#thank u to the class i took on the New Testament this year

[shessolovely-ao3]

In take all your pain (and set it free) was the line "Christina telling him about Art’s abuse, how he had done things, unforgivable things, things too terrible to name." Supposed to imply csa? And if so, whats with the line "they were both still working on forgiving their parents" is Christina trying to forgive her father for her (i think) csa? Or is it in a sarcastic way for Christina like "yeah i totally forgive you 🙄" not assuming anything about you, just confused

back in 2019 when i wrote that i did hc that art did that based on other fics i'd read at the time but now im not so sure. but my fic has been out for about three years now and has gotten like over a thousand hits so I think it's too late to change what i've written lol

i think it's a little of both in regards to the forgiveness line. if you've read my latest MO fic, the ending is basically Orel telling his kid that he's trying to move on from his hatred of his father. orel and christina have same lines of thinking- i think they'd both believe that hanging onto their hatred of their parents and their childhoods wouldn't do any good. in fact, it'd probably turn them into their parents, which is something they definitely don't want. Jesus emphasizes forgiveness all throughout the New Testament, even when he's on the cross - he begs God to forgive the Romans and forgive all those in Jerusalem who've betrayed him and sentenced him to death. In the show, Orel is a huge fan of Jesus and I would assume he's also privy to the New Testament way of thinking. (Because he and Christina are so similar i'd wager she is too) so while part of her is probably like "yeah, i totally forgive you for fucking up my childhood, asshole" another part of her is likely trying really hard to move on from anything that happened in the Posabule household. So I guess, to answer your question, there's part of her forgiveness that's genuine (not because it betters her parents but because it betters herself and her relationship with her own children) and part of her that doesn't want to forgive them, that wants them to hurt just as bad as she did. she is human, after all.

[roguish-gallery]

How would Jonathan Crane react to eventually reuniting with one of his old students? Someone who actually really looked up to him and admired his passion for teaching, but was one of the quieter students who never spoke up in class. But now that he's no longer their teacher, they feel much more comfortable talking to him?

Sorry this took so long to write! I got... a bit... carried away... uhhh. Here’s my first ever full-ass fanfic, kept under the read more like always! I hope you like it!

p.s. if the formatting on this is too weird, I also have it on my ao3 here

Jon + Reuniting with a Former Student!

It’s incredible how little he seemed to age over the years. His auburn hair might have gotten a bit greyer and thinner, and the lines under his eyes have gotten darker, but he remained just as tall, as intimidating as he was those years ago. After all these years, Jonathan Crane still goes to the same café, orders the same coffee, and even sits in the same seat. In a way, you almost admired how little he cared about keeping his identity a secret.

Of course, the last time you saw him in this café, it was during his office hours, and you had come to talk with him about the midterm. Now he’s… well. You know.

A wanted criminal.

A killer.

The Scarecrow.

You’re shocked how no one has noticed him sitting there except for yourself- a testament to how thoroughly desensitized Gothamites are towards flamboyant villainy. Or, possibly, the burlap mask does work to hide his identity. Probably a combination of the two, you figured.

 You absentmindedly tapped your fingers along the table. You should have left the moment you saw him; anyone who’s watched the news would never want to be in the same room as the fucking Scarecrow. Who knows what he might do? What if he floods the air vents with fear toxin? What if he lunges at a waitress for getting his order wrong?

Yet… you still haven’t left, he has yet to create any incidents, and… you still want to talk to him. It’s not like the opportunity will ever present itself again. When will you get this chance?

Fuck it, let's go. you thought. The worst-case scenario is that you get to take a few days off from work to detox yourself. The threat of fear toxin has almost become as routine for the average Gothamite as getting into a car accident; unexpected, unfortunate, and it certainly ruins your day, but it’s nothing new. Finishing your coffee, you rose from your seat to approach him.

 As you got to his table, you felt your stomach churn as Crane’s eyes darted from his book to you. He watched you with caution, his mouth pressed into a familiar displeased line. He looked mildly annoyed by your presence, but he said nothing. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand his unspoken threat- what will happen to yourself and everyone in this building if you chose to make his presence known. In an attempt to make things appear more casual, you took the seat across from him. He quirked a brow, but allowed it.

You might have thought you didn’t make a presence, but Jonathan Crane never forgets a face. Especially the face of someone brave enough to take his class.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Crane cuts you off. “No need to exchange formalities here.” he gestured vaguely to the surrounding café patrons. “This is hardly the place. Before you ask, yes, I do remember you- your final paper on cognitive dissonance was… adequate.” He took a sip of coffee. “If you’re asking me to change your grade, well, it’s a bit late for that.”

“Oh...” You didn’t even remember the grade you got on that final. “Well… I won’t bother you for long… I just wanted to pop in for a quick chat.”

He rolled his eyes and dog-eared his spot on his book. “Alright, but make it quick.”

...

.......

“Um..." You stutter. "... What are you doing here?”

Crane’s nose twitched. “All the things you could ask me, and you choose that?” He paused for a moment, and sighed. “Fine. If I’m being honest, no one makes coffee as good, cheap, and black as this old haunt does. Furthermore, even I get nostalgic sometimes.”

...

........

The two of you awkwardly stare at each other.

“If you don’t have anything else to tell me, you can leave.” he said.

...Better cut to the chase, then.

“I’ll leave you alone, but before I do…" You linger off, trying to find the right words. "I just wanted to let you know that you were my favorite professor back when I was in college. You changed me for the better... if you can believe it.”

Crane's eyes widened, and he disdainfully shook his head. “Of all the professors you could have chosen, and you decide that I’m your favorite? I thought I had taught you better than that. All of my research, my field data on fear, and yet I somehow fail to scare away a former student. Pathetic”

“I suppose you still have some work to do, then.” You told him.

“Yes,” he mused. “I suppose so.”

 There’s more silence, before Crane decided to press further. “May I ask why?”

“I wasn’t in a good place back in school… I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, and I didn’t know how to articulate those thoughts into a vocal, healthy way... You though, you were always so passionate during your lectures” You explained. “Even if the tests were hard, and I hated having to cram for them. Coming to class and watching you talk about whatever, it was nice. You gave me hope that I’ll have that fire too, once I graduate.”

Something about that seemed to get to Crane. He blinked in surprise, and the irritated expression he had throughout the entire exchange… disappeared. His eyes softened just a bit, and his shoulders lowered into a more natural position. He studied your face, trying to find the smallest hint of deceit; something to let him know that this was just another joke. When he couldn’t find any, he sank back into his chair, his face now unreadable.

....

“... Did you find that fire?” He quietly asked.

“I don’t know... but I at least found enough to talk to you, even after all these years.”

The quiet returned, but it’s less awkward now, more comfortable. The air surrounding the table seemed to settle, and you could finally breathe.

“If it means anything to you, I am... flattered by the kind words.” Crane muttered something else under his breath, but you could make out a very restrained “Thank you”.

 “I’ve got to go now, but thank you for your time, Professor.” You got up from your chair, hesitating. “It was good to see you again… I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now.”

He graciously nods his head. “It was… good to see you too… I enjoyed our talk.”

Before you could go any further towards the exit, he beckoned you back.

“Before you go- don’t drink from your tap next Tuesday. I’ll be testing out a city-wide experiment then.” He whispered.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly nodded your head. You needed to update your health insurance anyway. You thanked him again, bid him farewell, and left.

 Jonathan remained in his seat as he watched you leave. He took a glance at his watch, wincing slightly at how much time had passed. He ought to be headed back to his hideout, assuming he wanted his plan to work on time.

Hmph- that’s what I get for getting sentimental. He finished the last sip of coffee lingering at the bottom of his cup, and shuffled his papers back into his satchel. It was good while it lasted, he supposed. Jonathan rapped his fingers along the table.

How long has it been since he’s been here last? Ten... no... twelve years? Dear god.

Despite the time gap, the café was just how he remembered it. Of course, things have changed- repainted walls, some refurbished furniture, and all of the regulars he shared the space with have long-since retired or graduated. Still though, things were fundamentally the same. College students mingling with each other, some trying to tutor less than-enthused peers, some study groups feverishly swapping notes with each other. The minimum-wage baristas, as expected, passed the time by flirting, or trying to study for their own classes. Yes, everything was just the same as he had left it.

And in the thick of the chaos, in the corner table sat Jonathan Crane, either up to his neck in library books, or helping out his students. Despite a more casual setting, the café had become just as academic of a place to Jonathan as the Gotham U libraries or the psychology conferences he used to attend.

 His train of thought was broken as the waitress gently cleared her throat.

“Sir?” she asked. “Would you like your check?”

He thought about it for a moment. He did have work to do… but…

“Actually, could I get a refill?”

“Of course. Black coffee, right?”

“That’s right. Thank you”

Jonathan watched her take his cup away, and he pulled his book and notes back out. The fear toxin can wait.

Let him stay in this moment... just a bit longer.

[benjaminjofaiho]

The Captain Next Door Ch.1

Summary: You’re a doctor who also just so happens to be a fan fiction writer. You love lots of fandoms but Captain America is by far your fave, so what happens when you get a new job, move to Brooklyn and realize that the brownstone you bought is right next door to Captain America? Obviously shenanigans ensue.

Warnings: cursing, smutt (eventually)

Authors note: Ok guys, this is literally my first fanfic and it’s about the Cap. Please be gentle! Also guys I really do live for a slow burn so that will be present heavy, I hope you can stick with it. Let me know what you think and please, reblog, like and comment! Love y'all! P.S. I do not currently have a beta and the ‘f’ and ‘u’ keys on my keyboard are messed up so incase you see repeating letters anywhere they aren’t supposed to be feel free to let me know.

