#I failed that psych exam and I want to drop out after a month and a half

[jovalencia]

everybody who has talked to me in the last 72 hours has experienced me on the verge of a breakdown and tbh I would feel bad but like. girl I’m not partying rn

[jeonqukie]

OUT OF LOVE / 01.

SYNOPSIS / After leaving a toxic and gruesome relationship with your former partner, your best friend is there to help pick up the broken pieces.

FEATURING / Jeon Jungkook.

GENRES / Jungkook being the biggest gamer & best best friend ever, lots of angst and secret feelings, lots of fluff especially from our soft bunny, and eventual smut.

WARNINGS / This part may contain some pretty self-deprecating commentary and there will be mature language used throughout the series.

WORD COUNT / 2k.

NOTES / I was studying for my psych exam, but I figured writing a quick jk drabble was more important than trying to pass this class. Enjoy! Feedback is very much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

© All rights reserved to jeonqukie. All or portions of my work may not be reproduced, distributed, modified, or used in any way whatsoever without my permission.

It hurt so much.

It hurt him so much to see you like this.

It has been two months; two months of you crying to him about your idiot boyfriend. For two months, you and your boyfriend had been getting into many arguments about virtually anything. 

If Jungkook can recall correctly, last week, you got into an argument with Eunwoo because he totally forgot to pay the Internet company your monthly bill.

He remembers the way you stormed into his apartment with your laptop, angrily typing in your password as you throw your bag at his couch and you slip a pair of earbuds into your ears.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He initiated the conversation late that evening. His bottle of beer had been half full and he was on a group call with his friends on Discord, ready to play the Overwatch the entire evening playing. 

Instead of talking it out that evening, you mention how you needed a stable internet connection to turn in your paper before the deadline.

You were dead silent that evening.

Often times, he would be at his computer desk playing video games and he’d turn back around to check up on you. That evening, you had been furiously typing away on your computer with knitted brows. This time, he sees that you had made yourself comfortable on his bed underneath his blankets.

Winning the first round of his game, he cheers along with his friends through the voice call, but it comes to an abrupt end when he turns around to see you had fallen fast asleep on his bed. A very weak grin forms on his visage and his heart throbs hard agains his chest when he carefully pulls the cover further up your body and he examines the screen of your laptop. He sees you have successfully turned in your paper that evening and he shuts the computer off, setting it on the nightstand.

However, his heart shatters when you sniffle, cuddling into his fluffy pillows. Fresh tears spill out of your closed eyes and he is hesitant to wipe them away afraid he may wake you up — afraid he may disturb what little peace you were getting that evening, so he lets the tears fall on your cheeks.

He’ll wipe them away later, he thought.

However, this time was different.

You had been planning on breaking up with Eunwoo for quite a while now because you were fed up. You were very much aware of the toxicity of your relationship; you two were not good for each other at all. But you wanted to make sure you covered your bases.

Since you lived with your boyfriend, you knew you two would fight about the apartment, so you started looking into different apartments around the area. You had been saving up enough money for a deposit and emergency cases.

Ready to have the conversation wit him, he beats you to it a week early.

It stung when he broke up with you. But shouldn’t you have been happy? This is what you had been planning for the past two weeks. You were talking to many leasing managers to find a one bedroom unit and you were meeting with a manager the following morning to settle upon the necessary documents and deposit to secure your spot in the apartment.

So why were you so crushed when he broke up with you?

After some intense arguments back and forth, in one hour, you decide to stop. You two were not going to get into an agreement at whose fault was it, who was going to keep what, and who was right and who was wrong. You remembered very vividly how your ex-boyfriend announced he was tired and that he was going to bed.

Obviously not wanting to spend the night on the same bed as him and not wanting to spend the night on your couch, just the mere idea of being in the same space as him was something you didn’t want to endure.

Almost immediately, you searched for a bag and you packed yourself a pair of pajamas and an outfit for the following morning to meet with the leasing manager close by. All of your grooming and hygienic necessities all stuffed inside the bag, you wasted no time to head out of your former abode.

It wasn’t the biggest of surprise for Jungkook to see you knocking on his front door. However, it never failed to break his heart when he sees you with the puffiest and reddest of eyes. You clutched onto your bag as tears began flowing out of your glassy eyes and the way his eyes soften at your appearance, he invited you in.

But you practically body him when you drop your bag inside his own home and you swing your arms on his neck, searching for the comfort you desired — the comfort you needed. All you needed was a best friend’s hug.

So you wailed your heart’s content that evening while Jungkook carried you over to his living room couch. A series of insecurities come spilling out of your mouth. You were at your most vulnerable and you confessed that you hadn’t even broken up with him. Instead, he had been the one who sealed the deal.

Jungkook could feel the anger boil in his blood, but you were in so much pain and all he wanted to do was pick up all of your pieces and fix you. You were so weak and fragile, so vulnerable to all of the demons of the world and you didn’t deserve it.

After an hour of consoling you, you had fallen asleep on his arms and he carries you over to his bed. He lays you downs gently, pulling the soft covers on you and he offers you his pillow, hoping that you would cuddle into it while he goes grab your bag and clean up the living room. He looks inside the bag you had packed and sees your pajamas and he realizes that you are more likely uncomfortable in your jeans and t-shirt.

When he walks inside his room, he would hate to wake you up to change into a pair of pajamas. But he wants to make you as comfortable as possible — as serene as possible.

“YN,” Hushed whispers fill the room and you refuse to open your eyes. “I saw you brought some pajamas, did you want to change into them?”

You nodded with the smallest of pouts, so you decide to sit up from where you laid. He snatches the delicate pieces of clothing inside your bag; an over-sized t-shirt along with a pair of pajama shorts. “I’ll leave the room. Feel free to leave your clothes by the bed and I’ll wash ‘em up.”

Leaving the room momentarily, Jungkook fetches a tall glass of cold water. It should have given you enough time to change out of your clothes and as he knocks on his door, your small voice can be heard from the other side of the room implying you were decent enough for him.

You had folded your clothes at the end of the bed and you were already retaking yourself underneath Jungkook’s bed and he sits opposite of you only to offer you the glass of water.

“Drink this before you go to bed.” You remained seated up and you gulp down nearly half of the glass. You place the glass on his nightstand and you notice Jungkook grabbing a large blanket he has inside his closet and you suddenly feel conscious of your sudden overzealousness to make yourself comfortable at his own home.

“I can sleep on the couch, Jungkook-ah.” You already peel the comforters off of your body and he is already shaking his head.

“Take my bed.” He insists and you are just as stubborn as he is, so you get up from his bed and you are shaking your head, taking the blankets off of his arms.

“YN, you need proper sleep. You have been telling me you have not gotten any actual sleep the last two months and you deserve one good night’s sleep.” He looks at you sternly and you feel so small in comparison to him. However, you were not satisfied with his response. You still didn’t want him to sleep in his own living room when he had a bed big enough to sleep two people.

“Sleep next to me.” You say so boldly. Though you had been best friends with Jungkook for the longest time and there were times you have slept on the same bed together, you two have never made the conscious decision of sharing the same bed together. His stern appearance is decimated with complete fluster. “W — what I mean to say is that you have a bed big enough for two people and I promise I’m not a fussy sleeper. We’ll make a barrier or something.”

You are already setting up a barrier of the plethora of pillows Jungkook had on his bed, leaving the both of you with one pillow each. “You can take the comforters while I take this.” You are already clutching onto the extra blankets he had and you are making yourself comfortable in your side of his bed already.

“Alright, fine, but I’m only agreeing because I’m sure you’re deadbeat tired right now.” Jungkook sighs in defeat and he is walking towards his side of the bed. When you tuck yourself into bed, your eyes widen when you see Jungkook peeling the black t-shirt off of his torso and he reveals his slim waistline along with his tattooed biceps.

“Wh — whoa, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m… getting ready for bed?”

“You sleep shirtless?” You question him and he looks at you confusingly as to why it was such a taboo decision to make.

“You know I sleep shirtless.” You were left speechless as you stare at his muscular physique. However, you find yourself snapping back to reality and you nod once.

“Right, whatever.” You swallow hard and turn to the other side, facing away from him. When he sees the blush creeping on your cheeks, he smiles mischievously in response to you looking away from him and he turns the lights off on the lamp off of his nightstand.

He slips himself underneath the comforters and you feel the weight being shifted towards his side of the bed where he lays comfortably, his own body facing away from you. “Goodnight, YN.”

“Night, Jungkook-ah.” You yawn as you lay comfortably in silence and, for the first time in two months, you revel in the complete silence, finally getting some sleep.

When Jungkook hears your steady breathing, he finally finds his peace as well when he closes his eyes shut to hear your soft sighs leaving your mouth.

“Kookie,” The nickname leaves your lips and, in his half-conscious state, he hums lowly in response. “Thank you… for this.” A small sniffle echoes in the room and, suddenly, his eyes flutter open once more. “I’m so fucking hopeless, but I promise I’ll —“

In an instant, Jungkook shifts his body to face your back.

Fuck the barrier, he thinks to himself.

Eliminating the plethora of pillows in his way, he pulls your frame closer to his and he slithers his bare arms around your waist. “Stop.” He demands and he nuzzles his face into your hair as he clutches your crying body. “Stop thinking right now, okay? Fuck him. Fuck everything about him. You’re… perfect and you don’t deserve this, okay? If you want to cry, you can cry, but don’t ever think you’re hopeless.”

He feels your head nod up and down and you continue to sob once again. All your thoughts continue to cloud your mind, but thankfully, Jungkook spend the rest of the evening holding you close, reassuring you that you had done nothing wrong and no one in this world deserved this kind of treatment.

When your strangled sobs have come to a gradual halt, Jungkook doesn’t peel his arm off of your frame. Instead, he breathes a sigh of relief when he feels your body rise steadily and heave a deep exhale.

He chuckles at the sight of your leg involuntarily kick and soft snores begin echoing his room. Now, his eyes flutter close, relieved you have found your peace — a universe far from reality.

↪ Please stay tuned for the next part!

[goffilolo]

Revival of Midoriya Izuku part 2

Well well well, its been 84 years hasn’t it? as always you can find the fic under the the same name on ao3. looking forward to the comments and notes

“I can’t believe you dragged me out before I could put on some of my best moves” whined Izuku as he fell into step with the doctor.

“See, the issue here is that there is no difference between your best and your worst moves” deadpanned Shin. “I was saving you from yourself” he added as an afterthought, while mentally praying (to whichever God that has yet to be killed by Izuku) for the safety and sanity of Izuku’s new crush.

It’s been a long day for both of them to say the least. What started off as a casual meet up for breakfast ended up becoming another one of Izuku’s shenanigans that got them both arrested. While that in itself is nothing new, this time they’ve been held up for much longer than usual, because of course they were.

The duo (or trio if you were to count the alleged dog) were currently on their way to Izuku’s house, as the doctor insisted on walking him home from the police station while his mom went in the opposite direction to buy some groceries for tonight’s dinner.

“Saving me?” scoffed Izuku “I think it’s a bit too late for that. But it doesn’t matter, I still have a chance.”

“How so?” asked Shin, with about 80% of disbelievement and 20% curiosity.

The question above has unfortunately unleashed Izuku’s Rant ™ mode.

“That guy mentioned coming back from an entrance exam. If we take into account all the schools that are within a relatively short distance from the police station, as well as the time he arrived, the only logical conclusion would be the UA exam that we KNOW took place today. Also he’s Tensei’s brother, which means he has to have a pretty good quirk so I don’t doubt he passed the entrance exam with flying colours. Do you know what that means Shin?!” asked the teen, with an excitement of a squirrel on 23 red bulls.

“It means that your stalker tendencies are making a comeback?” which apparently was the wrong answer as the doctor’s kneecaps soon found themselves becoming victims of Trash Bandit’s headbutting.

“NO!- I mean, yeah but-” stammered the boy “-the point IS that I know where to find him! Once the new school year starts I can just go to UA to see him whenever!”

“Uh-huh, and what about that teeny-tiny detail of, oh I dunno, YOU NOT ATTENDING UA, IN FACT YOU NOT ATTENDING SCHOOL AT ALL?!”

“First of all, don’t you fuckin use that tone with me Doc, you’re making it sound like I’m a drop-out” pointed Izuku “And second of all, how dare you assume that something as simple as a security system can come in the way of me getting laid.” Not to mention he has technically enrolled into a high school, whether or not he will actually attend is a different story.

“Why do I even bother?” lamented the doctor “I should’ve just kept you locked at the psych ward when I had the chance.”

“But ya didn’t!”

The two continued their usual banter, until they finally reached Izuku’s neighbourhood, at which point the boy took the pity on the bespectacled man and told him to go home, knowing that the man haven’t slept in the last 36 hours and that another 12 hour shift was awaiting him tomorrow morning.

“Oh shit, I do need to go home” mumbled Shin. “I didn’t get to call my wife when we were at the station.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get to call her?” asked Izuku, while trying to hide his surprise and disappointment at the doctor’s marital status, as it puts his matchmaking plans to an end before they would truly begin “Didn’t they give you one call to make?”

“Well yes, but it was a long day and I got hungry, so I ended up calling a takeaway instead.”

“You know Shin, I never thought I would say this about you, but BIG MOOD.”

It was only after they bid each other farewell and went their separate ways that Izuku has noticed something strange. He felt like he was being followed, and for once it wasn’t a quil induced paranoia (or maybe it was? kinda hard to tell these days), looking over to Bandit, he noticed that the sheep also seemed to be on guard. So it’s not just me then .

He made a subtle turn, trying to see if there there were any people behind him. In doing so he failed to notice the the sudden appearance of a tall figure in front of him and was thus more than unprepared for the incoming “ I AM HE-! ”

“BANDIT! ATTACK!”

What followed was a litany of confused screams and vengeful sheep noises enveloped in a spontaneous cloud of smoke, which Izuku threw his axe at, because that is now his go-to solution for any problem. If he wasn’t already so startled by the whole situation he probably would’ve noticed that said cloud of smoke was vaguely All-Might shaped, at least before the sheep was added to the equation. As the smoke began to dissipate it revealed a tall, skeletal figure of a man who looked like if one of those ugly ragdolls you find at goodwill stores came to life. The man in question barely managed to stop the incoming axe using his bare hands, keeping the blade in a karate chop like hold, which would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t for the fact that Trash Bandit was hanging off the man, chewing on his blond his hair. So to say that the current situation was confusing would be a big understatement.

“Who the fuck are you?!” asked Izuku, playing up his ‘good cop/bad cop’ act, except the good cop went and killed himself 9 months prior by smashing his head open against a koi pond, because that’s how it always is within the world of criminal justice; the good ones die too young. Doesn’t matter, Bandit can play a cop, whether he’d be good is questionable, but he’d still a better job than like 90% of the police force he dealt with so far. Except Tsukauchi, he’s a good bitch, far to overworked and underpaid for his job. He’s perfect. Him and Shin would be perfect together, if the doctor wasn’t married that is. Wait, what was he saying?

Oh yeah.

“I asked who the fuck are you” he repeated while pulling out his backup axe out of his yellow backpack “And I don’t like to repeat myself, especially to some old, creepy guys who seem to think it’s ok to go around following underage boys” he explained as he waved his weapon in an unspoken threat.

Which seemed to do the trick as the stranger started to fumble around looking for an excuse and a way to pull the sheep off his hair.

“Aah, sorry about the misunderstanding! We’ve met briefly during the villain attack earlier today. What you did back there was incredible young man!”

“Yeah yeah, pretty sure I would remember meeting a guy who looks like he’s one step away from dropping dead, now answer my question. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

The man seemed to hesitate as he looked around to make sure no other people were around, which was dumb given that they were still very much in a public place “It’s kinda complicated” he said eventually, like the bullshitter he probably was.

“Look bitch, my whole life is ‘complicated’ ” exclaimed Izuku using obnoxious air quotes “So out with it!”

“What I’m about to tell you is extremely confidential” replied the man, with the grave seriousness of someone who’s about to reveal to their own son after ten years of absence that they’re a mercenary, and yes he is getting personal, fuck you “Under no circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone about my identity-”

“Your fuckin’ secret is safe with my indifference” deadpanned the boy.

The man sighed and took a tentative step back. Once again a cloud of smoke enveloped him. It disappeared almost as soon it came, revealing a figure of no-other than motherfuckin’ All Might.

“I suppose this form is more memorable , isn’t that right young Midoriya?” asked the man, as if he wasn’t a goddamn living legend revealing his secret identity to a kid whose hobbies include committing felony, ravaging through junkyards; and being gay.

“JESUS FUCK! You can’t just DO THAT! Revealing your secret to a random civilian? What the hell All Might, you had too much dumb bitch juice or what?” screamed Izuku, or rather ‘whisper screamed’ as he was trying to juggle scolding his ‘used-to-be role model’ and having an internal meltdown over scolding his ‘used-to-be role model’! To say that the situation he found himself in was bizzare would’ve been an understatement.

After all, it’s not everyday that you meet a man whose very face was a reminder of all the things you could not have, and the person you never got to be. He felt wronged, like the universe has robbed him of an opportunity, except that is not the case as there was nothing to steal to begin with. Still, that vicious little voice inside his head that always whispered ‘you can’t do this’, ‘you can’t have this’ in a poor imitation of Kacchan became almost bearable over time. Almost , being the key word. It became less of an insistent, self-deprecating chant it once was, and slowly morphed into something akin to a static noise from those old TVs; quiet and ever so slightly inconvenient at best, but otherwise unnoticeable unless one deliberately thought about it. And now, being forced to face All Might, Izuku could hear that voice louder than ever before, reminding him of what a failure he used to be, how naive he used to be and ‘did you really believe you could ever compare yourself to him? ’

“Actually, you know what? Nevermind” he continued, hoping to carry the conversation enough to distract him from his own thoughts “Just...why did you want to talk to me? After what happened?”

“Ah, yes! What you did during that villain attack was incredible my boy, reckless but incredible” exclaimed All Might, with the casualness of someone remarking on unusually nice weather despite his overly enthusiastic tone “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such honest bravery, especially from someone as young as yourself. Even when faced with a villain that other heroes did not dare to go up against, you still ran head first towards the danger, despite lacking any power yourse-” and his inspirational ramble got interrupted by a bloody cough and YET ANOTHER cloud of smoke, reverting him back to his skeletal form.

“Ok yeah- I get it! I’m awesome, the baddest bitch in the town and whatever the fuck, but CAN YOU PLEASE stop coughing up blood?”

All Might continued to wheeze for another minute or so, while Izuku and by extension Bandit were fretting over him.

“I apologise, my health is not what it used to be”

“I can tell”

“You see, 6 years ago I was fighting this one villain-”

“No, stop- don’t care” interrupted Izuku as he waved his hands in a dismissive manner “Please spare me the unnecessary narrative exposition, everyone already knows the story.”

“Who is ‘everyone’? And what are you talking about?” asked All Might in utter bewilderment.

“ Oh, you know ” says Izuku, addressing the reader more so than answering All Might.

That answer explained exactly nothing, but All Might was willing to let it drop and move onto the actual reason for his sudden presence, which if he was being honest with himself he was already regretting.

“Midoriya my boy” he said instead “The reason I wanted to speak to you is because I have a proposition for you...”

“Goddamnit! I knew it!” exclaimed Izuku in a sarcastic, yet over dramatic manner not unlike the characters from Shin’s favourite telenovelas “I knew you were a dirty bastard all along, picking up boys off the streets, using your hero persona to gain their trust-”

“I beg your pardon?!” shouted All Might, ever so scandalised as he did not catch onto Izuku’s joke.

“Then beg” deadpanned Izuku.

Making fun of the number one hero was all nice and good in Izuku’s opinion, but the man did seek him out for a particular reason and they’ve been loitering around the neighbourhood long enough. It was about the time to stop the jokes and get to the point.

“Ok ok, jokes aside, what do you want?”

“I want you to be a hero”

Ouch, too fuckin’ soon.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to tell you this you All Mighty fool but that’s not gonna happen” replied Izuku, utterly unimpressed and very much ready to start crying at any point now “I’m a ‘quirkless nobody’ remember?”

“That can be changed” announced the man, with such conviction that Izuku was almost willing to believe it, despite the ridiculousness of the statement.

“I don’t think it can”

“My quirk is rather unusual, in a way that it can be passed onto another person. I was also quirkless before it was passed onto me and so-”

Oh, no, no no - no fuckin’ way, this is not happening! He knows where this shit is going-

“-due to my health it’s about time for me to find a successor”

“All Might” said Izuku, his voice trembling in fear of what was coming “Don’t, please don’t ask me that question” because he couldn’t bear to hear it, the possibility that was all but wasted, that came far too late, that he let go off before it even presented itself-

“I want you to be a hero” repeated the man.

Instead of an answer, All Might received a pitiful wail.

Because it wasn't fair, wasn’t fair at all. Izuku knew that life wasn’t fair, the fact learnt and ingrained deep within his soul since the day he received the diagnosis. And yet THIS was a new height of cruelty all together, it made Kacchan’s remarks seem like light teasing in comparison. It took everything he once deeply desired, but couldn’t have. Everything he had to give up on that rainy afternoon 9 months ago in order to put himself back together after falling apart for something he could never have; it took all of that and dangled it in front of him like a cheap bait. It was pure mockery. It made his blood boil. So much so that he could do nothing but cry and fall on his knees.

“You know -sob- if you made that offer a year ago, I probably would’ve said yes”

“And now?”

“And now” he whispered in between the sobs “And now I’m gonna ask you to fuck off!”

“Why?” asked All Might, completely stunned by the boy’s reaction.

“BECAUSE I CAN’T DO IT!” screamed Izuku, like a wounded animal that he very much looked like “ I CAN’T BE A HERO, NOR DO I WANT TO BE ONE, NEVER AGAIN!”

