#so they refuse to even double check and see if their basic understanding of what it is is correct

[melancholic-pigeon]

you know what though

Another way to say this is "about half the people who take the test get the same results every time" and "It's controversial" and "It can be reductive for some people" and "it shouldn't be used for hiring decisions" and "the monetary for-profit corporation that charges money to administer the test has a vested interest in promoting it as a miracle elixir"

and I'm actually sick to fucking death of "it works quite well for about half the people who take it and at the same time it's overhyped" turning into "This is total nonsense that never ever works for anyone in any situation ever, it's complete and utter bunk, and the 50% of test-takers who say it's not always total bunk are just idiots lying to themselves"

I bet you 500$ USD that OP can't actually define introversion as used by MBTI. Spoiler: it's actually not a binary one-or-nothing "horrible misanthrope who hates everyone" or "Bubbly cheerleader who loves running parties every single day".

(also the fact that they don't know there are sixteen types*, not twelve, says to me that they completely turned their brain off as soon as someone said "It's like secular astrology!!!!" which is only true if you do it wrong and assign types by birthday, which is not how this works.)

Sorry, but MBTI is not in the same fucking category as astrology, IQ, Love Languages or whatever the fuck other pop psychology thing that makes you mad.

*Type. Pay attention to that word. Type doesn't mean "exact, photographically detailed picture of every single thought, decision and emotion that this person has throughout their entire life from birth to death with absolutely no variation". It's a type. A subgroup. Tendencies. Likelihoods. Patterns.

It doesn't work for you. That doesn't mean I'm lying to myself because I can tell where you're jumping to conclusions about why it doesn't work for you.

[alovesongtheywrote]

i NEED another nightmare academia part pleassseeeee *grabby hands*

♥ Summary: well... here it is! in this chapter of nightmare academia, things go south. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: self doubt, angst, mentions of maeve. in other words, things were too happy and they're about to get sad

♥ A/N: plotman cometh

♥ Word Count: 2136

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

Spencer didn’t sleep that night.  He’d left late, waiting for the red and blue lights of the police cruiser to leave before he let himself go home.  The train ride back was hazy at best.  He couldn’t focus on his surroundings, on the fuzzy announcements from the Metro intercom overhead, or the people around him.

The only thing on his mind was you.  The warmth of your smile, the feeling of your hand in his, the way you said his name- “It’s basic decency, Spencer.”  Maybe that was a pathetic thing to focus on, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.  His mind played the memory over and over again in perfect clarity.  He could still feel the buzz that had washed over him when you said his name for the first time- and he could still feel the agony he felt when he realized he’d made you cry.  

He had a lot of thoughts to think about you- and the more he explored them, the deeper he dove into the recesses of his mind, the more unsettled he became.  He hadn’t felt this way in a while.  The last time he did, the object of those feelings was brutally murdered in front of him- and he never got to say a proper goodbye.  His guilt consumed him almost as much as his affection for you.

So, yeah.  Lots to think about.  Sleep was a worthy sacrifice.

The following morning, he dragged himself to his office, limbs heavy with exhaustion and eyes sore from unshed tears.  He thought he might buy some time for himself.  He thought he might be able to steal a quick nap before his first class of the day.

He was wrong.

“Hey pretty Ricky, long time no see.”

Spencer flung his phone at Morgan on pure instinct.  Morgan caught it with no issue, raising an eyebrow as Spencer doubled over, painting.

“You didn’t tell me you could throw like that.  Is everything okay, Reid?”

“Yeah, no, it’s- it’s fine.  You just surprised me.”

“You don’t usually throw your phone when you’re surprised.  What’s up, kid?”

“Nothing!  It’s nothing.  I just didn’t get much sleep last night,” Spencer rubbed at his temples, “So, what are you doing here?  You aren’t looking to register for classes, are you?”

“No,” Morgan set Spencer’s phone down on the desk, “There’s a case near here, the team came in to investigate.  I decided to check in on you, see how you’re doing.”

“Well, I’m doing fine, thanks.  I appreciate you checking in.”

“Are you fine, though?  Really?”

“Morgan, I told you I’m-”

The door slammed open.  Spencer jumped again, bringing a hand to his chest to calm his racing heart.  It was you.  It was only you.

“Hey, Reid, I need you to look at this thing one of my kids wrote, because I can’t understand it, even with the English degree-” you stopped, suddenly realizing you were interrupting a conversation.

“Oh,” you tapped the door a few times, your wide eyes darting between Spencer and Morgan, “Hi.”

A sense of dread draped over Spencer like the world’s worst weighted blanket.  His heart was still beating a million miles a minute.  He tried to keep the smile off of his face, tried to keep his skin from warming a few degrees.  He could feel the physiological signs of affection and he denied them.  He refused, willing himself to feel contempt at the sight of your face.  He failed.

Morgan, on the other hand, felt no conflict.  The man was very clearly delighted.  A massive grin crossed his face as he held out a large hand for you to shake.

“You must be Dr. (L/N).  We spoke on the phone- but Spencer didn’t tell the team that you’re so gorgeous.”

“He wouldn't,” you grinned, clutching your papers to your chest as you reached to shake Morgan’s hand, “We aren’t really friends- we’re more like angry acquaintances.”  

The agent laughed, a warm and inviting sound that put any unease you had to rest.  Spencer could not say the same.  He bit down on his tongue until it stung.  He wasn’t sure if he was hurt that you didn’t see him as a friend, or if he was relieved.

“What did you want to show me, Dr. (L/N)?”

You paused for a fraction of a second at your formal title.  You hadn’t expected to hear it coming from Spencer.  Jumping back into motion, you passed the stack of paper to him.

“It’s circled in red, you can’t miss it.”

Indeed, the confounding sentence was, very much, circled in red- and it was very much indecipherable.  Spencer genuinely couldn’t tell what the fuck that sentence was supposed to mean.  For a moment, all the worries evaporated from his brain as he set out to solve the literary puzzle before him.

Meanwhile, you and Morgan continued your discussion- and with Spencer distracted, you were pretty much unsupervised.

“So, what’s Reid like as a professor?  Does he still go on those tangents?”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s excellent.  The tangents manage to keep his students involved with the material- however, there is that whole technophobe thing.”

“I heard you had a specific problem with that.”

“Oh, yeah.  I sent a typewriter to his class every day until he yelled at me.”

“I didn’t yell at you,” Spencer didn’t look up from the paper in front of him, “I pranked you back and you yelled at me.”

You shrugged, “Same thing.”

Morgan fucking beamed.  He’d been in the same room as you for two seconds and already, you were an absolute delight.  He had so much to tell Garcia when he got back to the rest of the team- but why simply tell Garcia about you when he could introduce you?

“Y’know, the team is meeting up for drinks tonight.  You can join us if you’d like- I know everyone else is desperate to meet the professor who’s been driving Reid up the wall.”

“Oh, a chance to embarrass my angry-acquaintance in front of his friends and former coworkers?  Sign me the fuck up!  Just give me a time and place and I’m there.”

Spencer looked up, having finished with the paper in front of him.  The smile on your face- the way you smiled at Morgan made him burn up inside.  He slammed the paper down in front of you harder than he intended to.

“They’re talking about criteria seventeen.”

“Seventeen?  How did they get there, they were just talking about criteria fourteen?”

“I don’t know, they’re your student.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in confusion.  You were adorable.  Spencer couldn’t allow himself to think you were adorable- he also couldn’t allow you to be upset with him.

“Email them about it.  Get in contact and let them know their analysis is confusing.”

“Aw, look at you.  You’re suggesting I send an email,” you reached over, giving his arm a squeeze, “I call that growth.”

Spencer was sure you could feel his heartbeat through his arm- and if you couldn’t, then you could definitely see the blush on his face.  For the second time in two days, he wanted to hurl himself out the window.

You let go of his arm.  You hadn’t held onto him long, but Spencer’s mind had pulled that moment into a million smaller moments.  He watched as you extended a hand to Morgan, a charming smile on your face, “It was nice to meet you in person!  Let me know when you’re planning to get those drinks.”

“Will do.  You have a good morning!”

“You too!” you called out as you slipped out the door and into the hallway, “I’ll see you both later!”

The room fell silent.  The air seemed to crackle with electricity, with a thousand static things that went unsaid.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Spencer refused to look at his friend, instead pulling a random book from one of his shelves to distract himself.  He almost threw it across the room when he realized it was The Narrative of John Smith.

“That little arm grab.  What was that?  I don’t know if you know, Reid, but that’s not something enemies do.  Are you sure Dr. (L/N) hates your guts?”

“It doesn’t matter if they hate my guts.  I hate theirs.”

“Don’t bullshit me, man.  If you hate them so much, you wouldn’t help them with their work the way you did.”

Spencer was trapped.  Morgan had him dead to rights.  He paused, thumbing through the pages of the book in his hands.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

Morgan beamed once again- he was having an excellent morning, “I knew it.  You have a lil’ thing for Dr. (L/N).”

“I don’t have a thing.  I don’t have anything.  What I have is a complicated series of emotions that I’m currently sorting through, and I don’t need anyone sorting through my emotions with me.”

Morgan raised his hands in surrender, “Okay.  Whatever you say, pretty boy, as long as you show up to get drinks with the rest of us.”

Spencer just nodded.  Morgan stared at him for another second.  He was gone by the time Reid looked up from his book.

-

By the time you got back to your office, you were ready to tear your hair out.  You were stupid.  Big stupid.  Mega stupid.

For one thing, you should have recognized that your student was jumping from criteria fourteen to seventeen.  You weren’t sure why they did it, but you were familiar enough with the diagnostic criteria you’d assigned to know which criteria aligned with which descriptive words.

For another- why the fuck had you said yes to drinks with Spencer’s friends?  Yes, you wanted to go.  Morgan was absolutely lovely, and Penelope Garcia was a bundle of coolness topped with a flower-themed hairpin, but really, what were you going to talk about with a group of FBI agents?  What were you going to talk about with a group of Spencer’s friends?

And god, you should have asked Spencer if he wanted you there.  True, if he didn’t, it would cause emotional torment worthy of your best pranks, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to torment him anymore.

You knew what you felt when he looked at you- you were familiar with the buzzing in your stomach and the pounding of your heart.  You knew the physiological signs of affection and you couldn’t deny them.  You would try to outrun them for as long as you could, but fuck, you were bad at running.  Sooner or later, you knew you would find yourself falling for Spencer Reid.

You could see yourself doing it- god, it wouldn’t be difficult to do.  He was beautiful and smart, and when he wasn’t forcing his students to handwrite their notes, he could be so kind.  He was brilliant, and competent, and when you remembered the way he stood up for you the night before you could feel your body burn beneath your skin. 

And that SUCKED.  For one thing, he was so much smarter than you- so much better.  He would never see you as anything more than a peer.  Even if he did, he would just be another thing that happened at you.  You had done nothing to earn his respect, nothing to change the way he felt.  If he felt anything for you, it would be a mistake on his part.  You already counted everything you felt for him as a mistake.

He was once part of a system that stood for most of the things you hated.  No matter what he said, you were still pretty sure he had faith in it.  You were fucked.

Just as you were about to curl up in a tiny ball on your office chair and scream into your arms, your phone buzzed.  It was Morgan- he must have saved your number the first time you called him.  A time and place were listed side by side, along with a friendly, “Hope you can make it :D”

A tiny smile slipped across your lips, but it very quickly fell.  You found Spencer’s number in your phone.  You typed out six or seven different messages before you landed on one.

Y/N: are you okay with me getting drinks with your team?

You could see Spencer typing.  And typing.  And typing.

Spencer: it’s fine.  should be fun.

You weren’t sure if he actually meant that or if he was being a bitch.  Texting is hard- and god, you felt like a high schooler doing it.  With a last look at Morgan’s message, the time and place for drinks, you gathered your things and got ready to be a functioning adult for the next few hours.

Honestly?  You were pretty good at pretending.

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

honestly I find all of yall weird. Why do uou ship ANYONE? Can't they all just be friends? None of these people have chemistry to me.

-a very confused Ace who sometimes struggles to find stories without romance

(this goes double for canonically Ace and Aro characters, can yall chill out with them?)

I couldn't agree more, babes.

I generally only "ship" canon couples because they're the ones that are actually romantic. I usually just don't see potential with non-canon ships because the writers didn't put it there.

But canon relationships do sometimes suck. I just read this book where I already knew the MC would get married at the end, but I didn't know to whom. I was hoping she'd go for Malewife Coworker and not Exboyfriend of Ten Years, but guess who she went for? I just don't understand this fantasy that allo people write where two people who dated years ago are still in love? Like, if I had a friend who still loved their ex of ten years, I'd refer them to a therapist.

On top of that, people on the internet are so quick to label platonic relationships as "queerbaiting". I'm not saying queerbaiting doesn't exist (*cough* Supernatural *cough* Sherlock *cough cough*), but some of y'all are ridiculous. No, guys, it's not queerbaiting, the entire book is about how platonic love can be stronger than romantic love.

