutes he spent with his future wife while you remained absent?

Did you go home already? With whom? Would you even get a cab at this hour? More so, would that be safe? Walking to the station would be another hassle considering you sleazy drunkards might be sauntering the streets now. They could pose another threat.

He cleared his throat, catching Kazumi’s attention, “I- babe, I would take my leave then. Enjoy your night.”

“Mhm, so fast?” She questioned, pinching her lips. “You know, I wouldn’t mind it if you stay back.”

A choked chuckle escaped him, he avoided eye contact, “I know… but its your day and-” He rubbed circles over her hand, thumb barely grazing her ring. “I would soon have you all to myself.”

Involuntarily, a blush dusted her cheeks but she shook her head, concealing the beating of her heart with a graceful smile as she pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Drive safely.”

Heavens, he had the finest woman by his side. He shouldn’t walk away.

Satoru forced a tight lipped smile and walked away.

.

Honestly, Satoru didn’t know what he was expecting to find outside in the cold parking lot. The cold December wind slapped across his face, ruffling his hair as it fanned over his eyes. The evening sky was casted with dark clouds – the moon peeking just a bit to illuminate the otherwise murky driveway. Just the first week, it wouldn’t snow anytime soon. As likely as it can be, the area was devoid of human life.

Of course, you have had left by now.

Satoru pretended to hide his disappointment by a scornful roll of his eyes. Only slightly did he pivot on his heels that he caught sight of someone.

There you were – leaning against the wall of the complex. Clad in a sleek black dress with an asymmetrical skirt and V neckline bodice, hair left open which fluttered with the wind; surely, you had put effort into your appearance and it showed. Your immaculate beauty had always exceeded his expectations, tonight was no different. However, what he didn’t expect was to find the lit cigar held in between your fingers as you blew out a plume of smoke from your lips.

The sound of his trudging footsteps caught your attention; slightly you turned your neck towards him registering his presence. Not only did you look at him like he was a stranger but also you didn’t any effort to speak up.

That hit the wrong place so Satoru spoke first.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

You hummed, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Gojo.”

That prompted him to raise an eyebrow, yet he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he just quipped back, “Is that right? There’s a lot of things only I know about you like how you taste-”

“What do you want?”

What did he want? He didn’t know that either. For God’s sake, call him diabolical or whatever but restlessness just happened to settle on him when he watched you walk away. And he was… just here.

“Looking at the moon again?” He mentally cursed himself – great way to make the situation way more awkward. Even you don’t make the effort to give him a verbal response; just a hum. He sighed, “You should be inside.”

“So should you,” You placed the cigar between your lips, you inhaled a generously before blowing out a chunk of smoke. “If you don’t have anything useful to say then I suggest that you leave.”

For a minute, only silence prevailed. Satoru didn’t walk away neither did you try to keep the conversation going on. Certainly, both of you could’ve spoken about everything that lingered your minds for the past months. The cool atmosphere was here, and both of you weren’t blowing off. This was the perfect chance.

None of you seize it.

The cigar between your fingers almost reached the end, taking a final puff, you tossed it away. Straightening yourself, you take a step in his opposite direction.

On instinct it was, Satoru grasped your wrist. You turn your head to just glance at him, eyebrows furrowed and the obvious – what – etched upon your mien. “Where are you going?”

You shoot a questioning glare, “Home?”

“How?”

“Why?”

“That’s not an answer.” He pressed on, narrowing his eyes.

“Neither do I want to give you one,” You retort back, irises trailing down to his hand around your wrist. “Let go.”

His fingers twitched, a corner of his lip curling down. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am taking you home.”

“No, thanks,” You didn’t try to hide the bitter scoff. “I can go alone.”

For a second, he stared back at you wordlessly. The next, he was tugging your wrist as he pulled you to the way of his car. “I wasn’t asking, come.”

Satoru could feel your incoming protest but then you fall in step with him. He hid the smirk while walking ahead of you.

.

The silence was uncomfortable.

The only sound that prevailed in the vehicle was of the revving engine. External noises faded due to the shut windows as Satoru drove on the metropolitan Expressway. The city shimmered with a myriad of light, the back drop of the dark sky providing a rather refined view of the skyline. The elevated bridge above the bustling streets proved to be a kaleidoscope of colors, drawing eyes to the iconic landmarks.

Those very landmarks had your attention.

Satoru stole occasional glances of you while you kept you were solely focused on the panoramic view outside. Unknowingly, a scowl formed over his features. It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong, he was just dropping you to your apartment. Nothing more. Nothing less. Still, why was it that you didn’t bother to strike up any conversation with him? Were you still affected by what happened literal months ago? Well, you should’ve known better. It wasn’t like you were anything more to him in the first place. When he told you that you should stop seeing each other, he meant it wholeheartedly. Now here you were, giving him the cold shoulder, something which he did want.

Yet, he doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

Clearing his throat, Satoru took it on him to break the silence. “How have you been?”

You didn’t bother to look back. “Fine.”

“Just fine?” He paused and you hummed. “Nothing notable happening in your life?”

“No.”

“Work life? How was that interview you were so anxious about?”

“Good.”

He rotated the steering wheel, taking a right turn. “Good? Did you get it or not?”

“Did.”

His eyes partially widened, “And you didn’t even tell me?”

“No.”

“Why?” His voice was exasperated.

You shrugged, “My wish.”

A irk settled on his forehead, mood turning sour by the second. All he wanted was to disperse the tension looming over the both of you but you and your nonchalant responses were making this difficult. Fine, he would not speak so either.

Easier said than done.

Why was the drive to your home taking longer than it was? And why would you not even look at him? Like hell, the cramped space of the car was suffocating him in and out. The air conditioner didn’t help one bit. It was evident that the underlying issues on both of your sides was causing this damn tensed atmosphere. If only you could start talking then it wouldn’t be as hard. Why did you just had to be as stubborn as a rock?

For once, Satoru chose to be the mature one amongst you two.

“You’ve something on you mind.” More than a question it came out as a statement but even if it was for a second, he observed how you went stiff. “Say it.”

You didn’t. Satoru was on the verge of giving up. Then you did.

“Why her?”

He briefly shifted all his attention towards you, finding you staring back at him with an expression which he couldn’t decipher. He moved his eyes back to the road, rotating the steering wheel in 360 degrees.

“You know,” He started, a frown forming on his forehead. “I love her.”

“Sure.”

