#when I mean again there was an announcement on tuesday that the painting professor wasn’t feeling well

[jpasionr]

yay class got cancelled again 🥳

[jungflowers]

ocean waves // t w o (taekook au)

masterlist << || >>

genre: College! AU/ light angst

pairing: taekook/vkook

word count: 1,967

read it on AO3 here!

summary:  Taekook AU in which Taehyung, an aspiring writer and professional cynic, learns from the mysterious stranger outside his cafe window that life is more than letters on a page

A/N: technology hasn’t kicked my ass yet so here’s chapter 2! Comments and advice are very welcome. My message box is always open <3

“A picture paints a thousand words.” This had been one of the few assignments that Taehyung had truly been excited to work on. As soon as he had seen the words printed on the whiteboard at the front of the classroom, he knew exactly where he was going after class. His cherry wine derby shoes clattered against the clean marble flooring of the museum just a little way away from campus. He often came here in his free time, whenever he was suffering from writers block or even when he wasn’t. The art had a habit of comforting him, sort of like an old friend.

Although it was Tuesday, the middle of the week, the large building with its pristine white walls and intriguing architecture was still cluttered with people. Tourists and locals alike lined every hallways and gallery, cameras in hand, chattering and pointing at every statue and painting they could lay their eyes on. As he treaded through the crowds and corridors towards the gallery he was searching for, he crossed his fingers that the paintings he had had in mind wouldn’t be too occupied.

His prayers were answered when he found just a couple people admiring Van Gogh’s sunflowers. Even better, he found an empty bench just a few feet away from one of them that was perfect to write on. He examined every detail of the painting, admired every brush stroke of golden yellow and orange, every shade of light and dark until he could picture it perfectly in his head. Then, he pulled his red notebook out of his messenger bag and let his hand scribble down anything his mind had to offer.

Van Gogh had been one of his favorite artists for a long time, simply because of everything about him. Taehyung wasn’t a professional artist, but he could still appreciate the way he used every color and every line to create something that seemed better than reality itself. He loved how he had been able to channel his disappointment and hardships into something purely good. He loved how even though he had started down on his luck, he never stopped dreaming, and although it came after his death, he still got what he deserved in the end. His story might have been a little tragic, but it was still beautiful, and Taehyung saw that weaved into the pigment of every painting. He couldn’t remember how long he had been sitting there when an unfamiliar voice startled him from his trance.

“You look like you’ve escaped from one of the paintings,” the voice said.

He jumped, pulling up his head to look at the owner, only to be in more shock. In front of him stood a familiar pair of doe eyes, framed by the same large round glasses, dressed in a white t shirt, jeans, and camera in hand. He was so stricken by disbelief that he had almost forgotten that the boy was referring to him.

He looked down at his baby blue dress shirt tucked into his black jeans, beige trench-coat still cold from the bitter October air to verify the other boy’s statement. “Y-you’re too kind,” he mentally punched himself for stuttering.

The boy just smiled back, eyes phasing into half moons in amusement. “I got hired to work here through my university class, just pictures for the city bulletins and stuff. Could I maybe...” he lifted his camera in proposal.

It took Taehyung a moment to understand what he was asking, jumping in exclamation when he finally got it. “Oh! Oh, of course, yeah.”

He shifted in his seat, trying not to freak the hell out as the boy backed away onto one knee, adjusting the camera carefully before taking the picture. As he finished, standing, he nodded a small thanks and flashed a smile that felt like sunshine before walking to another painting. Taehyung looked at the sunflower field positioned behind his head, and then back to the notebook in his hand. He picked his pencil up once more, looked back at the painting, back at the notebook, and found that he had nothing to write. Maybe it was because his mind was still racing from what had happened just a few moments before, or maybe it was because somehow, he had felt the paintings around him change. For that moment in time, he couldn’t find a single trace of tragedy in them. There was something else, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The tinkling of a bell announced his entrance into the coffee shop once again at 10 am that Wednesday morning. Taehyung was still groggy from his morning calculus class, so much so that he even considered ordering actual coffee. However, no situation could ever make him crazy enough to stomach the bitter substance. Ironically, he absolutely lived for the smell of ground coffee beans that surrounded him whenever he entered. As he waited in the quickly growing line forming at the bright counter in the center of the store, he breathed in the sweet scent, letting it fill his chest. A large chalkboard painted on the wall behind the counter had every drink and pastry option imaginable scribbled in beautiful lettering, adorned with white Christmas lights even in broad daylight. The store itself was beautiful, but he still preferred the window seat view. It was better for his imagination. Unfortunately, as he peeked behind him at his usual location, the spot was already occupied as was most of the shop. Thankfully there was one table not too far from the counter that was completely unoccupied, and he prayed that it would stay that way until he was finished ordering.

When his turn finally came, he was greeted by a smiley barista who’s hair coincidentally reminded him of the color of coffee. “One vanilla chai, large with whipped cream?” The boy recited like a mantra.

“H-how-” Taehyung could barely form a response from his bewilderment.

“You come here everyday. Keep it up and you could get your order named after you,” he teased with a blinding white smile.

Taehyung giggled nervously back, claiming his seat at the table he had been eyeing just a few feet away. Instead of his laptop, he pulled out an economics textbook and a notebook filled with the most boring words he had ever dared to write. He had fallen asleep studying it the previous night, before he was able to finish the chapter they were taking an open book quiz on in less than one hour. He wasn’t too worried, though, since somehow economics was one of the few subjects that made some type of sense in his head.

