#but all the lines i did in ms paint

[knifegremliin]

vampire catboygirl :3

[phantom-kiwi]

apex mains dot ms paint

[thedrotter]

re:kinder doodle dump part three !!! drawings with wildly different moods www they are more polished ans complete than my other doodles because. why not🥺!!!

[corvin-ito]

watching centipedes die to sporepuffs is funny

[mesmir-ized]

been playing through p2 and enjoying it ! have a tatsuyito :3

[lucalicatteart]

A character reference sheet sort of thing for the main character of the Poll Adventures, drawn more in my usual style (taking a picture of messy pencil sketches then coloring it digitally lol) rather than the cutesy ms paint style of the daily poll images .. there he is.. the adventure boy..

[cicadagaze]

when they. when they baby.

[lorillee]

im really normal about them <- lie

[dailyrothko]

No, the Popularity of Abstract Art is Not the Result of a CIA PsyOp

If you are unlucky enough to move around the internet these days and talk about art, you’ll find that many “First commenters” will hit you with what they see as some hard truth about your taste in art. Comments usually start with how modern art is “money laundering” always comically misunderstanding what that means. What they are saying is that, of course, rich people use investments as tax shelters and things like expensive antiques and art appraised at high prices to increase their net worth. Oh my god, I’ve been red-pilled. The rich getting richer? I have never heard of such a thing.

What is conveniently left out of this type of comment is that the same valuation and financial shenanigans occur with baseball cards, wine, vacation homes, guitars, and dozens of other things. It does indeed happen with art, but even the kind that the most conservative internet curator can appreciate. After all, Rembrandts are worth money too, you just don’t see many because he’s not making any more of them. The only appropriate response to these people who are, almost inevitably themselves, the worst artists you have ever seen, is silence. It would cruel to ask about their own art because there’s a danger they might actually enjoy such a truly novel experience.

When you are done shaking your head that you just subjected yourself to an argument about the venality of poor artists plotting to make their work valuable after they died, you can certainly then enjoy the accompanying felicity of the revelation they have saved to knock you off your feet: “Abstract art is a CIA PsyOp”

Here one must get ready either to type a lot or to simply say “Except factually” and go along your merry, abstract-art-loving way. But what are the facts? Unsurprisingly with things involving US government covert operations, the facts are not so clear.

Like everything on the internet, you are unlikely to find factual roots to the arguments about government conspiracies and modern art. The mere idea of it is enough to bring blossom for the “I’m not a sheep” crowd, some of whom believe that a gold toilet owning former president is a morally good, honest hard-working man of the people.

The roots of this contention come from a 1973 article in Artforum magazine, where art critic Max Kozloff wrote about post-war American painting in the context of the Cold War, centering around Irving Sandler’s book, The Triumph of American Painting (1970). Kozloff takes on more than just abstract expressionism in his article but condemns the “Self-congratulatory mood”of Sandler’s book and goes on to suggest the rise of abstract expressionism was a “Benevolent form of propaganda”. Kozoloff treads a difficult line here, asserting that abstraction was genuinely important to American art but that its luminaries, “have acquired their present blue-chip status partly through elements in their work that affirm our most recognizable norms and mores.”

While there were rumblings of agreements around Kozloff’s article of broad concerns, it did not give birth to an actual conspiracy theory at the time. The real public apprehension of this idea seems to mostly come from articles written by historian Frances Stonor Saunders in support of her book, “The Cultural Cold War: The CIA and the World of Arts and Letters” (New York, New Press, 2000). (I have not read this 525 page book, only excerpts).

The gist of Ms. Saunders argument is a tantalizing, but mostly unsupported, labyrinthine maze of back door funding and novelistic cloak and dagger deals. According to Saunders, the Congress for Cultural Freedom (CCF), an anti-communist cultural organization founded in 1950, was behind the promotion of Abstract art as part of their effort to be opinion makers in the war against communism. In 1966 it was revealed that the CCF was funded by the CIA. Saunders says that the CCF financed a litany of art exhibitions including “The New American Painting” which toured Europe in the late 1950s. Some of this is true, but it’s difficult, if not impossible, to know the specifics.

Noted expert in abstract-expressionism, David Anfam said CIA presence was real. It was “a well-documented fact” that the CIA co-opted Abstract Expressionism in their propaganda war against Russia. “Even The New American Painting [exhibition] had some CIA funding behind it,” he says. But the reasons for this are not quite what the abstract art detractors might be looking for. After all, the CCF also funded the travel expenses for the Boston Symphony Orchestra and promoted Fodor’s travel guides. More than trying to pull the wool over anyone’s eyes, it was meant to showcase the freedom artists in the US. enjoyed. Or as Anfam goes on to say, “It’s a very shrewd and cynical strategy, because it showed that you could do whatever you liked in America.”

For what it’s worth, Saunders’s book was eviscerated in the Summer 2000 issue of Art Forum at the time of its publication. Robert Simon wrote:

“Saunders draws extensively on primary and secondary sources, focusing on the convoluted money trail as it twists through dummy corporations, front men, anonymous donors, and phony fund-raising events aimed at filling the CCF’s coffers. She makes lengthy forays into such topics as McCarthyism, the formation and operation of the CIA, the propaganda work of the Hollywood film industry, and New York cultural politics—from Partisan Review to MoMA to Abstract Expressionism. Yet what seems strangely absent from Saunders’s panoramic history, as if it were a minor detail or something too obvious to require discussion, is the cultural object itself: The complex specifics of the texts, exhibitions, intellectual gatherings, paintings, and performances of the culture war are largely left out of the story.”

Another problem with the book seems to be that Saunders is an historian but not an art historian. For me, I sensed an overtone of superiority in the tale she’s spinning and most assuredly from those that repeat its conclusion. The thinly veiled message of some is that if it were “Real art” it would not have had be part of this government subterfuge. The reality is very different. For one thing, most of us know it is simply not true that you can make people devoted to a type of art for 100 years that they would sensibly hate otherwise. Another issue is that it’s quite obvious none of the artists actually knew about any government interference if there was any. Pollock, Rothko, Gottlieb and Newmann were all either communists or anarchists. Hardly the group one would recruit the help the US government free the world of communism. Additionally, this narrow cold war timeline ignores a huge amount of abstract art that Jackson Pollock haters also revile and consider part of the same hijacking of high (Frankly, Greek, Roman, or Renaissance) culture. If you look at the highly abstract signature work of Piet Mondrian and observe the dates they were painted, you’ll see 1908, 1914, 1916. This is some of the art denigrated as a CIA PsyOP, 35 years before the CIA even thought about it. Modern art didn’t come from nowhere as many would have you believe to discredit its rise. There was Surrealism, Dada, Bauhaus, Russian futurism and a host of other movements that fueled it.

Generally, people like to argue. On the internet, “I don’t like this” is a weak statement that always must be replaced by “This is garbage” or my favorite, “This is fake.”

It’s hardly surprising that the more conservative factions of our society look for any government involvement in our lives to explain why things are not exactly as they wish them to be, given the (highly ironic) conservative government-blaming that blew up after Reagan. In addition, modern fascists have always had a love affair with the classical fantasy of Greece and Rome. Both Mussolini and Hitler used Greece and Rome as “Distant models” to address their uncertain national identity. The Nazis confiscated more than 5,000 works in German museums, presenting 650 of them in the Entartete Kunst (Degenerate Art, 1937) show to demonstrate the perverted nature of modern art. It featured artists including Marc Chagall, Max Ernst, Wassily Kandinsky, and Paul Klee, among others. The fear of art was real. It was the fear of ideas.

To a lot of people on the internet just the mentioning a “CIA program” is enough to get the cogs turning, but as with many things, the reality of CIA programs and government plots is often less than evidence of well planned coup.

The CIA reportedly spent 20 millions dollars on Operation Acoustic Kitty which intended to use cats to spy on the Kremlin and Soviet embassies. Microphones were planted on cats and plans were set in motion to get the cats to surreptitiously record important conversations. However, the CIA soon discovered that they were cats and not agreeable to any kind of regulation of their behavior.

As part of Operation Mongoose the CIA planned to undermine Castro's public image by putting thallium salts in his shoes, which would cause his beard to fall out, while he was on a trip outside Cuba. He was expected to leave his shoes outside his hotel room to be polished, at which point the salts would be administered. The plan was abandoned because Castro canceled the trip.

