#I WROTE MY DUMB FUCKING ESSAY AND IT WAS HELL

[exopelagic]

if I have to do one more thing on my own today someone is going to die

[bonetrousledbones]

juist submitted my last final project for the semester

[vitamin-zeeth]

Went to write my timeline essay on the progression from radio to tv got as far as naming the document and then started doing a comparative essay on modern Vs classical art. what happened

[darlingod]

In an alternative universe were Jude is raised as a normal person, like the other anon say (other anon if you see this you inspired my next 3 months of daydreaming, I love you)

BUT, Cardan ran away from Elfhame, (for the plot and also the abuse), do you think he would fall in love at first punch sight?

Picture this:

Tired af law student Jude with poorly covered eyebags, a triple espresso in one hand, typing furiously on her laptop with the other, trying to finish an essay. When suddenly an overdressed pretty boy walks sassily into the cafe she is at throws ten dollars in the counter (which he found somewhere after starving for one night) and demands their finest delicacy with an annoyingly prideful expression.

She rolls her eyes and ignores the drama, going back to typing.

Every seat in the cafe is occupied save by the convenient extra one on her table and while she is distracted the boy takes a seat, waiting for his order. She glances at him and is taken aback by the faerie ears she thinks are a costume (I'm assuming he forgot to glamour himself because babyboy feels so lost... or he's just dumb).

Anyways we know the drill, he notices her watching, they argue talk for a while, he says something stupid, she gets mad, he gets nervous and smiles which makes her more angry and try to hit him with a chair ;)

Pictured it and DAYUM thank you for sending this!! And did you just come up with that excerpt on the spot??? Regardless, that was good as hell like I was shocked at my attention span for working without me trying. Also the “for the plot” PLSSS 👏🏽

To answer your question lol, IN MY OPINION (i hate saying that), I would say Cardan would have *almost* instant interest/curiosity and like you said, Jude would get mad at something he said, and because dude is so fine she gets all “I’ll fuck you up pretty boy idc” mode. Maybe he ends up slyhanding a piece of paper with his number on it into her jacket or some shit lolll I can definitely see that along with everything that you’ve said. I loved this thank you again anon like that was good and I prefer your stance over mine lmao

In the end, AUs are AUs. Make those bitches fall in love in any way you feel like. If I wrote Jurdan fics it would be fun to mix it up for sure

[navree]

FAVORITE MOVIES OF ALL TIME!

I'll give a Top Four like those people on the red carpet do.

The Lion King. It's the first movie I ever watched and it's genuinely terrific in every sense from story to animation to music to cinematic production, it's perfect. And it's also one of the first ways I was able to bond with my dad, because he's the one who started playing it for me when I was a baby (my dad was studying for the bar while I was an infant so he was the one responsible for taking care of me while my mom worked, it's why I am the way I am honestly) and every time my dad and I visit a city with a theater district, we go see the play.

Rebecca. Obviously, the Hitchcock version, not the dumb remake. It's just sheer perfection, it's so good, and the cast is so brilliant, and Hitchcock, for all his myriad faults, was a phenomenal filmmaker. Plus, I mean, the leads are Joan Fontaine and Laurence fucking Olivier, enough said.

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time. This is one hundred percent a guilty pleasure pick, but I've loved this movie ever since it came out. Like, yes, it's got flaws, and also they did cast Jake Gyllenhaal and Gemma Arterton, slathered them in spray tan, and expected us to marvel at these clear Persians, but I like it. I like everything about it and I was so into it when it first came out I straight up had it memorized.

Doctor Sleep. Movie of all time. I wrote a whole mini-essay for a class once about all the ways I loved this movie, both on its own and as an adaptation with a very hard job. But the cast is terrific (Ewan McGregor and Rebecca Ferguson and Bruce Greenwood, plus everyone else, hell yeah) and Flanagan is such a gifted director and overall storyteller, it's what got me onto his stuff.

and some top three honorable mentions:

Anchorman and really just any Will Ferrell movie, but my dad and I quote Anchorman to each other so much.

Dune (2021). I really enjoyed all of it, at some point I need to get around to watching Part Two.

If documentaries count, 30 for 30: The Price of Gold (god tier) and if they don't, I've been rewatching the second Fear Street movie recently and it's still great.

[zannolin]

For fic ask game: F, M

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

oh HELL yes i've written so much dialogue i love lately. this never happens (i fucking hate writing dialogue).

“Amanda’s mom unfriended me on Facebook, you know,” he tells Johnny one night, as they sit on the back deck with their feet in the grass. He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe he just wanted someone to know. In the light glowing through the paper paneling of the door behind them, it’s hard to make out Johnny’s expression. Not that Daniel’s looking, or anything. “That blows,” Johnny finally says. He takes a swig of beer. “You should unfriend her back.” Daniel can’t help the laugh that bubbles up at that. He feels oddly light. Better. “That’s not how Facebook works, Johnny.” A huff, rendered softer by the darkness. “It should be.” “Yeah, everything’s a fight with you, isn’t it?” There’s a pause before Johnny says, “Not everything, LaRusso.” They don’t say anything else for a while after that.

this section from objects in motion is one of my favorite exchanges i wrote in the Entire piece. it just has like. the vibes. like (i hope) as a reader it's obvious with the context that johnny has changed, and johnny is talking about daniel here, and daniel hasn't caught on so there's two completely different levels of conversation going on. plus it's got johnny attempting to be supportive (he's so dumb i love him) and daniel trying to lighten things up with a joke that completely misses the mark and they just kind of sit there because well. what do you say after that. what do you do! they don't know! for me it really captured the essence of where they were in their developing relationship at that point in the narrative.

was also very happy with how the sam and daniel "are you getting a divorce" conversation turned out, but even more so how the subsequent kata-with-johnny one went because there's a lot of subtext there about sam starting to figure things out and she's not sure how to feel about it but she's sort of hesitantly giving a kind of blessing, or the hope of one someday, with the "miguel said you were good together"—like she's asking are you happy and daniel's maybe saying i think so and inviting her to be a part of it. if she wants. i could write essays about my own fics man i've thought about this so much. i love them. BUT ANYWAY i'll stop now.

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

so many. sooooo many. i have one where sam and johnny get yeeted back to 1985 to witness the all valley that year since daniel's an eternal knot of repression; ft lawrusso kinda sorta, sam and johnny bonding, sam being her father's daughter, and mr miyagi my beloved. i have a concept where daniel from canon universe (somewhere in s1-3 i think) gets swapped with daniel from a different universe where mr. miyagi is still alive and lawrusso is canon, which is an absolute fucking disaster but also great because i get to explore more damanda marriage issues and hey here's a daniel who will actually COMMUNICATE with johnny, and here's a johnny who will actually COMMUNICATE with daniel, and it's not even ooc because i make the rules. there's a vague sam and johnny bonding werewolf au knocking around in my head also, and i really really want to write a johnny and ali fic eventually. i have like a million more but i think that's enough for now.

ask game!!

[ethecookednoodle]

Imma be honest, I wasn't sure if I was gonna do a post about my classpect choices for my TrigunxHomestuck AU but I kept rereading Homestuck and started thinking about things and thought "why the hell not?"

Also @stuck-in-the-ghost-zone and @anachronistic-falsehood tags kept going around my head since I saw them, so this is partially because your tags were very nice thank u guys <3

All that being said, this is just gonna cover Vash and Knives because turns out tired as shit me has a lot to say and no self control so I wrote a lot and if I got into why I made Meryl and Wolfwood's classpects what they are in my AU this was gonna be way too damn long, so I'm cutting it.

Anyway, whole ass essay under the keep reading. Keep in mind I wrote this last night when I was very tired and with a raging headache (still haven't recovered from that) so this might be a bit ✨dramatic✨(and also a bit of a character analysis because, like I said, I had a lot to say but not a lot of self control.)

To begin with, I guess the reason I put Knives and Vash as the Lord of Time and Muse of Space respectively has to do with the fact that they remind me of Calliope and Caliborn for obvious reasons. They're twins of an alien species which, while not extinct per se, they're very much alone since either the other members of their species are not quite like them or, in Calliope and Caliborn's case, they are the only one's of their species in a good, universe-sized radius, among other things I’ll get to later.

But aside from that there's the fact that…I don't really see, or can't see, Vash as a Hope player. Like, sure, he's all about hope and believing in a bright future but Hope players have a very black and white way of thinking (see: Eridan and Jake). And Vash doesn’t really see things that way, he's very much aware that there are layers to the issues between humans and plants, but his insistence doesn't just come from a blind hope that maybe things will work themselves out if he believes hard enough. His insistence comes from the fact that he has spent a good amount of his 150 years of life going around No Man's Land and realizing that yes, humans are stupid and can hurt others just for the sake of hurting people, but the vast majority of them that hurt people do it because they've been cornered and are really out of options in the department of survival (see: Wolfwood, Rosa, and pretty much any petty bandit, since they’re not really out for murder but out for fucking money because they gotta eat), and that even if there are people who go out of their way to hurt others for funsies, there's just as much people out there willing to help others out (Meryl, Luida, Brad (even if he’s a prick at the beginning), Rem). It's all about circumstances and Vash knows this, he just acts dumb as a coping mechanism. Him believing things can work out comes from a place of tribute towards Rem and the knowledge that there is a way things can get better as long as it is given the time and space to be worked on (pun not intended). His vision is nuanced and his feelings towards what his brother does are complicated because he knows he has a reason to act the way he does.

Knives either knows there are layers and doesn't care or he hasn't let himself think about them, because otherwise it would shatter his idea that there's only one true ultimate villain (humanity) that must be defeated in order to attain peace, which the latter is what probably goes through his mind. And this is oversimplifying his point of view, because his disregard of human issues come from the fear of seeing Tesla's body all fucked up by humans on a relatively peaceful environment and thinking that if he doesn’t do something quick they might be next, or more specifically, that Vash will be next. If anything, Knives actually fits better as a Hope player than Vash does. He believes plants to be superior and humans the trash of creation, and thus, he must do what’s right in order to protect what he loves. It might also be because all of the Hope players we see also have this…weird way of seeing themselves as the greatest heroes in their fucked-up/stupid stories, and also because two of them are big, self absorbed assholes. Even Jake is his own kind of self absorbed asshole. One would argue that could be said of Vriska and Meenah as well, but the difference is that they actually have ground to stand on. They say they’re the shit not just for the sake of saying it, they can actually back up that claim. What I’m trying to say is that Knives sees himself as a savior to his species while failing to see that in the process he’s hurting the one person he swore to protect while also subjecting the plants and his brother to become a means to producing his “paradise”, essentially enslaving them, just as humans would have done. And if he does see it, then he justifies it by saying “there’s no other way.” Which, to be honest, reminds me a lot of Eridan in the sense that he, as the Prince of Hope, decided all hopes of beating Jack and bringing back their people were lost, so he decided to destroy the matriorb and go on a murderous rampage. It’s a very “all or nothing” mentality, which is exactly what happens with Knives. He fails to see (or decides no to see) the layers and the nuance of the situation and refuses to listen to any kind of argument against his belief. Because, let’s be real for a hot second here, when was the last time Knives really tried to hear Vash out instead of brushing him off and telling him he’s being delusional/he’s sick and needs to wake up? And by the time he actually listens to Vash when they’re flying up into space, it’s in this high-stress, very emotional moment because he’s trying not to blow a city up. But I digress. 

All that being said, I don’t really think the Hope aspect fits Knives either. 