“I won’t ask you to believe me but when I say it will always be her. I mean it.” Conviction laced his tone, he refused to even take a peek at the look you might be shooting him. “I’ve known her since we were kids and it’s easier to live with someone whom I know all my life than…” He trailed off but you seemed to catch on the meaning, a scoff erupting only a second later. “We are even getting married-”

“You’re choosing her cause what? Easier?” You shot him a derisive glare, “What the fuck does that even mean, Satoru?”

He sighed, “You won’t understand-”

“Right, I don’t.” A disdainful smile curved up your lips. “I fucking don’t understand what goes in your damn head. What kind of fucked up excuses you’re telling yourself from day one? Trying to convince yourself that you love her when you clearly don’t.”

Just how many times would the same argument persist? It was honestly getting so tiring right now. “I won’t reason with you.”

“You don’t have any to begin with.”

“Star-”

“What?” You were on the brink of screaming. “What do you even want to say? That you love her? Sure. She’s going to be your wife? Fucking congratulations. Like that affects me a bit. I just- I just-” You stumbled over your words. “I just don’t fucking understand what was my role in all of this, Satoru? Was I always just a side piece to you?”

Involuntarily, his grip tightened on the steering wheel. “No but-” His voice quivered, the view of your apartment getting closer by the ticking seconds. “You’re, well… You-”

“Yes, me? C’mon just spit it out.”

The car screeched to a halt before you apartment.

Satoru ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the tangled strands. You have your expectant gaze settled on him and it’s almost pricking him in the wrong way to shatter that look. “Nothing… See, whatever you do it will never turn you into her and it’s her that I want. Not you.”

Neutrality concealed the storm inside your head. Then, a choked laugh evoked from you. “Of course.”

“I am sor-”

“Save it.” You took off the seatbelt, opening the door wide as you stepped down. “Hope you have a good married life, Satoru. Keep her happy.” With that said, you were out of his line of sight.

With you gone, he should had left as well. He doesn’t.

Unbeknownst to you, a similar storm but with different reasons was unfolding in his mind. Just so his fingers trembled, his feet tapping against the floor mat in a staccato and eyes trained on the seat where you were sitting only seconds ago. He reached for the steering wheel, hands heavy when he gripped the object. So he let go.

Just what have you done to him? The expressionless look after his confession wasn’t something he expected. Besides, your venom filled last words still rung in his ears. His arm barely grazed the car door.

He glanced at that first then at your apartment.

For reasons unknown, Satoru made the worst decision known to humanity.

.

All of it was your fucking fault.

See, whatever you do it will never turn you into her and it’s her that I want. Not you.

Of course. Of course, it will be her. It’s always her.

Satoru’s words were a stark reminder to Kazumi’s. One which told you - you can’t have everything. While she could. How utterly pathetic… Yet, for once, you cursed yourself for not taking her advice. If only- If only you did then you wouldn’t have hoped as much.

No hopes meant no expectations and no expectations meant no disappointments.

Was it so wrong that you were trudging to your flat? Was it so wrong for your fingers to tremble when you were typing the passcode? Was it so wrong for your eyes to burn when you opened the door?

And then it happened.

You were abruptly spun around by your elbow, calloused fingers grazed your nape as your head was tilted back and a pair of lips fell on yours.

From the frosty hair you could recognize it was Satoru and he was kissing you.

Sooner than you could realize, he was walking you backwards into your apartment, shutting the door all while his lips were pressed to you. He pushed your back against the wall, arm wrapping around your waist as his fingertips threaded into your hair. When he left your mouth, you could finally register his wrecked mien. Dishevelled hair and sweat beads marring his forehead – he might just have ran up the stairs.

“Satoru-” Your voice trembled and he pressed his lips on yours again. No, it wasn’t right. Yet, instead of pushing him away you tugged him closer. Why was he here? Didn’t he just tell you that he wanted her? Still, why was it that he was kissing you?

You let out a choked sob into his mouth, bunching the fabric of his shirt in your grasp. Satoru stilled for a second, thumb rubbing circles over the garment on your waist. He parted a hair’s breath away, lips glistening from the passionate kiss shared. You recognized the look in his eyes, the half lidded stare which only bespoke of desires.

“What are you doing here?”

“I am sorry,” He murmured near your ear, pressing his lips beneath its lobe. “I am sorry,” He repeated, pulling at your hair strands as he placed his lips over the rhythmic pulse point of your neck. “Just so sorry,” His lips were on yours again, sucking on your lower lip seeking entrance. One which you granted almost instinctively, his tongue mingled in a heated dance with yours, prodding at all points.

He absolutely didn’t have any reason to be sorry for. Even you knew it. You’d never be her. She will always be a step ahead of you, no matter the circumstances, no matter the changes.

With another trembling hand, you held Satoru’s shoulder. His nose grazed over your cheekbone while he trailed feather-light kisses down your jaw to the juncture of your shoulder and neck. “I didn’t want to say that.” As if. Thumb hooking on the sleeve of your dress, he slid it down. “You look so beautiful today.”

You asked breathily, “Today?”

He stared down at you. “Everyday.” Thus, his lips found yours again.

Was it so wrong to lose yourself for tonight?

Despite your mind telling that he was only with you till the dark, that as soon as the sun rises he would leave, you found yourself crumbling. Even with all the obvious signs, all the hints, all the words all you wanted was assurance. All you wanted was to be told that you were enough. That he craved you as much as you did.

Hence, you gave in.

Sooner than you could realize, the soft cotton sheets of your bedroom welcomed you. Satoru hovered over you, squeezing your breast over your dress, his mouth over your collarbone – leaving a trail of hot kisses in its wake. The heat pooled between your legs as Satoru reached to cup your core over your panties. The familiarity of his touch was enough to send a shiver down your spine. You essentially hated how the musky smell of his cologne mixed with the smell of your arousal. Six long months, and here you were again on your bed with him. Was it the longing or your crave for comfort that made you lose sight of reality? Maybe it was a dream, maybe what you thought would only ever be real in the fantastical delusions you’ve created for yourself. Yet, now, here, tonight, you wanted to live those very tales.

“Sa-Satoru, please… I n-need you.”

All of a sudden, it was a departure from the passionate Satoru whose sensual touch lingered on your skin. The Satoru above you seemed ravenous when he smashed his lips against yours, bruising the delicate flesh. He slid up your dress, pulling down the garment covering your core and before you could register he was entering you.