   You wiped the sweat forming on your head from the sweltering Brooklyn heat. You were from Texas but this was definitely more than you were used to, or expected from everything you’ve seen on TV about New York. You sat on the stoop of your Brooklyn Brownstone waiting and started to think back. Three months ago you were in your parents living room opening up a heavy envelope from a hospital you’ve only dreamed of. Your father beamed from ear to ear, chest swelling with pride and tears were already in your mom’s eyes the moment a paper cutter went through the envelope. Your eyes flew across the page “Y/FN Y/LN, We would like to offer you the position of Head of Cardiology here at Mount Sinai...” everything else had been a blur. All your sleepless nights in college, all the anxiety, stress, sacrifices of missed birthdays and family gatherings, all of it had lead up to this moment and it had all been worth it. Your job started in the next 5 months and you had to pack up your Texan life and move all the way to the ‘big Apple’ as your dad called it. Besides the fact that you were infatuated with the city since you were a little girl, you were ready for a change of scenery. There were so many good memories here in Fort Worth but thanks to your asshole ex, Daniel, there were also a lot of sour ones as well. Your parents and your younger siblings helped you pack up your little house that was just  15 minutes from theirs. You were able to get everything done in about 2 weeks. At the airport your family saw you off. Your younger brother, Benjamin, eyes were red.

           “Aww baby brother are you crying because you’re going to miss me?” you pinched at his cheeks.

           Swatting your hand away he chuckled “Nah, I’m just thinking about how you’re gonna be in a whole nother state bossing people around and how you’ll finally be able to mind your own business and stay out of mine.” You hugged him and he bent down so you could kiss his forehead. Even though you were 26, a whole 7 years older than him and 5’8, he still towered above you.

           Turing to your 3 youngest sisters, Joy, Faith and Hope. Their names a testament to just how southern and Christian your parents were. They were huddled together crying freely, looking like little black angels in a chapel. You hugged each of them while the youngest, Hope, held on the longest. You hugged her until she was ready to let go. You kissed Faith on the cheek and moved to turn to your parents. The third oldest Joy grabbed you and hugged you once again, fiercley. She whispered in your ear “Y/N, I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to take care of them the way you took care of us, what are we gonna do without you?”

           You looked into her brown eyes “Joy, babe all you have to do is love them. Also I’m just a FaceTime call away, PLUS I’m a big shot doctor so it ain’t nothing for me to hop on a plane for y’all. Girl I got monnneeyyyy” That managed to get a little laugh from her and you stepped back to look at your siblings. Technically yes, they were your younger ones but due to the large age gap you always looked at them as your children, your babies. The 4 of them huddled around you once more and hugged. You turned to your dad who was never one to shy away from his emotions, was all but balling.

           “Come on dad, you gotta hold it together man!” he laughed and wiped at his cheeks

“I’m just so proud of you baby girl, you inspire your brother and sisters to do more, your mother and I have always told you that, but I never told you, you inspire me to. I am beyond proud of you.”

           “Aw dad, I love you so much” Pulling you into one of his patented hugs he said “I love you too. You’re going to the big apple now Doc, make sure you take a bite” Kissing your forehead you turned to face your mom. Oh boy. Of you made it through this one you would be home free, no ugly snot face crying. She gave you the best smile she could and that was it. The dam broke and you were sobbing. She hugged you and told you how proud of you she was, how you were a shining light for your siblings and the family as a whole. She told you that she also packed some food from home in your suitcase so you could settle in a little easier. You looked at her with a heart full of nothing but love. You were a little neurotic, and had a tendency to be anal retentive, planning and sticking to strict schedule for everything, predicting 10’000 possible outcomes to any situation but your mother was always there for you. Always remembering anything you didn’t. You thought of how she was really the only one you would let see vulnerable and take care of you. You would miss that in New York. Picking up your hand luggage you were whisked through security thanks to your first class ticket. Turning once more now passed security you stood up on your tip toes and waved emphatically to your family, not caring who saw you or them looking crazy. Your family had already been a little above average but this new job allowed you to even buy your wants not just your needs. You settled down in your chair and noticed only a handful of people were in your cabin. A stewardess came to offer you some champagne and you politely declined. Looking out the window a few seconds letting the last tear fall you put your curly hair up, you had to get to work.

           So yes, you were a doctor and that was all good and fun but you were also a huge nerd. Huge. While most people went to the club, concerts and generally having pretty good times outdoors you were stuck at home. Even when not studying you were still stuck to your computer. Once your family insisted on going to six flags and you brought your ipad with the attachable keyboard and your family kept talking about how dedicated of a student turned intern turned full-fledged doctor you were. If only they knew… You were working on your fanfiction and your followers and subbies were a bunch of savages! If they didn’t get their fix from you and you didn't stick to your upload schedule, your inbox would definitely be a madness, all sorts of threats and your lovelies would call you everything but a child of God. You’d been away for about a month and a few days now and your beta, Jay had started texting your actual phone. You met Jay on Tumblr a few years before, there had been some light flirtation always present but never anything serious. You worked better as friends and when you decided to get into fanfiction to blow steam off, he proved a good beta reader.

TXT From Jay: Doc! Where the hell are you at? Your rabid readers are jumping down my throat trying to you. Why you would leave a major cliffhanger for Captain America, and Sonia I have no idea. They want to know what’s happening next, low key I do too.

           You giggled. You thought of everything, you knew setting up a completely unaffiliated and untraceable account for your writing was a good idea. 1- you didn't want angry people in your inbox losing their minds. 2- You’ve been going for interviews and you didn't want a case where a potential employer would google your name and see all the filth you think about earth’s mightiest heroes and other people who don’t even exist. No way, you couldn't have that type of rep attached to you.

TXT From Y/N: Jaybaby, I’ve been going through it. Sorry, just been in the process of moving and you know life can get a little messy. Plus I really needed a break. Funnily enough I’m working on The Dangerous Dame right now. I’ll send the new chapter to you within the week. XO

Thinking back to seeing the avengers save New York you were grateful for them. They were kicking ass and taking names. Keeping all of us safe but damn if they weren’t all so fine. And you did mean ALL. To be honest that Natasha could. Get. It. All of them could get it. But there was something about that Captain America. He was sort of shy and had a boyish charm about him but that body made you think of pure sin. You wanted to wrap yourself around him and never let him go. You wanted to do nasty things to him. You wanted him to completely demolish you. So you did what everyone who is obsessed with anyone does. Try and consume as much media about said person as possible. Hey, It is the golden age of technology after all. After having your fill of random fan pictures, blurry videos of him in action you needed more stimulus. Where better to turn than Tumblr. Much to your dismay, there was barely any Cap Fanfic and when there was there was so little reader insert. And even then, there was literally less than 10 where he was actually into a black woman. This wouldn't do, you thought to yourself. That’s how Doctor Chris was born. Of course his name was Steve but he always sort of looked like a Chris to you. You didn’t just write about him but other people too, your stories took off and were a good escape from your hectic life.

           A car pulled up to you on your empty street and a short round man with a very stereotypical New Yorker accent shouted up to you, shaking you our of your memories

           “Ay lady, are you” his beady eyes peered at a piece of paper “Y/N? Are you Y/N?”

           “Yes that’s me”

           “Alright come get your unit, and not to be rude or anything but could you make it snappy? I got to make 15 more deliveries before the day is over.”

You slowly rose “Alright, I understand. However I paid for the delivery service? Aren’t y’all supposed to put it in my house?”

           “Lady you paid for the delivery service, not the installation service. That's another fee.”

           “I understand that” You replied still confused “ But I thought you would deliver it into my home.”

           “No way lady, that’s the set up service. You paid for the delivery service. That's an entirely different fee.” He repeated.

           “Understood” Your lips pulled into a flat line “Well sir could you at least help me get it into the first floor of my house?”

           “Did you pay for transportation insurance?”

           “….no…I didn-”  he cut you off “Well sorry Lady, I can’t help you.”

           “You can’t help me off load this huge AC and just carry it up 7 measly steps with me?”

           “Nope, can’t do it. It’s against company policy. Say I should look up at a pretty bird cuz the day’s so gorgeous and what not, then your unit slips out of my hand, there goes your cool breeze. Who’s gonna pay for that? Certainly not the company, cuz you didn’t pay for the transport insurance. That's a different fee. Now you’re angry at me, I mean technically it was my fault for being so clumsy and distractable and what not. But guess who else isn’t gonna pay? Me! Then guess whos gonna be upset and take me to court but loose horrifically because my brother in law just passed the bar? You! So lady no, I can’t help you. Why don’t you get one of the other tenants in the building to help you?”

           “Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I own the brownstone and I live alone. So there’s no one that could help me.”

           “You had enough money to get a brownstone but not enough to pay the fee?”

           “Alright thanks whatever your name is. I’ll just take my AC Now.”

           You looked at him while you struggled for 15 minutes just to get the AC out of the truck and the second you safely had it on the baking concrete of the curb you heard the back of the truck slide down and heard a door slam. You turned around to see the truck driver starting up the car and he shouted over the roaring engine.

           “Thanks for shopping with Coole Breeze, your number one cooling solution  in the tricity area, have a frosty day!” and with that, he was off.

           Even though you were wearing a  pretty airy romper and you did work out about 3 times a week, that was nothing against that heavy ass air conditioner and that Brooklyn heat. You put your hands on top your head and squinted up the sky. You again thank God your street was empty. You must have sweated out your Twist out and edges by now. You were convinced you were looking crazy. But hey, It was a Tuesday at 1. Everyone who was someone was at work, kids were in school so it was just you and this behemoth air conditioning unit.  Getting into classic Y/N calculations your decided what you were going to do. Yes, this AC was, technically for your room but you won’t be able to get it all the way up there by yourself right now so you can create a pulley system and pull it through the window. Huffing and puffing to your started mimicking your father.

           ‘Buy a fixer upper baby girl, it's a great investment. You could build your dream home and sell it eventually , it’ll be fun! Your brother and I will fly up there to help you whenever you need us or have free time. Matter of fact I’m pretty sure my army buddy Wilson still lives in New York…Not sure the part though. But I know he and his boy are engineers of some sort. I can even ring them up to help you when I can’t make it myself. This will be a terrific family project honey!’

