#she can count university level math

[darby-rowe]

first off...ur so genuinely underrated

second off... can I get a academically-exhausted!coryo x you-need-a-break! reader...

she distracts him from studying or smt

tysm anon!! i've been having so much fun writing again :)!! but i will admit that im very out of practice so this has been quite the adjustment period.

i luv this prompt! i hope u dont mind that i wrote sfw & nsfw versions just in case u were looking for one or the other. nevertheless i hope u like them!!

sfw young!coriolanus snow x gn!reader word count 401

“My love…” you softly cooed as you noticed the frustration on Coriolanus’s brow, your eyes scanning over the chicken-scratch of notes within his notebook. Formulas and equations that even your academically talented mind couldn’t wrap around. You placed one hand on the edge of his desk and one hand on the back of his chair, leaning down so your face was level with his. “I think it’s time for you to take a break,”

Coriolanus’s eyes didn’t meet yours as they went back and forth from his textbook to his notebook. “I just have to do one more problem,” he murmured, stress evident in his voice. He clicked his tongue in disappointment and lightly bumped his fist on the surface of his desk. “How am I still not getting this?”

“You’ve been studying for hours,” you told him. And when his eyes still didn’t meet yours, you took it upon yourself to gently hook your finger around his chin and turn his head to meet your gaze. “Coryo, you need to relax,”

His eye bags were prominent in the way it had been almost eighteen straight hours of him being awake and staring at math equations. God, he looked so tired, and all you wanted to do was take care of him and hold him in your arms, just a moment of respite from the terribly demanding academics of university.

You held his face with both of your hands, foreheads touching and eyes closed. “Let me hold you, my dear,” you said, voice hovering above a whisper. “Just for an hour or two, okay? Please?”

There was a slight desperation in the way Coriolanus placed his hands on top of yours and leaned into your touch. You knew he didn’t want to admit that he was close to his breaking point, but he didn’t have to say anything. You took his hands and gently lead from his chair to his bed, in which you guided him to lay within your arms. Immediately, his body molded with yours, and you softly pet his blonde curls as you felt his muscles begin to relax.

“My sweet boy,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head as his arms wrapped around your waist. His face buried within your chest, inhaling the sweet scent of you. “Just relax. I’ve got you…”

Just as you expected, the emotionally exhausted boy was dead asleep within the hour.

18+ | nsfw young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader word count 1,005 cw dirty talk, slightly subby coryo, p in v, unprotected sex, chair sex, finishing inside

Slowly walking up behind Coriolanus at his desk, just making enough noise to make your presence known, you gently run your fingers through his soft blonde curls. You watch with slightly parted lips as his head leans into your touch, his pen still clutched within his hand.

Your voice is soft and smooth with a slight purr as your lips ghost against the shell of his ear. “Baby, it’s been hours,” you sigh. “Don’cha think it’s time for a break?”

Coriolanus taps his pen onto his notebook filled to the brim with various notes. The feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp sends shivers down his spine. You feel so, so good. “I can’t stop,” he says, his voice an exhausted wine. “If I stop now, I won’t want to continue. I have to keep going,”

“And what good would that do?” you ask, your lips dangerously close to his temple. “You’re tired, my dove. You’re tense–” you kiss his temple. “And you’re frustrated.” another kiss. “Why don’t you let me take care of you?”

“I can’t–” he sighs.

“Why not?” Before Coriolanus can say anything else, you swing your leg around to straddle his lap, completely blocking his view of his desk. He tries to lean from side to side to look past your body, but you keep him in his place. “No, no baby, just look at me,” you coo, holding his face in your hands. “Focus on me, my love, can you do that?”

“I’m exhausted,” Coriolanus tries to protest, but as he feels you begin to grind your cunt against his crotch, his voice catches in his throat, and suddenly all words leave his brain.

You suppress a satisfied smirk. “I know, sweet boy, I know you’re exhausted. And that’s why you have to let me take care of you. So relax, my love. Relax,”

You take your finger and drag it along Coriolanus’s bottom lip, opening up his mouth to grant access to your tongue. You taste him deeply, exploring the warmth of his wet tongue and soft lips. The feeling of your sensitive lips sliding and molding against his makes you moan ever so slightly, and you chuckle into the kiss when he, too, emits a moan.

“That’s right, baby,” you whisper. “Just relax,”

You start undoing his pants and Coriolanus doesn’t stop you, watching as his cheeks flush a light pink as you free his semi-hard cock from the confines of his clothing. You reach underneath your skirt and slide your panties to the side, and with a few seconds of adjusting, you slowly sit down on his shaft. You both gasp in unison at the new feelings enveloping the two of you.

Coriolanus curses underneath his breath as your tight, wet walls envelop his dick, and you take him all the way. He’s so deep inside you, making your eyes slightly roll back into your head. “Fuck, baby,” you whisper breathlessly, starting out slowly as you lift yourself up then back down again on Coriolanus’s cock. “So big, so deep…”

It takes a few moments, but you’re soon rocking your hips back and forth and in circles as you ride him, making sure he is feeling exceptionally good. You can’t keep your hands off of his face and shoulders. Hell, you can’t keep your eyes off his face. The expressions he makes as he’s balls-deep in your pussy are absolutely delicious.

However, you catch him at one point trying to take a look at his desk and you’re quick to turn his focus back on you. “No, baby,” you purr. “Look at me. Pay attention to me. Focus on how good my pussy is making you feel. Do you feel good? Yeah?”

Coriolanus looks at you with his pretty blue eyes, lips slightly parted as he pants. “Yes, fuck–” he breathes. “Feels so good. Feels so good on my cock,”

You capture his lips in another kiss, shoving your tongue down his throat to taste as much of him as possible. You wrap your arms around his neck as your hips continue to move with his dick deep inside your pussy. You feel his hands on your hips, following your movements.

You pull away from the kiss and look deep into Coriolanus’s eyes as your lips ghost against his, panting and moaning into his mouth. “You feel so good, baby,” you pant. “Are you gonna come inside me?”

He bats his pretty eyelashes at you. “Can I?”

“Please…” you whisper, guiding his hand to your throbbing clit, and he wastes no time before taking his thumb and rubbing circles around your sensitive nub. You mewl, feeling the apex of your pleasure draw closer and closer.

His moans and gasps of pleasure are so pretty as the both of you bring yourselves to your inevitable orgasms. You feel his cock throb inside you, on the verge of exploding and releasing his seed deep inside you. Your walls contract around his dick, and you know that your climax is near.

“I’m comin’,” Coriolanus whispers. “Gonna come inside your pussy,”

“Fuck yeah, baby,” you moan. “You’re gonna make me come–... mmm, ah–!”

With one final gasp, you feel yourself come undone as your pussy drools all over Coriolanus’s cock. Your legs tremble, and the combination of your orgasm and his warm cum filling you up makes your eyes roll back into your head. You close your eyelids and tilt your head back to reveal your neck, in which Coriolanus seizes the opportunity to plant open-mouth kisses all over your throat.

You come down from your high and look Coriolanus in the eye once more, brushing away a stray curl from his voice. You smile sweetly, basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. “Feel better, my love?”

Coriolanus thinks for a moment as he catches his breath, then he nods. “Yeah,” he replies. “Yes, thank you. I feel a lot better. I really needed that,”

You press a small, loving kiss to his lips. “Good,” you whisper. “Now go to bed,”

don't be shy, let's talk. ♡

#coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #darbyrowe.doc #darbyrowe.ask #asks open #ask me anything

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Rates: All the break ups of Ramona and her Evil exes

Criteria:

1. It will have 3 ratings. How bad the break up is, How much fault is on the Ex, and How much fault is on Ramona.

2. It will be rated 0 out of 10. 0 being that it was not their fault, 10 being it was completely their fault.

3. This is going as objective as possible. I will be using the Original source (the comics) and any supplemental source that gives insight on the break up.

__________________________________________

1. Matthew Patel

Ratings: Break up: 3/10

The relationship always felt like a means to an end. Plus it was middle school and it barely counts

Matthew’s Fault: 3/10

From my understanding he was too immature and his Capriciousness (moody) , but it was Ramona that indeed ended the relationship and he didn’t take it well

Ramona’s Fault: 7/10

Ramona said up front the only reason she dated him was to get the jocks off her back and because he wasn’t a Jock and wasn’t white (her own words). Which really makes it a means to an end. She doesn’t make it sound like he didn’t know this. But Ramona could have handled it better.

___________________________________________

Lucas Lee

Break up: 10/10

Considering Lucas felt this was a big deal and he was cheated on, it’s clear that this was a hurtful break up. As For Ramona she hardly seemed to think much of the relationship. But still it is completely on their actions it ended

Lucas Fault: 1/10

Ramona did mention that there was a lot of Drama in their relationship. To the point that she wasn’t sure what class she met him (drama, or math). But even so Ramona ended up leaving him for her next Evil Ex which she cheated on him with. Now I can’t fault Lucas too much, because he doesn’t even hold much ill will towards her, he hates Todd more. At worse he was described as whiny.

Ramona’s Fault: 9/10

She cheated on him. Like that pretty much sums it up. She might have not really considered it much of a relationship, And I’m being understanding and trying to be as objective as possible. Ramona has completely created this Evil Ex,

________________________________________

Todd Ingram

Break up: 2/10

They ended up breaking up cause they were going to different colleges and it was mutual. They were the bad kids together but there was no real malice in the split

Ramona: 4/10

As mentioned above, it was a mutual break up cause they were going to different colleges. Ramona even pointed out that Todd was a bad guy known for fooling around. And she was mortified by the moon thing. So even though the break up was mutual, I feel like she still would break it off sooner or later.

Todd: 6/10

As mentioned above, it was a mutual break up cause they were going to different colleges. But Todd also had a girl back home he was waiting for him. And he was a prick.

___________________________________________

Roxie Richter

Break up: 8/10

Ramona's university roommate and the only ex-girlfriend. She alleges that their relationship was just a phase. But as expanded upon in Scott Pilgrim takes off, Roxie fell hard for her and the way they broke up was Ramona leaving without saying a word. So it was heartbreaking and sad.

Ramona’s Fault: 8/10

While not as bad as what she did to Lucas, I find what she did to Roxie on a similar level. Ramona never really gives a reason aside from it was a phase. Which Roxie is hurt by. I can’t entirely fault Ramona because if you realize you aren’t into another sex (or just not attracted To Roxie) you shouldn’t stay out of obligation. But that being said, she should have talked with Roxie about it.

Roxie’s Fault: 2/10

Roxie really isn’t at fault here, I guess the only thing one could argue is she could have pushed Ramona to get some answers and maybe be a bit more forthcoming with her feelings. But that is really all I can say. Though in the comic Roxie and Ramona have a more friendly relationship.

____________________________________________

Kyle & Ken Katayanagi

(Mostly they are in the background I’m sorry)

Break up: 10/10

Ramona blatantly cheated on them with eachother. Like yea according to her they were womanizers and sleazy, but it never made it sound like they were cheaters or anything worse. And the relationship ended when they found out about the cheating

Ramona’s Fault: 10/10

She intentionally did this. This is her fault which she admits. And quite frankly I feel bad for the twins, screwed over by screen time and Ramona. I will point out how intentionally f***ed this is

Kyle & Ken Katayanagi: 0/10

Maybe they were complete douchebags, but they got intentionally played by Ramona. It’s often skipped over but it’s probably the most justified why these guys are Evil Exes. At least they have eachother.

___________________________________________

Gideon Graves

Break up: 10/10

Gideon was an abusive asshole that experimented on Ramona and got angry when she left because she ended the relationship and his ego couldn’t understand why

Gideon’s Fault: 10/10

Gideon is an abusive asshole that thinks he’s God’s gift to humanity and can’t understand why people would ever want to leave him. He EXPERIMENTED on Ramona. Not experimented with like in a kinky way, but in a science lab rat kind of way. This doesn’t even include what he WAS planning to do with her later. Point is, this one’s on him.

Ramona’s Fault: 0/10

See above, she is 100% valid for leaving that abusive relationship.

#scott pilgram vs the world #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim #evil exes #ramona flowers #Ramona’s evil exes #matthew patel #todd ingram #gideon graves #roxie richter #Lucas Lee

[lollygirlpops]

Thanks so much for the tag @dribs-and-drabbles! I loved reading yours so much 🤩 Just realised I’m three days late with this - it’s been a very strange few days on a personal level here. Anyway! Enough of my weirdness! Onward, with more of my weirdness!

Get to Know Me Tag :)

do you make your bed?

I hate that I can’t put the fitted sheet on my bed. It always pings back into my face so always have to get my partner to do it and it’s infuriating. I’m an independent woman. Why can’t I do that one thing?

Oh. And if this is referring to making the bed during the day, I leave that duvet folded back and the window open. In a house with kids, ventilation is vital - and that includes the beds!

what's your favourite number?

Don’t think I have one. Umm, prefer even numbers. Not sure why? Maybe it’s because I’m an 80s kid and my teachers were a bit weird!

what is your job?

I’m a copywriter for a marketing agency. Spent today writing about skiing in the Alps followed by 2k words on car insurance. It’s a mixed bag, client-wise 🫠

if you could go back to school, would you?

I loved my secondary school. Honestly, I was the biggest dweeb (I mean, I still am) and weirdly, I have this recurring dream I’m in my sixth form common room. Bloody loved sixth form!

can you parallel park?

Yes, but please don’t watch me as I’ll mess up and have to start over, leading to a big queue forming. When no one’s around I can get that Punto into the spot first go!

a job you had that would surprise people?

People are always surprised that I worked in an opticians for a year. Fun fact: I’m contact lenses and dispensing optician Level One. As I was the admin person who answered the phone, they wanted me to sound like I knew what I was talking about when I was asked stuff by customers (I rarely knew anything about anything). Fun fact 2: Contact lenses freak me out. Glasses all the way!

do you think aliens are real?

It would be weird if we were the only intelligent life forms in the universe. Don’t know what I’d do if I saw an alien though. Probably nothing good.

can you drive a manual car?

I can only drive a manual car. Never tried automatic but always think it sounds a bit like you’re driving a go-kart.

what's your guilty pleasure?

Ooh. Now. I have a lot of pleasures but I’m trying hard not to feel guilty about them (that’s therapy, baby 😂). But does early 00s garage music count? Currently have the lyrics to a Mis-teeq song in my head (All I Want - it’s a banger!) and I kind of want to time travel to 2001 and wear those redundant belts with the massive buckles and teeny skirts teamed with kitten heels again.

tattoos?

Yep, two. One of a fairy because I’m obsessed with fairies. And…umm… stars that look like weird flowers that were added by a guy called Wolf in a dodgy tattoo shop in Sheffield when I was 19. Choices were made. Mostly terrible ones.

favorite color?

Orange.

favorite type of music?

Ohhh anything that’s not, like, acid house or drum ‘n’ bass. My Spotify Wrapped basically was a mix of stuff from the late 90s and 00s and Thai pop (I wonder why? Ha! 😝)

do you like puzzles?

Wish I did. Really wish I could do them but my brain isn’t logical.

any phobias?

I have pretty severe claustrophobia. Once winded my maths teacher on a school trip to Greece when she tried to put a snorkel on me (panic attack. Not assault. Honest!). And on holiday in Ibiza, my friend had to hold my hand and guide me out of Pacha nightclub when we were meant to be watching Swedish House Mafia. Maybe the moral is I stay put and don’t go abroad? 😂

favorite childhood sport?

I’ve always loved dancing. And does rounders count? Loved a game of rounders!

do you talk to yourself?

All the time! I work from home on my own all week so I have fascinating chats with myself about what to have for lunch and whether I need another cup of tea.

what movies do you adore?

I went to see Moulin Rouge the musical in London last week as a belated 40th birthday treat and I’d genuinely forgotten how much I love that film. It’s just one of the best ever! So good!

Speaking of Baz Luhrmann films, Romeo + Juliet was IT for me. Leo DiCaprio was so beautiful. And that soundtrack…

Speaking of film music, Cruel Intentions was another iconic film with an excellent soundtrack. So good.

coffee or tea?

Tea (must be Yorkshire Tea). But I need coffee to get me through writing content about insurance.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

This is a funny one. I should probably say I wanted to be a dancer because I was on the stage from the age of 3. But I don’t think I ever did want that. I can clearly remember deciding I wanted to be a journalist, though. I was 9 and reading the local newspaper. Didn’t want to be anything else and it’s actually so nice that I can say I achieved my dream and got to edit magazines. I miss print magazines so much.

Right, that’s it from me!

Onward tagging: I'm not sure if anyone’s done this yet, so here are some no pressure tags for you @ungaroyals @darktwistedgenderplural @stretchoutfics @simonsapelsin @impossibleknots @skibasyndrome @sillylittleflower @gulliblelemon

Alsooooo! If you sent me anything recently I promise I’ll respond soon. Life is life-ing at the moment so I’ll be right back 💕

#tag game #tell me about you

[ironmandeficiency]

pedro boys as high school teachers (modern au)

boys included: javi p, pero, jack, frankie, din, javi g, dieter, oberyn, marcus p, marcus m

word count: 1161

summary: there are just my thoughts on what high school subjects some of the pedro boys would teach, modern au

a/n: decided to reread the agm universe by @forever-rogue & it gave me an idea so here we are. i’m sorry if the formatting is jank, i’ve been posting from mobile for like two months now. also i know the ms. frizzle gif isn’t quite relevant enough but you can fight me

javier peña — javi is peak history teacher material. his students are juniors & seniors because he doesn’t have the patience for lower class bullshit. his philosophy is that students take his class seriously or not at all. took up coaching girls basketball one year because the last coach quit on short notice & admin begged him to take the spot; the year he coached was the first time in 30 years that their team went to state. became best friends with pero through their respective subjects & will have drinks together on weekends. doesn’t give grades that end with nines & will bump them up a point (69 to 70, 89 to 90, etc.) to not be a dick.

pero — geography. scares students stiff but does have a soft spot for those who put effort into his class. offers bonus points on tests for those who go to the local ren fair, and students are surprised to see their teacher wearing full garb & fighting in duels. his classroom is across from javi p’s & they watch each other’s classes when needed. they have the same lunch & conference, so when there’s nothing to do they like to talk shit about anything and everything. they gossip like old women & playfully bicker like old men. pero is often called “the gordon ramsay of teachers” & framed a photoshopped picture of their faces on the other’s body sent to him by a student.

jack daniels — football coach & ffa. he has and will continue to drive things to work that aren’t regular vehicles (tractors, horses, golf carts, even a donkey once). freshmen are surprised to see that he actually does own a highway legal means of transportation. all the ffa animals are kept in a separate barn on his ranch not even three miles from the school & will let students ride in the bed of his truck or on his trailer on the way there & back for class (parents do sign permission slips for it). lets students control the aux cord on these trips as long as it doesn’t have curse words, but the way to his heart is if someone plays reba. hosts the yearly chili cookoff to support the ffa, and it’s always a hit. he buys a stetson for each class that the students sign at the end of the school year & hangs them all up around the ffa barn.

frankie morales — softball coach that also teaches algebra 1 & 2. he has such a math brain & is super lenient when it comes to the students that have a harder time grasping the subject. very passionate about coaching & does not tolerate any bullying within the team, on the field or off it. wants to set a coaching standard for when his daughter starts playing; he wants her to know how a coach should treat their team early on. she comes to after school practices & all the girls love her to bits. frankie lets her in the dugout during games to motivate them. offers snacks for kids who come to tutorials because he knows they are hungry by the end of the day no matter when they had lunch, and that full bellies equal full attention.

din djarin — chemistry & physics. is very intimidating until it’s a couple months into the year & his students are finally comfortable asking him personal questions. they accidentally see a picture of him and his son on his computer’s desktop one day & just like that, he’s no longer piss-your-pants intimidating. he can be stern when he needs to be, but overall would rather not. he makes these two difficult subjects much easier to learn & will have so many cool lab demonstrations (some are mythbusters level) that occasionally border on dangerous. gets along with coworkers by not getting involved in drama & doing his job, doesn't have time for the bs.

javier gutierrez — this man definitely has a flair for the dramatic & would be an amazing theater director, albeit a bit dreamy. would recruit the art teacher from across the hall that he knew had acting experience to help in one production & suddenly, they’re co-directors. students favored him highly whether they took theater or not; something about him just oozed kindness & compassion, and the kids trusted him. insists the students either call him mr. g or javi, he feels that the standard honorifics are too stifling. him & dieter will buy their students fast food after days spent making set pieces & rehearsals in the auditorium. the queer kids feel hella safe with him & actually have a kinda-joke ship going with him and dieter that neither men are upset over.

dieter bravo — art teacher turned surprise theater co-director. always shows up looking like a hot mess because that’s just who he is. very lax and chill with students but will be the first to call out bullshit if it walks thru his door. drinks several coffees a day & despite the vast number of almost-pajamas he wears, some doubt whether he even sleeps at all. is the one who reigns in his counterpart when things go awry. recruits his best students to help make set pieces for theater & bribes them with free food bc he knows the way to win kids over. plays it off when students talk about the (b)romance between him & javi g but is actually pretty flattered.

oberyn martell — this is the english teacher that the lgbt+ kids flock to immediately. between him & javi g, they have an even split of the school’s queer kids idolizing them. also coaches the cross country team where usually two (or more) of his daughters participate yearly. is able to separate coaching from his fatherly duties so he doesn’t turn into a coachzilla (he’s heard about the dads who go batshit when coaching their kids in sports & loathes them). will team w javi on assignments with historical emphasis (mostly essays and book reports) & will allow students to write one essay that covers both assignments to keep from overworking the kids. is considered a jack of all trades when it comes to different subjects, and is highly recommended when another subject has a sub & cannot teach the lesson properly.

marcus pike — is the most patient & not-confrontational teacher ever. he’s the one that doesn’t get angry, he just gets disappointed & that’s actually much worse. started the school’s photography club as a volunteer & was eventually able to get the funding to make it a class, so they hired him to teach it. his students find out he plays bass in a cover band & they flip their shit abt wanting to see him perform. during the nature photography lessons, he brings his dog to work to be the model. jack gets wind of it & encourages him to use the ffa animals too, and uses the student-taken photos on the school website.

marcus moreno — not a teacher but is head of the pta. he chaperones field trips & school dances, and fights the school board to get better resources for the whole district. (i just love him okay?)

#javier gutierrez #javier peña #pero tovar #oberyn martell #jack daniels #frankie morales #marcus pike #marcus moreno #dieter bravo #din djarin #modern au #pedro pascal character imagine #pedro pascal character headcanons #javier peña headcanon #javier gutierrez headcanon #oberyn martell headcanon #marcus pike headcanon #frankie morales headcanon #pero tovar headcanon

[twopoppies]

I thought it was normal practice that the venue gets a cut of the artist's merch income. It's not? https://twitter.com/seaninsound/status/1556701700978868224?s=21&t=_xuHLVcdredBOOVcWXcm9w

Hi sweetheart. That’s not what he’s saying. It is normal these days and many people think it’s wrong that they do it.

