#source: my art teacher that sometimes i think about | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jaellyfishh · 2 months ago

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The Corner Where We Met · Part 3

part 1 - part 2

trope: art teacher!azzi x PE teacher!paige

content: slow start to set the scene lol, fluff, smut, tiny angst

word count: 6.1K

The next Wednesday since that night

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” KK whispered to Aaliyah as she stared at the scene in front of her, the pair sitting in their usual corner table of the teacher’s lounge.

Edwards turned her head to join her colleague, nodding impressively. “They sure are giving each other googly eyes. But, like, when do they not”.

There stood Paige and Azzi, casually chatting while they waited for their lunch to heat up. It was nothing out of the ordinary from their usual break time exchanges, but somehow the air around them this time felt different - a little more affectionate.

They were smiling ear-to-ear, sometimes one was grinning at the ground after the other said something. In some moments they also giggled or had let out a light laugh, tilting their heads as they stared at each other, eyes glimmering. They were truly in their own world.

Given, their schedules haven’t exactly been aligning during school, they relished any chance they could get to see each other, even if fleeting. Whether it was Paige waiting by Azzi’s classroom door before they head to lunch or whether it was Azzi helping Paige clean their gym storage room after school; even the quick glances when they’d passed each other down the hallway or with their colleagues at lunch. They always seem to find each other.

All of a sudden, strong hands gripped the shoulders of the curious teachers. “Hey, you guys seeing what I'm seeing?” Nika had just entered the chat, Kayla right behind her.

"Girl, that's what I said! There’s a shift in the space time continuum. Did Car say anything to y’all about that night? I couldn't squeeze anything outta Azzi. And Paige kept deflecting my question," Arnold asked Nika, who took a seat beside her.

“You guys sure do seem invested in the love life of complete adults," Mühl shook her head. “But as lame as it is to admit it, this is the only thing I look forward to in my life. And no, by the way, Car and I don’t even remember what happened that night.”

Kayla sighed. “Yeah, me neither. I just remember calling Azzi ‘cause she wasn’t on the dance floor. Then she popped up outta nowhere to help us, so.”

Arnold hummed. “Didn’t Paige show up right after?”

“Yeah, she came out from the toilet,” Edwards answered as if stating the obvious.

The new information made the girls whip their heads to face Aaliyah. Then KK lifted one eyebrow, leaning towards here. “And where was Azzi coming from?”

Aaliyah slowly answered as her memory was picking back up. “Oh…the toilet. Wait-”

“You bitch,” Arnold started poking the taller girl’s sides, making her jolt. “How could you keep this from us?”

“Stop! Oh my god, I’m sorry, jeez!” Aaliyah whispered-yelled. “Listen, I was half drunk and scared for Car and Nika to piece things together, okay? Besides, I had to worry about preparing questions for pop quiz over the weekend. And then my rent was due. Don’t even mention about getting Oreo to the vet because of his ear infection-“

“Okay, you have adult things to do, we get it!” Arnold interjected, annoyed at her friend for keeping something she deemed was a really big secret.

Kayla couldn’t keep her smile from forming. “You guys don’t think-“

“What are you guys talking about?” A familiar voice startled the group of ladies.

As soon as they whipped their heads to the source, they were met with Paige and Azzi who were holding their lunch.

The women started scrambling, some resuming to munch on their food, some fumbling in their words trying to get a response out.

“Oh, you know, Aaliyah’s sick puppy,” Mühl was able to answer coolly.

“Oh, Aaliyah, I’m so sorry,” Azzi sympathised as she sat down, Paige following suit.

“H-he’s better now. Thanks, Az,” The taller girl couldn’t help but feel baffled over the sudden attention to her dog.

“So…you two seem to be very close,” Williams smiled, almost scheming.

Azzi bit her cheeks as she opened her lunch box. “I think we all have, no? We did do a bit of team building last week”.

“Is the team building in the room with us?” KK whispered while snickering. Paige couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, being she was the one sitting closer to her.

But Paige could see Azzi tense up under the guise of eating in nonchalance, her eyes scattering as she couldn’t exactly look her friends in the eye. After all, it felt like she was being interrogated by a large group of people, let alone at her workplace.

Suddenly, Azzi felt a warm touch on her thigh. The blonde had placed her hand on it under the table, her thumb rubbing on her knee hoping to ease the curly brunette’s mind. Azzi could only take pleasure in the feeling as she just continued to chew on her sandwich, her muscles beginning to relax.

And then Paige stared at Nika. “Dude, I’m still not forgiving you for vomiting on my shoes, by the way. Great team building. Now I know who to never go out drinking with”

Nika scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t smell horrible! Never wear that musky shit near me”.

“It’s Valentino. You just have poor taste. And shit alcohol tolerance”.

The group laughed as Nika was about to pounce on her, the tension beginning to subside.

Throughout lunch, Paige kept her hand resting on Azzi’s thigh, rubbing it occasionally when she’d remembered. It only took a few seconds for Kayla to realise her friend had scooted marginally closer to Paige, perhaps to lean in for comfort or to make the distance easier for her arm.

Kayla gave Azzi a knowing smile before joining in the momentum of the conversations.

If it's one thing for certain, as curious as the girls were about this new romantic telenovela unfolding before them, they prioritised respecting the pair even more. Of course, they had to be mature about it, they were all adults, after all. But they’d also like to think a little teasing and plotting wouldn’t hurt anyone.

—

“I’m afraid they won’t stop playing detective” Azzi told Paige as they walked down the hallway together. It sort of became a ritual for the blonde to drop Azzi to her class when she had free time, a kind gesture for…new friends.

“It’s inevitable. They weren’t as invasive as I thought they would be, though,” Paige smiled, her attention way too focused on the curly brunette.

The pair didn’t really talk much about that night. Their approach to it being quite unique to them, very casual. Regardless, they liked the subtle intimacy they have. Sure, there’s a mutual fondness for each other so far, giving lingering touches or speaking about certain personal matters, but they don’t dwell on it too much. For Paige, she had thought for a while that it could overcomplicate things and, for Azzi, it was more of fear towards her overthinking. That perhaps she’d be too overbearing once they eventually address it.

“Well, at least they’re self-aware. They know better than not to push me too hard,” The shorter girl mumbled the latter sentence, blurting it out absentmindedly as she looked straight ahead.

“Why’s that?” the blond asked curiously, unsure if Azzi was just saying it a joke or not.

As soon as Azzi went silent, Paige could tell it was something more serious.

“Oh, you know, just my past and stuff,” The younger girl tried to act dismissively. The blonde nodded in silence, understanding well not to press any further than Azzi wanted to. In fact, Paige herself would not be ready to open Pandora's box of her own past either.

“You know, I really admire you, Azzi”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Wait, where’s all this coming from?”

“I’m being serious. You’re a great teacher. You go above and beyond for this school and you care so much for the kids that you treat them like they’re your own. Like take my first few gym classes, for example, they always talk about how they’d rather you teach them because I’m ‘too bossy’ and that I don’t let them ‘voice their opinions’. They’re middle schoolers!”

Azzi moved her head in skepticism. “Did you do something I’m not supposed to find out?”

Paiged grunted. “Can you take the compliment for one second? Geez!”

Azzi conceded, her hands raising up in surrender. “Okay, okay, okay. But that’s just called being a decent adult, no? They’re already stressed with needing to get good grades so they can get a ‘good paying job’… they don’t need more adults nagging in their faces about it. Besides, I also think you’re doing a good job for someone who just started. You give them tough love, but it pushes them to be strong, you know? I could learn a thing or two from you, too”

Paige smiled in agreement, looking at Azzi with pride. “And that’s why I’m your favourite teacher, right?”

“Please, I think KK takes the title since she teaches high school math,” Azzi scoffed, trying to hide her smile. Paige frowned.

“Oh, that’s unlucky. ‘Cause you’re my favourite teacher, actually,” Paige lowered her head as she glanced at Azzi through her lashes, her hands behind her back as she looked at her in anticipation. A lame posture that can look charismatic.

Azzi shook her head at the way Paige tried to flirt, stifling a smile as to not give her any satisfaction.

As the air around them began to shift, they were suddenly met with a rather stout, shorter figure approaching them.

“Ms. Fudd! Moore’s favourite,” a gentle yet gruff voice sang, alerting the pair.

“Oh, hey, Principal Auriemma,” Azzi quickly redirected her sullen expression to a smile.

“I just wanna apologise again about terminating Ms. Smith’s contract. You taking up the job of two people is truly not fair. But I’m doing my best to find a recruit asap,” He gave her a sympathetic smile.

He continued. “But, I’m afraid I have even more terrible news, depending on how you take it.”

The pair gave each other a quick glance.

“As you know, Moore’s winter recital is coming up. And you must know better than me how much that means for a lot of our kids and their parents. And you’ve always done fantastic in designing the props every year. But with Ms. Smith gone and Ms. White coming back from maternity leave by the end of next month, I’ve been doing my best to ask the other teachers for help, truly, but they all seem too busy, so-“

“I can help,” Paige interrupted before Principal Auriemma could finish.

Both him and Fudd turned their heads to the taller woman, Azzi surprised.

“You said it before I could, Ms. Bueckers,” He smiled. “If that’s okay?”

“I’m always happy to help, Big G,” Paige gave a charming smile, her hands clasped behind her back as she gave a single nod.

Principal Auriemma gave a loud laugh before reaching his hand out. To Azzi’s surprise, the pair dapped each other up.

And as soon as he left the two women alone in the hallway, the curly brunette couldn’t help but laugh at what she just witnessed.

“This is KK’s doing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, she’s honestly great influence”

As the pair giggled on their continuing path, Paige asked. “So, what are we gonna do now?”

Azzi sighed. “Well, I like to plan ahead, so I’ll make a list. We definitely need to buy some more art supplies. We can reuse the spares from last year, which could reduce overspending the budget. Wait, I don’t even know if the music and drama club students planned anything since Ms. White’s not here. Are we copying the one from two years ago? Do I have to make a new set? God, I think our Christmas Tree might even been broken-

“Azzi, Azzi, Azzi,” Paige repeated calmly, gently grabbing Fudd’s hands while her thumbs caressed them. “Breathe, please”.

The curly brunette took a deep breath before she locked eyes with Paige.

“Sorry, I feel like I have a lot on my plate right now”

“That’s why I’m here to help, right?” Azzi gave her a simple nod. “I’ll do what you need me to do since I’ve got a free period. We’ll think about everything else after school, okay?

“Okay,” Fudd croaked. “You wouldn’t mind accompanying me after school to buy our supplies?”

“Of course,” Paige smiled, her thumbs still caressing her hands.

Azzi stifled a laugh. “Okay, you can let go now”.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” The blonde grinned, her hands now gripping tighter.

They stared into each other’s eyes, one looking teasingly while the other rolling in frustration. The curly brunette was trying to pull her hands away, tugging as formally as she can without seeming too erratic. Paige stood firmly, not moving an inch, her grin remaining.

Before her defeat, Azzi turned her head with wide eyes.

“Principal Auriemma!” Azzi gasped. Paige jumped as she ripped her hands off, a nervous expression plastered on her face while she turned to where Fudd looked.