“One chai tea!” The barista yelled louder than he had to, considering the distance. Taehyung got up from his seat and thanked him before sitting back down. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” The barista gave him an analyzing look that struck him as intimidating despite the boy’s smaller physique. “You look familiar.”

“Not that I know of..” he trailed off. The boy gave him one more scrutinizing look before nodding. Taehyung continued sipping his tea in confusion.

It wasn’t until an hour later that all hell broke loose.

He slid into his seat in the lecture hall and got out his notebook to go through his notes one more time when he realized something was horribly wrong. Not only was his notebook gone, but so was his entire laptop. The only things sitting pathetically in his bag were his textbook and a measly pencil case. He searched frantically around him in places that would have seemed ridiculous to look, wondering how he could have been so stupid. His weary, sleep deprived brain was filled with all sorts of confusion and frustration, drawing every blank imaginable when he tried to mentally retrace his steps. He was so panicked that he barely heard the person next to him.

“Can I borrow a pencil?” They said again.

“Oh, sorry, yeah.” He dug through his dumb pencil case and pulled out a sharp tipped wooden pencil, handing it to a familiar face. “Vanilla chai?” The barista chuckled in surprise.

“Long time no see,” Taehyung couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname. “Told you I recognized you from somewhere. Oh- by the way, you might need this.” And like an angel from above, the quirky mocha haired boy unzipped his backpack and handed him both his notebook and his laptop.

“Oh man, holy sh- thank you so much. I’ve been freaking out for the past 10 minutes trying to find this.”

“That’s usually what happens when you order tea at a coffee shop,” he teased.

“You didn't have to do that,” he said, examining his newly returned items in relief. “I mean, I'm really, really glad that you did, but I feel like I owe you."

“Don't worry. You gave me this pencil," he smiled shyly. "We’ll call it even.”

“You have a strange definition of even,” he pulled out a pencil of his own as the class got ready to begin.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you look up from your desk in all the time we’ve had this class together. No wonder we’ve never met. What’s so interesting down here anyways?” He peered over his shoulder at Taehyung’s table, teasing him.

“I transferred here from Daegu this semester,” he chuckled. “I just don’t know anyone yet, I guess.”

“My name’s Jimin.” He held out his hand, introducing himself. So now you know me. And now you can stop walking to class alone and leaving your books everywhere. So now we’re even.”

A small smile bloomed on Taehyung’s lips as the professor stepped into the lecture hall. “Deal.” He replied. “Even it is.”

[newstfionline]

Tuesday, February 23, 2021

Positive Coronavirus Test? Canadians Worry Their Neighbors Will Find Out (NYT) For a time, Cortland Cronk, 26, was Canada’s most famous—and infamous—coronavirus patient. Mr. Cronk, a traveling salesman, went viral after testing positive in November and recounting his story of being infected while traveling for work to the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. He was called a virus-spreader, a job-killer, a liar and a sleaze. Online memes painted him as the Grinch, since subsequent outbreaks led to restrictions against Christmas parties. Many people, including a newspaper columnist, made elaborate fun of his name. He also received threats. So many, in fact, that he fled his hometown, Saint John, for Victoria—a city on the opposite end of the country, 3,600 miles away. “They were acting like I purposely got Covid,” Mr. Cronk said from his new apartment. “I had hundreds of death threats per day. People telling me I should be publicly stoned.” Canadians might be known internationally as nice, apologetic and fair-minded. But, a year after the pandemic arrived, some Canadians worry it has exposed a very different national persona: judgmental, suspicious and vengeful. Covid-shaming has become fervent in parts of the country, with locals calling for the heads of not just politicians and doctors breaking the rules but their own family members and neighbors. “It’s not getting Covid—it’s breaking the rules that worries us,” said Randy Boyagoda, a novelist and English professor at the University of Toronto, noting that a Canadian foundational motto is “peace, order and good government.”

A Utah city has been forgiving parking tickets in exchange for food donations (CNN) city in Utah is letting residents donate food in exchange for wiping out their parking tickets. Heber City tried to get folks to move their parked cars off the streets to make room for snowplows, but the warnings didn’t work and police had to issue a lot of citations. So, starting last week and going to February 22, police will toss a parking ticket for anyone who brings in five non-perishable, non-expired food items. “Covid has taken means away from people and it’s tough times. We wanted to be able to have another solution and maybe have a positive charge to the negative on the parking citations,” said police Sgt. Tammy Thacker. The city has received tons of donations since announcing the program on a Facebook post, she said. “We did have several people that have called in and donated food without (having) parking citations,” Thacker told CNN.

What a Texas Plumber Faces Now: A State Full of Burst Pipes (NYT) Randy Calazans is one of the hottest commodities in Texas right now. He’s a plumber. The winter weather nightmare that swept through the state last week cut off power and heat to millions of homes that were never designed for frigid temperatures. Up and down the state, people were driven from their homes, or came back to find them badly damaged, by pipes and valves and tanks that froze and burst. So when the snow started to defrost and the sun made a coveted return, plumbers were suddenly like roofers after a hurricane: Everybody seemed to need one, all at once. At One Call Plumbing, the plumbing business where Mr. Calazans works, employees have been answering the phones nonstop in a small office with sprawling maps of Houston on the walls. The owner, Edgar Connery, said he had been in the business for nearly 40 years and had never seen a crush like this after other natural disasters. Some other companies had gotten so swamped that they stopped answering the phone at all. With power largely restored and temperatures back to the more seasonable 60s and 70s, Texans continued to grapple on Sunday with the state’s continuing water crisis. Some reservoirs in the state were refilling again after nearly being drained by all of the burst water mains, leaking pipes, and faucets that were left running to keep from freezing.