The reason I think Time and Space fit the twins so much is because of the fact that the aspects seem to encompass the rest to some extent. They’re, to quote the wiki, “the two basic fabrics of reality” which means that without them, nothing else can exist. It’s why every successful Sburb session needs to have a Time and Space player. And if you think about it, it makes sense. For example, Space seems to be similar to the Hope aspect in the sense that their players have a very strong hold on their beliefs, they also resemble the Light aspect because their players also seem to be very knowledgeable (to some extent, i.e: the messages in the clouds in Skia and how Space players seemed to be the ones that paid the most attention to them) about stuff other aspects are not, and of course, it also has a strong relationship with the Life aspect, since it’s the Space player’s duty to breed and care for the frog that will eventually become the new universe in which life will proliferate (and not to mention, all space players have been somewhat related to life, with Jade being a botanist, Kanaya and Porrim being in charge of bringing back trollkind and Calliope being fascinated by the lives of other beings (i.e: trolls and humans) in general, despite her kind being extremely asocial). And the same can be said of the Time aspect: it’s related to death, this of course being a direct relation to the Doom aspect, the Time and Heart aspect seem to share this ability to become splintered (one with time loops and the other via soul splinters), and even though it’s more of a reach, you could say Time and Rage have relation because of the fact that both seem to be related to destruction (although the instances we’ve seen the aspect being used are by destructive classes, that’s why I say it’s more of a reach). I put very specific things as examples, but with the exception of the life and death thing (and maybe the Heart aspect thing), I think the things the Time and Space aspects encompass of other aspects are on a spectrum, and may even vary from player to player.

Obviously, all of the above is more my personal speculation than anything else, but that aside, now that I finally got to the point in my re-read of Homestuck where I’m reacquainted enough with Calliope that I understand why I think her and Vash are similar. And wouldn’t you guess it, it has to do with the fact that they were hoping for their brothers to change. Like, to be fair, in Calliope’s case, she was straight-up lying to herself, but again, to be fair, this stemmed from the fact that she had hope the game would help them understand each other and…well, you can see where I’m going with this. Vash hoped his brother would change, even if deep down he knew he wouldn’t, or at the very least, he wouldn’t change without things going south first. And it wasn’t until things started to go very south where they, both Calliope (the version that overpowered Caliborn) and Vash decided it was enough and sprung into action. I am well aware that the brother thing can also be applied to Knives and to his situation, but you get what I’m saying. 

If I wanted to go through the Caliborn and Knives comparison, then I would point out that Knives, as far as I can tell, was never squeamish about killing (at least not after the Tesla incident), and sees it as something necessary in order to make sure his plans come to fruition. That being said, I think the other thing I would point out is how driven he is. To quote the wiki yet again, Time players “value action over passive acceptance” and “tend to value the destination over the journey”, and what is Knives if not someone with a huge drive to make his dreams of a peaceful paradise for him, his brother and the rest of his kind come true, even it comes at the expense of the human race and the happiness, free will and general freedom of his brother and his kind. Since day one he’s been scheming and finding ways to make things happen, and I don’t know about you guys, but I think at the very least the amount of research he put on to Vash’s powers and how to unlock his gate despite how unbelievably limited the data on Independents were, without actually having Vash captive for 150 to study him is very impressive (and kind of (very) scary). But that’s where the similarities with them end, at the end of the day Knives is 1000 times smarter than Caliborn (and more likable, even if he’s a genocidal maniac). I just think that Knives possesses a lot of the qualities that make up a Time player, and him being a Master Class is because both Vash and Knives are stupidly powerful.

In the end, I guess it’s because the duality of both Vash and Knives’ ideals and personalities can be perfectly encompassed by the duality of the Time and Space aspects. 

(And also because I thought of a great scene between Vashwood and the image has been ingrained in my brain to such a degree that I refuse to change the classpects to something else. It’s like 50% all those things I said 50% gay stuff, ngl.)

Anyway stay tuned for the “why did you make Wolfwood the Knight of Doom and Meryl the Rouge of Light” post. It’ll hopefully be a lot shorter and less convoluted lol. 

[abhorrenttheorizer]

I remember the good old days on my first drawing here about making "spicy mythical creatures". I then realized not long after, that vertebrates are fucking boring. Especially mammals. Primates? Yawn. Cetaceans? Double yawn. Felines? I have been in a boredom induced coma for 7 years. Every extant and extinct mammal look exactly the goddamn same to me.

Now invertebrates? Based as hell, even members of the same genus in some vertebrate species can look vastly different. There are just so many options for invertebrates and using invertebrates for the useage of speculative xenobiology. However, it's difficult to apply such wonderful physiology to mythical creatures which are often a hybrid of a human being with some other dumb ass spiney. Which leaves no wiggle room unless you want to make something completely unrecognizable. Which, for designing inspirations of mythology, completely defeats the purpose.

So, as long as my fickle will to draw is still strong, here is a rebirth of the Sphinx, if the Sphinx was an unholy conglomerate of crustaceans, echinoderms, lions, porcupines, scorpions, pterosaurs, and microbats: (fullscreen for decringing)

Forgive the hypocritical felinoid body plan after I wrote an essay about vertebrate borefests (besides birds, they're somewhat okay). It's been a very long time since I've done anything original and an even longer time since I've done anything original that I didn't abhor. But, if I click my heels and wish on a star enough, perhaps soon I will be making aliens that are not just lobster cats with influencer lips

I'll be talking more about their biology (they're much more interesting inside than outside) once I finish those sketches up. Which should be in about a decade or so.

[mutiara-05]

I really hate watching the time passing me by and I also hate having to witness all my years fly so I hold my pen and sit down, it's time to write time for me to sort whats wrong and what's right but my life has been so fucking dull lately now so Ima tell you about my past and Ima keep it raw ok so back to the year of two thousands and five the mid of that year where I almost didn't survive was still in the womb and they announced me dead they scheduled curettage but "no" grandma said did a second check up and surprise I haven't died I was just chilling in there, was laying on my side now skip to mid august to my time to finally come I took about two days being a nightmare to mom well it's no surprise since she didn't want me at all but wanting a son he went and pinned her to a wall a disappointment since first breath by being a female my pink clothes highlighted the devil's clear fail the doctor who brought me said "she's a miracle" AB negative blood type yet she's alive.. untypical was hours old laying down when a nurse barged in yelling "a bomb was located, leave avoid your fin" the first four years of my life passed by really fast almost died a couple of times but that's the past got a bunch of allergies and one can easily kill me reason of death: a little peanut she couldn't see was five years old and already having trust issues but that's nothing because at six starts the abuse I've always wanted him to go a little bit further To stab him I needed an excuse since he's my father required straight A's while studying three languages school was an hour away and filled by dumb bitches made fun of and pushed around but I stood still all alone cause mama was busy to notice how I'm ill started writing at 6 as a joke but picked it at 10 for real I was alone and scarred I needed something to heal a couple failed tries then I wrote something so cool rushed to her feeling proud but she made me a fool I didn't hold a pen for full three years after that and I lost my spark while losing all the extra fat on sixth grade I failed to write an essay, no surprise costed me but I fixed it following my own advice high school started and was nothing like the movies from a teenage dream to a hell where you pay fees only one year then everything went down hill for me no hope, no dreams, not knowing who I should be fourteen was when I tried to take my life away but failed so I guess god really wanted me to stay now became dead inside using a fake smile to hide then knew an artist who took me to hope on a ride felt understood having a hero who knows my pain kept going by thinking about him under the rain by using his voice I crossed a phobia off of my list While aware he doesn't even know that I exist was struggling still but his smile helped me endure 2020 he left to cure his old left shoulder injure I remember so clear how I cried scared for him but he came back saving my life from being dim now 2021 oppression logged in after my hair cut overwhelmed I held a blue something ready to cut really wanting to see some red while killing myself but blacked out then woke under my books shelf I survived again so I had to create a second face living two lives and switching was the daily race but it's fine I was pretty chill, wanna know why? was waiting to be 17 believing that's when I'd die nineteenth august of two thousands twenty two at a restaurant waiting for two "friends" I knew many things went wrong that day but I didn't mind party's over, had a fight at home he won't be kind took a deep breath and calmly laid on my bed slept with a smile was sure by morning I'll be dead but "it's nine o'clock am" announced by my alarm I woke up at morning safe and sound with no harm my heart sank in why the fuck am I still here? I'm still alive I haven't died that's my biggest fear

Dressed up kinda overshowing to cover my state a couple males tried to hit, I lied: I'm not straight but "boys don't bite" oh yes I assure you they do I ain't letting my guard down, y'all stay safe tho went out with no permission to watch the world cup cool day but the loud sudden cheers fucked it up like sorry dudes I ruined such an important match you enjoy hearing cheers but I see a bloody patch skip that now its exams time I'm expected an A plus but I've been quite and over sleeping ain't it sus Results came back terrible, it ain't no surprise "How sad" "how unexpected" are my little lies let that too pass since it's now my birth month they took my light away and now I'm lost in a labyrinth decided I won't be celebrating nothing this year because I can't enjoy anything if he's not here I'm slipping back to a shadow that's blue and grey I'm slowly digging the dark grave where Ima lay but I don't care if my knees are buried in mud or even if I'm out there drowning in my own blood you can always start a battle and turn it to a war then put me in it with no gun no sword nor armour I can face the snipers alone and slay them all standing over cold bodies, you know I never fall I really don't need nobody, I don't wanna be saved save your pity, sweetness wasn't something I craved was once just a little girl who needed a warm hug but now a tomboy as cold as my iced coffee mug today I finally accepted that I am the villain here so fuck all of the promises I've made, am I clear? I ain't staying and I ain't trying, we won't go out won't write for nobody won't live in the same route I do have a list for the promises so I didn't forget but when I go extra for people I end with regret she was innocent one day but they hurt her a lot I built her a castle with high walls, for her I fought all she ever wanted was someone to read her a story now she write those and overuse the word sorry Dear lord I'm sorry for not being the best believer sorry that I only pray when I get a strong fever I'm sorry to my cousin, I cant keep being your idol I'm sorry grandma when you were alive I didn't call and I'm so sorry grandpa if I was ever too cold sorry aunt I stopped loving you when I got old sorry to my uncle who died the month I was born I blame myself for it every day and I'm still torn sorry to my "friends" I never loved you enough so sorry to the boy I turned down, I was rough sorry to the sun and the star that I did wrong you'll both keep shining in the lines of my song sorry to mama that I'm not the perfect daughter and sorry but I hate you so fucking much father to six thousands five hundred and seventy four days of me existing while being dead to my core

[a-passing-storm]

I think it’s really cool how all of our life experience changes our perspective and makes it so that some things mean very different things to each of us. 

(I did the thing where I accidentally wrote a mini-essay.)

I’m in a rambly mood, but basically, when I was in fourth grade, I thought Latin was cool because, like... weird occult language, y’know? It just seemed cool, probably because I read a lot of fiction, and I had none of the historical understanding of, like... Rome or how Latin is used in mottos and on cool government buildings or any of that. I was just like, “Hm. Seems neat!”

And I didn’t really understand how language-learning worked at all, I don’t think,  but I had this piece of paper on which I would write every Latin phrase/word I heard and what it meant in English. So it was stuff like “sic semper tyrannis - thus ever the tyrant,” “semper fidelis - always faithful,” and also some straight up scientific Latin, like “canis lupus,” which is really funny to me in hindsight. There were a lot of taxonomic plant names. 

So I kept that list, and I didn’t necessarily think that Latin is an entire language, or that it was something actual people had spoken, really, but it meant a lot to me in its own weird way, and the list was, like, my “someday I will learn more” hope. Also, one of the phrases on the list was “ad astra per aspera” (to the stars through difficulty). 

Last fall, I started taking Latin. And I learned to love it in a completely different way, because at that point I was a bit better with history, and generally more fascinated by the fact that Humans Have Always Been Humans. Also, my Latin teacher is cool as fuck, very supportive, and just... awesome dude. I respect him a lot. And the class is amazing. Everyone is really nice, really chaotic, and once when most of the school was out at a pep rally, we had a thirty-minute discussion about the logistics of Santa Clause, if he were real. 

So Latin became a cool thing for me in that regard; it was like... well, there were a lot of things. Found family, support, the closeness of learning a dead language with a bunch of other people. Like? That’s so weird? If you’re taking Latin, you’re definitely weird, but we’re all weird, so it’s great. And also connecting to dumb normal humans in the past. Like, Catullus wrote bad love poetry. Early in Latin I, we translated a “beware of dog” sign. And also, for me, the sense of, like... Hell, yeah. I followed through with this thing that I wanted to learn a stupid long time ago. And hell, yeah. I learned it. 