Velvet walls clamped down his cock almost greedily, his fingers intertwining with yours as he started to thrust himself in and out of you. Neither of you are completely undressed, just the discard of fabrics needed to be removed. The room felt too hot, even more when his heated breath fanned against your ear. He was speaking something but you barely register it over your lust-drunk self. Sinfully, loud moans left your mouth as you clutched the bedsheet tighter. The rhythm he followed was something new, pulling out just enough but never completely leaving you before he shoved in again. He filled you in too good and too much so when the pleasure started to built up, tears prickled your eyes. The overwhelming sensation of lust and heartache rendered you from picking on memories.

The next few hours of the passionate night was a blur as he jostled your body from position to another and you let him. For Satoru, it might just be sex, for you it was intimacy and you’ll hold onto it as long as fate allowed. On the brink of cascading ecstasy, Kazumi’s words rung into your ears – You can’t have everything you want. For once, you did agree. You couldn’t. Hence, you’d just be glad with whatever parts you could get.

As the crashing tide of pleasure washed over you, you found your head nestled on your soft pillows. The exhaustion held you hostage, forcing the sleep to clamp your eyelids shut. You heard the rustling of duvet as the comforter was laid over your body.  However, this wasn’t the comfort you craved.

It’s true when they say heartbreaks led to the worst of choices.

You grasped Satoru’s hand, “Don’t leave.”

Although your eyes were shut, you did feel it when with deliberate care Satoru pried off your fingers. Your chest constricted for you knew what to expect but- but... a lump formed in your throat, "Please, Satoru."

A second of silence prevailed.

“I am sorry.”

Then, you heard the faint sound of the main door shutting close.

[thundercrack]

Study of Elite College Admissions Data Suggests Being Very Rich Is Its Own Qualification

By Aatish Bhatia, Claire Cain Miller and Josh Katz July 24, 2023 (full text under the cut)

Elite colleges have long been filled with the children of the richest families: At Ivy League schools, one in six students has parents in the top 1 percent.

A large new study, released Monday, shows that it has not been because these children had more impressive grades on average or took harder classes. They tended to have higher SAT scores and finely honed résumés, and applied at a higher rate — but they were overrepresented even after accounting for those things. For applicants with the same SAT or ACT score, children from families in the top 1 percent were 34 percent more likely to be admitted than the average applicant, and those from the top 0.1 percent were more than twice as likely to get in.

The study — by Opportunity Insights, a group of economists based at Harvard who study inequality — quantifies for the first time the extent to which being very rich is its own qualification in selective college admissions.

The analysis is based on federal records of college attendance and parental income taxes for nearly all college students from 1999 to 2015, and standardized test scores from 2001 to 2015. It focuses on the eight Ivy League universities, as well as Stanford, Duke, M.I.T. and the University of Chicago. It adds an extraordinary new data set: the detailed, anonymized internal admissions assessments of at least three of the 12 colleges, covering half a million applicants. (The researchers did not name the colleges that shared data or specify how many did because they promised them anonymity.)

The new data shows that among students with the same test scores, the colleges gave preference to the children of alumni and to recruited athletes, and gave children from private schools higher nonacademic ratings. The result is the clearest picture yet of how America’s elite colleges perpetuate the intergenerational transfer of wealth and opportunity.

“What I conclude from this study is the Ivy League doesn’t have low-income students because it doesn’t want low-income students,” said Susan Dynarski, an economist at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, who has reviewed the data and was not involved in the study.

In effect, the study shows, these policies amounted to affirmative action for the children of the 1 percent, whose parents earn more than $611,000 a year. It comes as colleges are being forced to rethink their admissions processes after the Supreme Court ruling that race-based affirmative action is unconstitutional.

“Are these highly selective private colleges in America taking kids from very high-income, influential families and basically channeling them to remain at the top in the next generation?” said Raj Chetty, an economist at Harvard who directs Opportunity Insights, and an author of the paper with John N. Friedman of Brown and David J. Deming of Harvard. “Flipping that question on its head, could we potentially diversify who’s in a position of leadership in our society by changing who is admitted?”

Representatives from several of the colleges said that income diversity was an urgent priority, and that they had taken significant steps since 2015, when the data in the study ends, to admit lower-income and first-generation students. These include making tuition free for families earning under a certain amount; giving only grants, not loans, in financial aid; and actively recruiting students from disadvantaged high schools.

“We believe that talent exists in every sector of the American income distribution,” said Christopher L. Eisgruber, the president of Princeton. “I am proud of what we have done to increase socioeconomic diversity at Princeton, but I also believe that we need to do more — and we will do more.”

Affirmative action for the rich

In a concurring opinion in the affirmative action case, Justice Neil Gorsuch addressed the practice of favoring the children of alumni and donors, which is also the subject of a new case. “While race-neutral on their face, too, these preferences undoubtedly benefit white and wealthy applicants the most,” he wrote.

The new paper did not include admissions rates by race because previous research had done so, the researchers said. They found that racial differences were not driving the results. When looking only at applicants of one race, for example, those from the highest-income families still had an advantage. Yet the top 1 percent is overwhelmingly white. Some analysts have proposed diversifying by class as a way to achieve more racial diversity without affirmative action.

The new data showed that other selective private colleges, like Northwestern, N.Y.U. and Notre Dame, had a similarly disproportionate share of children from rich families. Public flagship universities were much more equitable. At places like the University of Texas at Austin and the University of Virginia, applicants with high-income parents were no more likely to be admitted than lower-income applicants with comparable scores.

Less than 1 percent of American college students attend the 12 elite colleges. But the group plays an outsize role in American society: 12 percent of Fortune 500 chief executives and a quarter of U.S. senators attended. So did 13 percent of the top 0.1 percent of earners. The focus on these colleges is warranted, the researchers say, because they provide paths to power and influence — and diversifying who attends has the potential to change who makes decisions in America.

The researchers did a novel analysis to measure whether attending one of these colleges causes success later in life. They compared students who were wait-listed and got in, with those who didn’t and attended another college instead. Consistent with previous research, they found that attending an Ivy instead of one of the top nine public flagships did not meaningfully increase graduates’ income, on average. However, it did increase a student’s predicted chance of earning in the top 1 percent to 19 percent, from 12 percent.

For outcomes other than earnings, the effect was even larger — it nearly doubled the estimated chance of attending a top graduate school, and tripled the estimated chance of working at firms that are considered prestigious, like national news organizations and research hospitals.

“Sure, it’s a tiny slice of schools,” said Professor Dynarski, who has studied college admissions and worked with the University of Michigan on increasing the attendance of low-income students, and has occasionally contributed to The New York Times. “But having representation is important, and this shows how much of a difference the Ivies make: The political elite, the economic elite, the intellectual elite are coming out of these schools.”