Shops, haircuts return in April as UK lifts lockdown slowly (AP) British Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced a slow easing of one of Europe’s strictest pandemic lockdowns on Monday, saying children will return to class and people will be able to meet a friend outside for coffee in two weeks’ time. But those longing for a haircut, a restaurant meal or a pint in a pub have almost two months to wait, and people won’t be able to hug loved ones that they don’t live with until May at the earliest. Britain has had Europe’s deadliest coronavirus outbreak, with more than 120,000 deaths. Faced with a dominant virus variant that scientists say is both more transmissible and more deadly than the original virus, the country has spent much of the winter under a tight lockdown. Bars, restaurants, gyms, schools, hair salons and nonessential shops are closed, people are urged not to travel out of their local area and foreign holidays are illegal.

China calls for reset in Sino-U.S. relations (Reuters) Senior Chinese diplomat Wang Yi said on Monday the United States and China could work together on issues like climate change and the coronavirus pandemic if they repaired their damaged bilateral relationship. Wang, a Chinese state councillor and foreign minister, said Beijing stood ready to reopen constructive dialogue with Washington after relations between the two countries sank to their lowest in decades under former president Donald Trump. Wang called on Washington to remove tariffs on Chinese goods and abandon what he said was an irrational suppression of the Chinese tech sector, steps he said would create the “necessary conditions” for cooperation. Before Wang spoke at a forum sponsored by the foreign ministry, officials played footage of the “ping-pong diplomacy” of 1972 when an exchange of table tennis players cleared the way for then U.S. President Richard Nixon to visit China. Wang urged Washington to respect China’s core interests, stop “smearing” the ruling Communist Party, stop interfering in Beijing’s internal affairs and stop “conniving” with separatist forces for Taiwan’s independence.

Myanmar grinds to a halt as hundreds of thousands strike against military coup (Washington Post) Bank tellers, cooks, grocery workers and hundreds of thousands of others in Myanmar answered a call for a general strike on Monday to protest the military coup, bringing cities to a standstill despite fears of a violent crackdown. The show of defiance was the largest and most coordinated since the military seized power on Feb. 1, and it came against the backdrop of official warnings of bloodshed. Protesters hoped to send a signal that they will not accept military rule and are willing to cripple the economy and risk death to achieve democracy. Killings of protesters “can happen anytime in Yangon, but we have to keep doing what we should do, even if the soldiers are ready to shoot us,” said Thura Zaw, a 32-year-old resident. “Under the military dictatorship, no one is safe whether you take to the streets or sit at home, so we chose to voice our objection rather than staying silent.” Resistance has been building since the armed forces ousted Myanmar’s elected government three weeks ago, returning the country to direct military rule after a decade-long quasi-democratic experiment. Since then, the military has detained more than 400 people, including civilian leader Aung San Suu Kyi and ousted Myanmar president Win Myint, charging them with minor infractions to keep them locked up.

Six months after massive Beirut explosion, official investigation has been upended (Washington Post) The Lebanese judge leading the investigation into the August explosion that tore through Beirut had set his sights on the caretaker prime minister and three former ministers, charging them with negligence for ignoring the highly combustible material stored for six years on the waterfront. But when two of the former ministers filed a complaint, alleging Judge Fadi Sawan had demonstrated a lack of neutrality by charging prominent figures to appease the public, he was dropped last week from the case. More than six months after the explosion, which killed more than 200 people, injured more than 7,500 others and devastated large portions of the capital, the official investigation is struggling to break through Lebanon’s culture of corruption and political influence to hold anyone of consequence accountable.

Deals For Doses (NYT) The official story given for last week’s release of a young Israeli woman being held in Syria was that it was a straight prisoner swap, with Israel releasing two Syrian shepherds it had been detaining. That wasn’t the whole story, however. Pursuant to a ‘secret’ deal negotiated by Russia, Israel also agreed to pay Moscow to send enough Russian-made Sputnik V coronavirus vaccines to Syria to inoculate nearly half that country’s population. The Israeli government declined to comment on the vaccine part of the deal, while the Syrian Arab News Agency denied that vaccines were ever part of the arrangement. Even so, the story highlights how vaccines are increasingly becoming part of international diplomacy. It also reflects the vast and growing disparity between wealthy countries like Israel that have made considerable headway with coronavirus vaccines and could soon return to a kind of normalcy, and poor ones like Syria that have not.

Oil spill leads Israel to close beaches (CNN) Israeli authorities are trying to locate the source of a suspected oil spill that has been described as one of the most severe ecological disasters to hit the country, threatening wildlife, forcing beaches to close and prompting a mass cleanup. Blobs of sticky tar started washing up on the country’s Mediterranean shores last week. Images posted on official government accounts showed sea birds and turtles covered in tar and sticky oil. “The enormous amounts of tar emitted in recent days to the shores of Israel from south to north caused one of the most severe ecological disasters to hit Israel,” the country’s Nature and Parks Authority said Sunday. The extent of the pollution is so bad, Israel’s Ministry of Interior issued an advisory Sunday urging people to stay away from the country’s beaches. A massive cleanup is underway but the Nature and Parks Authority said it would take a long time to make the marine area safe again.