And one of the even cooler things for me was how “ad astra per aspera” changed for me, in a way. I love Latin, but it was still a class, and I still struggled with, like, memorizing vocab. And a big issue for me was always getting “ab” (from) and “ad” (towards) mixed up, and “ad astra per aspera” became my way of remembering it, because I knew it meant towards the stars. Later, it also helped me remember “per,” which I got mixed up with “pro.” This random phrase that I learned in, like, this book called Navigating Early, I think? That had been a phrase on a list of words that I collected in hopes of learning a language? Had also become an actual tool for me to learn that language. Which I think is so cool. 

Also, I mentioned that I didn’t really realize that Latin was a legitimate... entire language when I first became interested in it. I knew a few phrases, and I dunno... my weird elementary school brain didn’t understand how language works. But I learned how to use Latin as an actual language. Like, I learned to say more than just a few memorized phrases. It became an actual fucking working language for me, and the biggest thing is that I learned way more than I had ever thought there was to learn about Latin. And that was just the tip of the iceberg, obviously, because it was only my first year of Latin. 

And I actually cried about that as the school year was ending, because like... Oh, man. If fourth grade me could see me now. They would think I am so cool. And also, I think they’re so cool, because they started me down this path of learning this silly dead language. And they helped me, too, because of their list of phrases and “ad astra per aspera.” 

Anyway, this year I’m taking Astronomy. And in the same way I think reading bad love poetry from like... the 50s BC is cool as fuck, I think astronomy is pretty cool. This same sky has been around for... so long. And humans thousands of years saw it. And humans in the future will see it--thinking about humans in the future is so cool. Like, they might see the entire sky change when the Andromeda Galaxy collides with ours. That’s... so beautiful. The fact that we can predict that they’ll see that? And I adore, I love the humans that got us here. Hell, the astronauts that were ready to die so that humanity could reach the heavens? That’s beautiful. It’s something that, like, every time I think about, I cry. In the best way. It’s so beautiful, and it always makes me cry. 

And this year--right now--seasonal depression is hitting hard. Also, at the end of the year I’ll be done with the Latin courses my school offers, and by God, I’m going to miss that class. It’s rough. But I’ve realized that space is something that will invariably make me hopeful, and make me fall in love with the world again. 

And so, when I’m feeling hopeless, I return to that phrase: “ad astra per aspera.” And it means so much to me. It’s a reminder of how far the enthusiasm of a much younger me far back in time has taken me, of how far I’ve come and the learning I’ve pushed myself through, and just... the  most hopeful, beautiful parts of humanity. 

And I just think it’s neat. 

[vvatchword]

Realizing that you have become polarizing for literally no reason is one of the oddest experiences in the known universe. Most of my life, I've had to work on my own sense of self-importance.

"u ain't shit," I'd say to myself. "U are just like any other goofy human being. Learn a little fucking humility."

It helped that life itself joined in and started curb-stomping me. Yeah u ain't shit let me show you what you look like on the inside bitch

But after this experience i went to my best friend and said, "I have just realized i am a motherfucking genius."

"now i think you are, too," she said.

You know why learning to read is important? Because it's how we organize and collate our thoughts. And it is horrifying how very, very badly that these people read. Hell, I'm not sure I was read at all! I'm pretty sure i was added to a long and sprawling blacklist and that there are return visitors to my blog activity to harass supporters.

This whole thing has also been a learning experience. How many times have i been guilty of abandoning OP's context to ramble off on some side track that's way outside their scope? Kinda rude honestly, especially if i held them accountable for not hitting my extremely specific new direction. There's a difference between adding to a concept and yanking it into a full 180. There's also a difference between judging someone harshly for an omission or mistake and being able to look at the rest of their work and realize it was just a bobble, something they would gladly correct or modify with a spot of discussion.

There is no optimism in essayism. Or on the internet, for that matter.

I will say that it's wild how someone can just say something without any proof and bam: that is the truth now. Because it's easy to consume, because the person disagreeing with me is who people want to believe, whereas i wrote a very long and complicated and unpleasant thing in support of media already lying firmly beneath the heel of a devoted hate machine. And who wants the trouble of dealing with a harassment campaign? Don't blame people for not reblogging or commenting. No, not at all.

It also makes me think about some of my favorite essayists, all of whom have been the targets of focused harassment attempts. Man, i will miss Lindsay Ellis until the end of fucking time and i will always resent the dumb fucking bullshit that drove her away. And for what? If anything, her treatment and the general handling of the situation proves the only way to win is not to play. Nobody wanted her to win and she was never going to be given the credit of a doubt as an adult human being with a working brain.

The control of the flow of ideas: controlling who sees whose work, probably with a single sentence of unsubstantiated bullshit. I'm looking at everything differently now: why do i feel the ways i do? Where and why did i consume bullshit, hook, line, and sinker?

The only thing I would change about the BioShock essay is responding to the Lakota blogger at all. Take the one correction that mattered and go on. Because there was nothing there to debate--what they were bringing up, the reasons they said what they said, and the ways they said them was for a very good reason: it involved family and their unjust murders. So i should have granted grace in that case: should have understood that a deep and violent hatred was fucking guaranteed, and that an intelligent debate was never, ever going to happen--not because the blogger was not intelligent, but because they were furious. What's more, if said blogger were truly Lakota, i could've gotten more cultural context. If that person ever shows up around here again, I'd extend an apology for not thinking about that.

But c'est la vie. Time to take that correction into the future.

But for everything and everyone else:

[jamesbuchannan]

What, Like It’s Hard? | p. one | j.b.b

Summary: Y/N’s boyfriend breaks her heart, calls her dumb, and she decides to go to law school. Also, she spills her coffee on a cute boy :)

A/N: If this sucks pls tell me I will rewrite it.

Pairings: Future Bucky x Stark!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of breakup, self doubt, if there’s more please let me know.

previous part: prologue

You had sat in your room for weeks. What the hell just happened? I mean, you’re Y/N Stark goddamn it. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, your father is Tony Fucking Stark.

Your friends would peek into your room occasionally to make sure you were still alive, bringing a fresh box of tissues along with them. Yeah you were sad because he broke up with you, but it was so much more than that.

“Sweetie, you can’t sit in here for the rest of your life and wallow over some guy,” Meg stated. You knew she was right, but she also didn’t understand.

“Meg, it isn’t just because he broke up with me. Sure, it hurts like hell. But it’s why he broke up with me that hurts more. How could he say those things to me? I’m just as smart, if not smarter, than he is!”

“I know, sweetie, he’s an ass,” she sighed, “What would make you feel better? Smoothies? Spa day? Watch Gavin Porter play field hockey shirtless?”

“Getting into Harvard.”

-

Your academic advisor was absolutely perplexed.

“Y/N, we have spent years working on your masters in education, why the sudden switch? Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I’m not giving up my dreams of becoming a teacher, I just think I can do both,” who said you couldn’t go to Harvard while also teaching the minds of todays youth full time? “I swear I can do this.”

“Okay, this sheet of paper here has all of the information you’ll need for the LSAT,” she hands it across the desk, “it will have study information, exam times you can sign up for, and it says there is no cutoff score, but you need to shoot for higher than a 173. You also need to have a few good recommendation letters and a good essay. Good luck.”

-

Studying was the worst part. What if you’re doing all of this for nothing? What if Kyle was right? Maybe you aren’t smart enough for Harvard.

No, you’ve made it this far. You have studied your ass off, wrote an amazing admissions essay, and have had countless professor write recommendation letters. You’ve got this.

This is the monologue going through your mind as you sit there with your freshly refreshed screen.

Click Here for Your LSAT Score.

“You want me to do it?”

“No, I need to do it,” you sigh, “thanks Meg.”

Click.

178.

Holy shit.

“Holy shit!” Meg yelled, “You did it, Y/N! I’m so proud of you!”

Next came your acceptance letter. It all began to feel so real. How is it that in a span of a few months you decided you wanted to go to Harvard, and now you’re holding your acceptance letter?

-

“You promise you’ll call every single day?”

“I promise, Meg. I’ll even call you on the days where I have to stay up till 4 in the morning studying some boring murder case,” you guys have been hugging for a solid 4 minutes now, “I’ll especially call you if there are any cute boys.”

“Ugh! You better. I need pictures, for science,” she giggles, “and hey, remember, you’ve already proven Kyle wrong. Forget about him.”

“Yeah, I will. I just wanna see his face first.”

-

The ride wasn’t that bad and your dorm room is pretty nice. You have your own room, which is great seeing as you haven’t had to share a room since freshmen year. You spent the whole first day making your room more personal, needing to feel some form of home.

Luckily, you were able to get evening classes, your first class starting at 4pm. It fits perfect with your schedule at the local elementary school, having gotten a teaching job in the Kindergarten department. You’re worried about the time and workload, but you believe in yourself.

It was around 6am as you head towards the parking lot, away from campus. Suddenly, you run into someone full force, knocking your coffee onto your shoes and this stranger.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! I am such a fuckin’ klutz.”

You look up in the midst of your rambling to see a massive, behemoth of a man. Great, now you look like an idiot in front of this beautiful man.

“It’s okay, genuinely, it’s fine,” he laughs a bit, “Why are you walking off campus at 6am, do you not have class?”

“Um, yeah, I have class later. I’m on my way to work,” Why are you telling this stranger your schedule? God, he’s making you so flustered.

“Work? What, daddy doesn’t pay your tuition?” your face falls a bit, and he can tell, “That made me sound like a douche, didn’t it? It’s just, most of the students here don’t work while in school, they usually don’t need to.”

“I’m a kindergarten teacher. And yes my dad does pay my tuition, but I teach because I love it.”

“Wow, well I admire that. I can’t imagine being a teacher while being in law school. Well, I’ll let you get to work, but it was nice meeting you. I’m James, but my friends call me Bucky.”

“Well, James, I’m Y/N. Hopefully I won’t spill my coffee on you again.”

masterlists: if you’re crossed out, check your settings. if i forgot you, pls lmk!

master: @criminallyautumn

what, like it’s hard?: @vicmc624​ @teenagedreams-bucky​ @hotleaf-juice @white-wolf-buckaroo @ashpeace888 @ts1mp0ne @buckylokisimp

[just-some-random-blogger]

Death By Bagel

NCT Culinary Student!Mark Lee x Fashion Design Student!Reader Summary: Mark makes a cake cause he's realized he can't lose you to some f-boy. Word Count: 3k+ Warnings: Fluff, childhood au, college au, slowish burn, slight cursing, reallllly fluffy, some broksi-dude action, typos sksksksks, etc.

R E Q U E S T my friend: mark lee, slow burn, friends to lovers

A/N: I wrote a fic that already had like 1k+ word then I LOST IT (i think i deleted it) thus this. It took me 10 years to write this msmsmkskskks. PLEASE TUMBLR IS MESSING WITH ME AND MIXED UP THE ORDER OF SOME OF THE DIALOGUE

“As a doctor, I don’t think you should be doing that,” Mark says, not even bothering to look at his patient seated rudely on the floor. Oop, he’s lying down now.

Mark huffs and looks up from the clay block he was molding on his tray, “YOU’RE SO UNPROFESSIONAL!”

Mark’s mother nearly spits out her coffee upon hearing the words of his five-year-old son. Her husband snorts, “He got that from you.”

The woman throws a look at the man and was supposed to give a snarky retort, up until the sound of the doorbell ringing. She grins from ear-to-ear and dashes to get the door.

When she comes back to the living room, she’s accompanies by another woman and a tiny version of her.

“Markie! Say hello to your Auntie!” Mark’s mom calls.

Mark from the carpeted floor looks up and blinks, examining the stranger-woman and its human-ling. Mark turns to his father who was sat on the couch and receives a nod of approval almost. Mark purses his lips and waves at the woman.

The woman waves back and then crouches down to the little girl, “Baby, say hello to Mark.”

Unwilling, she shakes her head.

“Aw come on, baby. Don’t be shy. Mark over there is a really sweet boy. I knew him when he was in his mommy’s tummy, just like Mark’s mom knew you when you were in mine. You’re the same age so you’ll get along just fine.”

