#learn the hard way

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Learn the Hard Way 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Nick Fowler (Professor AU)

Summary: you return to campus is less than glorious.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

“It’s a nice place,” you say as you keep a grip on your duffel bag. 

You took a big chance trusting in the online posting. Furnished and a decent price. Your innate cynicism told you it couldn’t be true and yet your dire financial straits convinced you to take the risk. Even if it turned out to be a mattress in a dingy basement, you would make it work. 

Yet, your pessimism makes the reality even more of a relief. The apartment is just like it was listed in the virtual walk through. And it’s all yours at such a good rate. 

“Got everything you need,” the man explains as he pulls out a tube of lip balm. “And if it doesn’t, you have my number.” 

“Sure, uh, I don’t think I should,” you shrug. 

You peek over at him again. He seems every measure the slimy landlord, mustache included. Designer polo, loafers without socks, tight pants, thought his jacket does give a slightly refined touch to the whole aesthetic. 

“Rules. No parties. You can have some girlfriends over for a little pillow fight now and again but I don’t want a rager. This shit’s too nice for that,” he warns. 

“Right,” you agree, ignoring his strange comment. “I don’t think I’ll be throwing any parties.” 

“Good,” he tuts. “Well, I got shit to do. Class in an hour.” 

He checks his watch and you give him a curious look, “you’re a student too?” 

“Fuck off,” he chirps as he tweaks a brow. “Professor.” 

“Professor. Wait, so isn’t this like a shit, what’s it called, ah, conflict of interest?” 

“What are you? A law student?” He snaps. 

“Photography, actually.” 

“Oh, so you like to throw your money away. That’s good to hear,” he chortles. You frown at the insult. “And now it’s not a goddamn conflict. It’s off campus and you just happen to be a poor student. It’s fucking fine or do you wanna go find something else? Half your monthly to break the lease.” 

“Shit, no, I mean, no. No, it’s cool. I was just... as long as it doesn’t affect me, that’s fine. It’s smart. I mean, if I had money, I’d do some investing too.”  

His eyes dart towards you sharply, “whatever, stop wasting my time.” 

“Sorry, uh, well, thanks, Lloyd.” 

He winces and tilts his head, “I think I prefer professor.” 

“But you’re not mine--” 

“Look, I don’t like you uppity girls gettin’ fun with me. You think I don’t got tail wiggling at me for a higher GPA every goddamn day.” He clucks and straightens his coat, spinning on his heel, “tell your boys not to flush their rubbers.” 

He struts through the door and it snaps shut behind him. You look down at the keys in your hand and cringe. It’s not exactly the best start but you won’t bother him again. This place is perfect. 

You bring your bag into the living room and drop it on the couch. A couch! A chair, dining table, a separate bedroom, and a nice kitchen... you even have a stacked laundry set-up. Shit, feels like you’re robbing the guy. It’s almost too good to be true. 

You pace around for a while before you start to unpack. You didn’t bring much. You’re a person of very little means. You worked two catering jobs in the summer just to get tuition and the whole housing spike on campus had you worried it was all for not. 

Hey, it all turned out. You’ll never trust fate, but fuck dammit, it can be kind when it wants to. 

You head out shortly after, restless, and find the bus stop. Tuition includes a bus pass but you need to go to the Student Support Center to get your card reactivated for the term. You spend the change and weave your way around campus. 

The wait for the simple swipe of your card and a few keys tapped, is far too long. But now you have your transit pass and your meal plan. You’ll hit the cafeteria and hope that they have hiked the cost of a tuna sandwich with the rent. 

The prices may not have gone up but you’re not sure the quality is what it was. You examine the thin prepackaged sandwiches. You’re suddenly not as hungry. You can get a noodle plate and split it between today and tomorrow. A coffee is always cheap too. 

You get your container of pad thai and stop to peruse the self-serve karafes of coffee. Irish Cream, blech. You opt for the caramel sundae flavour. You get maybe two drops and it bottoms out. What the hell? 

“Piss,” you mutter. 