And the shipping canonically aro/ace characters makes me really uncomfortable. If I shipped a lesbian character with a man, I'd be bullied to hell. But when I point out that putting an aro character in a relationship is kinda aphobic, I'm the bad one? "Oh some aro people are interested in relationships" Yeah, that argument doesn't work when you apparently headcanon every aro character as wanting a relationship. Hazbin Hotel is the worst example. The creator basically just refuses to confirm Alastor as aro so she doesn't alienate the fans that like to ship him. And what about aro people? Are we not important enough to worry about alienating? It's like Genshin refusing to say Sumeru is based off Southeast Asia even though we already know it is so we can't get more mad at them for their colorism.

Anyway, check out the "no romantic relationships" tag on my blog for good fics. And I can also recommend books with no romance <3

[mbrainspaz]

Look when my gran called me yesterday to convince me to go out for drink with my no contact fundamentalist mom expectations were set accordingly. Did I need 'mom finally tries to make amends for calling me demon possessed when I came out as gender fluid' on my Moving Over An Hour Away And Starting A New Job In The Same Week bingo card? No, I did not. But I'm also feeling tough as nails until the inevitable collapse, so why not? Gran was like "don't worry—I'll be there to support you both!" [That'd be a first.]

Predictably most of our conversation consisted of mom going 'why can't I just love you even though I disagree with "the decisions you've made"' and me going 'if you loved me you'd at least try to understand how ridiculous you sound when you say that.' And I did go into it a bit more. We were definitely trying to build some kind of bridge. Well, mostly she was making excuses for why she didn't want to try, but at least she wasn't trying to be hurtful. She acknowledged a lot of the points I made but I've come to learn that that won't mean anything the next day.

Gran sat in the corner of the booth watching Reels about how to disassemble a faucet or something after she lost track of the conversation. I started with a metaphor about religion as a box and she was checked out for the rest.

I don't feel like we resolved much after talking for over an hour. The main point I tried to make was that identity labels are just a tool for people who want to be better understood by other people, and that self-knowledge and self-acceptance are the path to... doing more good than harm, within and without religion. I ended on a plea for her to ask more questions and show an ounce of curiosity about 'the gender stuff' if she actually wants to have a relationship with me. She was noncommittal about that so I was noncommittal about unblocking her number.

I'm afraid what she still really wants is to be a spectator. She basically said as much. She said she misses seeing my facebook stories (she could watch them on instagram where my profile is public but she never tried that hard) and watching shows with me. I miss that too, I miss her a lot, but the superficial-ness of our relationship after I came out and she refused to acknowledge it really got to me. I tried to explain that again too. I know I have before.

Went to the restroom on my way out. I usually use the women's because they're cleaner but it's whatever. I was washing my hands when someone else walked in, did a double take, checked the sign on the door, and muttered 'oh it's right.' Took every last shred of my self control not to cackle at the absurdity of some stranger seeing, in .05 seconds, what my family have been willfully blind to for years. It happens all the time.

[cheerleaderman]

Flori Orielle - Old bio

A boy with a strange obsession with poison. Many hope he uses this knowledge for good and that they don’t need to double check anything given to them.

Personality

Hard-working, Reserved, can be judgmental, perfectionist, ambitious, creative, independent, sarcastic, patient, still has his naive moments,chaotic but it’s not shown outwardly,helpful, harsh when it comes to reacting something, good listener

Twst: the golden flower (Tangled)

Basic info

Age: 16

He/him

Voice claim: Eng-Sawyer(monster camp) jp- Shikanoin Heizou (Genshin Impact)

Birthday: May 12

Height: 167cm

Class: 1-B

Dorm: Pomefiore

Nicknames: flower(family) Glow worm(Floyd) Monsieur fleur d’or (Rook) riri (friends)

Dominant hand: left

Favorite food: beef stew and apple tarts

Hobbies/likes: studying poison/medicine, candles, hiking, fairytales, lizards, frogs, lanterns, music, horse riding, writing/ journaling, flowers

Dislikes: Marriage proposals , his grandfather, Nuts/anything containing nuts, having to put on a fake smile

Club: science

Hometown: Sunrise kingdom

Family: Rolene Orielle(cousin but will refer to as his sibling) Lorelei Orielle (mother) Elian (father-deceased) Edeline Orielle (Aunt) Oliver Orielle (Uncle) Elise Orielle (grandmother-deceased) Ludwig (grandfather)

Best subject: potionology

Talents: Staying hidden/disappearing, singing, Foraging , repeating things back

Unique Magic: Flowers Gleam

Can heal people within a certain range. In that range vines will surround the injured blooming flowers over their wounds once healed the flowers will wilt indicating that they are all healed.

For the ones that were hurt

Let me reverse the deed

Let them see my flowers gleam

More info:

-Is a prince from his home country ( his grandmother is the current ruler older sister) but lived in a cottage with his mother and Rolene for 14 years

-lives with his Aunt and Uncle given that his mother is under arrest for kidnapping Rolene at the magic tower.

-given what his mother did many nobles and even his grandfather looks down on him and only sees him as a political tool. The king absolutely adores Flori making the pressure of trying to marry him even worse but he always refuses.

-feels like people see him as something desirable then an actual human

-Flori is known to receive these marriage proposals constantly and tossing away any gifts attached to them not caring who takes them. Vil tried bringing it up but learning more it reminded him of disrespectful fans who don’t respect boundaries.

- is pretty peculiar when it comes to food, he’ll try new things but if he doesn’t like it he won’t eat it again.

-The ear ring he has is his father engagement present to his mother. Rolene has the other one even when offered to give it back Flori wanted them to keep it.

-Flori Father was a great mage+healer who passed when he was 1 from responding to an incident that happened on the outskirts of the country.

-The obsession for poison and medicine came from reading his parents old books and notes making him want to make medicine and find cures.

-Showed interest in Jade’s mushroom and is now as Floyd says “Jade’s little hiking buddy”. Given this new found friendship Pomefiore is now considered giving that their poison lover in now in the hands of Octavinelle.

-straight up drinks poison given everyone a heart attack ( the thing is he can heal himself but still)

-disappears all the time given it’s on purpose or not. Sometimes people will be looking right at him and just don’t see him.This made him go a repeat things back to others proving that he was there the whole time. Vil is so close to putting a bell on him

- Has journals that he writes stories in or random notes about his interests. Much as he wants to keep his journals organized it just doesn’t work out

-knows swordsmanship ,good at handwork and has a pet lizard named sunflower at home

-Still really loves his mother understand despite the circumstances she still did something wrong and feels bad for it.

“ I’m not the heir why would they care?”

-got Banned from making poison for a while

Outfits

Backstory

Flori was one of the lost royal children when his mother ran away with him and his cousin Rolene bit after his father died. Completely isolated from the world for 14 years in a cottage being raised as twins.

During that time the two only really had each other so they were really close. Their mother kept them busy with many activities and lessons but Rolene growing curiosity for the outside world got stronger. At first Mother said no that there’s a bunch of danger out there but Flori managed to convince her just take them to the forest.

At 14 when Mother went out for errands Rolene and Flori snuck out to get some flowers from a field they found last time. Who knew that would be the day they were finally found. Coming back to the site of their home being searched by guards they ran away hoping to find their mom. Searching for hours and feeling tired the two fell asleep by a lake later to be found by no other than his Uncle.

- Adjusting to this new environment was hard on the two. New home, having to get used family members,staff that do things for you , teachers and a bunch of lessons. Worst is that learning some of the lies his mother told even though him and Rolene aren’t twins and have different birthdays that wouldn’t make them any less of siblings.Flori released that the staff treated him differently to his sibling. They were much harder on him and talked down to him. Rolene saw this to and was angered by this refusal to go to lessons and dismissed staff and staying by Flori side. Even though the staff and teachers were replaced that only did so much.

-At home Flori feels like a desired item than a person. Due to what his mother did and not being a heir Flori is viewed as something to gain power. Constantly being flooded with marriage proposals due to his grandfather and being favored by the king.

Divider

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary87

12/7-8/2023

thursday - friday

“Did you say the stars were worlds, Tess?" "Yes." "All like ours?" "I don't know, but I think so. They sometimes seem to be like the apples on our stubbard-tree. Most of them splendid and sound - a few blighted." "Which do we live on - a splendid one or a blighted one?" "A blighted one.” - Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D'Urbervilles

as my girlfriend was hiding from being shot, she was hiding in the dark with her colleague, she checked her email because as people were unsure if the shooting was still taking place, or even that the man had been shot by police, someone who must have had the alert, and had access, to the registry of everyone teaching interdisciplinary studies, their emails, to send this message (credit to roberto lovato on twitter):

she did not receive this email, instead she had received one saying that the landlord is not going to be renewing any leases at this apartment complex, and that we will have to move by march.

the shooter was eventually shot by police, but no one knew for sure if it was multiple people. this was circulating, sent to me by my cousin:

he told me to listen to the police scanner, so i did. they were clearing every room, slowly, it took them hours to get to where my gf was, and along the way, anyone who stepped out, anyone who tried to flee, was pointed at with a rifle, held up by pigs, basically. the terrorism did not ever end for any of them, all at the brink of pissing themselves because they didn't want to scare a police officer and get killed. one of my gf's colleagues had a rifle pointed at him while he was trying to go piss, and they called him a straggler, and told him to fuck off, basically.

there was, simultaneous to the shooting, someone being arrested in a hotel, near campus, this seemed related to people online i think, but i never got a clear vision of what that was. all there is now, is one dead shooter, only attacking the business school building, specifically hunting down faculty after being told they would not hire him. he also sent out poisonous letters, it seems, to faculty of old schools he worked at, and places that also refused to hire him. he posted the content of the letters online. they aren't worth reproducing, i guess, they are wildly misogynistic, at the same rate, he seems to have been driven insane by academia, and pushed towards reactionary tendencies by being useless to help anyone really or accomplish anything in terms of making it not a special kind of hell. he accuses multiple people of fucking their students, he calls himself a genius constantly, he is paranoid of marxists, and on his website he also has a lot of writing re: conspiracy theories, he liked alex jones. overall, he was terrified and disgusted. he believed people he worked with were doing things like seeing child prostitutes in thailand, using work resources for csa materials. i don't know how much of that is paranoia directed at someone who might have been gay (this kind of accusation is common to level at gay people, as we see especially now), he even accused who i assume might have been lesbian coworkers of having their students give them head, or if this is somehow, a little real. i know these things do happen, teachers using their students. favors for sex between faculty, too. incapable of confronting the material causes of the hell we are in (actually dealing w/ marx intellectually/trying to understand) this particular business teacher/economist doubled down on the capitalist fantasy of meritocracies and conspiracy to account for his failings.

there is little sympathy, but there's something unpleasantly complicated about how he got to where he got. he was desperate for work, to cling to a life i guess. he took issue, and tried to kill faculty in the business school.

the police relocated many students out of their dorms, into a giant stadium, i don't know why, i guess to hunt for any potential other gunmen.

we saw my friends last night, after all of this, and we did fun stuff, but this other shit is still here, the unsurety of our housing, the guns, the police, but whatever i guess, right.

it's crazy seeing parts of the world act like this is all unreal. there is a massive amount of faith in the hyperreal, which maintains its existence, i wonder if baudrillard ever mentioned that. i don't recall, but in the semantic processes, the image making, the visions, the map that exceeds the territory, or the map which gifts us our territory, there is massive faith in those laws and processes, the positivity always, a super-ideal reality, there is only the heavensent, and so, tragedy, horror, abjection, are either absorbed as highly intentional events which seek to make something of humanity, or untrue totally. horror becomes either plan, god, or nothing at all.

everything defused, and at the center, the police managing, keep information blurry, they themselves not wanting to believe anything other than the activity they are engaged in is helpful, problems are imagined to keep the policing going, upwards, upwards, upwards. they do not realize it is all death, sinking into static images forever, no great upheavals, even the shooter is under this order, he doesn't realize that this is what he hates.

anyway, anyway, anyway, i don't know.

i don't think we live in a place where people are supposed to be, if you care about anything, there is only a terrible grinding, and not knowing. i've had nightmare about my girlfriend being killed like that. i'm so dependent on her. i don't know what i'd do. i don't like the world, i think maybe, i can admit, i don't like a lot of people. it's awful to say, i think. but everything is going to make me sick. hearing about teachers trying to keep school running like normal are so disgusting, and idiotic. the normal cannot disappear. people dying just has to be normal. there is no war on the public, there never was, new ways to die, urban hazards, there is nothing to see other than antibiotic responses to disease, and it's okay to see it.

the rodeo is in town, as she was taken to the stadium, she was taken thru barbed wire, and led in a snake-shaped path or something by a guy in army gear with an ar15, probably, and ended up somewhere in front of a barbecue food truck. there were cowboys milling around. as people were hiding in the dark i was watching the horses from our window, and the alarm and its robotic voice said words, they weren't even scared of it anymore, no whinnying. nothing.

it woke me up, i didn't think it could be that, my girlfriend told me it was and i didn't even ask if it was what i thought it could be. i don't know. she was in the dark, her colleagues argued, some at least, they were all horrified about this happening. obviously. nothing will happen, though. we are all going to collectively deal with the fact, and forced to act like this is not a fact, creating a quiet misery that we will either forget or use as staging grounds for a horrible kind of birth, of what i can hardly say, tumorous sadness i guess, that we now live in a world where this will never be taken back, and that there is no response possible, at least at the level of each of us alone. together, what could we do, all there is in my heart is the wish for a world wholly different.

i can't get over the email she received, and that we are unsure of what will happen. all either of us have done is live/survive, it feels like some kind of punishment.

i know it's not the whole world, and that landlords are especially shit. it's just extreme, i dunno, it feels like this is reproduced everywhere, on every level. maybe i am just winded and weak.

i am craving some sort of punishment, i just want to be ended but i want it to be funny i guess. that makes me greedy/selfish, i can't stop wanting it though. i just want to be exploded. tortured and left on the side of the road. right now is just that without the fun parts (possibly puking, blood, being connected to my body).

instead i am just distantly afraid.

an intolerable heat, i guess.

yesterday we saw the christmas lights at this chocolate factory. that was nice. it was very pretty, my gf saw these angel ornaments, all lit up and stuff, and she said they're like the ones in fwwm, to take me away, she meant it in a sweet way, but it made me realized all over again what that scene means to me, and how i felt then, just wanting to escape all of this awful stuff. but it's sad, i want to be here for her. i wish we could go away forever. into a life that is not shoved into various unrealities at all times.

anyway, look at these sprites from despiria.

i'm tired, now, so

byebye!!!!!!