           “ Sure dad!” you shouted at no one in particular “ who’s going to help me now though?!” At least your mother had the foresight to buy you a fully equipped toolbox, 12 foot ladder and a whole bunch of things that a new homeowner/renovator needs. It took a bit of maneuvering but you were able to get the ladder out the door and down the steps. You were now atop of it, building and hammering away at a pulley system. You were determined to sleep in a chilly 50 degrees tonight, by any means necessary. You saw two men one white and one black, approaching from your left through your peripheral vision. You steeled yourself to any cat calling that may occur, from the angle - to what you had on, it wasn’t a good situation. You couldn't make out faces but you could see that one was visibly bigger than the other. They stopped walking a little behind you and you couldn't tell which one asked but you heard someone say

           “Hi, do you need any help?”

           “O fanks” You replied with a slight lift of your hand with a screwdriver hanging out the side of your mouth and a heavy covering of sweat on your forehead. Using the back of your hand to wipe the sweat off you removed the screwdriver from your mouth and cleared your throat then repeated “No thanks” In a clearer manner. Thinking to yourself how could these guys even help me? While screwing and grunting softly you weren’t mentally present. You were trying to solve the problem you created. You had written yourself into a corner and you were trying to figure out a way out of it. You started to get the thread of an idea that you were mentally trying to work into a tapestry for your readers, however, while still trying to flesh it out something else was fighting for your attention. In the back of your mind you heard his voice again.

           “Are you sure? We may be able to be of better help than you thin-” Remembering your mothers call the night before talking about a movie she watched on lifetime where people in the ‘big city’ would help you get something into your house as supposed good Samaritans then come back and rob you, or do worse you decided against it instantly.

           “Listen, thanks but no.” You huffed out “Apparently I paid for the delivery service and not the installation service as the lovely delivery man told me. This however does NOT include carrying my AC up the 4 flights of stairs to my bedroom because that's apparently another fee. So no, there isn’t anything you gentlemen could do for me” You heard a little chuckle behind you and heard a quieter deeper voice say:

           “You have to pay the fees, that’s where they get you” his voice was full of laughter. He wasn’t outright laughing but you could still somehow hear it in his voice.

           Momentarily forgetting you were on a ladder you whipped around to give the guy a piece of your mind. But all it takes is a moment. And in that moment, you were falling backward off a 12 foot ladder. Back, back, back, you go thinking this is how it would end. You dead on the concrete. You hadn’t been to china town yet! Why hadn’t you been to china town? Or the empire state building! OR the statue of liberty! You shouldn't have rushed your mom off the phone last night. You would have given anything to hear her aimless ramblings and numerous ‘be carefuls’ one last time. OH GOD! You hadn’t had sex in a year and a half! This is how you were going to die. Trying to tell off some harassers with an uncompleted house in your name before you started your dream job. You squeezed your eyes shut and braced for impact

           Your body hit something that was hard like cement but was warmer and…. Somehow smelled like leather? And Christmas? And Home somehow? You opened your eyes to see a face partially obscured by a blue baseball hat pulled down over the front and a full beard. You couldn't see who he was and he was leaning in close to your face while he held you. There was something so familiar about him, but you couldn't place it. His voice kept fading in and out of your head.

           “Ma’am? Ma’am! Stay with me!”

Sounding like echos of screams and whispers bouncing off the inside of your skull all at once you blinked slow and mustered out what you could:

           “Don't…Tell me what to do…Asshole” and everything faded to black.

_______________________________________________________________________

Okay guys! thats about it for the first one. I would really appreciate the feedback! Is this something you would want more of? Or should I move on to some other fic ideas I have? Let me know and thanks for reading!

[stevieang]

Love Among the Little Chairs  Chapter 1/?

Summary: A/U: Lia Accorsi is a preschool teacher of children with special needs, who loves what she does and loves who she is - a plus+plus size woman.  Her best friend and secret crush, the kindergarten teacher next door, is James Buchanan Barnes.  Little does she know, he’s crushing just as hard (maybe harder) on her and admires her as a teacher, cares for her as a person, and thinks everything about her is beautiful.  Will they figure out how to find each other?

Word Count: 2090

Pairing: James “Bucky” Barnes/OFC

Warnings: For this first time around, swooning, swearing, light fluff.

A/N: My first Tumblr post!  I hope you like it, and you’re kind whether you do or don’t.  Enjoy and I look forward to hearing your thoughts!

“Just another morning with little chairs and the little people that occupy them.” Lia whispered as she walked through the toy castles,  box forts, doll houses, and river rafts created by her students.  Each creator had asked her, no, begged her, to leave their structures set up on the rug so they could play with them the next day.  

She was hesitant, but when her teaching assistant and the Occupational Therapist who worked with her also started begging, she caved.  She knew that for her students, these were more than just playthings, they were testaments to new steps on their developmental ladder.

Lia’s first love had always been to fight for the underdog.  To stand up for kids and people that weren’t considered “enough” to make the cut - smart enough, able enough, thin enough, pretty enough, rich enough.  She had always been one of them, and she chose to make her career being one of their strongest allies and loudest cheerleaders.  Fuck everyone else who didn’t believe in them - she did.  

After graduating with a double master’s in special education and communication disorders, Lia set out in the world.  She grew up in a middle-class blue collar family where hard work was required and self-sufficiency was essential for success.  She was thankful that her life wasn’t a “Her family treated her terribly because she was different, and therefore she had less-than-no self-esteem” story.  Her family treated her with love and respect, and helped her grow into a cautiously confident woman who knew what she wanted.  

Sure, the world was full of assholes with their bullying side comments, rude stares and guffaws, and really hurtful jokes.  Lia knew that her world was better if it was smaller - she started slow when meeting new people, and once they were firmly in her confidence, showed them the full-on sarcastic beauty of her personality, and by then she had a friend and ally for life.   She was always going to have to watch out for the public humiliation fat girls got, but after she figured out a good mix of healthy lifestyle habits she felt “right” in her body.  She vowed to try her best to ban negative self-talk and was successful, most of the time.

Lia knew today was going to be busy.  All the kids had therapy which she helped to run which left her no time to write the 2 ed plans that were due before the end of the day.   All her students had moderate-to-severe special needs, ranging from physical disabilities that required walkers or wheelchairs, sensory impairments that made her an expert in finding and fixing glasses and hearing aids, and cognitive and learning challenges that made the world harder to understand and navigate.  

She loved every single one of them as if they were her own.  She’d been blessed to be able to interview and hire an amazing team of support professionals that made her and her students’ lives better (and much more interesting) every day.  There was a reason her classroom was used as a model within the district, and this team was it.

She snapped pictures of the rug-bound creations to send home and hang in the classroom later.  “You are always taking pictures, lady.”  Lia looked up and smiled at Madeleine, her lead OT.  Her grad student Madison (who also happened to be her daughter) walked in immediately after, bringing coffee and goodies that made Lia’s mouth water.  

As they all took a moment to sit and sip, they were joined in quick succession by the team physical therapist (PT), nurse, and 2 teaching assistants.  The adults *almost* outnumbered the kids, but each person was essential to her classroom’s success.  One look at the clock had them quickly preparing for the day and heading out to meet the students.  

The day was just about as busy as she predicted, with quite a few laughs (more than tears, so that’s always good).  She had no time for her paperwork, so she ran to the corner sub shop to grab dinner and coffee before settling in for a long night in her classroom.  

“Hello Ms. Lia”

She startled and giggled as Luke, the night custodian, came in for his rounds.

“I’ve been telling you for 5 years that after the kids leave, please call me Lia.”

“...and I’ve been telling you for 5 years that ain’t gonna happen.  You’re a teacher.  My ma would slap me if she heard me call a teacher by their first name.”

She sighed, impressed with his civility but a bit frustrated with her lack of progress with his stubbornness.

“How were the kids today? They sure were happy when they showed me their mudpies.”

Lia grinned.  “Sorry about the mess.  We tried to clean up as much as possible, but a few of the boys got away from us.”

“Don’t you ever apologize for those kids.  I’ve told you before, my son’s like them, and he is our gift from God.  Wouldn’t change a single thing about him.”

“Well, Mr. Luke, you are our gift.  Thank you for all you do for us - day in and day out.”  He quietly completed his work and bid Lia goodnight on his way next door as she returned her eyes to her computer screen.  She didn’t even turn her head when the door opened soon after.

“I knew you’d be back - you forgot to tell me you’d lock up after me.”  

“Sorry, what?”

Lia shrieked as the unexpected voice broke through her single-minded focus.  She turned, ready to defend herself with the prized ceramic mug her class made her for Christmas.

“Whoa!  It’s me, don’t shoot!”  The teacher from next door had his hands up, barely covering the big smile on his face.

“Jesus, James!  You couldn’t give a girl a warning!  Something? I don’t know - a knock maybe?”

His chuckle made her forget her irritation.  “Sorry, I just wanted to know if you wanted anything - I was going out to grab dinner.”  She and James often worked late.  Not only did they have neighboring classrooms, his class was the next step for many of her students.  They had first worked together on some administrative special education committee that had eventually netted some grant money for new technology and consultant time, and had gotten along very well since.

“No thanks, I knew this was gonna be a late one so I ran out right after the kids left.  How come you’re here?  Well, other than there aren’t nearly enough hours in a day.”

“Yeah, something like that.  Three ed plans to write, and we’re doing an experiment tomorrow that I want to make sure is completely set up before I leave.  Maddie and Madison helped me with it and the kids are super excited.”  Lia smiled at him.  He was a wonderful teacher and better, she trusted him with the kids he inherited from her.  

“That sounds awesome.  I’d love to hear about it, but if I don’t finish this stuff, I’ll never get home.  I’d like to catch my Thursday show live for once, instead of watching it on demand two weeks later.”  She snorted to herself, knowing how unlikely that was.  “Thanks so much for thinking of me, James.  That was very kind.”

They laughed together at the words they used with the kids all day long to foster empathy.  “You’re welcome.  Let me know when you’re leaving.  I’ll walk you home or grab a cab with you.”

Lia had already shifted her attention back to her work, giving him a half-hearted “sure, thanks” as she tried to regain her momentum and cross at least one thing off her list.  James gently closed the classroom door, and almost bumped into Luke as he made his way out.