With the unnecessary explanation that gave no justification to the scene whatsoever out of the way, the girl was fooled into peeping up, “Hi, Mark.”

“Hello,” Mark says, not particularly interested, as his patient was still in the midst of dying in his office. He turned to his stuffed toy called Mr. Lion and attempted to stand him up once more.

At this point, the girl makes her way to Mark.

“We’ll be back in two hours, honey. Keep an eye on the children,” Mrs. Lee tells his husband who had been occupied with TV the entire time.

“Yeah. I got this,” he smiles to his wife then goes back to watching.

The bumble bee clad figure sat down to Mark in blue and watched him play.

Mark ignored her for a few seconds, needing to assert all efforts on standing that dumb toy up. Once successful, Mark turns to her, “Do you play doctors?”

Mark was then met with the same lack on enthusiasm. She hums, “I like playing baker doctor.”

All at once, Mark gasps, “ME TOO!”

It was unbeknownst to the children it was oddly specific and the chance of this happening was pretty slim.

And in a blink of an eye, excited giggles erupt in the room, as if they had been having so much fun before this scene. It was here and there the two would become best friends to the very end.

... so I guess it means the reckoning is upon us.

“MARK LEE I SWEAR TO THE FU--” “WHAT! WHAT!?” Mark laughs.

"YOU ATE MY BAGEL! AGAIN!" I growl in a loud whisper, throwing the wrapper at him and his flat head before he could think to dodge it while he annoyingly laughs.

"I asked if I could have it though!" he says, fully knowing his sins.

I glared at him and say lowly, "I thought you were referring to my notes, bread for brains."

Mark snorts loud enough for our teacher to wake up from his nap. Once the class notices, we all pretend to be doing something productive and Mark plays it off with a cough.

"Mr. Lee." Mr. Kim says sternly, clicking his tongue, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Mark finishes coughing and turns to our seated professor, "Yes sir."

"Don't go to school if you're sick and going to cause a racket with your coughing."

Mark nods firmly and Mr. Kim closes his eyes again, mumbling, "page 65 is due tomorrow."

The entire class grumbles. Mark beside me scoffs and makes a face, "Yeah, yeah, Doyoung."

I turn to him and elbow his side.

"Whatever," Mark shakes his head, "professor bunny-teeth won't hear me."

Once class ended, we both get our things and head out for lunch. We walk to our canteen, fussing over assignments, deciding we should do it together later in our mutually free period.

I groan and narow your eyes at him as we have an argument over how he hasn't finished the essay for English, "That's not the point."

"Yo Mark!" a voice calls from afar. Mark and I turn, looking for the voice, and I spot the dimpled senior, Jung Jaehyun, in a table with the rest of his squad.

I nudge Mark and point at the pale guy seated by the corner.

Mark throws him a smile and waves. I follow closely behind him as he walks over to the table. "We're going to sit with them?" I say in some sort of gasp.

"Yeah." Mark replies simply, not bothering to turn to me, "they're cool."

I knit my brows at that and nod, "Yeah I know. But I'm not cute today."

Mark stops in his tracks and throws me a confused look, "what?"

"I didn't put any make-up on today, also I'm pretty sure there's a visible stain somewhere on my jacket, I just don't remember where."

Mark scrunches his face up again, even more confused. "What? How do you... forget a stai-- that's not the point. Why do you wanna look cute today?" He scoffs and continues lowly, "hardly as if you ever look cute."

I let out an annoyed groan and punch Mark's shoulder. "Like when you panicked when Seulgi came over and asked for notes."

Mark openes his mouth, "That is so not the same! Jaehyun's a fuck bo-"

"Just shut up already," I snap and shove him forward so he'd continue walking. "Let's not keep him waiting," I add and mumble, "also I know. Dong Sicheng however is very cute."

Mark chuckles, "he's dated every girl on the dance team."

"Okay, maybe not that cute."

"Ya, Mark," Jaehyun grins and greets the said person with a high-five and chest bump. He turns to me and speaks my name with a smile. I smile back politely and wave.

I'm about to sit next to Sicheng, but Mark shoves me and so I end up sitting on the other side of the bench table with Jaehyun. I turn to Jaehyun with a small, non-awkward smile and shoot Mark a glare. He seems unbothered though.

"So, you up for a round later?" Jaehyun asks Mark.

Mark talks over me, "you know it, dude."

Jaehyun flashes his dimple smile all the stupid girls fall for. I'm only half falling for it cause I'm only half stupid. He raises his brows, "you bought the dough, right?"

This makes me knit my brows.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I really did this time," Mark mumbles quickly. "It's my turn anyway."

Jaehyun gives an off look, "that's literally what you said last time bro."

"Yo, no for real. It's in my bag, if you wanna check."

Jaehyun shakes his head when Mark begins to scramble for it, "no, Lee, it's good. We wouldn't want you friend to get dirty."

Is it just me or do you feel slimey all of a sudden?

Jaehyun then gives me a somewhat, somehow sincere smile, "so. I hear you're in fashion design."

I give a soft chuckle, "yeah. That's me."

"I could tell from a mile away. Mark looks horrible next to your getup."

I look down at my sweater and ripped jeans. Mark exclaims in protest, "shut the hell up, Jae."

I give a soft smile at Jaehyun, "don't know where that comes from but thanks I guess."

Jaehyun chuckles, "I'm kidding," he eyes Mark, "I saw your Fashion Design pin on your bag when you sat down."

"Oooohhhh, haha, okay, that makes sense."

"Ya, Jeff," Sicheng calls for Jaehyun, "it's almost time."

Jaehyun turns to his friend and nods. He turns back to me and Mark, "well, it's nice to meet you. Mark won't put a sock in it even if I beg. See you around, fashionista."

He stands and slaps Mark's back, "see ya later, broski."

"Yeah, bruh," Mark replies.

Once it's just Mark and I, I snap at him and blurt out in a whisper yell, "YOU'RE ON BROSKI LEVEL WITH JUNG JAEHYUN?!"

Mark gives me a weird face, "bruh, I think he calls the principal broski, for real."

I smack Mark, making him whine, "you know what I'm talking about, Mark! And what, are you doing drugs?!?"

He shakes his head in confusion, "Wait, what!? Who the hell told you that?"

"Uhhhhh you were talking about dough and showing up later. Sounds like you owe him money for drugs, Mark."

"??? In what universe did we even mention drugs?? Does this," he slaps his face, "look like a face of a drug addict to you?"

"A gullible idiot maybe."

Mark's jaw drops, "oh wow, okay. I'm done with this conversation." He proceeds to stand attempt to walk away. I scoff, "not on my watch bitch."

Like the true idiot that he is, Mark begins to legit run away from me, like a criminal who stole my cookies. It's embarrassing that he, a man much taller than I, could not even outrun me. I suppose I should be grateful, but this just fortifies my thoughts of him being an idiot even more.

But okay... I wasn't actually expecting this... like... Mark and Jaehyun... like... actually baking bread after school with dough Mark premade at home. Also, uh, Jaehyun looks super cute in an apron that I'm having a mental breakdown. And what's new, so does Mark.

"I can't believe you thought I was a drug dealer," Jaehyun says in a soft pout as he rolls out dough on the marble counter of his friggin large kitchen in his friggin large house. Like dang, I knew he was rich, but he's like Rich™ Rich. Rich with a golden diamond encrusted Rolex watch rich that's in a glass display rich-- wtf.

Mark wheezes in his telltale high pitched laugh as he opens a pack of unsweetened chocolate pellets, "she thought dough was some sort of metaphor or something."

"Cute," they say at the same time. Mark turns to Jaehyun in slight surprise and Jaehyun turns to me. I roll my eyes, though I feel my neck burn. I avert my attention to the scene I was sketching on my pad, Jaehyun and Mark baking croissants. I clear my throat, "I'm just making use of the single braincell between us, cause if he doesn't die falling down the stairs, he's gonna pull some idiotic stuff like baking with Jung Jaehyun."

Oddly, it's Mark that reacts to that with a, "hey!"

Jaehyun rubs his chin on his shoulder, "I also can't believe you think so little of me.'

I break a sweat but decide to answer honestly, "... ... ... You have a reputation."

"Of being a fuck boy?"

Mark loudly transfers the chocolates into a metal bowl, making the two of us snap at him. Mark makes a face, "oh gosh, sorry."

Jaehyun sighs, "well. I admit I get around, but that's only because I get dumped every time."

I raise a brow.

Jaehyun purses his lips, "nah, let's not make this weird. The croissants will be flat."

"Dude," Mark turns to him, "that's literally only because you messed up the recipe."

Jaehyun grits his teeth, "no. It's because Kun's a little teacher's pet and sabotaged me so he could get the best grade."

"No, but like Kun is really nice, he helped me with the fold techinique."

Jaehyun scoffs, "He stole me vanilla extract, Mark. Who does that?!"

"No, listen, he's cool, like, for real--"

"No, you listen, he's a little shit and--"

The two begin to bicker like a married couple, and I begin to draw inspiration form the scene to design some random sketches of wedding dresses.

I look back to the two and still can't get over the fact that I learned Jaehyun was a culinary arts major with my best friend, and that I was currently in the Jung's boojie home because I thought Mark was buying drugs from him. Not what I was expecting at all my day to go like, but I'm not mad this is how it went.

"No, no, no, no," Jaehyun says. He turns to me and points, "let's just get an outside opinion. Babe, what's your favorite color?"

"BABE?!" Mark barks.

I take a moment to reply. I blink slowly, "uhh... pink?"

Jaehyun bites his lower lip and claps his flour covered hands, "Right. Pink croissants it is."

Mark shoots him a glare and turns to me, back to Jaehyun, "she has a name."

Jaehyun nods, "yeah, and she wants pink croissants."

Mark makes a face and Jaehyun examines it, chuckling under his breath. "Wah, you two are something, huh."

No one really responds.

We began to always eat lunch with Jaehyun and his friends. It's funny cause I realized Jaehyun, although I still firmly believed he was out to get nasty with every other girl he sees, he was actually just like Mark. A total loser with a love for cooking.

"Hey," Mark says with a snippy tone.

I give him a look and suddenly receive a paper bag to my face. Mark sits on his chair next to me, as per usual. I smell the thing before I realize what it is. It's a freshly baked bagel. I perk up and smile, "Aw, you baked me a bagel?"

Mark raises his upper lip, "no. Jaehyun did."

I knit my brows, "what? Why?"

Mark narrows his brows, "do you, like, like him?"

I give him a look. I take a bite of the bagel, making Mark look at me in disbelief. I answer, "You do know I only hang with him cause you do, right?"

"Then why'd you eat the bagel then?"

"Uh, a number of reasons. 1) it's a bagel, 2) free food, 3) I'm starving, 4) it smells amazingggg."

Mark does a face, "fair. I've been meaning to ask how he does his seasoning for a while now too." He releases a breath, "and anyway, I'm pretty sure he made a bagel cause I told him you liked them. Never talking about you to him anymore though."

I look at him, "why do you talk about me so much to him anyway?"

"Uh because you're amazing," Mark says instinctively.

I feel my heart skip at that. I coo and place my hands on my chest, "wait that's really sweet."

Mark looks at me. His face begin to shift, "too bad it's a lie- haha."

I give him a look and rebut, "jerk."

"Loser."

As quickly as I found out about Jaehyun being Mark's friend, that's about as quickly as I found out he didn't like hanging out with him anymore. It's kind of a shame I never got to go back to his boojie house.

There was this one encounter I had with Jaehyun though... which was a little weird, not gonna lie.

He was waiting for me outside my Tailoring class, smiling and waving when he saw me. I Reluctantly reciprocated and walked over to him.

He releases a breath, "I've been waiting for about 20 minutes for you. I didn't know when your class would end."

I raise my brows, "you could have asked?"

"Well I would need your number for that, and that would have ruined the surprise," he pulled out a brown paper bag, reminiscing the same one Mark chucked at my face.

"I made you two this time," he smiles.

