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sapphire-writes · 9 months

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Pretty Little Thing

summary: After finding yourself at a holiday party you hadn't wanted to attend in the first place, Aemond Targaryen makes it worth while.

pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader

warnings: 18+/NSFW/MDNI - smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, spanking, praise, slight dirty talk, overstim, kissing, love bites, hand over mouth, titty play, allusions to Aegon being a creeper, alcohol, smoking, langauge

word count: 7.2k

note: im back! grad school didn't kill me! hope you enjoy!

link to other stories from me!

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—

Be there soon.

Alysanne had texted you nearly an hour ago, and with each passing minute you became more doubtful she’d be making an appearance at all.

You hadn’t even wanted to come. It’d been her idea and now she was blowing you off.

“We’re just exchanging the last of our things,” she’d promised on the phone several hours earlier, “You go on without me and I’ll meet you there.”

Yeah. Because it takes three hours to give your ex-boyfriend his stuff back. Totally.

Alysanne and Cregan Stark had been on and off again since you’d known her; this time was no exception. You knew from her first running later than I thought text that the night wasn’t going to go as you’d hoped.

You decide to like her most recent message instead of replying, unable to stop the wave of annoyance cresting inside of you.

You hadn’t even wanted to come.

An end-of-semester holiday party. Thrown by the elder Lannister siblings; twins Jason and Tyland. The kings of Casterly Rock are well known for their extravagant get-togethers and the unimaginable generational wealth that funds all their exploits.

They’d long graduated from King’s Landing University, but you and Alysanne scored an invite courtesy of Cerelle Lannister, their younger sister, whom you’d been trying to avoid since you arrived. If Cerelle didn’t see you, perhaps you could escape the party unscathed.

That hope proves too good to be true as your name is called from across the room. You slide your phone back into your pocket as Cerelle approaches you. Her blonde hair hangs in effortless curls down her back, the emerald green top she wears accentuating its golden hues, along with her bright green eyes.

You’re not exactly close with Cerelle, though she appears to enjoy your friendship, at least on a surface level. She’s part of the weekly book club you attend. Her grin widens as she reaches you, eyes drinking you in.

“Darling!” she muses, pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“You wore it!” she says, fingers ghosting across the cashmere cardigan you’d chosen to wear that evening. Cerelle had bought it for you a few weeks ago, though you’d begged her not to; the price was more than you made in a paycheck.

Alysanne once referred to you as Cerelle’s Polly Pocket.

“She pulls you out of her pocket and plays dress up. It’s fucking weird,” she’d said.

Cerelle’s lips curve upwards in a Cheshire cat grin as she slings an arm around your shoulder, bringing her glossed lips next to your ear.

“Stop moping in the corner like some dreary wallflower,” she purrs, brushing some hair behind your ear, “Have some fun! It’s winter break!”

Goosebumps break out on your skin at her affections. You laugh breathlessly shrugging away from her touch causing her to frown.

“You haven’t had enough to drink,” she insists, reaching for another glass, “You’re much too antsy.”

“Alysanne was supposed to be here,” you tell her and she nods understanding, looping her arm through yours and giving your forearm a comforting pat.

“Fashionably late as always, I suppose,” Cerelle drolls, pointing across the room, “There are lots of fascinating characters here who’ll distract you. Shall I spin a bottle to decide?”

“Hilarious,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I never joke about a good shag,” Cerelle argues, gaze flickering about the room, “From the looks of it you could use it.” She turns back to you, matching your pout. “Don’t frown, you look too lovely.” She places her hands on your cheeks, thumbs tugging the corner of your lips upwards.

“Much better,” she praises as you hold the smile she’s decorated your face with, “Come on let's find you someone…don’t look at me like that! Someone to flirt with, that’s all. A bit of harmless fun.”

You roll your eyes earning a pitch on the arm and you swat Cerelle’s hand away.

“There’s no one here I want to flirt with,” you insist, following her gaze around the room, “Let alone shag.”

“You’re too picky,” she muses, tapping a manicured nail against her chin as she scans the room, “What about Greyjoy?”

A shiver rolls through you, “No thank you.”

“Heard he’s good in the sack.”

You’d heard a lot of things about Dalton Greyjoy. None of which made you want to spend an extended period of alone time with him. You glance at Cerelle giving her a firm look. She sighs, returning to her mission.

“You need someone,” Cerelle insists after you shoot down several more options, “You haven’t been with anyone since—what was it again?”

His face flashes through your mind before you can help it.

“Unimportant,” you quip, “Cerelle, I just want to—” Your words die as two new guests bound up the stairs into the main hallway.

Suddenly, it’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room, your heartbeat echoing in your ears the only sound you can hear. You tug Cerelle closer, eyes wide.

“You invited them?” you hiss, as Cerelle frowns, following your gaze.

“Not me. Jason must have,” she answers, “It’s not a party without Aegon. Jay swears he has the best coke on this side of the Keep.”

Aegon Targaryen is relatively harmless as long as you keep your drink close. You’re more concerned with the tall figure who lurks closely behind him. Though the younger, Aemond Targaryen towers over his brother; his presence makes the room feel smaller, colder than it was moments ago. He’s dressed in all black, as he usually is, the silver chain around his neck the only other color. His long snow-white hair is braided down his back, an eyepatch securely covering his left eye.

He never takes it off.

Aegon pushes by his brother making a beeline for the kitchen where most of the chaos is localized. You can tell a new drinking game has begun by the sound of cheers and the echo of glasses clinking together. Aegon’s eyes lit up as he disappeared down the hall, eager to join the miscellaneous fun.

Aegon loves a good party.

Aemond watches his brother but lingers behind in the living room leaning against a wall. He extends a long arm to the bookshelf retrieving one with his long fingers. He flicks open a few pages, lips pursing. He glances up, violet eye meeting yours for the briefest moment.

Your lips part and you look away, warmth flooding your cheeks. You had shared a couple of classes with Aemond, nothing more nothing less. He was quite mysterious.

“Anyway,” Cerelle says, her attention wavering with each passing second, “Back to you drinking. I’ll get you another glass. Loosen up, pet.”

—

You try to, you really do. No matter what her intentions are, Cerelle has been nothing but nice to you, so you allow her antics. An hour has ticked by and Alysanne has yet to respond to your latest text message. Squeezed between Cerelle and Sabitha Frey during another round of quarters you decide to plan your escape.

“I’m going to get some air,” you tell her, rising from the couch. Cerelle rolls her eyes, “I’m not leaving, I swear!”

“You better not!” she says, perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitting together, “I’ll come to fetch you if you’re gone too long—you know I will.”

She’s telling the truth.

“Five minutes,” you insist, forcing a smile.

Cerelle’s nose twitches but she lets it go and nods, returning her attention to the game.

Weaving through the sea of people you make your way outside letting the door shut behind you as you walk down a few steps of the front stoop. It’s colder than you expected, you can see your breath in front of you.

You stand shivering, trying to decide what to do next. Reaching into your pocket, you check your phone for the time. You could leave, make your escape down the steps, and catch the last bus back to Maegor’s Holdfast.

If you stay any longer, you’ll be forced to spend the night or dip into your savings to splurge on an Uber. It’s always crazy expensive on this side of town as if the drivers know the neighborhood is full of rich kids.

The door opens and noise from the party fills the cool night until it slams shut once more. You roll your eyes expecting Cerelle as you turn your head.

Only it isn’t her.

Aemond Targaryen lingers on the top step, reaching into his jacket pocket and placing a cigarette between his teeth. He finds a lighter a moment later, a nice expensive one, flicking it open with a sharp click. Fire blooms in the palm of his hand and you can just make out the three-headed dragon branded on the side of the silver lighter before it disappears into his pocket again.

He releases a cloud of smoke into the air, mimicking the one your breath makes. You turn away as he walks down a few steps, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“You were in my class,” he says suddenly, his head tilting to the side, “History of The First Men, right?”

You force your lips together. “Mhmm,” you answer, surprised he recognized you.

Aemond Targaryen didn’t seem the type to remember a random girl in his class. Smart as hells, he focused solely on his grades, paying little attention to the rest of the student body. He seemed to be the antithesis of his elder brother. Though incredibly different, supposedly they had similar lustful appetites.

One for pleasures of the flesh, the other for academic validation.

Aegon Targaryen was a known party boy and ran in multiple social circles. He didn’t care about class or popularity; if there was sex, liquor, and drugs around, Aegon Targaryen would be there.

However, there were stories about Aemond too that made their way around campus.

“You alright?” he pressed, the silence laying heavy between you.

“I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now,” you breathe, chuckling slightly as you rub your arms as the frigid air bites into your exposed flesh.

Aemond quirks a brow at that, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Why’s that?”

“You’re sort of a banned topic at book club,” you admit, causing his lips to curl into a small smirk.

“Am I?”

“Mhmm.”

Another moment of silence goes by before his curiosity gets the better of him. “Because?”

“Maris runs it,” you tell him, and he clicks his tongue, nodding to himself before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Maris Baratheon, the elder of a pair of Irish twins. Floris Baratheon, once the object of Aemond’s affection for about a half second, was royally screwed over when he left her for none other than Alys Rivers. Adjunct Professor. It was quite the scandal at the time.

You’re not exactly friends with Floris; closer to Maris if you had to choose. But it's the principle of things—girl code.

“Floris and I were never exclusive,” Aemond comments.

“Yikes.”

So maybe Aemond Targaryen is just like every other guy. Though, you’re mostly sure he’s telling the truth. The story you’d heard was that he ghosted her.

“She shouldn’t have assumed,” he continues, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes, blood boiling at his statement as annoyance begins to quicken in your belly. Aemond Targaryen seems more like his elder with every word that leaves his curved lips.

“Right, of course not, how dare she,” is your sarcastic reply.

Aemond tilts his head toward the sky, speaking around the cigarette.

“You seem rather upset,” he accuses, “Funny, Floris never mentioned you.”

You turn to face him fully and he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. Folding your arms across your chest you jut your hip out. “We’re not friends. It’s the principle of it all. I don’t like assholes.”

His perfect lips curl slightly. “I’m an asshole?”

“Mhmm. At least Aegon owns up to his behavior, he doesn’t pretend he’s some suave guy doing nothing wrong.”

You swear a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he plucks the cigarette from between them.

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“Sure seems like it.”

Aemond takes a step closer then. You have to tilt your head to look him in the eye. Something about being this close to him is almost unnerving, your stomach drops slightly as you focus on his prominent cheekbones.

“It’s not my problem if a girl gets her hopes up after getting fucked properly,” he counters.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you back up, slightly slipping against the icy railing. Aemond reaches out, his hand curling around your bicep to steady you. It’s warm, almost hot; the heat seeps through your thin sweater in the shape of his fingers.

There’s a tension between you as he holds your arm for a second too long, before the door opens and several partygoers stumble down the steps, forcing you to break apart. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette from across the stairs as they laugh tumbling into the street. You’re grateful for the distraction, taking a moment to slow the frantic beating of your heart, and the slight flutter in your stomach.

“So,” you begin, trying to break the awkward silence the partygoers left behind with their departure, “How do you know Cerelle?”

Aemond looks at you quizzically.

“How do I know Cerelle?”

You jerk your chin up in a hasty nod. Aemond chuckles, shaking his head and taking another drag.

“Family friend,” he answers, “Old money likes to stick together.”

You nod again, unsure of how to answer as he observes you.

“Surely you’ve heard of the Westerosi Seven?” he asks.

You haven’t.

“The what?”

“The seven families,” Aemond says, his tone indicating that this is somewhat common knowledge, “Generational wealth that can be traced back to medieval times. The higher lords and ladies. Near royalty.” He takes another drag.

“And you’re one of them?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“My family, yes,” he answers, “And Cerelle’s. The Baratheon girls. Stark. They’re all quite close.”

“Interesting,” you tell him, glancing down the street again, “You sound like the mafia.”

Aemond holds your gaze, not denying your allegation. You release a breathless laugh, but unease settles in your gut.

The door opens as if on cue, and Cerelle pops her head out.

“Darling! Come back inside you’ll catch your death,” she calls, waving you forward. She spots Aemond out of the corner of her eye, and you don’t miss the look of interest that gathers in her green eyes as they flicker between the pair of you, “Targaryen.”

“CeCe,” he politely greets, choosing to use the nickname Cerelle often kept reserved for her family only. She doesn’t comment on Aemond’s choice.

“Hope you’re being nice to my girl,” she says, the words clipped.

“Of course,” Aemond comments and you can’t help but feel like you aren’t there.

Cerelle glances back at you, a smile decorating her face once more.

“Come on, pet! In the kitchen.”

Her blonde hair disappears in the door. Aemond walks down the remainder of the steps tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it beneath his heel.

“Best run along,” he muses, not turning to face you, “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Annoyance prickles under your skin.

“She’s my friend—”

“You have got a very generous friend,” Aemond comments, turning to face you. He motions at your sweater. “Myrish, isn’t it?”

You cross your hands over your chest.

“Mhmm,” Aemond hums glancing up at you from the bottom step, “I’d just be careful if I were you. Accepting gifts from rich strangers is a lot like Persephone eating the pomegranate seeds.”

You scoff at the implication before turning away and heading back into the townhouse. Aemond does not follow; you don’t hear the door open as you hurry back up the stairs.

The party has since moved completely to the kitchen, sans a couple making out on the living room couch. You enter the crowded space and crane your neck to see what everyone is cheering at.

It’s something happening on the marble island, but you don’t see what—that is until Cerelle sits up, her blonde curls cascading around her face, a lime between her pearly white teeth like a cat with a mouse.

She smiles curling her finger, beckoning Aegon Targaryen forward. He leans against her, bringing his mouth to hers and stealing the lime. The juice flows down his chin before he lets it fall, pressing a sloppy kiss to Cerelle’s lips, earning several cheers.

As she breaks away she notices you, eyes lighting up as she slips off the counter.

“Good, you didn’t leave!” she says giggling, “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” you ask, heart dropping into your stomach.

“Mhmm,” she says, dragging you forward, “Up now!”

“Cerelle, I don’t—”

“Hush! Qyle Martell is doing it,” she says biting her lip suggestively, “Let the sexy Dornishman take a shot off you, alright?”

Your cheeks darken as he appears before you, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you onto the counter like a lamb for slaughter. The crowd cheers and your eyes widen as you meet Qyle’s warm brown eyes.

“Your sweater,” he says, motioning to it with his hand that clutches a bottle of tequila.

You glance at Cerelle and she nods encouragingly. Over her head and in the doorway you spot Aemond. He didn’t leave after all. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, observing the chaos with a curled lip, as if the entire thing is beneath him.

Qyle whistles, drawing your attention back to him. He motions to your sweater yet again.

“Oh,” you tell him, moving to unbutton it.

Thank goodness you wore a tank top underneath. Your fingers slip with nerves as you struggle to unbutton it. You’re the center of attention, peers cheering and chanting around you as you struggle with the bottoms.

Quite the sacrificial lamb you are.

“Here, can I help?” Qyle asks, reaching toward you, his fingers bumping against your own. The bottle of tequila sloshes.

“No—no I’ve got it—oh!”

You’d moved wrong, done something wrong—or perhaps someone pushed him you’re not sure. Your head is buzzing with the noise of the room and suddenly the front of your sweater is doused in tequila. Qyle’s eyes are wide as Cerelle pushes him to the side as the smell of alcohol fills your nose.

The room quiets momentarily until Cerelle’s bell-like laugh pierces through the silence.

“Qyle you idiot,” Cerelle sneers, nose wrinkling with playful distaste, “You’re supposed to wait till she’s laying down—”

“It was an accident!”

“—and her sweater!” Cerelle growls in annoyance, “Go upstairs, pet, my room. Pick anything you like.”

You slide off of the counter, hurrying from the room, leaving the sound of music and chanting behind as you move deeper into the labyrinth of the Lannister home.

—

Cerelle’s room lacks color and warmth.

You’d spent the night once here before, crawling into the white feather bed after too much mulled wine. Cerelle had stroked your hair until you’d fallen asleep, only to awake the next morning with a severe headache and a churning belly.

Popping the rest of the buttons, you peel the soaked sweater from your body and throw it in the hamper. You then walk over to Cerelle’s closet—double doors—and open it. Expensive. Perfumed. You’ve already ruined one pretty thing. Though Cerelle could hardly care about the expense, you do. You sigh, gently pushing through the soft fabric.