Regardless of your feelings on this subject or how much you believe abstract art benefited from government dollars, Saunders herself quotes in her book a CIA officer apparently involved in these “Long leash” influence operations. He says, “We wanted to unite all the people who were writers, who were musicians, who were artists, to demonstrate that the West and the United States was devoted to freedom of expression and to intellectual achievement, without any rigid barriers as to what you must write, and what you must say, and what you must do.” Hardly the Illuminati plot we were promised.

In 2016, Irving Sandler, author of the book that started Kozloff tirading in 1973, told Alastair Sooke of The Daily Telegraph, “There was absolutely no involvement of any government agency. I haven’t seen a single fact that indicates there was this kind of collusion. Surely, by now, something – anything – would have emerged. And isn’t it interesting that the federal government at the time considered Abstract Expressionism a Communist plot to undermine American society?”

This blog post contains information and quotes sourced from The Piper Played to Us All: Orchestrating the Cultural Cold War in the USA, Europe, and Latin America, Russell H. Bartley International Journal of Politics, Culture, and Society, Vol. 14, No. 3 (Spring, 2001), pp. 571-619 (49 pages) https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20161004-was-modern-art-a-weapon-of-the-cia https://brill.com/view/journals/fasc/8/2/article-p127_127.xml?language=en https://www.guggenheim-bilbao.eus/en/learn/schools/teachers-guides/the-dark-side-of-classicism https://www.artforum.com/features/american-painting-during-the-cold-war-212902/ https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/modern-art-was-cia-weapon-1578808.html https://www.artforum.com/columns/frances-stonor-saunders-162391/ https://www.artforum.com/features/abstract-expressionism-weapon-of-the-cold-war-214234/ Mark Rothko and the Development of American Modernism 1938-1948 Jonathan Harris, Oxford Art Journal, Vol. 11, No. 1 (1988), pp. 40-50 (11 pages)

[elodieunderglass]

The notion of Scary Go Round being adjacent to Homestuck...I think you shifted my reality.

(In reference to this post / my tags)

Ok not to sound totally old-fashioned but this was not in a thematic way or anything!

Back in the day I used to like Dinosaur Comics. At the time, I would read webcomics by sitting at a computer in the morning and checking the ones I kept up with, like a newspaper. I regularly read Dinosaur Comics (updated daily i think?), XKCD, Gunnerkrigg Court, Scary Go Round, Questionable Content, and that sort of thing. Sometimes there’d be updates to other ones I liked, like Buttercup Festival or Hark! a Vagrant. It would take ten minutes, and that was Morning Computer Time.

At the time webcomic artists all knew each other, and the old-fashioned desktop computer browsing design meant that you were looking at them on a big screen, which meant the sidebars were visible. The sidebars would contain links to all of their friends’ comics or recommended comics. There would only ever be like 20 links max. so every day you would read Dinosaur Comics and could, from there, click the sidebar in the left to get to the creator’s own favorite comics. Dinosaur Comics was a good day’s starting point since it linked directly to pretty much all the webcomics I listed above.

(I’m sorry if I’m over explaining or under explaining this.)

(This was before social-media-ized internet was popular, and this was just how you read stuff.)

There was also something TopatoCo / a guy called Jeff who had his own webcomic that I read sometimes, but more importantly he was a central point that sold merchandise for a bunch of these comics, and I bought a Jonathan Colton t-shirt from him. He sold a line of Problem Sleuth/MS Paint adventures stuff and I remember this coming up suddenly in advertising newsletters I got I think. problem sleuth went from 0 to 60 very quickly, but I never really understood it.

Anyway, MS Paint adventures was linked in the sidebar of a lot of these comics!! The people in these circles really hyped it up. and I did read Problem Sleuth, dutifully, but it bored me. Then the same guy started posting his next work, Homestuck. I read the first few pages as they came out and then stopped clicking it. It just wasn’t for me.

So it isn’t so much about them being adjacent in any way apart from Ryan North, the guy who ran Dinosaur Comics, having a sidebar on his website labelled something like “the girls” with his recommendations for other things you might like, like Scary Go Round - XKCD - MS Paint adventures.

And I was literally there dutifully looking at the first page of homestuck before all the homestucks read it, admittedly going “oh nah this ain’t it”, but, like. I was there. I was standing next to the impact crater.

Like every day I would check on my friend T Rex and look directly at a link that led to the homestuck website and check on my friend Buttercup Festival instead. Then I would turn off the computer and be done with computer for the day.

It’s very weird to realise that this is not how people use the internet any more.

[m1d-45]

for all to see

summary: fontaine’s court of law is questionable on a good day. on a bad day? well…

word count: ~1.2k

-> warnings: you die, blood mention, spoilers for fontaine archon quest (only names of things), potentially ooc neuvillette(?)

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

despite being the nation of justice, fontaine was not known for its fairness.

trials took place in opera houses, the prosecution focused not on proving their claim, but to put on a show. the citizens didn’t care for the outcome if it wasn’t amusing, the archon known for throwing fits if things were too boring. to survive was to be entertaining, painting as many coats of shimmering blue over your soul until it was shiny enough to go outside.

obtuse laws hid around every corner. no floating objects for the first three days of each month. no fonta was to be brought into any government buildings, unless the date was a prime number, in which case it could be any flavor but strawberry. mechanical pens had long since been invented, but had to be classed as a meka, which required a permit that far outweighed the price of the pen itself.

nothing made sense. even neuvilette, as well versed in the law as he was, did not understand the reasoning behind most of these rules.

however, there was one that he backed entirely, the very first law ever established in fontaine—arguably in teyvat as a whole, the very notion of such a crime pulling disgust regardless of origin.

‘Any person or persons found to be impersonating the divine creator, with the exceptions of roles within an opera or other such performance, shall be punished with the full extent of the law, up to and including the death penalty.’

“defendant, do you have any evidence to refute ms furina’s claims?”

you said nothing, staring down at your hands. you’d stopped pulling at the cuffs that bound you to the railing, leaving you still as stone. your entire appearance was disheveled, a result of the nearly year’s long hunt for you. part of him felt pity, but he quickly dismissed it. you deserved this—provided you didn’t, somehow, have evidence to the contrary…

you looked up, overgrown hair falling into tired eyes. you were dirty, dark crusts of blood lining hairline scratches all over your face and arms. you didn’t say a word, but he found himself avoiding your sharp gaze quickly, inspecting your wrists instead. raw, angry, the metal cuffs unkind.

“if you wish to think, say so. if your silence continues, i will be forced to move on.”

you looked back down to the banister wordlessly, the crowd murmuring at your silence. he ignored them.

“we now turn to the oratrice mecanique d'analyse cardinale to render the final verdict on the charges.”

the oratrice clicked and clunked, gears spinning and meshing as the machine drew its conclusion. blue faith filled the tubes within the walls, collecting, then were pulled back in relative quiet. now would be when the scales would return to normal, but he hadn’t heard them tilt at all during the trial… he pushed aside that train of thought once again. he was getting distracted too easily considering the importance of this trial.

he picked up the verdict from the oratrice, addressing the crowd. “according to the judgement of the oratrice mechanique d’analyse cardinale, the defendant is…” his breath skips as he opened the small folder, something in his chest twisting violently. “…innocent?”

how?

furina sat up in a hurry, the audience clamoring for reasoning, but he barely hears anything. if the oratrice itself declared you innocent, then…

behind furina, his god also stands, cold eyes staring into the crowd. “calm down, everyone. it’s clear this fraud has simply tampered with the oratrice.” your head snapped up as neuvillette closed the pages from the oratrice, sending it back down the chute.

“my god, i can personally assure you that the defendant has not had the opportunity to-“

“silence.”

he bowed his head when they turned to him, mouth dry. something was off about the situation, but what?

“since we clearly have all the evidence in front of us, i think we can safely override the oratrice’s rule.”

“divine one, in fontaine law it clearly states that the oratrice-“

“and i’ve stated that it can be overruled. which is more important, fontaine’s laws or divine laws?” he couldn’t speak. “clorinde, my bow.”

he watched as clorinde produced a bow, as quiet as the crowd below. nobody could say a word—the death penalty hadn’t been imposed in fontaine for years… but this was a special case..

black steel arrows reflected light into his eyes as the creator pointed them at you, his heart thundering. the air was always polluted in fontaine, but it felt twice as oppressive now.

