i will probably lose all of you for this

anonymous asked:

Hi! I love your takes on all things fairy tail so I just wanted to ask - what's your opinion on Ultear's sacrifice? The way I see it, she ended up being happy in the end seeing the difference she'd made which I liked but I also think she could've been spared and had another form of 'redemption'. Imo her character potential was wasted and it sucks knowing she could've been saved (ie all of Gray's iced shell moments) but she wasn't. Just wanted to know your two cents on the matter - thanks! :)

I think that Ultear’s sendoff was fitting, heartwrenching and a good conclusion for her character. There’s something thematically satisfying about a wizard that used time for their own benefit losing most of theirs. And like you said, she was satisfied with the sacrifice she made and is probably happier now for it.

I agree that her character was absolutely wasted and I’m still not happy that Mashima dragged her back, but given the weight of her sacrifice I’m fine with it as it is. I would have preferred more time being spent with her initial redemption scheme - Crime Sorciere - instead of rushing straight to that sacrifice, but that was never really going to happen. 

(where’s my Gray, Lyon and Ultear moments, Mashima? Where’s my granny Ultear kicking Jellal’s ass into high gear?)

KH Mass Effect Insanity Insanity This Probably Won’t End Well Edition!

From the Dept of KH Gaming Fail: managed to lose Miranda’s loyalty after Jack’s mission. Bah! I’m not sure I can twist myself into the kind of meta-game-y anti-roleplay contortions  that will keep Miranda alive this time, and it’s especially galling because I’ve never lost a crew member in the Suicide Mission. Ever. (I did lose Chakwas and What’s-Her-Name, the ‘You’ve Got Mail!’ girl once, though. /disclosure)

I’d planned on giving Thane’s romance the once over, mostly to muddy the waters for the Kaidan romance carryover from ME1, but I’m not sure I’m in the right place, mentally and emotionally, to go through a fatal illness + tragic death scenario, even with a pixel person. Sorry, gravel-voiced Fish-Frog-Iguana Man. Maybe in some other life. *sadface*

So. On to mopping up the last few bits before endgame (the plan: Overlord and LotSB, Reaper IFF, Tali loyalty, Legion loyalty, Omega-4 *fingers crossed I planned that last bit right*).

It’s so irritating to me that in a season that’s hammering the message that NO ONE IS DEALING WITH WHAT’S HAPPENED TO THEM AND THAT’S A PROBLEM the first time that PROBLEM has a consequence it comes down to “being a coward.”

I’m sorry that you don’t think you’d fall apart on that flaming ship after being tortured by a mad-man for ages. I’m sorry you think you are stronger then that.

You’re probably not. 

This season is hammering that in, that these characters are broken and it’s doing so over and over again.

Cersei can’t cope with losing everything that mattered to her for the sake of power, so she lives for power alone at any cost.

Olena would see the world burn in her grief and encourages Danny to literally burn it all “like a dragon” because she can’t deal with losing her family.

Danny is showing signs of being overtly paranoid and willing to dramatically slaughter her true allies because of a life of being betrayed and having more power thrust into her hands then maybe she can handle alone. And she does feel like she’s on her own.

the list goes on and on and on. 

idk but what really gets me about overwatch is that its entire marketing tries to convince us that it’s this huge band of heroes who have come together to maintain world peace and achieve Great Things

while in fact that’s what they used to be and what you have now is a family consisting of an ape, two lesbians and a supercomputer having illegal dinner parties in a derelict government facility

the three former leaders of the organization are all presumed dead and pass their time not really disputing that claim considering two of them are currently holed up in a fucking necropolis, and the other one is a constantly decomposing emotional fog

like you’re supposed to imagine this grand force for Good, but then jesse mccree is getting shitfaced in a dingy bar in dorado while sombra sends sneaky update pics of him to reaper, who is currently too busy creeping on a family just because the guy’s flat butt reminded him of his ex husband

hanzo ‘midlife crisis’ shimada shoots dragons out of his nipple but you couldn’t tell that looking at his art student undercut and piercings, and his not-dead (notice how that’s a suspiciously recurring theme in this game?) brother is probably currently at a cosplay convention losing a ‘best genji costume’ competition

like maybe one day they’ll all come together and find common ground and actually do something, but for now they’re just a bunch of weird people in different stages of washed up trying to make ends meet, and it might be the most relatable thing about the whole entire game