Paige saw nobody in the hallway. And Azzi was able to escape, jogging back to her class. The blonde stood alone, hands on her hips as she smiled in defeat.

—

“Freaking cheater,” The blonde startled Azzi, who was waiting idly by the gym doors.

Azzi rolled her eyes smiling as they made their way towards the exit. “You need to stop pulling that stuff here. There’s kids around, not to mention our coworkers”.

“I know, I know. I just like messing with you,” Paige shrugged, nudging her arm on Azzi’s.

“I swear you act like a high school boy sometimes,” Azzi shook her head.

“That hurts, Az. Then I guess I won’t tell you what the kids at drama club prepared for,” Paige sighed, her strides getting longer as she walked further away.

“Alright, alright, fine. But, just so you know, I won with that one,” Azzi insisted, catching up to the blonde. And Paige just let her.

After the blonde gave her the run down all the way to Fudd’s car, Azzi was relieved they didn’t have to buy much. From Paige’s intel, the kids will be redoing the songs and activities from their recital two years ago, that was as much as the high schoolers could conjure up for their school with their teacher gone.

And, in no time, the pair had driven to Walmart, ticking off everything from Azzi’s checklist before returning home to the Fudd-Ducharme household with full hands.

“Just put them on the floor there. Sorry for the mess. I’ll go get us some water,” The curly brunette panted as she dropped the bags by their sofa before heading to the kitchen to pour themselves a glass.

Paige let out sound breath before plopping herself on their brown couch, a softness to that could lull anyone to sleep. As their bodies relaxed in the quietness, Paige couldn’t help but observe her surroundings, appreciating the earth tones and somewhat eclectic design.

“Hmm, you’ve got a nice place. It feels really cozy,” The blonde sighed as her body assimilated into the sofa.

Azzi approached their living room, handing out a glass of water to Paige.

“Thanks, we worked hard on it. Trust me, this place looked like shit when we first moved in,” Azzi contorted her face in disgust as she reminisced, settling down next to Paige who sat up to take the glass off her.

“Well, you sure you’re not trying to revert back to it? Because what is all that?” Paige laughed as she pointed at the cardboard boxes accompanied by scattered tools on the ground right outside her bedroom door.

Azzi realised before laughing herself, semi-embarrassed at the state she left her house in. “Stop, I just got a new bed frame, okay? Car was helping me out yesterday, but I didn’t get time to clean up before school started.”

Paige found an opportunity. “Hm, someone got a li’l too freaky”.

“Yeah, well at least I got more game than you,” Azzi scoffed.

The blonde raised her brows. “What makes you think I don’t have any game?”

“You seem like a one-person-at-a-time individual”

“Yeah, so I can take my time talking them through it,” Paige remarked suggestively, her voice confident.

“Paige,” Azzi warned before the blonde chuckled.

“We’re not in school, so I can mess with you, can’t I?”

Azzi could only bite her cheek, unable to find a comeback. She couldn’t exactly discern the true intentions of those words, her brain already interpreting it as something that would raise the hairs of her skin.

“Speaking of Caroline, where is she?” Paige asked curiously as she sipped on her glass.

“Oh, she won’t be here for two days. Her cousin had an emergency, so she’s babysitting until they come back,” Fudd answered. "Speaking of which, I have to text her you're staying for dinner".

Hmm, how convenient, Paige muttered as she placed her glass on the table in front of them.

“Hm?” Azzi tilted her head, certain of what she heard, but still wanted to make sure.

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing…” The blonde tried to dismiss, her body position now fully turning to Azzi, one arm on top of the sofa as her head rested on her hand.

And they just sat there staring at each other, these moments happening more and more frequently, always leaving them at a loss for words. But it was hard not to get trapped in each other’s eyes. It was as if they tried to search for unspoken answers every time, a need to do something.

“Well, I-I’m gonna order us some take out. I don’t really have left overs except for fruits, sorry,” Azzi scrambled to fetch her phone from her pocket.

Paige reached out her hand to stop Azzi. “No, it’s okay, I got you. You ran around getting all these supplies, it’s the least I can do.”

Azzi nodded. “Okay…then I’m gonna take a quick shower. I dunno how long you’ll stay tonight, but if you wanted to take one as well-”

“You asking me to join you?”

Azzi closed her eyes. “You know, at some point I’m gonna get tired of that, right?”

Paige laughed through her nose. “And I’m surprised you haven’t stopped me already”.

“Whatever. I’m gonna leave some clothes out for you,” Azzi said as she entered her room. Paige hummed in response while scrolling through the Noodles & Company menu.

Fifteen minutes later, Paige heard the common bathroom door swing open, the steam coming out as a figure came into her peripherals. For some reason, her heart started racing. Perhaps it was the subtle eroticism of it all, a possibly semi-naked Azzi within the same vicinity. And it was ironic, really, given she wasn’t afraid of almost seeing it all that night. But this time felt different. She didn’t want to raise her head too much, knowing that she wanted to give Azzi as much privacy as she could.

I’m not some creep, Paige thought.

But the freshly cleaned girl started approaching Paige. And the blonde could only clench her jaw, her eyes glued to her phone as a distraction. And just then Azzi bent down in front of her causing the blonde to jerk, her head instinctively raising up.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I left my phone here”. Azzi was already dressed in her home clothes, they were simple. A grey shirt paired with black shorts. And she was scrunching her wet hair with a towel, trying not to drip water on the small carpet. Paige found the sight adorable. However, she was still stuck in a trance, her heart thumping for her ears only to hear.

“Paige, you good?” Azzi stifled a laugh. “Did you think I was just gonna walk around naked or something?”

A warmth grew on the blonde’s cheeks. “Absolutely not,” she replied in denial.

“Right, right. Well, the shower’s ready, just so you know,” Azzi pointed out the obvious, grinning at the state of the woman in front of her.

“Right, um, also order’s on its way, so…yeah, okay,” Paige stammered before quickly getting up, leaving the living room as Azzi continued to smile.

It was rare for Azzi to catch moments where she’d get Paige flustered, but when it happens, it’d stroked her ego just a tad bit.

Another fifteen minutes had passed and Paige had left the bathroom, fully clothed and her hair damp. As soon as she approached Azzi who was sitting on the sofa, she folded her arms in disappointment.

“Really?” was all the blonde could say before the younger girl bursted out laughing.

Azzi had given her an all bright pink attire. An oversized pink shirt with bejeweled lettering spelling out ‘Princess’ across the chest paired with shorts of the same colour.

“What? I think it looks good on you!” Azzi exclaimed with a wide smile.

The blonde let out a deep breath before plopping herself heavily beside Azzi. The curly brunette turned herself fully to Paige, her head propped up by her own hand as it rested on the head of the sofa. Feeling betrayed, the blonde turned her head the other way.

“Paige, quit sulking. You’re being a baby right now,” Azzi shoved her shoulder with her free hand.

The blonde continued to mope, not giving the curly brunette any attention. But a small smirk etched on her face where it was hidden from Azzi.

Azzi sighed. “Alright, fine”

As Azzi looked onto the blonde woman, she couldn’t help but stare at her cheeks like it’s free real estate. The curly brunette can’t lie, she craved being in any form of intimacy with Paige ever since that night. It left her on a cliffhanger, so she can’t help it when her body starts to learn towards her.

Before Paige knew it, Fudd planted a kiss on her cheek. The blonde slightly jolted before turning her head to finally face Azzi. Smile beaming as if she was waiting for that moment.

And then Bueckers pecked her lips, returning the favour, her eyes half-closed in a cheeky smile.

But before Paige let go, Azzi pushed her face forward, reattaching their lips together.

It was needy, yet tender. Impatient, yet delicate. A type of crave that could only be felt by the pair. The younger woman slid closer, deepening the kiss as she gripped Paige’s waist, the blonde’s hand remaining on her jaw as her thumb caressed Azzi’s cheek.

Paige realised that Azzi liked to kiss on her bottom lip a lot. Capturing it, sucking then biting before the blonde let out a breath in arousal.

“Hmm…you’re so pretty, Az”

Feeling warm all over by her voice, Azzi draped her thighs over Paige’s lap, straddling it in remembrance of that night. The older woman instinctively gripped Fudd’s waist, pulling her in closer, deepening the kiss even more. Their breaths were muffled, their moans swallowing each other. Azzi’s hands travelled up to cup Paige’s jaw possessively, while the blonde’s hands rubbed up her back and down her ass.

Then Azzi started grinding subtly on Paige’s core, their bodies heated. Sloppy and messy, their kiss became hungrier, their tongues continued to entangle in each other, minds growing fuzzy.

Ding dong.

The girls paused, panting. Azzi’s hands stayed gripping Paige’s jaws, the blonde’s hands glued to her ass. But their lips were magnetised and they leaned in again, resuming their make out session. It was turning them on even more, their kisses breathless-

Ding.

It was Paige’s phone notifying of the successful delivery, waking the pair up from their trance. They looked at each other rather dissatisfied by the interruption, but they soon realised they needed to eat first.

Just as Azzi was about to slowly get off Paige’s lap, the blonde pulled her back and gave her another peck.

“I’ll go get it,” Paige smiled dopily before turning Azzi’s hips to the side to settle her gently on the sofa.

Azzi smiled shyly, acting busy by moving the coke bottles on the table unnecessarily on the table she had already set. And soon enough, Paige returned with a paper bag, taking out two big containers in excitement.

“Here’s my Wisconsin Mac & Cheese, and here’s your Chicken Cobb Salad…hmm, look at all those greens in there,” Paige contorted her face in disgust.

Azzi let out a small laugh. “For a PE teacher, you sure eat unhealthy”.

“Life’s too short to trap people in a box. Let me live, Azzi,” Paige dramatically exasperated, causing the younger woman to roll her eyes.

The sun had already set and the darkness of Azzi’s home was illuminated by the array of sunset and accent lamps around the apartment. The ambient low-lighting casting shadows throughout, a perfectly cozy vibe for a weekday night.

Azzi had switched on the TV, a random movie playing as the pair were busy munching on their dinner, the atmosphere comforting.

As the flow of the night continued, the pair laughed as they shared stories of their past, mostly the weird era of college. Azzi discovered that Paige studied nursing for two years before switching majors, the reason being the financial burden and the burnout. And that she had a roommate who secretly kept a pet spider that one day escaped and conveniently sat on her pillow one night - her trauma for creepy crawlers more apparent since then. Paige learnt that Azzi’s first reason she started drawing as a kid was because she wanted to picture herself kissing Nick Jonas. And that her two younger brothers admired her so much to a point where they would insist on wearing her clothes to school to be just like her.

After dinner, the pair made their way to the kitchen. They threw away their empty containers and miscellaneous things in the trash before Paige went to wash her hands.

As she waited for them to dry, Paige leaned her back on the kitchen counter behind Azzi, watching her use the sink. When the curly brunette turned around, she was surprised at the blonde eyeing her down.

“Yes?” Azzi asked, her tone playful as she leaned her back on the sink counter.

“I kinda…don’t wanna leave yet,” The blonde pushed herself off the counter, walking over to where Azzi stood, her arms instinctively reaching out to grab her waist.

