#one of my first classes posted their syllabus!

[closetcasefabray]

jesus saves (i spend)

i have been writing parts of an avatrice college au for two gd years now. the ideas & writing are scattered between here (one of the tags below should work), my whatsapp convos with @snowandwolves, on discord, my dinosaur laptop that crashes, & my email. it’s a fucking disaster but whatever so am i & not once in my life have i had my shit together so this is all unsurprising.

SO what i’m saying is, here’s the only part i have ‘formally’ written in fic form bc i posted that other ficlet. doing this made me almost throw my dino laptop & my phone out a window on several occasions—that’s why there isn’t more. but i just wanna share this.

more notes & rambles at the end.

//

You notice her because it's syllabus week of your freshman year, it's an 8 AM class, and you're fairly confident you're still drunk from the party you attended last night, but she raises her hand and correctly answers a question posed by your theology professor without hesitation. Your professor, Father Vincent, was likely hoping for a good guess at best, but there she is, exceeding expectations from the moment she speaks. You pickup on an accent, which you would find incredibly attractive if you weren't so thrown by her perfect and concise response, like a well-prepared speech is always readily accessible in the back of her mind—a girl with all the answers. A young woman, really. 

You, however, are not—you're just a girl. You're just a girl who shows up to her morning classes smelling like the bar or the house party from the night before, like the weed you started smoking almost immediately upon arriving to university during orientation week, like the cigarettes you smoke because it affords you a little more quiet outside and an excuse to borrow a lighter and talk to a cute boy or a pretty girl.

You're just a girl who technically died, existed in nothingness for a whole minute before being ripped back into a reality of blank ceilings and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You're just a girl strangers prayed for after they heard about the American child pulled from the wreckage. You're just a girl who didn't get any credit for teaching herself to stand again, to walk again—and if you’re being completely honest, you’re a girl who’s incredibly bitter that a god you never saw in that one minute got all the credit and none of the blame—for taking your mother from you, for taking years from you that had to be spent healing from god’s grace or lack thereof. 

You're just a girl who is tired of being told to look at her life as an expression of holiness, who thinks it is more so the consequence of indifferent stardust. But you still look for the beauty in that, in humanity and its flaws—these meaningless beings in a vast universe, creating and destroying their own little, myopic worlds on this spinning rock. Some will dream of poetry for their lovers, and some will dream of arsenals to level cities. You wonder how many lips were pressed together in a final kiss versus hands clasped together in prayer when fire fell from the sky in the name of God. You wonder what that says about faith.

You'd like to think if your mother could see you, she'd laugh at the irony because once you were baptized, she never took you to church. God finds a way, so you spent five miserable years in a Catholic orphanage before you were sent back to America. People said you were lucky to have two years in a foster family at your age, but it felt like living with strangers who were tasked with the minimum of keeping you alive. Then you were moved into a home for teen girls with a nun at the helm, and that’s where you actually felt fortunate for the first time in years. It was there that Mother Superion helped you with your studies and college applications. So here you are, tipping into a hangover in one of the oldest buildings on campus, learning theology from a priest.

But your mom would understand. (You don’t remember much of her, and you try not to think about that too deeply, or else you have to deal with the resulting ache that comes from reaching inside yourself for something that’s gone.) You have spliced together what you can recall into a short reel—you mom buckling into your car seat while humming a show tune, showing you how to fold a pizza slice and telling about a city famous for their pizza, and holding your hand in a museum in Spain, promising to take you to another big museum closer to home, the home you never saw again. So you promised yourself and the parts of her you carry that you’d make it here.

You would have had to pay almost full tuition if you wished to attend your reach, requiring immense debt, so you ended up at the school that offered you a ticket to the city and a hefty enough scholarship you could get through four years without requiring loans or a full-time job to afford it. (You first refused to use your mother’s death as a sob story in you application letter, but Mother Superion put her hand on yours and said, So rarely do these letters contain truth, but do not be afraid to tell yours. In telling your truth there is a sadness, yes—and I know you detest pity—but of all the things that have been taken from you, do not feel guilty for taking some of it back to live a better life.) You remember getting your acceptance letter, and looking up at the sky and flipping it off, praying whatever god hears you, No thanks to you!

But your bitterness temporarily takes a backseat in your mind as you look at your classmate, beautiful in the refracted light shining through the stained glass window, speaking so graciously of god you'd think Jesus were in the room, about to hand her his latest work. It's poetry, bordering on scripture in a new tongue, and you'd almost be a believer if it didn't sound as if she had repeated these words—practiced—enough times to believe them herself. You wonder what that says about her faith.

If the nuns at the orphanage had spoken the gospel as she does, maybe you'd be here for different reasons. You're fascinated.

Behold, you are beautiful…

//

i promise this fic gets lighter & has some silliness. so some notes/tangents:

this is 100% self-indulgence bc i heard ‘write what you know’ & ran with that shit. when i visited a friend at a state school in a college town i was so so confused bc it was just a diff campus culture entirely. then i was going to make this set in an ambiguous city, but i literally have saved places in google maps that would be great places to kiss someone sooooo you get NY avatrice.

likely setting this before instagram & smartphones bc i’m old/lazy & i can.

the title is from st. vincent who my friend introduced me to in college. “paris is burning” changed my brain chemistry & so i listened to her music on repeat for ages—“jesus saves, i spend” is on the same album.

father vincent will not be a bad man or evil professor. he will be as he was before adriel—a lost man who found himself through god & still a little broken but caring & devout.

also song of songs/song of solomon is like… the only part of the bible i fucked with in theology class so that’s the reference at the end. also another line used in another scene with JC, chanel, & ava written in v rough form. maybe will share that later.

this is meant to be a fic with a post-grad sequel as well. not much written of that but a lot of ideas everywhere.

once i figure out where i’m moving (hahahaha i’m so stressed), i’ll consider a ko-fi or something (i wish emails & names weren’t shown though). but mostly i will likely need a second job to save up for an actually good computer/macbook. once i have that i’ll be able to post on ao3.

anyway thanks for reading & being here :3

[handsomegentlebutch]

Hiiiiii sorry I've been MIA. Been super busy w prepping for school n with work stuff. I love u and I see your messages. I'm gonna queue some up today to try and get traction for fundraisers for ppl on here. Peace and love on planet earth :3

[ros3ybabe]

First Impressions 🎀

I've had 4 of my 5 classes so far (one doesn't start til october) and I definitely have some thoughts on them, so I thought I'd share my first impressions!

Principals of Accounting II:

the professor seems a bit disorganized, nervous, and semi chaotic but I like his energy

so many people in southern attire, I was a bit surprised

might take a decent amount of study time and energy to keep my grade up in the class, but I'm always up for a challenge and I definitely know I'm capable

gotta figure out a time efficient study routine for this class

Learning (Psychology)

professor has an accent, no idea where he's from, but it's a cool and thankfully understandable accent

feels very content heavy. I definitely want to buy the textbook for this class

need to find a way to stay awake, that's one of the classrooms that make me sleepy

that professor likes to talk for sure (1 hour and 15 min of just the syllabus? man's can talk)

Integrated Survey of Organic and Bio Chemistry

the professor is definitely a science guy, him being the professor makes perfect sense

i really like how he explains and teaches

appreciate that all the content needed is already posted to our class online and all the slides are available already

I love science based classes because I know how to succeed in them and this one seems no different

I have a friend in the class so that's nice!

Intro To Business (Online)

lots of content

lots to do

I gotta make sure I time manage for this class cause otherwise, I'm gonna fall behind

an introduction video?? why not just a discussion post?? ahhhhh

Overall, with working full time, this is going to be an incredibly stressful, incredibly busy semester, but I'm so up for the challenge, and I know I can do it. I just gotta study efficiently, time manage properly, and keep disciplined. I WILL be successful.

til next time lovelies 🩷

[chiimi-png]

112 Days of Uni [1/112]

🌒18/03/24🌖

Decided to do a take on the 100 dop challenge except with my uni semester. It's 16 weeks, 7 days, some days will be slow, others will be chaotic but if I am forced to finish this major I may as well have fun posting about it. This semester I'm taking two courses and a total of 12 hours a week however pre thesis is a really demanding course that has a big work load in between classes

First day was syllabus day, since Im retaking this damned class I already know most of the things and have most of the work done. I kind of feel like looking into transferring universities and majors to one abroad but really would need a job to pay for bills, etc. so that's out of the question for now.

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, frats, alcohol

songs i think r cute w this: champagne coast, les, no. 1 party anthem

rush, bidding, and pledging have finished! you know what that means, it’s formal season!

dick grayson was a proud brother of his fraternity, repping his greek letters in either crewneck or t-shirt form at least once a week. he held a position, so of course he advertised the brotherhood he was apart of. his free mornings, afternoons, and nights were consumed by volunteer work or party planning, as any good brothers would be.

and how lucky are you to be in a 9am class with the man? it wasn’t a secret that he liked you. during syllabus week, he made effortless small talk, learning your name, major, and clubs you were apart of.

dick forgot a pencil? well there’s only one person he’d care to ask to borrow one from, and it was you who sat right beside him. needed somebody to review your paper for the class? dick was already offering you his email for you to send it.

study sessions went by, grabbing breakfast after class together, and finally he was planning his first formal of the year with his brothers.

"i don’t know if you’ve ever been to one, but would you wanna be my plus one to my formal?" he asked you as he took a bite from his breakfast sandwich after class, sitting across from you at the table in your student union.

no, you’ve never been to a formal, but you knew what they were. frats renting out a bar or taking a weekend trip out of your campus city, dressing up, having dinner, dancing. it was clubbing but formal and an invite only event.

"are you asking me out on a date via your frat, dick?" you ask your friend and classmate, and he grins. "would there be a problem in that?" your head shakes and now you’re mirroring his smile.

the man gave you the details. since rush just finished, this was the lower key one, one that takes place in town rather than the one that’s held in spring in which their frat takes them to a beach a few hours away. it was at a higher end bar that was going to be rented out by them for the night and occupied by brothers and their dates.

you recognized a few of the faces of dick’s friends when you walked in, having classes with some and being in clubs with others as he dapped them all up when he walked in, hand in hand with you.

"i didn’t know you were all cooped up, grayson," a senior says to the man who has a smug smile on his lips and a shrug of his shoulders. "first date..?" dick says, and it sounds more like a question that makes you laugh.

"one hell of a place for a first date," another one of his friends says and he rolls his eyes, continuing to make his way into the bar that’s more crowded than you expected.

while brothers weren’t supposed to have alcohol at their events, it’s not like anybody was posting about the bottles of svedka their president brought in and was pouring with his back to the bartenders, offering to you and dick once he saw the two of you.

dick looks at you, to which you reply with an approving nod and take a shot with his hand still holding yours. some introductions are given to you before you both are sitting at a high top, smiling at each other stupidly.

"forgot to tell you how pretty you looked tonight," he smiles at you, looking from your heels up to your hair that was pinned back. "had to dress for the occasion," you smile before motioning to him, "i didn’t realize you could clean up this well. i’m used to hoodies and sweatshorts," and he laughs.

for a frat event, the evening went smooth and comfortably. slowly getting a bit more buzzed, you and dick went from dancing to making small talk to dancing again.

dick’s surprised himself. never did he think he’d have a crush on somebody, but he sure was slowly falling for you. the way you were getting along with all of his friends, how pretty you got for his event, and the feeling of your skin on his when holding hands and dancing.