“chief justice. i can’t get a clean shot.”

neuvillette bowed once more, feeling cold. he weaved through the private hallways of the opera house, making his way to the defendant’s balcony.

he didn’t even know your name. you’d refused to give it- refused to say anything, really. how his god had arrived at this verdict was beyond him… but he could not overrule the divine. he opened the door to the balcony, uncertainly stepping to your side.

this was wrong. he could hear it begin to rain, water pattering against the windows, but all he could tangibly feel was confusion. he knew something was wrong, but what?

he lifted his hand but you beat him to it, lifting your head as you turned to face him. “step back,” you mumbled, and he found himself obeying in the split second before the arrow struck. bright blue blood flew into the air, landing right where he would have been.

you didn’t want him to get blood on his clothing.

the rain picked up, lightning striking close and shaking the floor beneath him. the whole house gasped, all eyes turned to you as you collapsed. he couldn’t look away, not when he heard the sound of a sword—clorinde’s, likely, furina was never one for a fight—or the shouts of the gardes. he was paralyzed, watching blue spread out beneath you, reaching the edge of the balcony and beginning to drip.

he’d known. he’d felt it. and yet he was powerless to stop your death, the one he- the one they all perceived as divine pinning down teyvat. he should have known from the moment they overruled the oratrice, should have seen the blue tint to your scratches, should have asked for more evidence before- before—

rain came down in hails, his hands shaking as he stared at the injustice before him.

[tgcg]

ms paint. you know her. u used her age 8 to make loads of rainbow ovals all over the canvas and then scramble it with selection tool. now u will know her true powers with my handyrandy tips under the readmore. some will be pretty basic and others are very special.

this post has 8 cool trix to learn for you. enjoy and i may do another in the future if i remember/learn more stuff

some of it might be common knowledge. but its got some deep cuts. all tips have gifs to show process easily.

🙂 enjoy and i hope this encourages you to fuck around in mspaint more

soundtrack for this post (loop it while you learn for advanced learning experience)

TIP 1) the right click trick

left and right mouse click correspond to col1 and col2 respectively, which u can see in the top bar. this applies to all brushes and the fill tool like above. when using shapes col2 will be the fill colour (if you have solid fill selected). right clicking with shape maker will reverse the colours use on the shape.

TIP 2) right click eraser

this one is extremely helpful for lineart or add shading. the eraser always uses col2. so your eraser can technically be any colour. but here's where you get powers: right clicking with eraser will only erase onto col1, with col2.

TIP 3) transparent selection change a guy destination

the beloved transparent selection tool works based on what is selected as col2. so long as you have the correct colour as col2 you can make any image transparent and put it on top of anything else. and yes this works with photo bg as you can see.

TIP 4) the gradience

this one is a little more complex. you want to start off with any canvas size, and make as many diagonal coloured bands as you want. (protip: holding down shift makes a perfectly diagonal line with line tool)

then you need to resize the canvas to a width of 1px (make sure you resize by pixels, and do not maintain aspect ratio). then resize again back to its original width (or a different width i cant stop you). you will have your lovely gradience.

TIP 5) superimposter

so. you got a cool gradient and wanna put a guy on it. heres what i do:

i open a 2nd mspaint with same canvas size and draw whatever i want on there. i then pick a completely unrelated colour to my entire piece, and set that as the bg. you could use white, pink, geen, whatever you want as long as it doesnt appear somewhere else in ur drawing. copy the guy.

go back to your gradient tab. ensure that col2 is set as that bg colour you picked (lilac for me). have "transparent selection" enabled. paste your guy in. cue fanfare

TIP 6) advanced superimposter

the great thing about this method is u can put multiple gradients in multiple areas of the image. this is where it gets all japanese printmaking type of shit. ukiyo-esque

all you need to do is make another canvas with a new gradient, ensure col2 is set as the colour you want to replace, then paste your original piece onto the new gradient. now my guy has a soft fade. you can do this as much as you want. (you could even make a canvas with a texture or photo and paste your drawing onto there)

TIP 7) "sketch layer"

so as you now know, col2 is what is removed when you click "transparent selection". which means you can also remove any instance of a colour from ur drawing. which means you can have a unique colour for sketch layer and remove it from the drawing later. i admittedly dont do this but it is a great trick to have.

now combine this with lowering your dpi for smoother lines. may seem obvious but it helps. its like a free stabiliser whenever u want.

TIP 8) rainbow art

now this is where you can get dizzee rascal "bonkers". check out my small and shitty rainbow trick. you can select anything and hold down shift, then drag with left mouse, to turn that selection into its own brush. i even did it with a guy. and you can of course do this with a photo as well.

🙂well that it for now. hope you liked it thanks for reading now back to your regularly scheduled tgcg programming

[strvngeweather]

It's All Greek to Me; a one shot.

🕮 PAIRING: collegetutor!jimin x partygirl!reader 🕮 GENRE: College AU, smut 🕮 WORD COUNT: 4.8k 🕮 WARNINGS: Smut, Smut, Smut 🕮 SUMMARY: After failing your college classes, you need a tutor. But if tutor, why so damn hot? 🕮 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally going to be a full-length fanfic, but I decided to make it a short one. I still may expand on it. Let me know what you guys think. Also, my bestie gave me the idea when she said, "Jimin look like he likes ass." LMAO.

Despite your hatred for hangovers, you always ended up with one.

Today was no exception. As the resident party girl at Loren University, there was no way you would ever miss a weekend rager, but as your alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning, you began cursing at yourself. Maybe going to a party on a Sunday night wasn’t a good idea.

Scheduling a tutoring session at eight in the morning was an even worse idea.

You had many strong suits, but English wasn’t one of them. It was the one subject you had struggled with since you were in high school. Analyzing the words of dead white men from centuries ago was just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Numbers were much more your thing. They were easy and in the words of Cady Heron, ‘Math was the same in every language.’

But you needed to pass. It’s not as if you were here on your parents’ dime like the other kids. You were a scholarship kid and if your grades slipped, so did you. Out the doors and on your ass. So, when you got your last paper back with a big fat ‘D’ written on it, you knew it was time to take action. And that meant getting a tutor.

You just happened to forget that today, on this bright and early morning, with a pounding headache and dry mouth, you were supposed to be meeting him.

Again, you ask, who the fuck schedules a tutoring session at eight in the morning?

With a groan, you grab your phone, hoping to hit the ‘snooze’ button on your alarm one more time before you really had to get up but when your eyes read the time you realize that it’s damn near eight-thirty. How many times have you hit the snooze button? You wonder but realize you’re only wasting more time. Without a second thought, you hop out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and running a comb through your curly hair. Your make-up is smudged, and you still have on the shimmering dress from last night but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You grab a hoodie off your desk chair and hightail it to the school’s library.

.

Inside study room 007, you find a very annoyed, albeit very handsome senior waiting at the table. Laid out in front of him are a stack of books, notebooks, and flash cards. Pens and pencils are lined up neatly in a row. He all but glares at you as enter. Before you can speak, he glances at his watch and then looks back at you. “You’re late.”

“I know,” you say, out of breath. “I got caught up …” you scramble, trying to think of a lie instead of admitting you had spent the night throwing ass to Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B but your folder of excuses in the very back of your brain shows up empty. That might be for the best, you realize as you look over your tutor.

“Partying?” He finishes the sentence for you. His eyes rake over you in judgment. “Maybe that’s why you’re failing English.”

Now wait a damn minute. You scoff, crossing your arms. Your brain is foggy, you desperately need a glass of water – and, not to mention, your skin feels beyond icky. The last thing you can do right now is come up with a proper comeback so the only thing you manage to utter is, “Or maybe English is just hard.”

“You speak it every day, how hard could it be?”

“Whatever,” you say, sitting down across from him.  “Can we just … start?”

Jimin checks his watch again. “We might as well. We’ve got thirty minutes left. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I thought I had you for an hour.”

“Yes, and you were late so that hour has turned into thirty minutes. I’ve got things to do, Ms. L/N. I can’t wait around for you all day,” he replies, picking up a black ballpoint pen. “Let’s get started.”

“I’d much prefer it if you called me, Y/N,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re Jimin, correct?”

He nods curtly. “Alright, Ms. L/N, your form said you have an upcoming paper that focuses on the themes from Nella Larsen’s Passing. What part of the story are you at?”

You roll your eyes but choose not to correct him about your name and instead just answer his question. “I’m not on any part.”

His eyes brighten. “You mean you’ve already finished? Well, great, let’s jump right into discussion –”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not on any part because I haven’t started the book.”

Jimin looks at you as if you grew another head. “Your essay for the book is due next week. The book is less than two hundred pages. What do you mean you haven’t started yet?”

You shrug. “I figured since it’s such a short book I could probably finish it and write the essay in the same day.”

“And what day were you planning on doing that since our study session is right now?”

That day was last night but as you both knew you had gotten caught up with … other things. “I guess I figured we’d start the book together and I’d just get the essay done next week.”

