#i LOVED English lit lessons

[xerospaced]

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[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like to study English literature A-level in an all girls sixth form with a young teacher then just know that once (and this is a few years ago now) my teacher played the “If the men find out we can shapeshift they’re going to tell the Church!!” video and then asked us what about the video we could apply to studying The Handmaid’s Tale

[poetryforall]

"Why close your eyes to the world when a universe of possibilities stands right in front of you?"-Adora finds a friend

[satellite-evans]

you don't have to be sorry

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Summary: Harry learns why you refuse to let him pay, uncovering your painful past.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: past abusive relationship, little angst, fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Harry had always found joy in giving. Growing up, even when he didn’t have much, he’d learned that the look on someone’s face when you did something kind for them was worth more than anything money could buy. That lesson had carried over into his adult life, especially once his career took off and his world expanded in ways he’d never anticipated. He loved surprising his family with impromptu vacations, treating his friends to dinners just because, and going the extra mile to make everyone around him feel cared for.

When he met you, he found himself wanting to do those little things even more. Your smile was infectious, your laugh a melody he didn’t know he’d been missing until you came along. You were so strong, so independent, and it only made him more drawn to you, your kindness, and your spirit. From early on, he’d noticed that you carried yourself with an ease that spoke of someone who’d learned to take care of themselves, and he admired it. You were thoughtful, always prepared, and fiercely capable of handling things on your own.

Still, that didn’t stop Harry from wanting to treat you. From the beginning, he’d try to pick up the tab here and there, take you out for meals he knew you’d love, or surprise you with little things—your favorite flowers, a new book he thought you might enjoy. But each time he tried, you’d flash that polite, unwavering smile and insist on paying your own way. It wasn’t just a gesture, either. It was firm, unyielding, and Harry quickly learned that it was one boundary you weren’t willing to compromise.

He brushed it off at first, thinking maybe it was just the way you were. And in a way, he appreciated your independence. He knew you’d never take advantage of his generosity, and that was part of what made him feel so strongly for you. But as time went on, he couldn’t help but notice the subtle ways you’d tense up when he offered to pay, how your expression would harden slightly when he’d suggest covering the check. It was almost as if his offers triggered something in you, something you seemed determined to hide but couldn’t fully suppress.

And so, he kept quiet, telling himself not to pry, to respect your independence. Yet, as the months went on, he found that it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t that he wanted to be the one to pay, necessarily—it was that he wanted to feel like he could express his love without it feeling like a violation. He wanted you to feel comfortable enough to let him in, to let him care for you in a way that didn’t make you feel trapped.

One evening in late autumn, he planned a special dinner. The two of you had been talking about going to this small bistro on the outskirts of town for a while. It was an intimate spot with candle-lit tables and soft jazz playing in the background, and Harry knew you’d love it. The idea of spending a quiet, meaningful night there with you had stayed on his mind for weeks.

The evening was perfect. The glow from the restaurant’s lanterns bathed the room in a warm, amber light, casting a soft radiance on your face that made you look even more beautiful than usual. Your laughter floated through the air as you both shared stories and exchanged glances, and Harry felt the gentle comfort of being in your presence, something he’d come to treasure more than he’d ever thought possible.

When the bill finally arrived, he reached for it out of habit, ready to do what he’d long hoped to: treat you to something special, just because he wanted to. But, as always, you beat him to it, your card already in hand, that same polite but unwavering determination in your eyes.

“Please, love,” he murmured, placing a hand gently over yours before you could hand the card to the waiter. “Let me take care of this one, alright?”

Your smile faltered just for a second, and he saw a flicker of something in your eyes—something that didn’t quite match the confident independence you usually displayed. It was a look of hesitation, one that seemed out of place for you, and Harry couldn’t ignore it any longer. The moment was brief, gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to stir his concern.

As the two of you walked out of the restaurant, Harry held your hand, feeling the cool night breeze brush against your skin as you strolled down the quiet, lamp-lit street. His mind was still on that moment at the table, the look in your eyes that hinted at something more, something you’d been keeping from him.

He stopped walking, gently pulling you to a halt beside him, his fingers still laced with yours as he looked down at you, his eyes soft and filled with a quiet concern.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his voice low, careful. “I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but… why don’t you ever let me pay? I know you’re independent, and I love that about you. But… it feels like there’s something more to it. Like you’re keeping something from me.”

You met his gaze for a moment, but quickly looked away, shifting under the weight of his words. He could see a hint of tension in your shoulders, the way your hand tightened slightly around his, as if you were bracing yourself against an invisible force.

“It’s… it’s not about you, Harry,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hope you know that. This is just… it’s something I’ve had to do for myself.”

He nodded, encouraging you to continue without saying a word. He could see you struggling to find the right words, the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you, as if the memories you carried were too painful to release.

“My last relationship was… it was complicated,” you finally said, your voice wavering slightly. “My ex… he was controlling. It wasn’t like this—it wasn’t done out of kindness, or love. It was… it was about power.”

Harry felt his heart sink as he watched you, his own feelings of helplessness swelling inside him as he realized just how deeply those past experiences had affected you. His fingers tightened around yours, as if to ground you, to remind you that he was there, listening.

“He… wouldn’t let me pay for anything either,” you continued, your gaze distant as if you were looking back at a memory you’d tried to bury. “He wouldn’t let me work. He’d tell me it was because he wanted to take care of me, but it was… it was more than that. He made sure I depended on him for everything. And whenever I used his money, he’d remind me that I wouldn’t have anything without him.”

You swallowed hard, the pain in your eyes raw, the vulnerability in your expression stark against the mask of strength you usually wore.

“It was like… like every time I let him pay, he took a piece of me with it. I felt like I was losing myself, one little piece at a time.”

Harry felt a swell of emotions surge through him, a mix of anger, sorrow, and helplessness. He hated the thought of you going through that, hated the idea that someone had taken advantage of your trust, had tried to mold you into something you weren’t. The thought of someone treating you that way filled him with a protective instinct he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Oh, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he reached up, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

The warmth of his hand against your cheek was grounding, soothing, a reminder of the safety you felt with him—a safety that was new, unfamiliar, and terrifying in its own way. You looked up at him, feeling the walls you’d carefully built around yourself begin to crumble, the armor you’d worn to protect yourself falling away under the gentle strength of his gaze.

“I didn’t want to feel that way again,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath. “When I finally left, I promised myself I’d be independent, that I’d never let anyone have that kind of power over me again. I didn’t want to feel… trapped.”

Harry listened, his heart breaking for the pain you’d carried alone for so long. He wanted nothing more than to reach into those memories and erase every moment of hurt, to go back and shield you from the scars that man had left behind. But he knew he couldn’t change the past. All he could do was be here, fully and completely, for you now.

He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm, protective embrace, as if his presence could somehow shelter you from every painful memory, every scar that still lingered. You felt yourself relax in his hold, the tension in your body melting away as you allowed yourself to simply be, to feel safe, without fear.

He held you for what felt like an eternity, his hand gently rubbing your back in slow, comforting circles. Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your shoulders, his gaze filled with a tenderness that took your breath away.

" I'm sorry." You said in a whisper, almost unhearable to him. Almost.

“ Oh lovie. I’m here for you,” he said softly, his voice a gentle promise. “You don’t have to carry this alone. You don't have to be sorry. I’ll never make you feel that way, I promise. You’re safe with me.”

The sincerity in his words touched something deep within you, and for the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could let go of the past. You took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders as you allowed yourself to lean into his warmth, to trust in the quiet strength of his presence.

“Thank you, Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of gratitude and relief. “I don’t think you know how much this means to me.”

He smiled, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as you continued your walk down the quiet street. The world around you felt different somehow, softer, brighter, as if the warmth of his love had transformed the cold night into something beautiful.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Harry glanced at you with a playful grin. “You know, I was thinking… if you keep insisting on paying for everything, I might just have to start charging you a fee for dating me.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh really? And what would that fee be?”

“Let’s see… one home-cooked dinner a month, plus unlimited cuddle time, and maybe a few spontaneous trips to the ice cream shop,” he replied, feigning seriousness with a cheeky smile.

“Sounds like a bargain, but you might want to raise your rates. I’m a high-maintenance girlfriend,” you shot back, a playful glint in your eye.

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “High-maintenance? lovie, I don’t know if I can handle that kind of pressure.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll throw in a free consultation on how to keep your wallet healthy. You know, just in case you want to save up for our future yacht,” you teased, your tone light.

“Ah, yes! The yacht. I’ll need a solid financial plan for that one,” he said, nodding dramatically. “Maybe we should just start a joint account: ‘Harry and Y/N’s Fund for Epic Adventures.’”

“Only if I get to choose the adventures,” you countered with a grin.

“Deal! Just promise me one thing,” he said, suddenly serious.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Promise you’ll never stop being you—independent, sassy, and always ready to take the lead when it comes to dinner bills,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

You laughed, feeling your heart swell. “Oh, I won’t! But fair warning: you’ll always be my favourite plus-one, even if you are a bit of a freeloader.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Freeloader? I’ll have you know, I bring a lot to this relationship—like charm, good looks, and the occasional serenade!”

“Okay, you’ve got a point there,” you conceded, shaking your head with a laugh. “But just wait until I hit the jackpot. You won’t know what hit you when I start treating you!”

With laughter and lightness in the air, you both continued your walk, the future feeling bright and filled with promise, all while playfully nudging each other along the way.