They just smiled in their intimate embrace, Azzi’s hands intuitively trailing upwards to wrap them around Paige’s neck, tilting her head before replying.

“So stay,” she whispered like she was lovesick. Then she leaned her face towards the blonde’s neck, giving feathery kisses, almost like she was trying to persuade her to stay.

Paige’s knees almost buckled this time, Azzi’s wet lips tickling on her skin. It was not like she was going to leave anyways.

As the curly brunette continued peppering sweet kisses on her jaw in neediness, the blonde couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. She liked how possessive Azzi held onto her, not wanting to let her go.

In an instant, Paige bent her knees, lowering her arms below Azzi’s ass and, in one quick motion, she swiftly lifted her up. Azzi gasped at the romantic gesture. Reacting almost immediately, Azzi wrapped her thighs around Paige’s waist, securing herself as she looked at Paige with dark eyes.

It was bewitching and greedy, the cozy mood of Azzi’s dark apartment paired with the thought of them being all alone. Their hooded eyes stared mindlessly at each other’s mouth, the air around them thickening.

“Az, please,” Paige whispered.

Immediately, Azzi crashed her lips onto Paige’s, the moan they let out was lewd. The younger woman could feel Paige turn them around, slowly walking to the counter behind her and placing Azzi on the cold surface. The curly brunette shivered, but she kept Paige close, tightening her thighs around her as they continued to make out, Azzi’s hands finding home in Paige’s jaws.

Then Paige moved her hands. She snaked one long arm around Azzi’s waist while her other free hand fiddled with the hem of Azzi’s shirt. The older woman needed to feel her, she wanted more from that night, she wanted more of Azzi.

And just then, Paige hands went under her shirt, roaming Azzi’s ribs and sending shivers down her spine before ultimately cupping her breast.

“Hhh, Paige,” was all Azzi could breathe out.

The blonde started fondling it, squeezing and playing with the nipple. A moan escaped from Azzi’s mouth in between their make out session.

“You like that?” Paige's voice sent vibrations on Azzi’s lips.

“Mmm, yeah,” Azzi stammered, relishing in the touch.

As their movements grew more sensual, Azzi removed her lips, their foreheads touching. They grinned with closed eyes, giddy from the tension.

“Hmm?” Paige just hummed, wondering why the woman in front of her paused.

“I got a new bedframe…” Azzi leaned her head a fraction backwards, the blonde’s face in full sight. The taller woman bit her lips with hooded eyes, waiting for Azzi to continue. “I…I wanna test it out”.

Paige could only smile dopily before whispering. “Yeah, I was kinda waiting for you to say that”.

The pair giggled before Paige lifted Azzi up from the counter. The younger woman hugged Paige close, the feeling of being held like that made Azzi’s heart flutter, as if she was the most delicate person in the world. And she couldn‘t help but find her lips back on Paige’s neck again as they moved, intentionally giving slow, smacking kisses which the blonde found pleasure with the sound.

As soon as they entered her bedroom, it only took a few seconds before Azzi felt some turbulence as Paige knelt on her bed, moving towards the centre before gently laying Azzi down on her back.

Paige hovered over Azzi, both arms planted on either side of her, while Azzi’s arms and thighs remained draped around Paige. Their faces are inches away from each other. The intimacy thickened as their breaths continued to cool them down, but Azzi didn’t want the heat to go away, instead pulling Paige’s neck lower.

“I wanna finish what we started that night,” the blonde breathed out.

“Please, just,” she whispered, trying to get their lips to meet. “I want you”.

But Paige redirected her lips on Azzi’s sweet spot right below her ear instead, giving a wet kiss before mumbling. “How bad?”

Azzi let out a breathy moan. “I…I…”

Azzi was feeling overstimulated as soon as Paige’s hand traveled under her shirt, kneading her breast again.

“How bad do you want me, Az?” Paige repeated, grinning in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi was squirming, arching her back a little so that she could bring her body closer to Paige. “I’m wet,” Azzi whimpered faintly, just enough for Paige to hear.

In rushed fashion, Paige slightly lifted herself and took off her own shirt before tugging on the hem of Azzi’s shirt to pull it off her as well. Immediately the curly brunette reacted, lifting her back so Paige could remove it and throw them off to the side.

They didn’t waste any time revelling in their exposed skin, the sexual act all too familiar to them. Paige quickly leaned down again, making out with Azzi more aggressively with a type of devotion, letting out breaths in between the spaces between their tongues which became entangled in each other. Azzi roamed her fingers around Paige’s chest before landing on her breasts, kneading them as she slowly grinded their cores together, a moan escaping the blonde’s lips from the touch,

And then Paige travelled her lips down to Azzi’s breast, nibbling and sucking on it while her free hand fondled with the other, squeezing at the nipple, making Azzi moan harder. After several seconds, Paige started to go lower, giving long, sensual strides of licks down across her abdomen, Azzi’s fingers gripping tighter on her hair as she took pleasure in the foreplay.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige mumbled in between her licks.

“Hmm,” Azzi could only sigh.

Just as Paige reached above Azzi’s centre, she latched her fingers onto the waistband of Azzi’s shorts. Paige looked up, nonverbally asking if it was okay. To which Azzi nodded, lifting her bottom slightly so Paige could tear the piece of clothing away.

The blonde marvelled at the sight, Azzi’s moist centre enticing. Immediately Paige plunged her lips onto it, making out with it first before she started sucking and flicking her tongue around her folds. The rhythmic yet irregularity of it all made Azzi dizzy while Paige moaned into it.

“Fuck, Paige”

“Hmm, you taste so good, Az”

Just then, the blonde slowly inserted her middle and ring finger into Azzi, eliciting a long, vulnerable moan from her. Paige’s long fingers started thrusting in and out, the squelching of the moist centre resonating across the room, never missing a beat as Azzi continued to whimper erratically.

“You…feel…so…good” The younger woman voiced after every thrust.

Paige took satisfaction in Azzi’s pleasure, her fingers quickening with the momentum of their lust as sweat started forming on their bodies. The curly brunette began kneading her own breasts as Paige continued her rapid, hypnotic movements. Azzi was at her peak.

“Paige, I’m gonna–“

“I got you, baby, let go,” Paige reassured as her lips hovered above her centre, eyes on Azzi’s face who was letting out erratic moans, messing up Paige’s hair as her fingers squeezed harder. Paige fastened her tempo, the exhaustion of her arm muscles gratifying.

And at her peak, Azzi let out a tight cry as she came onto Paige’s fingers, a sigh of relief heaved by the blonde as she watched the younger woman pant in satisfaction.

After slowly removing her fingers out, Paige licked them clean before carefully crawling back up to Azzi. She gently pushed the curly brunette over to her side before wiggling herself in between the bed and Azzi’s back. The blonde was big-spooning her, planting light kisses on her shoulder while their legs tangled with each other.

“You okay?” Paige asked, looking at Azzi in anticipation.

The younger woman sighed with a smile before taking Paige’s free arm and draping it across her abdomen herself. “Yeah, I just…need a minute”.

“Okay,” Paige whispered, pulling the woman in closer to her body.

They stayed in comfortable silence for several seconds, Paige’s breath tickling the back of the woman in front of her as their bodies gave each other warmth.

Azzi started. “How do you do it?”

Paige paused. “How do I do what?”

“I dunno, you have this way of making me feel comfortable about myself. I kinda hate it”

Paige twitched her head, raising her eyebrows. “What ever happened to saying ‘thank you’?

Azzi let out a small laugh. “Sorry, I just- thank you. You make me feel…nice.”

The blonde eased. “I guess it’s…from experience”.

It went silent for a moment. It wasn’t surprising to Azzi if Paige wasn’t a stranger to sex and romance, probably even having a roster, for all she cares. But the nonchalance was disconcerting.

“Hmm,” Azzi’s tone was subtly disappointed.

“What?”

Azzi paused. “Do they tell you that, too? That you make them feel nice?”

The sudden bluntness to Azzi’s question caught the both of them off guard. But the curly brunette stood by it, sighing as her eyes wandered around her room. There was a small tug from the corner of Paige’s lips, tightening her embrace with the younger woman.

“Yeah, they do. They also tell me they don’t appreciate it when I mess with them at work. Even though I know they kinda like it. You know, I think they’re probably obsessed with me, I mean, I’ve caught them stalking me sometimes”

The curly brunette suddenly turned her body around, her expression in annoyance as Paige babbled sarcastically.

“I can’t stand you sometimes”

Paige just smiled smugly. “I know”.

The blonde pulled Azzi closer by the waist, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. The younger woman closed her eyes, savouring the sweet gesture as it made her feel important and cared for. But it didn’t take long before those thoughts were suddenly replaced with fear and anxiety. Just as Paige was about to lean towards her lips, Azzi lowered her head, her expression sorrowful.

“Hey, is it something I did?” Paige asked concerningly.

“No, it’s not you. It’s um…” Azzi hesitated, her reasoning falling short due to the fact that it harboured a lot more scarring memories which she didn’t intend to revisit just yet.

“It’s okay”. Paige could only pull her into a hug, not really knowing what was going through Azzi’s mind but intuitively understanding that it was better to give her comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi muffled into her Paige’s bare chest.

“There’s nothing you need to apologise for, Az”

The curly brunette retracted her head, wanting to face Paige this time.

“Can you kiss me again?”

Paige let out a sigh through her nose, smiling with hooded eyes as an answer.

Their lips connected, this time more sweet and delicate. Paige held her tight, her touch consoling her. And soon the pair lulled themselves to sleep from the tiredness of the day.

#pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd

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alexlwrites · 28 days ago

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𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬

✿𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: OT7 x Plus Size! Reader

✿ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: "What was so outrageous about someone like you, you asked yourself and the universe. You had tried your best to compensate for any shortcomings with everything else that was expected of you: femininity, understanding, a sense of humor. Never enough, those were never even the first thing that came to mind when people thought of you.

Why bother then? If nothing you did made any difference at all, why try? If people hated your body just for existing, why not give them a reason to hate your personality as well?"

The one where seven campus princes who are used to getting everything they wanted get enchanted by your distrust and brattiness, climbing over each other to get a smile from you who could not be bothered to give them a single second of your day.

✿ 𝑨/𝑵: I have no idea what actually goes in a carbonara, I only know that I enjoy eating it very much.

(Fanfic masterlist)

(support me on my ko-fi)

°•. ✿ .•°

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(<<< part one)

As a fat person, you’ve always had a complicated relationship with food.

Luckily, it had never evolved into something unhealthy, never leading up to anything like starvation. It always just hovered over your existence, always seemed to weight you (pun intended, but you were allowed to make those!) down with guilty, overbearing self-awareness. Food came with so many unspoken rules, it was hard to truly enjoy it.

You avoided eating in front of people. When forced to go to a restaurant, you let everyone order first to make sure your meal was the smallest of the group and you never ever asked for seconds, much less for dessert. You could only ever be seen with protein bars and green shakes, if that. You were not allowed to enjoy the act of eating and were forced to walk this earth as if that was not your primary source of sustenance. No, you survived out of Chloe Ting videos and photosynthesis, or so was expected of you.