I know a lot of people can’t afford to watch bon voyage and ch+ in general so I wanted to share it with you guys. I’ll be uploading as the episodes come out! This is my first time doing anything like this so please be patient with me if I’m a bit slow but hopefully things go smoothly. I can’t wait to see our Hawaiian sunkissed boys and hope you’re as excited as I am to see them lose all their luggage and probably jungkook again!

rules:

  • DO NOT reupload on here or any other platform. I will take the files down immediately if I see it around. 
  • That includes links, please don’t share links on tumblr, other social media sites, or anywhere. 
  • Giffing is allowed but credit would be greatly appreciated
  • Send me your email off anon. It will be on a google drive and I will add people to view. 
  • it’d be nice if you gave me a follow

other than that, enjoy~

A year since the beginning of the end. I’ve learned a lot in that year. I’ll never let anyone manipulate me the way that you did, and I haven’t yet. I learned that sometimes losing who you could’ve loved hurts more than losing someone you have loved. I’ve learned that sometimes you’ll lose parts of yourself that are not retractable but that is okay because you’ll find pieces of yourself that you never knew were there. Life is messy, really messy. If you’re reading this you probably think this all sounds so generic but I promise in due time you’ll understand. People always say that the first person you should love is yourself. I always that I loved myself but I didn’t, and it took you leaving me to realize that. A year later and I finally understand what it means to truly love yourself. I understand that I am in no means perfect, but I am comfortable with who I am in every area of my life. I don’t need another person to fill the emptiness I used to have. I fill those spaces with things that I love and things that makes me happy and I suggest you do the same. It took me a year to realize that it’s not about relying on another person and that love is far more independent than we paint it to be. So believe me while healing is undoubtedly an uncomfortable process in due time you’ll become unaffected. It may have taken me nearly a year to realize that but by focusing on yourself and loving yourself you can mend your own soul, and you don’t need another to do so. You decide what thoughts you allow your brain to process, choose the healthy ones my dear.
—  pen-to-paper-bm, March 21

Because we are all emotional right now I felt like it would be a good time to spread some positive vibes when it comes to our beloved Choi Seunghyun. I don’t know how you guys feel about this, but it makes me even sadder when I want to go online and all the news about him are related to the scandel. Which is why I decided to do a little T.O.P. masterpost - starting with pre debute pictures of him being the cutie we all love!

Baby Seunghyun will always be one of the sweetest things on this planet

followed by the time when he started to lose weight and was known as “Tempo” plus his selfie game was 10/10 back then already

I mean look at this smug grin

and I don’t know how you guys feel like, but I have a special place in my hear for this haircut - especially the second picture with the baseball cap! Most people will probably say it was terrible, but I think it suited him 

pulling faces while eating or even talking on the phone to the camera - my aesthetic for sure 

Also, can we talk about this shot? I feel like this is the typical “come on, bro, I need a new profile pic for cyworld - and I wanna look really cool!” - “dude, how about we stick a patch on your cheek an- perfect! Now look at me like you looked at Seungri when he ate your favourite candy!”

oh and speaking of cyworld - last but not least: some of my most favourite pics! (feat. the baby dragon bc those two were the masters of taking stupid selfies)

It’s not much, but I hope you guys at least had to smile a bit. It always warms my heart when I see these pictures. The next masterpost will follow for sure! 

Feel free to add more pictures of him

savethelastklance  asked:

Ok Gay teen inquisitior coming out to their families and being basically kicked from it,how would the companions react?