I take a moment to reply, "you don't have to make me bagels, Jaehyun."

He grabs my hand, "yeah, but I want something out of ya," he places the bagels in my hand. He proceeds to lead us off and we begin to walk down the hall.

Truth be told, it's a little scary that his ulterior motive is up in the air. Jaehyun places his hands in his pockets, "I like your dress, by the way."

I smile, "thanks. I made it."

He smiles and nods, "right. That makes sense as to why it suits you well."

I can't help but blush at that, and simultaneously feel conscious when I realize a bunch of girls in my course are looking at me and Jaehyun as we strut down the hall.

"So, what did you want, Jaehyun?"

"Well, I clearly wanted to ask you out."

"..."

"..."

Jaehyun smiles and give a soft laugh, "is it so ground breaking?"

"... Uh..."

He sniggers, "hey, you can say no. I mean I hope you don't but you can." Jaehyun leans in and raises his hands, "I won't like it, but a man should take rejection from a lady well."

I turn to him as he straightens up. I turn to the bagels he made me and bring it back to him. He laughs, "no, I made them for you really. It's not poisoned, in fact it's made with love."

I visibly react to that, which makes Jaehyun wheeze. I can't help but laugh back, "that was hella tacky."

"Worth a shot though," he says. "Good luck with Mark."

I look at him with silence and he chuckles, "ya, you can't fool me."

I'm about to retort but then Jaehyun gets called by one of the frats dudes I identify as Johnny Seo. Jaehyun does a curtsy and clicks his tongue, "see ya later babez."

"You know, I would have said yes if you didn't do stuff like that."

Jaehyun purses his lips, "no you wouldn't."

I shrug, "worth a shot though."

Jaehyun places a hand on his chest, dramatically calling, "Uh, rejection hurts, man."

Yeah, I never went to Jaehyun's boojie house ever again.

Silver lining though was Mark's dorm smelled equally as nice because of all the food he cooks, although it came with a whiff of axe body spray from his roommate, Lucas. It's cool though, he was almost never around for me to smell it in its whole intensity.

"Aite," Mark calls from his side of the dorm. I perk up from the two seater dining table they had and turn to Mark who was covering the cake he was making for his finals.

"Don't, like, peek, okay. I want you to see the cake all at once and give me your honest reaction to it. Please, like, all my lives kinda depend on it."

"How many lives do you have?"

"9, I'm pretty sure."

I stand from my seat, "not you faking your life as a cat, but get it I guess."

Mark raises a hand at me as I walk over, "can you not, I'm high-key panicking right now."

"Over what? You literally made a box of donuts for your midterms and it looked better than Misty Mreme! I'm sure your cake is hot."

"It was in the minifridge for a day. I mean it barely fit cause of all of Lucas' mountain dew."

I groan, "just show me it, Mark Lee!"

Mark whined and dashes over to me, grabbing my shoulders, "okay, but like, don't be mean about it. I swear, I might cry."

I give a sound and fake cough, "it's ugly."

Mark doesn't respond to that particular jab, "I'm serioussss. Please be kind, okay?"

I look at Mark's nervous face and give a soft pout, "Markie, please, not that I think it would be ugly, but I promise you don't have to be nervous about my reaction."

He isn't soothed by that, but he does release a sigh, "okay. So for context, Mr. Moon wanted the cake to be one or two tiers, but I went with one, cause there aint no way I'm going to the other side of the campus to freeze a two tiered cake. Then, the theme was something from your childhood, so, I, uh, thought this was fitting. The exam is 60 percent decoration, 40 percent taste by the way."

Mark gives me a hesitant look, but steps way for me to see it. I then see a heart shaped, medium sized cake in my favorite pastel pink color. By the top there's a little boy on the floor playing with a toy oven set and little girl in a bumble bee dress, holding a stethoscope. At the bottom of the cake, there were jelly letters spelling out, "I like you."

I cup my cheeks at the sight of it and feel my eyes start to well at the sentiment.

Wait... was this really happening?

Mark heaves in and out, "okay, so like when Jaehyun began to like hit on you, that sucked pretty hard because he's known for getting girls and I thought maybe he'd get you too and I got panicky. Anyway, I....... have liked you since we were kids... And... I know you probably don't feel the same way but I have to try, you know.... Yolo."

My feel my tears retract from what I hear. I rub my eyes. I turn to Mark and find his nervous face. "Did you just say yolo in your confession, Mark?"

He looks like he's about to throw up.

I can't help but chuckle and pout, "dude..."

I prolong the moment. Mark gets even more nervous as he repeats softly, "dude..."

"We could have dated in grade school all this time."

It takes a moment to register in his head.

Like, a really long moment.

I sigh, "Mark! I like you too, dummy."

He freezes and blinks. His face begins to burn. He breaks into a soft smile, "nice."

I break into a laugh.

"... Uh... So... Can I like... Kiss you?"

I snort and feel my own cheeks begin to burn, "I think you should refrigerate your cake first."

Mark snaps out of this trance, "oh shoot, you-" I give him a quick peck on the lips.

He is dumbfounded.

I feel butterflies go wild in my stomach.

"I'll wait over there for when you've fixed that."

Mark watches as I walk away, "yooo.... That's not fair though."

[mandoalorian]

Agent whisky (Teacher) x New agent (student). As you’re both fighting, you both get hot and bothered and reader throws him against a wall and the rest in folds. (Fem reader)

After Class [Jack Daniels x Reader] SMUT

Word count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: SMUT, p in v, creampie, choking, teacher x student, exhibitionist kink, implied age difference

Masterlist

He was insufferable. He was your teacher — and oh, you hated him. You hated how he'd come into class smelling like sweet, honeyed cologne, causing all the girls to swoon at the mere sight of him. It was laughable, really. He wasn't anything special. He was attractive, sure. He had the charm of a king and the politeness of a saint. But it didn't matter because you hated him, and you wanted him to know that you hated him. So you'd talk during his lectures and you'd roll your eyes whenever he tried addressing you directly. He had this know-it-all attitude, he had these deep, chocolate brown eyes that were so easy to get lost in. The Statesman Academy shouldn't have even hired him. It was so easy to get lost in those damn eyes.

His eyes were just a few shades darker than his hair, which he kept hidden under a cringe-worthy cowboy hat. But you'd be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't dreamt of wearing it while you ride him. The dirty fantasies about Mr Daniels (though he'd have you call him 'sir') didn't become regular until a few months ago. Now it was every single class where you became hypnotised by his attractive looks.

You hated his perfectly groomed mustache and how the thought of it brushing against your cunt haunted you during his seminars. You hated the perfect curve in his nose and how you imagined it nudging against your clit as he performed the most life changing oral on you. If only he knew about the things that went on in that filthy little mind of yours.

You practically gasped out loud when Mr Daniels dropped your assignment on the desk in front of you, a circle with a big red 'F' marked on. He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at you, before moving on to hand out the rest of the essays. No way— there was no way that your essay has been marked fairly. You might have been slacking just a little this semester (due to Mr Daniels obnoxious handsome looks), but not to the extent of getting an F in your finals!

"Well done class, we all performed exceptionally well this term. There is however one person I need to see after class, she knows who she is," Mr Daniels glanced briefly at you and you narrowed your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. "But have an excellent vacation and remember don't party too hard." He winked cheekily before dismissing the class. Once the students filed out of the room, and the bell rang, signifying the end of the day, Mr Daniels stalked back into the classroom. He said nothing, didn't even spare you a look. He padded over to his desk, sunk into his chair and began to go through paperwork.

You waited for something— anything. The silence was deafening, and you began to tap your feet against the floor impatiently. Why the hell was he holding you hostage in his stuffy classroom on the last day of term? You assumed it was due to your abysmal grade on your essay, but he hadn't even mentioned it. He was ignoring you and once again, you hated him for it.

You were staring him out with absolutely no shame, taking in all his features. You admired his broad shoulders and watched his bicep flex as he wrote comments on the work he was checking through.

He'd noticed your staring too. He always had. He tried to contain the blush that crept up on his cheeks as your eyes burned into his body, watching his every move. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife. If he was going to speak to you about your essay result, he'd need to have a drink first. After a few more minutes of silence, he excused himself and left the classroom. Each professor at the academy had their own affinity for alcohol, Mr Daniels' beverage of choice being a glass of warm whiskey. He poured it into a small tumbler, admiring the amber liquid as he dropped a few cubes of ice in, letting it clink against the glass. The mere thought of you in his classroom, waiting for you, was enough to make his cock stir. He sighed, gulping down the liquid and made his way back to the classroom. It was the first time you and Mr Daniels had some one on one alone time. He hadn't drank enough to get intoxicated, but it was enough for him to lower his inhibitions.

He walked into the classroom and locked the door behind him, before turning to face you.

"Why am I here?" you asked with an unamused frown.

"You went from being a straight A student to getting an F in your most important exam of the year," Mr Daniels huffed with a disappointed shake of his head. You didn't care— no, you couldn't let yourself care about your professor. But seeing the despondency written across his face was enough to make your heart yearn with guilt for letting him down. "What happened?" he quizzed you eventually.

You considered his question. You weren't a dishonest person, and you knew exactly what had happened. You had been so distracted by your professor's ravenous demeanor, that you'd become too overcome with sexual desire to even focus the slightest in his lectures.

"You happened." you said, regretting the words as soon as they left your lips. Your voice broke slightly— you sounded pathetic.

"Excuse me?" he asked, raising both of his eyebrows in disingenuous surprise. You wanted to wipe the smirk that you saw creeping up on his lips. Your education wasn't a joke.

"I was doing fine in Agent Tequila's class," you acknowledged. "Maybe it's your teaching." you shrugged.

"My teaching?" Mr Daniels gasped incredulously.

"Oh quit playing dumb," you said, suddenly rising to your feet. Your chair scraped against the floor as you stalked over to your teacher. "I know my worth Mr Daniels, and it's not an F."

"Please, call me Jack." He hummed, reaching out and caressing your cheek. You subconsciously leaned into his smooth hand as his thumb rubbed gentle circles into your jaw. You hadn't even realised how close he had gotten to you as he admired your face, and the intimacy began to take effect down below.

"Oh, first name basis?" you spat sarcastically, pressing the palm of your hand against his chest, threading your fingers through the buttons of his white shirt so you could gently graze the skin of his tan chest. "How polite."

"Manners maketh man," he smirked, quoting the Statesman mantra, and you wanted to wack that dumb cowboy hat off his head. "Let me translate that for you," he pouted condescendingly, letting his hands fall to your own chest.

He squeezed your tits through your blouse, drawing a few wanton moans from you. "Wh- what makes you think I need that translated?" you asked your professor, trying to keep your cool. This is exactly what you had dreamt about for the past three months. His thumb rolled over your hardening nipples, pinching them now and again so he could watch you squirm underneath his touch.

"The F on your paper?" he shot back. Your eyes widened and you pushed him into the wall, his back slamming against the concrete as he groaned from the pressure you'd placed on him. He would be lying if he said it didn't feel good though. It was rare he'd have a lady take charge — especially not one as young and bright eyed as yourself.

"I hate you," you snarled as his fingers dipped under the hem of your short, pleated skirt. He chuckled darkly, sending a frenzy of butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"Oh sugar," he drawled, the smell of scotch lacing his breath as he pressed a soft kiss into your jaw. You couldn't contain the small whimper that escaped your lips. He smirked, knowing exactly what he could do to you— how he could make you feel. "Look at you… got me pressed against the wall. I'm your teacher." he reminded you with a small tut.

"You drive me crazy," you admitted in a fluster, your hand falling down his button up shirt and resting at his oversized belt buckle. The coolness of the metal stung your skin as you parted your legs slightly, rubbing what you could on his jean clad thigh. "When you stand up there, in front of the class, talking all that shit about, about-" you couldn't even get your words out as his fingers graced your cunt, feeling out your clit under the material of your dampening panties.