But even so, you loved cooking.

It was not something you divulged, afterall how stereotypical that would be of you. And truly, it wasn’t even about eating your creations but instead the act of creating itself, the enjoyment of the very exact art leading to a beautiful result that at least others would get to enjoy, even if you wouldn’t sometimes.

But when you shed the shackles of caring and let go of giving fucks about what others had to say (and, Jesus, did they have things to say!), your first act of rebellion was signing up for cooking classes in a pretty bistro downtown. Still shaky and insecure, you arrived at the first class unsure of what to expect. But instead of judgemental looks and the evil critic from Ratatouille, you found yourself amongst other culinary enthusiasts who appreciated the therapeutic properties of a good meal. Instead of Gordon Ramseys and almond moms, you found yourself a community - you found friends.

You were with one of those friends a couple days after the library debacle, updating her of the whole ordeal with your cell phone on mute as Jungkook still tended to blow it up after you made the horrible mistake of unblocking him. Naomi was tall and built like a rugby player and you had quickly bonded over a shared love for bread.

“So he just… Brought you flowers?” she asked, leaning over your counter before the class started.

“Yes and now the whole campus thinks we’re together.” you rolled your eyes, still annoyed by Jungkook's unexpected display of affection “I had people coming up to me all week asking about him! Even professors!”

Naomi laughed “Sounds like you got yourself a little campus prince.”

“I got myself a headache, that’s what I got.” you sighed, turning towards the teacher who had just arrived. “At least I can get away from all of that here.”

“Hello, class!” the teacher, a middle-aged lady with dark hair named Robin, called “Today, continuing on our italian cuisine section, we’ll be preparing spaghetti carbonara. But before we start, let me introduce our new student!” she gestured towards a tall man standing in the back of the class, all dark hair and large shoulders with a million dollar smile “Mr. Kim will be joining us from now on. You can sit with Y/N for now, dear!”

Mr. Kim didn’t shuffle silently to his seat like people usually did when arriving in a room filled with unknown people - instead, he strutted towards you with the loud confidence of someone who had never once tripped on their own shoes or had something stuck to their teeth. “Hi” he said when sliding onto the stool next to you, still sporting an unnervingly beautiful grin “I’m Jin.”

You smiled politely “Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Jin nodded slightly “You too.”

You thought that was it, silence following your introductions as the teacher called the class to pay attention to her instructions.

You tried to follow the steps quietly, focusing on the ingredients in front of you. Still, curiosity caused you to furtively steal glances sideways to the beautiful stranger next to you maneuvering spices and chopping slices with what seemed to be practiced ease. You stared at his hands almost unblinkingly, hypnotized by his long, pink knuckled fingers and their agility…

“Do you need help?”

You blinked, snapping out of your less than appropriate daydreams “I’m sorry?”

Jin shrugged, picture-perfect casualty with a pinch of arrogance hanging in his smile that had your defenses climbing up “You were kind of staring and I thought you needed help with the recipe or something.”

He was right, you were staring, but you’d be damned if you admitted to that. Instead, you stole a quick look at his pan and said “You should add more garlic into that.”

That had him pausing in confusion, as if no one corrected his cooking before “Excuse me?”

“There’s not enough garlic. You should add more, it will enhance the flavor.”

“No, it won’t.” he snapped back, strangely defensive over his creation.

“What are you, a vampire? Garlic makes everything better.”

“I think I know how to make carbonara with the appropriate amount of garlic, thank you very much.”

“I think you don’t, that’s why you’re a student and not the teacher up there. Mr. Cullen.”

You waited for him to come back with another anti-garlic remark, but he paused once more, lips curling in amusement “You’re funny” he said at last.

“I’m.. What?”

“You’re funny” he repeated and you watched in confusion as he added more garlic to his recipe “and in respect to that, I will follow your advice if only to prove you are wrong.”

“Well, then at least add some butter while you’re at it.”

“Now you’re just being sacrilegious”.

You raised your hands in fake surrender. “It’s your carbonara’s funeral, man.”

Jun huffed and turned away from you, seemingly offended with your suggestion, but once you looked back at your station he furtively added a square of butter to his mixture.

The rest of the class passed in relative silence as you made no other attempt to talk to him, focused on your own recipe. When the allotted time ended and the teacher called out the final instructions, you turned back to the handsome man next to you and extended a fork.

“Well” you said “truth time”.

He scoffed but accepted the cutlery anyway, blowing carefully at the portion he picked before tasting it. You watched with barely concealed satisfaction as his eyes widened and his cheeks puffed in a chipmunk-like manner.

“Oh my God” he moaned behind the hand covering his full mouth.

“Any good, Nosferato?”

“I bow to thee, this is amazing.” He reached for your plate “Do you mind?” he grabbed a forkful before you could answer “Jesus, this is even better! What’s your secret?”

“A magician never reveals their tricks.”

There were no tricks. You actually just followed the recipe, so you weren’t quite sure what you could’ve done that would invoke that sort of reaction, but you were not about to admit that.

“That’s fair” he took yet another bit of your carbonara, uncaringly ignoring your funny looks. “This is so good!”

In the end, Jin ate most of your carbonara while you watched him devour your plate with a pleasurable carefree abandon, humming in delight with his cheeks full.

You hadn’t been able to openly enjoy food like that since you were a kid, so in that moment you allowed yourself to live vicariously through him. There was so much joy in his eyes as he chewed your stolen food that it reminded you that this was what culinary was about: not a number on a package or a trigger, but an intrinsic part of society, of community building and cultural history. Food was made to be savored and shared.

And although you didn’t necessarily share your food with Jin, he seemed to be savoring it enough for the both of you.

As usual, the teacher went around the room trying out bites from each pan, delivering gentle feedback when needed. When she stopped by your table, reaching for the little piece left in your plate after Jin’s attack, she showered you with compliments and was promptly followed by Jin’s hearty applause, leaving you red and embarrassed while Naomi wiggle her eyebrows suggestively.

As soon as Robin dismissed the class, you ran for the door with your things awkwardly gathered in your arms, avoiding the praises of your peers. You still had a hard time dealing with attention and it did not matter if it was positive or not.

“Y/N!” someone called. You turned as Jin caught up with you, his unfairly long legs reaching you in only a couple strides.

“If you’re here to steal anymore of my food, you’re out of luck.”

Jin had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, but not at all regretful “Sorry about that!” he said, not at all sorry, with sauce still on the corners of his full lips “Let me make it up to you. What are you doing this friday?”

That Friday you had unchangeable plans to rot in bed until 12 and then yell at Jungkook in the afternoon until the phrase “leave me the fuck alone” was finally processed by what seemed to be a very tiny brain inside his head full of hair and stubborness. But Jin didn’t have to know that.

“Why?”

“Let me take you out. I swear I’ll let you eat your own food this time.”

You frowned in confusion. “You don’t have to buy me food just because you ate mine. I have food at home, you know.”

“Oh, it’s not because I feel bad. I don’t feel bad at all.” clearly, if his smile was anything to go by “But I like a woman who can cook, especially if she cooks just as well as I do. Let me take you on a date.”

I like a woman who cooks, I like a woman with an appetite…All sorts of bullshit you had heard before. What people meant is that they liked skinny girls who ate McDonalds and boasted about how they never seemed to gain weight, no matter how hard they tried. They meant they liked fast metabolism and fried chicken, not hormonal-based weight gain and complicated Italian cuisine.

You were not falling for that again.

“Not interested. Thank you.” you answered, before walking off.

Jin blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“No need to apologize. Have a good day” you replied already from a distance, before turning a corner and leaving a flabbergasted Jin behind.

***

Jin had never been rejected before.

Technically he did get rejected by the cheer squad in his high school for being as flexible as a ruler, but he looked so good in the uniform that they still asked him to be in the yearbook picture, so he didn’t really count that.

But rejected by a woman? Nope. Never. Nunca!

It was oddly unsettling, he thought later that day, haunted by the taste of the carbonara he ate that made every other meal seem bland. He didn’t quite know what to do with the information, other than to contemplate its possible reasons. Why would you reject him? Was it because of the garlic thing? He could think of no other reason!

Should he learn from it and become a better version of himself? Was there such a thing? He had no answers, only more questions.

He did really like you as well, not only your cooking. He enjoyed your quick responses and that tiny fire behind your pretty eyes, even if it seemed to be furiously directed at him. Actually, he kind of liked that even better.

“Jungkook” he called his youngest roomate, who had been playing video games on the living room console while stealing furtive glances at his phone. “You’ve been rejected before, right?”

Jungkook frowned. “No?”

“Aren’t you being rejected right now by that girl from your class?”

“What do you want, hyung?” the younger man growled.

“Jeez, I can see why that poor woman rejected you if that’s your attitude.” Jungkook seemed ready to throw his control at him “How does one deal with being rejected? I ask this for purely academic reasons. I have, as you know, never been rejected.”

“Right.” Jungkook rolled his eyes “I don’t know, hyung. I guess you just accept it and move on.”

“Did you accept it and move on?”

Another furtive glance at his silent phone. “No.”

“So what are you doing to change this girl’s mind? Besides annoying her, of course.”

This time, Jungkook did throw a pillow at him. “Fuck off, okay? We are meeting on Friday again and then you’ll see. I’ll change her mind. I got a whole thing planned.”

“What constitutes a whole thing?”

“You know… The stuff that girls like.”

Jin blinked.

So did Jungkook.

Silence reigned.

“You know, gifts.” Jungkook finished smartly.

“Gifts, of course!” Jin snapped his fingers “Maybe flowers! Women love flowers, don’t they?”

Jungkook smiled slightly, thinking of your reaction when receiving the bouquet he almost got hit by a car trying to acquire. “Yes, they do. Red daisies especially.”

“Yes, yes, red daisies, so creative! Thank you, my friend! I hope you have more luck with your lady and she stops dodging your calls like a collector.”

“Fuck off!” Jungkook said once more, but Jin had already floated out the room with a new plan.

Jin had never been rejected and he was not about to start now.

And so the next day when you arrived at the bistro, your station was waiting for you with a big bouquet of red daisies and no room to cook, only a new plate of carbonara and a smiling Jin.

°•. ✿ .•°

✿ The next chapter called "Cherries" is already available on my ko-fi to Calcifer Crew, my membership tier, and will be posted here soon! Click here if you want early access to all my updates :)

✿ My taglists are open! Click here to be added <3

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts #jungkook x reader #alexl red daisies #ot7 x reader #ot7 x you #bts x y/n #kim taehyung x reader #park jimin x reader #kim namjoon x reader #jung hoseok x reader #min yoongi x reader #kim seokjin x reader #ot7 fluff #bts romance #bts college au

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turtleshelf · 8 days ago

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I need more fics about the batkids school lives and from the perspective of their teachers and I need them now. Fuck it, put some of them on IEPs, I think that shit would be so good.

Give me Damian where when putting him in school, Dick and Babs have to fudge some (not completely inaccurate) diagnosis' to get him put on an IEP and in the behavior classroom so he can have social skills education literally built into his day. So that he has a small classroom setting of other kids with their own problems so he doesn't feel so singled out by his own like he would in gen ed classes. Him slowly integrating into not just American society but also into interacting with kids his own age with the safety net of the behavior classroom and teachers that are literally designed and trained for kids who lose their composure and lash out to fall back on. He's disliked or written off by most teachers as a behavior case, but there's are a few who hold a soft spot for him, he likes to gift them art.