His article is long, but it’s very interesting (emphasis below is mine).

Above and beyond the setlists and soundchecks, touring is tough and requires a lot of focus on the pennies and the pounds. Whether we're talking about an eleven album deep doom-metal trio trying to make a living, or newbies who are simply trying to avoid making a loss, touring requires the construction of a web of planning, such as savvily pre-booking Premier Inns on their advance rate or deciding between four or seven hours sleep (knowing the difference is often several hundred pounds saved on cheaper flights).

Whether bands play to 500 people or 50,000, being able to predict the right number of medium-sized T-shirts to print so they don't sell out (or get saddled with hundreds of pounds of left over stock) is boring but more important than ever.

Like any small business, understanding a profit and loss spreadsheet is crucial to live music. If you can’t get cancellation insurance due to COVID and fuel prices are continuing to rocket, every single hoodie and hand to hand record sale counts more than ever. So, aside from knowing how to impress a crowd, being able to set reasonable prices for merchandise to generate maximum sales and a decent profit, is more integral to a successful tour than it has ever been.

[…]

At many grassroots venues there’s an independent owner, who is often also the promoter. When you move up to larger venues, it’s far more likely the venue is being hired by an outside promoter (sometimes from an affiliated subsidiary company, who also seem to take some of the mysterious ‘booking fee’) and every penny from the bouncers to laundering the towels, is on a spreadsheet of show costs. It’s at this level where venues tend to charge a commission to sell merch, which is perhaps understandable when there are ten different merch points dotted around The O2 arena.

It’s not just the platforms raking in vast sums: Lucian Grainge, the head of Universal Music Group (UMG) recently received a "stonking" £123 million bonus. Meanwhile, a recent Guardian investigation discovered that UMG receives a share of Academy Music Group’s (AMG) profits from the sales of merchandise. These sales at O2 Academy venues are outsourced to company trading as Concessions Management International Ltd., which is part of Universal’s Bravado merchandise division. The report found that AMG and UMG take a cut, even if the act whose merch is sold is not signed to UMG.

[…]

She explains the maths of the merch desk: “For example, on a £25 LP sale, our label take £13.20 (fair enough, they are trying to recoup their investment, we have a very artist friendly deal with a great label). The venue take £7.50, they have no responsibility for paying for stock, they are only open to profit, no risk. The band then earn £4.30. Almost half of what the venue takes but the band have all the costs to get to the show plus the years of work that goes into that LP.”

“As for tees. If we sell a tee for £15. We pay £6 to print it. The venue takes £4.50. And we take £4.50. Again the venue profit as much as we do but without any of the liability involved in the design, print or delivery costs.” It all adds up doesn’t it? Of course, if you’re a massive act the economies of scale outlined in this BBC piece mean tees get cheaper and artists can consider fair trade & eco-friendly options like vegan inks, re-milled materials, or take the risk of commissioning multiple designs without passing too much extra cost onto fans.

Read the full article here

Featured Artist Coalition (or FAC for short), whose members span from acts playing their first gigs to stadium stars, have long pursued the issue of venues taking a cut of merch, but in recent months this campaign has ratcheted up, causing many venues agreeing to give 100% of the merch money to artists. Over 350 venues have already signed up to the FAC’s directory

#touring facts #touring costs #harry’s merch #Louis’ merch #cost of touring #merch prices #music industry

[medievaljedi]

I’ve been thinking about the Bicameral Mind and AI and I think Joyce is on to something, sort of. Which is to say that the noticed pattern is there, but he doesn’t interpret it quite right.

What I see in these stories that are used to describe a “bicameral mind” is something a bit more interesting. The stories themselves are extremely interesting because they seem to take everything that happens *literally*. Ares doesn’t just show up as a voice in some person’s brain. He isn’t just heard. He’s not even just seen and heard. He participated in the battle to the point of not only killing people, but being wounded and bleeding. Abraham doesn’t just hallucinate god, but makes god a literal meal that he (and his companions) eat. Zeus is literally born, is literally a baby who cries and who can be killed.

Even heaven and the afterlife are extremely literal. Hades is underground, and in fact can be visited through caves. Olympus is a mountain. The gods and the spirits of the dead eat and drink. Plato actually warns followers not to drink from the well of Lethe so they can remember who they were when reborn. Persephone is condemned to hades for every seed of a pomegranate she ate in Hades.

The people writing this stuff are taking everything that happens in these stories quite literally. The gods literally eat and drink, get wounded, live in physical bodies in physical places. The dead likewise live underground (where they were buried) in a place that, being underground can be visited through caves. This is very concrete thinking, and the beings thought about are concrete beings.

So my thought is that it doesn’t have to be a hallucination at all. It’s simply that in the era when these stories were first recorded, the people writing them cannot fathom anything beyond actual physical realities of life on earth. They cannot think abstractly. Life after death is literally that — a continuation of exactly what happens on Earth, complete with eating and drinking and in a physical world that while underground, isn’t that much different than life above ground. They write their gods as physically showing up because they can’t really conceive of a being that doesn’t audibly speak, and can’t comprehend one that doesn’t have a physical body much like a human does. They can’t understand the idea of an abstract reality where god or the gods are simply spirits that don’t have real bodies. They can’t conceive of a dead sprite who is just floating around.

What I think people miss is just how much our understanding of the universe has changed even since then. Our minds have learned to think about abstractions, and then to think about abstractions abstractly. When we still worked with machines directly, the idea was create a device to directly do one thing. A machine to make one type of part. Later we created a machine that we could give direct instructions to so it could do lots of things (and most people use a pocket version to play candy crush). AI is a step farther into meta cognition— not only are we not directly creating the thing, nor are we building something to create the thing, we’re not even creating a device we can give instructions to to make the thing. AI is creating a thing that we teach to understand things and thus it can figure out for itself how to make things.

In the year 1000 BC, everything was on a very low level, directly experienced by sight, smell, touch, etc. You raised sheep, and your idea of math was counting sheep adding new lambs and subtracting those eaten by lions. There was no need for a deeper understanding of that. Real things do real things. Once you get into having a government, you need to think abstractly, begin to use numbers to keep track of taxes, people, goods, and so on. As society gets more complex, you need to be able to think more and more abstractly. Not just taxes paid, but anticipating trends like weather, military activity, trade. Eventually as science answers more questions, you not only need to anticipate but shape events.

#blog post #bicameral

[notabled-noodle]

(If u have any tips) how can someone tell if they have a leaning disability or just had bad teachers and adhd which led to them being extremely bad and confused in one subject while very good at all others? bc well I’ve gotten the lowest possible scores for SAT/ACT and always have done bad in math very confused and learned nothing and not able to but I’m making As this year so it makes me think is it bc of teachers and my fault or could a LD still be possible?

statistically, teachers make up a very small part of the story. a very good teacher might make you more passionate about a certain topic, and a very mean teacher might kill your passion for it… but usually the bell curve stays roughly the same regardless

now. in someone with ADHD, the teacher might have more of an impact than in your average neurotypical student. both because teachers are more likely to treat students with ADHD poorly, and because the ADHD brain relies so much on interest and passion in order to survive

that being said, I would say:

ask your parents about your childhood milestones, if possible. my dyslexic sister couldn’t talk until she was four and couldn’t read until she was seven. I couldn’t count backwards until mid primary school

try and think about it in non-school environments. do you struggle to work out ratios in cooking? do you avoid being in charge of scoring when playing games? do you find it difficult to calculate timings and money and other everyday sums?

if it’s just ADHD, it’s likely to be a combination of memory issues and focus issues. with a learning disability, you find it difficult and confusing even when you’re able to focus on it

it is possible to get As with a learning disability. it just means having to work harder than your peers, and also having access to learning resources that help your learning style.

my little sister usually makes As and Bs despite not being able to read at all when she’s tired or stressed. and I’m currently studying university-level Maths… it’s not easy, but my coping mechanisms for my dyscalculia and dyspraxia have made me a better student.

it depends on the person and the circumstances and the severity, but learning disabilities don’t necessarily mean you can’t be academically successful

I hope this helped, and that you figure out some answers soon!

#asks

[lostacelonnie]

Thats entirely fair i don't think anyone trusts tumblr to work correctly tbh. Ive just been feeling the seasonal blues a bit. Ah heck why do teachers always do that instead of letting up on the workload. I do have a bit of chill time coming up thankfully which will be great because i need rest & to holiday shop. Oh heck i cant imagine that like. Americans are a mixed bag of overly friendly & minders of their own business but a place where its all overly friendly would be a culture shock to me. That feels like the universal experience with talking to native spanish speakers just. Yeah we can guess kinda what's bein said through context & gesticulating. Finding a few recipes you can do & rolling from there is just how it goes i imagine. But ive been cooking for many years so i had to branch out to keep some variety otherwise meals would be boring. I have wireless earbuds but only because like. People talk to me often when im not expecting it & it bothers me a lil because the mental illnesses so its easier to listen to stuff & use that as my reason for not hearing them. Australia truly is the land of wild shit. Its got that category on lock. Wow thats like. Complete spectrum opposite teachers? Almost? Maybe? Though how does a math teacher not know counting was she just tired one day or is that common? Thats entirely fair i don't think anyone trusts tumblr to work correctly tbh. Ive just been feeling the seasonal blues a bit. Ah heck why do teachers always do that instead of letting up on the workload. I do have a bit of chill time coming up thankfully which will be great because i need rest & to holiday shop. Oh heck i cant imagine that like. Americans are a mixed bag of overly friendly & minders of their own business but a place where its all overly friendly would be a culture shock to me. That feels like the universal experience with talking to native spanish speakers just. Yeah we can guess kinda what's bein said through context & gesticulating. Finding a few recipes you can do & rolling from there is just how it goes i imagine. But ive been cooking for many years so i had to branch out to keep some variety otherwise meals would be boring. I have wireless earbuds but only because like. People talk to me often when im not expecting it & it bothers me a lil because the mental illnesses so its easier to listen to stuff & use that as my reason for not hearing them. Australia truly is the land of wild shit. Its got that category on lock. Wow thats like. Opposite spectrum of teachers maybe? Though how does she not know counting was she just tired one day? Noted for sure ill pay closer attention to the honkai meta. Yknow i hope what a herscherr is gets explained because i still dont know. Oh thats cool to know i will make a note of that polish phrase to try & remember linguistics can be fun. Ah yeah for sure they actually put effort into like. Making neuvillette have a story & be interesting & it shows. Only genshin male i care for probably. Oh hey stigmatism gang. Im farsighted with a stigmatism also so same hat. I always forget about talents & weapon leveling but it works out its all good. A 7 am as well jeesh are you good? This arc is very good & i cant wait to see where it goes wataoshi owns my attention now. Oh yeah i saw you mention noita how is it? Damn. Thats a lot of lore shoutout to himeko the mvp. Love her. What exactly is a honkai anyways are they like. The antimatter legion from star rail. Or well are the legion like the honkai beasts? Also do you have any seele lore? Also also glad you saw the polish post i had hope you would

this website will forever be scuffed JSJDSKDJF. and dont worry me too. its Getting Bad Again but soon its gonna be the winter solstice and i always start feeling better when the days get longer again. and god yeah fr...... we literally have so many grades already CAN THEY CHILL. luckily i got sick again so i didnt have to go to school today and im guessing im not gonna have many lessons to catch up on since its our last Proper day before the holidays and we have pretty easy subjects on wednesday so. we chillen. yeah same thank GOD for the holidays. tho im gonna have to deal with my family for like an entire week which. auuugh. dont wanna. but oh well ill get through it Somehow. AND GOD YEAH with being polish is much more noticable bc ppl here just really will avoid any unnecessary interaction with strangers [which is perfectly fine by me i like not being bothered]. but yeah the gesticulation Does help a lot in communicating. at the end of the day, as long as the message gets conveyed, it doesnt really matter How that was accomplished. i usually order takeout to my school since we have a program like that so i dont really have to cook that much, but yeah i should also probably branch out SJDKGK i dont know howw much longer i can survive on scrambled eggs every time i cant eat at school. yeah fair, i use my headphones to avoid conversations as well, tho luckily i have friends that are generally chill about the fact i will just. Not talk sometimes so i dont even have to do that a lot. and yeah we actually joke about how exactly opposite they are JSKFJG and its. a common occurence. but then again my school is just Not that great so nobody is surprised. good luck with the meta!!! its hellish at first but gets a bit easier with every built valkyrie so just trust the process. AH IM SORRY i unfortunately have a bad habit of using honkai specific terms as if theyre common knowledge. my bad. but essentially, the honkai itself is like. a force, i guess is the best word? that, despite being non-sentient, has one goal: destroying humanity. it grows along with human progress. the antimatter legion is not a bad comparison, actually! and a herrscher is a person thats been, in a way, possessed by the honkai to obtain incredible amounts of power to try and carry out the honkais objective of destruction. herrschers have different. specialties, you could say? some of them are more obvious [like the herrscher or wind, thunder, fire, ice etc] and some are more abstract [the herrscher of the void, origin, domination, for example]. in the current era, with enough willpower and self control, those powers can be used by a herrscher without them losing their humanity. it gets a bit more complicated than that but thats the basic rundown. ANYWAY COMING BACK linguistics will always be fascinating to me....... especially etymology. i love etymology. AND YEAH SAME i thought the day would never come in which i would care about a genshin guy and yet. also hey were matching......... i used to also always forget to level up talents but since traces are a bit more accentuated in the star rail tut it kinda carried over to genshin for me i guess. 7 am classes have caused me to go through all stages of grief but, just like those, i have reached Acceptance. at least theres less people on the bus so i can sit down. AND YEAH YEAH YEAH THE LOVE SCALE ARC HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY FAVORITE....... i love manaria. terrible wingwoman. very charming and handsome. and about noita yes ive been playing it. a Lot recently. roguelikes are fun theyre surprisingly making me More patient than i was instead of destroying my psyche like everyone said they would. and since noita is a finnish game im genuinely having a lot of fun learning the pronunciation of a lot of the enemy names. HIMEKO REALLY IS THE MVP FOREVER AND ALWAYS. I LOVE HER. i do in fact have seele lore and as previously i shall put it under the cut!! and im actually designed to sense and reblog all polish posts o7

as with himeko, i wouldnt consider myself an Expert on seele lore [if you have any further questions and/or want a more in-depth analysis of her, i would redirect you to tumblr user crowties] BUT i do know it. decently well. it goes without saying that this is also gonna contain massive spoilers.

so, seele's [as well as bronya's!] backstory is mainly showcased in the azure waters manga [although, do be warned that it features themes such as: physical and psychological abuse, child soldiers, pedophilia, and [minor on minor] attempted sa]. but moving on from all that.

seele grew up in cocolia's orphanage, in siberia, where she also met bronya after she was picked up by cocolia. she was also born with a certain condition, being a natural stigma [stigmata in the honkaiverse are manifestations of honkai energy which people are very rarely born with, but schicksal for example uses artificial ones to boost valkyries' combat capabilities]. that very stigma belonged to the herrscher of death in the previous era and is fully sentient! im gonna call her veliona so that its harder to mix them up but do know that theyre both referred to as seele in the game [and its actually a pretty important part of their identity that theyre both seele]. now the thing about seele and veliona is that you think theyre gonna be a terrible did stereotype and then theyre. Not. as in veli, at first, does act like "the evil alter" but shes actually just pretty mean but wants to protect seele. since seele is just. Very fragile due to being, you know, a timid 12 y/o.

in the orphanage, another one of the kids was sin mal! she exists solely to be a terrible person but i heard that wasnt the case in guns girl z so i defend her anyway. sin was jealous over the fact that bronya and seele became so close despite seele being weak, so she PUSHED BRONYA DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS AND BROKE HER LEGS???? shes that kind of person i guess. seele actually saw it happen but she was too scared to do anything. which, understandable! sin is extremely volatile.

seele then gets Kidnapped by child sex traffickers but bronya singlehandedly finds her and murders everyone responsible. seele is pretty horrified because 1. bronya [also 12] just killed a bunch of people in front of her and 2. she saw a manifestation of veliona that made her feel Happy that this is happening. veli is not very good at communication and also genuinely considers herself a terrible person at that point in time so that doesnt help with the evil alter allegations but oh well.

then. cocolia, at the request of anti entropy [allegedly?] starts carrying out child experiments, meant to make people achieve 100% honkai resistance. the people selected are bronya and sin, but seele volunteers in bronyas place since theyre pretty dangerous. right before that, however, sin attempts to assault seele, which veliona does Not let slide, so she rips out sins tooth and then traps her consciousness in an illusion in which she pushes her down the stairs and then slices off her fingers. good riddance.

however, the x-10 experiment Fails and seele falls into the sea of quanta, going missing. tho right as its about to happen, veliona actually uses a lot of her power to let seele see the sea, because she made a promise with bronya that they would go together someday. right as shes about to reach bronya, her power runs out and they completely disappear into the sea.

when bronya finds out about about this, she wants to take the x-10 test herself to try and find seele. cocolia doesnt want to let her go so that SHE DOESNT LOSE MORE CHILDREN, but bronya shows that shes gonna kill herself if cocolia doesnt agree and so she goes. during her test, she. actually manages to reconnect with seele for a while! they kiss and make a promise that theyll see each other again. however, due to bronyas legs still not being fully healed, she actually gets pretty badly hurt [with her legs needing prosthetics, as well as damage to her emotive circuits] during the test and is forcefully disconnected. seele manages to manifest bronya a robot project bunny. somehow. it helps her move and is also a giant cannon.

after this, seele and veliona float in the sea of quanta for 4 years. they grow quite close to each other during this, tho still maintain some distance because veli is just. not very sociable. veliona also makes a deal with an entity called the serpent [which i believe was confirmed to be kevin? but dont quote me on that] because he promises that hell get them out of the sea if they help him escape as well. veli is fully aware hes taking advantage of her but she has to try everything. when bronya jumps into the soq during the herrscher of reason arc, she manages to find seele! at first, velis deal with the serpent forces her to fight bronya, but during cyberangel seele and bronya end up working together. seele is also the one who makes bronya survive contact with the core of reason. as theyre escaping from the sea, bronya almost gets left behind, so seele and veliona achieve full unity during dual ego [IM INSANE ABOUT THEM. I AM INSANE] and they leave the sea.

after that, seele is admittedly Not that present in the main story [tho she does appear a couple of times!] until the moon arc and later the salt snow holy city arc, which is also the best part of the game because i said so and i am always right. SERIOUSLY THO SALT SNOW ARC IS MY FAVORITE IT IS SO GOOD IT IS SO-

anyway. seele and veliona are the protagonists in this one! i would so happily tell you the story but im also unfortunately too tired to give a detailed description of THE ENTIRE ARC so ill keep things short. when dispatched for a mission in nagazora, seele [and susannah! susannah is in this arc. i love her] gets dragged into a bubble universe by misteln [who, due to some events in the moon arc, veliona has extreme beef with]. but its actually a pretty bad thing because, due to the unique structure of the universe [that being, its actually two universes overlapping, one acting as the normal world and the other as the afterlife], seele and veli get separated. this causes significant mental distress to both of them. however, eventually they manage to reconnect! which also accidentally makes them the sage of the universe [a special role, usually reserved for one person] since they fulfill the criteria of being able to traverse between life and death. the problem is, theres..... already a sage....... and the universe starts collapsing. after a fight, the previous sage gives up her powers and seele gets sealed in her tower to act her role. it turns out that her becoming the sage wasnt what actually triggered the collapse, and so the team [consisting of seele, veli, susannah, kira, niggurath, senti, misteln, prometheus, vita, and schrodinger] works together to try and prevent it in another way. a Bunch Of Shit happens which i love very deeply but would also take way too long to explain, and seele gets separated from veliona, eventually becoming the herrscher of death [but, vita decides that seele is a far too gentle person to be called that, and so she becomes the herrscher of rebirth]. they manage to save the universes, and also free vita from being a pawn to sa, the force destroying the universe. they get to return home after that :)

i am extremely normal about seele and veliona [they give me mental illness]

#i meant to reply to this on friday since i was in the hospital [nothing serious dw] but my hand hurt from the venflon. hell on earth #pen pals

[petnews2day]

Ruff day? Dogs can detect if people are stressed, research finds | Science

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-news/dog-news/ruff-day-dogs-can-detect-if-people-are-stressed-research-finds-science/

Ruff day? Dogs can detect if people are stressed, research finds | Science

Whether it’s a tricky maths problem or an unexpected bill, daily life is full of stressful experiences. Now researchers have found that humans produce a different odour when under pressure – and dogs can sniff it out.

While previous studies have suggested canines might pick up on human emotions, possibly through smell, questions remained over whether they could detect stress and if this could be done through scent.

“This study has definitively proven that people, when they have a stress response, their odour profile changes,” said Clara Wilson, a PhD student at Queen’s University Belfast, and first author of the research.

Wilson added the findings could prove useful when training service dogs, such as those that support people with post-raumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

“They’re often trained to look at someone either crouching down on the floor, or starting to do self-injurious behaviours,” said Wilson..

The latest study, she said, offers another potential cue.

“There is definitely a smell component, and that might be valuable in the training of these dogs in addition to all of the visual stuff,” said Wilson.

Writing in the journal Plos One, Wilson and colleagues report how they first constructed a stand bearing three containers, each topped by a perforated lid.

The researchers report they were able to train four dogs to indicate the container holding a particular breath and sweat sample, even when the line-up included unused gauze, samples from another person, or samples from the same person taken at a different time of day.

With the team confident the dogs understood the approach, they turned to breath and sweat samples collected from 36 people asked to count backwards from 9,000 in units of 17. The participants reported feeling stressed by the task and, for the 27 who carried it out in the laboratory, their blood pressure and heart rate rose.

The dogs were taught to pick out samples taken just after the task from a line-up that included two containers holding unused gauze.

The researchers then tested whether the dogs could do the same when the line-up included not only unused gauze but samples taken from the same participant just before the task, when they were more relaxed. Each set of samples was shown to a single dog in 20 trials.

The results reveal that the dogs chose the “stressed” sample in 675 out of the 720 trials.

“It was pretty amazing to see them be so confident in telling me ‘nope, these two things definitely smell different’,” said Wilson.

The team say while it was unclear what chemicals the dogs were picking up on, the study shows humans produce a different odour when stressed – confirming previous research that used instruments to analyse samples.

Wilson added that while the dogs were trained to communicate that they could tell different samples apart, it is possible that even untrained pet dogs might detect changes in odour when a human becomes stressed.

Claire Guest, co-founder and chief scientific officer at the charity Medical Detection Dogs, which was not involved in the research, said medical alert assistance dogs were trained to alert people with complex health conditions when they were in danger of having a potentially life-threatening medical event by detecting changes in their odour.

“Some of these conditions are thought to be due to a change in hormone levels so we are not surprised to learn that [dogs] can detect when humans are experiencing stress [as that can also be linked to hormonal fluctuations],” she said.