Jimin sighs. “Ms. L/N, whatever you manage to vomit onto paper will not bring your grade up in the slightest if you follow your method. I guarantee that.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes – again. “That’s what you’re here for. You’re my tutor so tutor me in the right direction.” Jimin studies you for a moment and then he begins carefully putting his things away into his messenger bag.  “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Ms. L/N, you can reach out to me once you’ve read the book but until then, we have nothing to discuss. I only meet with students who are serious about their education,” he places his bag over his shoulder and nods toward you. “Have a good day.”

“Um, hello! You can’t just leave,” you say, getting out of your chair.

“I can and I am,” Jimin replies, and with that, he walks out of the study room. You begin to follow him but decide against it. What good would that do? He was rude and had judged you from the moment you walked in the door. You didn’t need a tutor like that.

You decided you were going to go to the campus café, buy a large coffee, and then go home to take a much-needed shower.

. . . .

“He was a jerk,” you tell your best friend, Winter, taking a long sip of your mango-pineapple smoothie. “He left right in the middle of our session.”

Every Tuesday was the same. A morning class and then a lunch date with your bestie, Winter, at your favorite smoothie place about twenty minutes away from campus.

She shakes her head but not at him. “Y/N, I love you, but you were late. You didn’t read the material, and you had the nerve to have an attitude. I would have walked out on you too.”

Harsh but it was the truth. You weren’t quite ready to admit that you were somewhat at fault too. “Okay, but I’m saying, he didn’t have to be rude about it though.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He would be fine as hell if he wasn’t so rude,” you answer honestly.

She shakes her head, amused. “What did you end up getting on your essay anyway?”

After the last encounter with Jimin, you decided you’d find another tutor, but in the meantime, you were going to stick with your tried and true. You did exactly what you had told Jimin you would do. You read most of the book in one evening and managed to type up a paper in the same night, confident that you had aced it. But when you looked online, checking your grade, you realized Jimin had been right. Regardless, you weren’t going back to him.

You sigh. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Winter replies. “Because if Jimin is right, then I think you should give him a call.”

“Jimin Parker?”

You and Winter look up to see Jennie Kim hovering above you. Her freshly dyed blonde hair cascaded in waves down her slender face. You may have been the resident party girl, but Jen was the resident party queen.

“Hey Jen,” you say, motioning for her to take a seat. “Yeah, Jimin Parker. You know him?”

She sits between you and Winter. “You mean that gorgeous senior? Ugh, I had him as a tutor last semester.”

“How’d he do?” Winter says, giving you a knowing look.

You lean forward. Jennie was known for many things but having good grades was not one of them. In fact, you wondered how she managed to make it this far without being kicked out. But, if Jimin could manage to get her grades up, then he truly was a miracle worker.

“Amazing,” Jen gushes. “I got an A on my last three papers. I wanted him again this semester but apparently, he’s all booked up.”

You groan as Winter gives you another look. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial Jimin. “Hello?” You reply as he answers. “Hi, yeah, Jimin, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if we could set up a session …”

…

For his sake (and mostly yours) you schedule an afternoon session and this time, you show up prepared. When he arrives, he’s shocked to see you already in the study room.

“Good afternoon,” he says, rounding the table to sit across from you. You get a whiff of his cedarwood cologne. “I see you’re on time.”

“I’m early,” you correct him. “You’re on time.”

“That I am,” he says, taking a seat. You watch him closely as he carefully takes out various pens and pencils, notebooks, and flashcards. He really is handsome, you think, even if he is an ass. “I see we’re studying Oedipus Rex by Sophocles?”

You nod your head. “I read it. I don’t understand it.”

“What exactly don’t you understand?”

“Not a single word in that book. They might as well be speaking Greek.”

He sighs. “Well, it is a Greek book.”

“Clearly,” you reply. “So where do we start?”

“I guess at the beginning.”

. . . .

Things were going smoothly. You found yourself actually understanding the material and surprisingly, enjoying it. But you also found yourself getting lost in Jimin at times. The more time you spent with him, the more you developed a crush. Your mind would wander as your eyes looked over him. You wondered how soft his full lips were. You wondered what his eyes looked like in moments of passion. You wondered how good it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms.

Your eyes were on his arms when he called your name. “Huh?”

“I asked did you want to go over the scene between Antigone and Polynices again?”

You shake your head. “No, I think I understand. Antigone wants him to call off the war, but Polynices’ pride won’t let him.”

“Correct,” Jimin replies with a smile.

Fuck, you think. Jimin had a smile that would make anyone melt. “Jimin,” you begin and mentally kick yourself for what you’re about to ask but you’ve started so you might as well finish. You put on your best flirtatious smile. “What do I get if I ace my next paper?”

He seems to know what you’re hinting at. “You get an A and the satisfaction of knowing your hard work paid off.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blaring rejection, you don’t know what is. “Do you have a girlfriend?” You blurt it out before your brain can even process whether the question was appropriate or not.

He blinks, slightly taken aback. “Yes, yes, I do. Why?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you feel as if you’ve just gotten stung by a million honeybees. “No reason. You just seem so into your academics; I didn’t think you had time for that kind of stuff.”

“Well, a human being still needs a social life to thrive,” he replies coolly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nod. “Yes, and his name is Jose Cuervo.”

He laughs. “I’m sure you have a line of men knocking on your door.”

“Nobody I want though,” you say, mostly to yourself.

. . . .

If crushing on him wasn’t enough, now you were dreaming about him. A week of erotic dreams plagued you. They felt so real. You could smell his signature cologne as he pushed in and out of you, your legs on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around your thick thighs. Each dream ended the same though, just as he was about to finish, your alarm would wake you up and you would spend a good five minutes finishing yourself off before getting ready for the day.

Instead of a study room at the library, Jimin asked you to meet him at his apartment for the study session. He mentioned something about time constraints, appointments, and being unable to book a study room but your brain had been stuck on, “Wanna meet me at my apartment? We can have a quick recap sesh before I have to run out?” He could barely finish his question before you agreed to it.

So, sue you for being curious.

It’s not like anything will happen, you thought as you parked, he has a girlfriend.  You arrived twenty minutes early. Your excitement had gotten the best of you and you knew how much Jimin liked it when you were on time. When you knocked on the door, a man almost as handsome as Jimin answered.

“You must be Y/N?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

You nodded, the thought of becoming a Wattpad heroine and having two incredibly attractive men fight over you danced around in your head. You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

As he let you in, he explained he had somewhere to be, but that Jimin was in his room and to head right in. You gave the door a light knock but didn’t receive an answer. The door was slightly ajar, giving you the smallest view of a very neat bedroom. You spotted Jimin at his desk, looking at something on his large computer monitor. It looked familiar. Your curiosity ate at you, forcing your hand to ever-so-gently open the door further. This time you could see what Jimin was looking at clearly.

It was you. It was your Instagram feed. He was scrolling through your pictures, pausing at every photo that was a bit risqué.

“Fuck, Y/N …”

That was your name. Leaving his lips. In a moan. Your heart fluttered with excitement. But wait, was he …

As you tilt your head to get a better view, you can see the tip of his elbow on the armrest, bobbing up and down. And up and down. And up and down.

Oh, he definitely was.

You slap a hand over your mouth and tiptoe back to the living room. A few minutes later, you hear a shower turn on and ten minutes after that, you see Jimin emerge in a navy blue V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hey,” Jimin looks at you with a face full of guilt. You can’t help but smile. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” you lie, looking up from your phone that you were pretending to be engrossed in. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Good, good,” he says. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The lighting is better in there.”

. . . .

After three weeks of hard work and several study sessions, you submit your paper with all the confidence of Scott Disick. Winter, the best friend that she is, decided that this was the best time to reward your good behavior with a couple of jello shots at your favorite bar. You gobble up the first two and then decide to sip on a blue Long Island iced tea. That’s when you spot him. Sitting in a corner, next to his roommate and another man with tattoos up and down his arms. Instead of his usual tweed blazer and grey slacks, his outfit looks more modern, more casual. A white graphic tee hugs his toned body, and you can’t help but eye his biceps. His cheeks are slightly red, his eyes are glossy and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him laugh. He looks delicious but you turn around and decide to order another shot from the bar.

You spot Winter getting her mack on with a fellow classmate, Karina, and it’s then you realize that you’re probably going to be alone for the rest of the night. Just as you begin to grab your wallet to pay your tab, a familiar figure approaches you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’s wearing a smile you’ve never seen before, and it makes your insides flutter.