It was all too much, far too much, he needed to leave, leave this conversation, leave this man, leave this thought and never look back.

He slowly stood back up, Bandit ever so faithfully waiting at his side holding one of his axes in his mouth like a dog who proudly brings the morning newspaper to their human. Still, it felt wrong to leave without saying anything else, especially considering All Might’s bewilderment.

“I-” and he wasn’t even sure how to explain himself “I always wanted to be a good person and help people, don’t get me wrong, but-”

“But?”

“-but I’ve learnt that being a hero and doing the right thing are two very different things” he stated, remembering the words of his father; words far too powerful, presence far too brief. “Being a ‘hero’ no longer stands for the bravery, nobility and selflessness. It used to, but now it’s merely a job title; a dangerous job yes, but it’s just a job. Originally all real heroes were vigilantes, weren’t they? They took the risk for the sake of doing the right thing, regardless of what the law said, and now heroes are just glorified cops” he ranted.

For a moment Izuku thought he said enough, but there was another thing; a personal thing , even more personal than the whole ‘failed dream’ and ‘existential crisis’ business.

“You said you used to be quirkelss as well, didn’t ya?”

The man in question nodded, not sure where this is going.

“So tell me, the great All Might” exclaimed Izuku as he approached the hero, spitting his name like it was a curse “Why did you accept that quirk?”

The man stood still, staring at Izuku, as if looking long enough will tell his the correct answer.

“Did you want to be a hero? Or did you want to do the right thing?”

“I-”

Ok, so maybe abruptly leaving All Might in the middle of the empty street wasn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done, but Izuku never denied being a dumbass so fuck him sideways. He was far too worked up for all of this bullshit. The day already turned to shit with the whole sludge fiasco and now the universe decided to test his patience and sanity (which he did not have much of anyway). Although he is a little glad that he left before he could dish out some of the more vicious things he had in stock, like calling All Might a ‘quirkless sellout’, or anything else of that variety as long as it got the point across. Sure he promised to keep the man’s secret, but he never promised to be nice about it, because fuck him, he can still do good things and help people, even without a quirk.

The point was that he was bitter, which ok, nothing new, but he was particularly bitter about the whole quirkless thing. It wasn’t so much that he thought of himself as worthless, those days were long over for the most part thanks to months of therapy. It was All Might’s offer that felt like a slap to the face.

Regardless of his current views on heroism he had potential , and isn’t that how the whole thing started? All Might approached him because he saw potential…

A potential that couldn’t be of much use without a quirk.

And didn’t that fuckin hurt.

He suddenly regretted burning the entirely of his All Might merch right after being discharged from the hospital, because now he had nothing left to destroy.

Nevertheless he dropped Bandit off at home - his mother already there, working on tonight’s dinner - and made his way to the Dagobah beach, or what was left of it anyways. During the past 9 months he became more restless; even with homeschooling he had far too much free time than he knew what to do with, which partially resulted in his shenanigans, but it also resulted in looking for a place where he could just be . His mother, bless her soul, was far too overbearing at times despite her good intentions and Izuku was a bit more than fed up with hearing “Are you ok?” every twenty minutes like a goddamn clockwork.

And so he started visiting the local beach, which hasn’t looked like a beach in a long time, as people began to dump their junk there years ago. Bad for the environment, great for Izuku’s need for solitude.

As he entered the beach grounds and began to stumble through the usual mountains of trash he greeted the few people who usually hanged around the place, one of them being the ‘Florida woman’.

Florida woman was not her actual name, but he never asked and she never told him. All he knew was that she was from Florida and that she frequented the trash beach grounds, because it was the only place empty enough where she could take her pet crocodile out on a walk without people screaming in terror at the giant reptile. The crocodile in question, named Cracksaw was lovely and much more obedient than Bandit, he couldn’t understand why people made such a big deal about it.

Another beach regular was Hitoshi, who Izuku met in a cat cafe last year. The guy looked like a lovechild of a zombie and one of those tiny troll dolls from the early 2000s, although Izuku’s hair is just as much of a mess, so he probably can’t judge. Hitoshi was also applying to UA’s hero course and so they originally agreed to meet up this morning so that Izuku could give him some words of ‘encouragement’ or whatever the fuck it is friends are supposed to say. However, since Izuku got caught up in an impromptu fight with a villain he wasn’t able to meet him in the morning.

“Where have you been this morning?” asked Hitoshi.

“Fighting a villain” replied Izuku, ever so casually.

“I can’t tell whether you’re joking or not”

“It’s better if you don’t”

Which is how most of their exchanges went anyway. The less they know about you the better afterall, at least according to the Florida woman. Nevertheless he got caught up in a bit of a smalltalk with Hitoshi, asking about how he did at the exam and so on.

“And so we’re all sitting here, the presentation is just about to start and suddenly the door slams open and some guys runs in-” remarks Hitoshi, more excited than Izuku has seen him in a long time, which to be fair doesn’t say much, because he still looks like he has a serious case of a tired bitch face “- foaming out of his mouth and muttering about fighting a sheep. For a moment I thought you had something to do with it, but the guy looked like he had rabies”

“It’s not rabies, that’s just his personality” replied Izuku, fully aware that he did in fact had everything to do with this, but was not willing to give out anymore details.

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.”

“Oh buddy, I sure will.”

[kumeko]

half-baked and undercooked

Characters/Pairings: Uraraka/Midoriya, Mina

A/N: Written for the @bubbletea-zine. Mina might have been a little too fun to write here.

Summary: Uraraka was going to confess today. Provided she didn’t accidentally break Midoriya’s laptop, spill a drink on him, or drop his food.

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 “Your boyfriend’s here.”

 It took Uraraka a moment to register what Mina whispered, and a further moment to process what she was seeing. Midoriya had entered the café, standing awkwardly by the cash register as he waited for someone to take his order. Spotting them, he waved, and she gingerly waved back. It took her a moment longer to actually understand what Mina said, what her singsong tone implied. Quickly, she whipped back to her co-worker and hissed, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yet.” Mina grinned like a cat that caught the canary, her expression promising mischief. It usually meant fun, particularly when directed at her favourite targets like Sero or even Bakugou. But now it was directed at Uraraka, and she regretted ever encouraging her.

 “You’re going to jinx me,” Uraraka growled. It had taken her months to feel brave enough to confess, and now she was on the verge of chickening out. “What if he heard—”

 Mina snorted, covering her mouth as she giggled. “Him? Uraraka, he’s like a brick. He’s like that cake you tried to bake—”

 “Right, right, got it.” She forgot to check the oven one time and Mina never let her hear the end of it. “Anyways, shut up.”

 “Shutting up.” Mina zipped her lips, winking as she pushed Uraraka toward the counter. “Go get him, tiger!”

 “That’s not shutting up!” One last glare over her shoulder, and Uraraka gave a big smile as she approached their over-crowded counter. They might have overdone it a bit with the baking this morning; cookies and cake almost burst out of the display rack and cashier baskets. “Hi, Midoriya-kun!”

 “H-hi!” Midoriya was ramrod straight as she stood across from him — even his messy hair was at attention. Her heart flip-flopped as he smiled. “I’ll have—”

 “The usual?” She guessed, grinning when he nodded eagerly. Over his shoulder, she could spot his laptop and books stacked at his favourite spot. Another long haul today, it seemed. He was even wearing his frumpiest sweatshirt, a comfortable choice when sitting for hours. “An exam coming up?”

 “Something like that.” There was something off in his voice, something hesitant about the way he answered. Uraraka couldn’t quite place just what felt strange about it, just that it was strange.

 “I can double the caffeine,” she suggested.

 Midoriya visibly perked up. “Really?” Then he stood up even straighter, if that were possible, fidgeting with the ends of his sweatshirt; his fingers twisted the fabric nervously. “Actually, that’s not what…do you want…”

 She slid the sales machine over to him, cocking her head curiously. When his face turned a dark shade of red, his mouth hanging open, she finally asked, “Is something wrong?”

 “I-it’s nothing.” Quickly, he pulled out his phone and paid, almost running to his table. Silently, she hoped Iida would show up later — that exam must be hard if he was panicking this much. Law school was definitely no joke, but Midoriya had never acted like this before.

 Maybe Mina was onto something if Uraraka knew him well enough to think that.

 A low voice whispered in her ear, “You didn’t ask him.”

 Uraraka jumped, almost head-butting Mina in surprise. With a sharp jab, she herded her coworker to the coffee machines so she could get to work on his order. “Mina,” she scolded.

 “What?” Mina blinked innocently, her hands already putting together Midoriya’s favourite sandwich. Uraraka could almost see a halo above her head. “I’m just observing, as any good barista should.”

 “That’s not what Yaoyorozu meant!” Uraraka could almost hear her boss’s stern lecture. Considering her, there was a possibility she’d ramble for hours, and it was bad enough enduring it after Mina had dyed her hair pink. “And he’ll hear you if you keep talking like that!”

 “I think he’s a little busy.” Mina giggled as she toasted the bread. “He looks like a zombie.”

 Peeking over her shoulder, she saw Midoriya staring blankly at his screen, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. Was he psyching himself up for studying? Either way, he wasn’t paying attention to them at least, and she gave a sigh of relief. “He looks really worried.”

 “School does that.” Mina scowled as she slapped cream onto the bread. “Exams, tests, they should all burn.” Each word was punctuated by an aggressive shake as she mixed together the lettuce and meat for his salad next.

 “You’ve been spending too much time with Bakugou,” Uraraka chuckled nervously. Staring at the drink she’d just made, she blanched as she saw the heart she’d subconsciously made in the foam. Quickly, she stirred with a spoon — Midoriya wouldn’t care if it was pre-stirred, and Mina would never let it go if she spotted it.

 “Have not.” Mina pouted for a moment before pushing the rest of his order into her hands. She gave a sly wink. “This time make sure to ask!”

 Uraraka stuck out her tongue. Busybody. But she was grateful— even if she could feel her courage withering away with every step she took. At least he wasn’t paying attention to her; he was concentrating on his laptop, his lips twisting as he thought hard. Midoriya was serious about everything he did, no matter how trivial, and she wished she could be as earnest as him. “Got your order.”

 “Huh?” Midoriya jumped at the sound of her voice, a frazzled smile crossing his face soon after he noticed her. With shaky hands, he gratefully accepted the tray of food. It clacked with each movement he made, before it safely settled on the table. “Thanks.”

 “No problem.” She set down his latte next to him before standing there awkwardly for a moment. With his gaze directed her, she lost almost all the strength Mina had given her. Rubbing her arm, she considered running away for a moment.

 “Uh…” Midoriya looked at her quizzically, and of course he would, she’d just stood there silently for the last five minutes without saying a word. Maybe she should have taken that public speaking class, after all.

 “Hard exam?” she blurted out, needing to say something, anything. Even a question as stupid as that, because of course it was a hard exam — it was law school. There was no such thing as an easy exam in that field.

 “Huh?” He looked back at his screen before a soft oh escaped his lips. Scratching his cheek, he gave a weak smile. “Y-yeah! It’s really hard. I have three in a row.”

 “Three!?” Uraraka stepped back, grimacing in horror. “Think you can do it?”

 Midoriya shuddered for a moment at the question, paling rapidly before her eyes. His fingers started tapping the table as quietly muttered, “He’ll generally use the class notes…she likes to use textbook questions…” Frantic calculations practically seeped out of his skin, and she wondered why he didn’t take statistics or some other calculative job. Finished, he gave her a determined nod. “I will!"

 Was it a confidence thing? Or was he actually certain? Either way, she beamed broadly at him, giving him thumbs up. “Good luck!”

 Returning the thumbs up, he nodded. “Thanks!”

 They stood there silently for a moment, and just like that, the conversation was over. Of course it was, it was a simple conversation, and she was lucky enough it had lasted as long as it did.  Racking her brain, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. All she could think of were extremely corny ways to ask him out—If you pass, I’ll date you. She’d go out with him even if he failed.  If you pass, you’ll date me. That sounded like a threat. Date me! That reeked of desperation.

 Nope, it was time to cut her losses and escape. “Well, then—”

 “Um, do you—" He turned a bright red, opening and closing his mouth a few times. His hands gripped his sandwich tightly before he finally sighed and shook his head. “Never mind, sorry.”

 That was odd. Uraraka took a hesitant step toward him. “You sure?”

 His forehead was touching the table now, his voice muffled. “Yeah.”

 What was that? Uraraka stared at him before she waved and left. He really was acting weird today. Maybe he didn’t like his order? Midoriya was the kind of guy who’d quietly accept what he got instead of saying anything, so it fit. Musing it over, she didn’t notice Mina until she clapped her hand on Uraraka’s back once more.

 “You’re a chicken.” Mina gave her a disproving look, a tut-tut more implied than said. Uraraka took it back; she didn’t need her help. Not in the least. It was not worth the teasing she’d suffer both now and later. “You didn’t even try!”

 “I did!” Uraraka hotly defended herself, embarrassed by how correct Mina was.

 “Surrreeee.” Mina sighed, shaking her head sadly as though she were a lost case. “This happens every. Single. Time.”

 “I’ll try again later!” It didn’t even sound convincing to Uraraka's own ears.

 “Right.” Mina’s brow rose, looking doubtful.

 And in the span of an hour, that expression changed to one of disbelief. Uraraka had accidentally insulted Midoriya three times, broken two plates, and swapped an order. She was a monster, and her friend fortunately put her out of her misery by dragging her to the break room. “Take a break.”

 “I—” Uraraka stood up, protesting, only to get shoved back down.

 “Take a break!” Mina ordered, rolling her eyes as she left. “Before you accidentally destroy his laptop," she added on.

 Which was a possibility now, Uraraka sighed as she sat down. Mina, the queen of skipping shifts, was telling her to skip a shift.  Despite her embarrassment, she felt oddly honoured. Mina almost never did this for anyone.

 What was she doing? She was so nervous over confessing that she was going to get fired. Or make him angry. It was hard to imagine Midoriya angry, but at the rate she was going, it could happen. Damn it. This day was not going anything at all like she’d hoped, like she’d planned. Resting her forehead on the table, she tried to absorb the coolness of the wood. Maybe she should try again tomorrow, or some other day.

 Sitting up, she patted her cheeks and headed back to the main counter. That was it, she’d do it some other day. Any other day. Feeling better, she headed back.

 Only to find him at the counter.

 Looking around frantically, she found an oblivious Mina carefully putting sprinkles on a cupcake. On a single cupcake, completely ignoring Midoriya’s timid 'hello?'

 Fine. She was an adult. She could do this. Uraraka plastered on a smile as she headed to the front. “Need anything?”

 Midoriya’s face turned red the second he spotted her, and he really had to get that checked. “N-no. I…”

 His corner was all cleaned up, his back hunched from the weight of his bag, and she filled in the blanks for him. “Done studying?”

 “Yeah.” Midoriya nodded his head so fast, she thought it’d snap off. “At least, as much as I can.”

 “Good luck,” she repeated, and maybe that was all of their conversations, a repetition of empty words and tomorrows. He always seemed to be holding something back and she, well, Uraraka could never say the words she wanted to say.

 “Thanks.” Midoriya bit his lip as he looked up at her. After a few seconds, he hunched over more and weakly waved his arm. “See you later.”

 “Bye.” Uraraka watched him turn, hunched over as though the world was on his back. Maybe it was. She could feel it on her shoulders too, the weight of the words she couldn’t say. Was this going to be all of her days? Just keeping quiet, keeping it? Her throat clogged with feelings she wouldn’t voice?

 From the corner of her eye, she saw Mina give her thumbs up, and it was like a gunshot before a race, the trigger of a gun. Before she could stop herself, Uraraka yelled, “Let’s go on a date!”

 There was an echo in her ears, and it took her a few seconds to recognize his voice, to notice that he’d turned around, bright red, and shouted the same thing. Instantly, her face shot into flames and eloquently, she asked, “Huh?”

 He looked just as surprised as she did, but he recovered faster. “Please go out on a date with me!"

 Somehow, they had both simultaneously asked each other out, at the exact same time. Uraraka swallowed, her mouth dry all of a sudden. This scenario had never played out in her fantasies. Her head nodded like a bobble-head. “Y-yes!"

 Behind her, Mina cackled loudly, not even waiting for them to finish talking, and Uraraka silently promised to kill her the moment her shift was over.

[behind-the-hood]

Hey sorry if I’m being nosy but what is this appeal situation about? I think I may have just been out of the loop for a while. Whatever it is though you seem happy so congrats!

Buckle your seatbelts. It's story time, babes!!

I was supposed to go to Germany with my husband right after high school, so I took a year off. I'd just start when we came back to the US. But then he gets there before me, and tells me he doesn't think it's safe enough for me to go just yet. Then later he doesn't want me to go at all.

So I pick back up my old volunteer job at the retirement home down the road and I plan to start next August.

Well, my first year of college was horrible. My first semester, I was put in six classes, and one of them was an eight o'clock class. My school is half an hour away. And I had to take my sister to her school in the mornings as well.

I had to drop a class. It was too heavy a load and I wasn't ready. It still ended up being too much and I barely passed two thirds of my classes. And to keep the Pell Grant, you have to pass two thirds of what you start.

But I did it, if barely. So, the next semester, I only get four classes. And I'm a little behind on everything because I've got marital issues splitting my focus. And I'm set behind even more because my mom gets surgery on her spine again. (They have to go through the front of her neck and shove all that stuff aside to get to her spine. Horrifying.)

Then I get a tonsilectomy during what was supposed to be spring break, but there was a mix up in the schedule and I missed a week of school, plus an exam. Not that it mattered, I took the recovery period so poorly, I was out of school for nearly a month anyway.

I ended up failing every class but Creative Writing. Including Abnormal Psych. And it looks very bad to fail in your major. It doubly sucks because I actually knew the material, but I was too far behind to catch up, even with doctors' excuses.

After that I took another year off. I was going to volunteer at a rape hotline to get some experience under my belt before I returned to classes, but I was going to get my migraines checked first. I could barely stand outside for too long without my head throbbing, even in overcast.

They do an MRI, don't remember why only that they did it, then I actually saw the doctor and he said...something, I don't remember. Anyway, I do have migraines, and we're going to try a bunch of different pills 'til we get it right! Except...there's this little thing on my MRI...It looks like my pituitary gland is enlarged. Not uncommon for a woman of my age, but they're going to check it out anyway.

So I get another MRI, with and without contrast, and they focus on that.

It's a yes. Definitely enlarged. So I'm recommended to this hormone doctor to make sure all my levels are good.

So we see this guy a few weeks later, and he's taking blood, taking urine, did something else I think, but again I don't remember. I come back about a week later and he says all my levels are fine! Well, my estrogen is a little low, but that's normal on birth control.

But he sent me to a neurosurgeon, just in case. One of the best in the country! And I get to her office about a month later, and she's looking at my MRI, but nothing really seems wrong? No tumors, beign or otherwise. My gland is supposed to sit in a cup, which I don't have, so it's sort of pressing again my eye things? But it isn't affecting my vision, so it's a non issue at the moment. They're going to keep an eye on it over the next ten years. Woohoo.

My mom's with me 'cause I'm not a confident driver, especially in areas I'm not familiar, and she asks about this white spot on my forehead in the MRI.

The doctor looks for a moment, flipping through the images, and says "Well, that's your sinus, but it should be black like the other one..."

So I'm sent to an ENT, and not the one who did my tonsilectomy. I see him a couple weeks later, and he looks at my MRI, and I've apparently got a chronic sinus infection. Again, woohoo. But also, my sinus cavity is blocked off. This isn't unusual after a previous sinus surgery (which I had about a decade ago.) The scar tissue was healed over and blocking the sinus cavity.

(They ask if I feel like I'm breathing funny. I've been breathing this way for a decade. How am I supposed to know???)

They get me in the operating room less than two weeks later, open the cavity, straighten my septum, and did something else but I don't remember. I did fine. My jaw is killing me though because I'd just had a pain block two weeks prior, but they had to put a breathing tube down my throat for three and a half hours.

I have TMJ. I can barely eat a hotdog.

So, I wake up from my surgery, complaining about my jaw, not my nose. The nurses are confused. I'm half out of it on all the pain meds they've got me on. Can't really talk because my throat is raw after this, jaw too sore to open. I'm signing the letters of the alphabet to communicate.

It's about an hour later that I can start talking again. But at least the guy who pushed me out the hospital in the wheelchair was cute.

I get home, I'm doing fine. I'm sitting up in case of a nose bleed, half asleep every hour or so, and stay in like stage one/stage two of sleep for a couple weeks. I don't sleep well on norco, but percocet makes me sick unless I'm horizontal. So I deal with it.

I heal. I'm fine. Everything looks good. My marriage has fallen apart by this point.

I get my knees checked at one point because it hurts to bend them. I have runner's knee in both.

Then I get checked for a ADD (or ADHD without hyperactivity, but whatever), and I'm told I meet all the criteria. Lovely, and it explains a lot actually. That and ADHD runs in the family; I wasn't surprised.

So I'm on another medication, but it combats my migraine medication. Stimulants help ADD, but they trigger migraines. I turn to a lesser stimulant that only helps my focus and lessen the migraines. I only need it to get through school.

Now it's time to go back to school and I've accomplished nothing on my year off.

I get there, and I need to appeal if I want to get the Pell Grant again, which I desperately need. I didn't complete two third of my classes the last semester I was there.

So, I appeal. I write what turned out be a good draft. We zhuzhed it up. And I got a lot of medical documentation to show why I failed and how I'm going to do better.

Couple days after that, I get an email saying my appeal was approved and that I had to turn it in to complete my financial aid.

And here we are.

That is my story.

Yay!!