“She take you up on dinner this time?” The older man’s eyes were smiling as he went about his routine.

“No, not tonight.  She’s busy.”

“That woman is always busy.  Busy isn’t a reason for you to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Well, it’s the answer I got tonight, Luke.  I’m gonna run and get dinner, do you want anything?”  As he caught Luke shaking his head, he walked down the steps into the comfortably cool night air, unable to shake a feeling that he couldn’t quite name.   After he got settled back into work, the text alert sounded.  Lia and he often texted room-to-room because they knew their plans would be completely derailed if they talked face-to-face.

Lia A: Thanks for the offer of dinner, that was nice.  Maybe another time?

JBB: Of course.  The school year is far from over, I’m sure we’ll have other opportunities.

Lia A: You ain’t kidding.  Alright, I’m out for the night.  My brain has officially shut down and no more work can be completed that won’t have to be redone later.  Have a good night.

JBB: WAIT

James ran out of his classroom and let out an exasperated sigh as  he saw Lia’s darkened room.  She’d done this before - texted him as she walked out the door, not letting him walk her home, and he wondered why.  They respected each other, helped each other, even leaned on each other during the inevitably sucky times,  but it seemed like every time he even hinted at something outside the work arena, she kindly but firmly declined.  He grabbed his phone.

JBB: Why did you do that?  I told you I would’ve walked with you.

Lia A: I know, but I peeked in and you looked like you were in a groove.  I didn’t want to interrupt that.  Plus it’s not far and I always carry my pepper spray and whistle.  I’ll be fine.

JBB: Did anyone ever tell you you’re stubborn?

Lia A: Mr. B, I am offended.

Lia A: Sigh. Yes.  In fact, it’s usually you.

JBB: Can you just let me know you arrived home safely, then?

Lia A: You got it.  Thanks.

James quickly packed up his messenger bag, took one last look at the room, and snapped a picture to send to Maddie and Madison, telling them how psyched he was to see what tomorrow brought.  He bid Luke goodnight, and headed home, cheered by the text alert that told him Lia was safely home.  

As Lia puttered in her little apartment, she thought, as usual, about her students.  Oh, who the hell was she kidding, she was also thinking about James.  He was so kind, so sweet, so helpful, so…smolderingly sexy.  She had been successfully immunizing herself against James’ more alluring attributes for as long as she’d known him.  

She knew he was a truly good person - heck, it was rare enough to find male special educators at the elementary level, but to find one as good as he was at his job?  It was like catnip - she found it incredibly hard to resist.  It didn’t matter - he wasn’t offering anything that she had to resist.   A while back, he told her about a girlfriend back home, or something like that, which had slammed shut the gateway to any hope of him reciprocating her feelings.  

Knowing this, she still needed to recite her mantra: “He’s just a friend.  You’re friends and co-workers.  He has a girlfriend.”  The mantra didn’t help a lot, particularly when he texted her at unexpected times - sometimes they were goofy, sometimes serious, but always sweet.  It was nice to know someone was looking out for you when you lived alone.

JBB: Did you catch your show in time?

Lia A: Sigh. No.  looks like I’m 0 for 5 this season.  S’alright.  More to binge watch this weekend.

Lia A: Thanks for checking in - good luck on the lesson tomorrow.  Can’t wait to hear how great it goes!

JBB: Welcome and thank you.  I’ll send you some pictures. Night.

Lia finished doing all the stuff that would let her sleep as late as possible the next morning and climbed into bed.  She laughed as she tagged her team in an Instagram post and sighed when she saw how soon the alarm would be going off.

James finished packing all the stuff he needed to hit the gym before work and smiled as he saw Lia’s Instagram post.  She had all her materials packed up and her clothes and lunch ready to go.  The caption turned the smile into something more, “The irresistible life of a preschool teacher.  You know you want it.”

“You have no idea,” as he plugged in his phone and let those thoughts lull him to sleep.

Chapter 2  

@star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @suz-123

[katsitting]

Hey! How are you today ? 🖤 If that's not too late, would you please do the prompt 152 ? Thanks 😊

Rating: T

Warnings: Crack treated seriously, suggestive themes, and explicit language (Harry has quite the potty mouth in this). Typos are my own.

Prompt: “Stop Texting me weird stuff so late at night.” + Tomarry

This was actually very fun to write. It is not serious whatsoever. I think this was something short and funny to write in order to decompress from my other more…sinister story. I hope you enjoy! (Thank Peixe for the interesting text, btw. It just made this crack all possible).

Buzz.

Harry groaned aloud, shifting in his bed to reach for his phone. He had only just settled into bed, his day far longer than he had wanted it to be.

Finals were around the corner. The holidays were nearing and he wanted to do nothing more than sleep. He didn’t know how late it was, didn’t even know when he had finally settled the anxiety thrumming through his veins when he’d laid down.

It could have been minutes. It could easily have been hours.

All that had registered before bed was the cloying darkness around him and the delicious press of cool sheets against his skin.

A decadence that he had not indulged in in what felt like months. And considering just what time in the semester it was, it was most likely the case. He hadn’t caught a break the entire semester, and he didn’t expect to get one once classes ended after exams. 

Lord knew when he would catch a break that entire month. 

Harry was beyond upset that someone had dared shoot him a message.

The person at the other end just had to know what point in the semester it was. All his friends were bloody university students. His parents never texted him, and considering how hectic December was before the holidays, his parents would never dare bother him until at least after his exams were over.

Fucking arsehole.

Harry cursed under his breath repeatedly as he reached, almost lazily, for his phone before he finally grabbed hold of it on the nightstand by his bed. He fumbled with it for several seconds, nearly dropping it on his face once or twice when the stupid thing slipped from his fingers.

It was a sleek iPhone. Not new, and definitely not the latest model of the year. It normally fit nicely within his hands. But not today. 

The phone was fighting him tooth and nail, refusing to settle comfortably in his hand. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to drag it up to his face, but there was no one around to witness the spectacle.

It was just him and the six football posters he had plastered in his tiny dorm room.

Harry didn’t bother putting on his glasses, leaving the frames underneath his pillow. He wasn’t about to spend another five minutes trying to look for them.

Sure, he had shitty vision. But that certainly did not mean he was blind. He didn’t need it to figure just who was the arsehole that texted him. He also wasn’t about to waste more time he could be using to sleep by fumbling for them, either.

Not that he needed them much anyway. He always kept the font on his phone to a relatively large size. You just never knew when you’d be stuck without them. At least, that’s how Harry justified it. 

Harry knew for a fact that he wouldn’t always have his glasses on hand. His entire life was testament enough to that. Hell, the current semester was more than enough proof that he didn’t have his life sorted out enough to keep his glasses on him.

Harry had forgotten his glasses numerous times already this term alone. It wasn’t his fault that his alarm did a piss poor job of waking him up on time for those ungodly morning classes he had every week.

Harry practically smashed the phone into his face before he clicked on the center button.

The phone immediately came to life.

Harry swore when it nearly blinded him.

He blinked repeatedly to chase away the black spots dancing along his vision, caught completely off guard by the brightness of his phone screen. It was on full brightness. He must have somehow forgotten to lower the brightness before he’d settled into bed.

Nice going, Harry.

Once he managed to blink all dark spots from his vision, and he determined that he had not actually blinded himself, Harry began to,  or at least tried to, read the bright blue notification on screen.

What the–?

It was a message from Tom Riddle.

At three in the bloody morning.

It was a giant mass of text that Harry had little hope of transcribing, without his glasses, at least. There was a myriad of emojis in between the white text, and Harry was at a total loss at how to make sense of it. It was too dense. Practically a paragraph.

Harry was not even close to equipped to deal with this bullshit so late at night. Not that he was equipped to deal with it on any other night, but still, it was particularly irksome in that moment.

Just who sent a paragraph of messages anymore? 

Harry tried to make sense of the letters, but they were beyond blurred. The combination of the cellphone’s brightness, his exhaustion, and his brain’s outright refusal in reading the message making it an impossible task. The only thing legible were the emojis.

…Harry would have to grab his glasses if he wanted to know what the message said. He was not happy.

Bloody perfect.

Harry grumbled before he reached underneath his pillow with one hand for familiar metal. He stopped when he felt cold metal beneath his fingertips, and pulled them out with little issue.

He quickly pressed them onto his face, satisfied that at least this didn’t take him three years to put on. Harry had fully expected his glasses to give him just as much trouble as his phone, but he supposed, it was punishment enough that he was awake rather than asleep like he was supposed to be. 

But Harry had a message from Riddle. He just couldn’t ignore it.

Riddle never texted him.

Harry could count in one hand the amount of times the man had gone out of his way to text him. Perhaps, twice in one year if he was being generous?

And never with so many emojis, or any, for that matter. Riddle didn’t seem like the sort. It was painfully obvious from the few evenings Harry had to interact with him that Riddle was about as dry as sandpaper, and as prickly as a cactus. If he messaged you, it was for a reason. Harry knew that much.

The message on his phone was telling him entirely different story, however.

Harry was not nearly delirious enough to imagine all those emojis. That Riddle, in fact, had sent him a paragraph of text. Easily more words than Riddle and he had shared in the past three years.

It was…curious. Too strange and out of character for Harry to leave it well enough alone.

Harry pressed his finger against the phone screen, and watched as the message opened up, not sure of what to expect.

“whats poppin in that peppermint 🍬🔴⚪️ pussy 🐱💦 u little snowhoe ❄️👅👀🎄 DICKCEMBER🎄 is here 🚨🍆🍒 and the only way to stay warm is to ride daddy’s christmAss tree 🎄🍑✔️ all month long until his SAP comes out 🍻👅💦💯 but dont forget ❌❌ to lick off any syrup 👅🍯 from daddy’s HARD candy cane 🍭😩 if u want to get RAWED 🚼🍆😩😏 under the mistleHOE 🌿 then send this to 2⃣5⃣ of your thickest elves 💁🙋🍒 if u get 0⃣ back 😔 then ur an UGLY GRINCH 😷😴 if u get back 1⃣0⃣😊 ur a BAD JINGLE BELL BITCH🔥🙌 If u get back 2⃣0⃣ 😏 then get ready for daddy Claus and st DICKolas on christmAss eve 🎄❗️🎄 SHARE in 6⃣9⃣😉💦 seconds or you wont end 2⃣❗️0⃣❗️1⃣❗️7⃣❗️ with a BANG 😩💦💥.”