"have any plans after this?" he says in your ear, one hand on your hip and the other holding the skin of your exposed back, moving his body against yours.

and you have to laugh at that, knowing exactly where this was leading, "yeah, told my friend i’d go to his after," you say with a smirk, tilting your head with a hand on the side of dick’s neck.

now dick hasn’t kissed you yet, after all, this was sort of your first date. but he can’t help but lean in real close, his lips feathering yours to say, "yeah? want me to drive you to his house for you, pretty girl?"

pda isn’t exactly favored at frat events, but a little kiss won’t hurt.

so, you break the space between the two of you, and dick is eager to pull you closer, tongue swiping your bottom lip until he’s pulling back with a devious smirk.

the taste of each other made you both hungry for more. you wished you could’ve held out until you were back at dick’s place, maybe to have a more romantic first time with him. but, you were thinking with your pussy and dick was thinking with his dick, and the bathroom was actually really nice, and dick was pressing you against a wall that was a full length mirror, his lips biting your shoulder and his hands fumbling to pull your dress around your waist… so what could you do?

"wanted to take this off of you as soon as i saw you," he says breathlessly, your small moans filling the small space as he continues nibbling against your skin. his lips are soft and hot against you, some of your lip gloss that were remnants on his lips now being put back onto you.

once your dress is bunched up, dick’s swiping your panties to the side and slipping two digits into your entrance, pulling his head back from your skin to gauge your reaction. and when your neck is tilted back and you’re moaning his name, he’s smiling while his chest is heaving. "yeah? you like that baby?"

"mhm," you moan, your grip loosening on him as your body is falling into a sweet bliss that only dick grayson could put you into.

hell, he wishes he could’ve fucked you in a place that wasn’t some bar at his shitty frat’s formal, but he promises he’ll make up for it later. promises he’ll take you on an actual date and take you back to his place to have a slower and sweeter pace. but for now, he doesn’t see you protesting and can tell you want this just as bad as he does.

his free hand is fumbling with his belt, and the sound of metal clinking brings you back to reality and how unfair it is that dick’s fully clothed. "please," you whine, your hands pushing his blazer off while he shrugs his should, his finger slipping out of you.

dick pauses, his fingers moving towards his own lips and he’s quick to suck on them without any hesitation. "jesus," is all you can mutter out, watching the way he’s sucking everything you currently gave him like he won’t get another taste.

"you know i’m gonna treat you right, pretty girl," he says as he sees your reaction, smile tugging his lips while his shoulder shrugs his blazer off, hands undoing his belt. your eyes meet his, "wouldn’t be here if i didn’t have expectations," you reply back, catching you breath and leaning back on the mirror behind you that’s growing an inappropriate amount of smudges.

his hands are tugging his belt off, setting it beside his blazers and the growing collection of clothes sitting on the sink. your hands are slipping the straps of your dress off, revealing your bra which is next to follow dick’s clothes.

blue eyes are taking in your figure. taking in the parts of you he’s never seen before while he’s dropping his pants around his ankles. "prettiest fucking girl," he whispers making you grin.

your hands find their way to the buttons on dick’s steamed white top, unbuttoning them while his eyes continue eating you alive. "patience," you breathe, unbuttoning him deviously slow.

dick groans playfully, a short laugh following it until his chest and abdomen are showing. now it was your time to take him in. his pecs were whorishly defined, the muscles making the muscles plump. your eyes continue traveling down, his abdomen following down to his waist that is tiny and helps to define his muscles.

"i’m all yours," he reminds, genuinely meaning it in comparison to the times he’s said it to his previous one night stands.

he’s quick to have his hands on you again, the same way that you are as his lips bring you two back together. the kidding is feverish—like this is the last time the two of you will ever kiss. teeth coaching and biting each others lips, tongues sucking one another’s.

a big hand grips your waist, turning you so that your chest and breasts are pushed against the mirror, and your backside is pressed against dick’s. his boxer clad member pressing against your clothed backside making both of you groan.

"you okay?" he asks, finger pulling your underwear down your legs, followed by him taking a step back and pulling his boxers down, hand still holding your hip.

once again, you moan, "mhm," and he’s coming close again, lining his member up with your slicked entrance that’s drooling for him.

his first moments are slow, allowing you to get adjusted to his size and the feeling of him buried deep inside you.

"fuck, you feel fuckin’ perfect around me, y’know that, baby?" he’s muttering to himself, beginning to speed up. the hand that’s holding your waist goes to the middle of your back, pressing down so that your arching all pretty for him, his other hand moving to the back of your neck, pushing you against the mirror while holding you in place.

the rough pace isn’t allowing you to think straight, but all dick can do is groan and lean into your ear, body on top of yours as he’s whispering the dirtiest things to you.

"pussy was made for me, pretty baby. filling you up perfect," he’s groaning, lips moving to bite your ear harshly which lets a chorus of high pitched moms escape your throat, eyes closing from the ecstasy that is dick continuously touching your sweet spot.

the steam from your breath was fogging up the mirror and dick’s thrusts felt like they were shaking the entire room you both were in. neither of you caring how loud you were because the music and chatter outside the bathroom was even louder.

it’s only a few minutes later that dick’s asking, "where d’ya want me baby?" the knot forming in both of your lower stomachs synced up to a tee.

"mmm," you moan, biting your own lip, one hand holding yourself up against the mirror and the other reaching behind you to claw at whatever ounce of skin you can get of dick’s. "inside, inside," you rush to say, and he’s following your request as soon as you utter the words, warmth filling you on top of dick resting his sweaty and hot body against your back.

you can only whimper at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you and him still keeping his place from inside of you, his warmth beginning to leak out of you as he pulls out.

there’s a minute of recovery, quick breaths making both of your chests rise and fall with a quickness.

"meant what i said," dick says, attempting to wipe himself off with the tissue in the bathroom, throwing it away and grabbing some to softly wipe between your legs, illiciting a whine from your lips. "remind me what you said."

he chuckles, his hands slowly wiping the inside of your thighs and the outside of your entrance. "about me thinking you’re, like, the perfect girl," you honestly don’t remember him saying that, but once he’s finished, you turn around with a grin.

"uh huh," you tease, fixing your bra straps and dress straps to fit on your shoulders correctly. your eyes watch as dick bends down, pulling your underwear back up to your hips comfortably and pulling your dress back down, smoothing it out with a wide smile. "i’ll take you on a real date, i promise," he assures, pulling his boxers and pants up in one go.

you help to button his shirt back up, the white tip filled with wrinkles that tell an embarrassing story. "i’ll have to check my schedule," you smile smugly, leaning back once he’s slipping his blazer back on, his hand pulling your hips so that you’re side by side, looking into the mirror.

"i’ll make sure it’s cleared," he winks in the mirror to you, "we clean up nice." and though both of your hair is disheveled and some of dick’s is sticking to his forehead, wrinkles are on both of your attires, and the mirror has a disgusting amount of smudges from you both, you walk out of the party with confidence that only two college students would have, and are making your place back to dick’s apartment for your first night together.

this is my formal apology for asshole one night stand frat boy dick

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

For those of you who don’t know, I decided to run the gauntlet of @bengiyo’s queer cinema syllabus, which is comprised of 9 units. I have completed four of the units (here is my queer cinema syllabus round up post with all the films I’ve watched and written about so far). It is time for me to make my way through Unit 5- Lesbians, which includes the following films: The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love (1995), Bound (1996), Water Lilies (2007), Saving Face (2004), D.E.B.S. (2004), Set It Off (1996), The Handmaiden (2016), Carol (2015), Imagine Me and You (2005), Two of Us (2019), Rafiki (2018), and The Color Purple (1985). 

Today I will be talking about 

Bound (1996) dir. Wachowski Sisters

[Run Time: 1:48 , Language: English]

Summary: Tough ex-con Corky and her lover Violet concoct a scheme to steal millions of stashed mob money and pin the blame on Violet's crooked boyfriend Caesar. Cast: - Jennifer Tilly as Violet - Gina Gorshon as Corky __

OKAY! THIS MOVIE KICKS ASS! What a gift to dykes everywhere, let me tell you. I cannot believe this was the Wachowski Sister’s directorial debut. It makes so much sense to me how they would have gotten such success off of The Matrix and Sense8 if this was their first foray in to directing because it is evident how strong of an idea they have for the story they are telling and what they want their audience to see. Maybe it helps that they wrote it as well, but still they know exactly what they want to do in every scene. 

It’s really fun watching Bound knowing that it was made before Lana and Lily Wachowski came out because it is so clear to me that queer women made this film. Corky and Violet are so horny for each other, we get multiple on camera lesbian sex scenes, they are both hot as fuck and the camera lets us know it in a way that somehow (for me at least) manages to convey both a carnal desire to Tap That without feeling like it is objectifying the women on screen.

I think it is really interesting that this entire heist took place across two rooms in an apartment complex, and that all of this could still go down. I loved how run down the apartment Corky was fixing up looks and how grandiose Violet’s apartment is. The class disparity is there, but we know where Violet stands because she always places herself in Corky’s spaces. 

I saw a little interview from the Wachowski’s talking about what is one of my favorite shots in the film, when the camera transitions birdseye between Violet on the phone in her bedroom and Corky on the phone on the other side of the wall. They were talking about how these two women are trapped and how caged in they wanted the set to feel, so not only did they keep them in those rooms but they covered the apartment in squares to just keep them caged and caged and caged at every level. And you can see it, even though it is sometimes subtle. It’s in the wallpaper, it’s on the floor, the concrete slabs, etc. (You can see an example in the gif above)

I liked that Corky set the plot up so well by telling Violet that if they were going to steal the money that she needed to know her mark as well if not better than she knows herself, and how the rush job to take the money backfires so spectacularly at the very last part of the plan because Corky doesn’t know Ceaser well enough to realize he is going to stay and fight rather than turn tail and run when he realizes the money is gone. 

I talked a few times about the color red and the symbolism associated with it in Heartbreak Alley, how every time I saw blood on screen in the back half of Unit 4 the only thing I could think about was AIDS. So it is really interesting moving in to Unit 5 to spaces where we see a lot of blood and where suddenly that symbolism is gone. Now the blood is prison and freedom all in one. I love the way Ceaser’s blood mixes with the white paint at the end. The blood dripping on the white tile of the bathroom, on the toilet. All the ways in which sins and crime can be wiped clean, and how white makes everything else stand out, until it doesn’t. I was struck by the transition between Ceaser bleeding out in that pool of white paint, and the Landlord Special room we transitioned to with all those impossibly white walls. 

Favorite Moment: 

Oh god, there are so many little things I loved, the shot of Corky and Violet’s lips an inch apart and then crashing together to make out. Their fingers intertwining in the car at the end of the film. The fact that Corky wears her lockpicks as earrings, #innovation. But I think my absolute favorite little moment in the film is when Ceaser has Corky bound at his feet and he’s interrogating her about the money, and he points the gun at her face and he says: “Fucking queers you make me sick” which sounds like a weird choice to have as my favorite moment, but it is entirely because of the second after that line when Violet’s eyes flick upwards to look at him. Because she, too, is a queer woman and we are not allowed to forget that just because she spends so much of the film bound to this man because of his money and his power over her. 

Favorite Quote: 

“I had this image of you inside of me. Like a part of me.” 

It’s repeated a few times in the film though it always feels kind of randomly placed. But I like it for the simple fact that it is like calling to like. Queer woman trapped in her own life calling out to a queer woman trapped in her own life. I like that we get the counterpart to this quote at the end when Corky asks Violet “do you know what the difference is between you and me, Violet?” // “No.” // “Me neither.”  It’s just such a lovely parallel that comes at the end of all of their suffering, their abuse, and the freedom they have gained. 