Give me Jason on an IEP because of how much school he missed when he was homeless, being given the tools and resources to catch back up to where he should be. Show him being quiet and keeping his head down trying to catch up. The first time he gets in a fight he was defending a younger student, he cries in the office afterwards, and privately none of the staff can really blame him even if they do have to follow through with a consequence for the fight. Show him reserved and jumpy when health class moves into their unit about drugs, he comes in with Bruce the next day to talk to the principal and is excused to the office with a alternative assignments until they move onto their next unit. Teachers tend to like him, and they're always a little surprise when he gets into fights.

Give me Dick in an ELL (English Learn Language, program for students learning English) program that allows him to slow down and get a grip on the basics of the English language. Give him accommodations that translate his assignments into a language he already knows, so he doesn't have to spend hours attempting to translate his homework and then translate his answers. Show him being reserved at first, then popular and smiley and kind until something ignites his short fuse. Show his growth of the short fuse getting longer as he gets better control of his emotions and learns time and place. Teachers don't know what to make of him, sometimes it's like he's a completely different person day to day. He's got this little troublemaker smile that tilts dangerously on his lips before a fight, his teachers think he's either going to run the world or destroy it one day.

Give me Steph whose school has to go on lock out because her father who doesn't have custody shows up and attempts to check her out for the day. Give her fidget toys and break passes. Show her spitefully doing assignments for teachers that don't like her so well that they have to give her an A: "Oh you think The Great Gatsby is the best book ever written? Here's my essay on why it's the worst book ever written and should stop being taught in schools." The arguments are sound, her writing is flawless, her sources are bulletproof. Most teachers don't have much of an opinion on her, she just another popular girl to them, but there are a few that are with her during the father debacle, who saw are angry and sad and scared, who hold a soft spot for her.

Give me Tim who keeps his head down and turns his work in late on crumpled and stained papers, but it's all flawless work. He shows up after three days absent with deep circles under his eyes and a shallow smile and explanations for his absence that are just sound enough that they can't poke any real holes in them, even if most don't believe him. He's friends with the rowdy, popular kids but he's always careful to keep just to the sidelines of their trouble so he never gets taken down with them in consequences. His teachers whisper about the disorganized genius who they hope gets himself together, because he could do great things.

Give me Duke who's snarky and quick thinking, but comes in some days quiet and with a far away look on his face. His best grades are in PE and it drives his teachers crazy because he's smart enough to honor roll if he ever put the effort into his work, it just doesn't seem to interest him. Give him accommodations that he can't be cold called on in class and never has to present presentations because he doesn't do well being the center of attention. He's always fidgeting and looking at the clock like he has somewhere better to be, he disappears to the library every lunch.

Give me Cass, who nobody can seem to really pin down. She's so startlingly unobtrusive that her teachers often forget she's there until she's standing right infront of their faces. She doesn't talk and from her writing it's clear that she's not familiar with English even if she can get by. The first time anyone hears her voice, Bruce picked her up from school early and she bounces over to him calling "Dad" before giving him a hug, the office staff feel a ripple of shock travel through them as they realize that it's not that she can't talk it's that she doesn't. She gets pulled out of classes for ASL tutoring, but not speech therapy which causes a few raised eyebrows after the revelation that she is capable of speaking. She looks at people with this intensity that makes them feel like she's looking straight through them and most teachers won't admit it, but it freaks them out.

Give me batkids with preferential seating accommodations so they never have to sit somewhere they feel exposed and unsafe. Give them early transition accommodations so they're not caught in the crowded halls during passing periods. Give them phone accommodations, so they always have a direct line to Bruce/Alfred/their siblings. Give them extended test taking accommodations, because once you've literally defused a bomb or raced across the city to stop a murderous meglomaniac doing things on a time constraint is just, not good.

For angst, give them teachers/subs who "don't believe in accommodations" and put end up putting the batkids in bad situations. Give them panic attacks when their accommodations are violated.

Give me teachers gossiping about the batkids and their odd quirks in the office or during their planning period. Give me first year teachers who flounder trying to figure those kids out and veteran teachers to just can't make heads or tails of them. Teachers marveling about how they can all be so alike while sharing absolutely no DNA. It becomes common knowledge that Bruce Wayne is a little less "Brucie" than he'd like the media to believe, but hell that's his business, and he seems to be doing alright by his kids. Give me haggard parents Bruce and Dick getting called to speak with the principal, or in IEP meetings, or at parent-teacher conferences.

Idk I just feel like this is a really untapped market we could be writing for here and I love outsider pov fics so much.

#They're all so fucked up #those kids have so many issues #i love them #batfam #batkids #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #tim drake #duke thomas #dc comics #dc #fanfic prompt

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birdofwildness · 2 months ago

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☾library meet

Warnings::sexual H*rassment from a student, teacher X student, jealousy

☾Tom Riddle

Summary:: Tom gets jealous when he sees you sitting next to a boy in the library

I sat in the library, surrounded by a pile of books, trying to focus on my Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. My parchment is half-filled with notes—methods of countering curses, variations of Protego, curse-breaking charms—but my handwriting becomes messier as fatigue sets in. The dim lamp casts flickering light on the shelves, while the rest of the library is cloaked in darkness. Everyone else has already left.

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

A faint noise reached my ears from somewhere among the shelves. I flinch and glance over my shoulder. I see no one, but the uneasy feeling lingers. Maybe it was just the draft moving something… or perhaps someone is actually there.

My heartbeat quickens. A part of me tells me to ignore it and continue studying, but curiosity got the best of me. Cautiously, I stood up, my hand slipping to my wand, and I quietly stepped between the shelves.

"Lumos." I whispered, and a faint light ignited at the tip of my wand.

The circle of light slowly sweeped over the bookshelves, shadows shifted between the rows. The sound came again, this time closer. I’m not alone.

My heart still pounded when I suddenly spotted the source of the noise.

A guy standing there, holding a book in his hands, looking slightly flustered. A fellow student—I didn't know him well, but I’ve seen him before at Hogwarts.

"Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just looking for a book." He said with a smile on his face.

The tension in me eased a little, and with a sigh, I lowered my wand.

"It’s fine. I just thought… never mind." I mumbled, heading back to my desk.

The boy followed and, without a word, sat across from me. For a while, he silently observed my parchment before.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts? That’s a serious subject. Want some help?" he offered.

"No, thanks." I replied quickly, turning back to my work. I’m was not in the mood for small talk.

But he didn't give up.

"Come on, I’m sure a little help wouldn’t hurt. I studied this material not too long ago." He insisted.

A deep sigh escaped my lips. He clearly won’t leave me alone unless I let him help.

"Fine… okay." I said reluctantly, shifting my parchment slightly so he could see it.

He smiled in satisfaction and moved closer to the table. For a while, we actually discussed the assignment—he commented on curse-breaking charms, adding some of his own thoughts—but gradually, I began to sense that he wasn't there for studying.

He glanced at me occasionally, holding his gaze a little too long. Some of his remarks weren't even about the assignment anymore but about me.

"You know, it’s impressive how seriously you take all this. You’re so determined… it’s a really attractive quality." He remared with a half-smile.

I didn't know how to respond to that. I just stared down at my parchment, trying to steer the conversation back to the exam.

"Uh… so, do you think Protego Totalum would be more effective against a stronger curse, or would a custom shield charm be better?" I asked quickly.

"Oh, sure, Protego Totalum is good, but I think it’d be even better if you relaxed a little sometimes." He leaned closer across the table.

Things were getting more and more uncomfortable.

My stomach tightened when the boy’s hand suddenly slides onto my thigh. I froze for a moment—I wasn’t expecting that, and I didn’t immediately know how to react. He just smiled confidenty, as if this was completely normal. But I felt only one thing: discomfort.

"Don’t do that." I said firmly, trying to keep my composure.

The boy looked surprised, then chuckled awkwardly.

"Relax, I was just being friendly."

I pressed my lips together. It didn’t feel ‘friendly’ at all, and I knew I didn’t have to justify myself, but I still felt uneasy.

"I actually want to study. So please, take your hand off me." I demanded.

His hand remained on my thigh. I searched his gaze.The air between us grew tense, and I felt uncomfortable.

Then, my train of thought was interrupted by the sound of firm footsteps. A cool presence spread through the dimly lit room, and when I looked up, I immediately recognized the figure who just entered.

Professor Tom Riddle.

His black robes practically billowed behind him as he approached, his gaze sweeped over us with icy calm. I immediately pulled away, taking advantage of the boy’s momentary distraction.

Riddle stoped at our table, his eyes scanning the scene without a word. The boy’s hand was long gone from my thigh, but my face still burned.

"Why are you so damn loud?" He asked quietly, but his voice was chilling.

The boy instantly straightened, as if suddenly he rememberes that a professor was standing before him.

"I was just trying to help with the exam…" he started, but one look from Riddle silenced him.

My heart still raced, but I tried to appear calm. I didn’t know exactly what Riddle saw, but I was certain the whole situation has shifted.

"The library is for studying. If someone has other intentions, I suggest they leave." He warned.

The boy nodded silently, hurriedly gathered his belongings, and exited the library.

I was left alone with Tom. His gaze lingeres on me, staying a little longer than necessary. That cold, unreadable look he always wore in public hid something more—something only I could decipher.

Without a word, he pullee out the chair beside me and sat down. His movement was composed, but I could feel the tension beneath it. For a moment, his eyes flickered to my parchment as if he was genuinely interested, but then they returned to me.

"What was that?" He asked quietly.

I presses my lips together.

"Nothing." I replied quickly, but even I didn't believe it.

"Nothing? It didn’t look like nothing." He said, leaning in slightly. "I saw that boy put his hand on your thigh. And I saw that you didn’t move away immediately."

His words cut coldly, and I immediately felt the sting of protest in my chest.

"Because I was shocked!" I whispered, gripping the edge of my parchment nervously. "I didn’t want him to touch me, Tom. You know I came here to study—for your exam."

He watched me silently for a moment, his face wearing that inscrutable expression he always maintained in front of others. But I knew him well enough to notice the change. The darkness in his eyes slowly settled, and his fingers no longer tapped impatiently against the table’s edge.

Then, he smiled. That signature, faint smile he only allows a select few to see.

"Of course, you’re studying." He said, and all the previous tension dissolved. "But you could have asked me for help. You know I’d gladly assist you."

His voice was calmer now, even… gentle. Something no one else would ever expect from him, but I do. Because with me, he is always different.

I smiled faintly, feeling the last of my unease fade.

"I know." I answered softly. "I just didn’t want to bother you."

Tom leaned in slightly, then simply shook his head.

"You never bother me." He stated firmly, his gaze locking onto mine.

And in that moment, I was certain—if anything ever threatened my ‘peace,’ Tom would make sure it would never be a problem again.