#Dog News

[redfoxandice]

More rant - Teaching

Here comes rant #2 about my teaching struggles. Coming from aspiring soon-to-be high school teacher to extremely grumpy old-but-young uni ‘teaching assistant’, I think the system has really killed my dream of teaching.

I love teaching, for I love helping people understand, which is always an amazing feeling. I have had helpful teacher and shitty teacher, normally the later one is more prevalent, so I want to help the world a bit by becoming the first one.

However, the two main things that killed my passion are: the fact that people care more about grades than knowledge, and the fact that people are lazy.

The first point covers a lot - from how students were encouraged to drop to ‘easier maths’ because they are struggling. I remember a student in my maths class, not the worst but didn’t put in enough effort to be the best, told me that she used to be ‘very good at maths’, but ‘something happend in year 10 and now I can’t catch up’. I keep wondering what was that something - why are our ladies not getting maths? Is it because we focus too much on quantitative achievement that left them no time to actually learn? Or that we don’t trust their ability enough because they are nor performing, so that they end up not trusting their own abilities? My students would calculate how much they need to pass (50% let’s say), and stop working right after they hit that point. Fair enough, maths isn’t for everyone, but it still makes me sad. Others would kept asking “what’s the percentage of this? Does that count towards my grade?”, others from the uni course I tutored last year realised quickly they could get more marks from writing reports than working on the product, and quickly shifted their focus. They got good marks, sure, but I was not happy letting them get that mark - it does not reflect their level of knowledge.

Some argued that marks don’t matter in the end, give them what they want and they would eventually fail in solving problems irl. But - I feel sad because I don’t want anyone to fail in irl, that’s too late for them! Even though they might not be good students, it doesn’t mean they are not human and do not deserve to succeed. But on the other hand, if they decide to not work on learning new knowledge, then there really isn’t much I could do...so I guess I’m stressed seeing them, caught up in the frenzy for good and fast grades, not knowing that everything in life has a price...back to Zweig we go.

Plus, when the industry and society values grade, there is not much I can do to change that - I think this realisation was what really discouraged me, that this is far beyoud me. I cannot help them realising grade is useless without knowledge, it is not a deciding factor, and it means nothing, because it means everything everywhere else, except it shifted from grade to performance, to meeting KPI, to ranking...when can we stop and appreciate knowledge and skills that we have without comparing with others?

Second point is more infuriating at times as this people can change. I have soooo many students come to me expecting me to baby them, basically. They expect me to explain everything to them until they understand, expect me to answer queries at 10pm, expect me to bend over for them because they are the ‘customer’, to help them with every assignment, to support unconditionally. This is not everyone, of course, but oh boy am I annoyed about how arrogant and self-centred some people are - just, who do you think you are? Who do you think teachers are? Or rather, who do the universities think teachers are - servants, sort of, because students bring money. Unhappy student is bad business, so do everything to keep them happy. Working more overtime, create more resource, help them more, the customer need to be pampered. I hate it. Take some responsibility ffs, debug your own code, search up your own problem, try to stand on your feet a little bit before asking questions! I will ask you what you have done, I will point you to resources, I will try not to explain anything to you unless you have tried something. Do not be an ungrateful bastard. Of course I can choose not to fill their expectation - this goes back to the uni argument I had. But also, this goes to our general idea and goal in education. I know there are other tutors who are happy to explain things straight away, thinking that this is the best / they have to when students ask them / they didn’t really think about it. In uni we don’t get the best educators as tutors, yet tutors are whom the students will interact, face-to-face, for most of their uni life. We need better uni tutors (and more stability!!) to deliver better classes with consistant quality. I probably should put this on Linked lol...

What I do really dislike is students, getting no direct help from me, go to another tutor instead and get a comprehensive explanation. Not that I don’t like to explain stuff, but I think repetitive explanation is useless and a waste of time - hence self-learning is essential especially with all the resources we have made already. If we could just all keep a high standard and a hard stance in referring, eventually students would learn to learn themselves.

God, I really really am angry about those who chose to not try, to rely on other people to teach them what’s up, and to only care about grade. That’s not my vision. Maybe I only want to teach those who want to learn, but that’s not how teaching works, I guess. One day maybe I’ll come to terms with it, or I’ll get good enough that I can choose my own students. In the end, why are you here if you only care about how good it looks on your resume but not how much knowledge you can gain from it? Why are you here??

Maybe I’ll go into industry and meet some new people who are another type of annoying...

[shapiro10shapiro]

Mathmatical is Fun : Tips For Mother and father - Avoid Passing Your Dislike For Math to Your current Child

A common problem found in educational forums is, "How do I stay away from passing my hate for math to be able to my child? inch These parents will certainly cringe with the statement, "math is fun. " They may have a good extra challenge over and above normal parenting worries as they need to hide their very own dislike for math from their kid. There are a lot of reasons why an adult might have this particular severe dislike involving math. The key issue for anyone mom and dad however, is not what went wrong regarding them, but to be able to invest that apart and focus in creating an optimistic atmosphere to help to make math fun with regard to your child. This article will give some sort of few ways for getting a parent started. Building a number friendly atmosphere at home will be important. Start by developing a math rich atmosphere. Early image books to examine together with your child have to have numbers in addition to counting and others together with matching patterns game titles and puzzles. Observe popular PBS little one's shows and top quality educational DVDs. Typically website who disfavors math should create a math is fun atmosphere for themselves as well. Commence by actively participating in all pursuits with your child. This way you will have some entertaining with early math ideas and set up a positive relationship with your kid. Once the youngster starts school, it is a very good news awful news scenario. The good thing is teachers take control of math schooling. If you create a rich foundation, they should be prepared to consider it following that. Groundwork is for the teachers, not the fogeys, so separate on your own from correcting groundwork. That is the teachers job. Encourage conversation concerning the mathmatical homework, students may explain what they are undertaking, or play university and pretend in order to teach you! Unhealthy news is a person cannot disregard your search for create some sort of positive atmosphere at home. Finding some fun math games to learn at home that match precisely what is being taught at institution will help retain the topic low key. In website or guardian with a hate of math plays these fun games and activities through the get go, next they will build their own comfort level and possibly learn some math ideas the first time, filling in holes off their own math education. There is no explanation to totally conceal your emotions about mathmatical out of your child. But it is just not wholesome to dwell on it. Additional hints known and overlooked fact like that math had not been your favorite matter in school, but Grandmother or Uncle Therefore and So loved that, states the real truth without dwelling about it. When typically the child has difficulties with math homework one night, some sort of confirming statement, together with a hug, "I remember how it felt while i would not understand. inch or "Have a person done the ideal you can? " That is any girl question for. Creating some sort of positive yet abundant atmosphere at residence and showing just how math can be used in everyday life is the better way to tackle this matter. You may possibly never believe yourself that math is definitely fun, you could raise children to have a beneficial experience. Susan Gnagy Fegan used the structured, sequential multisensory teaching approach within the past 34 years. The lady saw first hand the advantages of engaging students in productive, arms on activities within class. She produced and has presented Allow it to be Fun! Make it Challenging! Help to make it Multisensory! course at conferences country wide. Parents will take advantage of having a top secret weapon available to them at house with a number of effectively researched, fun and impressive ideas at their fingertips. On http://www.squidoo.com/makeing-math-fun parents learn considerably more about specific activities to try. We have just started a new blog in http://sfegan-makemathmorefun/blogspot.com with even more ideas and recommendations.

#click here #more info #here #read more #website #get more info #check here #Additional hints #Additional info

[misscaptainamericana]

ours - frank adler x reader

word count: 3128

content warning: age gap, allusions to sex, unexpected pregnancy, pregnancy, frank's mother evelyn (yes her rude ass is a warning because yikes)

You were enrolled in classes at the University of Tampa, but after your grades slipped you lost your scholarship money. Too ashamed to go home you found a cheap apartment in St. Petersburg with a roommate and started bartending. You had seen Frank at your job a few times but you never struck up small talk, he was mostly there to drink and head home but tonight he must’ve been feeling bold. He introduced himself and you two started talking. He bet you that he could solve any math problem and if he could do it you had to give him a free beer. Of course he solved it and you reluctantly gave him the free beer he was promised.

“Okay smart ass. What’s a genius like you sitting in a bar like this?”

Frank smiled at you while he downed half the beer before setting it down, “I’m not a genius, it’s just the Trachtenberg method.”

You rolled your eyes, “Sounds like a pretty big word to be nonchalant about.”

“It’s the name of the man who created it…What’s a beautiful girl yourself working in a dump like this?”

You shook your head with a smile as you moved further down to clean up a glass left by another patron, “Well, pay isn’t that bad and the patrons aren’t always annoying.”

“Ouch.” He said with a light laugh, “I’m just saying you could be waiting tables showing off that smile.”

“What is it your trying to get at, Frank?”

He shrugged his shoulders before leaning further on the bar, “Your number…Or maybe I could take you home?”

“Is this a sign for me to cut you off for the night?”

“You only gave me three beers, sweetheart.”

“And what a mistake that was.”

“C'mon, I’ll make it worth your while.”

And as much as you hated to admit it, he did make it worth your while. You went home with him after your shift and that was some of the best sex you ever had. The next morning, Frank was brewing some coffee when you tried to head out but that lead to the two of you making out. You were sitting on the kitchen counter and his hand was trailing up your shirt when the door unlocked. You both turned your head to the sound as if you had been caught by your parents or the police. Your fear turned into a small smile as you saw it was a child

Mary pouted, “I missed Fred and I couldn’t find my favorite movie because it’s here.

“That doesn’t matter! You can’t come over before noon, you know that!” Frank yelled and you grabbed onto his shoulder, “Hey, everybody let’s just calm down.” You hopped off the counter, “I’m Y/N.” You knelt to her level and put your hand out to the girl which she reluctantly shook.

“I’m Mary.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. How about we all go out and get Fred some new toys, maybe you some too, then we can all get some lunch or a late breakfast?”

“I have a boat repair I need to go to.”

You turned back to face him, “That’s fine, where at?”

“Paradise Keys.”

“Well we can go to Target on the way, get some toys, go pick up some sandwiches and then all hang out. Cool?”

His face slowly softened and he smiled seeing Mary’s excitement behind you. “Fine.”

The three of you had a fun afternoon full of laughter and silly toys. Frank took you both out for a test ride on the boat. Cutting the engine, he stepped away from the wheel and wrapped his arms around the two of you. Your heart skipped a beat, this truly was the perfect day. You really felt as if this was the start of something beautiful.

As you were walking back to Frank's truck Mary looked up at him, “Can Y/N stay the night?”

“Uhm, I guess that’s up to her. Would you like to stay the night?”

You hummed before looking over at her with a smile, “I’ll stay the night if it means we can watch Emperor’s New Groove with some popcorn.”

Mary tugged on Frank’s arm quickly, “Can we?!”

He threw his head back with a laugh, “We sure can.”

And you were right, it was the start of love. True love on every level.

It was the six month anniversary on Saturday of you and Frank getting together and you had a date night the night before as it was the night Roberta had Mary. However, the next morning, bright and early Mary ran into the room yelling and quickly started jumping on the bed.

Quickly moving the covers up to your chest, you sat up with a warm smile, “What’s going on sweetheart?”

“Fred brought home a friend and he’s hurt!”

“You can’t just bust in here Mary! We are-“

“Naked, I know. You guys try to make babies a lot, you aren’t very good at it.”

You let out a shocked laugh as you held the covers tightly to your chest, “Okay, alright. What kind of friend did Fred bring home?”

“A frog!”

You looked over at Frank who was still fuming about Mary and Roberta storming in so early on a Saturday. Taking a deep breath you turned back to Mary with a smile, “Okay, how about me and Frank get dressed and we can see how we can help the little frog dude. Sound like a plan?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mary said with an annoyed sigh as she rolled off the bed before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

You and Frank quickly pulled on some clothes before going into the living room. You went outside with Mary and a Tupperware container while Frank and Roberta stayed inside.

Frank rolled his eyes with a laugh, “I don’t know why you’re mad, you’re the one who broke our agreement for what? To scar Mary?”

“It seems like you did that enough for the both of us.”

“I didn’t do anything like that!”

“Then how does she know about sex!?”

“She asked and I told her. It doesn’t concern you, why are you acting like this is the worst thing I’ve ever done?”

Roberta sighed, “You should’ve asked her if she wanted a sibling before you-”

“That’s not the problem and you know it. You have an issue with who I’m dating.”

“And?”

“What is your problem with Y/N? What did she do that put such a bad taste in your mouth?”

“She’s young.”

“And what? She’s after my money? If you looked around... I don’t have any.”

“She’s irresponsible and unsure of what she wants, if Mary gets attached to her this can be detrimental.”

“Well, I’m asking her to-” He was cut off as you knocked on the window and motioned for him to come outside. He held up his finger to you before he finished what he was saying, “I’m asking her to move in with me. And before you ask, Mary already approved it.” He shook his head and opened the door, “After you Roberta, you can go.”

A few more months had passed since you moved in and everything was working out well. Frank didn’t realize how much he missed proper home cooked food until started cooking for them and he liked how good you were with Mary. After he would help her with homework you were always there with a craft, or Legos, or a game to introduce that fun back into her routine. It was Friday night which meant date night for the two of you which you normally would have enjoyed but you had a secret you were keeping from him. You had found out on Monday you were pregnant and it was confirmed on Thursday at the clinic that you were seven weeks along. He picked up on the little things throughout the night. You held your breath as his hand moved across your waist, you didn’t order any of the drinks you liked, and you seemed disgusted with your favorite pasta when it was brought out to you. The ride home was quiet even though you still hugged onto his arm curled up on the bench seat of his truck.

When you both got home, he lingered in the kitchen while you went into the bathroom to take a shower.

As you both got into bed he knew something was wrong but you were still silent. He didn’t want to ask, he didn’t want to fight, but if you weren’t happy he needed to know. You had only moved in three months ago and maybe this wasn’t the life you thought you wanted.

“Can I have the remote?” You asked and he shook his head.

“I need to talk to you first.”

“About?”

He scoffed, sinking back into the pillows, “Tonight. The way you’ve been acting. Don’t be obtuse, please.” Nervously tugging on the shirt you were wearing, he asked “Was it something I said?”

You shook your head and he sighed.

You closed your eyes and a tear rolled down your cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what, baby? What happened?” His mind began to flood with the worst scenarios.

“I'm pregnant.”

The room fell silent besides your sniffles before you continued, “I found out on Monday, well I guess Thursday, and I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you. I just can't-” You cut yourself off as you started crying harder and your hands moved up to cover your face.

His arms quickly wrapped around you pulling you closer to him, “Hey, that’s okay. It’s okay. You’re okay, I promise. Breathe, baby.” It took a few moments to console you. You hated how emotional the extra hormones made you. When you finally calmed down, you slightly pulled away from him and took a few deep shaky breaths. His big hand moved across your back with his voice low to soothe you, “Whenever you’re ready, don’t rush it out, okay?”

You nodded, taking a few more moments to nervously pull at the sheets before continuing. “I just…When we first got together and we started talking about things you said that you never wanted another kid. That you had Mary and that was enough for you. Which was fine for me too you know, we have a nice little family unit and it’s cute but…When I took that test in the bathroom my heart jumped out of my chest. I was so happy but then as I stood back up everything hit me. You, Mary, your mother, me having to give birth, us having to move into a bigger house. All the issues that could arise by this happening and I didn’t even remember how it happened but when I got sick two months ago and I had to take antibiotics. I’m just, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry about. Things happen.”

You looked over at him with tears still in your eyes, “But what do we do?”

“Well, it seems like we’re having a baby." You were so stunned, you didn’t even notice that your mouth fell open, and he quickly began to back pedal, “Unless that’s not what you wanted me to say and you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I’m just afraid. What if Mary doesn’t want to be a big sister or a big niece or whatever…”

“She will, she loves you. I think she even loves you more than she loves me.”

“We’d have to move.”

“She might like that too.” He said with a light laugh as you both laid down fully and you rested on his chest.

“What about Roberta?”

“She can come visit and I’m sure Mary would happily come back to her house for sleepovers… It’s going to be alright. Just trust me.”

The next morning, Frank had made you both breakfast to eat in bed and you were busy watching a movie when Mary came home. “Frank! Y/N! Look at what I made!” She yelled as ran through the open door and quickly jumped on the bed holding out her bright orange slime to the two of you.

“Wow! That is incredible!” You told her before giving it a small poke, “Very squishy. Should we go find a container to place it in?”

“Yeah yeah yeah! I want to show Fred but I don’t want his hair in it!”

“Look at you thinking ahead.” You patted Frank’s chest before getting up out of bed. You were in one of Frank’s shirts and some pajama shorts when you gave Roberta who was unpacking Mary’s bag.

“Late morning?” She asked and you shook your head.

“Not exactly, just a lazy day in bed. Did you guys have fun last night?”

“So much fun!” Mary chimed in quickly, still playing with her slime.

You found a small Tupperware container before holding it out to her.

Mary slowly wiggled the ooze into the container before you put the lid on it and handed it back to her. Going back into the living room you found Frank and Roberta talking before Roberta told you both to enjoy your weekend and quickly left.

“I told you she’s not my biggest fan.” You mumbled to him with scrunched up eyebrows.

Frank let out a loud laugh before pulling you into a hug, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He turned his attention to Mary who was poking Fred with the container, “Hey Mary, how about we go get some movies and order some pizza for tonight?”

“Really!? Any movie!?”

“Well, nothing over PG-13.”

“Deal!”

While eating pizza that night, Frank decided to bring up the fact you were pregnant. Just as he thought, Mary was ecstatic. Jumping on the couch, the coffee table, and on her bed to show it. She had so many questions that you only ended up getting to one of the movies out of the three you rented.

Time seemed to be flying fast with you and Frank getting married at the courthouse a month later. You had found a good at home data entry job to better balance your time when you and Frank first started dating. It definitely paid better than your bartending job and you were able to set aside some money over the course of you and Frank’s relationship. Using what was in both of your savings combined, you and Frank were able to find a bigger house in a better neighborhood. A nice four bedroom, three bathroom house with a big backyard. With closing set in a month the marathon of packing began and after a long night, you were very groggily starting to make breakfast when there was a knock at the door. With a sigh, you made your way to the door and opened it. You almost wondered if you were still dreaming.

Correction, a nightmare.

In front of you was Evelyn, Frank’s mother. You had heard the stories of his horrific mother and the custody battle she put them through. If there was ever a woman you didn’t want to meet it was her. You had told her to wait as you quickly woke up Frank trying to hide your anxieties of the situation. His mother was demanding they talk immediately which the talking quickly turned into yelling.

"Look, Mother, you have to calm down or come inside for breakfast you're going to cause a disturbance."

“I am not staying here for breakfast in this awful, disgusting house with that animal.”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, “I’m going to go help Mary get ready for school.”

“That sounds great, baby. Thank you.” He told you with a warm smile.

Somehow, someway he got her to leave explaining that the three of you could have lunch. Of course it was at some fancy bistro, but you didn’t want to complain and make Frank feel any worse about today.

The small talk was making all of this go by painstakingly slow. With every detail you told her about your life she would scrunch up her face in disgust. Finally the appetizers and drinks had arrived and you quickly grabbed a spring roll off the plate causing Frank to smile.

“Eager to dig in are we?”

“Well, that happens when your body is creating a human.”

With an exaggerated eye roll she asked, “So, what are your plans to bring a baby into this world with you both living your lives like this?”

“Well, we just bought a house big enough for all of us, so I’d say we have everything taken care of.” Frank said proudly before grabbing your thigh.

“When you say we, I imagine you mean yourself as I doubt she has money... I wish you would’ve married someone with some prestige to better turn your life around.”

“Yeah, and I wish you weren’t his mom so we all don’t get what we want.”

His mother loudly gasped, “You’re going to let her talk to your mother like this?!”

Frank couldn’t help but chuckle, “Absolutely. She can do whatever the fuck she wants.”

You clicked your tongue before looking over at Frank, “Is this lunch about something important or is she just here to talk down to us?”

The elder blonde flipped her hair over her shoulder, “I am just saying, if I sense any form of care towards Mary or my new grandchild shifting I will be taking you back to court.”

“And I’d love to see you try. It’s none of your business what I make but for your information it’s more than enough. You fly in, fly out, any time you want to with no regard for calling first. You have no boundaries or sense of normalcy. Watch your mouth or fly back across the pond and leave me and my family alone.”

“That’s not-”

“What? Fair? You know what isn’t fair? You think that just because you’re a blood relative to him you can stick your nose in my business? You’re wrong and you’re scared because you know if Mary had to make the choice between us and you, she’d choose us a million times over. Keep your distance and mind our boundaries.”

You stood up and reached your hand out to him which he quickly took, “You heard her.”

You both got into his truck and both started laughing. He shook his head before looking over at you, “I love you so goddamn much.”

He held his hand out and you happily grabbed onto it, His hands were so tough and calloused against yours but you squeezed his hand anyways. “Let’s go pick Mary up from school and then some ice cream.”

#frank adler x you #frank adler x reader #frank adler fanfiction #fifof

[weelittleweasley]

sheer brilliance (f.w.)

prompt: being a teacher’s assistant at a local college, you are assigned to a philosophy professor who is notorious for being young, cocky, and undeniably handsome. does his arrogance get in the way of you getting or job done? or is it his looks?

pairing: professor! fred x teacher’s assistant! reader

warnings: typically frowned upon relationships (oopsie i love forbidden romances that are legal and consentual mwah), language, food, drinking, alcohol

word count: 15k (I am so sorry I really couldn’t help myself)

author’s note: there won’t be a direct part two of this, but you can bet ur sweet booty that i will be writing more prof!fred in this universe because he’s just so HNNNGG

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff​ @harrysweasleys​ @gcdricreads​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @lol-idk-oops​ @another-lonely-heart​ @kaseyrose96-blog​ @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa​ @parseltongueswriting​ @shilohpug​ @peachypotter​ @spacexcowgirl​ @PaintballKid711 @vogueweasley​ @freddie-weaselbee​ @freds-slut​ @missmulti​ @gryffindcrghost​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @valwritesx​ @sweeterthansammy​ @loonylovegood13​ @lostaurorax​

“It’s so nice to see another young face here,” a blonde haired girls sighs next to you as you swipe your ID card to enter the university building for your first official day of work. “I thought I was going to be the only new TA here,” she confides in you as your shoes click down the corridor as you make your way through the halls. 

You flash her a comforting smile, “Same here. But I think there’s more of us on the way. Besides, we’re relatively early.” 

As a last year graduate student, you needed to be a teaching assistant in order to get your degree and finish your course requirements. It wasn’t an opportunity you were thrilled about, but it would give you hands on teaching experience in a university setting that could be very valuable. That was, if you had the right professor.

“I’m Luna, by the way,” the girl next to you chimes as she fixes the strap of her purse, offering you her hand to shake, gladly accepting it. “I’m a TA for Women and Gender Studies,” she adds proudly.