Cassandra: “How dare you? You would abandon your child just because of who they love?” They get an aggressive scolding, until finally she scoffs. “You should be ashamed! This is your child, your kin, your baby… fine. They are part of my family, now.” she declares them as her own kin, and the Herald looks at her with something like awe. They’re still suffering and stressed from the aftermath, but whatever comes next, Cassandra will do her best to support them. “I hope you know it is among the greatest of sins in the eyes of the Maker to abandon your kin.” she warns their family coldly.

Blackwall: “What– what in the world is wrong with you people?!” he snaps. “You’ve got a lovely, wonderful child! Why does it matter who they’re interested in?” He tries to act sort of a father figure after all of this, and checks on them repeatedly. It’s going to be hard for them, but he’ll be there with them.

Iron Bull: “You sick motherfuckers.” he growls as Sera screams and shouts at them. “People like you– you’re the real scum of Thedas. You’re lucky I can’t strike you for this. So I’ll settle for this: they’re a Charger now, and if you ever try to come back with anything other than an apology, I don’t ever want to see you near this kid again.” He scoffs. “Come on, Imekari; it’s their loss. We’re both Tal-Vashoth now.” 

Sera: She completely loses her temper, and has to be held back by one of the warriors– probably Bull, as he’s the only one who can contain her rage– and starts screaming and shouting obscenities and death threats at the Inquisitor’s family. “Fuck you! FUCK YOU! You sick motherfriggin’ shites!” she howls. “This is your BABY! You’re treating them like this just because they’re gay?! Fuck you all! They’re MY family now!” She spits on the floor before she leaves, and family is tormented for months afterwards by the Red Jennies.

Cole: “But why?” he asks, utterly confused. “Why are you kicking them out? They’re good, and they want to help. They’re perfect for family. I don’t understand!” Their intense pain hurts him, and it hurts even worse when he’s not sure how to fix this or heal them. 

Varric: He bristles, then puts a hand on the kid’s back while scowling at the parents. “Come on. You don’t deserve this.” He pulls them away, and once they’re somewhere safe, he writes the most scathing letter he has ever penned and sends it off to them, warning them to stay away from their kid– at the end, it reads, “they’re a Tethras now.”

Vivienne: She takes the teen by the hand and ushers them away, giving the parents the coldest stare the Inquisitor has ever seen her give anyone. The only word she utters at them is “pitiful” and tells the teen privately later that she is more than willing to take them in. In the meanwhile, especially if they’re Trevelyans, she absolutely obliterates their social standing.

Dorian: He wants to pitch a fit. He wants to make them learn a lesson, to feel the pain he did when his own father did this to him, but he knows that the teenager’s safety is more important. Instead of even speaking to them other than a few choice Tevene curses and insults and an order to never speak to him or their child again unless it’s with a sincere apology, he takes their child away. The rest of his efforts are focused on tending to the teen’s emotional needs and ensuring with the others that they’ll always have someone to live with. He knows exactly how they feel, and he spends the most time with them afterwards.

Solas: He stares so icily it wouldn’t be a surprise if the parents turned to ice, but he knows better than to make the situation worse. He mutters an elven curse or two at them, several if they’re elves, and leaves. He does tell Leliana, though.

Cullen: He’s absolutely disgusted. “Maker’s Breath, what is WRONG with you people?!” he cries, and escorts the teen away, and warns them that if they step foot in Skyhold, they’ll be kicked out. He tells Mia about it later in a letter, and shortly afterwards, the Rutherfords are on Skyhold’s doorstep, asking where their newest family member is. 

Leliana: They’ve made a mistake. They have made a dreadful mistake. “You will find there are consequences for your actions. Very soon.” she warns as she takes their child away. 