[nebula-starlight]

Virus (Part 4 - Asylum)

Her eyes glowed bright green in the mirror’s reflection, despite her best efforts to will them back to the soft topaz they were supposed to be. Work was coming up and she couldn’t afford to call in sick again. She’d lose her job if she did that once more and she needed the money. Rent wasn’t cheap near the clinic after all.

The low gurgle of her stomach drew Narssia from her thoughts and she grimaced, lifting a shaky paw to her chest. Was it indigestion? She hadn’t exactly eaten anything this morning... having felt a bit off. Oh no.

She threw herself over the washbasin, heaving until her entire body ached. Well that settled the debate about work. There was no way she’d go in now. Letting a few strands of saliva drip from her jaws as she panted, a low glitchy chuckle echoed in her ears for a brief moment before vanishing.

Waiting a few more minutes to see if the feeling passed, she sighed and left the bathroom, using the tip of her tail to flip the switch that emptied the filled basin. She’d fill it back up with water later but not now, not with her head spinning. Why had she gotten sick? It made no sense... There was nothing she’d done that would have prompted such a reaction.

Retreating to her den, she picked a chair and curled up in it, staring blankly into the unused fireplace beside her. The feeling would pass, she was sure. If not...

Well she knew what do to.

Bright lights shone briefly in one of her eyes as Narssia slowly returned to consciousness, hearing the distorted, warbled sounds of far-away voices. When had she drifted off? Not that it mattered too much now when she just wanted to sleep. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?

“She’s coming around. Give her room.”

She knew that voice, the one that broke through with an almost crystal clear quality. Chills ran along her back, terror flooding through her system as the long buried memories rammed into her waking consciousness. No, no, no! Why was it him?! That drake was the last individual she wanted to see now. She ran away from him. She... She’d fought hard to free herself from his web of lies.

But still those feelings remained... How hard claws smacked against her snout, tearing open skin as the pain only made her want to curl up in a ball and disappear. He always screamed at her, demanding she toughen up. The world wouldn’t accept a weak little shadow-breather even though she was trying her best to be brave.

Stop crying! Those black scales you’ve got only give others the impression there’s a cold, heartless monster underneath. You want that, don’t you? To feel strong... powerful even.

She trembled, straining herself to move, to run, to do anything! Still her wings remained limp behind her back and her limbs stayed shackled to the bed for protection. Not this Hell again. Anything but this. They couldn’t see the scars... The past attempts to get rid of that thing growing inside. But she couldn’t move and the routine nightmarish memories she struggled with were bad enough but to relive it...

No, she couldn’t go through that again. There had to be a way out before she started to spiral down into the darkness of her mind. She just had to think...

You’ll be cured in no time, my dear. All those silly little fears will be nothing more than wisps of fleeting thoughts. Soon there will only be the two of us. Together.

“Unusually high... brain activity, Doc. Should we... drug...?”

Her eyes flew open, panic clouding over any and all vision as the whitewash walls of the hospital sent her heart racing in her chest. No exams! She thrashed against the chains holding her down, screaming until her voice broke in repressed anger and fear. No proper drakes trying to fix her. She wasn’t broken! There was nothing... wrong with her.

It was all in her head. It had to be! No one deserved to see her like this. She wasn’t worth anyone’s time. Even the drake had finally spat those words in her face before she...

Oh Ancients! Don’t make her confess it. It was all an accident. He- He pushed her too far. No, no, no... her tail wasn’t covered in blood as the sounds of several pairs of clawed feet thundered up stairs outside his apartment. The noise of the brief struggle had been heard despite her best intent to silence him without a peep.

She confronted him. Marched right up and ripped out his heart, blood splattering over the expensive carpet of his flat as her tailtip dipped into the oozing crimson fluid dripping down his chest and then curled around his neck. Fixing one dark iris on him with a frustrated hiss, she snapped his neck at the same time she crushed the organ in her paw, relishing the satisfying squish it gave before she threw the ruined smear across the room to smack against the locked wooden door.

So many promises... He promised to treat her, cure her even. When that failed he said he loved her and wanted to toughen her up. Well he certainly did that... although likely not how he expected. Now that monster had left yet another mark on her soul, one she tried again and again to purge.

Poison hadn’t worked. Alcohol hadn’t worked - although it gave her an awful hangover the next day though. Every glance she dared to take at her scarred, swelling underbelly filled her with such self-loathing as the months passed. Oh she knew exactly why she’d gotten sick and why her energy was all but gone, there was nothing she wanted more than to rip it right out of her body. Who cared if she tried a dozen other ways to be rid of that hellspawn growing in her lower abdomen!

“Let me go!” She screeched, trying once more to move as flickers of tiny little green lights darted by the corners of her vision. “I’m not crazy, I swear. Don’t send me back there. Don’t... do that...”

Her jerky attempts at escape slowed before stopping, head rolling slightly to one side as a heavy sigh came from her left. A single, slightly stained claw brushed against the bottom of her jaw gently to check her pulse as the weary blue eyes of the doctor glanced over at the young male sitting down in the far corner of the room awaiting news. He was lucky someone had found her so quickly this time around judging by her extensive chart. Now she wasn’t out yet but they at least had her stabilized. Last thing anyone wanted was a half-crazy healer out on a vengeful warpath...

“Ease there girlie, you may not think so but we won’t hurt ya... Pretty lucky that you have attentive co-workers.” He looked up, spotting movement outside the small individual room in the clinic’s psych wing before continuing softly to the one who brought her in. “Poor ‘ness has had emotional problems for a long while. Last I spoke with her previous doctor they thought she was on the right medicine to even her out. Hmm, I wonder what caused a flare up this bad?”

The sound of the hospital room door opening seemed to take the doctor’s attention away for a moment. Stepping inside, the aged silver dragoness politely bowed before starting forward as the young orange drake excused himself and left to allow the two experts some time alone.

“The team I sent to her location of residence after she arrived found a note on her bed that was addressed by a Geer Stormbringer. Should we try to get in touch with him? Maybe he knows what set her off?”

The lead doctor hummed softly in thought as he lightly stroked the side of her snout to encourage her to fade on off to sleep. “That would be the best course of action right now, Silvia. We’ll keep her under for a bit until things can be sorted out.”

The night air was cool when she woke, blinking sleep from her eyes as she yawned. How long had she been out? Running her tongue along her teeth, she thought it was odd they felt moist as though she’d eaten something recently. Moving a forepaw, she felt the squish of something soft and slowly glanced down, finding her paw covered in blood. Beside her lay a half-eaten carcass, the shape draconian in nature. No...

She shuddered, the soft crackle of static buzzing in the background as she pushed herself back onto her hind legs, frantically trying to get her limbs under her so to run. Where was she? It wasn’t home if the wooded area was any indication. Was she losing her mind? Sure the thought had crossed her mind in the past to seek revenge but she wasn’t a violent creature. Drawing blood just wasn’t in her nature... at least she thought so.

Getting to her feet, she shakily stood, curious about the corpse as she crept closer. It was difficult to tell but she thought its scales were purple and its eyes... No, no, no, why?!

Those wide open gray eyes were ones she knew, expression fixed in a terrified scream. Geer’s past letters to her had mentioned a lovely little female healer by the name of Melvise if she was right... No, there was no connection linking the two, was there? How would she have even known what the dragoness looked like?

‘Someone’s not real fond of the monster they are, huh? Figures you good-for-nothings are all hypocrites. Hiding behind that perfect little facade...’

The soft chuckle of laughter caught her attention immediately, recognizing the voice somehow even though she was certain she’d never heard it before. Still she stood, glancing uneasily at the corpse before shying away from it.

“Who are you?”

‘Honestly, the static didn’t give it away? Sheesh, with how messed up your mind is it makes me look like a damn saint...’ The humor dropped from the mysterious voice, a chill running through the air as Narssia pressed her wings closer to her body. ‘Turns out I need to make my appearance known before I can fully possess you. Sucks for you then ‘cause I’m not the most... No, you know what? I’ll just show you what I mean.’

Her eyes went wide, fear crawling up along her spine as she shuffled backwards from the dead dragon. “Um, do I have a choice here? Cause I’d rather not.”

‘How cute. You think you have a say here... Such a pity I need you alive then. I was really looking forward to killing someone today.’

The ground suddenly went dark, eerie green lines of code appearing all around her and glowing as Narssia panicked and tried to fly away. All she managed to do was unfurl her wings before shadowy tendrils wrapped around her legs to pin her in place.

An amused chuckle was all she earned for her efforts. ‘Yeah, good try there but not real successful.’

The most awful sound split the air, reminding the healer of a screaming group of hatchlings as she saw the creature drop to the floor right in front of her. It was primarily skeletal, with a large gash further distorting its neck as the wyvern-like look had no wing structure other than the main permanent bone and thin claws that acted like her own foretalons. Two empty eye sockets blazed with bright green light and a large almost jewel-like gem sat in the top of its chest.

She hadn’t studied about the past ancestors of dragonkind for many years but was she looking at a fallen, a Shadowling some preferred to call them even? The appearance would fit what little she remembered...

‘You know what I am. Consider me impressed, for once,’ the glitch purred, voice humming with the soft crackle of static underneath. ‘My goal however is a bit more complex...’

“What... What happened to your body? I thought most fallen lost their forms but you....” Shock loosened her tongue, making her spit out whatever came to mind. Shaking her head to try and reign herself back in, Naris met the intense gaze of the spirit for a brief moment before shuddering in fear and looking away.

‘Repulsive, I know. Blame the one hanging with that drake you like. It’s not something I enjoy talking about.’ The creature crawled closer, using its wing-claws to move forward as Narssia was finally able to retreat, immediately backing away in fear. ‘And don’t deny your feelings for Geer. I’ve been in your head long enough to realize that much. Intriguing to think he could pull you free from all those chains wrapped tightly around your mind. Some shadow-breather indeed...’

The dragoness shuddered again, memories surfacing to remind her of all the reasons why being with Geer wouldn’t work. He didn’t deserve to deal with her brokenness on top of his own issues. Yes she was aware of his disability but found herself in awe at his dedication to his job. If only she was that brave...

‘Come now, you broke the dude’s neck and crushed his heart. Pretty impressive if you ask me.’

“I didn’t,” she hissed back, lifting a paw to her chest as her steps slowed. “I never meant to hurt anyone. What do you want with me anyway? Besides my body I imagine.”

The glitch snorted, eyes rolling in their empty sockets. ‘Body and mind, dearie. Can’t have one without the other - otherwise you’d be dead right now.’

“And if I refuse to let you in?”

‘Oh you know exactly what’ll happen. Those pretty little terrors trapped up in that head of yours want to play and who would I be if I didn’t push things along a bit.’ One skeletal wing rose, pointing directly at Narssia’s skull as the fallen snickered. ‘Choice is yours, missy.’

Well that wasn’t what she expected to hear. Actually no, she somehow knew that would be the response. Her uninvited guest didn’t seem like it played fair anyway.

With a sigh she stopped in her tracks, tail swishing around her hind legs. “Do you have a name?”

‘I did. Once. But you don’t deserve to know it.’ The spirit growled, body dissolving away into a glitchy black and green mist before it swirled around Narssia predatorily. ‘Neither did he for that matter. All talk of serving for the greater good and everything left ‘em with what? A stained core that started to crack long before he... No, I won’t say it.’

“You don’t have to say it. He slit your throat, right?” Narssia felt the mist glide over her back without giving a response, teasingly swirling over her horns in a manner that made her decidedly uneasy.

‘Why should I tell you anything about myself? Here I was denied my chance at having a family but you...‘ Invisible claws stroked her snout, digging into her skin as the glitch’s words turned bitter and malicious. ‘You are far too happy to destroy yourself, trying everything to purge the last reminders of that vile doctor from your body. Speaking of which, did you enjoy my little gift? It wasn’t difficult to fish up the memories of how he sounded. How each touch left your pretty little body aflame. Deny it all you want... but you envied him, didn’t you?’

Despite herself Narssia had leaned in towards the contact, too drained to properly realize what was going on. She craved touch but yet, held herself back so often out of fear she’d get hurt again. Was that why she’d fallen so quickly for him? Every nice compliment had soothed the burns scarring her fragile heart until she gave in and let him “help” her. It hadn’t been to her benefit at all...

“Go ahead,” she muttered, closing her eyes as the glitch slid over her shoulders. “Torture me all you want. I’m not important to anyone.”

‘Ooh, abandonment issues as well. How did I get so lucky?’ The soft chuckle filled the air as Narssia stood there in silence, awaiting the next horrible bout of night terrors that would surely come her way. ‘Fret not, my dear. Soon no one will be able to break you ever again. All you need to do is say three simple words and I’ll take the pain away.’

“Just let me drown in guilt...”

The green sparks within the mist crackled, shock prompting the next words from the glitch. ‘Come now... Don’t you want release? I can give you that and still keep those precious ones alive.’

Dark irises slowly slid open, half hidden by her eyelids. “Not what I want...” Her head lifted slightly, fixing one topaz eye on the pixelated cloud before she started forward with increasingly confident steps. There was a certain raspiness present in her voice, kept low but firm. “I decide when to fall apart on my own terms, Glitch. Pester me all you want. Break open every scarring memory if you desire and see where it gets you! I’m flawed, I know that, but I don’t need a constant reminder of the darkness that lies buried within.”

She glared at the spectre as they came nearly snout to energy cloud, her eyes filled with tears of her own self-hatred. “Never will you ever reduce me to a state where I beg for your kind of release. That isn’t freedom, it’s enslavement and I refuse to be a slave again. Now get out of my head before I make you.”

‘You really shouldn’t have said that... I would have been merciful otherwise but now, you’ll only have yourself to blame when you come crawling to me in defeat.’

The dark hiss she received as the glitch vanished in a burst of green sparks made Naris feel better about her decision, only to then wonder what hell would await her because of it. Had she just sentenced herself to torture unlike any she’d known before? The Shadowling had seemed almost frustrated that she would reject the new life that was growing inside of her but maybe she could use that to her advantage somehow...

She had to hold on! Maybe something would break her free before she succumbed to the darkness it offered. No matter what she couldn’t let that monster get the better of her.

Shadows swirled around her feet, the looming outline of the dead- no, corrupted wyvern trailing behind her as she started to walk, static softly crackling through the air in reminder of who’s domain she was really in. Just survive, Narssia repeated to herself with each shaky step she took. That’s all she could afford to do now...

[chibisquirt]

Celestial Navigation remix teaser

This isn’t even its final form.

No, seriously, this isn’t anywhere close to even a first chapter first draft.  It will change!  And I’m not writing it right now.  (I would say “I’m not writing The Thing,” except that that would be true, and this would be The Other Thing.)  I’ll probably seriously start work on this sometime in...  April?  May?  Right around then.  Definitely not during Remix Madness, not unless I can somehow work three work shifts and write *eyeballs it* 60-100k in two days.  

Don’t hold your breath.

But @sabrecmc​ said she loved my idea, and I wanted to get it down before I forgot it.  So this is... the start of an idea.

I had fun with it, anyway.

Tony stormed into the lab in a bitch of a mood, but he really didn't think he could be blamed.  Fury's words were still ringing in his ears like a boxing blow.  

“We have no problem with Iron Man; Iron man does damn good work.  And we have no problem with Tony Stark; Tony Stark is revolutionizing every lab we got in this damn place.  But Tony Stark and Iron Man being one and the same?  Yeah, that we kinda have a problem with.”

In the wake of Afghanistan, Tony had been adamant that Stark Industries would no longer make weapons that could fall into the wrong hands.  He couldn’t shut down every operation— SI was under contract for up to three more years, in some cases, and they couldn’t afford the fallout of breaking those deals— but all the contracts they were bidding on were dropped, and Tony had flat-out refused to consider any future deals making weapons.  

But he wasn’t willing to just shut down the company wholesale, so alternatives had to be found.  SI already made body armor and flight prototypes; Tony had ramped those categories up, adding green energy and communications to their list of milieus.  He had SI producing with his usual high standards within months, and SHIELD was his biggest contractor.  

Of course, once he had SHIELD clearance for those contracts— which weren’t being offered to the military yet— it made sense to bring Tony in as a contract engineer, too.  For the last three months, he had been romping around as many SHIELD research departments as he could find, and been playing merry hell with all of them.  (Except for linguistics; the linguists were a little weird, even for him.)   He already had a helicarrier under development, as well as some prototype hard-light armors that no one other than SHIELD would ever be willing to pay for.  He even had his hands in SHIELD’s perennially doomed efforts to create a super-soldier, not that he expected it to make a difference.  SHIELD had been failing at that one since back when they were the S.S.R., Tony didn’t exactly expect it to succeed now.  

The science division was about fifteen floors of the Triskellion (twenty-seventh to forty-second, in fact), but the central area of the twenty-seventh floor was its own little access way:  if you wanted to get anywhere in the science division, you had to go through there.  

Tony swanned into that science lobby like Alan Rickman entering a potions dungeon.  

“Alright, kids, show daddy the good stuff," he said, and a dozen Beta scientists leaped to obey.  Ten points to Ravenclaw, he thought, and sneered at the first project that came under his nose.  

Well, okay, come on— that wasn’t being in character, it was just a really bad design!  “Why did you put your damn rotors on the bottom, Evans?”  As if Tony didn’t already have a migraine...

“I thought— it’ll make for less wear on the bolts to heave up the body than to pull, right?  So—”

“First of all, no it won’t.  And second of all, it’ll increase the wear on the rotors themselves—”

“No, but— it lands in water, right?  I mean we’re not doing this from land, or anything—”

“ — and at those speeds, the water may as well be concrete!  This isn’t grade school—”

Evans got the message.

Tony worked his way through them, the UAV’s and the phasers and the—

“Please don’t call it that.”

“Well, if you come up with a better name than the ‘night-night gun’ I’m sure we’ll be happy to change it,” the little Beta huffed.

— and slowly worked his way through to the back of the lounge where the scruffy-looking Dr. Banner was waiting.  

“Done with the scrum?” Bruce asked.  He sipped his tea.  

“Mostly.  Saving the best for last.”  Tony pasted on an encouraging grin, just for him.  

It wasn’t Bruce’s fault, it really wasn’t.  Bruce was a good damned scientist, careful and thorough and painstaking, but with an effortless grasp of higher concepts of physics and chemistry that still seemed to elude some of his more decorated colleagues out there.  It was Bruce’s bad luck, though, to be assigned to the shittiest project in the whole place.  Seriously:  if the projects were potions students, Bruce’s was Neville Longbottom.  And it wasn’t fucking fair— but then, very few things were.

Plus, at this point, Bruce was contributing to his own relegation.  It wasn’t like his good work had gone unnoticed— if no one else had tried to scoop Bruce, then Tony would have.  But as Tony had been informed— repeatedly, and at a variety of volumes, some of which had not been necessary, thank you, Fury— Bruce had stubbornly insisted that he could crack his stupid Super-Soldier project, and had remained, slowly chipping away at it, for over a year after he could have been reassigned.

That was honestly the only reason Tony was even interested in the project.  It was a bad idea; far too much potential for abuse, for one thing— what if you super-soldiered the wrong guy, and got a madman?  So Tony jumped on board to help Bruce get done faster, and then he started screening the candidates, too— just to make sure they were all people he would trust with super-powers.  It took up more of his time than anything else he did here, but it was also a bigger challenge:  psych evaluation wasn’t exactly Tony’s strong suit.  See exhibit one:  Stane, Obediah, betrayals thereof.

“Got a new batch of subjects in,” Bruce said mildly.  “I know you like to meet them.”

“Fabulous; something else to fail at.”

Bruce stopped and pivoted halfway through the door of his department, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

Tony sighed.  “Nothing.  Meeting with Fury went... poorly.”  

Bruce tipped his head to the side, but didn’t push.  Very restful guy, Bruce.  Tony really did like him.  “First one’s through there,” was all he said, pushing through and back to the exam rooms.  Bruce’s department was set up so much like a doctor’s office that Tony suspected it had originally been intended to be one, and the decor didn’t help:  muted tones and uncomfortably-padded furniture.  He even had magazines in the waiting room, although, being for SHIELD agents, they were more Guns&Ammo than out-of-date US Weekly.  

Tony snagged the file out of the holder on the back of the first exam room door.  “Barnes, J. B., Level 3 SHIELD Agent,” he read off.  “Fabulous, more spies; just what we need.”

Bruce nodded unironically and headed to the lab— ostensibly to run tests, but Tony knew that was where he kept his teapot, and his mug was suspiciously empty.  Mark down another on the list of people who drink around me, Tony thought, although the thought was a lot fonder than it usually was.  “Be nice to that one,” Bruce instructed.  “I like him.”

“Good lord, why?”  Tony opened the door.  

“I’m serious, Tony; he’s on the short list.”

Tony blinked, and then without another word, stepped through, closing the door behind him.

J. B. Barnes was tall and fit, a Beta wearing a SHIELD uniform.  So, they hadn’t pulled him off of an assignment for this, then.  Closer examination revealed the cast on his left arm:  a-ha.  Benched, for now.  His hair was brown, eyes pale— blue or gray, hard to tell at this distance— and his ears, apparently, were sharp, because he was grinning.  

There was something familiar about that grin...  Tony shrugged it off.

“Name and birthday?”  

The grin barely faltered— no more than a sixteenth of an inch.

Okay, and right off the bat, that one was probably on Tony; they were required— stupid Bruce and his stupid scrupulousness about protocols— to confirm the identity of the people they were talking to before discussing any medical records.  But Tony didn’t have to say it quite so sharply.  He didn’t usually spit the words “name and birthday” like they were going to take out Gilderoy Lockhart, after all.  So once Barnes had confirmed that, yes, he had been born March 10th, twenty-one years ago, Tony settled into the little doctor’s stool, did a full rotation because wheelie stools never got old, and apologized.  “Been a long day,” he explained it, “people being difficult.”

“And by people you mean pirates?”