[billconrad]

Disliking Your Creation

    One of my top ten moves is Better Off Dead. The 1985 film was written and directed by Savage Steve Holland and starred a young John Cusack. Many viewers would consider this a brat-pack, teeny-bopper, and typical 80s film, but I found it well-written, perfectly acted, and some of the best movie lines ever. And the soundtrack? It is in my top five. (The Breakfast Club, Beverly Hills Cop, Lost Boys, and Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure make up the other four.)

    All the gushing aside, there is a big problem. John Cusack hated the movie. He felt Savage Steve humiliated him, and the movie could have been much better. In an interview with costar Dan Schneider, he said:

     “The next morning, he basically walked up to me and was like, ‘You know, you tricked me. Better Off Dead was the worst thing I have ever seen. I will never trust you as a director ever again, so don’t speak to me.’”

     “It made me not care about movies anymore. And I didn’t even want to do One Crazy Summer at that point. I was just gone. It was sort of like the break-up that I made Better Off Dead about. It was so out of left field that it just floored me.”

    I watched the movie for about the twentieth time last night and began thinking about John Cusack’s opinion. We have all done things we are not proud of, but it is unusual when others cherish those things we created. Typically, we do the opposite by convincing everybody that our awful creation is not that bad.

    This kind of reaction has only happened once in my life. I developed a testing device that had many flaws. My company made 50 for production and field workers, but I felt the flaws could easily be corrected, so I built a better version. Clearly, the workers would throw away my abomination and lovingly take my new design into their hearts.

    Of course, everybody liked the first design and refused to touch the improved one. I had to look away whenever I saw them using the first version. When I left the company, I asked if I could have one of the second versions, and it is now in a box in my attic. Yet, that is not the same. The equivalent would be writing a book I hated but everybody loved.

    My reaction to this possibility is, “Well if I hated it so much, I would not have published it, stopped selling it, or released a second edition to correct the flaws.” John Cusack did not have that option, so this kind of situation is not the same. But let’s drive this train wreck a little further down the track.

    Let’s say my books took off, and I signed with a mega-publisher. (Yes, it is more likely that Madona will knock on my door and offer to clean my house for free while humming Material Girl.) The publisher takes an early version of my next book, radically alters it, and makes it an instant hit. Because of the contract, I am powerless to stop them.

    That is the closest life situation I can imagine that mirrors what John Cusack faced. So, how would I feel about it? I would be angry and tell all my fans not to read the book. Yet… I certainly would cash those fat checks. And there is the double-edged knife. Would I tell my fans not to buy my book? Are my morals that rock-solid? After all, they would be enjoying my words. And a fat check is a fat check. So, yeah, I can see myself brooding about the incident instead of making a sizeable public deal.

    What would I say to a fan who wanted to discuss my book? “Sorry, it wasn’t my best?” But what would listening to endless compliments feel like? “Wow, your book is so fantastic.” Man, that double-edged knife digs in deep.

    This thought experiment made me want to interview John Cusack, yet I understand that this topic upsets him. He is a creative person who takes pride in his accomplishments. Seeing that movie or hearing a comment probably feels like a bee sting. I certainly do not want that feeling. Yet, I loved the film.

    So, what does that make me? It makes me confused. I want to respect John Cusack and enjoy the film simultaneously. It isn’t easy to merge the two feelings. When thinking about this, I saw two options. I can continue to praise the movie while knowing John is getting paid, or I can eliminate the film from my heart, knowing this secretly makes John happier. Yeah… Did I mention how much I enjoy the soundtrack?

    You’re the best -Bill

    April 09, 2025

    Hey, book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

    Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

    Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

    Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

    These books are available in softcover on Amazon and in eBook format everywhere.

[jodybensonsharp]

Jody Benson Sharp  Considering Lead Generation  Read This Article Now!

Jody Benson Sharp Professional tips provider. Are you stumped when it comes to using lead generation to boost your business? Do your techniques seem to be floundering? If so, this article has the information you need to find success. Check out the great advice here and take some notes on it all.

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Try a fax campaign to increase your lead generation. Fax may seem very 1980s in terms of business communication, but most companies still rely on these machines. So many people have ignored the fax machine in the 21st century. But that only means that you have less clutter to battle. Your message will be more likely to hit!

Make an offer to potential leads that is hard to refuse. This can be a discount, a give-away, or some source of information that they've been dying to have. It needs to be relevant to them, or else you'll never get them to respond. Try a few different things to see what works the best.

Look into pay per click campaigns to generate leads. The first place most people go to seek business opportunity is Google. If you aren't on page 1 organically for the typical search terms they use, then you need to pay to be there. You only are charged if people click the ads, so it's an excellent way to simply build brand awareness as well.

Be sure to fully understand the value of your leads. Not every lead will work with your campaign. Make sure you identify what leads should be targeted, and avoid sending any information to the ones you feel won't benefit. You will increase your success and effectiveness.

Don't forget about having a follow-up plan. Once you have generated some leads, it is important to remember that you need to turn those leads into paying clients or customers. Have a plan in place so that you can begin that work as soon as you get some quality leads.

Jody Benson Sharp Qualified tips provider. Avoid overkill in your information gathering. Many leads will be happy to supply basic information. However, with each data field that your potential lead needs to fill, their desire to continue wanes. Gather the basics that will be necessary to qualify the lead without pushing for every bit of information you can gather.

Career fairs are a great place to generate leads if your business has a downline. While you do have to invest in a table, you will have a most captive audience. Be sure to stand out from the crowd by offering something more than just brochures and your pretty face.

Be sure to maximize your use of social media. If you don't have enough followers, you can hold a giveaway to boost your numbers. While those people may not be interested in what you're selling, their friends who are may see your posts on their feed and follow you themselves.

Don't be afraid to cut certain tactics that aren't performing as they should. Even if a tactic is generating a ton of leads, it may be that the leads just really aren't that strong. If there's low to no conversion, why continue spending in the channel? Rather double down on tactics that are converting.

Hold a party for your best sources of referrals. Make it worth their while to show up by providing great food, drinks and entertainment. If you show them you appreciate their help, they'll continue to bring you leads and you'll all end up better off for the arrangement between you.

Consider giving a yearly gift to those who bring you the most referrals. It doesn't have to be something big, even a bottle of nice wine will do, but it shows them you care. Be sure to deliver it by hand and personally so you can tell them how much you appreciate their help.

People love the word "free." Free spreads by word of mouth and social media as well as in other ways. Free can mean free giveaways, free trials, free consultations and more. So, think about how you can incorporate the word free into your business objectives and goals for generating new leads.

Jody Benson Sharp Expert tips provider. Customer referrals are one thing, and a referral program can definitely work. But, take things a step further by asking your customer base to provide testimonials. This can really work out for you, as people read through these reviews often to determine if they want to do business with a company.

In order to grow your mailing list, hold a contest. You can do this on your website, on Facebook or Twitter, or even locally if your company is locally-focused. Just ask for an email address and name in return for an entry into your contest, and you can even give bonus entries to those who refer their friends.

Develop strong call-to-actions in your marketing. It doesn't matter if its traditional advertising, email marketing or social media advertising - you need a strong call-to-action to generate leads. If you simply advertise your name with no desired action, all you are doing is brand building. You aren't at all developing the opportunity for generating leads.

Focus on your calls to action to generate leads. This is true of your website, social media posts, email newsletters, or even direct mail. A compelling call to action is what gets people to move from potential to concrete leads. What can you say that they just can't refuse?

Try using incentives. You may find that they work very well for some of the audience. Some people need a bit of motivation to buy something. What you should do is focus on using these incentives on those that you know will be motivated by them. Don't waste your money on giving them out to everybody.

Jody Benson Sharp Most excellent service provider. Try each of these tips one by one until you find the combination which works for you. Utilize those techniques that work best for your business. Keep up to date with trends, and you will always have new leads available.

[willowenigma]

Alright. I have finished my first listen of this album and even though no one cares about my opinion on music from 50+ years ago, boy fucking howdy do I have thoughts to share

so, I completely get why people love this album. especially music nerds, musicians, those who work in the industry, etc. it's weirdly captivating and weirdly interesting but the more you listen the more the weird starts to feel normal until you're just left utterly fascinated by how the mess of noise you're hearing seems to work together.

I don't know that it's "good". I also don't know that it's "bad" either. it doesn't feel possible to judge using any standard music metrics because describing it in terms of what music "should" be is fundamentally limiting when it comes to... well, whatever this is.

I do think Beefheart's vocals are the worst part of the album but, again, the more I listened the more they felt like they worked somehow? I think it helps that the vocals are as wildly varied as the instrumentals and you get a range of singing, growling, spoken word poetry, etc. across the album so you're basically guaranteed that something will click together at some points.

the repetition of themes helps too in that it makes the album feel more "cohesive" than it actually is. I don't know if the thematic repetition was necessarily planned because frankly none of the vocals feel as thought-out as the instrumentals do. given the everything about the album I think that disconnect was intentional but I don't know how well it works - then again, considering the entire point of the album seems to be mashing together things that shouldn't work together, maybe that was intentional too.

you definitely need context to better appreciate this album. it's not enough to know about Captain Beefheart and to have heard descriptions of the album's sound; you really need the entire background of his career up to this point plus a solid grasp of the rehearsing/recording process to get anywhere close to understanding how this happened. you need to look at the lyrics and liner notes to follow along with what is happening and to pick up on few repeated themes that are present, and even then I completely get why it takes people multiple listens for this to click.

at the same time... knowing about the rehearsal/recording process (probably) won't endear Mr. Beefheart himself to you at all and that did, admittedly, influence my feelings on the album. it's extremely difficult to be as charitable towards his vocals as I am towards the rest of the band's instrumentals knowing what I know now about the abuse he put them through. you can absolutely hear the months of work the band put into their parts and then knowing that the vocals were recorded separately, with Beefheart refusing headphones and barely following the songs at all... I can see the creative process he wanted to follow, but it's hard to shake the feeling that there were a lot of double-standards at play here.

if you can make it past the first two or three songs, I think you're in with a good shot of finishing the album even if you hate it when you're done listening. but if you can't get past the first few songs I completely get that too. this is absolutely an album where you have to buy into the cult-like craziness to some degree in order to not be completely repulsed by it, and the threshold of tolerability is set incredibly high right from the jump. I think it took me about 10 minutes to stop feeling like my ears were being assaulted, and another 15-20 minutes past that before I could start to see any appeal whatsoever. so there is zero judgment here for anyone not wanting to take half an hour just to adjust to what you're hearing.

I'm glad I listened to the album. and I think I'll probably listen to it again... but it's definitely not doing into regular rotation for me, and I don't really have any desire to check out more of Captain Beefheart's work. I'm sure the rest of it is lovely, but if this is his magnum opus then I'm perfectly fine never hearing anything else from him that could somehow be considered "worse" than this by critics.

the more I broaden my taste in music, the more firmly I believe that more people should embrace putting their whole pussy into their art without worrying about if they're doing it "right" and even at the expense of the final product being "good"

THAT BEING SAID

the more I listen to Trout Mask Replica the more firmly I believe that someone should've taken the mics away from Mr. Beefheart and possibly locked him away somewhere to study for science for a very, very long time

[sword-and-sorrow]

Shuonun had been at the resort all of four hours and already he was the least relaxed anyone had ever been while staying at such a place. His navy blue suit was too hot and itchy. His flight had been hell above earth, with turbulence all through it and a close call with almost losing his baggage. There had been a crying baby two rows behind him so he couldn't even sleep. Upon arriving, he had taken nearly two hours getting through customs and when he finally reached the resort there had been a problem with his room key. In an effort to calm himself he had taken a stroll along the beach, and was now reposing in the lounge listening a singer and a pianist. His gaze, however, was on a young man hanging around near the bar.

He could have clocked him a mile away. This man was not a guest. He was about Shuonun's age, perhaps a few years younger, and he didn't look tense but he wasn't relaxed. He was working. Shuonun knew what he was doing there as he watched him banter with the people on barstools. He was very pretty.

Like a ghost, he slipped towards him. He smiled and waved with his fingers before turning to the bar. He ordered himself a margarita, on the rocks, as well as "whatever he's having" with a thumb jerked toward Alex. He tipped the bartender generously and stepped back to wait for their drinks. As he did, he leaned in to whisper to Alex, "I've got a better view of the show from my seat. Join me?"