Josephine: The look of horror and dismay on her face is overwhelming as she stares in absolute disbelief, holding a hand to her chest as if she’s been personally insulted. Silently, she takes the Herald by the hand and takes them away, and once somewhere safe, she sits down with them and talks with them about it. “If they won’t have you, we will,” she promises, “the Montilyets will welcome you as one of our own, always.”

4

I LOOK FABULOUS!!

a hair extension potion made by Anna! He’ll probably lose his hair in a couple of days ahahaha

idea by @draceempressa and was drawn by me :D

Roll to Kiss

(Okay, some background, my homebrew session is on its second arc and it’s become a running joke to have the players roll for extremely stupid actions. I had decided to give an npc a necrotic illness that basically is killing her slowly. The barbarian tiefling wanted to kiss her before she was gone, so naturally…)

Me: Roll to kiss.
Rogue (OOC): Oh, come on!
Barbarian (OOC): No, it’s fine, watch this. *she rolls a crit miss*
Me: You kiss her like a fish, like how little kids kiss eachother.
Barbarian (OOC): Okay, but shouldn’t I get advantage because she’s dying?
Me: I guess? Reroll for advantage.
*she rolls a nat 20 and everyone loses their shit*
Me: You kiss Julee and it’s probably the best kiss she’s had in her life. And you realize her last name, Silvertongue, was extremely accurate because her tongue did indeed taste of silver.
Julee: Wow, I wish I could be revived just so I could kiss ya again!
Barbarian (OOC): Did everyone clap?
Me: Yes, I know, because I was there, clapping.

Birthday Kisses

Summary: You give an unconventional present to Steve for his birthday.

Word Count: 1,940

A/N: Happy Captain America Day! I decided to whip something up for this overly attractive patriotic punk’s birthday and this is what I came up with. Hope you guys like it :)

Originally posted by dailyteamcap

Tiptoeing down the hallway, you quietly navigate through the living quarters to make a friendly visit at one of the suites, holding a vanilla cupcake with a candle lit in one hand and a fistful of confetti in the other. You’re certain that the birthday boy wide awake now, sketching in his notebook as he waits for the rest of the tower to wake from their slumber. Though he insisted that he doesn’t want to do anything for his birthday, you decide to make a little surprise of your own. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey! If you're still taking prompts, could you write about neil and Andrew having a conversation about Neil's past? Like the stuff he had to do to survive and the stuff he went through with the worlds shittiest parents? Also I'm pretty sure neil has killed people like it makes complete sense so maybe andreil talking about that?

There’s a band of pale blue light nipping at the tops of the trees and sharpening the silhouettes of the houses, but everything else is fresh and dark. Andrew smokes with the pack clenched in his fist, the cherry of the cigarette winking at the street lamps winking at the orange moon.

Their front porch isn’t like the rush of the rooftop, but he can get that same jitter of fear from Neil nowadays, and he’s more portable. He’d left him knotted in the bedsheets an hour ago, and knowing he’s inside somewhere at his back is burning him up. Andrew inhales and focuses on the exhale, the way the smoke still tries to hurt him when it should’ve given up. He likes that nicotine doesn’t leave him alone.

Neil slips out the front door and lets the screen door clatter, and Andrew knows that he’s upset before he sits down two steps below Andrew, holding his own head.

He doesn’t ask; just smokes fervently. The moon bobs its head sympathetically, wind catches the smoke and breaks it over Neil’s head like water on rocks.

It occurs to Andrew that Neil isn’t going to start this conversation, because he likes to think things through on his own, solve them wrong, and tell Andrew about his mistakes later. He’s insufferably convinced of his own problem-solving abilities, then obsessed with the mechanism of his own missteps.

“What?” Andrew asks impatiently. He flicks ash from his cigarette and holds it out in front of Neil’s face. Neil sidles through his own tangled thinking for long enough to glance up. He leans forward and sucks the smoke from between Andrew’s fingers.

When he looks away, gusting smoke from his open mouth, he says, “Matt called. We fought.”

You fought,” Andrew guesses.