“I could say the same thing,” you reply. “I never thought I’d see Jimin Park in a bar.”

“I don’t spend all my time in the library,” Jimin says.

“Could have fooled me,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you out among people?”

He orders a whiskey sour before turning to you. “I, Y/N L/N, am finally a single man. My girlfriend of two years has decided that she no longer wants me.”

He’s smiling but you can see sadness behind his glossy eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “Her loss.”

“Oh definitely,” he says with a slight slur. “You want to know the real reason she broke up with me?”

You shrug. “Lay it on me.”

He leans in close, so close his body is pressed up against yours. He angles his lips to your ear and whispers, “I was too much for her.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah,” his words spill out in a rush, his eyes darkening as they take you in. They pause at your mini-skirt before crawling up your body slowly. You suddenly feel exposed, as if he just completely undressed you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t love it. His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “You don’t seem like that though.”

“Seem like that?”

“Like I’d be too much for you.”

“In what way?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He leans toward you, his lips brushing past your ear, forcing every hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Sexual. You look like a good girl who knows how to take a pounding.”

A million thoughts ran through your head as Jimin broke out into a sardonic laugh. You were called back to that time you caught him masturbating to your pictures. You began to wonder if the prim and proper Jimin was just a façade to hide the sexual deviant he really was. His eyes look over you in a way they never have, and you swore they were clouded with lust. He licks his full lips, and you want nothing more than to kiss them, but you don’t. Instead, you take a step back and laugh, motioning to his roommate. Jimin was drunk and even though it looked like he wanted to bend you over the bar and give it to you, you knew better than to take advantage of a drunk man.

….

A week later, when you enter the study room, the moment you and Jimin exchange glances, you feel awkward. He looks embarrassed as he gestures for you to sit down.

“We need to talk,” he says. “I want to apologize about the other night at the bar.”

“It’s okay, I barely even gave it a second thought,” you lie. You had thought about that moment ever since it happened.

“No, it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Jimin, you were drunk, it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to see a different side to you,” you reassured him with a smile.

“That’s not a side that I would like to be representative of who I am,” Jimin admits. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who makes people uncomfortable.”

You laugh. “Believe me, I was the farthest thing from uncomfortable.”

He locks eyes with you for a moment before clearing his throat and motioning toward your phone. “Have you checked your grades yet?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering the paper you had submitted a week earlier. You quickly bring up your most recent webpage, searching for the most recent grade listing. As your eyes glance over your paper and the notes, you realize that Jimin lived up to his reputation. You get up, shoving the phone in his face, squealing.

His eyes brighten, and he gets up as well. “You got an A!”

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jimin, to your surprise, doesn’t push away. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. You take the moment to breathe in his intoxicating scent. The both of you remain intertwined far longer than you both know is appropriate but for some reason, neither one of you makes the move to let go.

Finally, Jimin relents first. He stares you in the face and says quietly, “I knew you could do it.”

You let out a small laugh. “I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Jimin”

“As a reward, we can end the session ten minutes early today,” Jimin replies and sits back down.

You find yourself shaking your head. “Can I request a different reward?”

Jimin looks up at you and nods. You look around the small study space. The room you chose was in the back, the library was relatively empty today and the small window the room provided was on the door and could easily be covered up the shade provided. You mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to say next. Things could go downhill, fast, depending on his reaction. Still, you steady yourself, look Jimin in the eyes and say, “I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“A kiss,” you repeat confidently. “I want you to kiss me as a reward.”

“I can’t kiss you,” he replies back, taking study materials out of his messenger bag. “That would be highly ina –”

“Jimin, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so but don’t use the tutor-student relationship as a reason.”

He sighs. “I …” You watch as he struggles to find the right words.

“You were right about me,” you say, giving him a flirtatious smirk. “At the bar. I can take a good pounding.”

His face turns a beet-red, but he quickly recovers. He stands, walking to stand in front of you. “Just one kiss?”

“One kiss,” you repeat.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for only a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “That good?”

You shake your head. “I hardly think that’s worth all the work I put in.”

He smiles, genuinely amused, and says, “Really?”

You nod. “Maybe if it was longer …”

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, if it’s longer, you know what that will lead to …”

“Then let it lead to that,” you challenge, you push. “I don’t know why you have to act so anal-retentive all the time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just k—”

He cuts you off with a deeper kiss. It’s slow and sensual. His hands wrap around your waist, one of them running down the curve of your ass as he palms it slowly, indulging in the fleshy softness. You can feel his dick hardening on your thigh as he slips a tongue into your mouth.

Jimin is using both hands to palm your ass now, his dick grinding into you and a low, deep, moan leaves his mouth forcing an electric sensation to shoot down your spine and vibrate in your core.

“You sure you want this?” he asks through a searing kiss.

“Yes,” you think you say but you’re not sure. Your head is spinning that this is actually happening.

He responds by lifting your pleated skirt and smacking your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. Fingertips dance between your ass crack, and he uses a knee to part your legs slightly further. You break the kiss, throwing your head back as you feel Jimin’s fingertips slowly rub your pussy from the back. He slips a finger into your underwear, running it up and down your slit.

“How long have you wanted this?” He asks, nipping at your neck. “You’re already so fucking wet.” You try to answer but all that comes out is a moan as he slips another finger inside. “Shh,” he tells you. “You want the whole library to hear you?”

He gives you a bit of a reprieve when his hands slip away. You watch as he pulls out one of the chairs and sits, beckoning for you to stand in front of him. Your skirt is still at your waist, so he pulls your underwear down before pulling you close. You feel his large hands grope your ass again, peppering kisses up and down your hips. Another smack echoes through the room before he uses a hand to caress clit. You move your hips in response, holding on to the table for balance.

He pauses. “Turn around and bend over.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You obey, and not a second later, you feel him placing one of your legs up on the study table. “Arch that back, baby.” Your ass juts out just a little more as you follow his directions. A moment later you feel a cool, wet, sensation going up and down the slit of your core. It’s slow at first, as if he’s taking the time to let the taste of you marinate on his tongue but he quickly picks up his pace. The tip of his tongue flickering over your clit. Meanwhile, you can feel his thumb, massaging your anus.

Jimin was an ass man, and he was making that very clear.

Both hands were gripping your ass now as he guided your pussy over his tongue. You work your hips in tandem, stifling a loud moan as your world begins to go white.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He moves his tongue from your pussy up to your anus, and you jerk, having never quite felt something like this before. You can hear an amused laugh leave Jimin’s throat as he begins to massage your ass with his tongue. His fingers working your pussy, begging for another orgasm. You oblige, your wetness dripping all over his fingertips.

“Don’t move,” he demands. You can hear his belt unbuckling, followed by the tips of his dick moving up and down your incredibly wet slit. He slides it in with the patience of a saint, excruciatingly slow, forcing whimpers out of you, begging him to go faster. “You sure you want it faster?”

“Please,” you moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jimin,” you manage to utter out.

He gives you your wish and begins to pound you like he said he would. His pace quickens and you can feel every inch of him inside of you. Your pussy wraps around him which causes him to smack your ass, and a deep moan leaves his lips.

You realize he can’t have all the fun though and you begin to throw it back on him, your ass bouncing against him, and he lets you. You can hear your wetness as you begin to drain his dick. You can hear his low grunts of satisfaction as you pick up your pace and when you look back, you can see his dark eyes looking at you in a way you never wanted to stop. “Good fucking girl,” he whispers in a low voice.

You make eye contact which forces him to grip your hips and pound into you harder, faster (stronger).  “One more time baby,” he says to you, maintaining eye contact. “Cum on this dick.” You had already been close, and his words only sent you over the edge further than you had ever gone. You close your eyes, your body shaking in pleasure as you have your third orgasm on his dick.

He follows suit, his cum shooting deep inside of you. You feel his body on top of yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Was that worth all your hard work?’ He asks.

“I think I’ll have to get A’s for the rest of the year,” you reply.

“The rest of your life.”

[thatfandomslut]

Social Pariahs

Janis Imi'ike x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Trigger Warning: shameless flirting, cringy pick up lines, two anarchists in love (sry not sry)

Request:

please do a Janis x reader where the reader is new at school and doesn’t want to get into the social pyramid and they are outcasts together idk some fluffy stuff

Mean Girls requests are open.

Janis Imi'ike would be lying if she wasn't enamored by the new girl. She was just so cool. For starters, the Plastics offered her a spot at their table, and she swiftly shot them down, opting for a seat by herself in the lunch room. Watching Regina's face fall as she tried to hide the shock with a scowl was honestly Janis's favorite thing to ever happen. Additionally, they shared three classes: chemistry, English, and, most importantly, art. That was how Janis learned how amazing the new girl was with a paintbrush as she finished an art assignment on the inner self.