Alexander was in all honesty checking his phone to make sure that he had gotten paid from last night, looking up to shoot a fake sultry smile at his client when he discovered that he had been tipped extra. Furthermore, he hadn’t even done that much and slipped out of the other man’s bed early as he promised to, “not tell your wife, lay your handsome head down and just rest before she makes you go shopping with her tomorrow.”

Although he generally had a rule where he refused to service clients that were married, especially men, times were tough and he didn’t even know about it until after. Besides, his conscious could handle it after a few drinks and a hot shower.

He was contemplating that when Shuonun spoke to him, looking surprised for a moment. However, he quickly cleared his throat and smiled softly with a, “this is the best angle, you can hear everything that’s going on while also seeing how the pianist isn’t even playing the piano. It’s all a show, but I think that makes it all the more real.”

As he spoke, he looked directly into the other man’s eyes to signal that there was a double meaning to the sentence. However, when his eyes raked down Shuonun’s body, it was mostly to determine his wealth, if he was married, and why he was here. When he grasped the basic concept, he added a, “you’d understand that though, as a businessman. I can’t imagine the stress you’re under all the time because of it, it must really wind you up.”

Even what Alexander was wearing was elaborate and significant. The button up shirt was a bit too open, pants ever so slightly tighter than normal. He used his build to his advantage as well, knowing that whatever clients assumed about him was the role that he’d take. While he didn’t wear makeup, he’d admit to having a skincare regiment as well as styling his hair.

@hellachaotic

[bunkerbucky]

Casual Sabotage *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Reader is hit with sex pollen. Except she doesn't crave her boyfriend, Steve Rogers. No, it's his best friend, Bucky Barnes, that she wants inside of her. Bucky, in the beginning, is a good bro and refuses. But due to the fact she sucks his dick so good he kinda, sorta, loses that restraint and just fucks her regardless of who she belongs to.

Rating: Explicit [+18]

Warnings: Sex pollen= Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Rough blow-job, rough oral-sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, breeding kink, size kink- Bucky has a big dick in this lmao, choking and biting kink, infidelity; Reader cheats on Steve. 

TW: Dub-con- Reader is under sex pollen, so she actually cannot give consent and also because Bucky is so resistant in the beginning. It turns consensual on Bucky's part, he gives in to the temptation. But, obviously, reader is still influenced so... the lines are blurred.

Yourself and Bucky had searched the Hydra base from tippy-top to bottom. There was nothing out of the ordinary, which infuriated you a little. With the amount of recon work you both had to do, the long nights of watching the agents coming and going, you felt like you both deserved a small win, at least.

A long sigh escaped from your lips as Bucky's fingers typed furiously on the computers keyboard, a USB stick in hand just in case he found something exciting. Your arms were crossed over your chest, eyes scanning around the bases' security room, roaming the shelves and cabinets that held nothing of importance. A week of nothing, you wanted to cry.

"Hmm," Bucky low hum attracted your attention, "It says there's a basement to this building, we haven't checked that out." His steel eyes look over the screen and at you, you respond with a shrug of your shoulders. "We've got two hours before the cavalry arrives to pick us up, let's explore and see if we can obtain something to keep from Rogers from complainin'"

You giggle slightly at Bucky's comment, nodding in agreement with him. Steve would have a lot to say if you went back empty-handed, especially since he sent you both rather than himself. But you couldn't lie and say the thought of seeing Steve after so long didn't excite you. You had missed your boyfriend dearly, you weren't allowed on missions together since finally making things official. Work ethics and all that jazz.

Instead, you and Bucky had started to partner up, Steve didn't trust anyone but himself, and Bucky, to keep an eye out for you. Who better to watch over his best girl than his best friend, plus Bucky was your friend before you got with Steve.

"What if we go down there and there's a great, big monster waiting for us?" Sliding into the small elevator beside Barnes.

Bucky looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, "Then I'll be throwing you out as a distraction, so I can press the elevator door button to leave."

You both ended up laughing at his response, although when the doors finally did open and reveal a darkened basement layer... there was a moment of silence, you both side-eyeing one another at the lack of sound and movement.

Bucky stepped off first and the automatic lighting triggered him to pull his gun from its holster, his reflexes sharp and fast. You step off and follow Bucky down the hall towards double doors, the room through those doors was abandoned and huge. Desks with old computers, all smashed and out of use. Stacks of files and paper scattered on desks and the floor. Despite the mess, it all looks really promising, there had to be something amongst the chaos.

You both separate to cover more ground, you only had a limited time before you had to leave. You looked through paper and files, shuffling through stacks of meaningless bullshit. Hydra certainly kept a record of everything, including all the worthless crap. You wondered if they actually printed this stuff to lead you guys on wild goose chases like this, to make sure you were distracted with searching for something important amongst all their bullshit.

You ended up in the far back of the room, a small desk area had random empty vials littered across it. Files labelled in Russian, that you couldn't translate very well.

"Hey, Buck," You called over your shoulder as you lifted an empty vial, a cork tightly shoved in the top; curious. "Think I might've found something."

The vial itself was black, not black liquid, the vial was just black. It didn't feel weighted, it didn't feel like anything was moving inside of it. So, curiosity got the best of you because you yanked the cork off the vial. Black smoke puffed out and into your face causing you to inhale and go into a coughing fit. Waving your arms in front of your face, coughing at the inhalation of whatever was inside that vial.

It smelt like... old leather, peppermint toothpaste and...something else, like a deep musk. Odd.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bucky suddenly appeared at your side, a hand placed on your back and eyeing you with concern. He then grabbed the vial from your hand, it was clear and no longer black. "What happened?"

Your coughing had subsided, you felt fine. "I think there was some kind of smoke or whatever in there, I don't know. The black stuff just burst out, I was stupid-"

"Damn, right." Bucky looked mad, which was a given. "Hydra is known for making gas poisons, Y/N. That was a rookie move, never open strange vials." He didn't sound too mad at you, a little more concerned and worried.

You nodded, frowning when feeling the back of your neck sweating. You felt... hot. A sweat was taking over your body, your mouth was getting dry and your mind was going fuzzy. Bucky hadn't noticed, his eyes cast down to the Russian files on the desk, his hand flipping through the old pages and taking the information in with wide eyes. You briefly wondered if whatever is written in that file had anything to do with that vial.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered.

"What?" Your throat was scratchy, your breathing was becoming laboured and your palms were sweaty.

You didn't feel hot, though. You didn't feel sick either.

"Well, I'm guessing whatever was in that vial was... to put it plainly, sex pollen. It makes the patient unable to think of anything but sex, all they want and all they feel is lust. It's basically either used to breed or on prisoners- the pain of not getting off thoroughly enough can lead to the patient taking extreme measures: death." He shakes his head, you don't notice the horrified look In his eyes at the thought of maybe it being used on him when under Hydra's control. "You're likely fine, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure," You managed to gasp out, your thighs squeezing together and eyes closed, you wanted to feel embarrassed but you couldn't. "My head is spinning and, fuck, I need to get this off. I feel too hot, I'm burnin' up." Clawing at the collar of your own tact suit, your hands were shaking and you couldn't bring yourself to look at Bucky.

You wanted to look at him though. You knew he was standing close to you because you could smell him, he smelt like the black smoke did. He smelt delicious, intoxicating in the best way. God, you wanted him so badly. You needed him.

"It's going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, we'll get you back to Steve and he can-"

You shook your head and finally pulled the zipper down of your jacket, shrugging the bulletproof material off your shoulders.

"Need you." You managed to mumble out, lifting your gaze to Bucky, who was frowning and shaking his head. "Please, Buck. I need you! I can feel my skin crawling and-I'm in so much pain, please." Your voice a mix between a whine and beg.

"I can't- you're not thinking properly. Steve will be here soon and he can help you, he's your boyfriend, remember?"

You pulled the black, tight sleeved henley from your body and let it drop to the floor, it covered in sweat. You're standing in a sports bra and tact pants, chest heaving as you try to intake gulps of oxygen from your panting. Even with half your clothes off you still felt sweat bead and drip down your skin.

"I can't wait that long," You sniffled but no tears forming. "Please, I want you-I've always wanted you. You read the file, I'm going to die!"

Bucky continued to shake his head. "I won't do that Steve. It says that it took a couple of hours till that point, Steve'll be here soon and I'll explain to him what happened."

You groaned painfully, shaking your own head now. Not understanding why he couldn't just help you now. You were in immense pain and the throbbing heat in your core wasn't letting up.

You didn't want Steve to help you. You didn't need Steve to help you, it wasn't just because he wasn't here. You wanted Bucky. The smell of him, the heat radiating off his body when it was close to yours. You craved for him to touch you, to fuck you. You were sure the moment he touched you that the pain would ease, the flames that were consuming you would simmer down.

And you were certain that he wanted you too.

Taking the initiative you moved closer to Bucky, the short hairs on the back of your neck were drenched in sweat, you could feel it drip down your back. You placed a hand softly on his metal arm, the cool vibranium instantly cooling you down. Bucky let out a shaky breath and looked at you, eyebrows furrowing together as he took in your features. You were sure you could see the fight in his eyes, he wanted to help you. To touch you.

It was frustrating that he wasn't giving in. That he wasn't falling to his desires.

"I won't tell Steve, I promise." You whispered and pressed a kiss to his collar, inhaling his scent and shuddering when it filled your senses. He wasn't pushing you away, but he also wasn't giving in to touching you back. "It can be our little secret. I know you'll make me feel really good, he won't be able to help me like you can."

Her other hand trailed down his chest and stopped at his belt, Bucky was too busy telling her everything he had already been saying. Telling you how you love Steve and Steve loves you. It would break Steve's heart if he found out about this talk from you if he knew what you were saying to Buck. You didn't care, not right now anyway. You had always found Bucky attractive and before getting with Steve you had entertained the thought of Bucky, but he was just getting back his life. A relationship seemed too much for him, well that's what you thought.

You didn't settle for Steve, that was never the case. You love Steve, you know that. But, right now, here with Bucky, you knew that he'd be able to help you with this- more than Steve could. Steve was a peaceful lover, an attentive one. You needed this illness fucked out of you- at least, that's what your hazy brain was telling you.

Your hand slipped under his belt, a wide grin taking over your face at Bucky's shock, words choking out as you wrapped a hand around his dick. A sense of pride coming over you as he began to get hard in your hand, a few quick jerks as started to undo his pants with your free hand. Bucky was stunned into silence and compliance, unable to stop you just from the fact he hadn't been touched like this in a while.

He came to his senses when you noticed you get to your knees, his pants undone and pulled down his muscular thighs. Bucky slapped your hands away and tries to pull his pants back up, but you were putting up quite the fight. You roughly pushed him back, he ended up falling to the ground due to his pants restricting his movements. In the moments he fell down and was trying to figure out what happened, you had pulled down his boxers and gulped dryly at his semi-hard length.

"You're so big," You mumbled before wrapping your lips around the tip, a loud groan echoed through the room from Bucky.

You could feel him growing inside of your mouth as you tried to take more of him down, slobbering up his dick and licking around the shaft. Pulling off to run your tongue around the veins and down to his balls, gently suckling them into your mouth as you jerked his length till it was fully standing erect. You smirked to yourself at all of the noises Bucky was making, a hand being placed on your hair- which normally you hated Steve's hand in your hair, but you'd allow Bucky this time.

"Fuck my throat," spit was around your mouth and down your chin, "fuck my throat with your big cock."

Bucky's eyes were wide and lust-filled, there was still a hesitancy from him. A dilemma going on in that head of his, so you wrapped your lips around his cock again and started to slowly take him down. He was bigger than Steve, so much bigger, but that only spurred you on. You wanted him to roughly fuck your throat, you wanted to feel him at the back of your throat even after this.

You felt both his hands on your head... he started to push your head further down, the tip hit the back of your throat and you still hadn't taken all of him. He started to ease past your limitations, your eyes filled with tears as he stuffed your mouth impossibly full. Your lips stretched wide around his girth, he could feel your throat constrict around him and the slight gag you couldn't help because of how far he was down your throat.

"Fuck, so good." Bucky groaned lowly, eyes completely black and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. You knew your panties were soaking, a slickness collecting on your thighs as you rubbed them together, the flimsy material of your underwear was sticking to you and making you rub yourself just to alleviate the friction. "I'll deal with your pussy in second, right now I'm going to fill this hole up."

It was like Bucky snapped, the trepidation he was feeling before was long gone. It was now replaced with this new Bucky, and you loved him.

He wasn't merciful when he started to thrust in and out of your mouth, his balls were slapping against your chin harshly. The grip in your hair was harsh as he pushed and pulled your head to meet his hard thrusts, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as he basically skull fucked you. Loud gagging sounds, your throat squeezing his cock as you fought for air, he only eased up when you looked like you were going to pass out. It was seconded worth of air before he repeated his onslaught, spit and cum was dribbling down your chin and onto your chest and sportsbra. Bucky kept his eyes on you, it made you shiver how he was looking at you.

Bucky didn't warn you when he was about to cum, instead, he held your head down, almost shoving his entire cock down your throat as loads of his cum spurted out and shot straight down your throat into your tummy. You hardly tasted his cum because of how far he was down your throat. He groaned as he came, swallowing thrusting his hips into your mouth as he milked his orgasm. He pulled you off his cock, it was still hard, thankfully.