Neil looks agitated, blue in the choked light, eyes black and furious. “He was being unfair. He keeps trying to tell me what’s right or wrong lately, because he thinks I’ve been— been deprived, like my experiences were outside of humanity, or morality, and it’s so— condescending.”

“You’re only realizing this now? All of the foxes are condescending. It is the only way they can avoid their own failure.”

“This was different,” Neil says, shaking his head. “I can tell when they’re saying things because they want to see my reaction, and this wasn’t that. He meant what he was saying.”

“And what was that?”

Neil goes gagged silent. He shifts backwards up to Andrew’s stair without looking at him, settling into the groove worn into the wood.

“That killing someone makes you a monster. That murder is the worst thing you can do to a person.”

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170512-14 EXO Cup Japan opening Q&A: Kyungsoo cut

170512: 

Q. The member that acts like a child most?

A. Kyungsoo: 1. Xiumin, 2. Chanyeol, 3. Chen

Jongin: 1. D.O., 2. Sehun, 3. Chen

Q. If the anime One Piece were made into a live-action show, which member would fit the part of Luffy the most?

A. Kyungsoo: 1. Kai, 2. Baekhyun, 3. Chen

Q. Which member is most likely to give up an accessory if they’re running short, saying he’ll be fine?

A. Kyungsoo: 1. Baekhyun, 2. Xiumin, 3. Sehun. Other members all chose Kyungsoo. 27% of fans also chose him while 1% chose Baekhyun.

Suho asked D.O. if Baekhyun is considerate of him and after thinking, he said “He is. Baekhyun-san is kind.” 

Q. Which member would be the first to run out of a haunted house?

A. Kyungsoo: 1. D.O., 2. Xiumin, 3. Baekhyun. Xiumin had D.O. at 3rd.

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‘It was Blue’s shoulder and her collarbone and her legs and her throat and her laugh her laugh her laugh.’ | ‘It was this: Gansey saying, “I like you an awful lot, Blue Sargent.”’

Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

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Grandma Lipsticks

Since these amazing lipsticks by @alyssajoltsims are the only ones I have been using for a while, I wanted some ‘fresh’ swatches of it - so here I am, with 23, mainly grandma-inspired lipsticks. An anon asked for some nude swatches as well, so you can find some of that in the set, too. I quite like how they turned out, I can smell that ‘old, and maybe dangerous lipstick smell’ when I look at them which you probably know if you played with your mom’s/grandma’s lipsticks when you were little.

  • requires get together, as the originals (i’m sorry, i couldn’t figure out how to make them bgc, while they won’t lose their texture)
  • you don’t need the originals, but i recommend them with love
  • 23 swatches, all tagged as red
  • texture by @alyssajoltsims
  • enabled for aliens + vampires
  • has a custom thumbnail
  • enabled for random

download // simfilshare

anonymous asked:

Even his grump face is adorable. How could he intimidate anyone?

THE MOST ADORABLE. ALL OF HIS GRUMPY EXPRESSIONS ARE SO CUTE I CANNOT,,, ,

HOWEVER. Do not piss him off for real. Because Keith absolutely has the ability to intimidate you:

Keith is dangerous. You do not want to become his enemy. Wanna know why? He is scary when he loses his temper, sure, but look at this:

Keith is calculating. The times where he keeps his cool he knows 100% what he is doing, risks and possible failures included. He was able to fight side by side with Thace and leave him to die a few seconds after. He is realistic, has a sharp mind and an even sharper temper - we’re lucky that he hangs out with his friends so much because on his own he would be terrifying :P

- mod: happykeith

Professor

In which Andrew didn’t choose Exy but still chose Neil, which meant Neil had to learn how to talk about something other than stick-ball. 

warning, mention of implied sexual assault/non-con


Lucy had not anticipated what she was dealt. 

Her first day of second year brought a tone of finality to it all: it wasn’t just a year-long dream of terrible decisions and alcohol and chaos. It continued on, and so would she. 