[solvisun]

120924 ✦ GET CLOSER (TO ME)

haikyuu 𝜗𝜚 tsukishima kei x reader

it’s not about meeting finals when you’ve aced it now, when he’s sure your friendship will slowly erode in the waves of time—it’s not about meeting expectations but meeting you in places where it’s still special. where there’s a world of only just you and him.

notes 𝜗𝜚 soft!kei makes me feel things. fluff. 2.6k wc. not proofread. i want to expand on this in the future.

it was only ever about meeting finals at the finish line with you. nothing more.

tutor turned (tentative) friend, tsukishima is sitting across from you in the back corner of a cafe you had suggested. one he sees in passing but isn’t intrigued enough to go inside.

similarly, that’s how he thinks of you. just a classmate catalogued in his brain for months. nameless. you’re “the person who laughs too loudly across the room” or “the one who greets everyone like they’re old friends.” but you never paid him much attention, so he didn’t pay you much, either.

but then finals season rolled around, and you—of all people—asked him for help. out of all your friends, who you’d waved off with polite but dismissive smiles, you came to him.

your tone had been formal, but it’s easy to conclude that you’re desperate still.

when he said no at first, out of pure instinct, you added, “i’ll treat you to whatever you like.”

he raised an eyebrow. “you sure about that?”

“yeah. i know a place,” you’d replied, flashing a smile that felt oddly personal.

and so, he winds up here. gets lost immediately as soon as you flood him with your rambling, something about a game. something about the stardusts collecting your eyes, entranced on how you can love something with all that you’ve held.

he snaps out of it, swatting at you with a rolled-up notebook. “if you don’t focus, you’re definitely failing.”

“hey!” you protest, rubbing your arm where the notebook hit. “do you think i’ll actually pass, though?”

you give him a look, your eyes wide with tentative hope, like you’re not sure if you should believe him.

he sighs, setting the notebook down. “only if you shut up and let me explain this part.”

the grin that makes way through your lips is one he must avoid. it’s sweet and it’s cute and he bites back the strange irritation bubbling up in his chest.

it’s kind of unsettling how this routine has woven itself into your schedules. after months of only scraping the edges of each other’s worlds, he’s somehow found himself standing at the front arch of your life, waiting for permission to step inside.

at first, it was just an hour on weekends. but after a week, it became two hours, then three. from calculus or japanese lit to you also teaching him english because apparently you ate a large encyclopedic dictionary when you were 10.

one day, he even treated you instead of the other way around, mumbling something about “returning the favor.” though he is still too stingy if his order gets too long and still too technical when he breaks the lessons down to the simplest of concepts.

“why’d you ask me to tutor you, anyway?” he asks out of the blue.

you freeze, caught mid-bite of your carrot cake. “oh.” you’d expected this question eventually, but not like this—casual, almost offhand, yet entirely without judgment.

“uhm, i guess…” hesitant, you set your fork down. “i wanted to get to know you better.”

you see it, the imperceptible furrow of his brows.

“but i do need your help,” you added quickly, your tone softening as you shifted in your seat, the amber light of the cafe easing itself on the comforts of your skin. “it wasn’t just some excuse, if that’s what you’re thinking. you’re smart, and i figured… if anyone could help me, it’d be you.”

you held his gaze steady, golden brown meeting at the center of where you both stood in both worlds. he is already inside. he is already in motion.

“and being friends is nice, too,” you added with a small, sheepish smile.

he let out a something that’s between a scoff and a short chuckle, shaking his head.

“unbelievable.”

“yeah? you don’t mind though.” you shot back, grinning

he didn’t dignify that with a response, but the faint flush on his cheeks gave him away.

three weekends. two separate walks become one (two for tsukishima still, one to walk you home, one to retrace his steps back to his own). july saunters in and yamaguchi comes to adore you from the way you influenced him to try obscure games you’re always up to.

after practice, a shadow greets him near the gym’s exit—you, waiting. three joined walks divide unevenly when tsukishima follows your route instead of his. yamaguchi always gives you a weird smile in secret.

when you ace your finals, he convinces himself it’s over. your friendship will erode, fading into the waves of time now that your goal has been met. august quickly fades with you, your absence hits like an unexpected, quiet loss.

and on the start of second semester, somehow he does things that go against reason. he tries to finish his lunch with you, always sitting just close enough to grumble if you poke at him. he starts buying you water, a habit he brushes off with a clipped, "just don’t collapse on me." because you have the habit of forgetting to bring your own. he even calls you in the mornings, his voice drowsy but still sharp as he teases, "fix your sleep schedule already; the bags under your eyes are haunting—wake up, we have a physics quiz to refresh on.”

he still tutors you when he can, but the more he stays, the more unproductive things get. you’ve started asking about things unrelated to the lesson, distracting him with snippets of trivia or questions about his interests. at first, he’d snap back with his usual sarcasm, telling you to focus, but more often than not, he’d end up indulging you.

“how do you even know all this useless stuff?” he mutters one day, not unkindly.

“i told you,” you grin, “encyclopedic dictionary at age ten. it was delicious.”

he shakes his head, hiding the small twitch of his lips behind his hand. the next time you bring up some obscure fact, he doesn’t stop you.

and the worst part? he’s not even pissed about not getting a full score on that physics quiz.

he still walks you home, manages to picture you while you loyally admire the sunset (no, there is no camera with him, only in his eyes, he will picture you like this until it bleeds through his consciousness).

there are also those quick detours to the konbini. he treats you with cool nonchalance, like it’s breathing, and you don’t comment on how natural it’s become. he writes notes for you when you’re sick or when you miss class, the handwriting neater than usual as though he’s put more thought into it. he even visits you once, scolding you for not taking care of yourself properly but staying longer than yamaguchi or the freak duo, who’d spent most of their time bickering instead of talking with you.

he lets you sling your arm through his as you move through a crowded hallway, muttering something about “not wanting another problem in his life” if you get lost. it’s a weak excuse, but you’re careful not to tease him too much.

all these things are better left unnoticed, better left to not be questioned. still, it leaves you wondering. there is something comforting in the way he stays that it feels almost fragile to touch. one misstep might shatter whatever has been quietly building between you. so you don’t call him out. you don’t linger by the threshold and ask if you can be selfish. you know you can’t.

what you don’t tell him is this. while your phone is full of different kind of sunsets, your favourites are always on the moon. he’ll probably say something like, that’s so fucking cheesy and just dismiss it as another weird habit of yours for being poetic. but you do like the moon. always.

you do like it when he asks what you listen to as you share the half of your earbud, you do like it when he corrects your mistakes on worksheets, you do find his hair soft even just by glancing when yamaguchi eggs you on. you do like the things he does for you, more than you let on, actually.

so despite your efforts, you still find yourself reaching for him in places where it’s special. where it matters, moments of just you and him.

autumn feels like honey, hits your chest slow and achingly sweet. “why do you do all this?” you ask softly, your steps slowing until you’re almost at a standstill. “for me, i mean.”

he stops, turning to face you. the fading sunlight casts a warm glow on his face, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer.

with a slight shrug, he says, “does it matter?”

you frown, words pulling and pushing itself between your teeth. “it does to me.”

tsukishima kei is anything but direct. you’re so tempted to call him by his first name, thought of how it would sound like on your tongue. it’s making the autumn breeze feel more chilly, fingertips frigid and palm starts to sweat.

then, he mumbles, so infuriatingly quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “…i don’t want you passing by my life again.”

it’s a vague, almost evasive response, but there’s something in his tone that makes your head irrevocably altered. air suspended on your lungs. he resumes walking ahead, and you follow. soft crunches of leaves under your foot is the only thing filling the silence.

later that night, as you’re going over the notes he’d written for you, you find a small doodle in the corner of one of the pages. it’s simple, just a stick figure with glasses and a speech bubble saying, “don’t fail.” you laugh, faint and private and uncontrolled.

you wonder if he knows just how much this miniscule, unexpected act has already stitched its way into your heart. how much you admire the moon since the first day. how cheesy and hopeless you really are.

winter feels like lace and soft breaths. you feel it’s fragility in every flow of warmth, a little unstable, and far too beautiful to let go of.

the air bites at your skin, your breath fogging in short puffs as you wait outside the gym. you stomp your feet to keep the blood flowing, checking your phone for what feels like the hundredth time.

the doors finally creak open, and tsukishima steps out, slinging his bag over his shoulder. his hair is slightly damp from practice, and there’s a layer of frost in his glare when he sees you.

there’s also the pink flush in the tip of his ears. the ease in which he slides beside you as you walk together.

you admit that, wow, he really is beautiful.

he sighs, his breath misting in the air. “where’s your scarf? it’s freezing.”

“yes i know i will freeze to death. yes we are wasting time. yes and let’s go."

he shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before unwinding the scarf from around his neck. before you can protest, he steps close, wrapping it around you. his fingers brush against your skin as he adjusts it, the warmth of the scarf—and his touch—makes you freeze for a different reason.

“there,” he says gruffly. “now you won’t whine about how cold it is.”

you blink up at him, stunned. “what about you?”