“Playing dress up?” a voice calls, and you turn to Aemond at the door.

You close the closet door. You’ll just have to survive in your thin top. Aemond holds a glass of whiskey between his long fingers.

“Well, I suppose that was a given,” you answer him, sitting down on the bed.

Aemond watches you from the doorway, his arm raised above his head, fingers tapping nonsensically against the frame.

“D’you want to see how you’re supposed to do it?” he suddenly asks.

“Do what?” you question, tilting your head to the side.

“What Qyle was going to do,” he answers, and you understand his meaning.

Aemond walks over to you, the ice rattling against the glass he lazily grips between his fingers, coming to stand in front of your legs. You’re not sure why he’s asking, what interest he has in you. But something in your belly tightens the closer he gets.

“Alright,” you give him a quiet answer, the word barely slipping past your lips.

Aemond purses his lips, glancing down at your legs.

“Spread them,” he says softly, motioning with the cup. Warmth creeps up the back of your neck and blooms on the apples of your cheeks. You lock eyes with him, focusing on the ring of violet that surrounds his pupil. You do as you’re told, knees parting; his gaze hypnotizing. “Wider.”

Your skirt tightens against your thighs as you do so, but you spread your legs wide enough for him to stand between them. He takes a step forward and you’re forced to look up at him.

“Lean back,” he instructs. You’re beginning to notice how easily he slips into the domineering role. Again you follow his instructions, cheeks burning as you lean back, propping yourself on your elbows.

You’re much more exposed without your sweater, the tops of your breasts visible in the thin top you wear. Aemond steps closer, looming over you, heat radiating from his tall form.

He reaches out, fingers caressing your cheek. You hope he can’t feel how warm they’ve become, feel your pulse fluttering against his fingers as they trail underneath your jaw and down your neck until they reach your collarbone.

“You’re to put salt here,” he murmurs, pressing against the dip of your collarbone for emphasis, “That’s first.” He leans down then, fingers trailing over your shoulder and down your arm leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Though we’re without.”

You swallow as his fingers continue to trace your collarbone. His violet eye watches you carefully before he pulls his hand away. He brings them lower, ghosting down your ribs until they reach your waist.

“May I?” he asks, fingers at the hem of your shirt. You give him a wordless nod, not able to trust your voice. Aemond pushes the fabric up slightly, revealing your navel. He holds the glass above your stomach; a drop of condensation falls causing you to flinch at the cool sensation.

Aemond flicks a brow at the constriction of your abdomen, “You’re quite sensitive.”

“It’s cold.”

“Mhmm,” he agrees, turning the glass so more condensation falls; little raindrops begin to adorn your skin, “The liquor goes here.” His fingers ruin the pattern he’s created, rough fingertips swirling the dew drops around your navel, “Tequila.”

“We haven’t got any,” you breathlessly tell him, his touch leaving a scorched trail across your belly.

Aemond brings his glass closer, pressing the edge against the beginning of your belly button, letting some whiskey pool there. Your hands clenched into fists as the cold liquid fills you up; you watch as it shakes slightly, overflowing. Aemond leans forward, catching the spill with his mouth causing a gasp that sounds more like a moan to leave your mouth. His mouth covers your navel and you can feel his tongue swirl around, collecting the liquid he poured there with hot, calculated strokes.

His violet eye peers up at you from behind silver lashes, half-lidded as he hollows his cheeks sucking harshly. He reaches toward the side table, mouth never leaving you, to place his glass on the edge freeing his hand. You can feel his tongue circling your navel, gently probing the sensitive skin. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at the ticklish sensation. Aemond presses his hands against your obliques before releasing you with a pop, his chin and lips shining.

“That’s how it's supposed to be,” he murmurs, not moving from the spot between your legs. Some of his silver hair has fallen across his brow, and on instinct you reach forward, brushing it from his eyes.

“There’s one more part,” you tell him, fingers grazing the beginning of the scar that mares his left brow before disappearing behind the patch.

“What’s that?” he asks, his gaze revealing he knows the answer.

He just wants to hear you say it, you realize.

Your lips part, fingers still somewhat tangled in his hair; the strands soft as silk between your fingers.

“There was a lime,” you tell him, “The person….holds it in their mouth.”

Aemond pushes up then, his hands sliding up your sides until they’re pressed into the bed on either side of you, his face inches from your own.

“Have you got a lime on you?” he asks, his breath warm on your face, the scent of whiskey strong between you.

“No,” you murmur, not knowing where to look. He’s so close you can see the flecks of blue and gold in the lilac iris of his eye, count his silver lashes, and notice the small indentation on the tip of his prominent nose.

He hums again, his eye dropping to your lips.

“Pity,” he says, lips down turning into a pout.

Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest with the way it's pounding incessantly against your ribcage. He’s so close your chests are practically touching; your nipples straining against the fabric of your top. His chain peeks out from under the collar of his shirt and your resolve crumbles. Your eyes flicker to his lips, tongue darting out to wet your own and he leans forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Your hands wrap around his neck as he kisses you; his lips so soft and firm against your own, skilled tongue parting them with ease to deepen the kiss. A moan doesn’t make it out of your throat as his hand cradles your jaw, the sound of soft kisses is the only thing you can hear besides the muffled hum of the music playing downstairs.

Aemond pulls away then, the look is his eye ravenous as he lowers himself between your legs once more. For a minute you think he may grab his glass and do the party trick all over again, the kiss just a spur-of-the-moment thing. Instead, he pushes your skirt up, fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs. You realize a moment too late what he’s doing.

Riiiip!

“Aemond!” you squeak, as he rips the seam of your tights, “These were a new pair!”

“I can buy you another,” he says, pressing a kiss against the smooth newly exposed flesh, “Or perhaps CeCe can. You’re her favorite plaything, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn at the statement, your mouth pressing together in a tight line. Aemond grins, nimble fingers undoing the zipper of your skirt and wiggling it down your legs along with your ruined tights.

“Oh she doesn’t like that,” he says, clicking his tongue, “But it’s true, isn’t it?” His hands are roaming higher now, grazing against your clothed center. You’re certain he feels the evidence of your arousal but he stays quiet about it. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? A pretty little plaything.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, humiliation seeping into your veins, though it does little to quell the desire pooling in your belly.

“No shame in that,” he says, shaking his head, “I understand Cerelle, entirely.” His fingers tug your panties down your bare legs, exposing your wet center. Aemond’s eye locks on it, lips quirking upward. “I like pretty things as well.”

“So I’ve heard,” you quip as Aemond’s second-hand joins the first. He swirls a finger low against your entrance and you clench as he drags it upwards.

“Have you?” he muses, circling your clit with minimal pressure, “And what have you heard?”

“That you’re as insatiable as your brother,” you manage to choke out as his thumb continues to tease your clit, “You just hide it better.”

Aemond cocks his head to the side in silent agreement before pressing his face against you. A sharp cry leaves your lips as his tongue explores from your entrance up to your clit, the tip circling the sensitive button.

Eyes rolling back in your head, Aemond nuzzles his face against you, tongue slipping down and pressing into your clenching hole. He hums in approval as you make another desperate noise as his tongue curves upwards inside of you.

Seven hells, how is anyone’s tongue long enough to do what Aemond’s is doing? Your toes curl as his tongue hooks upwards against the front of your pelvic bone, thrusting against the sensitive patch of nerves that resides there.

“Oh gods—fuck—fuck!” you cry as he continues the repetitive movement of his tongue, waves of pleasure lapping up your spine, sending shivers through your whole body. “Hells Aemond…”

His nose presses against your slippery clit, rubbing against it in a way that stokes the pleasurable fire burning in your belly. His hands hold your thighs open and you throw your head back against the bed as the pressure inside you builds and builds and builds. Your back arches and your thighs tremble in his bruising grasp.

You lean up on your forearms to watch him, his violet eye intently watching your face, studying your reaction. You can tell he’s smug at the effect he’s having on you. He would often get that same look in his eye in class after he proved someone wrong or made a more intelligent point. How you must look to him now; all spread out before him, flushed and slack-jawed, dewy-eyed and pretty.

You’re a pretty toy to play with. Just want he wanted.

His tongue leaves your fluttering pussy and you whine at the loss of contact. He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like needy before two fingers sink inside your warmth to replace what he took away.

Aemond’s tongue returns to its place around your clit as his fingers curve upwards replaying the motion from before. The stimulation now is much harsher, the pads of his fingers dragging effortlessly against your spongy walls, curling with brutal intention; relentlessly pressing against the swelling spot inside of you.

His warm, wet tongue against your clit only hastens the tightly winding ball of pleasure in your gut and you feel your walls swelling around his fingers as your release knocks the wind out of you.

You come with a strangled cry, hands gripping the bed sheets as your abdominal muscles contract to the point of pain, all your muscles going taut as warm waves of euphoria rush through you.

Aemond releases a choked chuckle of appreciation as he feels you tighten around his fingers. He fucks you through it, stretching out the wave of your orgasm until your legs are trembling and the overstimulation causes you to hiss at him.

“Stop, stop, please.”

“Alright…shhh,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound and gently pulling his fingers from your fluttering walls, “There you go, that’s a good girl. You did so well for me.”

You can’t help but warm at his praise, the ringing in your ears fading as your chest swells. Aemond is on you once more, lips pressed to yours the mingled taste of whiskey and you hot on his tongue.

“Are you going to let me fuck you?” he murmurs between sticky kisses, “Hmm?”

“Aemond…” you breathe into his mouth, hoping that is enough for him.

You can feel him smirk against your lips and know instantly it's not. He tuts disapprovingly, pushing you back against the mattress, his face dipping into the crook of your neck.

“What would Floris say?” he teases, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp. His braid is all but ruined. “I thought you said something earlier,” he continues, nipping and sucking at different spots on your neck, humming with pleasure when he locates a spot that has your back arching.

“I don’t—”

“Loyalty, I recall,” he purrs, his hand snaking down your side, gripping the meat of your thigh and hoisting it around his waist, “Something like that.”

“Aemond,” you whimper helplessly as he grinds against you, the feeling of his hard cock concealed by his trousers driving you close to madness, “Aemond please.”

“You’re going to have to say it,” he insists, kissing your cheek, “Come on, say it.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, “Please Aemond—gods.”

“They can’t hear you,” he taunts, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, “You’re all mine.”

You frantically nod, nose bumping against his as his lips curl into a greedy smile. He removes his shirt with one hand before he rolls off of you and onto his back, motioning to you with his hands.

“Go on then,” he says, “Take what you want.”

With shaky hands, you undo his belt above the sizable tent in his pants before dragging the zipper down and releasing his cock. He’s bigger than you expected, both in length and girth, the reddened tip already weeping in anticipation. You stroke his velvety shaft once before he grabs your wrist, pulling you toward him.

His hands pull your shirt from your body as you straddle him, his cock nudging at your folds. Aemond’s hands slide up your back, undoing your bra and freeing your breasts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, hands cupping the sizable mounds, “Gods, you’re so lovely.”

Your face burns at his praise as you raise your hips before gripping him in your hand and guiding him inside of you; gently letting yourself slide down his length, inner walls fluttering around him at the new sensation. Shuddering on top of him you whine at the stretch. “Gods—”

“You can take it,” he murmurs, squeezing you softly in encouragement, “Come on baby, that’s it, just like that.”

Slowly you let him bottom out in your warmth, happily seated on his cock feeling incredibly full. You brace your hands on his chest as he pinches both of your nipples, your jaw slacking in response. Aemond lifts his hips slightly, gauging your reaction as your eyes screw shut.

“That feel good?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, slowly starting to ride him, hips lifting and returning to his with a soft smack.

“There she goes,” he murmurs, hands dropping to your hips, squeezing, “Take what you need, gevie.”

A breathless moan escapes you as you ride him, his hands guiding you through the movements. The hum from the music downstairs matches the ringing in your ears.

Aemond drops his hand from your waist bringing it to the apex of your thighs. His lips part as he watches you rise and fall on his cock, his length coated with your arousal.

“That’s it,” he coos, his tone bordering on one of condensation, “Just like that—there’s a good girl.” His thumb brushes against your clit as he says it, a broken moan leaving your lips as pleasure ignites your veins.

His movements are soft, tantalizing, and brutally calculated as he circles the sensitive button; his other hand clings to your waist, hard enough to bruise. Surely they’ll be memories of his touch when you wake; dark purple petals blossoming on your soft flesh at first light. He guides your movements as they become sloppier the closer you get to your release.

It sends tingles up your spine, your chest and neck growing warmth as you edge closer to the precipice of pleasure.

No other man has made you finish before.

“Are you close?” Aemond murmurs, never stopping his attention to your clit, the subtle movement of his hips thrusting up into you, “I know you are—can feel you clenching around me.”

Your head falls back, mind foggy as you desperately grind against him, trying to ignore the burn in your hamstrings. Aemond’s hand leaves your hip crashing down against your ass with a loud smack. You yelp in surprise, head jerking forward, nails clawing into the hardened muscles of his chest. Aemond’s hand remains where he’d spanked you, fingers curling into the meat of your ass as he releases a breathless laugh; his eye flickers to where your nails dig against his pale flesh, leaving a trail of red behind as they scrape down his chest.

“Answer me,” he demands, and you quickly nod earning another stinging slap, “With your words gevie. Use those pretty lips.”

“Yes,” you practically gasp, “Yes, Aemond I’m close—”

“And you want to cum, don’t you?” he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk, “Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Aemond please—” the sentence dies with a moan as he plants both feet on the mattress, bucking his hips up against yours at an inhumane pace. Your eyes screw shut, mouth hanging open in ecstasy as all the muscles in your body tense followed by a sudden burst of euphoria pulsing through you.

Aemond hums in satisfaction as you ride your high, blood rushing in your ears as you shake on top of him, clenching around his thick length. He’s careful to pull his thumb away from your sensitive clit as your eyes flutter open, eyebrows scrunched together at the overstimulation. But his compassion is short-lived as he hooks his arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting his body on top of yours.

His cock is removed for merely a moment at the switch of positions before it’s stretching into your once more earning a sharp gasp. Aemond’s hand covers your mouth in an instant, his face buried in the crook of your neck once more.

“Shhh,” he coos, placing a kiss under your ear, “Hear that?” he asks, thrusting gently into your warmth causing your eyes to roll back in your head. “Listen.”

His hips continue their gentle roll against yours, slowly stoking the pleasurable fire that is reigniting in your belly. Limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you blink rapidly trying to focus on what he’s asking.

The music downstairs has died.

“Everyone’s going home,” he murmurs, through another kiss, “We’d best be quick. Would hate for lovely Cerelle to find her pet in such a position.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks and he chuckles, keeping his hand over your mouth as he slings your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle of his thrusts. The head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot almost lovingly as he drags his cock in and out.

“Keep quiet,” he murmurs, the sound of silence deafening with the lack of music, “Can you do that?” He’s rather cruel with his question, delivering a particularly harsh thrust as he asks, then clicking his tongue in disapproval at your muffled moan. “Thought not.”

So his hand remains as he plows into you, the sounds of your pleasure muffled but still desperate as you claw at his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he encourages, “Cum for me again, just like that.” His pelvis grazes against your clit, the friction only aiding in his efforts of making you reach your release once more. His violet eye scans your face before he dips to your collarbone, nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth and you cum with a desperate cry against his hand.

“There you go,” he coos, the words breathy and broken his hips faltering as your walls clamp down around him, “Squeezing me so fucking tight—fuck.” He regains his pace with renewed enthusiasm as your walls continue to flutter around him. Aemond removes his hand from your mouth pressing it into the mattress beside your head.

Nerves raw from the continued stimulation a tear rolls down your cheek as he chases his own release. Aemond leans forward, hot tongue darting out to catch the salty stream as he hums in satisfaction.

“We’ll have more time next time,” he whispers the promise against your cheek, “I want to explore what other pretty noises you make.” His lips capture yours then, swallowing the whimper you release.

“I’m very curious,” he murmurs against your lips, slinging your other leg over his shoulder, pushing your knees back beside your ears. “And I’m very thorough.” A silent scream leaves you as he slams back into you, toes curling as you cum again, vision going white with the force of it.

Aemond’s hips meet yours a few more times and then you feel his cock pulsate inside of you before the warmth of his release fills you to the brim. You’ll need to make a trip to the pharmacy, but you’ll think about that later. He stays like that for a moment, buried to the hilt inside of you as you both try to regulate your breathing.