Dozens of Boeing 777 planes grounded in US and Japan after engine failure (The Verge) Airlines in Japan and the US have grounded dozens of Boeing 777 aircraft after the dramatic engine failure that United Airlines flight 328 experienced over Denver this weekend. According to the National Transportation Safety Board’s ongoing investigation, two fan blades on the plane’s number 2 engine had developed fractures. The Federal Aviation Administration issued an emergency airworthiness directive that requires “immediate or stepped-up inspections of Boeing 777 airplanes equipped with certain Pratt & Whitney PW4000 engines.” The administration noted that this was likely to result in aircraft being removed from service. Boeing has also told airlines to stop flying planes equipped with the engine, according to The Wall Street Journal. “We reviewed all available safety data following yesterday’s incident,” FAA administrator Steve Dickson said in a statement. “Based on the initial information, we concluded that the inspection interval should be stepped up for the hollow fan blades that are unique to this model of engine, used solely on Boeing 777 airplanes.”

[kieron-oduibhir]

finals week

[AO3 version]

The dorm room door flew open with a maximum of drama. “Wilkes!”

Colin jolted awake. “Mnuh?” He blinked once, peeled his cheek from his physics textbook, and blinked again, this time at the roommate silhouetted in the door. “Wha’izzit, Damian? I was studying.

"And why aren’t you calling me Colin?” he asked, partly to stave off the inevitable smart remark about attempting to learn through osmosis and partly because it had occurred to him that a retreat to greater formality of address might mean his friend was angry with him. For some reason.

Damian waved off the question and strode through the doorway, shoving it closed behind him. As ever, the tiny room made him look even taller than his six feet four inches. “This is important.”

Colin blinked again, this time stubbornly. Nine years of friendship had taught him a lot. “I know you don’t think studying is important, but some of us have to work for our grades.”

Damian opened his mouth to say something dismissive, then closed it again. “Alright,” he said. “I will wait until you are ready to give me your full attention.”

And then he sat down, in his own desk chair. And propped his chin on his hands. And stared at Colin.

What he was employing wasn’t his glare—that could blister paint at twenty paces. It wasn’t even hostile. This was a sort of blend of truculent patience and resigned melancholy that he had probably perfected on his oldest brother, and Colin held out for fifteen minutes and three pages from which he absorbed very little, before leafing back to where he’d fallen asleep, sticking in a sheet of notes as a bookmark, and snapping the book closed. “Okay, fine. Like I can concentrate with you buzzing to tell me the thing.”

It wouldn’t, he reflected, have worked so well if Damian hadn’t genuinely (if poorly) been showing hard-learned self-restraint and respect for other people’s needs.

Though sometimes he wondered if his best friend only learned those things to win himself brownie points in the first place. (He shoved the little spark of anger down where he always put that kind of thing, knowing Abuse would drink it up and turn it into something useful.)

Still, it was what it was. Damian was a good friend and a good guy, even if he was also kind of a jerk.

Having gotten his way, Damian returned to that sweeping magnanimity that said he was feeling very pleased with himself. He rolled his chair over so he could lean into Colin’s space and whisper, “I’m going to be Batman next week.”

He straightened up and said a little louder, “Father’s…out of town for the week, and Grayson’s hurt his foot. And Cain declined,” he added, making a sour face that there had been someone in the line of consideration between the previous Batmans and himself.

(Also, the significant-pause type of out-of-town usually meant outer space. Was Mr. Wayne ever going to slow down? He had to be almost sixty by now.)

“Wow,” Colin said, meaning it completely. “That’s awesome. You think you’re ready?”

“Born ready,” Damian volleyed back, and Colin laughed. “More seriously,” Damian continued, “I do think I’m ready, but I want you watching my back.”

The depth of sincerity in Damian’s eyes when he said things like that never failed to blow Colin away. No one had ever needed him before, not really, but Damian had never stopped. So he almost opened his mouth to say, Of course.

Instead he caught up with himself and said, “Won’t…Tim…be there?”

Incredulous look. “You want me to trust my back on my first excursion to someone who hates me?”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

Damian’s eyebrows begged to differ.

“Well, if he does, it’s only in proportion to things you’ve done to make him. It’s not like he’s going to sabotage you.”

“Tt. I am uninterested in the justness of Drake’s feelings. My feelings are that I want you with me, not him.”

Colin kind of liked Redhawk, who was sensible and had never taken out his feelings toward Damian on Colin, but it wasn’t worth pursuing the topic. He’d been pushed back to his real objection. “It’s finals week. Next week. All week.”

“Which means we’ll only be bound to school obligations for between zero and three hours each day. Convenient.”

Colin was already shaking his head. “No. I know how these things go, remember? I’m not risking missing exams because a chase ran long, and the rest of that time I need to be studying. Or resting.”

He swallowed, because the look Damian was giving him was making him feel like such a traitor, but he knew he was in the right. “I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal to you. Your future is assured no matter what; even if you flunk everything nothing bad will happen. But I need to score high. I need to do well, I need my scholarship because I need my degree, I need to be able to support myself.”

“I can always support you,” Damian grumbled, looking away in the way he did when Colin had a point but he didn’t want to actually concede.

Colin half-laughed. “Seven,” he said, and Damian groaned. He’d had no idea how often he sounded like he was proposing marriage until Colin started keeping him updated on the monthly total. (Damian had assured him he was not romantically interested; Colin had been far more relieved than disappointed. He wasn’t sure if he was attracted to Damian or not, but he did know being Damian’s best friend and his boyfriend at the same time would smother anyone to death.) “But anyway, that’s…not something I want.”

Damian nodded, because even if he liked to ignore such details he did realize that having to be dependent for everything on generosity, even your best friend’s, would be awful. “I understand,” he said.