“I’m (Y/N),” you smile, “TA for Philosophy.” Luna looks impressed as you tell her about your area of study, making you laugh. “I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. I quite like it, actually. Just hoping the professor I’m assisting is a good one,” you nervously speak, turning the corner to walk to the Dean’s office.

Luna shakes her head, “I hear you. It’s definitely nerve wracking, but Hogwarts University has some of the top rated professors in the country, so I really don’t think we’ll have many problems in that department.” 

You suck in a deep breath as you nod. The university was quite prestigious, you were shocked when you were informed you would be assisting here, but honored nonetheless. However, there was still a pool of nerves that swam around in your stomach as you thought about the professor you would be assisting. You could have a someone who was so knowledgeable in your field of study or someone who was a complete ass. It was a dice roll. “One can only hope,” you sigh before arriving in front of the Dean’s door, placing three knocks on the wooden door.

The door swings open to reveal a happy looking man, brown hair combed back and a toothy grin on his face. He wore houndstooth pants with a white button down tucked in and a neatly tied bow tie around his neck, matching the color pattern of his pants. His face glowed with excitement as he beamed, “Ms. Lovegood, Miss (Y/L/N), so glad to finally have you with us!” You and Luna offered him a warm smile in return as he opened his office door wider for the two of you to enter. “Welcome to Hogwarts! I’m Dean Longbottom, but you two can just call me Neville,” he smiles as he sits behind his desk adorned with small succulents and stationary. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival along with the other teaching assistants for awhile. It’s so nice that we have such a large pool of you for this semester. The professors are quite lucky to get quite a brilliant bunch like you,” he compliments.

“Speaking on behalf of all the TAs, I think I can confidently say we feel honored to be here,” Luna smiles softly as the dean chuckles and you nod.

Neville nods his head, “We are honored to have you.” You and Luna thank him before he begins again, “So, the two of you have some time before you are reporting to your classrooms for lecture. How about I give you the tour of the campus? A proper Hogwarts welcome?”

You and Luna excitedly agree and Dean Longbottom starts to walk you through the hallways of the beautiful university. The university had once been castle during the Gothic era, still maintaining the same structure. Beautiful hallways, paintings of founders hung in the walls, windows adorned with stained glass as sunlight seeped through. “The dining hall is on the left over here,” Neville gestures, revealing a large room lined with tables, school flags hanging high as students varying in year gather to chat and eat. “And if you look ahead, you’ll find the campus courtyard. It’s beautiful this time of year with the flowers in full bloom,” Neville smiles to himself. “Across the street are the campuses houses. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Syltherins, and Hufflepuffs,” he points as you see tall houses, coated in paint of their respective colors. “I myself was a Gryffindor when I was a student,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you and Luna. “Other than that, I think that concludes the tour. Here are your staff lanyards and your professor assignments have been forwarded to you in your emails. There’s still some time left before lecture, so feel free to hang around campus or in the staff lounge. If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate. I’ll see you two very soon!” he waves before disappearing down the hall. 

In this moment, you take the time to look around the hall to see the bustling student body, smiling and laughing as they make their way down the halls. You softly smile to yourself, reminiscing about when you were an undergraduate. A freshman in the halls, excited for university. Now, you were nearly done with graduate school, soon to be a certified professor. Time had flown by in the blink of an eye. 

“You want to take a peak in the staff lounge?” Luna disturbs your thoughts.

Turning to her, you give her a smile and a nod before walking up the stairs three levels to reach the staff lounge. Inside were a few professors scattered here and there, but mostly there were TAs. The room radiated buzzing nervous energy as red lanyards signifying TA status hung around a few necks. One of the boys sitting at the table spotted the red lanyard and spoke cooly, “You’ve found the right place.” 

He rose from his chair and walked over to you and Luna with a shocking amount of confidence. His jet black hair was gelled back neatly, a crisp light blue button up and handsome tie clung on his neck as he stuck out a hand for you to shake. “Name’s Harry,” he proudly shook your hand. “I was a TA here two years ago, now in charge of the TA program and coordinator for the math department. You two look new. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just I could sense it,” he laughs.

“(Y/N),” you shake his hand firmly as he smiles. Luna does the same with a small smile. “You’re right about the new part. It’s both our first semesters here,” you confirm. 

Harry nods and walks back to his chair, leaning back, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Nice. What’s your area of focus?” he asks. 

Luna grabs a seat and speaks, “Women and Gender Studies. You by any chance know a Ginevra Weasley? She’ll be the professor I’m assisting this semester.”

Harry lets out a chuckle before an unfamiliar voice speaks up, “Oh, Potter is familiar here with Ms. Ginevra Weasley. That’s his fiancé.” You turn around to face a smirking face as he sips on his piping cup of black coffee. “I’m Seamus Finnegan. Head TA for the chemistry department,” he introduces. “You’ve lucked out,” he tells Luna. “Ginny is the best in the department. She’s a hard ass, but you’ll learn a lot from her.”

Luna smiles to herself, “Very excited to get started then.” 

“What about you?” Harry nods to you as Seamus slides into a seat next to Harry. “Area of study?”

“Philosophy,” you reply cooly. Seamus gives you an impressed look as Harry smiles lightly. “Specifically Ethics,” you add on. “I’m assisting another Weasley, actually?” you look at Luna. “Are they by any chance related?” you ask Harry and Seamus.

The two of them just chuckle as Harry sighs, “Yeah, the whole family basically teaches here. You’ll learn fast. They all got jobs at the same time since their father is on the board of directors. All of them deserve to be here though. Brilliant professors, all of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize you were holding in. Confirmation that you had a more than capable professor was good news. 

Seamus continues on Harry’s tangent. “Basically one in each department,” he shrugs. “Ginny is a  women and gender studies professor, Percy is the head of the business department, Charles is in the vet school, Bill is an adjunct professor now, but he’s in the language department with a focus in French, Ron is the European History professor and by the looks of it, he’ll be the head of the department next year, George is the chemistry professor I assist, and then there’s Fred w-”

“That’s the one,” you interrupt. “He’s the one I’m assisting this semester. How’s he? Do you have any intel that could help a new bee out?” you ask hopefully with a glimmer of jest in your voice. But the look on Harry and Seamus’ faces make your stomach do a flip. They look at each other knowingly as Seamus lets out a small chuckle. He mutters a small yikes before sipping on his coffee and excuses himself from the table to go attend his lecture with George. “What was that look about? Is he a lazy professor?” you groan.

Harry lightly laughs and shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Fred Weasley is a great professor, no need to worry about that. He’s just...how do I put this without getting fired?” he whispers the last bit to himself as your eyes widen and you lean in closer with a what?, making Harry shake his head. “It’s not bad, I swear, he’s not like...unstable or anything. He’s just very cocky. Fred is good at his job and he knows it. He doesn’t let anyone forget it. He’s been ranked top professor at the school for the past three years and wears it like a badge of honor.” 

Great, a cocky professor. A narcissist. Just what you needed when starting a job that could determine the fate of your career. You sigh and flop back in your chair as Luna gives you a sympathetic look. “Bloody brilliant,” you huff.

“He’s a great professor though!” Harry tries to make light of the conversation. “Fred has been teaching straight out of university, so he knows what he’s doing. Students really admire him and his lectures are some of the best that I’ve seen. He knows how to have fun in the class, but he doesn’t take any bullshit,” Harry reassures you as you give him a weak nod. It was nice to hear that he was at least respected and admired by the students. Maybe you could learn to do the same. 

Luna takes a look at her watch and gives you a nudge. “It’s twenty minutes until the new lecture block. Reckon we should introduce ourselves to our professors?” she asks as you sigh with a reluctant nod. After that bit of information you just received, you were less excited to meet your professor. “It was nice meeting you, Harry,” she beams to Harry as you two rise from your seats. 

“Lovely meeting you two. I’m sure I’ll catch you around in the halls,” he winks friendly before you both exit the staff lounge.

Nervously, you played with the cuffs of your turtleneck, walking down the halls, parting with Luna, wishing the other good luck in their first lecture. As you strolled the hallway of the fifth floor, searching from room 523 where Philosophical Ethics would take place. You wondered how he would look. Old, no doubt. Harry said he’s been teaching since he graduated which had to mean he was in his late forties. Was he a cranky old white man? Great. Just fantastic. He probably had the traditional way of teaching which meant he sat at the front of the classroom and spoke at the class for three hours. Your worst nightmare. How could someone ruin something you loved?

You stumble upon the wooden door with golden paint etched into it 523. With a confident inhalation, you push the door open and enter the classroom, neatly set up for the next lecture. Three rows of eight, one next to the other. In the front of the classroom was a large chalkboard with the words Welcome to Ethics written in sloppy handwriting. Gently, there was soft jazz music playing from a small speaker, filling the classroom, saxophone and trumpet melodies echoing. Everything looked normal. Except for who sat at the desk.

At the front of the classroom, sitting at a dark brown desk was a tall, lean young man with tuffs of orange hair styled back. He wore a freshly ironed white button down that was tucked neatly into a pair of chestnut corduroys with matching brown chukka boots. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off his muscular biceps and toned arms. A shiny silver Rolex watch was strapped on his left wrist as he tapped a pen against his desk. But you couldn’t get over how young he was. The youth in his face was lively as his dark chocolate eyes scanned over a paper in front of him. Your presence was unknown to him as he continued to flip through papers, dragging his pen across the margins. 

Politely, you clear your throat, causing him to look up from his paper, looking up at you. When his eyes landed on yours, you gulped thickly. His whole face was undeniably attractive. His angled jaw, full lips, soft eyes. He gave you a confused look. “Lecture isn’t for another twenty minutes,” he told you before looking back down at his paper, almost dismissing you. “But feel free to have your choice in seat. I hope you don’t mind the music. Let me know if it’s distracting,” he tells you before flipping the pages again.

You inhale deeply. “Actually, Professor Weasley, I’m (Y/N),” you introduce yourself. Professor Weasley looks up at you with confused eyes, trying to put together your identity. “Your TA for the semester?” you speak with a small smile. “I’m very excited to get started with you.”

But before you can ask him what you could do to help set up the classroom, he speaks, “I didn’t ask for a TA.”

His words take you aback for a moment. Instead of an introduction or even a simple hello, he told you he didn’t ask for a TA. “I beg your pardon?” you ask with almost a laugh.

“I didn’t ask for a TA. I don’t need one,” he clarifies to you, rising from his desk as you gulp, taking in how tall he was, standing proudly above you. “I’ve never needed a TA in the past, and I don’t know who decided I needed one this year. After being voted best professor since I got here, I don’t understand why this is the year I need one,” he laughs, making his way around the desk, leaning against it, tucking his hands in his pockets.

You give him a disturbed look. Harry telling you that Fred Weasley was cocky was a damn understatement. The bloody guy was telling you to your face that you weren’t wanted or needed here. That he could do his job perfectly fine without you. “I’m sure you don’t need one, Professor, but this was my assignment. Dean Longbottom assigned me here and I’m just following what I was told to do in order to get my degree,” you tell him, trying to remain cool and polite when you’d rather tell him to suck it up and deal with it.

Fred run his fingers through his hair before placing them on either side of his body, leaning back into his desk, tongue pressed against his cheek. His biceps flexed underneath his tight white shirt, making you gulp, trying not to get distracted at the fact that your professor was not only a dick, but an incredibly handsome one. “Neville assigned you?” he laughed. “Alright. Well, I’ll go down to office and get this sorted away,” he huffed before standing up straight.

But before he could take a step further, you stopped him, now getting frustrated that this guy didn’t even try being nice to you. “Hold on,” you stopped him, fixing the strap of your purse on your shoulder before placing it on the desk next to you. “This job was assigned to me. There are no other TA positions available in the philosophy department this late in the game. I’m not gonna lose this job just because you allegedly don’t need a TA,” you try to keep cool, but the venom leaks out every now and then.

Fred gives you a light chuckle before speaking, “Not allegedly. I don’t need one. There’s a reason why I’m one of the most successful and youngest professors. I can run this class by myself without some grad student’s help.”

Now, you are pissed. “Alright, you know what?” you fold your arms over your chest. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to like this. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am and I will be respected. Regardless if I am a TA, or a student, or a co-worker. I am here to do a job and I will do that job no matter what anyone says,” you tell him as he just stares at you, a cocky smirk on his face that makes your blood boil. It was like he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. “So how about we save ourselves the dramatics and just be satisfied with the fact that this is the situation?”

Fred just exhales and rubs hand over his face. You could tell he didn’t want you here, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to be here either after his little stunt. You were quite sure he was capable of running his own class, but you weren’t here to take his job. You were here to be an assistant to his teaching, being there to support and help him. This was a requirement for you, not a pastime. “Alright then,” he eventually states, making the way back to his desk. “You can grab a desk from the rows and bring it up to the front, I guess,” he huffs as you remain standing with your arms still folded across your chest. 

He looks up and gives you a look. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” you ask with venom pouring from your glossed lips as you give him a sarcastic smile. 

Fred gives you a sarcastic smile back as he drops his pen and speaks, “Fred Weasley. MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. Cambridge Graduate. Cum laude.” The pride dripped from his voice as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “And you are?”

You wanted to throw your shoe at his head, your blood was boiling at how arrogant and prideful this man was. “If you were listening before, you would know my name is (Y/N). MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. University of Oxford. 3.98 GPA,” you mimic him.

Fred gives out a chuckle as you grab your purse and start to settle yourself in the room. “Oxford student? Fitting that our universities are rivals,” he huffs before pulling a desk and chair over for you, placing it near his desk. 

“And why would that be?” you ask sarcastically as Fred bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to snap a snarky response back at you. “Listen, Fred, I’m just here to do my job and do it well. I’m not here to step on your toes. I’m here to finish my requirements so I can get certified,” you tell him as you stand beside your desk, smoothing out your plaid skirt that your turtleneck was tucked neatly into. 

As you stand there, Fred’s eyes rake up and down your body, taking you in as a whole. The first time he’s done this since you walked in. His eyes are like magnets, scanning every inch of your body and how you carry yourself so confidently in the space. When his eyes reach yours, you inhale deeply, trying to prevent the heat from rising to your cheeks as your handsome superior checks you out. “I’m not worried about you, darling,” his thick accent coos. “You’re the least of my worries.”

Just as the words slip out of his mouth, students start to file into the classroom, greeting Fred with good mornings and how are you’s. You tell yourself to calm down, to remain friendly, and cool. As the students file in, Fred greets them all with a warm smile. “Welcome back everyone. This is Philosophical Ethics with Professor Weasley. You all can call me Professor, Professor Weasley, Fred, Professor Fred. Just not Freddie, that one is reserved for my mum,” he teases, earning a few chuckles from the class. He glances over to you with a small stare and begrudgingly introduces you, “This is (Y/N), my TA for the semester. She will be here with us for...?”

“The whole semester,” you remind him with a sweet smile contrasted by your  daggers for eyes. “Looking forward to working with you all,” you tell the class with a warm smile, receiving a few back in return.

Fred sighs, “Right. Well, anyway, let’s take roll and then get right into things, yeah?” The class nods as you sigh. “Alright, who can talk to me about Nietzsche?”

This was going to be a long semester.

Three hours of the class went by at a sluggish pace. Not to mention, Fred didn’t extent an invitation for your opinion or thoughts during the lesson. You didn’t expect him to let you teach the class, but instead, you just sat and listened to him run the class. 

Although he didn’t let you say much, you had to admit that his lecture was quite good. He led the class in a really interesting way, almost like a Socratic seminar type. He let his students make observations and create open dialogues about the philosophy you were covering. Fred encouraged student’s thoughts rather than shut them down and he tried to encourage everyone to participate to make sure everyone said what they wanted to say. But you, he didn’t extend that offer. 

Instead, you took notes. Notes on Fred Weasley. The way he spoke with his hands, how he sloppily wrote on the board with chalk, underlining words, circling, and drawing small diagrams. How he folded his arms across his chest when someone brought up a provocative thought. How he nibbled on his bottom lip when a student asked him a question. How he glanced over at you every once in awhile, catching your eye and smirking when he caught you looking at him. You would roll your eyes and continue to scribble down his mannerisms, what he focused on in class, and how he conducted it. 

The students ate up everything that fell from his lips. It was like magic, the way he could capture 20 students attention about something as niche as existentialism. But you couldn’t lie, Fred Weasley was captivating.

“Okay, for next week’s class read Nicomachean Ethics and start drawing comparisons and differences between Aristotle and Nietzsche,” Fred announces as he closes his book and dismisses his students for the day, a chorus of thank you’s and have a good day’s echo in the classroom.

The final student exits as Fred retires back to his desk, sorting papers and filing away miscellaneous papers. You click your pen as you watch him, waiting for him to break the silence. But instead he sits at his desk and starts scribbling into his planner. With a sigh, you break the silence and speak, “You give a really informative lecture. You engage with the students really well.”

You thought a compliment would be a peace offering. An olive branch of sorts. But Fred took it as an opportunity to dig into you. “I know. That’s why it’s a full class and I’ve got a waitlist 30 kids long,” he speaks without looking up at his desk. 

The guy was cocky as all hell and he was letting you soak it all in. The grip on your pen grows tighter as you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth in irritation, trying to maintain a steady facade. “So,” you breathe out as you grab your bag, pulling your notebook from your back. “You want to talk about lesson plans? I see that you’ve assigned Aristotle for the next week and a half. Maybe a smooth transition would be going into Kant and talking about the categorical imperative?” you suggest, sitting on a desk in front of Fred’s.

He peers up at you through his lashes, your legs dangling from the desk. He gives you all of his attention as he pushes his sleeves further up his arms, fiddling with the lock on his Rolex. “I’ve already taken care of the lesson plans for the rest of the semester. It’s all planned out. It has been since last month,” he explains to you as you nod your head, thinking he would offer something else for you to do.

“Okay,” you trail off. “Is there...anything you want me to do? Coordinate office hours? Set up my own as well so I can be a resource to the students. I can give you my phone number and email to put on the syllabus, so the students know they can reach out to me if they have any questions,” you tell him as you start to scribble down your email and number.

But Fred shakes his head, “Won’t be necessary. If a student needs you, they’ll come to you. Besides, they should really come to me if they need anything since I have more knowledge about the course.”

His passive comments were starting to pile up on you as you inhale deeply, your chest heaving. The turtleneck around your body felt very warm as anger started to bubble in your chest. “Maybe if you told me about the course, I could be a valuable resource to students. Remember, I’m just as qualified as you. I just haven’t graduated yet,” you remind Fred as you lean back on the desk, legs swinging back and forth as Fred starts to pack up his briefcase.

“Yet,” he looks up at you with a smirk, pink lips curled upwards as he leans over his desk, gathering his things. Even though the smirk was condescending as all hell, it did something to you. In more than one way. It made anger gather in your chest, frustration tingle in your temples, but butterflies pitter patter away deep in your stomach.

“So what exactly do you want me to do?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest as Fred grabs his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in the other as he does a once over his desk.

Calmly, Fred speaks, “You can start by filing away those papers on my desk and then once that’s done, make a list of the students in grade point average order. I want to know who needs the most help and who is fine on their own.” After he gives you that direction, he starts for the door.

With a scoff, you hop down from the desk. “And you’re just going to leave?” you laugh at him as he place his hand on the door with a shrug. “You know I am a teaching assistant. Not your personal assistant,” you spit at him.

Fred swings the door open and stands there with a smile. “Teaching is more than just standing front of a room as talking out of your ass, dear,” he tells you as the nickname makes you bite your tongue from yelling at him. 

“You really are arrogant, you know that?” you sneer at him with your hands on your hips, glaring at him. You stare at him as he stands in front of the open door, jacket laid over his forearm, leather briefcase in hand, his other hand combing through his fire red hair.

Fred smiles lightly to you before sighing, “I’m bloody brilliant, (Y/N). You would be arrogant, too.” His words make you shake your head with a scoff. “Sort those papers for me, won’t you? I’ll see you tomorrow in here. Early. 9am sharp.”

But before you can ask him why, he’s out the door and calling after another professor, leaving you alone to your own devices. You let out a frustrated groan as you cover your face with your hands. Of course, you got stuck with the prick professor who takes advantage of an extra set of hands. You walk over to his desk and see a small stack of papers to be sorted and filed away along with the list he wanted you to organize. 

You plop yourself into the desk seat and carefully start going through each file, examining each student’s credentials, organizing them by GPA and last name. You note who could be a tutor and who needs a tutor, who is at exit level, who is at entry level, so on and so forth. The task was interesting, but so time consuming. It was a way you could start to learn more about your students, even if it was through paper.

It had been an hour and a half and you were on your last file when you hear a gentle knock at the door. Slowly, it creaks open to reveal Luna and Harry together. Luna carries two lattes in her hand and smiles, extending her arm out to give it to you. “You are a saint, you know that?” you laugh as you accept the warm, caffeinated beverage. 

“You’re still working?” she asks in disbelief as you finalize some last notes in the margins of one student’s file. “But class ended almost two hours ago.”

You look up at the both of them. “Oh, I know. But Fred left after the lecture and insisted I do the filing and note taking whilst he got to leave on time,” you speak through gritted teeth, finishing scribbling your last note and flopping the pen down, leaning back in the desk chair with a huff. “You weren’t lying when you told me he’s a self-righteous fuck,” you talk to Harry.

Harry laughs and digs his hands into his pockets with a huff. “Well, I didn’t use those words,” he laughs as you give him a look through your mascara coated lashes. He gives you a sorry sigh and leans over the desk, “Fred is a great guy one on one, but as a professor...he just likes having reign over his classroom. It’s not just you. His last TA was three years ago and he made the kid miserable. The kid, Dean Thomas, was so sick of philosophy after he switched to psychology. Now he’s a first year professor.” You roll your eyes and push yourself out of the desk, grabbing your purse and notebooks, piling them all in as Harry continues. “What happened today?”

Recounting the moments of the day made you frustrated, but you allowed yourself to vent to your co-workers. “Well, when I walked in, he thought I was a student,” you speak as Harry and Luna give you an apologetic look, Harry muttering an ouch. “Oh, that’s not even the worst part. Then I told him I was a TA and he told me he didn’t need one, because he’s more than capable of running his own classroom,” you mimic his pompous attitude. “He had the gall to threaten me to go to Neville’s office and find me a replacement class! I mean, sure, he’s a great professor, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only good one in this bloody school!” you exclaim, frustrated failing your arms, earning a small chuckle from Harry and Luna. “I’m sorry, I’m just very frustrated that this is how my first day on the job went,” you run your fingers through your hair, shaking your head.

“No need to apologize,” Luna walks over and touches your shoulder gently. “He sounds...unpleasant...” she tries to be as cordial as possible, earning a giggle from you. “But maybe you’ll warm up to each other? It’s only the first day. We have a whole semester ahead of us,” she looks between you and Harry cheerfully. In a weird way, her light, happy tone made you feel a little better.

You sigh, “I guess so. Ugh, a whole semester with Fred Weasley...” 