Aemond lowers your legs gently from around his shoulders and brushes some sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you nod as he kisses you sweetly.

“Just fucked out,” you assure him, a pleasurable ache radiating down your thighs. Aemond hums, carefully pulling his softening cock from your warmth.

The emptiness takes your breath away as he stands. “Wait here,” he orders, walking towards Cerelle’s bathroom. He returns a moment later, washcloth in hand. You push yourself onto shaky forearms as he carefully cleans the mess between your thighs.

“Thank you,” you tell him, face burning from his attention.

“No need for thanks,” he insists, “It’s the bare minimum.”

“For you maybe.”

Aemond flicks a brow toward his hairline, his violet eye meeting yours. His expression is curious, but you sense he’s not going to push you to elaborate. You hold his gaze.

Not tonight.

“Are you staying here?” he asks, standing when he’s done, handing you pieces of your clothes.

“I think I have to,” you answer, putting your skirt back on and glancing at the clock, “The last bus is long gone.”

Aemond frowns, reaching for his phone.

“I’ll have my driver take you,” he says, unlocking his screen.

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s no trouble,” he insists, placing the phone against his ear, “Cole. Ten minutes. Thank you.” He hangs up quickly leaving no time to argue.

“Thanks,” you mutter awkwardly while finishing dressing. You walk to Cerelle’s large mirror and attempt to fix your sex hair. Your eyes widen in horror as you tilt your head to the side, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Aemond,” you hiss, fingers pressing against the three red marks sure to bruise, “I look like I’ve been mauled by a bear.”

Aemond walks up behind you dragging his fingers down the curve of your neck and over your collarbone. Goosebumps appear in their wake. Three more red marks lead a path down to the top of your right breast. Several sizable mouth-shaped love bites.

Aemond rests his chin on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

“Think of them as a gift,” he tells you, the curve of his lips pressed against the skin of your neck.

His hand curves around your waist, the other slinking up to turn your face towards him. He hums appreciatively, kissing your lips, then your cheek. Down your neck to your shoulder. You glance in the mirror once more, catching his eye.

There’s something new there. Almost possessive.

His grip on your waist tightens and he presses his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

Outside, snow begins to fall.

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fedorah-the-explorah · 6 months

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im getting you started.

Bro, the timeline in Carmen Sandiego is super finicky, and I'm pretty sure I've spent more time thinking about this than the creators intended us to, but WHATEVER. It haunts me.

Right, so the creators said Carmen is 20 at the start of the series, but as I said: that math don't math!

Season one takes place over the course of six months:

Season 2 picks up one week after season 1, in February. We know this because they're celebrating Carnival.

For the purpose of breaking down this theory, I'm going to place Carmen's birthday as March 1st, her WOEICs counterpart's official birthday.

So. At the end of season one, which would have been mid-February, Player says something about how Carmen was found on the side of the road twenty years ago, but if her birthday was in a mere matter of weeks, couldn't you theorize that he was rounding up? Maybe she's 19 turning 20.

Or, maybe, she's 20 turning 21? No!

At the end of season 2, Shadowsan says he found her twenty years ago. This is where we take a detour to discuss infant development.

In the flashbacks, we see that baby Carmen prefers crawling-- she can toddle a little bit, but not well. Children typically begin standing between 7 and 12 months, and walking between 10 and 18 months. We also see that she babbles and coos a lot, but no words. Children tend to say their first word at around 12 months. Based on this, I'd wager that baby Carmen was around seven or eight months old. We know she's a physical prodigy, so she could potentially be even younger-- the youngest recorded baby to walk was six months old.

Placing baby at 7 months when she was kidnapped, that makes Shadowsan's "I found you twenty years ago" accurate to the month. At this point, Carmen is 20 years and 7 months old.

Season three takes place in October/November. Presumably, season three picks up right after season two, putting the end of season two in October. It spans about the same length as season one.

While the word of the creators doesn't have much bearing here-- as this post is very much a "you guys are wrong and here's why" kind of post-- one of the creators did say that they imagined Carmen as being twenty by season three. That would make it impossible for her to have been twenty during season one. Too much time has passed for that to work.

Season 4 takes place sometime around February. We know this because Devineaux asks Gray what he was doing on the train to Poitiers 18 months ago. 12 months ago would have been February (start of season 2) and six months before that is August. That's eighteen months.

Going by this, I think Carmen was yoinked just after her twenty-first.

Interestingly, if my math is mathing-- and who knows, I turned a two year degree into a three year degree because I kept failing math classes, I could be talking actual nonsense right now-- this makes Player like 17/18 by season four, and that's hilarious to me because that means his parents (tried) to make him go to school for like the last semester of his senior year. Free my boy 😭

In conclusion, Carmen is 19 at the start of season one, she and Player are three years apart, and Player's parents are some cruel mfers. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego #suzie speaks #asks #help girl im scrutinizing the CS timeline for the four hundred millionth time #if i missed something lmk #but i do believe my autism game was real with this one #thank you atlas for getting me started on my bullshit #also black sheep and player looked the same age #why did they make him so much younger than her #why does she longbottom puberty whereas player gets hit with that peter pan syndrome #help me im descending into insanity #cs timeline and ages will forever confound me thank you for your understanding

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https-lovers · 10 months

Text

Reddie Longfic Recs (6 fics)

Majority of the recommendations are >100k words, and are categorized by timeline! I might make a second part to cover more fics.

Chapter I – 12 years old to immediate post-canon transition During the 27 Years – High school to adulthood Chapter II – Adulthood to Reunion, and post-canon

Enjoy!

Chapter I

are you lost enough? by tozier, trashmouthling (Teen and Up)

Premise: Summer of 1991, and there's no Pennywise. Ben is the new kid, and the Losers going to high school. Notes: This fic has a way of bringing the teenage Losers to life. It has its feel-good moments in summer, and although Reddie makes a meaningful part of the fic, each Loser's story is explored extensively. I also adore the way this was written. Each character's story is written like a dedication, where we find fleshed out characters with purpose behind their actions. The fic transitions in seasons, and even when the descriptive notes don't focus on the weather, you can still experience the Losers progressing from summer, to fall, to winter, and so on. This was a very enjoyable, insightful, humorous and witty read. Richie and Eddie's dynamic in this fic is easily one of my favorites; Where we're able to see their own perspectives and vulnerabilities, but we also see other characters' perspective of their growth, how they talk about each other when the other isn't present– the subtleties of growing up and falling in love with their best friend are all written with intention. If fondness was an extreme sport then they WON.

Reap What You Sow by Honbunbun (Teen and Up)

Premise: They've just defeated Pennywise, but now more monsters are drawn to Derry. The turtle gives them superpowers, and the Losers move in to Neibolt together. Notes: This fic has a unique exploration of the Losers' roles within the group. We pick up on Richie and Eddie's relationship after the first time they defeat Pennywise, with full awareness that the other is there for them. When they aren't defeating monsters or learning how to defeat monsters, the fic is undeniably domestic. They get together somewhere between the beginning and the end, and my favorite part was watching how their relationship progresses past "getting together"; It's a development of trust, and easing in to the kind of comfort you have when you realize someone is never going to leave. This fic was hilarious, explored topics of trauma and death with sensitivity, and honestly felt like a shorter read than it was because of how engaging the author's writing and pacing is.

During the 27 Years

I Left My Umbrella at Home by hyppityhoppy (Explicit)

Premise: "Some of the lost years, recovered" as phrased by the author. There's no Pennywise, but the Losers make distance as friendships do after high school. Decisions turn the tide, and in the middle of the semester, after little to no contact, Richie finds himself on Eddie's doorstep. Notes: This fic was like comforting crack to my nursing student brain telling me it's all going to be okay. The fic shows us the reality of friendships, without being pessimistic. The dialogues are witty and tinged with an edge depicting the characters' ages. They're college students dealing with newfound responsibilities, but we see them progress into adults with careers and marriages. This was a slice of life, the author described it as the recovery of their lost years and it's a completely apt description. Richie and Eddie do the college student mating ritual of having a hundred things to worry about, but still finding the time to make excuses for each other, to be around each other. I love how casual touches, and actions of caring are written into the scene; Some touches are a revelation, and some are written like it's an unquestionable necessity. Love the "Richie and Eddie"ness of all of it.

a strange sense of familiarity by Katranga (Explicit)

Premise: Months before Mike calls everyone back to Derry, Richie and (divorced) Eddie meet in a bar, and proceed to have a high commitment long-distance situationship. The fic follows their first meeting until a retelling and post-canon of Chapter II. Notes: The Eddie character study in this fic was amazingly done, and I adore Richie’s characterization. I have no idea how to describe their relationship in the first part of fic. Richie and Eddie connect right off the bat, and they go through the Horror of Being Known in separate ways. A lot of what I love about this fic are at risk of spoilers; But it made me very sentimental over Eddie. It deals closely with what he went through with Sonia and Myra, and how it’s affected his relationships and self-perception— The author brings in many realistic outliers and flaws in both their lives that could affect their relationship BEFORE they remember the clusterfuck that is Pennywise. The build up towards chapter II was extremely satisfying to me. The epilogue is so sweet I got cavities.

Chapter II

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers (Explicit)

Premise: What is says on the tin. Everything is post-canon of Chapter II. Eddie lives, Richie is put on trial for murder, they become roommates (and they talk to the dead) Notes: This is my Eddie Lives Bible. Richie is hilarious, and this fic explores the agency he seeks for himself extensively. This fic is basically canon to me. The writing feels grounded for a fic that explores ghostly possessions and Richie Tozier on trial for murder. This is a reddie list, but the inclusion of the other Losers is one of the best aspects of the plot. This fic is hilarious and endearing. Richie and Eddie are figuring out their footing. The part where Richie takes Eddie to the Kissing Bridge is like Top 10 Reddie moments and it's thousands of words before they even get together. This fic is like the navigational journey of two adults who are going through the wringer physically, emotionally, and blindly– with familiarity and sheer will as their saving grace.

Keep on Loving You by notso_bad

Premise: A retelling of Chapter II and post-canon, with Eddie and Richie's enlightening inner commentary (to clarify, the fic is still written in third person). "Emotional edging" as the author put it. Notes: It isn't a reddie rec list without a fic giving extensive, quality, real time inner commentary of Eddie and Richie upon reunion. I'm not eloquent enough to describe it, but the fic is written in such a charming way? The writing has a casual voice that switches between character perspectives, and it flows so naturally. The addition of flashbacks tied the fic together. The rapidity of memories tied with the surges of affection, outpours into two characters who don't know what to do with themselves around each other. Despite this, they know that the feeling– that all of it is still familiar, like they're picking up where they left off. Top tier dynamic.

#reddie fic recs #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #richie x eddie #longfic recs #https-lovers

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

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Made it through chapter 4 and talked about it with my mom. And hoo boy is there a lot to unpack 🤣

First of all, she got really mad at Crowley for leaving us at school and going on a vacation. (She legit was ready to punch Crowley when he refused our call). She did find the send off cute though but felt really bad for Riddle. She hopes that he'll become his own person and not his mother's puppet.

Then there's how she feels about the Scarabia duo. She ADORES Kalim, and calls him "that little sunshine" and thinks his Unique Magic is cool. She legit CRIED when Kalim cried omg 😂.

As for Jamil. She didn't really like him at first. At first. Though she thought he was handsome and charismatic. But after his true motivations were revealed, she absolutely hates him 😂. She literally dissed Jamil when we were pretending to praise him, calling him "Medusa and Jafar's love child". BUT when she saw his backstory, she did feel empathy but not sympathy towards him. In her own words, "While I understand where he's coming from, as being told to hold back your true skills is both frustrating and will make you envious and jealous of others' freedom, to pin it all on one person (Kalim) isn't the best or healthiest option."

She says that there are multiple people who deserve blame. His parents because they told him not to be better than Kalim. "They basically are the ones who started the fire of hate in his heart." She says. The whole class system, for obvious reasons. But the one person who deserves the most blame is Crowley for accepting a bribe from Kalim's parents and making Kalim housewarden with a bullshit excuse. All of them were really unfair towards Jamil and pretty much said the same thing "You're a smart boy, you understand right?" That line alone is enough to piss Jamil, and anyone really, off. She does praise Jamil for showing his true colors and vowing never to hold back in the end. In conclusion, my mom is kinda accepting of Jamil. For now.

She also found the Octavinelle trio hilarious but threatened to turn them into sushi when they told us to pay for the damages at Monstro Lounge and when Azul tried to get Kalim in a contract. She also expressed surprise at the Tweels and Azul's relationship.

During the end of the chapter, she actually deadpanned and said "who's this condescending Queen Bee" when she saw Vil.

Overall, she thought that Chapter 4 was the best chapter in her opinion.

Now I'm waiting for how she feels about Vil in chapter 5 cause it seems like she despises him more than she did Jamil. 😂

[I think this is the same Anon from this post and this post!]

chksbskwbzks It’s been pretty interesting hearing these hot takes from your mom 😂 (I guess because this isn’t a perspective I hear from very often?)

I’m split on Crowley leaving for vacation and not answering his phone when Yuu tries to contact him. Yeah, it’s irresponsible for him to act like this, but I think we’re more offended by it knowing that Crowley is, in general, this level of incompetent (especially when we REALLY need him to come through for us in this very moment). Keep in mind that this is winter break, and teachers/staff usually also have this period off for the holidays themselves, so it’s normal to receive no responses or delayed responses during this time, no? I don’t think anyone really expected a super serious incident like this to unfold while they’re away as well.

The sendoff was really cute! 😭 It was nice briefly catching up with the characters we met in previous episodes!! I only wish we got to hear about the aftermath of the conversation that Riddle said he was going to have with his mother… I doubt that all of their issues went away with a single talk, but 🥲 just confronting her about the past is a good start. Maybe Riddle will have the chance to explore other career options for his fourth year internship (instead of concentrating on magic medicine like his mother wants him to). He could tackle law for one semester, then dabble in other areas for the remaining two internship periods.

xbsjwbksnwkw Why does your mom sound like such a cinnamon roll?? We could always use more Kalim appreciators 🥺

I think a lot of us have pretty complicated feelings surrounding Jamil 😂 Having empathy for the character rather than sympathy (the latter of which I think Jamil may actually take offense to, as this would be “pitying” his situation without truly understanding why it’s so awful for him) is similar to my own thoughts on the matter. It can feel so bad constantly being put down and having to hold yourself back from reaching what you know is your full potential, but it also wasn’t right for Jamil to blame it all on one person. However, it was the easiest thing for his young mind to do to cope with his circumstances, as Kalim embodies a lot of the issues Jamil has and is “soft” enough to be a convenient sponge for Jamil’s anger.

… Okay, but Jamil’s OB looks pretty ugly. I’ll give you that much 😂 It pretty much is a mishmash of Medusa and Jafar—

Mmm, Jamil’s trauma is unique in that it’s something deeply systemic and difficult to dismantle. It was definitely his parents who planted the ideas in him, but it was society that perpetuated it and kept Jamil down rather than encouraging him or recognizing his abilities. Crowley plays into this too, and I think his words are the ones that claimed Jamil’s last straw and set him plotting to overthrow Kalim. I really like that TWST didn’t neatly resolve Jamil’s issues at the end of the episode, but rather introduced it (and the start of his character growth) as Jamil deciding to live in his own way.

A lot of people tend to misunderstand Jamil’s issues with Kalim on an individual level rather than a societal one, and it sometimes leads to talking down the seriousness the Viper family’s circumstances 💦 I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen “Jamil should have told Kalim about his frustrations; Kalim is kind and would understand, he would set Jamil free” without the fans recognizing the consequences of it. (Ironically, this is also something Kalim does in 4; he tried relinquishing his dorm leader seat and even offers to leave school to appease Jamil, but the offers are all refused.) Jamil has to consider his family and how his liberation would affect them and ultimately their legacy and livelihood (which Jamil brings up in episode 4 when expositing his motivations); it’s akin to generational trauma because it can’t be resolved overnight. It requires difficult conversations, acknowledging wrongs, and working as a widespread collective to fix it. The blame is not solely on Jamil not communicating; it’s also in part on the society and the systems in which he and his family operate.