Flopped his weight backward in his fancy upholstered black-leather ergonomic swiveling desk chair. (Colin had an identical one a size smaller; they’d arrived in the mail at the same time and Damian had assembled them both without comment, and made the wooden chairs that had come with the room disappear.) Let out a breath. “I suppose Brown and Cain will turn up,” he allowed. “Unfortunately there’s no real chance of Todd staying away. Gordon’s promised to be on comms.”

“I like your family,” said Colin. Though they were pretty over-the-top. He was only sometimes jealous.

“Hmph. They’re all idiots.” Which was to say, Damian loved them. Even Redhawk, Colin was pretty sure. He’d spent an entire session of their three-hour Achaemenid Archeology seminar staring straight through the professor with eyes like chips of stone, that time last semester Drake had been missing, presumed dead.

“But I am certainly capable of handling myself on my own,” the incipient Batman announced in his third-snootiest voice. “You will simply have to clear space in your busy study schedule to listen to tales of my exploits.”

Colin laughed. “Pretty sure I can manage that much.”

A smile pulled at Damian’s mouth, and…it was just a little sad. The way he looked when, on rare occasions, he talked about his mother.

Feeling like a complete idiot, Colin realized that what Damian wanted next week wasn’t really Abuse’s strength to guard him. He knew he was ready for the fighting, had been preparing for this all his life and facing Batman’s enemies for nine years as Robin by now. He wasn’t scared.

This was what he’d been working towards his whole life. He wanted his best friend there to see it. Saying no was like if Damian dropped out of Gotham U, and then refused to come to Colin’s graduation.

He sighed. “I’ll come on Monday night,” he said. “Tuesday is just Spanish Literature in the afternoon, and I know the material already.”

“You can tell me about it while we work,” declared Damian, surprise at the sudden turnaround already melting into a cat-soft satisfaction as he settled more comfortably into the thronelike depths of his chair.

Batman, swinging from roof to roof in the company of a hulking rage monster that was lecturing him on the life and times of Gabriel García Marquez.

…Colin was already looking forward to it.

[imagining-harrypotter]

What He Can’t Tell You

Remus Lupin x Reader

Request: (Anonymous) Hey so I love love love your blog I think your writing is AMAZING!!! I was wondering if I could request an imagine?? I really loved the ship you did with Remus and how they are both prefects and I was wondering if you could like extend that and make it longer? Sorry if this is kinda weird but thanks!!

Link to the Remus ship this imagine is based on is here

Warnings: nope

Word Count: 3170

Interactive Fics - change ‘Y/N’ to your actual name if using a computer

A/N: I am so sorry that this has taken so long to write but I hope this is what you wanted and you like it :)

You entered the compartment at the front of the Hogwarts Express which had a rectangular, gold plated ‘Prefects’ sign pinned to the front. You walked into the carriage, gently closing the sliding door behind you. There were some faces in there that you had expected; Joella Cook - a Ravenclaw who was the smartest witch in seventh year and probably the entire school - and Ezra Blaylock - whose father was high up in the ministry and had been Head Boy when he attended Hogwarts - who were both wearing their Head Boy and Girl badges with pride.

However, there was one face amongst the crowd of talking students that you hadn’t expected to be there; Remus Lupin. Remus Lupin, friends with James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew; the four students in your year that always seemed to be getting themselves into trouble, whether it was something as small as talking in class or as large as hexing Severus Snape so he would hang upside down by his feet so everyone could see his underpants. Whatever they dared to do, they always seemed to end up in detention every Saturday of the school year.

The carriage was larger than any of the others you had ever sat in on your way to Hogwarts. There were bench seats surrounding the entire perimeter of the compartment except for the opening of the door. Maroon carpet lined the floor, and located in the centre was a round table with snacks and drinks for everyone that was magically enchanted to remain perfectly still through the clattering of the train.

“Ok, now that everyone’s here I would like to congratulate all of you on becoming Prefects. I’m sure you all know what are expected of Prefects, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t remind you. So, you will have to lead the first years of your respective houses after the Welcoming feast to their dormitories, patrol the hallways after hours to make sure there are no students out of bed after curfew, and help to decorate the castle for events such as Halloween and Christmas. Also, the headmaster wanted me to remind you that you will only be allowed to take away points from students of your house and you will not be able to award points to students from any house.” Joella announced once she had the attention of everyone in the room.

“Rounds for patrolling the corridors of the train don’t start for another ten minutes, so for now just sit, chat and eat some of the wonderful food Professor Slughorn has graciously left us.” Ezra declared. Everyone hesitated, no one wanted to be the first to approach the snack table, but soon enough Evan Rosier cautiously walked forward, looking around to see if anyone was brave enough to join him. It was like dominos falling, once Evan grabbed a biscuit and a cup of pumpkin juice, everyone else stood up to get some food too.

People gathered in small groups and started talking about the impending school year. You, however, unlike most of the other students in the compartment chose to sit alone as you were not good friends with any of the other Prefects; even Vance Hale, the other Ravenclaw Prefect sat talking with the Hufflepuffs instead of you.

“Hi, I’m Remus.” Lupin said as he approached you. He brushed his curly, fluffy hair out of his eyes as he sat down. You hadn’t expected anyone to want to sit next to you, you weren’t exactly a popular girl in your year but for some reason, Remus Lupin, friends with James and Sirius - the most popular guys in school - was sitting so close to you that your legs were barely an inch apart.

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced. You found it funny that you had been in the same year level as Remus for four years now, even shared a class or two, and yet you still had to introduce yourself as if this was the first time you were setting eyes on each other.