Score

10/10

Gina Gershon hot.

What else is there to say?

[luvvyouforever]

rhys and john keats - modern au!rhysand x college student!reader ❥

↳ reader can barely handle the weight of college but rhysand is there to pick her up and help the pain.

↳ so self indulgent it hurts. set in a modern age where reader is a college student but rhysand is still high lord? idk honestly. mentions of stress, self doubt, comfort, crying. my day-to-day life essentially.

↳ requests are open! check characters in pinned post and link for requests is in my bio :)

the living room of your shared apartment with rhysand is a sight to behold. papers, printed copies of poems, books, pens, highlighters, and three energy drinks enclose you in a circular shape. it's horrifying and the sight is not eased by your messy hair, dark circles, and tear-stained cheeks. the semester was getting to you, clearly.

three papers were due for one class in the next two weeks. six quizzes were on the agenda and you had easily ten multiple page texts to read before class at 9am the following monday.

it had never been this stressful before but your time in college was coming to an end and that only ramped up the amount of work you had to complete. your final few semesters were certain to end you and you'd never get to walk across that stage to receive a blank page of paper which would eventually be replaced with your actual diploma. that's how it felt, at least.

minutes full of agony passed until you heard the familiar flapping of strong wings on the balcony. you didn't move from your sitting position as rhysand sauntered into the room, smile so wide it reached his violet eyes.

"my dear y/n," he whispered. his voice was so sweet that another tear forced its way out of your eye and down your cheek again. he must have sensed it, the stress pouring down your bond, or maybe he could somehow smell the salt of the tear as it dripped onto the page in your lap. he knelt down to meet your face and he pouted. "what's going on, darling?"

for the first time that night, you tore your gaze away from your work and met his eyes. "there's too much," you mumbled with a watery voice. "i can't do this."

he made a click with his tongue while examining the piles of work on the floor. his fingers lifted the assignment prompts and poems and syllabus requirements. more tears fell and you silently cursed each and every one of them.

"why can't you do it? what's challenging you?" he asked gently. it was not meant to condescend but he was trying to figure out how to help you in the best way possible.

"i feel like the analyses i'm coming up with are dumb, i don't understand the lines, the rhyme scheme is stupid, and i don't know what my thesis is for a moronic paper on keats should be. it's stupid and dumb and i'm stupid and dumb."

rhysand moved his hands to your cheeks before you could even react and pulled your face to meet his strong eye contact. his purple eyes bore into yours and he poured liters of reassurance down the bond. that mental claw in his head brushed against your mind in a calming manner. "do not say words like that, my love. you are so intelligent. and you're fully capable of managing everything on your plate."

you sniffed, feeling pathetic in his strong gaze. "i don't feel that way, though. i don't know how to deal with this stress, rhys. it's impossible. it's like this huge tower looming before me and i'm being asked to climb every single step in the best possible way or else i'll be pushed off of the top."

rhysand breathed out a sigh and his hand found your own. "i'm gonna help you climb that tower, okay?" he grabbed a brightly annotated copy of a keats poem and read over it.

"have you even read keats? or dickinson? do you know what a thesis statement is?" you asked. there was a bite to your words but it didn't faze rhysand in the slightest.

"of course i do, love. what do you think i do in my spare time when i'm not being an expert ruler? there's a small section i had put in the library, down on one of the lower floors, and it's full of human books. there's anthologies of authors, textbooks on writing, math theory, whatever you want, it's there. and i've perused it all. this poem-" he held up the printed keats "-is one of my favorites.

"so, the way i interpret this poem is that in order to withstand and stay strong in the face of suffering, we should indulge in poetry, beauty, and art. don't you think so?" he began to recite some lines which resembled this theme and suddenly, it all made sense.

he did that two more times with the other texts you had to write about. everything connected when he taught it and read it. you now had three outlines completed with well-developed thesis statements, annotated stories and poems for discussion, and three out of six quizzes were completed.

"thank you," you said, pouring as much love through your bond as you could. "really, thank you. this means so much to me."

"of course, my dear. shall i put on a sweater vest and glasses and replace your professor from here on out?"

you giggled and finally stood from the floor. the two of you walked into the kitchen to begin making a nutritious, filling dinner with your favorite velaris-sourced wine. "i would absolutely take you up on that offer if it didn't mean everyone in the class would be vying for your attention."

rhysand's arms wrapped around your midsection while you prepared food for dinner. his head leaned forward so that his mouth was by your ear. "i only have eyes for the smartest person in class."

can you tell i'm an english major? this is all very self-insert, i read the keats poem i talked about like two weeks ago :p

[lawva-girl]

Historically.. We don't mix. pt. 2

Law x fem!Reader, College AU

Pt. 1

Notes: Sorry i took forever, i kinda forgot i even posted this... HERES PT 2!!! let me know about any ponderances or possibly any errors... i dont have a beta reader or anything.. ALSO i could not come up with a nickname for reader..... so in the chat rooms i put "Y:" for "You". PLEASE tell me suggestions i will go back and fix it :D

WC: 2526

Back at the dorm that Law and Bepo shared, there was no chatter. Law was simply laying in bed with his laptop open to 5 tabs, one for each of the classes he was taking. He was taking all history classes this semester, since his counselor told him to. He would definitely miss the bio information but he did like history. Scrolling through each class, he breezed through all of the syllabus quizzes. Once he felt satisfied, it was onto checking his email, with one catching his attention. 

“DIRE!! MAKE AN APPOINTMENT OR TEXT ME ITS EMERGENT!” The email title felt like a scam but he knew it was not, in fact it was a daily burden. The man who had sent it, his counselor and adoptive father, always communicated like this. After opening the email, he found himself irritated again, Cora had only wanted to remind him that classes start today. 

“How would I not know?” Law muttered to himself. Reading through the email, then deciding he had been too neglectful of the man Law opened up their chat.

L: I know it was the first day, I got to my first two classes on time.  C: Good!!! I miss you! <3  C: Any new friends?!  C: Do you like your professors?? I hand picked them :D  L: Hand picked? You are making me socialize on purpose.  C: Not true! Nico Robin is the smartest! She already had her masters by the time most have an associates!  L: The classes are fine. Bepo made a friend, her name is Perona. C: Oh! Mihawk’s kid! Good to know she’s here! Is his step-daughter here too? Maybe y/n?  L: Yes.  C: Oh! I heard she’s similar to you! Maybe you two can be friends or something?  L: How long did you have to think to come up with this plan of yours?  C: No idea what you are talking about…. L: Cora.  C: … C: Anyways, have you gotten all the textbooks you need?  C: I want to make sure you find them all!  C: It's my job, you know.  L: I still have two more classes to go to tomorrow, but i’ll be fine.  L: Thanks.  C: Anything for you! We should meet for lunch soon! I can make you salmon rice balls! Like when you were still a baby… remember? You loved my cooking! L: I did not. You should not be in a kitchen alone, Ill meet you on friday at 11.  L: Don’t start until i'm there. Please.  C: Okay !!!!! C: I'll see you then law! C: Cant wait ! C: Sleep tight <3<3<3 

Law closed his laptop, relaxing his shoulders. He glanced over and Bepo was already asleep. He kicked off his blanket and got up to go to the bathroom. After he finished his business, washing his hands like any good bio major, he strolled to the microwave area. He had only wanted water but he saw the picture of him holding a letter, standing next to Cora. Staring at it, he wondered why the giant had wanted him to socialize so much. It’s not like he never sees human faces, or stays inside all day everyday. He just liked being alone when he could, no one to ask him stupid questions. 

After finishing his water, Law went back to bed. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two went through the rest of the week, meeting each other an embarrassing amount of times. Neither one had any reason to talk to the other, so they didn’t. Until Wednesday rolled around, and they were back in Nico Robin’s class. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Someone has it out for me. I know it for sure” You wrote in your journal, along with the date and class name. Looking at Law, like you had these past two days, made you realize it more. 

“I have pissed off whatever god actually exists and they want me to repent. There is no way that all four of my classes are naturally shared with Trafalgar.” You finish scribbling away in your journal, just in time. 

“Okay, pass forward the paper I handed out to you. This was just a fun assignment to see what areas we, as a class, are most interested in.” She spoke smoothly, with an even tone. It was almost like she didn’t care, or like she had done this 20 times. 

You heard some of your classmates groan and while you agreed, you thought it was inappropriate to voice that. Tapping a pen on the paper of your journal idly, you waited for more instructions. Even though your classmates weren't raised well, your father had done a fine job with you. You were nice, respectful, studious. Sure you are shy but it's not like it mattered. 

Why speak to people and risk being embarrassed if they don’t want to talk to you? 

“Okay, as I said before this class is based in groups and communication. Please tell one person about what you studied for this assignment.” Robin had said before sitting at her desk with a book in hand. 

Suddenly everyone was talking but you and one other person. 

“My assignment is on the Five years war. I chose it because of a coin flip, I found the sources in the library database.” Already you were irritated. Another interaction with the man who had no manners. 

“Hello. That is how you start a conversation, who raised you? Anyways, my assignment is on the First Crusade. I chose it because it was the first war I thought of-” “Really? The first? Liar.” He interrupted you, of course a man like him would. 

You squinted at him, before responding with “Not lying, I was watching a documentary on the pope a day before class, which made me think of all the holy wars. It's not polite to interrupt people.” 

“Okay. I think we have discussed enough.” “Fine.” You scoffed at him mentally, before turning back to face the front of the room. 

“Okay now, I want someone to tell me about their partner's work! This is worth participation, as a friendly reminder.” She smiled eerily 

You did not raise your hand, in fact you looked away. If you were called on you would end up having to lie, since stupid Trafalgar didn’t tell you anything about his assignment. 

“Okay, randomly generated, we will have Mr. Trafalgar, Mr. Reyes, and Ms. Churchill. In that order please.” “My partner researched the First Crusade, she told me that she learned about the context of the war. Specifically Pope Urban the second’s motivations for launching the crusade, who was mainly following the lead of the Byzantine emperor. She also learned about the cost of the war, not only economically but also what it did for the Pope’s approval rating.” Incredible. He pulled all that from his ass? Wasn’t he a double major? How long ago did he even learn that? How was he able to say it so confidently? He is actually smart?! Hold on, he could’ve seen the same documentary you did and just so happened to remember important stuff. But even then, he didn’t even hesitate, he was so confident, even with a professor like Nico Robin. 

“Very good, point earned. Mr. Reyes?”

As he relaxed into his chair, you couldn’t help but stare. His hair was sticking out, a bit unruly from his beanie. It was white with weird black spots on it, maybe a statement about faux animal fur? Could he be vegetarian or something? Maybe he likes to hunt? His sideburns went right into his weird facial hair, “should be shaved” was scribbled into your journal, along with “spots?” and of course “T is smart?”. You saw his black hair under his beanie and thought of your father, who would never slouch like the man in front of you was. 

“Okay good to hear. This wraps up our class for today, I’ll see you all on monday.” 

You started gathering your things, excited to go back to Perona. She promised she would have your favorite food ready for you as soon as your class ended. It was a little weird, but you two always were close. 

“Are you always the last to leave?” The sudden voice pulled you from your thoughts, and made you drop your pencil case. No pencils escaped but the case clunked right under whoever had just shocked you. Law, with no expression on his face, immediately thought of his giant  adoptive father; who was extremely clumsy.  

“No. Are you stalking me? I feel like the campus police or a trusted adult should know about this.” You looked up at him, not reaching for your case at all. 