"Now get on your knees,doll. And I'll give you that O"

#tom riddle #harry potter #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x y/n #professor tom riddle

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in-sufficientdata · 10 months ago

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ID: Bluesky post by Ro Salarian (@RoSalarian.bsky.social):

I often wonder if abusive people are drawn to the arts, or if a certain amount of notoriety just makes people turn to shit. I am involved in a lot of different art scenes, and every single one has a whisper network about some big names who nobody feels they can address directly.

Kelly Barnhill (@KellyBarnhill.bsky.social) quotes this on July 10, 2024 at 6:47pm EST and responds:

Sexual predation is clearly not limited to the arts, and so-called "whisper networks" exist in every profession. And ultimately these networks always, always fail. They don't reach the most vulnerable and they don't ever remove the offender or prevent future harm. end ID.

At the source, the thread continues:

When I was growing up, I had a friend whose house had a bad stair - a nail sticking up on one side, and on the other side if you stepped wrong, the whole tread could flip up and send you flying backwards. We had to be told to avoid that stair. It was dangerous. We couldn't forget.

The trouble was, it looked like every other stair. Sometimes we did get hurt. This went on for years. Finally, one of the other parents in the neighborhood was like THE CHILDREN ARE GETTING INJURED and the whole "rule" of avoidance, of letting people know, was thrown out. They fixed the stair.

Now, this was dumb, of course. Who just has a stair that looks like every other stair but is boobytrapped in this bonkers way? Well, lots of people, as it turned out. And this wasn't so bad, as injuries go - a skinned knee or the occasional puncture wound.

Imagine if they had a stair that was, say, secretly filled with bees. Or poisoned. Or a one-way portal to one of the various realms of Hell. And it was there, like any other stair, looking benign. Maybe it was even fancied up - attracted the eye and tickled the fancy. A rock star stair. Well.

It's problematic, is my point. Leaving a danger in plain view is problematic. Simply relying on a network of people warning people and washing our hands of the whole affair is problematic. And worse, it abdicates responsibility. This is not how grown-ups should behave.

Part of the problem stems from the Myth of Male Genius - organizations twist themselves in knots to protect their access to whatever Male Genius they've tied their careers to, be they philosophers or physicists, conductors or or inventors, teachers or hotshot attorneys. We've all experienced this.

And while it's [notallmen] or [notonlymen] or whatever tagline you want to throw at me - yes, I know, and yes, I agree, and yes I'm certain that toxic and predatory women exist and have also harmed but I honestly can't think of any at the moment - it all stems from a central problematic fallacy:

Here's a toxic fallacy that I'd like to see dismantled: that genius is rare. That it must be protected at all costs. That it must be allowed to misbehave because the misbehavior is tied to genius in some fundamental way that none of us can understand because we are not geniuses. WRONG.

For every "rockstar author" or "rockstar artist" or "rockstar scientist" or "rockstar academic" there are a thousand others who are just as talented, just as transformative, just as consequential. And by ascribing godlike abilities to those who are more ordinary than we'd like to admit, we allow the person on that pedestal to become unglued from consequence and unhooked from the ties that are supposed to bind us to one another. This is a moral injury and an injury of empathy as well. So it's bad for the "rockstar". And holy hell is it bad for every person they injure. And worse, what about the "genius" of the victims? What about the dreams deferred and the paths upended because the world they've entered has decided to make itself unacceptably dangerous, unacceptably callous. A busted stair in the middle of the ascent in some young woman's career, left for no reason.

Here's what I know: genius isn't godlike or magical or even that rare. Genius is cultivated, nurtured, supported, delighted in. It happens in the context of a myriad of tiny boosts, too numerous to count and too subtle to name. It is as common as breath, and just as precious.

The reason why predatory men are lauded, protected, demurred to, is because we've told a story to ourselves that their genius is special, and have allowed ourselves to believe that the only way to become special ourselves is to bathe in its light, regardless of consequence.

Let's be done with that story. Cultivate more lights. Be the light.

And also? Let's fix that fucking stair, shall we?

#I love this thread #be the light #neil gaiman

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wisteria-lodge · 2 months ago

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hi, i just wanted to drop in and ask if you know of any other blogs that post hp meta/discussion that are also very jkr critical? i love everything you write, but many of the other blogs i find when perusing tags are... questionable. its kind of a requirement for me to know that the people posting hp on my timeline don't hate trans people so if you know of anyone else who meets that criteria, i'd love to be linked!

Okay. Now the last thing I want to do is write a callout post (or the opposite of a callout post? A call-in post?) BUT. I do also know that this site can be hard and frustrating to use before you've built up a good follower list for yourself. I know it was definitely rough for me there at the beginning, when I first exploring HP tumblr.

So, this is not meant to be a comprehensive list, this is me going through my recent reblogs and DMs, and if anyone feels they should be on the list (or wants to be taken off the list - people use their fandoms to have a good fun chill time, and I respect that. Having a good fun chill place to exist is unbelievably important.)

But I would say these are are blogs who regularly write meta about Harry Potter that is primarily rooted in the books, while remaining critical of the books in way that I enjoy, and are some combination of funny, earnest, and academic (and drama-free, that's a big one.) I haven't gone and background checked them all or anything, but these are people who I've either had good, meaty conversations with in the DMs, have publicly posted about disagreeing with JKR and her political views, or that I've just followed for a while without any problems. Or some combo of the above.

As I'm sure some of the people on this list will tell you, we *definitely* interpret the books differently and have different headcanons, but their style of interpretation is one that fits with the kind of experience I want to have.

***

@saintsenara - a new follow, but I'm in the process of reblogging their back catalog, and they've definitely written about how to be a HP fan in post JKR-swan-dive-off-the-deep-end world, in the context of their absolutely hysterical crack ship series.

@thistlecatfics - bio says "fuck jkr in a canon compliant way" which I rather like. Their last post was a link to their new Sirius/Fanon Sirius one-shot - which was so sweet, clever, and well-written. Which I think is very much their vibe. I massively enjoy their "Harry Potter Characters in Therapy" series.

@pangaeaseas - a really fun follow. They post a lot, they're funny and their ideas are unique, original, and sometimes totally off the wall. It's like they keep throwing out fun little bookclub prompts/discussion starters, and then we all have a really nice time.

@its-the-allure - lovely, and my intro into some really fun, chill fandom communities. @etl-echo-audiobooks is fantastic, they do live readings of fic of their discord and then turn them into audio books. Did one of my metas once! Also they're currently running a Drarry fest, I snagged a prompt but there are plenty left.

@the-phoenix-heart - has been a mutual for a while. Their original stuff is mostly art, when it comes to text-based stuff they're more of a commenter and reblogger. But they're a GREAT commenter and reblogger. They know their stuff, and I would feel weird leaving them off the list.

@blorger - always has an interesting take, especially when it comes to worldbuilding, and they always do their research and cite their sources. Their last post was all about debunking the popular fanon that the non-Snape teachers are really prejudiced against Slytherin as a whole. Also, great fic reccomender.

@360degreesasthecrowflies - probably the most political blog on this list, which they would definitely agree with. What I really love about them is the way they're willing to go into historian mode, and find and repost some really excellent HP Meta originally written for Livejournal. I was never on Livejounal, so all this stuff is new to me, and I feel like it also provides a really good perspective on fandom history.

@arkadijxpancakes - really well-written, well-thought out, well-supported meta. Great thoughts on worldbuilding. One of the only blogs I've found that really digs into the Weasleys, but they have great takes on everything. Has a very reasonable, focused, lets-get-to-the-heart-of-the-issue vibe that I really appreciate.

@riddlesmoon - followed me recently, and I know you don't post as much original content as you'd like, but I think your comments are hilarious and very insightful, and you *should* write more meta.

@hollowed-theory-hall - another person who can cite their sources really impressively. Tends to do very comprehensive deep dives into worldbuilding out things like the magic system and in-universe politics, or doing very in-depth text-based character analysis. I also love it when they post designs and art, because they went in a very different direction than the films did, but it still totally works.

@trothplighted - I know them from their main blog, which is about literature in general and not HP, but this post got them to resurrect their HP meta blog! I've had fun discussions with them, and they have good takes on other literature, so lets see how this goes :D

@regheart - A good, mellow follow (but with absolutely zero tolerance for JKR and her antics.) A good blend of art, fic recs, and fun good takes. Just read a post of their reccing fics that are pro-Jilly, but still willing to dig into their potential issues as a couple. Which I think is pretty representative.

I 100% expect to add to this list as I think of/find more people, but that should be enough to get you started.

#hp #I want to give some shout-out to my fellow meta writers #I think youre brilliant #I love you stuff #I love our conversations

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sysmedsaresexist · 6 months ago

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Hello. I know I've sent in messages before but very very rarely. But recent events have caused us to have a question. Just this week, we got officially diagnosed with D.I.D and recommended the idea of getting a psychologist for the first time in my life, besides a psychiatrist. Two of my alts say they can't be serious but the other three think they are bout the psychologist and we are nervous. I saw you talking about disorganized attachment in your latest posts and was wondering if you could tell me more bout what that is because it sounds like I may have experienced that and I'm trying to understand myself and us more from others with experience with D.I.D and similar disorders. We hope that makes sense! We are still very new to all of this. Thank you so much for your time. - Us

First, congrats!!! Try to come back and tell us what therapy and the interviews are like! I'm certain my followers would love to hear about it. It's scary, I'm so proud of you ❤️

Disorganized attachment is both very complicated, and quite easy to understand. I just reblogged a couple old posts about it, but this will be shorter :)

This is my favorite image to describe it!

Note that disorganized attachment (DA, from here on) is linked to low trust in self AND others. All of these types of attachment have shown strong links to different types of disorders, but DA is most associated with dissociative disorders.

The most important thing I've learned is

Even well-meaning, well-intentioned, loving parents can cause DA

DA can be hidden trauma, its relation to neglect is much stronger than originally thought, and neglect is a lot harder to spot and understand than straight up abuse.

A quick note here: DO NOT play trauma Olympics-- with yourselves, with others, on this post, nothing. Trauma is a personal reaction to events, abuse, or neglect and can occur in response to literally anything. When it comes to CDDs, we're looking at cumulative responses resulting in psychopathology, and you don't get to decide what was enough for other people.

It's their reactions.

Mind your own business.

So, all that said, DA is about the child being both fearful and reliant on caregivers. They want to both flee to and flee from caregivers. When a caregiver is unpredictable, the child has a difficult time establishing a consistent view of the caregiver, and of themselves. In other words, the caregiver is both needed, and someone to be avoided, and the child may not understand what makes them a “good” or “bad” child, as the caregiver’s behavior is often confusing and unpredictable.

I'm going to throw out a couple examples here:

Parent A has yelled at you, and you're scared to go to parent B and talk about it - neither parent feels safe but they're your only source of comfort

You're hungry, but parents scold you for eating too much - you're both scared to ask for your needs and yet reliant on their abilities to meet them

Sometimes parent is attentive and kind, and sometimes very dismissive - you never know what you're going to get, but when they're dismissive, it kills your drive for things you thought you enjoyed - sometimes parent puts your art on the fridge and sometimes they throw it in the trash, and maybe that particular piece was important and you'd expected better reception

Parent gets physical when they drink but at school, parent is a model citizen and teachers and other students always tell you how lucky you are

Parents are openly homophobic and you think you might be a little gay - they're good people otherwise (you think), and maybe if you just keep that part of you down...