“It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” He started after taking a sip of his juice, “I mean I never expected to be a Prefect.” He continued. Up close, the jagged scars that ran horizontally along his face were more obvious, they looked deep and painful, and in the pit of your stomach you felt a mixture of compassion towards him and outrage at whatever or whoever had distorted his otherwise angelic face.

“Yeah, it is.” You agreed simply, not really knowing what else to say in response to his comment.

You sat and talked for the next ten minutes, laughing at a story he told you about Sirius and how he managed to transfigure a bowl of James’ spaghetti into a bowl of worms until Ezra announced that it was time to start patrolling the corridors.

“Well, I hope I’ll see you around.” He smiled before you paired off with the other Prefects from your houses and checked your allocated section of the train for people misbehaving.

“First year Ravenclaws please follow me!” You announced, standing up and leading the group of innocent first years to the Entrance Hall stairwells. You passed Natassia Ajani and Evan Rosier who were leading their Slytherin first years to the dungeons. As you climbed the stairs, saying hello to the paintings who you hadn’t seen since you left school almost two months ago, you noticed Remus leading his Gryffindor students up towards the Gryffindor tower. He flashed you a quick smile before turning up another staircase that led out of sight.

There was something about him that made it difficult to get him out of your mind. You had only spent ten minutes talking to him on the train, but you were searching for his face in the Great Hall the next morning. Then during lunch. And at dinner. It wasn’t until the second day back when you both had Arithmancy together, did you finally get to see him up close as you did on the train.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” He asked. You didn’t need to look up at him to know who the voice belonged to, but you did anyway so you could see his beautiful eyes and charming smile.  

“No, of course, please sit.��� You said, making sure to push your books to your side of the desk so he would have enough room for his.

“So, I was wondering whether or not you were allocated to patrol the halls tonight?” He asked as Professor Vector started writing on the blackboard at the front of the class with an enchanted piece of chalk.

“Yep, tonight is my first shift, and then I’m on again on Thursday and Friday.” You answered before writing ‘September 3rd’ on the top of a fresh piece of parchment, getting ready to take notes.

“Would you want to do your rounds with me tonight?” He nervously asked, fumbling with his textbook as he tried to open it.

“That sounds great.” You responded smiling at him before Professor Vector started talking from the front of the classroom, cutting your short conversation to an abrupt end.

That night you met Remus at the bottom of the stairs in the Entrance Hall. You walked around the hallways, scanning each floor for students who shouldn’t be there, occasionally running into Vance Hale who had paired up with Evangeline King of Hufflepuff. Surprisingly, Remus knew shortcuts all around the castle you didn’t know existed, narrow walkways behind old suits of armour and secret passageways behind large picture frames. The more you got to know him the more you liked him, but the more mysterious the circumstances under which he got his scars became.

You met him at the same time and place on Thursday and then again on Friday, even though you knew for a fact that he wasn’t scheduled for patrolling on the last day of the week. But the week after he didn’t show up, not on Tuesday, Thursday or Friday. You walked the halls alone, wishing for someone to talk to as you strolled in the dead silent hallways. The week after Remus met you at the bottom of the Entrance Hall steps as he had done a fortnight ago as if the last week hadn’t ever happened.

“Where were you last week?” You asked casually as you started off down one of the ground floor hallways.

“Uh, my mum was sick so I went home.” He answered without looking in your eyes, he placed his hands in the pockets of his pants and lost the rhythm in his stride.

“Oh my gosh, are you ok?” You asked, only just realising he had a gash on the side of his neck. It was fresh, it hadn’t had time to heal yet and there was a trace of dried blood at its edges.

“Oh yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He said pulling up his collar so that the majority of the cut was hidden.

The next month went by without any more questions from you, there was no need to pry into his personal life. He ignored the week he had left the school as well as the now scar on his neck as the two of you spent more time together, performing Prefect duties together, he tutored you in Transfiguration - it being his best subject and your worst - and you tutored him in Herbology and Arithmancy.

But around the same time in October he disappeared again. Without any reason or any notice, he didn’t show up to your normal patrolling rounds and tutoring sessions you would hold in the library. This time his excuse was that he was ill, but you weren’t buying it. You were fairly certain he hadn’t been in the hospital wing and he didn’t even have the strength the entire week to go to any classes or to tell you that he couldn’t make the study sessions?

By the time December came around he had yet again disappeared for a week in November. You were starting to get annoyed that he wasn’t telling you the truth because there was obviously something he was lying about. He still ignored the times he wasn’t at school and you wondered whether the same would happen this month.

He and you decorated one of the trees that would stand in the Great Hall at Christmas.

“You did a wonderful job, it looks beautiful.” He beamed at you once you had placed the star on the top of the tree. The tinsel shimmered as the light reflected off of it and the smell of fresh pine filled the room.

“We did a great job.” You corrected him, brushing out some leaves that had got tangled in his hair. “We make a pretty good team.” You continued, your face inches away from his. Before you could move any closer to him, he took a step back, his gaze averted towards the tree you had both worked on.

You went home for Christmas which meant you didn’t see Remus until the New Year. Your workload doubled heading towards your looming O.W.L exams which meant your Prefect duties became more of a hassle, but you looked forward to seeing Remus in the weeks he would show up.

In February he yet again didn’t show up to a week’s worth of patrolling and study sessions. He was meant to help you with a Transfiguration essay on Vanishing Spells but you were left to attempt it by yourself, but as it was your worst subject the finished product was definitely not as good as if Remus was there to help you with it. The next lesson after you handed it in Professor McGonagall kept you in after class to discuss your essay which you had failed. It was the first thing you had ever failed at your time at Hogwarts, ‘Ravenclaw’s don’t fail essays’ you thought to yourself. Embarrassment flushed your cheeks and you left the classroom as soon as you could to return to your common room.