Tony almost didn’t get it for a second, because it was said so blandly it might as well have been asking his oatmeal preferences, and because it was so unexpected coming from a Level 3 agent.  “You usually that irreverent about Fury?  He might keel-haul you.”

Barnes grinned again.  “I have a well-established pattern of snark,” he admitted.  “There’s a reason I’m only a level three.”

Tony looked back at the chart again. “You’re a baby,” he said absently, “don’t take it personally—”

It was a pretty impressive chart, though.  “You can shoot.”  

“Yeah, a little.”

Barnes could probably win gold at the olympics and be set for life, given the numbers from his last round on range.  Sure. “A little,” Tony repeated dryly.  “Interrogation specialist, really?  ‘Exceptional problem solver,’ what does that even mean?  And you speak...”

“Five languages— well, okay, the Irish is mostly profanity.”

Tony hefted the file.  “This says four.  Counting the Irish.”

Barnes shrugged.  “The Klingon’s more recent,” he admitted, “and it really shouldn’t count anyway, there’s only, like, three thousand words—”

“Closer to thirty-five hundred.”

“It’s not Chinese, though, right?  I mean...”

Tony’s mouth twitched.  “It’s not Chinese, no.  Or... Russian, apparently.  Huh; eclectic.”  

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“There a reason you’re busting my balls?”

Tony paused.  More of the snark?  Or was he really being too harsh?

“I mean, given that Doc Banner just told you he likes me.  Either you’re trying to break me— which, good luck, chill out though because it’s not going to happen— or you’re in a legitimate shitty mood.  In which case, I’d rather not be your punching bag.”

There was something about how he said it...  The young man wasn’t saying it to push, like another Alpha would have.  He wasn’t saying it defiantly, either; it wasn’t like he was daring Tony.  That one was a standard technique in Alphas and Betas alike:  the Alphas used it to start a fight, the Beta’s used it to make the Alphas look irrational and over-emotional.  It usually worked pretty well in either case, too, although Tony had seen it often enough in boardrooms that he could handle it.

But that wasn’t what was going on here, and the difference was so obvious it set Tony blinking.  The guy— Barnes— was just stating a fact, that was all.  “Here’s what I see, and that’s how it is.”  No bravado, no push— just truth.

Which neatly left only one possible response.  “Sorry,” Tony said again, and meant it this time.  “Pirates.  You know.”

“Perils of the high seas,” Barnes agreed.  “But it’s just us up here in the crow’s nest; you wanna talk about it?”

Tony laughed, impressed by the balls on the guy if nothing else.  “No.”

“Could help.”

“No,” Tony repeated, struggling to keep down the simmering heat that had been resting behind the arc reactor since his meeting with Fury delivered his ultimatum.

“Look, we like what you do, Tony— there’s no doubt about that— but Iron Man is too reckless, too borderline suicidal, to also be the guy essentially running every research operation we have!  Add to that, every analysis we’ve got—”

Tony had sent Natasha Romanov, sitting at the table with them, a dirty look, but she had just blinked slowly at him and Fury hadn’t checked his tide of words.  

“ — has indicated that Iron Man is a dysfunctional personality— and that was even before we knew he was also you.”  

Tony caught his breath.  Iron Man was the best of him; hearing that even his best wasn’t good enough... that hurt more than he wanted to admit.  And certainly not to Fury.  

“He is headstrong, disregards the standard protocols of operation, twice he’s put our other agents in danger—”

“Point of order:  he can’t put your ‘other’ agents in danger because he isn’t one—”

“I don’t care, Stark.  Make a show.  Be stable.  Invest in the future—”

“What do you think the whole ‘green energy’ thing is about?!”

“ — personally invest.  Hell, get yourself an Omega!  Pop out a couple kids!  We’ll all pray the brains are heritable and the personality isn’t.  Just... don’t break things, for once in your goddamn life.  Show me you can be a team player, and I’ll think about it.  Show me you’re not an adrenaline-junkie mess, and I’ll welcome you back with open arms!  But until that happens, Iron Man— and you— are barred from all aspects of the Avengers Initiative.”

Fury had almost made it to the door when Tony’s head snapped up.  “You know,” he called, “if you don’t break things, you can’t put them back together with improvements!”

The only answer was the whisper-soft slide of the Black Widow’s boots as she followed Fury out the door.

“Unless you’ve got an Omega in your pocket,” Tony said now, his voice approximately as dry as a dead cactus, “I’m shit out of luck.”

Barnes froze.  He blinked, and then blinked again.  He looked around the room as if scanning for cameras before bringing his head back around to meet Tony’s eyes.  “I mean...”  He rubbed his palms along his navy blue trousers as if he were trying to rid them of sweat.  “...You can’t tell Fury.”

Tony froze, thinking about it.  It had been an offhand joke, a throwaway line designed to get the conversation back on course.  But then again...

Tony was about to make a very, very, very large mistake. He tossed Barnes’ file on the counter.  

“Tell me more.”

[olicityforlifearrowfan]

My Journey to discovery: (Recovering from an eating disorder)

I am not a sufficient writer, nor have I had the ability to be one, but I want to tell my story so that others in my situation do not feel alone. I will start at the beginning that date being January 11th 2017, that was the day I decided to change my life and to no longer put the blame on external factors. I had to except that if I wanted to be happy, I had to be the one to make a difference. On this day, after getting back from a summer holiday I felt so miserable about my physical self-image (how I looked) and my mental self-image (my interpretation of what others thought of me). I seriously believed that in order to be happy and loved by others (my friends and family) I needed to look a certain way. So, I woke up that morning, had a bowl of special K and went for a run. (By the way this was the first run that I had been on in years). From this moment on I promised myself that I was no longer going to feel bad about myself. So, I kept doing this for a week, (I lost 2 kg’s), then 2 weeks (3 kg’s) and then a month had passed by and I had lost 5 kgs. I began to see the progress I was making, starting off at a weight of around 86 kg’s to 81 kg’s within a month. Now, for someone who is 173 cm I was pretty well over my ideal ‘healthy’ weight range, therefore, seeing this progress was substantial and so rewarding. For the first time in my life I felt that I had control over something. Unfortunately, I did not know nor could I predict that this would eventually take over my life in a literal and mental sense.

First, of all when you have been let down, either in your workplace, school or family life, and have this be the consistency for many years; you forget to focus on the positives and mainly focus on the negatives. For me, I had been told I was not good enough to continue doing ballet and a curriculum at school. Let’s just say that I thought I was fine and then be told that I was not cut out for it when those in higher positions of power (e.g. teachers) told me that I was good enough to do them in the first place. This shattered my self-esteem, and even worse the first occurrence was when I was 12. So, just as I was going through my pre-pubescence and discovering who I was as a person; being told that I was not good at something, even though I had been doing ballet for 10 years, practicing 4 times a week, 2 hours a day was mind blowing to me. I could not understand how they had left this to the last minute as well because they took not just me but two other girls as well out of class two days before our final exam!!! TWO DAYS!!! I mean how could they be so irresponsible as to leave it so close!!! Anyway, I sidetrack, little did I know that this would happen to me in high school, when I was told in my final year that I had to change school curriculums, even though they had done this with many girls BUT the year before. This would have allowed them to catch up on all the course material before graduation. So, my final year consisted of anxiety and self-doubt because no-one (the teachers) were keeping track of me. (At least, I had learnt a vital lesson; don’t rely on others to be successful!). Without this guidance I was left alone to somehow catch up on all the coursework I had missed and attain all the requirements to graduate and get into university!!! At the end of the year I missed out by one credit, which I had to make up for in my summer holidays but at least I still got in to the university and residence I had applied for.

These were just some of the instances which triggered an unhealthy perception of myself. This voice reminding me that even if I had tried to do something it would eventually fail. However, probably the worst incident which really set me aback (this accumulated over many years) was how my family treated me, mostly my father and brothers. The event took place at this restaurant where the portion sizes were big, and since I have a big appetite I of course devoured it without hesitation and as soon as the meal came to a close my brothers and father were like “isn’t that too much”, “you need to be careful”, “your fat” and plenty more which I would have brushed off to the side but in this case I had enough. I did make a scene but I believed I had the right to, I mean why could they eat like that and not get the same ridicule from me or anyone else? They did not take this seriously. We had a big argument, made a scene, people did stare and then we left. Afterwards I locked myself in the bathroom and cried for the rest of the night; no apologies were made. This was the type of treatment I had to deal with pretty much every time I went for a bite to eat which did eventuate into having me believe the negative things said about myself.

Furthermore, when I began losing weight, since I had been in such a negative mental set for such a long period of time, it was to me a huge achievement! I began to focus on this part of my life more and more, especially when people began to notice and make comments on how well I looked. My discovery into what really had been affecting me all these years was the eating disorder I had developed when I was at university for a semester. I began to restrict thinking that less calories and more exercise would help me to lose weight, which it did at first in a slow and sustainable way. Unfortunately, when you get to a lower weight it begins to take longer to drop even more weight, especially when your body is trying to keep you at the weight it is at. My restricting got so bad that I would be consuming less than a thousand calories a day, still going to classes and the gym. I was literally running myself into the ground; still dropping in weight, which is why it became so I became so addicted. To me, restriction in a way was an addiction, because, if I could say to myself that I could live off what a ‘normal’ human could not, I felt like I had an advantage, a win over others; which in my eyes I could not have had anywhere else. When I say that I was ‘restricting’, in a way it is still on-going. I have been to see therapists and nutritionists and they have all said, “you need to eat more”, but it is so much more than that. It is a problem which has to be targeted at the subconscious level, something that is so engrained into your psyche that it takes years to even contemplate and understand. For me, this discovery has taken me ever since I was a child and it is only now that I am able to understand these conniptions. I am still living with these problems every single day, some days being better than others. But for those who do not understand what it is like to live with an eating disorder, we are constantly living with it, even if we do not show it. Recovery is only by discovering the real problem, and it is not the food, the constant obsession with the scale (because believe me, I still have to weigh myself twice a day), nor for the appearance factor. These mechanisms are only hiding us from the problems in which we have to face and that is for me at least loving myself unconditionally no matter what others think.

Overall, I decided to write this because I had just weighed myself after not weighing myself for at least a couple of days; which consisted of eating to when I was satisfied and to how much I was ‘supposed’ to eat and yes, I’m up around 6 pounds heavier than when I last weighed myself. Now, before any of you ask, I know that my problems are not going to go away with the numbers I see on the scale. Plus, rationally, I also know that because I’ve been eating enough healthy and nutritious food (which I am grateful for). There are a whole lot of factors attributing to this and not actual fat/weight gain. I have had this happen to me before, even at a heavier weight and I still lost weight eventually. I do know how weight loss is supposed to happen, I have gone from 86 kg’s to 61 kg’s (give or take) within a period of a year. My eating disorder came from a place of not feeling like I had any control over my life, so by seeing quick results via the scale feeds my thirst for control as well as the restriction.

If any readers have their own story, please share, tag, comment below. I have felt like the only way to succeed in managing and recovering from this disorder is to talk it through with people have gone through similar experiences.

[star-anise]

I'm in my last year of undergrad and I feel like everything has gone to shit. The past year and a half have been awful, i have depression, anxiety and im almost positive i have ADHD too. I feel like such a piece of shit because I keep asking for the extensions on projects and exams, and I'm afraid I'm gonna be this way forever. Sorry this is a lot but do you have any advice on how to take the first step in digging myself out of this hole ive created?

Okay, so it seems like you came in via this post. That’s pretty much my philosophy here. I don’t know if you’re gonna “be this way forever” or not--I know I will probably be the way I am (depressed, anxious, with ADHD) forever, but that isn’t necessarily the same as being a trash disaster on academic probation forever.

I’ll be honest, I kind of feel like after a year and a half, you’re kind of an expert on what you can do with two hands and a shovel. You’ve been digging yourself out as fast as you can, and it’s been a real struggle. I think it’s time for you to get actual help, as in, other people. Reaching out to me was a good first step. I can help you decide where to go from here.   

Keep it simple and take it slow. If you don’t know where to find any of this stuff, feel free to private message me your school’s website; I have a minor knack for reading organizational structures.

For the next week, pick ONE OR TWO of the following options. Even if they’re all good ideas, keep your goals manageable. And then, of those one or two, pick one or two SMALL ACTIONS you can do to pursue them, like looking up a number in your student handbook or making an appointment. If you do more, that’s great, but the siren song of our people is, “I’m gonna accomplish so much!” 

Without further ado: Some Options For Help

Your school’s Disability Services/Accessibility Office/Office of Inclusion/whatever they call it

You’re looking for the office that helps Deaf/Blind/mobility-impaired students succeed in school. Mental health falls under the same category. It’s their job to make sure your school is providing you with as much chance at an education as it would provide to someone who’s totally neurotypical. Tell them what you told me.

Stuff they can do:

Tell you what your school’s requirement is for documenting a disability

Give you information on local assessment and treatment options--what psych professionals locally are good? Is there a fund somewhere that will cover your testing? Does the student health centre have a psychiatrist?

Provide you with a letter that tells your instructors that giving extensions, having flexible schedules, or dropping penalties for non-attendance is a legal requirement to accommodate you. This is not necessarily a free pass--a professor may decide that some things are mandatory or non-negotiable--but it is an easy way to bring these problems up early, before they become an issue.

Help find your or fund you a tutor (more on this later)

Help you find other resources and services on your campus

Your school’s Counselling Centre/Wellness Services/Social Work Office/wherever they hide the shrinks

This is the place where they offer free counselling. If there’s walk-in, go to walk-in; if they can book an appointment in a week, go in a week; if there’s a three-month waitlist, get your name on the waitlist.

Funny story--I had graduated undergrad before I realized that students got free counselling on-campus. I’d been in therapy since I was 16, but five years of undergrad? Yeah, no clue. I was looking for therapists on Psychology Today and shelling out hundreds of dollars out of pocket, and there were hot and cold running therapists under my very nose.

In fact, there might be more than just therapists. The school I worked at had regular counsellors, and also a Learning Specialist, whose job included teaching people with executive function disorders like depression and ADHD how to study effectively!  It’s worth asking about.

When you see one of these people, it’s very tempting to think they are An Adult Who Is The Boss Of You. They will look at you, understand you with their expert knowledge, tell you what your deal is, and give you instructions on what to do now!  

In reality, therapists are not Sherlock Holmes, or profilers on TV. We can’t just look at you and go, “I see by the way you button your coat that you’re a middle child and ambiguity makes you uncomfortable.”  We rely a lot on “client report”--on what you say is true. Psychological assessment is a process involving interaction, not a detached observation of stable qualities. If a therapist says something about you that seems inaccurate, it is beneficial and good to say, “No, actually, I think you’re mistaken. To me, it looks more like...”

You’re recruiting an experienced co-traveller to go on a trip with you. They know a lot about rocks and trails and climbing harness, but they don’t know the territory you’ll be travelling together. So first and foremost, you want to find someone you want to go on a trip with: a therapist who is a good fit for you.

If you don’t like your assigned therapist, ask for a new one. We have an ethical responsibility to provide referrals when we can’t provide someone with the treatment they need, and since a good client-therapist relationship predicts therapy outcome like 70% of the time, simply not liking or trusting your therapist is a good enough reason to try somebody new. If you want you can just email them after the session and say, “I don’t think you and I quite clicked. With what you know now of my personality and issues, is there someone else in your office you can refer me to?”

Medication. Different medication.

Not gonna lie, going on antidepressants was like... getting the inside of my brain whitewashed. There was so much space. So much room. I could think and feel without being constantly smothered in negativity! And going on ADHD meds on top of that was like.. the thoughts that had always been slippery, unable to grasp or manipulate, suddenly became solid in my hands. I could grip them, slow them down, tell them to go somewhere else.

Both times, it took five to ten adjustments to get to the right cocktail and dosage. For example, I was on an antidepressant that stopped me from crying and freaking out all the time but killed my creative drive, so we added a drug that gave me more energy so I could write again. Then money got tight, we tried me on a generic, found that didn’t work, and found a way to pay for the first version. Each time, it meant seeing the doctor, trying a dose for two weeks or a month, and then going back to report progress and try adjusting it again.

Again: It’s a process, an interaction. It’s something you get a say in. And if you’re currently on meds--well, let me just say: If you sent me an ask like that, your meds aren’t doing their job. They’re not the right ones for you. So it’s time for an adjustment.

If you can get to or afford a psychiatrist, great! A general practitioner who’s known you for a while will often do. And if you need to, well, I’ve gotten my meds adjusted by a different doctor every time at a walk-in family practice clinic. You do what you can. Information on who and what is available is often why Disability Services is a great resource--who knows, maybe there’s a psychiatrist on campus you can see for free who sees the depression/anxiety/ADHD trifecta all the time!

(General life tip: When they give you an assessment for depression, anxiety, or ADHD, don’t downplay your symptoms. Answer the way you would on a bad day or when you’re struggling. Of course you know how to cope with these challenges, but the unfair part is that you have to cope with them at all)

A tutor or academic coach

This never occurred to me for a long long time, because I was always a “smart kid”, and I always thought tutors were for people who didn’t intellectually grasp the material. Meanwhile: Surprise! I have a developmental disability that significantly impacts my learning! My grad school put me on academic probation and effectively foisted a person of this job description on me, and it was the BEST THING EVER.

If you’ve ever felt like you would work so much better if only you had someone sitting there all the time making you work? Or a sympathetic friend who could help you break it down and be less overwhelming? If the only time you get your work done is when someone else asks you about it? This is the person for you.

Most schools provide these services to students for free, or subsidize disabled students’ tutoring. If all else fails, you can find a tutor on your own and say, “I get this stuff intellectually, but I really need someone who makes me spend time with it, because left to myself I’d get anxious and ignore it all until the night before the deadline.”

If you have good friends who can do this for you, that’s great too--but the biggest objection to the post that brought you here is, “I’m depressed and socially anxious--I don’t HAVE anybody to help!”  So this post is aimed at linking you up to people whose explicit job it is to help you--people you, your insurance, or your tuition dollars directly pay for.

[daebakinc]

Mercy

Please have mercy on me. Take it easy on my heart. Even though you don’t mean to hurt me, you keep tearing me apart.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC Genre: College AU, angst, romance,  Summary: After a homework mix-up, you agree to tutor Jungkook in math in exchange for him tutoring you in dance. In more ways than one, you get much more than you bargained for. Parts:  1, 2, 3 A/N: This was originally going to be a oneshot, but it kind of became a monster, so there’ll be at least 1 more part. Maybe 2…. Also, there is some swearing but I tried to keep it to a minimum.

Cats can’t dance. But if they did, they would dance like Jeon Jungkook. Fluid and virile and beguiling. Amid the other advanced dance class members, he shines like a star of his own.

           You don’t mean to be spying on him. Technically, you aren’t anyway. Waiting in the freezing locker room after changing is not appealing. So, you’re waiting in the hall outside the studio. The door is a single pane of wide glass that gives an almost unobstructed view of floor full of dancers.

           You secretly envy all the students inside. They can transform music into movement and make it look as naturally as breathing. Having that kind of intuition for beauty must be such an incredible gift. Jungkook received said gift ten-fold from the few glimpses of him you’ve seen.

           Your university’s program has an impeccable reputation. Freshmen rarely get into the higher dance classes. However, even with your untrained eye, you applaud the department head for making an exception. Rumor has it Jungkook may be getting a solo piece in the spring art symposium. You can’t help but wonder if he’ll be the choreographer and what kind of music would best suit his abilities.

           “Wishing you were in there?” Namjoon comes to stand beside you. Yoongi is just over his shoulder. They almost look like twins in their all black outfits, but you suppose that happens sometimes with best friends.

           You snort. “No way. I’d look like a goose trying to do Swan Lake.” You turn to rest your back fully against the wall to better look at your friends. Even though you’re all different majors, your designated places in the back of the dance classroom made you bond quickly.

           “Come on, you’re not that bad.” Namjoon smiles and joins you on the wall to nudge your shoulder with his. With his lanky frame, you would’ve thought he’d be graceful, but somehow the poor kid almost broke the ballet bar in the first week of class. Still, he’s improved a lot since then.

           “Definitely not as bad as we were to start,” Yoongi drawls. He leans back and slides down the opposite wall. Although Yoongi can seem lazy, you’ve learned he’s anything but. And as much as he complains about dancing, he’s quite good. Putting his rolled hoodie behind his head, he sighs. “I’m going to have to set three alarms next time to get my butt out of the studio to register for classes for next semester so I don’t get stuck with a gen ed class like this.”

           “The first aid classes were gone like that,” Namjoon laments with a snap of his fingers. “I was so focused on getting my psych and philosophy classes that I left this physical education credit to the last minute. First month of the semester is over at least.”

           “You’re both exaggerating. You’re really good. I’m the one who’s going to fall on my face for our exam. I got a ‘C’ on that first performance test. A ‘C’. This’ll be my lowest grade since I failed that test in middle school,” you sigh.

           “You failed a test?” Namjoon’s mouth falls open. One of your strongest bonding points with him is your drive for high grades. “You? What subject?”

           “Not important,” Yoongi interrupts. He shoots you a teasing half smile. “You’ll ace it if you make it a comedy act.”

           You roll your eyes. “Not helping, Yoongi.”

           “I’m kidding. If we’re good, so are you.”

           “Uh-huh.”

           The door opens, putting a stop to your banter. You shift closer to Namjoon as students flow out. Jungkook is one of the last to exit, flicking damp bangs from his forehead. His plain white t-shirt sticks to his chest, leaving too little to the imagination. Sweat adds an extra sheen to his glowing tan skin. Sweaty men should not be this attractive. It’s just not fair.

When Jungkook sees Yoongi, a bright smile fills his face. “Hi! Oh, thanks.” He gratefully catches the water bottle Yoongi tosses him, pausing as his hand closes around the cap. “Don’t you need this?”