Her first day also happened to bring Professor Andrew Minyard, five feet and blond and utterly terrifying. 

Introducing the course had started off mundane enough, until Eddie Court – an asshole she’d regretted sleeping with dearly – decided to lean over her shoulder. He never got the chance to say anything because a pencil dotted him squarely in his forehead, so hard that a tiny droplet of blood threatened to bead. 

Everyone stared. Shocked, confused, but remaining in complete silence as they  – Lucy included – tried to remember if anyone had mentioned anything about the man, whether or not this was normal or out-of-the-ordinary behaviour. 

“Name.” He sounded bored. 

Eddie rose his fingers to brush his forehead, smearing the tiniest of droplets. He stared at his fingertips, then at Minyard, then at the pencil that had clattered on his desk. Then at Minyard again. “Eddie Court.”

“Court. Christ.” The professor said, with a palpable distaste to his tone. “I will say this once, despite having to repeat it every year, because students seem to get thicker with every new class.” His face was blank. Stone. Lucy had never heard someone utter insults with such apathy. She didn’t know whether or not to be scared or curious: Such a mask was difficult to maintain. “Shut the fuck up, or get the fuck out. Understood?”

Swearing in class. At the students. Completely against protocol. 

Lucy couldn’t help but smile. Just a little. 


Within weeks, the class had learned how to abide by Professor Minyard’s rules. His previous students were sought out, but they merely grinned at the mention of his name. One student dared to ask another law professor, questioning the teaching methods of the criminology expert. They shook their head, leaning to the professor next to them and sharing a laugh, an inside joke that none of the second years were a part of. 

Yet. 

Curiosity won out over fear eventually, and what that said about Lucy, she wasn’t sure. Eventually, he won her respect: The piece of white chalk he’d flung had imbedded itself in her tightly curled hair when she’d fallen asleep at the eight AM lecture on a Tuesday morning. 

“You think I want to be here, Rone?” 

That piece of chalk rested on her bedside table. Lucy didn’t want to be weird, especially considering her professor hadn’t played Exy since college, but he’d played with Neil Josten and Kevin Day. The Neil Josten, and the Kevin Day. And if she had spent nights watching old Palmetto State Fox games, sitting in awe as she watched him flick balls away from the goal like it was absolutely nothing, no one was going to know. 

He was just as apathetic as he had been back then. Lucy had decided he was just emotionless: That didn’t make him any worse at teaching, so it wasn’t really her problem. 

And then she became his problem. 


Her grades had dropped dramatically low. Andrew stared at the results that he’d just drawn up, picked the paper up off the desk, and leaned back in his chair. 

It was a midterm. He’d eyed Lucy Rone’s bad results in the past two mini-quizzes, her surprisingly worsening attendance, and this was enough to force his hand. 

Half an hour later, he was convinced this was abnormal behaviour, if her patterns rang true. 

Caring, caring. Perhaps the internal monologue would never leave him alone, but he knew better than to listen to it’s mocking tone. Watch yourself turn into Wymack, why don’t you. Call Dan and say you’re taking over as coach of the Foxes. 

He almost told himself to shut up, but the chime of his phone snapped him out of his head. It kept chiming and he sighed, picking it up and wedging it between his shoulder and ear, returning to stare at the mark scrawled in the corner of the exam paper. 

“Are you going to be here for dinner?”

“Not if you’re attempting to make something.” Neil had improved past the broke-college-student level of cooking skills, but he wasn’t apt enough to cook dinner without some form of disaster. 

It hadn’t taken long for Andrew to learn the sound of Neil grinning through the phone. A particular tone of voice, a particular exhale. “It’s already done. Just has to be heated up again.”

“Edible?”

“Can’t really be the judge of my own creation, can I?”

“I’ll be home soon.” Andrew liked the way his mouth curled around the word home.”Lucy Rone. Sound like someone problematic to you?”