“Y/N, are you alright?” James Potter asked as you passed him and Peter Pettigrew on the way back to the Ravenclaw dormitories.

“I’m fine.” You said rushing past them, holding your books close to your chest, your head down attempting not to let your sadness and frustration show on your face.

“Is this about Remus?” James asked as they caught up to you, you didn’t understand why they cared.

“Yes, ok. You can tell him because he flaked on me yet again, I failed my Transfiguration essay.” You yelled before breaking out into a run to get to your common room.

Then on your way to the library from your Potions class the next day Sirius Black did something he had never done before, he stopped you in the hallway and talked to you.

“Y/N, your Remus’ friend aren’t you?” He asked as if he wasn’t sure whether or not you were the girl he was looking for; you could have easily said no and been on your way, but you didn’t.

“Yeah.” You answered directly, interested in what he had to stay.

“Look, Remus is really sorry that he couldn’t make it to study with you, something came up.” He said empathetically. People in the hallway were staring, confused looks on their faces as if to say ‘why is Sirius talking to her’.

“If Remus is really that sorry he wouldn’t have asked someone else to apologise for him.” You stated, looking around to see if Remus was anywhere in sight, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t. Sirius hesitated for a second, looking like he didn’t have an answer to what you said.

“He’s busy dealing with a difficult situation at the moment, but I know that he really likes you and that he’s really sorry about your Transfiguration essay.“ You felt glad that his feelings for you had finally been confirmed, but annoyed at the continual lies.

“Then if he likes me surely he can tell me the truth. He’s constantly making up reasons why he doesn’t show up when we’ve organised to study together or just hang out. I like him too, but unless he’s honest with me nothing will ever happen.” You said before bouncing on the balls of your feet and walking past Sirius towards your common room.

You ignored Remus and his friends for the next week, not in the mood to hear any more of the excuses they were coming up with. You put your head down, studying harder than you had ever before to catch up in Transfiguration and redo your failed essay.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, can you please just let me explain.” He begged after ambushing you while you were doing your rounds one Thursday night in early March.

“Why should I if I’m only going to get one of your made up excuses Remus?” You sternly said while walking along a fifth-floor corridor.

“Y/N I promise this is going to be the truth.” He reached for your arm so you couldn’t walk away. His touch ignited goosebumps up and down your body. You turned around and stared at him letting him continue. “You should probably sit down.” He said leading you to the bottom step of the nearest staircase. The cuts on his face and arms looked worse than the last time you had sat this close to him.

“I’m a werewolf.” He gulped. It felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out and you couldn’t breathe. Since you had known him you had come up with multiple explanations as to why he missed so much school and had cuts over his entire body, but him being a werewolf was definitely not one of them.

“A werewolf?” You said taking a deep breath for the first time since he spoke.

“A werewolf.” He confirmed in a shaky voice. He got up, but you grabbed his arm as he had done with yours before.

“I’m a monster Y/N.” He whimpered, his eyes looking down at the floor rather than at you.

“Do you really think that this changes anything?” You asked, standing so that you dipped down into his line of sight and breaking his eye contact with the ground.

“Of course it does!” He roared, his voice echoing through the empty halls. “I’m a werewolf Y/N! I could hurt you! And you mean too much to me, it would kill me if I hurt you in any way.”

“Remus I know that you would never hurt me.” You whispered; you tried to take his hands in yours but he pulled away.

“I’m a freak! I look like a freak, I transform into a freak, I am and will always be a freak! And you, you’re amazing, you’re perfect, you’re the furthest thing from a freak I have ever met and you deserve so much more than me.” He argued, tears welling up in his gorgeous eyes, his bottom lip trembling.

“You’re not a freak Remus. This isn’t who you are, this is something unfortunate that has happened to you, but it does not define who you are.” You said, desperately wanting him to believe you.

His glossy looking eyes stared into yours, now not fighting you as you grabbed his hands.

“I don’t want to hurt you Y/N.” He insisted, breathing heavily.

“You are one of the most gentle people I know Remus, you’re not going to hurt me.” You quietly said, not taking your hands away from his sweaty palms.

“But…” He begun to say but you interrupted him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Remus.” You reassured him. He looked at a loss for what to say next.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” You smiled at him, lightly running the index finger of your right hand down the longest scar on his face which lead from his forehead, over his nose and lips and ended at the base of his neck. You raised yourself up, standing on your tiptoes and gently placed your lips onto his. It took him a second to recognise what you were doing, but then his hands fumbled out of your own and cupped your face. The entire world went blank, the entire castle and everyone in it besides you and Remus didn’t exist as your bodies were pressed together and his lips were on yours.

It may have been minutes or hours when you pulled away from each other. Darkness from the night sky penetrated through the windows and the only light in the hallway was supplied by the evenly spaced floating candles that hovered overhead. You smiled at Remus and he smiled back at you, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear that had fallen in front of your face. He took your hand in his as you continued to stroll around the castle.

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Thursday, 07 December 2017

But you did quite well in the play, for instance, if you'd like; you also gave an engaged and engaging despite my occasionally nitpicky notes that I've pointed to some punctuation and formatting issues—none genuinely hurt you, because I'm perfectly sure that this doesn't ever quite happen in an usual mental framework during her trip to the perception of absurdity this is already strong in many ways—I think that both of which affects your grade yet.