The three of you start out of the classroom and start to make your way down the halls, retiring to the staff parking lot and bus stops. But before you can make your way to the public transportation, Harry suggests, “Hey, a few of us are headed to the bar to grab a drink before headed home. Do you both fancy coming?”

Luna perks up and shakes her head with an eager yes please. The idea of grabbing drinks sounded great and just what you needed after this gruesome day. But the looming thought of having to get up early and meet Fred in the classroom tomorrow at nine sharp hung over you like a storm cloud. With a sigh, you speak, “Wish I could. But Fred is making me meet him at nine to talk about lesson plans or something. Last thing I need is showing up hungover to my second day on the job.”

Harry and Luna groan in protest. “Oh, come on! You can’t let Fred rob you of your autonomy!” Luna stomps her foot and grabs your hand. “One drink won’t hurt! We’ll both have one pint and then I’ll take the bus back with you. We’re only one stop away from each other on the blue line,” she tries to convince you.

Harry starts dancing backwards to his car as he beeps it open. “I’ve got an extra seat,” he sing songs as he opens up the door for you.

A small smile creeps up on your face as you sigh. One drink couldn’t hurt. Just one cheeky little drink and then home away you would go. The night was still young, so you’d still be in bed at a reasonable hour. One drink. “You guys suck,” you laugh as you start walking to Harry’s car as Luna claps her hands in glee and Harry triumphantly punches the air, making you laugh.

-------

The morning sun creeps through your window, making you groan and roll over. The sunlight hurt your eyes and made your stomach churn as a headache pounds through your cranium, making you feel sick. “Bloody hell,” you whisper as you sit up and rub your eyes. 

You slowly start to remember the events of last night and everyone there. It was all the TAs, including some of the younger professors. You met another Weasley, Ron you think. The history professor. Absolutely nothing like Fred. He was charming and goofy in a lovable way as he sat next to his wife, Hermione, a classical literature professor, an arm draped over her shoulders. Seamus was also there along with a few other chemistry TAs as they sat at a high rise table, pointing and whispering about the business professors and TAs who sat all the way in the back, drinking scotch and making mild chatter.

“No bother meeting them,” Seamus told you as you sipped on a gin and tonic. “The business professors and TAs are all little shits. The one with the blonde hair is Draco Malfoy. He thinks he’s better than everyone because he got his PhD, but everyone knows his dad paid off the university to give him the doctorate. His TAs all kiss his ass to get in his good graces. Zabini, Nott, Goyle, all of them,” he groans before taking a long sip of his ale, making you laugh.

You had tried to tell yourself that you would only stay for one drink, but then you started yourself in conversation with the other TAs about undergrad and grad school, realizing the mutual friends you had with each other. And then, you found yourself being convinced by Ron to do a green tea shot with him as he toasted to all of the new TAs of the semester. And with that, one drink became six.

With a groan, you slump yourself up in your small studio apartment and rub your temples. As the sunlight leaked in through your white linen curtains, you check the clock. The hands pointed to 8:25am which made you gasp and rise to your feet. “Motherfucker,” you huff to yourself as you run to the bathroom. You had to meet Fred at 9 and it already took you twenty minutes to get to campus which left you with virtually no time to get ready. “Shit, shit, shit,” you turn on the shower quickly, running to your closet to grab a fresh pair of plaid pants and a jumper. “I’m so dead,” you whisper to yourself as you scramble to get ready.

You frantically rub soap all over your body with one hand and brush your teeth with the other, needing to freshen up after a long night out. The shower was cold and unpleasant as you shivered before hoping out and throwing your clothes on, opting to skip a full face of makeup and just pop on tinted moisturizer and lip balm. 

Checking the clock again, it was 8:35 and you groan in frustration. “I am a fucking moron,” you curse at yourself, grabbing your purse and notebooks and pens and papers, trying to get yourself organized before racing out the door to catch the bus. You run to your pantry to grab a granola bar as your phone starts buzzing on your nightstand. “Who the fuck is it?!” you scream as if your phone could hear you.

Stomping over, you grab it and see it was Harry calling you. “I’m kinda rushing to get out the door, Potter, make it quick, what’s up?” you babble as you slip your shoes in your Oxfords, lacing them up quickly.

Harry chuckles over the line. “I figured as much. You were a bit of a mess last night,” he tells you as you groan. “I’m only teasing you. But that being said, I’m passing your street in like two minutes, do you wanna catch a ride instead of betting on the bus?” he offers.

You sigh the biggest sigh of relief as you immediately respond. “Harry, you are a life saver,” you huff as Harry laughs. “I’ll be downstairs in a hot second. I just need to grab my coat and keys,” you tell him before hanging up.

Someone had your back today and sent Harry Potter to you. Rushing over to your coat rack, you grab your trench coat and your keys, doing a once over of your apartment, making sure you had everything, turned off all the lights and faucets. With a confident sigh, you exit your apartment, lock the door, and rush down the stairs. 

As expected, Harry sat in his car with a ginger haired woman in the passenger seat. You give him an exhausted smile as you open the back seat and slide in. “Morning,” he chimes as you shut the door and buckle your seatbelt. “How are we feeling?”

You give him a knowing look. “Fuck off,” you grumble as he laughs. “I can’t believe I let myself get carried away like that last night.” You never let yourself loose track of time like that; you felt so irresponsible. “If you didn’t call me, I would surely have my ass handed to me by Fred today.”

“Fred?” the woman in the passenger seat chimes in. “Are you the poor TA who has to deal with my brother this semester?” she asks as you sigh and nod. “Good God, I apologize on his behalf. He can be a dick sometimes. I’m Ginny by the way.”

She turns to you, offering her hand to shake as you gladly accept it. “The women and gender studies professor, right?” you ask as she proudly nods. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), philosophy,” you tell her with a smile. “You and Harry are engaged, if I remember correctly?”

Ginny smiles happily and flashes you her engagement ring. “Just recently, yeah,” she confirms with an admiring look to Harry as he drives down the road, a small smile on his lips. “We met when we were both TAs and have been together since,” she recounts with a smile. “Enough of that though, how are you finding Hogwarts so far? With exception of my bothersome older brother,” she reframes the question.

“So far, so good,” you tell her honestly. The staff at the university was class. Everyone was so warm and welcoming and made you feel at home instantly. “I think last night I also met your brother, Ron. He kept handing out shots to the new TAs,” you recall as the pang in your head agrees.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s him. Ron likes to mess with the new bees every year,” she speaks. “Here, take this,” she hands you a piece of spearmint gum and a tube of mascara. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me,” she winks as you thank her. “Harry should have given you a heads up on that one,” she elbows him.

Harry shakes his head, “Ron has been my best mate since grad school, I’m not revealing his tricks to anyone no matter how good of a friend they are.” And with that, Harry pulls into the staff parking lot of Hogwarts as the time reads on the dashboard 8:55am. 5 minutes to spare.

As Harry puts the car in park, you unbuckle yourself and say, “I hate to rush out like this, but I quite literally have to dash to get to this meeting with Fred on time. Ginny, it was lovely meeting you. Harry, I owe you one. Thanks so much for the ride,” you slide out of the car as you dash towards the school.

“You can buy me a round of drinks!” he teases after you as you shake your head, dashing through the halls of Hogwarts to get to classroom 523.

You dart in between students as you run up the stairs, purse in hand, hair flowing as you make a mad dash. Finally, you reach the classroom and push the door open to reveal no one in the room. “Seriously?” you huff out of breath. You just ran here for no reason. Fred was no where to be found. But after closer inspection, there was a small sticky note on the chalkboard that read be back in ten. You huff and throw your bag down, walking around the classroom, trying to distract yourself from your throbbing headache.

The classroom is neatly decorated, plants here and there, the windows open to draw in fresh air as you inhale deeply. Then you remember from yesterday. There was a small speaker by Fred’s desk, connected to the desktop on his desk. You walk over and press the power button, making the speak bleep on with a blue flashing light. You press play and see what was on the queue. Soft jazz music starts playing, specifically Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin. You smile to yourself, how fitting. 

As the jazz music echos lightly, you allow yourself to sway gently to the music, smiling to yourself. The song reminds you of working late in the library when you were in school, listening to music to maintain your focus. You hum the melody to yourself, dancing around the classroom, looking at the bookshelves, letting your fingers trace down their backbones. You allow yourself to start softly singing the lyrics as the tempo picks up, swaying back and forth as you pluck a book from the shelf, scanning it’s contents. 

The song picks up, the brass section wailing as you dance around, reading the first few pages of a random book from Fred’s collection. You continue to sing out loud, a little off key as you smile to yourself. In this moment, you were content, regardless of how gross you felt. “’Cause I’ve got you under my skin,” you sang gently as you continued to dance back and forth, cradling the book in your arms.

But you are pulled from your day dream when a voice speaks, “You’re a fan of old blue eyes?” You let out a light squeal as you see Fred standing there, watching you with a small smirk on his mouth, holding two coffees in his hand. 

You place a hand over your heart, monitoring how it thuds against your chest from being startled. You looked at Fred and sighed. He stood there, in a light tan khakis, crispy white shirt with a maroon tie hanging from his neck. A pair of square glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as his chocolate brown eyes peered at yours through them. “Sorry you had to see that,” you chuckle. “Sinatra is one of my favorites.”

Fred chuckles, “No need to apologize. Frank is one of the greats.” He walks over to you and hands you a coffee as you tuck the book in your hands under one of your arms. “Figured you’d need one of these,” he refers to the coffee. “TAs usually have quite the night out of the first day of work,” he recalls with a small smile. Was he...being friendly? But before you could ask how he knew you went out, he answered, “Ron is my brother. I know his ways. Because he learned them from me.” You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t know how you take your coffee, but I assumed a latte with an extra shot would suffice?” 

You give him a soft smile, “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks so much. I appreciate it.” Fred nods and sits as his desk with a huff, pulling himself close to the desk. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred pulls his glasses off of his face and twirls them in between his fingers as you watch the glasses spin around and around. “I wanted to talk about expectations for the class and for you,” he speaks as you nod and take a sip of your warm latte that almost instantly helps with your headache. “I...I realize that we may have not gotten off to the best start yesterday...and I apologize for my behavior,” he speak as you nod.

An apology was a good start. “You’re forgiven,” you simply state.

“Thank you,” he adds before rubbing a hand over his lips. “As for the class, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. This class is a prestigious course. One of the harder ones in the department. That being said, I think it’s best for me to have the reigns on the class and lead class lectures. You are free to observe and aid in answering questions about assignments or papers,” he tells you as he leans back in his chair, thinking he made a reasonable bargain. But it was quite the opposite.

You weren’t here to sit around and listen to another philosophy professor spew a scripted lecture. You did that for four years in undergraduate school. You were here to learn how to teach a classroom, how to run a lesson plan, how to gain hands on experience. Being a puppet in the corner was not going to accomplish any of those things. “Fred, I appreciate the apology. But this offer is not acceptable,” you state calmly. “I’m your teaching assistant. I’m here to help in any way I can, of course, but I’m also here to help teach and instruct the class. You are suppose to help me learn how to teach the class.”

Fred nods, “And you can do that by matters of observation.”

His way of brushing you off made you infuriated again, just like yesterday. Did he do this to everyone? “But don’t you think it would be more helpful for me to have some actual hands on experience? Like actually teaching the class?” you tell him more than ask him.

He rises from his chair and sighs, “I don’t need you creating a new lesson plan. I’ve been using this one since I got here and it works. If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” Fred walks over to the board and writes in bold letters, Aristotle, preparing for today’s lecture. The way that he so nonchalantly stated that to you and started writing on the board as if he didn’t insult your intelligence made you infuriated.

“You’re a fucking prick,” you flat out spew. You wish you could take it back, you really did. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted what you had said to him. Insulting your superior was surefire to get you fired and released from your job, making you ineligible to graduate. But damn did it feel good to say. 

Fred turns around to look at you, eyebrows furrows as if you just spoke in a foreign language to him. “I’m a fucking prick?” he repeats, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back on the chalkboard, crossing his legs as you stand in front of him, completely enraged, fists tight next to your sides. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that,” he laughs, combing his fingers through his hair, as if what you said was a compliment.

“Well the people who said it before were right! You’re cocky and arrogant and self-righteous and pompous and self-absorbed. You clearly have no intention of helping anyone but yourself! That’s probably why you like being a professor! So everyone listens to every last bit you say,” you start to ramble. Now that you had said what was on your mind, it was almost impossible to stop. The words flew off your tongue like a jet. 

Boldly, Fred pushes himself off the chalkboard, hands dug into his pant’s pockets as he walks closer to you. A small smirk dances along his lips as his tongue darts out and drags across his lower lip. The action makes your breath hitch in your throat as you mentally curse yourself, wanting to be annoyed with him, but yet you found yourself aroused. “Keep going,” he urges. “Go on. Tell me how unbearable I am. You’ve only known me twenty four hours, but it seems like you have me all figured out,” he speaks, just a foot away from your body.

Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, your lips slightly parted as you take heaving breaths, making your chest rise and fall quickly. Fred’s eyes scan your face, soaking in your annoyed and confused expression. You suddenly become very aware of how close he is to you and you shake your head, taking a step back. “I only need a day to know an asshole when I see one,” you simply state, folding your arms over your chest. Your expression reads as if it were Fred’s turn to take a dig at you.

Fred chuckles lowly before speaking, “Here’s your problem, darling.” The endearing terms makes your stomach curdle. “You don’t get the hands on experience your second day on the job. You’ve gotta prove to me that you can run a class and keep their attention for three hours. You think it’s easy keeping the attention of a bunch of twenty year olds when you’re talking about philosophy? It’s not as easy as you may think it is,” Fred explain as you roll your eyes. “I was in your shoes once before, so I know what you’re experiencing.”

You laugh, “Oh, don’t pull that card. You’re a professor now. You did your time in my shoes. Don’t pretend like you’d give anything to go back.”

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back!” Fred retorts, now with an edge. “You know what. I could let you run today’s class,” he chuckles at the thought. “I could let you run it and watch you crash and fucking burn,” he emphasizes with a shrug. “I could watch those students trample all over you, you know why?” he asks looking at you intently as you gulp. “Because they don’t respect you! They don’t know who you are. In fact, they see you as one of them! If I mistook you as one of them on the first day, then what made you think they wouldn’t?” he asks as you inhale deeply. “Respect is earned when you are in a position of authority. Even if you’re just a professor. And you, (Y/N), haven’t earned that yet from the students. And I honestly don’t know if you have it from me.”

And with that last dig, the first student enters the classroom signaling that the first lecture of the day was ready to begin. Fred and you don’t acknowledge the student, just staring at each other. Fred’s words stung. Like a fresh wound, you were bleeding out. His words were sad, but true. You were a TA, but you were still a grad student. Fred worked to get to the position he was at. You just needed to prove to him that you were capable of handling yourself in a classroom setting as a teaching assistant.

You retreat back to your desk at the front of the room and sit down with a small huff, pulling out the attendance sheet, marking students as present as they enter the classroom.

Fred rubbed his hands over his face, feeling guilty for his out burst. He knew you were brilliant. To be quite honest, Fred knew he was going to get a TA. He had checked out your academic profile, seeing that you graduated undergrad with a nearly perfect grade point average and extra circulars that were sure to blow any one away. Your thesis statement made Fred laugh to himself, it was similar to his own when he was in university; the effect of utilitarianism on free will in our post-modern society. In a weird way, you reminded Fred of himself. Confident, smart, and ballsy. But where you differentiated with Fred is your adaptability. How you could adjust and go with the flow, that was Fred’s downfall.

Soon the classroom was full of students again and Fred took a deep breath, trying to regain his focus and composure to teach the class. He didn’t dare look at you, it would just make him upset. And you didn’t want to look at him. Fred sat on his desk, his long legs almost hitting the floor even when he sat. “Hello everyone,” he addressed the class, some students chiming back. “Let’s get started for the day. Shall we?” he claps his hands together. “Who can talk to me about eudaemonia?” he asks the class.

You looked out at the classroom along with Fred, anticipating a slew of hands but instead you got nothing. Students sat in their chairs in silence, some twiddling their pens, others scribbling in a notebook, some still groggy this during the ten o’clock lecture. “Someone’s gotta know about it. Come on then,” Fred probes the class as they remain silence, only sound is some kid yawning in the back. Fred allows the class to remain silent for a moment. “Alright,” he huffs. “Rough morning for a lot of us,” he speaks, hoping to catch your attention with that line, but you scribble nonsense into the margins of your notebook. “Maybe (Y/N) could give us a definition?” he suggests.

Your head shoots up like a rocket from your paper as you look at Fred with panic in your eyes. He looks at you with a small smile and encouragement, almost as if this were his way of making amends. A twisted way. You look towards the class and see twenty sets of eyes on you as you gulp before shaking away your nerves. “Um, yeah,” you clear your throat. “Eudaemonia is the greatest good, the aim for all human thinking and rational. Another word for eudaemonia is happiness,” you simply state, making the students start scribbling in their notebooks. Pride swells in your chest as you realize what you was valuable to the students. “Eudaemonia is achieve through action in tandem with the human soul and psyche. When eudaemonia is at its highest form, it is known as virtue,” you explain further as the class continues to scribble down what you were saying.

Slowly, you look towards Fred who gives you a small smile and a nod as you just give him a curt nod and turn back to your desk. But when you look away, it’s hard to cover up the small smile on your lips as you fiddle with the pen in your hands. Fred notices your grin as smiles to himself before speaking, “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Maybe today would be better than yesterday.

--------

Another two weeks had gone by and the work relationship you had with Fred improved significantly. He let you interject at certain points in his lectures, let you pose questions to the class, and even assigned you students for office hours. Finally, you started to feel like you were doing what you came here for and you were loving every moment of it.

Fred was a great professor and an even better mentor. He commanded a classroom unlike any other professor you have ever seen. He spoke with confidence and coolness and the students ate him up. It must be rewarding for him, watching students love his work as much as he did. You would watch him with a small smile as you jotted down notes here and there. Fred would catch your eye every now and then in class and gave you a small smile or cheeky wink that made your heart stop every now and then as you turned away from him, biting the inside of your cheek to make you stop smiling. 

“Remember to finish Kant’s Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals for tomorrow’s class! If you haven’t turned in your paper on Nicomachean Ethics yet, do it by 4pm or else I will personally send (Y/N) to find you and hunt you down,” he teases the class as you roll your eyes, making the class laugh. “Happy Friday. Now scram,” Fred dismisses class as students file out.

When the majority of them have dispersed, you walk over to Fred’s desk and huff, “Good lecture today. Katie brought up some good questions about the differences between hypothetical imperatives and categorical imperatives.” Fred leans back in his desk chair, flopping his notebook down on his desk.

“Yeah, she did. But god, I wanted to punch Brian in the face. He kept talking over her while she was saying something poignant. I get it, Brian, there are different formulations, but damn, shut the fuck up,” Fred groans, making you laugh as you grab your bag and get ready to pack up for the day. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news...” he trails off as he rises from his seat.

You groan and throw your head back as you spin on your heels to face him. “Please, don’t tell me...” you start as Fred nods his head sadly. “Come on, Fred. It’s Friday night! Beginning of the weekend! All of the TAs are getting drinks at the pub tonight and quite honestly, I’d rather be doing that than grading philosophy papers,” you whine to him.

Fred mockingly places and hand over his heart and speaks, “First off, I am offended that you don’t want to spend time with me grading papers on the brilliance of Aristotle through a twenty year olds eyes.” The comment makes you chuckle, but he pushes on, “But I want to grade this papers tonight and finish them tonight so I, well we, can have the weekend free. You can get drinks any other night with the TAs. But we’ve got to do this tonight.”

You stomp your foot in frustration like a toddler, making Fred chuckle as he places his glasses on his face. “But tonight it’s dollar drafts! Dollar drafts happen once a week!” you beg him. “Why can’t we grade tomorrow?”

“Because I need to put these grades into my grade book before the students start wondering if they’ll ever be graded for something in this class,” he explains. “How about this?” he proposes. “We meet back here at 4:30pm. I’ll get take out for the both of us and we can drink coffee and energy drinks like we’re back in undergrad cramming for an exam. It’ll be fun,” he shimmies his shoulder making you giggle. 

With a huff, you say, “Fine. But if we’re here past midnight, I’ll never forgive you.” 

You start out of the classroom as Fred calls after you, “It’ll be fun!”

Shaking your head down, you start down the hall and see Harry and Luna talking as they leave their respective classrooms. “Heyo,” Harry calls out to you before slinging an arm around your shoulder. “So, for dollar drafts tonight we were just gonna take a cab there at around 5:00. Ron is going to be late because he’s going to wait for Hermione to get out of her night class and they’ll come together. But Seamus, Luna, Cho, and I will all be there and I think Dean said he’s coming and bringing some friends from grad school. It should be a great time,” Harry explains with a big grin.

Your ‘fomo’ was kicking in hard core as you sigh and speak, “About that...I can’t make it tonight.” Luna gives you a sad look as Harry groans and throws his head back. “Fred and I need to grade papers tonight to make the first quarter grades. If I get out early though, I’ll call and see if you guys are still there,” you offer as Harry slumps over. 

“At least it sounds like things are going better with you and Fred,” Luna tells you and you nod with a smile. “Are you learning from him?”

“Absolutely,” you tell her. “Fred is actually a great professor and the class adores him. I’ve been enjoying it a lot recently.”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows, “Yeah, I’m sure you have.”

You slap Harry’s shoulder at his cheeky suggestion that something was going on. “Oh, quit it, Harry,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fred and I have a strictly working relationship. He and I are co-workers and are professional. All of my relationships are here. That’s more that some people can say,” you tease him about his engagement to Ginny as he rolls his eyes and mimics you. “Besides, there is nothing romantic or sexy about grading papers about ethics. In fact, it’s the opposite thing.”

Harry laughs, “You never know. Maybe you two will get so caught up in talking about morals that you just start to...” he mimics the sounds of sloppy snogging and moaning as you slap his arm again, Luna giggling. “Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you! But if you can meet us at the pub, give one of us a call and we can hail you a cab,” he tells you as you hug Luna goodbye and then Harry.

“Will do. Have a drink for me. Lord knows I’ll need one,” you huff, watching them walk off to catch up to Dean and Seamus. 

Instead of getting drunk at a bar after a long week of work, you would be grading papers all night with Fred. Which honestly, maybe, didn’t sound so awful.

A few hours past and you and Fred were at on opposite sides of his desk, empty Chinese take out boxes scattered around you along with empty coffee cups and cans of energy drinks. It was ten o’clock at night and you had hardly made a dent in the papers. You throw your head on the desk with a thud, making Fred chuckle. “This is hell,” you groan. “Do they even proof read their sentences?” you ask Fred who shakes his head. “Seriously. Some of these papers are just bad. Weak thesis and an even weaker argument,” you slap the paper in front of you.