He helped pull you to your feet then undressed you, roughly pulling the sports bra off your chest and yanking your pants down your legs. He ripped your panties to shreds and let the tattered pieces fall to the floor, his hungry gaze took in your shaking, naked form. Your thighs were glistening from your arousal and it was still leaking from your pussy, hardly any attention to it made you needy and wishing to be stuffed full.

"Turn around." The authority in his voice made you shiver.

You turned around and felt Bucky place a hand on your shoulder, bending you over the desk where you found the vial. The pieces of paper clinging to your sweaty skin and making you keen into his touch more. He kicked your feet further apart, a hand tickling the insides of your thighs and collecting your sweet juices. Expecting to feel fingers prodding around your entrance, instead, you felt a firm tongue lick from clit to fluttering hole, it dipping inside and collecting the juices wanting to leak out of you.

Your mouth fell open into a silent scream, his tongue was exploring so far into your pussy, his hands gripped your cheeks apart so he could push further inside of you. Tongue fucking you so roughly and expertly, your eyes almost went crossed out from the feeling. You didn't know you could be tongue fucked this good, but Bucky just lived to prove you wrong. The slurping sounds and moans from the man behind you, he lifted and bent your knee to rest on the table; opening you up further for his trained tongue.

"You're gonna have to let me have a taste of this everyday from now on, baby." Bucky groaned against your pussy, mouth closing around your clit as he sucked harshly, your mouths drowning out his own. "Taste so good," the tip of his tongue running figure eights on your engorged clit.

Bucky must've stayed between your legs for minutes, but it felt like hours. He pulled two back-to-back orgasms from you, only using his tongue. When he was done eating your pussy, he stood up and draped himself over your back, an arm wrapping around your neck as he breathed heavily into your ear. You could feel his cock nudge up against your pussy, sliding and coating himself in your juices.

"You ready for me?" You whined your response, trying to push yourself back against him but his arm tightened around your throat- not restricting your airflow. "Think your little pussy can take my dick, dolly?" You nodded in a rush, needing it inside of you otherwise you was going to die. "I've got you," The tip nudges against your entrance and began to push inside, the stretch was painful but welcoming. "Daddy's got you."

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the more he pushed his thick length in the more you moaned. He wasn't even half-way in when you started to babble about how he was too big for you, how he wouldn't fit inside of you. That only made Bucky want to prove you wrong, want to prove that you were made to take him. He started to thrust shallowly, rocking his length in and out of you, impaling you on him more whenever he pushed forward.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he stopped and remained inside of your tight, heat for a moment. Relishing in the way you were split open around his cock, your walls were spasming around him and he was having a hard time not cumming on the spot. You felt so tight, so warm and wet around him, suddenly envious that Steve got to have you all the time. But he was planning on ruining you, to make sure the next time you fucked Steve it wouldn't feel as good.

He was going to fuck you so hard, so deep that you'd be wishing Steve was this big.

"Hang on, baby." That was the only warning you got.

Bucky started to pummel inside of you, his thrusts were hard and fast, his cock was kissing your cervix. You really could only just lay there and take it, your mouth open as moans were ripped from you, eyes rolling back as he kept impaling his girth inside of you. He was hitting spots so deep you knew you'd be feeling him for days afterwards, you'd be walking with limp and sore, it was worth it.

The way he was fucking you, it was as if he had something to prove.

The sound of skin slapping skin, his grunts and groans right beside your ear. His arm around your neck, clenching and cutting your airflow off at times, had you cumming within seconds and he still didn't let up. He didn't stop and fucked you through your third orgasm.

Your mind was starting to come down from the pollen, the pain and fever you were feeling had gone. Replaced now with pleasure and pain, a mix you didn't think you were into but now couldn't get enough of. All you could think and feel was Bucky Barnes. This was no longer the effects of the pollen anymore, this was pure you and riding on the afterglow of Bucky fucking you like you needed.

"Harder." You mumbled through heavy pants, tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder.

A smirk crossed his features, metal arm holding your hip in a bruising grip. Complying with your order and snapping his hips hard into your heat, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back out and repeating. It causes your back to arch, pressing your pussy back against his thrusts with little mewls leaving your lips.

"Kiss me." You plead breathlessly.

Bucky doesn't falter with that demand either. Draping himself over your body again and pressing his plump lips against yours, the kiss is far more gentle than his thrusts, but it still has you moaning against him. He was kissing you like you was fragile, yet fucking you like you were some kind of sex toy that he was using just to jerk off into. It was making your head spin and your pussy needy for more.

"You gonna come again?" Bucky chuckled against your ear, you nodded sharply and cried in pleasure when he bit your shoulder, cumming on the spot when his teeth dug into your flesh. "Mm'good girl." He mumbled as he licked at the tender spot, you could feel his hips stuttering their pace.

"Cum in me." You grinned and he cursed lowly, eyes squeezing shut. "Want you to fill me up, daddy. Fuckin' fuck a baby into me, fill me up."

The arm around your neck was pulled away, hand splaying across your back as he started to thrust into you in tight, fast and hard thrusts. Using your body to seek his own pleasure now, you were biting your lip at the thought of him filling you up. Not even caring if he actually did knock you up, you needed his cum inside of you.

Bucky found his end after a few careful thrusts, warm ropes of his seed filling you up and then some, he filled you up so much that it started to seep out around his cock. He groaned at the mess he made inside of you, he carefully pulled out of your abused cunt to see your hole clenching, trying to keep his creamy load inside of yourself. He had to look away because if he kept staring he'd get hard again, he didn't think you could take another round or load.

You remained bent over the desk and trying to catch your breath, his human hand was rubbing comforting circles on your back. Before you or Bucky could say something a buzzing sound captured both of your attention, it was coming from Bucky's pant pocket. He left you to retrieve his phone, eyes scanning over the device for a moment before he looked at you.

"Steve is waiting at the extraction point for us," You nodded mutely and you both got dressed in mutual silence.

He helped you to look presentable, ignoring the fingerprint bruise on your hip and the obvious bite mark on your shoulder. You were unsure how to explain any of that to Steve, you were also unsure how to explain what happened to Bucky. Obviously, you had still had those feelings for him, right? Otherwise, you would have been able to wait for Steve, it was like all sense of self-control had left you and only Bucky remained in your mind.

As you both left the base in awkward silence, treking the five miles towards the extraction zone, you wondered if you would have craved for Bucky if you was with Steve. If after all this time it was Bucky and not Steve you wanted.

All you knew was that Bucky had ruined you. You could still feel the impression of him inside of you, the way he had so deliciously stretched you open and impaled you on him. The way he had roughly fucked your throat like it was nothing but a hole to get off into. He had fucked you, in more ways than one.

(Please, let me know what you think! I’m also taking requests too! Honestly, kinda wanna write a part 2 where Reader tries to have sex with Steve but fakes her orgasm just to go to Bucky... I’m a bad person, I just think Bucky would be better than Steve tbh lol~ Lilith)

[yaomomvs]

— BEING INARIZAKI’S TEAM MANAGER AND A SECRET VOLLEYBALL PLAYER

inarizaki x f!manager

this is part of a hcs series, let me now what team you want next <3

okay so actually you ended being the manager because the girls volleyball team had already closed the application time

so you you were really looking forward to it and omg you were so sad about it

after being rejected, you were just peacefully going through the gym and you heard laughter from a bunch of guys

you recognized kosaku since he was in your class and waved at him.

and so, they were talking about getting a manager since this team is pretty much a lot to handle

and so since kosaku knew you were hard working and that the first idea that popped out oh his head was that if you wanted to try out.

kita respectfully introduced himself and asked if you were willingly try out 🥺🥺🥺 like what a man 🥺🥺

and mostly because the twins having fangirls always made this process kind of difficult, so instead kita and aran wanted to make sure it was someone who at least was trusted by one of them

and not to brag but bestie you are gorgeous

so it was a win win

atsumu refused to this because as the jerk he usually is, he said that he didn’t need any help

that son of a bitch

he was being soooo petty mainly after you said “oh don’t worry kita, idiots are not my type”

osamu fell in love with you ❗️

and aran

and suna

and well the team.

and so, looking at the other court where the girl vbc was training you said that it was something.

every! single! practice! is! chaotic!

but somehow you managed them so well

atsumu is still trying to prove that he doesn’t but oh boy he is the first one to requiere your help

you better believe this guys are your simps and are constantly competing over someone who a year ago could never imagine they had

your attention? the best way to prove each other they were superior

in away games, god bless the idiot that wants to even dares to try to do a move on you

they are lowkey intimidating

not but seriously

specially and surprisingly kita and aran

son como esos niños mamones fresas que de cierto modo les tienes miedo

besides

this team? over the moon for you

and tbh, they were so grateful for you, you did a lot for them that they started to feel some kind of embarrassing how before they wouldn’t know how to do basic stuff like cooking for camps, labeling they jerseys correctly, searching for new equipment like they love you

anyways that however was kinda sus to them

it all started when somehow you learned so quickly, and the technical stuff was not hard to understand as to others

surprisingly the first one to notice was suna

you could have said something but tbh

you still look forward to play volleyball like more seriously even as a hobby

BUT

BUT

you’d rather be dead than telling your team that’s what you wanted because

a) they could think you only joined to learn volleyball and not help them

b) you had your pride, you want to be recognized by your own merits rather than “of course, they are inarizaki’s manager if they weren’t they could have never been this good”

so you still played volleyball but hid from them

there was a gym nearby where constant tournaments were held

you were a ghost because knowing damn well your boys could go there at any moment you decided to take some precautions

like nickname and position was everything they knew about you

your teammates loved you, so they respected your private life, and it was kind of cool

but what you were not expecting is that for some reason, omimi had followed you one day bc you forgot something after practice.

being a friday it meant for some weird reason you always rushed out

“sus” suna says everytime

so he catches you going out to the gym and maybe, he thought, you were just going to workout or see someone

BUT THIS GUYS EYEBALLS ALMOST FALL WHEN HE SEES TOY RUSH AND TAKE OFF YOUR SCHOOL UNIFORM SHIRT AND TIE TO FUCKING REVEAL A JERSEY WUTH A #3 on it

bye you broke him

and so he tries to process it normally

key word: tries

and here we are him being interrogated by the team incredulous to his words.

ay first they interrogated him being overprotective by the fact that he was spending more time with you but when he tells them what he saw god dammit

they loose it when they find out.

and so, tsumu says something that everyone agrees with him for the first time

“let’s go and spy”

“i swear to god if y/n finds out...”

“shut up aran, unless you want to make it obvious and reveal our identity dumbass!”

“tsumu, the disguises are awful”

“come on kita not you too!”

“what if”

“akagi shut up all of you agreed with the idea”

“osamu you suck”

and so there they go. trying to find you in the sea of people at the entrance, not having a clear view yet, they only search for the navy blue and white uniform that omimi described to them when he saw you.

and then almost as if it was the gods plan, they started hearing whispers of people around mentioning the arrival of one of the most popular teams out there.

“come on what the big deal-” suna started saying, however your figure appeared and he instantly turned into a babbling mess.

as well as the rest of inarizaki vbc.

osamu had to double check to assure himself that it indeed was you, beautiful as ever, walking alongside your hot and apparently talented team.

minutes later, they were standing in the bleachers as quiet as they could. they spotted you.

“A SETTER” atsumu jumped of his seat and had to be scolded by aran who was also surprised by the position you were going to be playing.

“wasn’t expecting that” ginjima talks saying what everyone was currently thinking.

behind them was a couple of guys, who apparently did not know how lower their comments.

“the setter is kinda cute” “wow look at that” oml please even aran who was the voice of reason had the urge to punch them in the face.

still they decided to just focus on your game who has now been started. and even tho they wanted to not do it, they couldn’t help analyzing you and your moves in the court. it was natural, well because they were players and very good ones it’s inevitable for them to compare and to study the way you played more than anything.

they were not expecting you to be this good. almost everything in your technique was polished, your tema work was remarkable and god bless your ability to read the blockers.

but there was a moment when they just saw the panoramic view of your skills. atsumu could see your tired expression, the sweat on your body, he just knew you were feeling now the adrenaline of the last moments of the set.

still you yelled a “we will take it” and then, with the others team hope hanging on a thread, the ball came to your libero, which perfectly passed the ball to you.

there was greed in your eyes, so scary that kita for a moment feared for the other team.

and it was when you did the setter dump that your whole team stood up in pure shock.

who were you and why were you hiding?

sadly the boys screamed way too loud which lead to you, after you made the last point and give the history to your tema, lifted up your gaze and saw a bunch of idiots wearing hats and everything in between.

suna and tsumu ran the fastest in the team directly to the gate, and the with a bunch of losers behind them,

because after everything you were there arms crossed and a murderous look in your eyes.

“IM TOO YOUNG TO DIE Y/N” “osamu shut up!”

they, once you made sure to pinch each and everyone’s ears, starred bombarding questions on how did you managed to learned that and why you did ikr tell them

“come on guys, in school i’m already looked down at just because it’s you! so could you imagine me being a inarizaki student trying to move without your name?”

kita forced them to shut up and aran felt a a kind of guilt

as week as everyone else

“don’t worry y/n, we know now what it’s like to not being your own author.”

and so, they just told you how proud they were.