What?

Harry was completely floored. He was staring so intently at the message that it was a miracle in itself that he hadn’t burned a hole through his phone from the intensity of his stare.

This was the most ridiculous thing Harry had ever read in his life. Single-handedly worse than the time Ron had drunkenly texted him about his massive crush on his now-girlfriend, Hermione. Sending him messages after messages, and even pictures, of himself in his underwear, desperate for advice that Harry had been unable to give at the time.

It had taken weeks of apologies from Ron’s end to get Harry to talk to him again. Though, the image was unfortunately still burned to the back of Harry’s head. Especially the picture of Ron’s damn elephant undies with the trunk located right where his–

Harry banished the thought before he even dared go down that route.

This was about Riddle, not Ron. Harry didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire. The fact that Riddle of all people had sent him something like that, in the middle of the night, was just wrong. It was absurd. It was something straight out of an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Riddle was the last person Harry would have expected to do something like this. To send a chain message of that sort to Harry of all people, no less.

Riddle was practically the most boring person Harry knew. He was the complete opposite of Harry in almost every way. Harry at least had a sense of humor, while Riddle was just smug and unapproachable more often than not.

Riddle also hardly ever smiled, and literally everything that left his mouth was infuriating. There wasn’t a time in Harry’s short association with Riddle that the man did not say something offensive. It was as if Riddle were incapable of saying something nice. Well, around Harry mostly.

Harry couldn’t speak to his behavior around others, but still, Riddle was a smug and condescending bastard. It was a skill in and of itself to be as disagreeable as he was with Harry. 

No words needed to be exchanged, even. Just a look from Riddle’s direction said it all.

Rather than a resting bitch face, Riddle had a resting arsehole face. As if Riddle was begging for Harry to punch him, or to knock him down a peg or two.

It was just awful that the man was so pretty. A bloody shame, really. It should be a crime to be as attractive as Riddle was when he was such a fuckface. He didn’t deserve those sharp cheekbones, those plump pink lips, nor the perfectly piled hair at the top of his head.

Riddle deserved none of it. It was a complete waste.

Though, that still didn’t answer the most burning question at the forefront of Harry’s mind.

Harry still had no bloody clue of how to even reply to that, of how to even draft a response.

Should he even reply back? Why was he even considering replying to such an obvious chain message? It had to all just be a joke. It had to be a mistake from Riddle’s end, and nothing more. For all Harry knew,  Riddle could have been drunk and that was why he had sent Harry of all people such an unsolicited message in the first place.

There were plenty of possibilities that could readily explain away why Riddle had sent the text.

And all of them had little to do with Riddle wanting to actually talk to him at three in the morning.

But what if he did it on purpose? A traitorous voice whispered in the back of Harry’s head.

What if Tom was sober and he had intended to send you something like this? What if, for all his douchebaggery, he wanted to talk to you?

Harry started typing before he realized it, before he could truly consider just what it was that he was doing. It was bloody stupid that he was even writing a response to this tosser. But Harry was just too curious for his own good, too interested in seeing just what response he’d get from Riddle.

The what ifs in the back of Harry’s head were too alluring and much too tempting. This was Riddle. This wasn’t some random bloke sending him a message in the middle of then night. 

And you think he’s pretty…a mocking voice whispered in the back of Harry’s mind. Harry wanted to smack himself for the thought, for even going down that route. He would sooner walk into oncoming traffic before he ever admitted something like that. Riddle was attractive, Harry was not blind.

But Riddle was a dick. Whatever allure the man had, his personality made it impossible to appreciate.

You still think his arse looks nice in a nice pair of tight jeans, however…the same damn traitorous voice mocked, and Harry wanted to scream in frustration.

Harry was not attracted to him. That was not the reason why he was going to reply. He was curious. Nothing more and nothing less.

It wasn’t the first time his blasted curiosity had gotten him into trouble, and Harry was certain it wouldn’t be the last even as he finally drafted up the perfect response for the situation.

Maybe Riddle would fail to answer. Maybe Riddle would ignore it all together and pretend he never sent the ridiculous text to Harry in the first place.

There was only one way to find out.

“Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent message, but it was enough to get his point across.

Satisfied, Harry hit “send.”

And then he waited, too awake now to settle back into bed. Especially after Tom bloody Riddle had sent him a fucking message about getting dicked down in December.

Harry couldn’t just let this pass him by without knowing for certain that it was Riddle that sent this and not one of his friends trying to play a joke on the man. Though, now that Harry thought about it, it was more likely that one of Riddle’s friends did manage to snatch his phone or something.

It was more plausible than Riddle being drunk out of his arse considering Harry, in all the time he had known Riddle, had never let more than one glass of wine pass through his lips at the ridiculous friendsgiving parties Hermione threw every year.

Why Riddle went to those things and why Hermione invited him at all was a mystery, even now.

Harry was ripped from his thoughts when his phone burst to life in his hands, the vibrations traveling from the tips of his fingers all the way to his elbow from the intensity. It took him a second to open the message and read it.

“Wat r u doing?”

Harry squinted, confused.

Huh?

“Riddle, have you been drinking? That was too many misspelled words.”

Harry tapped up the message and sent it with a speed he had not known he had. None of this made any sense. The Riddle he knew would never make so many glaring errors.

It was sickening, in a way. To see someone that typically behaved so full of himself act almost…like a normal college student. Tom Riddle just didn’t do normal. Harry couldn’t reconcile this fact.

It didn’t take long for Riddle to respond, and Harry sucked in a surprised breath.

“R u alone?”

Harry pinched himself to assure himself that he was not still sleeping. Unsure if he should laughing or be deeply concerned with Riddle’s behavior.

“Riddle, it’s three in the morning, of course I’m alone.” Harry replied immediately, unsure of why he even kept replying when the best solution to this entire thing was not answering. It was easy. Simple.

It would take little effort from Harry’s end to stop replying.

Harry sent a second text before he could stop himself.

“Please stop texting me.”

Harry should just silence his phone. It would be just as easy as ignoring Riddle’s texts. 

He knew how it worked, had silenced his phone numerous times in the past. It was the best way to avoid a lecture from Hermione’s end or to focus on studying when he had a looming deadline. He really did know how it worked. It’d take seconds to do it.

But his fingers refused to tap on the crescent moon and silence his phone. It was as though Harry was physically unable to pry his eyes from the screen. He had exams soon, he couldn’t afford to mess around with Riddle. He couldn’t afford to lose sleep over something as stupid as this, but–

Then, a message bubble appeared right at the bottom of his messaging app. Riddle was typing a response.

Go to bed, Harry…said a voice that sounded too much like Hermione’s motherly tone.

It is three in the morning on a Thursday. You have exams next week, go to bed.

Harry wanted to listen. He was more than aware of this, and that he would certainly regret this all the next day when he had to wake up to start studying against.

But Harry ignored all the warnings.

He wanted to see how this all unfolded. He wanted to know for certain that this was Riddle. He wanted to know if Riddle was capable of being drunk, that he actually had a whole other side to him that Harry did not even know existed. This was a once in the life time opportunity, in a way. It wasn’t every day that someone with such a stick shoved up his arse could loosen up.

The phone vibrated in his hand, and the blue bubble appeared on screen.

“Invite me over.”

Harry frowned. He would most certainly not. It was three in the morning. He had classes to study for, and he refused to be alone with Riddle.It was one thing to humor the man by responding to his text messages, but entirely another to actually meet with him face to face.

Lord knew what might happen, considering the man was drunk and that chain message had been a bit…racy. 

Not that you minded very much, you’re not even mad that he woke you up at three in the morning anymore…

Harry ignored the thought.

“No, you’re drunk. I’m going to sleep. I promise I’ll pretend we never had this conversation.”

Harry replied before, finally, silencing his phone.

He was curious, but should he really keep this going? What if Riddle was drunk and woke up the next day with messages from Harry? What if Riddle took that opportunity to irritate him, to make himself into more of a nuisance than he already was in person?

Harry didn’t want that, even if it physically pained him not to see this through. 

God, you’re turning into Hermione. Who are you, Harry Potter?

Harry shifted into a more comfortable position on his bed, ready to shut off his phone and forget that Riddle had messaged him at all when his phone buzzed within his hands once again, nearly half a second after he had replied.

It was as if Riddle was somehow glued to his phone, desperate to see Harry’s response.

Harry snorted at the ridiculousness of the image. Riddle desperate to talk to Harry? It was absurd.

Yet, it didn’t stop Harry from picturing Riddle’s pale face flushed with drunkenness, sitting down in the middle of a rowdy university party, phone in hand as he waited for Harry to answer. Perhaps he had a cheap Pabst beer in hand, or even a bottle of cheap red wine in his free hand as he tried to chase after the allure of intoxication?

It was just so plebeian. So ordinary and unassuming that Harry discarded the image as quickly as it had formed. Though, that didn’t stop him from laughing lowly to himself. 

Harry unlocked his phone against his better judgment and opened the message.

“Im outside.”

Harry swore before jolting in shock when he heard heavy knocking. It was coming directly from the front door at the opposite end of his room.

Harry tried to not to cover his head with his sheets in frustration.

There was no way that Riddle had actually fucking come over. No one was allowed into the building unless they had the key to get onto the elevators. It was strictly enforced. The security in the building notorious for calling the cops if someone stood out in front of the lobby for longer than permitted. Unless Riddle somehow flew into the building through an open window, in the middle of bloody  winter, Harry sincerely doubted Riddle was actually outside.

Harry’s phone buzzed again.