The missing middle class

The advantage to rich applicants varied by college, the study found: At Dartmouth, students from the top 0.1 percent were five times as likely to attend as the average applicant with the same test score, while at M.I.T. they were no more likely to attend. (The fact that children from higher-income families tend to have higher standardized test scores and are likelier to receive private coaching suggests that the study may actually underestimate their admissions advantage.)

An applicant with a high test score from a family earning less than $68,000 a year was also likelier than the average applicant to get in, though there were fewer applicants like this.

Children from middle- and upper-middle-class families — including those at public high schools in high-income neighborhoods — applied in large numbers. But they were, on an individual basis, less likely to be admitted than the richest or, to a lesser extent, poorest students with the same test scores. In that sense, the data confirms the feeling among many merely affluent parents that getting their children into elite colleges is increasingly difficult.

“We had these very skewed distributions of a whole lot of Pell kids and a whole lot of no-need kids, and the middle went missing,” said an Ivy League dean of admissions, who has seen the new data and spoke anonymously in order to talk openly about the process. “You’re not going to win a P.R. battle by saying you have X number of families making over $200,000 that qualify for financial aid.”

The researchers could see, for nearly all college students in the United States from 1999 to 2015, where they applied and attended, their SAT or ACT scores and whether they received a Pell grant for low-income students. They could also see their parents’ income tax records, which enabled them to analyze attendance by earnings in more detail than any previous research. They conducted the analysis using anonymized data.

For the several elite colleges that also shared internal admissions data, they could see other aspects of students’ applications between 2001 and 2015, including how admissions offices rated them. They focused their analysis on the most recent years, 2011 to 2015.

Though they had this data for a minority of the dozen top colleges, the researchers said they thought it was representative of the other colleges in the group (with the exception of M.I.T.). The other colleges admitted more students from high-income families, showed preferences for legacies and recruited athletes, and described similar admissions practices in conversations with the researchers, they said.

“Nobody has this kind of data; it’s completely unheard-of,” said Michael Bastedo, a professor at the University of Michigan’s School of Education, who has done prominent research on college admissions. “I think it’s really important to good faith efforts for reforming the system to start by being able to look honestly and candidly at the data.”

How the richest students benefit

Before this study, it was clear that colleges enrolled more rich students, but it was not known whether it was just because more applied. The new study showed that’s part of it: One-third of the difference in attendance rates was because middle-class students were somewhat less likely to apply or matriculate. But the bigger factor was that these colleges were more likely to accept the richest applicants.

Legacy admissions

The largest advantage for the 1 percent was the preference for legacies. The study showed — for the first time at this scale — that legacies were more qualified overall than the average applicant. But even when comparing applicants who were similar in every other way, legacies still had an advantage.

When high-income applicants applied to the college their parents attended, they were accepted at much higher rates than other applicants with similar qualifications — but at the other top-dozen colleges, they were no more likely to get in.

“This is not a sideshow, not just a symbolic issue,” Professor Bastedo said of the finding.

Athletes

One in eight admitted students from the top 1 percent was a recruited athlete. For the bottom 60 percent, that figure was one in 20. That’s largely because children from rich families are more likely to play sports, especially more exclusive sports played at certain colleges, like rowing and fencing. The study estimated that athletes were admitted at four times the rate of nonathletes with the same qualifications.

“There’s a common misperception that it’s about basketball and football and low-income kids making their way into selective colleges,” Professor Bastedo said. “But the enrollment leaders know athletes tend to be wealthier, so it’s a win-win.”

Nonacademic ratings

There was a third factor driving the preference for the richest applicants. The colleges in the study generally give applicants numerical scores for academic achievement and for more subjective nonacademic virtues, like extracurricular activities, volunteering and personality traits. Students from the top 1 percent with the same test scores did not have higher academic ratings. But they had significantly higher nonacademic ratings.

At one of the colleges that shared admissions data, students from the top 0.1 percent were 1.5 times as likely to have high nonacademic ratings as those from the middle class. The researchers said that, accounting for differences in the way each school assesses nonacademic credentials, they found similar patterns at the other colleges that shared data.

The biggest contributor was that admissions committees gave higher scores to students from private, nonreligious high schools. They were twice as likely to be admitted as similar students — those with the same SAT scores, race, gender and parental income — from public schools in high-income neighborhoods. A major factor was recommendations from guidance counselors and teachers at private high schools.

“Parents rattle off that a kid got in because he was first chair in the orchestra, ran track,” said John Morganelli Jr., a former director of admissions at Cornell and founder of Ivy League Admissions, where he advises high school students on applying to college. “They never say what really happens: Did the guidance counselor advocate on that kid’s behalf?”

Recommendation letters from private school counselors are notoriously flowery, he said, and the counselors call admissions officers about certain students.

“This is how the feeder schools get created,” he said. “Nobody’s calling on behalf of a middle- or lower-income student. Most of the public school counselors don’t even know these calls exist.”

The end of need-blind admissions?

Overall, the study suggests, if elite colleges had done away with the preferences for legacies, athletes and private school students, the children of the top 1 percent would have made up 10 percent of a class, down from 16 percent in the years of the study.

Legacy students, athletes and private school students do no better after college, in terms of earnings or reaching a top graduate school or firm, it found. In fact, they generally do somewhat worse.

The dean of admissions who spoke anonymously said change was easier said than done: “I would say there’s much more commitment to this than may be obvious. It’s just the solution is really complicated, and if we could have done it, we would have.”

For example, it’s not feasible to choose athletes from across the income spectrum if many college sports are played almost entirely by children from high-earning families. Legacies are perhaps the most complicated, the admissions dean said, because they tend to be highly qualified and their admission is important for maintaining strong ties with alumni.

Ending that preference, the person said, “is not an easy decision to make, given the alumni response, especially if you’re not in immediate concurrence with the rest of the Ivies.” (Though children of very large donors also get special consideration by admissions offices, they were not included in the analysis because there are relatively few of them.)

People involved in admissions say that achieving more economic diversity would be difficult without doing something else: ending need-blind admissions, the practice that prevents admissions officers from seeing families’ financial information so their ability to pay is not a factor. Some colleges are already doing what they call “need-affirmative admissions,” for the purpose of selecting more students from the low end of the income spectrum, though they often don’t publicly acknowledge it for fear of blowback.