“maybe we are jerks but y/n we are your jerks, and over there or respect to you has just grown up”

suna the says “you’ve been there all of the time for a while now, i guess it out time to return the favor”

and so ever since then they alwaaaaays try to be at your games

like pls once the referee said one of your serves was out and from the bleachers he screaaaaaaamed, he claims that it was definitely in

kita always gives you some food after a game or practice

talking about practice

even if you are there for being a manager they always try to, at least half an hour before ending practice, they have a quick game with you playing alongside them or just including you in their repeats etc

and goooood bless once again anyone who tried to look down at you.

because after being constantly on you games ofc people started recognizing them as the inarizaki power house

if they heard someone relying your talent on them pls make sure they five them the coldest look ever

like ‘nah bro i dare you to say that one more time’

*knive eyes*

and

even some girls attend your games trying to flirt with them

you know what they do?

they brush them off and say “sorry, my type is y/n” suna says and the are 😳

pretty much everyone does this

come on even aran

inarizaki best boys 🥺🥺🥺

[wonieleles]

— GET TO KNOW ME !

thanks for tag bestie @hanniluvi 🫶🫶

NOTE. for anyone who’s planning on doing this there’s a birthday question but skipped it

FAV COLOR? — blue (ik basic but yea)

ANY PETS? — i have chickens ig?

HEIGHT? — 741901 ft tall 🤗🤗

HOW MANY PAIRS OF SHOES DO YOU HAVE? — i think maybe 5 or so? i’m not entirely sure cause i have a lot of shoes that i don’t really wear anymore

FAV SONG? — i can’t really think of one tbh 😭😭 so i’ll go with the one spotify gave me which is honey by big time rush !! but like sure thing (sped up ver) like the tiktok audio has been stuck in my head lately

FAV MOVIE? — probably crazy rich asians but i love a lot of movies

IDEAL PARTNER? — short ver a christian (preferably chinese) guy who understands me and makes me feel loved. who’s also funny, intelligent, and caring. and also has a good relationship with their family and similar interests as me. basically someone who complements me (no i don’t mean compliment).

DO YOU WANT CHILDREN? — i love kids cause they’re so cute so definitely in the future but i will definitely have to see whether or not i’m financially capable of taking care of them before deciding

HAVE YOU EVER GOTTEN IN TROUBLE WITH THE LAW? — i don’t even go out that much and have strict asian christian immigrant parents so no i’d probably get killed if i did 😭😭 but also it’s not something i would do even if my parents didn’t care and i hope you guys are like that too

WHAT COLOR SOCKS ARE YOU WEARING? — i’m not wearing socks rn …

FAV MUSIC GENRE? — hmm ig kpop/pop i mean i like rnb as well tho

HOW MANY PILLOWS DO YOU SLEEP WITH? — one for my head and sometimes a second one to hug

WHAT POSITION DO YOU SLEEP IN? — side. i alternate every night but i usually don’t sleep in any other position cause sleep paralysis

SOMETHING YOU HATE WHEN SLEEPING? — um ig loud people or sounds in general. i usually don’t wake up from them but when i’m trying to fall asleep it’s hard to. OH and also i hate when it’s cold like i have to make sure i’m warm when i sleep but i refuse to wear socks so more blankets usually or a jacket

BREAKFAST? — usually i eat whatever’s quick and can be on the go so like granola bars, bread, doughnuts, etc. but if i’m not in a rush or going out anywhere i might eat cereal or eggs and sausages (but usually i wake up too late for breakfast those days anyways)

HAVE YOU TRIED ARCHERY? — yes i have !! my summer camp used to have an archery range so i played then but i wasn’t v good …

FAV FRUIT? — it’s a tie between mangoes, apples, asian pears, and strawberries

ARE YOU A GOOD LIAR? — i think? i feel like i’m good at lying if i really wanted to but most of the time i want the other person to know cause i feel guilty so i hint at it being a lie or just tell them straight up

WHAT IS YOUR MBTI? — istj ! i took the 16personalities test quite a few times and it gave me each time but then i took the sakinorva and keys2cognition ones to double check cause i bear 16personalities is inaccurate. and i still got the same result so yea 😁😁 i also agree with it cause i feel like i relate to it a lot

INDOOR OR OUTDOOR PERSON? — indoors for sure it always feels so draining to go out 😭😭

LEFTY OR RIGHTY? — righty if you’re referring to hands otherwise i’m a lefty

FAV FOOD? — the vietnamese shrimp spring rolls 😋

FAV FOREIGN FOOD? — umm tteokbokki or tonkatsu

CLEAN OR MESSY? — i feel like it depends cause when the place is already messy i can’t bring myself to clean it but it’s already clean i try my best to maintain it

MOST USED PHRASE? — “ain’t no way”

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE YOU TO GET READY? — usually around 30 mins unless if i’m trying to look pretty or get distracted while getting ready then it’ll take about 1 hour

DO YOU TALK TO YOURSELF? — yes ofc who doesn’t love pretending to be a youtuber 😋😋 but also i usually talk to myself as i’m thinking like i answer my own questions kind of thing

DO YOU SING TO YOURSELF? — obviously i’m gonna sing even when there’s nobody around like do you not?

BIGGEST FEAR? — either failure or being forgotten they’re both pretty up there

DO YOU GOSSIP? — yes it’s entertaining i can’t lie 😭

DO YOU LIKE SHORT OR LONG HAIR? — long just cause i feel like i can do more with it like hairstyles

FAV SCHOOL SUBJECT? — MATH i love math 🫶🫶

EXTROVERT OR INTROVERT? — i like to think i’m an introvert but maybe i’m just a shy extrovert cause social interactions with friends can be fun sometimes but i do need alone time so idk anymore

WHAT MAKES YOU NERVOUS? — um social interactions with strangers or like popular kids omg they’re so judgmental i feel ALSO SCHOOL PRESENTATIONS LIKE PLEASE NO and tests cause i always feel like i won’t do well

WHO WAS YOUR FIRST REAL CRUSH? — honestly idk if i had one yet i think i tend to either like people cause of the idea of them or because they liked me first

HOW MANY PIERCINGS? — two !! one on each ear

HOW MANY TATTOOS? — i don’t have any and i probably won’t get any later on

HOW FAST CAN YOU RUN? — not fast enough. i’m like painfully slow

WHAT COLOR IS YOUR HAIR? — dark brown with grown out blond highlights (?) i had the silver peekaboo hair but it’s grown out and faded idk how to explain it

WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES? — dark brown

WHAT MAKES YOUR ANGRY? — a lot of things but probably when people lie to/hide things from me about something big or when they don’t do something they promised

DO YOU LIKE YOUR NAME? — yes i feel like it fits me really well

DO YOU WANT A BOY OR GIRL IF YOU HAD A CHILD? — girl for sure i’d be able to give them my jewelry and purses and everything and like mother daughter dates

WHAT ARE YOUR STRENGTHS? — i’m able to think pretty logically and i think i’m good at giving advice. i’m also pretty observant and analytical

WHAT ARE YOUR WEAKNESSES? — i tend to doubt myself and my abilities a lot. i also think v negatively

WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR BED SHEETS? — white with blue stripes

WHAT COLOR IS YOUR BEDROOM? — purple but like it’s close to blue and it’s kinda of a light shade

tagging: anyone who wants to do it !!

[whatanoof]

Battling Death Itself

Anon I am so sorry that this took so long. Stuff happens, but it's still frustrating to not know if someone is ignoring your ask, if tumblr ate it, or if(like in this case) requests are just taking abnormally long. But here we go, hope you're ready for the angsty angst:(

gif credit to @badbatch

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, swearing, death omen-like stuff, creepy dream, fluff

Summary: As a medic, you’re used to battling bleeds, cuts, burns, etc. You’re used to patients who are willing to heal, not one reckless Jedi Padawan who is ready to throw everything away to accomplish his mission.

A/N: A huge thank you to my friend @marvelassassin221b for the help with this prompt when I got stuck. You da best, and never forget it

One cannot go through a war and come out unchanged. You can pretend that the terror, violence, anger, anxiety, and selfish instinct didn’t affect you. You can gaslight and fool yourself until the bantha come home, but no one, not even the smallest civilian child, walks away without it burning into their minds like a brand of survival that will cost some of your humanity.

When you dream, you dream of a pile of lightsabers. There must be hundreds, maybe thousands, piled high enough that you cannot make out the ground from your position at the peak of the mountain. They clink and jangle under your feet, like a death rattle that refuses to leave you alone.

You want to leave. You have to leave, you can feel the spirits of the fallen Jedi Order hovering over your head, gazing down at you in disapproval everytime you disrespect their revered weapons. You take a step off of the peak.

A rending screech echoes into the death filled air, and the metal handles collapse under your feet, sliding down the side of the mountain like an avalanche and taking you with it. The sabers pile over your head, blocking out the already dim light.

Have to leave. Have to fight. So you thrash furiously, clawing at the tomb encapsulating your living body among the dead. Somehow, you find the surface. You break through the pile with a gasp, inhaling air into your starved lungs, hands pawing at the moving surface to keep you afloat in the raw desperation of survival instinct.

A weathered lightsaber is clenched in your hand, double bladed and beaten up. With a shaking hand, you press the button to activate the blade. The blue blade slices through the air with a throaty thrum and through the reality of your dream, dropping you into the darkness. You hit the ground with a grunt, somehow not impaling yourself on the lightsaber even as you stare in awestruck horror. Because you recognize the blade and handle.

A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, and you whirl with a gasp. A tall figure stands behind you, a Lasat male with kind eyes and clad in robes belonging to a Jedi. He holds a hand out to you, “That doesn’t belong to the living world.”

---

The crackle of the comm yanks you out of your fitful doze, but as you strain to listen from your position in the sitting area, no words come through the white noise. You sit up and look into the cockpit. Cere is typing furiously with eyes glued to frequency readings in front of her.

Seconds later the array in front of Greez begins to beep and the Latero leans forward to study the sensor map display. A tiny ship lit in red dances through the grid. Greez grabs the holo and enlarges it, examining the lines of the ship carefully.

“Cere--”

“Greez--”

The two stop and look at each other before Cere takes precedence, “I’ve only seen these kinds of frequencies from one kind of occupation.”

Greez nods, “I recognize the ship. It’s Haxion Brood.”

You stand and approach his chair, “Axiom what?”

Greez replies, arms darting across the controls with ease as he manipulates the energy to further analyze the readings from the environment. “The Haxion Brood, kid. Biggest smuggling and gambling ring in the Outer Rim.” He turns his head to address Cere. “I can decode their transmissions. Transfer the readings to my screen.”

Cere hits a few buttons and Greez pulls a headset over his ears. The air in the room is so thick that you could cut it with a vibroblade, until Greez speaks, “We have to go. Cere, set a course for these star coordinates.” Cere takes a single look at the symbols and nods before heading to the navigation map.

Your brow scrunches, “How do you understand their code?”

Greez waves your question off, “Not important. Point is, I can, and I know where we have to go.”

Everything is moving far too fast for you to understand. “And where is that?”

Greez barks out a sharp laugh, “Officially? Nowhere.” One arm distracts itself from the preflight check to dissolve the coordinates from the holo projector. “Unofficially? Ordo Eris.”

The Mantis lurches as it takes off and you stumble, “Wait, we have to wait for Cal to get back!”

Cere speaks from her position at the map, “He’s not coming back. We’re going to get him.”

‘Why would you need to go to Ord--’ You feel the blood drain from your face with the realization. What did the dream mean? A grim understanding filters into the processed air so that no words are needed.

“Get your kit ready. We’re going to need it.”

---

“Strap in, kid!”

Even with all of your preparation for the moment of contact, you’re still not ready for the awful screeching and rending of metal that echoes through the hull as it contacts the floor of the arena. Above the chaos and noise, you hear Greez curse. The harness digs painfully into your skin, but it keeps you in your seat long enough for the Mantis to jolt to a stop. The door opens, and Cal stumbles on board, lightsaber glowing in his hand while the other clutches his side. BD-1 clings to his shirt, beeping and chirping as it hangs on for dear life.

“Go go go!” Cal collapses against the wall, gasping for air. BD screeches and jumps onto the floor, gazing up at Cal and blipping while glancing at you periodically. You can’t tear your eyes away from the lightsaber, which has slipped to the ground in the frenzy. That doesn’t belong in the living world.

Greez hasn’t stopped swearing colorfully in at least five different languages excluding Basic, but it all fades to the background as you fumble to release your harness. “Cal!”

It’s not releasing, why isn’t it releasin--

The mechanism clicks and you’re out of your seat before the Mantis is fully off the ground. You reach Cal right as he begins to slip, “Whoa, careful there.”

Damn he’s heavy. You lower him to the ground, supporting his head on your lap. He chuckles breathlessly with eyes half-closed, “Why should I try to be careful when I have you?”

You laugh shakily, “I can’t be with you all of the time.” BD-1 bobs its head in agreement, dragging your med bag within reach with one foot.

Greez calls back, “Hang on, making the jump now!”

You grab a support bar and hunch over Cal. BD hops into your lap, and you wrap your other arm around the little droid to help hold it steady against you until the ship stops shaking around you and the peaceful quiet of hyperspace fills the hull. You allow yourself to breathe as the asteroid fades into the distance out the viewport. For now, the world will hold together.