“i’ll live,” he says, avoiding your gaze. “come on.”

the walk home is quiet at first, the snow crunching underfoot. you’re hyperaware of his presence beside you, the warmth of the scarf around your neck, the faint scent of him clinging to the fabric.

the snow continues to fall, catching in your hair and on your lashes. you glance at tsukishima again—he’s quiet, well, he’s always been (when you’re not letting him pick you apart), but there’s a thought that’s sandwiched between the spaces when he drifts off from afar. something that’s hard not to ask what he’s thinking.

the scarf around your neck feels too warm now, your pulse thudding every time you catch the faint scent of him clinging to it. you’re not sure if it’s the cold or the weight of his presence, but something’s making you dizzy.

“stop staring,” he mutters, not even looking at you.

you flinch, heat rushing to your cheeks. “i wasn’t.”

his gaze slides to you, skeptical. “sure.”

you bite your lip, trying to suppress your embarrassment. but then he stops walking, and you almost stumble in the sudden stillness.

“what?” you ask, your breath misting in short puffs.

he doesn’t answer right away, just turns to face you fully. his hands are still stuffed in his pockets, but there’s an uncharacteristic hesitation in his expression, like he’s teetering on the edge of something.

“you’ve got snow,” he says finally, gesturing vaguely to your hair.

“oh.” you reach up, brushing at it awkwardly. “did i get it?”

“no.” he steps closer, the world narrowing to the space between you. his hand emerges from his pocket, brushing lightly over your hair, fingertips cold but delicate against your skin.

you freeze, your breath hitching, the scarf suddenly feeling too tight around your neck.

“there,” he says softly, his hand lingering for just a second too long before dropping back to his side. but he doesn’t step back.

instead, his eyes dart down to your lips, then away, his throat bobbing as he swallows. you see it—how his fingers twitch like he wants to move, but he’s hesitating, unsure.

“tsukishi—”

“i’m gonna do something stupid,” he blurts, cutting you off.

before you can ask, he leans in, awkward and hesitant, like he’s not entirely sure of himself. his lips brush yours—soft, tentative, and just a little clumsy. it’s not perfect; you can feel the nervous edge to it, the way his nose bumps yours slightly, but it’s him, the moon favorite in many sun soaked worlds, the paragon of adoration and heartaches. and it’s enough to make your heart stutter.

he pulls back almost immediately, his face beet-red, his eyes darting anywhere but you. “that was—whatever. forget it.”

but you’re staring at him, breathless, the warmth of his lips lingering like a brand. “kei,” you say, veins buzzing and head exploding.

“don’t,” he warns, his voice uneven, he can’t even fully register that you called him by his first name. “don’t say anything.”

but you just smile, giggling as you tug gently at the scarf he gave you. “you’re so bad at this.”

“shut up,” he mutters, but there’s no bite in his voice, only the faintest hint of a smile ghosting over his lips.

when all’s been said and done. you can only look at him. he can only look at you. the silence between you feels full, brimming with all the things neither of you says, yet understands. winter may feel fragile, but as he cups your face on both his hands, chastely kisses your forehead in finality. you realize some things are worth the risk of breaking.

and this? this is one of them.

"...you called me kei."

"late reaction, kei."

"i'm going to kiss you again."

"okay, kei."

© SOLVISUN 2024 | thank you for reading <3!

[thesilmarillionblog]

ANGEL IN DISGUISE

Summary: When Dean gives you a Halloween party explanation, he also gives you a gift: a pair of wings for his angel.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Angel! Reader

Warnings: +18! (light smut), fluff, naive reader, wing kink!!!, soft, teasing, reader has a praise kink, sub!dean

Word Count: 2917

A/N: English is not my first language.

🎃── Halloween Special One-Shot ──🎃

“Can you help me with these pumpkins, sweetie?” While he was having a hard time making a beautiful decoration for Halloween Week, Dean asked with a chuckle. He had been asking for your help, but all you were doing was smiling as you enjoyed the view while watching him. Every time he scooped a pumpkin to give it a form, his muscles stretched out, giving his hands and arms an appealing look. 

You finally got off of the chair and said, “What are the pumpkins for?” as you looked deeply into the eyes of the pumpkin and the lights within. If you touched them, you could make them look brighter. 

“It is only aesthetic for the week of Halloween. They'll be put in the garden.” Dean kept cutting, attempting to make it clear that they are meant to seem frightening.

You laughed out loud despite being confused by the whole idea, “They don't look scary to me.” You couldn't help but feel happy since you would be spending your first Halloween together as a couple with Dean. You lit the newly cut pumpkin that Dean had just made. Your heart seemed to burst with happiness as he glanced at you with pride and affection.

“Nothing is scary for you, isn't it?” Dean immediately gave you a very gentle slap on your ass, making you jump. He shot you a look as you gave him a more powerful spanking through his pants on the ass. He appeared to be in pain.

“Someday, I should give your perty ass a more serious spanking. You really need to learn a lesson. I am telling you.”

You teased him, “I can make your pain go away,” as you hurried to hug him from behind in between laughs. You tuck your head behind his massive arms and wrap your arms around his abdomen. It was difficult for him to do his job while you were being naughty. You enjoyed touching as well as teasing him. It was uncomfortable to watch Dean occupied with anything other than you since he had been battling with pumpkins since the morning. You should have been doing different things. 

“How?” Dean arched an eyebrow and said, “Will you kiss my ass?”

“Do you want me to?” You asked confused since you couldn't tell most of the time if he was being serious or joking. It was not necessary to give him a real kiss to soothe his pain, but if that was his desire, you might fulfill it with joy. He had a lovely ass. 

“Oh God,” he shook his head and moaned. When you took Dean seriously, he couldn't stop chuckling. 

“Don't bring the Lord when we are talking such things, Dean,” you said. He had an excellent connection with words, but he needed to have made more use of them by praying. “Do you really want me to kiss your ass though?” 

Grinning, you met his gaze and held it there until he turned to face you. While he was quietly laughing and confusing you even more, Dean jumped when you held his ass behind his back, signaling that you were about to unzip him and plant a kiss there. 

“Hold on,” he laughed. “Of course, it wasn't what I meant. Plus, you don't have very tough hands.”

“Okay, you lost the chance. You were on the verge of crying there; don't lie to me.” With a murmur of disappointment, you released his ass. “Also, you should not challenge an angel. I could give you one slap and turn your tight ass scarlet.” Of course, you wouldn't do it. 

He grinned at you and released his abdomen, allowing you to see whether you could help him with his pumpkins. “I wouldn't dare,” he said. “Have some mercy, woman.”

“See?” you asked, holding out a little pumpkin that you had lit up and presenting it to Dean. “I'm not always useless. I can apply whatever color you like to make it shine.”

You asked, “What do people do on Halloween?” with curiosity. You had never heard of such a concept before, so you were excitedly awaiting his response, thinking that it would be something amusing for couples like you and Dean. 

“We dress up and pretend like we're somebody else or something.” Dean stared at the pumpkin you were holding proudly and attempted to explain, “You're free to wear anything you like, even if it's weird.” It seemed like you were showing off your power as you continued to brighten them. 

“Why?” 

“It's only a concept, sweetie, and Halloween parties are actually really enjoyable. Trust me. Wearing masks that hide your face, making it impossible for others to recognize you, so that—” Dean abruptly stopped himself before trying to spark jealousy in you, remembering the last Hallowen part he had joined. 

“Hmm,” you said, setting the pumpkin on the table while acting understanding. “Give me an example.”

After taking a breath and placing his knife on the table, Dean turned to face you and wrapped his arms over your belly. Right away, your arms found his neck and pressed your body against his. He had neglected you due to the pointless special week and pumpkins. 

He put his fingers on your ass through your pajamas and said, “For example,” which made you thrilled. “Do you recall the film we saw the week before? Shrek. Fans of the film and its characters can dress up like them. In addition, a large number of people cosplay as angels and devils. They're wearing wings on their backs.”

Crossing your arms across your chest, you scowled. “Real angels don't wear fake wings.” Then you continued to embrace Dean while attempting to justify your explanation, saying things like, “Our wings are magnificent, and none of those people have seen a real angel in their lives.” 

You added, “Demon's wings are simply ugly, but it depends on their rank, of course,” with a chuckle, before Dean said a thing. “Some of their wings are big and very thick. Actually incredibly excellent.” It wasn't appropriate of you to vocally confess that you admired some of their wings, but you spoke before you thought it through. 

Dean grimaced as you gave him an ashamed look. “Thick and big, huh?” he said, obviously annoyed by your oversharing. 

“To be honest, they are hideous. I loathe them. Not my taste,” you hugged him closer and stressed each word in an attempt to shift the topic. You did your best to lift his mood again by playing with the buttons on his shirt. “Since you're my boyfriend, I just like you the way you are. I take it that my wings are enough for the two of us.”

He gave you a quick kiss on the nose and said, “That's my girl,” which stunned you. It was dirty things you needed, not Halloween stuff. You sighed with anticipation as your mind was flooded with filthy images, and you continued to fiddle with the buttons of Dean's shirt, hoping he wouldn't be decorating pumpkins any longer. 

Dean remarked, “Just because you're being a nice angel,” and he briefly kissed you on the lips. “Now close your eyes.”

“Why?”

Dean said, “Just close them,” and waited for you to obey him. You closed your eyes eagerly while your mind raced with dirty ideas, wanting Dean to take action soon.

He continued to tell you not to open your eyes as you heard him go one step further. After a while, you became a bit upset and raised your voice, vowing not to. It was like he was trying to get under your skin on purpose.

You were about to get angry when you heard Dean was returning. You couldn't help but feel excited. Your body was prepared for everything.