“I’m not, somehow, we have the exact same class schedule. With the exception of my online class.” “That's crazy buddy… Will you grab my case?”

“You can’t get it yourself?” He scoffed and folded his arms. 

“I think the reason why I dropped it should be the one to get it for me, no?” You thought he looked childish, folding his arms like he just got told to go to his room. 

“Fine.” He reached down, grabbing the case and placing it on your desk, “even though you were closer to the floor… I'm sorry.” He looked away as he said it. Once again you thought he was childish. 

You found yourself staring again. This time you noticed his hands, the word ‘death’ tattooed on his fingers, and the heart on the back of his hand. Shocked to say the least.

“Holy shit.” Huh? You said that outloud? Maybe you weren’t nice. 

You looked up to see Law’s face, somewhere between shock and disgust.

“Oh uh.. I meant, holy shit your tattoos are cool. They look like they hurt.” Maybe you saved it, you really did mean it in admiration. 

“It was painful, but worth it. Bearable at times.” He looked at his hand and held it up between the two of you. Shocked that he held it up for display, you raised your eyebrows. Staring at the tattoo, you were about to reach out and hold his hand closer so you could get a better look at the line work. Then your thoughts were interrupted.

“I know we aren’t on the best terms, but you heard the professor. I think it would be a good idea to bite the bullet and partner up.” He said it so matter-of-factly you almost agreed without realizing you were lost. 

“Huh? Partner?” you blinked up at him. “Of course you weren’t paying attention. The collaborative presentation that you and another student must present on the 18th?” He sounded annoyed, but his face wasn’t telling. 

“Yes! Sorry I got lost in my thoughts, we might as well partner up. I don’t have anyone else in mind, so I can stick with you.” You finished packing, finally, and stood up. Swinging your bag onto your back, you held out your hand towards him. 

“Okay… What is that for?” He nodded down to your hand. 

“Give me your phone. I’ll put my email in. We can make a google slide and share it that way.” 

He paused, with a semi frown on his face then gave up. He put his phone in your hand, and watched intently as you typed in something. Then you returned his phone, much to his delight. 

“Bye then. Just do 5 slides on the First Crusade or whatever other war the pope has started.” He put both of his hands in his pocket as he casually strolled out, leaving you to the room. 

“Hey! We should at least pretend you won't be a dick this whole time! Don’t boss me around!” You realized that you had said that just a bit too loud for the circumstances. Maybe you weren’t nice. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y: Okay! I just left class, do you have my salmon nigiri?  Y: You won't believe how good I was today. P: WHST  P: who are you?  P: The y/n i know would never ever say that.  P: Yes i do have it ready :) Y: I had to partner up with Him :/  Y: The strength  Y: Also he has finger tattoos?  Y: What the fuck.  P: You didn’t see them before?  Y: Sir traffy has been through it P: I wonder if hes like some ex-gang member? P: That is such a gang member thing to get tattooed P: Why aren’t you responding?  P: Helllllooooooo  P: y/n P: y/n P: ….

“Rona! You are literally crazy. I was walking over here, that's why I wasn’t responding.” You closed the door behind you, making sure to lock it. 

“Anyways! I’ve never seen you have such a strong reaction! To a guy no less, did he like to recite everything in the declaration of independence?” Perona called out to you while you entered and took off your shoes.

You walked over to the kitchen, where she wasdoing some dishes. Tossing your bag on the couch, then taking a seat at the bar that was connected to the kitchen. “If he did that I would’ve proposed on the spot… He just is kinda smart? It’s freaky! One second he’s brushing me off and not wanting to talk to me at all, the next he's explaining the cause of the First Crusade? Well… Kinda.” Perona turned with two plates in hand, and took a seat next to you. She placed the plate of sushi in front of you, “Well honestly i'm not surprised… Bepo says he is always studying.” 

“You talk about him with Bepo? Perona…” you made a disappointed face at her as you pulled your plate closer to you. “Noooo it’s all kosher! Bepo just offers up info about everyone he knows. I think he just doesn’t have a filter or whatever.”

“Yeah…” you took a piece of nigiri and dipped it, then ate it. As you chewed and swallowed you thought of your dad, “Do you think your dad would come visit us here?” 

“Hmmm only if your dad forced him to. I can picture it now ‘don’t you miss our girls?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Then lets go! You pay and ill bring the beer!’ ‘beer isn’t allowed on a plane shanks’ or something like that…” Perona tried her best but didn’t really get the overall attitude of your dads. You decided not to comment and just take another bite. 

“Do I get to know why you asked?” Perona said, food in her mouth.

“Traffy, as you call him, has hair as dark as Mihawk’s. It made me think of him today…”

“Sigmund Frued would have a lot to say to you right now.” “No he wouldn't, he’s dead.” 

“Not for long…” “What the fuck?” You both burst out in laughter at the same time, something you had only ever done with your sister. 

After dinner it was off to bed, except you weren’t actually sleeping. Your laptop was open on your lap, on the google slides page. The document was created, named, and shared to Traffy. It wasn’t the most well-mannered thing, but you decided that nicknames meant you’re friends. Your sister desperately wanted you to have friends, and this would make her think you had them. You didn’t like the deception, if you could call it that, but it's not like you were gonna go out and get real friends. 

You started typing away, filling out 3 slides with information and pictures before deciding to get actual sleep. 

[manheimsmuse]

Hi Ivory 😊👋

So uhm, I don’t know, can I request something for ben plunkett, fluff please 😊

Maybe with a very shy reader. Well it takes place after the movie, if it's okay. Uhm the reader is at the same university as him and is smart and helped him in the lessons and he adores her because he thinks that she is cute. So he tries to talk to her more and then after some weeks they are getting friends very soon but they fell in love in each other but neither of them knows each other’s feelings.

One day he wanted to kiss the reder but got interrupted to kiss them 3 times. And one time he has finally the opportunity to do it.

So I just realized that I got carried away, I'm so sorry. But I thought it's cute 🙈

Thank you so much 😊

THIRD TIMES A CHARM ; BEN PLUNKETT

a/n ; i love that little dork ben so so much he means the world to me actually

warnings ; afab!reader, fem pronouns, fluff, no smut just cut because i go on too much, not edited or proofread yikes.

world history being an elective confused you, as a history major you couldn’t help but wonder why someone would subject themselves to this class by choice. it was mandatory for you, but there was about ten students from other majors that shared the class with you.

ben plunkett was one of these students, you actually don’t know why he took the elective, you assumed it was just to get extra credits on his degree because there was no way he was enjoying the class. you could tell in the way he zoned out in lectures, or worked on homework for other classes at the back of the room.

you weren’t all that surprised when he came to you for tutoring, your professor posted your grades on the class board to encourage ‘healthy competition’ and your name frequented the top of the list while ben’s floated somewhere along the middle.

tutoring ben was easy, he was smart enough to catch up on his own, that much was clear every time you asked him a question and he answered correctly without hesitation. why he needed the help was beyond you, but you did it anyway, you were enjoying it surprisingly.

the longer the two of you spent together the more obvious it became that you liked each other. you were quiet, not stupid, it didn’t need to be pointed out to you that ben liked you, whether or not he knew how obvious it was was another thing. you weren’t all that discreet either, though you’d never actually tell ben how you felt, unless of course he told you first.

meeting in the library quickly evolved into meeting at coffee shops, his usual ‘hey!’ replaced with a ‘you look really pretty today’ or ‘there’s my good luck charm’. coffee shops then evolved into dorm rooms the closer you got, half studying half just spending time together with the excuse of tutoring to mask any feelings that could slip through.

eventually ben asked you to come over to watch a movie, no mention of textbooks or homework, just you, him and his old macbook thrown on his bed to watch some movie he’d probably seen a million times before.

that was the first time he tried to kiss you.

his arm was lazily draped over your shoulders as you lay back together, eyes focused on the small screen and trying to ignore the way your stomach lurched every time his hand brushed against your arm. he’d leant in when you turned to ask him about the movie, and you were more than willing to let it happen, only for his roommate barging in unannounced to ask about leftover pizza in the kitchen.

the second time was in the library.

this time you were actually studying for a test, it wasn’t one of the big ones, just a mid semester exam to see how everyone was doing with the syllabus so far. usually you sat across from each other, but more recently you would occupy the seat next to ben, just to share a textbook of course.

“you look really pretty right now,” ben mumbles, face close to yours as you both lean over the same textbook, the two of you close enough that your foreheads could touch “oh, god, i didn’t mean to say that out loud. i mean - you do look pretty right now, you always look really pretty but-“

“ben, relax..” you giggle, already feeling the blush creeping across your face as you interrupted his anxious rambling “you look really pretty too.”

there’s a brief silence where you both find yourself leaning in again, only for bens phone to ring out loudly leaving him to scramble to silence the call from his best friend mandy.

the third time was at the campus bar.

your friends had invited you out to celebrate the end of finals, ben’s friend mandy had come up to visit him. instead of blowing one off for the other, ben simply merged the two and brought mandy along to meet the group.

the two of you didn’t get to talk much, between mandy talking his ear off as they caught up and your own conversations with you friends, you were both too preoccupied to fawn over each other.

“hey, come help?”

ben placed his hand on your shoulder to grab your attention as he passed, taking one for the team and offering to grab the next round.

he refused to let you pay for your own drink no matter how much you insisted, the pair of you shamelessly flirting now that you had a moment to yourselves.

it was a horrible sense of deja vu as you both leaned in, getting so close only to be stopped by mandy’s voice calling out to him from the table. something about someone wanting a different drink.

you shut your eyes to hide the eyeroll, missing how ben completely ignored mandy to bring his hand to the back of your neck and pull you into a kiss. an actual kiss.

“finally”

you accidentally mutter aloud when you separate, ignoring the jaw dropped stares coming from your table as you remain in each others personal space.

“you know what they say, third times a charm.”

[loaksky]

hello! would you consider writing modern avatar stuff? if ur cool w that can i request modern human neteyam relationship headcanons?

wait hold the phone yes i would actually ! wanted to hold off on posting this to include headcanons about what modern!neteyam would be like in a relationship, but i’m so eager to come back ! instead here’s some background about him & reader leading up to the relationship (part 2 pending if you guys want it) ! headcanons under the cut & for all intents + purposes, i picture college-neteyam ! additionally, in my brain, it’s canon that teyam as a human would be poc, hence the reference pictures i included below ! <3

so i definitely see neteyam having a very soft aesthetic, he’s such a sweetheart tbh

fs think that the two of you would have a meetcute in university & then end up being college sweethearts

his major is something specific like environmental engineering or child psychology ? he’s definitely really smart and excels in all of his classes !

which brings me to how the two of you would meet ? perhaps he’s taking an elective course in pottery and your major is in art with a concentration in three dimensional composition

the class is considered a lab, so the professor emails out the syllabus and students come and go as they please during class hours to work on their compositions.

halfway thru the sem, you and teyam stumble upon each other in the storage room between two classrooms, fetching different pieces that need to be glazed + fired.

“sorry, you can—”

“nah, you first—”

you laugh and neteyam’s smiling because WOW you’re really cute + had he known that someone as lovely as you was in the same section as him, he’d probably hang around the classroom more.

from that moment on, neteyam’s always lingering during the class’ meeting time, even if he’s already finished with his projects for the week because he wants to get to know you SO bad, but he’s way too shy.

(probably still canon that he’s phenomenal at literally everything, but i think it’d be so cute if he had 0 legitimate rizz bc he’s so used to kinda just bein’ him and pulling bc he’s a jack of all trades type of guy)

“what are you making?” you ask him one day and he snatches his airpod out of his ear so quickly even though he’s not listening to anything.