Parent struggles with their own mental illness and you never know what kind of reaction they'll have, but you treasure the good memories and hold out hope you'll see that side of them again, despite the many letdowns

Parent doesn't let you keep anything to yourself, it's to the point you want to avoid them as much possible, only seeing them for meals

Parent is... mean. Just flat out mean, and they'll tell you no one will listen to you. There's no point is trying to find help with other caregivers-- teachers, babysitters, friends. It's just you and them, against the world.

The start of DA is typically formed in infancy when a parent doesn't respond properly to their child. Missed feedings, not enough skin time, mixing "cry it out" with giving in, ignoring cries for food or changing. These first attachments in infancy set the tone for all your attachments going forward. Meeting needs and milestones help the brain develop in a healthy way. If some of these milestones are missed or slowed, you tend to see psychopathology of some kind as a result. Various future relationships are likely to be affected, and more often than not, you respond to your own children the same way-- a type of intergenerational trauma.

And this is only the grey areas. We haven't touched full and proper abuse and how that can affect someone.

The result of DA is that a child will try to push memories and feelings about their caregivers down so that they're not bothered-- they can interact with their caregiver, whatever mood they're in or whatever happened yesterday.

If you just kill your feelings, parent's outbursts don't hurt as much. If you just don't think about what they did to you, you can put on a smile and get through dinner.

This is, in and of itself, dissociation. A rejection of feelings or memories. DA on its own isn't very likely to cause a CDD, but with additional trauma, it's... oof.

Children with DA and suffering from abuse “are likely to generate two or more dissociated self states, with contradictory working models of attachment,” in order to handle their confusing relationship with the caregiver. This can go in several directions, not necessarily a CDD, but it becomes much more likely.

So, the child needs to maintain a relationship with the caregiver– they have no one else to turn to, so the child can develop dissociation as a way to make sense of themselves, and to maintain a child-caregiver relationship. They may “forget” the abuse, or deny it. “It is an adaptive and defensive strategy that enables the child to function within the relationship, but it often leads to the development of a fragmented sense of self.” This fragmented sense of self may or may not develop into something worse– namely, BPD and DID based on severity, frequency, and whether there was any sense of reprieve (i.e. a child can avoid the worst of dissociative symptoms if one of their parents was more supportive, because it helps them build some positive attachments).

I really hope this helps!

Good luck, come back soon!

#it didn't end up being shorter #disorganized attachment #cdd system #cdds first #sysconversation #did #osdd #osddid #plurality #multiplicity #childhood trauma #research

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storkmuffin · 2 months ago

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The Yeosang Tragedy Part 1/?

a.k.a. The Problem of the Perfect Boy in the Glass Box.

This is a work of fiction written in the form of an analytical essay. It's nonsexual RPF. I do not ship, romantically or sexually any of these people. If you do, you are right, I am wrong, and we both agree that you are also a better person than me. Whatever it is that you think about anybody whose names I borrowed to write this fiction is more correct than whatever it is I say in here.

All humans are always living out at least one narrative at all times. If a human gets emotionally invested in something someone else has made, the source of that investment is the (al)chemical reaction caused by the thing in a core value or problem within the on-going narrative(s) of the fan's life.

Feel Free to Skip To the Next Section, Because This First Part Is a Personal Essay

My father, for example, watches soccer. He more than once tried to get me to give a shit about the sport, so he could have a friend to talk about his favorite player with, but sadly for him, I am an anti-sports extremist and think all soccer players should become ballet dancers. But my dad did tell me why he loves soccer so much, and it's relevant here.

According to my dad, he finds the spectacle of a group of men doing the same stupid things over and over (run, kick the ball, sometimes headbutt the ball, ad infinitum) very meaningful and soothing because of how Soccer The Game works. In sports, there are rules of the game which are very clear, and norms of sportsman-like behavior, which are also clear. This makes soccer better than real life, where such things are NOT clear, consistent nor universal. Among the players, there are those who abide, and those who disobey or cheat, just like in real life, but unlike in real life, everything is recorded. Unlike in real life, there exists a referee. Unlike in real life, a player is guaranteed the presence of a coach, who is always on the player's side. Unlike in real life, there exists a very high chance that the liars and cheaters face consequences for their bad actions, and if they don't, a stadium full of people will be hollering about it on your (the player's) behalf, in real time. My dad's story of himself is that he grew up fatherless and under-protected, in a world where nobody could really show him the ropes nor teach him the rules, and even worse, life has been full of encounters with liars and cheaters who were rewarded for being evil. Of course he's going to be obsessed with soccer - it's real life made perfect.

Why then am I obsessed with Kpop all of a sudden? What's the kernel that's reacting chemically with my life narrative?

The narrative frame that was placed over my life has been one of endless, head-on competition with everyone around me. Teachers as early as kindergarten told us that we'd have to compete to get into college, for life to have any worth. Moreover, I have been asked to fulfill two irreconcilable demands simultaneously:

Demand 1: Be a team player. Be liked by everyone. Do not offend. Don't be embarrassing, excessive or otherwise cringey.

Demand 2: Stand out. Be unique. Be exceptional. Win, even when the winner takes all and there is no such thing as a win-win. Take risks. Be brave.

To me, the people who become performers in K-Pop are having to integrate almost the identical set of irreconcilable demands in their working lives, as well as their personal ones. That's where my investment in all this comes from. It fascinates me when it looks like they're making it work, and it breaks my heart from quadruple levels of empathy when it looks like any one of them is failing.

Physically Talented People's Lives

Koreans are fantastic at categorization. We shove performing arts and sports into one category, and call it, 예체능 (Arts-n-Sports) I haven't seen people in other cultures (correct me if I'm wrong, I'm very interested) shove pianists and actors, soccer players and ballerinas, opera singers and gymnasts, all into one box, but consider!

Each of these disparate looking specialties have identical demands: 1) Lots of people dream of doing these jobs, but few have the actual physical capacity, and it is first and foremost physical capacity that matters - your toes have to be the right shape, or your fingers. You have to have the right physical proportions or basic tone of voice, or whatever, and these are rare occurrences among the general populace.

2) You need specialized training, obtained as early as possible, to maximize your potential.

3) There are a very limited number of spots in a very limited number of places where you can obtain this training.

4) You have to make a hardcore commitment to your professional career while still a very young child.

5) It's exceptionally difficult, almost a statistical anomaly, to become a professional at the thing, even if you have the physique, the training, the desire, and the stars align to get you to the finishing line.

6) And after ALL THAT, you might still end up with a mediocre nothing-worthwhile career, which is often over in less than 10 years.

7) If you succeed though, you will be able to gain adoration, admiration, fame, and sometimes even great wealth, and sometimes even real power. The stakes are super high.

re: 6) & 7) - Consider that a mediocre lawyer can last 40 years in a career and in most countries make a decent living throughout!

The Highly Political Life of a KPop Trainee (Except They're all Fucking 15 Years Old)

Kpop Idol Trainees have to have the most intense interpersonal politics. They attend the same training camps. They run into each other, over and over, at auditions. Even if they gain a spot at a Big 4 company, that might not be the end of it. They might cycle in and out, depending on who gets invited to 'join' a debut-ready team.

I would assume you want to be liked, generally, or at least, be inoffensive to others, since you never know when someone might be chosen as the "leader" of a team that will actually debut, and you don't want the producers to say, Oh A is so talented and so beautiful, but A won't get along with Leader Child, so better luck next time! And yet, if you're anodyne and boring, you'll just be shunted to the side after being yelled at about having no stage presence, because this is show business, after all.

It's very contradictory - I would imagine someone who insists on being chosen for a spot as an Idol trainee or being an Idol at all is a person who wants very much to be adored and admired by as many people as possible, but at the same time, given the brutal personal rejections that happen to people who step on to any public stage, you have to be tough minded enough to not give a shit if you're going to go the distance.

Any one of the people you meet in the course of your life as a Kpop Trainee could be either your teammate for the all-important first seven years of your career, or the mortal enemy who takes your golden ticket away from you at the last minute (they debut, and then you have to find another place that will take you on as Trainee), or even worse, after you manage to debut, be the one that's the breakout star when you were the one that was supposed to be The Handsome One, or The Main Dancer, or The Sexy One etc etc. Every encounter, every conversation, and every relationship is going to be fucking fraught.

What stance would you take?

I am what I am, and what I am is kind of weird but that means I'm in my own category that I only I can occupy, a la Song Mingi, is one option. I am a genius and a born leader, so stick with me is something a HongJoong or a Bang Chan might be able to do, but this is trickier. I'm the softest person you ever met, but I bring something very unusual is the route Felix Lee took, in Stray Kids, (given his super deep voice and his super pretty face). I'm an all rounder but I'm also extremely nice, so nice, you never met anyone so nice is the chosen persona of Yunho of Ateez and Han of Stray Kids. I got skillz bitches! say Jongho of Ateez, and Changbin of Stray Kids. You get my drift, surely?

I FINALLY START TALKING ABOUT YEOSANG HERE:

What Yeosang seems to have picked is I'm Beautiful, So Beautiful, but Harmless. This was also the early persona of the similarly astonishing looking Hyunjin in Stray Kids. I say 'picked' but I also wonder if this is one of those glorified straitjacket situations - if you're so amazing looking in the face that other children, also chosen at least in part for being exceptionally good looking, bow down in awe, maybe being harmless is the only way to survive the jealousy and resentment.

The thing is, Hyunjin Hwang has been able to develop this 'harmlessness' into a very useful "bit" - he uses it to create funny moments with other members in reality content, and he uses it to diffuse tension with his fans, yes, but he also deploys it to avoid having his star persona get too dangerously glossy, which invites puncture (there's a reason he's constantly shown eating $2 cup ramen, while wearing $2,000 T-shirts). And I think it's partly because the real Hyunjin isn't actually that committed to being harmless - he is actually a very loud person, very aggressive, and was pushy enough as a kid to be accused of being a bully. Moreover, Hyunjin found it somehow offensive to be told that he could rest on the laurels provided by his beauty (Hi, Hyunjin, can I have your problems for just, like, a week please? Thanks) - and he fought it to develop a multi-faceted stage and performance persona.

Yeosang Kang's commitment to "Harmlessness" is much more serious and restricting, and as a result, has cost him two things that put his career on a trajectory that has him playing a sidelined, quieter, subdued second fiddle to other team members over whom he has powerful advantages. This is because being very beautiful, and in possession of multiple rare commodities besides (a body that easily becomes visibly muscular, a deep voice, a refined personality shaped through probably strict upbringing that has him saying please and thank you in perfect grammar while high on anesthesia) Yeosang didn't so much have to ever fight for things as much as defend his natural advantage and superiority.