Dean said, “All right, you can open your eyes now.”

You were perplexed to see two artificial little wings on his hands, but you didn't want to ruin his joy. Asking, “What's that?” you gently touched the white feather on it. 

“I assumed we could go to a Halloween party together. It must be fun and interesting for you to cosplay as an angel. See those plumes.” With excitement, Dean gave an explanation. 

You joyfully grabbed the wings from him and examined the feather on it on your own since he appeared to be thrilled. You didn't want to offend Dean, even if the wings were all fake and your wings were more beautiful than those small ones. After all, it was a gift, and he couldn't create real ones for you. He was extremely considerate, in fact. 

With a wide smile on your face and your pulse pounding with delight at the thought that he had truly planned to take you to a party and even bought you something, you gave him a firm embrace and left him breathless with a long kiss. 

“It's really beautiful. Thank you,” you said, giving him a timid grin that made you happy to see as he exhaled deeply in relief. 

“Don't mention it, babe.” 

You sat on the couch and played with the feather. Dean followed you. You continued to grasp his lovely present as he drew you closer into his arms and placed your head on his chest. You could see he was proud of himself, even if he didn't say it, since he knew he thought well of gifting such a thing. 

You lifted your head to see his response and said, “But don't you think my wings are prettier?” To avoid his becoming used to it, you had just once displayed yours. It was something he had to earn. Well, that was a lie. If he wanted to see it, you would show them straight immediately.

“Yours are wonderful, of course. They're larger,” said Dean. He was aware that your wings were far greater than the ones he had given you.

With pride and happiness in your heart, you gently placed the wings on the coach before turning to face Dean. “And?”

Dean gave you a wide grin as he licked his lips and said, “I didn't know angels had a praise kink,” as you swiftly got on top of him.

“And?” you asked. When he complimented you on your wings and everything else, you absolutely loved it. 

Dean put his arms around your abdomen and rolled his eyes, trapping you in his grasp. You could break free at any time, but you enjoyed his behavior when it was this way: passionate and possessive. 

He then added, “And,” which made you gasp in anticipation. Dean's lips curled as you slightly moved on his lap. His body underneath you seemed prepared for whatever it was you had planned to offer him. 

He was mostly dominating when you had sex, but you knew he was satisfied when you were in control, above him, and at your mercy. It was beyond words to watch him enjoy himself beneath you and know that it was you who was making him feel that way. Dean signaled for you to move by slipping his hands to your hips. You felt him becoming hard under you too, as he peered through your top at your stiffened nipples. You had been waiting for this time since the morning, and at last you were going to do something better.

You urged, “Come on, tell me,” as you began to rub yourself his cock. You could still feel his hardness beneath you, but it would be nicer if he wasn't wearing his sweatpants. Dean reached to put his hands on your tits, but you swiftly stopped him and put them back on your hips. 

He was obviously disappointed not to touch you because he needed it, as seen by his clenched jaw. But he needed a lesson. 

When your hips on his cock began to move quickly, he groaned, “I'm at a loss for words.” He smiled and pulled you by your back to his body so your nipples touched his chest. “If you come closer a little...” This time, you didn't resist him. 

“Like this?” you inquired, abruptly stopping on top of him to make him a little go crazy.

Dean awaited your next move. You dropped your top and exposed your tits to his sight just as he was ready to urge you for more. He always found joy in looking at you with that kind of intensity, as though he wanted to touch every inch of your body. He obviously wanted to. Repositioning your hands on his shoulders, you lifted his chin and met his eyes. He was aching under you, but you'd take what you wanted as well.

“Your wings are,” Dean said playfully. “Softer, nicer, more beautiful, perfect, lovely.” He would have laughed at you, seeing how happy you become with every compliment, if he weren't suffering under you. 

His attractive face was seized by your hands on his chest, and you gave him a frantic kiss. When you grabbed his hands and indicated for him to gently stroke your back, where your wings ought to be, Dean was smling on your lips. You became wetter on him the more he stroked your spine. You couldn't stop groaning into his lips because your back and spine were arching with such ecstasy. When Dean began pressing his fingers there, his smile vanished, seeing you getting pleasure.

Just by stroking your back, he was going to ruin you. 

You were ready to experience pleasure together when you made the decision to reveal your wings to him again because it was Halloween. You paused to let him catch his breath. “You're a very generous angel today, aren't you?” he said after really feeling your wings between both of his hands. Dean groaned as he took a little back to better see your gigantic wings. 

You said, “Just because you're generous too,” and allowed him to touch you because he seemed to like it. 

“Is there anything you want me not to do?” Since you weren't displaying your wings very much and you let Dean touch you on a regular basis, he didn't know what exactly to do. Since your relationship was new, this was your chance to move forward. You trusted him with your life. Your spine tingled with excitement as you realized that both of your bodies were covered with your wings, and he was in awe. 

With joy, you closed your eyes as his fingertips found every inch on your wings. This is something you ought to have allowed him to do from the very beginning. You leant back in pleasure and let out a loud moan as soon as he touched a sensitive spot. Without knowing if he hurt you or not, Dean's hands stopped right away. 

“Don't stop!” Pushing him to continue, you took his hand and placed it in the same location. “Press your fingers a little harder.”

“You're a horny angel, aren't you?” Dean moaned as you began to roll your hips on his hard cock, skillfully caressing the sensitive area, as if he knew just what to do. Each move you made had your tits bouncing. He needed to take care of your wings before he could touch and lick your tits, as you could sense, or else you would lose your mind soon.

“Just for you,” you said with approval as you met his green eyes directly. Your cheeks were flushed with delight. “More.”

"Damn right. Good girl,” he praised once more, making your heart melt with bliss and desire. “Come on, you're almost there.”

Dean encouraged you to move on him quicker by applying more pressure on your hips on his cock with your hips as your moans became louder. He didn't close his eyes while you were experiencing such incredible pleasure that your wings were moving wildly. It was getting hotter by the way he was staring at you, almost as if he were worshipping you. You wanted him to love you as much as you loved him, to cherish and adore you. 

You screamed out “Dean!” as your orgasm hit powerfully. Your spine arched with the intensity of the moment, your legs and even your wings trembling wildly. You knew your underwear had been ruined and your walls were squeezing around nothingness. 

He began to spill into his boxers with a muffled sigh when  your climax triggered his as well. It was both fascinating and existing to see him ruin his sweatpants with his seed.

When you both came to your senses, Dean kissed your forehead, stroked your wings tenderly, and drew you even nearer. You asked, “What now?” as Dean adjusted your top.

As he was still gasping for air, Dean grinned at you since you were so enthusiastic and prepared to go all the way. He didn't move, although he felt somewhat hot under your wings. 

He moved your body a bit closer to him and stated, “I need to take a shower, obviously.” He felt like a teenager knowing he just came in his boxers, but it was satisfying. 

“Do angels wash their wings?” abruptly asked Dean. 

His silly question made you laugh so hard you couldn't stop. You waited for his response after answering, “If you want to know the answer, we can shower together.” Under the water, you could feel each other far more strongly and deeply. 

Dean licked his lips and grinned at you, saying, “Well, I can't wait to find out the answer then. Just for scientfic reasons.”

It's a silly little one-shot, but let me know what you think please. Hehehe. You can check my MASTERLIST for more.

[kentosbabes]

Ex Bf Gojo hcs

I’ve been thinking about doing a part two to this for ages and finally decided to write it. I wrote this in my English lit lesson because it was eating me alive 😫 anyways hope you like it 😋🫶🏼

Ex Bf Gojo who finds himself at your front door again holding one of your bras and a pair of shorts that he took from his last visit. However his eager expression changes when you opened the door wearing a dress teasing to expose your breasts and your thighs on full display. ‘Satoru?’

Ex Bf Gojo who’s shocked expression turns into a smirk as he says ‘hey love where we going?’. you can only roll your eyes ‘satoru we are not going anywhere. I am going on a date’ you say walking back into your house as he close the door as he follows behind you

Ex Bf Gojo who’s in disbelief at your words he’s left speechless for once. ‘i don’t think so baby’ he says coming up behind you as you fix your lipstick in the mirror. ‘satoru don’t start with me. we’re not together you’ve had plenty of chances’ you say as his hands wrap around you

Ex Bf Gojo who makes himself at home on your couch as you make sure you have everything ‘satoru go home’ you say giving him a stern look ‘nah i’m going to stay right here until you get back just do i can hear how shit it was’ he says manspreading and turning on your TV

Ex Bf Gojo who stays true to his word and stays in the same spot as you unlock the door and walk in. you hate how he was right, the date was horrible he would only talk about himself and didn’t even pay for the meal instead asking if you could

Ex Bf Gojo who knows as soon as he sees you expression it wasn’t what you thought. ‘awe poor girl he didn’t compare to me at all huh’ he says standing up and making his way towards you. ‘hmm it’s okay though i know just how to make it all better’

Ex Bf Gojo who now has your lips attached to his in a needy kiss. your hands resting in his hair as his roam around your body ‘when will you understand huh? no on will ever compare to me sweetheart. no one’ he says his lips now kissing down your neck

Ex Bf Gojo who now has you pushed up against the door as he thrusts in behind you, the bottom of your dressed bunched up at your waist and your panties pushed to the side. ‘did he get you this wet?’ he asks knowing you were thinking of him the entire time not the dick sitting infront of you at the restaurant. ‘no satoru f-fuck only you get me this wet p-please’

Ex Bf Gojo who has his fingers deep in you curling in to hit your sweet spot. but as soon as you can feel the tightness in your stomach he stops ‘nuh uh you need to understand that your mine.’ his long fingers now rubbing circles on your clit ‘don’t worry i’ll make you cum so much all you can think of is me and then maybe you’ll understand your mine and no one will ever compare to me’

Ex Bf Gojo who teases you as he’s thrusting slow and deep into you ‘could he make you feel this good? did you get that feeling in your stomach when you look at him? the one you get when you look at me? god, i bet he didn’t even pay for the dinner’ you hated how he was right and let out a groan in response ‘oh i’m right? what a dick but don’t worry i’ve got you. gunna make you feel real good’

Ex Bf Gojo who makes sure to clean you up in the shower before laying down next to you in bed. ‘pretty girl’ you turn to face him ‘mhm’ Gojo now moves you so you sit in between his legs as he sits against the headboard of the bed. ‘maybe we should try again hm?’ he asks you send him a big smile ‘Satoru Gojo are you asking me to be your girlfriend? again?’ he lets out a chuckle before saying ‘only if you say yes’.