"Ms. (L/n)," the teacher cleared his throat, analyzing the canvas. On it displayed the brain on fire. A worry line slowly appeared on the teacher's face before a forced smile fell on his lips as he put the canvas back onto the easel. "Would you like the pleasure of explaining your art as a way to also get to know everyone a bit better?"

It was obvious that (Y/n) didn't want to as she pondered for a moment. "Okay, yeah, sure." (Y/n) stood up, removing the smock that covered her clothes. Though, the paint did find its way to her hands, arms, and face. Janis watched intently, her chin resting on her fist. She knew that if Damian was there, she would be receiving the biggest side-eye in the entire world. Thankfully, within the four walls of the classroom, she was safe from his judgmental stare as she admired the girl from afar. "My name is (Y/n). My art on the inner self represents how I feel the school system is doing more harm than good by frying our brains as they mold us into the people they want us to be rather than the people we want to be." (Y/n) said, sitting back down as the teacher stared in shock.

After a moment, he cleared her throat as he looked around. The other students, with the exception of Janis, seemed to be just as shocked and in a brief moment of confusion. "Right, right… Thank you, (Y/n)." He said, feeling slightly resigned as he plopped back into his chair. He had the sudden realization that one, he didn't get paid enough for this shit, and two, she was going to be a brilliant artist one day using her political ideologies to guide her.

Janis stared brightly at the girl but quickly looked away when they made eye contact with each other. Janis didn't notice the girl approaching her work. It was a small version of her with Cady and Damian with music notes and horror movies stitched over her paint strokes. "Your work is really cool." (Y/n) said, startling Janis, who looked over. She was at a loss for words. She had so much she wanted to say but couldn't. She finally understood how Cady felt about Regina and Aaron. "Are they your friends? I've seen you with him, but who is she? Your girlfriend?" The girl inquired, pointing over at Cady.

"Cady? No, no. She is not my girlfriend. She's cool and all but not for me." Janis said, waving off the feeling of embarrassment that wanted to stain her cheeks a bright shade of red. There was a small hint of a smile on (Y/n)'s lips as she listened to Janis. "I- I notice you sit alone at lunch. Is there anyone I can convince you to sit with Damian and me?" Janis offered, a feeling of dread settling on her chest as she feared rejection.

However, the familiar blow never hit. "Yeah, sure, as long as you're not a part of whatever weird social pyramid scheme that the rest of the school seems to be in." She said as the bell rang. Grabbing her bag, (Y/n) offered Janis a wave that caused Janis to feel like she was floating momentarily. While Cady described the feeling she had for Regina and Aaron to make her feel 'stupid with love,' Janis felt confident. (Y/n) was so beautiful and they shared so many of the same ideas (though she only knew two of them). Janis couldn't help but find herself crushing on (Y/n).

At lunch the next day, (Y/n) showed up, standing behind Janis. "Excuse me, ma'am," Damian smirked over to Janis when (Y/n) began speaking. Janis went red as she looked behind her with a sheepish smile. "I might not be a photographer, but I could see us together." (Y/n) said playfully as she sat next to Regina. Once again, she had rendered the very outspoken Janis speechless. Damian could almost applaud the action teasingly, but he could see how nervous his best friend was. Mercy was Janis's friend that day, and Damian accepted that.

When Janis still said nothing, Damian stepped in to transfer the attention onto himself. "So, (Y/n), Janis tells me you're an amazing artist. Are you entering the art show with Janis?" He questioned, hoping the new conversation would help Janis ease herself out of the shell she had put herself in. "I heard there was potential scholarship money for the winner," Damian added, trying to recall everything that Janis had shared with him. Janis looked over at (Y/n), wondering if she was going to put her artwork in, too.

"Yeah, I was considering it. I was looking through the categories. I was thinking about doing a portrait, but anything I could create would never achieve what Janis's art does." She said, glancing over at Janis who perked up at the mention of the category. She wouldn't want to compete with (Y/n), but she was curious to see what she could paint. "But, there are several different sub-categories with different awards. I might do that so I could get a sense of the competition for next year. I like to scout the competition before entering my work so I know how hard I have to go."

Damian nodded thoughtfully, gently kicking Janis under the table so she would finally say something. "I think you should enter. Your work is amazing. Like the Brain on Fire piece? It was so amazing, and Mr. Callahan didn't even know what to say. You're are speaks volumes. I hope you do enter." Janis gushed unintentionally, hoping she wasn't rambling. Pink dust covered (Y/n)'s cheeks as she looked down in order to allow her hair to hide the blush and the smile that was growing on her face.

Finally, giving herself grace since she knew it was a natural reaction, she looked up at Janis. "Okay, I'll consider it. I am working on something new. I've been going to the art room every free period to work on it." She said thoughtfully at first as she grew more confident. "I think it could work. Mr. Callahan says it looks amazing so far. Though, I think he's scared of me." (Y/n) jested, causing Janis to laugh. Mr. Callahan did indeed keep his distance after (Y/n)'s response last class. "Wait until he finds out I'm a pyromaniac anarchist who loves putting fire and politics in my art to spread my messages." She said with a giant smirk. Janis didn't know she could fall more until that moment and the weeks that followed.

"Hello, may I have your attention please?" Principal Duvall's voice filled the halls just in time for morning announcements. Janis barely had it in her to pay attention since she was texting (Y/n). For about three weeks now, she had been flirting and trying to build the courage to ask (Y/n) on a date. "I want to first announce that there are two students we need to wish luck to. Miss Janis Imi'ike and Miss (Y/n) (L/n) are finalists at the Illinois Art Expo this Saturday. Go lions! Even for art." Principal Duvall said as Damian looked over at Janis cheering 'Art! Art! Art!' Janis could barely think for a moment as she went to text (Y/n), only to receive a congratulations message first.

At lunch, Janis was excited to see (Y/n) in person since the announcement. She was practically buzzing with excitement to ask if she wanted to go with her and Damian. So much so that Damian gently reminded her to calm down because she was shaking the table as her knee bounced in participation. "Hey, Damian," (Y/n) greeted as she sat beside Janis. "Hello, my fellow finalist." (Y/n) winked, nudging Janis softly with her elbow. There was a giant grin on her face, showing that she was just as excited as Janis was.

"Hey, congratulations on being a finalist. I knew that you would be. Quick question, by the way… Since Cady is going with her mom somewhere this weekend, there is enough room on Damian's hot ride. Do you want to come with us on Saturday?" Janis questioned as Damian instinctively smirked at the two. He did it every time one of them joined the other. "I promise it'll be a safe ride. If we hit a bump, I'll hold you close."

(Y/n) looked over at Janis, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "I know you would, babe. I want to say yes but my dad wants to take me." She said with a soft pout. But none of that mattered because Janis was stuck on the fact that (Y/n) had just called her babe. Janis smiled to herself as Damian looked over to see if she'd say something. "I definitely will find you when I get there. I want to see your work. I'm excited to see what you've done." (Y/n) put a hand on Janis's knee gently, and Janis's already red cheeks turned maroon as she smiled more.

That Saturday, the art expo was buzzing, and (Y/n) found herself waiting on Janis at the front while her father wandered through the building to look at the other artworks. "Hey, you," (Y/n) turned to see Janis and Damian riding in on a scooter. A laugh bubbled through her chest as she looked over at them with her brows raised. "Like our sweet ride?" Janis questioned as Damian went up the ramp to make his way over to them. Janis got off, wrapping her arms around (Y/n) as Damian parked the scooter by the bike rack, and put a bike security chain on it to make sure no one drove away with it.

"I love it," (Y/n) chuckled, allowing her arms to envelope Janis, too with a smile. Their cheeks were both burning, but neither broke the hug. "I definitely wasn't expecting it. I thought Damian would be coming in a car with the bass-boosting Nicki Minaj or Beyonce."

Damian gasped, pleased by how well (Y/n) knew him. "You know me too well." He wiped a fake tear away as he approached the two with a grin. He didn't want to interrupt their moment, but it was cold outside and he was ready to see the works that they had been talking up so much (even though neither one of them had seen it yet. "Let's go, lesbian, let's go." He gently gestured for them to go inside, causing them to hesitantly spill up and head inside as they headed for the North Shore High table.