"What?" Jack murmured, his teeth grazing your jaw as he sucked softly against your skin. "What is it?" he urged you to continue, your breathing jumping as he continued to softly press his thick fingers along your aching core. You tried to answer but nothing except lewd moan came out, and you felt your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. "You joined the academy. You wanted to train as an agent. Maybe you'd prefer it if I transferred your classes to, let's say, Agent Champ? Or the sweet Ginger Ale?"

You curled your fingers around his leather belt. "N-no," you growled. "I want you," you revealed as you unclipped it and tossed it to one side. You groaned wantonly as you felt his erection press up against your thigh. It was clear that your professor wanted you too. "You know if- if Principal Champ finds out about this…" you moaned, working your fingers at Jack's zipper.

"He's not going to find out about this," Jack snapped, his harsh tone causing your eyes to snap open.

"O-okay cowboy," you bit your lip seductively, finally pulling his zipper down and freeing his hard, aching cock. You immediately wrapped your hand around him, smearing his precum down his length and started to pump at his erection, satisfied with the string of curses falling from his tongue.

"Fuck- so good," Jack praised as you worked his cock with your hands. "But I want more… I want to bury my cock in the warmth of your pussy. Would you like that baby girl?" he hummed, both his hands grabbing on your shoulders as he turned around and pushed you into the wall. You gasped as he ripped open your blouse in one swift manouver, the buttons popping and falling everywhere. His hungry lips pressed against yours as he slid his tongue into your mouth, kissing you roughly and with passion.

"Someone could just walk in." you gasped as Jack yanked your skirt down, letting it pool around your ankles.

He groaned longingly as he played with the waistband of your panties. "Lace? For school? I knew you were a dirty girl." he chuckled darkly before pulling them down. He wasted no time, pressed two fingers into your weeping cunt and rubbing between your folds. He stroked tight and precise circles into your clit, desperate to pump an orgasm out of you before he even entered. Your eyes snapped shut as you pressed your fingernails into his still clothed back. "Oh, you like that don't you?"

"Mm don't stop," you begged, rolling your hips against his fingers.

"Is this what you think about during my lectures?" Jack cooed. "Or do you imagine my cock?" He pressed his blunt tip against the inside of your thigh, pushing himself in between your legs. "So fucking wet and all for me." your professor shook his head in slight awe. You pushed the hat off his head and tangled your fingers in his dark brown hair, tugging teasingly in attempt to gain a reaction out of him.

Without warning, two of his fingers pushed inside of you and began to scissor you open. "If you want my cock I gotta make sure you're able to take it," he whispered huskily.

His fingers worked like magic and it wasn't long before your walls tightened around him and you reached your climax. "Greedy pussy." Jack sighed, removing his fingers and sucking them clean.

"Please sir, fuck me," you begged, your hands cupping his face as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"I told you, call me Jack," he growled before pushing himself deep into your quivering hole.

"Fuck Jack," you whined once he was fully seated. He was bigger than you had ever taken before, and he set a brutal pace. The classroom filled with obscene wet sounds as every single thrust became harder and sloppier as his balls slapped against your dripping cunt.

Jack kept up his pace, not halting once. "You always- you always fucking answer back," he whispered, digging one hand into your hip and bringing the other to your neck, squeezing it just enough for your eyes to widen slightly.

"Mm you always give me a reason too," you shot back and Jack's grip around you tightened as he fucked you senselessly.

"Shit, gonna cum. Gonna cum inside you and you're going to take it— understood?" he asked breathlessly. You nodded in affirmation and it only took a few more messy thrusts before he spilled his salty seed inside you.

He carefully sat you down on the edge of his desk as you came down from your own high. "Are you okay?" he asked you as he tucked himself back in his pants and adjusted his tie.

"That better have earned me an A," you muttered, biting your lip and shooting a seductive glance towards your teacher.

"Fair is fair," Jack shrugged. "You can leave when you're ready. Have a nice vacation." he smiled, back to his usual polite professor self. It made you sick— the way he could just fuck you with no remorse against the wall of his classroom and then pretend like nothing happened.

You stood up, taking your clothes from the ground and lazily sliding back into your skirt. "I don't have a fucking blouse," you mumbled, your eyes following the abundance of buttons that trailed across the floor. "You ruined it."

Mr Daniels took his suit jacket and wrapped it around your naked torso, buttoning it up gently so you were all covered up. "Do you need a lift home?" he asked.

You bit your lip, remembering your parents weren't home and smiled. "Actually, yeah please." you told him, wondering if he'd be interested in a round two.

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[cjsinkythoughts]

A History Lesson

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4741

Warnings: Vulgar language, I think that’s it (it’s mainly fluff like Bucky’s)

Summary: You never were fond of history...but if history gives you a man like that? Maybe you could deal with it.

A/N: Here it is! A little later than I had hoped, but my brother is visiting, it was his birthday this week, work’s been a bit hectic, and I ended up writing a little something for Bucky’s birthday on Wednesday, which I didn’t mean to. I got it done, though! First Date with our dear Cap’n Spangles! I have all the First Date ideas for the other Avengers lined up, but I think I’m gonna put this on hiatus for now. I’m gonna try focusing on my College!AU at the moment. If you guys want, I’ll share my First Date plans, though. If I find time, I’ll write the next one. If you haven’t noticed, I have a fondness for collages, so I might do what I’m doing for my College!AU Project and make collages for the other First Dates before writing them. Anyways, enough with my ramblings. Enjoy the date!

You keep checking the clock, waiting for this lecture to be done. You typically enjoy school, but history isn’t a strong suit for you. You try in history, you really do, but all the information - the dates, people, places - it’s too much. You constantly mix things up, no matter how hard you study. And you don’t really get the hype. Who cares what these dead guys did? It happened, it’s done, and it’s time to move on.

“That’s all for today! Don’t forget your papers are due on Monday! You’re dismissed!”

You let out a groan at the mention of the cursed research paper. You had stayed up for hours the previous nights working on it, but so far you have squat. The essay is on the Second World War (more specifically the differences of life between Americans and Europeans at the time), and you know you should’ve done it when it was given a week ago, but your shitty memory makes it difficult to write a paper without five million textbooks in front of you and you don’t have time to go to the library every night between work, friends, and other projects. So, you haven’t done it yet.

Exhausted, mentally and physically, you collect your things and head out of the lecture hall. You pull out your phone to text your friends, telling them you have to work on a paper tonight and you can’t meet up for dinner like you all usually do on Fridays. Deciding to take a breather before working, you start out to the bench overlooking the Potomac River, which you always sat at to relax and just…be. The scenic walk through DC and the sight of the steady river flowing besides the busy city always calms you. 

You sit there for a few moments, letting the slight breeze chill the skin that’s warmed by the sun, listening to it ruffle the trees. The blush pink blossoms that appear when Spring sings her song and chases away Winter flutter to the newly grown, bright green grass below. You enjoy all the seasons, unable to help but love the unique beauty each brings, and Spring is no exception, despite the allergies and tests she brings.

And speaking of tests…

A soft sigh passes your lips as you get out your laptop. You might as well start writing, or at least researching, that paper. You never were good at relaxing when there’s work to be done.

You’re so engrossed in getting the stupid essay done and over with that you don’t notice the jogger who pauses in his run by the very bench you are slaving away on. “Savin’ this seat for anyone?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. Go ahead.” You answer distractedly, not even looking up from your screen as the owner of the deep voice sits besides you.

A few more minutes pass in comfortable silence, before you ruin it with a grumble and delete half the paragraph you just wrote. “That doesn’t make sense.” You change tabs to look over the information on the page you have pulled up again, only to furrow your eyebrows. You’re pretty sure the information is wrong. You may have a shitty memory, but you’re sure that the information given on this page is in contrast to the information given in the book you were reading a couple days ago.

“What’re you workin’ so hard on there, honey?”

You let out a huff, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. “Some dumb research paper for school! It’s on World War Two, and I can’t remember what’s right and what’s wrong and it’s a stupid topic anyways that my stupid teacher assigned! Who fucking cares about a hundred years ago? And how the hell am I supposed to know this? I wasn’t alive! You know what I…”

The words die on your tongue as you finally glance over at the stranger keeping you company.

Blonde hair that seems gold with the way the sun is hitting the strands, which are damp and in slight disarray due to his exercise. Bright blue eyes reflecting the sky above, hidden beneath long lashes that you’re immediately envious of. Pretty pink lips, matching the cherry blossoms on the trees surrounding you, pulling up into an amused sort of smile. The makings of a beard lining his jaw and littering his cheeks.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You just ranted about how stupid history is to Captain fucking America. You just ranted about how you have to write a dumb essay on World War Two to Captain fucking America.

Ignoring the way your body heats up, starting in your toes and climbing up your legs, chest, and neck to reach the tips of your ears, a nervous little chuckle is all you can give. You clear your throat, trying to think of how to apologize. “I guess you wouldn’t know what I mean, huh?”

What in the ever loving fuck was that? That was not an apology!

You clear your throat and try again. “I-I mean…sorry. It’s not - I didn’t mean-”

“No, no. It’s fine, sweetheart.” The grin he shoots you makes you glad you aren’t standing up, knowing full well your knees would’ve buckled if you were. You open your mouth to apologize again, but he shakes his head before you can speak. “Really. It’s okay. I get it. I used to be a student too. And you’re right; it was a long time ago and there’s a lot of things that happened. Even I have a hard time keeping track of everything that went down.”

You merely blink at him, nodding slowly. Say something. For the love of God, please just say something. Anything! “Yeah. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning.” Really? You’re sitting besides the one and only Captain America and that’s what you decide to say?

You feel yourself slump your shoulders slightly, trying to shrink down into absolute nothingness. But even that wouldn’t work because he’s got that friend of his that could shrink and he’d find you. It seems that you were destined to be embarrassed in front of one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. Screw the universe.

Instead of teasing you or embarrassing you further, he chuckles and nods in agreement, his eyes lighting up. “You’re not the only one. My pal Clint has got the absolute worst memory. We tease him all the time for it. How he became an agent with the memory of a goldfish, I’ll never know.” You laugh at that, your muscles relaxing and your anxiety easing up.

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get through college before I’m in the clear.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Uh…so, a World War Two paper, huh? Need some help? I’m kind of an expert on the topic.”

Breath hitching as he scoots closer, you swallow thickly and shrug. “I don’t want to bother you. You look like you’re in the middle of a run.” You gesture to the tight ass t-shirt hugging his torso that you’re sure is sizes too small for him and the joggers hanging off his hips.

Following your gesture, he looks down, before shaking his head. “Nah. I’ve already ran a few more miles than I was going to today.”

“Are-are you sure?”

There’s that grin again. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive him tutoring you if he keeps  giving you that adorable toothy smile. “Honest. I’ve got the rest of the day. We can go to the library if you want. Or we can stay here. Whatever works best for you. I don’t mind either way.”

You blink again, like an idiot, as you process his words. Whatever works best for you. What a gentleman. “Uhh…I was about to head to the library anyways, but I really don’t want to bother you-”

“Trust me, honey. It’d be my pleasure.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

You let out a soft laugh and nod at his insistence, starting to pack up your things. “Okay. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You stand up as he does and offer your hand.

“Steve. But I guess you figured that out.” Taking your hand, you expect him to shake it, but he squeezes it softly and brings it to his lips instead.

Clearing your throat, you tease him a bit to hide your bashfulness at his actions. “You’re a real gentleman, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a slight smirk, gently dropping your hand and letting it go after another squeeze. “My momma raised nothing less.”

“I’m sure she’d be proud.”

His playful eyes go slightly more somber at that, his smirk morphing into a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Giving no reply, you smile softly and nod your head to the path. He nods back before quickly falling into step besides you, asking you more about your paper as you walk to the library.

* * * * * * * *

Giggling behind your hand to stay quiet, or at least attempt to since you both had already been berated by the librarians for being too loud, your attention is once again diverted to Steve and his stories.

It started out fine; he helped you find reliable books and told you which things were true. But not even half an hour passed before Steve told you a story about the Howling Commandos after something in a book reminded him of it. Your concentration since then has been split between your paper and Steve’s retelling of his past.

“Sorry. I keep distracting you. What’s next?”