Masterlist

[ohbabydollie]

currently imagining a jaded, deadpan lit teacher!schlatt. super intelligent, incredible teacher that all his students adore and love to learn from, but they all swear to god they’ve never seen him smile once

then comes along absolute ray of sunshine teacher!y/n, probably teaching some kind of fine art, and it is just like a moth to a flame. he cannot stay away from you!

you meet for the first time in the teacher’s lounge and he’s a little taken aback, he doesn’t know what it is about you but something makes his little brain flip a switch and it’s all sunshine and rainbows. not much longer after that, you start becoming friends, sharing cool little things about your interests or the subjects you teach.

he does a pretty good job of hiding these feelings from the kids, just because he wants to keep that side of him private from his students, but one day he slips up. you sneak in during a class of his during your free period to return a book he recommended to you. when you walked out, he had no idea that he was smiling but apparently the students noticed.

“mr. schlatt, were you just smiling?”

“finish your essay.”

also am i allowed to be 🥥 anon

ofc, welcome 🥥 anon

before you came along schlatt was the most obviously exhausted and stressed teacher, but his students loved him.

from stapling mcdonald’s job applications on failed tests to talking about his cats. his students very clearly loved him and adored him, but he just seemed so sad in a way, especially when one of them got him to talk about his dating life.

single, with multiple failed dates under his belt

then you transferred to the school after the last art teacher had quit.

he had heard about you from his students, the new young single art teacher making sure to emphasize on the single part, but he always told them to focus on getting their assignment done over focusing on the teachers dating lives.

he really didn’t care for you, probably would be done in a few weeks if you couldn’t handle how rowdy and rough some of these kids could be. he gave you a month at best.

then you came into the teacher’s lounge getting snack after snack out of the vending machine as he watched in silence. not out of judgement, but he was just mesmerized completely

the concentration on your face as you punched in number after number watching the snacks fall before grabbing a cardboard box to place it all in was all so adorable to him, he didn’t even realize he had been staring until you looked over at him with a big smile.

“hi, i don’t believe we’ve met!” you chirp, “i’m y/n the new art teacher” you say extending out a hand for him to shake. he politely takes it, giving you a semi-awkward smile

“i’m jay, i teach english in b103” he says feeling himself turn red

“oh wow! i’m only down the hall from you, my room is c102” you say parting from the hand shake and picking up your box “well i’ll see you around” you say pushing the door open

and just like that you were gone as soon as you came

and schlatt had a new goal in mind, you

the next period he had came back better than ever. his normally deadpan and tired voice had more excitement and life to it and his students noticed for sure, waiting until the lesson was over to pry into him, but they all got the same response.

“jus added a shot of expresó into my coffee this mornin” he says starting to grade the assignments from his last class.

they had assumed that was it, nothing more to it until the next week where he seemed to be radiating with joy, when they pried into him again all he said was, “jus had some coffee from my favorite spot this mornin, nothin else”

he hadn’t mentioned it was with you.

over the next few months they noticed more and more change, fixing his hair more often, wearing his nicer clothes and whatever he could to look better.

as a student asked “so who’s the lucky lady?”

you had walked in holding a book, causing the room to fall silent. you practically floated to his desk as everyone watched you.

“hey, thanks for letting me borrow your copy, it was really good” you say handing him the book

“oh..it’s no problem, anytime” he says softly as you smile

“ ‘kay, well i’ll see you later, oh and your glasses are a little smudged” you say heading to leave as he watches in awe.

once you’re out, he’s taking off his glasses, smiling to himself with a small chuckle as he cleans them off, basking in the moment, completely forgetting his students were there until someone speaks up.

“mr. schlatt, are you smiling?” he asks teasingly before schlatt immediately drops the smile and goes deadpan again

“finish your assignment before i fail you”

[rose24207]

hey lovely! can i please request more nerd!lando? not anything specifically except the nerd!lando but maybe lando slowly getting more confident however he still has his shy and insecure moments? have a lovely day!

Sounds fun

Summary: Lando, the shy and self-doubting "nerd" at school, slowly gains confidence as he bonds with you over shared interests, despite his moments of insecurity.

Genre: nerd!Lando, fluff

TW: None!

A/N: I received many messages, saying that they love nerd!Lando! So there you go!! Thank you for all the kind words and support 🫶🏻. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando had always been the quiet kid in class, the one with his nose buried in a book or his laptop. Sure, he had a natural charm that made people like him, but he preferred staying under the radar, not drawing too much attention to himself. His oversized glasses, a few sizes too big for his face, often slipped down his nose as he scribbled notes during lessons or solved problems on his laptop during free periods. He liked it that way, focusing on his passions—whether it was math, science, or his latest obsession with racing simulators.

You first noticed him in your shared history class. While the rest of the class struggled to keep their eyes open during the lecture, Lando sat at the back, completely absorbed in his notes, writing with a neat, precise hand. His concentration was almost admirable. He was, undoubtedly, the smartest kid in the class, but he never boasted about it. In fact, if anyone noticed, he’d often downplay it.

Today, you saw him sitting by the window during lunch break, his laptop open in front of him. His headphones were in, and he was completely lost in a racing game, tapping furiously at the keys. You couldn’t help but smile. Lando was cute when he got like this—totally immersed in something he loved. You’d been wanting to talk to him for a while, but whenever you did, he always seemed a little shy, like he wasn’t quite sure how to handle attention.

With a bit of hesitation, you walked over to his table, your shoes softly tapping against the floor.

“Hey, Lando,” you greeted him, making him jump in surprise.

His eyes widened behind his glasses. “Oh! Hey, uh, hi,” he stammered, quickly pausing his game and adjusting his glasses, though they slid down his nose again.

You grinned, leaning against the desk. “What’s up? You in the middle of a race or something?”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda,” Lando said, his voice still a little flustered. “I’m just… well, practicing for a race. You know, like a simulator thing.” He gave a nervous chuckle, clearly uncomfortable now that he wasn’t hiding behind his game.

“Sounds fun,” you said, your voice soft and teasing. “You always this focused?”

Lando nodded, his cheeks tinging pink. “Yeah, I guess so. I really like it. It helps me… focus on stuff, y’know? It’s like, my thing.”

You smiled, watching as he fidgeted with his hands, clearly a bit shy. “That’s cool. You’re really good at it, aren’t you?”

Lando shrugged, glancing at the screen, his eyes not quite meeting yours. “I mean, I guess? I’ve been practicing for a while, but it’s nothing special. I’m just a bit of a nerd about it.”

“No, I think it’s awesome,” you said, sitting down next to him. “I can barely figure out how to drive in the game. You must be a pro.”

Lando’s face lit up a little, but the shy smile quickly faded into self-doubt. “Nah, I don’t know about that. I’m probably not as good as, you know, some of the other guys.”

He said it so softly, almost like he didn’t want to be heard, but you caught it. He always downplayed his skills, as if he was too afraid of seeming too confident.

“Lando,” you said gently, nudging him. “You’re amazing at it. Seriously, you could probably race professionally if you wanted to. You just need to believe in yourself a little more.”

His eyes widened, and he looked at you, caught off guard by your words. “You really think so?”

You smiled warmly. “I do.”

Lando’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away, adjusting his glasses again. “Well, thanks. I, uh, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You watched him for a moment, realizing that while Lando had all the potential in the world, he still had his moments of uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure if he deserved the praise or the attention.

“Okay, next question,” you said, changing the topic to keep the conversation going. “If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

Lando grinned a little, his confidence coming back in small bursts as he warmed up to you. “Super speed, obviously,” he said, his tone a little more confident now. “I mean, I could race anywhere. And I’d be unbeatable.”

You laughed, teasing him gently. “Just don’t get too cocky. You might run into trouble if you get too fast.”

“Pfft,” Lando said, playfully brushing it off, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “Who could catch me?”

The two of you spent the rest of the lunch break chatting, Lando slowly becoming more comfortable as the conversation went on. He still had his shy, insecure moments—like when he’d second-guess himself or nervously adjust his glasses—but with each compliment and bit of encouragement from you, Lando grew just a little bit more confident.

By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Lando’s smile was genuine, and his posture a bit straighter.

“Thanks for hanging out,” he said as you both gathered your things. “I don’t usually… talk much. But it was nice.”