“ashtray” he answers quietly, a lil self-conscious because he’s come to find out that you’re absolutely amazing at sculpting and while you do this for your future, he does it is as a pastime / elective to graduate. “but like i don’t smoke or anything yknow, i just thought that i’d be a good thing to–”

you’re staring at him with the corner of your mouth quirked and he shuts up quickly, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he slumps on his stool.

“you should score using a crosshatch,” you tell him simply. “makes the pieces stick together better.”

he looks down at where he’d been scratching the damp clay laterally and your hands hover over his, head tilting to the side.

“can i?”

oh yeah, yeah! sure,” he splutters, leaning back a little to watch you work your magic.

can’t help but watch the way your fingers work over the clay, knuckles smudged with glaze and dust coating the silver of your rings.

he watches your hands, but soon he’s watching your face because you’re concentrated so hard on making sure you’re using your best technique for the little ashtray.

lo and behold, the pieces stick together so perfectly and smoothly, ready to be fired in the kiln, and neteyam’s grateful.

“thanks,” he sighs almost dreamily.

“yeah, of course. glad to help,” you tell him.

when you return to your own project, you slam back the rest of your melting drink and neteyam’s eyes are squinting the get a read on what it is you order.

you’re pleasantly surprised when you turn up to pottery the next session to work on a new project, and neteyam’s there with two coffees, one next to his wheel, another near yours.

“what’s this?” you hum, tying your apron with a messy bow.

“a thank you,” he says shyly. “for helping me last time.”

your eyes widen when you see your favorite; a chai with almondmilk, vanilla, and a shot of espresso.

“how’d you…”

“it’s what you were drinking…” he responds. “last week. i think.

“oh…” you trail off, cheeks hot because he noticed ???

“you don’t have to—”

“NO!” you yelp, a tad loud. some of the other students working on a few last minute projects peer at the two of you and teyam’s grinning like an idiot when he sees the way you tuck your hair behind your ear and reach for the drink. “this is good! it’s great. thank you so much. i actually missed my run this morning.”

“yeah, of course,” he sighs, rolling his lips together as the two of you kinda get off to a clunky start.

the silence between the two of you is a lil awkward, but you decide to break the ice since teyam’s technically played his hand and the ball’s in your court.

“are you an art major ?” you ask.

“uh, nah,” he'd say, rubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his baggy jeans because HE SHOWED UP TO CLASS 15 MINUTES EARLY and the agony of not knowing if you’d show up made him so nervous. “environmental engineering.”

your eyebrows raise ever so slightly, lips forming an ‘o’ bc wow that must mean he’s super smart.

“wow, that’s insane,” you say quietly. “what made you take pottery ?”

“only elective that didn’t make me wanna claw my eyes out,” he laughs nervously. “what about you ? what’s your major ?”

you seem to mull over your thoughts for a moment, obviously a little hesitant to answer.

“3d art...nothing special...” you trail off.

neteyam begins working with the slab of clay waiting for him in the center of the wheel, cheeks going hot because the words leave him before he can stop them.

“no, no. i think that’s really cool. art is a really challenging passion to have & i admire people willing to dive in full stop.”

the comment makes you smile, fingers pliant over the wet clay.

neteyam wants to DIE because he can’t read whether or not your smile is genuine or if you’re grimacing because he’s the biggest idiot ever.

he supposes it’s the former when you two are parting ways, signing the attendance log and you decide to bite the bullet and write your instagram handle on the bottom corner of the page and tear it off to hand to him.

he’s barely able to get a ‘thank you’ out before you’re racing out the door with your gifted coffee in hand.

you’re so giddy when you run out of the building and your phone pings in the front pocket of your satchel and you see that teyam.sully has followed you.

after that day, you two become really friendly !

neteyam frequently dms you about class, but eventually, he starts sending you vids and memes, saying that they made him think of you.

it becomes so obvious to both of your friend groups that you’re crushing on each other, but both of you are too painfully shy to say anything despite every green flag.

soon, looking forward to seeing each other during class turns into neteyam subtly asking you to hang out.

you make a comment about one of his hoodies and he mentions that he thrifted it.

“wait really??” you’re pausing your work to look at him. “i love thrifting!”

he smiles wide, word vomiting before he can stop himself.

“yeah? i know a couple of good places if you’re down.”

you say yes, DUH !

looking back at it, maybe that’s your first date because he picks you up from your dorm & bc you guys live in a fairly walkable city, you commute to the thrift and you’re SO giddy because the backs of your hands keep brushing every time some impatient pedestrian pushes by you guys on the narrow sidewalks.

you guys end up spending HOURS and teyam’s internally screaming because you find a shirt that has a peeling heart with the phrase ‘if lost return to wife’ and he happens upon the match to it a couple aisles down that says ‘i'm the wife’.

when you’re not looking, teyam buys the shirts and stuffs them in his canvas bag.

DUDE IS WHIPPED.

he wants you SO bad.

after the thrift, you guys get pizza, and after that, ice cream, and JESUS he doesn’t want the day to end because being with you is so easy.

over the course of the rest of the semester, the two of you make it a routine to hang out at least once a week and you’re always looking forward to it.

dates excursions include; trips to the museum to see recent exhibits, weekly pizza parlor dinners, study sessions at the 24 hr cafe a block from the school (in which he always walks you home after), park days where he reads books on environmental sustainability and you secretly draw portraits of him.

in these times, he learns that you want to become an art teacher, your favorite cereal is froot loops with the marshmallows, your all time show is amazing world of gumball.

almost cries laughing when he finds out that you have a secret pet turtle you hide in your dorm named franklin.

acknowledges that he’s falling, but falls even harder when the florist who owns the flower shop you two always pass hands you the prettiest little bundle of flowers and you spend the entire trek to the park, handing out individual stems to couples, children, and the elderly, telling them to have a beautiful day.

it all comes to a head near the end of the semester when he realizes that he can’t keep dancing around his feelings for you and the feelings he’s almost certain you have for him.

tells you to clear your schedule for the upcoming friday night and dresses a little nicer than usual when he picks you up.

brings you two to the planetarium in the city and, instead of watching the exhibit, he spends the entire time watching how you light up.

he knows in his gut that you could be it for him.

he’s loved getting to know you and spending so much time with you.

he’s so immersed in this feeling throughout the entire night.

probably wipes his sweaty palms over the thighs of his pants before shakily taking your hand as the diagram of the constellations shift.

can’t help but smile when your fingers squeeze his and you seem to shift closer to him as the narrator starts the presentation.

and he’s especially quiet after the exhibit, fingers still twined with yours as the two of you walk down the bustling sidewalks of the city center.

two of you probably stop by a dessert cafe and sit outside on a bench in the spring air, enjoying the buskers as you share a little cake.

you’re talking about home and how you’re excited to see your family again and he can’t help but imagine bringing you home to meet all his siblings and his parents because he knows that they’d absolutely love you and—

you’ve paused your speaking, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth and he’s SHORT CIRCUITING.

“shit, that was weird i’m so—”

his palm cups your jaw, thumb on your cheek, pad of his pinky and ring finger soft against your neck.

“can i?” he whispers.

TRIANGLE METHOD !!

he glances at one eye, gaze dropping to your lips before glancing at the other.

you already know what he’s referring to, could feel the romantic tension between the two of you since the beginning, but only become sure of it in the recent weeks.

”can you what?” you swallow.

he breathes a short laugh because the knowing smile that quirks your lips is a dead give away.

“can i kiss you?” he asks softly, absently setting your abandoned dessert somewhere behind him on the bench.

“yeah,” you’d nod, leaning into him. “please.”

before the two of you go your separate ways for summer holiday, he shows you the shirts he bought at the thrift store the first time around, but insists on keeping the shirt that says ‘i'm the wife’.

neng © 2023

[sourdoughsourness]

Assignment - Shigaraki x cheerleader!reader

A.N.: I've had this idea in my head for two years now and finally got around to writing it! This is heavily based on the book Nevermore by Kelly Creagh. I read it eight years ago and this scene has lived rent free in my head ever since. I highly recommend reading it if this is at all appealing to you, it's written much better too. I've also never posted on here before so I'm so sorry if the spacing or anything is off.