Fred scribbles in red ink on one paper and circle the letter grade on it before shifting it to the done pile. “Honestly, if it’s horrid and you struggle to make it past the third page, just skip to the end, read the conclusion and if it reads fine, give them a C minus. If they have a problem, they can come to office hours and talk about it with me,” he tells you as you laugh. “I’ve done that with two of them already.”

You place a C minus in red ink at the end of the paper and shift yours into the done pile. “How many more do we have left? We’ve been here for nearly six hours,” you tell him.

Fred examines the pile and huffs, “About four more. So two more each and then we’ll be done. The papers are ten pages long, so only twenty more pages of absolute garbage to read before we are done.”

Eh, that wasn’t so bad. You sigh and examine the room around you. Your eyes land on Fred whose eyes scan over the page as he nibbles away at his lower lip, glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose, red pen tucked behind his ear. He made markings on the paper here and there, adding comments as he sees fit. He’d mumble a bloody hell here and there if something was really bad, making you giggle. He’d catch your eye and a proud smile would form on his lips when he saw that he’d made you giggle.

After another hour and a half of grading, you were finally finished with the thick stack of papers on Fred’s desk. The two of you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back in your chairs. “Freedom!” Fred cried out as you laughed, running your fingers through your hair. “And before midnight!” he points to his watch, the hands pointing to 11:37pm. “I think I know what this calls for,” he speaks wiggling his brows as you watch him stand up and pulls out a drawer to reveal a small handle of whiskey. 

You laugh and shake your head. “Ohhhh, no,” you laugh and wave your hands. 

“Really, (Y/N)? Eight hours of grading papers and you don’t want one drink?” he pours one glass, waiting to pour yours.

You think for a moment. You were supposed to call Harry and Luna and tell them that you would meet them at the bar. But quite honestly, you didn’t feel like leaving the classroom and the pleasant company of Fred. Maybe some one on one time could strengthen your relationship...as co-workers, of course.

In defeat, you sigh, “Fine.” 

Fred smiles and pours you a nice, hefty glass of the brown liquor before handing it to you and sitting in his chair. “To a job well done,” he toasts as you clink your glasses together, sipping from the glass. The whiskey is smooth and warms your chest up delightfully as you relax further into the chair. The two of you rest in comfortable silence before Fred starts, “So...after you’ve finished your job here, where do you hope to go?” 

You think for a moment and lean on your elbows on his desk, letting your hair flop forward. “Not too sure really,” you admit. “I know I want to teach at a university level, but it’s just a matter of where positions are available. Maybe I’ll go back to Oxford and see if there’s any availability in their department,” you toss around as Fred boos you, knowing the rivalry between Cambridge and Oxford is still fierce. “But I’m trying to go with the flow and see where the demand is.”

Fred nods his head and huffs, “Well...what if I told you that there is going to be an opening in position here at Hogwarts for next fall?” You give him a confused look as you sip from your whiskey. He says, “Professor McGonagall? She’s been here for ages and she’s retiring after nearly sixty years of teaching.” You widen your eyes and nod your head. Impressive. “The department is looking to hire a new, fresh face and I think you might be right for the job...” he takes a sneaky sip from his glass.

“It’s a really kind offer, Fred, really thoughtful of you,” you tell him. “But I want to know that where I apply for a job I’ve earned it. I didn’t get the job because someone pulled the strings behind the scenes,” you tell him. This was true. Anyone would kill for a job at Hogwarts University, but you wanted to know that you earned your title here and not because a friend handed it to you. 

He leans forward and speaks, “This wouldn’t be me pulling any strings. (Y/N), you are a brilliant person and the students adore you. Just last week four students asked for your contact information to reach out about private tutoring. Neville loves you and the department sees the work that you’ve been doing and is throughly impressed. You’ve earned this position and the respect that comes along with it,” he tells you, honestly shining in his eyes, making you melt in your chair at his gaze. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you look away from him, sipping from your glass. The sight makes Fred’s heart skip a beat. 

“Are you saying I’ve earned your respect?” you ask him with a teasing smile as he chuckles.

“Yes. You earned it awhile ago. You’re an incredible woman,” he tells you as you smile, looking down at the glass in your hands, too meek to meet Fred’s gaze now. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Fred clears his throat and stands up, turning on the speaker as Frank Sinatra softly starts playing again as you laugh to yourself. It Happened In Monterey starts to echo in the classroom as you smile at Fred. “One of my favorites,” you tell him.

Fred nods, “One of his best hits,” he says as if it were a fact. “Give me your top three. Go.”

You think for a moment before speaking, “It Happened In Monterey, The Way You Look Tonight, and Girl From Ipanema. I think those are his best.”

Fred smiles, “Agreed. His version of The Way You Look Tonight I prefer much over Tony Bennett’s.”

“Oh, easily! Don’t get me wrong, Tony Bennett has some great hits, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Frankie,” you tell Fred, making him chuckle. The two of you chat about music for a little while longer before Come Fly With Me comes on and Fred claps his hands. “My mom loves this song,” you smile, fondly remembering her singing in the kitchen to this song.

Fred rises to his feet and immediately grabs your hands and brings you to his feet. He places your drinks down on the desk as he spins you around, making you laugh. “You can’t not dance to this song,” he tells you, placing his hand on your waist, the other holding your other hand in his larger one. The contact makes your heart flutter in your chest as you giggle as he spins you around again, this time into his chest. 

Your back is pressed against him as he sway with you in his arms before spin you back out, dancing around and around the classroom, the two of you laughing messes as you dance to Frank Sinatra, still in your work clothes from this morning. As you dance, you steal glances of Fred. How his hair was messy from running his fingers through it, his tie loose around his neck, impressions of his glasses in the bridge of his nose. He was so effortlessly handsome and it made your stomach sway at the sight of him. How he could be so handsome without even realizing it. Without even realizing how he made you feel. All warm and fuzzy inside, giggling like a child as he spun you around in his arms, making this moment feel like something out of a movie. 

The song slowly fades away before Autumn in New York starts play, changing the tone of the room. You two catch your breaths before looking at each other in the eyes, Fred’s hands on your waist as your hands rest on his chest. The two of you look at each other, and slowly start to sway as the orchestra of the song starts to swell. Frank’s clear voice echos in the empty classroom as you slowly wrap your arms around Fred’s neck, him pulling you close to his body as you start to slow dance in the middle of the classroom, neither of you registering what is happening. You two were purely acting on instinct. But god, it felt so right.

The two of you dance gently to the music as Fred’s hands rest on your lower back, his thumbs tracing small circles into your jumper as you lace your fingers around his neck. No words are spoken. You just listen to the music and stare at the other, taking each other in during the dance. How could something that started off so innocent turn so beautiful? 

Your mind was reeling, watching Fred look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You wanted to tell him everything that’s ever happened to you in this moment. Everything that you’ve gone through that brought you to this moment. Something about Fred made you feel safe. Something you hadn’t felt in years. 

As the music starts to come to a close, you can feel Fred lean down gently and press his forehead to yours as you inhale a shaky breath. So desperately you wished to close the gap between you two, pushing your lips together, giving into him. But before anything can happen, the horns blare over the speaker, Brazil blasting over the speakers, making the two of you jump, startled at the change in pace. 

You place a hand over your heart as Fred races over to the speaker to lower the volume. “That scared the living hell out of me,” you breathe out as Fred laughs and nods. The two of you stand there, wondering what to say, knowing that you were both thinking the same thing. But no one says anything. “Um,” you clear your throat. “It’s quite late. I should probably get going...” you trail off as you walk over to grab your purse and notebooks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he tells you with a nod, cleaning up the mess of take away boxes on his desk. “You need me to call you a cab?” he asks.

“No, no, it’s fine, I got it,” you tell him with a smile as he nods, throwing out the garbage and sorting away miscellaneous papers. “Um, I, um...”

“I had fun with you,” Fred finishes your sentence for you as you exhale and smile gently with a nod. “I’ll see you on Monday then?”

You nod your head, “Absolutely, yeah.” He grins and digs his hands into his pockets.

You start to make your way towards the door, but Fred stops you and says, “Hey, (Y/N)? On Monday, I’d like you to run the lecture. For both classes.” Your eyes widen as you look at him in disbelief. You try to protest, but Fred speaks, “I think that the class would benefit from your perspective. And your sheer brilliance.” 

A small smile forms on your lips as you let out a breathy laugh. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. For sure,” you tell him with a nod as Fred smiles. “Thank you, Fred. This is...wow. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he tells you. “You’ve earned it. You’ve earned it all. Now, get going and get a goodnight’s rest. That you surely deserve.”

And with one small wave, you exit the classroom and start down the hall, feeling like you were on cloud nine. Nothing felt as good as this.

------

Monday rolls around as quickly as Friday left and you enter campus with a pep in your step. Today you were teaching the class and you were beyond prepared. You had your lesson plan in your bag, a coffee in your hand, and your favorite jumper on. You felt invincible. 

As you walked into the staff lounge, Harry sat with Seamus, sipping on coffees and munching on provided breakfast. “Morning, you lot,” you chime merrily as you place your bag on the table and walk towards the breakfast tray and grab a crossiant.

“You’re too cheery for a Monday morning,” Seamus says with a look on his face. “What’s got you so bright eyes and bushy tailed?”

You smile to yourself as you walk back to the table, tearing open the croissant to slab some jam on it. “Fred is letting me run lecture today,” you reply happily.

Seamus looks over to Harry with wide eyes, the two of them in complete shock. “Wow,” Seamus says. “That’s...incredible. Good on you, (Y/N),” he tells you as you thank him with a smile. “I didn’t know Fred let his TA run a class. The most he let Dean do was take roll,” he told Harry.

Harry took a sip from his coffee and wiggled his brows, “I didn’t think so either. I guess our very own (Y/N) has made him have a change of heart.”

You roll your eyes and speak, “I earned this, Harry. I’ve been working my ass off and after a long night of grading papers, Fred offered me the opportunity which I gladly took.” Harry nods his head with a mhm as you throw as piece of croissant at him. “I’m serious!”

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, (Y/N)! You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met; you deserve this like humans needs to breathe!” Harry exclaims. “I’m just...shocked that Fred let you make a lesson plan, nevertheless teach a whole class,” he speaks as you shrug. “Guess you bring out the best in Fred Weasley.”

You smile, “Is that such a bad thing?” Harry chuckles as Seamus shakes his head with a huff. “Well, if you excuse me, I have to get ready for my lecture,” you joke as Harry rolls his eyes.

“Don’t let this thing get to your head!” he calls after you as you flip him the bird, making Seamus laugh.

As you walk to 523, your heart patter against your chest with excitement, but also lots of nerves. What if they preferred Fred over you? What if Fred was more engaging with them? What if someone fell asleep? What if someone asked you a question you couldn’t answer?

Soon your confidence began to waver as you entered the classroom, Fred clearing the chalkboard, getting the room ready for you. “There she is. Professor for the day,” Fred claps his hands. “You excited?” he asks. But you don’t answer him. You nervously place your purse on the desk and start gnawing at your nails. This makes Fred worried as he walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders. “You alright?” he asks, concern washing over his face.

You relax into his touch as you sigh, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just...nervous.” Fred gives you a sympathetic smile. “What if they like you better than me? What if I say something stupid and they all laugh at me? What if I forget everything? I mean, how much do I really know about Mill? Probably nothing,” you ramble.

Fred laughs and gives you arms a squeeze, forcing your eyes up to him. “Hey, look at me,” he speaks as you huff and look into his comforting gaze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You are brilliant and the students love you. You’re gonna get up there and smash it. I know it,” he tells you with a confident smile, making your heart flutter and your stomach flip. “I was nervous for my first lecture too, but once you start, the adrenaline gets pumping and you feel on top of the world.”

You give him a shaky nod, “Yeah. Okay. I can do this, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he laughs. “You’re more than capable,” he reassures you. “I believe in you. I always have,” he speaks, tilting your chin up with his fore finger as you gulp thickly. Fred’s eyes dart to your lips back up to your eyes as he smiles softly. “You’ll be brilliant.”

“Thank you,” you speak just above a whisper as Fred nods.

Slowly, he pulls away from you and sits at his desk which prompts the first student to enter the classroom as you gather your notebook and a piece of chalk, writing on the board in bold letters, Mill and Utilitarianism. You wipe your hands on your pants and look over to Fred who gives you a thumbs up.

Soon enough, the classroom fills up with students as you try to keep yourself calm and not let the class see your nerves. “Happy Monday, everyone,” Fred speaks from his desk. “I hope you all had a great weekend. Your papers on Aristotle have been graded and the grades are posted online. Some of you did great, some of you did shit. If you have any complaints, you can see me or (Y/N) after class to discuss,” he speaks, earning a few laughs from the class. Fred speaks, “Brian, I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. (Y/N) couldn’t make it past page three of yours before handing it off to me.” This earns a loud roar of laughter from the class which eased your nerves. God, Fred knew exactly what you needed. “Speaking of (Y/N), she will be running lecture today. I’ll be playing the role of TA and you’ll give her the same amount of respect like you give me. Understood?” The class nods. “Brilliant. (Y/N), you have the floor.”

You smile at him, “Thank you, Fred, for the introduction.” Fred nods. You turn to the class. “Alright. Let’s talk about Mill’s Utilitarianism. After reading it, what are our thoughts? How do we feel about Mill in comparison to Kant or Aristotle?” you ask generally trying to ease into the lecture.

The class is motionless for a moment before Jessica raises her hand and you nod. “I found it interesting how he acknowledges the objections in his work,” she tells you as you nod. “Not many philosopher’s explicitly do that in their works.”

“Great,” you smile at her. “Let’s take a look at that. Everyone open up your copies and turn to page seven. Mill writes, ‘Life has no higher purpose than pleasure? What are we, swine?’ What do you think this means?” you ask the class. The stare blankly at you as you inhale deeply, this being a fear of yours. But before you can allow yourself to freak out, you think about what Fred would do. You repeat the quote again and add this time, “Are we swines? I mean, I don’t know about Brian, but I know that I’m not a swine.”

This causes the class to erupt with laughter, Fred included, and Brian blushes a deep shade of red before he raises his hand to answer the question. Ah, victory. 

The class continues on and the discussion was incredible with both classes you taught. The students had such provoking conversations with fruitful discussions on the topic. It made your heart swell that they were so good for you and you felt like you were in your element the whole time.

Fred couldn’t help but smile to himself as he watched you give the lecture, bouncing off points, connecting ideas, and posing new questions that he couldn’t even think of. You were electric and the students were infatuated with you, even more so than they were with him. He couldn’t help but feel proud of you. He loved watching you smile and laugh as you talked to the students. 

“Okay, well unfortunately we are at time, but next week bring in your annotated books along with your first drafts of your papers!” you tell the class as they thank you as they leave the class one by one. 

After each student has left the classroom and the door shuts, you turn to Fred who springs from his chair and runs over to you, scooping you up in a hug and spinning you around as you laugh. “Sheer brilliance,” he places you down with a beaming smile. “I’ve never seen students so excited to talk about moral philosophy,” he shakes his head as you grin widely, holding your hands behind your back. “That was great, (Y/N).”

“I feel great,” you tell him with a smile. “Seriously. It blows my mind how smart they are sometimes. Bloody Brian had such great talking points today!” you beam as Fred laughs. “But really, I learned everything that I did today from you. You are the great teacher,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Fred rolls his eyes, “Oh, don’t give me all the credit. I mean...give me some, but not all.” You laugh and shake your head. “Kidding, kidding,” he tells you as you smile at him, taking in the way his face looked as the sun started to set behind him, signaling the end of your day. “Um, I’ll walk with you to the lot?”

You nod your head as the two of you pack your things and make your way to the parking lot with Fred, the both of you making light chatter about the class discussions and how thought provoking they all were. As you walk in the halls, you pass Harry who calls out, “I’m guessing it went well!”

“Shut it, Potter!” you call back as Fred chuckles. 

Soon enough, you reach the staff parking lot and Fred digs around in his pockets for the key to his car. “Well,” Fred huffs. “You did a great job today, (Y/N). I would say I’m impressed, but I knew you would do brilliantly.”

You beam, “Thank you, Fred. Really. I know how much this class means to you and I thank you for trusting me with it.”

He smiles and leans against the hood of his black Audi, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows before leaning on his hands. “It’s my pleasure. I know how much teaching a class meant to you and I’m happy I could help,” he tells you as you nod. 

The two of you stand there, watching each other as the sun sets behind the castle. Fred’s eyes glossed over your body and how pants hugged your curves and how the jumper clung onto your figure. He took a deep breath in before smiling to himself as you gulped and cleared your throat, trying to diffuse some of the tension between the two of you. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, Professor,” you tease Fred as he chuckles. 

You start to walk away and towards the bus stop, but Fred’s voice stops you. “(Y/N)?” he speaks as you turn back to him, walking back to him. “I’ve got a quick question for you.”

“What’s up?”

“So, Mill said ‘There's no time for all this calculating when we're faced with an actual moral decision.’ And I’m afraid that I have a moral decision of my own,” he speaks with a smirk as you heart races at the sight of the smile you’ve grown so fond of over the past few weeks.

You smile at your feet before looking up at him. “And what would that moral decision be, Professor Weasley?” you tease him as he chuckles.

“That night, we spent grading papers,” he starts as you tuck your hands into your back pockets. “I wanted to kiss you.” His confession makes your heart race as face heat up. “And ever since then, I’ve been trying to find a moment where I can finally suck it up and kiss you,” he smirks. “So, what I guess what I’m trying to say is, is it alright if I kiss my teaching assistant in the parking lot of this bloody school?”

You lightly laugh and speak, taking a step closer to him as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you place your hands on his chest, “Well, if we are talking about this in the terms of Mill, would kissing your teaching assistant bring you pleasure?”

Fred smiles, “Without a doubt.”

“Then I think you’re morally obligated to,” you tell him as he chuckles.

He hesitates no longer and dips his head down to connect your lips together as you inhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft, but passionate against you as they gently move against yours. His hands squeeze your hips gently as you press yourself against his body, making Fred lightly moan into your mouth. His tongue slips past your parted lips, caressing his tongue with yours as you let out a soft moan, making Fred inhale deeply. Your heart is pounding against your chest as you gently pull at the roots of his hair, relishing in the way his lips feel against yours. His mouth moves slowly and lazily against yours, making your head spin and desire grow. It’s everything you imagined it would be as cliche as it sounded. 

Gently, you pull away as Fred smiles lightly. “Thank you, John Stuart Mill,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “I’ve been dying to do that.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess to him, arms still wrapped around him as Fred squeezes your hips, placing another soft kiss to your lips. “Now that you’ve accomplish that moral dilemma, do you have any idea what your next one is?” you tease him, wiggling your brows.

Fred shakes his head, “Oh, we’ve got the rest of the semester to figure that one out.”

#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x gryffindor!reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley au #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader au #professor fred weasley #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine

[impostoradult]

Media Market Research (and why its undermining all the things you love)

Trying to understand what is dysfunctional about Hollywood is an epic task, and the answers are like the stars – arguably infinite. Hollywood is dysfunctional for literally more reasons than I could count.

But market research plays a fairly heavy role in its dysfunction (IMO) and the time has finally come for me to add my professional two cents about this issue. (This rant of mine has been building for a while, FYI. Hence why it is so...comprehensive. There is a tl;dr section towards the bottom, if you want the high level summary)

*** For the last 4+ years I’ve worked in the field of market research, almost exclusively with major media makers like Warner Bros., NBCU, AMC/BBCA, Viacom, FOX (before Disney acquired them), A+E, etc. (this past year I quit the job where I was doing this work for a variety of reasons, many of which will become clear as you keep reading, but I am still listed as a consultant on the company website):   https://www.kresnickaresearch.com/who/ (Rachel)

And just for comparison, here is a Halloween selfie I took 4 years ago and posted on my blog, so you can see I am who I say I am. 

I know a fair amount about how market research on major media franchises is conducted and how it influences production, and a lot of these choices can also be at least somewhat tied back to the massive flaws in the market research industry and its impact. *** First, at the highest level, you need to understand market research in general is not well-conducted much of the time. Even the people doing a reasonably good job at it are VERY limited in doing it well because of financial constraints (clients don’t want to spend more than they have to), time constraints (clients want everything done as fast as humanely possible) and just the inherent problems within the industry that are decades old and difficult to fix. For example, all market research ‘screens’ participants to make sure they qualify to participate (whether it is a mass survey, a focus group, a one-on-one interview, etc.). So, we screen people based on demographics like race, gender, age, household income, to get representative samples. But people are also screened based on their consumption habits. You don’t want to bring someone into a focus group about reality TV if they don’t watch reality TV. They aren’t going to have anything useful to say. 