The phone felt hot and heavy in his palm. As though it were physically burning through his palm with the weight of Riddle’s message. He should have ignored the chain message like any sensible person would have. 

But no, Harry just had to be curious. He just had to know. And now, Riddle was standing outside his door, somehow. It was easy to ignore someone through text, but a whole other feat to ignore them while they were standing in front of the door. 

With a sigh, Harry glanced at his phone.

“Its cold out here, harry.”

Ugh.

Harry ripped his sheets from his body, leaving his phone on the bed. He was too upset to even think of taking it with him when he stormed to the door. In fact, it was better that he had left it. Knowing him, he’d fling it directly at Riddle’s face and break the screen, making it the third time in one year that he’d broken his phone.

Harry couldn’t afford to pay for another replacement screen.

Irked, Harry grabbed onto the door and slammed it open. He didn’t care that he was only in pair of green checkered boxers and an over-sized white T-shirt. Riddle was not invited, and if he had a problem with his attire, then he could go suck it.

Riddle was standing inches in front of the door, hair disheveled and clothes completely rumpled. He was dressed in a white, rumpled dress shirt that had several buttons undone at the collar and black dress pants that looked as though they’d seen better days. 

Just what kind of party did Riddle go to?

Harry stared, noting the bright pink flush on Riddle’s cheeks, as if he’d been drinking excessively and had walked through inches of snow in the dark. His eyes were bright, and lit with a mirth that Harry could not recall ever seeing on the man’s face before.

Riddle looked pleased; almost…happy to be standing outside despite the icy breeze that had to be cutting deep into Riddle’s bones. It was bloody freezing, that much Harry could tell when his own feet felt like were turning into ice blocks. The couple seconds Harry had been standing showing just how cold it was, and just how inappropriately dressed he was for the weather.

Not that Riddle was dressed any better. 

“Is there a reason you’re standing in front of my door at three in the fucking morning?” Harry seethed, growing angrier when Riddle suddenly smiled, lips stretching into a predatory grin.

Harry was immediately put on edge.

“I have to tell you ssssomething.” Riddle slurred, taking a step closer.

“And that couldn’t have waited until, you know, later today? After you sobered up?” Harry said, exasperated when Riddle shook his head. The same stupid smile plastered on his handsome face before he took another step closer to the door.

Harry caught the movement, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I thought it was better to tell you in person.”

“Well, go on then. Let’s get this over with so I can get some sleep. Not everyone can be ‘Mr. I’m Too Hot and Too Smart To Study Like Everyone Else.’”

Harry wanted to smack himself. What was he bloody saying?

Had he completely lost his mind? Was he somehow getting drunk by just being in Riddle’s presence? Just what was wrong with him?

Why would he ever say that Riddle was handsome and intelligent to his face?

��Harry.”

Harry was ripped from his thoughts by the authority in the man’s tone. The obvious slur not at all detracting from the seriousness in his voice. It didn’t seem like Riddle had picked up on what Harry had said, and Harry could not have been more relieved.

He was just about to speak, to ask once again for Riddle to get to the bloody point when Riddle bridged the space between them.

It was no more than a second. Riddle had moved so quickly that Harry did not even think to take a step back before the man was invading his space.

Riddle’s breath was warm against his face, a sharp contrast to the arctic air brushing against Harry’s bare legs as he stood frozen by the open doorway.

Riddle’s breath smelled of alcohol–like the whiskey Harry’s dad would break out only on special occasions. It was rich and bitter, and Harry inhaled the sharp scent deeply through his lungs as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Of what this was because Riddle had never been this close before. The man avoided physical contact like the plague. Always distant, always with his nose held up in the air and completely untouchable.

Riddle was so close that Harry could touch him if he wanted.

“I..think I may not find you as annoying as I once thought.” Riddle murmured, the heat in his voice making Harry’s insides curl pleasantly.

Harry was horrified at his reaction.

“I find that instead of wanting to throttle you for half the things you do that I would much rather do something else.”

Harry’s brain short circuited. His skin was hot, his stomach fluttering so wildly that it was a wonder he hadn’t thrown up the noodles he had eaten for lunch earlier that day. Or was it yesterday, Harry did not know anymore.

This was unbelievable.

Harry did not understand what Riddle was telling him.

No, Harry amended, awestruck, I just can’t believe this.

Harry opened and closed his mouth to speak, but the words refused to come. The way Riddle was looking at him made it impossible to speak, the short distance between them making him hyper aware of just how tall Riddle was and how smooth his skin looked. 

Riddle was so close that all it would take was one measly step and they’d be touching. There would be no gap between their bodies, no space between the skin exposed temptingly at the top of Riddle’s chest or the lips still stretched into a mischievous smile.

Get a grip, Harry.

But there was no shaking off his shock or his attraction to the man. It was impossible to deny that he was interested, that he was tempted by the way Riddle’s lips curled and how those eyes flashed with desire.

It was devious, and the promise in those eyes was impossible to refuse. Especially when Riddle suddenly leaned in, bridging what little space was left between them, to press his lips lightly against his. As though he had somehow sensed the direction Harry’s thoughts had gone and he was only fulfilling the interest Harry was somehow broadcasting on his face?

Harry did not know.

“…won’t you let me in? It is very cold outside, and you look so very warm.” Riddle spoke into his lips.

Harry swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

This was dangerous. A complete and absolute mess waiting to spill over. He was torn, genuinely at a loss at what to do when Riddle sounded so interested and sincere. 

It was unacceptable that Harry was floored. That he didn’t think to automatically push the man back and slam the door in his face. It was the correct thing to do. The sensible and responsible reaction to employ when Riddle was drunk and he had exams to deal with.

Everything about the situation screamed “no.”

But Harry was curious, too bloody interested in finding out just what Riddle had in mind. Even when Riddle, on a good day, just made him want to scream obscenities at him.

This was a bad idea, and he knew it. Hermione would not approve. Hell, not even Ron would approve of something as dumb as this. But Harry was just so curious.

You know what they say…curiosity killed the cat.

Against his better judgment and every strongly held principle Harry had, he slowly nodded in acquiescence.

There was simply no way Harry could refuse.

Not when Riddle was looking at him like he was something to eat, and he wanted nothing more than to be devoured.

[rickhorrow]

10 to watch: Mayor’s Edition FOR THE WEEK OF JULY 16

10 TO WATCH: RICK HORROW’S TOP SPORTS/BIZ/TECH/PHILANTHROPY ISSUES FOR THE WEEK OF JULY 16 with Jamie Swimmer & Jesse Leeds Grant

Baseball Hall of Famer Cal Ripken, Jr., the Cal Ripken, Sr. Foundation, and Major League Baseball announce plan to build Youth Development Parks in 10 Major League Baseball markets. The Cal Ripken, Sr. Foundation and Major League Baseball are teaming up to bring synthetic turf Youth Development Parks to 10 Major League Baseball cities throughout the country over the next five years thanks in part to a $5 million donation. Each field will support an MLB Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities (RBI) program, MLB’s initiative to provide baseball & softball league-play for underserved youth. The first three markets where the Youth Development Parks will be built include Baltimore, Pittsburgh, and the Washington D.C. area. The Ripken Foundation’s Youth Development Park Initiative creates clean, safe places for kids to play on multipurpose, synthetic surface fields that promote healthy living in an outdoor recreational facility. In 2017, the Ripken Foundation impacted nearly 1.4 million kids nationwide through its Youth Development Park and mentor programs. Stay tuned for more exciting news around this announcement throughout the week.

U.S. Club Soccer, the leading organization developing soccer clubs across America, estimates an $8 million direct economic impact for Aurora, Colorado from its 2018 league-based and cup-based national championships. The 2018 Girls NPL Finals, held July 12-16, featured top teams from 19 regional NPL member leagues across the country in 13-U through 19-U age groups. The Elite National Premier League (ENPL) Finals took place July 13-14, and features 16 teams in 14-U through 17-U age groups that qualified from the ENPL Eastern and Western playoffs. Occurring July 20-24, the National Cup XVII Finals is the culminating event of US Club Soccer’s cup-based countrywide championship series, welcoming 13-U through 19-U boys and girls squads. Located in suburban Denver, the Aurora Sports Park is a 220-acre site that hosts major local, state, and national competitions, and offers 23 soccer fields. This year marks the third time US Club Soccer will host championships in Colorado, after a successful debut in 2013 for the 2013 NPL Finals and National Cup XII Finals, and then again three years later for the 2016 NPL Finals and National Cup XV Finals. In total, more than 300 teams and 8,000 of America’s top youth players will participate in these prestigious youth soccer competitions at Aurora Sports Park, a testament to the economic benefit of sport well beyond the professional level.

Americans score major upset in international beach volleyball. In under 60 minutes of the Swatch Major Gstaad pool play of the FIVB World Tour's Beach Volleyball Major Series, two results sent shockwaves throughout the Swiss Alps. Reigning Olympic champion Alison Cerutti and last year’s World Champion Andre Loyola were humbled by Italian qualifiers Andrea Abbiati and Tiziano Andreatta in straight sets. And Brazilian Evandro Gonçalves and partner Vitor Felipe, the top seeds in the mountain tournament, were beaten by American wildcards Sean Rosenthal and rookie Chase Budinger. Budinger, who played in the NBA for eight years, was in impressive form, even though his last pro beach volleyball outing was in 2011. “It’s an incredible start. A year ago I would have never have thought I’d be blocking a world champion of beach volleyball at the net at a Major,” said Budinger. If team Budinger/Rosenthal continues to play this way, we will for sure see them next year on the South Florida sand at the Fort Lauderdale Major season opener February 5-10.

In Las Vegas, NBA Summer League players get a crash course on sports business. The Sports Business Classroom is in its third year at the NBA Summer League, and players will hear about "social branding, broadcasting, video, and scouting in addition to the high-profile salary cap and analytics topics," according to LVSPORTSBIZ.com. Students in the program "get a crash course on understanding the ins and outs of the complex salary cap world; networking opportunities with NBA team executives; hear from NBA experts on hot topics such as analytics; and immersion into the NBA Summer League." This year's class had 61 students and is run by UC-Irvine computer scientist Larry Coon, "who is an NBA salary cap expert." Coon said that the students "will hear from 60 NBA execs, mentors and industry players throughout the week." One thing the sports business program "won’t promise is a job with an NBA team." As the NBA contemplates lowering the minimum age for players once again, helping to educate them on the business basics of their careers and life after basketball becomes even more critical.