“Not particularly. Lucy’s always been the name of that old woman sitting on the front porch, knitting. Five cats, crocheting and all.”

“So, you?”

“If old ladies swung heavy sticks at other people, sure.”

Andrew let himself smile. He allowed himself this. The small curl up on his lips. He’d earned that, after all this time. “Sure.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Unusually bad performance. Moved from sitting front and centre to back corner. Shit attendance.”

“You’re probably a much better judge of character than I would be, now.”

Because I’ve studied criminal, suspicious and victimised behaviour for a long time, Andrew wanted to remind him. But this was no longer a sore spot for Neil: He no longer needed to read people’s intentions in need to survive, because he was safe. He could let that overly-analytical part of himself behind. It had been almost 12 years since their first win against Edgar Allen. He was still alive, well. 

Happy, even. 

Hard to believe that was partly Andrew’s fault. 

Focus. 

Andrew emailed Lucy to visit him before their next class at nine o’clock the next morning. 


She was five minutes early, he was five minutes late. He couldn’t say anything about her appearance, considering he was wearing Neil’s jersey under his coat and that he had walked out of the door with a coffee, slippers and nothing to comb his hair with but his fingers. 

His students knew not to say anything. 

Lucy sported a pair of sweats that had her high school’s initials printed on the front, with a pair of exy sticks embroidered just underneath. Her name was printed on the back pocket, and they only just came down to her ankles. 

Exy fan, then. Andrew wouldn’t have guessed. 

She didn’t say anything, sparing him a hollow looking before following him into his office. He’d used to share it, until he’d bribed the finicky financial law to move somewhere else. It was entirely his own space, clean and devoid of decoration. 

He motioned towards the desk and she leaned against it, clutching the binder to her chest. 

Brown skin didn’t usually lose this much of it’s valour, even during winter. 

And winters in South Carolina were hardly anything worth mentioning. 

“Your grades.”

She was staring at the floor. Her eyes didn’t move when she nodded. 

“All I need is a reason.” 

She said nothing. 

“It’d probably be easier on you if you told me. I’m your criminology professor: I’ll find out eventually.”

“I’m not on drugs.” She said, quickly, but not so quickly that it was an immediate red flag. An orange flag. Andrew settled back into his seat and propped his ankle on his knee. 

“Never said you were.”

“I’m fine.” 

Andrew gave her a flat look. “You know who also says that?”

She shook her head. 

“Surely someone who still wears her high school’s exy uniform would have an inkling. Yay-high, hair like a fire-engine siren, mouth like one too.”

Her eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to ask if he knows that you wear his old Palmetto jersey. I thought he hated you?”

“I hated him.” Andrew corrected her. “I hate him.” He corrected himself. “And he knows.”

She looked wistful. “Cool.” 

“Lucy.”

She looked back at him. 

“If there’s a problem, you come to me. Alright?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because you can trust me. I can be a lawyer, a therapist, an advice column, what have you.”

“Can I trust you?”

“When you’re ready to.” 

She seemed satisfied enough to nod, murmur a timid thank you, and slipped out the door. 


Lucy banged on the door, feeling sick. She couldn’t go back to her dorm, because it made her want to crawl into a corner and be enveloped in a shadow. To be the smallest, most insignificant thing. 

She wasn’t sure how on earth her criminology professor was supposed to empathise with her, when he was the human embodiment of a brick wall, but here she was, trembling, feverish, panicked, and knocking on his office door at ten o’clock at night. 

He opened the door with a mildly annoyed expression, which flattened out immediately at the sight of her. 

She’d only seen him this morning, but that felt like a whole world away now. 

“Hello.”

She wanted to ask why he was still here, on campus, this late at night. What on earth he could possibly be working on, at ten o’clock on a Tuesday evening. Instead, she blurted: “What does it mean if I didn’t say no?”

He stilled. 