… I mean, regardless of the reason for it, it was still legitimate damage to the lounge so I think (even if it was scummy to do), Octavinelle had every right to demand compensation. Otherwise, he’d be eating up the costs for that significant damage, and that’s not smart for a money grubber reputable business owner like Azul to do. And hey, what’s an octopus to do when he runs jnto Mr. Moneybags Kalim? He’s got to take advantage of opportunities and potential suckers customers while he can!

Azul and the twins’ relationship is so complex, man 🤡 I could honestly talk forever about it if given the chance bisvsjwnzksiwjd (but instead, I’ll link this post to get the basics of my thoughts out—)

I find it so funny (?) when people call Vil a “Queen Bee” type because while he definitely comes off as one at first, I found that (in the long run), I see Octavinelle as acting more like the stereotypical high school Mean Girls than Vil does 😂 Like, Vil certainly gives off a strong first impression (and not a very positive one), but I do think he ultimately has a stronger moral compass than most of the OB boys we’ve seen so far.

(Note: If you play EN, it has cut out content from parts of episode 5 😣 so I’d recommend looking up “Minna de Yahoo” and the deleted ending scene to get the full episode 5 experience!)

Anyway!! Episode 4 was also my favorite for a long time, the writing was pretty solid and I loved all the character interactions 😌 but then episode 6 happened and that one became my favorite—

#Scarabia #Octavinelle #Floyd Leech #Azul Ashengrotto #Tweels #Jade Leech #Jamil Viper #Kalim Al-Asim #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #Dire Crowley #Yuu #Riddle Rosehearts #Jafar #Vil Schoenheit

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anotherretirededucator · 2 years

Text

Day 1

Where to start.....

Poetry? Prose?

How about this:

Somedays I miss being stabbed.

I am a retired (almost said retied by mistake - Freudian I know) educator. I worked for 30 Years in NYS and for most of a year in Maryland. For all that time I worked with "at-risk" youth. It was something. Never dull. Often hectic, hilarious; equal parts emotionally fulfilling and exhausting, & on occasion dangerous. Each day had the chance of me feeling angry, devastated, attacked, loved, cherished, degraded, lionized...you name the emotion and I probably experienced it in those halls, classrooms and offices. It was hard work that pushed me to the edge. I ended up on administrative leave more than once, eventually being diagnosed with panic disorder as well as bipolar disorder. I was given the opportunity to sue a District for harassment and emotional abuse (which I declined), cracked jokes with kids, adults, Department of Education and poked fun at the status quo, pushed back on absurd changes and reveled in the absolute privilege and joy of teaching.

It was quite a ride.

Somedays I wake up with a tug of emotion and think that it would be nice to be back. That as tempestuous as most days were the feeling of accomplishment, of the belief I made a positive difference in the lives of students who found school and life harder than most make memories of those days shimmer. But in reality the drain was more than the gain and it was time for me to hang up the eraser. But as I relax and revel in my retirement (and I mean revel - I will be doing an errand or working at my part time job or just walking our dogs when it hits me - I am retired. I can at any time say screw this. It is amazing) and despite the dire predictions from friends and family, I am busy, in shape and more content than I have been in decades. As proof hold up to scrutiny (fanfare please) that I am limiting myself to 2 beers a week. As being described by my daughter as a functional alcoholic this is no small personal goal. I am relieved and in fact surprised at the lack of desire for it. I will keep you posted but for the time being I am doing alright with this and erroneously or not I attribute it to the vast reduction in stress.

So as I sit - Chai Tea in hand - I have come to the conclusion that I believe sharing my experiences as an educator may prove beneficial to some. If you read this as hubris, you're probably right.

Here goes anyway...

My first fulltime position was in a small suburb of Maryland in a school called Canterbury. It is (or was, not sure if it still in existence) a day school providing education to mostly DC kids who had received funds to attend. I worked as an English teacher 7-12 in a blocked scheduled semester format with 2 classes per day each 3 hours long. There was no set curriculum, and I was free to teach what I wanted in a manner I saw fit.

The interview process started with a phone interview which at the time meant having to get a message from my mother who got it off the answering machine and returning the call on the rotary phone in my parents' bedroom because that was where it was quietest. I guess the process actually started by Canterbury receiving my application from a headhunter I had hired who took 2,000 dollars from me garnished from my meager $18,000 salary. The most impactful money I ever spent.

The second stage was a trip in my Dodge Omni to Maryland where I was invited to the school's Halloween party. During the party I met multiple students and had a delightful time talking with and getting to know them. After the party I expected to meet with the headmaster, but he said that the interview was over. I discovered that my interview was completed by the students at the party who were soon going to debrief with him. He shook my hand and wished me safe travels and I drove back home. He called me the next day with the job offer.

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hypmic-writings · 2 years

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Hi! I haven’t seen much TDD Ichiro content in a while so maybe headcanons of him being in a relationship with a classmate who also tutors him for school? I hope that’s alright with you!

━━ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ━━

Pairing: Ichiro Yamada x reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry for going so long without posting, life has been rather crazy on my end! I hope you enjoy this one though, it was really cute! I feel like we all remember our high school crushes and significant others long after we graduate haha~

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

you and Ichiro started dating when you were in Year 2 and he was the one who asked you out

he had always been floored by your intelligence and he also thought you were definitely the hottest person in your year

so although he had been asking you out since your first year, you didn’t say yes until Year 2

the two of you weren’t in a lot of classes together, mainly because you were already taking all of the upper level classes

and no matter how they divided up the classes, you and Ichiro never really got to spend much class time together

but that was okay because you spent more than enough time together after school and during breaks

specifically for tutoring sessions

because even though the two of you were madly in love, Ichiro was still failing some classes while you were passing with soaring marks

so he asked you to tutor him in some of the places he needed help and you were more than happy to spend the time doing so

it’s definitely not easy to tutor Ichiro so you’ll have to be mentally strong if not someone who takes things seriously

most of the time when he’s not flirting with you or trying to hog your attention, he’s cracking little jokes and sending you into fits of laughter

so it’s actually quite difficult to get him to do his homework

but you get creative in the ways that you end up getting him to focus

sometimes you’ll tell him that if he gets a certain percentage right on the practice test that you’ll buy him some sweets

other times you’ll say that he gets a kiss every time he completes his homework and turns it in on time

the reward system definitely gets him to be more active and do his work properly and you think that’s hilarious

whenever the two of you have regular date nights, you’ll add in a half hour of studying which annoys Ichiro

but he can’t really say anything when you remind him of how little he knows about each subject

Ichiro can’t wait for the summer when he doesn’t have to worry about tutoring interfering with the normal dates you two have

there’s a lot of whining from Ichiro’s side and unfortunately there will have to be a lot of support on your side

but even if you’re someone who’s a bit more strict or straight laced, Ichiro is going to try his best to be tutored by you properly

because the last thing he would want is to waste your time or (god forbid) make you not want to be around him anymore simply because he can’t take school seriously

so although it’s a pain for him and he doesn’t really care about it, he’ll still do his best to focus when you’re tutoring him

but sometimes Ichiro gets lost in your eyes when you’re explaining something because he thinks the way you say long words is so cute

and other times he just loves to look at your ‘concentration face’ which distracts him way too often

at the end of the semester though, he’s surprised to find that he actually ends up passing all of his classes

you’re not really surprised though because you know that he was working hard to impress you and to actually do well

so you give him extra cuddles that night as a ‘congratulations’ gift and Ichiro is so happy to have you as a tutor

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #ichiro yamada #ichiro yamada x reader #ichiro x reader #ichiro #hypnosis microphone #imagines #headcanons #hypmic imagines #hypmic headcanons #hypnosis mic imagines #hypnosis mic headcanons #hypnosis microphone imagines #hypnosis microphone headcanons

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thegingeralien · 4 years

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Thought I might share my “doing homework with adhd” tips in case the might help even just one person (because that would make me feel happy).

Who am I to be giving you advice? Good point! I am still terrible at studying and I’m 26 and at University for the millionth time. But I have studied A LOT in my 22 years of schooling with varying degrees of success.

I see a lot of people, especially teenagers or first year university/college students, with ADHD asking for tips on how to study. But if you do a google search most of the websites and advice that comes up can be extremely ableist. So I hope I can help someone!

TIPS TO HELP YOU STUDY WHEN YOU HAVE AN ADHD GREMLIN BRAIN!:

1. Chewing gum!

- This might come across as a weird one, but it has actually really helped me. I use it as a form of stimming to help keep me focused and concentrating. Other forms of stimming can potentially end up being more of a distraction when you actually need to be reading or writing - but they can help if you just need to be listening. Try not to get a bubble gum or fun flavoured one though - as they can end up making your mouth feel dry, lose flavour quickly, and just give your brain way too many sensory things to become distracted with.

2. Buying colour coded stationary!

- New stationary can make me really excited to start studying, but that excitement never lasts long and the act of buying stationary can sometimes become it’s own hobby. That’s not what we are going for here. I really recommend, especially if you are a visual learner like me, to buy colour coded stationary. This means removable page markers, different coloured post it notes, highlighters, sometimes even pens. This way if your mind jumps from one topic to the other, it doesn’t matter. Go with the flow. Forcing your ADHD gremlin brain to focus can be extremely counter intuitive. So pick a colour for each topic, and stick to that system to find organisation among your own chaos!

3. Buy a really cheap, boring year diary with hardly any writing inside.

- Not sure if your school/university has their own diary but they can be perfect for what I am on about. Generally you can find them for really cheap, soft cover, no writing or designs within the dates. Just dates, days, weeks and lines where you can write your homework. This helped me a lot in High School. I wish I had kept doing it in University, but I am good with giving advice, and not so much with taking it. I used to decorate the outside of it however I wanted. Some years I would redecorate the same diary every semester. In the public holidays or holiday days I would colour those lines in with different highlighters to make it look like a rainbow. But every assignment due date, homework, draft, rewrite, form I had to bring back, library book due date, school activity days, ANYTHING to do with school I would write in there with reminds and check lists. Important due dates would be highlighted, general homework and daily to do lists t(o help me not leave my assignments to the last minute) would have a tick box beside them (because ticking tick boxes is free dopamine). Try to not put birthdays or fun things in it. This is a small way to stay on track so it helps you actually stay on track with the big things when you’re home.

4. Big whiteboards stuck on the wall where you can’t avoid it.

- This is not something I had in school, but I so wish I did. I have been using this recently to keep on top of house work (as maintaining your own house is tiring) and my small business or other things I really can’t avoid. If I physically write it down (not just in my phone) it psychologically does help you commit it to memory. Again, physically putting a line through a task you just completed is a hecking great rush of dopamine. But the biggest reason I love my white board, I can’t ignore it. It is stuck to the wall and is never out of sight, out of mind. I can’t put my phone or diary down and then refuse to look at it until I’m past the due date. Again, I’m not a perfect person, there are days where I don’t do anything I have written on the white board. But the great thing is, I don’t have to continuously feel like I failure, as I can wipe it all off the next morning or week and start fresh. I also put important things I have to remember that I’m doing during the week so I don’t forget them.

5. Icky Medication.

- I know not everyone wants to be on medication, and I understand. I am not forcing you to. No matter what your opinions are, you lovely gremlin who is still reading this post, regarding medication, you are valid and I respect you. My personal experience with medication has not been the best. I have been misdiagnosed for a severe chunk of my academic life which has seen me trying to focus and maintain school work under some even worse states then I am unmedicated! However, since receiving my diagnosis and finding the right ADHD medication for me, I have the ability to get so much work done without having to unnecessarily struggle. It’s unfortunately not magic, it will not turn me into a robot that makes me do work and turn out incredible, noble peace prize winning assignments (as much as I wish that were possible). I still have the ability to be a lump, doom scrolling through tumblr, forgetting to eat, and ignoring responsibilities. But it really helps me when I sit down and start that thing that isn’t fun. Yesterday it helped me hyperfocus on cleaning my office which was a terrifying room to be in. So it’s pretty close to magic in my opinion!

6. Accessing Disability Support at your place of learning.

- Not all of you taking the time to read this will have either a) an offical diagnosis or b) a good disability support available to you wherever you are completing your studies. And that is okay. This dot point just won’t be for you right now. But keep it in mind for a time when it might apply to you, as it’s something I never thought I would need, but will never take for granted ever again.

- If you have an offical diagnosis and Disability Support, make an appointment with the disability support adviser. DO IT NOW! Get your psychiatrist to write a diagnosis letter outlining that you have <enter superpower that makes you hilarious here> and that you are receiving <enter x,y,z treatment here> and that you would benefit from receiving <enter what you have always wished you had on the days you can’t make your ADHD gremlin brain do the thing here>. Now these benefits can be, but not limit to: automatic extensions on ALL assignments, extra time on exams, extra breaks to walk around while taking exams, special consideration when marking assignments, my university allows me to take exams in a separate room with only the other students in my subject who also have disability support (occasionally I have taken an exam alone with only a tutor present) so I don’t get distracted, permission to take fidget items into class or exam (I have the option to wear headphones, as long as I can display that they are not connected to anything). Maybe you can come up with some great ones for you with your disability advisor or your psychiatrist.

- The disability advisor will often go through your course outline with you at the start of each semester or year. This is annoying and a great time for disassociating, but can be useful in hindsight because you are made aware of everything that will come up during your class so you are not surprised. Because lets be honest, it is unlikely you are going to look at the course calendar too often.

- Side Note: I make an appointment every semester with my disability support officer for my area of study to make sure I have my special considerations for the year. Now I may go through the whole year without ever using my considerations. However, the fact that I know they are there takes an insane amount of pressure off of myself. If I’m having an insanely screwy loony tune mental health moment, I can email my coordinator my disability plan and say I need an extension due to personal reasons, and WHOOP, there it izzzzz.

7. Dedicated one thing or a few things that have nothing to do with food/alcohol/other substances to reward yourself with for doing the thing!

- This may not work for everyone. It doesn’t always work for me. I used to reward myself with food, but that only reinforced my stimming with overeating and my already bad relationship with food. And I feel as though that would be the same with any other substance that can be linked with addiction. (Addiction is a tough word, cause what aren’t I addicted to, I have ADHD, but hopefully you get what I mean!).

-Now, boring try and not choose this aside, lets think of somethings that work really well as rewards!

- My partner likes to come give me a kiss and a hug when ever they have written and reread a paragraph, you might buy a book when you get a really good mark, you might want to go make a cup of tea and watch an episode of your hyperfixation after studying for <enter a good period of time here>, you might allow yourself to partake in an activity you usually do while procrastinating (but at least this time you know you aren’t putting something off), talk to someone who you know will tell you they are proud of you as they understand the mental struggle you go through to concentrate (if you can’t think of anyone, it is 110% okay if that person are the amazing people on tumblr or the adhd tumblr chats. We will freaking pop a bottle of champagne for you cause we get it!).

- Try and make what ever you choose be something in a different room or away from your working space. Getting out can really calm you down.

8. Don’t be afraid to ask for assistance.

- This is true for anything, but I don’t mean just asking your teacher to give you extra help understanding the task and marking rubric. Many people online, tutors, librarians at your school, past or present students offer assistance rereading and making small edits (they won’t make it magical unfortunately) to your assignments. If you are like me and once you have written or completed the dreaded thing, you can not imagine or force your gremlin brain reread or edit the thing. So it can help to just delegate this to someone else, who hasn’t read it before, so they won’t disassociate or skim read it. They will often notice things you never would have even if you were neurotypical as that is just what happens when you have been working on something for so long.

9. Repetitive music.

- It generally helps if this has no lyrics. Lo-fi is amazing. Classical is alright too if it works for you, but both my partner and I agree that it can really assist you to keep up pace and focus when the beat is a high and repetitive (almost meditative) tempo.

10. Limit your screen space.

- This is a tip completely from my partner @dr-adhd who also has ADHD, is an avid PC gamer and is consistently in a battle with their gremlin brain to focus on completing their PhD. They have discovered that it really helps them to limit their screen space - simply put, work on one screen only. They have done more work more easily when they have their one screen on their laptop to focus on. Whereas their office has multiple screens so they could be playing runescape, watching YouTube, listening to lo-fi and doing work - which never worked (shocking right hahaha).

11. At the risk of sounding like a Mum... Put your phone and other electronics other than the assignment necessary one, away.