“You’re welcome, Lando,” you said, giving him a warm smile. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah, totally,” he replied, his voice still a little shy but much more confident than when you first sat down. “I’d like that.”

As you walked to class together, you couldn’t help but feel that, while Lando still had a lot of growing to do in terms of his confidence, he was well on his way. And maybe, just maybe, you’d be the one to help him get there.

Thank you for reading!

[incorrectbatfam]

The most beloved english/ lit teacher at Park Row High, Mr Todd who inspires many many student is Red Hood. I just think Jason will make am excellent teacher and will really love the job.

All I hear is "give me teacher Jason headcanons" so here you go

Besides English, he also teaches a weekend driving class where he lets teenagers take turns parallel parking the Batmobile

His teacher voice isn't too different from normal (compared to other teachers) but it's noticeable—and more importantly, effective. He confiscates someone's phone at the movies when they wouldn't quit texting

For Jason, the "other duties as assigned" include refilling the soap in the boys bathroom and hanging a rainbow flag on the conservative history teacher's door

He also subs for that same teacher and says "everything you've been learning is wrong" before speedrunning the entire other half of American history

Most kids know him as the cool younger teacher who they can earnestly talk to, but every year there's one person who will treat him like he has one foot in the grave

He records his classes and his TA captions everything. Key word: everything

He starts the countdown to the last day of school on the first day of school

Red Hood discovers a restaurant acting as a front for money laundering but instead of taking them down, he lets them go on one condition. Cue the week-long pizza party at school

He once had a student walk in late because they went to Wal-Mart for a Mountain Dew

His hall pass is a dull batarang with "mrs tods hal pas" written in nail polish

Grading essays is either "this kid is the next Austen" or "please never touch a keyboard again"

Before the students turn their quizzes in, Jason asks each and every one of them, "Did you do the other side?"

Jason makes a copy of the janitor's keys and disables the security cameras so one of his students can sleep in the classroom after she was evicted. Red Hood also sweeps the halls to make sure there aren't any D-list Rogues squatting

Once a month the lesson is just naptime. He turns off the lights and tells them to go to sleep

If someone can solve Jason's Monday riddle then they don't have to do homework for a week. In unrelated news, the Riddler is apprehended after Red Hood decodes a series of cryptic clues

One kid told him "You're so old you look like you already died"

[turn3tifosi]

VII. andante, andante

pepe marti x classmate!reader

a highschool crush turns into a slow and steady relationship

series masterlist | main masterlist

It all began with your friends’ relentless teasing during lunch break. You were laughing, completely oblivious to the underlying reason for their constant jibes and hints.

“Honestly, how can you not see it?” your best friend Mia said, exasperation lacing her tone.

“See what?” you replied, genuinely puzzled.

“Pepe Marti! He’s totally into you. He’s always watching you in class,” Mia declared, her voice lowering conspiratorially.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. Pepe was a famous guy in your school. While you guys were spending hours in classrooms learning history and algebra, he was out racing in different countries, and he was doing pretty well. You’d always admired him from afar but never considered the possibility that he might notice you, let alone like you.

“No way,” you said, shaking your head. “He’s got so much going on with his racing. Why would he be interested in me?”

But the seed had been planted. You couldn’t help but replay moments in your mind—Pepe’s lingering gazes, the shy smiles he directed your way. Maybe your friends were right.

Days passed, and the idea that Pepe liked you began to feel less absurd. You started noticing him more, catching his eyes in class, and each time, he’d look away, cheeks slightly flushed. 

One day, after an extremely boring English lesson, you found yourself alone, gathering your books slowly. You glanced up and saw Pepe standing by the door, seemingly hesitant.

“Hey,” he said, his hands playing with the strap of his backpack.

“Hi!,” you replied, almost too quickly for your liking.

He stepped into the classroom. “Can we talk?”

“Sure!,” you were in no actual mood to talk with anyone, but you were curious about what Pepe wanted to say.

Pepe took a deep breath, and for a moment, he thought about just running away, too scared of your rejection. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while now,” he began, his voice gentle. “I like you. A lot. I know it might sound crazy because we don’t get to spend much time together, but it’s the truth.”

You stood there, stunned into silence. Pepe’s face fell, interpreting your lack of response as rejection. He turned to leave, but before he could take another step, you rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

“Wait,” you said, your voice trembling. “I like you too, Pepe. I really do. But…can we take things slow? I don’t want to rush into anything and risk losing you.”

Relief washed over his features, and he smiled, the kind of smile that lit up his entire face, and yours in return. “Of course. I’d love that.”

From that moment on, your relationship blossomed slowly but beautifully. You’d steal moments between classes, share quiet conversations, and text each other late into the night. Pepe’s racing schedule was demanding, but he always made time for you, even if it was just a brief call from a different time zone.

One evening, as you sat together on a bench in the park, you found yourself lost in his eyes.

“There’s a shimmer in your eyes,” you murmured, as he looked at you curiously. “Like the feeling of a thousand butterflies.”

Pepe smiled and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You make everything feel like that,” he whispered.

Despite the growing closeness, a part of you remained fearful. What if the demands of his career pulled him away from you? What if the whirlwind of his racing world left no room for your quiet moments?

“Please, let’s take it slowly,” you’d often say, your voice betraying your insecurities.

Pepe would always hold you close, his embrace reassuring. “We will. I’m not going anywhere,” he’d promise.

Your relationship became a delicate dance, balancing the excitement of new love with the caution of taking things step by step. Pepe continued with his racing career, and you got into university, majoring in mechanical engineering.

And in the moments after the race, when he’d return to you, exhausted but elated, you’d see it in his eyes—the same shimmer, the same butterflies. He was yours, and you were his, moving forward together, one gentle step at a time.

[mykoreanlove]

Fake date me please?

How Felix and you ended up fake-dating

Ever since you uploaded a new picture to your socials, your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Every notification made your stomach turn, each one was more venomous than the next.

Y/N is such an ugly bitch!!!! How many filters did you put on this? No wonder no guy wants to date her – look at her.

You didn’t mind the insults about your looks or how you chose to express yourself but the point about you being unloved stung badly. It was true – you had a shitty record when it came to love. No guy you had ever truly liked, wanted to be with you. You were always the odd one, the one no one considered as girlfriend material.

Sadly, the bullying didn’t stop online. A couple of girls you had classes with appeared next to you, pointing their fingers at you, whispering, and laughing.

“Jesus, look at that disgusting cow. I wouldn’t touch her if you paid me to!”

They all broke into laughter, feeling their best while you felt your worst. You focused on the hot cup of coffee in your hands, trying your best not to break down in front of everyone as you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Sorry lovebug, did you wait long for me?”

You looked into the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen. Blonde curls framed his face while heart-shaped lips smiled at you sweetly.

Felix, one of the most beloved guys on campus, stood right in front of you, calling you lovebug.

Or did you hear that wrong?

“Classes ran late but I’m here now. You look so beautiful today, baby.”

Nope, you heard that right.

“What is that bitch doing with Felix?”, the girls whispered in agony. “Did he call her baby? Seriously?”

Jealousy was written all over their faces, that at least made you feel better.

Felix sat down next to you, as the bullies left the café. You exhaled deeply, trying to let go of the stress you felt in your body.

“I hope I didn’t cross a line, but I couldn’t stand seeing them doing this to you.”

Your eyes started to tear up – no one had shown you this much kindness in ages.

“No, no, no. Thank you, Felix. I really appreciate it”, you hastily replied.

He frowned in amusement. “You know who I am?”

Was he joking? Everybody knew who he was. Girls on campus would murder to be with him. But you couldn’t be one of them, you wouldn’t dare to be one of them.

“Yeah, we have English lit together.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “We do? Shit, I should start paying attention more.”

You stuck your hand out laughing. “Y/N. Nice to meet you, Felix.”

You chatted for a while about this and that, but Felix needed to know more about your life.

“Does this happen often?”

You looked down embarrassed, explaining your misery to him. “I see”, he nodded understandingly.

“Hey, I got an idea. Why don’t I be your boyfriend?”

You choked on your drink.

“What?”

He smiled reassuringly.

“Yeah, let’s teach those brats a lesson. They bully you for being single? Fine, date me then!”

He saw the bewilderment in your eyes and tried to explain himself more.

“It’s like a fake relationship, y/n. This way, they let you live your life peacefully and I can teach them a lesson on kindness.”

“Are you… are you serious?”

Felix packed both of your stuff into his brown leather bag while flashing you his most charming smile.

“Come on. Let’s go on a date!”

___________

part 2 part 3

[lonewolfel]

Ok so guess who is finally putting the English Lit major that their almost finished with to use. Below the cut is a character analysis. I will also be using an outside sources such as "Medea" by Euripides you do not have to read "Medea" to understand the point I will be using them for as I will explain it.

I want to talk about Athena (and to a lesser extent Odysseus) specifically her role in the narrative.

Blame @saixria post for this (let me know if you don't want to be tagged).

One thing I have noticed after reading her post is that Athena seems to have a similar role to that of the chorus in Greek plays.