---

By the time Cere comes back to check on you, you’ve maneuvered Cal into an upright position propped against the wall.

“Hey.” She sounds tired, stressed, strung tight like a bow string that’s about to snap. “Greez set course for Kashyyyk. We can lay low there, the Rebels have all but driven out the rest of the Imperials.”

You nod in acknowledgement. Cal is silent beside you. BD-1 boops its agreement.

She continues, “That rescue tore up the Mantis a bit. Overworked the thrusters and damaged internal regulating software, so Greez and I are going down to run diagnostics and see what we can repair en route. BD.” The little droid chirps. “Gonna need your help with the electrical portion.” BD-1 bobs its head and scampers over to her, and Cere puts a hand on the floor so that the droid can climb her shirt to her shoulder. She straightens, and regards the two of you, “All good here?”

You nod. “This guy needs a little patching up too.”

Cal gives a halfhearted wave and grin from his position on the floor, “Can confirm.”

Cere chuckles, “Alright then. Comm if you need anything. And be responsible.”

“I’m always responsible.” Cal protests. Cere doesn’t respond to him, opting instead to glance at you with an amused resignation in her eyes. She turns and leaves with BD, who chirps a goodbye as they vanish through the trapdoor that leads to the engine room.

You sigh and turn back to Cal, “I don’t even know where to start. Here.” You tug his poncho to get him to sit up.

“Careful. There’s acid.”

You yank your hand back with a hiss, shaking it off as you study the cloth. He’s right, there’s discoloration around his abdomen and the poncho is smoking, something that you missed in the chaos of landing and taking off from Ordo Eris. Upon closer examination, the acid had eaten through the poncho and soaked into the shirt below. Luckily, none touched your skin, but more unluckily, Cal has been wearing his shirt for far too long to be healthy.

“Take it off.” You lift the edge of his shirt to help him pull it over his head.

He grunts as the fabric lifts, revealing reddened and irritated skin that you begin to put healing balm on, “If you wanted me shirtless, all you had to do was ask.”

Blood rushes to your face even as you send an unimpressed look his way. He’s grinning, a smug and infuriating grin that lets you know that he knows that he got to you. You spread more of the medicine onto his skin, “You’re surprisingly chatty for someone who almost died.”

He stretches his arms, painfully attractive with how his chest and arms flex and his face scrunches and his hair--

You blink, abandoning the train of thought and finishing your work. You cap the medicine and return it to your bag. “Let me check your leg.” He sends you a look, a frustrated look that is so unique to Cal that it makes you chuckle. “I saw you limp in here, don’t give me that face.”

He groans, “I’m fine. It got me in the door, didn’t it?”

You roll your eyes. Typical. “Take them off.”

“Is this a strip game or something?” He’s… flirting with you?

“Do it.”

You did not think that this is how you would be getting Cal Kestis pantless in front of you for the first time. You’d imagined that you would be more excited with every inch of skin exposed, that your heart would race and the blood would rush to your face and your… yeah.

But instead, your stomach drops with every bruise that is revealed, the lump in your throat grows when you hear him suck a breath through gritted teeth when the cloth rubs over sensitive skin. By the time he’s pulled the pants around his ankles, your jaw is clenched hard enough to hurt. There’s a gash the length of your hand slicing across his skin. Although it’s gratefully shallow and mostly clotted, it's ugly enough to garner a double take and a long stare as you consider your options. When you speak, it’s a barely breathed whisper.

“Damn it Cal.”

He laughs, but you can hear the pained grunt that he tries to hide when he shifts, “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“When did you do this to your leg?” You yank a bacta bag out.

He hisses as you disinfect the area, “Uh, a little after I found BD. Right before I went into the arena.”

You stop cold and stare at him, “You fought on this?”

“Well what else was I supposed to do? Roll over and die?”

You sputter, “No, but I-- no.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, a single, infuriatingly sassy, red eyebrow and lays back to allow you to apply the bacta infusion.

“How’s it going in here?” Cere chooses that exact moment to walk in, and you suppose you should be grateful that she didn’t witness the petty argument.

You shoot a look at Cal, but he’s refusing to meet your eyes. So kriffing immature. You respond to Cere, “Good. Could be better.”

She nods once, “We received a transmission from the rebel. Tarfull is willing to meet you, Cal. There are contacts on Kashyyyk that will direct you to him.”

Cal’s face is drawn and serious, aging him ten years as he considers her words. “Tell them I’ll be there. How long until we reach Kashyyyk?”

“An hour. Enough time to finish the inflight electrical repairs, so BD will be available to go with you.”

“I’ll be ready.” What? Did you just hear him correctly?

You wait until Cere leaves the room before you whirl on Cal, “Are you crazy?”

“What?”

But you’re not listening anymore, “No, you’re definitely crazy, or I’m going crazy, because I just heard you tell Cere that you would be ready to plunge into the wilderness while you’re half dead.” A pile of lightsabers.

“It’s a cut, I’m hardly half de--”

“Okay, a cut. A cut that could get infected, or could start bleeding again, or could slow you down. It won’t be such an easy fix next time if you go out like this.”

He says your name sharply, “It’s my job to go and get that holocron.”

You cross your arms over your chest tightly, hugging close enough in hopes that you can calm your pounding heart, “And it’s my job to keep you alive.”

“The longer we wait, the more danger Tarfull is in. The Rebels can’t stay in one place forever.” He pushes off of the wall, aiming to propel himself off of the ground and stand, but you catch him with a firm hand in the center of his chest.

“You need rest. Bacta might be a miracle of modern medicine, but it can’t work in an hour.” A death rattle that refuses to leave you alone.

He says your name, so seriously and rigidly that you stop and look at him, “Let me get up. I need to go.”

“No!” Your fingers twitch over the needle. “Cal Kestis. You stay right there, or I swear to the Maker I will sedate you!” Fallen Jedi hovering over you.

“This isn’t a matter of my own well being anymore, our mission is on the line!” He pushes your hand away and sits up. “This is for those children out there, so that the Sisters don’t get to them, so that they can have normal lives.”

“Don’t you fucking put that on me Cal, I know what is at risk. I know that you are the only stars forsaken Jedi in this Maker damned galaxy who can help those children, but what use are you to them if you’re dead?!” Lightsabers rattling over your head, trapping the living amongst the dea--

“It doesn’t matt--”

“Would you just shut up and listen to me for two goddamn seconds?!” You’re screaming, you know that you shouldn’t be screaming when he’s lying there injured and possibly dying, when you know that his heart is pure in intention, but why can’t he see how much you need him to be okay. Your fists are clenched, waving in the air above him and its only when his eyes widen and he puts his hands up defensively that you realize you had picked up the hypodermic needle.

Your eyes meet his and your body trembles, whether from rage or fear you can’t tell. Carefully, moving millimeter by millimeter, you lower your hand and drop the needle. It makes no sound as it hits the ground, which is remarkable considering how effectively it had silenced the situation.

“I--” Your voice cracks and in any other situation you would be embarrassed. But you clear your throat roughly, “I can’t lose you. I won’t let you go off and get yourself killed. You need to let your body heal, because you can keep going, keep pushing yourself to the limit and I have no doubt that you are strong enough to, but your body is going to fail you one day, and it’s my job to make sure it doesn’t just yet so please listen to me, I’ve never asked for you to stay before.” You’re rambling, you’re talking too much because you scraped just a little too close to the surface with that first sentence. “Please Cal, I couldn’t live with myself if I let you go out there like this and yo--”

You’re cut off by Cal’s body contacting your firmly, arms curling around your body as he hugs you tight to his chest. And all of your worries and problems that you were ranting about seconds earlier fade away because his bare chest is right against the skin of your cheek and he’s so warm and smells so good and you’ve forgotten why you were--

“Breath. It’s okay.” He demonstrates with several deep breaths, chest rising and falling against your cheek. You hear the whoosh of air in his lungs, and you shakily try to imitate. You fail the first two times, your pounding heart and surging adrenaline forcing your breaths to come shallow and fast. But he stays close to you, radiating comfort and calm that soaks into you and gradually slows you down.

“You’re still not going out there on that leg.”

Cal shushes you, “I know. I need you to calm down before we get to Kashyyyk. I’m not going to leave until I know you’re okay, and those children still need saving.”

Annoyance sparks through you, “I told you not to put that on me.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. That was a cheap shot.” You wriggle to try and get out of his grip, but he only tightens his arms around you. “Stop fighting me.”

“Only if you stop fighting me.” Still, he’s too strong and you can’t deny that you’re exactly where you want to be.

“Oh I intend to. But I can’t stay forever. How long do you need me to rest?” His chin rests on the top of your head.

You hum thoughtfully, snuggling closer with your fingers drumming gently on his skin, “Bacta treatments optimize after five hours of immersion in the tissue.”

“I’ll give you two hours.”

“Three.” You counter. “I can accelerate the healing if you give me three hours.”

He hums deep in his chest, vibrating against your skin, “Deal.”

You stay like that for a few more minutes, peacefully breathing the filtered Mantis air that smells like antibiotic burn cream and metal. When you open your eyes, your gaze lands on the lightsaber, which has rolled into a corner since the hit and run on Ordo Eris.

“Cal.” Your voice is raspy from the lump in your throat. “The lightsaber.”

He hums, calling the handle to his hand with the Force, “Yeah. Should keep it safe.” He clips it to his belt with one hand, the other still crooked firmly to cradle you.

“Where did you get it?”

He pauses for a fraction of a second, then his arm returns to stroke the back of your head, “It was Master Tapal’s. The Purge. It’s all that I have left from before.”

“Your Master. Was he a Lasat?”

Cal chuckles, “Most intimidating one that I’ve ever met. Wisest one too, but he had a leg up on the competition, being a Jedi Master.” He pulls away slightly to catch your gaze. “How did you know that he was a Lasat?”

You hum, burrowing back into his chest, “I’ll explain later.” For now, the world would hold together.

Cal Taglist: @marvelassassin221b, @my-awakened-ghost

[thestarsanctuary]

this is my first time doing a Mexican Reader so bare with me here y’all

KARASUNO AND AOBA JOHSAI WITH A MEXICAN MANAGER

Pronouns: She/Her but for the most part You.

Mexican! Reader

KARASUNO

The Karasuno team was not used to having 3 managers. Let alone a foreign one. Since you arrived from Mexico, you had introduced yourself to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi who had thankfully taken a liking to you. After a few months of getting used to the culture you saw that they were both apart of the Volleyball club. At that point you knew you just had to come and and check it out!

The first time you came wasn’t really much of a greeting. Yamaguchi had lended you his notes since you had been absent and you wanted to return them before the next day so you went to the gym and saw....well....boys. Lots of them. In a millisecond- all of their eyes were on you.

“Um...hi? I have this for Yamaguchi- where is he exactly?” You asked. You had seen some of these people around like the orange haired boy, and the black haired one as they were constantly together.

“Oh yeah he’s probably in the club room, I’ll go get him for you!” The grey haired boy said as he gave a concerning grin and ran off, leaving you with the collection of eyes watching your every move.

“So! You guys like volleyball...I do too! That’s cool” You beamed, trying to create conversation. The orange haired boy bounced over.

“YOU DO?! DO YOU PLAY?!” He asked excitedly, which made you feel a little relieved.

“No I don’t, but I used to watch all the time, I love the game.” You responded with a smile as he nodded his head in understanding.

“I’m Hinata Shoyo! I’m a middle blocker!” He grinned as he waited for the natural response to his position, but it never came. You just smiled and gave him a calm response. “Cool!”

Hinata felt himself feeling a little more shy. Maybe it was because you weren’t in disbelief or because he suddenly realized that you were a lot closer than he thought, but he shook it off and backed up as Yamaguchi came out of the club room.

“Hey y/n! Guys this is y/n! She transferred here a few months ago.” He explained as you gave them all a wave like you just came. Despite being there for 5 minutes. “Yo!”

Once you left Tanaka and Nishinoya felt their souls return to their body as they ran to Tadashi.

“YAMAGUCHI! YOU KNOW HER?! HOW?! IS SHE SINGLE?!”

“DID YOU SEE HER SMILE?! SHE’S SO BEAUTIFUL” They ranted, stars in their eyes as the green-haired boy chuckled just a little.

“She’s in me and Tsukishima’s class, pretty smart if you ask me.” He responded.

How you got in as a manager was a pretty simple task. Yachi was supposed to take over for Kiyoko but she found herself struggling with the technical parts of being a manager rather than interactions and moral. And that- is when you stepped in eager to help in any way possible. So you did.

The boys already liked you when you came into the gym the first time, I mean after getting Tsukishima to tolerate you it was simply a downhill battle and it’s not like anybody was against another manager as long as they got to play.

These guys were extremely protective of you. You were this foreign first year who oh so easily volunteered to take on the job of helping handeling these kids, how could they not love you?

And that protection lasted EVERYWHERE. Somebody flirts with you? Daichi already there. Somebody insults you or your food? Nishinoya already got their number and will be telling them it’s on sight.

The girls love you! The girls nights are weekly because where could you find people to complain about and laugh at the boys to in secret? You shared with them recipies for your Chicken with Mole, and they helped make you some one time. You made the rice while they tried a hand at making the Mole and while they...struggled...it came out good and it was the effort that they valued the most!