- I am a Mum, but to a fluffy puppy dog, so I hate to sound like my Mum when I was in high school, but she was right. Mobiles are the single easiest and biggest distraction in ADHD history. I often, even at coffee shops, have to turn my phone over so that I am not consistently looking at it every time the screen lights up to say the pizza place has sent me a coupon, or a carpet place that has been having a sale since I was born is... still having a sale, or a friend from school wants you to watch this TikTok. Even though you might not want to ignore your friends, because people pleasing, difficulting making/keeping friends and RSD are hecking real things, but they can all wait. Trust me, none of them are urgent. That TikTok will still be funny in an hour or two. And I’m probably completely right when I say that whomever just messaged you, never replies as quickly as you want them too. So I doubt they are going to think twice if you are MIA to finish your thing.

My partner or I might add to this later, but at the moment I already know that I probably wouldn’t read this wall of words if I was the one reading it, so if you are still with me, THANK YOU and I really hope I might have helped you. Sorry for the mound of words, but maybe you can reblog, screen shot, or save this and read a dot point at a time or refer to it when you need. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, I promise what ever it is, I’ve asked the same thing once in my life or something MUCH stupider.

#ADHD #Study tips #actually adhd #autistic #adhd #neurodivergent #adhd study tips #advice #adhdstudytips #studying with adhd #adhd advice #ask adhd #adhd mood #adhd life #adhd vibe #disability support #uni support #school advice

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ficsyoumayhavemissed · 3 years

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it’s only for the brave — sunflower_lwt / @hometothecanyonmoon

2.247 words / Liam x Tom Daley

My love, all I want is to protect you. I gave my heart to you a long time ago and I never got it back. I love you, I adore you, I love who I am when I’m with you.

Always in my heart, Tom Daley.

Yours sincerely,

Liam Payne.

This fic somehow manages to be a journey of emotion in so few words. There’s so much fear and angst over a love possibly lost, a future left uncertain, and a past full of regret. But the author leaves the story open-ended, closing off with a little room for hope.

i’ll meet you anytime you want (in our italian restaurant) — alwaysgolden / @hsmp3

3.239 words / Harry x Louis

harry and louis reunite after ten years in their favorite restaurant, reminiscing about the past and revisiting old feelings.

This absolutely adorable fic is the author’s first published work (thankfully, they have posted more since!) and while it’s fairly short, it’s an absolute treasure. The shyness and nostalgia between the two friends blend into a perfect atmosphere that’s sure to keep you smiling the entire time you read. (Warnings: mentions of death)

It's Poutine Bitch! — @haztobegood

3.950 words / @harryandmenfest / Harry x Mitch Rowland

“What is that?”

“This?” Harry pointed his fork at the plate. “It’s poutine.”

The man gazed longingly at the heaped plate. “Looks good.”

"Go ahead and take one, bitch.”

Everything about this fic is absolutely hilarious! From the title over the narration to the dialogue – it’s absolutely wonderful. Go ahead and read this feel-good-fic if you need something to cheer you up, a bit of a laugh, and a story that will make you feel warm.

baby I'll never leave (if you keep holding me this way) — we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

6.438 words / @1dclicheficfest / Harry x Louis

His fingers curl around the first thing he can find that would be suitable as a weapon, an umbrella that has a rather impressive looking metal pin at the end. He holds it in front of him the way he imagines people hold a sword, tiptoeing through his living room until he can find whoever’s in his kitchen. He briefly considers calling 999, figures that if someone’s trying to burgle him, he should probably not be a hero and actually rely on professionals to arrest them, but he’s never been the type to sit back and wait, and -- is that singing?

It is singing. Whoever is trying to rob him is in his kitchen, singing an eighties pop song under their breath.

And they made cookies?

All about this fic is beautiful. The author has made a wonderful impression of the character development – plus it’s hilarious and cute. It portrays a ray of hope for everyone struggling with the current worldwide situation bringing an ‘everything’s gonna be fine’ message to the reader. Give it a chance!

It’s Probably Because I’ve Got a Big Lesbian Crush on You — yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

6.614 words / @wordplayfics / Harry x Louis

Harry's never really concerned herself with being part of the popular crowd. But as the new girl in school the second semester of her junior year, she finds herself unwittingly competing for Queen Bee status against high school royalty Louis Tomlinson. Maybe there's more to their rivalry than it seems.

A not-quite-Mean Girls AU

Are you in need of a sweet, interesting, and funny Girl!Direction fic that you won’t be able to put down? Look no further: This fic has it all! Just the essence of Mean Girls with the perfect amount of the author’s own twists and turns that will leave you smiling all the way through!

sweet music playing in the dark — solvetheminourdreams / @solvetheminourdreams

12.753 words / Harry x Louis

“Just get in.”

“I don’t even know you,” Louis continues lightly, hand already inching toward the door.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. “No, but I’m willing to take the risk if you are.”

Or the one where Harry wants nothing more than to hear From Eden live and Louis just needs to pay off some parking tickets.

This fic is a great mixture of humorous and sweet! Louis’ characterization is just great, and the chaos of the plot is very fun. A must read for those days you need something a little unexpected to make you smile.

light somewhere, in the distance — wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

26.011 words / Zayn x Liam x Louis

“You’ll be paired up with one partner in each place.”

Zayn frowns.

“A partner?”

“Yes, that’s the way it goes,” the angel nods. “Everyone gets a partner. Sometimes it’s people from your previous life, if you used to be together or could have been together if death hadn’t separated you. But most times, it’s not someone you know. In any case, we’re always very careful about pairing up people who are compatible together.”

Or: a Zouiam love triangle set in the afterlife. Loosely based on The Good Place

This fic is so intense in the best way: it gives you the chance to shed a few tears on a bad day while giving you the warmest hug at the end to make sure you’re alright. The worldbuilding in The Good Place fashion is done fantastically and it matches the relationship developments so well. It’s definitely worth a read.

—-

As always, support the authors by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

If you love a fic that has gotten less love than you think it deserves, submit it to us so we can check it out and add it to one of our recs! We would love to be able to spread more love to underappreciated fics! — FYMHM xx

#hlcreators #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hljournal #hlsource #fic rec #fymhm #september 2021

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astormyjet · 3 years

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Winter of 2018 - Summer of 2021 TIME FILES WHEN YOU’RE IN YOUR 20s!!!!

OH BOY. It’s been three years (or more) since I updated this. “Time is a weird soup!” to quote a fave. I guess I quit tumblr around the time there was a purge of content and creators and a smack down on a lot of the fandom communities. Tumblr has always been something of a crapshow though so I’ve been more productive with my time than I was in some ways, but I’ve also found other ways to waste my time. *cough twitter/netflix/youtube/MTGArena cough*.

General Life Achievements since 2018 -JLPT N3 GET in 2019! -Blackbelt GET in 2018! -TESOL 120 Hour and BE 50 Hour Cert from online provider GET in 2021 -STUDENT LOAN BANISHED (Thank you grandparents) -Survived Apartment flooding in early 2020. -Mystery anxiety related illness and chronic pain in my left leg from early 2020 - Present. -A mythical 6th and 7th year on the JET Programme. -Started posting on Instagram a lot more about my wanderings around Matsuyama/Uwajima. Mainly old buildings and stray cats. @astormyknight -Surviving so far in Japan with old rona-chan.

2018 was rough. I was given an additional school in the first semester (March to July) as we had someone find a better job. I enjoyed it, but it was a bit of a rough go especially when I was transferred that August after three fantastic years at Tsubaki JHS and ES and only a semester there. I legit went through the five stages of grief - which I think is another reason I stopped blogging. I was given my current base school along with four other schools. Going from 2(3) to 5 schools was a bit of an adjustment. I still feel a bit spread out.

That said, I keep running into teachers and students who were at the Tsubaki’s. The teachers shuffle around every April, so it's always a lottery with which new faces are going to be old friends (or enemies…). A couple of kids moved and transferred into my current schools from Tsubaki too. So I have one kid I can say I've been teaching for 6 out of the 7 years I've been here!

One of the kids who was in JHS 3rd grade when I first got here (in 2015!) hangs out around one of my favorite cafes, so I got chatting with him recently. He's in his second year of nursing school - his class nearly broke me in the first year, it was really a trial by fire with those kids. I was 22 then, and he’s 20 now, so it was interesting chatting to him about that first year of teaching. His younger sister was one of my favorite students too, she was in the group of kids that graduated in the March of 2018, the year group that went through Tsubaki JHS with me - they’re newly minted University students now!

This Thursday morning when I was cycling in to work, a kid who was 2nd year JHS when I left (so 2nd or 3rd year JHS now) pulled up with their Mum in a van and got their mamachari out of the back to bike to school. The franticness of it all was hilarious. Their Mum legit sat on the horn until I pulled over. I was so happy to run into this kid, even at social distance and both of us late to work/school - because we both remembered each other and as they were going around the corners they were yelling each time they turned and humming the old elementary school directions chant and pelting me with questions about what I’ve been up to.

I've had so many students and schools now, that everything is kind of running into a blur. I remember flashes of kids faces and voices, random memories of in class or out of class shenanigans out of the blue. Also, I now, more than ever, have issues remembering kids' names, but I still know their faces (even with their masks), whose homeroom class they were in, who their friends were and which club they were in. I get random flashbacks to past conversations with them when I see them on the street or we run into each other. I feel bad because the first thing former students ask is ‘Do you remember my name?’ and I always have to be like, ‘Honestly, no, but I remember you did this on x day, x month in x classroom’.

Socially in 2018 -2019 - a few of our friends went home and things shook up a little. Our DnD group changed a bit - one of our players stepped into the role forever DM (THANK YOU RALPH). From memory the newbies were great - some of them just went home at the start of last month and it’s weird not seeing them around (JESS DO YOUR BEST!). I think we only have one or two people left from that rotation. There’s no 6th year ALTs, and only two 5th years.

Aug 2018 - Aug 2019 was the year of Hiura - my mountain school. Dang man, they were so cool. The students of the JHS and the ES combined barely hit 30, so each class was between 3-10 students depending on the grade. It was easier to get to know the kids, their abilities and their goals than it has been for me at other schools. I miss it so bad, being in nature once a week did my country-kid heart so good! The bugs! The frogs! The river! The mountain! The monkeys! The lizards! The dilapidated houses and hidden shrines!!!! The random crabs in the English room...I forgot that there was such a thing as freshwater crabs, and being right next to a river, the invasion wasn’t as out of place as I first thought...

The area is so picturesque and calming. Every week up there was a small adventure (after getting over my motion sickness from the bus ride up). The kids were constantly pranking either myself or the main English teacher. There was always some new weird bug or lizard in a tank to be educated about. There were chickens on the way to the JHS that used to escape from their cardboard box prisons to run riot on the gardens. There were old people to freak out with my youth and foreignness! The kids also got to do a lot of extra classes, sumiyakai (making charcoal the traditional way), planting and maintaining rice paddies, setting up vegetable gardens, raising fireflies, conserving a special breed of fire lily (only found in this particular mountain valley) and another rare flower, wilderness training ect.

I wish I could have stayed there a lot longer but SOMEONE (read...the BoE) decided that schools had to be shuffled again(thank goodness the dude who has it now was able to keep it from the 2021 shuffle, he's the best fit for the school). I had so many good memories from there, I wish I had been more consistent in writing it down. I do have a bunch of photos and videos from there though, so that's nice. The only thing I don’t miss is the bus trip up and down - not only was it motion sickness, there was a healthy dose of fear each ride as the driver brought us perilously close to the edge of the mountain drop…

2019 - 2020 was interesting. With the school I got given instead of the Hirua’s I was roped into more demonstration lessons which was a lot of pressure because I was also involved quite heavily with the JHS observation and training lessons too. They were somewhat rewarding, the third graders are now super smart 5th graders, but the teachers who need to embrace the new curriculum and ways of teaching really haven’t taken on anything from the lessons....

Outside of work as well, I was given the chance, thanks to an ALT buddy of mine, to join in with the local festival. It's been one of the biggest highlights of my time here, and I am gutted it’s been cancelled for the last two years, but I understand the reason…. I was able to travel to Okinawa too during that summer for an international Karate seminar with the Dojo I train with. I met the head of the style I currently practice and a bunch of people from around the world. I also got to see Shuri castle before it burned down. So that was a stroke of luck. One of the places I want to go when/if we get out of this pandemic is Okinawa. I want to see more of those Islands so bad. Just before the whole pandemic thing too - I managed to see the Rugby World Cup, a Canada vs NZ match, I even ran into Tana Umanga in Oita city!!!

2019 - 2020 was supposed to be my last year on JET, so I was frantically Job hunting. I went to the Career Fair in Osaka in early Feb/Late January 2020. I applied and got interviewed for a position in Sendai in early Jan 2020. In the end though - the Rona hit. We started hearing whispers of it around the end of 2019, then the cruise boats happened, and then Japan refused to cancel the Olympics...every holiday season there is a new wave of infections, my nurse friends in Tokyo are struggling....my teacher friends in more populous areas of Japan are struggling…

JET couldn't get new ALTs for 2020-2021, I took the extra year when it was eventually offered, as the one job I had managed to get a serious offer for was hesitating because with the rona setting in, things were uncertain. There was a lot of time spent adjusting to the new rules surrounding what we could do in class with the kids as well as textbook change. Schools shut on and off during the spring months.

I also got a reminder of my mortality mid May with an unrelated illness which is still smacking me around a bit - stress/age, it does things to the human body it has no right to. It's only been in the last three months I’ve been able to exercise like I used to, I’ve put on a bunch of weight I can't shrug off (one part medication, another part diet) My relationship with food needs to change, and I really need a kitchen that allows me for more than one pan meals. I also need to figure out what to do with a left leg that is in constant pain from the knee down and a heart that misses beats when stressed out (mentally and physically…).

My apartment also got flooded by the guy upstairs at one point, I spent most of late February/early March living in a hotel while my walls and floor got redone - I think this was one of the things that really stressed me out and kicked my anxiety right up a notch, it was right when things were getting REALLY bad with rona-chan in Hokkaido and schools were shutting down here as it was filtering into the prefecture and so Japan closed schools for the first time…

Classes in covid times have been weird. We’ve been wearing facemasks full time since the early stages of the pandemic (March 2020) - so I admit that I get a bit pissed off seeing both Americans and New Zealanders back home bitching about just having to start wearing them full time in public. I have asthma and have been suffering with the things on during the 30*C plus with high 90s humidity summers. Teachers were offered vaccines late July 2021, just days before the Olympics were open - and I finished my two shots in the middle of August. But the overall distribution and take up of the jab has been slow. As mentioned above, we can't play a lot of the games we used to play with kids in classes anymore, and a lot of the activities outlined in the textbook curriculum need to be adjusted too, so we’ve had to be creative. We use hand sanitizer a lot more too. One of the things I miss the most though, is eating lunch with the kids.

Socially from summer 2020 - now 2021 we played a lot of DnD and board games, both online and in person when we could. There were no new ALTs again for the 2021-2022 JET year, and those of us who were in 6th year were offered a 7th. Four out of six of us took it. As a whole we’re down from a peak of 38 ALTs for Junior High and Elementary school to 22 for now. We hopefully will get a new person at the end of September, and 4 more in November. Which will bring us to 27. This has led to ANOTHER round of school shuffles.

Summer vacation has been weird the last two years. With rona-chan, we haven’t really been able to travel. All the summer festivals (all the Autumn and Winter ones too!) have been cancelled, so the changing of seasons just feels, wrong. I dunno. There is so much we all miss from pre-rona-chan, and so much that doesn’t happen that makes this just feel like one long long unending year of sadness, coldness, raininess, unbearable heat and repeat. I’m tired. Time is going so fast, but so.dang.slow.

I lost my favorite school (AGAIN GDI!!!) and gained the school I taught a semester at in 2019....I had my first day there on Wednesday. Schools actually started back on September 1st so there was some drama as the BoE didn’t communicate fast enough about our school changes. We legit got told on the 27th of August (on a Friday) our schools were changing effective September 1st, but somehow some of our schools found out on the Monday 30th August. In July we were told we would be changing schools at the end of September, so.a lot of ALTs and schools were left short changed, not having opportunities to say goodbye to co-workers or students/having their planning for the semester more or less thrown out the window too. I love my job. I really dislike the way the BoE treats us, the Japanese assistant language teachers and our schools.