Once whatever happened to him at Hybe (I've seen rumors floating around that Yeosang was the target of many an intra-trainee conspiracy that always got him in trouble and had him weeping, because he was subjected to so much jealousy) that led him to being open to joining this start-up Idol company (KQ), he needed to switch over into the Fight For Things side of the tracks, and I don't think he has managed this to date. I suspect Yeosang didn't know how to fight for things when he was brought into Ateez because he hadn't had to fight for things before. He had had to endure, he had had to defend and he had had to protect (himself, his performance, his integrity etc). But fighting someone else, head on? It's neither his natural inclination NOR a skill he had to acquire out of necessity. He may be learning now, but a lot of time has been lost.

The first thing Yeosang didn't fight to keep was being Wooyoung's priority. He first of all didn't know a fight was on. When he did, though, it may have been too late. And the person he would've had to fight was San Choi, who also has a very powerful, well chosen stance - he combines both I am Harmless with I'm The Softest Person You Ever Met. Anyone who attacks him has to accept being an outright villain.

The second thing Yeosang didn't fight to gain was center stage. That's because he would've had to fight Wooyoung, and then San, and then Seonghwa. I pity anyone, actually, who faces any one of those three as adversaries, never mind all three.

Here's what I think happened.

(stay tuned for part 2)

#Yeosang meta #ateez meta #kpop meta #woosansang meta #woosansang #yeosang ateez

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funeral--pyre · 1 month ago

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Gonna ramble here for a second. 'Bout being a fictive and I guess... Talking to people close to you about source without them knowing you're literally right there next to em.

So like. Our body's got a little sister. Well, two and a little brother actually but I'm only focusing on one of em for this post. This one's like... 10 or so, hard to remember through dissociation and shit. But.. She likes my source, likes drawing, and doesn't know we're a system, for context for this.

She sat down next to me the other day, and was complaining about how hard it is to draw hands. I feel like I'm one of the least sociable guys in this head but I don't actually mind our siblings in this family so I decide to chat. I agreed, they're tricky and annoying and weirdly shaped. She then handed me her sketchbook and asked me to show her how I draw hands. I was like... I'm a shit teacher but alright. I can do that. So I broke a hand down into basic shapes, then showed her the process of fleshing it out. She was confused but she seemed happy enough to have it as a reference to look at.

She got me to draw a few things after that. She wanted an eye, but the eye I drew was "too detailed" so she wanted me to draw another. So I did. She wanted an angry facial expression, she wanted a cat, she wanted me to show her how to draw a leg. Just random things, I guess. But eventually she takes the book back and starts drawing on her own.

Thinking she's done talking for now, I pull out my phone and open the art program because well now she's gotten me in the mood for drawing. She sees me click the program though and goes "let me see some of your art!!!". So I'm like yeah, it's been a while since she asked, she can look at some new stuff. Why not. It'll keep her happy.

We're going through things we've drawn, unknown to her that a good 90% of them are system members--and she stops me and goes "do you have any MHA art?". Random question but the kid has internet access, the ability to get into Netflix, and is clearly autistic about MHA in general. So maybe not so random. But we don't have non-system art of MHA, it's all fictives.

So I think for a second and I realise I don't really want to explain to her why Bakugo is holding hands with some random other guy not even from MHA, and also holding hands with Kirishima in like 90% of the images we have of them. 'Cause that's awkward and not my shit to explain or come up with something about. Those guys can handle that if they want.

I then realise, yeah, I've got art of me just kinda sitting next to Shigaraki. Nothing that could be taken as noncanon or weird to this kid. Just sitting there can't be weird. I could show her that. And potentially deal with some weird out-of-left-field comment from her about Dabi the same way she randomly said "Shigaraki is a gay bitch" while he was (unknowingly) sitting right next to her a month or so back. But that's fine, I decide I can handle a kid saying weird shit.

So I show her. She only says one thing.

"Why did you pick the white hair?"

Yeah I could ask myself the same question actually. Should've stayed with black or changed it up some other way again. But I tell her that it's just what we picked for the picture.

"He looks so stupid with white hair. It needs to be black. Like his soul! At least I think he has a soul..?"

Okay. Wow. God damn, kid. Giving me something to think about there. What lead you to even think that in the first place? But anyway I respond with some form of "yeah, sometimes shit just happens though and boom, your hair is white even if your soul isn't" which she thought was funny.

That's about it for the interaction but yeah. Silly. Funny. And god damn kids love to speak their mind. Not entirely sure what the point of posting this is anymore, but I wanted to anyway. Just a weird little anecdote. Piece of the life I'm somehow living now. It's weird in a way. The family life is still fucking shit, fucking yay, but the siblings are okay. I don't mind em.

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stvharrngton · 2 years ago

Text

a lesson in romantics; lesson one

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: so here's the first part to the series! i hope you all enjoy <3 it takes place in the early 90s where steve and reader are in their mid-late twenties. disclaimer: i have very limited knowledge on the american school systems or how they work lmao so i'm sorry if it comes across as british-y sometimes but i'll do my best to be as authentic as possible :^) also special shoutout to @inkluvs who originally gave me this idea 1635272 years ago and @onceuponaoneshot who inspired me to actually start writing it hehe

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader, robin buckley

word count: 1.3k

warnings: none, just some introductory stuff, steve being a flirt

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke

SERIES MASTERLIST

HAWKINS, FALL, 1992

September. Fall semester.

A new town. A new school.

Hawkins’ newest resident and Hawkins High newest teacher. You’d spent the last month settling into your new home - a small apartment, nothing extravagant but it was enough for you.

You looked forward to the new start, to get back into the classroom. You loved to teach but the prospect of a new bunch of kids always made you a little nervous.

Making your way into the teacher’s lounge, you quietly said your hello’s to the fellow teachers you had met at orientation a couple days earlier. You silently went about making your morning coffee when a bickering pair burst through the door, a petite girl with a dirty blonde bob who you vaguely recognised as the music teacher and a taller guy, with pretty brown hair and a patterned tie slung around his neck.

You caught his eye as you turned to see the source of the disturbance, a soft but cheeky smile donning his lips. He struggled to keep up whatever conversation he was having with the girl he strolled in with as he finally tore his eyes away from you.

The blonde followed his eyeline to you, she smirked followed by a roll of her eyes. She swatted your mystery co-worker on the chest, followed by a hushed, “Steve! Are you even listening to me?”

He wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. But at least your mystery co-worker had a name now.

Steve. It suited him.

“You’re such a boy.” She groaned, waving him off before going off the mingle with some of the other teachers.

Steve responded with a laugh as he swanned his way over to the kitchenette where you were stood. “First day?” he asked calmly as he grabbed his regular mug from the cupboard above your head.

“Oh, uh, yeah—“ you stammered, caught a little off guard.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, “I never even introduced myself. I’m Mr. Harrington. History.” He said with much more candor, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You accepted the hand shake, making a mental note at how much bigger his hand was than yours. “I teach art.” You said, after telling him your own name, “Am I supposed to call you Mr. Harrington, then?”

Any confidence and swagger he was sporting crumbled, his cheeks flushed with a pink tinge, “I’m such an idiot,” he confessed with a chuckle, fingers combing through that pretty brunette hair, “I’m Steve. You can call me Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve.” You grinned, a toothy smile that made Steve’s heart thump in his chest. A smile he would be thinking about for days to come.

“Well, I better get going. Minds of the youth to shape and all that but I’ll see you around, yeah?” Steve said, grabbing his coffee cup as he gestured to the door that led to the school halls.

“Sure,” you nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, grabbing your own warm flask. You couldn’t help but let your tummy go all fuzzy at Steve’s kindness, a smile creeping its way onto your lips.

“Have a good first day, newbie.” Steve joked with a wink before he called out to his friend as he walked out the door, “Buckley! Are you coming or what?”

“You’re crushing on the new art teacher, aren’t you?” Robin blurted out.

Steve cursed his best friend under his breath, thanking whatever God was up there that school was yet to start and the hallways were empty.

“I’m in my late twenties Robin, I don’t get crushes.” Steve waved her off, “I mean, sure, she’s pretty cute but besides, we’ve only exchanged two sentences.”

“Oh, come on, Harrington!” Robin chortled, hand on her stomach as she bellowed in the hallway, “That has never stopped you before.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Steve hushed the girl with a roll of his eyes, “anyway, why didn’t you say hi to her? Not very nice of you, Buckley.”

Steve desperately tried to get the attention off of himself, his free hand perched on his hip as he brought his mug of coffee to his lips. His eyes narrowed at Robin over the rim. Like always though, it never worked. His friend far too persistent for his liking.

“Because, dingus,” her tone exasperated now, “I met her at orientation. You know, the thing you didn’t bother showing up for?”

They arrived at the door to Steve’s classroom which was one block over from Robin’s. He groaned audibly at Robin’s comment, “Come on, Robs! I told you I had a migraine,” he muttered as he fished his keys from his pocket, “you know, years of head trauma takes a toll on the ol’ noggin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she began to turn on her heel to make her way to her own classroom, “it was your loss anyway, Stevie,” Robin teased, a playful undertone to her voice, “‘cause she looked way cuter the other day.”

Steve scoffed at the younger girl, simply not giving her a response, before he closed his classroom door behind him. He slumped in his desk chair as he wondered to himself how he was going to get through the day without his thoughts trailing to you and your smile.

You’d never been so glad to hear the bell ring in your life. You enjoyed your first day, sure, but it was a little overwhelming to say the least. A lot of new faces and names to learn and remember, a thick new syllabus you had to preach to these kids.

A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you gathered your things and locked your classroom door behind you. As you made your way towards the teachers parking lot, you dug through your purse for your car keys as you fell face first into someone’s firm body.

It was like a scene out of a movie. The papers and books that were clutched in your arms went flying across the hallway, your purse and the contents of it spilled all over the floor. A total cliche.

A string of curses tumbled from your lips as you apologised over and over to whoever it was you bumped into. You both knelt to the ground to gather your things when you finally looked into the eyes of who it was.

A pretty set of brown eyes were staring back at you with a coy smile on the lips of their owner. You could only laugh back at him.

Of course it was Steve.

“I’m sorry,” you giggled, scooping up the stray papers, “I’m a total klutz.”

“Don’t sweat it,” he reassured you, handing you back what he had gathered of yours, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Right.” You nodded.

You stood back up, papers and car keys safely in hand now. Steve placed his hand on your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze, “You good?”

Plunging the butterflies in your stomach back down to their depths, you squeaked out a reply, “Yeah, yes. Thank you for not getting mad at me.”

“You kidding?” Steve asked all shocked, tone light and playful, “Can’t get mad at the new girl on her first day. That wouldn’t be very ‘nice and welcoming co-worker’ of me, would it?”

You giggled as you nodded, eyes darting to the floor, unable to meet Steve’s inviting gaze. You gestured to the nearby door with your car keys in hand, “Well, I better get going.”

“Oh! Right, yeah, of course—“ Steve stuttered, waving you off as you made your way to the door, “Hey! A bunch of us get together at a bar downtown after the first Friday of the semester if you wanna join us?”

“Oh, um,” you pondered, “I guess that could be fun.”

“Great,” Steve spoke, “I’ll get you the address. See you tomorrow?”

You nodded as you felt a blush creep on your cheeks. It wasn’t a date. It was not a date, you knew that, but you couldn’t help but wonder what Mr. Harrington would look like in casual clothes.

“You betcha.”

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