Now since you’re Mexican you ate what you were familiar with for the most part. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Japanese food, of course not! But while you lived in Japan you didn’t have your family with you and food was the only way you could stay connected. So in your way of melting together the two cultures you sometimes made things for the team, including the coaches!

The team won a game successfully? No injuries or mishaps? Horchatas for everybody at your house no hesitation. Hinata actually got double digits on his test? Give that boy some of Enchiladas of his choice asap! The team loved your cooking! And you enjoyed giving them a taste of your home, it was a special thing between you all!

Sometimes on your bad days you would struggle with being the person you usually were. You seemed quieter and more timid when giving advice in tips. You were quite frankly, hiding in a shell the whole time. So when that happened the first time, the team decided to do some team building! They took you to an arcade [despite you refusing multiple times] and you played games all day. Watching Tanaka try and convince you that he is an amazing dancer definitly brightened your day. And even if he made a fool out of himself he didn’t mind. His lovely manager was smiling, what more could he ask for?

Overall- they all like to have you around and don’t know what they would do without you. probably die.

AOBA JOHSAI

Now with this team? It’s spoiling galore.

The first time they met you was when you were a second year transferring from Mexico and that already made you stand out from everybody else but that and the fact that you were somehow friends with Iwaizumi? Ohhh that set it off.

First off- you were a second year. Second off- not even Oikawa knew about you. What is happening?!

It turns out, you had met Iwaizumi because you lived near his family and on numerous occasions had asked him where everything was around here are as you walked to school together. You went to a separate place in the school when he went to go meet the team so you never met him until the night when Tooru slept over Hajime’s house and saw you knock on his door the next morning ready to walk.

Tooru opened the door cautiously wondering why you were outside his best-friends house in the uniform for their school. Wait- were you confessing? Did you find out his adresss and go to confess? He had to let you down easy- simple.

“Hi! I’m looking for Iwaizumi?” You said. You knew who this was you weren’t oblivious, but you had never met before so you had to introduce yourself.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re here for but Iwaizumi is not looking for a relationship right now because he is way to busy trying to pull up his trash gra- AH!” He squealed as Iwaizumi choked him by the back of his shirt.

“Shut up. Is it time already?” He asked you with a completely different tone than the one he had used with Tooru. Were you perhaps-dating?! After you nodded, Iwaizumi invited you inside while he got changed. Tooru started at you with wide eyes before walking over to you.

“So....are you and lwa-Chan secretly dating?!” He said as he got closer, with a wide grin on his face. You had known he was a character but he was really something right now.

“No?! Not at all actually I- I’m new? To Japan, I’ve been here for a few months and he’s been helping me figure out where everything is in this neighborhood.” You quickly explained hoping he would back up at least a little bit. It was as if he heard you and backed up.

“Oh- so what’s your name then pretty lady?” He said grinning. You were a little flustered and brushed it off to tell him. “That’s a beautiful name. Where you from then? If you’re new?” He asked and you explained you were from Mexico.

“Wow! I know a few words in Spanish!” He said as he recited the most basic words you had ever heard and somehow still goofed up the pronunciation. But he seemed so proud you almost couldn’t tell him he was wrong. But you did.

You became the manager because you seemed to be one of the only people Oikawa would listen to, because Iwaizumi listened to you. It was a cycle.

Once the team met you it was like love- at first sight~ You- this girl who has somehow made it so that people magically do what they’re supposed to do? Pls come immediately and shower these boys in affection.

They’re aggressively affectionate. Iwaizumi gives you headpats all the time for n o reason. None. We can all tell he favors you because even when you joke with Matsukawa about him and basically makes fun of you he’ll take it because your so nice.

You want a drink? Iwai will give you 10. Feeling a bit lonely? Matsukawa will give up his playful nature and give you a hug for as long as you’d like. Oikawa’s fangirls getting under your skin? Kunimi’s clearing that place out asap goodbye.

One time when the team was bumed out because they lost a match against Shiratorizawa, you made them all Horchatas and they were immediately like “...what is this ma’am” and you had to laugh, and they were all sitting so confused but smiling because your laugh was quite cute to them [loud or not] and you had to explain that it contained rice actually, as well as some nut milk and cinnamon [however you like them, they’d probably inhale it no matter what] and they enjoyed those things so much you brought them for every single last game until their last one.

One time, Kyotani actually asked if you could make him one for his birthday! He was so timid about it because he didn’t want to admit how much he liked it- but he was desperate. There was nothing worse than talking to people but you always seemed so nice to him, no matter how he reacted. So he asked. And you actually made him some as well as some Tacos de Papa that you had made the night before from Lunch. He graciously excepted and even listened as you explained how much you enjoyed making them because of the process and how you were happy he liked them. He even laughed and you two talked for a while that day.

Another time, you had been feeling homesick and you couldn’t take time off from the boys so you went to the practice anyways and everybody could visually tell you were out of it. You weren’t scolding them for misbehaving, and even let Kunimi leave early [he was going to leave either way] and in the end everybody was just worried. Who hurt you? Why were you so quiet? And WHERE were the drinks you had promised? A lot of questions were left unanswered because they immediately wanted to make you happier.

They decided they were just gonna talk to you. And they did. All of them- even Kyotani- sat and listened as you explained how you were feeling and it settled in for them that this is not your original home, and your family isn’t even here for you. It’s only natural you would get sad sometimes. So they forcefully sent Tooru off to get you a drink and all proceeded to abuse you with affection. It was hugs all over, people laying on your back, your legs, your side, everywhere. But you felt a bit better.

A new family is still a family. And these guys, were just that.

FIN

ok so im black im not Mexican so I was trying to look up foods and stuffs so tell me if I was like too much or gave off too little pls 😭 it feels so cringe to me idk, anyways thank you to @mrs-oikawa it won’t let me @ you but she submitted a request for this so I hope you enjoy! Send me any misspellings y’all!!! Thank you also for almost/basically 50 followers whattttt? <3333

[cooliogirl101]

so what happened with nana and shamal? are they a less intense version of gin and hisana? 🤔

The first time Shamal sets eyes on Nana Fujiwara, he is convinced he’s seen an angel. He takes in the warmth of her eyes, the silkiness of her hair, the way she smells like white tea and jasmine, and he leaps at her with welcoming arms, ready to embrace her and press himself against those soft, inviting curves.

He’s promptly enveloped in an enormous cloud of pepper spray. That basically sets the tone for the next two years of their relationship.

In general, Nana likes to think of herself as someone who gets along pretty well with people. She knows she has a bit of a temper, but she tries her best to keep it under control and to remain patient, calm, and understanding. 

That all goes out the window when it comes to Trident Shamal.

There are a lot of things about Shamal that she hates. She hates the way he leers at and chases after every girl he finds attractive. She hates his stupid, perverted grin and she hates the stupid, dopey look he gets on his face every time she sees him, and she hates his stupid, fucking ridiculous rule about ‘not treating men.’

Most of all though, she hates how he gets away with it. How every single member of the administration simply laughs it off, telling her it’s “just some harmless flirting, don’t worry about it.” One professor tells her she should be flattered and she almost commits homicide right then and there. 

Then to top everything off, she can’t even avoid him because as the top two members of their class, they always end up getting paired together for projects, which was...just typical. 

Honestly, Nana thinks the fact that she hasn’t killed him yet is an enormous testament to her self control. She could probably put that on her resume under ‘special skills’-- has refrained from murdering classmate (was there a word for that? Classmate-cide? Peer-tricide?) despite being given literally hundreds of reasons to do so. 

Not to say she hasn’t imagined doing so. Vividly. She ended up doodling so many scenarios that she had to get a second notebook. 

~~

Any other day, and Shamal would have been thrilled to have Nana Fujiwara, the loveliest, prettiest, most adorable girl in his class, knocking on his door. Any other day and he would’ve been more than happy to wax poetic about her beautiful smile, her fiery personality, her large, doe-like eyes, the soft curve to those plump, inviting lips, the-- well, the list goes on. 

Right now however, he hadn’t showered in three (or was it four?) days, he was drenched in his own sweat, he was running a fever of 39.5 C, his head was throbbing painfully, everything hurt, and to top everything off, the room smelled strongly of vomit. 

“Shamal, I know you’re in there! Open up!” Shamal groaned miserably, covering his eyes with one arm as the pounding at the door caused his headache to go from ‘someone trying to drive an iron spike through my head’ to ‘iron spike is now on fire and accompanied by a hundred tiny hammers, please kill me now.’ 

“Goddammit Shamal, you were supposed to send me the draft of your half of the project three days ago! Open the door!” Nana continued to shout through the door. “I swear to god, if you don’t open up, I will kick your door down, don’t think I won’t--oh.”

Nana blinked, irritated scowl melting away at the sight of his appearance. She frowned, a touch of concern creeping into her expression.

“Are you...okay?” She asked hesitantly. It was the first time he’d heard Nana Fujiwara sound hesitant and Shamal hated it. 

Summoning up whatever last reserves of strength he had left, Shamal put on his best flirtatious grin, eyes curving up into crescents. 

“Aww, you don’t have to be worried about me, beautiful!” He cooed, then clenched his teeth as he felt his stomach swoop nauseatingly. “I’ll be fine, just had a lil’ too much to drink last night.” He leaned casually against the doorframe, which had the added benefit of keeping him mostly upright. “I just need to sleep it off and then--”

“Yeah no, you’re clearly not okay. Stupid question,” Nana murmured, clearly ignoring everything he’d just said. She stepped closer, placing a hand against his forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up. Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No!” He shouted. Nana flinched, startled, and Shamal cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant to do that. 

“No,” he repeated, calmer this time. “No hospitals. I’ll be fine.”

“Shamal--” Nana began. 

“They won’t be able to do anything,” he interrupted. “I’ve been through this before, I know how it goes. I just need to wait it out.” He swallowed. “Going to a hospital won’t help. Please, Nana, I--”

He suddenly doubled over, retching violently the rest of his words disappearing under a river of vomit. Shamal had just enough time to see Nana’s eyes widen before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness. 

~~

Shamal woke up to gentle hands dabbing at his face with a cool washcloth, the pleasant scent of white tea and jasmine, a familiar voice murmuring soft reassurances in his ear.

“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s just me,” the voice whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nana?” Shamal asked, fighting to stay awake. “You stayed.”

There was a pause.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Yeah. I stayed.” 

~~

Honestly, Nana had no idea what possessed her to actually listen to her obviously sick, half-delirious, idiot classmate instead of doing the reasonable thing, which would’ve been to dump him at the nearest hospital. 

Maybe it was the fact that he’d actually called her by her name for once, instead of some stupid pet name. Maybe it was the fact that she knew firsthand how miserable hospitals could be and could sympathize with his desire to avoid them at all cost. Or maybe it was the fact that she recognized the tone of voice he’d used when he’d told her that there was nothing the doctors could do to help him-- the kind of resigned certainty that could only come from experience, of having your hopes dashed over and over. It was a tone of voice she was well acquainted with. 

(“I’m sorry Christina, there’s nothing more we can do.”)

It could have been any one of those reasons, or all three of them. She tried not to think too much about it. 

It took another two days before Shamal’s fever started coming down and three before he started sounding halfway coherent again. On the fourth, she found him sitting in bed with his breakfast untouched on the nightstand next to him.

“Is something wrong?” Nana asked, frowning. “Are you feeling nauseous again?” When he shook his head, she continued, “I can make something else if you don’t like--”

“Why?” Shamal interrupted. 

“Why what?” Nana asked, puzzled. “Why did I make eggs? I was looking up things that are good to eat when you’re sick and I came across a recipe for Chinese steamed eggs. I wish I knew about this before, I mean like it provides protein but it’s soft like a custard so you don’t have to chew much and--”

“No, why-- why do all this? Why go to this much trouble for me?” Shamal demanded, gesturing wildly with his hands. “The cooking, and the-- the washing, and you even cleaned up my apartment, and I don’t-- I don’t understand why--”

“Well, what was I supposed to do, just leave your unconscious body lying there on Death’s front doorstep?” Nana asked uncomprehendingly. 

“I threw up on you!” Shamal snapped, sounding mortified. 

“Yeah, you aren’t the first person to throw up on me, and you won’t be the last,” she responded dryly. “I’d be in the wrong line of work if I let a little vomit get to me.”

When he still refused to meet her eyes, she sighed. 

“Look Shamal, I may not like you-- actually, I can’t stand you-- but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer like this. You don’t deserve that, no one deserves that.” 

No one deserved to feel like their body was failing them. Nana swallowed, forcing her voice to remain steady. 

“I was in a position to help, and so I did,” she said quietly. “It’s as simple as that.”

“...as simple as that,” Shamal echoed. “You truly mean that, don’t you? No favors, no debts, just--” He laughed, a little disbelievingly. “You’d go above and beyond the call of duty even for those you hate, just because it was the right thing to do.” He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “You really are something else, Nana Fujiwara.”

Nana glanced away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure if he was just acting weird due to the lingering fever, or-- or dizziness from missing breakfast, but something about the way he was looking at her in that moment--

“I should take your temperature again, it’s been over eight hours since I last checked it,” she said abruptly. “I think I left the thermometer in the other room, wait here.” She marched off and tried to ignore how it felt like running away. “Eat your eggs.”