You snicker again and shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m almost done anyways. I’ve actually written down a few things you said, if you don’t mind me using them. My professor can’t exactly argue with Captain America, now can he?”

His lips pull up and his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “I guess not. Of course I don’t mind. You can quote me anytime. See?” He nudges you with his shoulder playfully. “History isn’t so bad.”

“Not when you’re telling it.” You respond earnestly, grinning up at him.

“Eh, Bucky’s always been a better storyteller than me.” He gives a little shrug and rubs the back of his neck.

You shake your head at his modesty. “Well I think you do just fine. You’re the first person to get me interested in history. Hey, can you read this over for me? I just need to finalize this paragraph and do the conclusion.”

When you receive silence as an answer, you look over at the blonde with an eyebrow raised. The ocean eyes scanning over you make you a bit self conscious, so you shift slightly in your seat, making him come back from whatever thoughts overtook his mind. “Sorry. Of course I can, honey. That’s what I’m here for. Let me see.”

He gives you a few pointers on what to add and what to get rid of, before you finally finish, saving your work and closing your laptop with a huff. 

“What a mind workout. I’m sure my brain’s got abs now.”

Heads swivel towards you two as Steve guffaws, a lady a few tables down shushing him. He apologizes, still snickering. “Abs, huh?”

“I mean, not as good as yours but…” You freeze, inwardly facepalming. And you were doing so well.

He gives you a cheeky grin. “I’ve got good abs?”

“Oh don’t give me that!” You hiss out quietly. “You know you have good abs. I’m just stating facts is all.”

Another soft chuckle leaves those pretty lips and he twists in his seat to crack his back before standing to collect the books you both got out. “When’s the paper due again?”

You stand to help him, but you get a case of the butterfingers just as you go to pick the books up, making the pile tumble to the floor. “Ah shit.” Steve smiles gently at you as you huff and give him an exasperated look. “My bad.”

He snickers, bending down to help you despite having his own books to carry, like the gentleman he is. “So? Due date?”

“Monday.” You answer with a sigh, straightening up. You carefully set the books on the table to pile them better. “We should get the grade back by Friday.”

He hums, taking a few more books in those strong arms of his. “Ah, well, you’ll get a good grade. I believe in you.”

You smirk at him as you shift your bag so you could carry books under your arms. “I’m sure I will with your help, Captain.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes at your teasing manner. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Of course. I had a good time.” He sends that stunning smile your way and this time you are standing. Luckily you have a table to lean on casually instead of falling on your face. “Plus, now you’ve got a free weekend.”

“Ugh. I wish.” You shake your head. “This is my final semester before I graduate. There’s loads to do. But this makes it easier.” Heading through the aisles of the library, you catch sight of the time on a clock on the wall and your eyes widen. You’d been there for a little over three hours! “Damn! I’m sorry I took up your Friday, though. I’m sure there’s things you want to do before you have to go back to New York, huh?”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he runs a hand through his golden locks and drops the books he had in his arms on the desk for returns. “Not really. I’m here for the next couple weeks, actually. Meetings and stuff. Plus, it doesn’t even take me an hour to get here, so I can really come whenever I want.”

“That’s nice.” You follow his lead and set your books down, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I wish I could go to New York whenever I want. I’m way too poor for that.”

He chuckles again. You’ll never get tired of the sound of his laughter. “I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

You shrug half heartedly, not really believing him. You’re barely making it in DC. There’s no way you could make it in the Big Apple. “Sure. Someday. I’m serious, though. I’m sorry you wasted  your time with some stressed out college student instead of enjoying time with your friends.”

“I’m serious too, honey. It’s no problem; I enjoyed it. And it’s not a waste of my time. Not as long as you get a good grade.”

You laugh as the two of you head out of the building, stopping on the steps and facing each other. “How will you know if I get a good grade?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Meet me at the bench next Friday.” He finally said, his eyes sparkling. “Then we’ll see. Until then, Y/N.”

You grin, taking the large hand he offers you, firmly shaking it before he can kiss your knuckles, making him snicker. “Until then, Steve.”

* * * * * * * *

Feet pounding against the concrete, you practically jump when you spot the man already sitting at the bench. “Steve!” You shout happily, waving your paper in the air. The blonde shoots up, a brow raised in curiosity. “I got a 97!”

You come to a halt in front of him, but it’s too quick, so your clumsy feet trip over each other. Before you can fall, he catches you with ease, smiling down at you in amusement. Small pants leave your lips as sweat trickles down your spine. Where’s that breeze when you need it?

“Uhm…oops?” What the hell was that?! That was embarrassing, that’s what it was!

He chuckles, straightening you up. “You were saying?” 

With pride lifting up the corners of your mouth, you shove the paper at his chest, once again grateful that he ignored your blunderings. “97%!”

“I told you you’d be fine. And I knew it wasn’t a waste of my time.” Steve looks up from the paper to give you a toothy grin.

“Thank you again.” You take the paper he hands back to you and shove it in your bag. “I probably would’ve failed the class without this grade. Is there really nothing I can do to pay you back for your time?”

He taps his chin in faux-thought, before tilting his head innocently. “You can loan me some of your time on Sunday.”

You purse your lips, confusion written over your features. “My time? On Sunday? Oh!” You light up, figuring he just needs help with something. “Yeah, duh. Okay. What do you need help with? I can promise I’ll try my hardest, but I might not-”

“No, no. Honey, that’s not-” he laughs, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to make you stop rambling. “I’m askin’ you out.”

“Out?” You pause, registering what that meant. “Like…on a date?” Is he serious? There’s no way he wants to go on a date with you. You pretty much called his life story boring, to his face, and then made him spend three hours on a Friday evening at the library working on a college paper with you.

He snickers with a nod. “Yes, on a date. So whaddya say, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You blurt out without thinking, before you shy back, feeling yourself heat up as you tend to do around this God of a man. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’d love to. Sunday. I can do that.”

He beams adorably, like a child being allowed to buy his favorite candy bar. Or a puppy with his favorite toy. Yeah…he reminds you of a puppy. Which only makes him that much cuter.

“Awesome! Meet me here at noon. Does that work?”

You nod vigorously. “That works perfectly.”

“Perfect.” He repeats, before taking your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips once more.

* * * * * * * *

You’re sitting on the bench, tapping your toes nervously and checking your phone every minute. He said noon and it’s only eleven thirty. It’s a bit inconvenient, to say the least, when the place you go to relax is the place you’re meeting the person making you anxious. You could barely sleep the previous night, too many doubts lingering in your head. You seem to always be making a fool of yourself in front of him, but he was the one who asked you out, so that had to count for something.

You try not to think too hard about it, instead thinking back to last Friday in the library and how his features lifted when he told stories of his childhood and the Howling Commandos and the grin he got when he told you about the things they used to do that would get them in trouble.

“But I’m Captain America, and who’s gonna say no to this face?”

A little giggle leaves your lips as you remember his words, before you’re startled back to reality as a familiar smooth voice sounds besides you.

“Whatcha giggling at, honey?”

You whip over to see Steve grinning in amusement, leaning on the back of the bench. Your eyes drag down his figure. Another too tight t-shirt showing every ridge and curve on his torso, a jacket over his broad shoulders along with a casual pair of jeans. You had seen a meme about Steve having the proportions of a Dorito and, looking at him now, you can see how true it was. It almost makes you laugh again, but you remember what exactly is happening, and you suddenly can’t find anything funny.

“Sweetheart? You alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. I was just…thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking and leaning his forearms against the back of the bench next to where you’re sat. “And those adorable little giggles?”

There’s that familiar flush that you’ve learned to ignore, praying to God he didn’t notice your heart skipping a beat. “Uh, I just remembered something. That’s all.”

He gives a little hum, before hopping over the back and landing besides you. “Seems like we both had the same idea. Gettin’ here early.”

“If you must know, I was just…” You shrug. “To be honest, I’m a little anxious.”

“I’m not that scary, am I?” He teases, nudging you gently.

You roll your eyes and give him a look. “I don’t think there’s a bone in your body capable of being scary. I’m just…I’m nervous I’m gonna embarrass myself…again.”

Steve shakes his head, looking at you earnestly. “You’re not gonna embarrass yourself.”

Picking at the hem of your shirt, you scoff, shaking your head. “I already have. The amount of times I’ve tripped or said something stupid or rambled, which I’m doing right now, or-”

“Honey, honey. Slow down.” The blonde chuckles. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find all of those things endearing. Now, the amount of times I’ve seen my teammates slip and fall on their faces while chasing an enemy? That’s embarrassing. Just the other day, Buck tripped on the roof of a car. Sam has it recorded.”

You let out a laugh at that and nod. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all insecure on you-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Steve insists. “Now,” he stands and offers his hand. “Let’s go get some lunch, yeah?”

You look at his hand before looking up at him and taking it without hesitation. “Okay.”

* * * * * * * *

After rounds of questions during lunch, Steve took you around the Smithsonian to all the different museums. Just like history, you had never been overly fond of museums. You typically walked around for a little bit, never really reading the information, only enjoying the pictures.

It’s different with Steve. Just like how it was different writing the research paper with him. He makes everything interesting, telling you his own facts and stories. Especially once you get to his exhibit in the Air and Space Museum.

Once you arrive, he puts on a hat and ducks his head, trying not to bring attention to you both while on a date. You tease him a bit, swinging your linked hands as you walk in with a cheeky grin. He nudges you with his elbow, his own smile painted on his lips.

You can’t help but listen and hold onto his every word, as if you’d die if you forget a single sentence. The light in his eyes as he talks about his past, showing you the pictures and plaques excitedly. Like a child during show and tell, he’s practically skipping from exhibit to exhibit, dragging you along behind him.

Giggling at his elation, you eagerly, and with no resistance, let him take you through his story. “They keep updating it.” He explains as you leave the area with World War Two and the Howling Commandos, entering through a corridor with modern pictures of him and the Avengers. “Every couple years or so they call me and tell me they’re adding another thing.”

“Doesn’t that get annoying?” You wonder, reading a wall about the Battle of Manhattan with interest. “Your whole life being put on display for everyone to see?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve never really minded. They don’t put in personal things, so it’s not too bad. You could learn more from the internet about me.”

You nod, knowing how true that really was. “You’ve got a point. Still. It must be a bit weird being a national icon.”

“I’ll admit, people stopping me on the street is getting a little old. I used to wish to be someone who changed the world. Now I have and sometimes I wish I could be normal. But I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. Who I am. Not if people can learn from it. Not if I can keep people safe.”

Turning away from the wall to glance at Steve, who has his hands in his pockets studying the wall, you smile and tilt your head. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

He turns to you, his lips pulling up. “That’s all I hope for.” His voice is quiet, earnest, before it becomes lighter as he gestures back to the wall. “You know the first thing we did after winning was go out for shawarma? It was Tony’s idea.”

“No way.” You laugh. “All six of you?”

“Yeah! We go there for every Battle of Manhattan Anniversary, now. I’ll take you some time. It’s a nice place.”

“Is that a promise?”

He smirks at your teasing tone. “Absolutely.”

* * * * * * * *

After your museum hopping, he takes you to Arlington Cemetery to show you a few friends and fellow soldiers he met all those years ago. It’s such a personal intimate thing that he shares, and you think you shouldn’t be there to witness it, but he’s quick to reassure you that’s not the case. That he wouldn’t have anyone else by his side, listening to his stories.

By the time you get back to the city, it’s getting dark, so you two head out for dinner before Steve takes you up the Washington Monument to look at the city lights. He makes sure you have the top all to yourselves; there’s perks of being an Avenger - especially one of the leaders.

“Alright, alright.” Leaning on the rail, you turn to him with a smile. “So maybe history isn’t as bad as I originally thought.”

“Yeah? I convinced you, did I?”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Maybe a bit. But only when you’re telling it. You think there’s any way you could come to history with me?” You joke with a laugh, feeling yourself flush at the chuckle and grin he gives you.