The new school I have is used to having an ALT there twice a week, who plans all the lessons and executes them. I’m at three elementary schools. I'm only at each once a week, I want to plan, but being that I miss an entire lesson in between visits, it's going to be difficult to do so. Not impossible, but being that I'm already doing it for two other schools, who are at two different places in the textbook ah…….. From what I have talked to my new supervisor about though, it sounds like the teachers have taken on more of the lesson planning and I'll be able to contribute ideas when I'm there. I just want to and wish I could do more without being confused all the time. (This is all usually done in my second language too, not in English so extra levels of confusion and miscommunication abound).

I feel like this at my JHS too a lot of the time. I want to contribute more, but even with constant communication with my main in school supervisor (who is a badass and pretty much on the same page about everything with me) I still feel about as useful as tits on a bull. Especially now that classes have been cancelled and or shortened, there's less time to do stuff. Any game or activity I plan is usually cut in favor of making up time in the textbook. When I'm in class, I'm back to being a tape recorder, the fun police and general nuisance.　

Also in the last week...my two of my schools were shut due to students testing positive for the rona. This is the second time my schools have had a scare in the last 8 months. And by shut, I mean the students were all at home, but the teachers all had to come into the office. Because why not I guess….. I mean, the cases increasing is really not unexpected with the amount of people who were travelling over obon and the increase of cases due to the Olympics/Japan being slow on vaccinating/delta being the dominant strain/Japan's leaders doing relatively little except asking shops and restaurants to limit people coming in at one time and closing before 8pm. I know my schools weren't the only one shut either - but still High Schools were having their sports days this week. I kept on seeing groups of kids hanging in the park after, so that was a little bit nerve wracking.

It's just frustrating - we’ve been on half days to “minimize the risk of infection” for kids and teachers, as if only being at school from 8am through to 1pm is going to reduce the risk. My schools have only just started testing out Microsoft teams and Zoom lesson equipment. Thankfully our school’s run in this time was contained real quick, the family was super good about informing us when they got their results back, and the fact they needed to be tested. The homeroom teacher and the students from the same class were the only ones tested, and they all came back clear, which was nice. But the information came back so SLOW.

I’m a little irritated because I found out on Wednesday night what was going on, and even if I am vaccinated, I am super worried that I will end up being the covid monkey due to being at different schools three days out of five. I think other than being worried that I will catch it myself and get real sick, my biggest fear is that I will be protected from bad symptoms from the vaccine, but still be able to pass it onto some of my more vulnerable friends and students. The whole thing is a mess.

Other than Covid and BoE drama, life is good. I’ve had a couple of other big changes - both fantastic and not so great, but yeah. I have my health (and health insurance!) for now. I have a job, for now. I have a sense of existential dread for the next 12 months, but we’ll see where we end up. Life post JET is going to be way less cushy and I am TERRIFIED. I mean, I have a BA in Eng/Ling and no idea what to do with it…..because I am NOT suited for academia.

TLDR: Love my job. Don’t like the system. What is life? Future scary.

#life on JET #blog post #life in Japan #jet programme #jet program

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animoozies · 4 years

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I decided I would make one while I’m at work cause the patients are cooolin and I’m just vibing

2020 has been hard on all of us whether it was school, graduating and not being able to walk, knowing of a loved one that passed, mental health declining, and many more negative experiences. However I hope you all are able to enter the new year with someone/something that makes your life just a little bit easier.

With that all being said, I’m gonna tag some people I wanna show my appreciation for because 2020 was bearable because of you all. Also doing this helps me practice the love lanaguage of words of affirmation cause I’m one sarcastic asshole who’s a tsukki/kags kinnie

anyways

@hoekageyama I already showed I loved you a day ago but here im adoing it sober so it’s 100% intentional. I really appreciate and love our friendship. Everyday I look forward to one of us being a dumbass. You and I will be graduating come May 2021 so push through your ✨depression✨ and buck the fuck up for our last semester of college.

@hoekaashi A1 Day 1. Known you since you were soltserra and I’m pretty sure you were atrailofwhispers or some shit like that. Glad we rekindled after our hiatus which was due to Covid and also me crying over hxh. I hope pharmacy school gets easier for you but also remember your life isn’t just school. Your job maybe dedicated to serving people but you also need to serve yourself. Self care is important boo.

@gogo-karasuno I didn’t lie when I said you were a blessing. Despite me being motivated to do certain things I’ve mentioned, you are 100% the reason why I decided to act on that motivation. I met you just on time because I get inspired easily and lose it really quickly. I am so thankful for you because honestly you’re such a light. I am excited to further our friendship so I can see why you say you’re sarcastic and call yourself a bitch cause hunntyyyyyy if you can top me, we fighting cause no one can beat me. enjoy your last day of 2020 bb and take a couple shots and give the cats some catnip.

@luvkeigo crackhead #1. Your posts, tags, and energy is so funny and honestly you’re such great vibes. You are great company to have and I hope you realize that you are. know that and embrace that. always look forward to our simping hours and tagging you in tiktoks. Can’t wait to read more of your stuff in the New Years because your fics are A+ quality good shit.

@juvsbby your new nickname is nezuko because you’re all cute and innocent but still a demon at the end of the day. You always make me laugh in our convos because you are quite the savage. I really love our interactions and now they will never cease since you have me deadass on all social media platforms. 💀you can’t escape. Just know you are such a beautiful person in and out and I hope everything goes better for you mentally and at home for the new year.

@impromptux-main my playlist royalty aka my Suga. You are quite the chaotic individual and I did not expect that from you lmao. You were always cool to me but it solidified the one convo we had about that weird ass girl from Instagram. I hope the new year is better for you and that you dye your hair more colors you rainbow bitch

@haiikyuuns the crackheaded pharmacist. you are such a light in our fandom and to your mutuals, especially me. You are such a loving character that is so sweet to everyone. Please take care of yourself because I know your brain is fried(in more ways than one😂) just like how your job supports people, you need to support yourself.

Hello to the mutuals that I consistently tag in shit. You will be tagged in 2021 so sorry not sorry. I hope your new year goes well and there’s a little bit of positivity for you guys cause we all need it.

@bakugoustanaccount @kanao (you’re such a ray of sunshine but you’re lowkey a crakcheaded simp in the tags of reblogs. It’s hilarious) @ladyhitsu88 @simply-trash5 @nerdyshaddowhunter @honeymeh @thathoneybee3 @bootyy-bakeryy @all-mights-asscheeks (I always laugh at your url cause Im clearly a 5 year old) @mindlesschicca @wherethehoesat @emotiadouche @unvalley @happygalaxymilkshake @fckkei @emperorthighs

My beloved mutuals. I acknowledge everyone of you in my notifs. Sometimes I go to y’all blog just to make sure y’all alive lol. Love yourself in this new year and do soemthing new! Get a tat or soemthing. Buy some anime merch.

@fuckyeahfraxus @meggymoohoo @sokodomoo @necruwumancy @blueberry-07 @ushi-bakatoshi @luvkejii @lexysclubhouse (still not over you not liking seafood) @raine-needs-help @soleil-lei @atsumusc0ck @jdoeshit @icyjeno @icequeen009 @bucketsofworms @feathertayl @karasuno-flight @todoroki-sama @wellthisisme @milkandtobio @catstudio7-reblogs @palmtoptiger18 @khamillahsstrive (the OG since 2016 I hope you’re doing well!!!)

This was longer than expected but whatever.

Anyways

Just know you are all loved and cared for. You are all beautiful, intelligent, and unique individuals. Do not let your mind tell you otherwise. Eat, pray, exercise, draw, sing, read, and DRINK WATER. Do what you need to do in order to be a better you. Enjoy the rest of your day and Happy New Years you filthy weebs❤️

Ima go back to work lmao

#follow me on twitter @cdanae823🤣🤣#i did not proof read so I’m sorry if I double tagged or I sound incoherent.#Im rushing lmao

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pluviophile-bookworm · 3 years

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HSMTMTS 2x9: so dreaded, so exciting, 'Sword!' (yeah, I went there, I've been thinking about this scene - you know the one - since yesterday for some reason)

After two computer malfunctions and a very tough, very sleepless night, here I am with a third attempt to write this post. The universe is against me today. Is Mercury in retrograde or something? Ugh, I just want to get this over with already. And I haven't even managed to see half the episode yet. You better like this cursed post because it's taken me two hours at this point, and will probably take another to finish - and that is if nothing goes wrong this time. Please bear with me. This is my reaction to HSMTMTS 2x9, take 3. Let's hope and pray it's the last one.

I'm normally [unpopular opinion alert] a very spoiler-positive person (it's the combination of anxiety and ADHD and a bunch of other stuff, I suppose), but for this one I've been refraining from looking at the tag all morning, so by now I'm simply bursting with impatience. But before we dive in, I need to get some stuff off my chest.

Some pre-watch thoughts and feelings (let's see how well they will have aged by the end of the episode):

Seriously, what is with whoever writes this show? I know it's impossible, but I feel like they've been toying with my emotions specifically all season. Like:

Ah, so you were a Rini shipper last season? Great, now we'll make them obnoxious and borderline toxic to the point where you actually want them to break up, but then their old chemistry will be back just for the breakup scene so that you can cry your eyes out over the one couple you couldn't stand - even though you can't seem to relate to a single song from Sour, we'll make you feel like you do for a hot second. At least it will remind you that you loved Ricky.

So you say Redlyn own your heart and soul? Great, we'll make you dread something going wrong with them for a week straight, and mess up your sleep schedule beyond repair over it. You're welcome!

We heard you said Rodfini give you life? Perfect, how about a big Seblos fight? And would you like a side of questioning your choice to stan Carlos with that? Because what is life without a little anxiety, a bit of doubt of your ability to read people, and a pinch of existential dread, right?

Ah, so you claimed not to ship Portwell romantically, is that right? Brilliant, we'll make you ship them and then we'll use that to torture you, too.

You've been excited about ABF and Asher Angel guest-starring ever since they were announced? Magnificent! We'll make you hate ABF's character to the point where you can't even look at him, and we'll make you call him names you thought yourself incapable of uttering. And as for Asher, you'll be left waiting for him until the last third of the season, and then you'll dread the possibility of hating his character, too. Do you love us yet?

Oof! Right then, I've got that out of my system. Time to dive in.

Miss Jenn playing around with the backgrounds is, like, 90% of the people who had online school this year, and honestly, I love that for her.

Wait, why is Nini first on this call? Are they going through with the Rose thing? Cos like, the song is nice and all (and, might I add, much more to my taste than nearly all of Sour, don't @ me), but if they use it, it will get them disqualified. They’ve been told that! Gosh, please let me be wrong about this.

We get it, Carlito, rich and fancy and over-the-top is kind of your thing, but have you stopped for a second to think about how others will feel about this? Especially Seb, whom you claim to care about. Seriously, though, I love Carlos and would not hesitate to die for him, but I’m getting the feeling that, unlike my other favourite (you know the one), he wouldn’t do the same for me. Oh well, he’ll figure it out. He’s just a kid. Give him time.

Wait, Milky White? Is that an Into the Woods reference I smell? Cool! If I had a cow, I’d totally name her Milky White (or Gertrude, but don’t ask me why). I just hope they don’t have to, like, take her to the market and exchange her for magic beans, if you catch my drift.

Ahhhhh, Caswell cousins content! We love to see it!

‘You guys are watching, like, old old movies’ WTH, Nini (or is it Nina)? Scary Movie is literally younger than me. But what do you know about it, you 21st-century baby! Ugh, I don’t know why I’m being so hostile today... must be the lack of sleep. Hope it doesn’t influence my reactions to the episode so dramatically as to make me forget how much I love this series. Because I do.

Yay! Big Red is here! I can finally smile. And did Ash just say they’re soulmates? Because yes they are! Ahhh my heart is going to explode.

‘Nini, have you heard from [Ricky]?’ Yikes, awkward... but of course, Big Red can be counted on to save the day here, too.

Ok, so that was a cool cold open. Time for some nice in-person scenes, though. I did not spend all of three semesters doing online school just to have the characters of my favourite series do the same.

Wow, Gina is really embracing that French accent thing! And I really don’t want to think about, erm, ‘Napoleon over here’ right now, but I really think the fact that she’s doing it better than him will be another piece of evidence towards my theory of fake-French!Antoine... ugh, I said his name. Oh well. Back to Gina. Too bad the French thing didn’t work out for her.

Ahhhh, Portwell with Ash in the background! And Ash is going to paint EJ’s nails! I feel like he’s going to end up loving that, despite what he says right now. But seriously, I just love how comfortable these two are with each other. Can you blame me now for shipping them as friends? Well, I mean, it’s obvious they will be more than friends, and somehow, despite the amatonormativity of it all, I’m here for it.

Wait, was that Asher? That was Asher, I’m 100% sure of it. And Gina said ‘a sign’ and then looked at him, even from the back... what am I supposed to think and feel here? I’m confused. Moving on.

Ahh, poor Ricky being a burrito... good thing that breakup scene last time reminded me that I love him, because the entirety of the season before that was very good at making me forget that.

Wait, did she say ‘the Bean’? As in, that Bean? The infamous Bean? LOL.

‘So the only time you two talk to each other is to gossip about me’ Boy, did I feel that. I once got my hands on my dad’s mobile and I... kind of went through his texts with mum. Yep, all about me and my brother. At this point I feel like they’re only together because of us. But this is getting too personal. I’m here about the episode, not to rant about my family. Moving on.

Yikes, looks like Nini’s got writer’s block all over again. Am I supposed to feel sorry for her? Because I kind of don’t. I mean, no hate towards her, none at all, but that entire scene just felt awkward and unnecessary. And not just because it’s her first time going live. That I can understand. What I don’t understand is why the writers can’t seem to do anything creative and interesting with Nini. Olivia is being wasted there. Idk, that’s just how I feel. Again, no hate.

Ahhhhh it’s Asher! And well, he’s not Jonah, but I kind of really like him as Jack. I wonder if that will last.

So is it just me, or is anyone else not quite sure how to feel about Ricky’s mum? I mean, their interactions seem kind of awkward and strained, but that’s how it’s supposed to be given their recent history, and yet something just doesn’t sit quite right with me.

‘You there, Muse? It’s me, Nini!’ Ah, so it’s Nini again? I didn’t get the memo. Gosh, this episode is kind of really underwhelming. The most exciting thing so far (but not nearly as exciting in practice as it was in theory) – Asher and Sofia’s on-screen reunion. The second most exciting thing? The thought of Ash painting EJ’s nails. Everything else? Kind of ‘whatever’. Is this what I tossed and turned about all night? Totally not worth it. This episode better get, like, 300% better right this instant. It’s just not worth all the frustration and excitement and dread so far.

Looks like my prayers from just now have been heard! That improv scene was hilarious! Guess it was lucky that Miss Jenn had them do improv before this moment. But I need to know more of Jack’s backstory now.

Ok, so that was awkward! So Kourtney is talking to Howie again, I guess. And I guess I know now what Carlos did that was all public and no subtle. Still, what’s wrong with posting photos from your holiday? Guess I don’t exactly know yet what Carlos did to piss the others off so much.

Great, now I’m tempted to google butterfly faces. Good thing I’m not eating anymore. *** Ughhhhh this was a mistake! Please don’t ever look a butterfly in the face if you want to stay sane. Don’t be like me.

Ahhh the Duke sweater! ‘Is that your boyfriend’s?’ Well, not quite yet, it’s not... *screams in Portwell*

Oh, now we’re talking! But seriously, Ricky? The ‘my friends think’ card? Why don’t you just say ‘I think’? It’s clearly something you’ve thought about a lot. I feel like I’m going to love this scene or cry over it or both.

Ooh, therapy. It’s not just... basically the entire fandom... who says it now. Please tell me that means Ricky will be going to therapy at some point. Says the girl who is currently firmly refusing to go to therapy in favour of hyperfixating on HSMTMTS and getting back into the good old practice of having imaginary friends... yeah, I’m one to talk.

My, my, my! Seb has really had it now. I mean, it was about time, but... not quite like this. My heart is starting to do some weird stuff, I can feel it. I might need to lie down.

Ok, so as much as I envy North High for getting to see so many shows on BWay – basically living out my dream – stalking East High on Instagram and being shady about them taking a well-deserved break... just goes beyond all limits. I mean, if you’re so into Broadway shows, you should know as well as I do what happened the last time a certain founding father did not take a break. Maybe you’re the ones in need of a break here.

Nini on the call with the Caswell cousins, though... ‘I’m obsessed with both of you’ – first relatable thing she’s said or done all season. And EJ playing with old toys is pure gold.