In North Carolina, Charlotte Motor Speedway locked in its race name and distance for its NASCAR playoff race for the September 28-30 Bank of America ROVAL 400 race weekend. The event will mark the first playoff road course race in NASCAR history. “This is history in the making, and it marks the next chapter in our legacy of providing innovative, show-stopping entertainment that’s never been seen before,” said Marcus Smith, President and CEO of Speedway Motorsports, Inc. “Like NASCAR’s first 600-mile race and the first superspeedway race at night, the inaugural Bank of America ROVAL™ 400 is going to be a can’t-miss event that fans will remember forever. We’re about to witness a dramatic, historic, unforgettable race weekend September 28-30.” In a season in which NASCAR revenues and attendance are down yet again, the new road race format marks a welcome lane change for the racing circuit – one that may attract younger motor sports viewers and crossover fans from IndyCar. The move parallels similar innovations brought to the PGA Tour during the Zurich Classic in New Orleans – those golf change-ups have resulted in increased attendance and viewership.

As L.A. Live celebrates its 10th anniversary this year, AEG along with its private and public partners has proposed a $1.2 billion expansion of "some of the surrounding facilities," including the Los Angeles Convention Center and the JW Marriott. According to the Orange County Register, the proposed expansion includes an "additional, 40-story tower at the JW Marriott that will include" 850 hotel rooms, a 109,700-square-foot meeting space and a 51,300-square-foot ballroom and an expanded L.A. Live parking garage. Staples Center and L.A. Live President Lee Zeidman said the proposal was in the final stages of "crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s." The expansion would also upgrade the Convention Center to "include a 90,000 to 100,000-square foot multi-purpose space, a 20,000-30,000-square foot meeting space and 180,000-200,000-square foot new exhibition hall." With the 20th anniversary of Staples Center rapidly approaching, Zeidman said that AEG and its partners are in the "midst of interviewing architectural firms for an update of the sports arena and live concert venue." Some of those upgrades include "adding premium clubs and opening up the upper concourse to give patrons a great view" of downtown L.A. or "premium seating with a view of players taking the ice or the basketball court." All of this would be done "without ever fully shutting down the venue" – an amazing feat.

As the 2018 World Cup packs up its bags, FIFA may be open to expanding the 2022 Cup to 48 teams. FIFA President Gianni Infantino said that the governing body "remains open to expanding the number of teams in the World Cup" by 50% in 2022, four years "earlier than planned." Infantino told the Washington Post that FIFA will "continue discussing the matter with the host country, Qatar, and 'calmly and quietly' decide whether to grow the tournament to 48 teams." Infantino also confirmed that the 2022 World Cup "will begin on November 21, with the final being played on December 18." Infantino "did not directly answer a question about how he reconciles his tight relationship with Russian President Vladimir Putin and the political and human-rights issues dogging the host country." Infantino also said of video review, which was used in the World Cup for the first time, "It's accepted. It's working ... making football more clear, more transparent." Another thing that is crystal clear – as it will be played in direct competition with college and NFL football, the 2022 World Cup will face a massive challenge in maintaining high tv ratings – especially if the American team fails to qualify once again.

Boston Marathon raises $36.6 million for charity. Boston Marathon runners raised an all-time high of $36.6 million for charities in the 2018 race. The total for more than 260 non-profits was $2.4 million more than last year. The Boston Athletic Association, which organizes the world’s oldest and most prestigious annual marathon, sets aside entries for runners who promise to raise money for charity. Race sponsor John Hancock also provides bibs for charity runners. American Desi Linden and Japan’s Yuki Kawauchi won this year’s race in April in a torrential downpour and near-gale force headwinds, leading a field of more than 30,000 people from Hopkinton to the finish line in Boston’s Copley Square

George Springer holds inspirational charity event. George Springer of the Houston Astros is the spokesperson for SAY, the Stuttering Association for Youth, and he's helping to make a big difference in the lives of children with stutters. Springer held his fourth annual bowling charity event for the organization last Sunday night and participants raised over $50,000. All benefits from Springer's event are donated to help children attend Camp SAY, a two-week camp for children who stutter, like Springer once did. Springer was very interactive with the children at his event and thanked everyone in attendance, telling them to keep pushing and accept what comes throughout their journey. During the interview portion of the evening, some of Springer's attendees with stutters were so inspired by him that they gave talking to the press on camera a shot.

10.BJ’s Wholesale partners with Red Sox Foundation for sweepstakes. BJ’s Wholesale Club, the leading operator of membership warehouse clubs in the Eastern U.S., has teamed up with the Red Sox Foundation to host an exclusive sweepstakes that provide members with the chance to win Red Sox Foundation prizes, including tickets and VIP game day experiences. The official team charity of the Boston Red Sox, the Red Sox Foundation has donated to over 1,680 organizations since its creation in 2002, and focuses on making a difference in the lives of children, families, veterans, and communities in need by improving their health, education, and recreational opportunities. Through partnerships with best-in-class organizations in healthcare, the Red Sox have helped raised over $135 million for cancer treatment and research for The Jimmy Fund, supported more than 15,000 veterans and their families suffering from the "invisible wounds of war" with the Home Base Program, and helped the Dimock Center serve over 17,000 patients annually with health and human services. The Foundation's self-run education and youth baseball programs have helped 274 Boston Public Schools students with college scholarships, and promote healthy choices and valuable life skills to more than 700 urban youth annually through its RBI baseball and softball program.

[junker-town]

Rutgers might look like a Big Ten football team by 2018

The Scarlet Knights should be far less embarrassing in 2017, at least.

Considering the levels of angst, the massive tale of early-2010s conference realignment didn’t affect that many power conference programs.

Texas A&M and Missouri joined the SEC.

Louisville, Pitt, and Syracuse joined the ACC.

Colorado and Utah joined the Pac-12.

TCU and West Virginia joined the Big 12.

Nebraska, Maryland, and Rutgers joined the Big Ten.

That’s some impressive movement, but it only represents about 20 percent of the power conference roster. For all the apocalyptic projections, that means about 80 percent of the P5 remained the same.

Most of the programs involved have proved their bona fides to their new conferences. Most have had at least a couple of shining moments. Texas A&M and Louisville have boasted Heisman winners in their new conferences. TCU nearly made the College Football Playoff in 2014. Missouri, Nebraska, and Colorado have combined for four division titles. Utah and West Virginia have each experienced 10-win seasons. Pitt knocked off eventual national champion Clemson last year. Syracuse and Maryland have at least had hoops success.

Rutgers has had what we’ll politely call a slightly different experience: the Scarlet Knights have become the unwitting face of All That’s Wrong With Realignment. From the start, the addition of RU to the conference lineup was seen as nothing more than a television money grab, a way of sneaking into the back door of the New York market.

That view was a little unfair; at the time of their announced move in November 2012, the Scarlet Knights were wrapping up their fourth nine-win season in six years and were coming off of the signing of a top-25 class. They won 11 games and finished 12th in the AP poll in 2006, and they averaged 8.3 wins per year from 2006-12. For that matter, they went 8-5 in 2014, their first year in their new conference.

Things took a turn. The school began a long string of PR defeats — a verbally incompetent athletic director, an abusive basketball coach, a football coach forgetting basic rules of decorum, a series of arrests — and recruiting trailed off. Head coach Kyle Flood was dismissed following a 4-8 2015, and he left he Ash with a mess.

Ash’s first roster was athletic but unbalanced. Rutgers had running backs and a decent offensive line but no quarterbacks. The Scarlet Knights had play-makers on the defensive line but no size. Injuries rendered a young set of linebackers and defensive backs completely ineffective. And did I mention the quarterback situation?

It was bad. Really bad. After falling to 106th in S&P+ in 2015, the Knights managed to fall even further, to 114th. The defense improved by a decent amount, but the offense was almost certainly the worst in the Power 5.

After scoring 89 against Howard and New Mexico during a 2-1 start, RU scored a combined 86 in nine conference games — 59 against Minnesota and Indiana and 27 in the other seven games. They were shut out four times.

This was the worst-case scenario, and it affirmed every cynical opinion the conference’s addition of Rutgers conjured. (Local columnists haven’t exactly helped, even if the conference’s practice of giving long-term junior membership is worth poking at.)

The good news is that Rutgers probably isn’t as far away from decent play as it seems. Ash signed RU’s best class in five years, and the team will only have a small handful of impact seniors this fall.

Mind you, the Scarlet Knights aren’t going to be good in 2017. Even with a couple of interesting transfers, the offense is still going to have a low ceiling, and the defensive line now has to rebuild. But after a pretty drastic Year Zero, Ash might provide proof of concept thanks to a far more seasoned defensive back seven and a new/old offensive coordinator. Plus, as defensive coordinator at Wisconsin in 2011-12 and co-coordinator at Ohio State in 2014-15, Ash showed a propensity for second-year improvement.

It wasn’t that long ago that RU was showing signs of potential. The Scarlet Knights were 9-1 late in 2012, and their Big Ten debut in 2014 featured a win over Michigan, a near-defeat of Penn State, and a bowl romp over North Carolina. But the last two years have served as a self-fulfilling prophecy. It’s up to Ash to turn that around.

2016 in review

2016 Rutgers statistical profile.

You will rarely see QB stats as bad as what Rutgers produced in 2016. Junior Chris Laviano began as starter and completed 48 percent of his passes over parts of seven games. He was just 22-for-49 in Rutgers’ wins, and in shutout losses to Ohio State and Michigan, he went 4-for-20. He was mercifully benched after producing a passer rating of just 100.2, and replacement Giovanni Rescigno managed just a 102.6. In brief appearances, backups Zach Allen and Tylin Oden completed just two of 20 passes. That the No. 1 receiving target (Jawuan Harris) was a freshman probably didn’t help.