I haven't decided yet if I want to turn this into a full fic or leave it as a one shot (or 2-3 parts because let me tell you, there's more than one scene from this book I can't get out of my head) If I did continue I'd probably base it off the book for the first bit then branch off into its own plot. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! I'm very rusty at writing but I tried!

~~~~~~

Class was so boring. It was no different from any other day really. This class was always boring. As much as you tried you couldn't bring yourself to care about the material. Your teacher had insisted since the beginning of the year that this class was important, but he was just another old man obsessed with the past. If it was a history class you'd understand more, but you couldn't find a reason to care about dusty old books despite them being praised as 'classics'. You shuddered just thinking about what he'd have you guys read next.

The clock ticked painfully slowly. You knew time always seemed to go slower when you watched it so you forced yourself to look away. Twenty more minutes. You could handle that. Just 4 sets of 5 minutes. That didn't sound too bad. 

Mr. Swanson's voice droned on. It was barely background noise to your boredom. Seventeen minutes until lunch. You wanted to be with your friends and boyfriend doing literally anything but this. Mina hadn't finished spilling tea earlier and you were desperate to hear the rest. 

Your thoughts were cut short when you heard the words 'group project'. All your senses came back as you focused on those two words which were pretty much the last things you wanted to hear. No no no no no! None of your friends were in this class! You knew basically anyone would want to work with you, but you work with any of them? Your classmates were about as lame as your dusty old teacher.

"I'm sure you've all heard plenty about this project from the seniors," Mr. Swanson's voice rang out. The whole class groaned. Everyone knew what was coming next but you still tried to deny it. Please no, anything but this, you practically begged the universe. 

"The Swanson Project," he declared. Everything came screeching to a halt. Suddenly reading a dusty old book didn't sound too bad. Everyone knew about the Swanson Project. It was basically the most infamous assignment in the whole school. You couldn't imagine a single person enjoying it. Then again there was probably some freak out there who was looking forward to it, after all, Mr. Swanson existed didn't he?

The project would already be bad enough, but you knew it was a partner project and whether partners were assigned or not you were pretty much fucked. Not a single friend, or even friendly acquaintance, was in the room. It was just your luck. All your friends had plenty of classes together but somehow you ended up with the unluckiest schedule possible. 

Mr. Swanson went around his desk gathering a monster of a syllabus which did not ease your worries at all. You knew this project was huge, but just coming to terms with the sheer amount of time you'd be spending with all these nobodies made you want to bash your head into your desk. You could practically hear your friends laughing already. 

"Now, just in case you aren't aware of what the Swanson Project is, let me explain." Your teacher announced walking back to the front of the class. "This project will consist of both a presentation and a 10 page paper. It must be detailed. You and your partner will choose any famous author. In the spirit of Halloween, the author needs to be dead. No current authors please. You will need to work closely on this project with a partner and it will be completed outside of class." 

Your annoyance was palpable and you were convinced anyone within a 5 mile radius could feel it. Not only did you have to work with some extra - as your boyfriend would call it - but it had to be outside of school? If you didn't need the stupid credit you'd be tempted to drop this class.

You couldn't imagine sitting down and reading through all those papers. Mr. Swanson would love it, you bet. He'd probably enjoy every second. 

Taking the time to finally scan the room and actually see who was around you, you spotted Tenya Iida. He was an obnoxious rule follower, but you knew how smart he was and he seemed like your best shot. Maybe you could slink your way over there, the seat next to him was vacant after all. 

Just as you were ready to get up and head over, Mr. Swanson's voice brought you to a screeching halt. "All partners were selected at random. I will read your names off a list then you will have the last ten minutes of class to brainstorm." 

Random? He chose the pairings randomly?? Now you really wanted to bash your head into the desk. God, why'd you have to take this stupid class anyway. Math and Science you could deal with. They made sense to you. Analyzing the colour of a light in an old novel didn't. Maybe you'd get lucky? That seemed unlikely, you frowned. 

"Tenya Iida and Hanta Sero," Your teacher's voice called out. Well fuck, there goes your luck. You knew you sounded ungrateful but god, group projects sucked. 

Mr. Swanson called out more names causing the students around you to start moving around. Was no one going to protest? Everyone was just accepting how unfair the system was?

"(Y/N) and Tomura Shigaraki."

What?

No.

No no no. No way.

No fucking way. 

This had to be a cruel joke. 

You turned your head slowly to look at your new partner. God even just thinking that screamed all sorts of wrong. Why did it have to be him? You didn't know what you did to deserve this cruelty but it must have been something horrible. 

He sat far in the back corner slumped and staring at the wall. His long blue hair draped around him practically covering his face. He wasn't even looking for you. You had to hold back a scoff. This could not be happening. 

You were on the verge of marching up to Mr. Swanson and asking for a new partner. Literally anybody but him. You had no clue how many of the freaky rumors about him were true, but you definitely didn't want to find out yourself. Unfortunately you knew asking to switch partners would go about as well as asking a pig to sprout wings and fly. 

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad? You bit your lip and grimaced. Even you weren't that delusional. With a sigh you got up to head over to your partner.

Shigaraki was lost in his curtain of white hair and hadn't even acknowledged your presence. What was up with this freak? Like hello? You were supposed to be working on a project. He wasn't even sparing you a glance. 

Your eyes wandered to the clock. Seven more minutes, you could do this.

Did he drink blood like the rumors said? You knew that thought was insane yet seemed totally possible. Did he talk to himself and practice witchcraft like you'd heard people whisper about? Maybe he'd teach you so you could curse Mr. Swanson, you thought bitterly. 

He was slouched in his seat wearing a black t-shirt, black jeans, and ratty old red shoes. His Nintendo switch sat beside him on the table. You didn't know much about Shigaraki, but you did know his father was insanely rich, like stupidly rich. That led to Shigaraki getting away with practically anything - including playing games in class apparently.

You set your notebook down as loudly as you could without fully slamming it to get his attention. He finally looked at you with a bored stare. God, had he never heard of chapstick? Maybe some moisturizer? 

"I'm not doing this project alone," you declared. Because really, what else could you say to him? You refused to be stuck doing all the work. 

His bored stare turned into a glare. "Did I say that?" He snapped. His voice was scratchy and you were pretty sure you'd rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than listen to him right now. 

"No." You wanted to just walk out then and there. Maybe the credit wasn't worth it. Mina would never believe this. Getting paired up with the biggest freak? It was unbelievable. "I just wanted to make that clear because you weren't saying a single thing." You finally slid into the chair next to his, albeit reluctantly. 

Two groups had already gotten up to leave, having chosen their projects. You couldn't help the envy bubbling up. Why couldn't Shigaraki act like a normal person? He apparently wasn't in any hurry to leave. 

Maybe Mr. Swanson's pairings weren't random and this was his idea of a sick joke. This is what you get for turning in your last assignment late, you thought bitterly. 

"I'm not doing it all either I hope you know. I know you little cheerleaders have brains the size of a peanut, but that doesn't mean I'll do it all," he sneered as he finally looked you in the eyes. You hated him already. 

His red eyes were intense making you want to turn away, but you refused to back down. It was like a predator sizing up its prey. You refused to be the prey. 

Your chest was flooded with discomfort. Who even was this guy? Who shit in his cereal? Your gaze moved to the scars on his neck. You'd heard about him scratching himself raw before, but seeing the scars up close still caught you off guard. 

Shigaraki leaned in closer causing you to meet his intense eyes again.

"What are you staring at?" He whispered.

You drew back instantly, face feeling hot. That's it, you were outta here. Your hand shot up in the air as you mentally begged Mr. Swanson to show you mercy just this once. You were not doing this today. 

You heard a slow ominous shuffle behind you. Your whole body went rigid. You slowly lowered your hand and looked up. There he was, towering over you. Tall and so very pale. 

You bit back a protest as he took your hand in his. You gaped as his long slender fingers gripped your hand, his pinky slightly raised. All you could do was stare, unblinking, as a black appeared and began moving against your skin. The tip was as cold and sharp as his eyes. 

What. The. Fuck. Was he writing on you?? 

You couldn't make a sound if you tried. 

His face remained unchanging, just as emotionless as before as he carefully slid the pen over your skin. The pointed tip of the pen slightly tickled creating a knot in your stomach. You couldn't even begin to comprehend what was happening. You were so shocked. All you could do was stare at his pale fingers. 

At last he finished and released your hand. With one final cold piercing look he turned away,  snatching his switch and bag from the desk beside you. "Don't call after nine," he said as he walked right out the door. 

Your face burned and your skin tingled where he had just touched you. Finally snapping out of whatever daze you were in, you scanned the room. You were afraid to see who noticed. What would people say? You let out a small sigh of relief. No one had noticed. Thank god. 

Finally you looked down at your hand. In black ink he had written "S - 555-0710”

[ofstoriesandstardust]

changes (j.h.s.)

a/n: this is the first part of my college!AU. not much happens yet, but things are only just beginning with these two! let me know you're thoughts so far!

part of second star to the right (and straight on 'til morning)

folks who wanted to be tagged: @memeorydotcom @djs8891

warnings: college!AU, javynat/icemav, swearing

word count: 2.7k

You slip into the classroom, smiling at Pete as he logs in to the computer. “Hey Pete.” 

He glances up at you from the screen, returning your smile as you saddle up into the first row of seats in the lecture hall. “Hey kid, I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. How was the last bit of your summer?” 

You shrug, tugging your bag off into the chair next to you. “Pretty good. Quiet. How was your trip to Italy with Tom?” 

“Pretty good. Nice to get away from the work and hustle-bustle of his job. Definitely don’t miss the paperwork, that’s for sure.” You both laugh lightly, as the door to the classroom open again, a few boys you recognize from the football team filtering in. “I was surprised to see you on my roster for this class. Didn’t you already fulfill the requirements for this?” 

You shrug, pulling your laptop out as you finally sit down. “Yeah, but I need a couple more extra credits to stay a full-time student to keep my scholarship and you know I love taking your classes as it is. Might be one of my last chances to do so.” 

He tilts his head in acknowledgement as the door opens again. “Remind me after class that I wanted to talk to you about what you’re planning for post-grad.” 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Why?” 

He huffs out a laugh, collecting his papers. “I might have something for you.” The room has slowly begun to fill up as the two of you have chatted, meaning class is just about ready to start. Pete hangs by the front podium, letting everyone get settled. 

Your eyes glance over your computer screen at the non-existent Canvas page, meaning Pete has yet to publish it. The papers in his hands are what you suspect are copies of the syllabus he probably finished over breakfast with Tom this morning. Typical. 

“...dude, this is going to be such an easy credit, I’m telling you.” One of the men behind you says. “He’s just Bradshaw’s quirky godfather. You just gotta say something nice about the Navy and he’ll give you an A.” 

You snort, shaking your head at Bradley feeding his athlete friends with lies about his godfather’s class. You had taken enough of Pete’s classes to know that retired decorated Naval aviator or not, Admiral husband or not, Pete welcomed critical and open discussion of the United States military’s global engagement. Encouraged it, even. 

One of the men behind you sighs and you hear him lean back in his chair. “All I need is an easy A. Gonna skate through this class no problem.” 

“Shit, I forgot my pen. Jake, do you have one?” 

“Javy, I don’t even have a notebook. What makes you think I have a pen?” 

“Reuben?” 

“Sorry Javy, you’re straight shit outta luck. I only have one for myself.” 

The man, Javy, groans. “Fuck me.” 

“Pretty sure Natasha did just that last night based on the- ow.” 

“Hey, psst. You, girl in the front.” You startle, turning around to face the boys. “You got a pen for my friend Javy here?” Reuben asks.

You nod, digging through your bag for your pencil case. “Pencil or pen?” 

“Whatever you got’s fine, sugar. Right Javy?” The blond says, nudging his friend. You roll your eyes to yourself, unimpressed. 

“Here.” You say, leaning up to hand the black pen to Javy. 

“Thanks, I’ll give it back to you at the end of class.” Javy says with a warm smile as he takes it from you.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got plenty.” You say with a wave of your hand, already turning back around. Pete clear shis throat just as you do, catching the attention of the students in the room. He offers them a warm smile. 