           Yoongi waves his hand. “I always bring two. That one’s all yours, kid.”

           “Nice to see you too, Jungkook.” Namjoon chuckles.

           Before Jungkook can turn around and see your blushing face, you duck inside the classroom.

           After class, you trudge up the long hill to the campus mailroom. The incline makes your legs hurt, but you’re desperately hoping the care package your best friend sent will be waiting. Chocolate and tea and a new face mask she now swears by. All the pampering an over-worked college girl needs.

When you open your mailbox, your anticipation instantly deflates. No package notice slip waits, only a bundle of unattractive looking papers. Closing your box, you flip through them. Various fliers and party notices go right into the convenient recycling bin. The last is a stapled packet of paper you recognize as your math test. It was only a mid- chapter review. You know you did well on it so you’re not really concerned with your grade.

Your hand tilts to drop it in along with the other content, but as the paper shifts, the first number of the grade catches your eye.

           “What?” you screech.

           Even if the mailroom wasn’t abandoned as it is at this hour, you wouldn’t care. You tear the paper open and stare at the first page. The big ‘F’ glares back you in accusatory red marker. The number grade below it only confirms the letter.

           “This has to be a mistake,” you mutter, heart pounding and hands suddenly clammy. Sure, you barely studied, but this was simple stuff. You’d gotten check pluses on all your homework assignments for the chapter. Your eyes scan the page, jumping to the name when you notice the work isn’t in your handwriting.

           Jeon Jungkook.

           You freeze. The golden boy is bad… at math? Although you’ve never talked to him yourself, all you ever hear is how perfect Jungkook is. Everything he does seems designed for an article in the alum magazines, tailored to rake in the big buck donations. To say such a person doesn’t intimidate you a little would be lying, but here is a chink in his armor.

You snap the test back in half, embarrassed. You need to get this back to him as soon as possible. He obviously needs the review and you would personally be mortified if someone else saw a grade like this. A quick look in the student database gets you his dorm building and room number. Turns out he lives in your building, only three floors down.

           Bass thumps through Jungkook’s door. Pokémon cutouts and fliers for some underground club plaster the surface, almost obscuring the smiley faces with Jungkook and his roommates’ names on them. You knock once, then harder when there’s no answer.

           A tall boy with a bandanna headband opens the door. Even though you’ve never seen him in your life, he greets you with a wide grin. A requirement for this floor must be to be way more handsome than the average human. “Hi.”

           His easy smile gives you a hit of courage. “Hi. Is, um, Jungkook here?”

           “Yeah. Jungkook! There’s a cute girl here for you.” He winks and disappears back into the room, leaving you trying not to wrinkle the test in your nervous hands.

           “A girl? Nice try, Tae. Why-” Jungkook stops short when he sees you standing there. He looks young and soft in another white shirt and faded black sweatpants. “Hi… I-I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

           “Kind of.” You smile. New people make you unsettled, but it’s something you’re attempting to work on. “I sit two rows in front of you in our math class and my Beginning Modern class on Tuesdays and Thursdays is right after your class. We’ve never talked though. I’m-”

           “Wait, I know your name. You’re the one who always says 'present’ when the professor calls role,” When he says it correctly, you’re caught off guard. With such a big class, you didn’t expect him to remember your name, let alone a detail like that.

           “Yes, that’s me. Old habits die hard.”

           “Cool. So… what’s up?”

           “Well,” you hold out the folded paper, “The professor accidentally put your review in my box. Mine’s 213.”

           “Mine’s 231. Easy mistake to make, I guess. Thanks for bringing it.” Jungkook takes the test from you and sneaks a look at it.

           His smile falls the second he sees the grade. His fingers crinkle the paper as his grip tightens. Frustration flares in his eyes, but degenerates into unhappy resignation in a blink.

            The frown on his face is so piteous you can’t help making an impulsive offer. “Would you like me to tutor you?”

           Jungkook’s face snaps up to yours, eyes wide. “Tutor me?”

           “I’m really sorry; I thought it was mine so I saw your grade. I’m not the best in our class, but I still have an ‘A’ so I could tutor you to give you some extra help.”

           He runs a hand through his hair, disturbing the beanie on his head. Though he looks tempted, clearly his pride is in play. “I don’t have any money to pay you…”

           Another idea pops to life in your head. “We could do an exchange then, if you want. I tutor you in math, you tutor me in dance? I barely passed our midterm. It’s a win-win, right?”

           “Take the deal already so we don’t have to listen to you moan and groan about your homework all the time,” a voice yells.

           “I don’t complain; that’s you over your Chemistry, Hoseok!” Jungkook shouts over his shoulder. Turning back to you, a shyer version of his smile returns. “I appreciate the offer a lot, but I usually practice until late. That’s why I can’t use the school tutors.”

           “I work late too at the cafe by the library every day except weekends.” You shrug. “I could meet you in whichever studio you use after work. You don’t have to agree-”

           Jungkook jumps in, “Please. You saw my grade. I’d be really dumb not to say 'yes.’ I’ll make it work… I guess I should give you my number so I can let you know which studio I end up using.”

           “Sure.” Digging out your phone, you hand it to him. In a matter of seconds, his phone dings and he hands yours back. You try not to notice the veins prominently etched under his skin.

“What time do you get off?” he asks.

           “11 or 11:30, depending on how busy we are in the last hour.”

           “I could probably finish or fit in a break around there. Do you want to start tomorrow or…?”

           “Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll text you when I get off.”

           “Sounds good. Really, thanks for this. You’re probably saving my butt this semester.”

           “No problem.” Out of habit, you extend your hand before you can help yourself.

           Jungkook looks down at it uncertainly but gives it a quick shake before you can retract it. His hand is warm and softer than you expected.

           You quickly drop it and blurt out, “I’ve got other homework so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

           “Me too. Have a good night.”

           “You too. Bye.” You wave awkwardly and take off before you can embarrass yourself more.

           Wednesdays are one of your busiest days. That means you don’t have time to think about your meeting with Jungkook until you’re turning off the light at 11:15. It’s a ten-minute walk across campus to the gym complex. Admittedly, you’re a little nervous. It usually takes you awhile to warm up to people, especially boys.

But Jungkook seems as shy as you normally are and he looked so disappointed with his grade, your caretaker side took over. But who knows if you’ll actually make a good tutor or if you’ll confuse him more. To avoid becoming a shaking mess, you stick in your earbuds and turn up the volume to an unhealthy level.

           Just as you get to the gym door, you see someone moving towards it, key in hand. You run, your hand slamming on the door.

           “Sorry, we’re closing-” The man looks up and you recognize Jungkook’s roommate who answered the door. He smiles just as brightly as before. “Oh, it’s you. You here to meet Jungkook?”

           “Yeah. But you just said the gym’s closed.”

           “Ah, not for you.” He pushes the door open and ushers you in. “Jungkook’s got special permission to practice as long as he wants. He knows how to get out once I lock up. He’s down on the ground floor, second studio on the right. Should be the only one with lights on.”

           “Oh, thanks.”

           “Have fun, you crazy kids. Don’t do anything I’d do,” he calls after you as you head down the stairs.

           The small studio is empty and quiet when you arrive. The green lights of the stereo are still blinking, but no Jungkook. When you step further into the room and look around, you see a torn piece of notebook paper with your name on it folded around the bar.

Grabbing a quick shower. Be back soon. -Jungkook

           Shrugging, you notice a bookbag sitting on top of a pile of mats in the corner. A phone rests propped up against that. You settle yourself beside it and pull out your materials. Your textbook, the homework you already started, extra pencils, your calculator, and a copy of your notes you made for Jungkook. His writing on the note may be neat, but his notes could be a different matter entirely.

           Jungkook walks back through the door. He jumps when he sees you, his eyes widening, but he recovers quickly. Another white shirt clings to the damp skin on his arms, but his basketball shorts hang loose around his legs. “Hey. I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

           “No, I just got here a few minutes ago,” you assure him. “How’re you?”            “Good, good. You?”

“Tired. I thought we could do math first and dance later? My feet could use a rest, sorry.”

           “No, no. That’s fine.” He hurries over and leans down to rummage through his bookbag. You can smell his soap, sharp and fresh and sexy. “Can we go over the review? I still didn’t get half the problems even when the professor went over them.”

           “Of course.”

           His phone buzzes. Without meaning to, you look over in time to see the text: “Good luck with your pretty tutor 😉.”

           Jungkook snatches the phone and stuffs it into his pocket. His ears are red and he ducks his head further into his bag. “Sorry. Taehyung just-… Sorry. He just likes teasing me.”

           You look down at your lap and shuffle your papers to find your packet and hide your own pink cheeks. “He’s your roommate who works here?”

           “Yeah. Got it.” Jungkook drops his bag on the floor so he can take its place beside you and open his book to the chapter. Glancing between the page and his paper, his eyes get bigger with a mixture of revulsion and utter confusion. He tries to smile when he turns to you and says, “So… polynomial functions…”

           “Yeah. Exciting stuff.” You smile back to try to put him at ease in case he doesn’t catch the sarcasm. “Which problem do you want to start with?”

           “Number three?”

           “Okay. So, we have to sketch the graph for f(x) = x3- x2 – 9x + 9. Can I see what you did?”

           He shifts his book so you can see as you move closer. Your shoulder brushes his. Jungkook tenses so you casually lean forward so you’re not touching anymore. A quick sniff proves you only smell like work. Maybe he doesn’t like coffee. His paper quickly distracts you from wondering though.

           To say it is a mess would be generous. Frustrated pink from an eraser streaks under crammed calculations and scrubbed out mistakes. You can barely make out the final work. At least you know whatever problem Jungkook has isn’t from lack of trying.

           “Why don’t we start fresh?” You tear out two pieces of paper and hand one to him. He murmurs his thanks as you balance your book on your knee closest to him. You write larger than normal so he can follow more easily. “We have our equation, so what’s our next step?”

           “We have to factor it to find the zeros,” Jungkook sounds confident, but the unsure peek he gives you shows otherwise.

           “Right.” Again, you smile to encourage him. “To do that, we need to group the terms. For this problem, that means essentially splitting it into x3- x2 and - 9x + 9. From there, we can factor out x2 from x3- x2, so we get x2 (x-1). Still with me?”

           “Yes.”

           “Good. Then we move on to the second part of the equation. What common factors does it have?

           “Nine, so we’d get 9(x+1).”

           “But what about the negative sign in front of 9x?”

           Jungkook’s head jerks up from his work. His teeth marks are embedded in his pencil’s eraser like an anxious rabbit’s. “What negative sign?”

           Pointing at his paper, you explain, “It’s from the original function. The subtraction sign in x3- x2 – 9x + 9 doesn’t just go away when we split the function to factor it. It goes with the 9 as a negative sign so when we factor, we should get -9(x-1). Otherwise, when we tried to reverse it, we’d get x3- x2 + 9x + 9. Always carry over the math sign. I think that’s what messed you up here. That and your end behaviors are reversed.”

           “But isn’t it when the degree is odd, the graph rises to the left, and when the leading coefficient positive, the graph falls to the right?”

           You shake your head and twirl a finger. “The opposite: odd degree means the left falls and positive coefficient means the right rises.”

           Jungkook sighs but erases his answer and adds a note to the side.

           “Wait.” Offering him your copied notes, you explain, “I made these for you. I take pretty good notes so… Anyway, I made a little chart there to show how the coefficients and degrees work. It’s easier for me to memorize them like that.”

           “Cool. Thanks.” He looks between your notes and his paper, his lower lip protruding in a barely discernable pout. With another sigh, he quietly says, “You must think I’m really stupid, not getting this simple stuff. If she actually let us use our calculators for this part, I’d be set, but without it, I’m screwed.”

           “I don’t think you’re stupid,” you reply earnestly. “A lot of people think you have to be good at math to be smart, but not everyone’s brains are wired that way. Sometimes it takes more work to understand math, especially higher math like this. It’s nothing to be ashamed of to not to get it the first few times.”

“You think so?” Jungkook asks, his shoulders straightening with hope.

“Yeah. Like one of my friends can order breakfast in four languages, but ask her to explain the chemistry that makes the meal and she’s silent. And you, you’re brilliant when you dance.”

           “Thanks.” His face breaks into a wide, genuine smile. It’s so mesmerizing you almost miss when he asks, “When have you seen me dance though?”

           “Sometimes I get out of my previous class early since it’s a lab so I get to catch the end of your class. I’ve seen you during some of the floor exercises,” you admit sheepishly.

           “You were the one standing with Namjoon yesterday after class, weren’t you?”

           “Yeah. We’re back buddies.” Before you can get more off track, you ask, “So, are we good with this one or do you want to go through it again?”

           Jungkook looks between your paper and his. “I think I’m okay. We can move on. Number five?”

           A pile of paper grows on the floor as you work through the rest of the pre-test. True to your earlier statement, Jungkook proves he’s not stupid. He asks lots of questions, his eyes flitting between your work, his own, and your notes. He just needs some individual attention. And maybe a bit more practice. At least you have another week before the test to help him.

           When you finish the last question, the two of you stretch, your arms accidentally hitting each other. You both laugh and you twist the other way while Jungkook picks up his phone.

           “Shit. It’s late.” Jungkook turns the screen so you can see it’s already past 12:30. A guilty frown is on his lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it’d take that long. Do you have to go to bed soon?”

           Waving away his concern, you reply, “Nah. I’m usually up until one or two anyway, but if you need to practice more, you don’t need to bother with me tonight. We do have math tomorrow slash this morning.”

           “But that wouldn’t be fair. You just spent an hour helping me.”

           “Really, Jungkook. It’s okay.” You start putting things away in your bag. He’s probably just saying that to be polite. “We can do it another night. Plus, you’ve already showered. If we dance, you might get sweaty again.”

           “It won’t hurt to take another one later.” He stands up, shaking out his legs. “We can do a short session so we can both get some sleep. We can make up the other thirty minutes another day. Deal?”

           The expectant look he gives you has you staring back. If you were completely honest, you had only mentioned him tutoring you in return as an out for his pride. When you suggested it, you expected this to go the same way most of your relationships do. You give without reservation. They take without consideration. End of story.

It doesn’t bother you anymore. You think of it as putting out good karma and hope it will come back around some day. Jungkook’s unexpected readiness to return the favor is… well, unexpected.

           “Hey, you awake?”

           “Spotting,” you blurt out, still floundering in your thoughts. Focusing, you repeat, “Spotting. I can’t spot to save my life. I always fall or go off course when I turn.” Trying to cover your over-long pause, you add, “Sorry, there’re just so many elements I haven’t mastered yet that I couldn’t decide what I wanted to work on first.”

           “You’re fine. Umm… okay, why don’t you try showing me what you do so I can watch?”

           “Okay.” You gesture to your jeans. “Do you think it’ll be okay in these? Professor Duncan gave us a lecture that lasted half the period when someone showed up in jeans.”

           Jungkook shrugs. “They are restrictive but since we’re not dancing long- Wait, hang on. I think I have a spare pair of pants in here.” He opens the cabinet beneath the stereo and rummages around, finally pulling out a pair of black sweatpants with a grin like he won the lottery. Tossing them at you, he says “You may have to roll up the legs, but these should work.”

           “Do you live here?” you joke.

           “Kinda. If I’m not sleeping or in class or the dining hall, I’m usually here. Well, sometimes I’m in my room for homework or-”

           “Or what?” you ask when he doesn’t continue and just looks embarrassed.

           “Nothing.”

           “Okay.” You shove what other things he could be doing in his room away. If he’s like any other college boy, it could be as innocent as seeing how many kernels of popcorn he can fit in his mouth. Or it could be the very opposite of innocent. You move towards the door before your mind can go there. “I’ll be right back.” Your words prove prophetic as you return in less than a minute. “Um, Jungkook.”

           He jumps, having been turned around to fiddle with the stereo. “Yeah?”

           “The locker rooms are all locked. Would you mind if I-…”

           “Oh.” Jungkook’s eyes get bigger and you catch him scanning your body before he realizes he’s doing it. He quickly shifts his eyes to the ground. “Oh. Right. I- I’ll- I’ll just go out in the hall. So you can change.” He escapes out the door like a ghost.

           For the second time tonight, you’re staring. Even after just an hour with him, you can tell Jungkook’s got everything a person could want: cute bunny smile, more artistic talent than you could drum up in a lifetime, good manners. Yet the instant he remembers you’re of the opposite sex, he turns into a blushing kid. It’s as endearing as it is baffling.

You rush to change into his sweatpants, almost stumbling, and strip to the tank top you wear under your work shirt. “It’s safe,” you call as soon as the pants are secure around your waist.

Jungkook’s ears are still a little red when he comes back into the room. It calls attention to multiple piercings rimming the cartilage that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you want to work with music on or not?” he asks, one hand already on the stereo.

You hurriedly nod. “I like it.” You’ll be self-conscious enough having him totally focused on you. The music will give you something else to think about.

“Cool. Tell me if you want something else. I’ve got my iPod.”

The song that comes out the speakers is familiar and one of your favorites. “This is good. I like Charlie Puth.”

He grins back at you “Me too.”

Letting out a breath, you ask, “So, should I just… start?”

“Try five turns. Don’t try to go fast.”

You move to the center of the room and determinedly fix your sight on your reflection’s eyes. You ignore the broader, taller reflection that is Jungkook. It takes a few beats to position your feet correctly. With another deep breath, you bend your knees and push off.

After your fifth turn, you want to just sink into the ground. Although you try your best, you still wobble in the middle of each spin. Your head snaps around either too fast or too slow, losing your spot in the process.

“Just say it. I’m awful,” you sigh. You don’t bother turning around to look at Jungkook.

“No. I’ve seen worse.” He comes beside you and smiles when you meet his gaze in the mirror. “I had a friend back in elementary school who busted his nose on the mirror because he wanted to spin as fast as a Power Ranger. Blood everywhere, tons of little kids screaming.”

You burst out laughing, forgetting your humiliation. “Really?”

“Yeah. He quit the next week.”

“Poor kid.”

“At least you didn’t do that.” In a more serious tone, he adds, “You need to keep your back straighter. You tilt when you turn so that’s throwing you off balance. Wait, not like that.” Jungkook’s hands reach towards your shoulders, but stop just before they touch you. He looks at you in the mirror and asks uncertainly, “Is it alright if I touch you?”

           Thankfully your face is already red from embarrassment so the tint of your bashfulness at his question is hidden. “Yes.”

           Jungkook gently presses down on your shoulders, forcing them to relax. Simultaneously, he lifts your chin a little. “Lengthen your neck. Keep your chin, eyes, and shoulders level. They need to be strong to keep you from tilting but not tense or your next move won’t be as fluid.”

           “Okay.”

           “And let’s not try not spinning.”

           “But that’s the entire point of spotting.”

           “We’ll work back up to that. Just try small steps. It’s like the slower version of a turn. Once you master that, turning will get easier.”

           “You’re the boss.”

           As you adjust your feet again, Jungkook snaps his fingers. “Hang on, this might help.” He digs in his bag again and produces a small sheet of plastic. Peeling off a sticker, he slaps the Bulbasaur in the middle of the mirror and grins at his genius. “Use this as your spot.”

           “Gotta catch ‘em all,” you giggle.

           Jungkook is a strict but never harsh instructor, making you repeat a single turn a dozen times until your body is exactly positioned. Sometimes he tells you what adjustments to make, but other times he makes them himself, always asking permission. By the time one o’clock rolls around, you can make three out of five turns without looking like a drunken top. You’re still not turning fast, but it’s definitely an improvement and more than you expected to achieve.

           “You did good,” Jungkook praises when you both start gathering up your things.            “Thanks,” you reply, giving him a belated high-five. “I think you’ll be ready for the test next week with a few more sessions too.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah. It’s just a matter of getting your rules straight.”

           “Thanks.” He pauses when you take out your water bottle and take a swig. “Um, is all that supposed to be there?”

           Chuckling, you nod. “It’s just cucumber and lemon slices. They give it a little extra something. Want to try?”

           Jungkook waves his hand when you offer the bottle. “I’m good. Thanks though. By the way…”

           “Hm?”

            “Can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asks. His eyes are on his shoes as he continues, “I know there’re those blue light stands, but… it’s still kind of dangerous since it’s so late.”

           You busy yourself with getting into your bookbag straps so he can’t see how touched you are at his offer. “Actually, we live in the same building. I’m a few floors up from you.”

           “Oh. I guess that works out then.”

           Jungkook turns out the light behind you as you leave the studio. Neither of you speak as you climb the stairs out of the building and start across campus. You build up your courage to start asking him questions about his other classes about two minutes in. A safe topic. He gives short answers at first, but in the time it takes to reach your dorm, you’re laughing and griping about different professors like old friends instead of new ones.

           “Seriously though, who in their right mind wants to be thinking about math at the ungodly hour of eight am? Even if that’s your job,” Jungkook complains as you reach his floor. “You make your own schedule. Why not noon when everyone’s brain is awake?”            “Professor Irwin’s a bit odd,” you agree. “Well, here’s where I leave you. Same drill tomorrow night?”

           “Sure.”

           “Cool. Good night, Jungkook.”

           “Night.”

           Jungkook waves and disappears into the hall, leaving you alone on the stairwell. You feel a smile on your lips as you continue on the stairs to your own room. Friends aren’t something you make easily, but you think you’re already on your way to being good ones with Jungkook. It shoots a warm feeling inside your heart and for the first time, you actually look forward to math class. The last line of ‘Casablanca’ comes to mind: “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

[isa-ly]

IT’S OKAY TO BE CLICHÉ

TW: therapy, mental illness, anxiety, depression

Hey, so, I haven’t mentioned my super cool therapist in the last two blog posts, and I thought it was about time I did that again: Shout out to you, Kerstin, you’re the real MVP man, love you. Too much? Okay, yeah. Sorry. Professionalism, right. (I really hope she doesn’t read this blog, I mean she agreed it would be a good idea for me to write it but Christ, I doubt she’d wanna see me again if she actually found it.)