There is a tool, Landscape from the College Board, to help determine if an applicant grew up in a neighborhood with significant privilege or adversity. But these colleges have no knowledge of parents’ income if students don’t apply for financial aid.

Ivy League colleges and their peers have recently made significant efforts to recruit more low-income students and subsidize tuition. Several now make attendance entirely free for families below a certain income — $100,000 at Stanford and Princeton, $85,000 at Harvard, and $60,000 at Brown.

At Princeton, one-fifth of students are now from low-income families, and one-fourth receive a full ride. It has recently reinstated a transfer program to recruit low-income and community college students. At Harvard, one-fourth of this fall’s freshman class is from families with incomes less than $85,000, who will pay nothing. The majority of freshmen will receive some amount of aid.

Dartmouth just raised $500 million to expand financial aid: “While we respect the work of Harvard’s Opportunity Insights, we believe our commitment to these investments and our admissions policies since 2015 tells an important story about the socioeconomic diversity among Dartmouth students,” said Jana Barnello, a spokeswoman.

Public flagships do admissions differently, in a way that ends up benefiting rich students less. The University of California schools forbid giving preference to legacies or donors, and some, like U.C.L.A., do not consider letters of recommendation. The application asks for family income, and colleges get detailed information about California high schools. Application readers are trained to consider students’ circumstances, like whether they worked to support their families in high school, as “evidence of maturity, determination and insight.”

The University of California system also partners with schools in the state, from pre-K through community college, to support students who face barriers. There’s a robust program for transfer students from California community colleges; at U.C.L.A., half are from low-income backgrounds.

M.I.T., which stands out among elite private schools as displaying almost no preference for rich students, has never given a preference to legacy applicants, said its dean of admissions, Stuart Schmill. It does recruit athletes, but they do not receive any preference or go through a separate admissions process (as much as it may frustrate coaches, he said).

“I think the most important thing here is talent is distributed equally but opportunity is not, and our admissions process is designed to account for the different opportunities students have based on their income,” he said. “It’s really incumbent upon our process to tease out the difference between talent and privilege.”

Source: Raj Chetty, David J. Deming and John N. Friedman, “Diversifying Society’s Leaders? The Determinants and Causal Effects of Admission to Highly Selective Private Colleges”

[mariacallous]

Few things are more fundamental to a society than its traditions. They guide our actions through difficult and changing times. They keep us grounded and steady. They build on the wisdom of our forerunners. At least, that is the way conservatives, usually, look at the world.

But on one issue—school vouchers—some conservatives are playing the role of radicals. The general goal of vouchers is to allow families to use government funds to pay tuition at private schools, including religious schools. The idea has been around for more than a half-century but had gone almost nowhere in the U.S., until very recently. In just the past few years, it has gone from the political desert to a core issue that is sweeping across Republican-led states.

The general idea of vouchers is radical enough, but the particular form of these new programs is far more so. Fourteen states and counting have now passed legislation creating voucher (or education savings account) programs that share some key properties. They are universal (or nearly universal), meaning that all families are eligible. They involve no meaningful public accountability or way to judge their success. They allow private schools to charge tuition over and above the voucher amount. And, finally, they are flexible in that funds can be used even to cover homeschooling expenses and other educational goods and services, such as computers and tutoring.

These aren’t just any vouchers. They are “super-vouchers,” as I call them, that promise to produce the most radical change, of any kind, in U.S. education in at least 70 years. It represents not just a change in policy or strategy but a rejection of three foundational traditions: separation of church and state, anti-discrimination, and public accountability for educational processes and outcomes funded by taxes.

In this post, I describe the threat that today’s universal voucher programs present to these traditions, and I attend to some potential counterarguments from voucher supporters.

The separation of church and state tradition

America’s education traditions can be traced far back in our history. While the U.S. Constitution does not mention education, it was an issue actively discussed by the nation’s founders, and other elements of the Constitution have a heavy bearing on education. The First Amendment includes the Establishment Clause, which prevents Congress from either supporting or limiting the free exercise of religion. This language has long been understood to imply that governments should not fund religious organizations (including religious schools), especially in a way that preferences one religion over another.

As a result of education’s omission from the Constitution, primary responsibility for education was ultimately delegated to the states. Education is one of only a few topics covered in every state constitution—with all states guaranteeing universal access and most specifically mentioning public education. To many, this means that education should be not only funded by the government but accessible to all, subject to public oversight, and, yes, non-sectarian (non-religious).

It’s easy to see how vouchers, especially the new breed of them, violate these principles. Vouchers provide government funds to churches, despite the historical separation of church and state. Voucher advocates argue that today’s voucher systems are legal, and our current Supreme Court seems to agree, but that doesn’t change the fact vouchers will entangle the government and religion. With any voucher program, the government must decide which schools are eligible to receive funding. Will the public—in particular, citizens in red states where universal ESA programs are most popular—be just as willing to fund Islamic, Hindi, Mormon, Jewish, and atheist schools as they are Christian schools? That’s not clear. Even if states treat all religions equally, some very public battles over religious schools will surely follow. Already, many voucher-supported religious schools have been the subject of front-page newspaper headlines regarding their most controversial teachings. We should expect this to continue.

Voucher proponents sometimes try to refute the idea that the separation of church and state for schooling even applies, pointing out that publicly funded schools taught religion in the early 1800s, with children reading from the Bible. However, a more complete telling of our history would note that the need for a separation between church and state became clearer as the country—and its students—grew more diverse. We shouldn’t use past wrongs to justify making the same mistakes today.

The anti-discrimination tradition

The U.S. Constitution, under the Fourteenth Amendment, establishes equal protection before the law. Ratified in the wake of the Civil War, this was meant to remediate the blatantly unequal treatment of Black people in every aspect of life, created by slavery. The Fourteenth Amendment can be viewed as reinforcing the accessible-to-all principle embodied in state constitutions.

This was not nearly enough, however, to provide meaningful access to Black Americans. Civil War Reconstruction efforts on education were modest and short lived. The Court’s 1896 Plessy v. Ferguson decision also established the principle of “separate but equal.” Even that low standard for access was not achieved, as few states provided more than a pittance in funding for Black schools. They were anything but equal for at least another half century. Then came the Court’s landmark 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision, which reinterpreted the Fourteenth Amendment and rejected the separate-but-equal doctrine in schools. The decision began to slowly reorient public education towards an anti-discrimination tradition. Solidifying it was the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which banned discrimination on the basis of race, ethnicity, and national origin, and expanded the federal government’s authority to enforce anti-discrimination law in publicly funded programs (including public schools).