For a class project I recently reread "Medea" by Euripides and I recently realized how similar Athena in "Epic" and the chorus in "Medea" are. First I will explain the difference between Ancient Greek choruses and modern choruses. Modern choruses act as either back up or characters in their own right (not to mention they only really have roles in musicals), Ancient Greek choruses are characters (unnamed) and can interact with other characters in the play such as "Old nurse, tell me./I heard from some household servant in there that she’s been screaming. I find no pleasure/in this house’s suffering. We’ve been friends." (Euripides, 158-161) however they break the fourth wall and give things to the audience that they wouldn't know without as seen with "You sailed here from your father’s house,/your heart on fire, past those two rocks/that stand guard to the Euxine Sea./You live now in a foreign land." (Euripides, 506-509). Ancient Greek choruses also were tasked with teaching the lessons of the play "Gods often contradict/our fondest expectations./What we anticipate/does not come to pass./What we don’t expect/some god finds a way/to make it happen." (Euripides, 1685-1691).

If we address Saixria's point on Athena talking to the audience in I can't help but wonder then she would fit into the role perfectly. She is a character in her own right that interacts with other characters, teaches some of the lessons in "Epic" and breaks the fourth wall by addressing the audience. She also gives us information that as an audience we don't know but the characters do know. In Suffering we are left unsure how much time has passed or how they got out of the Underworld, compare that to Love in Paradise where Athena says "Seven years she's kept you trapped, outta your control". She is clueing the audience into aspects of the story that they may have missed. I would like to point out that her role in "Epic" is similar to that of Ancient Greek choruses it does not mean Athena is a representation of it. Ancient Greek choruses didn't have any actual affect on the plot where as her actions within the story are important.

This also does something interesting as it suggests that Athena is telling the story and as such it is her perspective we are viewing through. While Odysseus is the protagonist and focal point of the whole story he isn't always in focus as with the Wisdom Saga were it isn't until Love in Paradise that he makes an appearance. Odysseus wouldn't know about what happened between Athena and his son and her and the gods (yes Odysseus could find out after but there are other reasons that I think this is unlikely). Odysseus isn't actually named within the musical until Remember Them which is in the second saga and the ninth song. While yes the audience knew exactly who Odysseus is it is extremely odd. Telemachus also has a similar issue which is why some people confused Telemachus for a young Odysseus (yes, Telemachus's name is states as early as The Horse and the Infant, however his character is not named with his name only really being implied based off of the knowledge that he is Odysseus's son). Other reoccurring characters are named fairly early on (this excludes Zeus and the suitors who's names aren't mentioned in the actual songs). Character names are really important as they signal their significance to the plot and differentiate it. The lack of early name uses for both Odysseus and Telemachus could suggest an audience insertion for these characters for seeing the world of "Epic" through their eyes as if we are experiencing this moment. The audience also gets important aspects of these characters through other characters (Odysseus being a leader and a friend and having a close relationship to the crew. Telemachus being an underdog and willing to great the world with open arms.) This is important as they both are the students of Athena and if Athena is the one telling the story it allows the audience to be further placed in Odysseus's and Telemachus's shoes (or sandals).

There is also the fact that Athena's character arch symbolizes a change in the story. Odysseus's character arch of becoming a monster has little change in the story until 600 Strikes. Despite making the change of becoming a monster it doesn't help him until the end as he is continued to be separated from Ithaca. Athena's character arch though acts as a renewal of hope within "Epic". Athena aids Telemachus giving him hope that he can fight back against the suitors. In God Games she is the reason that Odysseus has a final chance; a hope of returning home. While Odysseus fully submitting to becoming a monster in 600 Strikes can also be assigned hope to me it feels like the act of a desperate man with nothing else to lose.

Warrior of the Mind also makes more sense in this regard. Warrior of the Mind feels narratively like a retroactive song. While the music of the song is repeated the lyrical themes aren't. Athena never acknowledges her desire to create the greatest warrior until in I can't help but wonder. Not to mention it dives more into Athena's thinking then Odysseus with their meeting being from her perspective (also the fact she is introduced twice in the song once by herself and again by Odysseus a sign of her importance as it signals to the audience that she is an important character to remember). Her words are also extremely vague. What does she mean he will change the world? What does she mean by build a better tomorrow? What is her purpose for Odysseus? Also what is a warrior of the mind? Despite this being her song from her perspective her motivation seems rather vague. We know there is an aspect of ruthlessness and turning off emotions but it is unclear if those are her only goals or to what extent.

There is also the fact that despite this song supposedly for reminding Odysseus of her lessons it focuses on before their meeting and their first meeting. Moments were Athena isn't teaching him. This song clues the audience into Athena and Odysseus's relationship however story wise makes no sense. A few aspects of the song do appear later on in regard to My Goodbye (Odysseus considering her a friend, her being his mentor, her against emotions, him being a warrior but not referred to as a warrior of the mind, and disappointment; the warning can be considered redundance to Warrior of the Mind but I always took it as her orders to him in Remember Them) the song by itself holds little significant until I Can't Help But Wonder. One of the interesting things to not is that Athena's motivation in Warrior of the Mind and My Goodbye are different. As stated before in Warrior of the Mind her goal is to create the greatest warrior so that they can change the world. Odysseus states that she is just doing this to be known, this obviously ties into her pride which can be tied to Warrior of the Mind in regard to her being prideful into changing the world in her image; however, why not say that. Why say fighting to be known instead of saying she wants the world in her image? He makes no actual mention of her motivation she claims in Warrior of the Mind suggesting within the story's timeline the song hasn't actually happened yet. This is important as some of the aspects she brings up in Warrior of the Mind are also brought up in Remember Them. Once again she is reminding him of the lessons she has taught him while also not mentioning the fact they had a similar conversation in Warrior of the Mind.

One thing I have noticed is that outside of Warrior of the Mind, Odysseus never actually uses the title of warrior of the mind (I could be wrong). Yes in My Goodbye he rejects the title he is given but before that he is never referred to as that by anyone else. The only person after Warrior of the Mind that is referred to as a warrior of the mind is Telemachus in Odysseus (in the animated part). No gods refer to Odysseus that way (even Poseidon who has a thing against Athena in myth) or even during The Horse and the Infant when the title of warrior of the mind would have been extremely important. This could mean that the idea of warrior of the mind hasn't actually happened yet or that Odysseus wasn't the one she was referring to in the song.

I Can't Help But Wonder carries most of the references to Warrior of the Mind. This being with Odysseus calling out to Athena about knowing that she is watching him. Her reference to making the world a better place and an offering for him to be beside her. There is also the acknowledgement that what she had taught him was wrong. These similarities could be a suggestion towards circular story telling (where the story is a cycle where the end returns to the beginning this would go along with Saixra's idea of Athena telling this story). It can also be used to highlight Athena's character arch as playing the two songs next to each other highlights Athena's different ideologies within each of the songs. It also shows how little her main goal has actually changed in terms of making a better tomorrow just how she is going about it has change.

Saixra's point on the "maybe"s and "what if"s is rather interesting. As she mentioned it is tied to a future specifically with regards to a future with open arms, which Circe, Athena, and Telemachus suggest. All of those characters will experience the future with Circe and Athena both being immortal and Telemachus due to being in his twenties he may live long enough to witness it. Athena represents seeing that future, Circe creating a future where she wont be able to see (due to her being imprisoned on an island), and Telemachus a future that may happen in his lifetime but one he still has to fight to reach. I would however point something out about what she says specifically in terms of "maybe"s. Maybe is vague word that simultaneously means both positive and negative. Lets look at one of her lines in Warrior of the Mind "Maybe one day he'll follow me" it can me one day he'll follow her while also meaning he won't follow her. Maybe leaves room in the future for anything to happen. Due to her uses of maybe and if we believe this is Athena telling the story after the events that her goal still hasn't been reached. That she is still holding out hope that this future could happen.

All of this leads to reaffirming the idea that Athena is telling this story and this is her cry for action.

TLDR: Athena is like Ancient Greek choruses who are telling the story to the audience and teaching it. While the story places you in Odysseus's place (and to some degree Telemachus's) it is clear that it is due to his relationship to Athena and how it ties to her character arch.

I might be missing something in the TLDR because I honestly have lost the plot of this. (Especially cause I first started talking about "Epic"s use of genre I may post that eventually cause I find it really interesting but also I know I'm going to be the only person who understands what I am saying.) I think after this someone needs to take away my (future) degree I have lost it's privilege. Sorry for this but hey thanks for reading all my rambling.

[aloysiavirgata]

Prompt: candlelight concert, jealousy, ust to msr. Thanks so much, big fan here😊.

It was the kind of hotel where you could have set The Shining if it had any charm or ambiance. It had only desolation to recommend it to Kubrick and storm-downed trees across the lonely highway to recommend it to the X-Files division.

***

It was the kind of hotel you wouldn’t even have an affair at because it was too depressing to be salacious.

It was the kind of hotel where the homeless lived by the week, where alcoholics were subsumed, where mid-level corporate managers in short-sleeved button downs killed themselves. There was cheap wood paneling, shag carpet, and a desk clerk named Rabbit.

Rabbit smelled of Marlboros and Olde English 800. Mulder bet there was an El Camino, lovingly cared for, under a tarp next to a double-wide.

Mulder was a snob at times.

“We got a room each for you and your pretty niece,” Rabbit said, winking at Scully like he was Tom Jones in Vegas. “Unless….?”

Scully slapped down her badge like a royal flush, also in Vegas.

“Room each,” she said, tight-lipped and terse.

Rabbit folded.

***

Mulder found the piano when they were hunting for a laundry room. It was in a forlorn, moth-eaten event hall with swags of sun-faded velour curtains; cobwebs frosted with neglected dust.