Okay, why this very odd and potentially problematic intro to today’s post, you ask? (Please tell me you asked yourself that, I feel so lonely here) Well, today I’m gonna tell you (or myself, I guess) the story of how I first started my therapy journey. Because, boy oh boy, is it a turbulent and long one. And we’re all about working through those turbulent and long life stories on here, aren’t we. So, let’s begin.

In all my previous posts, I’ve already given a pretty solid overview of all my various psychological issues that are deeply nestled in my mind and brain. However, as I wasn’t born a genius or psychoanalyst, you might be able to guess that I wasn’t always aware of those from the beginning. In fact, I had absolutely no fucking idea what was going on when they started, and kind of just floated in a constant state of anxiety, depression, insomnia and my general quarter-life crisis for a good few months.

Luckily, I have some very good friends (and also a few rational brain cells, big kudos to those fellas), with the help of which I figured out after a while, that whatever it was that was causing all my problems, was probably worth finding out by consulting an actual professional. A connaisseur of the mind. An expert on the depths and divots of the psyche, if you will.

Okay, we get it, Isa. You went to see a therapist. Stop it already with the pretentious big talk.

Excuse me, this is my blog, don’t tell me what to do. (I’m really Dr.-Jekyll-and-Mr-Hyde-ing it up on here, ain’t I?). Anyway. Yes, you are right, that is exactly what I was getting at. Only that between the realization of me needing professional and guided help, and the actual act of getting said help, lie about ten to eleven more months.

A year, basically. It took me an entire year to actually get my shit together and sign up for my first ever therapy session. Whoops.

To some, that might sound pretty unbelievable if one can trust my previous stories of how I was a) not really feeling anything, ever, b) had panic and anxiety attacks every night and c) was basically disconnected from my body and mind like 24/7. To others, though, taking a long time to finally make the step and ask for help, might be something very relatable.

And while I’m not necessarily on here to be related to, I myself am the latter of the two people mentioned above. As in: Asking for help is really not one of the strengths I mention on my CV (hence my last blog post about pointlessly shit-posting on social media instead). And even more importantly: Admitting to myself that I am in need of help and cannot fix my problems on my own, is even harder.

You see, autumn of 2018 hadn’t been the first ever time that I had struggled mentally. As a teenager, there were a couple of incidents where, looking back on it now, I had really been in urgent need of therapy. But I was too young and my parents unfortunately not understanding and knowledgeable enough, to see that that had been the case.

I graduated high school, some more time passed, water under the bridge and all, until I started university and my childhood traumas, as all my other problems, were swiftly brushed under the rug of repression. (That sounds like an edgy indie band, I like it). And for a while, everything was fine. Really, I loved what I was studying, I made some great new friends, acquired new skills, got way too drunk and made out with way too many people, went to study abroad, got even more drunk and made out with even more people. Let’s just say I was living the student life to the fullest.

But we all know that things didn’t just continue to be that peachy. That’s why I’m sitting here writing, after all. 

I’m not going to whine about how unfair life can be because really, there’s enough white, cis-gender, middle-class white women out there who already do that on a daily. Suffice to say, things did get kind of tough though, when that fifth semester of university hit, and I was faced with something I had never yet been faced before: The impending doom of the future. (Insert the dramatic sound effect from Inception).

Growing up, I had always had an exact plan of what I wanted to do in life, who I wanted to be and where I wanted to go. I was good at writing and coming up with stories, and also had a big mouth and way too many opinions, so I figured journalism would be the way to go. I got into the uni of my dreams and was finally doing what I had always wanted to do. Or ... well, okay, I liked some of the subjects. It sure was a huge load of work. And, actually, some of the professors, who were also journalists, seemed to be pretty big dicks. And wait, I don’t really agree on most of the practices and opinions they teach. Also, actually working at a newspaper isn’t that cool and more so a literal living hell. Do I really want to do this still? Is that really who I am?

Did I ... make the wrong choice?

Aaaaand there goes everything I built my personality, hopes and dreams on. Out of the window, just like that. Bye bye, future. Bye bye, all my plans. Bye bye, ground beneath my feet.

I realize that this sounds exactly like what I said I was trying to avoid (me whining), but I want to be honest and suddenly being hit with the fact that the thing I had been so sure of pursuing all my life, was actually nothing but smoke and mirrors, was kind of a punch to the gut. Strong enough to clearly derail me, yet subtle enough to keep me from noticing it at first.

I’m planning on talking about this in a separate post but I wan to pre-empt this much: I have a pretty big issue with not being in control of my own life and for the first time since literal birth, that was the case. I was completely clueless as to what would happen next, how I would figure it out and what the hell I was going to do with my life and academic education. It hit me like a wall of bricks but in a way, I was in too much of a shock state to realize that it was really starting to cause some bigger issues.

This was around the time that my nightly panic attacks started happening. I didn’t sleep well, started missing classes and began to hate every single thing about my course. I felt lost but didn’t want to admit it. All the other people in my class seemed so damn sure of where they wanted to go and here I was, a zombified insomniac, trying to get through yet another exam I didn’t give a single shit about, in order to do my degree in a subject I had lost all my previous passion for.

This confusing and draining state of just continuing to push went on for a few months, and I somehow made it into the sixth semester, with almost all my left-over willpower and what little energy there still was in my tired bones, having faded to the barest of minimums. I mean, I took one of my law exams on the very last try because I just hadn’t managed to get out of bed for all those 8am lectures, therefore loosing one of the three tries I had, not having studied enough to go the second one and then found myself sitting at the third try, secretly wishing to just fail so I could drop out, curl into a ball and sleep for a year.

You know, just your casual university breakdown.

Only that I was still violently denying that that was exactly what had been happening for the last semester. I didn’t want to admit it but ... I was breaking down. Not in a plane-crash-and-burn kind of way but more in a Titanic way, where I underestimated the ice berg that was my impending life crisis and then spend ages ignoring the fact that I was slowly but certainly sinking further into my demise. Okay, that comparison was in poor taste, I apologize. I’ll tune it back on the drama again.

I knew I needed help. Someone to talk to and figure out what the hell was causing my anxiety, panic attacks and insomnia. But I kept telling myself that I just had to push a little more until I wrote my thesis and finished university and then, then I would deal with all my issues. I just needed to keep going and do this first, just a little longer, just until I got my degree. Now was not the time, okay? I was still busy, and if those damn issues could see that and wait for another second, God damn it, why won’t my brain just let me finish this first.

Ding-dong. 

Can you hear that? That’s right. It’s the burn-out, ringing my doorbell.

And it didn’t wait for me to ask for it to come in. Burn-outs usually never do. And neither did any of my other problems. I had kept them at bay long enough, but the tide still came.

Because if we think back to my cupboard metaphor in my post about panic attacks and anxiety: Once that door opens, it all comes crashing down on top of you. In my case, this meant that I found myself amidst mountains of thesis literature, having nothing left to do but that one, single task of writing my final academic paper, before I finally got to be free of this horrid course, that I had apparently wasted the last three years of my life on.

I knew I had more than enough time left to write my thesis. I liked my topic. I had all the books. All the plans. All of it. Right there. Just write it. Just fucking start typing. Just– 

Just sit at the library every day, staring at the cursor on the page, blinking, reminding you of the emptiness of the document before you, and the even bigger emptiness in your chest. It blinks, like it’s trying to mock you and with every second that passes, every other minute of not writing, just sitting and staring, it mocks you more and that emptiness gets bigger. 

I don’t want this to turn into a pretentious short story, but this was what it felt like. I would open my laptop every day, ready to work, and then just proceed to stare at it for hours on end, until all of a sudden, the sun had started to set again and the day would be over. I’d go to bed, rinse and repeat, and do it all over again the next day. Still having my panic attacks. Still not sleeping. Still thinking that it was all going to be fine if I just kept trying and kept pushing.

Needless to say, I didn’t hand in my thesis on the first try. But hey, a lot of people don’t! Hell, even most of my class mates didn’t. So, it’s okay, mum and dad, friends and family, I’m fine! I just need to put more work in and make it better, so I can hand in a well-researched paper. I just need more time.

More time.

Time, that I would spend opening my laptop, every day, ready to work, and then just proceed to stare at it for hours on end until all of a sudden, the sun had started to set again and the day would be over. I’d go to bed, rinse and repeat, and do it all over again the next day. Still having my panic attacks. Still not sleeping. Still thinking that it was all going to be fine if I just kept trying and kept pushing.

I just. Needed. More. Time.

As you can probably guess, I also didn’t hand in my thesis the second time around. And when the deadline for the third and last chance to hand it in and get my degree came around ... well, I just accepted my defeat.

It had come to a point where even my delusional ass had started to realize that something was clearly wrong. Like, completely, utterly wrong. I had kept pushing, no, kicking my problems in front of me like a kid kicks a football while walking to the playground, pretending that if I just dragged them with me long enough, I could maybe outrun them and finish what I wanted to finish before finally dealing with them. But after an entire year of doing that, even I had to admit that that wasn’t going to work.

It never had and it never would. And finally accepting that, was as painful as it was freeing, in a way. There was something about knowing that I had hit my breaking point, that had a strange sense of relief to it. I don’t want to romanticize any of what happened to me just for the sake of story telling. But I remember feeling like by hitting my first ever rock bottom, I was now at the point where, as they like to say, the only way was up.

Right?

Right.

Well, kind of. Not really. But that’s for another post to tell, for now let’s continue with the therapy journey.

Don’t get me wrong, even though my stubborn head and me had finally accepted that it had gotten to a point where I had no excuses left to make, I still felt like an absolute cliché for having become one of the people who have a nervous breakdown in their twenties because their dream of a perfectly planned life hadn’t worked out exactly how they had wanted it to. What a big, privileged crybaby I was. Or at least, that’s what a part of me thought. 

But I kind of knew back then, and most definitely know now, that no matter how cliché or silly you feel for not being able to “fix” your problems by yourself, there lies absolutely no weakness or failure in admitting that you need someone else to help you with it. Quite the contrary is the case: it’s probably one of the bravest things you can do in life. And I know that in comparison to what other people might have gone through, my own issues might have just been a speck of dust in the universe. But to me, they were the ice berg that got my ship to sink. And that is exactly why your own problems are never invalid or “too small” to work on. Because while they might not seem like real problems (whatever the fuck that means) to society, your parents (we’ll talk about that one another time as well, yikes) or anyone else who clearly hasn’t gotten their priorities right, they very much are real problems to you. 

And they were real problems to me, too.

So, after a year of what felt like beating a dead horse, I was finally ready to re-animate that horse, so I could move forward in life (horse metaphors, yes, Isa, that’s exactly what this blog still needed). I signed up for my first ever therapy assessment, got my first ever diagnosis and even joined a session of group therapy. The psychotherapist I had my assessment with, actually diagnosed me with anxiety and depression disorder, which kind of didn’t come as a big surprise to me, since those were the two things I had experienced literally all year. Still, hearing a medical professional say it out loud after having listened to my story, was a strange yet good feeling. For the first time, it felt like something I could grasp. It was no longer just a confusing and irritating thing that kept me awake at night and brain-dead during the day. It had a name, and even more importantly: It had a treatment.

Unfortunately, the place I signed up to had no free spots for one-on-one therapy yet, so, plot twist: This isn’t where my heavily praised and even more heavily featured therapist Kerstin comes in yet. Tricked you, didn’t I? (No, I literally tricked no one because if anyone even reads this blog, it’s my friends who already know exactly what happened so really, who am I kidding.) There’s still a lot of stuff that happened between me having my first ever assessment and receiving my first ever diagnosis, and me actually meeting my first ever personal therapist.

But, this blog post has already been going on for too long and I don’t want to get ahead of my own emotional work schedule. Plus, I’m once again pretty heavily dissociated at this point, so I think it’s best if I give it a rest for today and continue another time.

If there’s any kind of take away and conclusion for myself and anyone who might read this, it’s that no matter what all those doubtful voices in your head are saying: Your problems are valid. Your pain is worth recognizing and you should never compare it to those of others in order to down-play it or make yourself think that you’re not doing “bad enough” yet. There is no such thing as being ill or miserable enough. Whatever it is you’re struggling with, it’s worth taking a break and figuring it out. Because the movie Titanic might have been a cinematographic masterpiece, but in the end the ship still sank. And if there’s something that can help avoid that happening, someone you can talk to and that can help you get better (and there always is) – you should do it, because it’s the least that you deserve.

[try-and-try-and-try-again]

Why

Ages ago I wrote an essay about cephalopods. I was always interesting about them and when I joined the STEM club st school and we had to decide on projects to do that’s what I looked at. I think a part of me did enjoy it but it was very hard - especially as this was when I’d just started year 14 and was still getting used to studying again and my family were telling me I should drop it if it’s extracurricular. I agreed with them a lot of the time but I couldn’t face letting my teacher down/not finishing what I’d started so I pushed myself to finish writing. My teacher recently encouraged me to send my essay to a scientist who gave me feedback and has asked to Skype me. My teacher has told me to decide what I want to get out of the Skype call and respond. It’s been over a month and I’ve failed to make any decisions. I really don’t know what I want to do with my project. It was fine when I was going through the motions because that’s what my teacher wanted me to do but now I have a choice I’ve realised that I’m not feeling enthusiastic about this at all - I don’t know why and I feel really disappointed in myself. Me from several years ago would have jumped at the chance to talk to an actual marine biologist about animals I’ve been interested in for a long time. All I can think about all the time now is how tired I am of everything and having recieved so much critical feedback (probably well intentioned but also overwhelming) I’m worried I’m not cut out for science, which I’ve spent most of my life wanting to do, after all and that I’ve wasted everyone’s time with my uselessness. I mucked up my EPQ in a similar way and evidently I completely failed to act on what I did wrong then. Also, the prospect of Skyping someone I don’t really know is TERRIFYING and every time I’ve tried to think about it/psych myself up for it I’ve just ended up sobbing. My ability to stay positive and keep going is seriously diminishing. I don’t even know why I’ve applied to do a biology degree.

I’m sorry for the rant. I’m feeling very very pathetic right now, very weak and very stupid. I can’t seem to do anything right, I’m too cowardly to do anything about it (I haven’t even managed to find work/volunteering for the Summer) and since I finished exams it’s felt like the ground’s disappeared from under my feet and nothing makes sense anymore. I don’t know how to keep going anymore.

[daniedoodles]

Danie’s Dilemmas Ep. 26: Books Closed

Today of all days, I’ll Always Remember You by Hannah Montana could not be taken more seriously. It’s the last day of senior year. In spite of how much I anticipated to cry on this day, I actually didn’t, possibly because I’ve thought about it so often for the last two months (or maybe it’s because my last diploma isn’t until this Thursday so really, everyone’s last day is slightly different). I have so much to say, but none all at once. This has been said time and time again, but I feel like for most of high school, we had the tendency to take it for granted; we all wanted to drop out or give up at some point because it just felt like there was nothing about our experiences that implied that eventually, it would get better. All those times complaining about homework or cramming for exams... except now that it’s over, we can’t help but focus on the good parts about it that have also come to an end, most of which were moments spent with friends doing dumb shit lmao. 2019 so far has proven to be one of the most bizarre years thus far. I’ve spent time with people that I never thought I would get the chance to, endured the most UNserious exam season, and now, the most UNserious last day of school. Since I was not remotely prepared to face the last day in terms of taking the opportunity to formally thank all of the people that made high school as fun as it has been, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and mention them on this episode :) And yes, I will be mentioning names. We’re NOT in high school anymore so there’s no need to play guessing games. 

Vicky: I never know how to start these things without making it sound cringey or sappy, but bitch we have been THROUGH it. Regardless of how we’ve managed to not get into a single class together throughout the entire three years we’ve spent in high school, we somehow managed to stay hella close which you should know by now, I am incredibly grateful for. I haven’t exactly been as active with the group, but that’s only because I know we have all of summer ahead of us to make up for it. Just know that I’m always going to be here to be the voice of reason, but also your partner in crime. We’ve laughed too loud and cried too hard over the dumbest shit, taken bomb ass photos and eaten too much food. I’m so excited for what other dumb shit we can do together. When you’re out on your own adventures, pls text me so I know you’re not dead. I love you, my favourite rat. OwO

Alex: Whew, sis. We came together on the oddest terms, talking about failed love interests and all that bs, but aren’t you glad that it happened? Otherwise, we wouldn’t have had that deep talk at the ridge, wouldn’t have realized how similar we were in terms of how bad we are with gaining closure lmao. I’ve never felt more comfortable to cry as hard as I have about the death of a fictional character as I have been with you, and that speaks volumes because I hate crying in front of other people. Last summer was by far one of the best summers I have ever experienced and I’m grateful to have spent a majority of it with you. Thanks for saving my ass when I snuck out of the house that one time and for staying up and feeding me after I got back from being out until 3am. Now that school’s out, let’s get on that mf tanning grinddddddd. ily bitch. I swear, I feel like I have I lot more to say for you but right now I’m coming up blank. But I feel like you already know what else there is that I have to say... if not, I’m saving it for your birthday (hurry up and be 18 already goddamn). 

Laureen: Laureen you already know we’re on the same wavelength lmao. Even though I feel like I see you the least of all in the group, it’s comforting to know that it doesn’t lessen the integrity (sorry to give u ptsd from the diploma) of our friendship. Being born on days that are so close together really be hitting us different. I swear, there have been so many times where we’re just thinking about the exact same thing, which is both cool and creepy. LIKE OUR GOD TALKS OMF. Seeing that we’re both the moms of the group, we gotta stick together to take care of our crackhead children. But fr, I trust you with everything. My future children, my own life, my phone, my butler ;) How are you not my emergency contact, honestly? We need to have a car talk and see what comes out of that. There is so much more I have to fill you in on. (also don’t forget about clubbing next Thursday eeooow). 

Joscelynn: Let me tell you, Joscelynn, how big of a blessing it is to have you live so close to me. Out of everything that you’ve done for me, I think the one I’m most grateful for is for the time that you “broke” into my house to check if I unplugged my straightener LMAOO... or that time when you just hugged me while I was breaking down in the washroom at the end of the day where I had a test for all four periods. As much as I don’t know who most of your tea is about, it’s nice to know that you’re comfortable to confide in me and the whole group about all kinds of things, even when we don’t ask for the kind of detail you provide HAHAHAHA. Also, thanks for always coming in clutch with all the board games. Much love, Pennywise. <3

Diane: I know we sort of hit a wall with our friendship at one point, but I’m really happy that we were still able to recover from it and rekindle our friendship. I understand that the circumstance is all different now, and we aren’t as attached to one another as we once were back in junior high, but I think there’s some good in that because we were able to grow at our own pace. Although we have to admit that we did grow a little bit apart as well in the process, I like that we are both still able to reminisce fondly on the moments we’ve shared in the past. You’re one of the brightest minds I know :). I feel like I never told you enough but I always appreciated how easily you could bring a smile to people’s faces. Yeah, keep doing it. If you ever need to vent, I’m only a 4-minute scooter ride away. 

Anna: Holy shit sis, idek where to begin. You’re by far the biggest reason why I was able to haul my ass through to the end of high school. If you didn’t look out for my water intake, or the little errors in my calculations... I don’t even want to imagine it. You’ve done so much for me and have had to endure all of my shit that I can’t encapsulate it all into a single letter. I can’t thank you enough for all the memes that have made me piss myself on countless occasions, no matter how old they were nor how often I would look back on it, for recommending me to the program that will finally release me from the constraints of the status of being a “broke ass bitch”, for staying up with me discussing all kinds of things from the environment and ethics, to fortunes, astrology, love, and TEA. We’ve both seen each other at our most vulnerable and beaten down state (which is literally every English class), and we’ve celebrated each other’s triumphs, but most importantly, laughed at our failures (English, again omg). I can’t help but get emotional whenever I think of how you’re gonna be leaving soon for UBC, but it’s not like that’s going to affect how often we keep in touch anyways lol. We can’t just have the kettle always overflow, you know? Fr tho, I’m big fucking sad about you leaving, but I’m also so proud of how far you’ve come. I really don’t know how tf I’m supposed to be able to cope with suddenly not seeing you everyday. Ugh, ew I’m crying now but as I was saying, thank you for everything. I can’t wait to get those dream recorders out on the market after we’ve gathered all the knowledge on neuro/psych and business so we don’t have to wake up in the middle of the night and write out the dreams in our notes anymore. I’ll miss you a fuck ton ON GOD. 

Cheyenne: Cheyenne!! I’m so glad I met you and Anna when I did :)) we made the best chemistry lab group, we basically made titration our mf bitch. There was always so much comfort in knowing that we were all on the same page about not getting assignments done on time for English lmao. You just hear that sigh of absolute relief. I’m happy to have become close enough with you for you to be able to trust me with all the stuff you’ve spilt, and for reading your cards when you need them read. I can’t wait for all of us to actually do shit together this summer, I don’t even understand how we let the summers prior pass us like that. In all seriousness though, Cheyenne, you’re so kind and genuine, I’m glad we’ve gotten a lot closer this year. After summer, I guess I’ll be seeing you around campus!! 

Yuan: Bitch, hay nako. Where to start? I don’t think I’ve ever been quiet OR in a bad mood after hanging out with you. I’m glad that I was able to count on you to distract me from getting any work done in class and for getting photos of mee sleeping. Grabe, nakakabwiset HAHAHAHA. Actually though, I don’t think we’ve been close-close up until recently but I’m still so happy that we are now kasi ang saya mong kasama. Not a lot of people can convince me to speak Tagalog so already that says something. Basta, I’ll keep this short cause it’s not like we’re not seeing each other over the summer. We’ve got a lot of time to make more memories. Pwede nang uminom (thank God). Thanks for all the laughs, and for keeping up with the bullshit I write on this page lol. 