Most forms of vouchers undermine the anti-discrimination tradition. While private schools cannot legally discriminate based on race because of the Civil Rights Act, they can discriminate on most other dimensions, including religion, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, class, income, and disability status. Moreover, the protections against racial discrimination are stronger in public schools, with additional avenues for recourse available to public school students through the U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights.

Discrimination issues often arise in admissions, and private schools leaders believe strongly in their right to selective admissions requirements. Put another way, private school leaders feel they should be able to determine which students get in and which get turned away. While not all admission requirements are inherently problematic, private school admissions practices leave the door open for discrimination. And with potential discriminatory treatment hidden behind opaque admissions practices, it will be exceedingly difficult to identify discrimination where it occurs. When schools are allowed to discriminate on one set of factors, it is difficult to prove that a student is discriminated against based on other factors, such as race.

This is not just an abstract argument. The conflict between integration, discrimination, and vouchers was plain to see in the wake of Brown. Segregationists searched for ways to sidestep the Court’s decision. One main solution they stumbled upon: school vouchers. They understood well that vouchers would allow them to continue their discrimination.

Voucher advocates might resist my argument about the tradition of anti-discrimination, pointing to supposed examples of discrimination in public schools. For example, public schools “discriminate” against children who do not live within their geographic boundaries. It’s true that some families cannot afford to live in expensive neighborhoods with well-resourced schools. However, public school boundaries, for all their faults, are designed to ensure that all students have access to a public school—one of the core tenets of public education. When parents drive by a school, their children might ask, “Can I go to that school?” There’s a big difference between answering with, “No, dear, because we don’t live in this neighborhood” and “No, dear, because the school doesn’t want you.”

It’s worth noting, too, that voucher advocates need the universal accessibility of public schools for voucher programs to work. With voucher-supported schools allowed to discriminate in admissions, it’s the guaranteed availability of a neighborhood public school that ensures that no child will be denied access to any school at all.

The public accountability tradition

In the U.S., school districts operate under (typically elected) boards that provide public accountability—specifically, democratic accountability to the electorate. This approach has been the norm since the early 1900s. So, both in word and deed, public accountability has been a core principle for longer than anyone reading this can remember.

More recently, state and federal governments clawed back some of that power from local districts, especially through test-based accountability policies. One driving force behind the push for state and federal accountability was rising education spending from these levels of government. Taxpayers wanted to know what they were getting for their money, and test results were one way of measuring the return on their investments.

Even if one prefers a heavier dose of market accountability—giving families more choice—the government is still an important partner. If we want families to have more choices, then we should also want them to have more information, which the government is well positioned to provide.

Today’s voucher programs are unwinding our accountability traditions. They’re allowing families to use public funds to send their children to schools that do not operate under elected school boards. These schools are subject to little, if any, test-based accountability, and they need only meet the minimal bar of accreditation to participate. The recent crop of universal vouchers even fails in providing the information needed for market accountability. Yes, some students in some voucher states will be required to take some type of standardized test. However, it’s unclear whether and how these results will be reported, and even if they are widely available, parents will not be able to compare across disparate tests.

Voucher advocates sometimes point to programs like Social Security and the Earned Income Tax Credit (EITC) as programs that provide benefits to eligible recipients to make their own consumption decisions with few strings attached. But these programs give little reason to overthrow the public accountability tradition in education. This is basically saying, “yes, our voucher program ends the public accountability tradition in an area so important that the Founding Fathers and every state constitution includes it, but that’s okay…because we also give money to the elderly to make sure they can buy groceries.” If you find that logic confusing, I don’t blame you.

The Great Unwinding

It is no exaggeration to say that universal vouchers are unwinding two centuries of public education tradition, from the nation’s founding days to the present. We are not just talking about any traditions. These are traditions with roots in the First Amendment and our state constitutions, and ones that have shaped the foundational contours of K-12 education in this country.

Voucher advocates might point out that the Supreme Court has reversed itself on vouchers in recent years, giving reason to believe that today’s programs are legally permissible. But U.S. and state constitutions aren’t just legal documents to be interpreted by lawyers and judges. They convey larger, foundational principles and traditions at play that have guided American life, including education, for centuries. The public broadly supports these traditions, regardless of what the courts say.

We do need to upend traditions from time to time. Brown v. Board upended the disgraceful mistreatment of and discrimination against Black Americans. That was a widely accepted step forward. Is it time to end church-state separation, public accountability, and anti-discrimination? You be the judge.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Andrew Perez at Rolling Stone:

EARLIER THIS WEEK, two Democratic senators announced they have requested a criminal investigation into Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas — regarding, in part, a loan for a luxury RV provided by a longtime executive at UnitedHealth Group, one of America’s largest health insurers. Thomas apparently recused himself in at least two cases involving UnitedHealth when the loan was active, according to a Rolling Stone review. Yet, he separately chose to participate in another health insurance case and authored the court’s unanimous opinion in 2004. The ruling broadly benefited the industry — shielding employer-sponsored health insurers from damages if they refuse to cover certain services and patients are harmed. Thomas’ advice to patients facing such denials? Pull out your checkbook.

While UnitedHealth was not a party to the case, the company belonged to two trade associations that filed a brief urging the Supreme Court to side with the insurers.  “As we saw so starkly this term, Supreme Court decisions can have sweeping collateral implications: If the court rules in favor of one insurance giant, for instance, it tends to be a boon for all the other insurance giants, too,” says Alex Aronson, executive director at the judicial reform group Court Accountability. “That was the case here, and it’s a perfect example of why justices shouldn’t accept gifts — especially secret ones — from industry titans whose interests are implicated, whether directly or indirectly, by their rulings.” The public had no way of knowing about Thomas’ RV loan at the time of the decision: The loan was only exposed by The New York Times last year. Senate Democrats investigating Thomas believe that much or all of the loan, for a $267,230 motor coach, was ultimately forgiven. Sens. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-R.I.) and Ron Wyden (D-Ore.) recently requested the Justice Department investigate whether Thomas reported the forgiven portion of the loan on his tax filings, after he failed to disclose it in ethics forms.