However, a lot of the people who participate in market research have made a ‘side-gig’ out of it and they know how to finesse the process. Basically, they’ve learned how to lie to get into studies that they aren’t a good match for because most market research is paid, and they want the money. So, a lot of TV and film market research is being done on people who don’t actually (or at least don’t regularly) watch those shows or movies or whatever but have learned how to lie well enough in these screening processes to make it through. And because of the aforementioned time and money issue, clients don’t want to spend the time or money to actually find GOOD participants. They just accept that as an inevitable part of the market research process and decide not to let it bother them too much. So, a fair number of the people representing YOU as a media consumer are people who may not be watching Supernatural (for example) at all or who watch a rerun occasionally on TNT but haven’t been watching consistently or with ANY amount of investment whatsoever. You can see why that creates very skewed data. But that’s just the tip of the skewed iceberg. *** Second, media market research is conducted in line with the norms of market research more broadly, and this is a huge problem because media is a very atypical product. How people engage with media is far more complex and in depth than how they engage with a pair of jeans, a car, or a coffee maker. There are only so many things that matter to people when it comes to liking or not liking a coffee maker, for example. Is it easy/intuitive to use? How much space does it take it on my counter? How expensive is it? Does it brew the coffee well? Maybe does it match my décor/kitchen aesthetic? Can I make my preferred brand of coffee in it? The things you as a consumer are going to care about when it comes to a coffee maker are limited, fairly easy to anticipate in advance, and also easy to interpret (usually). How people mentally and emotionally approach MEDIA? Whole other universe of thing. Infinitely more complex. And yet it is studied (more or less) as if it is also a coffee maker. This is one of the many reasons I decided to leave the media market research field despite my desire to have some ability to positively influence the process. As so often seems to be the case, I fought the law and the law won. I could never make the other people I worked with in the industry understand that the questions they were asking were not all that useful a lot of the time and they weren’t getting to the heart of the matter. They were just following industry standards because they didn’t know any better and none of them want to admit they don’t REALLY know what they’re doing. Which leads me to point 3. *** Most of the people doing this research don’t have any expertise in media or storytelling specifically. They are typically trained as social scientists in the fields of psychology, anthropology, sociology, or math/statistics. And many of them do not have any kind of specialization or education in media/storytelling beyond the English classes they took in high school and the one Media Studies course they took as an elective in college. Most of them have a very unsophisticated understanding of narrative structure, thematics, tropes, subtext, etc. They mainly think in terms of genres at the VERY broadest level. Also, not infrequently, they don’t watch or have much knowledge of the shows they are supposed to be doing research on, beyond what they’ve read on IMDb or Wikipedia or what is generally common knowledge. Unless they by chance happen to watch the shows themselves (which often they don’t) they often know very little about the shows they are crafting these questions about. Again, partly because they think it is like the coffee maker, and you don’t need to understand it in any depth to research it. (I know this must sound insane to you as avid media consumers, but that is the general attitude among those who do market research) There is such a lack of sophistication in how people in the business side of the industry understand media and storytelling. Most of them are either MBAs or social scientists and their training has not prepared them to examine fictional works with the kind of depth that people in the Humanities (who are specifically trained to study texts) have. Somehow, despite the fact that the Humanities is all about understanding texts, that is the one discipline they make almost no use of in the business side of Hollywood. And boy howdy does it show. *** Point 4 – average consumers CANNOT ARTICULATE WHY THEY LIKE THINGS. Particularly media things. I know this sounds condescending, but it is my honest observation. It is unbelievably hard to get people to have enough self-awareness to explain why they actually like things, especially things as mentally and emotionally complex as media. What typically happens when you ask people why they like a TV show or movie, for example? They will tell you what they most NOTICE about the TV show or movie, or what is distinctive to them about it (which may or may not have anything to do with what they actually LIKE about it). They will say things like “I like the genre”, “I think it’s funny”, “The car chases are exciting”, “I want to see the detective solve the puzzle.” Sometimes you can get them to talk about what they find relatable about it, if you push them a little. But often they leave it at either the level of literal identity (young black woman), basic personality traits (she’s a social butterfly and so am I) or situations they’ve personally experienced (I relate to this story of a man losing his father to cancer because I lost a close family member to cancer). But the vast, vast, vast majority of them can’t go to the deeper level of: a) Why X representation of a young black woman feels accurate/authentic/relatable and Y representation doesn’t b) Why it matters to me that X,Y,Z aspects of my personality, identity, experience get reflected in media whereas I don’t really care about seeing A,B,C aspects of my personality, identity, or experience reflected in media c) How and why they are relating to characters when they can’t see the literal connection between their identity/experience and the character’s identity/experience. (For example, many people have argued that women often relate to Dean Winchester because a lot of his struggles and past negative experiences are more stereotypical of women – being forced to raise a younger sibling on behalf of an actual parent, being seen and treated as beautiful/sexually desirable but vacuous/unintelligent, his body being treated as an instrument for a more powerful group to quite literally possess, etc. Part of the reason Supernatural has always been such a mystery/problem for the CW and Warner Bros is they could never crack the code at this level. Never.) Part of the reason they can’t crack these codes is average people CANNOT give you that kind of feedback in a survey or a focus group, or even an in-depth interview (much of the time). They just don’t have the self-awareness or the vocabulary to get it at that level. Let alone asking them to articulate why Game of Thrones is compelling to them in an era where wealth disparity is creating a ruling class that is fundamentally incompetent at maintaining a just/functional society, which is especially concerning at this particular moment, given the existential threat we face due to climate change. And the truth is, that IS part of what people – even average people – are responding to in Game of Thrones. But what they’ll tell you when you do market research on it is: they like the dragons, they like the violence, they relate to Tyrion Lannister being a smart mouth, maybe they’ll say they like the moral ambiguity of many of the conflicts (if they are more sophisticated than average). But the ‘Dean Winchester is heavily female coded despite his veneer of ultra-masculinity’ or the ‘Game of Thrones is a prescient metaphor for the current political dynamics and fissures of modern western society’ is the level you ACTUALLY need to get to. And most market research can’t get you that because the people ASKING the questions don’t know what to ask to get to this level, and most of the respondents couldn’t give you the answers even IF you were asking them the right questions (which usually you are not) And I’m not saying average people are dumb because they can’t do this. But it requires practice, it requires giving the matter a great deal of in-depth thought, and most people just don’t care enough about it to do that while taking a market research survey. (I know this is going to feel counter-intuitive to people on Tumblr. But you have to remember, you are NOT average media consumers. You are highly atypical media consumers who have far more self-awareness and a much more sophisticated engagement with media than the average person watching TV. If you didn’t, you probably wouldn’t be here talking about it in the first place) Point 4.1 – People also lie/misrepresent their own experiences to market researchers because they want to maintain certain self-narratives. You have no idea how many people would get disqualified from our surveys for saying they watched less than 5 hours of TV a week. And sure, that might actually be true for a few of them. But if you watch TV with any regularity at all (which most people in modern America do) you probably watch more than 5 hours a week. The problem is, people think it makes them sound lazy to say they watch 15-20 hours a week, even though that’s about 2-3 hours a day (which actually isn’t THAT high). People lie and misrepresent their behaviors, thoughts and feelings because it can be socially uncomfortable to admit you do what you actually do or feel how you actually feel, even in the context of an anonymous survey, let alone a focus group or a one-on-one interview. People want to make themselves look good to THEMSELVES and to the researchers asking them questions. But that makes the market research data on media (and lots of other things) very questionable. For example, one finding we saw more than once in the surveys I was involved in conducting was people would radically downplay how much the romance elements of a story mattered to them, even large portions of female respondents. When we would ask people in surveys what parts of the story they were most invested in, romances ALWAYS came out among the lowest ranked elements. And yet, any passing familiarity with fandom would tell you that finding is just WRONG. It’s wrong. People are just flat out lying about how much that matters to them because of the negative connotations we have around being invested in romance. And never mind the issue of erotic/sexual content. (I don’t mean sexual identity here, I mean sexy content). The only people who will occasionally cop to wanting the erotic fan service is young men (and even they are hesitant to do so in market research) and women frequently REFUSE to admit that stuff in market research, or they radically downplay how much it matters to them and in what ways. There is still so much stigma towards women expressing sexuality in that way. Not to mention, you have to fight tooth and nail to even include question about erotic/sexual content because oftentimes the clients don’t even want to go there at all, partly because it is awkward for everyone involved to sit around crafting market research questions to interrogate what makes people hot and bothered. That’s socially awkward for the researchers doing the research and the businesspeople who have to sit in rooms and listen to presentations about why more women find Spock sexier than Kirk. (Which was a real thing that happened with the original Star Trek, and the network couldn’t figure out why) Aside from people not have enough deeper level self-awareness to get at what they really like about media content, they also will lie or misrepresent certain things to you because they are trying to maintain certain self-narratives and are socially performing that version of themselves to researchers. *** Point 5 – Qualitative data is way more useful for understanding people’s relationships to media. However, quantitative data is way more valued and relied upon both due to larger market research industry standards and because quantitative data is just seen as harder/more factual than qualitative data. A lot of media market research involves gathering both qualitative and quantitative data and reporting jointly on both. (Sometimes you only do one or the other, depending on your objectives, but doing both is considered ‘standard’ and higher quality). However, quantitative data is heavily prioritized in reporting and when there is a conflict between what they see in qualitative versus quantitative data, the quant data is usually relied upon to be the more accurate of the two. This is understandable to an extent, because quantitative surveys usually involve responses from a couple thousand participants, whereas qualitative data involves typically a few dozen participants at most, depending on whether you did focus groups, individual interviews, or ‘diaries’/ethnography. The larger sample is considered more reliable and more reflective of ‘the audience’ as a whole. However, quantitative surveys usually have the flattest, least nuanced data, and they can only ever reflect what questions and choices people in the survey were given. In something like focus groups or individual interviews or ethnographies, you still structure what you ask people, but they can go “off script.” They can say things you never anticipated (as a researcher) and can explain themselves and their answers with more depth. In a survey, participants can only “say” what they survey lets them say based on the questions and question responses that are pre-baked for them. And as I’ve already explained, a lot of times these quantitative surveys are written by people with no expertise in media, fiction, or textual analysis, and so they often are asking very basic, not very useful questions. In sum, the data that is the most relied upon is the least informative, least nuanced data. It is also the MOST likely to reflect the responses of people who don’t actually qualify for the research but have become good at scamming the system to make extra money. With qualitative research, they are usually a little more careful screening people (poorly qualified participants still make it through, but not as often as with mass surveys, where I suspect a good 35% of participants, at least, probably do not actually qualify for the research and are just working the system). 

Most commonly, when market research gets reported to business decision-makers, it highlights the quantitative data, and uses the qualitative data to simply ‘color in’ the quantitative data. Give it a face, so to speak. Qualitative data is usually supplemental to quant data and used more to make the reports ‘fun’ and ‘warm’ because graphs and charts and stats by themselves are boring to look at in a meeting. (I’m not making this up, I can’t tell you how many times I was told to make adjustments on how things were reported on because they didn’t want to bore people in the meeting). (Sub-point – it is also worth noting that you can’t report on anything that doesn’t fit easily on a power point slide and isn’t easily digestible to any random person who might pick it up and read it. The amount of times I was told to simplify points and dumb things down so it could be made ‘digestible’ for a business audience, I can’t even tell you. It was soul crushing and another reason I stopped doing this job full time. I had to make things VERY dumb for these business audiences, which often meant losing a lot of the point I was actually trying to make) Point 5.1 – Because of the way that representative sampling works, quantitative data can be very misleading, particularly in understanding audience/fandom sentiments about media. As I’m sure most of you know, sampling is typically designed to be representative of the population, broadly speaking. So, unless a media company is specifically out to understand LGBTQ consumers or Hispanic/Latinx consumers, it will typically sample using census data as a template and represent populations that way. Roughly 50/50 male/female. Roughly even numbers in different age brackets, roughly representative samplings of the racial make-up of the country, etc. (FYI, they do often include a non-binary option in the gender category these days, but it usually ends up being like 5 people out of 2000, which is not enough of a sample to get statistical significance for them as a distinct group)   There is a good reason to do this, even when a show or movie has a disproportionately female audience, or young audience. Because they need enough sample in all of the “breaks” (gender, race, age, household income, etc.) to be able to make statistically sound statements about each subgroup. If you only have 35 African American people in your sample of 1000, you can’t make any statistically sound statements about that African American cohort. The sample is just too small. So, they force minimums/quotas in a lot of the samples, to ensure they can make statistically sound statements about all the subgroups they care about. They use ratings data to understand what their audience make up actually is. (Which also has major failings, but I’ll leave that alone for the minute) With market research, they are not usually looking to proportionately represent their audience, or their fandom; they are looking to have data they can break in the ways they want to break it and still have statistically significant subgroups represented. But that means that when you report on the data as a whole sample – which you often do – it can be very skewed towards groups who don’t make up as large a portion of the show’s actual audience, or even if they do, they don’t tend to be the most invested, loyal, active fans. Men get weighted equally to women, even when women make up 65% of the audience, and 80% of the active fandom. Granted, they DO break the data by gender, and race, and age, etc. and if there are major differences in how women versus men respond, or younger people versus older people, they want to know that...sometimes. But here’s where things get complex. So, if you are doing a sample of Supernatural viewers. And you do the standard (US census-based) sampling on a group of 2000 respondents (a pretty normal sample size in market research). ~1000 are going to be female. But with something they call “interlocking quotas” the female sample is going to be representative of the other groupings to a degree. So, the female sample will have roughly equal numbers of all the age brackets (13-17, 18-24, 25-34, etc.). And it will have roughly 10% non-heterosexual respondents, and so on. They do this to ensure that these breaks aren’t too conflated with each other. (For example, if your female sample is mostly younger and your male sample is mostly older, how do you know whether it is the gender or the age that is creating differences in their responses? You don’t. So, you have to make sure that all the individual breaks (gender, race, age) have a good mix of the other breaks within them, so groups aren’t getting conflated) But what that means is, Supernatural, whose core fandom is (at a conservative guess) 65% younger, queer, women, gets represented in a lot of statistical market research sampling as maybe 50-100 people, in a 2000-person survey. 50-100 people can barely move the needle on anything in a 2000-person survey. Furthermore, usually in the analysis of data like this, you don’t go beyond looking at 2 breaks simultaneously. So you may look at young female respondents as a group, or high income male respondents, or older white respondents, but you rarely do more than 2 breaks combined. And the reason for that is, by the time you get down to 3 breaks or more (young, Hispanic, women) you usually don’t have enough sample to make statistically significant claims. (It also just takes longer to do those analyses and as I explained in the beginning, they are always rushing this stuff). To do several breaks at a time you’d have to get MUCH larger samples, and that’s too expensive for them. And again, I want to stress, this type of sampling isn’t intended to sinisterly erase anyone. Kind of the opposite. It is intended to make sure most groups have enough representation in the data that you can make sound claims about them on the subgroup level. The problem is that it can create a very skewed sense of their overall audience sentiment when they take the data at ‘face value’ so to speak, and don’t weight segments based on viewership proportion, or fandom engagement, etc. Point 5.2 – Which leads me to my next point, which is that fandom activity that doesn’t have a dollar amount attached to it doesn’t make you a ‘valuable’ segment in their minds. One of the breaks they ALWAYS ask for in data like this is high income people, and people who spend a lot of MONEY on their media consumption. And they do prioritize those people’s responses and data quite a bit.   And guess what – young women aren’t usually high-income earners, and although some of them are high spenders on media, high spending on media and media related merch skews toward higher income people just because they HAVE more disposable income. Older white men are usually the highest income earners (absolutely no surprise) and they are more likely in a lot of cases to report spending a lot on the media they care about. Having expendable income makes you more important in the eyes of people doing market research than if you’ve spent every day for the last 10 years blogging excessively about Supernatural. They don’t (really) care about how much you care. They care about how much money you can generate for them. And given that young audiences don’t watch TV live anymore, and they give all their (minimal) expendable income to Netflix and Hulu, you with your Supernatural blog and your 101 essays about Destiel is all but meaningless to many of them (from a business standpoint) Now, some of them kind of understand that online fandom matters to the degree that fandom spreads. Fandom creates fandom. But if the fandom you are helping to create is other young, queer women with minimal income who only watch Supernatural via Netflix, well, that’s of very limited value to them as well. I don’t want to suggest they don’t care about you at ALL. Nor do I want to suggest that the “they” we are talking about is even a cohesive “they.” Different people in the industry have different approaches to thinking about fandom, consumer engagement and strategy, market research and how it ought to be understood/used, and so on. They aren’t a monolith. BUT, they are, at the end of the day, a business trying to make money. And they are never going to place the value of your blogging ahead of the concrete income you can generate for them. (Also, highly related to my point about people lying, men are more likely to SAY they have higher incomes than they do, because it’s an ego thing for them. And women are more likely to downplay how much money they spend on ‘frivolous’ things like fandom because of the social judgement involved. Some of the money gender disparity you see in media market research is real, but some of it is being generated by the gender norms people are falsely enacting in market research– men being breadwinners, women wanting to avoid the stereotype of being frivolous with money) *** In sum/tl;dr: Point 1 – Market research in general is not well conducted because of a variety of constraints including time, money, and the historical norms of how the industry operates (e.g., there being a large subsection of almost professionalized respondents who know how to game the system for the financial incentives) Point 2 – Media is a highly atypical kind of product being studied more or less as if it were equivalent to a coffeemaker or a pair of jeans. Point 3 – Most of the people studying media consumption in the market research field have no expertise or background in media, film, narrative, storytelling, etc. They are primarily people who were trained as social scientists and statisticians, and they aren’t well equipped to research media properties and people’s deeper emotional attachment and meaning-making processes related to media properties. Point 4(etc.) – Average consumers typically don’t have enough self-awareness or the vocabulary to explain the deep, underlying reasons they like pieces of media. Furthermore, when participating in market research, people lie and misrepresent their thoughts, behaviors, and emotional responses for a variety of reasons including social awkwardness and preserving certain self-narratives like “I’m above caring about dumb, low-brow things like romance.” Point 5 (etc.) – Quantitative data is treated as way more meaningful, valuable, and ‘accurate’ than qualitative data, and this is a particular problem with media market research because of how varied and complex people’s reactions to media can be. Also, the nature of statistical sampling, and how it is done, can massively misrepresent audience sentiments toward media and fail to apprehend deeper fandom sentiments and dynamics. There is also a strong bias towards the responses of high income/high spending segments, which tend to be older and male and white. Side but important point – Research reports are written to be as entertaining and digestible as possible, which sounds nice in theory, but in practice it often means you lose much of the substance you are trying to communicate for the sake of not boring people or making them feel stupid/out of their depth. (Because god forbid you make some high-level corporate suit feel stupid) *** What can be done about this? Well, the most primary thing I would recommend is for you to participate in market research, particularly if you are American (there’s a lot of American bias in researching these properties, even when they have large international fanbases). However, some international market research is done and I recommend looking into local resources for participation, where ever you are. If you are American, there are now several market research apps you can download to your smart phone and participate in paid market research through (typically paid via PayPal). Things like dscout and Surveys On the Go. And I know there are more. You should also look into becoming panelists for focus groups, particularly if you live near a large metropolitan area (another bias in market research). Just Google it and you should be able to figure it out fairly easily. Again, it is PAID, and your perspective will carry a lot more weight when it is communicated via a focus group or a dscout project, versus when it is shouted on Twitter. However, that’s merely a Band-Aid on the bigger issue, which I consider to be the fact that businesspeople think the Humanities is garbage, even when they make their living off it. There is virtually no respect for the expertise of fictional textual analysis, or how it could help Hollywood make better content. And I don’t know what the fix is for that. I spent 4 years of my life trying to get these people to understand what the Humanities has to offer them, and I got shouted down and dismissed so many times I stopped banging my head against that wall. I gave up. They don’t listen, mostly because conceding to the value of deep-reading textual analysis as a way to make better content would threaten the whole system of how they do business. And I mean that literally. So many people’s jobs, from the market researchers to the corporate strategists to the marketing departments to the writers/creatives to the C-level executives, would have to radically shift both their thinking and their modes of business operation and the inertia of ‘that’s the way it’s always been done’ is JUST SO POWERFUL. I have no earthly idea how to stop that train, let alone shift it to an entirely different track. BTW, if you want the deeper level of analysis of why I can’t stop rewatching Moneyball now that it’s been added to Netflix, the above paragraph should give you a good hint

#market research #Hollywood #media studies

[cherrysung]

lesson learned

pairing: nerd!jaemin x reader

genre: smut / slight fluff

warnings: language, unprotected sex (stay safe!), riding, thigh riding, grinding, finger sucking, dirty talk, slight degradation

prompts: none

summary: tinted cheeks and sheepish glances might’ve been a delight to observe every time his eyes scanned intellectual phrases on books, but as your words reached dangerous levels, you realized not all is what it seems.

requested by anon.

word count: 2.5k

note: anonnie... I think I got carried away with this a lil bit, oops. I hope you enjoy this though, thank you for requesting! jaemin with glasses is superior oof

cherrysung’s navigation

Na Jaemin. Pink cheeks and flushed neck and ears, thin-rimmed glasses that rested peacefully on the bridge of the most perfect nose you’d seen, and his sharp eyes that appeared narrow and hooded as they scanned over way too complicated words that showed up unnecessarily in fiction books.

He wasn’t the stereotypical nerd, in fact, he quite honestly debunked endless labels and beliefs that people like him had endured for years. Unlike portrayed in movies or anywhere else, Na Jaemin was impressingly handsome if you said so yourself. Masculine yet soft features adorned the smooth of his skin like a freshly painted artwork, facial structure built with a jawline that you’d mistake to be carved out by the gods themselves if you didn’t know any better, and an overall physique that even the most athletic guys at college envied. How come the school’s certified nerd was also the biggest hottie? Pair that up with a well-mannered and gentle personality—you get the sweetest boy at heart.

Conservative and reserved most of the time, with his second home being the local library, Jaemin was almost always indulged in some sort of imaginary world. Although popular for his looks, nobody dared approach him, as everybody knew how much he overflowed with shyness, and even oftentimes unintentionally blocked out the social souls that made an effort to utter a word to him.

It didn’t come as a surprise that his grades were also astronomically A+ class and more. There was no need for him to search with concern over universities and a promising education, because unlike you, they actually chased after him. On the other hand, though you did an okay job at even the most challenging subjects, it wasn’t enough to you or to your demanding and irritable parents. Given that, your teacher thought that if you really wanted to improve, getting Jaemin assigned as a tutor seemed like a perfect idea.

Indeed; it was.

Somehow the smartest and quietest senior also turned out to be picky. His looks weren’t the only thing he was popular for—his constant declines on those who wished desperately for his help was too. To say you were shocked that he agreed to lend you a hand, was an understatement.

You officially met Jaemin on a Monday afternoon when the bell rang loudly throughout the empty halls and students escaped tiredly the dull classrooms as if they were prisons. Your calculus teacher called you and the boy over to her wooden, polished desk, where piles of papers that were filled with red marks stacked up. Jaemin carried himself gracefully at all times, dressed in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt with black shoes, you genuinely wondered how such a simple outfit suddenly looked expensive. Not only did his clothes seem to be put together, so did his life in general. He would never miss a day of college even if destiny wanted him to, and his schedule was so precise you felt like an absolute shame next to him.

“Mr. Na Jaemin,” the teacher cleared her throat, hands twirling a red-inked pen between her fingers as she smiled at the boy standing next to you. “At this point, I don’t know why I bother with you anymore, you always seem to decline. But, I thought I should ask you if you were up to helping your fellow classmate over here. She surely has potential, but is clearly struggling.”

You shifted nervously on your feet, cheeks becoming a faint tint of rosy red as your teacher slid over your calculus test towards Jaemin. It read D+. Nearly the entirety of the front page was marked in red, multiple comments explaining why your answers were wrong and circles pointing out your hideous mistakes all for a genius to judge.

His eyes skimmed over your answers, a smile threatening to creep up on his pink lips at just how ridiculous and senseless your processes could get. “I see. Yeah, she seems to have an idea of the topics but probably gets confused easily.”

Ouch.

“Well, would you do me the favor of maybe tutoring her every week for, say, a month?”

He glanced down at you for a split second, gaze returning back to the test in his hands as fast as he had looked away from it. His words sounded direct, leaving his lips with security and firm knowledge; yet, you were sure you could feel his timidity from classrooms away.

“Sure.”

Two weeks later, Jaemin had been tutoring you patiently, sharing his knowledge and tips as best as he could. You discovered, conversational skills and socializing definitely weren’t Jaemin’s specialty, his words spilling from his lips in stumbles and stutters that sounded adorable nonetheless. Contrary to the way he spoke whenever you casually asked him something about him—whether it be his personality, where he’s from, the things he enjoys—to the way his sentences flowed flawlessly whenever he was explaining how a math problem worked, was intriguing to you.

There was something about him that felt new, and mysterious. He was introverted, quite protective of his surroundings and himself; though, somehow the way his middle finger elegantly pushed his spectacles up a tiny bit, and the way his hand occasionally brushed with yours whenever he turned to a new page on your alarmingly huge calculus textbook was doing things to you.