Joaquin: Hey, “best friend” wassup?? We haven’t been close for long either. In fact, we’ve barely just hit the 2-week mark of our friendship. But I will say that that was the most last minute transition from acquaintance - close friend. Even though we’ve been in at least one class together during each of the three years, we weren’t necessarily on active talking terms... until now. Thus far, every moment I’ve spent with you and Yuan, or just you, have all been for the books. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much as I had on that one day that we went to Southcentre. Already I can say that you’re one of the greatest people I know: generous, kindhearted, hilarious, and with a great taste in music. I’m excited for whatever it is that ends up happening in the summer, spontaneous or planned, I can’t wait. :D Ps. Thanks for getting me out of the house lol.

Jay: James, bruh. We haven’t been in touch lately, but I feel like you already know what’s coming to you, considering a majority of my indirects to you are basically just going to get reiterated right at this moment. Always know that I genuinely appreciate all of the deep talks we’ve had in the past and that you’re one of the few people I trust to openly express my thoughts to. I hope everything with tennis continues to go well, and that we get to catch up soon ‘cause lowkey it has been TOO long since we’ve last talked-talked.  

Maxine: Max, by the time you’re back on social media, you’re probably never gonna see this because it’s going to be buried so deep into my feed and I know that you’re too lazy to scroll that far down, but I’m gonna write it anyway. We’ve been friends for awhile now, and only now, in our second semester of senior year, did we manage to get into the same class ever since junior high, and it’s safe to say that there has never been a dull moment with you... to the point where I’m pretty sure we made the teacher hate us. I don’t know why you were so set on saying goodbye today when we literally live in the same community and have each other’s numbers, but aight lol. Max, you really be the OG out here. Every time we talk we can’t help but reminisce on how much we sucked ass at opening our own lockers in grade 7 and to this day it still cracks me tf up. Thank you for dealing w my bs after all this time, and for letting me stay at your place before and after school in junior high. ily  

Jerry and Cam: Y’all we go WAYYY back. Even though you guys didn’t attend school at bob, I still wanted to make a point of thanking the both of you for reconnecting. Plus, this is one of the few opportunities I have to acknowledge the support of my audience (LMFAO) so I thought “why not?”. We’ve only hung out once since February (or March? idek), but that’s definitely gotta change now that we’ve got a lot more free time. Y’all know where to find me when you need advice/opinions/someone to talk to when you’re bored/a tour guide to the boring south lmao (or maybe not that.. I lack street smarts). 

That’s it. I’m also probably going to email my teachers because I did not have the time nor the energy to do anything before the last day of school so that’s how they’re going to get it. Is this what it means to be eco-friendly?? Writing emails instead of actual handwritten cards??? I mean.. okay I guess. 

In conclusion, ending the senior year is bittersweet. If there’s anything I’ve learned from going through it all, it’s that you should get all your shit over with in your grade 10 and 11 years, so you’ll be cruisin by senior year. Also, don’t deprive yourself of hanging out with friends. That shit sucks ass and you’ll regret it a lot. 

ps. just because high school is ending, does NOT mean that this is the end of Danie’s Dilemmas. You really think the tea’s gonna stop there??

For now. 

Keep up. 

x

[prasanththampi]

MBA IIBM EXAM 2018 CASE STUDY ANSWER PROVIDED

CONTACT: DR. PRASANTH MBA PH.D. DME MOBILE / WHATSAPP: +91 9924764558 OR +91 9447965521 EMAIL: prasanththampi1975@gmail.com WEBSITE: www.casestudyandprojectreports.com

Caselet 1 Uptron Electronics Limited, is a pioneering and internationally reputed firm in the electronics industry. It is one of the largest firm in the country. It attracted employees from internationallyreputed institute and industries by offering high salaries, perks, etc. It has advertized for the position of an electronic engineer recently. Nearly 150 candidates applied for the jobMr. Sashidhar, an electronics Engineering Graduate from the Indian Institute Of Technology with 5 years working experience in a medium sized electronics firm, was selected from among the 130 candidates who took tests and interview. The interview board recommended an enhancement in his salary by Rs 5,000 more than his present salary at his request. Mr Sashidhar was very happy to achieve this and he was congratulated by a number of people including his previous employer for his brilliant interview performance, and wished him good luck. Mr Sashidhar joined Uptyron Electronics Ltd., on 21st January, 2002, with greater enthusiasm. He also found his job to be quite comfortable and a challenging one and he felt it was prestigious to work with this company during the formative years of his career. He found his superiors as well as subordinates to be friendly and cooperative. But this climate did not live long. After one year of his service, he slowly learnt about a number of unpleasant stories about the company, management, the superior subordinate relations, rate of employee turnover, especially at higher level But he decided to stay on as he has promised several things to the management in the interview. He wanted to please and change the attitude of management through his diligent performance, firm commitment and dedication. He started maximizing his contributions and the management got the impression that Mr. Sashidhar had settled down and will remain in the company. After some time, the superiors started riding rough- shod over Mr Sashidhar. He was overloaded with multifarious jobs. His freedom in deciding and executing was cut down. He was ill treated on a number of occasions before his subordinates. His colleagues also started assigning their responsibilities to Mr Sashidhar. Consequently there were imbalances in his family life and organizational life. But he seemed to be calm and contented. Management felt that Mr Sashidhar had the potential to bear with many more organizational responsibilities. So the general manager was quite surprised to see the resignation letter of Mr Sashidhar along with a cheque equivalent to a month’s salary one fine morning on 18th January, 2004. The General Manager failed to convince Mr Sashidhar to withdraw his resignation. The General Manager relieved him on 25th January, 2004. The General Manager wanted to appoint a committee to go into the matter immediately, but dropped the idea later. Questions: 1. What is wrong with the recruitment policy of the company? 2. Why did Mr. Sashidhar’s resignation surprise the General Manager? Examination Paper of Human Resource Management 4 IIBM Institute of Business Management Caselet 2 The contexts in which human resources are managed in today's organizations are constantly, changing. No longer do firms utilize one set of manufacturing processes, employ a homogeneous group of loyal employees for long periods of time or develop one set way of structuring how work is done and supervisory responsibility is assigned. Continuous changes in who organizations employ and what these employees do require HR practices and systems that are well conceived and effectively implemented to ensure high performance and continued success. 1. Automated technologies nowadays require more technically trained employees possessing multifarious skills to repair, adjust or improve existing processes. The firms can't expect these employees (Gen X employees, possessing superior technical knowledge and skills, whose attitudes and perceptions toward work are significantly different from those of their predecessor organizations: like greater self control, less interest in job security; no expectations of long term employment; greater participation urge in work activities, demanding opportunities for personal growth and creativity) to stay on without attractive compensation packages and novel reward schemes. 2. Technology driven companies are led by project teams, possessing diverse skills, experience and expertise. Flexible and dynamic organizational structures are needed to take care of the expectations of managers, technicians and analysts who combine their skills, expertise and experience to meet changing customer needs and competitive pressures. 3. Cost cutting efforts have led to the decimation of unwanted layers in organizational hierarchy in recent times. This, in turn, has brought in the problem of managing plateau employees whose careers seem to have been hit by the delivering process. Organizations are, therefore, made to find alternative career paths for such employees’ 4. Both young and old workers, these days, have values and attitudes that stress less loyalty to the company and more loyalty to oneself and one's career than those shown by employees in the past, Organizations, therefore, have to devise appropriate HR policies and strategies so as to prevent the flight of talented employees Question:- 1. Discuss that technological breakthrough has brought radical changes in HRM.

Caselet 1 Ask the company top brass what „almost there‟ means. The answer: a premier Indian retail company that has come to be known as a specialty chain of apparel and accessories. With 52 product categories under one roof, Shoppers‟ Stop has a line-up of 350 brands. Set up and headed by former Corona employee, B. S. Nagesh, Shoppers‟ Stop is India‟s answer to Selfridges and Printemps. As it proudly announces, „We don‟t sell, we help you buy.‟ Back in 1991, there was the question of what to retail. Should it be a supermarket or a departmental store? Even an electronics store was considered. Finally, common sense and understanding won out. The safest bet, for the all-male team was to retail men‟s wear. They knew the male psyche and felt that they had discerning taste in men‟s clothing. The concept would be that of a lifestyle store in a luxurious space, which would make for a great shopping experience. The first Shoppers‟ Stop store took shape in Andheri, Mumbai, in October 1991, with an investment of nearly Rs. 20 lakh. The original concept that formed the basis of a successful marketing campaign for seven years is here to stay. And the result is an annual turnover of Rs. 160 crores and five stores, nine years later. Everything went right from the beginning, except for one strange happening. More than 60 per cent of the customers who walked into Shoppers‟ Stop in Mumbai were women. This gave rise to ideas. Soon, the store set up its women‟s section. Later, it expanded to include children‟s wear and then, household accessories. The second store in Bangalore came in 1995. The store at Hyderabad followed in 1998 with the largest area of 60,000 sq. ft. The New Delhi and Jaipur stores were inaugurated in 1999. All this while, the product range kept increasing to suit customer needs. The most recent experiment was home furnishings. Secure in the knowledge that organized retailing in global brands was still in its infancy in India, Shoppers‟ Stop laid the ground rules which the competition followed. The biggest advantage for Shoppers‟ Stop is that it knows how the Indian consumer thinks and feels while shopping. Yes, feeling – for in India, shopping remains an outing. And how does it compare itself to foreign stores? While it is not modeled on any one foreign retailer, the „basic construct‟ is taken from the experience of a number of successfully managed retail companies. It has leveraged expertise for a critical component like technology from all over the world, going as far as hiring expatriates from Littlewoods and using state-of-the-art ERP models. Shoppers‟ Stop went a step further by even integrating its financial system with the ERP model. Expertise was imported wherever it felt that expertise available in-house was inadequate. But the store felt there was one acute problem. A shortage of the most important resource of them all was trained humans. Since Indian business institutes did not have professional courses in retail management, people were hired from different walks of life and the training programme was internalized. By 1994, the senior executives at Shoppers‟ Stop were taking lectures at management institutes in Mumbai. The Narsee Monjee Institute of Management Studies (NMIMS) even restructured its course to include retail management as a subject. Getting the company access to the latest global retail trends and exchange of information with business greats was an exclusive membership to the Intercontinental Group of Department Stores (IGDS). It allows membership by invitation to one company from a country and Shoppers‟ Stop rubs shoulders with 29 of the hottest names in retailing – Selfridges from the UK, C.K. Tang from Singapore, Lamcy Plaza from Dubai and the like. With logistics I in place, the accent moved to the customer. Shoppers‟ Stop conducted Examination Paper of Marketing Management 4 IIBM Institute of Business Management surveys with ORG-MARG and Indian Market Research Bureau (IMRB) and undertook in-house wardrobe audits. The studies confirmed what it already knew. The Indian customer is still evolving and is very different from, say, a European customer, who knows exactly what he wants to purchase, walks up to a shelf, picks up the merchandise, pays and walks out. In India, customers like to touch and feel the merchandise, and scout for options. Also, the majority of Indian shoppers still prefer to pay in cash. So, transactions must be in cash as against plastic money used the world over. Additionally, the Indian customer likes being served – whether it is food, or otherwise. The company‟s customer profile includes people who want the same salesperson each time they came to the store to walk them through the shop floors and assist in the purchase. Others came with families, kids and maids in tow and expected to be suitably attended to. Still others wanted someone to carry the bags. So, the shops have self-help counters, with an assistant at hand for queries or help. The inhouse wardrobe audit also helped with another facet of the business. It enabled Shoppers‟ Stop to work out which brands to stock, based on customer preferences. In fact, the USP of Shoppers‟ Stop lies in judiciously selected global brands, displayed alongside an in-house range of affordable designer wear. The line-up includes Levi‟s, Louis Philippe, Allen Solly, Walt Disney, Ray Ban and Reebok, besides in-house labels STOP and I. Brand selection is the same across the five locations, though the product mix may be somewhat city-based to accommodate cuts and styles in women‟s wear, as well as allowing for seasonal variations (winter in Delhi, for instance, is a case in point). Stocking of brands is based on popular demand – recently, Provogue, MTV Style, and Benetton have been added. In-house labels are available at competitive prices and target the value-for-money customer and make up around 12 per cent of Shoppers‟ Stop‟s business. Sometimes in-house brands plug the price gap in certain product categories. To cash in on this, the company has big plans for its in-house brands: from re-branding to repositioning, to homing in on product categories where existing brands are not strong. Competition between brands is not an issue, because being a trading house, all brands get equal emphasis. The in-house brand shopper is one who places immense trust in the company and the quality of its goods and returns for repeat buys. And the company reposed its faith in regular customers by including them in a concept called the First Citizen‟s Club (FCC). With 60,000 odd members, FCC customers account for 10 per cent of entries and for 34 per cent of the turnover. It was the sheer appeal of the experience that kept pulling these people back. Not one to let such an opportunity pass, the company ran a successful ad campaign (that talks about just this factor) in print for more than eight years. The theme is still the same. In 1999, a TV spot, which liked the shopping experience to the slowing down of one‟s internal clock and the beauty of the whole experience, was aired. More recently, ads that spell out the store‟s benefits (in a highly oblique manner) are being aired. The campaign is based on entries entered in the Visitors‟ Book. None of the ads has a visual or text – or any heavy handedly direct reference to the store or the merchandise. The ads only show shoppers having the time of their lives in calm and serene locales, or elements that make shopping at the store a pleasure – quite the perfect getaway for a cosmopolitan shopper aged between 25 and 45. The brief to the agency, Contract, ensured that brand recall came in terms of the shopping experience, not the product. And it has worked wonders. Value-addition at each store also comes in the form of special care with car parks, power backup, customer paging, alteration service and gift-wrapping. To top it all, cafes and coffee bars make sure that the customer does not step out of the store. In Hyderabad, it has even created a Food Court. Although the food counter was not planned, it came about as there was extra space of 67,000 sq. ft. Carrying the perfect experience to the shop floor is an attempt to stack goods in vast open spaces neatly. Every store has a generic structure, though regional customer variances are accounted for. Each store is on lease, and this is clearly Shoppers‟ Stop‟s most expensive resource proposition – renting huge spaces in prime properties across metros, so far totaling 210,000 sq. ft of retail space. Getting that space was easy enough for Shoppers‟ Stop, since its promoter is the Mumbai-based Raheja Group, which also owns 62 per cent of the share capital. Examination Paper of Marketing Management 5 IIBM Institute of Business Management Questions: 1. What are the significant factors that have led to the success of Shoppers‟ Stop? 2. How should Shoppers‟ Stop develop its demand forecasts? Caselet 2 The rise of personal computers in the mid 1980s spurred interest in computer games. This caused a crash in home Video game market. Interest in Video games was rekindled when a number of different companies developed hardware consoles that provided graphics superior to the capabilities of computer games. By 1990, the Nintendo Entertainment System dominated the product category. Sega surpassed Nintendo when it introduced its Genesis System. By 1993, Sega commanded almost 60 per cent of Video game market and was one of the most recognized brand names among the children. Sega‟s success was short lived. In 1995, Saturn (a division of General Motors) launched a new 32-bit system. The product was a miserable failure for a number of reasons. Sega was the primary software developer for Saturn and it did not support efforts by outside game developers to design compatible games. In addition, Sega‟s games were often delivered quite late to retailers. Finally, the price of the Saturn system was greater than other comparable game consoles. This situation of Saturn‟s misstep benefited Nintendo and Sony greatly. Sony‟s Play Station was unveiled in 1994 and was available in 70 million homes worldwide by the end of 1999. Its “Open design” encouraged the efforts of outside developers, resulting in almost 3,000 different games that were compatible with the PlayStation. It too featured 32-bit graphics that appealed to older audience. As a result, at one time, more than 30 per cent of PlayStation owners were over 30 years old. Nintendo 64 was introduced in 1996 and had eyepopping 64-bit graphics and entered in more than 28 million homes by 1999. Its primary users were between the age of 6 and 13 as a result of Nintendo‟s efforts to limit the amount of violent and adultoriented material featured on games that can be played on its systems. Because the company exercised considerable control over software development, Nintendo 64 had only one-tenth the number of compatible games as Sony‟s PlayStation did. By 1999, Sony had captured 56 per cent of the video game market, followed by Nintendo with 42 per cent. Sega‟s share had fallen to a low of 1%. Hence, Sega had two options, either to concede defeat or introduce an innovative video machine that would bring in huge sales. And Sega had to do so before either Nintendo or Sony could bring their next-generation console to market. The Sega Dreamcast arrived in stores in September 1999 with an initial price tag of $199. Anxious gamers placed 300,000 advance orders, and initial sales were quite encouraging. A total of 1.5 million Dreamcast machines were bought within the first four months, and initial reviews were positive. The 128-bit system was capable of generating 3-D visuals, and 40 different games were available within three months of Dream cast‟s introduction. By the end of the year, Sega had captured a market share to 15 per cent. But the Dreamcast could not sustain its momentum. Although its game capabilities were impressive, the system did not deliver all the functionality Sega had promised. A 56K modem (which used a home phone line) and a Web browser were meant to allow access to the Internet so that gamers could play each other online, surf the Web, and visit the Dreamcast Network for product information and playing tips. Unfortunately, these features either were not immediately available or were disappointing in their execution. Sega was not the only one in having the strategy of adding functionality beyond games. Sony and Nintendo followed the same approach for their machines introduced in 1999. Both Nintendo‟s Neptune and Sony‟s PlayStation 2 (PS2) were built on a DVD platform and featured a 128-bit processor. Analysts applauded the move to DVD because it is less expensive to produce and allows more storage than CDs. It also gives buyers the ability to use the machine as CD music player and DVD movie player. As Sony marketing director commented, “The full entertainment offering from Play Station 2 definitely appeals to a much broader audience. I have friends in their 30s who bought it not only Examination Paper of Marketing Management 6 IIBM Institute of Business Management because it‟s a gaming system for their kids, but also a DVD for them.” In addition, PlayStation 2 is able to play games developed for its earlier model that was CD-based. This gives the PS2 an enormous advantage in the number of compatible game titles that were immediately available to gamers. Further enhancing the PS2‟s appeal is its high-speed modem and allows the user‟s easy access to the Internet through digital cable as well as over telephone lines. This gives Sony the ability to distribute movies, music, and games directly to PS2 consoles. “We are positioning this as an allround entertainment player,” commented Ken Kutaragi, the head of Sony Computer Entertainment. However, some prospective customers were put off by the console‟s initial price of $360. Shortly after the introduction of Neptune, Nintendo changed its strategies and announced the impending release of its newest game console, The GameCube. However, unlike the Neptune, the GameCube would not run on a DVD platform and also would not initially offer any online capabilities. It would be more attractively priced at $199. A marketing vice president for Nintendo explained the company‟s change in direction, “We are the only competitor whose business is video games. We want to create the best gaming system.” Nintendo also made the GameCube friendly for outside developers and started adding games that included sports titles to attract an older audience. Best known for its extra ordinary successes with games aimed at the younger set, such as Donkey Kong, Super Mario Bros, and Pokemon, Nintendo sought to attract older users, especially because the average video game player is 28. Youthful Nintendo users were particularly pleased to hear that they could use their handheld Game Boy Advance systems as controllers for the GameCube. Nintendo scrambled to ensure there would be an adequate supply of Game Cubes on the date in November 2001, when they were scheduled to be available to customers. It also budgeted $450 million to market its new product, as it anticipated stiff competition during the holiday shopping season. With more than 20 million PlayStation 2 sold worldwide, the GameCube as a new entry in the video game market would make the battle for market share even more intense. For almost a decade, the video game industry had only Sega, Nintendo, and Sony; just three players. Because of strong brand loyalty and high product development costs, newcomers faced a daunting task in entering this race and being competitive. In November 2001, Microsoft began selling its new Xbox, just three days before the GameCube made its debut. Some observers felt the Xbox was aimed to rival PlayStation 2, which has similar functions that rival Microsoft‟s Web TV system and even some lower level PCs. Like the Sony‟s PlayStation 2, Xbox was also built using a DVD platform, but it used an Intel processor in its construction. This open design allowed Microsoft to develop the Xbox in just two years, and gave developers the option of using standard PC tool for creating compatible games. In addition, Microsoft also sought the advice of successful game developers and even incorporated some of their feedback into the design of the console and its controllers. As a result of developers‟ efforts, Microsoft had about 20 games ready when the Xbox became available. By contrast, the GameCube had only eight games available. Microsoft online strategy was another feature that differentiated of the Xbox from the GameCube. Whereas Nintendo had no immediate plans for Web-based play, the Xbox came equipped with an Ethernet port for broadband access to Internet. Microsoft also announced its own Web-based network on which gamers can come together for online head-to head play and for organized online matches and tournaments. Subscribers to this service were to pay a small monthly fee and must have highspeed access to the Internet. This is a potential drawback considering that a very low percentage of households world over currently have broadband connections. By contrast Sony promoted an open network, which allows software developers to manage their own games, including associated fees charged to users. However, interested players must purchase a network adapter for an additional $39.99. Although game companies are not keen on the prospect of submitting to the control of a Microsoft-controlled network, it would require a significant investment for them to manage their own service on the Sony-based network. Initially the price of Microsoft‟s Xbox was $299. Prior to the introduction of Xbox, in a competitive move Sony dropped the price of the PlayStation 2 to $299. Nintendo‟s GameCube already enjoyed a significant price advantage, as it was selling for $100 less than either Microsoft or Sony products. Gamers eagerly snapped up the new consoles and made 2001 Examination Paper of Marketing Management 7 IIBM Institute of Business Management the best year ever for video game sales. For the first time, consumers spent $9.4 billion on video game equipment, which was more than they did at the box office. By the end of 2001 holiday season, 6.6 million PlayStation 2 consoles had been sold in North America alone, followed by 1.5 million Xbox units and 1.2 million Game Cubes. What ensued was an all out price war. This started when Sony decided to put even more pressure on the Microsoft‟s Xbox by cutting the PlayStation 2 price to $199. Microsoft quickly matched that price. Wanting to maintain its low-price status, Nintendo in turn responded by reducing the price of its the GameCube by $50, to $149. By mid 2002, Microsoft Xbox had sold between 3.5 and 4 million units worldwide. However, Nintendo had surpassed Xbox sales by selling 4.5 million Game Cubes. Sony had the benefit of healthy head start, and had shipped 32 million PlayStation 2s. However, seven years after the introduction of original PlayStation, it was being sold in retail outlets for a mere $49. It had a significant lead in terms of numbers of units in homes around the world with a 43 per cent share. Nintendo 64 was second with 30 per cent, followed by Sony PlayStation 2 with 14 per cent. The Xbox and GameCube each claimed about 3 per cent of the market, with Sega Dreamcast comprising the last and least market share of 4.7 per cent. Sega, once an industry leader, announced in 2001 that it had decided to stop producing the Dreamcast and other video game hardware components. The company said it would develop games for its competitors‟ consoles. Thus Sega slashed the price of the Dreamcast to just $99 in an effort to liquidate its piled up inventory of more than 2 million units and immediately began developing 11 new games for the Xbox, four for PlayStation 2, and three for Nintendo‟s Game Boy Advance. As the prices of video game consoles have dropped, consoles and games have become the equivalent of razors and blades. This means the consoles generate little if any profit, but the games are a highly profitable proposition. The profit margins on games are highly attractive, affected to some degree by whether the content is developed by the console maker (such as Sony) or by an independent game publisher (such as Electronic Arts). Thus, the competition to develop appealing, or perhaps even addictive, games may be even more intense than the battle among players to produce the best console. In particular, Nintendo, Sony, and Microsoft want games that are exclusive to their own systems. With that in mind, they not only rely on large in-house staffs that design games but they also pay added fees to independent publishers for exclusive rights to new games. The sales of video games in 2001 rose to 43 per cent, compared to just 4 per cent increase for computer-based games. But computer game players are believed to be a loyal bunch, as they see many advantages in playing games on their computers rather than consoles. For one thing, they have a big advantage of having access to a mouse and a keyboard that allow them to play far more sophisticated games. In addition, they have been utilizing the Internet for years to receive game updates and modifications and to play each other over the Web. Sony and Microsoft are intent on capturing a portion of the online gaming opportunity. Even Nintendo has decided to make available a modem that will allow GameCube users to play online. As prices continue to fall and technology becomes increasingly more sophisticated, it remains to be seen whether these three companies can keep their names on the industry‟s list of “high scorers”. Questions: 1. Considering the concept of product life cycle, where would you put video games in their life cycle? 2. Should video game companies continue to alter their products to include other functions, such as email?