Rutgers ranked 124th in Passing S&P+, and the only real surprise there is that four FBS teams (Tulane, Kansas, Charlotte, Kent State) graded out worse. This had an obvious effect. When RU was able to establish the run game, the Knights produced a little offense. When the defense was too good against the run, RU had no Plan B.

After a month of scraping by with decent defense and mediocre offense, Rutgers ran out of tricks. Injuries at linebacker, defensive back, and receiver wiped out depth, and the reserves were lacking. Both sides of the ball succumbed.

First 4 games (2-2): Avg. percentile performance: 48% (31% offense, 50% defense) | Avg. score: RU 27, Opp 26

Last 8 games (0-8): Avg. percentile performance: 21% (17% offense, 27% defense) | Avg. score: Opp 45, RU 10

When offensive coordinator Drew Mehringer left to become Tom Herman’s receivers coach and passing game coordinator at Texas, Ash brought in an older hand. New coordinator Jerry Kill was Minnesota’s head coach from 2011-15 until health concerns led to his resignation; his Gopher offenses were physical and ground-based, and after stints as head coach of Northern Illinois and Minnesota, he’s no stranger to a rebuild. He has a set of transfers and some interesting freshmen and sophomores. We’ll see how much of a difference these new pieces can make in one year.

And we’ll see if a healthy, experienced defensive back seven can offset the attrition on the line.

Offense

Full advanced stats glossary.

If you adjust for degree of difficulty, the fact that Robert Martin averaged 5.2 yards per carry was ridiculously impressive. The senior-to-be dealt with multiple injuries and had one of the worst passing games in the country backing him up. He carried 42 times for 275 yards (6.5 per carry) against New Mexico and Iowa and managed a combined 30 for 168 (5.6) against Illinois and Maryland.

Martin spent time in Ash’s dog house, and his production was inconsistent, but ... of course it was. He had less peripheral support than virtually any back in the country. And even with him, Rutgers had the least efficient and least explosive offense in the Big Ten.

One shouldn’t underestimate the impact that Janarion Grant’s injury had, though. Grant caught 20 passes in four games, but he suffered a season-ending injury at the end of a 76-yard screen pass. From virtually that point forward, RU had no passing threat.

Grant, Martin, and two-year starting guard Dorian Miller give the Rutgers offense a little senior leadership. Even more could come from transfers. Ash made liberal use of the graduate transfer rule. Louisville quarterback Kyle Bolin, Miami running back Gus Edwards, and Arkansas receiver Damon Mitchell could play heavy roles this fall, as could traditional transfer Jerome Washington, a sophomore tight end from Miami.

Noah K. Murray-USA TODAY Sports

Robert Martin

Adding in other pieces like sophomore receiver Jawuan Harris (RU’s leading receiver in Grant’s absence), backup running back Josh Hicks, and perhaps incoming four-star freshman receiver Bo Melton, you might be looking at a retooled two-deep at the skill positions. Granted, the line now has to be restructured — three players who combined for 31 of last year’s 60 line starts are gone — but Miller and left tackle Tariq Cole should assure decent quality.

The pressure on Bolin is immense, though. Laviano and Oden transferred, leaving Bolin, Rescigno, Allen, and incoming freshman Jonathan Lewis, and of that foursome, Bolin is by far the most proven. He threw for 681 yards in the final two games of 2014, and he showed potential in tight early-2015 losses to Houston and Clemson.

Bolin lost the starting job to Lamar Jackson, but he has 2,104 career passing yards and a 140.8 passer rating. He is a play-maker and risk-taker, but if Martin, Edwards, and Hicks find traction on the ground in Kill’s physical system, he and Grant could provide more upside in the passing game.

There’s only so much improvement that can be expected after a No. 125 Off. S&P+ ranking, but this was quite the blood transfusion. Rutgers’ offense might not be great, but it will look nothing like last year’s.

Photo by Billie Weiss/Getty Images

Kyle Bolin

Defense

Rutgers’ defense had no chance. For starters, the offense was unsupportive dreck. Your ceiling is only going to be so high when you are constantly on the field, knowing that allowing a single touchdown almost ends your chances of victory.

Beyond that, we almost never saw the projected starting lineup. End Quanzell Lambert, the line’s leading play-maker in 2015, played in four games. Linebackers Greg Jones, Najee Clayton, Isaiah Johnson, and Andre Hunt missed a combined 36 games between them. The secondary featured safety Anthony Cioffi, cornerback Isaiah Wharton, and a “Who’s healthy this week?” grab bag.

That the Scarlet Knights still ranked 56th in Def. S&P+ was a testament to their drive-finishing ability as much as anything, but in this defense-friendly conference, they still brought up the rear.

The bad news is that the line again has to replace its only known play-makers. Lambert is gone, as are end Julian Pinnix-Odrick (10 TFLs in 2016) and tackle Darius Hamilton, the former blue-chipper who managed to stay on the field last year after missing 2015 but never returned to his pre-injury form. Cioffi is gone, too.

The good news: virtually everybody else is back, and thanks to injury, there is solid experience.

The even better news: there might only be two or three senior contributors. If the offense gets its act together in 2018 and beyond, the defense might be good enough to power a bowl bid.

Noah K. Murray-USA TODAY Sports

Darnell Davis (59)

Some assets:

Defensive end Darnell Davis. The former walk-on couldn’t match Lambert’s 2015 but did manage eight tackles for loss and two sacks. And in backup action, ends Kemoko Turay and Jimmy Hogan and tackles Kevin Wilkins and Jon Bateky combined for 10 TFLs and 4.5 sacks. There are no 320-pound earth movers, but the line does appear to have decent depth, especially if it gets something out of a young end like Elorm Lumor, Brendan Bordner, or Mike Tverdov.

Linebackers Trevor Morris and Deonte Roberts. The duo didn’t make a ton of plays as sophomores (just 6.5 TFLs between them), but along with sophomore Tyreek Maddox-Williams and juniors Brandon Russell and Eric Margolis, they combined for a green unit that is far less green this time. If the line is stable — not the smallest “if” in the world — the linebacking corps should be capable. And again, there are exciting youngsters (true freshman Tyshon Fogg, redshirt freshman Solomon Manning) waiting.

Cornerbacks Blessuan Austin and Isaiah Wharton. The juniors were tasked with far more than expected last year and combined for a healthy 21 passes defensed. They’ll be joined by sophomores Damon Hayes and 2015 contributor Jarius Adams, and if junior safeties Kiy Hester and Saquan Hampton are healthy (they missed a combined nine games), Rutgers should have a solid secondary in 2017 and a downright awesome one in 2018.

There’s talent here, and you figure Ash and coordinator Jay Niemann (former DC at Northern Illinois and Ash’s DC at Drake in the 1990s) will utilize it. By 2018, the offense will need only to be mediocre for Rutgers to be competitive.

Jesse Johnson-USA TODAY Sports

Blessuan Austin

Special Teams

Janarion Grant was only beginning to figure out potential as a receiver when he got hurt last year, but he had long since proven his worth as a return man. He has eight career return touchdowns and had already scored two last year when he went down. His return alone means improvement for Rutgers’ special teams unit.

Unless he can kick or cover, though, his return doesn’t fix all of his team’s special teams woes. Rutgers ranked an awful 123rd in Special Teams S&P+, thanks to below-average place-kicking (David Bonagura missed two PATs and mad only one of 40 longer field goals) and maybe the worst combined kick and punt teams in the country. Bonagura’s kickoffs almost never reached the end zone, and Rutgers ranked 99th in both kick and punt return average allowed and 126th in both kickoff and punt efficiency. Yuck.

Bonagura and punter Michael Cintron are both back, for better or worse.

2017 outlook

2017 Schedule & Projection Factors

Date Opponent Proj. S&P+ Rk Proj. Margin Win Probability 1-Sep Washington 13 -22.9 9% 9-Sep Eastern Michigan 96 3.9 59% 16-Sep Morgan State NR 38.5 99% 23-Sep at Nebraska 42 -15.4 19% 30-Sep Ohio State 2 -30.8 4% 14-Oct at Illinois 85 -3.8 41% 21-Oct Purdue 87 1.8 54% 28-Oct at Michigan 10 -29.6 4% 4-Nov vs. Maryland 72 -5.9 37% 11-Nov at Penn State 8 -31.2 4% 18-Nov at Indiana 39 -16.3 17% 25-Nov Michigan State 44 -9.9 28%

Projected S&P+ Rk 92 Proj. Off. / Def. Rk 124 / 41 Projected wins 3.7 Five-Year S&P+ Rk -6.3 (94) 2- and 5-Year Recruiting Rk 63 / 56 2016 TO Margin / Adj. TO Margin* -5 / -0.4 2016 TO Luck/Game -1.9 Returning Production (Off. / Def.) 68% (60%, 76%) 2016 Second-order wins (difference) 2.0 (0.0)

Believe it or not, Rutgers optimists do exist — I have met a couple of them — and if they tell you their team might not be awful this fall, don’t laugh them off. Granted, they might be awful again, but there’s reason to believe a bounce back is in the works.

The defense got a lot of experience last year thanks to injuries, and there’s a core of sophomore and junior play-makers who should produce a top-60 or so ranking this year, then something even better next year.

Meanwhile, the offense has the new blood and experience it was dying for last year.

A solid defense, paired with an offense that features Martin, Edwards, Bolin, Grant, Mitchell, and a decent line? That’s not a Big Ten East contender, but it’s not one of the worst teams in the country either. S&P+ projects Rutgers 92nd, and I’m thinking something more in the range of 80th.

With home games against EMU, Morgan State, Purdue, Maryland (well, it’s at Yankee Stadium), and Michigan State, plus a less than intimidating trip to Illinois, RU could easily rise to 4-8 or 5-7 this fall. That’s not amazing, and it’s not even where the Knights were as recently as 2014, but after 2016’s disaster, it would be progress.

Team preview stats

All power conference preview data to date.