“I wish I could, honey.” He spoke softly, running a thumb over your knuckles. “Unfortunately, I’ve got work to do. I’m heading back to New York tomorrow. I’ll be back on Friday, though. If you would want to-”

You beam and nod energetically. “I’d love to go out again, Stevie.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he beams back. “Fantastic.” He looks back out to the window and gives a little sigh. “It’s gettin’ late and you’ve got class tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I should probably get going. Do you, I mean, would you mind walking me home?” You blink up at him through your lashes hopefully.

“Of course!” His eyes - which you found throughout the day weren’t entirely blue, but had some green hues to them - lit up as you two start towards the elevator. He tucks you under his strong arm, pulling you close. “You wanna get ice cream or something on the way?”

“You read my mind, Captain.”

* * * * * * * *

By the time you reach your door, you’ve both finished your ice cream and he’s telling yet another story while you laugh, once again swinging your linked hands. 

When it comes time to say goodbye, you can’t help but wish your hand could stay in his for a while longer. Knowing that you’d be saying farewell, you hold on a bit tighter. “Pick me up on Friday?”

He nods, squeezing your hand before letting it go and brushing his fingertips along your cheek. “I’ll call you later too, alright, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” You agree eagerly. “You gonna kiss me goodnight now, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles softly, before gently grabbing your chin. Using his other hand, he pulls you closer by the waist, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and sweet and perfect, just like him, but it ends too quickly for your liking. He pulls back, nudging his nose against yours, and murmuring against your lips. “Sleep well.”

You smile, leaning your forehead against his. “Good night, Stevie.”

Stepping away, he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “G’night.”

You stop him before he could turn all the way. “Steve?” He pauses to look over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. You have a question, and you can’t help but ask it, it having been on your mind for days. “Why’d you stop your run just to sit by me?”

“And leave a beautiful dame like yourself before I could get your name? I may be a super soldier, honey, but I’m still a man. Abyssinia Friday, Y/N.”

[fumingspice]

i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: “I just wanted a happy ending.” “I’m drunk in love with you.” “If you quote a Taylor Swift or Fleetwood Mac song one more time I’ll slap you.”

Warnings: slightly drunk delia, angsty, mentions of ill mental health. happy ending

A/N: I don’t even know. I think I’m just projecting at this rate. I wrote this instead of doing another of my five history essays due for Friday so if my teacher kills me in my sleep you know why <3

and when you can’t sleep at night; you hear my stolen lullaby.

Madison Montgomery grunted in frustration. Then again when she was ignored the first time.

You kept your head in your book, knowing she was desperate for attention.

“Lord almighty,” Madison groaned dramatically, sitting against the arm of the couch and then throwing herself back over your lap. Visibly irritated by the fact that you still handed looked up from your book she almost shouted; “Oh, how I wish someone would acknowledge my presence.”

You met at her eyes for a split second and returned them promptly to the book.

“That’s it,” she muttered. Madison gripped the book from your hand and threw it across the room. You clenched your hands into fists, doing your best to maintain your calm composure. That’s who you were in the coven. The calm one. “Look at me when I’m goddamn talking to you!”

Your eyes darted up to meet Madison’s steel glare. “What the fuck is the matter with you, Y/N?” she exclaimed.

You genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

“Don’t yell at me, Montgomery,” you replied, biting your tongue hard.

Madison had no patience for playing games when she found something serious. Which although wasn’t often, it was almost always about something as superficial as a wrong glance at dinner. “You’ve been giving Cordy the cold shoulder for the past three months. I want to know what’s going on.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Madison threw her hands up at you. “Yeah, Y/N. I’m kidding I don’t actually care.”

“Typical,” you muttered. You gave a wave of your hand and your book came flying from the other side of the room. Madison turned around in one swift movement and punched the book square, sending in hurtling to the ground.

“I’m being sarcastic, you dumb fucking bitch!” She yelled. If you weren’t so pissed right now you would probably have been impressed with her reflexes.

“What do you fucking want, Madison? You’ve getting on my tits every fucking day for the entire week,” you started yelling unintentionally. “So, what is it? What exactly do you want me to fucking say? Do you want me to fucking tell you- yet again- that Cordelia has a fucking boyfriend? You want me to reiterate it to you that I can’t fucking look at her in any other way?”

Madison smirked, knowing she was getting you exactly where she wanted you. “It’s not my fault that you couldn’t keep your shit together after you broke up with her. The least you could do is grow a pair of balls and be happy for her.”

You felt your face go red with anger. “Are you fucking insane?! Do you actually hear yourself right now? Madison, I told you fucking everything! I told you it was a mutal decision. I told you that it was the last fucking decision that I fucking wanted to make!” You screamed. The anger had been building up for weeks, and sweet jesus did the release feel good.

It was late at night and you knew that if any girls weren’t asleep they would be hearing exactly what you had to say. Cordelia wasn’t in the building after all. You could say anything you liked.

“I fucking love her, Madison. Every time I see her smile at that knock-off Lindsey Buckingham I want to rip his fucking face off! I know you can’t see that because the boy you brought back from the dead chose your best friend over you and then strangled you to death!”

That’s where your words got Madison.

Within a second, you found your hand striking your face hard.

Composure was the last thing on your mind now as your fist went straight for Madison’s nose. A crack and screamed followed as the blonde launched herself at you.

A scrap insued, knocking each other into furniture, punching, kicking. You fell to the ground as Madison’s boot was launched into your stomach. Once. Twice. Three times. You pushed yourself off the floor and kneed her in the crotch, sending her down to the ground with you on top of her. Your fists had found a mind of their own as they gave blows to her face, chest and stomach.

Your body was thrown from Madison’s, pinned to the wall by some invisible force. Madison crawled from the floor and punched you hard in the stomach. Then the face. You could feel blood dripping from your nose and mouth when the force dropped you on the ground. Madison sulked off, seemingly satisfied as you curled yourself into a ball.

Tears fell slowly from your eyes for the first time in months. You’d finally released every pent up piece of energy that you had held in and there was nothing left in your walls to keep you together. Madison had taken a physcial and verbal fist to everything keeping you together.

It was true; the decision to break up was mutal. Although, it seemed slightly more mutual for Cordelia. You whined too much, you thought, for her to be happy as your friend. Now, months since, you found yourself in a false mask of calmness and serenity about the situation.

The tears were almost temporary as you lay facing the ceiling. Blood dried on your cheeks making your skin feel tight but you didn’t care to move. You almost fell asleep until the front door unlocked at some ungodly hour in the morning. You didn’t care who it was nor did you care to move at this rate.

You saw your reflection in the mirror. The lines of blood on your face struck nasty images from long ago of blood on your limbs. You had recovered now. You were strong and you knew in your heart of hearts that you would never allow yourself to ever feel worthless again. You weren’t disposable. You are not disposable. You were a beautiful soul in a soaring tide, although struggling to see that.

Familiar footsteps clacked down the hall into the parlour. 

"Jesus Christ, Y/N?" Cordelia's voice sent a pang of dread coursing through your body.

"Leave me alone, Delia," you groaned, your body still ached for Madison's assault.

Cordelia fell to her knees beside you. "Oh, sweetheart what happened?" There was a pleading in her voice as she lifted the top half of your body onto her lap. She dabbed your blood with her sleeve.

You could smell the alcohol off her.

"Can you stand up for me?" She asked, helping you to your feet. She brought you to the kitchen and began tending to the mess that was your face. "Please, Y/N. Tell me what happened."

You brushed her off and tried to leave to go to your bedroom. With a flick of her wrist, Cordelia brought furniture to block the entrance.

"You're not leaving here until you tell me exactly what happened, young lady."

You chuckled meanly. "You're fucking kidding me." You turned to face her. "Madison beat the shit out of me."

Cordelia's face dropped in disbelief. "Why?"

"I'm still trying to fucking figure that out!" You shouted. Cordelia's face flinched. 

There was a silence that you hadn't felt with her in a long time, shortly interupted by Zoe walking into the kitchen.

"Cordelia, go to bed," she said. She was going to bring the calm, apparently. "I'll take care of Y/N. I think I know what happened."

"Well, then could you please explain that to me?" Delia asked defensively. Zoe motioned for her to leave.

Zoe approached you slowly and took one look at your face. "Your nose is broken," she muttered. "I know a spell, it'll hurt like a bitch but it'll save the process."

You shrugged and let her do her thing, regretting it almost immeditely as your shrieked in pain.

"Cordelia still loves you, Y/N. I don't know how you haven't seen that yet," she told you, pressing a wet towel to your nose.

"She sure as hell has a weird way of showing it," you replied. All the talk about Cordelia for the first time in months was hitting you like a truck. You dealt with things by ignoring it and although it probably wasn't efficient. It still worked.

Zoe glared at you. "She broke up with Sylvester. I can sense it," she told you. "She misses you more than anything in the world."

Tears threatened to make themselves known once more. "I can't keep doing this, Zoe. I can't keep thinking there's another chance when there's just not."

Zoe tugged you into a warm hug. "Please talk to her, Y/N. Maybe it'll do more good than not."

You nodded in agreement and heaved yourself up the stairs. Cordelia's bedroom door faced you as you mustered up the courage to knock. You could almost hear the echos of memories you shared in her room.

"Police Officer knock," the girls often joked that you had. The door opened itself and you walked in.

"Cordelia?" You spoke, glancing around her room. You could see her outline laying across the bed, a glass of scotch in hand.

Cordelia poked her head up as you walked to the bed. She had clearly been crying.

"I'm sorry I yelled, Delia," you said softly. Her reached under yours and the pain hit you hard.

"It's okay, Y/N. But can you please just be honest with me? What on Earth happened down there?" 

Tears ran down both of your faces as you explained everything. Every word of your altercation with Madison, everything that happened, everything that you had felt over the past few months. Cordelia pressed her forehead against yours and you cried harder. How could her lips be so close yet so far away?

"Why have you been drinking lately? You barely touched it before?" You asked innocently. Cordelia pursed her lips.

"I missed that warmth," she choked. "I missed that warmth that I only ever felt when I was with you."

Her words shot daggers of guilt through you.

"No matter what I tried, no drink could ever match the feeling of being drunk in love with you," she sighed. "Time was taking its sweet time erasing you, so I thought I could do it myself. The drinks. The power. The men. Nothing got close to you."

You placed your hand over hers and squeezed it. "This is so, so stupid, Delia."

The Supreme nodded. "I know. All I ever wanted was a happy ending. I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to marry you and adopt a child. I don't even know why I'm saying that I did want that. I do want that."

You dropped your head back. "Cordelia, I would give anything to call myself yours again but I cannot go through the heartbreak of losing you again."

Cordelia paused, you saw the reflection of your hurt in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I knew you didn't want it. I didn't want it. I just thought I was doing the best for you."

"This entire time I've felt like an open wound, Delia."

There was another silence.

"Y/N, what would I need to prove to you for another chance? One more shot to make this work. I want that chance to grow old with you," she said. The Supreme was begging for you at this point.

"Cordelia, I want you to understand that if it doesn't work out this time then I'm done."

Cordelia nodded solemly, her whiskey brown eyes darted to your lips. "Can I?"

You pressed your lips to hers before she could finish speaking, your soul ravaging for that piece of Cordelia that you had hungered for.

You found it in her lips. Finding yourselves giggling. Tears of relief, joy, happiness fell onto each other's skin like drops of nectar from the Gods. All was right when you were with her.

Warm lips, warm skin. Your hands weren't cold when you were with her. 

Your lips danced together in rings of bliss as she enloped into you, it was like a battle of nature.

Cordelia broke away, her body shifting slightly under yours as her eyes sobered.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you ask. Even placing your cheek on her hand gave you relief.

"I don't want to wait anymore," she whispered. She breathed in sharply as she motioned for you to get off her. You complied and sat on the bed, watch as she walked over to the dresser and pull something out of a box at the bottom of a pile of paperwork.

You grinned, tears flowing down as she presented you with what she'd dug out.

"What do you think?" she asked, her voice hopeful. You clasped your hand to your mouth and nodded hard.

The next morning at breakfast, you couldn't bring yourself to talk to Madison. 

Not after what she did.

At least, not until you noticed her smirking in victory at the sight of the engagment ring on your finger.

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