On one side of the table was a group portrait of Cady, Damian, (Y/n), and Janis. "Wow, Janis," (Y/n) grinned widely. "This is freaking incredible." She had to resist her fingers tracing the string that was stitched into the canvas, over Janis's broad brushstrokes. She was constantly amazed by Janis's works and talents. "You won first place!" (Y/n) pointed over at the ribbon. As she looked back at Janis, she noticed the girl wasn't paying attention. Instead, Janis's focus was on (Y/n)'s work.

Nerves exploded in (Y/n)'s chest as she hoped Janis liked it. It was a portrait of Janis with poetry placed around her in calligraphy. Her jaw was dropped as she looked over at (Y/n). Before (Y/n) could say anything, Janis kissed her deeply. Her eyes widened before she kissed back, her hands moving to the back of Janis's neck to pull her closer. Damian looked around for a brief moment before slipping away to give them privacy. "I've never been captured like that before," Janis spoke in a hushed tone, smiling at (Y/n).

"Well, I've been trying to figure out how to ask you on a date since the day I first talked to you. I figured this might be the best icebreaker." (Y/n) said, pressing soft kissing to Janis's cheek. Janis grinned at the action, biting her lip. "I wanted to paint you because nothing makes me feel more passionate than when I think of you. You've encouraged me to go after what I love in art and you've helped me grow. Not only as an artist but as a person." (Y/n) expressed, her fingers intertwining their fingers gently. She was thankful that Janis felt the same since she was nervous about how the art would be perceived.

"I love it," Janis's breath was absolutely taken away by the art and over the fact she kissed (Y/n). "And, I like you, too. I thought you were cool before we officially met. But your Brain of Fire art piece is what made me fall for you. You were so cool and outspoken. I really like that about you. I just really like you." Janis shared with a soft smile. (Y/n) grinned at this before kissing Janis again. Happiness swelled through the two, and the Art Expo around them seemed to fade as they stayed in each other's arms for a couple more long moments.

As (Y/n) pulled away, she kissed Janis's cheek gently. "My dad is going to be looking for me at some point. I should go find him. I'll pick you up at six on Saturday?" She waited a moment for Janis to nod. (Y/n) grinned widely before waving back at Janis. She couldn't believe that they had finally kissed. She couldn't wait for their date. Everything felt like it was finally falling into place in her life, and she felt excited and lucky to experience that with Janis.

A voice broke her from her thoughts, causing her to turn around. "(Y/n), wait," Janis called, holding the canvas with (Y/n)'s work. (Y/n)'s brows rose as she looked at Janis. "Don't forget your artwork." She said, passing the canvas over.

(Y/n) shook her head, pushing it back into Janis's hands gently. "It's for you, Janis Imi'ike." She teased out Janis's last name as she winked back at the girl. "I'll see you later, babe." And just like that, she left Janis there with her heart beating quickly and a stupid grin on her lips because she called her babe.

[ratsonastick]

more bully clarisse?? (only if you can xx) :))

yes of course! I like switching some of this up so we are gonna do a Bully!ClarisselaRue x fem!ArtistReader

˖°𓇼⋆𖦹˖°𓇼⋆𖦹˖°𓇼⋆𖦹˖°𓇼⋆𖦹˖°𓇼⋆𖦹˖°𓇼⋆𖦹˖°𓇼⋆

You like art, you aren't crazy good at it but if someone told you to draw something pretty you could do it. And that's why you always found yourself signing up for classes, and over the summer at camp, you would sign up for the activities. 

You just liked that you could do something that people would praise you for. 

But others in your class didn't have that same mindset … such as Clarisse la Rue. She had to take this class because all the other extracurriculars were taken, and she was annoyed. 

The two of you didn’t get along, you didn’t mind her but she hated you for some reason, maybe it was your cheerful and quiet attitude, or how you always helped people. She just didn’t like it, she’d tell her teammates about her hatred whenever she saw you walk outside and past the field, one day she even took it to the lengths of throwing a softball at you, knocking your paint brushes onto the ground and shattering the new pottery cup you had made. 

Ever since that day, you tried to distance yourself, you hated her, but not to the lengths of trying to torture her every day like she did. 

So when your art teacher held the two of you back to talk you started to enterally groan. 

“The two of you need to stop whatever is going on.” Ms. Principe spoke leaning against the front of her desk, she was a short older woman, but she had so much passion for life. 

“I have no issue.” You answered but Clarisse spoke up “I do.” she answered truthfully, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Yeah and why do you?” You asked, turning to look at her with a questioning look, your arms slowly raising to cross over your chest. Clarisse looked at you and then rolled her eyes. 

 No matter what you could never figure out why she hated you so much, even going to the lengths of asking people who knew her well, they all just said things along the lines of “Maybe you made her jealous and upset” But how could you do that if you have never and talked to each other! 

“Okay that's enough … You two will sit next to each other until I see a mutual connection.” Ms. Principe Spoke, uncrossing her arms and walking to the other side of the desk, “Okay out.” She told the two of you, ignoring the complaints that rushed out of Clarisse. 

When the two of you made it outside Clarisse turned to you and nudged you “Don't speak to me ever.” And with that she walked away, meeting up with her friends on the other side of the hall. She smiled and laughed with them, and for a moment that smile seemed so familiar. 

The next day you walked back into the classroom, the scent of a candle that wasn't allowed to burn, and the slight breeze made your shoulders relax. Until you noticed Clarisse sitting right next to your spot, and then you remembered. You tried to sneak towards the back and hide in a different seat, but Ms. Principe caught you and guided you towards your usual seat. 

At Least Clarisse was nice enough to not sit in the seat you always tried to get to, you liked to keep up your pattern. 

Class continued and the two of them didn't talk nor even look at each other. Things were going okay, that is until she spilled water all over your painting. 

She tried to say it was an accident but I noticed her arm aggressively hit the cup. 

You spent the rest of class trying to fix it, and later that day you noticed things seemed strange. Your locker was destroyed pretty much on the inside, and your homework was taken and ripped. And the only person you could think of who could have done it was Clarisse. 

She did it because she was angry, and you knew it. 

When you saw her leaving practice, you walked up to her, trying to ignore the glances that everyone sent you. Then you stopped in front of her and her smile dropped, your arms crossing over your chest as you watched her sling her bag over her shoulder and grabbing her bat. 

“Why are you doing it?” you asked, starting to feel embarrassed “Doing what?” 

“Don't play dumb Clarisse. I know you have had it out for me, so just tell me why you hate me.” 

She let out a chuckle and shook her head “It's funny how you don't even remember.” She mumbled, pushing past you and continuing walking. You followed her, quick on her tail. “Then remind me!” you spoke sternly and she quickly whipped around walking closer to you, to which you quickly took a step back trying to create distance. 

“Last summer you were volunteering at the public library, you had never met me remember? And I liked you, I thought you were so cute with your stupid smile, we even talked and I thought you liked me back … but then one day some dick comes in and you are being all smitten with him.” She spoke, her finger raising to wave around in your face. 

You remembered, the day she came in to return a book, a smile on her face which made you smile back. 

You weren't even supposed to volunteer that day but the older lady called in sick and you were the replacement. 

You thought Clarisse was really pretty, she was on your mind for so long and you even told your friends about her! But then one day she just stopped showing up, and you slowly forgot about her. 

You stood in front of her for a moment, memories flashing in your brain and your heart slowly started to melt. You Remembered the boy, he was some kid trying to flirt with you and you just were completely uncomfortable, praying someone would save you. 

You snapped out of your thoughts when Clarisse scoffed and walked away, you wanted to run after her, but you didn't.

The next day you woke up in a sour mood. 

You knew who was going to be at school, and you didn’t want to see it … or her. 

But instead of hiding under the covers you went to school, and a day of nightmares began. It started on the bus when one of the Softball girls knocked their cup of coffee into your cup, laughing slightly as she walked away. Then when someone locked you in a bathroom stall. 

The list honestly just went on and on. It got to the point when at the end of the day instead of leaving like usual and walking past the fields you hid in the art room alone. 

Painting and crying every once in a while you sat there, the teacher had left so you were alone. But that's how you liked it. 

Clarisse on the other hand had finished Softball practice and was packing up her bags. She was the last to leave, but today she took longer to be curious as to where you were. 

She had told all her friends to make your day terrible so then you would run back to her. She knew it was wrong, that she even yelled at you and made it seem like she hated you, but in reality, she was just jealous and still wanted you to look like her the same way you did that Summer. 

 So she did what anyone would do and looked for you, she roamed the halls, checked the library, and anywhere else she saw you standing. 