Whatever, you’ll just have some medium roast. You move over to press your cup to the lever and hit someone else’s hand. You recoil, “fuck, shit, sorry.” 

The man grunts and fills his cup. He’s older. Likely a professor judging by the blazer. He watches the slow drip and you do too. You just want a coffee. You wait and as he finishes, you step up to claim your cup. The karafe runs out at the half line of the cup. 

“What the shit?” You huff. “I swear to fuck--” 

“Eloquent,” he remarks as he takes a lid from the stack. 

“Huh?” You look over at him. “Oh, you can hear me? I thought that was my inside voice.” 

He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. He snaps the lid on his cup and takes it. You get no response but the roiling judgment rising off of his rigid posture. 

You top off your cup with the dark roast. Maybe you should let the staff know the coffee is almost out. You go to join the line for the cashier and find yourself facing the back of the man’s blazer. 

He pays and you move up to tap your student card. You thank the cashier and head off, the smell of the noodles stoking your hunger. Mmm, you can’t wait to dig-- 

You collide with something and your coffee bursts and pours over your hand. You look up to find the splatter of mixed brews across dark blue fabric. You squeak as the liquid scalds your hand. 

“Fuck, I’m so fucking sorry, dude,” you say as the same man snarls and turns stiffly on his heel. 

He looks down at you with his icy eyes. You tremble as they’re harsh enough to cool the heat of the spill dripping from your hand. You give a sheepish smile. 

“Hi again,” you murmur. 

He shakes his head and reaches to feel the back of his jacket. He takes a deep breath, a tick in his jaw. “I can clean this, can you clean up that gutter you call a mouth?” 

He doesn’t wait for your answer. You suppose it’s rhetorical and well-earned. You did just dump coffee down his back. 

[brandybrandybrandy]

@brandybrandybrandy

[punkrockmixtapes]

Listen/purchase: She Turns It Up by The Copyrights

[hkthatgffan]

ALEX PLEASE! I CAN'T TAKE HANDLE THIS MUCH BABY BILL CONTENT IN ONE YEAR! 😭🥺

"These horrible wretched babies birthed from the pen of Emmy Cicierega."

[stuckinapril]

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but please don’t break promises you make to yourself just because it’s you the promise is being made to. You told yourself you’d go on a walk tomorrow morning? Do it. You said you’d get more consistent with your skincare routine? Make it happen. You promised yourself you would work on establishing boundaries regardless of who’s on the other side of them? Follow through with that. Don’t wake up the next day and go “well I don’t HAVE to do this” “it wouldn’t hurt to postpone this” “this isn’t a big deal” because it literally is. Every promise broken is another nail in the coffin of your self-actualization. It’s another major roadblock to developing healthy self-love and self-respect. Weigh promises you’ve made to yourself the same way you would weigh promises you’ve made to others.

[ryssbelle]

Drew a bunch of Marinettes in a bunch of different artists styles it was a lot of fun!!

Artists who's styles I mimicked: @buggachat @hamsternamedmarinette @ladybeug @sabertoothwalrus and @anna-scribbles all epic artists 🤟😎

[stemmmm]

if you havent read my wife's gf fanfic WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!

(no sound)

[call-me-littlesunshine]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Learn the Hard Way 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Nick Fowler (Professor AU)

Summary: you return to campus is less than glorious.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

As you watch the man storm off in his wet jacket, you frown. Well, that’s a good way to make friends. Off to a great start, Ash. 

You wince but stop yourself from backing away as a blurry figure hazes in your peripheral. You look over at the girl as she silently holds out a napkin. 

“Oh, jeez, thanks,” you laugh nervously. “Can ya hold this for me?” You hold out your container as you accept the help. She’s the first person who hasn’t looked at your sideways. You keep hold of your coffee and sop up the mess. “I’m fucking idiot sometimes. I was so focused on the noodles.” You glance around at the tables, “shit fuck, this place is crowded, huh?” 

You crumple the napkin and reach for your container. You zero in on the girl. She hasn’t said a word. She looks anxious too. It sort of makes you feel better.  

“Quiet, huh? Well, shit, I just can’t stop talking,” you smirk. 