“So, Jaemin,” you interrupted him, his head rising up in question at your sudden intrusion, hand holding a pencil he had been using to point out esencial steps for Definite Integrals. The two of you were currently sitting at your study desk in your bedroom, home alone on a slightly rainy Friday evening, with papers lying around the table and the floor that had infinite math practice tests he had obligated you to do. “How are you so good at calculus. Well, everything, honestly?”

The tip of his ears flushed a deep shade of pink at your indirect compliment, visibly swallowing as his Adam’s apple swiftly moved up and then down. “Uh, I don’t really know. I guess I’ve always practiced a lot as a kid? Maths is my favorite subject so it’s not hard for me…”

His attention was never on you, instead, his eyes shifted awkwardly as long as they successfully avoided your own. You were enjoying his confusion more than you’d like to admit, collecting your thoughts and speaking up once again before he returned to explaining boring equations or graphs. “Why’d you agree to help me? You never help.”

He wordlessly shrugged, hand scratching the back of his head with what appeared nervousness as his eyes solely rested on the paper before him and the paper alone. You thought his face became progressively warmer, a light smile etching across your face. “Are you sure you don’t know?” You glanced at him, turning your chair around to face his side profile directly. “I think there must be a reason.”

“There’s none.” He muttered through gritted teeth, the apple of his cheeks becoming impossibly redder by the minute. “Let’s move on to the next topic—”

“Oh, but are you sure there really is no reason at all? ‘Cause you seem to be hardcore blushing right now.” Your finger moved under his chin, gently guiding his eyes towards yours. “Am I the reason for your obvious struggle, Na Jaemin? Do you, maybe, have the hots for me?”

“Y/N, just—you need to, uh, continue practicing.”

“I don’t want to practice anymore.” A giggle left your lips, face nearing the boy’s hot ears. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I think you are so handsome, and I can tell you like me too. Or don’t you?”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you, Jaemin?”

A quiet curse rumbled throughout his chest and out his lips, hands quickly snapping up to grasp your own. “You really don’t want to bother me right now. Stop.”

“I do want to bother you. I know you’re not some innocent, saint boy, Jaemin. Stop putting up that pure act with me, it’s not working.”

“Alright,” Jaemin mumbled, eyes sharply boring into yours, “then you asked for it.” He roughly pulled you towards him, your wheeled chair sliding back at the impact as your legs almost instantly straddled him. With no more words said, his hands softly kneaded your ass, pressing his hardening member directly on your heat as he began rapidly guiding you up and down his covered length.

Whimpers stumbled off your lips at his movements, hands flying up to hold onto his shoulders for balance. Quite frankly, you never thought Jaemin would do this.

“Cat got your tongue suddenly, princess?” Your breath hitched at the pet name, and Jaemin could only smirk at your reaction. “You were all talk and no game? Where did that confidence go? You are such a needy, little bitch. Be a good girl and ride my thigh like the desperate slut you are—wanting to fuck me instead of practicing your math equations.”

He parted his legs, and you were quick to take off your shorts, sitting on the textured fabric of his denim jeans as your hips continued their previous ministrations with Jaemin’s harsh grasp. Moans were leaving you in an uncontrollable mess, feeling so little and helpless under a boy’s gaze whom everybody believed is a harmless child. There was a look plastered on his features that you wanted engraved in your mind forever; pearly whites sinking tenderly into a swollen, red bottom lip, glasses hanging lowly on his nose, and a hooded stare due to the growing wetness on your sheer panties that seeped out onto his jeans.

Fuck, did those glasses make him look so sinful.

“Jaemin,” you stuttered, “I need to cum.”

“Already? We just started the fun, princess.” His actions contradicted his words, hands moving your hips faster on his thigh as he squeezed the muscles, igniting louder sounds of pleasure from you. “Are you close?”

You nodded frantically, no longer giving care to the huge wet patch you had created on his pants, allowing his hands to move you as fast as he wished, pussy clenching around nothing every time your clit ran over the coarse fabric.

“Go ahead, princess, come all over my thigh, you fucking dirty girl. Make a mess.”

His whispers were enough to bring you to your climax, legs shaking unstoppably as your hips stilled abruptly. Jaemin rubbed your back softly, bringing your chin up to lock lips with you. Ardent, and full of lust, the feeling of his tongue running over your bottom lip brought another wave of heat that pooled between your legs, and he could surely feel it. Pulling away, with a string of saliva attaching the two of you, Jaemin unbuckled the leather belt before unbuttoning his jeans, only pushing them down enough to release his dick. It sprung proudly out of his briefs, gently hitting his belly and begging to be played with.

Jaemin smirked at your wide eyes, your gaze running up and down the veiny cock, with a final touch of an angry and red tip at the top that was leaking with pre-cum.

“Can I suck you?”

“Not today, babygirl, do that some other time,” he shook his head, fingers moving your panties to the side and placing you on top of his hard length, “right now all I want is to feel your dripping, pretty pussy. Ride me.”

You silently obliged like the good girl he thought you were, wet cunt sinking on his dick as your walls instantly welcomed him with endless warmth.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he lowly cursed, “such a fucking good girl. Why don’t we teach you some basic math while you ride my dick? Come on.” His index and middle fingers tapped your bottom lip, your mouth wrapping around them. “You’re going to answer while you suck on my fingers as if it were my cock.”

On cue to his words, your tongue swirled around his digits experimentally while he ruthlessly thrusted up into your tight pussy with a never ending pace.

“What’s seven plus five, princess?”

You whined on his digits, finding the task harder than you expected as his dick was everything you could think about. Jaemin filled you up so well, fingers occasionally driving into the back of your throat as you choked around them. Tears had begun pooling in your eyes, threatening to fall at any moment as you gagged around his digits once again. “Twelve!”

“Good job,” he delivered a particularly hard thrust, hitting on your sweet spot successfully and earning himself nearly a scream from you. “What about eighteen plus nine? What’s the answer?”

At this point, he was doing all the work, dick sliding in and out of your walls so fast and deliciously. The only sound you could hear around your bedroom was both your skins’ slapping, and sometimes the choked up cries that left your lips whenever his fingers reached too far back in your throat. Your thoughts only revolved around how good Jaemin was fucking you, and how good the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose looked as he bit his lip. “Twenty-seven!” You struggled to answer, but managed to regardless of his merciless thrusts.

“Four minus nineteen? You got three seconds to answer, sweets.” Jaemin smirked, free hand reaching down to circle rapidly around your clit, his hips speeding up even more. “One.”

“Jaemin, I’m so close!”

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, drool running down your chin as he wiped his digits on his shirt. “Answer me, or you don’t come.”

Your thoughts were absolutely jumbled, puzzled and confused, searching hazily for a simple answer you couldn’t remember.

“Two.” The movements of his fingers on your swollen bud were beginning to slow down.

“Jaemin, wait!”

“Three—”

“Negative! Negative fifteen, the answer is negative fifteen.”

He cooed at you, speeding up his actions once more as you cried out, head resting on his shoulder tiredly while you slightly bit into the flesh, eliciting hisses that flew from his lips.

“Fuck, I’m so close. Princess, can I fill you up with my cum?”

“Please,” tears ran down your face, your cries muffled as you nuzzled your face into his neck, “please do. Come inside of me, Jaemin, fill me up so well.”

Your desperate pleads and the frantic clenching of your pussy were enough to bring him to the edge, your release following not much long after as his warm cum completely coated your walls white, some seeping out from your cunt and onto his member. Jaemin eventually slowed down his thrusts to a stop, chest heaving up and down as pants left the two of you.

“For your information, I do have the hots for you, too.” He exhaled out a laugh, pulling your body closer to his and gently pecking the top of your head.

“I can’t believe everybody calls you a nerd,” you chuckled, “you literally fucked me into oblivion.”

“Well, you were riling me up. I hope you learned your lesson, little miss.”

“Yeah, I did.” You admitted with a giggle.

“Well, you better keep that pretty mouth closed, we don’t want people knowing the school’s nerd wrecked you so bad, right? Besides, I don’t think I want this to just be a one time thing.” Your head rose at his confession, eyes looking into his own for an answer. “How about a date tomorrow?”

You smiled, sweetly pecking his cheek. “I’d love that. How about I suck your cock after that?”

Jaemin smirked, “your house or mine?”

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[samwilsonshandsandass]

I Think I'm Seeing Triple

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Sam Wilson x Sam Wilson x reader x Bucky Barnes x Bucky Barnes x Bucky Barnes Summary: You just want to get settled in in your hotel room for a weekend conference, when your room is also given to two other attendees of the conference. And then something happens no one can explain and four surprise guests are also in the room Warnings: Smut, oral (f and m receiving), spanking, choking Word count: 3240 A/N: @keanureevesisbae were suffering together because of a post with four pictures each of Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan and then I had a thought and got some inspiration.

You went up to your hotel room after the first getting to know each other event at the weekend conference you had to go to. You hadn’t even put your shoes near the door when it opened and in came two other attendees. You knew who they were, had seen them all over the newspapers and also columns. Sam Wilson aka Cap and Bucky Barnes aka… he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore and you didn’t know if he wanted to claim that title to morph it into something good or if he was called something else. So, Bucky Barnes.

Before you could ask them what they did in your room, and how they got a key card when it was clearly booked, and before they stopped their bickering about who was the blanket hog, there were two flashes of golden light and from each flash tumbled a pair of men identical to the pair of men who just walked into your room. Just their clothing separated them from each other.

“Who are you?”

Sam Wilson asked and looked at someone who seemed to be his friend. Although that friend had entered the room beside him.

“I’m Bucky” The one spoken to, said.

“No, I’m Bucky!” A third version of the man said.

“And you?” The one who seemed to be the actual Sam, wanted to know.

“Sam.”

“Who am I then?”

“My less attractive twin?”

“Ha-ha.”

“So, There’s three Sams. And three Buckys. That’s not weirder than other things we were confronted with. And you are?” The Bucky who had entered the room with the first Sam questioned and looked at you.

“Y/N” You answered slowly. “And why are all of you in my hotel room?”

“We’re here because the person at the reception told us this room was available. We’re last minute additions to this weekend conference” That was one of the Buckys. He gestured to himself and one of the Sams.

“O- kay. And you four?” You looked at the seemingly identical versions of the Sam and Bucky who were supposed to be here.

“There was a flash, everything went cold and now we’re here” The third Bucky replied.

“We had something similar happening” The Sam in the middle said.

“Alright. Okay. Cool. I’ll just be blunt and say I wouldn’t have been opposed to one Sam and Bucky being in the same room for an entire weekend” You mumbled after you looked shortly to the heavens.

“You do know we’re supposed to actually attend meetings and workshops and networking events, don’t you?” The Bucky you dubbed “Bucky number one” asked you.

“Stickler for principles…” Sam number one grinned. “I know you. You’d do anything to get out of at least the networking events.”

“Of course I would! Still doesn’t change the fact networking just means getting drunk and fucking someone just for the sake of fucking someone. I’m not for that. And I can’t get drunk.”

You saw the other two Bucky’s nod in agreement.

“So, that’s the defining trait of the different Bucky’s” Sam number two smiled.

“As if you like what comes out of these events” Bucky (you couldn’t say which) grinned back.

“No, I’d cook for someone first. Be a gentleman.”

“See. And I’d take her dancing.”

You cleared your throat.

“I still don’t understand all this” You stated.

“Me neither” Bucky number three. “Maybe we could each explain the basics of yourselves.”

“Good idea. So. In this universe, my universe, you” You sat back on the bed and pointed at Sam number one, “were a para rescue and then used what you learned during that time to save the world. And you” You looked down at Bucky number one who was laying on your belly, “were a P.O.W. during World War II and then basically got turned into a human weapon and got frozen to keep your body the way they needed it to be. You were found and then, a year later in probably the technologically most advanced country on earth you finally got freed for good from it all and now use your skills for good as well. With him as your partner.” You pointed at Sam number one again.

“Wait. You had a second World War? We only had one. You know, the one from 1914 to 1918?” Bucky number two asked. “What happened in your universe?”

“The Germans thought the cure for their humiliation in Versailles could only be coped with by committing genocide and reaching for world domination.” Bucky number one explained. “And my best friend got quite big and muscle-y because of that. Why didn’t the Germans do in your universe what they did in mine?”

“Some Germans had their heads on straight. Fought back when the political landscape of 1920s Germany was close to morphing into street terror and they succeeded. They stayed a democratic country and that was that.”

“My Steve got all the muscles as well.” Bucky number three smiled. Then it fell from his face. “We actually served together, after he changed like that. When the Germans and their allies were defeated, Steve went on to train new recruits back home and I went to Korea.”

“So, you aged normally. How come you’re here now with a body like back then? And why are you also looking like that, when there even wasn’t a second world war and in theory you should’ve lived a long live and, no offence, be long underground?” You wondered and looked between Bucky number two and three.

Bucky number two snorted. “I know what you mean. After school, I actually got a scholarship, one of the few back then, for Teachers College, which is a part of Columbia University. I became a Math and Physics teacher. After some years, the university offered a few places in an experimental study about nitrogen and cryogenesis.”

“And I suspect you accepted one?” Sam number three asked.

“Yep. Wanted to see what progress the future made in science and to have the body and age and mind to enjoy it all fully.”

“That takes being a nerd to a whole new level. I thought the Bucky I know was flexing!” Sam number one exclaimed.

“Just because I could read the Hobbit when it came out and you couldn’t?” Bucky number one shot back.

“You read that, too?” Bucky number two and three exclaimed.

“No matter the universe, they’re nerds” Sam number two mumbled.

“And you two? What happened with you in your universes?” You looked at Sam number two and three.

“My and Sarah’s parents died quite a few years ago. My nephews were little, and yet, I thought I’d help my family more if I went off to the air force. Sarah wouldn’t have that and then the community got wind of my plans and they kept me there” Sam number two smiled. “I took over more of the workload to keep our fishing business afloat so Sarah could focus more on the kids when they were really little. When they got bigger, we shared the workload more equally and still do that now. Haven’t regretted not moving away one day.”

“I also didn’t move away. Well, not entirely to Washington, after our parents died. I worked my ass off to get into an undergraduate program for social work and now I’m working as a counselor for families in tight spots in St. Bernard” Sam number three told.

“Okay. This is quite much, but I can work with that. Or at least understand more. Want to know something about me?” You looked around at the six men around you.

“Isn’t that confusing for you?” Bucky wanted to know.

“On every level, yes. So, I’ll just concentrate on the fact there’s six handsome and hot guys and just one of me.”

“That’s certainly something” Sam smiled.

“Yeah” You laughed quietly and took his hand.

You felt him stroke the back of your hand and move towards you. With a half smile and half lidded eyes, he pecked your lips. He moved back slowly. You cradled his head in your hand and pulled him in again, scratching his head all the while and earning a moan. You moved your lips against Sam’s, sucking his tongue into your mouth. He chuckled against your lips and moved back again. This time just enough to be able to bite your lips and then move his tongue against your lips again.

When he allowed you to breathe, another Sam asked: “You gonna hog her all for yourself or let us have a piece, too?”

“As if I’d deny myself the joy and pleasure of all of you…” You simpered.

“Well then” He pulled you up to stand and walked you to the middle of the big, fluffy rug in front of the bed.

Sam stood in front of you. With a faint smile, he unbuttoned button for button on the top of your dress. At the same time Bucky knelt behind you and let his hands wander from your ankles to the hem of your panties. He pulled them down slowly, until they caught on the hem of your stockings. Bucky pulled them down as well and put them on the ever growing pile of clothes near the foot of the bed.

“Would you look at this body!” Came from the direction of the bed, where the other two Buckys sat when the Sam before you let your dress fall from your body.

“God” That drawn out moan came from the loveseat with two Sams on it.

You smiled and opened your eyes, looking around to see the four men naked and teasingly stroke their cocks.

“C’mere baby” Sam purred.

The two men who had just undressed you went over to the bed. You stood in front of the loveseat.

“And where am I sitting?”

“Laying” Sam smiled and pulled you down.

Your torso laid across the legs of the Sam sitting left and your thighs across the Sam on the right. You wiggled your ass jokingly until you felt a gentle spank on the right cheek.

“We’ll be the ones to make you move, baby. You just relax and take it” Bucky said from the bed. You had no idea which one.

“Although that doesn’t mean we’ll be soft” Another Bucky said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I don’t think she wants us to be soft. Well, maybe a little?” The Sam who had your torso laying on his legs, questioned.

You looked up at him and opened your mouth to answer but before you could, he slipped two fingers into it. His other hand wandered to the nape of your neck. He started massaging it, and with a guttural moan, you spread your legs.

The Sam with your legs on his thighs now kneaded your butt, lulling you into a sense of security and comfort.

Then came the first spank. Pretty light, on the left butt cheek. You squeaked in surprise.

Before you could say anything, he landed a slightly harder spank on the right one. You whimpered.

The third spank was even harder, on the left cheek again.

The fourth spank made your ass cheek jiggle and yourself moan.

Sam continued in that tempo and alternated the cheeks with every other spank. The other Sam moved his fingers in and out of your mouth at a different pace, not giving you a chance to get used to just one rhythm.

From the couch pants and moans could be heard. Sam didn’t let you move your head, squeezing instead of massaging your neck each time you wanted to look in the direction of the bed.

“No looking, baby. You just feel and hear.”

You nodded as best as you could and felt a visceral need in your core. You tried to alleviate it, humping the side of Sam’s thigh.

“You need something more, baby?”

You mumbled around the other Sam’s fingers.

“I’d say that’s a yes” The Bucky in the middle of the bed grinned.

“C’mere baby.” Both Sam’s helped you up and got you in front of the bed.

You looked up at Bucky and he petted your cheek.

“Ready?”

You nodded and knelt in front of Bucky and another Bucky pushed your head down to make you take everything until you gagged. They both gave you short periods of reprieve when one of them pulled a little back until they made you gag again. With each gagging noise you made, you felt yourself getting wetter.

Suddenly you felt the tip of a cock between your ass cheeks. With a sigh, a sigh as if he came home, the man behind you penetrated you slowly, making you feel every inch. Bucky pushed you down quickly. The pace made your eyes water and a tear fall but that didn’t keep you from recognizing that beautiful brown skin in the corner of your left eye.

“We’re so good, we make you cry?” Sam grinned, showing his canines.

You nodded once when you heard a growl above you. Suddenly your mouth was empty and not a second later long ropes of cum hit your face.

You opened your eyes just in time to see Sam’s hand rubbing your clit as he pulled your back close to his chest. You felt the warmth of his chest and his accelerated heartbeat at your back. He bent forward to caress your neck. Sam kissed your neck and bit every spot he had just caressed. You bucked against him, trying to get him moving deeper into you. You felt him smile against your neck where he had just sucked. He pressed his index and middle finger to your clit. He tapped it and with two further movements, you felt him squeeze your neck and with a long whine you came.

You wrapped your hands around Sam’s left wrist and that did it for him. You felt him spurt into your core and your legs trembled a little with the aftershocks.

“God…” He moaned into your neck and kissed it.

“J- just me” You mumbled in a haze with a grin.

You heard several chuckles from the bed. Someone pulled you slowly up and put you on the bed. Several people stroked your body and kissed you softly. You, in turn, caressed Sam’s face and could almost hear him purr under your touch.

When you felt like you were in the here and now again, you laid on back on the bed, the head in the lap of one Bucky with one Sam kissing the life out of you. He had his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed now and then. You were moaning and whimpering continuously but you didn’t know why exactly. Maybe it was because Bucky massaged your head. Maybe it was because Sam choked and kissed you so beautifully.

And maybe it was because what happened between your legs. Looking down your body, spread out like a feast, you saw one brown haired head. Two strains had escaped the low bun and stuck to his face with his spit and your slick. Next to Bucky, there was Sam. This was the Sam with longer curls. Perfect to rake your fingers through and pull him even closer to you.

Both of them licked, nibbled and sucked on your private parts and on the tighter rim a little below. Occasionally they bumped heads and shoulders, chuckling each time. Each chuckle sent vibrations through you and made you pull their hair. Every time you did that, they moaned. Even more vibrations went to your clit. A vicious cycle.

Until they stopped everything.

Although you wanted to form words of protest, nothing articulated came out of your mouth.

You saw the two grinning at each other and they rammed three fingers each in you. Three in your pussy and three in your ass. You could only moan and your back arched up.

Bucky attacked your g spot right away and Sam hammered into your ass. With the contrast of that to the kissing of the other Sam and the head massage by the other Bucky, you couldn’t focus on anything, just letting it happen. Out of the blue, you sensed something warm and wet and occasionally sharp on your nipples and your neck. You could only guess that was because of the other two.

With one more come hither motion of Bucky, you screamed into Sam’s mouth and came. You felt your walls spasm and spasm and spasm. Yet, Bucky didn’t stop. Each time your pussy let up, there was another come hither motion and Sam hadn’t stopped fingering your ass once.

Sam and Bucky bit your nipples until they were swollen and the Sam who still had his hand around your neck, squeezed.

Your body, that hadn’t ceased moving since your scream, spasmed as a whole and then everything went black.

---

As you came to again, one pair of Sam and Bucky were grinning up at you and two pairs were grinning down at you.

“There she is again” Bucky smiled.

“I take it you’re satisfied?” Another Bucky asked you cockily.

You nodded, panting.

You were maneuvered until you laid on a mountain of pillows. From that position you could see all six men gripping their erections. Your body was sweaty, spit from six men clung to it, your face was painted with the cum from one of the Bucky’s and between your legs there was a mess of the cum of one of the Sam’s and yours. Still, you wanted more. And you knew how to get it.

You made grabby hands, decidedly close to the men’s cocks. They grinned and moved closer to you.

“Please?” You made puppy dog eyes at them.

“How can you say no to this very beautiful and very naughty girl?” One of the Sam’s mumbled to himself.

“You don’t, never!” Bucky answered and started jerking faster.

You licked your lips and sat up a bit. You didn’t want to miss one second of this show. Their hands went over their cocks, faster and faster until the six faces contorted in pleasure and you saw your belly and breasts be painted by their cum. It was accompanied by several growls and whimpers.

You smiled tiredly, when the six collapsed around you. You pulled them closer, reveling in their warmth.

“Gimme some minutes, doll” Bucky whispered into your ear.

After some time, he went and got several warm wet washcloths. He and another Bucky cleaned you up softly. Only after that, did the men clean up themselves. You turned on your side, tired and sated. Sam pulled you into his chest, Bucky molded himself to your back and put his legs over yours. The other four cuddled up to you three in the middle, making you a tangle of seven people in the middle.

“Does one of you know when the first meeting of tomorrow starts?” You yawned.

“At nine” The Bucky of this universe mumbled.”

“The cyborg strikes again” A mix of a yawn and smile was audible in his voice. “Do we have to attend that?”

“I think so.”

“Ugh. And what about the four not from here?” Sam wriggled his arm free and hugged one Bucky and one Sam to his back.

“No idea” The Sam hugged by Sam shook his head.

“Let’s sleep for now. We can worry about that tomorrow” The Bucky between the two Sam’s said.

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