Then she checked the art room and saw you, you looked just like the first time she saw you, the sun flowing through the windows and shining through your hair. Your cheek was red from resting your face against your fist. 

She thought for a moment if it would be a good idea to go into the room. She knew you were upset, but she was upset first! 

But before she could stop herself she opened the door and stepped inside, you raised your head and met her gaze, and Clarisse could've sworn her heart stopped. 

She closed the door quietly and walked closer to you, noticing how you went back to your artwork, it was the project she had spilled water all over and she felt a bit bad for it. 

“I like your art.’ 

“You ruined it, I hate it now.” You spoke in a voice that sounded clogged up from your snot tears. Clarisse sat down and she drummed her fingers on the table blowing out some air. 

“I still like it.” She mumbled and you rolled your eyes “Please leave.” 

Your voice pained her but she understood why, “I'm sorry.” She mumbled and you smacked your pencil harshly on the table and turned towards her. “For which part? Have your friends tortured me? Ruining all my art projects, Trashing everything I own?” 

You asked and Clarisse closed her eyes for a moment “For all of it.” 

It was silent for a moment. “I don't know why you hate me, all I did was talk to a kid I didn’t even want to,” you mumbled again scribbling on the corner of your project. 

“You didn’t like him?” Clarisse asked, her hair starting to fall from her ponytail “No.”

“Then who did you like?” 

You sighed “How dense are you, it was you of course.” you spoke with a huff, turning slightly away from her. But after a few seconds, you felt a hand on your shoulder turning you. 

“I liked you too… I guess I was jealous and just being stupid.” She spoke, her voice softer than you had ever heard it. “Really?” you teased, not stopping the smile that graced your face, and Clarisse almost started to stutter. “Look I’ll talk to the team, I’ll make it right.” 

You nodded your head licking your lips slightly, “And?” 

“And I’ll take you out tonight, pick you up and everything.” you nodded your head and smiled “Yeah yeah sure.” 

[calliopesdiary]

Hi lovely! I love your writing! Can you do a single dad! james one shot where harry is in kindergarten (lily isn’t in the picture) and you’re harry’s teacher and james has a crush on you? No pressure if you don’t have time! Thank you!

hi dovie!! thanks for much for requesting! i was on holiday so i couldn’t respond quickly but i hope this was worth the wait 😊

-

Paper Rings~💌

singledad!jamespotter x fem!kindergartenteacher!reader

summary; Harry is a charming kid, but his dad might be even more charming.

a/n; no hate to my girl lily! i just like to imagine that she’s with mary or pandora (:

wc; 1.2k

warnings; none (:

contents; muggle au, james sirius and remus co-parent harry, lily isnt in the picture

YOU WERE NERVOUS, i mean, rightfully so.

Monday, August 23rd. the first day of school, and the first day of your new job.

in the past, you thought you’d be anything but a kindergarten teacher. but after volunteering with a local daycare over the summer…

you were smitten.

besides, you knew one day you’d actually have kids. but that was about… seven years down the line. (yes, you had your future all mapped out)

and it’s better this way, really. you get to hang out with the kids, paint with them, read with them, talk to them, and then at three o’clock you can just return them back to their parents and not have to deal with kids all night.

perfect plan, right?

wrong.

after pacing your well-decorated classroom back and forth about sixteen times in the past twelve minutes, a fellow teacher came in to chat.

“Hi, you’re Y/N, right?”

you spun around to the source of the greeting.

“sorry, yes, i am.”

you shook his hand with an anxious type of firmness.

“it’s nice to meet you, i’m Remus. i teach seventh grade.”

his smile lit up the awkward mood in the room.

“i assume you’re a bit nervous, yes?”

“a bit more than a bit.”

you admitted embarrassingly, they were just kids.

“well, you’ve definitely gotten the best age group to start out with.”

“i have?”

“mhm, all you have to do really is teach them their ABCs, and make sure they don’t eat the non-toxic paint.”

you let out a soft chuckle at that.

“i’ll certainly try my best, Remus.” he smiled.

“well, you’re about to get some kids in here so i should probably leave. just be careful, when i started out i was so much taller than the kids that some of them climbed onto me like i was a tree.”

he chuckled, definitely easing your nerves.

“that sounds like hell.”

“it was.” he nodded, closing your door with a soft thud, leaving you to your own thoughts and feelings.

until a young boy walked in with his dad, nervously clutching onto his big hand.

“hi… you’re ms. L/N, right?”

the dad spoke in a soft spoken manner, clearly not wanting to spook his son. (totally not because he was absolutely astonished and terrified that his sons teacher was maybe the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen)

“yes, i am.”

you answered with the same tone, swallowing down your anxiety.

“well… this is harry.”

Harry ducked behind his legs.

“i’m sorry, he’s not usually shy.”

“it’s alright, everybody gets nervous the first time they try anything.”

you crouched down to the boys level.

“hi, Harry. i’m Ms. L/N.”

“h-hi, Mrs. L/N."

the boy smiled cheekily as he held his little hands.

"we're gonna have so much fun today, so don't be scared." you returned his smile, yet you were probably about as nervous as he was.

you stood back up to face his dad, he was tall... very tall, and his eyes a hazel hue.

god, was he handsome.

no, that was not a good thing to say about someone who was definitely married with a kid.

but... maybe just sneak one more glance..

but, of course. the kids began to pile in, and the handsome young dilf dad waved goodbye to his son, and turned to leave.

little did you know he was thinking of you too.

your first day on the job was incredible, and time had flown by to Christmas Break.

your classroom was lovingly decorated for the holidays, and you had gotten to know your peers a bit better.

Remus was definitely your teacher buddy, you'd get coffee every Friday after school to discuss the past week and your plans for the next.

you had come to find out (through these coffee debriefs) that Remus was actually roommates with James- Harry's incredibly hot father.

and Remus was practically Harry's uncle, along with his long-time boyfriend, Sirius,

"So you're the Moony Harry is always talking about." He chuckled, blushing embarrassingly at the nickname.

"Moony was a nickname from High School, but Remus is difficult for Harry to pronounce so we went with that to make it easier."

You smiled, Harry was a very smart kid for his age.

"so.. James, is he-?"

"single? yeah, he chased after his highschool crush for about seven years at our boarding school, and once she finally gave in they got married quickly. but she eventually realized that she didn't like James that way, and had a thing for our close friend, Mary. so they broke off, luckily it wasn't a nasty divorce but Mary wasn't ready to take on the burden of a child, so James took Harry and now he lives with us."

Remus quickly explained before realizing that was probably a ton to drop onto you all the sudden.

"i-.. sorry, i didn't mean to drop that all on you at once."

"it's alright, and i'm sorry for James."

"he's alright now, the divorce took a large blow onto all of us, since... you know.."

"from the outside it looked perfect, didn't it?"

"couldn't have explained it better myself."

He smiled, sipping on his tea.

"besides, i think he's got his eye on someone."

"oh really? who?" that was a selfish question.

"you."

"w...what?"

you deadpanned, thinking he was joking.

why hasn't he said he was kidding?

where's the punchline?

"he wont stop bloody rambling about you, Y/N."

"what?!"

"yes! he wouldn't stop talking about how you had these braided pigtails two or three weeks ago and how adorable you looked-"

his rambling about James' minute obsession with you faded into the background as you attempted to process-

James, James Potter, James Fleamont Potter, your favorite students father.

likes you, his sons Kindergarten teacher who probably has black circles under her eyes because she barely sleeps anymore cause she stays up and thinks about him-

"Y/N!"

"WHAT?"

Remus broke you out of your thought jail.

"i said that you need to set something up with him, because i know you like him too and i cant keep being the monkey in the middle and trying to get you both to finally wake the fuck up and date eachother!"

You'd never heard Remus so insistent, he was always so calm and collected.

"Remus... i've never asked anyone out before."

"And? it's really not that difficult."

you sighed, pinching your nose bridge softly.

"fine, fine. I'll talk to him Monday."

and you dreaded Monday, but it also couldn't come soon enough.

after finishing up your classes for the day, you walked Harry to James.

"Hey.. Y/N."

"James."

"Daddy!" Harry went running to James, gripping onto his leg with all of his toddler force.

"He did great today, as usual."

"That's great to hear..."

You accidentally stared into his eyes for moments longer than you should have, but it didn't feel awkward.

"Y/N, I have something i need to tell you."

"i have something i need to tell you too..."

"I like you, alot."

you blushed furiously, why wasn't this easy?

"i-i-i like you too.. alot."

"would you... want to go out for dinner, sometime?"

"I'd like that."

"FINALLY!" shouted an exasperated Harry.