He sat down at the decrepit thing, white keys like a smoker’s teeth, and he limbered his fingers. There was a candelabra on the top, a sad object filled with half-melted candles the color of old bones.

Scully lit the candles with the Zippo she’d carried since the Apalachicola National Forest. “You don’t play, Mulder.” She paused, cocked her head. “Or do you? Fox Mulder, do you play the piano too?”

He had the stab of jealousy that he always had about Ed Jerse. Ed got her to ink her body after a few hours, and she didn’t know he’d taken fucking piano lessons from 4 to 17.

He played her Clara Schumann’s Piano Concerto even though he knew she wouldn’t recognize it. He played it because Scully and Clara might have been friends.

Scully’s mouth was a blooming peony as she watched him, eyes the Star of Bethlehem. Scully watched him like oysters watch the tide.

“Agent Scully is already in love,” he heard again, and played as though he were auditioning for Julliard.

***

Scully went to the hallway in the thundering dark. The storm gods had been aroused and the night was such a lonely place, especially by flashlight. A cold Coke would be something to do, at least. Something to roll between her palms.

He thought the same - a Lipton iced tea in hand.

“Hi,” she said, looking abashed. “The thunder was -“

“The storm,” he said, at the same time.

They smiled. They looked away.

There was nothing else, there was nothing, just the shapeless silken lines of her pajamas and the foxy silk of her hair and the smiling Cheshire Cat slice of a waxing moon.

***

The moon was so bright and the universe was so big and forever is a long, long time to be alive and alone.

***

She followed him so she could leave later, he knew that. He’d learned her the way he learned everything - intensely and entirely and in a way that consumed him, piece by piece.

He made love to her like an acolyte at a shrine. He made love to her the way flowers make love to the sun.

Fish do not know they are in water.

***

He felt her stir at 3 AM. “Scully,” he breathed, a prayer hastily invoked.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, I-“

He heard her blushing, somehow, in the dark. He heard the blood rush to her good cheekbones, to her beautiful, lopsided mouth. Her capillaries plumped, lush with hot blood. Everywhere, everywhere.

“Please,” he said. “Scully don’t.”

Scully froze, her shoulder blades tensed, ready to unfurl. Ready to let her fly. “It wasn’t-“

He touched her spine like the Western Wall. He touched her spine like a rosary.

***

She never unmade her hotel bed and she didn’t care who knew it and she knew he was jealous of Ed or maybe Padgett and she was jealous of Diana and possibly Phoebe but Fox Mulder had a mouth like the last ripe plum in October. Fox Mulder kissed her throat like a man in the desert kisses an oasis.

They stayed three nights, for the storm and then the pancakes and then the burnt-orange solitude.

Mulder’s fingers were restless and searching and eternally wanting someplace firm to settle. He kissed her by Bolero and he made love to her by Giazotro and he fucked her to Bizet.

Scully had learned Hot Cross Buns on a keyboard, Scully had learned the recorder in 4th grade. She had learned from Mulder that money can’t buy you happiness, but it can buy opportunities and access and mitigate risk.

She started dressing like she’d been raised with it - silk lingerie and a good stylist and Chanel Brown Sugar lipstick. She saw the way society responded and doubled down. Her heels were high and thin and clicked like distant gunshots.

***

She cupped her hand over his at the steering wheel. He had beautiful hands, the color of graham crackers, with bones from an anatomy text. If she could draw she would draw them, and then his strange mossy eyes and the way his lips kissed themselves.

She would draw his back and she would laugh and say “Fox Mulder, you vain thing.”

And then, because she could, she would drag him on top of her. His body was hot and heavy and dangerous and safe.

***

Her hand cupped his and it was an eggshell, so tiny and pale and fragile. He wanted to kiss her little white knuckles and say I love you, I love you.

He wanted to crush her house-sparrow bones into a powder and drink them.

***

They drove into the east, into the east, and they were tenderly, tremulously, alive

[kimberly-spirits13]

Imagine You’re in School with Jason (AP Lit Style)

You’ve been basic friends for a while

Just the type that can have a good laugh but don’t know everything about each other

He’s probably not the first person you’d go to if you’re upset about something but he’s still considered a friend

That is until you start having all your classes together

I’d imagine that if you’re like me, your both taking the most AP classes that you like

AP Lit is the favorite

He loves Anna Karenina because it’s like a TLC show for the Victorian Russians

Jason is a stationary guy, so in class he’s got washi tape to mark chapter sets, non bleed highlighters, microns, little post its, see through post-its, book marks, nice mechanical pencils and refills, and it’s all in a brown leather pencil case

He likes Socratic seminars because he likes to talk about the books

He likes essays but always have to have a page limit given to him because he will write a full book about his thoughts on the book

In class, he’s always asking you what you think about something and he likes that you two can keep up with each other

I don’t think he’s the boy to be hyper concerned with grades, but because he understands his lessons, he naturally makes pretty good grades

You’re assigned a group project where you and Jason decide to partner up to do a poster of Anna Karenina

When you come over to his house for the English project, he has all the supplies and he suddenly realizes that he’s a bit embarrassed about it

“So Alfred (me) may have gone a bit overboard but we can do something simple if you’d like- or idk make it nice”

Please help this man decorate this stupid poster board

Alfred makes your favorite type of drink or gets it, makes food, you two put on a movie or some music, and get to work

“So what do you think is important about Karenin and Vronsky having the same first names?”

“I think it’s important for theme that Anna was introduced with a train and died by train”

“Betsy is a bitch”

He loves to talk about it with you

Once you’re done with the project, he asks you to come over and do homework together

If you’re a vigilante, you’ll do patrol after because you two connect the dots quickly

If you’re normal, suddenly Jason has to run off and says Alfred will take you home but we’ll talk about that another day

For time purposes, we’ll say that you quickly find out about his patrol life

I mean dude comes bruised, he gets called to the basement a lot, he’s a true crime buff, sometimes he goes missing for hours, and it’s Gotham like come on everyone might as well be a vigilante or smt

Dick teases Jason about you two, especially when you’re over

You can’t help that you get cold watching the 6 hour long Pride and Prejudice movie and Jason is right there like come on Dick

Jason is lokey blushing soooo hard if you cuddle up next to him or even if you’re on the same couch

You two start to become inseparable at school

Not in a pda way but like a “I mean we might as well just hang out all the time” kind of way

Automatically becomes your date to any sort of school function

Even if it’s an unspoken thing that you two will be each other’s date, he still gets you flowers and asks you to go with him

Dick eventually pushes him to ask you out because “for real dude we all know you’re crushing”

Jason is a tall dude, towers over everyone, bulked up, dark hair, dark blue eyes, he’s gorgeous and everyone else are the ones intimidated by him

But when he asks you out he is so nervous

I mean the logical part of him is pretty sure that you’ll like him back, but the irrational part is terrified that he is about to mess up your friendship

He asks you at the end of the school day on a Friday incase you say no, there’s a weekend to get over it and he won’t ruin both of y’all’s days by asking during first period or something

When you say yes he’s like “😱” and a part of him is reborn or smt dramatic like that

He basically speeds home and endures the lecture from Alfred on reckless driving

He’s even more excited that you asked if he wanted to go to the park or the bookstore

And he’s like YESSSSSSSSSSS

You two have enormous text message conversations and he likes to FaceTime

Please I think he’s a hot chocolate junkie

He’s got all sorts of mugs ranging from regular white ones to fandom ones

Sweat pants king and he’ll give you any sweat set you want

Or oversized t shirts

He thinks pda at school it gross (it is) so he keeps it on the down low but he’ll definitely hug you or run his fingers through your hair if one of you needs it

He likes playing with your hair because it’s soothing

Please watch documentaries and period dramas with him

Or book to screen adaptations that are good

[artdcnaldson]

With *that* picture of Mike Faist wearing a blue button down and chino pants in mind.

Philosophy uni teacher Art (in his 30’s) who’s sarcastic all the time and thinks English lit is a watered down version of philosophy for the simple mind and English lit teacher reader who just got her first teaching job.

They get into heated debates about the nobility of their respective subject until one evening. They’re arguing in the professors common room, it’s late and everyone’s got home. The fight comes to a head and they end up fucking in the nearest table, pulling on each other’s hair, biting each other’s lips, panting in each other’s mouths…

YOU KNOW i keep that thang on me....

This is soooo professor donaldson mhmmmm mhmmm

Like, god! You're fresh out of your PhD program, just trying to have a nice first semester!! You're young and it's easy to get pushed around so you're just trying to keep your head above water! And here comes this smug, self aggrandizing asshole who loves being an asshole about your discipline!

You two have offices across the hall in the Liberal Arts building, and he hates that you constantly keep your door open so anyone who's struggling can get help whenever you're in, because that means he has to listen to your soft little lo-fi beats and your white noise machine and the constant chatter and laughs and jesus, your class can't be that fun.

So he starts interjecting on conversations. He argues with you for the sake of arguing. Most of the time it's when students are there, but others, he'll hear you recording a lesson for remote students and he waits until you're done to make a bitchy comment about how wrong you are.

It's one of those times when it comes to a head— when you're in your office all alone and you're rambling on your webcam about how determinism plays a role in whatever little book you're reading.

He walks in, notes your surprised expression and just asks, "is that live?" When you shake your head, he slams your laptop shut and kicks the door closed. He doesn't need anyone walking in.