“Um…” she gulps. “I got a table…” she points over her shoulder.  

You smile, “thanks, that’s nice but… okay. I guess things can’t get any worse.”  

She bounces and turns, guiding you across the caf. You know how she fidgets. Definitely nerves. Maybe a freshman?  

“I’m Ash, by the way,” you introduce yourself as you put your stuff on the table and sit.  

“Auburn,” she replies. 

“Ash and Auburn. One more and we could be musketeers or something,” you joke as you push your cup to the side and open your noodles. 

“Oh, have you read it?” She asks. “The Three Musketeers, that is?” 

“Nah, but I watched the movie. Oh, shit, did you see the real shitty on they made with Orlando Bloom. Fucking loved it. Trash movies, totally my ish,” you yammer as you unwrap the chopsticks. “But maybe I should give the book a try.” 

She nods and taps nervously on her can of diet coke. She wears a gray gap hoodies and her hair is untamed. She’s a bit wild in appearance but you are in spirit. Besides, you don’t have any roomies to latch onto this year. 

“So, Auburn, what do you study?” You ask and shove a buttload of chow mein in your mouth. 

“Erm, computer science.” She answers and curls her shoulders inward. 

“Awesome. I’m doing photography. More of the creatie sort. I’m just tryna push through my degree and decide if I wanna open up my own studio or what,” you shrug. “You know, the computer thing is smart though. No one knows how the fuck to use one.” 

She nods and giggles. You don’t mind doing the yapping. That’s always been your problem but she seems content enough to listen. 

“You live on campus?” You ask. 

She nods. 

“Yeah, I got me an apartment. Couldn’t afford the fees they charge at this place, but it’s nice. You know, I thought I was gonna be sleepin’ with cockroaches,” you shake your head then shudder at the thought. “You ever had a cockroach crawl over you while you’re sleeping?” 

Her eyes widen and you laugh. 

“Don’t ask,” you sniff. “Anyway, Auburn, thanks for letting me crash your party. Hope I’m not annoying you too much. I got a habit of it.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” she assures you and picks at her fraying cuff. 

“You want some of them? They’re fucking bussin’,” you spiral a wad of noodles around the chopsticks. 

She shakes her head. Well, more for you. 

You sit with Auburn for a while. You only leave as you see the time and realise you need to go to the bookstore before your first class tomorrow. It closes in thirty. 

“Damn, gotta scram,” you say as you pack up what’s left of your noodles. “I’ll text ya.” 

“Sure,” she agrees and gathers up her bag. “Thanks.” 

“Hey, don’t let these other fuckers get to you. They ain’t too cool for school,” you wink and head off. 

You go to the basement and weave through to the bustling bookstore. You stop to search for the course code on your phone and walk blindly down an aisle. As you raise your head to search for 208C, you collide with an unexpected wall, a waft of stale coffee gusting up at you. 

You back up and look at the man as he snaps shut the book in his hand and sighs. It’s that same man from the cafeteria. Oh no. 

“Oh fuck, sorry, bud,” you say. “I was just looking for--” 

“You. Again,” he snarls. 

“Uh, yeah, hi, it’s me,” you confirm. “Look about before--” 

“Do you need glasses or something?” He accuses. 

“Er, no. 20/20 according to my eye doctor.” 

“Not a real question,” he sneers. 

“I said sorry. Really, I didn’t mean too.” 

“You know, it doesn’t matter what you mean, it’s what you do,” he retorts. 

“Wow, are you like a philosophy professor or something?” You ask. 

His nostrils flare, “I’m none of your business, stupid girl.” 

“Well, if I’m so stupid, you shouldn’t get so worked up about a question,” you roll your eyes and turn to the shelves to find your book. “Fuck.” 

“Disgusting,” he remarks. “Someone needs to wash that mouth out.” 

You ignore him. You’ve dealt with idiots before. The stupid frats call you a nerd but this guy wants to call you stupid. Men are too much to deal with so the best course of action is not to. You slide out a text book and double check your phone to match the code.  