Too much, too much, too much: She had asked too much of him, a middle aged professor who apparently had two cats and a boyfriend, if the senior’s rumours were true. Criminology professor aside, this was the last thing someone like him would want to be dragged into –

He stood aside and motioned for her to come in. She shuffled by him, arms around her stomach. He shut the door. 

Lucy wanted to be sick. 

He pulled a pen out of his pocket – professors always had pens on them, didn’t they? – and tore a corner off a piece of paper, scribbling down a phone number. 

“This woman helped me.” Betsy. “She can help you, too.”

“You said you could be a therapist.” Lucy hedged. 

He sighed, and she’d never seen him so reflective. “I have my limits.”

She nodded. She took the piece of paper. She left. 


“Where the fuck is Court?” Andrew leaned on the edge of his desk at the front of the lecture hall, eyeing the empty seat. Second lesson in a row. 

Lucy Rone sat in front of it, back straight, gaze steady. 

“Suspended.” 

Andrew looked at her. “For how long?”

There was a hesitant smile. “Undetermined. Charges have been pressed against him.” 

Andrew drew a long line through Eddie Court’s name on the attendance.


Lucy waited by the door and saw her professor approaching, with the stack of papers in his hands. She was anxious about this mark, more-so than the others. Her dip in performance would be hard to get back up from, but if she could do it in criminology, she could do it in the rest. There was a cluster of students waiting to get their essay’s grade back, but Lucy was first in line. 

“Yay or nay?” She asked. 

Professor Minyard gave Lucy a flat look, and opened the door. 

Lucy promptly had a heart attack at the man beyond the door. 

“Feet. Off.” Her professor said, looking flatly at Neil Josten, with his feet propped up on the desk, arms folded. He, too, was wearing a faded jersey of the Palmetto Foxes’ colours, but it was too bunched up for Lucy to read the name. 

“Surprise.” Neil Josten said, and Lucy wanted to scream. 

“Get your fucking feet off my fucking desk.” Her professor dropped the large stack of papers next to where Neil Josten had propped up his heavy boots. Neil did not get his fucking feet off the fucking desk. 

Lucy almost had the nerve to scream: do you know who that is? Do you have any clue how famous he was? But she remembered that the two of them were friends. Sort of. She held her tongue, and let her heart thrum in her chest, happy to be completely ignored. 

“Leave.” Professor Minyard flicked Neil in the temple. 

Neil smiled. Neil Josten smiled. 

Lucy was having heart palpitations. 

He slowly drew his feet away from the desk to stand, still smiling. “Have a nice day.”

“You weren’t meant to be here till tomorrow evening, Josten. Explain.”

“You’re busy. Later.”

Lucy watched her professor’s arm reach out to brush along Neil Josten’s forearm as he slid past, and there was a startlingly foreign crinkle of warmth in his eyes. 

The back of Neil’s Palmetto jersey read Minyard. A thin platinum ring, identical to the one her professor wore around his neck, clacked against the doorknob as he pushed it open. She remember her professor occasionally wearing Josten. 

There was a startling curve of her professor’s lips, an almost smile that made him look almost human. 

Neil grinned before slipping out the door. 

Oh, Lucy thought, and then she said it aloud. 

Her professor turned on her, pointing. “If you dare to ask me for a single autograph, I will fail you.” 

Lucy was still smiling. 

“If any word about this gets out, I will fail you.” He warned. 

“Are you married?” Lucy laughed. 

His face was stone. 

“Holy shit. Professor Josten-Minyard. Two cats and a husband.”

“It’s Minyard-Josten.” He said coldly. “Get out.” 

Lucy got out.


By the next class, everyone knew, despite Lucy not breathing a word. Which meant the entirety of Neil Josten’s personal but still public Instagram account displayed his home life. But that was none of his student’s – or anyone’s– business. 

And if Neil started coming in with breakfast on those Tuesday morning lectures during his off season, that was none of their business either.