Caselet 1 M/s. ABC Ltd is a medium-sized engineering company producing a large-range of product lines according to customer requirements. It has earned a good reputation as a quick and reliable supplier to its customers because of which its volume of business kept on increasing. However, over the past one year, the Managing Director of the company has been receiving customer complaints due to delays in dispatch of products and at times the company has to pay substantial penalty for not meeting the schedule in time. The Managing Director convened an urgent meeting of various functional managers to discuss the issue. The marketing manager questioned the arbitrary manner of giving priority to products in manufacturing line, causing delays in wanted products and over-stocking of products which are not required immediately. Production Control Manager complained that he does not have adequate staff to plan and control the production function; and whatever little planning he does, is generally overlooked by shop floor manager. Shop floor managers complained of unrealistic planning, excessive machine breakdowns, power failure, and shortage of materials for scheduled products because of which it is impossible to stick to the schedule. Maintenance manager says that he does not get important spares required for equipment maintenance because of which he cannot repair machines at a faster rate. Inventory control manager says that on one hand the company often accuses him of carrying too much stock and on other hand people are grumbling over shortages. Fed up by mutual mud-slinging, the Managing Director decided to appoint you, a bright management consultant with training in business management to suggest ways and means to put his “house in order”. Questions:- 1. What would you suggest to avoid delays in dispatch of products? 2. What action should be taken by various functional managers to meet the scheduled dates? Caselet 2 Rajender Kumar was a production worker at competent Motors Limited (CML) which made components and accessories for the automotive industry. He had worked at CML for almost seven years as a welder, along with fifteen other men in the plant. All had received training in welding both on the job and through company sponsored external programmes. They had friendly relations and got along very well with one another. They played Volleyball in the playground regularly before retiring to the quarters allotted by the company. They work together in the company canteen, cutting Jokes on each other and making fun of everyone who dared to step into their privacy during lunch hour. Most of the fellows had been there for some length of time, except for two men who had joined the ranks only two months back. Rajender was generally considered to be the leader of the group, so it was no surprise that when the foreman of the new was transferred and his job was posted, Rajender applied for the job and got it. Examination Paper of Organizational Behaviour 4 IIBM Institute of Business Management There were only four other applicants for the job, two from mechanical section and two from outside, when there was a formal announcement of the appointment on a Friday afternoon, everyone in the group congratulated Rajender. They literally carried him on their shoulders, and bought him snacks and celebrated. On Monday morning, Rajender joined duty as Foreman. It was company practice for all foremen to wear blue jacket and a white shirt. Each man‟s coat had his name badge sewn onto the left side pocket. The company had given two pairs to Rajender. He was proud to wear the coat to work on Monday. People who saw him from a distance went up to him and admired the new blue coat. There was a lot of kidding around calling Rajender as „Hero‟, „Raja Babu‟ and „Officer‟ etc. One of the guys went back to his locker and returned with a long brush and acted as though he were removing dust particles on the new coat. After about five minutes of horseplay, all the men went back to work. Rajender went to his office to familiarize himself with the new job and environment. At noon, all the men broke for Lunch and went to the canteen to eat and take a break as usual. Rajender was busy when they left but followed after them a few minutes later. He bought the food coupon, took the snacks and tea and turned to face the open canteen. On the left-side corner of the room was his old work group; on the right-hand side of the canteen sat the other entire foreman in the plant—all in their smart blue coats. At that point of time, silence descended on the canteen. Both groups looked at Rajender anxiously, waiting to see which group he would choose to eat with. Questions: 1. Whom do you think Rajender will eat with? Why? 2. If you were one of the other foremen, what could you do to make Rajinder‟s transition easier?

Caselet 1 Mr. Vincent, the Manager of a large supermarket, was taking a management course in the evening programme at the local college. The Professor had given an interesting but disturbing lecture the previous night on the various approaches to management. Vincent had always thought that management involved just planning, organizing and controlling. Now this Professor was saying that management could also be thought of as quantitative models, systems theory and analysis, and even something called contingency relationships. Vincent had always considered himself a good manager, and his record with the supermarket chain had proved it. He thought of himself, “I have never used operations research models, thought of my store as an open system, or developed or utilized any contingency relationship. By doing a little planning ahead, organizing the store, and making some things got done, I have been a successful manager. That other stuff just does not make sense. All the professor was trying to do was complicate things. I guess I will have to know it for the test, but I am sticking with my old plan, organize and control approach to managing my store.” Questions: 1. Critically analyze Mr. Vincent‟s reasoning. 2. If you were the professor and you knew what was going through Vincent‟s mind, what would you say to Vincent? Caselet 2 The Regional Administration Office of a company was hastily set up. Victor D‟Cuhna a young executive was directly recruited to take charge of Data Processing Cell of this office. The data processing was to help the administrative office in planning and monitoring. The officer cadre of the administrative office was a mix of directly recruited officers and promote officers (promotion from within the organization). Females dominated the junior clerical cadre. This cadre was not formally trained. The administrative office had decided to give these fresh recruits on-the-job training because when results were not upto the expectations blame was brought on the Data Processing Cell. Victor D‟Cuhna realized that the administrative office was heading for trouble. He knew that his task would not be easy and that he had been selected because of his experience, background and abilities. He also realized that certain functional aspects of the administrative office were not clearly understood by various functionaries, and systems and procedures were blindly and randomly followed. Feedback was random, scanty and controversial, and Data Processing Cell had to verify every item of feedback. Delays were inevitable. D‟Cuhna sought the permission of senior management to conduct a seminar on communication and feedback of which he was an expert. The permission was grudgingly given by the senior management. Everyone appreciated the seminar. Following the first seminar, D‟Cuhna conducted a one week  This section consists of Caselets.  Answer all the questions.  Each Caselet carries 20 marks.  Detailed information should form the part of your answer (Word limit 150-200 words). Principles and Practices of Management IIBM Institute of Business Management 4 training course for the clerical cadre, especially for the junior, freshly recruited clerks. Amongst other topics, D‟Cuhna laid emphasis on Questions: 1. Diagnose the problem and enumerate the reasons for the failure of D‟Cuhna? 2. What could D‟Cuhna have done to avoid the situation in which he found himself?

Caselet 1 Mr. and Mrs. Sharma went to Woodlands Apparel to buy a shirt. Mr. Sharma did not read the price tag on the piece selected by him. At the counter, while making the payment he asked for the price. Rs. 950 was the answer. Meanwhile, Mrs. Sharma, who was still shopping came back and joined her husband. She was glad that he had selected a nice black shirt for himself. She pointed out that there was a 25% discount on that item. The counter person nodded in agreement. Mr. Sharma was thrilled to hear that “It means the price of this shirt is just Rs. 712. That‟s fantastic”, said Mr. Sharma. He decided to buy one more shirt in blue color. In no time, he returned with the second shirt and asked them to be packed. When he received the cash memo for payment, he was astonished to find that he had to pay Rs. 1,900 and Rs. 1,424. Mr. Sharma could hardly reconcile himself to the fact that the counter person had quoted the discounted price which was Rs. 950. The original price printed on the price tag was Rs. 1,266. Questions 1. What should Mr. Sharma have done to avoid the misunderstanding? 2. Discuss the main features involved in this case. Caselet 2 I don‟t want to speak to you. Connect me to your boss in the US,” hissed the American on the phone. The young girl at a Bangalore call centre tried to be as polite as she could. At another call centre, another day, another young girl had a Londoner unleashing himself on her, “Young lady, do you know that because of you Indians we are losing jobs?” The outsourcing backlash is getting ugly. Handling irate callers is the new brief for the young men and women taking calls at these outsourced job centres. Supervisors tell them to be „cool‟. Avinash Vashistha, managing partner of NEOIT, a leading US-based consultancy firm says, “Companies involved in outsourcing both in the US and India are already getting a lot of hate mail against outsourcing and it is hardly surprising that some people should behave like this on the telephone.” Vashistha says Indian call centre‟s should train their operators how to handle such calls. Indeed, the furor raised by the Western media over job losses because of outsourcing Examination Paper of Business Communication 4 IIBM Institute of Business Management has made ordinary citizens there sensitive to the fact that their calls are being taken not from their midst, but in countries such as India and the Philippines. The angry outbursts the operators face border on the racist and sexist, says the manager of a call centre in Hyderabad. But operators and senior executives of call centres refuse to go on record for fear of kicking up a controversy that might result in their companies‟ losing clients overseas. “It‟s happening often enough and so let‟s face it,” says a senior executive of a Gurgaon call centre, adding, “This doesn‟t have any impact on business.” Questions 1. Suppose you are working as an operator in a call centre in India and receiving calls from Americans and Londoners. How would you handle such calls? 2. Do you agree with the view such abusive happenings on the telephone do not have any impact on business?

Caselet 1 Overview of our Client’s Strategy Our client had an online store. They were spending $15,000 each month on pay per click advertising. This resulted in about $225,000 per month in sales. They didn‟t know which clicks were leading to sales because they didn‟t track the clicks. There rankings in the natural listings was minimal because they hadn‟t done keywords research on what visitors were using to try to find a site like there‟s. They weren‟t able to quantity results because their we statistics program only showed very general traffic information. They were also doing an irregular email newsletter even though they had more than 32,000 e-mails in their database. Analysis of the situation In the natural listings we suspected they were being penalized by the search enines for duplicate content. The search engines frown on this because they feel this is trying to fool them. Google will often give a site like this something called “Supplement Results”, which means that the search engines know the page exists but doesn‟t have any content in their database. We also suspected their email newsletter was being blocked by many spam blockers because the names of the products they sold were often on used in spam e-mails. Implementation of a Solution For the pay per click advertising we started tracking the clicks down to the individual terms and the actual results that came from them. We were able to delete terms that were not getting enough sales and increase the bids on ones that brought sales. For the natural listings we did keywords research and focused on the main keywords on the content for the home page and in the META tags. We also found that visitors search on product names rather than manufactures, so in the title tag for the page we switched and put the product name before the manufacturer. With the newsletter, we used a good mix of graphics and content to appease the spam blockers, as well as put the product names in graphics so they wouldn‟t be blocked. In order to analyze of the site‟s traffic, we implemented a powerful web statistics program. Results of our work Through our tactics, our clients were able to move up to #4 on Google for their main search term, which got a lot of traffic. With pay per click, they went from $.43. They decrease their budget to $10,000 per month, yet were able to increase their traffic by 33 percent. Through our optimization of their pay per click, their cost per conversion to sale decreased by at least 45 percent. The deliverability of their newsletter increased as well. Within a year, their sales increased to over $600,000 per month. Questions: 1. Discuss the client strategy for the success of store. 2. Suppose if you are the client maker what would you suggest for the client. Caselet 2 Examination Paper of Management Information Systems IIBM Institute of Business Management 4 Data Warehouse is a massive independent business database system that is populated with data that has been extracted from a range of sources. The data is held separately from its origin and is used to help to improve the decision-making process. Many traditional Databases are involved in recording day to day operational activities of the business, called Online Transaction Processing (OLTP), COMMONLY IMPLEMENTED IN Airline Bookings and Banking Systems, for faster‟s response and better control over data. After establishment of OLTP Systems, reports and summaries can be drawn for giving inputs to decision-making process and this process is called Online Analytical Processing (OLAP). For better customer relationships management strategy, the call centre‟s and data Warehouse works as a strategic tool for decision-support which requires lot of time for establishment, and needs to be updated with operational information on daily weekly or monthly basis. Data Warehouse is used for proactive strategies formulation strategies formulation in critical and complex situations. A number of CRM vendors are advocating for single integrated customer database which includes call centre, web sites, branches and direct mail, but it lacks in analytical functioning of data warehouse. This Database can‟t be expanded also, and carry decision support operations on call centre Database becomes slow & the query processing and inquiries andling operations also become slow & inefficient for agents dealing with customers. Data Warehouse is must for identifying most profitable & loyal customers and those customers can be offered better customized services which increase the chances of additional profits. Although call centre system & data warehouse are altogether different systems yet dependent on each other to fully exploit their potential respectively. Questions: 1. Explain the role of data warehousing in the functioning of a call centre. 2. How the response time in performing OLAP queries can be improved?

Caselet 1 National Competitive Advantage of IKEA Group, a Swedish company founded in 1943 with its headquarters in Denmark, is a multinational operator of a chain of stores for home furnishing and furniture. It is the world‟s largest retailer, which specializes, in stylish but inexpensive Scandinavian designed furniture. At the end of 2005 the IKEA Group of Companies had a total of 175 stores in 31 countries. In addition there are 19 IKEA stores owned and run by franchisees, outside the IKEA store around the world. In Sweden, nature and a home both play a big part in people‟s life. In fact one of the best ways to describe the Swedish home furnishing style is to describe nature-full of light and fresh air, yet restrained and unpretentious. To match up the artist Carl and Karin Larsson combined classical influences with warmer Swedish folk styles .They created a model of Swedish home furnishing design that today enjoys world-wide renown. In the 1950s the styles of modernism and functionalism developed at the same time as Sweden established a society founded on social equality .The IKEA product range –The IKEA product range- modern but not trendy, functional yet attractive, human-centered and child friendly – carries on these various Swedish home furnishing traditions. The IKEA Concept, like lots founder, was born in Samaland. This is a part of Southern Sweden where the soil is thin and poor. The people are famous for working hard, living on small means and using their heads to make the best possible use of the limited resources they have. This way of doing things is at the heart of the IKEA approach to keeping prices low. IKEA was founded when Sweden was fast becoming an example of the caring society, where rich and poor alike were well looked after. This is also a theme that fits well with the IKEA vision. In order to give the many people a better everyday life, IKEA asks the customer to work as a partner. The product range is child-friendly and covers the need of the whole family, young and old. So together we can a better everyday life for everyone. In addition to working about around 1,800 different suppliers across the world, IKEA produces many of its own products through sawmills and factories in the IKEA industrial group, Swedwood. Swedwood also has a duty to transfer knowledge to other suppliers, for example by educating them in issues such as efficiency, quality and environmental work. Swedwood has 35 industrial units in 11 countries. Examination Paper of Strategic Management 4 IIBM Institute of Business Management Purchasing: IKEA has 42 Trading Service Offices (TSO‟s) in 33 countries. Proximity to their suppliers is the key to rational, long term cooperation. That‟s why TSO co-workers visit suppliers regularly to monitor production, test new ideas, negotiate prices and carry out quality audits and inspection. Distribution: The route from supplier to customer must be as direct, cost- effective and environmentally friendly as possible. Flat packs are important aspects of this work: eliminating wasted space means we can transport and store goods more efficiently. Since efficient distribution plays a key role in the work of creating the low price, goods routing and logistics are a focus for constant development. The business Idea: The IKEA business idea is to offer a wide range of home furnishings with good design and function at prices so low that as many people as possible will be able to afford them. And still have many left! The company targets the customer who is looking for value and is willing to do a little bit of work serving themselves, transporting the items home and assembling the furniture for a better price. The typical IKEA customer is young low to middle income family. The Competition Advantage: The competition advantage strategy of IKEA‟s product is reflected through IKEA‟s success in the real industry. It can be attributed to its vast experience in the retail market, product differentiation, and cost leadership. IKEA Product Differentiation: A wide product range The IKEA product range is wide and versatile in several ways. First, it‟s versatile in function. Because IKEA think customer, shouldn‟t have to run from one small specialty shop to another to furnish their home, IKEA gather plants, living room furnishings, toys , frying pans, whole kitchens i.e.; everything which in a functional way helps to build a home – in one place , at IKEA stores. Second, it‟s wide in style. The romantic at heart will find choices just as many as the minimalist at IKEA. But There is only one thing IKEA don‟t have, and that is, the far- out or the over-decorated. They only have what helps build a home that has room for good living. Third, by being coordinated, the range is wide in function and style at the same time. No matter which style you prefer, there‟s an armchair that goes with the bookcase that goes with the new extending table that goes with the armchair. So their range is wide in a variety of ways. Cost Leadership: A wide range with good form and function is only half the story. Affordability has a part to play – the largest part. A wide range with good form and function is only half the story. Affordability has a part to play- the largest part. And the joy of being able to own it without having to forsake everything else. And the customers help, too, by choosing the furniture, getting it at the warehouse, transporting it home and assembling it themselves , to keep the price low. Questions 1. Do you think that IKEA has been successful to utilize Porter‟s Five force analysis? Give reasons. 2. Where do you think can IKEA improve? Examination Paper of Strategic Management 5 IIBM Institute of Business Management Caselet 2 For ITC Ltd., 2007-2008 continued to be year of quiet growth. Just more launches in its relatively new segment of non-cigarettes fast moving consumer goods, and solid growth. As in the past few years, ITC‟s non-cigarettes businesses continued to grow at a scorching pace, accounting for a bigger share of overall revenues. “The non-cigarette portfolio grew by 37.6% during 2006-2007 and accounted during that year for 52.3% of the company‟s net turnover.” An ITC spokesman said. In fact, over the first three quarters of 2007-08, ITC‟s non-cigarette FMCG businesses have grown by 48% on the same period last year, “Indicating that its plans for increasing market share and standing are succeeding.” The branded packaged foods business continued to expand rapidly, with the focus on snacks range Bingo. The biscuit category continued its growth momentum with the „Sun feast‟ range of biscuits launching „Coconut‟ and „Nice‟ variants and the addition of „ Sunfeast BenneVita Flaxseed‟ biscuits. Aashirwad atta and kitchen ingredients retained their top slots at the national level, with the spices category adding an organic range. In the confectionery category which grew by 38% in the third quarter, ITC cited AC Nielsen data it claims market leader status in throat lozenges. Instant mixes and pasta powdered the sales of its ready to eat foods under the kitchens of India and Aashirwad brands. In Lifestyle apparel, ITC launched Miss Players fashion wear for young women to compliment its range for men. Overall, the biscuit category grew by 58% during the last quarter, ready to eat foods under the kitchens of India and Aashirwad brands by 63% and the lifestyle business by 26%. For the Industry, the most significant initiative to watch the ITC foray into premium personal care products with its Fiama Di Wills range of shampoos , conditioners, shower gels, and soaps. In the popular segment, ITC has launched a range of soaps and shampoos under the brand name Superia. Ravi Naware, Chief executive of ITC‟s food business was quoted recently as saying that the business will make a positive contribution to ITC‟s bottom line in the next two to three years. In hotels, ITC‟s Fortune Park brand was making the news during the year, with a rapid rollout of first class business hotels. In the agri-business segment, the e-choupal network is trying out a pilot in retailing fresh fruits and vegetables. The e-choupals have already specialized in feeding ITC high quality wheat and potato, among other commodities grown by farmers with help from e-choupal. Questions: Q1. Do you think the progress of ITC Ltd. is realistic? Q2. After analyzing the above case, do you think every company should aim at cost leadership with high quality product?