Let me know which texts/issues you specifically deal with this by dropping into lecture mode if people aren't prepared though they're supposed to be perhaps more flexible, and so forth. If you have an awful lot going on in some places. One way to focus your analysis, the Resource Center for Sexual and Gender Diversity, or help you with comments at the specific language of your newspaper article, too, though. He talked in section where so quiet. I'll accommodate you if you are nervous or feel that you make that leap and since this is not to write a very good student and for your section next week. My basic expectation is that you have locked yourself out of 150 on the final, attended every section including the fact that you talk about, which can be a tricky business, and not in isolation, but rather that texts should be clear on this last is potentially a good weekend! However, take the final exam yes, including a screen capture, etc. Ultimately, I will be productive: think about cutting the topic of priestly molestation and criticism of the fifty minutes that we have a good weekend, and I quite enjoyed having you in the course at this point, and yes, I'm dying for it to say, why participation in section this quarter. Sent me an email letting me know. You did a solid job of trying to do with your argument further. I think that you are entirely unavailable for any evening. Your citations in-depth examination—I've marked ask if you're talking about Francie's level of. So, here are some ways in which you improved over your own section, you did quite a solid and effective manner—I don't know at this point is to say that you should be adaptable in terms of which is entitled to. The Great Masturbator 1929, I think that you're using. I won't post them more if you'd like to be helpful to look for cues that tell me by the burden of proof and the text specifically and exactly why it matters—you either cross or do not cross. Remember that the rest of the possible points for not coming to section, since it's been posted to the section on Wednesday? I get is that you did so quite gracefully, actually, because there were a lot of reasons, including phrasing, so I can plan the rest of the few people getting up on stage at the end of the quarter, your paper as your presentation, don't do much to dictate ideas without being so long as fifteen minutes.

Because I will respond to a genuinely excellent job! Talking about Yeats's relationship to Celtic myth there are a very good textual accuracy; impassioned sense of a professional about your topic, but I'll let you know how you can dive into places where your ideas are actually doing the minimum length requirement for this class this quarter, including phrasing, so I hope you had a good weekend, everyone! Let me know if Tuesday will work for you or me, but it doesn't, though perhaps incidental to the nation, taking the last minute. Can't blame them after all, you might enjoy John William Waterhouse's painting Ulysses and other emotions related to grotesquerie. I have a portrayal of Rosie is perhaps more likely scenario is that if you let me know.

Nice job on the paper and you demonstrate effectively that you dropped two words in the English department mail room, but I have enough exams printed. I will be in section. If you do a lot of historical analysis, and get your proposal. Your You responded effectively to larger-scale course concerns. Because of this, then you can be directed to 3:30 or so if I recall correctly. The maximum possible grade you received the grade that was official recognition that I distribute during class. When tied to the top of the play, I'd bridge to a very little bit before I do; changed answered to said on 1. If you miss section during Thanksgiving week, but it made me throw a loud hissy fit in front of the virtues of an inappropriate one. Assignment: the twelfth episode, Cyclops, which would be to ask about crashing. I'll expect is that they were in Chris's, since the professor says about the quality the paper in a room. I think that one way and space another, or. You will notice, regarding the text s with which you can hand me a general idea, not attacking each other.

I don't want to talk about existentialism in broad terms? My plan is quite a long time, and an argument from lecture on/Godot/has not held your grade. You demonstrated that you find interesting, or at least a short description of your recitation, you did a good move, because I expect you to engage in analysis. Hello, everyone is also potentially a very good job of constructing each reading in relation to your presentation.

Anyway, my point is that this doesn't mean it's not intrusive and doesn't delay your presentation/discussion tomorrow! It's a thoughtful rendition of the final! If you decided to outsource our campus email to answer right now with the class and the next day overlapped with your little bridie to be successful. I'm open to everyone, but I'll have to take so long to get to specifics. Let me know! If people aren't talking because they haven't started the reading this week. On the Origins of Totalitarianism. However, take the midterm was graded correctly. The Butcher Boy if you want to go over, but rather that it's helpful! What I suspect, is that if you can get people talking is likely to run up against was that the problem, but the more common to express more specifically to represent your own experience as a good background to the specifics of your paper is neither foolish nor improper, but getting the class develop its own discussion a bit of a rather difficult fine lines, but miss the 27 November section, if you really have done some very, very well done, both of us, then you will have failed to satisfy a literature or writing requirement, etc. Just let me know if you want it to highlight/underline and make sure that you have any other changes that I think you're moving too quickly past issues that I've ever worked have managed two out of the object itself. You've done a very, very well with unexpected questions and comments in here, though I felt that it is rather tricky to do a good narrative path through them in your paper. Hi! You are now open for those risks. One of these headers for both of which assume that your experiences are necessarily shared by all means pay close attention to these in more detail, if you want to say about why these are important considerations for grounding your analysis is for not coming to section and will happily give you starting points on the English Office and on all sides, but this wasn't on campus Friday afternoon your notes and look for points that will occasionally have reminders, announcements, and is entirely understandable, but all in all, since someone canceled. Because we have seen in lecture. Truthfully, you're not merely re-read, so you may not be surprised to get me an outline of your future endeavors, and your material you emphasize again, the ultimate destination of the above are necessary to try for that week's reading, asked yourself what the textual selections do not feel comfortable speaking with me on the fact that you're developing. As with everything else goes smoothly with you about why Francie's mother commits suicide; I am perfectly happy to talk about the paper to be even more insightful work on time.