Oh, so Jack’s dad is a pilot. Makes sense, I guess. I’m kind of intrigued by this guy. Just as long as he doesn’t try to come between Portwell before they’ve had the chance to happen, you know...

Ashlyn might need to stop swooning over Nini’s songwriting or Big Red might get jealous... I mean, I would not have pinned him as the jealous type before 2x7, but ever since then... I guess insecure + dating a girl like Ash = the jealous type. And although that looks good on him, I’d bet anything it doesn’t feel particularly pleasant on his side. So... wait, why am I talking about Big Red? He hasn’t even got anything to do with the scene at hand. But then again, there’s been so little Big Red content in this episode that I seem to be trying to make up for it. Still. Stay focused.

Ooh, so Big Red did edit that video! Is there anything my boy can’t do? Ok, now I feel like he’s even more criminally underappreciated than he was before. But let’s look at the video. I’m curious to see the whole thing because that sneak peek from yesterday simply hasn’t been enough.

That was... really, really cool! I love how they took the ‘when they go low, we go high’ line from last time and run with it. Now if only they were putting as much effort into BATB... North High wouldn’t know what hit them.

Hmmmm... I guess Gina and Jack could be what I originally wanted Portwell to be... really cool friends. Unless it’s one of those ‘airport magic’ things. Oh well. It probably is. Was that all we’re seeing of Asher here? I did not wait 2/3 of the season for this. Though it was nice.

Ooh, Ricky’s solo song... why is there more Rini chemistry in this song than there was in all the season? Not counting the breakup scene, of course. Also, I feel like it’s just as much about him and his mum as it is about Nini. Some say music is the best therapy. I think they might be right. And no, I’m not crying. You are.

The granola bar, though... this episode might have been very underwhelming in the first half, but... it delivered in the Portwell front, and the music was *chef’s kiss*, so I’m willing to let it slide that the advertised Seblos ‘big fight’ was not touched upon nearly enough. Maybe next week...

Ok, now that we’re done watching the episode, let’s see how my feelings from the beginning have aged:

The Rini breakup: apparently, along with reminding me that I love Ricky, it has rendered me unable to look at Nini. What’s up with that? If this is some sort of tactic along the lines of ‘Olivia might be leaving the show so we’re making you hate her character so that you won’t miss her’, it’s not really working. Because I don’t want to hate Nini. Believe me, I don’t.

Redlyn: ok, so there’s nothing wrong with them whatsoever - we even got a ‘soulmates’, which I loved - but first they’re being swept under the rug, and then the antis come at us with that ‘their relationship is underdeveloped’ nonsense. Individually, though, I liked them in this episode (even if there was a significant shortage of Big Red), and Ashlyn collaborating with Nini again was cool, but... what I really wanted to see was her painting EJ’s nails. Did she even get the chance to actually do it? Maybe next week.

Seblos: I’m still failing to understand exactly what Seb thinks Carlos did wrong (please enlighten me if you did catch that, I’m kind of slow), but he (Seb) does have reasons to be mad at him (Carlos)... and at other people, too. Still, if you want to have a fight between two people in a relationship, you could do much better than whatever this episode was. Maybe next week. I notice I’m saying that a lot. Guess I’m putting a lot of hopes on 2x10. I just pray it doesn’t disappoint.

Portwell: boy, am I happy that my frustration on this front did not age well! What I mean is, apparently they’ve decided to bless us, not torture us for once. Even a rather disappointing episode like this one had to have some sort of silver lining. And Portwell is it.

Asher as Jack: well, luckily I didn’t hate him, but... it’s kind of the opposite problem. I loved him and now they’re taking him away from me. Guess I just can’t win here. Oh well. At least he didn’t have the screen time to get in between Portwell...

All in all: 2x10, my hopes and prayers are with you!

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pineapple-qween · 4 years

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Too Good to be True

Relationship: Batfam x Reader, Tim Drake x Reader

Summary: hey, i saw that you take requests and thought could you maybe (only when you feel like it, no pressure or something) write something sad where reader is good friends with the Batkids maybe is in tims age (and in love with him) but one day she is not with them anymore like she lost her scholarship on Gotham Academy but didn’t tell anybody because she doesn’t want to bother them because they always habe their batstuff to do ?

Key: Y/N= your name, L/N= your last name, italics= phone text

---------------------------------------------------

“Tim, hey!” You adjusted the backpack on your back and ran across the quad to your best friend Tim Drake.

“Y/N, what’s up?”

“I need your help,” you watched as Tim began to groan. “Before you ‘uughh’ you promised you’d help me with your super research skills for my super boring research paper.”

“Oh yeah, I did.” You watched as Tim’s face fell and you knew right away he was going to come up with an excuse. “I would love to-”

“But,” you interrupted, “you have to ‘work’ with your family tonight. Again.” You shook your head and laughed to yourself. It wasn’t unusual for Tim to have to excuse himself from hanging out with you to be with his family. Well, you knew what he did at night.

“I’m really, really sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Tim wrapped his arm around you and gave you a side hug. The touch made your heart flutter, but you forced yourself to not react.

“Yeah, yeah,” you pulled away and started backwards walking in front of him, “how about you buy me lunch and we’ll see if that fixes things.”

Tim chuckled, “Okay, but Damian’s gonna be joining us.”

“Yes! Damian is hilarious!”

“Damian would kill you if you said that to his face.”

You sat at your desk after school and stared at a blank computer screen. The cursor flashed, awaiting your words, and all you could do was spin your pen in your fingers. You sighed and closed out the window. Maybe if you took a break, you’d come back with fresh eyes.

You pulled up Twitter and scrolled through your feed. It wasn’t all too exciting, but then you pulled up the “Batman” tag and scrolled through its recent posts.

Just saw Red Robin on Killer Croc’s back riding him like a bull #onlyingotham #batman

You laughed at the image of Tim being bucked around on Croc’s back that formed in your head. You saw a couple similar posts and then some talking about spotting Dick and Damian before you closed out the tab.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of Tim, you thought it was amazing that he was a superhero, but it was frustrating that he never had time to hang out with you anymore. You used to go over to Wayne Manor every day after school to do homework with Tim and you loved it. Wayne Manor was always full of life with all of his brother. All of whom had taken to you and basically claimed you as a sister. Recently, however, Tim and his brothers were busier than ever and he didn’t tell you why, beyond “Bat things”.

You pulled up your blank research report and began to write.

“Miss L/N, I need you to stay after class.” Your teacher caught you just before you left the classroom. You groan internally and turned around to face him.

“Yes, Mr. Toffer?”

He gestured to the desk in front of his and you sat across from him. After you sat down, he handed you your paper.

“A ‘C’?” You couldn’t believe it.

“Yes Miss L/N, a ‘C’. I’m sorry to tell you this, but you are in danger of losing your scholarship. If you keep slipping in my class, the board will have no choice but to pull it.” He said it all so matter of fact-ly, but his eyes gave him away. You saw the sadness and the slight regret as he told you about this.

“Is-is there anything I can do? Could I rewrite this paper? Or do extra credit?”

“You know my extra credit policy. It would be disingenuous to the other students I have to give you what I don’t extend to them.” You could feel the disappointment burrow onto your face. “All I can say is you need to study hard for the upcoming final and if you get anything less than a 90%, your scholarship will be revoked.”

You walked out that room dazed. You couldn’t believe you were in danger of losing your scholarship. Your mom was so proud of you for getting into Gotham Academy, especially on academic scholarship. You couldn’t bare to think about telling her you might lose it.

While mulling this over, you literally ran into Tim. “Woah there! Y/N, you good?”

“Uh, yeah. Just a little distracted,” you put on a smile and looked up at Tim. “Homework party tonight?”

“I’d love to, but...”

You sighed, “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“Oh yeah, by the way, Dick wants to know if you still had his CD player. He needs it for sometime that I wasn’t paying attention to.”

You perked up, “I can bring it over sometime this week?”

“Nah, if you just bring it here, I’ll take it home after school.” He obviously didn’t see how much that hurt to hear, but you just nodded and the two of you walked the halls till you got to your next class.

One last night before your test and studying was getting you nowhere. You couldn’t focus. You were so afraid of failing this test, of losing your scholarship, and the fact that you seemed to be losing Tim. You looked at you phone and thought about texting him, even though you knew fully well that he was on patrol.

Hey, Tim. We good?

You sent it with no expectation of a response, but you needed to get at least one thing off your chest tonight. You set down your phone and looked back at your textbook, hoping to actually retain some information. You barely read one paragraph before you saw your phone light up.

Yeah! Why? Is something up?

You were shocked to see it was from Tim. You were so unprepared to get a response you didn’t know how to respond.

No! Nothing. Just wondering if Damian knew I called him hilarious and was getting back at me through keeping you busy.

You knew that wasn’t the truth, but you couldn’t tell him that it was because you thought he didn’t like you anymore. That you thought his family didn’t want to see you again.

Haha, no Damian still likes you, which is an amazing feat

I gotta go, Joker ou t, t al k l8r

And with that you knew he was gone. You turned back to your textbook, but you knew there was no way you’d be able to focus.

The next time you looked at your phone, it was 6 am and you hadn’t slept all night.

The next week flew by. Tim started ditching you at school, not just after. That made it easier when you got a 88% on your final and you had to meet with the board about your scholarship. They confirmed what Mr. Toffer had told you and revoked your scholarship. They politely informed you that you would not be returning the next semester.

You couldn’t face any of your friends. You closed yourself off, started finding all kinds of ways to avoid Tim and Damian, and waited out the end of the semester.

As you walked out on your last day, you decided to pretend Gotham Academy was a dream. A wonderful dream. You walked away, ready to forget Tim and your feelings. You knew it all had to be too good to be true.

---------------------------------------------------

The winter break came and went. Tim walked into the Gotham Academy quad, Damian hot on his heels.

“Drake! You have yet to tell me why Y/N didn’t come over during our break.” Damian demanded as he finally caught up.

Tim didn’t want to respond, mostly because he didn’t even know. He waited all break to get a message from you, but it never came. It didn’t help the Mr. Freeze was incredibly problematic for most of the break and Tim was a little too distracted.

“She was probably busy Damian. Don’t worry, you’ll see her today I’m sure.”

“It’s already been ten minutes past eight, she’s never this late.”

Damian was right, Y/N was never late to meet them. “Damian, please. I have to get to homeroom. I’ll text you the moment I see her okay?” Tim looked Damian in the eyes as he said this, to reassure him that he was being honest.

“Tt-tt, okay. I will see you at lunch.” Damian walked off towards his class.

Tim nodded, then his head shot up after, “Wait what.”

The end of the school day came and went. Tim never saw you once. Damian approached him as they waited for Alfred to pick them up. Tim was grateful for the 31 seconds of peace before Damian spoke.

“You never saw Y/N today, did you?”

It wasn’t accusatory. Damian actually sounded...sad. Tim didn’t know how to react at first. He opened his mouth and closed it a couple times, looking for the words. Eventually, he just said, “No.”

Damian looked up at him. “Will you text her?”

Tim looked into the boy’s sad eyes, an unusual sight, and sighed while pulling out his phone.

Hey Y/N, you good? Didn’t see you at school today

Tim didn’t have to wait long until his phone buzzed.

We’re sorry but the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service.

Tim stared at his phone dumbfounded.

Damian cut through his daze with his voice, “Well? Anything?”

Just then, Alfred pulled up, waiting for the two boys get in. “Uh, no. Don’t worry about it.”

When Tim got back to his room, he tried various ways to get in contact with Y/N. Everything failed. Eventually he gave up on conventional means and started using his hacking skills.

“...no”

The first thing he found was the removal of her scholarship eligibility. The next was her enrollment in the Gotham public school system.

“God, no.”

When did this happen? Why did this happen?

Why didn’t he ever reach out to you?

#Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake imagine #BatFam #batfam fic #Damian Wayne #damian wayne imagine #batfam imagine #batman fic

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ambivalentmarvel · 4 years

Text

so the story behind this is that @sreppub arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat.

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces.

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?”

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?”

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front.

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it.

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going.

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement.

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision.

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

#tony stark #stephen strange #peter parker #supreme family #iron dad #spider son #fic #tss #ambivalentmarvel #if you tag this st*rker you die by our blade

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bewitching-elizabeth-olsen · 4 years

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Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision

The Marvel star takes us inside her transformation to a new kind of hero

GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 002

Magazine Scans > 2021 > Grazia

GRAZIA: Elizabeth Olsen is a trooper. We are in a field in Surrey on the outskirts of the Marvel studios; it’s a biting minus one and she is standing in a Chanel broderie anglaise sundress and increasingly soggy UGG boots. Her feline cheekbones face skywards, but Olsen is slowly sinking into the mud, trilling out high notes to keep herself warm (possibly distracted) and of course with spirits high. “It was the wind I think, that was worse than the sideways rain,” she jokes as we trundle back to the soundstage hangar that we are using as a studio. It’s the kind of moment that could go viral on Instagram, that is, if Olsen were on social media. Yet one of the biggest stars of our current cultural moment is completely offline – and that surprising fact might just be the least interesting thing about her. If anything, it is a sign of how Olsen has come into her own as a confident, decisive star with the power to create her own universe.

On the cusp of her 32nd birthday, Olsen is fastidious and professional, yes, but also bright, engaging, creative, and collaborative. Born and raised in the California sunshine, she is surprisingly at ease in the blustery conditions that deluge the English countryside in late January – or, it’s that she’s very good at acting. “It was one of the ugliest days of this winter – just hilarious – but I knew we wanted the shot,” the 31-year-old actress says.

Since October, Olsen’s been living in the leafy British countryside with her “man-guy-partner,” musician Robbie Arnett, just a short drive to the Surrey compound where Doctor Strange is being filmed. It’s a closed set, masked in secrecy as much as the socially distanced masked crew dotted all over the 200-acre studio. “It feels right being in a small city right now,” she says.

Indeed, Olsen is a modern-day Renaissance woman. Learned and dedicated to her craft, she studied at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, with a semester at the Moscow Art Theatre School studying Stanislavski. (Surely, no matter how much of a genius the Russian theatre master was, he never could have conceived of the Marvel universe.)

Approached with the concept of WandaVision, “I thought it was perfect for television, and a very original idea that made me excited,” Olsen says. Also, she was happy she would get to work with Bettany again: “He’s very precise, like me.”

In many ways, WandaVision is a love letter to the first American television heyday. Olsen, who stayed up late watching Nick at Nite reruns as a child, says it’s a bit of a homecoming in that way. “I was a very hammy, performative child,” she explains. “So, I do think I got to live out some sort of childhood dream doing the show.”

“The highlight was really getting to tell a story about these superhero individuals told in different decades of American sitcoms, trying to match the tone of those sitcoms in order to help orate the story,” she says. “But keep it playful and fun.” Little did she know just how much we’d need that.

Half-filmed pre-pandemic in Atlanta and half post-pandemic in LA – with a six-month hiatus in-between “until all the unions figured out to work safely” – WandaVision was released almost a year into the pandemic. In many ways, it is an artifact of its time: centered upon a yearning for the simplicity of earlier days, yet shot through with the creeping realization that such days may never return, and perhaps never existed to begin with.

Indeed, the weekly story of suburban superheroes Wanda and Vision has played out like a parable of our times: Wanda living in her chosen bubble, her trauma resonating in the world we find ourselves in today. Olsen appreciates a good metaphor, but feels people may be projecting a bit much. “I see Wanda as a victim of extreme trauma, who does not understand how to process it,” she explains. “She has been a human experiment.” (Not to belabor the point, but haven’t we all?)

Being summoned by Marvel is like being called to a parallel universe for an actor: thrilling, yes, but not without a tinge of terror and a dash of the unknown. Six years in, though, it’s become like family in some ways. As a member of two dynasties – Olsen and Marvel – family is key to Olsen. She checks in on her mom (who still lives in California) and, like many American daughters, is researching which vaccine mom should get.

The performative gene runs strong through her family, of course – and no, we don’t mean her sisters. Olsen’s mom was a ballerina. Still, when she first started auditioning, Olsen took special care to carve her own path – one far from Full House. “Nepotism is a thing and I’m very aware of it,” she says. “And of course, I’ve always wanted to do it alone.” She did just that, her acting credentials consistently rising as her sister’s cemented their fashion kudos. Olsen bears a noticeable resemblance to her fashion-designer older sisters and her sartorial DNA is similarly low-key. She loves The Row (of course) and NYC label Khaite’s denim and cashmere.