The price tag nearly gives you a heart attack. It’s a coursepack. They don’t sell them sued. You resign yourself to the expense.  

The man lingers and you send him a wary look, “were you expecting something else?” 

He glares at you then shakes his head. He shoulders past you, nearly knocking the book from your hands, and you turn to watch him stomp away. Well, what are the odds you run into the same asshole twice? Maybe that means you’re the asshole. 

Big deal. Running into him a third time is a long shot. Besides, you’re less worried about some grumpy stranger and more uptight about the cost of the paper in your hands. You’ll be opting for fifty-cent ramen over the cafeteria special from now on. 

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[crabsnpersimmons]

I got my hair cut the other day and of course I had to draw the dca boys running a hair salon:

Sun would be so effortlessly charming. Always chatting away with customers, explaining each product he uses and how to best maintain and style their hair.

Moon I can see being popular with the less chattier customers (like me) but over time they begin to open up. I imagine he hums while working. Otherwise, he's all ears for the newest gossip.

(The clipped up hat idea came from @bamsara's solar lunacy doodles!)

Also I love the popular headcanon that the dca can speak other languages, so I can imagine them being a hit with the aunties.

The full sketch page under cut! And some of my other thoughts

Other thoughts about this... AU? Can I call it an AU? Feels kinda small for an AU, but whatever:

Eclipse works there too! Haven't decided if it would be canon or fanon Eclipse, though I really like the image of 4-armed Eclipse working on 2 clients at once (plus, the nickname Clip is perfect for this scenario)

of course they're great with kids! They'd be able to console kids that get scared of getting their hair cut. Sun would do a little trick and tell them how good and brave they are all the way through. Moon would console them and hum a soothing song (or hey maybe they notice the kid's wearing a disney shirt and starts humming some showtunes). Every kid gets a candydrop and a balloon on their way out.

y/n works at the hair salon as a part-timer and does tasks around the salon like sweeping, arranging bookings, washing hair, etc. They don't really care too much about their own hair, but the boys are always offering to style it, dye it, braid it. With y/n's permission, the boys always toy with their hair—patting it, combing their hands through it, brushing it over y/n's ear, ruffling it.

[bowenoke]

in scott's pov (ep7) he refers to scar as grian's husband. no one tells him this is not the case. this is because traffic!scott decides who is and is not married like some sort of contractually binding arbiter of love. to me anyways

[stuckinapril]

Do not think that violating your boundaries for other people is selfless!! If anything that would eventually lead to nothing but resentment towards the people you violated those boundaries for. It comes back to bite you in the ass sooner or later. It’s not the grand gesture you think it is. The more firm you are on your boundaries, the more intact you keep your mental health, and so the more emotionally available you are for other people. True selflessness comes from knowing what you have to do for yourself in order to give to other people, not from excessively pleasing only to end up feeling bitter and dismissed

[kkoct-ik]

second batch of yttd doodle requesties

[souvenir116]

Max: But I prefer what we have now [compared to 2021] because Charles, I know him very well, he's a nice guy, we are similar age, I think we're only 3 weeks apart. I think we also have fighting, very well, respected competition with Ferrari. When they win a race, we can go to them, they can come to us, and say "well done". I really respect that. (...) Even on Saturday night, we even had a laugh in Paul Ricard [with Ferrari team] We are hard competitors on track, but outside of it, you can have a very good time. That's what I enjoy about this year. [2022] Let's say I would not sit with Mercedes on a table, on a Saturday night, having a laugh. Its just the click we have with Ferrari, and in general I have a lot respect for the team.

and him liking the video posted by Gino Rosato (Ferrari) 🤍

+ preferring battling Charles compared to Lewis in 2021

[bivampir]

it's SO funny that when asked what he had to do to prepare for his role in IWTV Sam Reid says he had to learn how to play the piano, learn to speak French, Italian, and English with a French accent. Bailey read IWTV religiously and added her own comments, and kept an actual fucking journal she wrote entirely as Claudia. meanwhile Jacob Anderson, when asked the same question, just responds with “oh nothing, i was already emo”. icons and legends only