Meanwhile, Thomas’ health insurance opinion has had wide-ranging, long-lasting ramifications, according to Mark DeBofsky, an employee benefits lawyer and former law professor.  “It hasn’t been rectified. The repercussions continue,” DeBofsky tells Rolling Stone. “People who are in dire need of specific medical care, and [their] insurance company turns around and says, ‘That care is not medically necessary,’ and there’s an adverse outcome as a result of the denial of the treatment, or hospitalization, or service — there’s no recompense for what could have been an unnecessary death or serious injury.” Since last year, the Supreme Court has faced an unprecedented ethics crisis, with much of the focus aimed squarely at Thomas. ProPublica reported that Thomas received and failed to disclose two decades worth of luxury gifts from a conservative billionaire, Harlan Crow, who allegedly provided free private jet and superyacht trips to Thomas and his wife; bought a house from Thomas and allowed the justice’s elderly mother to live there for free; and paid for at least two years of boarding school tuition for Thomas’ grandnephew.

[...] Federal law requires Supreme Court justices to recuse themselves in any case where their “impartiality might reasonably be questioned.” The justices decide for themselves when such a move is necessary — and when they do withdraw from a case, they rarely say why. Thomas does not appear to have explained his decision to withdraw from the two matters that directly involved UnitedHealth. Thomas did not take similar steps in Aetna Health Inc. v. Davila, a case that broadly affected the health insurance industry. He instead authored the court’s opinion, which expanded insurers’ favorite tool for limiting liability: ERISA. Congress passed the Employee Retirement Income Security Act, commonly known as ERISA, in 1974 to protect employee benefits. The law is relatively vague when it comes to “welfare benefits,” and contains a broad preemption clause. The courts have filled in the blanks — including in the Aetna Health case — with distressing results for patients. Half of Americans have employer-sponsored health insurance coverage; nearly all of these plans are governed by ERISA.

Rolling Stone exposes how SCOTUS Justice Clarence Thomas received a $267K RV from a health insurance executive.

[burningvelvet]

to BE dramatic: I want to get your Byron-Shelleys misconceptions posts tattooed, or at least printed to have as wallpaper in one of my apartment walls. truly never getting over the amount of people on tumblr who are openly pursuing degrees in literature who believe in straight up false anecdotes about the creation of Frankenstein as a novel, out of sheer projection that maybe, by projecting into Mary Shelley, they too can fulfil whichever delusion they have, pretending fallacy of repulsion arguments and sentimentality account for proper literary analysis.

Mary Shelley's interpersonal relationships are never analysed with nuance and as just another influence into her writing, instead of them being an entire Confession of her character. And, even then, if they were a "Confession" (what a christian notion, that we must declare our most private thoughts and make them a static manifesto for others to judge and condemn) they'd still find a way to dismiss them because it would not fit what THEY want to hear.

And if any person who feels targeted by your post or this ask (if you decide to publish it, bc that's your call, I'm just talking) I invited them to read past Frankenstein. Not just past 1831 Frankenstein and into the 1818 edition, but read Matilda. Read the Last Man. Read her diaries and letters about Byron's death and how she was truly alone in the world (because no matter how insufferable someone thinks Byron to be, he was just like her in many ways, to their society). Read about her financial problems with Godwin. Read about Timothy Shelley's censorship, how he failed to show up to the reading of his son's testament and only agreed to anything if Mary relinquished the tuition of her ONLY living child with Percy and stopped writing. And yet, she did not fucking stop.

Also, if you wanna get really annoyed, idk if you know but there's a historical novel where the author writes Mary as the murderer of Harriet Shelley, and it is. Enraging.

One day Mary Shelley won't be a Harlot or a Victim but a literary genius with an unparalleled creative vision, surpassing the Big 6 of romanticism by far in topics, literary ethos and execution, and who, just like them, was also influenced by her time, her station, her connections, the private thoughts we will never know, her nationality, her race, and her historical context. All things which are worthy of analysing as part of the soup that makes her writing unique and valuable to the western literary canon, not as a condemnation, excuse, or second-thought

The world deserves to read this — yes, I agree with a lot of your points. I've made a lot of posts about these topics so I'm glad others agree!

[ridenwithbiden]

THIS MOTHERFUCKER !!!

"Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas has been accused of not disclosing a yacht trip to Russia and a private helicopter flight to a palace in President Vladimir Putin’s hometown, among a slew of other gifts and loans from businessman Harlan Crow.

Buried on page 14 of a letter that two Democratic senators sent to Attorney General Merrick Garland on Tuesday, in which they urged Garland to appoint a special counsel to probe Thomas, was an astonishing list of dozens of “likely undisclosed gifts and income” from Crow, Crow’s affiliated companies, and “other donors.”

In the letter, Sens. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI) and Ron Wyden (D-OR) said Thomas, one of the court’s staunchly conservative justices, even may have committed tax fraud and violated other federal laws by “secretly” accepting the gifts and income potentially worth millions.

“The Senate is not a prosecutorial body, and the Supreme Court has no fact-finding function of its own, making the executive role all the more important if there is ever to be any complete determination of the facts,” reads the letter requesting the appointment of a special prosecutor.

“We do not make this request lightly,” said the letter.

The list of potentially secret gifts also includes a loan of more than $267,000 provided by Thomas’ close friend Anthony Welters, the yacht trip to Russia from the Baltics, and the helicopter ride to Yusupov Palace in St. Petersburg. ProPublica first reported last year on the existence of extensive undisclosed gifts and lavish trips from Crow.

Additionally, Justice Thomas is accused of not disclosing tuitions for his grandnephew, free lodging, real estate transactions, and home renovations. The action escalates Democratic senators’ efforts to hold Thomas accountable for perceived ethics controversies.

According to the senators, Thomas’ conduct could violate the Ethics in Government Act, which requires officials like Supreme Court justices to file annual reports disclosing gifts and income accepted from outside sources.

“It is a crime,” reads the report, “To knowingly and willfully fail to file or report such information.”

Since 2023, two Senate committees have been looking into the 1991 loan from Welters that was connected to Thomas’ purchase of a luxury motor home. Welters previously responded to a New York Times request for comment on the loan only to say that it was “satisfied.”

Thomas, for his part, belatedly disclosed some—but not all—gifts from Crow this year and has defended the gifts as “personal hospitality” from some of his and his wife’s “dearest friends.”

“The evidence assembled thus far plainly suggests that Justice Thomas has committed numerous willful violations of federal ethics and false-statement laws and raises significant questions about whether he and his wealthy benefactors have,” Durban and Wyden wrote."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

⭕️👋Hi I’m new, I really like your character analysis, world lore analysis etc,…I think they’re very accurate and provide more insight into the twisted wonderland world,

do you think NRC gets enough funding cause they’ve been losing to RSA for like almost 100 years now and the Magift incident where the recruiter’s and scouts probably didn’t really pay attention to most of the players cause of Malleus .I know they probably get funding and tuition and stuff from affluent parents who care about the quality of education & environment of their children but is that really enough? Is Crowley secret Stressed about funding cause of their losing streak to RSA???