“Well, let’s get started shall we? I’m Pete. You can call me Pete or Mr. Mitchell, whatever suits you. I’m a retired Naval aviator, served for nearly twenty years. I’m an adjunct here at San Diego State, have been for about the last six or seven years. I teach international relations and military history classes mostly. If you’re here, you should be here for History 2060, Global Military Conflicts Post-1945. If that doesn’t sound correct, you’re most likely in the wrong classroom. Don’t blame you, I got lost this morning on my way in from the parking lot.” That earns Mav a laugh from the classroom as you shake your head. He’s told the same joke on the first day of every class you’ve ever had with him. “I’m going to go around and pass out the syllabus. We can read through it and discuss it. The biggest takeaway is that, unlike some of the other History courses on this campus, I care less about your memorization of dates and people on a test. I want you to take something meaningful away from this class and that’s going to come from the papers you write, the readings you do, and the discussions you’ll have in this class. Let’s begin.” 

“Easy A, here we come.” Jake mutters behind you as the stack of syllabus gets plopped in front of you. 

He’s in for a rude awkaening, you think to yourself as you take a syllabus, passing it back to the boys.

-

“Don’t forget. Your first response paper is due tonight at midnight. I want well-thought out papers, with clear arguments and evidence. Feel free to be critical of the text, but you must respond to it and the more you can incorporate the discussion we had in here over the past few classes, the better. Shows me you’re listening and engaged.” Pete calls out as the class packs up. 

Two weeks into the semester and you had all just finished reading Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried. Pete had said he’d chosen the book so you could all understand how these global conflicts could be captured in a fictional manner, asking you to focus on how it communicated a very real history of the event. The book had been supplemented by lectures and class discussion and you felt yourself falling in love with the class everytime you showed up. 

“Have you started that paper?” Reuben asks, sliding his bag over his shoulder. 

Jake snorts. “Hell no. It’s only what, three pages? I’m gonna start writing it after practice tonight.” 

“Javy?”

“Finished it last night.”

“Fucking nerd.” Jake says as Pete calls out your name, motioning you up to the front of the room. It catches the boys attention as you walk around the front row, meeting Pete halfway. The boys are lingering and watching, something you’re painfully aware of. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but are you thinking about grad school?” 

You nod. “Yeah, I am, but I think I’m going to take a year off first.” 

“Have you thought about SDSU’s program at all?” 

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Kind of-”

“-Who willingly puts themselves through more school?” 

You turn catching both Reuben and Javy nudging Jake. You sigh, uncrossing your arms, looking to the ground. 

“We can talk more about this at a later date.” Pete says. “I’ll let you go, I know you have to get to work. Good job on the paper, by the way.” 

“You read it already?”

He nods, walking back to the table at the front fo the room. “Thought I’d get a head start on grading the ones that got turned in early last night. You never fail to impress me, kid.” 

You can't help the grin spreading across your face, even as Jake coughs words that sound oddly like teacher’s pet into his fist.

“Thanks Pete. See you on Friday.” 

-

Jake swallows, staring the 12 out of 100 blinking back at him on the screen. 

“Did you get your grade back for that response paper we wrote last week?” He hears himself, asking. 

“Yeah, I got an 86. Why?”

“Dude, Pete graded those response papers harder than I thought he would. I scraped by with a  73.” Reuben says, sliding in the booth next to him. “How’d you do Jake?” 

He shakes his head, unable to say anything as he stares at the screen. 

Reuben leans over his shoulder, looking at the screen before letting out a low whistle. “Shit Jake.” 

“What? What’d he get?” Javy asks, craning to see the screen. Jake turns the laptop to Javy, earning him a wince. 

“Yikes dude.” 

“What am I gonna do?” He mumbles. 

-

He pauses, waving his friends on as you chat with Pete. He fiddles with his phone, trying not to look nervous as he hears you and Pete discuss research you’d done from this summer. 

“...I really think you should try to get that published, kid.” 

You hesitate. “I don’t know, do you think it could?” 

“Oh absolutely. Here, why don’t you hang on for a second and let me talk to Jake and we can discuss it more?” 

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You give him a nervous smile, stepping a little ways away to give them some privacy.

“What’s up Jake?” 

He sighs. “Sir, I was wondering if you could maybe give me some insight to the grade I got on my paper.” 

Pete frowns. “Did you not read the feedback I left on Canvas? I’m never sure if my comments save properly.” 

“No, I did. I guess- I guess I’m just kind of confused as to why I got that grade.” 

“Well, you lacked a clear argument and the paper was riddled with typos. The assignment was only three pages and you turned in a page and a half. You only used one quote, from the first chapter of the book, telling me you didn’t read any further. You didn’t incorporate any class discussion and you’ve only been here once since the semester started. Now, I know I said I didn’t have an attendance policy but if you aren’t here, you’re not participating in the group discussion and that’s a huge chunk of your grade, Jake.” 

“Is there any way I could re-submit the paper for a higher grade? I’m on the football team and we have to maintain a 2.8 to stay. It’s my last season, Mr. Mitchell, and I’d really like to keep my starting position.” 

Pete sighs. “Tell you what. I’ll let you re-submit the paper for a higher grade if you go to the Writing Center and work with one of their consultants on the feedback I left for you.” 

“Sir-”

“Those are my conditions, Jake. For any one, not just you. I want to see that you’re actually working on improving.” 

“Well, isn’t it just that… isn’t that place for all the bad writers?” 

Pete’s frown deepens. “There’s no shame in asking for help if you need it, Jake. It’s important to me that you know that.” 

Jake just shrugs. 

“You know, she comes as a very highly rated consultant from some of your athlete friends.” Pete says with a nod of his head over to you. You’re looking at your phone, clearly trying to look busy.

“Yeah, yeah, I think Garcia worked with her last spring.” 

Mickey Garcia was Reuben’s room mate, another athlete but on the baseball team. He’d raved about this girl he’d worked with at the Writing Center last spring, helping him get a 93 on a notoriously difficult final for an International Relations class. 

“She’s one of the best students I’ve seen in my time at San Diego State. You don’t have to work with her, but it might be nice to have a familiar face and someone who knows the class material. If you do decide to re-submit the paper, just ask the tutor to let me know you were there, yeah? You’ve got a week to get the new one back to me.” 

-

Jake pokes his head through the door, eyeing the room nervously. “This the Writing Center?” Your co-worker Mia pops her head up from the computer at the front desk, nodding. 

“Yes, it is! How can I help you?” 

Jake looks around nervously. “I have an appointment.” 

“Okay…” Mia trails off. “Do you remember with who?” 

You shut the room to the storage closet. “Hi Jake.” You say warmly, lugging the Costco-sized bag of candy out to the front table. “I’m just finish refilling the candy bowls if you wanna sit down at one of those tables over there?”

He nods, walking around the front desk to one of the tables, pulling his laptop out of his bag. 

“Isn’t that Jake Seresin?” Mia whispers, eyes wide. “From the football team?” 

You shrug. “I think so. He’s in one of my classes.” 

She nods. “Want me to finish doing that?” 

You sigh, handing her the bag. “That’d be great. Are you still leaving early tonight?” 

“Yeah, if you don’t mind locking up the Center.” 

“Yeah, it’s no problem!” 

You turn back to Jake, whose knee is bouncing as he takes in the space. 

He’s nervous, you realize, a stark contrast from the cocky boy you’d known in class. 

You grab your laptop, sitting down across from Jake. “Alright Jake, do you just wanna share the document with me so we can get started?” 

He wipes his hands on his basketball shorts, nodding as he opens the computer screen before pausing. 

“Can I ask how you did on the response paper for class?” 

You duck your head, biting your lip. “It wasn’t my best one.” 

“What’d did you get?” 

“A 94. You?” 

Jake swallows, eyes flitting around the Center. 

“12.” He whispers.

Your eyes grow wide. “Wait, shit, are you serious?” 

Jake nods. “‘S kinda why I’m here. Pete said if I came here, I could re-submit the paper for a higher grade.” 

You nod. “Well, what do you want to focus on then?” 

Jake shrugs. 

“Well, what would be most helpful for you?”

“Could we start by just looking at his feedback and talking about it? I admittedly didn’t understand some of it.” 

“Yeah! Yeah, of course.” 

The next hour flies by as you work through Jake’s paper, identifying places for him to expand and ways he could utilize evidence. You both worked through Pete’s feedback as you worked to build a better argument based off of it.

Finally, you sit back and sigh. “Well, we’re just at about time. You got any last questions for me?” 

Jake shakes his head, shutting his laptop. “Thanks for all your help on this.” 

“Yeah, of course. It’s my job.” 

“This… this all seems to come so naturally to you.” 

You shrug, closing your own laptop. “Yeah, yeah, I mean I’m a senior so I’ve had a lot of practice. It’s a lot harder when you’re first starting out.” 

“I couldn’t imagine just writing all the time.” 

You give Jake a bashful smile. “I’m writing a 30 page paper for my senior capstone.” 

Jake cringes at your words. “I couldn’t do that.” He says, rubbing his forehead. 

“Hey, you’re already improving. It just takes time to learn how to write in a style like this.” 

“I much prefer my Business classes. At least there, it’s a cake-walk to scrap by with a B average.”

“Well, you’re already doing better than me there. I failed Math in high school.” 

Jake chuckles, packing up his things. “Hey, uh, Pete told me I needed you guys to tell him I came here?”

You nod. “Yeah, we just send them an email with your appointment form, discussing what we did in the appointment.” 

Jake sighs, shoulders slumping. “Thanks.” 

“No problem. Feel free to make another appointment if you have any more questions.” 

Jake gives an aborted nod, slipping his backpack over shoulder and standing up. “Thanks again.” 

-

He blinks, looking at the grade in Canvas. 

70/100

Javy leans over his shoulder at his phone as their coach talks. “Is that the revised grade?” He whispers, Jake nods, locking the phone and slipping it back into his pocket, trying not to think about the comment Pete had left just below the grade. 

There was significant improvement here Jake. Please see my comments in the document and on the rubric for further feedback. I highly encourage you to continue visiting the Writing Center throughout the semester. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns. 

“How you do that, Jakey?” Javy whispers. 

He shrugs as Coach Simpson dismisses them. “Does it matter?” 

Javy lets out an incredulous chuckle. “I mean, if you went from a 12 to a 70, I’d kinda think you sucked Mitchell’s dick or something.” 

Jake middle finger doesn’t stop Javy’s chortle as he leaves the locker room. 

[doiefy]

nct 127 as cursed college profs

very partially based on stupid shit i've had the pleasure and misfortune of seeing in my own classes. happy finals season girlies </3 i rise from my casket of inactivity to bring you the shit post i wrote on the subway on the way to an exam. whose class do you think you'd survive?

cw: cynical college humour because i'm coping, adult humour

taeil: not even that old, but barely knows how to use technology. spends the first 15 minutes of lectures trying to figure out zoom, then the rest of the time poorly explaining quantum mechanics from a textbook written 20 years ago. trips down the stairs two days into the semester and goes on medical leave, only to be spotted on vacation a week later. no one even gives him shit for it.

johnny: originally the cool, chill prof who occasionally went out for drinks with his classes, until he realized he was cool and tried to get even more hip with the kids. now he uses bad memes in his slides and films tiktoks in his lab. the number of students who ask to get drinks with him significantly boosts his ego, but no one tells him they’re doing it just to cross “drinking with a prof” off the frosh bingo card.

taeyong: the sweetest, loveliest, kindest soul you will ever meet—except he’s only taught twice in his life, just got put in as a replacement for a prof who tripped down the stairs, and gives you the most god-awful final exam known to man. he’s also stressed out (on your behalf) at any given moment, to the point where he just passes everyone with an 80 and calls it a day.

yuta: the hip, fashionable prof who only serves looks and random commentaries on society in the middle of his lectures. undergrads fight to the death to join his research group, but the ones who make it eventually realize he spends most of his time partying with the department’s money. yet still, groundbreaking work comes out of his lab every year…

doyoung: retired from research a few years ago to teach full time, but not a single person knows why. he may offer the clearest, live-saving explanations in his lectures—but he constantly looks like he wants to go home and will decimate your entire existence with a single look if you ask anything about the syllabus two weeks into the semester.

jaehyun: the hot single prof. every single freshman girlie has a sickening, concerning, fanfic-esque crush on him. some go as far as nearly failing his class and then booking office hours with him before finals, only to find out that he’s been using Doyoung’s teaching material for years, without credit. he is very much horrendous at teaching on his own. and very much gay.

jungwoo: wanted to go into early childhood education, somehow got coerced into doing his masters, then his phd, then post doc, then— still fulfills his dreams by treating his students like kindergarteners. this includes gentle parenting of frat boys who won’t shut the fuck up during class, handing out healthy vegan treats, and encouraging “mindful moments” while you write the hardest exam he has ever administered.

mark: refuses to teach because he doesn’t think any of the kids will take him seriously, is forced to anyways by the department. as a prodigy so fucking removed from what it’s like to be stupid, he ends all his quantum lectures with “this is pretty straightforward,” and books it back to his lab on an electric skateboard. yes he built it himself. no he won't let you try and ride it.

haechan: shares an office with mark and spends most of his free time figuring out which organic compounds he can mix together to perfectly recreate the texture and smell of cum. if he doesn’t show up to class, it’s because he’s terrorizing pigeons on the street for science. shows gruesome videos of explosions and chemical fires for a chemical safety lecture. has had the fire alarm pulled on him at least twice.