For Olsen, her day job is like playing dress-up. This time around, she walked away from WandaVision with the girdle worn underneath her 50s wedding dress, laughing, “I mean, to have a custom undergarment like that, I felt like it was necessary!” Her WandaVision co-star, Kathryn Hahn, also became her shopping cohort when filming.

“She’s dangerous!” Olsen says. “She has the most exquisite, minimal but expensive taste.” It was Hahn who led Olsen to the independent boutique where she found the belted Julia Jentzsch trench that she wore to our shoot.

At the rail of samples compiled by the stylist, Olsen gravitates towards a spacious linen boilersuit and longline cashmere cardigan. Has she always been a tomboy, I ask? “I think I felt uncomfortable being a child being told they were pretty,” she says of her early auditions at age 10, adding that her love of ballet and musical theater could leave her “feeling exposed” at a young age.

Speaking of over-exposure, Olsen is distinctly offline in a time when so many are defined by their social media presence. Among celebrities and regular digital citizens, the perfect balance of online and off is up for debate, but Olsen is clear: social media saturation is a choice for all of us, and everyone needs to draw their own boundaries.

“It has to be a personal decision, right?” she begins. “So, my opinion has nothing to do with what anyone else does or doesn’t do with it.” Her own journey began when she momentarily dabbled with Instagram (since deleted), while filming Ingrid Goes West, director Matt Spicer’s frightening and funny debut feature about a social stalker, co-starring Aubrey Plaza.

Up until that time, she says, “I had never touched it before. I thought, ‘This is an interesting social experiment for myself, to see if it is a good source to talk about charities or a good source to talk about small projects, or to share something goofier about myself.’ But I think at the end of the day, what I discovered was one, I’m really bad at creating a perceived identity!”

“I didn’t find it very organic to who I am as a person,” she continues. “I found some joy in putting up silly videos, but I think the main reason I stopped – not I think, I know the main reason why I stopped – was because of the organization in my brain.”

“Lots of horrible things happen all the time. Or, lots of great things happen all the time. Whether it’s something terrifying, like a natural disaster or a school shooting or a death, there are so many things that happen, and I love processing information. I love reading articles. I love listening to podcasts. I love communicating about things that are happening in the world to people around me. And what I don’t love is that my brain organization was saying, ‘Should I post about this?’ That seemed very unhealthy ….”

“And to then contribute to these platitudes that I don’t really love, you have to subscribe to two different ways of thinking,” she says. “So, I didn’t like that, and there was a lot of it that was just bothering me for my own sake of what value systems I have.”

That’s not to say that there’s any inherent value system – pro or con – in using Instagram. Olsen is clear that like any other method of expression, it’s up to the individual to use it as they see fit. “I do see a use of it and how you can use it well for work,” she says. “But I don’t think that I would like to use that tool to promote myself.”

She’s private for a millennial yes, but not prim. On the photoshoot, lockdown experiences were shared, and Olsen recounted her (hilarious) first at-home bikini wax: banishing her husband upstairs “for an extended chat with his therapist,” her trusted waxer on speed dial, and microwave set to ping! (Yes, Olsen is a trooper, as I mentioned.)

We catch up over Zoom a week later, her hair once again pulled up in a casual topknot, her cashmere turtleneck simmering in a dark claret, and her entire being suffused with covetable understatement. She chats buoyantly against an unexpected backdrop of pirate ship wallpaper in the playroom of a house she shares with Arnett, who proposed with an emerald and diamond ring in 2019.

“We first started to try to make it the gym, but it was so cramped,” she says of the jolly space. The home gym was instead awarded a larger room, where Olsen loves to maintain a varied fitness regime – running, yoga, dancing, more – though after all the intense Marvel filming, she jokes, “maybe it’s time to give up on my body?!” Being comic book fit does sound grueling or “time-consuming fun” as she anoints the “strenuous physical demands.”

Like most of us, she is longing for the spring, but she still takes a regular constitutional walk in a nearby Richmond park, whatever the weather. “The deer are incredible; every time I see them I feel alive,” she says. “We have been lucky to have nature around us in lockdown.” It’s a marked difference from her paparazzi-populated home in the Hills. “They know our walks, where we get coffee, work-out…,” she trails off.

Her haven in Los Angeles is her backyard, complete with a mid-century swimming pool and an edible garden. “It’s crazy the blackberries grow like weeds! I love watching a kid’s first reaction to an edible garden,” she gushes That has been the part of the pandemic travel restrictions she’s found hardest: missing her friend’s children growing up, and others who have been born this past year that she’s yet to meet. They will no doubt all be treated to her homemade blackberry sorbet on her return stateside.

Yet, her time on British soil will likely be prolonged, with a prospective indie commencing filming here when Doctor Strange wraps. Prompted for more detail, her firm charm kicks in. “I can’t jinx it!” she insists. Still, she will share that she’s heavily involved in the creative, and that funding smaller productions in the current climate has been a challenge.

Through it all, Olsen has remained determined and calm. “I feel patience is my superpower. But my weakness also,” she says. “I feel like it gets tested more than others who don’t have a lot of patience. If someone learns you’re easygoing or that you’re relaxed, sometimes it gets taken advantage of.” While she waits for the green light on that film, she is busy producing a new children’s cartoon with Arnett, “about loving and caring for our world,” and has also written a children’s book about to be published by Random House, all while the demands of Marvel life continue to surround her.

Indeed, Olsen is a superhero for the modern age: Multi-hyphenate, but fiercely devoted to the craft that she loves; instantly recognizable, yet thoughtfully protective of her private life; a woman with style, substance, success, and deep rewarding relationships with those around her; focused on a vision of a better world for us all.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

#Elizabeth Olsen #WandaVision #Avengers #Scarlet Witch #Wanda Maximoff #Sorry For Your Loss #Avengers Infinity War #Avengers Age of Ultron #Captain America Civil War #Ingrid Goes West #Godzilla

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enjennie · 4 years

Text

Chapter 1 - The Long Haul

Exodus

Chapter 2 - Here

Word count: 2k

Moon Yuri loves train rides and sitting for long durations of time, which is why the trip to Oakwood College was a blessing in disguise to the girl who hadn’t had a wink of sleep for the past few weeks because her acceptance letter happened to have lost its way in the mail and only got to her a week before admissions ended. She had approximately two weeks to submit her application, pack up and leave everything behind her. The easiest part was actually the last thing, which she did with no hesitations.

Oakwood College has been her dream school since freshmen year when she came across an ad posted on their billboard for the seniors. They offer the best courses in the country, and that wasn’t even the best thing yet: it was being away from home. Yuri’s legs felt like jelly when she read the acceptance letter. She thought for sure she hadn’t gotten in. But, miracles proved to be true and now as she sat on the train to her new school, she couldn’t help but smile to herself.

“Sorry, is this seat taken? Everywhere else is taken,” a voice disrupts her train of thoughts.

Yuri looks up to see a girl with long dark hair, her locks are clipped to the side and she wore a soft smile on her face.

“Of course,” Yuri gestured to the seat next to hers and the girl beamed before setting her things down and taking a seat. “I’m Jeong Seoyun. Are you attending Oakwood too?” the girl pointed at the school sticker Yuri had smacked onto her suitcase. She smiled, “Yeah! Nice to meet you, Seoyun. I’m Moon Yuri,”

“Sophomore?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Ditto. No one really moves during sophomore year. Well, except some. But, what’s your reason… if you don’t mind?” Seoyun had a vibe to her that Yuri couldn’t explain. She was warm, but cool at the same time. She felt like autumn. “I didn’t receive my letter last year. Oakwood contacted me two weeks ago asking why I didn’t enroll,” Yuri explained.

Seoyun looked perplexed. “You must have outstanding grades, then. Oakwoods doesn’t even respond to emails, let alone make them to personally contact people,” The two laugh and Yuri denied the compliment. In her old school, there was nothing else to focus on but studies. Which is how she managed to become the top in all her subjects, and graduated as valedictorian.

“What do you major in?” the girl relaxed her back against the seat. “Film,” Yuri answered. Seoyun nodded.

“That’s really cool. I know someone from that department. I take up nursing. Sounds boring, I know,”

“No way, that sounds awesome. I wouldn’t survive one semester in that course, though. Can’t handle blood and needles at all,” Yuri sniggered and Seoyun cracked into a smile. “Thanks. And that’s too bad, I hope you’ll be okay during vaccination day,”

“What now?”

“Vaccination day. Oakwood requires them once a year,”

Yuri looked at Seoyun with eminent fear written on her face and the girl burst into laughter. “I’m kidding! You should’ve seen your face, Moon Yuri. Hilarious,” Seoyun points at Yuri who’d taken a relieved breath.

The two spend the next two hours of the train ride talking and joking about and Yuri has never been happier to have found a new friend already.

“Which building are you in? If you’re in Beverly then we could go together since that’s where I room,” Yuri and Seoyun had gotten off the train and were now walking to the front gates of what would be called their home away from home for the next three years. “I got assigned to Athena, actually… is that far from Beverly?” Yuri pouted. She already didn’t want to be separated from her friend.

“That’s right next to Beverly!”

Yuri follows Seoyun into the large campus and they walk the path along the field and several school buildings until they finally reach their respective dorm houses. “Here’s Beverly and… over there, is your home sweet home,” Seoyun points to the similar looking building beside the one they stood in front of. The two exchange numbers and Yuri thanks Seoyun for accompanying her. She takes her bags and walks up to the now terrifying looking building. It was only scary because now, she had to face it alone.

But according to the dean, when she’d spoken to her on the phone, Yuri’s roommate wouldn’t be arriving until second semester due to some personal business. Which is why Yuri was grateful and relieved to have met Seoyun.

She carries her suitcase up the flight of stairs and looked around to look for her room. To her delight, she finds it right away, right by the stairs. Yuri took the key in her pocket and unlocked the room, revealing a fairly spacious room complete with two beds, two dressers and a closet for each person. In the middle of the room, was a door to the terrace.

She takes the bed on the right, and puts her stuff down to unpack.

Yuri was just about done unpacking when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She takes it out and reads the message she received from her dad.

Hi, pumpkin. How is college life so far?

Barely started, just moved in.

Knew you’d fit right in! Goodluck, kiddo.

Yuri rolled her eyes and scoffed at her dad’s half-assed text, throwing her phone to her bed and putting her last set of clothes into the closet and sliding the suitcase underneath her bed. Three knocks sounded from the door and Seoyun’s head pops in before Yuri could say come in.

“Hey, newbie. All settled in, I see,” Seoyun makes her way inside and Yuri spots a girl behind her. “This is Lee Minjae, my roommate,” Seoyun gestures to the stranger who had her eyes glued to her phone, typing rapidly. “Hi! Yuri, right? It’s nice to meet you,” Minjae was busy with her phone, but she shot a Yuri a small smile, which the girl returned. “Likewise, Minjae,”

“I see you took Yeeun’s old room,” Seoyun played with the curtains of the windows with her fingers before taking a seat on the edge of Yuri’s bed.

“Oh you know my roommate? The dean said she’d be here next sem,” Yuri shut her closet door and the two girls behind her exchanged looks. “The dean said that?” Minjae asked, suddenly not interested in her phone. “Yeah,” Yuri assured. “Do you know her?”

“She’s a close friend,” was all Minjae says. Yuri nods, placing her hands on either side of her hips.

“Hungry?” Seoyun deliberately changes the subject. Both Minjae and Yuri nod and the three girls pile out of the room and down the stairs, on their way to the dining hall.

The sun was just setting and you can see it from where the three girls walked. But Yuri couldn’t enjoy the view of it, when a rogue soccer ball came hurling straight at her head from out of nowhere followed by the indistinct yelling of boys, presumably the ones responsible for it.

“Omg, Yuri! Are you okay?” Seoyun and Minjae’s concerned faces is all Yuri can see from where she lie on the ground. “Don’t worry,” Yuri managed to say through the pain. “I’ll live,”

Amidst the chaos, Yuri could hear the voice of a man. “I am so sorry. Renjun’s a complete jackass and can’t play soccer for shit-“

“Don’t blame this on Renjun now,”

“Jesus, Seoyun. Sorry your boyfriend couldn’t play for shit,” the voice spoke again.

Yuri closes her eyes, trying to get her world to stop spinning, before she’s pulled up from the ground by an impressively great strength. “Wow, Seoyun you’re strong,” she commented on it, truly believing Seoyun could pull her up so easily, but she was wrong. When she opens her eyes once more, it wasn’t in fact Seoyun, but a boy with dark hair and an encaptivating smile.

“I’m not Seoyun, but thank you,” he chuckled. Yuri rubbed her temples, groaning at herself. “Sorry. I really thought-“ she can’t continue her sentence as she couldn’t help but laugh at herself.

“I’m Jeno, what’s your name?” the boy introduces himself.

“Yuri,” she responds. “My name is Yuri,”

“The name’s just as pretty as the person,” Jeno comments and Yuri feels heat rushing to her cheeks. The boy laughs, finding Yuri getting flustered an amusing sight. Behind him, another boy had come rushing in, apologizing profusely. “Are you alright? I’m really sorry, Jeno told me to just kick and I did,” the boy who Yuri guessed was named Renjun came into her view as he pushed Jeno out of the way.

“I’m fine! Don’t worry,” Yuri laughs it off, despite feeling the beating of her heart through her head, which to her knowledge, isn’t supposed to happen, but she didn’t want to be dramatic in front of these new people. Renjun gives her a smile, before turning to Seoyun behind him and placing his arms around her shoulder. “And how are you, my princess?” he cooed.

“Ugh, get a room. Come on, Yuri. You’re fine, yeah? Jeno go take your ball and leave!” Minjae scowls at the boy who raises his hand in defeat. “Yes, coach,” he joked. Jeno shoots Yuri a wink before jogging off, making sure to drag Renjun with him which left the girls to continue their disrupted plan to eat.

“Listen, Yuri. Don’t get yourself tangled up with Lee Jeno now. He’s big trouble,” Seoyun says, linking arms with Yuri who was just finishing up a juicebox. “Why not?” Yuri gulped, too shy to admit she found him a bit cute. “Trust me. He’ll make you feel like you’re on top of the world, then leave you to fall face flat to the ground once it becomes too much for him,” explained Seoyun. “That sounds awfully detailed, Seoyun,” Yuri inspected Seoyun’s face in the moonlight. She looked stunning, her long dark hair framed her features well and her lips were always curled into a smile. Yuri’s eyes flew to Minjae, who was once again glued to her phone. Her hair fell over her face, which was illuminated by the light from her phone.

“Oh shut up, Yuri. Me and Jeno? No way! I’ve just seen it happen to countless of girls,”

Yuri made sure to make a mental note of Seoyun’s advice.

The next day, Yuri was surprised to find out that she could no longer go on her social media and that the college apparently modified the Wi-Fi settings in which the students needed a certain password only given to teachers, to access any site they wanted. She discovers this when her Instagram stops loading as she had her cereal with Minjae and Seoyun.

“How about on weekends? Do they… remodify it then?” Yuri asked, desperation in her voice. Seoyun shook her head no, “Don’t worry, we got that covered,” she had a sly grin on her face. Yuri couldn’t ask any further questions as Seoyun got up to put her tray away. Minjae yawned, she barely touched her food.

“What she means is… every weekend, we go to Hyebin’s house and get our mental check there. Y’know, use the Wi-Fi and shit,” Minjae explained to the dumbfounded girl. “We’ll introduce you to Hyebin, she’s cool,”

Yuri nodded, the information still not sinking in. Probably because she didn’t have the best sleep last night. A new place and knowing the next day would be her actual first day in the college of her dreams, it made Yuri restless and toss and turn. Which is why she faced the living hell torture of trying to keep her eyes open during a 2 hour lecture on what is supposed to be her favorite subject; cinematography.

Coffee. Why didn’t I drink damn coffee? She thought to herself, and as if someone had been reading her mind, Yuri felt something warm brush up against her fingers. She opens her eyes and lift her head to see a cup of coffee. She looked beside her, and take notice of the boy she was too sleepy to acknowledge when she got in. After a few moments of Yuri just looking at him, he gets closer and whispers.

“Drink up, you look like you need it more than me,” he smiles, and his smile alone was enough to wake every fiber in Yuri’s body. She raises the cup to her lips and took a sip. And who could you be?

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