I just wondered what your thoughts were on the matter

Hello and thank you very much ^^ It always warms my heart to hear that people enjoy my more analytical writings!

Now to answer your question, I don’t think NRC is hurting for money. Like, at all.

You did bring up a fair point about NRC’s almost a 100 year loss streak to RSA + the lack of interested Spelldrive/Magical Shift scouts in book 2, but that’s not enough of the big picture. RSA is only one rival magic school out of several. Just because NRC is not doing well against one other school doesn’t mean that NRC is suddenly deemed “lesser”—NRC is still considered a top arcane academy and eclipses other magical institutions like Noble Bell College. In regards to the pro recruiters, I don’t think it has a huge impact?? Sports is only one sector at NRC; they’re still doing relatively well outside of it (such as in academics, extracurriculars, and connections for internships) in the grand scheme of things. Things like not winning VDC and not being noticed by scouts seems to only really impact the career prospects of students who were interested in the entertainment/sports industries; I doubt that this would seriously hurt whatever funding NRC is receiving.

Night Raven College is a private school, so they are most likely receiving money from tuition and not the government. Though tuition is not explicitly mentioned in TWST (at least not that I am aware of), if we assume the average cost for one student to attend a British boarding school—for which NRC is modeled after—that means 25,000 pounds per person, PER YEAR. Let us assume that NRC had only 800 students (this is the rough estimate TWST provides us). That means, from one year’s worth of tuition alone, the school is raking in 20,000,000 pounds or 4,058,310,000 madol. Note that this is just money in, not yet factoring for expenditures, taxes, etc.

The school also receives 10% of Mostro Lounge’s proceeds, and while we cannot put an exact number to that, we do know that most menu items range from 600 to 1500 madol. The lounge must also make significant enough money to pay for its ingredients, nice silverware (something which Azul stresses to give customers a high class experience), and even provide pay to workers (Ruggie would not be doing labor for free and refers to his time at Mostro Lounge as “a job”; see: his Ceremonial Robes vignettes). While this doesn’t make up a large part of NRC’s money, it’s still a nice little bonus to account for.

NRC also has many, MANY wealthy students, including literal celebrities and royalty. In fact, the upper middle class to flat-out rich make up the majority of the main cast (close to like 70-75%). If this is also the case for the regular mob students, then there are many other ways for the school to get huge donations. In the main story alone, two significant donations are mentioned: Kalim's dad gave enough money for NRC to completely renovate Scarabia and the Shroud parents paid for all the damages caused to the school's buildings. Additionally, Crowley says that the Shrouds made "substantial contributions toward expanding [NRC's] facilities."

Please note that this is just donations from current students’ families. Think about potential donations coming from NRC alumni too!!

It should be noted that NRC has the financial power to spend liberally, and no one really says that this will put the school in a touch spot. For example, Crowley literally buys up Sam's entire stock of goods during Ghost Marriage... and if you know anything about Sam, it's that he can magically keep things "IN STOCK NOW!!" Crowley even indicates in one of his voice lines that he is in constant competitions to buy out Sam's stock and has scarcely managed to one-up him--so the fact that Crowley does buy out Sam during an event is meaningful and speaks to how much of the school's money he is throwing to save it. He also tells Sam to bill the school for the cost of the fairy dust in Fairy Gala.

Both times, Crowley complains about how he would rather not spend money, but he does so anyway. This in of itself does NOT prove that NRC is in need of money, this is just proof of Crowley's cheapness. (We see many other examples of this greed and stinginess of his; he guilts Yuu for spending money on them, constantly tries to get free food and souvenirs from his students, and cuts costs for Halloween candy.) If NRC were truly hurting financially though, then they would not be able to throw lavish events or donate back to the community, both of which still happen multiple times. For example, NRC holds a huge Halloween event every year in which they open their campus to outsiders. This event is entirely free and involves a budget large enough for each dorm to create intricate decorations and costumes for 800ish students. There is also enough money to throw a celebration party for the students at the end of it—and let’s remember, NRC has the money to afford five star ghost chefs to regularly cater, serve in the cafeteria, AND teach their Culinary Crucibles/Master Chef courses.

While explaining the nature of the Halloween events, Crewel cites that NRC has survived this long in part due to the "While explaining the nature of the Halloween events, Crewel cites that NRC has survived this long in part due to the "understanding, cooperation, and subsistence of Sage's Island locals." This implies that the immediate community on the island also supports NRC in some ways. Perhaps it isn't financially, but it's clear that NRC still has social capital and a good reputation in spite of its losses to RSA.

In Port Fest, Crowley states that setup, food supplies, and all other expenses will be covered by the school. Half of the proceeds will then be donated to charity and the other half will be granted to the students to celebrate their hard work. Again, would NRC be giving away this money if they really needed it for the institution itself? They're not obligated to give money to the students, yet Crowley easily agreed when Azul asked for an incentive.

And let's not forget the school cultural festival, which was largely open for the public to attend. If they choose to spend on additional things (such as food and drink or VDC tickets, which are a "hot commodity"), that's on the individual. The school itself is hosting the event for free.

Yuu is offered a large sum of money (if the NRC tribe wins VDC)... and Ramshackle renovations (from Crowley) in book 5 in exchange for letting the boys host their training camp in their dorm. Look at how old and run-down Ramshackle is; there is no doubt that such repairs would be pretty expensive—but Crowley doesn't complain about the cost, he's not above bribing someone to make himself and his school look good.

Crowley caring about his reputation isn't new either, it's a pattern. We see him getting upset at NRC's loss in book 5 and lamenting bad publicity/being excited about good publicity in numerous events (Ghost Marriage, Wish Upon a Star, etc.) The school has been under his care for a long time, so naturally he will feel proud and/or slighted whenever NRC is involved.

This leads me to the conclusion that Crowley, the figurehead and headmaster of NRC, and his own personality quirks are being misconstrued as an indication that NRC is in a bad financial spot. His own fixation on triumphing over their rival school, acquiring and maintaining material goods for himself, and wanting positive attention do not reflect the state of the school. Notice how no one but Crowley whines about the financials and how while Crowley still complains about spending money, he has no qualms with spending lavishly himself on school events and holidays. This means NRC has money to spare, but Crowley is just stingy about how those funds are allocated.