[jasonscaramel]

i guess only the stars would know the truth - chapter one - jason todd x reader

series summary: there's something going on in gotham. you transfer into gotham university's journalism program. simultaneously, people are going missing in gotham at record rates. it's only a matter of time before your curiosity gets the best of you.

words: 1.8k

cross-posted on ao3 | series masterlist

Gotham is a welcome change in scenery from your small town in the south.

Sure, it rains nearly every day, and there’s the fact that there are supervillains that terrorize the city like clockwork. But having never lived in a big city before, it has a certain charm you don’t see yourself getting over any time soon. Everything is open late, the streets never seem to quiet down… it’s been eye-opening, to say the least.

You moved here more for the convenience, so it’s only a plus that you enjoy city life too. Gotham University is home to one of the best journalism professors—and in turn, programs—in the country. With affordable tuition, and the cost of living in Gotham being nearly pennies on the dollar, it was a no-brainer to transfer here.

So here you are. Making your way through the winding, labyrinthian halls, you wonder if you’re ever going to get used to how large this place is compared to your old… everything. A small community college on the outskirts of an even smaller town has nothing on the pure expansiveness of Gotham University, and in turn, Gotham City.

The first class to start off the semester is Marketing. You have a hard time putting together how it’ll help you in journalism, but maybe it will be more helpful than you think. By the time you arrive, the class is already sparsely populated, so you find a spot with the most amount of empty chairs and begin to unpack your things.

As you’re logging into your computer, a bag slams on the table beside you, making you jump.

“Sorry! I forgot how heavy those books are.” You look up to see a man, probably about your age, smiling down at you in an apology. “I’m Tim. Mind if I sit here?”

You shake your head with a smile, “Of course not. It’s about time to make friends.” You give him your name as he sits down, and he gives you a smile of his own.

“Oh, are you new here?”

“Yeah, I just transferred. The journalism program is incredible.”

Tim smiles in agreement, but it seems a bit facetious. “Sorry, it’s just—I’m not used to people moving to Gotham. You are… aware of everything, right?”

You snort. “The pros outweighed the cons. Can’t exactly do much journalism work when all there is to report on is cattle.” You flash him a smile that he returns easily.

“You know, that would make sense—”

Tim was cut off by the professor beginning his lecture. The first day is always a bunch of syllabus talk, so you only half pay attention while looking through the Gotham Gazette website. You bookmark a couple of the articles you find, especially the ones that say MISSING PERSONS. Why is there so many?

The professor is kind enough to release the class 15 minutes early. It feels like the universe blessing you because you have no idea where to go for your next class, and you’re sure with the small amount of time in between the classes, you’d get lost and be late. Your old college was barely half the size of this place—you wonder if you’ll ever be confident in navigating it.

“You have any other classes after this?” Tim asks as you both pack up your belongings, and you nod. “I don’t, so if you need help navigating…?”

“Oh, Tim, you’re my hero. Thank you.” You throw your bag over your shoulder and follow him out of the classroom, having to walk a bit quicker to keep up with his strides. “I was honestly worried even with the extra time that I’d be late.”

He gives you that same kind, tired smile. “Don’t worry about it. Where are we headed?”

After you tell him the room number, Tim leads you up a few flights of stairs before leading you to a classroom door. You go to thank him, but you’re cut off by someone yelling his name. It’s a man, Tim’s age, running up to him and encircling him in a hug.

“Hi, babe. New friend?” You smile back at the man, finding it adorable how Tim’s hands immediately cover the other man’s. Tim introduces you and tells you that this is his boyfriend, Bernard.

“It’s their first day, they transferred here.”

“Oh, that’s awesome! We’re happy to have you.” Bernard finally unwraps himself from around Tim to stand at his full height. “If you ever need anything, just let us know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. See you Wednesday, Tim!”

“See you then!”

Your next class was more of the same, though you could already tell you wouldn’t have the same ease of social interaction here. Everyone seems to already know everyone else, groups of women in twos and threes with the occasional bro sprinkled in here and there. It’s a surprisingly small class, and thankfully your lack of bravery is also met with no one sitting beside you, so you don’t have to try and make conversation.

It doesn’t help that you can tell that you’re a few years older than everyone else in this classroom. Normally, it doesn’t bother you, but you’re not so sure this group will be as easy to crack as Tim was.

By the time both of your classes are over, you’re exhausted. It’s only 6 p.m., but with the constant rain and gloomy skies, combined with the hours of lecture you just sat through, you could probably go to bed and sleep through the night.

Before sleep, though, you need food. And instead of trekking through the pouring rain, you opt for the dining hall. You’re not expecting anything gourmet, but you do have some free dining dollars to spend, so it all evens out. As you make your way to the dining hall you keep your eyes out for Tim and Bernard, but you don’t see them anywhere. Just another endless sea of faces you don’t recognize.

It’s fine, really. You’ve got headphones and YouTube, so you’ll just have to be an iPad kid for today. Totally fine, and really not anything you aren’t used to. You set up shop in the corner, nibbling on an over-priced, over-greased piece of pizza you had to wait nearly thirty minutes on while you watch another reaction to another Cut video.

The walk home to your apartment isn’t the romanticized walk through the city that you’re used to seeing in the movies. It’s wet, despite the umbrella and the waterproof boots, and it’s really dark for the time of day. Regardless, it gives you time to think. First about taking the subway next time, and then about Tim and Bernard. You wonder if they were just being nice, pitying the new kid on their first day—or if you could actually be their friend. You hope for the latter. Making friends had never been an easy feat for you, and while you didn’t know much about either of them, you had a good feeling.

Which was immediately eclipsed by a very, very bad feeling as you watched a shadowed figure run across the rooftops of the buildings next to you.

Sure, you were fully aware that the shadowed figure you see is probably running toward the danger instead of going to cause it, but the threat of danger at all gives you pause. You knew what you were getting into coming here. The Joker, TwoFace… Gotham is nothing like where you’re from, and despite knowing that, it doesn’t make the reality any easier to digest.

Especially when you see what you’re pretty sure is Batman and Robin following not too far behind the first shadowed figure. Headed in the direction of your apartment.

Cool. Well, you had to have your vigilante v-card punched at some point, right? Might as well be your first night here.

You pick up your pace a bit since your building is within sight. It sure doesn’t sound like the fight is anywhere near your apartment, so you feel a bit safer as you scan your key and enter the building. The hallways are more reminiscent of a doctor’s office than an apartment building—sterile in places that should be homey, clinical in only a way someone so detached from living this way could create. You wonder if it's Bruce Wayne’s fault or Lex Luthor’s.

It’s not like your actual apartment is much better. There are the beginnings of a warm, inviting space here, but without the proper time and funds, it’s more sparse than anything else. The living room consists of a TV on an old side table and a couch sitting across from it, but you’re more than happy to plop onto the lumpy thing and click on the TV.

The gorgeous news anchor speaks, her voice melodic despite the situation at hand. “This is the fourth disappearance in Gotham in the past two weeks.” You sit up straighter at that, turning the volume up a few notches. The screen changes from the news anchor’s face to a graphic of the four missing people.

MISSING:

CRYSTAL JORDAN - 25

JAMES HEATH - 64

HOPE LEIGH - 32

HARLAN MAXTON - 43

IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION PLEASE CONTACT GCPD.

Huh. Four people have gone missing, and they don’t seem to have anything in common. You skim each missing poster: grad student, grandfather, stay-at-home mom, businessman. You’re no criminal justice major, but that’s not typical… is it? It’s not like that many people went missing back home, but you’re sure this is odd.

“We have been told to urge the public to be cautious. Each of the missing persons was taken from a different area of Gotham, so there isn’t one place to look out for. If you see anything suspicious—”

You turn off the TV, but your mind just won’t follow suit. Four people in two weeks. That must be high, even for Gotham’s standards. You pull your laptop from your bag, determined to find more information. Google doesn’t give you much other than the locations these people were taken from, and statements from their families, but you save them into a folder on your desktop regardless.

You keep scrolling, desperate to find something. A way to keep yourself safe, or a way to dig deeper into this, you weren’t sure. You land on a photo of Crystal, gazing perfectly into the lens of the camera—only a little older than you, wearing a Gotham University hoodie. You can’t help but see yourself in her; you can’t help but see everyone you saw today in her.

As you slam your laptop closed, you pray to whatever god is out there that those four people come home safe. That it’s some stupid Joker stunt to catch Batman’s attention, and they’ll be returned to their families.

Deep down, though, as you settle into your bed, nesting into your covers, you feel a sickening feeling in your bones that only feels like dread.

[lwh-writing]

Okay, so my college classes started again today and I ended the day with the first lecture of my military history class. Now, I don't usually like military history because it very much is the Dude Bro type of history that I don't jive with. However, I am taking this class because:

Even if it is Dude Bro History, I love history in all forms and want to learn more about it

I'm an engineering student with too many fucking calculus, physics, and electronic classes and my mind needs to think about something other than STEM before it breaks

I fucking LOVE my professor. I had him last semester for a European history class and he was the best. He was very much against what he calls "asshole history." Aka, the type of history that focuses on one, usually white, Christian man who "shaped the course of history" until it shuffled onto the next one. He never mentioned Henry VII or Shakespeare except in passing, but he was the first person to teach me about Alessandra Strozzi, Baruch Spinoza, and Olaudah Equiano. So once I saw he was teaching another class this semester, I was like "Okay, but only because it's you, Awesome Professor."

Anyway, today was the first lecture of Military History taught by Awesome Professor. As should have probably been expected, the class makeup was 80% Dude Bros who need to cover their liberal studies credit. We get in, go over the syllabus, do an icebreaker, and Awesome Professor pulls up a PowerPoint slide with the Battle of Thermopylae and the Battle of Gettysburg side by side.

Awesome Professor: "Can anyone tell me the connection between these two battles?"

Some answers are offered. One Dude Bro goes on a soliloquy about war tactics and drools over the 500 Spartans. Awesome Professor corrects him and says that there were way more Greek factions there than Sparta. More answers are offered. A different Dude Bro does a different soliloquy about Robert E. Lee and the Confederate Army. Awesome Professor shoots back about Meade having the superior defensive position. More answers come in. I offer that both the Greeks and the Union soldiers were vastly outnumbered. A few more answers.

Awesome Professor: "Those were all wonderful answers, but unfortunately, you're all wrong. The major connection between these two battles is.... they're the only battles we will ever discuss in this class."

This wonderful, wonderful man then goes on to say that we will NOT be getting into war tactics. We will NOT learn about weaponry. We will NOT be reading quotes from famous generals. We will instead be learning about the cultural impact of war, all sides of every conflict, how militaries and wars affect technology that isn't weapons (preserved foods, medical innovations, etc.), how to recognize war-time, pre-war, and post-war propaganda, and female and nonbinary individuals' experiences during war.

The hundreds of Dude Bros start gaping like fish and sputter about "How can you teach WAR if you don't talk about WAR?". I'm holding back cackles as they slowly realize that they will not be getting spoon-fed the classic Dude Broe history. I genuinely cannot wait to go to my next lecture and count how many people drop the class.

In conclusion: definitely give college history classes a try, even if they aren't your usual first pick. Especially if you know the professor is amazing and knows how to teach about the scope of history rather than shuffling from one asshole to the next.

[mab1905]

I’m taking a Uni class about analyzing plays and the first one we are reading is about the Franklin expedition from the point of view of Inuit people in Canada. I had no idea this is what we would be reading when I signed up for the class but Holy Shit. I get really intense full body ticks when I experience strong emotions and when I saw that on the syllabus I was so fucking happy i could not stop smiling and ticking uncontrollably. I went up to the prof afterwards and nerded out with him and he is so cool. I showed him my jacket and his first question was “which ship did you chose” and I said “HMS Terror” and he said “correct choice.”

Also I go to school in Rhode Island, which is the same state Russell Potter works in so I asked my prof if he knew him and he said no but I’m gonna send him links to all of Potter’s blogs.

I’ve never been able to explore the expedition in an academic space before and I’ve genuinely never been more excited about a Uni class. I’m so fucking happy

Today is a good day :)))

(Btw the play we are reading is called The Breathing Hole by Colleen Murphy. Only the second act is about the Franklin Expedition, but the whole thing is about Inuit experience of colonialism. I will probably be posting my thoughts on it as I read through it this week.)